RELATIONSHIPS ARE ESSENTIAL FOR RECOVERY
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
Jack Bragen
A common thread when you look at violent incidents involving a mentally ill person, specifically, shootings that receive a lot of publicity, is that the perpetrators were isolated from meaningful human contact. They did not have the necessary skills to create and maintain close relationships. They did not feel cared for in life, nor was there anyone in their life for whom they felt caring. This lack of care ultimately expanded to include the "self." Nearly by definition, people who commit mass murder for the sake of revenge are severely lacking of relationship skills. A recent example of this was the shooting that took place at Virginia Polytechnic Institute. The perpetrator, Mr. Cho, had a history of being bullied and did not relate well to his peers.
The vast majority of persons with mental illness are not violent. For a good outcome for all people with mental illness, and not just the ones who are potentially violent, close relationships are essential. I know of two brothers who both have a psychiatric disability but who have markedly different outcomes. One of them is isolated, has few, if any close friends, and spends his days smoking cigarettes and sometimes taking street drugs. Several of his teeth have fallen out, and he looks ten to fifteen years older than his chronological age. The other brother is willing to talk to people about the things that upset him, is able to make friends including female ones, has made numerous work attempts, has no dental problems, stays away from illicit drugs, and looks his age or younger. It seems that one brother has given up, while the other hasn't. While supportive relationships are not the whole formula, they are an important piece of the puzzle.
The absence of romance in someone's life is not necessarily what I am talking about. The difference between those mentally ill individuals who overcome the illness, and eventually "make it" in life, versus those with poor or even tragic outcomes, is having the ability to connect with another human being-by any means, and not just in the context of romantic partnerships.
I am not ignoring the biochemical factor of mental illnesses. Nor am I asserting that mentally ill persons can go without medication as soon as they have a social life. The neurological causes of mental illnesses as well as the usefulness of medication are foregone conclusions, and those who believe otherwise are uninformed.
Ultimately, relationships are the deciding factor in determining if these illnesses will be able to completely wreck the life of the patient. If the person with mental illness has relationship skills, the effect of the illness is demoted to a major but not deciding factor in that person's quality of life. If someone lacks the ability to connect with a fellow human being, no amount of medication will help him or her, and you will not get that person to voluntarily take that medication.
Sometimes a person with mental illness has impaired social functioning, but only to an extent. For example, shyness. For example, anger issues, but not combined with the absence of a conscience, or the absence of basic insight. In this case, the person may have a difficult path but has the chance to reeducate oneself and to eventually form these close relationships.
A major shortcoming in the predominant clinical approach to treating the mentally ill, one of many, is too much emphasis on employing the patient in a job performing unskilled work, and not nearly enough emphasis on helping that patient find and maintain close relationships. Many mental health agencies believe that the definition of success for someone with mental illness is entry-level employment. It isn't. Jobs will come and go, either for someone with mental illness, or for someone with no diagnosis. The thing of lasting value for a disturbed person is the ability to initiate and maintain relationships. It is the secret to getting well for a mentally ill person.
Other than relationship skills and being nonviolent, factors that contribute to the success of a mentally ill person include the ability to have basic insight, including about one's illness, being persistent in the approach to life's challenges, and finally, not using alcohol and illicit drugs. These are things medication won't do for you, no matter how much the drug companies try to make a better pill.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Sweet and Simple Peanut Butter Cookies From Scratch
Jack's Recipe For Peanut Butter Cookies From Scratch
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
1-Cup Flour
1-Cup Sugar
1/2 Small Jar Natural Peanut Butter, smooth or nutty
2 eggs
1/4 Cup canola oil
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
Dash of nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Put dry ingredients into mixing bowl: Flour, Sugar, baking powder, dry nutmeg and dry ginger. Mix ingredients well with spoon. Add eggs, peanut butter and oil. Mix thoroughly. Make two inch diameter round pieces from dough and put on un-greased cookie sheet. Flatten cookie dough pieces a bit on cookie sheet.
Bake until somewhat firm, approximately twenty minutes. Let cool for fifteen minutes before eating. Makes 10 large cookies.
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
1-Cup Flour
1-Cup Sugar
1/2 Small Jar Natural Peanut Butter, smooth or nutty
2 eggs
1/4 Cup canola oil
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
Dash of nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Put dry ingredients into mixing bowl: Flour, Sugar, baking powder, dry nutmeg and dry ginger. Mix ingredients well with spoon. Add eggs, peanut butter and oil. Mix thoroughly. Make two inch diameter round pieces from dough and put on un-greased cookie sheet. Flatten cookie dough pieces a bit on cookie sheet.
Bake until somewhat firm, approximately twenty minutes. Let cool for fifteen minutes before eating. Makes 10 large cookies.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Try this sci fi sample
Author's note: The following short story is included in my short story collection titled: "jack bragen's peculiarly strong stories" and is available on amazon.
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
UNFORTUNATE INTERN
Jack Bragen
A young woman walked along an alleyway and went in a door marked ‘glass shop entrance.’ Vandals had smashed the windshield on her Mercedes while it had been parked at the university. The student approached a counter and rang the bell on it, repeatedly. There seemed no sign of life in the building, and she began to get the creeps.
She turned back toward the entrance, and saw, with fright, that it had become a steel barrier with no opening. Then, from the door to the backroom of the shop emerged five or six men who surrounded her. Only they didn’t look normal. They were too tall. They had a long snout for a nose their eyes were much too small and they had a protruding narrow chin. Their skin color was like nothing she had seen: clay-colored. That clay color would be burned into her subconscious, when she would remember nothing else of what was happening.
The young college student was driving her Mercedes over the Bay Bridge, and realized she couldn’t remember what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. When she got home, she threw all her potted plants into the trash because the color of the pots bothered her. She wondered if she was crazy and decided not to tell anyone of the memory lapse.
* * *
Velma paid fifty-three sol-credits for a private suite with its own bathroom, shower and kitchenette along with room service aboard the Spacecraft Brave. It was a three week trip to the outer reaches of the solar system, and he or she who arrived there in the best condition would be off to a running start to pass the probationary period of the job and to be one of those selected for the limited number of slots. Anything she could do to get an advantage over the others who applied would be well worth the money spent, and Velma did have money.
By contrast, her competitors who couldn’t afford the same extravagance would be stuck in a space barely larger than on a greyhound bus, and with conditions to match. I don’t know if you’ve ever ridden on greyhound, but if you have then you know it’s not pretty. As a result, they would arrive in a disheveled, dirty and stressed out state, and it would be that much harder for them to start work.
Soon, the spacecraft was within fifty kilometers of Space Outpost 33, and docking procedures were initiated. The Brave continued to fire its rockets to decelerate, and had its nose pointed to the rear—this gave passengers the illusion that they were on a planet with gravity. As the ship neared the outpost, which was a huge space station built into the side of a giant piece of space rock, the velocities of the two objects were nearly matched, and the ship approached the outpost at a mere crawl.
The sun, at this distance, was but a tiny lamp that dimly illuminated the space station.
