Where does this impulse come from? I'm wondering because I've gone through a spell in which I didn't write at all. I'm usually working on something--a speech, an essay, a story or even a poem. But lately, nothing. It's best done when I have a lot of energy, writing when I'm tired is not for me. If I have energy when I start, however, I can keep writing for hours and not feel tired. I spent some time carrying a little notebook and a pen to capture thoughts I might explore in writing. Lately they have mostly contained lists of tasks I need to do, grocery lists and other odds and ends. Not sure of this, but I don't know if a grocery list would prove a very interesting basis for writing an essay.
Let's take a look.There's a sleep diary the doc asked me to keep for two weeks to report the results of my newest prescription, intended to help me sleep. That would be number six, no seven, in the progression of pharmacological treatment. The diary indicates progress in sleep, so number seven's permanent now. I am now on to number eight, which is not expected to have any impact for the first three or four weeks, so no diary on this one.
But back to the notebook--a list of items to pick up at Lowe's for a project in my home office--stain, a few boards, shelf brackets and copies of the key to our front door (a couple of new locks I just installed). Hmm, not much inspiration for writing there.
Next up, a list of recipe items needed for making gingerbread men. A new Christmas tradition, Grandma and Mom go Christmas shopping, while Grandpa makes his famous gingerbread men with the grands. It turns out the grands are just old enough and competitive enough to take turns with the mixer, the rolling pin and the cookie cutters, of course. But these are not traditionalists. Each of them had to choose a different shape to cut out, so we wound up with only half a dozen gingerbread "men," and "women," the latter were added at grandma's insistence--granting equal time to the female grandchild, etc. However, neither of the grands would use the gingerbread characters irrespective of gender. So, when I got the occasional turn, i made that handful of gingerbreads. I was lucky the pumpkin cutouts didn't work, or we'd have some of those instead. It wore me out, but still not much writing material was there? A slice of life to be sure, but...
Back to the notebook, there are passwords, task lists (too many repeat items, of course), more shopping lists and no more ideas for writing, so I'm on my own. Ah, here's an old note--"Monday 10AM, Starbuck's." Coffee with a friend. I remembered that one without the note. Maybe there is something in that to inspire.
Well, it's a start, writing about not writing, but the grands are on their way over, so I'd better call it a day.
Saturday, November 30, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Amused? Who Me? and Maybe Not Even My Feet
You might think your feet are designed for standing and walking, but there are scientists who believe we are really designed to walk on all fours, and not standing upright on two. This theory is often used to try to explain away the high incidence of lumbar and cervical injuries among humans. There are lots of theories as to why primates moved from quadrupedal to bipedal travel, including some who believed they found it less strenuous. Picture yourself walking around on all fours all day. I am sure I'd find it exhausting.
Anthropologists have recently found in treadmill studies measuring metabolic, kinematic and kinetic data that four out of five chimps used more or an equal amount of energy walking upright. The one using an equal amount of energy and the one using less shared skeletal characteristics of the hip and hind limb that allow for greater extension of the hind limb. Examining old fossil records, they noted the same in some early bipeds.
Which brings me to my recent experience in four different "amusement" parks in the Orlando, Florida. My experiences there led me to inquire into what "amusement" means "the state of being amused, entertained, or pleased. That didn't help much, it's a little like defining "park" as "a place where a park ranger hangs out." Really? Amusement is the state of being amused?
OK, so I moved on to amused, and the answer was not particularly credible--it was "to cause to laugh or smile by giving pleasure." By the time I had stood, walked and stood again for more than eight hours each day for four consecutive days, nothing could cause me to laugh or smile--about my legs or feet anyway. I only fully understood the situation when I ran across the archaic meaning of the word amuse (Archaic To delude or deceive.). Now I get it, we are deceived into believing that walking on two feet is what we evolved into (a higher state, at least assuming you are taller walking on two feet instead of four) so that we could get around using less energy. But, the fact is, we expend more or less the same amount of energy walking on two feet instead of four. We forsook walking on all fours (knuckle-dragging as some would say) just to be taller, I guess. We were likely deceived (amused?) into it. Today, I think we are being amused into believing that amusement parks are a place where we will laugh or smile all the day long.
Now, I don't consider myself old and feeble, I work out daily, attend yoga, pilates and personal training sessions, and I walk. I just don't do a lot of standing around, thus I was ill-prepared for an "amusement" park. Each day, after six hours or so standing in line or standing around waiting for others to finish their rides, I was "pining" for the pine bench. Pining means "to feel a lingering, often nostalgic desire." A perfectly accurate description of how I felt. I really, really wanted to sit down.
Which brings me to another gnawing resentment I began to harbor--I didn't care for all those people riding around on electric scooters. They'd ride up, park and hop off their vehicle spryly, ready to stand in a line, having passed many of those in line ahead of them, who moved aside--believing they were disabled in some way or they would not be on a scooter. But these people were not disabled, they were simply smarter than I am. They had probably been at "amusement" parks before, and learned they would be better off renting a nice little scooter than walking, standing, walking, sitting as I did. In fact, when they "sat" they sat on a padded seat, not a pine bench as I had whenever I sought rest. Speaking for my feet, I am not amused...
