🔥🔥🔥 Driscoll Model Of Communication Essay

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Driscoll Model Of Communication Essay



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Driscoll's reflective model

So this puts me in Hollywood, Florida for the first half of That was at the Lake Forest subdivision house that I remember as being the first house my parents bought. That memory of ownership might not be true since its just a childhood impression. Some of my all-time favorite memories come from living at that Lake Forest house. Becky and I are wearing cowboy outfits. The next report card in the box is from 2nd grade at Lake Forest Elementary putting me back in Hollywood, Florida in the 2nd six-week period. This accounts for the rest of from about October or early November on.

I can recall being taken to Lake Forest Elementary and enrolled after the year started. I never could remember the first 2nd grade school, but assumed there was one and I just forgot. I have a new theory from these clues. My parents bought the house at Lake Forest in late or early , but during the summer my father was sent off for training in South Carolina, and we went with him. We rented a house out in the country and I have many memories from then. But not of going to school, or of leaving. One thing I recall now is I have no memories of my parents ever telling me and Becky we were going to move.

I would have missed a whole six-week period and part of another. I do remember always being the new kid. I really should have been held back a year. This might also explain why my grades in elementary school were so poor, and my teacher comments were always about how little Jimmy needs to work harder. I was six years old that summer, which explains why I had no memory of when and where I lived. But I do have many major memories from that summer of I have no memory of it ever being cold.

Some of those vivid memories include:. I have many other memories from this time period, and that amazes me when I now realize I was only six years old. And it looks like I will find other clues to memory mysteries in this box too. So be forewarned. Yesterday I had a urodynamics test. From previous experiences I knew what that was like. It never is. Getting old is full of new experiences, especially relating to medical exams. Yet, sometimes the overall experience can be fun. Well, I try to find the humor in such situations, and maybe even a story for my blog. Often it makes me feel like the luckiest person in the room. Yesterday while I waited for the urodynamics test the guy on my right was passing kidney stones while crying softly and groaning. The woman on my left came in with a half full urine bag strapped to her left.

It filled as we waited. I know what a full bag feels like. I was the lucky one. As you get older many of your friends will have medical problems too. Anyway, I was in the urology waiting room watching the staff come and go from the door that leads back to the testing rooms. I was evaluating each person by whether or not I wanted them to be the person to see me naked and insert catheters up my Johnson.

It was. At least she was middle aged. My nurse took me into a room with a very weird looking chair with a giant funnel and bucket in front of it. Next to the chair was a fancy tech desk with two giant monitors hooked to a computer. To the right was a cart with catheters hanging down its side in plastic sleeves, and everywhere was stacks of pads, and small towels. I was to take off my pants and shoes but leave on my socks and shirts, get into that weird chair, and drape little blanket across my lap. I always feel weird waiting naked in strange rooms. I wonder why stripping is still considered a part of modesty when they do the things they do to you. Of course, she said rectum, which I think is a gross word, but the socially acceptable term for these gettogethers.

I told her how relieved I was to see how small her tubes were because my other doctors had been shoving much larger ones up the same small holes. She then activated a switch that raised my chair up in the air. That startled me being up so high. However, it made sense. I was being put up on a rack like a car at Firestone because my nurse needed to get at my undercarriage. The purpose of the test was to fill my bladder with water and then drain it, monitoring the flow, amount, and I guess electrical activity.

Then she started clipping leads to a EKG like machine to taped on sensors around my lower extremities. This let the computer monitor my electrical activity. Maybe a very sensitive scale under my pee pot. The nurse then warned me she was going to start pumping water into my bladder. As she did this she told me to imagine I was driving on a highway and I should tell her how desperate I felt to find a pitstop to pee. They go times a day. I was going times. But the revelation was my bladder was completely emptying. The nurse said I probably had something different and the doctor would talk about it when I saw him next Friday. But she did say I had probably conditioned myself to pee too often. I had been reading about this. Something like a tenth of the U. What I learned was really good news for me.

