Again I looked back at my saved documents and read some of my old blog posts from 2005. By the way, I'm still fighting that tendency to regard any date that starts with 2,000 as "the future," due to many years of conditioning. But to get real, that, (2005,) was twelve years ago. Long time. Sure it's merely the span of time covering the end of my work career and then my retirement so far, but it's also the amount of time I spent between birth and junior high school. Long time.
Anyway, I recorded in one post that my wife, when asked by me when she was going to make breakfast one Saturday morning, replied, "probably not as early as you hoped, but sooner than you feared." I really miss her. Not to mention, she was a great cook, so whenever she did make breakfast, it was worth the wait.
When I moved out of my house, I found that I was the owner of tons of cooking utensils and decided I didn't want to have to move them with me. I donated anything whose purpose I didn't understand and kept the rest, but now, what I actually use is just the tip of a giant ceramic and copper and stainless steel iceberg. I am such a bad cook that I go beyond the bachelor archetype into the realm of the pathetic. I'm keeping all the stuff because I think that one day I'll get around to learning what to do with it.
I carefully go over my lab numbers when I get them back every three months to make sure I'm not depleting myself somehow, but I seem to be doing OK. Speaking of the future, where's that pill to replace eating? Just kidding. I kind of like eating.
Thursday, December 28, 2017
Wednesday, December 27, 2017
Uhm, That Last Post . . .
I just read that last post, and my conclusion is that perhaps there is some sort of medication, or therapy, that can help. And yet, a very tenuous and sort of vulnerable thread of logic ran through it and down the page that the astute reader might cling to and slow their fall.
Moving on. Every year we talk about the same stuff regarding the beginning of a new year, no matter how we mark it, whether it be by a number on a calendar or by some fortuitous orientation of planetary bodies. Obviously the calendrical year starts at a point close to the Winter Solstice, as if it tried to represent the planetary alignment thing, but sort of failed at perfect precision and accuracy, so it makes sense to me to observe the planetary method and leave the calendrical methodology to the IRS.
And every year I make the same observation that time, and life, etc., is really more like a meandering path than a circle, and the movement of the planets through the universe backs me up on this, because as the Earth orbits around the Sun in a relatively consistant cycle, the entire solar system is also moving through space since the Milky Way Galaxy (in which we reside) is rotating even as it simultaneously shoots away from the center of creation, so you might imagine the Earth's actual path to be a sort of crazy smeary corkscrew motion, which also verifies another idea of mine that if you know too much, you'll go nuts.
Every year we try to change. The cyclical nature of the year lends itself to the idea that the "new" year is a clean slate, and therefore we have the opportunity to change ourselves (for the better, of course,) or maybe not just the opportunity, but the permission, you might say, maybe something like when you move to a new town where no one knows you and if you decide to totally change your haircut, who's to know?
Every year, we generally fail. I think it's because you can't change. I think a better strategy, if you're not happy with what's going on, is to stay yourself--you've been that way for awhile now and are probably getting pretty good at it--but change the way that you do it. That's something you have control over.
To sum up:
1.) Pay your taxes.
2.) Try to ignore the fact that the planet Earth is plummeting headlong into an icy oblivion.
3.) Be yourself.
4.) As always, as Mel Brooks said, live with the idea that being alive should be the exact opposite of being dead.
5.) Have a happy new year.
Moving on. Every year we talk about the same stuff regarding the beginning of a new year, no matter how we mark it, whether it be by a number on a calendar or by some fortuitous orientation of planetary bodies. Obviously the calendrical year starts at a point close to the Winter Solstice, as if it tried to represent the planetary alignment thing, but sort of failed at perfect precision and accuracy, so it makes sense to me to observe the planetary method and leave the calendrical methodology to the IRS.
And every year I make the same observation that time, and life, etc., is really more like a meandering path than a circle, and the movement of the planets through the universe backs me up on this, because as the Earth orbits around the Sun in a relatively consistant cycle, the entire solar system is also moving through space since the Milky Way Galaxy (in which we reside) is rotating even as it simultaneously shoots away from the center of creation, so you might imagine the Earth's actual path to be a sort of crazy smeary corkscrew motion, which also verifies another idea of mine that if you know too much, you'll go nuts.
