A Splintered Mind by Douglas Cootey

How to Lose Time & Clients Simultaneously

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 06:00:05 PDT

It seems there’s been nothing but illness, sickness, ailment, infirmity, and infection in our home lately. On top of that my teenage daughters are doing their best to give me a heart attack with boys, friends, and clothing. I’ve tried explaining to them they may want to wait for me to get published before driving me to my grave, or at least until I have a beefy life insurance policy. I’d be worth more to them then, but you know teenagers. There is no time for adult advice.

Mostly, my life has been bouncing from bronchitis to ticking and back again until my body is so confused that every time I tic I need a cough drop. Honestly, what is there in my life that is interesting to write about? Or even tweet about? It’s Dullsville on a mothballs over here.

Take Saturday morning. I experienced a charming nightmare involving a poisonous coral snake, moody music, and a delightful scene where it crawled into my clothes. I couldn’t move fast enough to yank it out before it bored into my spinal column, wriggling its way up my back. I awoke refreshed and twisted in my covers with my legs turned in a different direction than my torso.

After I untied myself from the pretzel I was in, I realized that I would soon be late for my hair appointment. I shaved, then spent 10 minutes walking around the upstairs looking for my wet towel. It took me that long to recall that I hadn’t actually taken a shower.

I knew then it was going to be one humdinger of a day.

Then again, that’s really how well my Summer has been going. It has been drama, drama, drama over here followed by intense periods of confusion. I haven’t written in my novel since the BYU conference. I don’t practice my pennywhistle 30 minutes a day. I don’t draw. I seem to be completely wrapped up in my daughter’s lives instead. You’d think I was the stay-at-home parent or something.

Somehow I think every year, “Hey, it’s the summer. I won’t have to drive them around everywhere. Think of all the time I’ll have with them home all day!”

Truth is, however, I never find any time. Time needs to be harvested, not found lying around on the ground. I can become so wrapped up in my day to day activities that I fail to plan properly. ADHD fog blurs the days as they pass by and Summer is almost over before I know it.

For some reason, I constantly plan my personal projects as if I have all the time in the world, instead of realizing I already have a full time job. Then the big projects fall by the side and I end up frustrated and behind. It’s an ADHD disconnect with reality that gets me every year at this time.

Case in point: my current web assignment. I say “current” with a cheek full of tongue. The project is behind and now the blame lies fully on my shoulders. What was originally a timing issue with my client last Summer & Fall is now turning out to be a timing issue with my own life. It’s embarrassing. Family drama, illness & disabilities don’t mean much to clients. They just want results.

In hindsight I shouldn’t have taken on the job, but now I’m committed. One thing going for me this year, though, is that I’m aware of the problem in July, not September, so I can do something about it. Embarrassment is quite the motivator.

I’ve made the goal to finish the site by the end of July. I’ll have to make some sacrifices to meet that goal, but I intend to induce hyperfocus on my end so that I plow through the procrastination wall with my head if I have to.

There are occasions where readers ask me how I am able to work through Depression or ADHD to be productive. I’m afraid I’m not really that amazing. For me the secret is fear of failure. I may be in a neurological cloud of confusion from moment to moment, but eventually responsibility breaks through like the sun on a rainy day. Those moments shock me forward and give me focus. I’d prefer to be organized without them, but my attention deficit wouldn’t be a disorder if I wasn’t so dysfunctional.

So I press on. My current client may never work with me again, but I’ll get their job done. The alternative is more embarrassment, and frankly I’d rather get bronchitis down to my toes again than experience that.

Bamboo & Shadow

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Mon, 13 Jul 2009 04:28:56 PDT

Bamboo & Shadow
Originally uploaded by Darkstream.

Up late.

Listening to the ethereal trance sounds of Above & Beyond's Tri-state.

But not sleeping.

Spare the Sponge, Spoil the Child

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 18:00:01 PDT

This article was originally published at dadomatic.com.