The nurse did say there were some treatments they could do to expand my bladder, but I want to hold off until I see if I can change things myself. Besides, being knocked out and having them stretch my bladder with hundreds of milliliters of water sounds awful. While all this was going on I chatted with the nurse about her equipment and details of urological problems. She showed me a bag of water and said that was the amount a typical bladder could hold. A bottle of store bought water is often ml, which is about that size. I got to spend over an hour with this nice nurse, so I grilled her for information. In other words, I had been dreading yesterday for weeks, but when it finally happened, I was very happy with the results and even considered the experience interesting and fun although a bit weird and painful.

I do try to find my inner Pollyanna in these kinds of situations. It really helps when people are snaking tubes up my little Willie. If I go first, Susan will just haul all my crap down to Goodwill. But if Susan goes first, who will process all my cherished possessions? Before my mom died, she gave some of her stuff as little personal gifts to people she knew at church, or in the neighborhood, or relations. After my mom died I went through her house looking for sentimental things like photographs, letters, and a few books. My sister wanted more of the knicknacks. I told the ladies we had hired to sit with my mother when I was at work that they could have anything they wanted in the house except the stove and refrigerator.

The house was clean enough to sell when I came back. This house has become the perfect size for our junk. Susan and I have divided our home into our individual territories. I junk up the den, two bedrooms, and one hall closet. Susan fills up the living, dining room, one bedroom, and the other hall closet. What if St. Peter allowed everyone to bring one U-Haul trailer full of Earthly possessions to heaven, what would you take? Imagine everyone getting a luxury two-bedroom condo in paradise, how would you decorate it? I wonder if they have the internet up there? I wonder if I should set up an eBay account and sell off my stuff too? But it would be so much easier and put it off until I die and let Susan deal with it.

Now I know why I always planned to go first. All Annie wanted was to buy speakers that would work in a whole house configuration, and she thought she wanted them made by Bose. The speaker she loved was a Bose dock for her first iPhone. Regrettably, it became useless a few years ago when she upgraded her iPhone with a lightning connector. She still laments its loss. Her son bought her a bluetooth soundbar. She had seen an ad for Bose speakers that could be bought for each room of the house and would play in unison, which became her dream music goal.

I tried to tell her. I even demoed bluetooth, AirPlay, Spotify Connect, and Tidal Connect to illustrate the different ways to stream music and how they would be used. I also demoed compressed, lossless, and Hi-Res music. She was impressed with what she heard, and said she wanted to get a whole house speaker system that could do Hi-Res. Her son recommended Sonos. I like Bose and have a pair of s for my computer room, and Rtings. See their recommendations for all home speakers. In this group they prefer the Sonos Move first, and Bose second. I also realized I might have falsely advertised what she could hear when I demoed everything on my Bluesound Powernode 2i and Klipsch floorstanding speakers.

But again, this might be a distraction. Actually, I was surprised by how well the Echo Studio sounded in my den. In my bedroom it sounds pretty good, especially paired with a second Echo Studio, but not nearly as great as a single Echo Studio in the den. Evidently, the den has great acoustics. Annie was very impressed with the Echo Studio. It was here that I tried to explain that speakers sound different according to placement. Plus selfishly, I want my friends to have Spotify so we can share our playlists. Spotify Connect support is almost universal, and that does away with the whole iPhone to music system connecting protocols like bluetooth and AirPlay.

I have three streaming music systems in my house, and all three work with Spotify Connect. On the other hand, Annie has many years of songs purchased on iTunes. Probably, the best thing for Annie would be the Bose or like she thought she wanted at first, or the Sonos. I am being forced to become a detective, but the mystery I must solve is not one of who did it, but why is my body out to get me. For most of us, our murderer will be a natural cause, but which one? Our last years will be spent running away from various suspects, always looking for clues to who our real killer will be.

But the older we get, the more suspects show up, complicating the mystery. Like an old car, we never know which part will need repairing next. The primary one is why do I pee thirty times a day. I went to a urologist and had a Urolift assuming it was a common male problem of an enlarged prostate. Although the Urolift improved flow, the procedure failed to stop my excessive peeing. Evidently, I had two problems. Atul Gawande analyzes that hope of returning to normal in his book Being Mortal. I feel myself grasping at straws hoping to find any help. For example, Dr.

