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19 June, 2012
18 June, 2012
Racist Confessional. Part One
First, a little background on me. I'm a blonde, blue eyed female, in a committed relationship with an African American male, we have shared love, life and living space for nearly the last 6 years. I have been pointed out as the reason of racial tension at a speech in Boston in the 1980's by Louis Farrakhan, as the only white face in the crowd - I was easy to spot.
But, this post idea started with two things. The death of Rodney King and a news item about a GOP radio show where the host calls the President of the United States a monkey. Repeatedly. And feels justified in doing so. Discounting both the man and the office in a horrid, racist and ignorant way.
You can read it yourself here: Barbara Espinosa Babble
See- first I was amazed at the gall, and the fact that she is "a journalist" however loosely defined the word has become. And this - is babble. But it made me angry, I was offended and disgusted. Then guilty.
Guilty because I believe that we all harbor a racial bias, and I know that I have that little voice in my head that defines people on first sight by noticing the differences. I also believe that this bias is widespread throughout humans, and readily apparent in the animal kingdom. A genome-encoded survival mechanism that encourages us, by instinct, to gravitate to those most like us. Which, being human, breaks out at it's most basic level to racial definition. Break it out and it's like this: I am a Zebra and you are a Water Buffalo - both of us are snacking on the same Savannah grass in Africa. When the lions come - I'm running with the Zebras, because they are my "known" and you run with the buffaloes for the same reason. But, as humans, we are given the ability to reason beyond the instinct.
And just because I'm a blonde and fit in with the wasp-y side of the American scale, it doesn't mean that I am immune to feeling discriminated against because of my race. I have been called a "cracker bitch" repeatedly by a sloppy female who lived in this complex. The same sloppy female who would 'hide out' in her car, or startle and jump with an "eep" should she encounter my other half in the parking lot or entrance to the building. Petty and stupid and since she didn't ( and stood no chance ) of knowing me - it shouldn't matter. But it did. It hurt and made me angry and feel "less than" what she felt she was. Which wasn't much, in my opinion, but I would never be so bold or so rude as to address those issues.
But, it was the 80's and I was out and about: living my own life and learning those things that I felt necessary. I learned that while I could "notice" someone's skin tone, eye shape or hair texture, it really had zero bearing on the who the person was, unless or until I made it important. Now, here is where things start to fall apart for me, and I should have someone who can detail what their racial identity means to the "who" they are..but I'm not that organized, and perhaps it will come. But really, I don't see that any 10 people I could pick out would want anything different out of life, the big things, than I would. Love, a job that interests and intrigues, being able to pay bills, enjoy some down time, raise happy and healthy and productive children, and to find a measure of success that you can attain and define. Sure, I am certain that there are differences in the order, and even the importance of each issue, but we all have those desires in common.
I went to that speech with the specific intention of telling my parents that I had been, and to irk my father. I was young, and acting out. Typical adolescent stuff. My father was raised from the 30's and 40's in a less than desirable neighborhood in Baltimore, then after his father took a powder he moved with his mother and two sisters to a rough area in a mill town in northern Massachusetts. In many ways, I consider him a product of the times, but one that was unwilling and unable to change when the paradigm shifted. He was always rather insecure as a human being and an engineer, and fell into that "put other's down to elevate yourself". His common response to racial commentary was "I am not a racist, I work with a negro, a Pakistani and an Afrikaans in my process department". Never did his mention of these 3 men ever contain just their names, like Jon, Rajiv and Hendrick. So, early on, I was exposed to a racially-determined way of defining people, and it was an important inclusion in my father's definition of his world view.
Left with a predetermined way of defining the people around me, I sought to find the key that would allow me to "not be like my parents". Also typically adolescent reaction. But, in some strange and twisted way I owe my awareness of my racial bias and my unwillingness to live a life that is based on defining the people around my by their race to my father. Which, I am fairly certain, was not his intended result.
Now I come forward and suggest that we are beyond the time that the discussion about race, racism, racial bias, racial tension and racial discrimination is long overdue. And needs to be happening now, everywhere, in all sorts of forums and groups. It is necessary that we remove race as the "emotional trump card' from the election discussion - there are far more important issues to be discussed. But simply removing it will do nothing to solving the issue, not even with baby steps. Do we simply discount those who spew their rhetoric on an ever increasing decibel level as morons, beyond redemption or retraining? Is putting this hate speech out there something that should be protected by the 1st Amendment, even though it is oftentimes serving as a "calling card" to others who may be isolated and afraid to act upon their heinous beliefs? What about the frequency of the references that are purely racial and epithet laden in the media, on the street, in the political adverts? Are we willing to delay the discussion to such a degree that it becomes something we are inured to: much like we are inured to the 300th car explosion at the movies?
Were we a less racist nation before people had the internet to come together and anonymously be able to post venom and epithet freely? Is an "openly" hostile or vocal racist easier to discount and deal with than those who perhaps are more subtle, and would we all see it as a racial divide?
What do you do when someone calls you racist? Do you react in a manner similar to my father or do you stop and think if perhaps your actions were motivated by race? Or have you taken steps ( and what ones ) to overcome your natural bias, and how do you know that you aren't 'overcompensating' in the other direction so as not to appear as a racist or racially motivated?