Velma had showered and was putting on her uniform and makeup. Her hair was tied in a military bun, which was entirely unnecessary and which, along with her solid, upright stance and firm shoulders, gave her a stern Nordic look. This was a match for her stern and formal, sometimes nasty way of dealing with anyone except for her superiors.
Velma was first through the airlock and onto the outpost, and had a personal robot following her that carried her three large suitcases. She reached end of the corridor that mated the two space contraptions, and faced the stately visage of Colonel Kim, who would be her supervisor during the internship. The two shook hands and exchanged greetings, then went through one more airlock door and were in the “front room” of Outpost 33.
For Velma, it was instant dislike. Colonel Kim’s reputation had reached Earth for bedding with numerous women in space. This along with the thin moustache that stood atop his lip, and the syrupy smell of cologne mixed with hair gel, altogether was nearly enough to dismiss her respect. She was just waiting for him to say stupid things, or maybe make a pass at her, and then she would write him off.
“Miss Cook,” Colonel Kim said, addressing Velma, “If you need some recovery time from the trip, my robot will be glad to show you your room.”
“Nonsense, sir, I am ready to get started,” Velma replied.
“Well, then, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. What do you say we go over your syllabus at the officer’s diner?”
“No doubt,” muttered Velma under her breath. Then she said, “I know my way around the syllabus without you showing it to me, sir, with all due respect. I’d like to get started on the actual work.”
“You’re jumping ahead, Miss Cook. Don’t assume that what you’ve been given is the same material I have for you. Do you want to be picked for the job, or not? In that case, you should start by listening very carefully to my directions.”
“I’m listening,” said Velma. She was starting to realize that this man, despite what she thought of as a hammy countenance, was a person of authority.
“Please follow me to the diner. My robot will show your robot to your room and you should have him take your luggage there. Here is the key to your room. I suggest you guard it. There have been incidents.” Kim handed a small metallic object to the intern.
“But why at the diner, sir. Is there not a more secure place to do this?”
“This is not a date, Miss Cook. I have limited time to work with you. I do things the way I do them for a reason, madam. I’d like it if you’d just humor me.”
The pair arrived at the officer’s diner and Colonel Kim had established that Velma was to treat him with legitimate respect. Her tendency to go over her rank had nearly brought up Kim’s bile. As it was, she had already lost twenty points.
The two took a seat at the booth closest to the exit. This was a fairly isolated spot, it was close to the air circulation vent and it was the most visible spot for the robotic waiter, which was a unit that sometimes skipped over customers who made less fuss. Kim ordered sausage and eggs, and then Velma ordered straight soda water with no lemon.
“It is likely that you do not yet know about the interstellar war of which Sol is the third and neutral party.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There is life beyond our solar system, a lot of it. And the various people’s of this galaxy don’t always get along with one another,” said Colonel Kim.
“This is a test, right? You’re measuring my suggestibility…”
Kim put a hand on Velma’s shoulder. It wasn’t a sexual gesture. “Cable Channel News doesn’t tell you everything, Miss Cook,” said Colonel Kim.
Velma paused, and in a few moments assimilated the new information. She took a couple sips of soda water. She wished she had ordered something more substantial. She rewound and tightened the bun of blonde hair at the back of her head. The hairpin went into the bun like it was the sword of King Arthur.
“Sir,” said Velma, “Certainly Earth’s technology as it exists would be at a disadvantage compared to that of any extraterrestrial. Is that not so?”
“We lucked out in that the two warring solar systems are only a few thousand years more advanced, technologically, in comparison to us. And, socially, these extraterrestrial species are no more advanced than we. Which is why…” Colonel Kim waited a moment to speak while shoveling eggs into his mouth. The delay had the desired effect: Velma was on edge, awaiting his next words. “We’re useful to both sides. If we hadn’t been, they would have wiped us out long ago out of convenience.”
“Where does a lowly intern fit in with all of this?” asked Velma, attempting to employ nonexistent charm.
“We can put you to work in one of two places, either of which is vital.”
“Only no doubt, one of the two jobs is going to be safe and boring, and the other, risky,” said Velma.
Not arguing with this statement, nodding, Colonel Kim said, “The first choice is to work in the code breaking room, and the other choice is to join us in the defensive control room.” He nodded some more, knowing already what the choice was going to be. This one is a firecracker, thought the Colonel.
“Defensive Control Room sounds riskier than code breaking—is that right?”
“There exists more pressure, and more responsibility in that, yes. It carries the potential for a better credential.”
Velma gulped down the rest of the soda water, and said, “When can I start?”
“Ten minutes from now,” said Kim. “Be prepared to work.”
The control room was darkened, and to the left was a row of eight or nine chairs that faced console screens. In front of each chair along with the video displays were several joysticks and other interface devices. People were stationed at seven of the eight chairs. They would use some of the joysticks while watching, and each of them would periodically say, “All Clear,” and would then note the time. On the right of the room was one larger more comfortable chair that had buttons on the handles and had a large display in front of it that was mounted to the floor. There was also, surprisingly, an airlock door in the room.
“This room serves the function of ‘early warning’ for both sides of the interstellar conflict,” Colonel Kim said to Velma. “This allows both sides to engage in a ‘cold war’ instead of a shooting war. This is more suitable for both sides, and each one believes that they will surpass the other side in technology at some future point, and will then blow away their opponent, and us, without a successful counterstrike. As it is now, though, this room is key to maintaining the precarious cease fire that was established.”
“What does Earth get out of it?” asked Cook.
“Two things, Velma. We get to continue existing, and…”
“And?”
“I am not authorized to disclose.”
“Some sort of payment, no doubt,” said Velma.
“I can’t confirm or deny that. Are you ready to start?”
* * *
At the end of a three and a half hour shift, Velma was spent. The work, at first, didn’t seem very demanding or complex. It was a matter of scanning a limited area on one of the moons of the planet of one alien species. When each scan was completed, Velma merely had to report, “area clear.”
Velma’s new job was to be one of the human monitors in the early warning system, which this space station provided for the two warring alien races. There were two dozen or so staff members on behalf of each side of the conflict who did a similar job as Velma. Should there be an unexpected launch, or the firing of a particle beam, Velma had better report this if it were in her coverage area. The fate of three planets, one of them Earth, was on Velma’s shoulders. Three planets, each with countless numbers of innocent persons, and wildlife that also wanted to keep living now depended, in part, on Velma during her shift.
It didn’t matter that the destruction could commence decades later, because events were happening at no more than the speed of light. The point is, if Velma should make an uncorrected mistake at her job, destruction would happen.
It was six o’clock, and Velma’s relief arrived on time. With a sigh of relief, she relinquished her booth and went to get her coat. Her personal robot was waiting for her out in the hallway. Tomorrow before her shift, would be classes, and her first class the next day was scheduled to be space walking. A good sleep shift would be essential.
Miss Cook’s robot brought her to her suite. Velma was the only student who could afford personal accommodations like these. Other students were forced to share dorm rooms, with three or more students to a room.
As she slept, she had an awful nightmare of being abducted by strange looking aliens, and being restrained by them in a warehouse in the middle of San Francisco. The aliens repeated the one word, over and over: “Vie…vie…vie.” And then she thought she was drowning, and then awoke in a cold sweat.
