Charlie's Frozen Blog

Hey Hey

Mall from Lincoln Mem.

Mall from Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Mall from Lincoln Mem.

Mall from Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Mall from Lincoln Mem.

Mall from Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln Mem.

Lincoln Mem.
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Capitol from Mall

Capitol from Mall
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln bust in Capitol

Lincoln bust in Capitol
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln bust in Capitol

Lincoln bust in Capitol
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln bust in Capitol

Lincoln bust in Capitol
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln statue under rotunda in Capitol

Lincoln statue under rotunda in Capitol
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Lincoln statue under rotunda in Capitol

Lincoln statue under rotunda in Capitol
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Capitol rotunda

Capitol rotunda
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Capitol rotunda

Capitol rotunda
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Washington Monument from Capitol steps.

IMG_2087
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Capitol grounds

Capitol grounds
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Capitol dome

Capitol dome
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

A Short List

A Dare

Click to enlarge

Notice

Effective immediately by order of Russian Federation -

Everything that is allowed is mandatory.
Everything else is strictly forbidden.

Sweet Dreams

I had a most disturbing dream this morning that I was carrying the Joliet hot pager ... over here.

In my dream I had just gotten done showering, it was dark outside and all the lights were off in my room - which was strange - but it was a dream after all.  As I got out of the shower I heard the chirp of the pager - it was giving that reminder sound that it had already gone off.  I was startled at the noise because I had totally forgotten that I was carrying the hot pager and it crossed my mind that "I should have gotten rid of this thing before I came over here."

I dressed quickly with the lights off.  I was getting nervous and my heart began to pound because I was not sure how long ago the pager went off - or how serious the call/problem might be - or who the complainer was on the other end of the call (Joliet peeps know the drill) and I didn't want to get in trouble for not having the pager in the bathroom with me.

Then I couldn't find the pager itself - it was hidden in my bed somewhere - but I kept hearing the little chirp sound and I was digging and digging through endless piles of beading that seemed to grow as I searched more desperately.  In reality the bed I have here is tiny (my feet and arms hang off of it most of the time), there is a single sheet, a threadbare diaphanous quilt and a pillow the size of a handkerchief (accommodations suited for a monk) - it is not a bottomless mass of comforters and cushions where things could get lost.

I finally found the pager and tried reading the message which was difficult to read as usual - I had to get a magnifying glass to make out the numbers because the back-light was so dim on the display.  When I was able to read the numbers I realized that there was a phone in my room that I had not noticed there before. 

For the purpose of this call for some reason I needed to be granted an outside line by the receptionist desk here at the Chayvo camp (this is not how the phone system works here  - there is no switchboard).  In my dream the guy behind the desk was the same guy who is there during the normal waking hours of the real world - Yuri.  I explained to Yuri what the situation was and that I needed to make this call as quickly as possible because it was a priority 1 ticket.  He told me, "I am sorry but this is not permissible, we have strict rules governing this sort of thing and we must receive official authorization before you can make any type of hot pager call  outside of the Russian Federation."

So with me hanging on the extension I had to listen to Yuri make several calls to different officials - some conversations were in English and some were in Russian - one thing was clear - we were making no progress.  I was no closer to making contact with whoever called the pager than when I was in the shower. I knew time was ticking away and I was imaging the worst - that the refinery was actually down because I was not responding.  Then in the back of my head I felt a sudden calm, a little comfort because I realized I was completely on the other side of the world and really really not technically responsible for whatever was going wrong.  But I felt like I was letting everyone in MW area services down -- plus I needed to be able to respond - even in the most basic sense - so that I could justify my continued compen$ation for carrying the pager.

Yuri finally got my call approved and dialed.  When the number was called I heard that European/Asian ring on the other end that is nothing like what we hear when making calls in the U.S.A.  When you dial someone over here and hear the ring on their end it is a low frequency, slow "beep-beep" not the high frequency "brrrring-brrrring" we know.  Well, my hot-response call kept ringing and ringing beep-beep ... beep-beep ... beep-beep - no answer.  I was convinced Yuri had dialed the wrong number, but I was afraid to suggest this because I could sense that he was already tiring of the trivial-Midwest-hot-pager-bullshit and the demanding American who thought his problems were so important.  So, in an effort not to be the rude, ugly American of lore, I let him keep ringing what I was sure was the wrong number - in the meanwhile I was getting a raging ulcer because the page was going unanswered.

That is pretty much where the dream ended.  The more I tried to make things right - the more they fell apart and got farther away from me (kind of like in real life).  I woke up agitated and unrested.  For the first few moments awake I was impressed by the coverage of the pager - getting signal on the other side of the globe was an impressive feat when sometimes they fail right there in Will County. 

Any amateur psychologists out there want to take a crack at probing my subconscious psyche in light of this delirium?

Let's make sure to document this situation and put it in the hot-pager book.

Flare

Boris Dahhllling ...

Before I even start putting words down in this post I can feel the focus of my idea changing. 