Oz recommends consuming ground flax seeds to calm an overactive bladder, and Dr. Berg recommends following a keto diet to reduce insulin resistance that can cause frequent urination. Katy Butler warned in her book The Art of Dying Well against anticholinergics, the common medicine prescribed for overactive bladders, because of their dangerous side effects. My own internist is against them too. I went home feeling relieved with this bit of hope. In fact, for several days after that office visit I only peed 24 times a day. But then the frequency went back up. I wondered if that was a clue. Could that sense of relief brought on by hope have relaxed my bladder, even just a bit?

Could I consciously try relaxing my bladder through stress reduction or meditation? I bought a chem flask with a milliliter gauge and have started measuring my output, along with logging my frequency. A healthy person will pee ml when they go and maybe up to ml when they really hold it, but I only produce ml during my frequent visits to the bathroom, and even less when my bladder is having fits. I already know that several of my organs are wearing out, so why not the bladder? By the way, those are some of the many approaches we take when trying to solve our own medical mysteries. When you have a medical mystery you keep trying to solve it like a complex Sudoku puzzle.

We always want to believe we can fix something and return to normal, but part of aging is the realization that some things are out of our control. The trouble with medical problems is all the variables and interactions. Then I started learning about possible consequences of living without a gallbladder. After ultrasounds, bloodwork, and a CT scan, my doctor has recommended a wait and see attitude. While doing all that poking around though, they also found fatty deposits and a cyst on my liver. So I feel like a ticking time bomb. But these new issues only adds to the list of my failing parts and systems.

And like I said, I know so many people with all kinds of medical problems, nearly all of them worse than mine. I know one of my organs will fail, and murder me, but not which one. But does it matter? It will be out of my control. The frustrating thing is thinking we can control things, and we can to a very limited degree. I just asked the contractor if he could demolish the entire building and take it and its contents away. And they did. But what a relief! What a weight off my shoulders! Well, it made her happy. I did think it was neat the house came with a workshop full of woodworking tools and a small greenhouse.

I imagined building and growing things. The house also came fully furnished with every closet stuffed with marvelous treasures her mother found at yard sales. About seven years ago I decided neither Susan or I would ever do any woodworking or gardening and hired Got-Junk to remove the now broken down greenhouse and clear out the workshop of ancient rusting woodworking machines and boxes of once cherished possessions. It took three of their trucks and a big check. But it felt great. My soul felt immensely lighter. Then we started using the workshop for our overflow junk. A few years later I had the walls of the workshop replaced and painted because I feared our junk would go bad from neglect.

That was even more money. Then this year I realized the roof was leaking and contracted to have it replaced. What a psychic burden. By the way, joy was defined as possible home resale value. So I asked the roofer if they also demoed buildings and he said yes. I told the roofer workers they could have anything they wanted. Susan told a neighbor. Even though the value of our house went down, I felt wonderful seeing the finished job. Not only did I get rid of tons of possessions and responsibilities, but I no longer have a place to put all our extra crap. Boxes have been going up there for a dozen years, but they never come down. I guess all those tests in school gave me a complex about poor recall. Memory has many fascinating aspects, especially all the ways our memories fool us.

Even when confronted with conclusive evidence, we often prefer what our memories tell us to external facts. Because of an online discussion about science fiction in the s my instant recall told me there must have been several hundred great science fiction novels published during that decade. However, as the discussion progressed my memory had trouble dredging up all those great titles. My memory gave me the illusion there were enough wonderful science fiction novels published in the s to fill a huge bookcase. Where did that impression come from?

I assumed because my memories told me I read hundreds of science fiction novels I loved while growing up. Were those memories true? I realized that my initial reaction to the online discussion was I wanted young people to replicated what I found great in the s. Newer generations are busy consuming all the books coming out in their own decade. What they read from past decades is always very minimal.

In other words, younger generations and scholars get a distillation of the past. Not only that, but they are going to interpret the past by current day mindsets. The chances of them experiencing what I remember is very small. So why do geezers want their cherished past persevered? Is it to validate their own memories? Is it the hope of keeping the things they loved alive across time? For whatever reason, I want the essential aspects of the s remembered accurately by history. I have a model in my head built from memories of what the s were like. Even focusing on this one microscopic piece of pop culture leaves many problems regarding memory to consider. Is my white male American viewpoint of the s science fiction too limiting? Do my contemporaries who were women and minorities remember s science fiction differently?