I have a seven year old with learning disabilities. She’s a cute kid, and I love her tons, but she has a small problem that challenges me on a daily basis: She’s mentally a five year old with the reach and appetite of a seven year old.

Case in point, I have sugar cubes I like to add to my tea. No matter where I store them, she’ll invariably find them and eat them—every single one. At this point, I may never drink tea again. It’s quite difficult to get out the ladder and climb to the eaves where I’m currently hiding them.

Yesterday, she was on the prowl for some cookies my wife had picked up. When I told my girl that not only had I hid the cookies, but that she couldn’t have them until after dinner, I was met with a classic tempersulktrum. First her spine seemed to liquify as her body collapsed in upon itself while she simultaneously threw her arms upwards. Then they came down in a masterfully timed descent with the crumpling of her legs. Before hitting the floor she sprung back up while wailing, then repeated the process a few times. It was quite the spectacle.

I usually send her to her room and tell her she can come back when she’s ready to behave. This time, however, I was struck with a sudden idea. Grabbing a discarded candy bag, I told her it represented her stomach. Then I took a sponge and told her it represented a cookie. (Ew! A sponge‽) Then I put the sponge inside the bag and asked her if there was any room left in the bag. When she saw there was none, I told her that’s why we want her to eat dinner first—so there’d be room in her stomach for it. The light went on in her eyes and I knew I had won a decisive battle.

I personally know a handful of ladies who can sew up fluffy, colorful, cloth stomachs with insertable, stuffed snack and dinner dolls faster than I can scratch my armpit, but lacking said skills I did the best I could. Even after some thought, however, I couldn’t come up with a better visual aide. Using real cookies and dinner in a ziplock baggie would look disgusting. For the time being this was one tempersulktrum I managed to simply blot up with a sponge.

How do you teach your children to not snitch treats before dinner? Please share your tips.

Douglas Cootey is a married, full time dad raising four girls in the Salt Lake Valley of Utah who has long ago overcome his aversion to the color Pink. Douglas blogs about overcoming AD/HD & Depression with humor & pluck over at the award winning A Splintered Mind. He also co-produces a podcast with his 17 year old daughter. The random thoughts of his addled mind can be found at DouglasCootey and SplinteredMind over on Twitter.

Photo credit: Look What I Found
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It's Only a Matter of Time

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Fri, 26 Jun 2009 05:25:42 PDT

This article was originally published at dadomatic.com.

Have you read that book Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell
?

You haven’t? You must not want your kids to succeed. In it Gladwell provides evidence that the only difference between so-so violin players and master violin players is the amount of hours they practiced. The masters put in about 10,000 hours of practice before hitting twenty years old. The so-so players? Only 8000. That’s only 1.466 hours of practice a day, seven days a week for fifteen years. What slackers! If only their parents had driven them from age five on to practice a measly .366 hours a day more — a mere sixteen or so minutes.

Learning that I wondered if I had failed as a parent and doomed my children to mediocrity for the rest of their lives.

“I’m so sorry, girls! You’ll never amount to anything!”

They stared at me slack jawed and wide eyed and I knew that it was true. Clearly they were all brain damaged.

“But it’s not too late!” said I. Quickly calculating, I realized that if I put my seven year old with Cerebral Palsy into ice skating today, she could be a master by twenty with only two hours of daily practice. My ten year old, who wanted to play the harp, would only need to practice 2.75 hours a day for the next ten years if she wanted to amount to anything in the harp world. She could fit all that practice in while we were at the skating rink and during the ride home. Most kids spend more time watching TV than that, so it was completely doable.

My fourteen year old was a dancer who wanted to compete in the Irish stepdancing on the world level. She’s already put in about 2000 hours since she was eleven, so she’d need 3.66 hours of rigorous dancing a day to hit 10,000. Easy. We could just leave her at home with some plywood planks, a mirror, and some food. She doesn’t like doing homework anyway…

My seventeen year old posed a problem, though. She’d been singing since she was two, but not with a dedicated daily regimen. She’d only amassed 6000 hours of practice — such an abject failure. I was deeply ashamed for her. She, too, would need to squeeze in 3.66 hours of daily practice if she wanted to be a master vocalist in three short years.
But she could do it. I mean, she’ll have to if she doesn’t want to grow up to be a complete loser.