Every year we try to change. The cyclical nature of the year lends itself to the idea that the "new" year is a clean slate, and therefore we have the opportunity to change ourselves (for the better, of course,) or maybe not just the opportunity, but the permission, you might say, maybe something like when you move to a new town where no one knows you and if you decide to totally change your haircut, who's to know?
Every year, we generally fail. I think it's because you can't change. I think a better strategy, if you're not happy with what's going on, is to stay yourself--you've been that way for awhile now and are probably getting pretty good at it--but change the way that you do it. That's something you have control over.
To sum up:
1.) Pay your taxes.
2.) Try to ignore the fact that the planet Earth is plummeting headlong into an icy oblivion.
3.) Be yourself.
4.) As always, as Mel Brooks said, live with the idea that being alive should be the exact opposite of being dead.
5.) Have a happy new year.
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Fugitive Time
I was amazed to find that I still have, on my hard drive, a document full of posts I made in an old blog from about ten or twelve years ago. I'm glad I saved that stuff--I imagine I deleted the blog but didn't want to lose what I had written--but I confess there's a little of the Flowers for Algernon plot twist going on. I almost didn't recognize the writing. I only vaguely remembered writing each of the posts, but not at all the inspiration for some of the humor in them. I was quite good! This stuff was all written during the last good, productive years of my career, before the downward spiraling tail end, and, I read, I was starting to think about retiring, without a definite plan yet, but thinking it might be a good idea. Sometimes relishing an idea is better than the actual execution of it.
Now, if I may beat an idiomatic expression just a little deeper into the ground, fast forward to 2017. Here I am, totally without plan or direction, even eight years into my retirement. By the way, eight years?? It seems so much longer than that. Is that a good thing? Time flies when you're having fun, but at least the good news is that I am ageing faster and faster. The bad news is, that's not good news.
So. The passage of time. It's problematic. Not in the way climbing a mountain might be problematic, but in the way you fall off a log. You never forget how to pass the time. It's like riding a bicycle, or falling off a log.
I keep writing and writing, in this post, but I can't seem to climb out of this hole. What I'm getting at, I think, is that we are good at thinking about stuff that helps us survive. Our brains do some things really well without us ever having to try try very hard. Like recognizing faces, even though as we've all been told a zillion times it is such a data-dense operation that even supercomputers have a difficult time of it, or like remembering where objects are, We are so good at that that we invented a memory trick method where we pretend to place facts in a make-believe room in our minds.
But we are really bad at solving more than one problem at a time, or rather, figuring out a problem whose cause is more than one thing. That really throws us for a loop. Apparently in the evolutionary development of the hominid brain, that situation just didn't come up that often to require a special adaptation to get around it. Don't believe me? Look at this picture of my mirror, where you can see the mirror image of my watch in it. What time is it?
What does it all mean? Who knows. I'm just saying. And, in reality, deciphering the time here is actually the easiest when you figure out the single thing you need to think of when looking at it, rather than the two obvious things that are wrong. How is this like life? Gawd, I hope not at all.
Now, if I may beat an idiomatic expression just a little deeper into the ground, fast forward to 2017. Here I am, totally without plan or direction, even eight years into my retirement. By the way, eight years?? It seems so much longer than that. Is that a good thing? Time flies when you're having fun, but at least the good news is that I am ageing faster and faster. The bad news is, that's not good news.
So. The passage of time. It's problematic. Not in the way climbing a mountain might be problematic, but in the way you fall off a log. You never forget how to pass the time. It's like riding a bicycle, or falling off a log.
