Too many disconnected thoughts for a single coherent post, so ...
- The guy who I thought would quit in the first week ... quit in the first week.
- I've cleaned and decorated the public areas of my dwelling, but I have yet to have anyone over. For shame.
- Yesterday I struggled to build the nerve to make a phone call to some friends with whom I'd lost contact, but after several minutes of hemming and hawing (I'm not sure what either of those actions really involve) I just said "one-two-three go!" and dialed, and an hour and a half later it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Two and half years hadn't changed these friends a bit. They were as super-cool as I remembered them, and a broken link has been restored.
- My ex-roomate and husband designate's mother was recently diagnosed with cancer of the smooth muscle. As cancer goes, it's not too painful, but deadly, and it strikes quick. It was already well advanced by the time it was discovered, and there's little that can be done. She has started to bleed internally, and her blood count is dropping fast, which prohibits chemo. It's questionable whether she will be able to attend Micah's wedding, if she can even hang on for another few weeks. It's tearing her children to pieces. Her daughter Calista was completely exhausted at the meeting tonight. It's hard to imagine the simultatneous blend of joy and heartache that Micah must be churning.
Everytime this system deals another cruel stab, it's another reminder of why it's got to go, soon. I can't fathom how those without the resurrection hope handle something like this.
I borrowed some space heaters from a friend until mine arrives. The other night after the meeting I plugged one into the same surge protector my computer is on, and a few minutes later blew the circuit. No big surprise, but the moment it happened I heard a noise upstairs and realized that they must have lights on the same circuit. I went to the breaker box and everything looked on. I made sure to push every switch all the way to the on position, but still no power. I concluded there must be another box upstairs and knocked on their door. My landlord Steve threw on some slippers and came down and edumacated me on how the box works. The switch that felt a little loose was the one that blew, and you just have to turn it all the way off and then back on. All better.
The reason I bring this up in the first place is because I was ashamed to have him see how messy I've let the place get. I had laundry all over the sofa, dishes all over the kitchen, and shoes and papers all over the floor. My old roommate suffered the same disease but at least we both had enough conscience to keep the primary messes to our respective rooms and maintain at least a semblance of presentableness in the living room. Oh well. I'm just glad it was the easy-going Steve and not his high-strung wife. Guess I'll clean up now, or sometime soon.
I'm working at home and freezing. It can't be more than 60 in here, which wouldn't be so bad if I was moving, but sitting and typing just isn't cutting it. I just bought a space heater online, but I would really prefer that 3-5 days be 3-5 minutes. Yeah, so I'm a member of the instant-gratification generation.
Just a thought on the relativity of time to age. It's a common observation that time seems to move faster the older you get. I don't dispute that, but I don't think it holds up with smaller slices of time or stays directly proportional to age. If you are not already bored with this, read on ...
For example, it's easy to accept that because a year is 1/5 of a five-year old's life, and less than 1/80 of an octogenarian's, a year feels longer to the kid. But does it really seem 16 times longer to the 5 year old? Even if that were so, does it hold true for a month, a day, a minute? I recently had someone argue that it does, but that seems ridiculous. This would imply that all perception of the speed of passing time uses an individual's time of birth as a frame of reference. Is the internal awareness you have of the passing of time always viewed in the context of your entire lifetime? Sounds absurd to me. We all know the truth of the cliche "time flies when you're having fun," so the perception of time is clearly affected by events independent of our age, and I'd venture to say that an hour for the old lady sitting in the chair at the nursing home is not all that much shorter than the hour the grounded 10-year old spends staring at the ceiling in his room.
What really clarifies the picture, though, is to ponder how an eternity affects your view. A million years from now, the proportional theory becomes plain silly. I think it's interesting, though, that to one who has already lived an eternity, not only is "a thousand years as one day," but "one day is ... as a thousand years." (2 Pe 3:8) So time can seem slower too? I'm curious how my perspective will change.
"Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone but it all works out, it doesn't matter much to me
... Nothing is real, and nothing to get hungabout
Strawberry Fields forever." - The Beatles
I can't believe it's been a month since my last entry. My home computer has been sort of out of commission for a couple weeks, but I could have written from my work pc. Just lack of initiative I guess.
I find that when things get stressful, I'm content to simply ignore the problems and go about my daily business without getting too worried. While perhaps better than being constantly frazzled, failure to get a grip takes its toll.
From the good news dept ... this new guy at work (who I suspect will quit by the end of the week to take a better job offer) knows a thing or two about cars and bodywork and might be able to hook me up with a reasonable fix for my car in my price range. Suhweet. I'd given it up for totalled.
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Calvin: Miss Wormwood?
Teacher: Yes, Calvin?
Calvin: If ignorance is bliss, this lesson would appear to be a deliberate attempt on your part to deprive me of happiness, the pursuit of which is my unaliable right according to the Declaration of Independence. I therefore assert my patriotic perogative not to know this material. I'll be out on the playground.
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I love that one.