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Description
(Parenthetical statements appended in retrospect, handwritten diary was five and a half pages.)

March 19th, Night before the Day Without Texts: set alarm clock for 7:00am, took off wristwatch, and decided what to do with my cellphone. Signed into my Verizon account online to redirect text messages to my gmail account, and decide to keep my phone with me just in case someone calls. The only people that call me do so under emergency circumstances. Reach to turn off my dresser lamp and decide I should turn my alarm clock down on its face. Put my head down and then realize that I should also tape my laptop closed. Ended up putting a rubber band around my laptop's lid and then going to bed.

Woke up when my alarm went off presumably at 7:00am and tried desperately to turn it off by pressing the battery case on the back. Almost set it upright before remembering just why I'd set it on it's face: no texts allowed. Decided to sleep more.

Got up at unknown time, but I think that I slept for an hour. Went downstairs and let the dogs out, making sure not to look at the TV that Mom left on. I turned off the TV and tried to decide on breakfast. Normally I'd look into the freezer to read the box labels, but stuck with just the fridge. I knew there would be nothing I could make in the freezer without knowing or remembering written cooking instructions. And since "I'd never been literate," there was no way I could justify making anything in the freezer. Luckily the orange juice in the fridge had a convenient picture of both an orange and a cup of juice printed on the front of the carton. In addition, there were eggs in the fridge's built-in eggholder and there was a leftover potato wrapped in aluminum foil. I checked the stove to see if using it would violate the rules, but the dials for igniting the burners have numbers, which I "don't know how to read." There were no instructions printed on the range itself, and theoretically I could have turned the dial and watched the size of the flames, but there was too much ambiguity. I've seen my parents and brother use the stove without ever referencing the manual -it's quite intuitively designed- but I decided against it anyway for experimental sake. I wound up having orange juice, strawberries, and cold cereal with milk as opposed to the usual egg souffle and fried potatoes with onions.

Cleaned up breakfast and went upstairs for my laptop to check the play-by-post roleplays and slow RTS games I play, but encountered the rubber band on the lid. Ordinarily I would have spent an hour or more typing up segments of collaboratively-told stories and micromanaging the resource expenditures on virtual space stations. Found myself at a loss for what to do. Stared out window for what seemed a long time, then looked through my old darkroom photo collection. Most of them have great subjects, but I realized how poorly I printed some of the older images. I set aside a dozen to reprint, but almost wrote myself a reminder note about it. I'm certain I'm not going to remember to write myself a note tomorrow.

Sat down for a while to ponder a new city for my Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Settled quickly on a hovering city that flips along a north-south axis. Disk would have artificial gravity and rotate once per day a mile above the surface of the campaign world. End result would be a proper day/night cycle that maintains a constant 'high noon' even during sunrise and sunset. Pondered such terms as horizonrise and horizonset, as well as skyrise and skyset, since individuals on the disk during the day wouldn't be able to see the planet below unless they look over the edge. Conversely, a resident wouldn't see the sky at night unless they looked over the edge. Decided that I need a better word than "skyrise" because it's already taken. Was pretty certain that mental imagery would sustain the idea in my memory until I could jot it down.

Started exercising on the elliptical after throwing a shirt over the readout display, but discovered that I couldn't adjust the resistance settings because it required navigating a textual menu display. Got some exercise playing with my dog and a laser pointer, which required nothing more than pushing a button. Took a walk around the neighborhood with my dog after that.

Got back and decided to listen to music on an old stereo. Couldn't read the CD jewel cases, so I chose with my eyes closed. Thankfully the stereo buttons had the usual glyphs for 'play,' 'forward', etc. Stumbled thus on my sister's old Beauty and the Beast audiobook, some Pet Shop Boys, Bruce Springsteen, and then U2. Listened to Sunday Bloody Sunday before getting restless and walking the neighborhood again.

