{∅, {∅}, {∅, {∅}}} : Rage Against the Meat Grinder

It turns out that my angry (although suppressed) reactions to my mother spitting out her food and not wanting to eat the ham or chicken or fish has a medical cause, and so the awareness of this has in fact granted me the necessary sense of humor conducive to patience and a more calm state of mind (which eliminates those urges to drink alcohol I had been experiencing).   It's all such an interconnected and delicate system - our internal machinery, that is ... both the physical and psychical components of our "machinery."

Whereas last year my father (who is living in my sister's basement for over 20 years) had to stop working due to problems with his intestines, my mother is having some troubles on the other end of that tubular structure.   We are, essentially "tubes" - sophisticated worms.

There are symptoms of some kind of blockage in her esophagus, so, even though I recently stocked up on food, we had to do a special run for various kinds of soups, broths, Farina, Wheatena, somewhat pricey powdered nutrient drink (like Ensure), sweet potatoes, more bananas, pudding, and even some expensive "baby food" in case of an emergency.   We were also able to borrow a blender from a neighbor until some kind of Ninja-like Puree Machine arrives which another one of my aunts is sending.

This blockage in the throat goes by the medical term dysphagia.


You see, even though my mother is the oldest of 8 kids, 6 of them female, the "Weber girls" have already lost a sister to some kind of cancer just a few years ago, and she was over 10 years younger than my mother.  The other aunt, the one who drove from South Jersey to take my mom to the hospital, told me that she remembers the deceased aunt complaining that she could only swallow food with water; and it was not long after that that she rapidly lost what little weight she had and the Grim Reaper mercifully escorted her off the premises of our Existential Plantation.

So, we have scheduled some intense procedure at a local radiologist for Monday, for which The Mother has to fast; and then, after that, a specialized type of endoscopy to see if there are any, hmmmmm, what to call them?  nodules? polyps? cysts?   So many pleasant little phenomena which may eventually be promoted to the rank of the blanket term, "Cancer."   

Even without the fear of such developments, just not being able to swallow food can be quite an alarming predicament for us living organisms, the polar opposite problem of not being able to defecate or having some kind of blockage in the intestines.   What fun the medical doctors must have every day with their staff of ambitious and sometimes pregnant nurses!   

Let's not forget the army of workers who keep the shelves stocked at the Feeding Zones (grocery stores) and the slaughter-houses and farms and truck drivers and poor men who lay down the roads and bridges just so we can continue to consume food and ... write programs ... and study math ... and, oh, let's not forget, play/watch SOCCER/FOOTBALL and CRICKET/BASEBALL !!!

 ... and study the Bible, Torah, Quran, Bhagavad Gita, or, if you're lucky, the Upanishads ... or just play video games or watch Family Guy, or chase down crack co-caine, hero-ine, or large bottle of vodka, whiskey, or gin.   

Myself, my drug of choice is "school mathematics," so, keep those pencil factories pumping out the led!   

Bottom line:  I have adjusted to the fact that my mom may be having a medical emergency and is not just being a "disagreeable woman," or as the Brotherhood of Man calls the condition, "being a stubborn biitch."  No, she is in a genuine predicament that may require a trained doctor with steady hands to perform some kind of delicate surgery.  You know, we may require some kind of organic mechanic.   It's not her fault.   I'll have to pamper the old girl a little.

Thanks Holden.  While I am certain that there are the shallow elements of "personality" which may repel me, it is possible that my mother is fortunate that I not only am free of the burden of wife or children, but also, for the moment and hopefully for another large chunk of years, free of the burden of being under the influence/manipulations of an employer.

While I am free of that, I have to admit that I am more than a little preoccupied and obsessed not just with building skills and developing deeper intuition for "school mathematics"), but also always engrossed in some kind of technical project, such as installing the current-Slackware operating system, managing multibooting, testing new g++ 8.2 compiler for c++14 and experimental c++20 abilities, etc.   


I have read that in India there are 'techies" who sometimes flip out.  Well, I just have to force myself to keep things in perspective.   When my mom needs me, sometimes I have to drop something, or, being torn from "my mad science," I may make a small error which wipes out an entire system.   Because the Mother needs me more and more during the day, I find I have been stealing away the night.  Sometimes I don't even want to stop to eat, which is when the Steel Cut oatmeal saves me as I can feed the animal body which sustains this appendage we call our brain.


It is similar to how one might steal away the night to do drugs and report to an employer the next day on the verge of a nervous breakdown.


So, I am aware of what is going on, and I really try not to make my mom feel as though she is a burden.   It's a razor's edge - the balance.  I may be crazy, but it is a good kind of crazy I think.   It's called "hypomania."   Have you ever heard the saying, "I hate being bipolar …. it's awesome!"  ?   