Bookworms growing up in Russia, China, Brazil, Vietnam, etc. But this only provided hints of what science fiction was being published in foreign countries. Our group was asking: Are these books really how literary history will remember s science fiction? However, Library of America does give us a clue with their other published science fiction books. So far they have published sets on these SF writers:. PKD also produced significant work in the s and s, but it seems his s novels are the most remembered.

Vonnegut is also mostly remembered for his s novels. Bradbury was mainly famous for his work in the s, and Butler for work in the s and s. The Library of America will not be the sole arbiter of who remembers science fiction from the s, but I do believe they have made good guesses so far, at least for American Sci-Fi. But using Library of America and the SF authors they favor, are these then the science fiction novels future readers will remember s science fiction by:.

Of course this leaves out works by the most famous science fiction writers working in the s, the so called Big Three of SF:. But growing up in the s the two most famous new writers were Delany and Zelazny. Will any of their most famous novels be remembered? They each got an entry in the LoA set, but what about their other s novels? There were many novels I loved or remember reading great reviews from back in the s that were missed by the Library of America set. If you were born after the s, especially after the year , how many of these novels have you read, or have even heard about?

Years ago, I wrote an essay about what I thought might be the defining science fiction novels of the s. At the time I guessed these dozen would be remembered:. I stand by these twelve for now, but I believe in the long run, only a few, if any, will be remembered by the reading public in the s. Dune has the best chance of being remembered, but will it really go the distance? Do we remember the pop culture of the past because of the artists or their works?

We remember books by Charles Dickens and Jane Austen from the s, but did their stories stick to us first, or was it something about Dickens and Austen that make us read their work? That Baby Boomers love of The Beatles was passed on to their children and grand children. Somehow her powerful personality anchored her in time. Ditto for literature of the s.

Or do their biographical reputations grow as more readers consume their books? In other words, my cherish memories will not be how literary historians remembers science fiction the s. Le Guin. Dune is the major SF novel from the s, but there seems to be little interest in Frank Herbert. Look how Tolkien has become legendary as a figure of literary interest. I consider that a clue to future literary remembrances.

Will Heinlein and Asimov be next? When I take the time to think about what I actually remember, and compare those memories to external data, I realized I did read hundreds of SF during the s, but the vast majority of them were first published in the s. But even with all them, I could not assemble a list of hundreds of great SF books from the s. My memory was mostly wrong. I was able to find just under a hundred titles for this essay.

Memory has always been a distillation process. Each night we forget most of what happened the previous day. But then every science fiction fan who lived through the sixties will recall a different eight titles. And it would be unfair for me to want my eight favorites to be the ones remembered. Who will be the Jules Verne and H. Wells of the 20th century? Because of a comment below by my old friend Jim Connell I realized asking a year-old SF fan today about s is like asking me back in what I thought about science fiction from the s. Thus my memory of science fiction from the s gives me roughly an idea of what younger people might know about science fiction from the s.

Ozzy has developed a very annoying habit. We used to feed Ozzy and Lily their wet food at a. Then after the time change, Ozzy started wanting his morning meal at a. I kept telling him to learn to tell time and pointed to the digital clock with the large readout. He just ignored that. Instead, he started scratching at the covers pulling them down urging me to get out of bed. He also paws at my head and sniffs my mouth just like the cat in this video. Now I have to get up frequently at night because of prostrate troubles, often times to pee, so Ozzy knows getting up is no big deal for me.

My doctor tells me it might take months for my bladder to break out of its bad habits. I am slowly peeing less often but I still get up at least once an hour, and Ozzy is convinced they are good times to be fed. At first I acquiesced to a. Ozzy and Lilly like sleeping with me. Usually they come to bed after 2 a. Ozzy used to sleep soundly until morning, but evidently my frequent rising has altered his sleep patterns. When I saw this video about how a cat reacts when their human leave home it made me more considerate towards how a cat feels.