Most importantly.. WHAT do you think?
But, this post idea started with two things. The death of Rodney King and a news item about a GOP radio show where the host calls the President of the United States a monkey. Repeatedly. And feels justified in doing so. Discounting both the man and the office in a horrid, racist and ignorant way.
You can read it yourself here: Barbara Espinosa Babble
See- first I was amazed at the gall, and the fact that she is "a journalist" however loosely defined the word has become. And this - is babble. But it made me angry, I was offended and disgusted. Then guilty.
Guilty because I believe that we all harbor a racial bias, and I know that I have that little voice in my head that defines people on first sight by noticing the differences. I also believe that this bias is widespread throughout humans, and readily apparent in the animal kingdom. A genome-encoded survival mechanism that encourages us, by instinct, to gravitate to those most like us. Which, being human, breaks out at it's most basic level to racial definition. Break it out and it's like this: I am a Zebra and you are a Water Buffalo - both of us are snacking on the same Savannah grass in Africa. When the lions come - I'm running with the Zebras, because they are my "known" and you run with the buffaloes for the same reason. But, as humans, we are given the ability to reason beyond the instinct.
And just because I'm a blonde and fit in with the wasp-y side of the American scale, it doesn't mean that I am immune to feeling discriminated against because of my race. I have been called a "cracker bitch" repeatedly by a sloppy female who lived in this complex. The same sloppy female who would 'hide out' in her car, or startle and jump with an "eep" should she encounter my other half in the parking lot or entrance to the building. Petty and stupid and since she didn't ( and stood no chance ) of knowing me - it shouldn't matter. But it did. It hurt and made me angry and feel "less than" what she felt she was. Which wasn't much, in my opinion, but I would never be so bold or so rude as to address those issues.
But, it was the 80's and I was out and about: living my own life and learning those things that I felt necessary. I learned that while I could "notice" someone's skin tone, eye shape or hair texture, it really had zero bearing on the who the person was, unless or until I made it important. Now, here is where things start to fall apart for me, and I should have someone who can detail what their racial identity means to the "who" they are..but I'm not that organized, and perhaps it will come. But really, I don't see that any 10 people I could pick out would want anything different out of life, the big things, than I would. Love, a job that interests and intrigues, being able to pay bills, enjoy some down time, raise happy and healthy and productive children, and to find a measure of success that you can attain and define. Sure, I am certain that there are differences in the order, and even the importance of each issue, but we all have those desires in common.
I went to that speech with the specific intention of telling my parents that I had been, and to irk my father. I was young, and acting out. Typical adolescent stuff. My father was raised from the 30's and 40's in a less than desirable neighborhood in Baltimore, then after his father took a powder he moved with his mother and two sisters to a rough area in a mill town in northern Massachusetts. In many ways, I consider him a product of the times, but one that was unwilling and unable to change when the paradigm shifted. He was always rather insecure as a human being and an engineer, and fell into that "put other's down to elevate yourself". His common response to racial commentary was "I am not a racist, I work with a negro, a Pakistani and an Afrikaans in my process department". Never did his mention of these 3 men ever contain just their names, like Jon, Rajiv and Hendrick. So, early on, I was exposed to a racially-determined way of defining people, and it was an important inclusion in my father's definition of his world view.
Left with a predetermined way of defining the people around me, I sought to find the key that would allow me to "not be like my parents". Also typically adolescent reaction. But, in some strange and twisted way I owe my awareness of my racial bias and my unwillingness to live a life that is based on defining the people around my by their race to my father. Which, I am fairly certain, was not his intended result.
Now I come forward and suggest that we are beyond the time that the discussion about race, racism, racial bias, racial tension and racial discrimination is long overdue. And needs to be happening now, everywhere, in all sorts of forums and groups. It is necessary that we remove race as the "emotional trump card' from the election discussion - there are far more important issues to be discussed. But simply removing it will do nothing to solving the issue, not even with baby steps. Do we simply discount those who spew their rhetoric on an ever increasing decibel level as morons, beyond redemption or retraining? Is putting this hate speech out there something that should be protected by the 1st Amendment, even though it is oftentimes serving as a "calling card" to others who may be isolated and afraid to act upon their heinous beliefs? What about the frequency of the references that are purely racial and epithet laden in the media, on the street, in the political adverts? Are we willing to delay the discussion to such a degree that it becomes something we are inured to: much like we are inured to the 300th car explosion at the movies?
Were we a less racist nation before people had the internet to come together and anonymously be able to post venom and epithet freely? Is an "openly" hostile or vocal racist easier to discount and deal with than those who perhaps are more subtle, and would we all see it as a racial divide?
What do you do when someone calls you racist? Do you react in a manner similar to my father or do you stop and think if perhaps your actions were motivated by race? Or have you taken steps ( and what ones ) to overcome your natural bias, and how do you know that you aren't 'overcompensating' in the other direction so as not to appear as a racist or racially motivated?
Most importantly.. WHAT do you think?
10 February, 2012
Who is Shutruk Nahante?
