Tuesday, November 5, 2013

I further ponder the matter of trying to fit the round human beast into the square slot of mass population society.  Commenting on a NY Times piece about a Hemingway, my comment was roundly shot down by the thought that this whole blood type and diet business is "wacky pseudoscience at its worst… Where's the proof," to which I can only respond, "Well, if you're an O, try it and see if it works for you, as I know, on an animal level, it works for me."  (Perhaps it's the great simplicity of it that irritates people.  Need an organ donated?  Don't get it from your sibling with B blood, get it from the African guy who's also O, and that way it won't get rejected.)

Today, I attempted, at least, to return to an old habit, that of getting up without immediately looking at a cell phone's email in box, the news headlines, the texts.  Today, I felt a need to get up, eat breakfast, have some wake up green tea, all the while really trying to avoid the modern genie, even though I was greatly tempted.  I needed to feel again what thoughts were there waiting me to attend them.  I had to listen, I had to let them come, I had to drift a bit, think one thought, then allow it to prompt another.  Why, as it sounds rather crazy?  Well, I felt the need, as it doesn't help to just let them fester, all those thoughts of what you've done with your life, paths not taken, money not invested, time wasted.  The only way to get on top of such thoughts, some of them a little bit dark, is to buy yourself some time to be in the presence, to be, as another  NY Times piece has just amusingly explored, in a state of "mindfulness."

It helped the day before walking through the woods without reaching for my iPhone.  Yes, there are messages I wanted to send, reply, make a call, but since my Sunday night at work had been a mess, and since Monday Jazz promised to be no better as far as the reservation book was showing already, I needed some deep mental chewing.  I needed trees and the light I could find in the woods and the colors and the textures near and far.  It wasn't earthshaking, it wasn't huge, but it was a step.

Though it's viewed as a haven for the less bright, I would argue restaurant work can be complex, rapid fire, perhaps like working a convention floor.  Quick, on your toes, responding, talking, listening, all the while concentrating on the delivery system.  Multi-tasking.  Conversations when you can, checking in with people.  The dance with coworkers, work politics.  Customer relations.  And all of it, yes, you need your time to process, to sweep it all up and put away in balanced cubbyholes.

To continue on with wacky pseudoscience at its worst, to project out of my thoughts, I wonder what relationship the news bears to my situation, my processing of the work I seem fairly adapted to, of how I need to deal with my thoughts, which then sets how I will deal with news national and international and all the accompanying blips and beeps and headlines and mouse holes to wander into.  How does my mind, set in my type O system, process, cope, make sense of?

Well, okay, JFK was O, and he seemed pretty able to get up in the morning and read the newspapers.  He seemed really quite capable, to say the least.  Voracious, he was on top of things, and could say to expert aids, 'hey, did you see that piece,' inferring good pedagogy, a lesson out of a story.  We see him on his toes, magnificently, but also honestly, in his press conferences.  The man could quip, and deliver one liners, quite meaningfully.

But remember, he was very well-read.  He had his books, read in the tub and elsewhere.  He had the long sense of history as a lens, as a way to digest the current blip.

The way we absorb news, are able to absorb news, of course, it comes down who are, the kind of being we are, the way we respond, the things we find important.  I'd gather that has something to do with our chemistry, the way our bodies operate, the way our minds tend to work.

Could one create a theory of how a blood type might take news in, absorb things?

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