I stopped closing them out before I went to sleep. But Ozzy kept pestering me to feed him, earlier and earlier. This morning it was a. I find them sleeping soundly in the den after I get up for real. It really annoys me when Ozzy wakes me up. I wish I could reason with Ozzy. I keep seeing these videos of dogs talking to their humans with buttons. I wonder if cats could do that too? If I could talk to Ozzy I wonder if I could reason with him? I refuse to feed them before a. I did this by just laying there no matter what even though it will set off a night of insomnia. And when it is past a. The first article was geared to people suffering a sense of stagnation, emptiness, and muddling through caused by the pandemic.

Adam Grant says languishing is the state of mental health between depression and flourishing and explores the emotion in detail, along with advice on how to beat languishing. The second article, by Dani Blum gives us seven ways to promote flourishing. I immediately resonated with the word languishing, but not because of pandemic confinement. I realized languishing is a state I have fallen into because of retirement and aging. I am not depressed, but often I am not flourishing either. What I realized was the confining lifestyle required to avoid Covid was similar to the lifestyle of being retired.

Both involve spending most of our time at home. Both involve seeing fewer people. Both involve limiting what we can choose to do. Sheltering at home from Covid was no great effort for me because I was retired. I no longer needed to go to work or school, and my social life shrank drastically after I stopped working. I felt sorry for the millions that had to put their careers, businesses, and education on hold. But what I understood now, being retired had put my future on hold too. On the front side of life, when we are young, the future is full possibilities. We flourish by chasing all our wants. But on the back side of life, possibilities dwindle, and opportunities disappear.

After retirement our wants become fewer. As our health fades away, so do the desires that drive us. We begin to languish. I believe wanting people, places, possessions, and proficiencies make us flourish. But how do we thrive with vanishing vitality and dissipating desires? I need to think about this. I do know when my health fails, I languish, and when my wellbeing returns, I start flourishing again. Unfortunately, the frequency of poor health episodes are increasing. The answer to the title question needs two approaches.

One for retirement, one for aging. Retirement gives us more time but less of other things. Aging is a diminishing of being, a natural state of not flourishing. Is that even realistic? Or some Pollyannaish belief? I could speculate now and make this essay much longer, but I believe I need to contemplate the problem deeper before philosophizing further. The amp portion continues to work with the optical and RCA inputs, just the streaming feature died. I know audiophiles sneer at Bose, but I loved the sound of these s in this room.

Describing how different music streamers compare is difficult. The best I can do is say the Echo Dot 4th gen sounds a bit thinner, less rich, less detailed. The Yamaha often dazzled me. Actually, it was a matter of mood. The room acoustics also influenced my listening mood too. I could even be fooling myself about the memories of what I used to hear on my Yamaha. Such a hat would cost as much as the Arylic S But if anyone reading this knows, leave a comment. When you use AirPlay or Bluetooth the music is playing on your phone, but when you use a music streamer that has Spotify Connect or Tidal Connect that device is playing the music and your phone is merely the remote.

It can make a big difference in sound quality. However, with all three devices, the app sometimes loses access and I have to quickly reload it to automatically reconnect. Each has their own Amazon Music controls built into their apps and both are pitiful. I love using my phone to control my music. I love its simplicity and the Spotify app is near great. Of course, it was a once-inyear-event for me. But if you already have a stereo system adding music streaming with the Amazon Echo Dot is a cheap enough experiment.

I wish John Darko and Steven Guttenberg would test and rate it. It would be nice to know I was streaming everything in CD quality at a minimum. Most people are binary in their thinking. For several decades now science has been under attack because it confuses people with complicated and even contradictory results. Reality is not simple. Definition essay epiphany kannada essay on importance of library himalaya essay in hindi easy. Contract law essay example offer acceptance, essay on my life after 10 years. Persuasive essay about doctors legit essay writing services scholarship. How long would it take to write a 2 page essay, case study examples for case management good titles for alcohol essays research papers on biomedical text mining!

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It was just after several towns in Driscoll Model Of Communication Essay Federal Arguments Against Racial Profiling hit by tornadoes and many people lost their entire homes. Well, it made her happy. Driscoll Model Of Communication Essay a colon between a quotation and Driscoll Model Of Communication Essay introductory Driscoll Model Of Communication Essay clause if the latter is a complete sentence.

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