Thursday, April 17, 2014. I am not a happy camper as far as this computer change fiasco is concerned. I have FINALLY dared to open up a sheet of paper here in this transported Office configuration on this sweet new Dell computer, Sara Lee – who is most unfortunately POSSESSED in assorted, irritating if not obnoxious ways by a Microsoft NEW mess currently known as 8.1.
Obsolete Windows XP was murdered last week by its creators. It ran perfectly for me. Cannot have perfection floating around on this planet, can we? Microsoft, the poisonous elixir of the poor folks. If I had had $1,500 to replace my old system with a Mac instead of the $500 I did have to buy this Dell replacement, I could have almost eliminated Microsoft from my existence. Alas.
If I want to traipse around any part of the computer universe in my worn out clod hoppers I have to learn how to cross this bridge without falling. I am not quite there yet.
One of the small pleasures I have discovered in living in this so-not-me environment here is the feeding of finch, chick-a-dees and sparrows. I tossed out my small allotment of seeds onto this small cement slab outside my sliding glass door (my only window in this apartment) this morning only to look outside at the arrival of a flock of blackbirds devouring in minutes what the smaller birds can enjoy over the course of an entire day.
Life in this material world. Keeping things in balance? If there is pleasure in feeding finch there will ALSO HAVE to be irritation in the arrival of hordes of blackbirds. Now I must be either vigilant in watching for “the enemy” so I can chase them away or I give up. I am still not able to drive (another story), so replacing seed is not an entirely simple matter. Neither is the cost of feeding a cityscape of blackbirds – oh, and yes, the first dove just joined the feast – very possible for me in my poverty, either.
Now, to see if I can save this little document on this new computer – and then find it again somewhere in Microville…. Well, I saved this. Will look for it later.
This morning my thoughts have been playing in a new way with the ideas behind my Libra rising sign. There is more to this “balancing things out in fairness” than this ascendant of mine would suggest. Take one side of the scale and add into it lots of cute finch and life will SURELY bring a ton of blackbirds to – BALANCE the scale?
Hummm…… I am left with the struggle – aren’t we all??
Oh. Turned away. 30 seconds I am back. Screen is blank. Have to watch this magic cursor. Puts itself up into a paragraph. I don’t notice. Type away, no words appear HERE. Part of some previous text has highlighted itself, vanishes, new words appearing where I did not want them. Have to – what? Cut a piece of cardboard, tape it over the computer’s own mouse version?
Wait. I’ll be back….
Baby has filled his pants. Has run off somewhere with a cardboard piece of the new Clifford puzzle. He’s eating it.
Kashi brand Organic Promise cereal box cardboard piece taped to computer – doing so suddenly turned my Word page HUGE. I am so out of my element. Why do I TRY?
Chased away more blackbirds. Or the same ones? Diaper changed. Peace returned. For how long? Oh. Stuffed fuzzy kitten toy suddenly appears. WHOPP onto my keyboard. Out of nowhere? No.
Out of SOMEWHERE and that somewhere is just LIFE.
I am reminded in the back of my mind that for all the 18 years I was abused by psychotic Mother, being told in every possible way that if I were not such a bad child, if I didn’t exist at all, everything in Mother’s world, and through her in her family’s world, and beyond us all to the whole wide world as it existed – all would be perfect.
I have worked since my earliest memory to keep my own self right-side-up in such a dark and malevolent, turbulent, hopeless kind of universe. Even though I might not – moment by moment – believe that I am ALL THAT BAD, I have not managed erase even the tiniest corner of my corresponding belief so programmed, beaten into me, that there IS such a thing as a Perfect World!
I continue to think this is true – both that the world MUST be perfect and that I so deeply believe this to be true that I still, at age 62, have not found any way to alter or to eradicate this belief, that I am continually shocked and dismayed to find that there ARE just as likely blackbirds in that proverbial pie as anything else I would consider “so much better.”
I am left with the continual question, “WHY?” Why is the world not perfect? (Running in the background, a faulty operating system: “Would the world be in its perfect condition if I were not in it?”)
Where is the end of the line of this kind of thinking?
I had something written here: “It’s all my fault.”
Then this computer magically did something obnoxious, changed my page so that I could no longer type a dang thing, did not let me fix it. I shut down the page and prematurely was forced to go look for it. Short story = I found this and continue what I was doing before mayhem appeared!
“What did I do to cause THAT glitch?”
Dared to try to write a blog post. That must be it.
