Cosmic Disconnect

Until a few years ago most of my focus, attention and resources were aimed towards getting better. Looking back, it now seems like a colossal waste of time and money. Better is another pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Until genetic re-engineering becomes a medical commonality, I’m stuck with the flawed body I was born. I do believe in doing my part to create the best possible odds for it to happen and do all the obligatory things that serves the dual purpose of also making me feel better. Getting better and feeling better are very different things, but that’s a discussion for another day.

My focus has shifted to the more practical aspects of life. “Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans“. It has lead to many changes, some gigantic, others small. We’ve been adapting my computer set-up more and more. This has led to a new desk arrangement (Explanation: can now sit/lie comfortable on couch whilst using computer), a good many pieces of new hardware and software and general rethinking the whole system. The advantage – I can now use my computer pretty much every day. The drawback – change requires successful adaptation and I’m not an adaptable person.

Adaptation is a complicated word. For me it conjures images of Top Gear Challenges – such as the attempt to adapt cars to boats. Flexibility is a better word. It’s also a more important word. I’m a flexible person that generally prefers flexible items. Flexibility leans itself to customization. Customization is another important word.

Engineering your environment to best suits your own needs is a challenge for everybody. The myriad restrictions I drag along with me makes it a challenge I live by. It’s not a challenge I like. The constant arranging and rearranging is tiring and a little disconcerting. I don’t particularly like change and implementing upgrade after improvement isn’t a hobby I particularly enjoy. The reason why I’m constantly rearranging is that no arrangement seems to work well for me. The furniture I have, the rooms I have, the budget I have and the disabilities I have do not go well together.

The latest changes have left me with a feeling of disconnection. I seem to be chronically looking for things. We play a new form of twenty questions: Where’s the keyboard? Where’s the mouse? Where’s the joystick? Where’s the microphone? How do I run the glovepie script again? Is Dragon turned on in the background or can I run vent? Where’s my back/leg/left arm/right arm/neck pillow? Can you pull up the blanket across my feet? Where’s my inhaler? Can you get my iPod from my bag that I now can’t reach? Where’s my bag? Can I have a smaller bottle of water that doesn’t obscure my screen? Where’s my glasses case? Have you seen the USB memory stick? Can you hand me the remote(s)?

I wouldn’t want to undo any of the changes we have made. Every change has been a small improvement and I’m thankful that there is always room for improvement. Life should get better even if I don’t. As I find new homes for both old and new friends, I try to feel a bit more positive about the whole process. There was a time when I adored change. Change meant a fresh slate, a starting over without the negative baggage but with the added wisdom of life experiences. Changes is afterall, what keeps life interesting. If the cat will only stop showing such an infinity to wireless electrical appliances.