"I am Shutruk Nahante, King of Anshand and Sussa, Soverign of the land of Elam. I destroyed Sippar, took the stele of Niran-Sin, and brought it back to Elam, where I erected it as an offering to my god." ~ Shutruk Nahunte, 1158 BC
"Great ambition and conquest without contribution is without significance. What will your contribution be? How will history remember you? " ~ Kevin Kline in The Emperor's Club
Why these quotes? We have reached a time in our history when what you have done is far less important than how many likes, hits, views, quotes or comments you can get. Where mediocrity is the cause celeb, an ass will make you famous and a "role model" and trademarking a baby name is headline news, even when it would best be used in a garden centre.
People are refusing to see, or are unaware of the reality that real contributions that last are not comprised of the above, and a sore lack of substance to a time capsule created to memorialize the 21st century to date. It would leave those in years to come wondering, and not in a good way.
Contributions are comprised of many things and from many people: Socrates, Plato, Cleisthenes, Solon, Aristotle. The Moors brought glass lenses to the Crusaders, Chinese created gunpowder, the pyramids of the Incas, Maya, Egyptians and Aztecs, Mummification by many cultures. Sun Tzu created the Art of War still used as a guide in conflict and conquer. Mohammed created his view of Allah, and the Buddah removed the omnipotent to revel in the beauty and process and path of all life. Right Angles - both definition and idea came from Africa, as did the idea of community governance and housed the forefather of man, Homo Sapiens. Someone built the Moai ( statues ) of Easter Island, and it has been recently revealed through pottery fragments that the Japanese found Peru some 500 years or more before Columbus "discovered" the Americas.
The striking fact about this information is that not one single sex, race, nation or geographical area has a monopoly on innovations that stood the test of time and were noted and remembered by history.
So then, because this is me - I take a look at what passes for "best we have on offer" from the GOP in terms of candidates. And I think .. Really? Is there a single one who has the capacity, the capability of being little more than a stain on that book ?
They are all, to a one, rich, white males. Some have earned their money 'honestly' some garnered it from our tax dollars. But every single one of them is divisive and detrimental because of their attitude toward Americans. They are a group of men screeching to all who will listen that it is an Us versus Them. Problem is, unless you are a rich, white male and think of America in terms of Donna Reed and pearls and Jesus .... you are "them".
They've even taken the essential premise that is ( as I see it ) racist and prejudiced - and no one is calling them on that. Really? Really?!!
They are hard for me to stomach, these statements. Even harder to write. Because, let me be honest, I am a white, anglo-saxon female, who has ties to the Revolution, the Mayflower and the Church in my family. My experience is not one fraught with pages of examples of not getting in, or ahead, or snubbed because of how I look. My father was a Republican, from a long line of them: mother voted Democratic when she naturalized. She was a member of NOW and worshipped at the feet of Steinam, my father screamed about government and "them" and always felt and spoke as if he were one step "better" or "higher" than others who didn't look like him.
So - as children, it's normal. We gravitate to like - people that look alike, sound alike, sit in the same church, then we get older and perhaps gravitate to the "ideas" we do tend to be most comfortable with those who are most like us, liberals with liberals, conservatives with conservatives, zebras prefer to be with other zebras to donkeys or wildebeasts. It's a natural 'gravitation' that often happens without thought. But when your ideas and attitudes are stuck in the playground mode, and are outdated, closeminded and frankly not even close to reflective of the world around you, or you truly believe that your "white is right" ( or whatever phrase best reflects your staying with 'your own kind') ..you cease to be valid - and tar all who follow you with that brush. And sadly, these statements are pouring forth like cream to kittens, and being lapped up without question or challenge.
So - now you are on edge, and wondering "Is she calling me a racist?"
Have you not questioned, seriously questioned and researched and perhaps had a second thought when you heard
Santorum ( google it frequently )
"I don't want to make black people's lives better with welfare"
The reality is that African-Americans self identify as less than 20% of the US population - more caucasians are on welfare, disability and aid than any other race.
Brewer ( Governor of Arizona )
"This law is a fair, effective and necessary response to what amounts to Washington turning it's back on border security"
What borders Arizona? Mexico. Who carries there documents with them all the time? I have a green card. I keep it safe since I shouldn't need to produce it. Especially not for a "random check".
Gingrich
"Bilingual education teaches the language of living in the ghetto". Really? Funny - my daughter was educated in a bilingual system and speaks French and English. In university, she took Latin and Ancient Greek. Most countries have a requirement that educates children in more than one language. My daughter's best friend, daughter of Vietnamese immigrants speaks English, French, Vietnamese, Spanish AND German and is in Medical School. Yep - looks ghetto to me. ( and please - what IS a ghetto - cause I've seen some trailer parks in east scratch your ass Arizona dn Missouri and Texas where all the folks were caucasian - and it was tore up and disgusting. )
But, my favourite is Mr Ron Paul - King of the "blank stare" You only 'hope' the wheels are turning in there somewhere. HE said -
"I never read that stuff. I was probably aware of it 10 years after it was written, and it's been going on 20 that people ask me about it." The is - a series of monthly publications full of homophobic and racist content, statements and rants, on HIS company letterhead - and signed, by him. In fact, Jonathan Chait, a columnist for New York Magazine states "statements of racist paranoia appeared regularly enough in Paul's newsletters to represent a consistent ideological theme".