Velma got up and fixed a cup of tea, wanting to shake off the experience of the horrible nightmare. She realized if she went back to sleep just then, would probably oversleep, and as it was, had time for an extra shower and some studying.
What did that mean? Vie, vie, vie…? Velma entered all the possible meanings into her pocket computer and could find nothing that would mean anything to her.
This was not the first time this dream had happened, and it worried her. Of course, she would say nothing about it to her superiors, or to anyone. She could take the not risk being decommissioned on the basis of craziness.
* * *
Cook, three other students, two of whom were male, and the instructor for space walking, Mr. Dennison, were suiting up in front of the airlock adjacent to the practice area which was a basin in the rock on the outside of the space station. One of the male students was gawking at Velma.
“What are you looking at, Don Juan? You certainly have seen a woman before, right? What do you see now?” Miss Cook said.
“What do you see, young man?” said the instructor, chiming in.
“I see a qualified space walking student,” replied the student, in a very controlled tone, attempting not to convey his extreme embarrassment.
“Let’s get to business,” said Mr. Dennison. “If anyone is not suited up in another five minutes, that person stays indoors. Everyone, pay attention to yourself.”
Within a few minutes, all four students and the instructor were outside the airlock. Each student had a tether that prevented him or her from getting lost in the depths of space, while the instructor didn’t need a tether.
The first practice exercise was simply to play catch with a softball-sized ball. They had done this before while indoors with the artificial gravity off. However, being in a vacuum as well as being in a spacesuit added extra elements of difficulty.
In a moment, Velma didn’t know what she was seeing: a hand was missing from the instructor. A meteor must have hit him. The instructor desperately clutched at his arm while his spacesuit began to quickly lose air. Meanwhile, the injured and gasping Dennison started to float aimlessly out into deep space.
Velma pulled on her tether to bring herself to where the cord was anchored to the space station, and unhooked the steel line. A space suited man tried to grab her, but she was off, having kicked herself in the direction of the flailing Dennison. She sped up her trajectory by firing her foot jets for a slight instant. She had good aim; she connected with and grabbed onto the instructor. Now, both of them were headed away from the space station. Velma wrapped part of her tether around Dennison’s arm above where it was missing the hand. She pulled very tight on the cord, stopping the loss of air and blood for now. She twisted a knob on Dennison’s suit, and it was once again pressurized. A red light on his suit became green, indicating that the instructor had some type of vital signs. He was unconscious, but she could see through the faceplate that he was starting to breathe.
Velma quickly tied herself to Dennison, and this freed up the use of her arms. She spun her arms in circles for gyroscopic action, and this caused her and the instructor to rotate to where their heads were pointed at the space station. She fired her foot rockets at full, reversing their flotation. They were now on a collision course with the roof of the space station. Velma pointed one foot to the side and fired the rocket, providing them with a course correction that aimed them back at the practice area.
Soon, the other three students who still had tethers on grabbed the two of them and brought them into the airlock. Velma opened her faceplate as soon as the airlock was pressurized, and alerted emergency services on the intercom. Two men and a stretcher appeared on the other side of the airlock door, and whisked away the damaged instructor.
Velma wanted to call the fellow student who had tried to stop her an idiot. He was the same one who had gawked at her previously. She decided not to give him that insult, since silence would actually serve as more of a punishment.
Colonel Kim gave Velma a day off from scanning when he heard what happened. This gave her a chance to hang out in the diner with a big jug of coffee and send messages to family members.
* * *
Velma had unpacked her suitcases and had wondered where one object came from. It was a metallic box apparently intended for index cards, and it had a lock on it. Velma had set the box aside upon realizing she had no key that fit the object. Ordinarily, having such an object should have set off a big alarm bell inside Velma’s head, or in the consciousness of anyone who traveled to a strategically important space station. However, there was some sort of mental block that had been installed in Miss Cook that prevented her from bringing such an alert to full consciousness. Even so, something in the far back of her mind was saying: ‘Hold on a minute, this isn’t right.’
After another three weeks of serving at the early warning command and taking her classes, Velma was sick to her stomach in the middle of her shift at the command center. Velma alerted Colonel Kim that she would need to leave early.
Velma left without getting her coat, and without bringing her robot. Maybe this was a subconscious attempt at a distress signal for Kim. The colonel knew something wasn’t right with Velma, and tailed her to her quarters, far back enough so that Velma wouldn’t detect him.
Velma walked into her room and noticed that a key had appeared on her dresser, one that apparently might fit the index card box. She absently picked up the key. The door to her room burst open, and Colonel Kim bounded in, and approached Velma. Velma still wanted to open the index card box, despite the fact that her supervisor had just busted into her room. Colonel Kim grabbed Velma’s wrist and snatched the key. He looked at the metallic box and knew what it was. Colonel Kim sounded a red alert on the space station from his wrist intercom. Soon, Velma’s quarters were filled with security men, and Velma had been taken away for examination.
* * *
Several months later, Velma was “on hold” at a government facility on Earth, which ironically was located near San Francisco.
“Do you understand what happened to you,” repeated the psychologist who was employed by the government, speaking to Miss Cook, who was under hypnosis.
“I was programmed by aliens to destroy the space station with a bomb. A third group of aliens were interested in obliterating both of the planets who were in a cold war. It would have left them in dominance of this local area of solar systems.” Velma’s speech was in a monotone, and it lacked the arrogant smartness that was her standard.
“Do you understand why we need to blank a large section of your memory?”
“Leakage of any of this information is a threat. This is the only alternative to either permanent incarceration for me, or disintegration. I have chosen to voluntarily undergo the induced amnesia upon being informed of the choices.” A bit of sadness leaked into Velma’s voice that made her monotone speech crackle a little.
“You can sleep now, Velma. Remember that you have fulfilled your duty with excellence.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
UNFORTUNATE INTERN
Jack Bragen
A young woman walked along an alleyway and went in a door marked ‘glass shop entrance.’ Vandals had smashed the windshield on her Mercedes while it had been parked at the university. The student approached a counter and rang the bell on it, repeatedly. There seemed no sign of life in the building, and she began to get the creeps.
She turned back toward the entrance, and saw, with fright, that it had become a steel barrier with no opening. Then, from the door to the backroom of the shop emerged five or six men who surrounded her. Only they didn’t look normal. They were too tall. They had a long snout for a nose their eyes were much too small and they had a protruding narrow chin. Their skin color was like nothing she had seen: clay-colored. That clay color would be burned into her subconscious, when she would remember nothing else of what was happening.
The young college student was driving her Mercedes over the Bay Bridge, and realized she couldn’t remember what had happened in the last twenty-four hours. When she got home, she threw all her potted plants into the trash because the color of the pots bothered her. She wondered if she was crazy and decided not to tell anyone of the memory lapse.
* * *
Velma paid fifty-three sol-credits for a private suite with its own bathroom, shower and kitchenette along with room service aboard the Spacecraft Brave. It was a three week trip to the outer reaches of the solar system, and he or she who arrived there in the best condition would be off to a running start to pass the probationary period of the job and to be one of those selected for the limited number of slots. Anything she could do to get an advantage over the others who applied would be well worth the money spent, and Velma did have money.