Signed for a UPS package with an indecipherable scribble instead of my name in cursive. Package was heavy and I cheated by looking at the return address: a dress company in Georgia. (Never saw the contents, but I bet it was my sister's high school graduation dress.) On some other day I'd have given the return address no more thought and would have opened the package to report the arrival and contents to Mom by text message, but I couldn't even read the handling instructions on how to safely open the package. Left it on the island counter in the kitchen and started preparing for work, which I thought was soon. Stared out the window while imagining more cities and characters for my campaign, then tried to puzzle out Severian before remembering that as a perpetually illiterate person I couldn't have ever read novels. Decided the ornamental cherry trees in the back yard must be chopped down at all costs. Wanted to look up the price of chinese maple saplings, but couldn't use the internet.

Had lunch consisting of saltines with banana slices and chocolate chips on top. Surprisingly good, but saltines were a little stale. Wrote a sticky note with the recipe, then entered "saltines" on the family grocery list. Posted the sticky on the fridge and then remembered that doing both was cheating. Threw it in the recycling, then decided against wasting the paper. Posted the sticky under the rubber band on my laptop.

Mom arrived to take me to work. (My whole family works at my dad's medical practice. Mom's the receptionist and finance office manager; Dad's the doctor; and I'm the go-fer, the x-ray techie, and the data entry mule. I also lick the envelopes and heat coffee when needed, but I call that "executive assistance".) She asked how the day without text was progressing, so I told her that it was good for my creativity, but that the cherry trees were ugly. Got into debate about removing them, then said goodbye to Spike (my laser pointer-obsessed border collie) and went to work.

While waiting for the first patient to come in, I had to avoid getting online on the office computer. The patients invariably lack punctuality, so I usually spend time on Facebook instant messenger with friends until they arrive. I instead spent the twenty or thirty minutes watching the digital picture frame switch between my better, more recent photos. Wanted to make list of excellent vistas and state parks to revisit, but instead tried to use the memory palace mentioned in ENGL 324, which worked: Bryce Canyon hoodoos sitting next to Angel's Landing, an implausibly pitched tent on Assateague sitting next to Zion, Rock Hall marina's boathouse next to the tent, The Luxor Casino next to the boathouse, and the island of Grenada beyond the casino. First patient came in while I was still working on remembering/visualizing the Casino and the seating arrangement, but operating the fluoroscope isn't mentally intensive, and it also has symbols on all the buttons, not words. I don't think using it is cheating because the symbols are all distinctive. Anyone could ask me to push "the one with the eye and the up arrow." If words represent visual phonemes, then neither the button nor the description given to it has status as a written word.

First patient and second patients both done, waiting now on third. Cheated during the second procedure by adjusting the milliwattage of the fluoro. The only readout display on the machine itself is the wattage, which is normally adjusted automatically, but must be manually set for particularly overweight patients. It's such an infrequent thing that manual adjustment happens about once a month. Today was, by mere coincidence, the day it was necessary.

Third patient done, had to help her out to her car afterward. Intensely bored during the procedures. I keep a small stack of books in the kitchenette at the office for the latter half of any operation. I'm only needed to shift the fluoro in the first ten minutes until the desired image is found, then I just sit there until the operation is done. Can't brainstorm with the beeping of both the pulse-ox(imeter) and the EKG.

Fourth done. Having a cold cup of coffee and an apple because I can't use the microwave for macaroni and cheese.

Fifth done, patient chatted the whole time about the sinking of the USS Radford, which I attended. Found it amazing that he didn't notice the needles in his spine. Asked to see my photos of the event, so I referred him to the digital picture frame. Really wanted self-indulge by giving him the link to my photosharing account, but didn't mention it. (So I'll self indulge here; the Radford on the day of its planned sinking: codysseus154.deviantart.com/ar… )

Sixth and seventh patients out and away. Seventh talked about things she disliked. Among them needles, doctors that use needles, medicinal side effects, taking large pills, the EKG beeping but not the pulse-ox(imeter), eastern shore traffic, and the drive down from Baltimore. At one point she mentioned how she likes tennis players, but not tennis. Spent procedure trying not to laugh. One patient remaining.

Katie, Joey, Andrew "Sasquatch", and Sean (all UMBC friends) arrived during eighth procedure. Desperately wanted to ask them the time, but couldn't. (Patients running late ruins the work schedule.) Changed out of my scrubs and left for Katie's grandmother's condo unit in north Ocean City with them. Tonight represents the first of four nights of partying, tabletop gaming, and card games with them.

