Dentally Disturbed

So I went to the dentist today. Aside from the light - you know the one they have on the arm? - that detached and fell on my face, I had a disturbing visit to my dental health care professional. More than usual anyways.

There's a bit of history coming up, so get comfy.

Let's go back to Moby's grade school days. See him with his short-sighted squint (Dad insisted I didn't need glasses), his picked-last-for-sports figure and coordination. His hand-me-downs from his uncle. Ah what a picture. I told ya to get comfy.

Now my grade school participated in a program where young student dentists could practice their new-found skills on the (unsuspecting) little kiddies. My guess is that since they would be working on baby teeth, any mistakes etc would have no long term effects. They would get practical experience and kids would get free dental work. That suited my Dad just fine. Free dental care for three growing boys? Why not?

Well let me tell ya why not.

Some of the dentists-to-be (most, okay all the ones I went to) decided that if the teeth are going to fall out anyways, might as well make the best of it. Every kid in my class had each and every molar filled. Almost every kid wound up with the cheapest, ugliest set of periodontal work that these wannabes could stuff in their pre-pubescent mouths. And let me tell you, these guys were not gentle. Tales of broken teeth, punctured cheeks (mine, left side) insufficient or just plain not administered Novocaine (l'il Bro G). Every kid in my school absolutely dreaded visits to the dentist. My brothers and myself actually managed to avoid the wire-cage look, but my Dad kept giving us shit for not brushing and flossing (which we did with much rigor in a futile attempt to avoid the inevitable and excruciating).

Now fast forward a bit to high school. See Moby with the gangling limbs, the coke-bottle lenses set in the cheapest rims imaginable (my Dad finally relented after my teacher had a long, long talk with him) and the hand-me-downs from his uncle. This high-school also participated in the program. However this time, it wasn't milk-teeth, it was the permanent ones they were working on. In my first visit I received two "fillings" which were completely unnecessary: they just drilled holes to fill them in.

Fortunately for me, the program was discontinued in my second year. Unfortunately for me, my Dad was pissed: there was no way he was going to pay for seeing a dentist twice a year. So for the next three years, it was me and my toothbrush against the universe.

Now fast forward a bit to my (first) term at University. See Moby with the shoulder length, thick, wavy chestnut hair, his groovy glasses, his uncle's hand-me-downs (which were actually tres chic retro at the time). He can't afford to go to the dentist, but he brushes and flosses every day. His one visit was for a cleaning: there was a girl he was trying to impress. He received a clean bill of health (aside from the nicotine stains).

Now fast forward (sorry) again to six years ago. It's been fourteen years since Moby has seen a dentist. His teeth are not in good shape. For the past decade and a half, he could barely afford food, let alone dentistry. He has a molar that has split, exposing the nerve. He has wisdom teeth that ache constantly. But now, now he has dental coverage and he takes advantage of it. His girlfriend at the time recommends her dentist and can get me in with a recommendation. Moby books an appointment.

I think I really grossed the dental assistant out. I know I gave the dentist an orgasm.

Years of plaque were removed with monthly visits. The broken tooth was ground down and a temporary crown put in place. Four wisdom teeth were yanked bodily out and the final cap put in. Even though coverage paid for half of the work, the bill was indeed quite hefty. But worth it: I was no longer in pain, my teeth were white(r) and I could chew on both sides of my mouth.

Then something odd happened. I began to grind my teeth. I mean grind. So much so that I would wake up in the morning and my jaw would feel like I had been chewing stale bubble-gum all night.

Over the course of the next couple of years, my (new) dental hygienist and the dentist told me my gums were receding. This was true, I could see where the roots of a couple of my molars were exposed. The dentist said I needed to get a special "appliance" that would prevent me from grinding my teeth. He would keep saying that until today, where he added that if it continues (i.e. without the $1500 piece of plastic) I would need to get painful surgery. I still said no, using the excuse that at the moment I could not afford it.

I went home and did some research.

While indeed grinding of the teeth can cause the recession, it's only a contributing factor. Other include: using a harsh toothpaste (like the whitening one I use) brushing too hard with a hard toothbrush (which I realized I do) and age. It happens.

Maybe I get it from my old man. But honestly ,when someone who is essentially a health care professional immediately recommends the $1500 solution without mentioning any of the alternatives or possibilities, well the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

I went to the drug store after work and picked up three things: a less harsh toothpaste (which cost about double what I get now), a sonic toothbrush (about $150) and an "appliance" which, after following the instructions to mold it to my bite, cost $1470 less than my dentist's "solution".

I am really hoping the above works for no other reason than to go into the dentist's office in six months, show him the recede-less gum line and tell him to, well, I'm trying to think of something witty here, and I have six months to do so.

Maybe I'll just bite him.

Statement of the Obvious

And now my whinging has some scientific proof.

Drop It

Been a bit of a klutz the past twenty-four hours.

Last night at a local pub, I dropped a table on my big toe. I was there with a bunch of my former minions from the last job. Besides all of them asking if there was work for them at my new place, they said I looked quite happy, which, apparently, came as a bit of a shock. It was good to see them as they are a good crew, I'll see what I can do for them (or at least most of them). Seems things aren't going so hot in some cases.

So besides having a big, bloody, purple big toe the night went quite well.

This morning I accidentally dropped my phone in the toilet (see the theme here?). Apparently cell phones aren't water proof (yes it was just water). I'll be looking for a phone tomorrow. Looks like I've been a bit of a klutz as of late, which kinda makes the idea of making fried perogies right now probably a bad idea. I probably should get the steel-toed boots out in case of further accidents.