By contrast, her competitors who couldn’t afford the same extravagance would be stuck in a space barely larger than on a greyhound bus, and with conditions to match. I don’t know if you’ve ever ridden on greyhound, but if you have then you know it’s not pretty. As a result, they would arrive in a disheveled, dirty and stressed out state, and it would be that much harder for them to start work.
Soon, the spacecraft was within fifty kilometers of Space Outpost 33, and docking procedures were initiated. The Brave continued to fire its rockets to decelerate, and had its nose pointed to the rear—this gave passengers the illusion that they were on a planet with gravity. As the ship neared the outpost, which was a huge space station built into the side of a giant piece of space rock, the velocities of the two objects were nearly matched, and the ship approached the outpost at a mere crawl.
The sun, at this distance, was but a tiny lamp that dimly illuminated the space station.
Velma had showered and was putting on her uniform and makeup. Her hair was tied in a military bun, which was entirely unnecessary and which, along with her solid, upright stance and firm shoulders, gave her a stern Nordic look. This was a match for her stern and formal, sometimes nasty way of dealing with anyone except for her superiors.
Velma was first through the airlock and onto the outpost, and had a personal robot following her that carried her three large suitcases. She reached end of the corridor that mated the two space contraptions, and faced the stately visage of Colonel Kim, who would be her supervisor during the internship. The two shook hands and exchanged greetings, then went through one more airlock door and were in the “front room” of Outpost 33.
For Velma, it was instant dislike. Colonel Kim’s reputation had reached Earth for bedding with numerous women in space. This along with the thin moustache that stood atop his lip, and the syrupy smell of cologne mixed with hair gel, altogether was nearly enough to dismiss her respect. She was just waiting for him to say stupid things, or maybe make a pass at her, and then she would write him off.
“Miss Cook,” Colonel Kim said, addressing Velma, “If you need some recovery time from the trip, my robot will be glad to show you your room.”
“Nonsense, sir, I am ready to get started,” Velma replied.
“Well, then, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. What do you say we go over your syllabus at the officer’s diner?”
“No doubt,” muttered Velma under her breath. Then she said, “I know my way around the syllabus without you showing it to me, sir, with all due respect. I’d like to get started on the actual work.”
“You’re jumping ahead, Miss Cook. Don’t assume that what you’ve been given is the same material I have for you. Do you want to be picked for the job, or not? In that case, you should start by listening very carefully to my directions.”
“I’m listening,” said Velma. She was starting to realize that this man, despite what she thought of as a hammy countenance, was a person of authority.
“Please follow me to the diner. My robot will show your robot to your room and you should have him take your luggage there. Here is the key to your room. I suggest you guard it. There have been incidents.” Kim handed a small metallic object to the intern.
“But why at the diner, sir. Is there not a more secure place to do this?”
“This is not a date, Miss Cook. I have limited time to work with you. I do things the way I do them for a reason, madam. I’d like it if you’d just humor me.”
The pair arrived at the officer’s diner and Colonel Kim had established that Velma was to treat him with legitimate respect. Her tendency to go over her rank had nearly brought up Kim’s bile. As it was, she had already lost twenty points.
The two took a seat at the booth closest to the exit. This was a fairly isolated spot, it was close to the air circulation vent and it was the most visible spot for the robotic waiter, which was a unit that sometimes skipped over customers who made less fuss. Kim ordered sausage and eggs, and then Velma ordered straight soda water with no lemon.
“It is likely that you do not yet know about the interstellar war of which Sol is the third and neutral party.”
“What are you talking about?”
“There is life beyond our solar system, a lot of it. And the various people’s of this galaxy don’t always get along with one another,” said Colonel Kim.
“This is a test, right? You’re measuring my suggestibility…”
Kim put a hand on Velma’s shoulder. It wasn’t a sexual gesture. “Cable Channel News doesn’t tell you everything, Miss Cook,” said Colonel Kim.
Velma paused, and in a few moments assimilated the new information. She took a couple sips of soda water. She wished she had ordered something more substantial. She rewound and tightened the bun of blonde hair at the back of her head. The hairpin went into the bun like it was the sword of King Arthur.
“Sir,” said Velma, “Certainly Earth’s technology as it exists would be at a disadvantage compared to that of any extraterrestrial. Is that not so?”
“We lucked out in that the two warring solar systems are only a few thousand years more advanced, technologically, in comparison to us. And, socially, these extraterrestrial species are no more advanced than we. Which is why…” Colonel Kim waited a moment to speak while shoveling eggs into his mouth. The delay had the desired effect: Velma was on edge, awaiting his next words. “We’re useful to both sides. If we hadn’t been, they would have wiped us out long ago out of convenience.”
“Where does a lowly intern fit in with all of this?” asked Velma, attempting to employ nonexistent charm.
“We can put you to work in one of two places, either of which is vital.”
“Only no doubt, one of the two jobs is going to be safe and boring, and the other, risky,” said Velma.
Not arguing with this statement, nodding, Colonel Kim said, “The first choice is to work in the code breaking room, and the other choice is to join us in the defensive control room.” He nodded some more, knowing already what the choice was going to be. This one is a firecracker, thought the Colonel.
“Defensive Control Room sounds riskier than code breaking—is that right?”
“There exists more pressure, and more responsibility in that, yes. It carries the potential for a better credential.”
Velma gulped down the rest of the soda water, and said, “When can I start?”
“Ten minutes from now,” said Kim. “Be prepared to work.”
The control room was darkened, and to the left was a row of eight or nine chairs that faced console screens. In front of each chair along with the video displays were several joysticks and other interface devices. People were stationed at seven of the eight chairs. They would use some of the joysticks while watching, and each of them would periodically say, “All Clear,” and would then note the time. On the right of the room was one larger more comfortable chair that had buttons on the handles and had a large display in front of it that was mounted to the floor. There was also, surprisingly, an airlock door in the room.
“This room serves the function of ‘early warning’ for both sides of the interstellar conflict,” Colonel Kim said to Velma. “This allows both sides to engage in a ‘cold war’ instead of a shooting war. This is more suitable for both sides, and each one believes that they will surpass the other side in technology at some future point, and will then blow away their opponent, and us, without a successful counterstrike. As it is now, though, this room is key to maintaining the precarious cease fire that was established.”
“What does Earth get out of it?” asked Cook.
“Two things, Velma. We get to continue existing, and…”
“And?”
“I am not authorized to disclose.”
“Some sort of payment, no doubt,” said Velma.
“I can’t confirm or deny that. Are you ready to start?”
* * *
At the end of a three and a half hour shift, Velma was spent. The work, at first, didn’t seem very demanding or complex. It was a matter of scanning a limited area on one of the moons of the planet of one alien species. When each scan was completed, Velma merely had to report, “area clear.”
Velma’s new job was to be one of the human monitors in the early warning system, which this space station provided for the two warring alien races. There were two dozen or so staff members on behalf of each side of the conflict who did a similar job as Velma. Should there be an unexpected launch, or the firing of a particle beam, Velma had better report this if it were in her coverage area. The fate of three planets, one of them Earth, was on Velma’s shoulders. Three planets, each with countless numbers of innocent persons, and wildlife that also wanted to keep living now depended, in part, on Velma during her shift.