In fact, they could all do it if they did nothing but practice non-stop. Who needs playtime?
Fortunately, it’s not too late to shape and mold my seven year old. I can just imagine the conversations we’ll have when I prepare her for Charter High School next year…
“But Dad, I don’t want to major in system administration, pharmacology, and neuroscience!”

“You’ll do as you’re told. Now hush, we have to get you to the skating rink for your Olympics training.”

Borderline Personality Disorder - An Emotional Hair Trigger, Often Misread

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Fri, 19 Jun 2009 11:03:15 PDT

Personal Health - An Emotional Hair Trigger, Often Misread - NYTimes.com

This is an interesting article on Borderline Personality Disorder, something I was diagnosed with when I qualified for Social Security Disability in 1995. I have come to believe that the diagnosis was in error since I don't manifest any of the symptoms. I suspect my Depression, Anxiety Disorder, ADHD, and Chronic Motor Tic Disorder provided a cornucopia of symptoms that perhaps confused my psychologist at the time. Also, I'm sure the fact that I was experiencing suicidal ideation contributed as well.

What was most fascinating to me about this article was the mention of Dialectical Behavior Therapy – a drivative of Cognitive Behavior Therapy. I don't know enough about it to understand how they differ from one another, but it's something to look into.

Oh, hello! It's been a while, hasn't it? I've had all I could do to manage my family life, manage my disabilities, and prepare for and attend a writer's conference. It took a heavy toll on me. I'm still ticking and neurologically out of it six days later, but I'm glad I went. More articles soon. Thanks for reading.

Where Do You Go to Find Peace from the Stress of the World?

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 16:30:55 PDT

A different treatment of my new
favorite place - using CameraBag
Originally uploaded by Darkstream.

Such busy weeks these last few have been. I've been busy wrangling contract details with a magazine, rewriting the first three chapters of my novel, saving my marriage, saving the world, dealing with drama, ticking, forgetting stuff, and being thoroughly distracted that I haven't blogged much. Twitter has taken up the full brunt of my creative output.

That's a bit sad, isn't it?

As I finish reviewing some manuscripts for a writer's conference ( WIFYR) I'm attending all next week, I thought I'd share with you a photo from my new favorite place.

Sitting on that log I happily played my pennywhistle above the roar of the river beyond that fence. What a truly peaceful moment. I hope to visit it again tomorrow. I invite you visit my flickr photo album of Wheeler Farm - a place I've been to for years but recently rediscovered in wonderful new ways.

With luck I will have a new article for you next week. It's a fiasco to top all fiascos in a way that can only be fueled by the ever lovable ADHD.

In the meantime, please let us know in the comments what your favorite places in the world are. See you next week!

Please share in my joy. I'm FREE!

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 14:21:45 PDT

Big news. We crossed a milestone yesterday.

Mobile post sent by TheLaughingImp using Utterli. Replies. mp3

Morning Creativity

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Wed, 13 May 2009 18:49:18 PDT

Morning creativity
Originally uploaded by Darkstream.

I should warn you. After all this writing I've done for my #mlhh project, I've been feeling an itch to blog again, especially after reading a brilliant column by Dave Barry on his experience getting a colonoscopy.

I can completely relate with Barry's experience. When I was passing a kidney stone in 2001 and the doctor told me he wanted to ram Robbie the Robot's arm up through my traumatized manhood, I politely said "Sure thing, doc!" then never called him again. I instead passed the stone while my wife passed a child. Now I can tell you with certainty that passing a stone truly is the closest a man can get to child labor. I held her hand the whole time.

But I digress.