Cheated considerably at the grocery store while purchasing deli meats and items to stock the condo for a few days. I had to read labels on meats and cheeses, looked at price tags, and dealt with cash at checkout. As the most practical one in the group (scary thought) I had to do most of the decision-making and deal with the deli clerk as well as the cashier. Realized how tough it would be to buy certain products without being able to read the labels or sample the items. Opaque milk cartons don't have pictures of milk, except specialty milks like soy or flavored coffee creams. Soup cans are highly ambiguous even when there are photos. Is that green stuff in the pictured soup basil? Parsley? Algae? And, short of handing over all my money and hoping that I had enough, there would be no way to check out without using numbers and reading. And if I had enough money, there's no way to ensure that I'm getting back proper change. Even with credit cards I must sign my name and navigate through the text menu on the display screen. Thought about other situations where these issues might crop up, and found that someone trying to pay for English writing lessons would face similar problems even if they knew how to speak English but were simply illiterate. Catch-22.

Had a ham sandwich with mustard for dinner, then had another because I was starving. Talked with friends about day without texts. Sasquatch waved about a published Pathfinder adventure module to try tempting me into cheating, but I'm stubborn in challenges. Hosted an improvised D&D session without dice, character sheets, or the usual game mechanics. Joey spilled soda on my vinyl playing grid, so I beaned him with a proffered d20. Can't decide if that's cheating.

March 21st:
I was told it was nearing midnight, so we drove up and down Ocean City until we found a good liquor store for my 21st birthday purchases. I realized on the drive that birthdays are meaningless without numeracy. Only qualitative systems of age would be possible unless someone used tally marks or tokens, but even then it would be a qualitative measure. "This set of marks is larger on the page than that set of marks." I found yesterday really interesting, but it might have been more enjoyable with more practice. I kept forgetting and berating myself when I cheated. The good news is that Sassy's adventure module was actually my birthday present.

:) (Smile) — Description
(Parenthetical statements appended in retrospect, handwritten diary was five and a half pages.)

March 19th, Night before the Day Without Texts: set alarm clock for 7:00am, took off wristwatch, and decided what to do with my cellphone. Signed into my Verizon account online to redirect text messages to my gmail account, and decide to keep my phone with me just in case someone calls. The only people that call me do so under emergency circumstances. Reach to turn off my dresser lamp and decide I should turn my alarm clock down on its face. Put my head down and then realize that I should also tape my laptop closed. Ended up putting a rubber band around my laptop's lid and then going to bed.

Woke up when my alarm went off presumably at 7:00am and tried desperately to turn it off by pressing the battery case on the back. Almost set it upright before remembering just why I'd set it on it's face: no texts allowed. Decided to sleep more.

Got up at unknown time, but I think that I slept for an hour. Went downstairs and let the dogs out, making sure not to look at the TV that Mom left on. I turned off the TV and tried to decide on breakfast. Normally I'd look into the freezer to read the box labels, but stuck with just the fridge. I knew there would be nothing I could make in the freezer without knowing or remembering written cooking instructions. And since "I'd never been literate," there was no way I could justify making anything in the freezer. Luckily the orange juice in the fridge had a convenient picture of both an orange and a cup of juice printed on the front of the carton. In addition, there were eggs in the fridge's built-in eggholder and there was a leftover potato wrapped in aluminum foil. I checked the stove to see if using it would violate the rules, but the dials for igniting the burners have numbers, which I "don't know how to read." There were no instructions printed on the range itself, and theoretically I could have turned the dial and watched the size of the flames, but there was too much ambiguity. I've seen my parents and brother use the stove without ever referencing the manual -it's quite intuitively designed- but I decided against it anyway for experimental sake. I wound up having orange juice, strawberries, and cold cereal with milk as opposed to the usual egg souffle and fried potatoes with onions.

