I’m linking to this article about Central Audio Processing again because it is very very important to me that people understand how it can seriously hinder a great life. That is not to say I am saying that it ruined my life; I am not saying that it stopped me.
I am saying that it’s more difficult for me than most people to do simple things; that I still haven’t realized my full potential; that people have been cruel at times though I learned to ignore cruelty. Other people thought my so-called ditizness adorable, endearing, and more. Most people never noticed, but it was always important to me, me, me and more me.
My parents and a large group of their friends were having brunch in Tavern on the Green in Central Park one year when they saw runners. It was the first marathon, and the story wasn’t really interesting the first time I heard it, nor was it interesting the next hundred thousand times one of them told it.
I’m sure that they told it better than I just did; that my dad filled it with dramatic pauses, and later my mom would have me tell me it. Though I wasn’t there, I heard and then told the story so many times, I felt as if I were there.
That’s the thing about a story; tell it enough and you own it, or it owns you or something.
Enough wisdom and moralizing.
The marathon used to be exciting. No it’s not a case of everything was better when I was young and I walked ten miles all up hill, always in a blizzard to go to and to come home from school.
It’s a: when you have lived in Manhattan as long as my friends and I have, it’s just another inconvenience. Too many people taking up too much space, and it serves to remind that we are now in the unofficial beginning of the Christmas season.
Which means that there will be no parking for my visitors, no room for me to walk unencumbered . People will walk into me, and then demand an apology for their push.
For some reason many people believe that when they visit Manhattan, they have license to be rude. New Yorker’s aren’t rude as a rule, though that is our reputation. Why should we put up with rudeness from tourists?
For the first three years after that day; we were expected to be filled with gratitude for tourists who chose to visit our city after our horrible tragedy. Wasn’t it wonderful that they chose to come here?
Not really. For a long time New York has been the safest large city. There’s nothing scary about New York except for the federal governments color codes.
I’m in a bad mood because: I have a long dentist appointment today; I have been working on a few projects forever and between them and the dentist(s) feel that I have no life anymore.
Yesterday Lucia asked me to go downtown to Home Depot and help her pick paints for her living room. I live for such things, and begged off because I was exhausted from my totally unexciting but very late Saturday night. I gave up an opportunity to go to Home Depot and watch somebody else spend money.
I feel absolutely horrible about that today.
Really and truly horrible.
Then I would have helped my best friend; we would have laughed, and I wouldn’t be in a funk today. I wouldn’t have been here for a certain phone call that made me feel stupid, unhelpful, nasty and filled with remorse because I wasn’t stupid, unhelpful or nasty.
We all have problems in life; it’s how we chose to deal with them that makes us who we are.
Usually I just listen when this person calls and grunt in appropriate places. But sometimes I’m quizzed on the call; other times I’m forced to give an answer and sometimes the wrong word comes out.
Remember that I have problems processing sound correctly. Sometimes the wrong word comes out. But since I’m supposed to be very bright and very articulate, I can usually cover or laugh off my mistake.
Not with this person. She remembers every mistake that I have ever made. Frankly she makes me feel worthless. If I want to feel worthless I could comment in some member of the radical right’s blog.
Like most people I like to feel good about myself. Oh yes I know how selfish that sounds. Why should somebody want to feel good when she could feel bad?
Why should we try to make our lives easier when it is so easy to make our lives more difficult?
Sounds absurd as does the above. But a long time ago I realized that making myself feel good and making my life as easy as possible is a priority to helping me stay sane. I also realized that some people will always make their lives as difficult as possible so that they can put many obstacles between them and their true feelings.
It’s like people who book every moment of their weekends and nights so that they don’t have to face to their loneliness. Sorry but I know married people with minor children who do this also. It’s not just a problem of single people, and has never been one of my problems. I actually enjoy unstructured time which is both a blessing and a curse.
The Marathon makes me think of things like this; and I felt compelled to put in the “married v single” thing because it is something I have noticed over and over again through the years.
Last night as I was falling asleep I thought of so many things I wanted to say; can’t remember a thing now. Wish a tape recorder could tape my thoughts. Yuck. I said that?
Really time to get off the computer.