If I'm going to blog more, however, I might consider a new approach, or an old one for that matter. Even with my secret to eternal youth posted publicly for the world to see, I have to say I've been quite serious over here. Too serious. When I consider how much fun I had writing "The Quiet Riot", and how ADDitude magazine is paying me to reprint it in their Fall edition, I can see the writing on the wall: I need to write jokes for popsicle companies for a living.

While I'm working on that new life dream, I might try to step up the game over here. I'll start with this photo. "Morning Creativity". Already, I'm laughing. Morning? When am I up in the morning? In this case, "morning" simply signifies the beginning of my day. The sun had been up for a while. In fact, it had crossed across the entire sky and into my backyard. I'm fairly positive that's why I woke up in the middle of the day. Best alarm clock ever.

By this point I've spent more time writing an article about how I want to write more in my blog than I've spent writing on #mlhh, which supposedly is taking me away from my blog. Betcha can't guess I have ADHD.

Depression Ain't Pretty

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Mon, 11 May 2009 02:31:19 PDT

I really shouldn't be writing here. I'm behind and under deadline. I've been working on a novel deadline for the past three to four weeks. Unfortunately, my chronic motor tic disorder has been inconvenient and robbed me of many productive days. Many, many, many.

Then family drama hit me on Friday like a busload of mines. I spent hours upon hours this weekend triaging feelings and putting hearts back in order. Now everybody's happy, but I've got six and a half hours to pull off a miracle.

Considering how hellish things have been lately, I'm not holding my breath for a bailout from God.

Which brings me back to here. I shouldn't be here. However, I dealt with a particularly crushing bout of Depression this weekend and I thought I'd share with you how I handled it with my iPhone and Twitter.

7:24pm Realized I was depressed and knew I needed to do something about it. I had a novel to write, parents coming over, and more family drama awaiting me. However, I was too depressed to think of anything, so I took a self-portrait of my face to see how bad things were. They were very bad:

7:28pm Depression isn't pretty. http://twitpic.com/4ygvq

7:29pm I need to go through the routine: Am I depressed? Yes. Do I have a reason to be depressed? Yes.

7:29pm Is the amount of sadness appropriate for the situation? Want to say "yes" so will. Is the Depression helping me resolve the situation? No.

7:30pm So what am I going to do about it? I need to move. Change my shirt. Brush my teeth. Wash my face. Clean the livingroom. See where I'm at.

7:40pm Better? I also smiled 100 times to offset the downward pull on my face. Depression is down from DEFCON 1 to level 2. http://twitpic.com/4ykk0

As you can see I am a long way from being happy, but I feel the difference between the two photos are stark. Don't let Depression defeat you. Fight it. I do, and will continue to do so for the rest of my life. Because of my efforts now I'm at DEFCON 3*. I feel I was able to handle the family drama much better because I made an effort to not let Depression crush me. They were superficial things that made a big difference because I made the effort to move and fight.

Find your own techniques, no matter how silly or trivial, that can pull you out of a slump. Depression doesn't have to rule our lives.

Now back to writing. Thanks for reading.

*DEFCON was a arbitrary rating I pulled out of a hat.

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Winter Memory

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sun, 03 May 2009 13:05:58 PDT

This morning I was hot so I opened the window above my head and flolloped on top of my covers to cool off. I awoke again with a crust of ice over me so SLAM went the window.

Usually the weather is quite warm by May, but contrary to the popular need for the world to be rudely ignited by Global Warming, Winter has had quite a long hold here in the Midwest. We had snow here in Utah last month. In fact, I drove through a blizzard on my way into Denver just two weeks ago, nearly pitching headlong into the darkness thanks to a patch of black ice in Monarch Pass.

I know. I know. Weather is not the climate. Funny thing, though. We only hear that when cold weather inconveniently happens. I keep thoughts like that in mind when I'm huddling under the covers trying to restore warmth to my frozen extremities.

