01/15/2017

 The mood is low but manageable.

 I talk to myself. A lot. I mean, a lot. It's one of the big hazards of spending most of my time alone. I'm inquisitive. A thinker. I like to pick things apart in my mind, examine them thoroughly, draw conclusions, and move on to the next distraction.

 The sum total of all of this thought is very little. It's rarely expressed to another person who might have some insightful comments on the subject. Since it's not going to be expressed it's irrelevant. But that doesn't mean it's not still there.

 I find this annoying.

 It's distracting and unproductive. It's taking up space. I'm fairly certain there's an upper limit to what we can store in 4.5 pounds of meat. While the brain as a computing device is impressive, it's not all powerful.

 If if were, we wouldn't be having this conversation.

 What I find distressing is that my head is filling up with useless trivia. I have no idea how much it can hold but if what I'm thinking is actually overwriting something I already know, how would I know? You have to have a memory of a thing to know that thing is lost.

 When I talk to myself it's usually me answering the question I was thinking about.

 Just thinking back at myself. Whispering under my breath about the gaping holes in the concept that a deceased person, or more frequently a deceased person's head, can be frozen then revived some time in the future.

 Seriously?

 Are you expecting there to be wizards or something in the future? Will an ersatz Victor Frankenstein bolt your frozen noggin to a new body and you'll just go on your merry way? I sincerely doubt it. You were lied to. Freezing causes moisture to crystallize. You know, ice? Well, on a basic level, the frozen water has crystallized and torn the cell it was in to shreds.

 The damage on a cellular level would be extensive. There's no way in hell anyone will ever find a way to replace every cell in whatever piece of yourself you decided to freeze.

 No one cheats the reaper.

 So these are the kind of things going through my head at any time while I'm conscious and sometimes when I'm not. I was actually whispering this post to myself for about two hours when I hit on the idea that I've never mentioned this to anyone.

 It may help. Or not.

 People seem so nervous around someone who's just chattering away to no one. In most cases, they're probably right to be apprehensive.

 But I assure you.

 The voice in my head is my own.

 It just won't shut up.

 That's annoying.

 Thanks for listening.

01/15/2017 addendum

 The mood is the same.

 I recently called my internet service provider because I was experiencing difficulty with pages either taking an excessive amount of time to load or not loading at all.

 The chap I spoke to was very helpful.

 We went through a checklist of stuff. What sort of computer, browser...technical stuff. With all of that out of the way he told me to go to a website that checks the speed of your internet connection. If you type speed test in the search field on Google you'll find it.

 So I'm watching the little speedometer ratchet up to about seven megs for a download speed and just over one and a half upload. Which is pretty much the service I started with. I was impressed with the download speed because I only have a five meg service.

 And I could tell the chap on the phone was trying to keep from laughing.

 He wasn't being mean or anything it's just that it truly was laughable. When I asked how fast it should be going he said around one hundred megs.

 A hundred megs? Really?

 Okay Ben, so, you remember that world you turned your back on over four years ago? Well, strangely enough, it kept on changing without you. It would stand to reason that companies out there are trying to one-up their competition so of course they've developed faster modems.

 Duh.

 I'll take the hit for that one. It never occurred to me to at least keep track of the technology I'm using. As I saw it, the only way to find out about changes in technology is to be exposed to their advertising. To be exposed to advertising is to be exposed to current events.

 Which I wish to know little or nothing about.

 I find the world we've created distressing and sickening and I want no part of it.

 But that's a different issue.

 One of my greatest fears is to find myself so aged that I can no longer adapt. But in this case, I latched on to the technology the chap on the phone told me about. Examined it carefully. Installed it. Even trouble-shot when I had trouble getting my Kindles to connect. There are three of them if you're interested.

 Anyway, I adapted. With no difficulty at all.

 I'm able to function in your world because I can translate it into a format I can understand. Everything is made up of parts. And those parts fit together in very specific ways. There are repetitive aspects to everything that can be stored and used.

 I was diagnosed as autistic very late in life. Since then I've done little to learn about the disorder. There's a reason for this.

 What they call “high functioning” I call me.

 No matter how much I learn, that will never change.

 Thanks for listening.

Once upon a time there was a non-conformist little sparrow who decided not to fly south for the winter.

 As winter dragged on the sparrow realized it had made a mistake and decided to fly south after all.

 The sparrow was not in the air long when its wings iced over and it crash-landed in a barnyard.

 The sparrow was battered and bruised and it was so cold it couldn't catch its breath. It thought this was surely the end.

 Then a cow came along. It was huge. The sparrow was terrified but was too cold to squawk in alarm. But the cow just stepped over the sparrow as if it wasn't even aware it was there.

 As the cow departed, it crapped on the sparrow.

 The sparrow was furious! How rude! But then it discovered the manure was soft and warm and in a very short time the sparrow's wings were de-iced and it could breathe again.

 The sparrow was so happy it sang a beautiful song to the departing cow.

 A passing cat heard the song, cleared away the manure, and ate the sparrow.

 This story has three morals:

1.  Not everyone who craps on you is your enemy.

2.  Not everyone who gets you out of the crap is your friend.

3.  If you're warm and happy in a pile of crap, keep your mouth shut.

 

Last edited by Conspiracy Theory (1/28/2017 9:36 am)

01/29/2017

 The mood is erratic.

 I think that's the best I'm going to be able to do. At least for the time being.

 I am a caseworker.

 A caseworker is the kind of person who works for an employer who couldn't care less if they have the tools they need to do their job providing benefits to people who are frequently abusive.

 And yet they still come to work every day.

 There are a lot of reasons for this. Pay, benefits, job security, the list goes on. Stay long enough and, while your retirement won't be grand, you won't want for anything.

 I have no idea how many people are just in this for the paycheck. I'm not even sure if such a thing is possible. From my perspective, a caseworker is far too familiar with the lives of others that a complete professional detachment can be difficult.

 Or impossible.

 Or not.

 These are not things I can determine for other people. Speaking for myself, I had to learn a few hard lessons fast or I wouldn't have made it in this job. The first was that I'm their caseworker, not their friend. The second lesson was harder.

 You can't save everyone.

 Sometimes you can't save anyone. That's the nature of this gig. It's more rigid than a lot of people would be comfortable knowing about. And I did what I could but I couldn't save that first one. Or any of the ones after that because that's just how things are.

 And if a caseworker fails to be detached enough they mostly don't seem to remain caseworkers for very long.

 It really is that kind of job.

 So I maintain a professional detachment from my clients.

 This doesn't mean I can't occasionally -try - to save someone.

 It's what I'm here for, after all.

 Thanks for listening

I'm about ready to walk too, Flower.

It's one thing to put up with defective equipment.  It's another if the state is going out of its way to make the job more difficult.