January 5, 2002 - B
"Small, But Solid Floors And Walls"
There's been one change since this picture was taken. Laura's computer now faces the window, instead of the wall (a 'rotate 90 degrees counter clockwise' change). Laura's Mother did the two paintings. The doorway leads to the bedroom. (The hazy pile below the sewing machine are stacks of soda pop. We DO drink a lot of pop.) And that green indistinct thing in the lower right is the arm of the sofa. As you can see, the apartment IS small.
But, THERE ARE NO NASTY SPIKY THINGS HANGING FROM THE CEILING, AND THE WALLS ARE SOLID!
January 6, 2002
"Attention To Small Details"
I've been making tiny little changes on a good number of my web pages. I'd noticed some pages I've visited have had colorful things done with the scroll bar. ''How did they do this?'' I wondered, and looked at the source code. All the relevant code seemed to start with the word 'scroll bar'. ''Ah HA!'', and fast I went in a flurry of tiny redecorating. Sure, it's a tiny space, but it was fun to reclaim many of my most artistic pages from that thin band of gray. On some, I made the bar melt into the background, and on a few, I made it stand out, as part of the design. Just a tiny space, but one more I can control, tidy up, make it do what I want.
Now, if only I had more control in the larger world. Maybe Monday, some career advancements can be made.
January 7, 2002 - A
"Whew!"
Surprised and pleased, I am. Money worries will be greatly eased soon with a regular paycheck, regular hours (no red eye night shifts), and regular days off.
I had a dream Sunday morning that suggested certain skills of my past should not be overlooked. My finger dexterity is a good bit better than what I thought it would be. Laura got a typing program for the computer, and I tested on it. I was surprised that the past over five years of typing my journal entries has resulted in a wpm that on the average, is at least 35wpm. I've even seen the 45wpm test. The ol' fingers are better than I thought they were. With that confidence, comes the desire to make use of that dexterity for money. I can do more than just ring up prices on a cash register with them.
So I am happy. Relieved, I am. And do they need me? I start tomorrow. I am happy. I am relieved. We won't be living in the shabby trailer with the holey walls anytime soon. Whew!
January 7, 2002 - B
"Sunrise, Sunset"
Julia said, ''Grab the camera, and claim that sunset!'' I had sunset pics of our last day in Casa Grande, now I have a sunset picture for the beginning of our life here in Yuma. But it really looks more like a sunrise, doesn't it?
January 8, 2002
"First Day"
The sky is just beginning to lighten on this, the first day of the rest of my life. The 'moon phase' of the horoscope says ''Let the past die. Plant seeds of rebirth.'' It also says ''Be prepared to meet opportunity.'' And so, today I meet 'opportunity'. I begin with a deep breath and a deep gathering of energy to meet the day. Somehow I know it will be there, to draw on through out the day. I breath and I gather, just a little excited about my first day at work. What began as a dream shall solidfy. I am taking lots of deep breaths.
January 9, 2002
"Refreshing Change Of Pace"
The first day had as its highlight a smoking machine. No, really! A bad odor filled the small room, and got stronger. I discovered the source of the malodorous aroma was sitting directly in front of me. Between my co-workers and I, we discovered the cause, and we were able to get it not to smoke, rendering it at least usable before the repairman came. That poor, abused machine! It should perform much better today.
Still, that crisis seemed small compared with ones I've dealt with recently. I shall not forget 'the day from hell'. There was but twice my co-worker greeted me with those words as she beat a hasty retreat from the fray. She was prophetic, she was, each time, for those nights were fraught with disaster. I'll not forget the night the gas console, dairy case AND safe shut down. I was told it could be a six hour wait before the repairman showed. How awful, hauling all those milks back to the big cooler in back. And what if THAT cooler decided to shut down? Finally the man came. What was the source of those ills? Some prankster had messed with the breaker switches at the outside back of the store! He promised to have the day man put a lock on the box. Augh!
Yes, my current environment is gentle and safe, compared to that one. Really, almost any environment would. One night, a co-worker quoted some statistics that said being a convenience store clerk was even more fraught with risk than being a policeman. I'm not sure of the accuracy of that study. But more than once, I received calls from another clerk to 'be on the look out for a man wearing X and behaving thusly'. Robberies were not infrequent. We all shuddered with horror as we heard the report of a store manager, of a different chain, who was shot and killed, not during the wee hours of the morning, but around four o'clock, on a sunny afternoon.