I found this time lapse experiment I made last February and thought I'd post it in honor of a nifty l'il news item in the New York Times where the warm-mongers have now hired a marketing firm to help them with Mother Nature's own slam on their credibility.

In the meantime, bundle up out there. It's only May.

(I linked to a secondary site because the Times has a habit of locking out their content to non-subscribers. The original Times link is here.)

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My Secret to Eternal Youth

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sat, 02 May 2009 04:29:35 PDT

Never grow up. You'll live longer.

Every ten days or so I update the @SplinteredMind avatar over on Twitter. I try to keep them zany or comical. These are two rejects. My wife didn't like them. I can't imagine why…

I had fun taking them, however. Taking silly pictures of myself is one way I keep Depression at bay. And we can't have people actually respecting me now, can we? I'd hate to ruin a good thing.

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Seventh Time's the Charm‽

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Thu, 30 Apr 2009 11:14:35 PDT

This article is cross-posted over at Dad-o-matic

This month marked a milestone for us. My oldest daughter, Brin, received her driving learner permit. It was also memorable for another reason: We tried seven times to get it.

You might think that the poor dear had difficulty passing the test, but that wasn’t where the problem lied. She passed the test with one try. It was getting our act together that was so problematic - almost as if the entire family was conspiring to prevent this wonderful event from happening.

The first time - recorded on video no less - we theatrically entered the DMV only to be turned away at the screener. We didn’t have Brin’s social security card. We just assumed we had it. Brin had grabbed the entire binder of personal family documents. Everybody’s social security card was in there except hers.

Instead of entering the brave new world of adulthood with hands on a steering wheel, Brin experienced the adult world of bureaucracy at the Social Security office. Two hours and two weeks later a crisp new social security card arrived in the mail. We were ready to try it again.

Unfortunately, a helpful sibling misplaced the card. After ripping our house apart for a few weeks in vain, we trudged back to the Social Security office for a replacement card for the replacement. This time Brin was determined not to let it out of her sight.

A few days after the second replacement arrived, I picked her up from school and drove over to the DMV. Only trouble? She didn’t have the card on her. It was securely stashed at home.

The fourth attempt a week or so later was uneventful due to the fact that they were closed.

The fifth attempt was also fruitless. Apparently, the DMV requires the supervising adult to have a valid drivers license. Mine was completely valid, but it was in my pants back home.

So far, one could lay the blame for these goof ups on my typically disorganized shoulders, but the sixth attempt wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t late to the DMV. I had my pants on, especially the ones containing my drivers license, and we had all the relevant documents. My daughter was beginning to get excited. For the first time we made it through the screener. Number in hand, she anxiously awaited her turn to present her documents and request a test. Then she received a crushing blow: the birth certificate we had was not an original.

Both of us were flabbergasted. We were certain the original had been in there. A frantic phone call to Mum later and we discovered that she had been so concerned about the loss of the original social security card that she had removed the original birth certificate and secured it someplace else.

Instead of sulking or ranting (albeit justifiably) as Brin had done with the previous attempts, she began to laugh. Up until this point I had been the only one finding the humor in our own personal sitcom. Now it was her turn.

The return to the DMV the next day was almost uneventful compared to how the previous six times had gone. All documents in order, we made it through the screener and then the agent. My girl was allowed to take her test and she passed handily. Soon a learner permit was issued and we walked out into the warm Utah day.

Even for a family as disorganized as mine, this was an unusual event. I’m glad that I was able to help Brin learn to laugh at the situation. It was pretty farcical. Now I wonder how she’ll react when I tell her the car’s unregistered.

Just kidding.

Architectural Abstract in Shadow

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sun, 12 Apr 2009 16:00:00 PDT

Architectural Abstract in Shadow
Originally uploaded by Darkstream.

Just before stepping into the Restaurant That Shall Not Be Named, I looked around for areas of high contrast to photograph because the sun was setting and the sky was overcast. I found this.

