I got up before 8am this morning and got going ahead of the habitual routine I posted about last night. But, before I could start on my priorities, the Voice Assistant function on my Galaxy smartphone was somehow activated. The phone switched to a completely unfamiliar mode in which anything I touched triggered an aural description of the button or icon. Making matters much worse, it wasn't evident to me what function was in play AND my attempts to open Settings were thwarted by the new mode in which nothing worked as usual. The phone was talking but it wasn't listening! It probably took less than 10 minutes for me to figure it out by trial and error and deactivate Voice Assistant but it felt much longer. At least I'll understand the problem if it happens again... which it probably will!
Saturday, September 28, 2019
Friday, September 27, 2019
Time management
I'm usually in no hurry to get out of bed and face human society. Typically, I get up to start my day no earlier than 8am, usually later, 9, 930. I should check my Samsung Wearable sleep records. Anyway, I go downstairs, get a cup of coffee and something to eat, sit in my armchair, and spend the morning reading the news and engaging with social media. Sometime before noon, I water the outdoor flower pots. Then, I have lunch either with Mary Lou at one of our go-to venues or have something easy at home. After all of that I still need to shave and shower. Only then might I initiate musical activity. That is my established habit. I ask myself now, is this how I want to structure my days? I'm capable of changing the pattern if I decide to and make the effort. Why not do it starting tomorrow ?
Monday, September 16, 2019
Ric Ocasek has died
I'm in the waiting room at the Retina Center once more for follow up. Is my recovery progressing on schedule? The gas bubble seems to be dissolving more slowly than expected. I'll find out shortly. Then, it's back to the chaos in my studio. I need to power ahead and get it done. I'm in a great position in life and the clock is ticking! Yesterday, it ran out on one of the greatest rock and roll singer songwriters ever. One day it runs out on each of us, even me.
Sunday, September 15, 2019
Dream on
I remember a number of interesting fragments of dreams from last night and this morning.
-I was visiting friends in Boston. Someone suggested playing some of my original songs. I said I only wanted to if the other musicians liked my songs- I never want to push people to play my songs if they don't really want to. A short while later, I suggested to someone who asked that we were going to play some music but the other musician with me said he had other plans at present.
-Possibly another part of the same dream. I was talking to a young single mother who knew I had been a psychologist. I sensed she wanted to discuss her problems. told her I wasn't looking for a new patient but I'd be glad to speak to her as a friend. I wasn't viewing her as anything other than that.
-I was driving a medium sized truck with passengers that had rather loose power steering making it challenging to maneuver accurately. We were approaching a sort of dirt drive that led to our destination, a house where the people I was visiting lived. Aiming the truck at the drive seemed a little shaky but I managed it.
-There was another fragment where I had to turn a vehicle, perhaps the same one, around to get out of a cul-de-sac.
-Again, possibly all the same dream sequence, I was in a city with friends trying to buy cigarettes. We went into a little cafe or store with a Mediterranean or Middle Eastern proprietor. The man didn't sell them but he either had a hidden supply or knew where we could get some close by. I was walking away thinking or saying to someone that when a recovering alcoholic sang an Irish tune, after each line he was thinking about having a drink.
-I encountered Jane Kelley. She was angry about being kicked out of her apartment without warning. "I really don't know what I'm going to do," she said. I was thinking about offering her to stay with us but also thinking I didn't know if anything she was telling me was true.
-I was visiting friends in Boston. Someone suggested playing some of my original songs. I said I only wanted to if the other musicians liked my songs- I never want to push people to play my songs if they don't really want to. A short while later, I suggested to someone who asked that we were going to play some music but the other musician with me said he had other plans at present.
-Possibly another part of the same dream. I was talking to a young single mother who knew I had been a psychologist. I sensed she wanted to discuss her problems. told her I wasn't looking for a new patient but I'd be glad to speak to her as a friend. I wasn't viewing her as anything other than that.
-I was driving a medium sized truck with passengers that had rather loose power steering making it challenging to maneuver accurately. We were approaching a sort of dirt drive that led to our destination, a house where the people I was visiting lived. Aiming the truck at the drive seemed a little shaky but I managed it.
-There was another fragment where I had to turn a vehicle, perhaps the same one, around to get out of a cul-de-sac.