It didn’t matter that the destruction could commence decades later, because events were happening at no more than the speed of light. The point is, if Velma should make an uncorrected mistake at her job, destruction would happen.
It was six o’clock, and Velma’s relief arrived on time. With a sigh of relief, she relinquished her booth and went to get her coat. Her personal robot was waiting for her out in the hallway. Tomorrow before her shift, would be classes, and her first class the next day was scheduled to be space walking. A good sleep shift would be essential.
Miss Cook’s robot brought her to her suite. Velma was the only student who could afford personal accommodations like these. Other students were forced to share dorm rooms, with three or more students to a room.
As she slept, she had an awful nightmare of being abducted by strange looking aliens, and being restrained by them in a warehouse in the middle of San Francisco. The aliens repeated the one word, over and over: “Vie…vie…vie.” And then she thought she was drowning, and then awoke in a cold sweat.
Velma got up and fixed a cup of tea, wanting to shake off the experience of the horrible nightmare. She realized if she went back to sleep just then, would probably oversleep, and as it was, had time for an extra shower and some studying.
What did that mean? Vie, vie, vie…? Velma entered all the possible meanings into her pocket computer and could find nothing that would mean anything to her.
This was not the first time this dream had happened, and it worried her. Of course, she would say nothing about it to her superiors, or to anyone. She could take the not risk being decommissioned on the basis of craziness.
* * *
Cook, three other students, two of whom were male, and the instructor for space walking, Mr. Dennison, were suiting up in front of the airlock adjacent to the practice area which was a basin in the rock on the outside of the space station. One of the male students was gawking at Velma.
“What are you looking at, Don Juan? You certainly have seen a woman before, right? What do you see now?” Miss Cook said.
“What do you see, young man?” said the instructor, chiming in.
“I see a qualified space walking student,” replied the student, in a very controlled tone, attempting not to convey his extreme embarrassment.
“Let’s get to business,” said Mr. Dennison. “If anyone is not suited up in another five minutes, that person stays indoors. Everyone, pay attention to yourself.”
Within a few minutes, all four students and the instructor were outside the airlock. Each student had a tether that prevented him or her from getting lost in the depths of space, while the instructor didn’t need a tether.
The first practice exercise was simply to play catch with a softball-sized ball. They had done this before while indoors with the artificial gravity off. However, being in a vacuum as well as being in a spacesuit added extra elements of difficulty.
In a moment, Velma didn’t know what she was seeing: a hand was missing from the instructor. A meteor must have hit him. The instructor desperately clutched at his arm while his spacesuit began to quickly lose air. Meanwhile, the injured and gasping Dennison started to float aimlessly out into deep space.
Velma pulled on her tether to bring herself to where the cord was anchored to the space station, and unhooked the steel line. A space suited man tried to grab her, but she was off, having kicked herself in the direction of the flailing Dennison. She sped up her trajectory by firing her foot jets for a slight instant. She had good aim; she connected with and grabbed onto the instructor. Now, both of them were headed away from the space station. Velma wrapped part of her tether around Dennison’s arm above where it was missing the hand. She pulled very tight on the cord, stopping the loss of air and blood for now. She twisted a knob on Dennison’s suit, and it was once again pressurized. A red light on his suit became green, indicating that the instructor had some type of vital signs. He was unconscious, but she could see through the faceplate that he was starting to breathe.
Velma quickly tied herself to Dennison, and this freed up the use of her arms. She spun her arms in circles for gyroscopic action, and this caused her and the instructor to rotate to where their heads were pointed at the space station. She fired her foot rockets at full, reversing their flotation. They were now on a collision course with the roof of the space station. Velma pointed one foot to the side and fired the rocket, providing them with a course correction that aimed them back at the practice area.
Soon, the other three students who still had tethers on grabbed the two of them and brought them into the airlock. Velma opened her faceplate as soon as the airlock was pressurized, and alerted emergency services on the intercom. Two men and a stretcher appeared on the other side of the airlock door, and whisked away the damaged instructor.
Velma wanted to call the fellow student who had tried to stop her an idiot. He was the same one who had gawked at her previously. She decided not to give him that insult, since silence would actually serve as more of a punishment.
Colonel Kim gave Velma a day off from scanning when he heard what happened. This gave her a chance to hang out in the diner with a big jug of coffee and send messages to family members.
* * *
Velma had unpacked her suitcases and had wondered where one object came from. It was a metallic box apparently intended for index cards, and it had a lock on it. Velma had set the box aside upon realizing she had no key that fit the object. Ordinarily, having such an object should have set off a big alarm bell inside Velma’s head, or in the consciousness of anyone who traveled to a strategically important space station. However, there was some sort of mental block that had been installed in Miss Cook that prevented her from bringing such an alert to full consciousness. Even so, something in the far back of her mind was saying: ‘Hold on a minute, this isn’t right.’
After another three weeks of serving at the early warning command and taking her classes, Velma was sick to her stomach in the middle of her shift at the command center. Velma alerted Colonel Kim that she would need to leave early.
Velma left without getting her coat, and without bringing her robot. Maybe this was a subconscious attempt at a distress signal for Kim. The colonel knew something wasn’t right with Velma, and tailed her to her quarters, far back enough so that Velma wouldn’t detect him.
Velma walked into her room and noticed that a key had appeared on her dresser, one that apparently might fit the index card box. She absently picked up the key. The door to her room burst open, and Colonel Kim bounded in, and approached Velma. Velma still wanted to open the index card box, despite the fact that her supervisor had just busted into her room. Colonel Kim grabbed Velma’s wrist and snatched the key. He looked at the metallic box and knew what it was. Colonel Kim sounded a red alert on the space station from his wrist intercom. Soon, Velma’s quarters were filled with security men, and Velma had been taken away for examination.
* * *
Several months later, Velma was “on hold” at a government facility on Earth, which ironically was located near San Francisco.
“Do you understand what happened to you,” repeated the psychologist who was employed by the government, speaking to Miss Cook, who was under hypnosis.
“I was programmed by aliens to destroy the space station with a bomb. A third group of aliens were interested in obliterating both of the planets who were in a cold war. It would have left them in dominance of this local area of solar systems.” Velma’s speech was in a monotone, and it lacked the arrogant smartness that was her standard.
“Do you understand why we need to blank a large section of your memory?”
“Leakage of any of this information is a threat. This is the only alternative to either permanent incarceration for me, or disintegration. I have chosen to voluntarily undergo the induced amnesia upon being informed of the choices.” A bit of sadness leaked into Velma’s voice that made her monotone speech crackle a little.
“You can sleep now, Velma. Remember that you have fulfilled your duty with excellence.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Zen vs. Wealth: Is there a real conflict?
MONEY, SELF-WORTH AND BUDDHISM
JACK BRAGEN
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
Despite the saying, “Money doesn’t buy happiness,” it is a commodity almost universally sought. Money is necessary in our society in order to do or have almost anything. The more money a person has, the more choices. And while money may not buy happiness, it does help when you need a loaf of bread.