I Hear Voices

Well I do. My ears work pretty well.

But specifically I've been using my web cam and mic to record something i like to call Smokin' with Moby. No, I don't post it online. This blog is my public face and the video is my private one. And kind of my therapist. At least when I talk to myself I can justify it by recording it.

One thing that struck me is my voice. It sounds pretty much like I expect it to, but for some reason I tend to talk in a bit o a higher tone that my normal voice. I also seem to end my sentences in a higher tone that when I start. I did a little research and apparently it gives a subtle hint to other that the speaker is not all that confident in what they are saying.

I also noticed that I do that when I'm not in front of a camera. I have a very bass voice, so much so that a lot of people can't hear it all that clearly. I may have raised it half an octave just to make sure I'm heard.

Now I'm making an effort to get my vocal range back to normal, and stop raising it at the end of my sentences. It's actually harder than I thought and: speech patterns are an acquired habit I guess. So if you see me and my voice sounds like I'm gargelling gravel, that's my actual voice. I'm so gonna be Moby Vader....

And yes, I'll be posting a full (very full) review of Mass Effect. It's taking longer than I thought. And also, er, this is now available.

Soundtrack Offline

Well, that's it for me and iTunes.

As reported earlier, I built myself a new machine and (eventually) moved all my music to a portable drive. This week, I plugged in the iPod (yes, it had been a while since I had changed up the playlist). Since I had agreed (apparently) that the tunes I purchased online would only play on a single machine, I couldn't play anything I had already bought and paid for on my new computer nor my iPod.

There's probably a way around that (like calling customer service etc) but I figured why bother? I had 100 songs I purchased on iTunes, now all unavailable to me because I did the unthinkable: I got a new computer. Nobody ever does that.

So, yeah, I'm not purchasing anything from iTunes anymore. Besides, I've had problems on there before: music downloads wouldn't, the user interface didn't etc. Really, the application itself is (in my somewhat expert opinion) a kludge with only the most basic functionality, poorly executed and often times counter-intuitive at that. Not to mention I have been noticing the difference in sound quality for the native iTunes format and CD.

Of course this means that any inclination to get an iPhone has departed, my next portable digital audio device will not be an Apple product and I'll continue buying CDs (can you say Amazon.com?). That sounds bitter, even for me, but frankly I'm out $100. But I'll still use the iTunes store to sample any planned purchases in the future. Hey I'm a "forgive and forget" kinda guy.

No, wait, that's "hold a grudge until the grave" kinda guy.

Traitors Abound!

I'm home from work early as my gastro-intestinal system is revolting. In both senses of the word. It actually hasn't acted up in a quite a long while (to this extent, at any rate) so this is kind of a "Pearl Harbor" spasm. Looking back on it, eating sushi from a place called "Pearl Harbor" should have been a big hint.

Of course it may be divine (or abysmal) retribution for being a bad man this weekend. Previously I hinted I didn't want to jinx something. That something was a response from my almost-forgotten experiment on Craig's list. After about two weeks of communication, she indicated that she was in the process of getting a divorce which is a deal breaker for me. Is divorced is fine. In fact at this time-of-life it's almost become expected. But in the process of has two very definitive issues for me.

In the first place, I've seen what can happen when one of the parties decides to "get out there" in the middle of the process. What may have been an amicable split becomes a litigious frenzy of recrimination and emotional devastation. And honestly, who needs that kind of drama? Yes, I know, it's entirely possible that two people can go through a divorce as honest, mature adults. I have yet to see that happen, but I acknowledge the possibility.

In the second place (is that an actual phrase?) someone who has been in a relationship for a longer period of time needs to reset themselves to themselves as a single unit. A grieving period, discovering yourself, whatever you want to call it. Basically the opportunity to re-invent the person as "me without the other person". Otherwise there is a real danger that the person you are about to date is filling that hole, with all the expectations, frustrations etc that were focused on the recently-departed baggage focused on the new interest. Again, drama on an operatic scale which frankly I neither want nor need.

Her reaction when I explained that I'm not comfortable dating someone going through a divorce (having seen and experienced what that can do to the people and proceedings) was a) we were not communicating for the purposes of a relationship (which struck me as odd as the ad was placed under "men seeking women") b) You (Moby) are damaged goods for not wanting to see someone going through a divorce. And c) she mentioned her ex-to-be has already started dating which made me think "great, so you're looking for someone to show him you're out there, too?". Maybe a bit cynical, but hey, experience tells. And if I am damaged goods (a very distinct possibility) why put myself into a position where more damage can be done?

Of course, I feel like a heel for shutting down things so abruptly (she seems like a very nice woman with a lot to offer). I've learned the hard way that you need to go with your gut, even if it is unreliable in it's actual biological function. Now if you excuse me, I have to once again, er, you don't want to know.

Rain, Rain, Go Away. Seriously, F-off!

I think I've ruled out Vancouver as a possible place of residence. Two weeks of solid rain in Calgary. It's given me the blues, trending toward black in my mood as of late. I've gone beyond grumpy into downright cantankerous.

Much condolence to Capa for the loss of his dog, friend and family member. That's always hard. He was a good dog, even though I only met him a couple of times. Big, dumb and friendly, just the way I like them.

So nothing new to report over the past while: I'm at forty hours playing "Mass Effect" and I went all fanboi by buying the novel tie-in, the art book and the strategy guide (it was a bundle) on Amazon. A game hasn't awed me this much in quite a while. Full review when I finish.

That's about it really: keepin' on keepin' on.