Space Exploration

 

There are things in the spaces.  Mostly we never see them and oft times, when we do, we don’t know what they are, so we ignore them.

No matter where you look, there are spaces.  Even in the pitch black of the night sky there are things unseen.

Dark matter is actually full.  Mostly our eyes can’t see any of it, but eventually our technology will detect all that is presently invisible.   Scientists in lab coats will assign names and functions, but they will be guessing, just as they have done with some of the things here. 

We tend to place great importance on lab coats.  Doctors who botch operations wear them.  Some auto mechanics have them on, appearing as they know what they’re doing, standing there holding that greasy thingamabob.

I generally work in the space between thoughts, trying to avoid worn and tired subjects and over-used landmarks.  I have always found that the most interesting things are the ones I can’t see, although I’m not always successful.  I've never found any edges in the space I explore. and trust me - I have wandered around in there for years.  I can remember back in grade school one of the teachers commenting on how much blank space I have in my head.   Probably one of my more observant teachers. 

With America, it is different.  We don’t keep our landmarks too long, not like Rome or Greece.  But then, ours usually fall down on their own, greed usually trumping quality.  Knowing how dominos work, you’d thing they’d leave more space between the buildings.  Just thinking out loud.

 

 

 

 ZC

Luck and Superstition

 

In the pockets of old coats is a history of a life passed.  Be it a stubby golf pencil or an old Lifesaver now stuck to the material, it tells a story.  In this particular story, Nelson Vicksburg recalls standing on the fairway at Cliffridge Country Club and then nothing.

He remembers waking up in a hospital room, flowers and cards along the window ledge, a nurse writing something on a clipboard at the end of his bed and a stranger on a chair next to him, holding his hand.

There was a television up on the wall with a flickering picture, but no sound.  Nelson closed his eyes and tried to take a quick mental inventory of his present condition. 

He felt fine, he could wiggle his fingers and toes, and he felt the person holding his hand give it a squeeze.   He opened his eyes again and looked directly at the stranger next to him.

 

“Do we know each other?”

 

“Good-morning Nelson.  It’s good to see you awake.  You gave us all quite a scare.”

 

“What happened?”

 

“Nelson, you were hit by a golf ball, and you dropped like a rock.”

 

“I’m sorry, who are you again?”

“Nelson, my name is Charley.  Charley Baler. I was the guy who joined your foursome. You borrowed my lucky pencil, and I’d like to get it back.”

 

 "and the reason you're holding my hand?"

 

 "Sorry, I was just trying to wake you up.  I have a tournament in the morning and  really need my lucky pencil back."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Handicap

 

In fact, it’s the farthest thing from Handy there is.

Traveling through this life without sight is a scary challenge.  Even using the latest technology and all of the latest innovations installed to aid your progress, it has to be daunting.  The lights are always off, and the sounds come from every direction.  The worse enemy that is always present is your fear.  "Say something, so I know where you are." 

You poke your fork onto the plate.  Did you spear anything?  Are there noodles on your spoon or only broth?

"What do you mean, hold onto his harness and he’ll walk me across the intersection?  Are you kidding me?"

The police will never have me look through a book of mug shots.  Having them in a line-up won’t do much good either.

 

"What color are these socks?  I mean, do they match each other?"

 

"All of these keys feel the same."

 

"No, I didn’t see the expiration date."

 

"I feel a breeze from somewhere.  Is there a window open?"

 

 "Just my luck, they gave me a polite leader dog.  He always lets me to go first." 

 

Life on the Outside

 

Guilty with an Explanation

 

        When people discover I am writing a Blog, the first question they always ask is, what is it about?

With topics as diverse as potential allows, I am forever at a loss to answer them.  Skimming the surface, I can say that it dances with whimsy, it jabs at greed and flourishes in gibberish.  It carries its own fertilizer while still smelling of Spruce Trees and pomegranates.  It highlights stupidity, while reflecting hope.  It is absent of bowties and tie shoes yet carries a pocket protector.  It has pictures but no sound.  It has a beginning with a middle that keeps moving.  There is random spelling and occasionally misplaced punctuation.   It has stories that go nowhere and ideas that just lay lifeless across the arm of the couch.

It is creative and boring at the same time.  It should come with a warning and a flotation device.  It has a North arrow but there is no point to it.  There are rumors that it glows in the dark, but I’ve not found that to be true.  It is sprinkled with bad poetry and lame imagery.  It can both waste your time as well as pique your interest.  It is heavy with bad examples, which could be confused with the scent of pomegranates.

 

 

 

 

 ZC

 

 

 

 

Miss-diagnosed

 

Having read many of these posts over time, a person came to me and asked a rather complex question.  I could tell by the question what had happened.  They had made the assumption that I was smart.

The sad reality is that when I write these, I am not under any pressure or deadline.  I have all the time in the world to think about what I am going to say before ever committing it to paper. 

I believe they mistook my variety of topics to suggest I was well versed in a multitude of areas.  That also is not the case.  Sometime – most of the time, I just write a sentence or a phrase and then I build upon it.  If it works, I keep it, if it doesn’t then I shake my monitor like an Etch-a-sketch until it all disappears. 

I explained to them that the answer to their question was presently in Smartland and my passport was expired.

They were not happy, but I think they understood.  They must have – they went away.

 

 

 

ZC  

Far from the border

 

 

 

 

 

Cognitive Labor

 

Hats don’t look good on everyone.  Some don’t look good without one.  It’s like glasses, you’ve seen someone all their life wearing glasses and then when you see them without them on, it just isn’t right.  Them, and your mental image of them no longer match.  A small mechanism in your brain applies the brakes.  

It is never recommended to drive with the brakes on.  That creates all sorts of problems and yet walking through a crowd of people – strangers, we do exactly that.  With each new face we see, our brain taps the brakes.  We make instant assessments.  Are they friendly or a possible threat?  Is this someone I know and should remember or just another stranger?  Could this person and me be friends?

By the time we get completely through the crowd, our brake pads are smoking, the transmission is making an odd noise, and our energy level is down to half a tank.  That is simply the cost of being human.  We can’t help it. 

The newer humans, the ones fresh off the showroom floor use much less energy traveling the same distance and experiencing the same stimuli.  While the older, slightly rusted jalopies, the ones who’ve been around the block a few times could find themselves just about on empty at the finish line. 

Here’s the thing – The newer models only come with standard equipment.  There are no upgrades or options available, and the jalopies cannot be retrofitted with anything.  There are only spare parts.  There is no two point Oh, I wish I had that feature.  We stay the way we were when we came out of the factory.  It is just the reality that the newer models will run faster and longer than the old.  But the old know where the potholes are and which mechanics to avoid.

 

 

 

 

 ZC