And this is the best there is on offer? Has the look of the President, the colour of his skin, the texture of his hair so threatened Joe Redneck that he feels that he cannot tell his children they too, can be president? That one man of caramel complexion is so glaringly overshadowing the portraits of the 43 white men that preceded him? That the cliffs in South Dakota with the white men upon them, every image of Uncle Sam, every portrait on the currency is so ingrained on your limited world view that you can't stand the change? Are you so calcified and afraid that you may be wrong, and that would open a whole can of worms? Then I shan't tell you that Santa is a myth, there is no Easter Bunny - and Jesus was not a blonde-ish white man with blue eyes. Deal with it.
What this whole bunch is doing is solidifying and emboldening those who I once thought was a relatively isolated minority of mouth-breathers, troglodytes that are reveling in their ignorance being validated.
But - few people are talking about it. ANY of it. Race and racism is uncomfortable and gets emotionally charged when people are more apt to talk the talk and not walk the walk. I would be an incredibly rich woman today if I took a dollar from every idiot who told me "I'm not racist, my friend A is ___ and we've been friends for years. She's slept over at my house too." That tells me so much.
When you honestly tell me - before the discussion is ever raised - that your friends are all funny and smart and writers or readers and make you laugh and share your tears and live all over or right next door. And weeks later, when I come to visit, and you send a friend to meet me, and the last thing before signing off is that I am meeting a stranger - and oh yeah - you can recognize them because they are an albino. I know you are walking the walk. Those others .... they tell me of Anton the Albino who is a friend who came over for dinner once in 1982.
I've rambled enough -I made my point. Look at the quote from the movie, the one Kevin Kline delivered. Do any of them look like more than a post-script ... would you want ET to know any of them in the year 4000 ?
"Great ambition and conquest without contribution is without significance. What will your contribution be? How will history remember you? " ~ Kevin Kline in The Emperor's Club
Why these quotes? We have reached a time in our history when what you have done is far less important than how many likes, hits, views, quotes or comments you can get. Where mediocrity is the cause celeb, an ass will make you famous and a "role model" and trademarking a baby name is headline news, even when it would best be used in a garden centre.
People are refusing to see, or are unaware of the reality that real contributions that last are not comprised of the above, and a sore lack of substance to a time capsule created to memorialize the 21st century to date. It would leave those in years to come wondering, and not in a good way.
Contributions are comprised of many things and from many people: Socrates, Plato, Cleisthenes, Solon, Aristotle. The Moors brought glass lenses to the Crusaders, Chinese created gunpowder, the pyramids of the Incas, Maya, Egyptians and Aztecs, Mummification by many cultures. Sun Tzu created the Art of War still used as a guide in conflict and conquer. Mohammed created his view of Allah, and the Buddah removed the omnipotent to revel in the beauty and process and path of all life. Right Angles - both definition and idea came from Africa, as did the idea of community governance and housed the forefather of man, Homo Sapiens. Someone built the Moai ( statues ) of Easter Island, and it has been recently revealed through pottery fragments that the Japanese found Peru some 500 years or more before Columbus "discovered" the Americas.
The striking fact about this information is that not one single sex, race, nation or geographical area has a monopoly on innovations that stood the test of time and were noted and remembered by history.
So then, because this is me - I take a look at what passes for "best we have on offer" from the GOP in terms of candidates. And I think .. Really? Is there a single one who has the capacity, the capability of being little more than a stain on that book ?
They are all, to a one, rich, white males. Some have earned their money 'honestly' some garnered it from our tax dollars. But every single one of them is divisive and detrimental because of their attitude toward Americans. They are a group of men screeching to all who will listen that it is an Us versus Them. Problem is, unless you are a rich, white male and think of America in terms of Donna Reed and pearls and Jesus .... you are "them".
They've even taken the essential premise that is ( as I see it ) racist and prejudiced - and no one is calling them on that. Really? Really?!!
They are hard for me to stomach, these statements. Even harder to write. Because, let me be honest, I am a white, anglo-saxon female, who has ties to the Revolution, the Mayflower and the Church in my family. My experience is not one fraught with pages of examples of not getting in, or ahead, or snubbed because of how I look. My father was a Republican, from a long line of them: mother voted Democratic when she naturalized. She was a member of NOW and worshipped at the feet of Steinam, my father screamed about government and "them" and always felt and spoke as if he were one step "better" or "higher" than others who didn't look like him.
So - as children, it's normal. We gravitate to like - people that look alike, sound alike, sit in the same church, then we get older and perhaps gravitate to the "ideas" we do tend to be most comfortable with those who are most like us, liberals with liberals, conservatives with conservatives, zebras prefer to be with other zebras to donkeys or wildebeasts. It's a natural 'gravitation' that often happens without thought. But when your ideas and attitudes are stuck in the playground mode, and are outdated, closeminded and frankly not even close to reflective of the world around you, or you truly believe that your "white is right" ( or whatever phrase best reflects your staying with 'your own kind') ..you cease to be valid - and tar all who follow you with that brush. And sadly, these statements are pouring forth like cream to kittens, and being lapped up without question or challenge.
