Category Archives: desire for desire

Stuck Between Entropy and Inertia

Posted on by
2

Entropy is essentially a measure of disorder or randomness in a system. The fundamental rule of the universe is that things naturally move from being highly organized to being chaotic and spread. Think about your living space. There is only one way for a room to be perfectly neat and organized, but there are thousands of ways for it to become messy. Over time, without you putting in extra energy to clean it, the room naturally falls into a state of messiness or “high entropy”.

Human inertia is the psychological and behavioral tendency to resist change and maintain the current status quo. Just as physical objects resist changes in their motion, individuals often stick with familiar habits, thoughts, and default options because doing so requires significantly less mental effort. the tendency to remain in an inactive or action-oriented state. For example, a person might stay in a stagnant routine simply because the energy required to make a change feels overwhelming.

I sprawl in my recliner, pointlessly gazing out my window, following random clouds skip across the summer sky while an occasional rosey-headed house wren stops by to express disappointment at the empty bird feeder. The sun rays slipping through the gnarled branches of the huge old oak tree in the front yard dapple my eyelids

Inertia dictates my day, and I barely have the energy to put my lunch dishes in the sink. The mail piles up and various sweaters stay draped over various chairs. Walking with the brace on my foot tires me out and makes my lower back hurt. It’s easier to sit.

And so I let entropy take over. My eyes close and the rest of the day disappears.

Is that all there is?

Posted on by
8

“Is that all there is? Is that all there is? If that’s all there is, my friends, then let’s keep dancing. Let’s break out the booze and have a ball. If that’s all there is”.

Is that all there is for too many of us folks who have made it thus far into our 80th decade? Isolation? Boredom? Loneliness? Disconnect? Physical failures? And with no energy or opportunity to “have a ball”?

While the hours seem to drag on, the weeks seem to go by quickly. There are many hours when I sit in my recliner and let my mind go blank. I think about nothing, feel nothing. I am suspended in time and nothing matters. It is my ultimate respite.

I do perk up when I sit down to watch The View. I record it and and watch it while I eat lunch. The kind of women who animate The View are the kind of women who were a part of my close group of women friends when I lived in Albany (before I retired to take care of my mother who had severe dementia). Politically liberal, irreverent, savvy, and funny, we never ran out of things to talk about or experiences to share.

That is what I miss most. That connection to kindred spirits.

Over the years, I had tried, unsuccessfully to get one one of the local Senior Centers to start a women’s discussion group of some kind, in hopes of meeting new friends. It’s taken a while, but my local Center is planning to start what they are calling a “Gals Gossip Group,” and they are looking for someone to volunteer to facilitate it. I volunteered.

Of course, I probably won’t be able to drive for a while, and I might have to still use the walker, but the Center is only 5 minutes from the house, and my daughter said that she would drive me.

The other kind of discussion group I suggested (but was met with discomfort and rejection) what is called a “Death Cafe”.

At a Death Cafe people, often strangers, gather to eat cake, drink tea and discuss death. Our objective is ‘to increase awareness of death with a view to helping people make the most of their (finite) lives’. A Death Cafe is a group directed discussion of death with no agenda, objectives or themes. It is a discussion group rather than a grief support or counselling session.

The linked video about gives you an idea about why folks want to talk about death.

So, because I am still alive and kicking (well not kicking with the broken ankle), I am waiting for the delivery of a pair of shoes that I hope will accommodate the ankle brace I’m going to have to wear for a while when I get rid of the uncomfortable boot.

Meanwhile, anyone have any idea how I can have a ball? Or is that all there is?

The Beginning of the End?

Posted on by
9

My last post appeared here exactly one month and one day a year ago. The poem I wrote on that day pretty much describes what this past year has been like, filled with dental difficulties, lower back and joint pain, worsening my of hiatal hernia and GERD, and struggling with such existential issues as what the hell is the point of my being here at all at age 86.