A Somewhat Ungreat Day That Wasn't Really So Bad

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 14:44:23 PDT

Yesterday was an interesting day. I was both busy and distracted. I can't say I accomplished a great deal, but I did things. When I wasn't watching the girls while my wife scooted about town, I forced myself to face fears.

I posted an audio blog that featured me playing a tinwhistle. (You have no idea how hard it was for me to do that), and I participated in video chats on Seesmic.com (That was even harder). All in all, it wasn't a bad day if you ignore all the mindless socializing online, reading news, blog tweaking, and trips to the eye doctor.

Not a great day then, upon reflection. Not great in comparison to the deeds of mighty men, or at least men with more than half a brain. Not great according to the pathetically unchecked todo list I was supposed to polish off.

Not great then, but definitely groovy. Remind me to tell you about my impulsive trip into Hooters some day…

But I digress.

I aim to make today a great day. I have a whole home to myself as my wife & girls head off to a bluegrass competition for Bri'anna. As much as I'd love to tag along, I have freelance work to finish. If you see me on Twitter too much, feel free to publicly scold me.

In the meantime, I thought I'd share some links.

My edits for "The Secret Life of My Cat, Sneakers" are coming along. I've been thinking about character and motivation and peril and why anybody would want to read the story. Perhaps that is why I was so delighted by What Sequels Teach Us About Developing Character. Not only did reading that long article distract me from a particularly difficult edit, but it helped me think about character development in a new light. The script writers of "Heroes" could learn a thing or two from the creatively named "Schizoid Mann". I didn't find his article aloof at all and recommend it to any out there struggling with character development.

Meanwhile, the other day Jon Swanson helped me find the perfect pencil. He was right.

Lastly, earlier this week I searched Twitter for people chatting about ocarinas because I'm an odd, distracted man with way too much time on my hands and discovered @kurreltheraven. That led me to his website, Ravenspiral, and his wonderfully ethereal accompaniment on ocarina to his roommate's vacuum. Oh, go on. You know you want to listen to it.

Now, if this article didn't convince you that I truly do have ADHD, then I don't know what will. I also have insomnia, so I think I shall publish this and head off to bed. (AFTER I renew my domain. I just realized it was one of the items on my todo list that didn't get done.) I have a big day ahead of me when I awake.

Thanks for reading.

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What Do You Do During Your Downtime?

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 06:02:23 PDT

I have AD/HD like Ben & Jerry's has ice cream. Downtime is a big waste of time for me because I can't ever busy myself with useful things. For instance, I know a writer who works on her novel while ferrying her kids from dance to soccer to whatever. Impossible for me to even consider. I talk a little bit about that today and how I've been solving the problem. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the subject.

Mobile post sent by TheLaughingImp using Utterli. Replies. mp3

Somnambulist Shadows

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 06:01:39 PDT

Somnambulist Shadows
Originally uploaded by Darkstream.

Even now I type this at the unholy hour of 4:17am, and yet I am wide awake.

So What Exactly Am I Supposed to be Writing About?

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 06:00:00 PDT

Over the past few months I have addressed your questions in the comments sections and made promises to dedicate articles to some of the questions you have raised.

Then I forgot.

It's that cursed AD/HD thingummy. You'd think I would have learned my lesson and written the questions down or, even more helpful, started the articles as drafts with nothing but the questions recorded so I wouldn't forget them.

Alas, I'm just not that organized.

If you can remember which topics I promised to cover that I haven't written about already, please let me know here in the comments. I know there are a few topics left uncovered. Will vs. Wallow part four is still waiting to be written, for example.

This is also a wonderful opportunity for you to pitch ideas to me. Just be kind:

Reader1: Hey, remember you promised to write about Miley Cyrus nude again?
Me: No, I'm sure I've exhausted that particular subject.
Reader1: No, really. You promised to write about her relation to Morgan Fairchild, Martin Short, and Mania.
Me: Really? That doesn't sound like...
Reader1: Hey! I wouldn't lie to you. Cross my heart.
Reader2: Sure! Yeah, what he said! And the circus dwarves!
Me: Well, OK, if that's what I promised.
Reader1: And don't forget you promised to PayPal us all $50…

The Quiet Riot

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Thu, 04 Jun 2009 21:21:46 PDT

My Woeful Tale about ADHD and Background Noise.