So - now you are on edge, and wondering "Is she calling me a racist?"
Have you not questioned, seriously questioned and researched and perhaps had a second thought when you heard
Santorum ( google it frequently )
"I don't want to make black people's lives better with welfare"
The reality is that African-Americans self identify as less than 20% of the US population - more caucasians are on welfare, disability and aid than any other race.
Brewer ( Governor of Arizona )
"This law is a fair, effective and necessary response to what amounts to Washington turning it's back on border security"
What borders Arizona? Mexico. Who carries there documents with them all the time? I have a green card. I keep it safe since I shouldn't need to produce it. Especially not for a "random check".
Gingrich
"Bilingual education teaches the language of living in the ghetto". Really? Funny - my daughter was educated in a bilingual system and speaks French and English. In university, she took Latin and Ancient Greek. Most countries have a requirement that educates children in more than one language. My daughter's best friend, daughter of Vietnamese immigrants speaks English, French, Vietnamese, Spanish AND German and is in Medical School. Yep - looks ghetto to me. ( and please - what IS a ghetto - cause I've seen some trailer parks in east scratch your ass Arizona dn Missouri and Texas where all the folks were caucasian - and it was tore up and disgusting. )
But, my favourite is Mr Ron Paul - King of the "blank stare" You only 'hope' the wheels are turning in there somewhere. HE said -
"I never read that stuff. I was probably aware of it 10 years after it was written, and it's been going on 20 that people ask me about it." The is - a series of monthly publications full of homophobic and racist content, statements and rants, on HIS company letterhead - and signed, by him. In fact, Jonathan Chait, a columnist for New York Magazine states "statements of racist paranoia appeared regularly enough in Paul's newsletters to represent a consistent ideological theme".
And this is the best there is on offer? Has the look of the President, the colour of his skin, the texture of his hair so threatened Joe Redneck that he feels that he cannot tell his children they too, can be president? That one man of caramel complexion is so glaringly overshadowing the portraits of the 43 white men that preceded him? That the cliffs in South Dakota with the white men upon them, every image of Uncle Sam, every portrait on the currency is so ingrained on your limited world view that you can't stand the change? Are you so calcified and afraid that you may be wrong, and that would open a whole can of worms? Then I shan't tell you that Santa is a myth, there is no Easter Bunny - and Jesus was not a blonde-ish white man with blue eyes. Deal with it.
What this whole bunch is doing is solidifying and emboldening those who I once thought was a relatively isolated minority of mouth-breathers, troglodytes that are reveling in their ignorance being validated.
But - few people are talking about it. ANY of it. Race and racism is uncomfortable and gets emotionally charged when people are more apt to talk the talk and not walk the walk. I would be an incredibly rich woman today if I took a dollar from every idiot who told me "I'm not racist, my friend A is ___ and we've been friends for years. She's slept over at my house too." That tells me so much.
When you honestly tell me - before the discussion is ever raised - that your friends are all funny and smart and writers or readers and make you laugh and share your tears and live all over or right next door. And weeks later, when I come to visit, and you send a friend to meet me, and the last thing before signing off is that I am meeting a stranger - and oh yeah - you can recognize them because they are an albino. I know you are walking the walk. Those others .... they tell me of Anton the Albino who is a friend who came over for dinner once in 1982.
I've rambled enough -I made my point. Look at the quote from the movie, the one Kevin Kline delivered. Do any of them look like more than a post-script ... would you want ET to know any of them in the year 4000 ?
24 January, 2012
A Cookie
for the first person who can explain to me why this is right and ethical and an act you could live with.
You make, about 45 MILLION a year. That's according to your tax return. Sure- some of that is investment income - but it's income. So, essentially you have close to 40 million in expendable income yearly. You know - that stuff that the rest of the world needs to spend on food, gasoline, entertainment, travel, clothes, bills, housing. *I've pulled 5 mill as the number dedicated to taxes **
Yet - you pay the same effective tax rate as someone who makes 70K a year - after they take their deductions if they itemize. And the same rate as someone who makes 40 K a year before or if they do not itemize.
That rate is roughly 14%. Of your Gross.
A person making 45 Million - that works out to be $675,000
Making 70 K - that works out to be $10,500
Making 40 K - that works out to be $ 6000
Who is getting the short end of the stick there?
And this is supposed to be a non-issue in the current GOP Primaries?
Tomorrow we will discuss the "race baiting' by several candidates.
Oh - and the links to keep on top of and complaining about the SOPA and PIPA issues are on the left margin .... go on - be heard!
You make, about 45 MILLION a year. That's according to your tax return. Sure- some of that is investment income - but it's income. So, essentially you have close to 40 million in expendable income yearly. You know - that stuff that the rest of the world needs to spend on food, gasoline, entertainment, travel, clothes, bills, housing. *I've pulled 5 mill as the number dedicated to taxes **
Yet - you pay the same effective tax rate as someone who makes 70K a year - after they take their deductions if they itemize. And the same rate as someone who makes 40 K a year before or if they do not itemize.
