Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Monday, February 8, 2016
Indecision
For a period of time, at least since my mother died, I've had difficulty deciding what to do. This has been compounded by often feeling indifferent about my life and/or having thoughts that whatever I do is futile. I don't like being this way and hope to transition to a phase where I am decisive and passionate about my life.
As I write this, I have a vague sense of anxiety and guilt, as if I should be doing something else instead of reflecting in writing on my state of mind. But what is more important than considering how I feel, why I feel that way, and what I might do to feel better?
Always there are things I could do, responsibilities, things that need to be done sooner or later. But the condition of being uncertain, detached from myself, and indecisive is partly a product of my having achieved physical and financial security that allow me the luxury of procrastinating, doing whatever I wish, or doing nothing for hours and days at a time. I have options. As I like to say, "I'm one of the winners." I'm in a better position in many ways than most people, it would seem.
I like being alone. I like puttering, thinking about things, spending time on Facebook and news sites, looking at French colonial stamps on Ebay and Delcampe and occasionally buying some. It's not as if I don't do anything constructive. I'm walking through the fog and eventually I'll arrive somewhere, the sun will burn away the vapor and I'll see the world clearly.
I realize I am not going to save the world or change it much. Everything does not depend on me. Yet, I think time is important, what I do does matter, I have some effect and I want it to be a positive effect. I want to express my creativity in music and writing. I want to do what I'm capable of doing before it's too late. I want to make my life, my time here, count.
This weekend, Mary Lou and I went to a movie, Anesthesia, on Friday at the Manship. It was a somewhat predictable story about a retiring Columbia University professor of philosophy who gets attacked and stabbed on his way home from his final lecture. His son is a wuss whose bitch of a wife is having a cancer scare. Another man is pretending to be in China so he can hang out with his girlfriend while his alcoholic wife takes care of their kids in the suburbs. The illicit lovers are interrupted in her apartment in Manhattan by the professor calling from help through their intercom from the street. The professor's grandchildren smoke pot on the roof of their apartment and are turned in by the building manager. Everything intersects as the professor apparently dies in the hospital after a homeless black man who ditched a promising literary career for heroin is killed trying to save him from the knife-wielding derelict. It's somewhat reminiscent of Crash but certainly not as well done.
I identified somewhat with the professor and the man pretending to be in China. The alcoholic wife who was pretty and had redeeming qualities reminded me somewhat of Mary Lou. I liked the angry black man, whose best friend, also black, had become a high-powered attorney who fucked his elegant female courtroom adversary in an elevator.
On Saturday, we cleaned the house. I did the bathrooms. I am slow but thorough. Sunday, we went to an Imax film about the Lewis and Clark expedition at LA Art and Science Museum and looked at an exhibit of Haitian art at the LSU Art Museum in the Manship building. Then we went home and I live blogged the Super Bowl on Facebook. Mary Lou was happy we spent all that time together and I felt good about it, too.
As I write this, I have a vague sense of anxiety and guilt, as if I should be doing something else instead of reflecting in writing on my state of mind. But what is more important than considering how I feel, why I feel that way, and what I might do to feel better?
Always there are things I could do, responsibilities, things that need to be done sooner or later. But the condition of being uncertain, detached from myself, and indecisive is partly a product of my having achieved physical and financial security that allow me the luxury of procrastinating, doing whatever I wish, or doing nothing for hours and days at a time. I have options. As I like to say, "I'm one of the winners." I'm in a better position in many ways than most people, it would seem.
I like being alone. I like puttering, thinking about things, spending time on Facebook and news sites, looking at French colonial stamps on Ebay and Delcampe and occasionally buying some. It's not as if I don't do anything constructive. I'm walking through the fog and eventually I'll arrive somewhere, the sun will burn away the vapor and I'll see the world clearly.
I realize I am not going to save the world or change it much. Everything does not depend on me. Yet, I think time is important, what I do does matter, I have some effect and I want it to be a positive effect. I want to express my creativity in music and writing. I want to do what I'm capable of doing before it's too late. I want to make my life, my time here, count.
This weekend, Mary Lou and I went to a movie, Anesthesia, on Friday at the Manship. It was a somewhat predictable story about a retiring Columbia University professor of philosophy who gets attacked and stabbed on his way home from his final lecture. His son is a wuss whose bitch of a wife is having a cancer scare. Another man is pretending to be in China so he can hang out with his girlfriend while his alcoholic wife takes care of their kids in the suburbs. The illicit lovers are interrupted in her apartment in Manhattan by the professor calling from help through their intercom from the street. The professor's grandchildren smoke pot on the roof of their apartment and are turned in by the building manager. Everything intersects as the professor apparently dies in the hospital after a homeless black man who ditched a promising literary career for heroin is killed trying to save him from the knife-wielding derelict. It's somewhat reminiscent of Crash but certainly not as well done.
I identified somewhat with the professor and the man pretending to be in China. The alcoholic wife who was pretty and had redeeming qualities reminded me somewhat of Mary Lou. I liked the angry black man, whose best friend, also black, had become a high-powered attorney who fucked his elegant female courtroom adversary in an elevator.
On Saturday, we cleaned the house. I did the bathrooms. I am slow but thorough. Sunday, we went to an Imax film about the Lewis and Clark expedition at LA Art and Science Museum and looked at an exhibit of Haitian art at the LSU Art Museum in the Manship building. Then we went home and I live blogged the Super Bowl on Facebook. Mary Lou was happy we spent all that time together and I felt good about it, too.
Friday, February 5, 2016
Science fiction story idea
Highly advanced aliens contact humanity via religious and spiritual leaders. They explain to us what they believe. The aliens believe in a transcendent creative power, in a sort of god. They view this as evident from the universe. Their spirituality is focused on becoming harmonious with the universe and it's creator, on engaging with their lives creatively.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
Headway
Maureen worked with me yesterday to get our 2015 tax information assembled and to put together information to develop a family budget. Her assistance was very helpful.
Priorities
1) Take care of health and finances.
2) Engage in life creatively and passionately.
3) Help others as I'm able.
2) Engage in life creatively and passionately.
3) Help others as I'm able.
Monday, February 1, 2016
One month into 2016
No posts since I had a long visit to Athens at the first of the year. Overall I feel better and am making some headway on reorganizing my life to set up for the future. Many things are in transition but I'm more optimistic about the results. I also continue to struggle with anxiety, demoralization and apathy (in reality, emotional numbing).
So, Maureen volunteered to help me get our finances organized. A mass of envelopes and documents are dumped in the music studio with the idea of going through them and doing what needs to be done with them. Somehow I never get around to accomplishing the goal- I only make halting efforts that are interrupted by other priorities before much progress is made. Maureen and I got a pretty good start today and she was doing her best to keep the effort calmly focused. So many thoughts and emotions are triggered when I make the attempt- looking at my Capital One bank statements online I saw things Maureen had paid for out of my account recently of which I was unaware. A wave of sadness swept over me and now I have to take a break to reset.
So, Maureen volunteered to help me get our finances organized. A mass of envelopes and documents are dumped in the music studio with the idea of going through them and doing what needs to be done with them. Somehow I never get around to accomplishing the goal- I only make halting efforts that are interrupted by other priorities before much progress is made. Maureen and I got a pretty good start today and she was doing her best to keep the effort calmly focused. So many thoughts and emotions are triggered when I make the attempt- looking at my Capital One bank statements online I saw things Maureen had paid for out of my account recently of which I was unaware. A wave of sadness swept over me and now I have to take a break to reset.
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