It’s the stress, distress, anxiety provoked by all these asundry occurrences and disturbances that dismays me nearly continually. I do not have the inner resources to flow through any kind of water that feels threatening to me! Continually life asks of me that I readjust – not my choice of words but baby is effectively demanding all of my attention – yet again – ‘cause that’s what babies do….
He wants cereal. Not the banana he just demanded and will not eat. Cereal that comes in the box whose cardboard is now taped to my computer. Hodge podge, makeshift, demanding world we live in. Of course PTSD and other inner trauma-related disturbances in this body I live in prevent me from simply COPING in any kind of easy way – with ANYTHING these days.
Like the constant roaring drone in the walls and ceilings of this apartment I am living in. I am sure I have (“bad me”) COMPLAINED about that drone in a previous post. It is one of the very WORST conditions my PTSD could be forced to cope with. It’s on the blackbird side of the scale as it attempts to balance out – what? That I at least can gaze out my one window at a little open area that has a cat tail pond full of flickering little wings that send bits of last year’s fluff off into the sunlight instead of another building’s dead-end wall crowding in on me?
“It’s my own damn fault I am poor.” Huh? Like being tormented, tortured, terrorized, traumatized from the time I was born and for the following 18 years – conditions that caused so much damage to the development of every system in my body – that all created permanent forms of disabilities I live with that prevent me from living a full, healthy life (PTSD, reoccurring major depression, dissociation, depersonalization, derealization) are ALL MY FAULT?
Blackbirds. That feed on my own thoughts. Self-sustaining blackbirds. How tiring to ALWAYS have to be fending them off, chasing them away, trying to eradicate them, or transmute them into something positively sustaining.
Meanwhile. The only surface that supports this laptop for working on it out of reach of baby is NOT a location with internet access. Yes, the wireless router my daughter so sweetly bought for me sits here in its pristine box awaiting time when she can work all those angles out for me. (Fortunately. I am grateful).
So, how do I get this post onto the blog? And when? There are blackbirds in my way. My problem is I let that bother me. I think I will go stare at the cloudless sky on this windless day and be happy more snow is melting while I await the arrival of my TechnoCalvary.
There goes that magic cursor again. This time I caught it elevating itself up into my document before it could devour portions of my post. So much for my cardboard Band-Aid. Harken! Do I hear trumpets?
NOTE: My drumming lessons – over there on the goodness side of the scale of my life – are FANTASTIC!! I am being trained in “classical drumming!” What a HAPPY HOOT!!! I am working hard to use the positive in my drumming experience to counterbalance the negative I feel at living in a city, in a frigid climate, etc. (complete with AWFUL droning walls and ceiling surround noise).
I am working to convince myself that I have moved to a town to attend drumming college! I cannot imagine ever again in my lifetime living somewhere with this kind of opportunity. My instructor, Brett, has a doctorate in percussion and is a perfect (!!) teacher!
No “sloppy” slap dash of my hands on conga drumheads. This is precision training with sticks on a practice pad. (Cursor moved itself up again. SHUCKS!) I get to watch my trauma-altered brain LEARN what I am being taught. It reminds me of 30 years ago when I took college trigonometry. My brain had to find entirely new and unusual ways to process that information. But I DID IT!
And I will do this, too! I am learning how to do extremely fast drum rolls in perfect form. Once I have mastered THAT I suppose everything else will seem easy. Eventually, I suppose, I will be able to move so fast I can then bop those blackbirds on their little greedy heads before they know I am coming.
“Linda. Shame on you!”
Nope. I simply do not APPRECIATE blackbirds.
I will have to find a faster metronome, I suppose. I will ask Brett about that. There are probably online versions once this internet mess is straightened out. My old windup metronome has a top speed of 230 (or so) beats per minute. That SOUNDS fast to me until I begin to drum.
At that point each hand takes on 115 of those beats. And at that magic moment it’s like stepping over a threshold. I am no longer on the outside of the beat listening in. Once I begin to match the beat with the sticks I step inside the rhythm and become one with it. How exciting! Now – to ask Brett, “Exactly how fast is a drumroll?” Incredible. This is an incredible experience. And I so do NOT want to worry about that other shoe falling.
(Moved computer over to attach internet cable. Baby is napping so the coast over there is clear. Computer would not recognize the internet link until I rebooted it. Say, WHAT? Now, let’s see if I can post this motley collection of words.)
Here is our first book out in ebook format. A very kind professional graphic artist is going to revise our cover pro bono (we are still waiting to hear that he has accomplished this job). Click here to view or purchase –
It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge. Reviews for the book on the Amazon.com site
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