I’ve been picking classes at ETSU based upon my interest in the individual subject. History, Volcanology, and astronomy, have provided a lot of information that is really of little use in my daily life until the 1930 broadcast of Jeopardy begins. Then the demand for trivial and other knowledge kicks in.
I have just registered for the next on-line adult audition for Jeopardy. This has become an annual exercise in frustration. Since I have absolutely no interest in team athletics, athletes, Opera, and a few other categories that commonly show up in the audition, I get about 95% of the test questions correctly answered. 95% is nowhere near adequate for advancement to the next interview/audition level.
I need to get some reference books and drill myself in those categories I mentioned above. However, my lack of interest is so complete that I don’t recall those answers after I read them. I always wind up thinking,” that Russian, ElifIno (f = Elifinova).
If the wind dies down, I’ll try to finish the deck flooring on the north side. There’s rain forecast, so I need to beat it to the scene.
Back to classes, my biggest deficiencies are in advanced mathematics. I need to start with some freshman level classes and work at them seriously. Right now, I’m finding it difficult to study serious material. The material doesn’t stick like it used to. Between the physical limitations that make using a keyboard more and more difficult, and the lack of recall at my former rate, I may have a valid case for the PTSD exams. I’ve noticed the difficulty studying for quite some time but never wanted to acknowledge its presence. Now I have little choice. So when enrollment rolls around, its math classes for me.
We stopped into a musical instrument store yesterday to buy some tickets for a local concert. We were surrounded by a sea of guitars. Gloria asked if I wanted to look at anything. The thought that I might need some new strings popped up. But the awareness of how much dexterity I’ve lost since 1998 smacked the waste of money out of my head rather quickly. The sense of loss was so brutal and profound that I couldn’t leave fast enough.
In the past, I’ve tried to sit close to performers in order to watch their fretwork and picking style, hoping to learn. I don’t need to fight for those choice seats anymore. Now I look for somewhere where I can stretch out my legs and where I’m less likely to have beer spilled on me. Even hearing the performers is not a major concern anymore. Most sound is so poorly mixed by local sound men and women that it is all mud and white noise that requires more energy to listen to than I have these days.
I’ve never been to an album release party/concert. Even with my hearing loss, it may be fun. I’ll just smile, nod, and ask for mathed potatoes.
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