-Again, possibly all the same dream sequence, I was in a city with friends trying to buy cigarettes. We went into a little cafe or store with a Mediterranean or Middle Eastern proprietor. The man didn't sell them but he either had a hidden supply or knew where we could get some close by. I was walking away thinking or saying to someone that when a recovering alcoholic sang an Irish tune, after each line he was thinking about having a drink.
-I encountered Jane Kelley. She was angry about being kicked out of her apartment without warning. "I really don't know what I'm going to do," she said. I was thinking about offering her to stay with us but also thinking I didn't know if anything she was telling me was true.
Sunday, September 8, 2019
My new job, my eye, and my dream life
I got called in two weeks ago for civic duty selection and ended up being assigned the leading job. It's unlikely anyone will read this post any time soon but I'm playing it safe by only alluding vaguely to what transpired. I'm committed for the next year to doing my part to maintain justice in my community. The job is important and meaningful and I think it's good for me that I was given it.
Overall, I'm grateful for the circumstances my life has brought me to but I'm not satisfied or at peace with self and world. Specifics: My left eye seems to be on the path to full recovery from a detached retina. I say seems because my vision is minimal almost 8 weeks after the third surgical procedure in which a gas bubble was injected into the eye. The gas bubble is supposed to be dissolving gradually and gradually seems like an understatement. I was under the impression it would be gone by now and I would be seeing better than every; but, even the newest estimate of another 3-4 weeks seems optimistic given the imperceptible rate of change. Meanwhile, I'm putting 3 different medicinal drops in my eye for a total of 10 drops daily. I'm grateful for getting first class medical care but this has been going on since February and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tired of it. Speaking of tired, I feel tired a large percentage of each day despite spending another large chunk of it sleeping or at least in bed. The two 30mg timed released amphetamine capsules I take daily help somewhat but don't seem as effective as they once were. Then, too, the summer heat in Baton Rouge has been brutal, a harbinger of the climate change disaster that is bearing down on the planet and may well be unstoppable at this point. And there's the dreadful fact of having Donald J. Trump as President of the United States of America. And the boxes and bins of stuff from my office, my parents' home, and my vinyl record project cluttering up the studio I operate in our garage outbuilding. All of this weighs on me. When will it end?
Is the above whining? Don't think so- it's all statements of fact. But I'm frustrated and mildly demoralized, despite knowing that I'm a big winner in the game of human life. I'm tired of my excessive sensitivity and over-considerateness of others. I'm tired of not getting my way in matters of love and music. I'd love to wake up energized and motivated. Why doesn't this happen?
Finally, I've had some disturbing dreams in the past few days. In one I was behaving inappropriately with Jenny Scott who was either oblivious or going along willingly, it seemed.The dream reflected criminal behavior described by prosecutors in my first civic duty experience last Thursday. The only time I ever did anything remotely similar was as a teenager with one of the Wright sisters, the cute one. And then there was the little boy I babysat when I was about 13 or 14. I didn't abuse him egregiously but I skirted the edges, one of the few homosexual impulses I ever recall having. (The other ones occurred when I was slightly older and involved Don M, my next door neighbor who initiated the sex play and much later died of AIDS.) Did I need a reminder that I'm fundamentally no different than egregious sexual offenders except I would never choose to act out like they do?
Even more disturbing, last night (or rather, this morning) I dreamt I had murdered my sister, Scottie, because she was "in the way" of something. I don't know what that was- she's not an obstacle to anything in my current life. But I and an accomplice had taken her by complete surprise and bashed her head in. She was sitting in a chair when we attacked her and somehow she fell to the ground in a way that caused more damage to her head, obscuring the crime we had committed when her body was collected by the authorities. But I was fearful we would be found out and I was anxious to have her body cremated to destroy the evidence. I remember at the end just before I awakened, I was thinking I needed to talk to Steve Jarrett to tell him something... what? that she was dead?
As often happens with a disturbing dream, I was greatly relieved to wake up and realize this was a dream and not waking reality. I know no one ever reads this blog but do I really need to be writing this here? Or anywhere? My commitment to acknowledging the truth, to being accountable, to being honest with myself, and, as much as I deem safe, being honest with the world is strong. I've never been afraid to face truth in my own thoughts, except during moments of paranoia where I've been afraid that I'm in Hell and had a sense that I wanted to avoid knowing that as much and as long as possible. But from Hell there's no escape and avoidance is only a temporary measure.