One aspect of AD/HD that drives me bonkers is my inability to close out background noise. In fact, a better way to describe it would be to say that foreground and background noise switch within the addled confines of my mind. This is one reason I despised taking exams at the testing center during my time at BYU.

After passing through metal detectors and receiving a deep body cavity search, my pockets would be emptied out by use of gravity waves. These waves would be generated by very tall athletes lifting me heavenward by the ankles while shaking me roughly. It is assumed the accoutrements of deception would fall to the ground. I lost more pocket change that way.

Once I survived the gauntlet of hands and had my backpack x-rayed for radio devices, I would be allowed into the testing area with a simple No. 2 pencil and what was left of my dignity. There I would begin my test and experience the new assault: silence. This was a silence so heavy I could feel its weight on the back of my shoulders bearing me down.

Once the mind grew accustomed to the silence, then the fun began. Soon I could hear the room filled with sniffles and coughs like bird calls in an expansive aviary. The sniffles soon became snuffles to me, and then even those were drowned out by the pencil tappers. Seemingly harmless to those with normal brains, the gentle strikes of No. 2 pencils would hammer my brain like blows from a steel foundry.

pap pap pap bap bap BAP BAP

What I would have given for my trusty Walkman with a fresh set of batteries and some music to drown out the random noise.

These days I find the same type of assault when I try to fall asleep. Invariably, my insomnia has me ending the day when others are beginning. The happy hustle and bustle of the world awaking to new purpose makes falling asleep nigh near impossible. Fortunately, I have discovered a weapon to close out the din: white noise.

With the sounds of tropical Hawaiian rain, or binaural beat filled music by Pzizz, I can drown out the morning commotion and drift off to rest.

Of course, my white noise isn't quite the official variety. Most people think of white noise being a sound like a television that has lost its over-the-air signal. Regardless, any kind of white noise can be surprisingly relaxing, especially if there is subtle variety in the noise.

Although there are sundry machines dedicated to generating white noise, I have found most to be overly priced and underly satisfying with their short, repeating loops. Over time, I have found alternatives through trial & error. (Find links for them below)

Today, however, I am excited to share with you simplynoise

.

The site is cleanly designed, and you don't need a sound engineering degree like many apps I have found seem to require. Choose your flavor of noise (white, pink, or brown/red), slide the volume control to the desired output, and enjoy. I find enabling the oscillating volume adds variety to the sound that is both pleasant and non-distracting. If you have troubles shutting the world out when you need to study, write, create, etc., you may find this free service perfect for your needs.

Regrettably, I did not have this white noise in my arsenal when taking exams those long eons ago. If I had, I may have actually passed a class or two. Still, it is not likely they would have let me bring a white noise generator into the testing room, and, frankly, I would not have been able to smuggle it in. Back then it would have been the size of a Honda CRX.

These CDs for sale on Amazon.com are lifesavers for me:
Midnight Rainshower (MP3) by The Atmosphere Collection
Tropical Surf (MP3) by the Atmosphere Collection

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Easily Entertained

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Wed, 01 Apr 2009 01:57:23 PDT

Winter Not Yet Ready To Relinquish Its Hold

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 06:01:12 PDT

Winter not yet ready to relinquish its hold
Originally uploaded by Darkstream.

This was shot on March 9th, but the weather on Monday didn't look much different, and, from what I hear, the weather won't look much different tomorrow.

Still writing. It's all good. Thanks for your patience.

Fashion FAIL?

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sat, 11 Apr 2009 06:01:01 PDT

Fashion FAIL?
Originally uploaded by Darkstream.

