Am I Connected?

Dear Diary,

So, to make a long tirade short, we “ordered” service from a provider in the eastern time zone. First up, we received two shipments of different equipment that arrived on the same day. Now to begin with one was wifi and one wasn’t, but that wasn’t easily discernible. However when it came time to do the self install, a fee for which we were charged for the privilege of doing so, neither units had the serial numbers listed on them that matched the website (which I was able to access due to our hotspots). It was ended with a frustrating dreaded tech call. The tech, and I use that term loosely, didn’t explain why we had two boxes or give us any relief at the inability to match up serial numbers, the tech demanded a lot of instruction be followed. I don’t like people who won’t answer questions. I don’t trust them.

After giving the person the required information, still with no answers to our questions we attempted connect. The first connection location didn’t work, and we were told to try another hookup location in another room, which we did, same result. We were then told to try one of the remaining two ‘drops’ our of four in our one bedroom apartment. Four? We had four access points. REALLY? WHERE? Tell me. Tech couldn’t, because they don’t exist. There are only two. But since WE TOLD the tech there were four, there were four. Really? When, when did we say that? NEVER. You don’t answer questions and you make stuff up? We were furious. I know that techies are supposed to be nerdy and odd, but I have never met one until that day that was delusional and rude. Apparently techs come in all kinds.

So, we are back to the reliable, yes, I am using that word, reliable hotspots. No thank you, big corporations who have lost touch with customer service. People don’t talk to each other anymore. That is such a shame.

Ah, I feel better. Much better.

J.

Plans Are Meant To Be Changed

Dear Diary,

Where do I go from here? What is next? Is the original plan that I set out on in need of tweaking? Maybe, or . . .

Maybe realizing the original plan is still doable —just not in the time frame I originally worked out. Perhaps, those projects are all worth doing, but rushed through, the wisdom and experience possible from one project to the next will contribute to the improvement of all my efforts. Because of the busy-ness of life my ability to plan realistically has been cockeyed.

In the coming weeks I will be tweaking my plans; finding ways to fit priorities into my life along side fulfilling project goals and working to become a better writer. Interrelated, yes; layered, absolutely, but at odds with having a full life. More things to do and not enough hours in the day leaves me crunched for time, and frustrated, neither is acceptable.

Someone told me recently about mules and horses. Horses will go until they drop dead. Mules are slow to start and will quit before exhausting themselves to the point of death. My husband tried to set me straight which I was most like. I have been walking around thinking I was a mule. Stubborn, procrastinating, hard to move, that has been how I saw myself, a mule. My husband corrected that thinking, that I am more like a horse, in his opinion. His perspective is I keep pushing myself to the max until I collapse.

I have to concede, we are both correct. He is right I do the horse thing sometimes, and I am right, sometimes my behavior is a bit mule-like. Learning when to be one or the other is the tricky part that I need to work on.
J.

Here We Go!

Dear Diary,

Here goes everything. College is underway.

Had a short discussion, with one of my dearest, about finishing college and starting careers late in life. We are both part of the boomerang boomers. Our conversations are about grandchildren, children, and college courses. For us, we have been college students since we were juniors in high school, this is the new normal.

It surprised me at first the amount of support coming my way. It has come strongly from my immediate family; from friends that have personally done the same has come a quiet confident nod and smile of excitement. That is a surprise.

They know. They know the thrill and change that comes, unlike anything I have ever experienced in my youth pursuing higher education. This, this is different. Underneath all the fear, insecurity, there is a fire that burns, and it has a sweetness that is hard to describe with words.

There was a story my mother used to tell about my dad. In the lean early years of marriage, they invested in a set of encyclopedias. My dad would read those newly purchased volumes after dinner every night. Growing up, my father always read the newspaper every evening after supper. Reading and learning are two legacies my father lived until the day he passed.

So this is a family tradition that I happily continue.

J.

Beginning at Home

Dear Diary,

Caught myself trying to conform to my own ideals. How does that relate to self acceptance? Self exceptance – I love me except for . . . Blah did dee blah blah.

Be me, first; warts and all. Find compassion. Self compassion for each little bitty thing, good or bad that makes up me. Then love them and the sum of them — me.

Only then can I honestly, happily apply compensations from the me that I am to the me I want to be.

For my self and others, this would be a fine goal for this year.

J.

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