It is not correct to think that Buddhism shuns money. Buddhism, rather, objects to the desire for money. If you have money, that’s fine. Just don’t create a path of destruction in the insatiable quest for it. People sometimes misquote the Bible and say: “Money is the root of all evil.” But the correct quote in part is: “…the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.”
Money carries no inherent moral value, good or bad. It is the bad things people do to get money, or with money once they have it, that is the problem.
Since many Buddhist practitioners and others have not yet transcended suffering on the physical plane, money for basic necessities can make a substantial difference to the level of suffering a person experiences, or not.
However, when you are talking about large amounts of money, above and beyond what is needed, money affects the level of happiness via a person’s set of gross illusions and expectations. The hoarding of massive amounts of wealth is sometimes for the purpose of feeding some deficiency in a person’s ego. There was a news piece about the major players on Wall Street who have been in competition with each other to see who can rack up the biggest numbers, who has the fastest car, and who can out spend everyone else. It has been a contest of the mega affluent, and the result is a crippled American economy.
As a result of the recession in the United States, there are millions of depressed people because many citizens who were once financially extremely successful have had to lower their expectations.
This recession is also an opportunity for learning. I’ve met a man who became emotionally devastated upon having earnings of twenty percent of previous. Yet the man still had enough money to live on and to support his family--just not in the style he was used to. He still lives comfortably on the income he has, but he has lost all sense of the self worth that he associated with his earnings. The money apparently wasn’t just for the purpose of living in luxury. He believed he was “somebody” because of the income he generated.
For many typical Americans, self esteem is linked to how much money they can earn. And then the money they make becomes more of a symbol of prestige rather than merely a means of support. When that happens, a lot of the enjoyment of the money that could happen is lost. The individual is stuck in a race to earn more and more money in the pursuit of the elusive, “enough” state.
Buddhism teaches that everything in the universe is impermanent. A person may achieve wealth, but at some point, that wealth will end. Either the person will lose the money at some point, or they will die and thus no longer be wealthy. That’s why Buddhism teaches that when you hang on to something in the universe, for example, money, you will suffer.
Self-acceptance and self worth can be difficult to attain despite being internally generated states. You can achieve self-worth and self-esteem even if you are penniless. These states are just as hard to achieve if you are a multi millionaire. This is because, in spite of appearances, self esteem and self worth are completely separate issues from the amount of income and prestige you have.
People of more self worth might be less likely to debase themselves for money. Yet they could be more likely to become an entrepreneur, and thus earn money in some innovative way. If someone doesn’t have any self worth, they may be unlikely to try anything that could lead to generating wealth. Yet, in the presence of real self worth, the lack of wealth is not devastating.
Self worth and self-esteem are states that vaguely resemble being happy. It is easier to be happy if you have them, assuming that you are living within the boundaries of your ego mind.
Buddhist practice doesn’t seem to specifically address self-esteem, self-appreciation and self worth. It encourages transcendence in which even these internally generated states aren’t a necessity. Yet, if you are an imperfect Buddhist, and it seems that most of us are, unconditional self worth and self appreciation will make the ego mind a more comfortable place to visit when you are not transcendent.
If you have achieved self worth, it is easier to meditate toward more enlightenment because you are more likely to expect your efforts to work. If you practice from a place of no self worth, the practice could end up being hijacked into a system of more self-punishment.
The man I mentioned before, who was upset because his income was down doesn’t realize that he could potentially do reprogramming to change his perception of himself, and this would take less work than once again attaining that huge amount of money.
Self worth, self-acceptance and self-esteem are gifts that you can bestow on yourself, and they don’t cost you anything.
People who practice Buddhism in the early stages may associate self worth with the idea of being a “master” or of having Buddhist attainment. However, upon going farther into the practice, you realize that you are good enough for yourself at any level of attainment. When more meditation is done, it becomes less relevant how “high up” you are on the ladder to enlightenment.
A step toward success is the point where you believe you are an acceptable, worthy, lovable person. Believing in yourself in this way allows you to enjoy real contact with other human beings. If you do not believe in your worthiness, everyone around you may appear frightening. Once you are worthy by your own self evaluation, the world opens up to you, and this is regardless of whether or not you’re at the top of the Zen totem pole, whether you’re rich or poor, and whether or not you have the approval of another person. Once you approve of yourself, you’ve joined the ranks of the human race—in a good way.
JACK BRAGEN
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
Despite the saying, “Money doesn’t buy happiness,” it is a commodity almost universally sought. Money is necessary in our society in order to do or have almost anything. The more money a person has, the more choices. And while money may not buy happiness, it does help when you need a loaf of bread.
It is not correct to think that Buddhism shuns money. Buddhism, rather, objects to the desire for money. If you have money, that’s fine. Just don’t create a path of destruction in the insatiable quest for it. People sometimes misquote the Bible and say: “Money is the root of all evil.” But the correct quote in part is: “…the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil.”
Money carries no inherent moral value, good or bad. It is the bad things people do to get money, or with money once they have it, that is the problem.
Since many Buddhist practitioners and others have not yet transcended suffering on the physical plane, money for basic necessities can make a substantial difference to the level of suffering a person experiences, or not.
However, when you are talking about large amounts of money, above and beyond what is needed, money affects the level of happiness via a person’s set of gross illusions and expectations. The hoarding of massive amounts of wealth is sometimes for the purpose of feeding some deficiency in a person’s ego. There was a news piece about the major players on Wall Street who have been in competition with each other to see who can rack up the biggest numbers, who has the fastest car, and who can out spend everyone else. It has been a contest of the mega affluent, and the result is a crippled American economy.
As a result of the recession in the United States, there are millions of depressed people because many citizens who were once financially extremely successful have had to lower their expectations.
This recession is also an opportunity for learning. I’ve met a man who became emotionally devastated upon having earnings of twenty percent of previous. Yet the man still had enough money to live on and to support his family--just not in the style he was used to. He still lives comfortably on the income he has, but he has lost all sense of the self worth that he associated with his earnings. The money apparently wasn’t just for the purpose of living in luxury. He believed he was “somebody” because of the income he generated.
For many typical Americans, self esteem is linked to how much money they can earn. And then the money they make becomes more of a symbol of prestige rather than merely a means of support. When that happens, a lot of the enjoyment of the money that could happen is lost. The individual is stuck in a race to earn more and more money in the pursuit of the elusive, “enough” state.
Buddhism teaches that everything in the universe is impermanent. A person may achieve wealth, but at some point, that wealth will end. Either the person will lose the money at some point, or they will die and thus no longer be wealthy. That’s why Buddhism teaches that when you hang on to something in the universe, for example, money, you will suffer.
Self-acceptance and self worth can be difficult to attain despite being internally generated states. You can achieve self-worth and self-esteem even if you are penniless. These states are just as hard to achieve if you are a multi millionaire. This is because, in spite of appearances, self esteem and self worth are completely separate issues from the amount of income and prestige you have.
People of more self worth might be less likely to debase themselves for money. Yet they could be more likely to become an entrepreneur, and thus earn money in some innovative way. If someone doesn’t have any self worth, they may be unlikely to try anything that could lead to generating wealth. Yet, in the presence of real self worth, the lack of wealth is not devastating.
Self worth and self-esteem are states that vaguely resemble being happy. It is easier to be happy if you have them, assuming that you are living within the boundaries of your ego mind.
Buddhist practice doesn’t seem to specifically address self-esteem, self-appreciation and self worth. It encourages transcendence in which even these internally generated states aren’t a necessity. Yet, if you are an imperfect Buddhist, and it seems that most of us are, unconditional self worth and self appreciation will make the ego mind a more comfortable place to visit when you are not transcendent.
If you have achieved self worth, it is easier to meditate toward more enlightenment because you are more likely to expect your efforts to work. If you practice from a place of no self worth, the practice could end up being hijacked into a system of more self-punishment.
The man I mentioned before, who was upset because his income was down doesn’t realize that he could potentially do reprogramming to change his perception of himself, and this would take less work than once again attaining that huge amount of money.
Self worth, self-acceptance and self-esteem are gifts that you can bestow on yourself, and they don’t cost you anything.
People who practice Buddhism in the early stages may associate self worth with the idea of being a “master” or of having Buddhist attainment. However, upon going farther into the practice, you realize that you are good enough for yourself at any level of attainment. When more meditation is done, it becomes less relevant how “high up” you are on the ladder to enlightenment.
A step toward success is the point where you believe you are an acceptable, worthy, lovable person. Believing in yourself in this way allows you to enjoy real contact with other human beings. If you do not believe in your worthiness, everyone around you may appear frightening. Once you are worthy by your own self evaluation, the world opens up to you, and this is regardless of whether or not you’re at the top of the Zen totem pole, whether you’re rich or poor, and whether or not you have the approval of another person. Once you approve of yourself, you’ve joined the ranks of the human race—in a good way.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Here's some PC help!
SOME TIPS FOR A FRIENDLIER PC
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
Jack Bragen
I have run into individuals in all walks of life who find their computer to be a source of frustration. While there are those who find computers to be second nature and who naturally acclimate to their usage, there are also those who find themselves “blocked” and who need a little assistance to get going. It’s not a sign of less smarts if you don’t find computers easy. I have met numerous people with very high I.Q. levels for whom computer use just doesn’t come naturally. With that in mind, this article offers a few pointers that might help you get better use of your unit.
Keep your anti virus software updated, and scan your hard drive with it frequently. Your anti virus software doesn’t do anything unless it is being used. Updating of the anti virus software includes the downloading of “virus definitions” which tell the computer what viruses to look out for. It also includes the downloading of updates to the software that improve its ability to knock out the newest viruses that are resistant to the previous versions of software. “Tracking cookies” allow others to track where you’ve been and slow down the computer, but they generally pose little or not threat to the computer’s integrity. It is good to clean them up periodically. However, “Trojans” “Worms” and “Viruses” are all terms that refer to a strong threat to your computer. These threats are also contagious, and can be spread to other people’s units.
Your data recorded on your computer is far more valuable than the computer itself! You should periodically back up all of the important data on your unit onto recordable CD’s or DVD’s. Windows Visa comes with backup software, and you are better off if you take advantage of it. If you do not have backup software, you can learn to manually transfer your documents from where they are stored onto the data bank that is to be burned onto the disk. In the disk burning software, there is generally a “wizard” that will allow you to drag and drop documents into a window that shows what is to be recorded onto the CD or DVD. Most computers nowadays are capable of burning either CD’s, DVD’s, or both. You might not know whether or not your computer can do this. As a last resort, Word and some Excel documents are small enough that they can be transferred onto floppies. However, for photos and videos, one floppy might or might not be able to accommodate just one.
“Spam Filtering” done by your Internet service provider can exclude some of the emails that you should and want to receive, and not just the Spam’s. Some of the spam can also leak through the spam filer, as well. This is due to the fact that it is a computer on the other end that tries to recognize what is the spam and what isn’t. Computers do not have the power to judge. They [the spam filtering computers] are taught to look for specific characteristics that the software designer believes will indicate a spam. You may not know that emails are getting deleted unless you check with those people who may be sending you the emails. To check on this, you can also refer to the “settings” section of the webmail stage of your email. By “webmail” I mean that there is generally a webpage available that is at a stage prior to where the mail is downloaded into Outlook, Outlook Express, Thunderbird, or other email “clients” that you might be using. You can find out the web address of this “webmail” page by asking your internet service provider.
FYI: you can change the “wallpaper” shown on your computer screen by “right-clicking” on an unused portion of the screen and choosing “customize,” or “properties” in earlier versions of windows. From the menu that comes up, you can choose a number of pictures that are already stored in Windows. If you feel ambitious, you can learn to put a digital photo or a scanned picture onto your screen.
The “cancel” button is your friend. If you are unsure of what you are about to do or of what the computer is asking you to do, often the safest option is to hit “cancel.” Cancel will stop a specific pending action that your computer is ready to take. In some instances, such as in Word, “cancel” will stop you from closing the document you are working on. In this scenario, you want to be certain that the document appears in exactly the form that you want it “saved” in before you close the document. If you have just accidentally deleted a bunch of text, you can click on the “don’t save” button in order to revert back to the previous time in which the document was saved. If the computer is asking you to do something that you disagree with, or that you’re not yet ready to do, sometimes the cancel button comes in handy.
If you are ready to purchase a flat panel monitor, don’t hesitate. They are better for your health than the older “CRT” monitors because they don’t produce the X-rays and Gamma rays, and the low-frequency RF radiation that come from a picture tube. They save energy, they don’t collect as much dust internally, [high voltages used to power a CRT attract dust], they don’t break down as often, they have a better picture, and they are less likely to start a fire of there is a “short circuit.” They also produce less hazardous waste when they are to be disposed of. Flat panel monitors have come down in price. FRY’s sells several models for under $200.
Last but not least: If you don’t want something known by members of the public, don’t enter it onto your computer. Files can be accessed via internet spying, and there is no absolute way to prevent this. If you want your personal information spread everywhere, including other countries, post it on the Internet.
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
Jack Bragen
I have run into individuals in all walks of life who find their computer to be a source of frustration. While there are those who find computers to be second nature and who naturally acclimate to their usage, there are also those who find themselves “blocked” and who need a little assistance to get going. It’s not a sign of less smarts if you don’t find computers easy. I have met numerous people with very high I.Q. levels for whom computer use just doesn’t come naturally. With that in mind, this article offers a few pointers that might help you get better use of your unit.
Keep your anti virus software updated, and scan your hard drive with it frequently. Your anti virus software doesn’t do anything unless it is being used. Updating of the anti virus software includes the downloading of “virus definitions” which tell the computer what viruses to look out for. It also includes the downloading of updates to the software that improve its ability to knock out the newest viruses that are resistant to the previous versions of software. “Tracking cookies” allow others to track where you’ve been and slow down the computer, but they generally pose little or not threat to the computer’s integrity. It is good to clean them up periodically. However, “Trojans” “Worms” and “Viruses” are all terms that refer to a strong threat to your computer. These threats are also contagious, and can be spread to other people’s units.