I keep writing and writing, in this post, but I can't seem to climb out of this hole. What I'm getting at, I think, is that we are good at thinking about stuff that helps us survive. Our brains do some things really well without us ever having to try try very hard. Like recognizing faces, even though as we've all been told a zillion times it is such a data-dense operation that even supercomputers have a difficult time of it, or like remembering where objects are, We are so good at that that we invented a memory trick method where we pretend to place facts in a make-believe room in our minds.
But we are really bad at solving more than one problem at a time, or rather, figuring out a problem whose cause is more than one thing. That really throws us for a loop. Apparently in the evolutionary development of the hominid brain, that situation just didn't come up that often to require a special adaptation to get around it. Don't believe me? Look at this picture of my mirror, where you can see the mirror image of my watch in it. What time is it?
What does it all mean? Who knows. I'm just saying. And, in reality, deciphering the time here is actually the easiest when you figure out the single thing you need to think of when looking at it, rather than the two obvious things that are wrong. How is this like life? Gawd, I hope not at all.
Monday, November 20, 2017
No TV Stations
As I once must have already said, I didn't keep the Google TV channels when I moved to the loft. It was because it cost $80 a month more and I didn't think it was worth that. I also didn't keep my old land-line number so my total Google bill went down, from $140 a month to $50. I hooked up an antenna the other day, but I only get, like, three channels. I don't know what you're supposed to do if you still think TV signals are just in the air, free for the taking, like they used to be. Nowadays, you have to PAY for your advertising to be beamed, no, pulsed--possibly pumped--into your livingroom.
Today I went out for breakfast, then went to my old apartment to load up some more of the remaining miscellaneous crap still left there, then went to the management office of the building I now live in to give them the list of things they need to fix--already--in the new place. Then I ate lunch, and then sat and talked with a friend at the coffee shop for about three hours, then went to find a grocery store. There is a Price Chopper four miles away. They have these ridiculously large, plastic grocery carts that make you feel like a little kid whose mom let him push the cart for her. I picked up a few things, and tried to make sure none of the things touched any of the other things, as they all were just swimming around in this huge grocery cart. I was successful. Except of course for the two bananas, which were connected at one end. While waiting in line, I remembered that I once read somewhere that grocery stores sometimes supply huge carts to encourage people to buy more stuff. I estimated that if I had filled this cart up to the brim, it would have cost me about four hundred dollars.
Right at the moment, I am beginning to binge-watch the seven seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation on Netflix. I wonder if there are any episodes that I haven't seen at one time or another. Surely. Last night I watched S1 Ep.1 and 2. Hilarious to watch the actors plunge into these roles with, apparently, no idea what they're going to do with them yet. They were all like animated cardboard cutouts. So, episode 3 coming up.
Today I went out for breakfast, then went to my old apartment to load up some more of the remaining miscellaneous crap still left there, then went to the management office of the building I now live in to give them the list of things they need to fix--already--in the new place. Then I ate lunch, and then sat and talked with a friend at the coffee shop for about three hours, then went to find a grocery store. There is a Price Chopper four miles away. They have these ridiculously large, plastic grocery carts that make you feel like a little kid whose mom let him push the cart for her. I picked up a few things, and tried to make sure none of the things touched any of the other things, as they all were just swimming around in this huge grocery cart. I was successful. Except of course for the two bananas, which were connected at one end. While waiting in line, I remembered that I once read somewhere that grocery stores sometimes supply huge carts to encourage people to buy more stuff. I estimated that if I had filled this cart up to the brim, it would have cost me about four hundred dollars.
Right at the moment, I am beginning to binge-watch the seven seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation on Netflix. I wonder if there are any episodes that I haven't seen at one time or another. Surely. Last night I watched S1 Ep.1 and 2. Hilarious to watch the actors plunge into these roles with, apparently, no idea what they're going to do with them yet. They were all like animated cardboard cutouts. So, episode 3 coming up.
Sunday, November 19, 2017
M-day + 4
I'd have to say that I am moved into the new place, mostly.
Still trying to decide where I'd like to sit when I write. At the moment, I have a Mac sitting on the little wood table just to the left of that upright beam. Not sure I like that. Probably stick with the Twilight Zone corner.
