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Tuesday, July 12th, 2005

Haphazard

57 post in 75 days (well, 58 with this one.) That translates to an average of 0.76 posts per day – 3 out of 4. I might actually qualify as a blogger.

True, they come in fits and spurts. I’m not a dedicated, sit-down every day writer. But my multiple-per-days, which bump the average, have generally been at discreet time or subject matter differences. That’s got to count for something. I would also have made more posts if I hadn’t been spending some of my online time engaged in coding or fine-tuning my website. Some of them, though, like this one, just indicate my unwillingness to get on with the things in my life, like sleep or work, that I ought to be doing. The experience of blogging can indeed be cathartic at times. I’ve really tried hard to keep the excessively sentimental events and motivations out of here.

One of the things I’ve come to appreciate is the role of the editor. If I was writing a book, someone would be looking over my shoulder and keeping me on track, and I don’t have that here. I’ve been considering for at least a month an expository on whether I should be putting my commas inside or outside my quotation marks and parentheses – don’t worry, grammar fans – I’ll get to it. Grammar checkers are still mindless pedants (like I use one) and spell checkers don’t include context to check whether the correct word has been used.

What’s the point that I thought was worth all this instead of going to bed? Oh yes – I wanted to report on my latest injury. I dislocated my knee tonight – a rather intense session of pain. I’ve been treating it with kid gloves, hoping to avoid the period of disability I experienced the last time this happened, in 1984. It was a freak accident, really – too much pressure at the wrong time at the wrong angle – perhaps pushed over the edge by the tub-o’-lard I’ve been carrying around – 270 pounds. It was just notable to me in how different it was since the last time, and it seemed like a good blog story.

The last (and only other) time I dislocated my knee, I had just pulled the pin out of a hand grenade. I totally screwed up the jump from prone to launching position, and at the time, the only feedback I got was the somewhat panicked urging of the drill sergeant at Fort Benning Infantry School that I needed to relieve myself of possession of the pin-less hand grenade, and in a manner that put the greatest possible distance between himself (and incidentally, myself) in the four-second interval that would follow my releasing the handle. I did so in short order, still being able to comprehend the practical wisdom of his four-letter-word-enhanced advice, and having done so, was privileged to be allowed to run to the next station on my hand grenade qualifying course. I had had a perfect score up to that point, but pain-induced blindness was a significant factor in my accuracy, and I ended up passing the course with the lowest possible score. But I still passed, which was a non-waivable requirement in graduating Infantry school, and it sure makes a hell of an anecdote.

Without the running and jumping and other strenuous activities, I’ve found that dislocating your knee is not as enduring a disability as I considered it to be last time. I’m actually starting to feel better already. Still, better get off to bed, though. Good night.

Posted by Greg as My Website, Posts About Me at 01:38 PST

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Conversation With My Sister

My sister, Kate, managed to catch me at home on the phone tonight, and we had a good conversation. She was calling to wish me a happy birthday. I don’t talk to her often enough, and I really enjoyed this one.

I’ve always considered her the hardest-working and most focused of my family, and I guess I’ve never really told her how much I admire her for that. But I have also gotten the impression that the same driving forces that make her that way have also made her a little more transparent when she’s forcing herself to be tolerant of my straying from the path. I don’t feel like she loves me any less than anyone else in my family. It’s possible that she has a little less patience than the others when she sees me fucking up, which I have done on a regular basis.

I got more out of this conversation about how she lives her life, and what her priorities and concerns are, than I have in many years. She was really direct without being judgemental. She started talking about her son, Austin, and I started talking about Boo and she didn’t bat an eye.

I can’t really go into the significance of all this. It’s not for the Internet. But I just wanted to put out there that I had a really good talk with my sister and it meant a lot to me. I need to talk to her like that more often.

Posted by Greg as Family & Friends at 00:24 PST

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