Technology - love/hate relationship

Dang it!

I'm trying to figure out how to attach a file to my blog. A word document, to be specific. I just sent a message to my nephew who always has all kinds of stuff attached to his blog. All I can find out for myself is going to a free site that will upload and embed it for me. I don't want my file floating around in virtual upload-land.

Jakers-crakers. It's not fair that a generation is now growing up with all of this technology at their fingertips and I am struggling to learn it in my old age. Okay, relatively mid-old age.

Just give me the easy to follow step-by-step instructions with clear, recognizable buttons to push. Don't make fun of me. Don't make it sound simple when it's not. Don't virtually turn away in computer savvy disgust.

I love what computers can do for us. I hate that I cannot always figure out how to do what I want to do.

Help me, Rhonda. Help, help me Rhonda. (If you are old enough to start singing this song, then you most likely did not grow up with a personal computer.)


carry on.

I wish I could understand

I wish I could understand this illness. I wish I could understand what it is that makes us so sick with these strange symptoms. Isn't it odd that we have such bizarre symptoms that make no sense other than the FACT that someone else has the same thing?


I was coasting for awhile. It wasn't necessarily delightful, but I was managing to get a few things done in my window of functionality most days. I usually can feel it coming and I think I felt it coming this time but I tried to ignore it. It's here. It's always here, but sometimes it makes its presence known in a devastating way.


There is no pattern. That's what throws me off. I can't pinpoint what it is that triggers one day's energy level over another's. I can't figure what sends my thoughts spinning away from me. Writing it all down, charting the course of feelings/thoughts/symptoms/food/activity/etc., there is no pattern. Just when I think I may have found a rhythm to the madness it shifts. There are no visible markers to connect one to another.


My mind seeks after patterns. I try to find the answers that can destroy the questions that keep pounding in my head.


I don't really ask, "Why me?" Rather, the questions, "What is this?", and, "How does it do what it does?"


Perhaps the more important question is, "Why do I keep trying to understand?"