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i suppose everyone has them. those conversations that only happen in your head. i find myself...taking things apart, trying to see how something ticks. spinning it around, looking through it from different places. but it's not really a conversation. no one is speaking back, or offering an opinion that isn't that same. no one pointing out some aspect i didn't see. it's a fishbowl, in a sense.
but here i can do that, and someone else will talk back. i'll get a return. whether i agree or not, someone will expose me to ideas and/or concepts i would not necessarily have discovered on my own. chicken soup. take what's good, spit out the bones.
i'm not sure what the point is, but somehow...i feel like i'm learning something.
 

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i suppose everyone has them. those conversations that only happen in your head. i find myself...taking things apart, trying to see how something ticks. spinning it around, looking through it from different places. but it's not really a conversation. no one is speaking back, or offering an opinion that isn't that same. no one pointing out some aspect i didn't see. it's a fishbowl, in a sense.
but here i can do that, and someone else will talk back. i'll get a return. whether i agree or not, someone will expose me to ideas and/or concepts i would not necessarily have discovered on my own. chicken soup. take what's good, spit out the bones.
i'm not sure what the point is, but somehow...i feel like i'm learning something.
You may have a little bit of an inventors mind.
 
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I do that all the time.
As I tell my wife when she asks why I haven't taken care of a project/chore yet,
'I'm analyzing the most efficient way of doing it first so that I don't waste my energy/resources'.
 

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funny story: I mailed someone a guitar part, and used an old VIBRAMATE Bigsby tailpiece box to send it

the girl at the post office was acting a bit strange during the transaction; when she asked me if I'd taken the batteries out I realized why

I laughed and explained it was a guitar part.....she was embarrassed!
 

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I've told the story before, but since you bring it up.

My M.Sc. advisor's wife worked in rehab medicine, largely with stroke patients. She had read numerous anecdotal reports of patients recovering function faster than expected with the application of vibratory stimulation in specific ways, with specific types of strokes. She started using them with her own patients, and achieved some degree of success (for instance, a fellow who hadn't spoken in several years starting to speak when his throat was stimulated by vibration). My late father was coming off his second stroke and had some severe problems with balance. So when he came out to Edmonton for a visit, I brought him to her clinic for a consult. She asked him to walk to the end of the room, turn around and come back. I'm older now than he was when he died, but he looked like he was in his 80's. It took him about 8 shuffling mini-steps to turn around. She watched him carefully, and when he came back to her end of the room, she took out a big black vibrator, that had an intensity control, cranked it up, stuck it in his right hand, and asked him to repeat what he had just done. He shuffled to the end of the room, pivotted on one foot and swung around, like he had been bullshitting us all this time about the stroke. It was as close to a miracle as I've ever seen in my life.

The improvement only occurred with the application of vibratory stimulation, though the hope was that down the line it would not be needed. She loaned him that one until he got one of his own, and he would use it instead of his cane, deftly tucked up his shirt sleeve so it wasn't easily visible. She had worked out an arrangement with a local sex shop on Jasper Ave. that her patients would ask for the product by a specific name, whereupon the sales clerk would go in back and remove the copiously-illustrated instruction manual (though the box it came in was still kind of lascivious-looking). The model was specific, because the intent was to use the intensity control to gradually fade out the vibratory stimulation as the patient recovered more function.

The reason we had to go to the sex shop was because she had initially ordered a case of them through purchasing at the university hospital. When the purchasing officer went to the airport to get the parcel, she was so embarrassed by the packaging that she said she would not do it again.

But my dad never used his cane for the rest of his life. Vibrators: is there anything they can't do?
 

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i suppose everyone has them. those conversations that only happen in your head. i find myself...taking things apart, trying to see how something ticks. spinning it around, looking through it from different places. but it's not really a conversation. no one is speaking back, or offering an opinion that isn't that same. no one pointing out some aspect i didn't see. it's a fishbowl, in a sense.
but here i can do that, and someone else will talk back. i'll get a return. whether i agree or not, someone will expose me to ideas and/or concepts i would not necessarily have discovered on my own. chicken soup. take what's good, spit out the bones.
i'm not sure what the point is, but somehow...i feel like i'm learning something.
ya I think its hard to get away with bullshit on this site.
anyone that comes here with that in mind, learns pretty fast that they'll get called on it.
 
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