I have a growing list of things the building managers need to address in the new place. Just little stuff, though after all the glowing reports I've heard about these guys I'm a little surprised that they didn't go through the loft first and get everything up to snuff. It's as if they want to see what they can get away with.
The first day here I took my walk in the morning. I walked across the bridge that spans the Interstate (the "downtown loop") and went downtown. I walked to the Kansas City Public Library, near 10th and Main, and back. That was about two miles in total. Not bad. Yesterday I took a similar route but went to Cosentino's Grocery, a huge grocery store at 13th and Main. I did this as a test run. Maybe not something I would do if I needed to buy something at the last minute, but OK for a planned shopping excursion. If I bought too much, I could take the street car back. Or, I suppose I could take the street car both ways.
It's all kind of cool.
Saturday, November 18, 2017
The Writer's Nook
As referred to in a previous comment response, here is the writer's nook, occupying a sort of odd corner of the loft. At first I didn't think I would like it, but it has a kind of vibe. I put spacers under the right side table legs so the mouse won't slide off onto the floor. If my writing seems kind of skewed, perhaps this asymmetrical situation is partially to blame.
I have ten days left to completely vacate my old apartment. Unfortunately, on the main moving day, the 15th, I "overdid" it, and pulled something resulting in a doctor's office visit during which I was told not to do any lifting for a few days. So, I have a couple days off before me. Yay, I think.
Speaking of the writer's nook, I made what I think will turn out to be a wise decision in not getting Google TV channels when I transferred my service. I simply got the Internet access. This seems to be conducive to a desire to sit at the computer and write. I hope it indeed works that way.
 |
| It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition |
Monday, November 13, 2017
M-Day -1.5
I am a little amazed that after all the hours of work I have put into my packing, I'm still not finished. All I can say, and I keep saying it, is I'm glad I decided to "get a jump on it," because it wasn't really a jump, but a slog. Did I think I was going to get ahead? Anyway, glad I decided to start on this when I did. If I'm lucky, not too many things will remain unboxed by the time the movers get here.
And I'm not sure how it's possible, but even after the very short duration stay here in this apartment I managed to accumulate some crap.
No one is helping me. I'm not complaining, but I say this because moving, by one's self, is a very lonely proposition, on more than one level. And--correct me if I'm wrong--using the ceiling lights only, after packing up all the lamps, looks very dreary and goddamn depressing. Maybe it's a good thing I didn't start this earlier, because, this way, I don't have to live in this barren wasteland very long.
I admit if I had my critters I might feel better. No doubt that they would be annoying me, cruising in and out of rooms, in and out of boxes, turning up completely missing after I had taped up the tops of all the boxes, causing me to worry about taping a cat in a box. Of course that's never what happens--they delight in this kind of subterfuge.
Tomorrow is another day, and the last full day here at this address, according to my plan. I can finally pack up everything, knowing I won't need it here.
Well, thank you for reading, imaginary person. I feel better ventilating, and I'm ready to get dinner, or make dinner, or something.
And I'm not sure how it's possible, but even after the very short duration stay here in this apartment I managed to accumulate some crap.
No one is helping me. I'm not complaining, but I say this because moving, by one's self, is a very lonely proposition, on more than one level. And--correct me if I'm wrong--using the ceiling lights only, after packing up all the lamps, looks very dreary and goddamn depressing. Maybe it's a good thing I didn't start this earlier, because, this way, I don't have to live in this barren wasteland very long.
I admit if I had my critters I might feel better. No doubt that they would be annoying me, cruising in and out of rooms, in and out of boxes, turning up completely missing after I had taped up the tops of all the boxes, causing me to worry about taping a cat in a box. Of course that's never what happens--they delight in this kind of subterfuge.
Tomorrow is another day, and the last full day here at this address, according to my plan. I can finally pack up everything, knowing I won't need it here.
Well, thank you for reading, imaginary person. I feel better ventilating, and I'm ready to get dinner, or make dinner, or something.
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