That rate is roughly 14%. Of your Gross.
A person making 45 Million - that works out to be $675,000
Making 70 K - that works out to be $10,500
Making 40 K - that works out to be $ 6000
Who is getting the short end of the stick there?
And this is supposed to be a non-issue in the current GOP Primaries?
Tomorrow we will discuss the "race baiting' by several candidates.
Oh - and the links to keep on top of and complaining about the SOPA and PIPA issues are on the left margin .... go on - be heard!
19 January, 2012
Now that the outage is over
Where do you go from here? Because, believe that it's NOT over. SOPA and PIPA are both up for votes by the house and senate - and both are dangerously encroaching on your ability to interact, write, learn, share and even be certain of obtaining multiple viewpoints on any issue.
I suggest that you make a concerted effort to both complain ( loudly and often ) and make your voice heard.
Because, I look at it like this. No one, that is NO ONE should stand for copyright infringement. You should always credit work that isn't your own; I have been known to credit the germination of an idea with the work that spurred it. Perhaps overkill, but I think it makes the experience I am trying to explain clearer.
But - when the whole of us are punished because one person is unable to live by the standards of both legalities and common courtesy, in a forum that tends to promote and popularize the anonymity of it all -then how do you manage to exert the very real influence of peer pressure?
Do you not see that this proposal can engender a series of self-appointed vigilantes who could then cry FOUL with not only the instances of poached content - but even to those who are expressing an interest that is vastly divergent from their own?
And - for those of you who think that cannot happen - what fairyland utopia are you living in for it isn't this US of A that I see. It is happening daily - from the news readers who only present a sound byte to build a story - to the talking heads that do little but shout down opposing voices while promulgating their own skewed take on 'how it should be'. And sadly - more and more - it is ALL becoming like that.
From the "patriot zones" created around the Bush and McCain speaking engagements, meant simply to remove citizens from voicing their outrage with policies and platform, to the 'guarded public events' held by Romney, and the 'staged' questions from the audience at other candidate's events ... you are being managed and presented with a package that is edited, revised and polished for television stories of 90 seconds or less. And you have accepted it as "the norm".
Well - quoting Tom Petty, I won't back down. You need to be cajoled into making a stink about SOPA and PIPA to your senators and congressmen - to actually be heard by the people YOU elected to represent YOUR wishes. I can do that. I can and will take every piece of the law - explain it, define it, push you to see why it's bad.
And together - perhaps - We the People can create enough noise for They that are Elected to Represent to hear.
This is my answer to "what do we do now".
Go here to see the Bill as written: SOPA Bill HR 3261
Go here to find your Congressman: Congressional Directory
Go here to join the Movement: Stop the Wall
I suggest that you make a concerted effort to both complain ( loudly and often ) and make your voice heard.
Because, I look at it like this. No one, that is NO ONE should stand for copyright infringement. You should always credit work that isn't your own; I have been known to credit the germination of an idea with the work that spurred it. Perhaps overkill, but I think it makes the experience I am trying to explain clearer.
But - when the whole of us are punished because one person is unable to live by the standards of both legalities and common courtesy, in a forum that tends to promote and popularize the anonymity of it all -then how do you manage to exert the very real influence of peer pressure?
Do you not see that this proposal can engender a series of self-appointed vigilantes who could then cry FOUL with not only the instances of poached content - but even to those who are expressing an interest that is vastly divergent from their own?
And - for those of you who think that cannot happen - what fairyland utopia are you living in for it isn't this US of A that I see. It is happening daily - from the news readers who only present a sound byte to build a story - to the talking heads that do little but shout down opposing voices while promulgating their own skewed take on 'how it should be'. And sadly - more and more - it is ALL becoming like that.
From the "patriot zones" created around the Bush and McCain speaking engagements, meant simply to remove citizens from voicing their outrage with policies and platform, to the 'guarded public events' held by Romney, and the 'staged' questions from the audience at other candidate's events ... you are being managed and presented with a package that is edited, revised and polished for television stories of 90 seconds or less. And you have accepted it as "the norm".
Well - quoting Tom Petty, I won't back down. You need to be cajoled into making a stink about SOPA and PIPA to your senators and congressmen - to actually be heard by the people YOU elected to represent YOUR wishes. I can do that. I can and will take every piece of the law - explain it, define it, push you to see why it's bad.
And together - perhaps - We the People can create enough noise for They that are Elected to Represent to hear.
This is my answer to "what do we do now".
Go here to see the Bill as written: SOPA Bill HR 3261
Go here to find your Congressman: Congressional Directory
Go here to join the Movement: Stop the Wall
18 January, 2012
Be Careful WHAT you wish for ....
Just last night I was lamenting on my inability to write. More my "not finding anything in my list of things I had started to scribble on that demanded to be heard". I think I used exactly those words.
Then today, 18 January, I went to read one of my favorite bloggers, bubblesdeux.com. You can't read her or any of my others reads on that provider today. It's not because they don't want you- but the site is shut down. Along with several other sites shuttered in protest of two "anti-piracy" bills due to come up for a vote in the Senate and Congress soon: SOPA and PIPA.
