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October 31, 2009

the wizard at thirty-two

Today, my life feels like an algebra problem. If 2n = my father's age, where n = is equal to my years of life, then where does that leave me? By this point in his life, my father had a PhD, a career, and a pair of lifetime commitments.

But I cannot focus on what accomplishments I have not yet achieved. That way lies madness, and I prefer to recognize my glass as half-full. I do have my health, and I do have my hair. I even have a degree, however useless. For the first time in a long time, I can say with great enthusiasm that I do not hate my job, and more importantly, sometimes I even enjoy it. I get to spend a lot of time out of doors. I currently have to spend it in Florida, and this is a source of many problems - but someday that too shall change.

I'm not sure what the future holds, but whatever it holds, I will document and share here.

October 21, 2009

colliding with metaphor

I was having a good day.

This is what happens when you are paying more attention to your destination than the road ahead of you. Ironically enough, I was on my way to donate blood. The guy in the lane next to me just wouldn't get out of the way. I let my frustration at possibly missing the impending turn distract me sufficiently, and I failed to notice that traffic had come to one of its frequent and sudden standstills in front of me. It was stupid, and I regret ruining everyones' evening - as well as missing my appointment for a blood donation.

Not one of my finer moments.

And for what it is worth, while the bumper is dented, the Texas plate remained unbent and unbroken. I guess that they just make 'em tough out there.

October 13, 2009

goodbye, old friend

Yoda Derksen (1993 - 2009), self portrait. Taken (with some prompting) the 29th of November, 2008. Goodbye, my little friend and chum. Your purr is always just one room over.

closure

October 11, 2009

other thoughts

The aside to all of this would be that after a month of trying, Comcast has finally got their act together and hooked up my cable access. For those who were curious, Comcast is the devil. I will never recommend them as a digital service provider. Their customer service representatives and technicians mean well, but fail to communicate with one another, and often fail to go that extra mile required to complete a task. It seems to be easier for them to close out an account than to admit that they can't close problem tickets.

I wouldn't even be using them, except that they are literally the only game in town down here in south Florida. You can tell that they are a monopoly, because only a monopoly would refuse to take your money when you offer it to them. I may even yet look forward to having my service cut off, because their billing department appears to have screwed up my account now that the cable is hot.

Or maybe I'll just have free cable for a while. Who knows? There could be certain advantages to their incompetence.

paying attention

I swore I'd get around to writing something intelligible in here again, and I guess that time is now. I just never know what I'll finally end up writing when I sit down in front of a keyboard, sometimes. This bit is a perfect example: it began its life as something else, and has only found its way here through a strange metamorphosis that I could not have expected. Still, when you have to write, you write - no matter what it is that you are writing. Structure and organization can always come later, because the desire or inspiration to craft words is not always there. I have to wait until the muse strikes, and then the words just flow. One of those lovely side-effects of ADHD that has shaped my life - when you focus, you're a laser beam counting molecules, but the rest of the time you're running around managing ten different thoughts at once. I tried cleaning my apartment yesterday, and wound up vacuuming the floor until I hit the closet, at which point I remembered that I needed to put laundry away, and while doing that I saw that the sink needed cleaning, and then realized that I had a picture frame I meant to hang up by the sink, and while getting the cleaner for the sink I recognized that the dishes needed washing - and so on. I mean, I eventually got it all done, but stop and start, stop and start. I can ignore it and focus if I want to - but it took years of training, and it is an act of will. You either distract the system with a lot of noise (I still take notes with three different colored pens and two highlighters), or you make slow slow progress. Admittedly, you make slow progress on about ten different things at once, but the rest of the world would rather see single accomplishments than simultaneous progress and a final rain of multiple results.

Mostly, it helps to have a strong source of emotional inspiration. I do not kid when I speak of my need for muses.

Most of what you see published here has actually undergone one or two passes of the editor's pen. I know that it frequently looks rushed, but it is what it is. The above is mostly raw and unstructured. Pure. Call it a thought experiment spilled on the page for the rest of you to read. I have to put it to bed now, because I am starting to read it over - and to edit it. I want to leave this first draft free in the wild unfinished and unrefined.