Cleaned up breakfast and went upstairs for my laptop to check the play-by-post roleplays and slow RTS games I play, but encountered the rubber band on the lid. Ordinarily I would have spent an hour or more typing up segments of collaboratively-told stories and micromanaging the resource expenditures on virtual space stations. Found myself at a loss for what to do. Stared out window for what seemed a long time, then looked through my old darkroom photo collection. Most of them have great subjects, but I realized how poorly I printed some of the older images. I set aside a dozen to reprint, but almost wrote myself a reminder note about it. I'm certain I'm not going to remember to write myself a note tomorrow.

Sat down for a while to ponder a new city for my Dungeons and Dragons campaign. Settled quickly on a hovering city that flips along a north-south axis. Disk would have artificial gravity and rotate once per day a mile above the surface of the campaign world. End result would be a proper day/night cycle that maintains a constant 'high noon' even during sunrise and sunset. Pondered such terms as horizonrise and horizonset, as well as skyrise and skyset, since individuals on the disk during the day wouldn't be able to see the planet below unless they look over the edge. Conversely, a resident wouldn't see the sky at night unless they looked over the edge. Decided that I need a better word than "skyrise" because it's already taken. Was pretty certain that mental imagery would sustain the idea in my memory until I could jot it down.

Started exercising on the elliptical after throwing a shirt over the readout display, but discovered that I couldn't adjust the resistance settings because it required navigating a textual menu display. Got some exercise playing with my dog and a laser pointer, which required nothing more than pushing a button. Took a walk around the neighborhood with my dog after that.

Got back and decided to listen to music on an old stereo. Couldn't read the CD jewel cases, so I chose with my eyes closed. Thankfully the stereo buttons had the usual glyphs for 'play,' 'forward', etc. Stumbled thus on my sister's old Beauty and the Beast audiobook, some Pet Shop Boys, Bruce Springsteen, and then U2. Listened to Sunday Bloody Sunday before getting restless and walking the neighborhood again.

Signed for a UPS package with an indecipherable scribble instead of my name in cursive. Package was heavy and I cheated by looking at the return address: a dress company in Georgia. (Never saw the contents, but I bet it was my sister's high school graduation dress.) On some other day I'd have given the return address no more thought and would have opened the package to report the arrival and contents to Mom by text message, but I couldn't even read the handling instructions on how to safely open the package. Left it on the island counter in the kitchen and started preparing for work, which I thought was soon. Stared out the window while imagining more cities and characters for my campaign, then tried to puzzle out Severian before remembering that as a perpetually illiterate person I couldn't have ever read novels. Decided the ornamental cherry trees in the back yard must be chopped down at all costs. Wanted to look up the price of chinese maple saplings, but couldn't use the internet.

Had lunch consisting of saltines with banana slices and chocolate chips on top. Surprisingly good, but saltines were a little stale. Wrote a sticky note with the recipe, then entered "saltines" on the family grocery list. Posted the sticky on the fridge and then remembered that doing both was cheating. Threw it in the recycling, then decided against wasting the paper. Posted the sticky under the rubber band on my laptop.

Mom arrived to take me to work. (My whole family works at my dad's medical practice. Mom's the receptionist and finance office manager; Dad's the doctor; and I'm the go-fer, the x-ray techie, and the data entry mule. I also lick the envelopes and heat coffee when needed, but I call that "executive assistance".) She asked how the day without text was progressing, so I told her that it was good for my creativity, but that the cherry trees were ugly. Got into debate about removing them, then said goodbye to Spike (my laser pointer-obsessed border collie) and went to work.

While waiting for the first patient to come in, I had to avoid getting online on the office computer. The patients invariably lack punctuality, so I usually spend time on Facebook instant messenger with friends until they arrive. I instead spent the twenty or thirty minutes watching the digital picture frame switch between my better, more recent photos. Wanted to make list of excellent vistas and state parks to revisit, but instead tried to use the memory palace mentioned in ENGL 324, which worked: Bryce Canyon hoodoos sitting next to Angel's Landing, an implausibly pitched tent on Assateague sitting next to Zion, Rock Hall marina's boathouse next to the tent, The Luxor Casino next to the boathouse, and the island of Grenada beyond the casino. First patient came in while I was still working on remembering/visualizing the Casino and the seating arrangement, but operating the fluoroscope isn't mentally intensive, and it also has symbols on all the buttons, not words. I don't think using it is cheating because the symbols are all distinctive. Anyone could ask me to push "the one with the eye and the up arrow." If words represent visual phonemes, then neither the button nor the description given to it has status as a written word.

