I am woefully ignorant of the texting/social media abbreviations that increasingly occur in the crossword puzzles I used to enjoy as brain stimulation, but now too often toss aside in frustration as unsolvable unless I first take a course in Gen Z culture and textisms. On the other hand I immediately translated my first encounter with OAS – old age syndrome – in an email from a neighbor and friend of my generation even though she used it with minimal context, just saying she was “doing okay other than OAS”.
At about the same time, I interacted with the young woman whose debut website triggered my most recent post. Following from that recently posted reflection has been an extended meditation on the possible benefits of – and my strong inner resistance to – what is now often referred to as Swedish death cleaning.
(Inserted peeve: the thinks- it- knows- better- than- I- what- I -want- to -say built in grammar monitor is trying to tell me to write “following that reflection” when I do indeed mean following from as in triggered by and derived from, not just coming after in time. I hate the unavoidable, embedded, programmed critics which do not know nuance, nor formal grammar, but try to dictate how I express myself! )
Having undergone the challenge of sorting, selling, discarding or keeping my family belongings after my father’s death many years ago, I fully appreciate the kindness done to survivors by paring down beforehand. Facing the prospect of undertaking such a project myself I equally appreciate how reluctant I am to do so. At first I merely excused myself with the assessment that my energy levels weren’t up to the task (an aspect of OAS). With restricted energy and a goodly number of daily have-to’s, I want what extra energy I have used for more pleasurable activities than sorting and selling or discarding or keeping a lifetime’s accumulations. Having already lost much of what I valued as my personal history to last year’s wildfire, the items remaining seem almost vital to my sense of self.
Yet they are not. Viewed objectively, many of them simply occupy spaces that my eyes are accustomed to seeing them in. Especially the books I have read and will not reread, but keep like old friends, their covers and titles reminding me of the pleasurable time I spent with them in the past.
As I have lived with these conflicting motivations – to simplify and to keep – over the past several days an underlying perspective has emerged. I don’t think the issue is really a tension about things, but rather an inner argument about accepting or refusing to transition from one stage of life to the next. Since retiring something over three years ago, I have not enjoyed the anticipated opportunity to pursue interests that my demanding work life prevented. Covid did not help – nor did the emergence of unrelated health challenges most probably released by my reduction in stress-driven energy. (I relate to the recovering alcoholics who bemoan not being ill until they sober up.)
Looking back over these recent years of retirement, I see a person who achieved (survived) a great deal, coping not just with a health decline but two successive years of wildfire evacuations with extensive losses from the second one, while adding a stepson to my household, overseeing reconstruction of our home, and continuing my role as support to a husband focused on career advancement. Recently several people have described me as courageous. I have not thought that adjective to be descriptive of me – but perhaps they are correct? Is it courageous to push through the demands of each day while trying to be helpful to others whose needs are often urgently disruptive of my planned allocation of time and energy? Or am I just stubbornly refusing to let OAS define me?
I am aware of the often advised benefits to older people that they interact with younger ones to stay engaged and vital. For those with children and grandchildren this sort of interaction often comes naturally, especially when retirement is accompanied by relocation to be nearer to one another (the move usually also producing a paring down of things to the basic essentials). Having no children and hence no grandchildren, my recent acquisition of young step-children feels simultaneously appropriate to following this advice, but also intrusive and an interference with achieving the flexible and free “me” time I had anticipated as a retirement reward.
“Man proposes, God disposes.”
Now I wait, trying to do so patiently, for inner guidance on how to balance my desire to still be the younger version of myself, physically active and energetic throughout the day, meeting the needs of family – with also taking time for myself and my long postponed travel and new learning interests that were the promise of retirement. Often, so far, it seems that I am that courageous “doing” person from my 6AM rising until about 2 in the afternoon, when I become an exemplar of OAS, using the description to excuse resting on the couch, reading and extending my Wordle and FreeCell streaks. Not the image of myself I would choose – but apparently the one I need to accept.
For now, so be it.
1eclecticwriter 
A Rant for Rant’s Sake
February 23, 2026Without getting into the value and risks of A.I, I can categorically say I am beyond disgusted with the irrational, contradictory and impersonal mess that computer automation has made of so many unavoidable interactions in daily life. Speak to a person about an erroneous bill? You’re kidding, right? Accept an invitation to join the users of an online ticketing purchasing system? God forbid anything interrupts the multiple reverification steps vetting one’s efforts to complete the sign-up, as it will most certainly fail. Make an appointment to receive a phone call about seeking to obtain an estimate for a home construction project? Be prepared to be pestered by no less than 4 text messages reminding of the appointment. And the same with scheduling a medical appointment, which is then followed by a demand to rate the quality of the service received, and persistent reminders that the copay has yet to be posted.
Block the number of that pestering reminder, you suggest? Been there, done that, all it does is initiate a robo-dial from the next number in the phone bank.
Do you remember when one could, in the process of signing up for a subscription, specify that one’s contact information was NOT TO BE SOLD, or shared to any other entity? That option has long since ceased to exist. Now every request for a donation or to join the supporters of whatever cause, or even just to subscribe to a paper or magazine or online information cite carries with it the onus of also deciding how much of an inundation of more such solicitations one is willing to endure.
In tandem, offline, we now have to accept that incoming mail is 99% unsolicited demands to buy this, subscribe to that, support this, send money for that – all sent out bulk rate charges but requiring an ever more costly (over half a dollar now) postage stamp to reply. All with no guarantee the fully-paid-for envelop will arrive intact, if at all.
————–
While I did make a commitment to myself recently to get away from using my phone for most everything, and resume pulling out my laptop, I didn’t think I would start that process by posting a rant. But here it is. Not the first rant I’ve put up on my blog and probably, as things are going these days, not the last either. Not how I envisioned resuming writing – but then, better something than nothing.
Another day, not another dollar but maybe another mood and a more uplifting topic? No promises, but I’ll try.
Tags:A.I., automation, communication, frustration, technology
Posted in Environments, humor, Living and Learning, Social Commentary | Leave a Comment »