Initially, I intended to post a light analysis of  how I was struck by the sinister/notorious nature of Russian men's names.  There are many russodudes I work with here and common names among them include Boris, Ivan, Igor, Vladimir and Kirill.  Now - is it just me - or do the very sounds of these names invoke some gut-level reaction that puts one ill at ease, on the defensive or make one apprehensive?  I wonder if "American" names have the same chilling effect on the Russian soul - does the mere sound of Bob, Bill, Ted or Cletus stir buried Russian passions or trigger instinctive emotional reactions?

One may attribute this inclination to residual Cold-war prejudices.  During that period anything we heard associated with Russia or the Russian people was not only negative - but often deadly.  There is a long list of pejorative terms we westerners associate with the former Soviet Union and its denizens - communism, atheism, oppression, deceit, stealth, nuclear weapons, unbridled aggression and borscht just to name a few.  Do we so closely associate these attributes with Russian names?

I think not, I have a different theory. I blame Boris Badenov and Natasha Fatale from famous moose and squirrel TV show.  You see, Frostbite Falls - home to the intrepid duo (Rocky and Bullwinkle - not B&N) - always seemed to represent Hometown/Anytown USA to my overly-simple childhood mind.  The common citizen of Frostbite Falls - the barber, the baker, the policeman, the man-on-the-street - were always oblivious to the pure evil that was always lurking just beneath the surface of their fair city.  Young Sharools (me) always found it disturbing that these foolish people could go about their daily lives so blindly while Boris and Natasha performed their nefarious deeds at the behest of their "Fearless Leader" who's real name was probably Vladimir Ivanovich.  Only Rocky and Bullwinkle, despite their limited intelligence, stood between the innocence of America and Soviet world domination, between freedom and the enslavement of us all!

Which brings me back to the point I actually wanted to write about.  Which is how nice everybody is here and how well everyone gets along in this international hodgepodge where we live and work.  But that will have to wait until I have more time ... until then "Eeny-meeny-jelley-beanie,  the spirits are about to speak!"  Remember that?

Ocala forest - "Church 'O The Forest"

Ocala forest - "Church 'O The Forest"
Originally uploaded by Expat Journal.

Channel surfing examined.

As I have told a couple of people back on Earth, there are only 6 English language TV  channels here.  British  Sky-news,  Fox  news,  Star Network,  Star Movies, a re-done  Discovery Channel and a very strange channel - let us call it The Funky Channel - that shows unknown,  second-rate music  videos  and  fashion show/cat-walk footage 24 hours a day (it is compelling to watch by the simple badness).  There are other channels - 17 in total, but the others are in Russian, Turkish, Korean, Japanese and Hindi (Indian).  No problem with that.  I could live without television pretty easily - often I keep it on in the background just to pretend I have friends. 

I bring this up because recently I have become aware of and very impressed by how well developed my channel surfing skills are - skills I would never have learned to appreciate if it were not for the limited selection of channels here.  I can literally watch all of the channels at once and not miss anything!

My skills were honed on over 300 satellite channels back in the old country.  Not only have I developed the manual dexterity, finger strength, thumb speed and wrist flexibly necessary for bionic-quality remote-control manipulation - but I have become convinced that there is an astounding two-fold mental component necessary for successful surfing.

The first part of this mental skill is the ability to locate, identify and remember the address strings of channel combinations of desired programs.  On the 6 channel configuration (here) this is not a problem - I just watch everything (even The Funky Channel). I only have to remember the static locations of the English language channels.  Back in the old country, there would be times when the address string contained up to 12 or 15 channels - and that combination would vary and change over time - a much more complex procedure for the brain to track and maintain.

The mental gymnastic that makes up the second part of the skill is much more impressive and perhaps even divine in its nature.  I am describing the "Brain Multiplexer™".  Discovering and observing the Brain Multiplexer™ at work was much easier with a limited and static pool of viewing choices.  There are generally two reasons to surf - 1) There is nothing on.  2) There are many things on.  If there is nothing on then we are simply sharpening and refining our skills.  But if there are many things on - which is usually the case - we are using the normally unemployed 90% of our brain that is so popularly discussed in pop-psycho-neuro-philosophical discussions of the terminally stoned.  This is the domain of the Brain Multiplexer™. 

The Brain Multiplexer™ works by grabbing the little slices of conscious awareness that occur during the surfing operation. These “slices” are assigned a place in memory where they will not only be stored and fused with other related slices … but through the magic of the brain – calling on the vast knowledge built up over years of television watching - the brain actually fills in the gaps – accurately! 

For the geeks ... The Brain Multiplexer™ operates on a similar theory as time division multiplexing, however BDM (brain division multiplexing) is event oriented rather than time driven.  In other words, if time were the deciding criteria in slice formatting, important events such as touchdowns, explosions or shower scenes might be missed.  The nature of the event is key to determining when the surfing event pauses and resumes.

All of this is true my friends ... next time you find yourself in that Zen-state where body, mind and remote all become one, and the images are flashing before your eyes – pause, and in that quiet you may realize that as you surf you are not even aware of the images before you - but you can give detailed plot summaries for 5 sit-coms, the scores and highlights of two games, tomorrow’s forecast, this hour's top headlines, describe whatever they just blew-up on Mythbusters and give other details about the video landscape through which you have been riding a bullet train.

That is what I have learned out here so far.

Oh my ---> see what happens when you can’t go out for a drive to clear your mind.