Exploring the ZEN LIKE DETACHMENT to my life.

So,

I renewed my paid live journal account for another year. I'd like to think that eventually I will find a way to justify the cost. I've been using another blog place for more work/discipline related entries. Posting there is also sporadic, but more consistent than at Live Journal. Part of the issue is again spreading myself too thin (multiple blogs), but also not having a clear idea of what I want to accomplish with that blog.

So, among other things, the reason I'm posting today is I went to visit my uncle in the hospital this weekend. He had an aneurism almost two weeks ago. No one bothered to tell me, until I called a couple of days ago to let my parents know I was going to visit this weekend. I made as minimal a deal as minimal a deal as I could about the lack of communication. I think that this clearly illustrates where I get my challenges in being a thoughtful and proactive communicator from. (That would be my family).

We go to the hospital last night and the parking deck at Duke has the FULL sign up. My dad didn't see the less than obvious signs directing us to overflow parking so I had to try and point those out and convince him that might be the way to go. It didn't help that some jerk in a Taxi was sitting in the only unblocked-off entrance. Had he not been there we might have discovered that we actually could have gotten in, and allowed my dad to drive around hunting for a spot as he is so fond of doing.

After some frustration I managed to direct him to follow the signs, but the overflow parking involved a little too much walking for his taste, so he apparently decided visiting my uncle was unattainable at that point and proceeded to take us to dinner instead.

Now my parents know that I don't like Barbeque all that much, and by "know" I mean they have a completely inadequate understanding of the complex nature of my like-dislike relationship with pork. My dad is someone with very polar likes and dislikes, and my mom has dealt with that for so long that she has forgotten that not everyone is such a picky eater. It doesn't help that my brother too is a bit more like our dad than he likes to admit. I have been working to improve my relationship with food for a while now. I try new things unapprehensively for the most part. I liked food a little too much for a while actually. I am at the point were it is hard for me to have a true love-hate relationship with anything because that would require caring more than is neccesary, and I've learned not to do that so much these days.

I actually do like non-pork Barbeque, and in the past year I have even been known to like Eastern North Carolina style pork Barbeque if it is fixed right. My parents don't really get this concept and since communication isn't a forte in our family I am not going to even attempt to explain to them the complexity of my preference, since the preference is highly inconsequential. My mom was worried that I wouldn't want to eat where dad was taking us and I figured it would suffice to say that it was 'fine'.

So we got to this place, which is actually a highly reputable Barbecue hole-in-the-wall that many Durham, if not North Carolina natives will be very familiar with. There was a bit of a line to get in, but nothing outrageous. We sat down and I couldn't find an option on the menu that included their Barbeque with other things I wanted to eat, (I am still not fond of most North Carolina "Slaw", which is a popular side with Barbeque) which I thought would be a good way to demonstrate that I will eat Barbeque/pork to my parents. I got a different combination plate, and I will say that the food was sufficiently mediocre to put me off. Apparently my parent's dinner wasn't up to par either.

But it was edible, so I ate it.

We went back to the hospital and had better luck with parking, much better. The signs were still up, but no morons blocking the entrance. Of course, we arrived just as Duke was having their "Quiet Time" by the time we got back. I had brought my laptop to get some work done while my parents drove over and in the even there was waiting. My step-aunt was holding out pretty well. On the up-side I got nearly a full hours worth of work in and I got to scoff at the content of a "Wed Development Professional" magazine that was there in the lobby.

My uncle was doing well considering. He wasn't completely lucid, and couldn't respond to introspective questions. He did recognize people. This is where my Zen like attachment kicked in. I realized how much more I look like my dad's side of the family when I am clean shaven. Normally I attribute my appearance mostly to my mom's family. I could totally see myself in the future, laying in that hospital bed after having a stroke, or aneurism, or something similarly severe. I'm totally OK with that. It is going to happen, assuming I don't die from what sent me to the hospital to begin with.

This isn't the first time this uncle has been in the hospital. He had a heart-attack several years ago. We'll just have to see how he recovers.

Of course last night I had an odd dream, the only part I remember clearly about it was the part where I was looking at this large grid of squares. Some were empty and some were things I had done, or were things I am apparently supposed to do in my life.

For the rest of the weekend I get to try and ignore the Nascar my dad has going on the TV, and try to figure out the best way to use live journal to who knows what ends. All while I work on other things, which are progressing slowly, but well I suppose.