Complicating my struggles even further is the fact that I fractured my right ankle badly four months ago, resulting in three separate surgeries and bouts in and out of rehab.

Currently, I am wearing one of those Star Wars-looking orthopedic boots on my right leg and a lift contraption on my right shoe to level out the length of my legs to enable walking. Yeah, right. It’s like trying to walk with a shoe box on each foot. So I have to use a walker to keep upright.

I have spent the past four months pretty much homebound with my foot elevated and my daughter taking on the exhausting role of caregiver — giving me my meals, my meds, and whatever access to the outside world that I need to have, including trips to the doctors and careful forays onto the deck in the backyard (weather permitting).

I can’t help looking at this as the beginning of the end, because from now on, it’s only going to be one thing after the other, as my assorted healers keep track of my chronic kidney disease, the damage to my digestive system, and the need for pain management of my back and knee.

In the past, I never thought about how long I might live, since my life was always filled with distractions from hard realities — fun hobbies, good friends, and variety of other interests. Now I often think about dying — when, how, why — and whether I’ll ever again have a compelling reason to keep the end at bay.

Right now, it’s like I barely exist on any kind of meaningful level.

Back in the old Blogger days, many of those folks made the point that blogging was a way to write themselves into existence.

So here I am, again, attempting to write myself back into existence, trying to find a point to it all, after all. Hoping to find a desire for desire.

ponderings on a typical April day

Posted on by
Reply

NERO FIDDLED; TRUMP GOLFS

History says that the fall of Rome was caused by a number of factors, including internal corruption, trade issues, wars over expanding territories, and incompetent leadership. Legend says that Nero fiddled while Rome burned. History will report that Trump golfed while American democracy collapsed for those very same reasons as Rome’s demise.

BOREDOM
“A desire for desires.” That’s how boredom is referred to in Chapter 8 of Anna Karenina. I can identify with that these days. I wish that there were something that excites and motivates me, that fills me with a desire to create, to imagine, to become involved with. I desire to have a desire. Instead I watch a lot of tv and sleep. And play brain games on my Amazon Fire Tablet, Word Chums with a friend, and Words With Friends with one of my former college profs. But I have no energy. Even getting out for my African Drumming class has become a chore. I keep doing it because it’s the last thing I have that gets me out of the house, despite the lower back pain that makes it hard to carry my drum. I have no more interest in knitting or sewing or any of the crafts in which I engaged for decades. I need an adventure, but I have no idea what that might be. I am bored to the extreme.

ENTROPY
It looks as though this will be the year that parts of my body start falling apart. I just had a thyroid biopsy and will get the results this Friday. My sacroiliitis has flared up again, and so I’m off to the Pain clinic later this month to get re-evaluated so I can get another series of injections. I broke a clasp on my partial denture and have to get a new one, although it never is going to fit perfectly because of the location of my missing teeth. I need new glasses, unless I get my cataracts removed, but I’m not sure I’m up for one more medical procedure. I guess I’ll wait and see what the results of the biopsy are.

ADOLESCENT ANGST
I found this old poem I wrote when I was about fifteen. I guess I was depressed even back then.

I hear the dreary, mournful refrain
Of the steadily falling downpour of rain.
Not the rain of a wild and stormy night,
With furious streaks and flashes of light,
With tormenting winds of passionate force
And eerie outcries from an unknown source.
Not the kind of rain that rises from hell
And holds all the world in its magical spell.
Not the kind of rain that’s so torrid and splendid —
That you still stand in wonder even after its ended.
And still not the rain that’s mellow and mild
As sweet and refreshing as the smile of a child.
Not the shower that calls all of nature to waken
With gentle caresses that leaves all unshaken.
Not the rain that makes every creature feel new.
Not the rain that leaves the world sparkling with dew.
But a gloomy depressing curtain of gray
That covers and hides all the brightness of day —
A shroud of depression, a mist of despair,
A cloak of discouragement, everywhere.

“plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose”