Learning to Crawl -- Yet Another Legspace

Impelled is doing a little work on an _old_ computer, and it's having a little trouble getting it onto the net.

Let's see if the computer's connection to the network even works:

"eth0: error fetching interface information: Device not found."

The large stack of books sitting next to the computer tell me this means, "no."

On the other hand, the computer is telling me what is or isn't going on. That's a substantial improvement.

Hmmm

The grit-your-teeth-and-get-through-it part of the plan worked fine. The get-moving-after-the-holidays part, less so.

The holidays aren't the only thing to get through; I have an anxious conversation coming up. But the real problem is the habit of disengaging. It takes energy to get something out of life, even when you are surrounded by great people. I muted myself to get through the season without getting unmanageably irritated at anyone, but that also muted any excitement or vision. I see now that I've done that for so long that I'm so practiced that my reaction to anything is to close down. It's a useful respite when things are buzzing and pulling you out of yourself, but it's disaster when you put yourself into a quiet hole and have to fight through a flock of irritations to push your way out.

Well, it's time to step out and trust the effort will bounce off something worthwhile.

Priorities

We returned from visiting the in-laws to discover that Ms. Impelled's arrangements for Santa 's delivery of several large presents had gone awry.

Shortly upon our return, we got this call:

"Hi, it's your neighbor, I am so sorry we forgot to help with that delivery."

"Oh, don't worry about it. Thanks for looking after the cat, we really appreciate it."

"Well, sure, but I'm so sorry we spaced that delivery thing."

"Look, we managed it no problem, the kids will believe anything. Now, if we had found the cat dead on the kitchen floor from dehydration, that would have been traumatizing."

Okay, I think we're through the worst of that.  Presents, dinner, family -- all more than I can take, but I think we're on the other side and we can start working on making next year's a little better.

 

Finally figured out how to get some miles in here, despite the 32 degree weather.  Punched out three miles, and some calisthenics, and feel a lot better for it.  Exercise focuses the mind.  Also, I've been playing a lot of blitz chess on line -- not normally my thing but I can't count on a longer chunk of time.  I'm sort of holding my own, but this afternoon I noticed I wasn't playing so much to learn but to pass the time, and my play often reflected that.  The exercise notwithstanding, I'm still a ways away from taking control of myself enough to be productive.

 

 

I can't do anything useful here, so I'm just keeping my head down. Another twelve hours or so and the worst of it is over.

Yeah -- Mormon, Go Home

Seen this? Look, New York is a tough place for everyone. There are a lot of people sharing limited space, and more gets done if we're all efficient. Be quick, be light, pick your times, etc. We're organized and we expect our neighbors to be. In tight spaces it's just common courtesy. Tourists, of course, don't know this yet, and we actually do understand.

But we don't need the attitude.

It's not our fault that you need three suitcases for a weekend trip, or are are changing hotels over the weekend, or trying this during the cab changeover. Nor is some over-worked cabbie required to take a crummy crosstown fare at the height of shopping hour because you can't read a bus map (available at any subway kiosk; I think you're looking for the M50). Yes, there is a law, intended to ensure transportation for poor people living in lousy neighborhoods, not middle income people in the middle of badly planned vacations. Don't abuse it.

We all make mistakes, but most of us fix our own and apologize for any trouble we've caused. You and your Clampetts act are in the way and it's irritating. We'll deal, but try not to step on more toes than is absolutely necessary. You want to write about your cross-town Iditarod? Write about how you made a complete hash of a one mile trip and, in the process, carelessly inconvenienced several hundred people to one degree or another, and self-righteously chased some working stiff out of an hour's wages.

We just live here. You are whatever you were when you stepped off the plane. Don't blame us for whatever the city reveals that to be.

Do No Harm

I don't enjoy Christmas, so I guess blogger form calls for a cleansing screed.  (Of course, I'd like a _real_ Christmas, an echo of the Echo of the Big Bang, but that isn't what Wal-Mart et al have in mind, is it?)  But railing against the world's stupidities still calls the world stupid and yourself against it, the world with the stupidities, even when railing on the pretense of Defending All That's Good and True.  I'll pass. 

Yes, yes, celebrating in my own way would be a lot more positive.  I'm too busy.  Maybe next year.  This year, it's the season of the clenched jaw, and minimized damage to everyone else's fun, and trying to push the important stuff forward amid the distractions.

Next year might be better.

Apologia Pro Dementia Sua

Like everything else in the Fussy orbit, I've been looking at Julia Sweeney's blog. Unlike everything else, I'm commenting there. I'm addicted to these little running battles -- I square off against some over-generalizing know-it-all with some very careful statement and then break them down when they inevitably reply to what they _think_ I said. It's about as interesting as playing chess up a queen. I tell myself I'm just putting my opinions out there, but come on -- how convincing is it to bore people to tears no matter how right you are? There has to be a better source of stimulation.

It doesn't help that I find this the dullest and most anxious time of the year. I feel like I'd do anything to stir up a little activity and distraction. A little intellectual bullfighting is just the thing, and on the internet you don't have to deal with the people you've pissed off. Maybe I should try cocaine, at least it might be less antisocial.

Anyhow, for whoever might see this, I really do regret being so confused as to waste everyone's time with such idiocy, and I'm trying to do better. I wish I would just stop, but if you don't know the sources of your tics you can't find better ways to satisfy them and they eventually lead you right back to where you started. The trick, I'm hoping, is to outgrow my failings rather than stifle them.

In the meantime, I'm sorry.