And there it is, I'm facing that, too. I faced it many years ago. It's the scariest thought I've ever had, the scariest thought I can imagine. Is there anything I haven't been willing or able to face? It seems to me I've surrendered to truth, surrendered to the transcendent creator of the universe, whoever or whatever it is. I'm humble, I recognize that I'm not certain of much, that I'm not better or worse than all the other members of my species. What else do I need to do with myself in this life?
Overall, I'm grateful for the circumstances my life has brought me to but I'm not satisfied or at peace with self and world. Specifics: My left eye seems to be on the path to full recovery from a detached retina. I say seems because my vision is minimal almost 8 weeks after the third surgical procedure in which a gas bubble was injected into the eye. The gas bubble is supposed to be dissolving gradually and gradually seems like an understatement. I was under the impression it would be gone by now and I would be seeing better than every; but, even the newest estimate of another 3-4 weeks seems optimistic given the imperceptible rate of change. Meanwhile, I'm putting 3 different medicinal drops in my eye for a total of 10 drops daily. I'm grateful for getting first class medical care but this has been going on since February and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't tired of it. Speaking of tired, I feel tired a large percentage of each day despite spending another large chunk of it sleeping or at least in bed. The two 30mg timed released amphetamine capsules I take daily help somewhat but don't seem as effective as they once were. Then, too, the summer heat in Baton Rouge has been brutal, a harbinger of the climate change disaster that is bearing down on the planet and may well be unstoppable at this point. And there's the dreadful fact of having Donald J. Trump as President of the United States of America. And the boxes and bins of stuff from my office, my parents' home, and my vinyl record project cluttering up the studio I operate in our garage outbuilding. All of this weighs on me. When will it end?
Is the above whining? Don't think so- it's all statements of fact. But I'm frustrated and mildly demoralized, despite knowing that I'm a big winner in the game of human life. I'm tired of my excessive sensitivity and over-considerateness of others. I'm tired of not getting my way in matters of love and music. I'd love to wake up energized and motivated. Why doesn't this happen?
Finally, I've had some disturbing dreams in the past few days. In one I was behaving inappropriately with Jenny Scott who was either oblivious or going along willingly, it seemed.The dream reflected criminal behavior described by prosecutors in my first civic duty experience last Thursday. The only time I ever did anything remotely similar was as a teenager with one of the Wright sisters, the cute one. And then there was the little boy I babysat when I was about 13 or 14. I didn't abuse him egregiously but I skirted the edges, one of the few homosexual impulses I ever recall having. (The other ones occurred when I was slightly older and involved Don M, my next door neighbor who initiated the sex play and much later died of AIDS.) Did I need a reminder that I'm fundamentally no different than egregious sexual offenders except I would never choose to act out like they do?
Even more disturbing, last night (or rather, this morning) I dreamt I had murdered my sister, Scottie, because she was "in the way" of something. I don't know what that was- she's not an obstacle to anything in my current life. But I and an accomplice had taken her by complete surprise and bashed her head in. She was sitting in a chair when we attacked her and somehow she fell to the ground in a way that caused more damage to her head, obscuring the crime we had committed when her body was collected by the authorities. But I was fearful we would be found out and I was anxious to have her body cremated to destroy the evidence. I remember at the end just before I awakened, I was thinking I needed to talk to Steve Jarrett to tell him something... what? that she was dead?
As often happens with a disturbing dream, I was greatly relieved to wake up and realize this was a dream and not waking reality. I know no one ever reads this blog but do I really need to be writing this here? Or anywhere? My commitment to acknowledging the truth, to being accountable, to being honest with myself, and, as much as I deem safe, being honest with the world is strong. I've never been afraid to face truth in my own thoughts, except during moments of paranoia where I've been afraid that I'm in Hell and had a sense that I wanted to avoid knowing that as much and as long as possible. But from Hell there's no escape and avoidance is only a temporary measure.
And there it is, I'm facing that, too. I faced it many years ago. It's the scariest thought I've ever had, the scariest thought I can imagine. Is there anything I haven't been willing or able to face? It seems to me I've surrendered to truth, surrendered to the transcendent creator of the universe, whoever or whatever it is. I'm humble, I recognize that I'm not certain of much, that I'm not better or worse than all the other members of my species. What else do I need to do with myself in this life?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
