Filling Time

The costs associated with obtaining news and entertainment that are both informative and interesting can be nothing short of prohibitive. But if they were prohibitive, the money would not be spent. Let’s just say, then, the costs are high. The issue then becomes one of value; that is, function divided by cost. Despite my incessant grumbling to the contrary, the money I spend on or contribute to fulfilling the functions I want to fill is, usually, money well spent. That is not to say those functions are necessary; but they are sufficiently desirable for me to ante-up for Netflix, Acorn, NPR, a monthly online subscription to the New York Times, and various other news and entertainment resources. For me, the easiest and most fun information source among the online “news” outlets is the NYT website, which is structured in a magazine style with appealing graphics and sufficient introductory information on the “front page” that links to more depth on additional pages.

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Yesterday, I was outfitted with a custom plastic face mask which will be fitted to me to keep my head in place during each of my upcoming external beam radiation therapy treatments (called stereotactic surgery). During the course of treatment, I can expect to lose some, if not all, of my hair as a result of the radiation. At the very least, I was told to expect it to thin considerably. (I lost my hair for a while during chemotherapy treatments, but it has come back, albeit much, much thinner.) Prior to the mask fitting, I had a brain CT scan. The time on the CT table was excruciatingly painful; my back hurt like hell while I was on that hard steel tray where I was placed. From here on, I will take pain-killers before I go in for treatments in the hope I can avoid more of the same. It’s not the cancer; it’s my f***ing back). If all goes according to plan, my first treatment will take place in a couple of days.

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One of the  first things I did after sitting at my desk this morning was to breeze through the NPR website. Not for news—but for relief, instead. Relief from the onslaught of reminders that our home planet has become a cauldron of ever-more-distressing turmoil and purpose-built misery. The first piece I read was an article entitled “6 Design Tricks to Transform Your Home, According to a Feng Shui Expert,” in the Life Kit section. I will readily admit that I have never placed any confidence in, or much respect for, feng shui, but some of the points the author made “feel” right to me. Reducing clutter, making good use of light to enhance the atmosphere, furniture placement, and other areas the writer mentions made good sense to me. And, then, I looked around my study. Once again, as is too often the case, it is a sea of clutter. The desk, the bookcases, and the cabinets on one side are littered with not-even-close-to-neat stacks of paper, books, knick-knacks, and miscellaneous other intrusions to peace and simplicity. I have allowed my “retreat” to return to its old habits (blaming the place, you see, instead of the occupant), becoming a cramped cell that looks a bit like it was decorated to create at atmosphere of tension and discomfiture. Today being Tuesday, a rare day in that I have no medical appointments or other such obligations, I will spend part of it improving the environment in my own little domain. But I will put no pressure on myself to “finish” the job. I will let the process flow as slowly or as quickly as I like. The idea is for the space to have a calming effect, rather than letting it cause my worries and anxieties spike. I shall see how this early morning intention plays out during the remainder of the day. Oh, I started by lighting a cone of incense to put me in the mood for an easy adjustment to the day.

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There was a time when humans’ modes of “transportation” were essentially limited to walking or floating in a water-craft. Later, our species rode on the backs of animals. And, then, we advanced to riding on wheeled platforms pulled by those animals—like horse-drawn buggies. Since then, humans have sprinted through a dazzling array of means of transportation: cars, buses, trucks, airplanes, jets, rockets, balloons, etc., etc., etc.  No matter what the mode, the function was transportation.  There’s a connection between transportation and communication, by the way, with respect to progression and transformation. I often lament the decline in the number, scope, and quality of newspapers; fretting over the reduction in the depth and intensity of the information they deliver. I am attached to newspapers. I have an emotional attachment to the way they feel and smell—and to seeing their ink on my fingers—when I read them. Like the transition from walking to rocket-based transportation, though, the fundamental replacement of newspapers with other forms of communication is simply an evolutionary process. And, like transportation, the availability of planets and cars and rockets has not eliminated the need for walking; just reduced it.  However, I remain concerned that replacing the aggregation function of newspapers with piece-meal availability of information online may restrict or inhibit exposure to broad areas of education and information. Newspapers jam it all in one easy-to-access place, so one has instant access to an enormous variety of topics; whereas online allows us to bypass the “other” in favor of only that which we want or need (or know we need). Without that consolidated access, I worry that we may allow ourselves to filter the limitless information available online to such an extent that we miss an important side-benefit of reading newspapers. These thoughts bounce around in my head while I contemplate what, if anything, we (humans) should do to maintain the value of newspapers while adapting to the convenience and speed of technologies.

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I still haven’t come close to finishing my book on the subject of Breakfast Around the World (after literally years of agonizingly slow or interminably paused work). That endeavor was shelved, temporarily, with my cancer diagnoses, thanks to breakfast limitations or requirements or adjustments associated with the disease and its treatment. Today, my breakfast consists of: Tomato juice (enhanced with a few drops of Tabasco). Clementine. Ensure. Espresso. Water.  Yesterday, returning from the radiation preparatory process, I had an apple fritter and a sausage klobasnek. I suspect that was an illegal deviation from good, healthy nutrition, but at this stage in my life, I feel well within my rights to eat what I want, when I want. Within reason, of course.

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It’s nearly 7 a.m. Time, perhaps, to stop typing words that ultimately have absolutely no value to anyone, including myself. At least I keep my fingers busy.