I found this in my Drafts folder. I wrote it two months ago, and I’m not really sure where I was going with this. But time has divorced me from this post emotionally, so while it was too trite to publish at the time it is now a window into my past. Make of it what you will…
I stubbed my toe so badly last tuesday there was legitimate concern I had broken it. It is still so swollen that wearing shoes is painful for the first twenty minutes, until the pressure forces out some of the fluid. I don’t think I walked into the table because it had been moved, or I’d forgotten where it was. I think I just expected it to get out of my way.
I have always had problems with spatiality, though. Remember Goldeneye for the N64? As impressive as the graphics were at the time, and how awesome James Bond is, I just couldn’t play it. Even with the map, I just could not for the life of me remember where I was in relation to anything, or what I had just passed. I spent the entire game trying to figure out how to get over there. Right there. Come on – I can see it, how the HELL do I get down?
The thunder this morning was so loud that as it woke me up I worried it had something to do with the structure of the house – perhaps the deck falling off onto my doorstep. Moments later another crack and another rumble and I was still concerned because it sounded like it was right on top of me. Needless to say, I couldn’t get back to sleep. I decided to try to be productive. I got up and read about Kurt Goedel’s disappearance of time, in which he discusses the dying concept of a spatial Time. I can see the simplistic appeal of trying to map temporal progression the way we do a landscape but I gotta say, if I were to fight for a spacial model of time it would be based on the fact that I seem to keep stubbing my toes on Time, too.
Oh, and so you know, my toe is still messed up. Eventually my concern over the possible long-term effects of an untreated foot injury prompted me to see the doctor, which played out exactly as I predicted: she pressed, tugged, stretched and squeezed my swollen pinky then ordered an X-ray… which I failed to follow through on. And now it’s set, and permanently enlarged, and I can’t wear high heels because the pressure on that angle creates a stabbing sensation. At least I learned my lesson, so I won’t be one of those people whose appendix bursts because they kept saying, “It’s just a stomach ache.”