24 September, 2001 - 19:29 MDT

THE WONDERING JEW

Changes

New scenery, new contraptions, new thoughts yet unthunk but looming. But we actors are victims of time, regardless of what is happening around us we have the bewildered look and feeling of, "What happened ?" a good part of the time. Human reaction time is not split second, synapses fire but there is a heck of a lot of nerve fiber to the next junction, and so on. Nor does it seem that we can react quickly enough to meet the challenge, we want to talk it over, debate, argue and scream at each other before anyone tries to put out the fire or mend the hole in the Dutch boy's dike.

This old man here is finding it hard to learn fast enough to do the things he wants too. I really messed myself up today. I am trying to learn Yahoonese enough to cope with the Autumn Leaves Burb. I think I got my profile in, agee (or is it askew ?) a little but the information is there. There are now two lists, Yahoo list and the original one and they don't quite jibe yet. I wonder if a person has to sign up with Yahoo to be on the one list ? In the group we are though, regardless of the lists. Intercommunication via the formal routine seems to be a little rough, but we can struggle along and hand wave and finger point, getting along and having fun to boot.

Then optimist me tried to get signed up with Open Diary thinking I would be able to reach people on that list. Stumbling through the steps and refusing offer after offer for making my life even more complex, I finally got my Log In name and password after giving the history of my ancestors descent from the trees, yadda, yadda.

Now I wonder who the heck I wanted to get in touch with anyway.

If you ever did any formal marching and remember back when learning, the movements were difficult, the confusion resulting on the first few, "To the rear, march," orders were given, clashing and tripping turned the exercise into a farce. Right Oblique was a hummer too.

Seems as if I am marching with a muzzle loading musket over my shoulder, carrying neither ammunition nor a ramrod, patches let alone bullets, trying to keep up with the running boys and learn all the new formations, all the while watching the calendar pages flipping my time away. But I am determined to prevail, and will by golly but am irked at the constant need for Changes . . . . . . .

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