I'm sitting on the couch in the living room. Suzanne is in the middle of painting this room. The room has five doors and two windows, so there is much more trim than wall space. She spent all day yesterday hand painting the trim. Today she is going to roll the remaining surfaces. Vida is on the couch with me, and Shakti is on the other chair. We are a little family. Suzanne is talking to me about the electric system in this apartment and how she thinks it is wired. She's going to turn off the power and fix a couple of outlets in here today. She wanted me to be around--in case she gets zapped, and to keep her from running back and forth as much to find the right breakers. I know what to do if she gets zapped. But I hope she doesn't. She has taken enough abuse for one lifetime already.
Out the window I can see the rain, the gray sky, and in the distance a tall tulip poplar tree. I know tulip poplars well because they were in the yard where I grew up. This tree has lost about half of its leaves which are a uniform yellow. The wind is blowing steadily to the north and the remaining leaves are streaming down at a forty five degree angle. The trunk is dark against the sky, and the leaves are nearly flourescent. I was going to get up and go to the bank and a biochemistry review this morning, but was tempted by the warmth in our bed to stay here and enjoy a slow morning, the first one since last weekend. It has been a long week, even though it was only four days long (we had Veteran's day off).
It is really hard for me to formulate a coherent and flowing post with Suzanne here talking to me. Writing and conversing is much harder than walking and chewing gum at the same time. My thoughts are disjointed. I can't let my mind flow and my fingers follow. It's hard to post at school, too, because someone is always looking over my shoulder. Even though I post these thoughts publicly, the majority of you don't know my name, address and social security number. I hope that, anyway. It could be a lot easier than I think for a person to bust into my private world. But so far no one has that wasn't welcome.
The purpose of these posts is for me to think through my life, to take a step back and just let the thoughts flow. I am able to journal this way because I type well. The thoughts can flow through my fingers with a minimum of effort. I learned typing at the American International School in Vienna, Austria, in the 7th grade. That was 1978, and I had a crush on a boy in the class. It was my goal to beat him at every single typing exercise, and he gave me a run for my money. In class we typed patterns of letters "asa ada afa", "aqswdefr" and so on to learn the keyboard. Then we were expected to type things using the letters we had just learned, for speed. I was always the fastest in the class, with Chris (the crush) close on my heels. My dad taught me a sentence that contains all the letters of the alphabet: "The quick red fox jumps over the lazy brown dog." If you can type that fast and without errors, you can type.
I am of the earliest generation to be raised on a computer. My dad was really into computers. He had an Osborne (the very first personal computer sold on the US market), on which we played just one game. The game involved deducing where a monster was in twenty rooms, each pair of rooms being connected by three tunnels. After the Osborne he bought a series of Macs, as they began to come out. When I went to college he gave me an old mac to take with me.
After finishing school I worked many years as a raft guide and didn't spend much keyboard time. Then when I moved to Arizona I had a job that involved sitting behind a desk. For seven years had a desk job. I used a Dell with Windows and talked on the phone. I got comfortable with the programs I used. I learned the numbers across the top of the keyboard. At home while working on my book I learned how to use keystrokes for all basic editing functions (cut, paste, select, copy, etc). I got to be pretty good at typing in general. Then I started journalling on my computer. I have journalled since I was 12 years old and just moved to Austria, and most of those journals are on paper. These days this livejournal thing is my only journal. And frankly, I need to journal. So this writing is for me. If anyone else reads this far about my inner thoughts, well.....welcome to my reality. Hope you are well. I am headed off to be in the world instead of in my head now.