…or time FAIL? I actually took time to create my own construction paper Twitter fail whale, then string it around my neck with yarn as a photo response to @ijustine. These are the whimsical ways that ADHD leads me through life.

In the meantime, I am writing an article about Twitter & AD/HD. I hope to polish it up for publication later today.

Other Ways I've Been Spending My Time

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Mon, 23 Mar 2009 06:00:02 PDT

Brin & I put this together over the weekend. I helped in the conceptualizing and filming; Brin did the nuts & bolts editing. I hope you enjoy it.

Later today I will post a new article. It has been a few weeks since I wrote one. At this point in time I do not know what I will be writing about, but I'm rather looking forward to the experience nonetheless.

Here's a belated St. Patty's Day photo for ya

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 20:36:59 PDT

Here's a belated St. Patty's Day photo for ya.
Originally uploaded by Darkstream.

Using the ToyCamera app on my iPhone. I was teaching the Leprechaun how to read time signatures…again. Hopefully, she got it this time.

Allergies have completely knocked me for a loop and a roll this past week. Elm & Cottonwood are not my friends. Add to that my recuperating from the forum I attended on the 12th & 13th and I have not had a very productive week. I know I was busy. I'm sure of it. I just can't remember exactly how I spent my time.

I did not view episodes of Stargate SG1 all week long in a neurological daze, I assure ~~myself~~ you.

Dawn Through a Screen

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Tue, 17 Mar 2009 03:08:35 PDT

Dawn Through a Screen
Originally uploaded by Darkstream.

Trying to take an interesting photo everyday, give or take a day.

In this case, I was finding something positive about the fact I was ending my day yesterday when the next day was beginning…

With luck, I will have a new article for you tomorrow. Or today.

Oh, nevermind. I'm going to bed.

I Have Been Keeping a Secret from You

noreply@blogger.com (Douglas Cootey) — Sun, 22 Mar 2009 20:50:47 PDT

For the past four years I have been very busy with a secret project. I've been helping my oldest daughter work towards being a Country singer/songwriter. I have driven her to lessons and performances, I learned about podcasting so she could host her own, helped her produce it, coded her webpages, cowrote music with her, provided tech support around the clock, and booked her gigs. It's a lot of work, and it hasn't always been fun, but it's been very exciting.

And exhausting.

Our daughter has been singing since she was two, performing since she was four, and in a dance troop at six. We have had to stretch and grow to keep up with her. When she was twelve we decided to help her pursue her dream. Podcasting was only a few months old, and I knew it would provide a unique opportunity for my girl.

We felt early on, though, that the internet was an unsafe place. Experiences in our past had taught us not to trust the world. Yet, here we were with a daughter who wanted to share herself with that same, dangerous world. We decided we would do the podcast as well as promote her locally, but we wouldn't allow her to reveal her location or show her face on the internet. For the first year we even let her subscribers think she came from the East coast (we adjusted for the time zone difference when posting to continue the illusion).

Meanwhile, we signed her up for voice lessons and let her perform around Utah. She grew in confidence and skill, learned about the music industry (something I demanded she research) and podcast about all of it.

Over time, however, I found myself at odds with my own edict that she not expose her ID publicly. The problem for me was that I am very transparent online (you may have noticed), and the one thing I thought people would find truly fascinating about what I do with my time had to be kept secret. This drove me crazy. She was so good, and we were doing such cool things together, that a part of me died inside every time I had to keep my lips sealed.

It with great relief and pride that I break the seal today.

Bri'anna Joy turned seventeen the other day, and several months ago we decided it was time to let her go public. She is more mature now and capable of handling the odd freak here & there, and she wanted to take her podcast in a direction that truly excited her for the four year anniversary: video

You can find more about her at BitzofBrin.com. There are links there to her MySpace page and her podcast. I encourage you to check her out and let her know what you think.

And now I present to you Bri'anna's first video podcast. We had a lot of fun putting it together. I hope you enjoy it.

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