Gratefully, I never had to stare down the pointy end of a gun. However, we were all prepared as best they could of how to behave, should such a thing ever happen. The robberies I faced were small and niggling, relatively. I began to get a sixth sense for the oddly behaving customer. Nervous loiterers, that's the ones to watch out for. The first robbery was noticed quickly enough. I had been sorting candy deliveries into two piles, those the candy displays had room for, and those which would be sent to the back room for storage. It was easy to notice one of three, set on the flat surface of a frozen pizza cooler was missing. A big mostly golden yellow box of forty eight bags of peanut M&Ms were out the door.
THAT thief at least had good taste! I'll not forget when I caught the little red haired boy red handed, with a pack of cigarettes in his hand. After I prepared a written report, so all could learn of him, I discovered his piccadillos were not unknown to the day shift. And the beer runs! I got enured after a while. I learned to gather all the descriptive info in a quick glance, as they dashed out the door, always with big mostly red boxes of full flavor Budweiser. Well, the thief isn't going to steal the cheap crap, is he?
Thieves aren't likely to break in and steal anything in my new environment. I must say, that IS a refreshing change of pace.
January 12, 2002
"Sufficient"
I woke early with the idea that something should come to me. I sit here, before the glowing screen, with the tiny little letters, but nothing has. I am even in my favorite crosslegged position, monk-style, and nothing yet has happened.
monk-style, but without that degree of serenity
|
Ledger of the head's transactions, Log of the body's voyage, It rides all day in a raincoat pocket, Ready to admit any droplet of thought, Nut of a maxim, Narrowest squint of an observation. ----Billy Collins, Journal |
Some of those 'squints' are pretty narrow. Still, I like the fine line, and the delineations, and I take it with me, always in the pocket of my mind. What is worth saving, what is worth recording? I stash it away, for another day.
So, is all this prelude for warm-up? Ah, let's flex those finger joints, and get ready for some serious typing. Stiffness is leaving me. I am warming up. Did I tell you it is warmer in Yuma? Well, it is, by a good eight degrees over Casa Grande, usually. Now, that that bit of distracting thought is gone, let's see where this meander will lead.
I've always admired the serene spirit. But it seems to me, I've not gained the serenity so much through meditation, but in going through a test, and passing it. CONFIDENCE, that's what gives serenity. The older you get, the more tests you have passed, and you learn to face them with a little more equanity. I still need the deep breathing, though. Clears the cobwebs out of my head. Some days, there are lots of cobwebs.
A good, stiff wind will clear them out. Did I tell you it is windier here in Yuma? Or has it been just the weather fluke of the past few days? The wind, in the mild winters, is refreshing, though. As I walk briskly, I do not mind it rushing upon my cheeks. The mountains, purple-blue in the distance, but clearly cragulated, here are decent enough, large enough, and I enjoy their panorama, as I walk. I do not miss the Catalinas when I look at them. I do not know their names, though. I know one set is called 'Chocolate', but which set?
Who needs names to enjoy things? A name can't tell you anything about them. Unless, of course, you understand that symbol, and can narrow it down to 'that specific huge rockpile there in the eastern parts', or some such.
Anyway, there are some nice rockpiles here. But I've said that already. Music from a game Laura had taken a break from, is now filling the air again. So familiar, that cheery spunky music from 'Rivervale', or the peaceful watery music that serenades when the adventurer in 'Norrath' comes near nature areas. If computer generated imagery can be called 'nature areas'. At least, it is the representation of such.
What if real life had a sound track accompanying you everywhere you went? Would we soon rush for the 'mute button'? 'Swamp land' sounds now, almost real. No doubt, that digitized bird call was once from a real, live bird. That bird is probably long dead, now. Hah! The bird has achieved immortality! It sings forever, so long as the fifty thousand humans who play 'Everquest' visit its swamplands. Hah!
Better that, than nothing. That may be all this entry is worth. Something just a bit above nothing. Still, I am having fun on this mental stroll. Nothing brisk here, nothing vigorous, just a pleasing amble through the corridors of my mind. I ought to take a broom through these paths, they need a good sweeping. Maybe, a good, stiff breeze will blow those leaves off the path.
Ah, to face that breeze! I breath deep of the rich air. It has been good to meander through my mind. I breathe deep, on this early morning. I breathe deep, glad to be alive, glad to be me. That's sufficient, isn't it?
