Pause To Think

My town librarian recommended I listen to Studs Terkel's "Voices of Our Times." It is interviews with famous Americans from the 50's to the almost present. I am only into the 1960's but am quite taken by the regional accents that people displayed- especially the "East Coast Patrician" which is so ubiquitous amongst the intellectuals that are his preferred subject in this collection.

I was stopped in my tracks, so to speak, listening to the interview with Dr. Mortimer Adler, a philosopher who taught at several of the most prestigious schools in the nation. The idea he was putting forth to Studs in this brief interview was that intellect is not important, using the brain is. Regardless of the IQ - 90-140 - it is the "duty and moral obligation" of a human being to use their intellect in an ennobling manner.

Since 1850 we have accrued leisure time at an unprecedented rate. We no longer fill every waking hour toiling to make the clothing we wear or growing the food that we eat. His premise is that we owe it (to God? our fore bearers?) to use this leisure time well.

I think of how much leisure time I have and how frequently I feel that goofing off is my prerogative because I have worked so hard. I would hate to see a tally of how much of my free time is spent wastefully. I am not talking about the leisurely rambles with my dog- that serves as both exercise & rejuvenation. I am talking about the time spent playing solitaire on my computer. It serves absolutely no purpose.

Does this mean I need to become a Calvinist and offer all my labors up to the Glory of God? I think I may need to find some middle road so I can screw off a little bit, but I also want to be aware of how much of my life I am wasting.

I Don't Know.....

If you have been following me on any one of my various outlets, you will know that I have been dealing with a bum tooth for the past week. After dentists, endodondists, physicians and now periodontists it turns out I have a terrible infection that has inhabited my head for a number of years. Sort of funny... and not. The periodontist took a look under the hood today and discovered the infection.

"Has your eye been hurting?"

"Umm.... yeah."

After a little minor surgery and scraping around he definitively said the tooth was a goner and needed to be pulled. He was stymied by the extent of the infection. It was probably the result of a fracture about 27 years ago and would explain my long history of unexplained sinus infections.

As he was working on my tooth he kept up a patter that I knew was meant to distract me, but he said the big bad words: "I don't know why this happened." Now I can tell you I started crying in his chair, but I pretty much cry at anything. Some friends would describe me as big, bad Sarah but the truth is that emotions overwhelm me on occasion and the tears just leak out of my eyes. Just another reason, in a long list, not to wear eye makeup.

The words "I don't know" are scary to me because they are fraught with uncertainty. They mean anything could happen. My rampantly fertile mind had already spent the weekend imagining that I had a brain tumor. As I reclined in the doctor's chair I thought of my two little sisters who are dealing with all the "I don't knows" of cancer. I thought of my husband's death and the months of "will I make it?- I don't know" limbo that I lived in. My boyfriend's constant reminder that he has outlived many of the men men in his lineage by a decade is a huge "I don't know" for me.

In the big scheme of things the loss of some bone in my jaw and a tooth is hardly a body part to weep over. Perhaps it is just indicative of the inevitable slide towards decay & death. Perhaps it is a reminder that I don't have forever to leisurely accomplish what I want to in my life.

So, what do I want to accomplish? I don't know.

Tweet, Tweet

So I am trying to figure out twitter. I get how it works, but I just don't get it. Why would anyone want to keep up with my hourly activities? On a daily basis my life is pretty boring. If I start tweeting will it take all the mystery out of me? I mean really, if you get right down to it, doesn't my life look an awful lot like the photo to the left.... all dried twigs that need to be cleaned up and cellar windows that I forgot to close?

Bed.....And Breakfast?

My boyfriend has been in Florida for almost 6 weeks.... and there are 4 more to go until his return.

This is our bed. He usually sleeps on the right side. I have found a replacement for him- books. And lots of them. This current pile is two New Yorkers, a Newsweek, "A Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never Do Again" by David Foster Wallace and Volume I of "Pattern Language" by Christopher Alexander. The pile ebbs and flows but it is my constant companion while the boyfriend is gone. I have even learned to make the bed around them.

I can't figure out if this is sad.... or just maturity. At least there are no coffee mugs and toast crumbs mixed in with the books.