Body Stuff

It's small, blue and tingly. My pinky finger, I mean. For the last two days, perhaps three, the pinky finger (5th phalange sinister to be exact) of my left hand has been numb, with a cyanotic nail bed and cold. Every now and then I see this little seemingly dead thing waving around down there and I give it a rub and squeeze to move the blood back and forth, but it never seems to really "wake up". It makes me wonder what may be going on... just curious, not alarmed, as it still seems to function when called upon. Previous to the "pinky thing", the thumb on the same hand had been experiencing some soreness on the pad, similar to a deep bruise or bone bruise, making it quite tender to perform such simple operations as opening the car door - my latch has a button that you have to push. And, just the morning of the "pinky thing", I felt a sharp pain in the offending phalange stemming from no apparent provocation.

As of today, the thumb seems to be better, the pinky continues to be obstinate and the wrist has gotten into the action. It now feels as if one of the small, pebble-shaped wrist bones has become dislodged and is creating a feeling of "not-quite-right" - ness. I've twisted, turned, massaged and pulled to no effect.

Only 40 and already falling apart!

Damn Technology

OK, I got all motivated and wrote something the other day. Something really exquisite, amazing and esoteric... I will never be able to re-create it and it probably would have made me real famous, but this damn posting blogger thing just tossed it aside like so much gutter detritus. Bastards!

Actually, I have quite a bit to post about, however this whole grad school thing, as I have mentioned before, is cutting to the quick of my social and private time. Project this, paper that, cohort meeting there, final here... blah, blah, blah. Not to mention that it is stifling my creativity. But I will bravely thump along. I purchased my first digital camera and have cleverly left it sitting on my bar where it will read my thoughts, leap to task and whirl madly about the metroplex snapping shots of the bizarre, unheard of, and awesome. (I haven't even gotten a good photo of the Twins with it yet. Oh, I am so lame.)

Anywho, shortly, I will be regaling my distinct, if microscopic, audience with my own myopic visions of nature, self and family. Beware!

Coffee Klastch (?)

philosophy

"As a human being, you have no choice about the fact that you need a philosophy. Your only choice is whether you define your philosophy by a conscious, rational, disciplined process of thought and scrupulously logical deliberation - or let your subconscious accumulate a junk heap of unwarranted conclusions, false generalizations, undefined contradictions, undigested slogans, unidentified wishes, doubts and fears, thrown together by chance, but integrated by your subconscious into a kind of mongrel philosophy and fused into a single, solid weight: self-doubt, like a ball and chain in the place where your mind's wings should have grown." -

Ayn Rand, 1982

Compresssion

A good friend once malapropped that he felt "compressed". Not so ludicrous when you realize he meant that he was depressed. Loathe to explain for the maddening averages/normals, I comment that I am compressed today. Only slightly, and for no apparent or immediate reason - steadily on the looney pills, no crises imminent - all is status quo in the house of sYd. Nevertheless, I am experiencing a malaise coupled with a disquieting desire to weep for no reason.

Maybe it's the normalcy of it all. Mom states that I am an adrenalin junkie which I equate with insane spills from cliffs wearing only a bandana, a wetsuit filled with fillets and a quick splash with great whites, etc., not with the mild thrills that seem to crop up in my daily rounds. But she may have a point. This continuing subtlety of life may be compressing my adrenalin jones and resulting in this feeling of not-quite-enough.