January 13, 2002
"Swampy Bits"
The trip to the Arizona Territorial Prison was the nicest part of yesterday. The place was hopping, filled with over fifty percent of the visitors dressed in period costume. Apparently there are travelling troupes of people who go from one old West history spot to another. They were there, performing skits, and generally making you feel like you'd stepped back in time to 1900. Of course, I took pictures, and made a new section in the tour pages about them. You can't see it very well, but that's the Colorado river behind Julia and Laura in the picture below:
As I said, the trip to the prison was the nicest part of yesterday. I don't really want to talk about the rest of the day. But maybe you can learn from my troubles. The Hewlett Packard computers have an odd button on the floppy disk handler. I've learned that it is very important to be sure you press it at directly right angle, because any slanty push will dislodge the little puking button so that it becomes trapped behind the outer plastic shield. Permanently, it seems, but perhaps the repair shop can do something with it.
Anyway, perhaps you can learn from my experience.
I had to laugh when I saw this line:
Have FUN, folks!
January 14, 2002
"THIS Is Real"
On reading the Sunday paper this morning, I discovered it was no ordinary day at the Territorial Prison, yesterday. It was the fourth annual Gathering Of The Gunfighters. There were sixteen different re-enactment groups from various areas. What luck it was to catch that without even knowing it was happening!
Luck we had today, as well. And no misfortune! Julia wanted the computer, so Laura and I went out for fun. ''Where should we go?'' ''How about a visit to that nice coffee shop and a movie?'' When we got to the Main Street area, we discovered a street fair, just like the ones on Tucson's Fourth Avenue, was in progress. The roads were blocked off, and many little tented shops and food booths were being visited by a sizeable crowd. Cool! More lovely signs of life in this new town of ours.
What movie to see? We looked at the marquee and discovered a new one was showing: ''A Beautiful Mind'', featuring Russell Crowe, who had starred in the magnificient ''Gladiator''. Neither Laura nor I had read one thing about it. Ordinarly, we take to the web and scour the critics words before deciding.
What the heck? We liked the actor, we liked the title, we took a chance. We were drawn into college life in the 1940's, from the point of view of a young man named John Nash. Who was that strange man with the mathmatical mind? He wasn't always popular, for he said whatever he thought, without regard or knowledge of the social graces. He had to come up with a reasonable thesis, for the professors to keep him in school. A chance visit to a bar with some friends inspired him, and he dashed off what was an economical theory, replete with lots of mathematical charts. The professors loved his innovative thinking, and his tenure was safe.
He managed to find a girl who liked him and his direct ways. They married. After this, we are drawn into a mystery. He is wanted to crack Russian codes.
He pours over papers, newspapers, tons of them, wild scrabblings all over them, trying to find patterns. Then he starts to crack up. The Russians are after him. In a middle of a lecture, he breaks down.
The poor man then ends up in the psychiatric ward. Is he nuts or isn't he? We are kept in mystery for quite a while.
How does he himself know what is real? Nash's wife comes to him, and grabs his hand. ''THIS is real'', she says as she strokes his hand, his cheek, and then takes his hand to stroke HER cheek. LOVE reaches through the haze. He recognizes it as a real, true thing.
Her love gives him the strength to fight his inner demons. He preserveres.
He is shown, years later, winning the Nobel prize for his economic theory he'd hastily come up with to save his behind in college. In his speech, he credits the saving power of love, far greater than the power of mathematics and logic.
I am crying, for I have known the power of such love. Earlier, I was crying, as his wife took his hand. How much more poignant, it was, for I was gripping Laura's hand tightly. We hadn't had their problems, but we'd faced enough crises of our own, and love had led us through all of them.
At the movie's end, words flashed on the screen. 'John Nash is still teaching school, etc.' ''THIS MOVIE'S ABOUT A REAL MAN!'' The realization hit me, and then the moving story was all that much more moving. Enough, it would have been, to be the creation of some writer, cobbling bits of various people's experiences, and then enhancing it, Hollywood style, to include some marvelous bits which couldn't really happen. But, NO, this really happened!
Laura was crying, too, and afterwards, she re-assured me of the redemptive aspects of my love for her. ''I wouldn't be here now, I wouldn't be who I am, I would have never made it without you,'' she reassured me, as we gazed into each other's eyes, both overflowing with tears.
We were having our private moment, as the throngs of people walked past us, exiting the theater. I had no idea if the movie had moved them as much as it did us. I didn't care. We knew our own reality, and the rest didn't matter.