I am sure you must witness this in India where a man of little means may have access to so much "technical challenges" that one may stay very busy going nowhere at all.   I may be hypnotized by the computer.  It is quite a fascinating contraption, and while I do "love" it, it requires constant learning and there are many setbacks I have come to embrace as "learning opportunities".


I don't want to be so obsessed that I am not there for my flesh and blood mother in her hour of need.   I suppose I will have to reach deep for the more nurturing elements within me, but, with my obsession with math and computing comes some consequences:  I am caught up in my own little world, and yet there are some others struggling with getting a grip on similar technical details.


While I rebelled against "the computer" as a teenager, there is no denying that I have become a "unit," that is, I have morphed into some kind of vessel.   I am not drawn to any games and I have no desire to own any of the latest "smart phone" or tablet gadgets.   I would get more satisfaction getting an old computer to run Slackware and Gentoo …


I am no Nietzsche or Schopenhauer or Cioran.


I am me, and this monkey is content to know Schopenhauer did such a fine job attempting to systematize his thoughts and present a kind of "Schopenhauerian Upanishads" to the Western World in his opus.   Bless Cioran too, but I am not such a wordsmith.


I do not want to "write great books" like Nietzsche.


Thank you for respecting the fact that I do not want to be burdened with any kind of legacy.   I just want to tinker with math and computing, and protect this old monkey brain from the epidemics of madness that are devouring my fellow-sufferers.    It is better for me to be addicted to developing math skills and exploring computing than to be trapped in the vicious cycle of liquor stores and "crack vampires".   What a nightmare!


I must add that to the list.   I am only able to help my aging mother this way because:
(1) I have no wife or "significant other"
(2) I have no offspring depending on me
(3) I have no employer and have become a kind of "ward of the state" (as bipolar - not very obedient)

(4) I have mangaged to be liberated from the desire to be continually inebriated.


* I think that the satisfaction i get from developing math skills and computing "techgnosis" is a great motivator for continuing to swear off booze.


Thank you for referring to me as "a good son".   What my mom may not fully understand is that I do not have to "love helping her in need," as long as i do as best I can to help her.  I can't help that my mind is always engrossed with something.  It's the way I am wired.   Even when I was a "good employee" [janitor/maintenance man], I was known for having my own agenda.   It was the main reason I was let go [terminated] decades ago.

The "suits" told me that maybe I ought to pursue higher education as I seemed to becoming more and more disgruntled in my role as a flunkie [state slave].

The thing is, now that math and computing are like my "religion," they do not leave me time to just jump through the hoops of any sytematic stupidity.  I do serve my mother when she is in need, but quite often I am obsessed with something technical like a fiend.

Take care.   Sorry for my self-referential perspective.   While I did appreciate some of Nietzsche's writing, I think he might have been a bit of a "poser."   he wanted to appear to be something ...  whereas i don't mind the world seeing me just as I am - just a man monkeying around with math and computing after a lifetime of monkeying around with hard alcohol and hard drugs.


There was a psychiatrist from India who I hated.   He told me that if I continued to drink the way I did that I would end up with a soft brain, brain dead.


While I despized him, today I cherish a clear mind when I wake up, no matter what I "destroyed" during the long insomniacal night.   I can start over. 


Maybe I seem somewhat narcissistic in my obsession with chipping away at my own ignorance; but, like I said, I think this obsession with learning is protecting me from the epidemics of madness, the modern psychiatric/spiritual plague; so in a way, my obsession with math and computing also plays an intricate role in my even being "present" enough to help my mom when she needs me ...

Holden,

Thank you for your response and the link.

Why this farce of life everyday? Millions of men and women are optimists. Our will to survive is strong and it does not matter the price we have to pay. Yes, this world crushes the spirit and breaks the will.

Maybe it has to do with how our bodies and brains are wired. I read that the male brain is 10% bigger than the female brain. But the female brain works more efficiently. Maybe it has to do with food. We eat a lot of bananas here. Bananas have natural chemicals that improve one´s good mood. That is what I heard.

From time to time I hear people complain about how life is unfair and hard. Sometimes they say they want to die. But later they tell you that their wives or girlfriends, or daughters are pregnant. One of my cousins is a lawyer. One of his sons is 24 years old with his first woman, the other is 27, a girl, with another woman. And he is the father of ten-year old boy with the third one. My uncle, his father, has a 22-year old daughter with a woman who is two years younger than me. The power of the ddiicck is strong. Yes, this is the game of life. The love of life. 

You know manipulation and deception are tools in the hands of these advertising companies. In the U.S. the tradition of proposing marriage to a woman with a diamond ring was artificially created by Edward Bernays hired by the De Beers diamond company to promote diamonds as the standard symbol of love. So it is no surprise that women are excellent consumers. Brainwashing at all levels.

Take care of yourself.