Conversations With Myself.

I need to spend more time here.

I catch myself drifting aimlessly at times, searching for something to occupy my new found "free time".

I like having the time now, it's just that I need to spend it more focused.

I drift.

After the mundane chores of dinner, dishes, laundry, homework checks, and bill paying are complete; I still go to old auto pilot and think about driving to hospital, or preparing solutions to clean the trach that needed to be done nightly in days of old.

In my new chapter, I need not check in on patient at hospital, nor do I need to do the home maintenance that was once required in home care of said patient.

I pick up mornings newspaper and re read it. I go through the many books laying about that are marked with spot of last exit. I fuss with furniture. Surf aimlessly the Internet catching up on blogs and forums.

Then I watch clock to see if sleep draws near.

Hmmmm seven thirty.

Still time to kill before bed.

I made some stabs at hobbies. I even spent nights researching cameras after a thought of spending some money and getting serious about photography.

I got as far as eliminating many choices and narrowing my purchasing decision down to three or four options. I even went to store and picked up the ones I thought might bring me some activity with joy.
Then I left the store and went home to look a web sites offering how to speak and learn Portuguese or Spanish.

I am interesting!

With spring now making longer attempts at brightening up the day, I consider the garden. It is a job that will take considerable labour and planning, yet it is too early to think about planting. So I just drift visually and take in what needs to be done once May is closing and June approaching. So I go through books and magazines and write and draw ideas out. I do som preliminary tossing of the old growth in bags, and prepping the area in anticipation of first plantings.
I research Hosta of the year, and see if I have room for it.

I guess I am still evolving into my "new space" in the universe. Discovering, if you will, more about me and my needs and wants.

I miss conversation at times, even the most simple and mundane.
Always one to share whatever came to mind, I find myself sharing with the sky, the silly things that occupy my brain at times. The many days and nights that Janet was in hospital, I would tell Speeder the wonder dog, how my day was, or what concerto was the most current of my worm songs that play on loop.

Dan, of course, is happy and content in his fifteen year old world of music and on line "stuff", and when Dad wanders down to his space, I get the "look". The "look" at times is one of almost sympathy: "Hi Dad, is everything going ok?"
"Yes, just wondering what you're up to, and if you wanted to catch the hockey game with me"
"Maybe after I finish learning this song" he compromises.
Evening turns to night, and drift off in thought as hockey game is "on" in background, books are stacked up in the ready for review, and thoughts turn to next days business activities.
Dan gets involved in his world and forgets his semi commitment.
The day draws to a close, and we wish each other a good nights sleep.

Maybe activity is not so much the thing I crave I miss. Perhaps conversation, or lack of, is what dogs me at night.

Days are busy of course, as I attempt the activity of business and commerce, and pretend that I can salvage and save this economic situation we find ourselves in.
God knows the challenges of comprehension in my tinnitus/cochlear challenged world are enough to keep me on my toes and active on a minute by minute basis. It requires a lot more thinking and reviewing than I ever imagined. I need to fill in blanks; guess at the "subject de moment"; and give intelligent answers or comments based on comprehending around 75% of what my auditory nerve has attempted to translate for my brain.

So days are fine, and most go quickly. It is the nights that drag, and I am convinced that being one who shared everything all of the time, I might need to get a bird or a hamster (can fish hear?) to bore into submission with every detail of what comes into my pea sized melon.
I am comfortable in the "alone" thing for the most part, as I do enjoy the solitude at times. It offers time for reflection that I never thought existed. I am careful to keep my Buddhist teachings in mind as life changes. I accept living in the now more than ever.

It's not that I view something as "broken" per say, it really is a matter of missing the sharing of my passions, my joys, my sorrows, and my hopes and dreams. I was never one to clam up when something excited me or disappointed me.

The crocuses are up, and I love that simple fact. I do however crave the pointing it out and sharing it.
There are many people in my life at present, and I am grateful for that,
I just need to get my head in a spot where I am better around "change", and get better at acceptance that we are different on so many levels.

I started this post just after 5 am this morning. I wrote a bit, read a few blogs, read some newspaper, did Yoga, made a smoothie for mornings consumption, checked email, put away dishes from dishwasher, walked out in the backyard, then came back to try another stab at finishing this post. It just never got finished, as I always found some little task to do.
I then showered and readied for work, got Dan up and drove him to school, and made way into office.

Five hours after awakening, I sit at qwerty attempting to finish this rambling of thought.

So, I guess the point is this: I have activity and am not looking to join an amateur radio club, or a local theater group that has requirements for hearing challenged, balanced challenged, frustrated comedians/actors.
No, I am good with things to do.
I guess I just need to yap about the things I do.

Julie wrote a post today that I started my day with. In a nut shell is was about the fact that men don't communicate. It caught my attention because I was in a head space at the time about how I wish there were more people in my concerto to communicate with.
I am never at a loss for words, just at a loss for people to hurl and swirl them at. Perhaps for that reason, I blog. It allows me a chance to vent, rant, mope, exude happiness, cry, laugh, share, and care with you.

Julie in her wonderfully funny and thought provoking post suggests to men that conversation is like a tennis game. One party hits a question over to the other, and one hopes it gets hit back.
The analogy is good, and I'm not sure it just pertains to men as being the ones to offer one word answers and then clam up.

I have been in many one way conversations where I seem to do all the questioning and answering for both parties. It bothers me not, but I see the danger in a relationship if one is the clam and the other is open and forthcoming in all regards.

Still no idea where I wanted to go with this post, and at the point now where I am busy at work, and taking stabs at a conclusion.
But this is what is interesting: There are no answers or conclusions in this ever changing universe.
Our concertos go up and down in tempo and volume. The melody is ever changing, as are the musicians.
We all have 83 problems.
Some have partners to share them with, some have pets to hear the 83, others have a spiritual place to speak of their 83. I have acceptance of that fact.

There are those of us who are happy sharing their hopes, dreams, joys and accomplishments right here; in the blogosphere world.
I accept that.

I just miss a good gab fest I guess.

And I accept that, move on, and live on.

Things will change.

Always do.

Warmest,

David