See - the upshot of these laws is that they are M-15's being used where a flyswatter is much more appropriate. Like most, I despise plagiarism - and I am not one who uses ( or used really ) the multitude of "free share" sites that passed about content that one person sweated and cried over in creating on a site like Napster. I believe that people should be credited for their work, and where there is money to be made - paid.
But, like many things this Senate and Congress decide to enact, there are serious concerns as to who is their "information guru". And, how much of the issue do they really understand? From my vantage point, like many things, this law is far too broad in scope as written, and far too non-specific in its working. When any moron with a wild hair across his ass can point and scream "violation" ( much like the robot with the vacuum hose arms waving and shouting Danger Will Robinson! Danger! Danger! ) this particular law, should it pass the 'legislative follies' and become law, will be just as effective in a real sense - and not nearly as quotable.
Who am I to contest or complain? Let's see. I am a long term resident of these United States. Fully versed in the thought that I will not have some random moron decide what I can read, see, buy, speak on or even look into. The web is my entertainment and a door to social interaction, it gives me facts and news and lets me connect with friends and family. It has become my encyclopaedia in multiple volumes - with endless options for sourcing and differing degress of veracity that all can and do combine to keep me amused, informed, confused, laughing, crying but most of all, connected to information and opinions. This law threatens to remove that ability by punishing not those who choose to use content that is not their own, but the website on which they post the non-credited content.
Like the million dollars in fines to the college students, teens and tweens who got caught up in the Napster stings and suits ( still ongoing, mind ) - this bill goes too far. Go ahead - read it: THE REAL BILL http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/z?c112:H.R.3261:
Read the information about the bill ( there is tons out there - good and bad). Note that there are good, bad and moronic comments ( some best written by those for whom a muzzle should be required daywear ) - but people CAN have a say AND you can read it. I'm not so sure that will be the case should this law pass.
But- after reading the law, and looking around - you can decide for yourself. If you favour an entire site being shut down for one person's inability or unwillingness to credit content is machine gunning a fly. Collateral damages everywhere, and the price, like with all collateral damage - far too high.
Want to be heard? It's easy actually. Go to your local Senator and Congressman. Use the time you would be reading on these shut down sites on the web today to make phone calls. FLOOD their switchboard. Email them. Repeatedly. I repeat: flood the congressional and senatorial switchboards and servers with your voice.
Senators and Congressmen are YOUR voice in government. They are the voice that speaks for you . You Elected them for their promise to WORK FOR YOU. CALL IN YOUR MARKER. Demand that they listen to you and NOT pass this Lobbyist created and driven bill.
Go to https://www.google.com/landing/takeaction/ for an easy link for email.
Then today, 18 January, I went to read one of my favorite bloggers, bubblesdeux.com. You can't read her or any of my others reads on that provider today. It's not because they don't want you- but the site is shut down. Along with several other sites shuttered in protest of two "anti-piracy" bills due to come up for a vote in the Senate and Congress soon: SOPA and PIPA.
See - the upshot of these laws is that they are M-15's being used where a flyswatter is much more appropriate. Like most, I despise plagiarism - and I am not one who uses ( or used really ) the multitude of "free share" sites that passed about content that one person sweated and cried over in creating on a site like Napster. I believe that people should be credited for their work, and where there is money to be made - paid.
But, like many things this Senate and Congress decide to enact, there are serious concerns as to who is their "information guru". And, how much of the issue do they really understand? From my vantage point, like many things, this law is far too broad in scope as written, and far too non-specific in its working. When any moron with a wild hair across his ass can point and scream "violation" ( much like the robot with the vacuum hose arms waving and shouting Danger Will Robinson! Danger! Danger! ) this particular law, should it pass the 'legislative follies' and become law, will be just as effective in a real sense - and not nearly as quotable.
Who am I to contest or complain? Let's see. I am a long term resident of these United States. Fully versed in the thought that I will not have some random moron decide what I can read, see, buy, speak on or even look into. The web is my entertainment and a door to social interaction, it gives me facts and news and lets me connect with friends and family. It has become my encyclopaedia in multiple volumes - with endless options for sourcing and differing degress of veracity that all can and do combine to keep me amused, informed, confused, laughing, crying but most of all, connected to information and opinions. This law threatens to remove that ability by punishing not those who choose to use content that is not their own, but the website on which they post the non-credited content.
Like the million dollars in fines to the college students, teens and tweens who got caught up in the Napster stings and suits ( still ongoing, mind ) - this bill goes too far. Go ahead - read it: THE REAL BILL http://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/z?c112:H.R.3261:
Read the information about the bill ( there is tons out there - good and bad). Note that there are good, bad and moronic comments ( some best written by those for whom a muzzle should be required daywear ) - but people CAN have a say AND you can read it. I'm not so sure that will be the case should this law pass.
But- after reading the law, and looking around - you can decide for yourself. If you favour an entire site being shut down for one person's inability or unwillingness to credit content is machine gunning a fly. Collateral damages everywhere, and the price, like with all collateral damage - far too high.