First patient and second patients both done, waiting now on third. Cheated during the second procedure by adjusting the milliwattage of the fluoro. The only readout display on the machine itself is the wattage, which is normally adjusted automatically, but must be manually set for particularly overweight patients. It's such an infrequent thing that manual adjustment happens about once a month. Today was, by mere coincidence, the day it was necessary.

Third patient done, had to help her out to her car afterward. Intensely bored during the procedures. I keep a small stack of books in the kitchenette at the office for the latter half of any operation. I'm only needed to shift the fluoro in the first ten minutes until the desired image is found, then I just sit there until the operation is done. Can't brainstorm with the beeping of both the pulse-ox(imeter) and the EKG.

Fourth done. Having a cold cup of coffee and an apple because I can't use the microwave for macaroni and cheese.

Fifth done, patient chatted the whole time about the sinking of the USS Radford, which I attended. Found it amazing that he didn't notice the needles in his spine. Asked to see my photos of the event, so I referred him to the digital picture frame. Really wanted self-indulge by giving him the link to my photosharing account, but didn't mention it. (So I'll self indulge here; the Radford on the day of its planned sinking: codysseus154.deviantart.com/ar… )

Sixth and seventh patients out and away. Seventh talked about things she disliked. Among them needles, doctors that use needles, medicinal side effects, taking large pills, the EKG beeping but not the pulse-ox(imeter), eastern shore traffic, and the drive down from Baltimore. At one point she mentioned how she likes tennis players, but not tennis. Spent procedure trying not to laugh. One patient remaining.

Katie, Joey, Andrew "Sasquatch", and Sean (all UMBC friends) arrived during eighth procedure. Desperately wanted to ask them the time, but couldn't. (Patients running late ruins the work schedule.) Changed out of my scrubs and left for Katie's grandmother's condo unit in north Ocean City with them. Tonight represents the first of four nights of partying, tabletop gaming, and card games with them.

Cheated considerably at the grocery store while purchasing deli meats and items to stock the condo for a few days. I had to read labels on meats and cheeses, looked at price tags, and dealt with cash at checkout. As the most practical one in the group (scary thought) I had to do most of the decision-making and deal with the deli clerk as well as the cashier. Realized how tough it would be to buy certain products without being able to read the labels or sample the items. Opaque milk cartons don't have pictures of milk, except specialty milks like soy or flavored coffee creams. Soup cans are highly ambiguous even when there are photos. Is that green stuff in the pictured soup basil? Parsley? Algae? And, short of handing over all my money and hoping that I had enough, there would be no way to check out without using numbers and reading. And if I had enough money, there's no way to ensure that I'm getting back proper change. Even with credit cards I must sign my name and navigate through the text menu on the display screen. Thought about other situations where these issues might crop up, and found that someone trying to pay for English writing lessons would face similar problems even if they knew how to speak English but were simply illiterate. Catch-22.

Had a ham sandwich with mustard for dinner, then had another because I was starving. Talked with friends about day without texts. Sasquatch waved about a published Pathfinder adventure module to try tempting me into cheating, but I'm stubborn in challenges. Hosted an improvised D&D session without dice, character sheets, or the usual game mechanics. Joey spilled soda on my vinyl playing grid, so I beaned him with a proffered d20. Can't decide if that's cheating.

March 21st:
I was told it was nearing midnight, so we drove up and down Ocean City until we found a good liquor store for my 21st birthday purchases. I realized on the drive that birthdays are meaningless without numeracy. Only qualitative systems of age would be possible unless someone used tally marks or tokens, but even then it would be a qualitative measure. "This set of marks is larger on the page than that set of marks." I found yesterday really interesting, but it might have been more enjoyable with more practice. I kept forgetting and berating myself when I cheated. The good news is that Sassy's adventure module was actually my birthday present.