Telling Truth and Keeping Mum.
February 17, 2008
I know my father, who has shown me untold generosity since my stroke laid me low, does not want to hear me complain about my plight. He has always preferred we pretend the uncomfortable does not exist. I also know that as a full-blown diabetic whose pancreatic function is in its twilight and on the wane, I must follow a strict diet to remain “healthy.”The fact that I cannot at this moment afford to follow that diet is my own problem, I suppose.
Preparing as best I can.
February 15, 2008
The rest of the month is going to be rough. Cash poor, with only so much food to get by, and vices (smoking, drinking) that must fall by the wayside at least temporarily — it isn’t pretty. I think I’ve got the medication issue worked out. I’ve given protein as much thought and preparation as I can, carbs may run short — but a diabetic cannot live on carbs alone, and the “acceptable” fats situation is mezzo-mezzo.
I’ve been trying to live within newly more-limited means, and not surprisingly I stumbled at first. I’ve analyzed what I did and will try strenuously to avoid doing it in the future — but that does not help getting over this next hump.
All the last year plus, as a newly diagnosed diabetic, I’ve managed to live within dietary strictures laid out by my doctor — learning as I’ve gone and getting more adept at deriving flavor from herbs and low-fat sources. Now I face running flat out, while trying to quit smoking (with the fatigue and muzziness that brings.) And I’m depressed as hell, too. And so it is.
The Importance of The Natural World.
February 12, 2008
It’s all we really have. Even if large scale migration to another place in the heavens were practically possible — as yet, there IS no other place. It used to stun me how many folks live oblivious to the world, snug in their artificially-maintained little coocoons – smugly certain that nothing will change or go wrong or fall out of tension in it. I can’t believe that’s true.
Deep Frustration.
February 11, 2008
I’m frustrated as all get out. I’m trying to adjust to the lower level of support my benefactors (my father and his wife) informed me they would provide me after the first of the year without significant changes to my life — such as moving into a cardboard box — but I’m having a heck of a time.I haven’t worked much since my stroke — and the menial jobs I could get fired me without ever saying so by simply not scheduling me to work. My plant knowledge disappeared after the stroke, but has in large part bubbled back up into consciousness – I still hit blank spots now and again – but the overarching principles that inform my understanding and interaction with the horticultural world are again firmly in place.
I’ll be damned if I can figure how to market those skills, though.
In my job searches, I went to local nurseries and applied and/or begged for work. At one, I took a multi-page exam and was told I had passed and therefore qualified, but repeated phone inquiries yielded nothing. At another local chain, as is the custom round these parts “never was heard a discouraging word”, but it was made clear to me that young (strong) unskilled, knowledge-free, low wage workers were what was desired.
Not that I mind being horribly demoralized. Nothing like that. I’m just tired, and stumped, and unsure how to cope. That’s all.
Things I can’t say at Eschaton.
February 10, 2008
The Hillary Clinton partisans at Eschaton, many of them women, are hugely protective of their favored candidate — and go absolutely nuclear toward anyone they feel has dis-respected Hillary. So much so, it often feels to me like they would forgive anything Hillary did, no matter how heinous; in sisterly solidarity with her.I suppose that is somewhat to be expected among people who have waited so long for a candidate of their gender — but it does not make the stridency any easier to stomach.
Musings.
February 9, 2008
When one undertakes to blog, he or she necessarily feels some obligation to have something to say every day. I confess there are times I can’t shut my mind up — but there are dry spells, too. Unlike some people, I rarely talk aloud to myself. Early on, I recall being told it was a sure sign of insanity — and when I encounter a “constant talker” on the bus it can be annoying, or scary, or both. Cell phone addicts are bothersome, too. Yeah, like I rilly want the intimate details of your life spewed for all to hear endlessly.
Some daze….
February 7, 2008
….are definitely more conducive to thinking and writing than others. Thus far, this seems not a shining moment, but one must play the cards he is dealt. Commenters at Eschaton this morning are none too sparkly, either. One “Lively Monkey” put up a post that began, “Look, this is funny….” — the kind of thing that this morning suggests will not be funny at all. So it goes…
Maybe Beginning to Get It.
February 6, 2008
Have you ever had one of those episodes, or periods, where your behavior wasn’t its best, but you didn’t know quite what accounted for it? Color me there. Still, I’ve had a few thoughts about what the trouble might be. Something has been unsettled in me by people’s dissatisfaction with the field of Democratic Presidential candidates. I don’t mean they’re not up to snuff — they quite clearly are. All my adult life, women and racial minorities have aspired to the land’s highest office; and now that we’re just about there for one group or the other (maybe even both) — nobody’s the least bit pleased.
Plus, I find myself jealous that MY issue isn’t being addressed — and I’ve been acting like an ass about it. So, there it is. For the first time in quite a while, I drank so much alcohol that I feel the twinges of a hangover. It’s not a bloody awful hangover, mind you — but there’s no mistaking what it is. And I acted out, and people acted out back, but I got to this place with it.Not bad for a day’s life.
Content.
February 5, 2008
One of the things I’m noticing about trying to write a blog is how often I find I wish I had something cool to say. Oh, I blab endlessly; but my mind often veers from subject to subject stream of consciousn…er, stupidity-style.What’s true right now is I’m stressed because I’m broke. Very shortly I won’t be broke, merely on a tight budget. but the suspense is killing me.
On the Perils of Extrapolation.
February 4, 2008
We all do it.You draw a conclusion from an observation, and next thing you know, you’re applying what you think you learned to everything you see.The rightness of the act of extrapolation began to break down for me some time ago. I noticed that it doesn’t always work — that all of any group is unlikely to be without variability. When it comes to human health, this is surely true. At diabetes diagnosis, I was flooded by health professionals with a huge list of unappetizing generalities about the consequences of diabetes. Many, but not all of them, have proven to be correct.
In the comments section of a blog I frequent, people have shown a remarkable willingness to offer opinions and advice on subjects about which they know very little — or sometimes, nothing at all.
But on further, gentler consideration I realize they are merely extrapolating from their own results and experience onto others. So, I now have a mental caution beacon I try to set up wherever I find the urge to generalize and extrapolate — the idea being that under perfect conditions, I will examine my extrapolations to see if they are valid before I apply them.
We’ll see how it goes.
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