The question refers to whether or not facebook will pick up this post from my blog feed. Although I haven’t made any formal resolutions, I do plan on getting my shit together this year. I’ve let the tide take me for long enough. Now it’s time to swim with purpose. To do that, I must be able to write in only one place. Here.
Presto!
– Mary
I had wanted to write something profound about endings and beginnings. Instead, I’m preparing to get into bed. Today was a long day. It was very busy at work. I’m tired.
So I will go to sleep in 2010 and I will awaken in 2011. A new year.
I have no formal resolutions. Only a vague idea of what it is I want to become sometime soon. A need to do more and better things.
That’s all.
– Mary
Christmas doesn’t mean to me what it once did. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not bah-humbugging. But the clatter makes it hard to focus on the purity of the sentiment: “Let’s be nice to one another — even if it’s only one day, OK?” Instead, all I see and hear are sales pitches and diet tips.
So I’m sort of skipping Christmas. Sure, I’ll show up and make the effort, but I’m really not feeling it this year. What I’m feeling is the New Year.
I’ve been dormant long enough. I’ve had enough rest. It’s time to move forward. But I’m not waiting for New Year’s Day to begin. I’m doing it now. Right now.
– Mary
It comes in waves. I’ll have excellent discipline in all areas of my life for a few years, then it’s gone. I put on weight. I stop writing. I stop keeping things neat. I watch TV and don’t give a damn.
It’s coming back again. The discipline. I’m eating much better (except for the holiday party at work last night). I’m pulling together the threads of my life to try to weave something useful, beautiful.
I don’t even have to wonder what it all means. I know. At least, I think I know. It’s a mental disorder. A chemical rapids I’m meant to navigate. Sometimes it’s too rough, and I’m thrown against the rocks, left semi-conscious and barely able to breathe. Other times, it’s almost a fun ride. I’m reasonably sure that’s dysthymia in its purest form.
What’s next? The push to ride these rapids all the way to that calm pool at the end before the next rough spot knocks me off course. The push to put my life in order enough that the remission sticks. In spite of the reality, at least for now, I believe I can.
– Mary
I woke up this morning — the morning where it’s 23 degrees outside — to find we have no oil. It’s a balmy 56 degrees in the house. I think that’s my cue to hit the road. We should have an oil delivery by late this afternoon. In the meantime, I’m going to go hide up at Starbucks and try to get some work done. I’m pretty sure they have heat.
What I was going to do today is color my hair. But I’m not going to do that without hot water. I was also going to go through some poems and my resume. Fortunately, I can do those things at Starbucks.
OK. I’m off. Let’s see if this posts to facebook. My account is set up to pull the feed from this blog, but it hasn’t actually happened yet.
– Mary
Envelope addressed to “Neighbors at xxxxx”; no return address:
Dear Renters,
Please clean up the leaves on your property. You are the only house on the block that is a mess.
This is a nice neighborhood and we’d appreciate your cooperation in keeping our homes nice.
Thank you. Happy Holidays.
From,
Your Neighbors
What bothers me most about this friendly note is that the person didn’t even consider that their neighbors might be unable to clean the property. What if all the occupants are ill or elderly or otherwise infirm? There’s no offer of help.
They call themselves “neighbors.” Mr. Rogers, where art thou?
10 Things to Say and 10 Not to Say to Someone With Depression – depression – Health.com.
Something I found on the web.
– Mary
I use reference books. Books. It’s an old habit. There was no Interent when I was a kid. We didn’t even have VCRs or Cable. Thus, now, when I find myself in need of a definition, I reach for my dictionary. Like I said, old habit.
But it’s more than a habit. I find comfort in the heft and texture of books. Those physical qualities evoke the whispered, echoing silence and the vaguely dusty paper aroma of the library. There’s something real in the sensation of paper against my fingertips. There’s security in the static layout of each page. Things are where they ought to be — and they stay there.
I’m not here to argue digital versus paper. Each has its advantages. I’m fully aware that .pdfs have fixed pages and that searching on the Internet is exponentially quicker than paging through various books. I’m talking about a holistic experience. You can’t smell the history in a pixel. You can’t thoughtfully trace your fingers across the words on your computer screen (you can, but the smudges!). You can’t contemplate the weight of each book you read on an ebook reader. Sure you have the words and the pictures, but the unique character of the book is purposefully stripped away to make things neat and simple and eerily 1984.
It isn’t only the physical relationships with my dictionary and thesaurus that keep me tethered to them. It’s the way my eyes wander from the word I seek to its neighbors. It’s the serendipitous discovery of words. The rediscovery of words I’ve allowed to fall into disuse. It’s my language: the way I connect with everything that is not me. The printed page makes it feel human and personal in a way that a computer screen simply can’t.
If this is my age or my eccentricity, so be it. I’m not technophobic. I love my computers and the instantaneous nature of the Internet. But when it comes to the English language, I’ll take the print edition every time.
— Mary
I sorted out the whole “moving the blog” thing. All my posts are now here. I also figured out how to FTP stuff to my web host. That’s something I should already know, but … well …
So, despite feeling like an emotional soccer ball, at least I can point to something positive.
I’m trying to get the feel for this software. I don’t like the theme very much. Or maybe I just don’t like the header picture. I’m not really sure. The more important issue is: How do I move all my previous posts over here without endless copying and pasting? Hmmm …
