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Posts archive for: 24 February, 2007
  • Speaking to the Void

    Had a weird dream, last night. Dreamed that I was just walking along in some little garden, somewhere--and then....nothing. I was in a completely blank space. It was white and there was nothing else---totally empty. I was trapped in a void.

    That'll teach me not to watch the Doctor Who "Doomsday" episode before bedtime. ;)

    But I'm left wondering:

    What would I do, if I were trapped in a void? What would any of us do?

    Well, being a manic-depressive, I could always just start talking to myself--actually, I sometimes do that already, a bad habit I've carried for years, "thinking aloud," since I was a teen--but you know, being the way I am, I can sort of get away with it.

    Yeah, I try real hard not to do it in public--not always successfully--but for years, I really have had an annoying tendency to speak my inner thoughts. This began when I was a teen.

    I got hooked on antique bottle collecting--found an old bottle in a ravene, and mum ordered a book from another library, called "Bottle Collecting in New England." And of all things--my bottle was listed in it! I was estatic, to see something I'd found listed in a book. The book also gave information on finding old bottles and how to clean them, as well--thus my first true hobby began--one that would last over ten years. I even became a docent (volunteer guide), and, briefly, temporary acting secretary, at the National Bottle Museum, in my mid-20's.

    Anyway, while crawling around--sometimes literally, when I had to worm my way through a tunnel of heavy brush--the various ravenes in my area, going over old dumpsites looking for bottles--made some other interesting "finds," as well---I would sometimes, when faced with an especially tough route to traverse, would start "talking it out" in my head--puzzling out the route out loud, while trying to figure the best way to reach what looked like a great site, without seriously hurting myself. It was potentially dangerous, sometimes---there were piles of seemingly bottomless deadfalls, gobs of blackberry and other thorn bushes, broken glass and sharp rusted objects (can you say "tetnus shot?), sudden drop offs, hidden holes, poison ivy...it wasn't really dangerous, but the potential was always there for an accident--and I usually worked alone--except for our two dogs, that is...and sometimes the cat.

    I would stand there, and scan the best route, and actually "talk" myself through it, puzzle it out, sort of. Dunno' if it helped or not--but I never once ever got hurt.

    Now, sometimes, when I'm trying to make a decision--like deciding the best buy on meat in the store, or choosing a book to read, or planning my day---I sometimes find myself "voicing" my thoughts. Recently, I was trying to decide if I could afford some stew beef, and noticed a man edging away from me, giving me an odd look--before I realized I'd been doing my ruminating out loud.

    So, if I was trapped in the void, reckon I'd have it all over "normal" people---at least I'd have myself to talk to."

  • Stupid Americans?!!? Ummm---

    America is a big country...big land, big cities, big cars..big boobs...big ideas...big brains--whoops! Did I say brains? I meant trains--we have big trains here--very big trains.

    One of my night supervisors was telling me about an ordeal college was--something I could relate to--seems we both have Swiss cheese memories. Anyhow, she took a psychology class, and the first day the professor said, "I want you to memorize this table--I want it etched into your brain! We're going to use it in an upcoming exam." So, my supervisor goes home, and memorizes the stupid table of all these various emotional disorders--goes to class the following week: no exam. Well, she thought maybe she had it wrong and the exam was the next week. So, she studies the table even harder.

    Well, it's into week three, and still no exam on the blasted emotional disorders table. So, she goes and corners the prof. "When's this exam on the table, she asks? I thought we were going to be quizzed on it?" The professor looked at her and replied, "No, you only had to memorize the page it's on--it's an open-book exam."

    Yes, boys and girls, that's the American education system for you.

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