Anthropologists have recently found in treadmill studies measuring metabolic, kinematic and kinetic data that four out of five chimps used more or an equal amount of energy walking upright. The one using an equal amount of energy and the one using less shared skeletal characteristics of the hip and hind limb that allow for greater extension of the hind limb. Examining old fossil records, they noted the same in some early bipeds.
Which brings me to my recent experience in four different "amusement" parks in the Orlando, Florida. My experiences there led me to inquire into what "amusement" means "the state of being amused, entertained, or pleased. That didn't help much, it's a little like defining "park" as "a place where a park ranger hangs out." Really? Amusement is the state of being amused?
OK, so I moved on to amused, and the answer was not particularly credible--it was "to cause to laugh or smile by giving pleasure." By the time I had stood, walked and stood again for more than eight hours each day for four consecutive days, nothing could cause me to laugh or smile--about my legs or feet anyway. I only fully understood the situation when I ran across the archaic meaning of the word amuse (Archaic To delude or deceive.). Now I get it, we are deceived into believing that walking on two feet is what we evolved into (a higher state, at least assuming you are taller walking on two feet instead of four) so that we could get around using less energy. But, the fact is, we expend more or less the same amount of energy walking on two feet instead of four. We forsook walking on all fours (knuckle-dragging as some would say) just to be taller, I guess. We were likely deceived (amused?) into it. Today, I think we are being amused into believing that amusement parks are a place where we will laugh or smile all the day long.
Now, I don't consider myself old and feeble, I work out daily, attend yoga, pilates and personal training sessions, and I walk. I just don't do a lot of standing around, thus I was ill-prepared for an "amusement" park. Each day, after six hours or so standing in line or standing around waiting for others to finish their rides, I was "pining" for the pine bench. Pining means "to feel a lingering, often nostalgic desire." A perfectly accurate description of how I felt. I really, really wanted to sit down.
Which brings me to another gnawing resentment I began to harbor--I didn't care for all those people riding around on electric scooters. They'd ride up, park and hop off their vehicle spryly, ready to stand in a line, having passed many of those in line ahead of them, who moved aside--believing they were disabled in some way or they would not be on a scooter. But these people were not disabled, they were simply smarter than I am. They had probably been at "amusement" parks before, and learned they would be better off renting a nice little scooter than walking, standing, walking, sitting as I did. In fact, when they "sat" they sat on a padded seat, not a pine bench as I had whenever I sought rest. Speaking for my feet, I am not amused...
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Thinking About What Makes Friends
I've been thinking about friends again this week. How rare they can be, how forgiving they have to be if your are not to lose them.
One thing that stands out to me is that true friends are not blind to our faults. In fact, we may have even learned they were true friends when we did something colossally stupid or made perfect fools of ourselves in their presence and they didn't feel we'd done so permanently. I'm not saying they didn't notice. The best of friends are never blind, they are just willing to close their eyes to your mistakes.
I know, because I have made my share of blunders, and mistaken one thing for another countless times. I have misunderstood people and acted on that misunderstanding only to find I was way off. But, as Emerson said, "It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them." Anyone who's been a friend of mine for a while has had to accept my being stupid more than once. I've found if they still like me after that, they are probably my friends.
I thought of citing some examples here, but those that have come to mind have been too embarrassing to put on display here. I'll just point out I find it easy to misread the intentions of others because I'm projecting my own thoughts onto them. It takes a good friend to wade through some of that and let it go.
On a slightly less obvious level, friends can sit silently with you without being the least bit uncomfortable. This is true in some of the most pleasant times, and the not so. It's not just the not saying anything part. That can go on among perfect strangers and mean nothing. A crowd of people on a train or a bus not speaking to one another is not a gathering of friends. It's the conversations or shared moments wherein you never need to say what's on your mind that count. I don't need to come out and say it, my friend just knows.
In other graver circumstances of despair or confusion, a true friend can just hang in there being present and be comfortable. That kind of friend doesn't see the need to fix things or to fix you. That sort of friend just cares in person. Great to have in your life.
One thing that stands out to me is that true friends are not blind to our faults. In fact, we may have even learned they were true friends when we did something colossally stupid or made perfect fools of ourselves in their presence and they didn't feel we'd done so permanently. I'm not saying they didn't notice. The best of friends are never blind, they are just willing to close their eyes to your mistakes.
I know, because I have made my share of blunders, and mistaken one thing for another countless times. I have misunderstood people and acted on that misunderstanding only to find I was way off. But, as Emerson said, "It is one of the blessings of old friends that you can afford to be stupid with them." Anyone who's been a friend of mine for a while has had to accept my being stupid more than once. I've found if they still like me after that, they are probably my friends.
I thought of citing some examples here, but those that have come to mind have been too embarrassing to put on display here. I'll just point out I find it easy to misread the intentions of others because I'm projecting my own thoughts onto them. It takes a good friend to wade through some of that and let it go.
On a slightly less obvious level, friends can sit silently with you without being the least bit uncomfortable. This is true in some of the most pleasant times, and the not so. It's not just the not saying anything part. That can go on among perfect strangers and mean nothing. A crowd of people on a train or a bus not speaking to one another is not a gathering of friends. It's the conversations or shared moments wherein you never need to say what's on your mind that count. I don't need to come out and say it, my friend just knows.
In other graver circumstances of despair or confusion, a true friend can just hang in there being present and be comfortable. That kind of friend doesn't see the need to fix things or to fix you. That sort of friend just cares in person. Great to have in your life.
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