O.K. So far, so good. I've created the first part of a website and I have created this blog (my second one). Now I am going to see if I can link the two. Keep your fingers crossed and hopefully, I will see you (or at least, you will read me) on the other side (if you get my drift).
.....
You didn't see it, but I just previewed this blog and there are few problems. First, my previous (two year old ) blog is attached to this blog, which I do not want and second, it shows all my menu "favorites" at the top of the blog page. What's that about?
......
Just have done a little research, hoping - as always - that I will find the quick fix. Not to be. I am actually going to have to read the info page on the Google "Blogger" page. This will take some time, not to mention the right state of mind. I don't seem to be gaining patience as I gain age.
O.K, so I've spent enough time, indulging my love-hate relationships with computers and writing. I better go off and do some housework for awhile. Write you later.
RR
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
The Quantum Physics of Aging
Quantum physicists say that all time already exists. Past time, current time and future time all exist, and it is just that we can only experience time in a forward motion. Besides being practically impossible to comprehend, maybe it is the reason that when I look in the mirror, I see this face that does not look old, nor does it look young. Maybe that's why the face I see in the mirror is a face from all time. In the right light, or is it the right mood, I can see the face that I saw when I shared an apartment with three college room-mates and was always rushing to get ready for class at CSUS, or for work at Macy's for my $1.90 per hour. Sometimes, it is the face that I saw at three in the morning when I stood in a steamy bathroom trying to help a croupy, coughing, crying baby to breathe a little easier. Maybe it is the face of an over-worked, over-tired and over-worried administrator, who has just been called back to work for yet another crisis. Whatever face it is, it is a face that does not reveal a specific time, such as the present. The reflected face reveals all time, the good, the bad, the happy, the lonely, the bright, the sad, the troubled, the carefree, the all encompassing time. Is this what people look like in Old People Land?
RR
It's Coming!!!!
It's almost here. About seven working weeks to go. Retirement. The change that, by society's estimation, is the last big change of life. I see it as the next third of our lives. True, it's the last third, but we won't go there just yet. The issue right now is, how do we make our twenties' (o.k., maybe thirties' or even forties') state of mind shine through our sixties' kind of bodies? We have about forty years (80, if you combined them) of adulthood; figuring out daily what to do, what to say, how to act, what to think, and which, of a hundred co-existing problems, to solve next. Through it all, there was work. Work that sustained our living, challenged our sanity, frustrated our independence, gave us a refuge, created our social connections and occasionally, just occasionally, gave us a sense of who we were and what we could contribute to the world at large.
Now, we are leaving work behind. That's exciting, scary, perplexing, worrisome, relieving, and everything else I can think of, rolled up into one pulsating mass of the unknown. And that is exactly what makes it wonderful. To help us through this process, I have created (well, filled in the blanks of) this website. I hope to have a link (once I figure out how to do it) to a blog where I (we) can make running notes of our adventures, states of mind, and general observations of the world as seen through the eyes of us retirement renegades; we, who have lost our religion of work, we, who have given up the cause of defining our selves by the type of work we do, and we, who are willing to face each day as a brand new adventure, the adventure of becoming an old person.
Disclaimer: Having never been an old person before and having always been a dyslexic, there will be times when my narratives will seem nonsensical and incoherent. Before jumping to the conclusion that I (we) have become dotty, crazy or near death, consider the possibility that it might be late and I (we) am (are) tired, or I haven't got my glasses on, or I have forgotten, mixed or overtaken my medications, or that we have been kidnapped and are being held ransom for our meager pension checks. If all that does not apply, check for a pulse.
So...., here we go, off to visit (yes, just visit) Old People Land. Since everyone is saying that 60 is the new 40 and 70 is the new 50, I am not sure I know where Old People Land is. My 65 year old friend, who just spent a week learning to build a tree house and did some of that building suspended from a line fifty-seven feet in the air, and who is probably not a resident of Old People Land, will be of no help. But, be assured, I'll know it when I see it and I will keep you posted.
Now, we are leaving work behind. That's exciting, scary, perplexing, worrisome, relieving, and everything else I can think of, rolled up into one pulsating mass of the unknown. And that is exactly what makes it wonderful. To help us through this process, I have created (well, filled in the blanks of) this website. I hope to have a link (once I figure out how to do it) to a blog where I (we) can make running notes of our adventures, states of mind, and general observations of the world as seen through the eyes of us retirement renegades; we, who have lost our religion of work, we, who have given up the cause of defining our selves by the type of work we do, and we, who are willing to face each day as a brand new adventure, the adventure of becoming an old person.
Disclaimer: Having never been an old person before and having always been a dyslexic, there will be times when my narratives will seem nonsensical and incoherent. Before jumping to the conclusion that I (we) have become dotty, crazy or near death, consider the possibility that it might be late and I (we) am (are) tired, or I haven't got my glasses on, or I have forgotten, mixed or overtaken my medications, or that we have been kidnapped and are being held ransom for our meager pension checks. If all that does not apply, check for a pulse.
So...., here we go, off to visit (yes, just visit) Old People Land. Since everyone is saying that 60 is the new 40 and 70 is the new 50, I am not sure I know where Old People Land is. My 65 year old friend, who just spent a week learning to build a tree house and did some of that building suspended from a line fifty-seven feet in the air, and who is probably not a resident of Old People Land, will be of no help. But, be assured, I'll know it when I see it and I will keep you posted.
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