Your data recorded on your computer is far more valuable than the computer itself! You should periodically back up all of the important data on your unit onto recordable CD’s or DVD’s. Windows Visa comes with backup software, and you are better off if you take advantage of it. If you do not have backup software, you can learn to manually transfer your documents from where they are stored onto the data bank that is to be burned onto the disk. In the disk burning software, there is generally a “wizard” that will allow you to drag and drop documents into a window that shows what is to be recorded onto the CD or DVD. Most computers nowadays are capable of burning either CD’s, DVD’s, or both. You might not know whether or not your computer can do this. As a last resort, Word and some Excel documents are small enough that they can be transferred onto floppies. However, for photos and videos, one floppy might or might not be able to accommodate just one.
“Spam Filtering” done by your Internet service provider can exclude some of the emails that you should and want to receive, and not just the Spam’s. Some of the spam can also leak through the spam filer, as well. This is due to the fact that it is a computer on the other end that tries to recognize what is the spam and what isn’t. Computers do not have the power to judge. They [the spam filtering computers] are taught to look for specific characteristics that the software designer believes will indicate a spam. You may not know that emails are getting deleted unless you check with those people who may be sending you the emails. To check on this, you can also refer to the “settings” section of the webmail stage of your email. By “webmail” I mean that there is generally a webpage available that is at a stage prior to where the mail is downloaded into Outlook, Outlook Express, Thunderbird, or other email “clients” that you might be using. You can find out the web address of this “webmail” page by asking your internet service provider.
FYI: you can change the “wallpaper” shown on your computer screen by “right-clicking” on an unused portion of the screen and choosing “customize,” or “properties” in earlier versions of windows. From the menu that comes up, you can choose a number of pictures that are already stored in Windows. If you feel ambitious, you can learn to put a digital photo or a scanned picture onto your screen.
The “cancel” button is your friend. If you are unsure of what you are about to do or of what the computer is asking you to do, often the safest option is to hit “cancel.” Cancel will stop a specific pending action that your computer is ready to take. In some instances, such as in Word, “cancel” will stop you from closing the document you are working on. In this scenario, you want to be certain that the document appears in exactly the form that you want it “saved” in before you close the document. If you have just accidentally deleted a bunch of text, you can click on the “don’t save” button in order to revert back to the previous time in which the document was saved. If the computer is asking you to do something that you disagree with, or that you’re not yet ready to do, sometimes the cancel button comes in handy.
If you are ready to purchase a flat panel monitor, don’t hesitate. They are better for your health than the older “CRT” monitors because they don’t produce the X-rays and Gamma rays, and the low-frequency RF radiation that come from a picture tube. They save energy, they don’t collect as much dust internally, [high voltages used to power a CRT attract dust], they don’t break down as often, they have a better picture, and they are less likely to start a fire of there is a “short circuit.” They also produce less hazardous waste when they are to be disposed of. Flat panel monitors have come down in price. FRY’s sells several models for under $200.
Last but not least: If you don’t want something known by members of the public, don’t enter it onto your computer. Files can be accessed via internet spying, and there is no absolute way to prevent this. If you want your personal information spread everywhere, including other countries, post it on the Internet.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Secrets To Cooking Good Rice
A GREAT POT OF RICE COMES WITH EXPERIENCE
Jack Bragen
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
Learning to consistently prepare a good pot of rice is like becoming adept at parallel parking: They both require experience, focus, and finesse.
The first thing is to select a good brand of rice and stick with it. The cheaper brands may have pebbles or bits of dirt that must be fished out, and even with this, the final result may not taste as good. Once a good brand is found, it is important to stay with it, since different brands may need different cook times. The directions on your package are not always accurate.
Rice in a re-closable bag is a good idea, since this will prevent infestation by insects. If not, you should keep rice in an airtight container. I’ve seen rice kept in an open bucket, and it wasn’t long before the bucket was loaded with moth larvae!
Fill a small or medium sized pot about halfway with water, and get it to a full boil on your stove before you add the uncooked rice. Too low a temperature to begin with will leave your pot of rice destined for the disposal. Adding the right amount of rice for the amount of water is important. With practice, it is best done by “eyeballing.” Over time, you will know exactly how much to pour. The amount is approximately half the height of the boiling water. Give it a little stir.
Put the cover on the pot and turn the heat down to a level that will provide a moderate boil with the pot covered. Going too low on temperature, again, is not a good thing. Get to know your stove: For example; my stove is best put on number 2&1/2 or sometimes 2 once the pot is covered. Your stove is liable to be different.
Leave your rice alone to do its thing as much as possible. Checking on it too frequently may worsen the outcome. With white long grain rice, about fifteen minutes, plus or minus five minutes, ought to do it. Nearly all of the water should be absorbed, and the rice should be palatable. Take a taste after cooling your sample. If the rice is okay or very close to okay, put the lid back on and take it off the heat. Let it sit a few minutes to cool and to absorb the last of the water.
Brown long grain rice may take a lot longer to cook, and doesn’t go down well when undercooked. The proportions of water and rice remain about the same.
Cooking good rice, like many other things, may not go well on the first try. Yet with practice and persistence, you’ll get the hang of it.
Jack Bragen
Copyright 2009 By Jack Kenneth Bragen
Learning to consistently prepare a good pot of rice is like becoming adept at parallel parking: They both require experience, focus, and finesse.
The first thing is to select a good brand of rice and stick with it. The cheaper brands may have pebbles or bits of dirt that must be fished out, and even with this, the final result may not taste as good. Once a good brand is found, it is important to stay with it, since different brands may need different cook times. The directions on your package are not always accurate.
Rice in a re-closable bag is a good idea, since this will prevent infestation by insects. If not, you should keep rice in an airtight container. I’ve seen rice kept in an open bucket, and it wasn’t long before the bucket was loaded with moth larvae!
Fill a small or medium sized pot about halfway with water, and get it to a full boil on your stove before you add the uncooked rice. Too low a temperature to begin with will leave your pot of rice destined for the disposal. Adding the right amount of rice for the amount of water is important. With practice, it is best done by “eyeballing.” Over time, you will know exactly how much to pour. The amount is approximately half the height of the boiling water. Give it a little stir.
Put the cover on the pot and turn the heat down to a level that will provide a moderate boil with the pot covered. Going too low on temperature, again, is not a good thing. Get to know your stove: For example; my stove is best put on number 2&1/2 or sometimes 2 once the pot is covered. Your stove is liable to be different.
Leave your rice alone to do its thing as much as possible. Checking on it too frequently may worsen the outcome. With white long grain rice, about fifteen minutes, plus or minus five minutes, ought to do it. Nearly all of the water should be absorbed, and the rice should be palatable. Take a taste after cooling your sample. If the rice is okay or very close to okay, put the lid back on and take it off the heat. Let it sit a few minutes to cool and to absorb the last of the water.
Brown long grain rice may take a lot longer to cook, and doesn’t go down well when undercooked. The proportions of water and rice remain about the same.
Cooking good rice, like many other things, may not go well on the first try. Yet with practice and persistence, you’ll get the hang of it.
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