Want to be heard? It's easy actually. Go to your local Senator and Congressman. Use the time you would be reading on these shut down sites on the web today to make phone calls. FLOOD their switchboard. Email them. Repeatedly. I repeat: flood the congressional and senatorial switchboards and servers with your voice.
Senators and Congressmen are YOUR voice in government. They are the voice that speaks for you . You Elected them for their promise to WORK FOR YOU. CALL IN YOUR MARKER. Demand that they listen to you and NOT pass this Lobbyist created and driven bill.
Go to https://www.google.com/landing/takeaction/ for an easy link for email.
PLEASE!
21 December, 2011
Think of yourself as a Chicken...
Yes, a real chicken - the kind that lays eggs or fries up so neatly. Essentially, what few of us realize and all of us experience is that curious moment, in the coop, when the cannibalistic nature of the species comes to light. And while you have been happily wandering about in the belief that everyone you encounter is honest and without agenda, with your rose coloured glasses - you fail to see that you are leaking blood from every orifice, and the natives are restless.
There used to be ( and perhaps still is - I'm not up on my chicken facts ) a large market for 'Rose Coloured Glasses' for chickens. This is real.
It's a real photo. It's a wooden chicken. But yes- they are quite "hot" items for collectors of the 'oddities' of farm equipment. But, most importantly - it keeps the chickens from devouring themselves, and each other. Because they are cannibals, and the sight of blood sends them into a frenzy, and the rose tint removes the 'red' contrast.
It's not so easy on the internet. While it is a wonderful tool, and can connect you with people from all over - it also can, and does, create a wonderful sense of 'remove'. Those who ascribe to the theory that the person behind the words you read is little more than a cardboard cutout, with little value and lesser emotions than the displays at the liquor store you find hurt feelings, improper impressions, and callous words.
See - this is not my first ride on the merry go round of blogging. Those of you who read back see that I have blogged before - both in a similar venue to this and ( be prepared to be shocked here ) at a sex site. No - I wasn't offering hints and tips on what position or technique will help you 'keep the excitement' - I was writing what felt right at the moment. What amused, intrigued, angered or even needed to be said. And there is feedback there - lots of feedback. Which makes it addictive, because at heart I like the attention. We all do when we sit down to write.
And I entered the fray being over confident in my ability to sort out the 'fakes' and 'trolls' from the legitimate people. Those people who were looking for another outlet or venue where the F-word was not taboo...
Fortunately, after many stops and starts I found that key group - those people who you just know that were you to sit down for coffee the conversation and discussion could last for hours.
But what few talk about honestly is those people who are there for a single reason, and since it is integrally tied to their ego and view of their place in this world, everything, literally everything is wrapped up in your walking lock step with them, affirming their every move ( even the horrendous ones ) and for this writer the worst offense: making thoughtless comments that neither relate to what has been written or add a damn thing to the conversation.
What we often fail to realize as readers is that while it does feel like a conversation with the writer, we are not privy to those oh so intimate tells that we have in real life, tone, facial expression, body language, even whether or not someone will meet your eyes. While the words may bring you to tears at the horror of the scene, you don't know if the intention was simply to retell a story OR to create a sense of sympathetic openness in the readers one is cultivating. Because in the mind of some, any attention is positive - keep them patting me on the head and I can continue to behave abominably because 'I've had it rough'. I don't want to sound harsh or even dismissive of the natural and real ( and in my mind GOOD ) stirrings of empathy and perhaps pity and even admiration.
And yes - there is a point...
We all, those who blog; imagine, dream and fancy ourselves as facile and competent with our manipulations of the written word. We read, see, relive and even imagine scenarios and scenes in our daily lives with a mental note ( or perhaps a jotting with a real pen to real paper ) "I must develop that idea". And sometimes we do it extraordinarily well. Exhibiting skills to rival Shakespeare in his facility with setting tone, scene and emotion. Bringing you in, and making you see as we do. Other times it's a near miss, and still others litter the floor with crumpled bits and half formed ideas.
I'm just expanding to spend more energy in this exercise called writing in spaces where the coop isn't so crowded and the chickens don't require the rose tints.
There used to be ( and perhaps still is - I'm not up on my chicken facts ) a large market for 'Rose Coloured Glasses' for chickens. This is real.
It's a real photo. It's a wooden chicken. But yes- they are quite "hot" items for collectors of the 'oddities' of farm equipment. But, most importantly - it keeps the chickens from devouring themselves, and each other. Because they are cannibals, and the sight of blood sends them into a frenzy, and the rose tint removes the 'red' contrast.
It's not so easy on the internet. While it is a wonderful tool, and can connect you with people from all over - it also can, and does, create a wonderful sense of 'remove'. Those who ascribe to the theory that the person behind the words you read is little more than a cardboard cutout, with little value and lesser emotions than the displays at the liquor store you find hurt feelings, improper impressions, and callous words.
See - this is not my first ride on the merry go round of blogging. Those of you who read back see that I have blogged before - both in a similar venue to this and ( be prepared to be shocked here ) at a sex site. No - I wasn't offering hints and tips on what position or technique will help you 'keep the excitement' - I was writing what felt right at the moment. What amused, intrigued, angered or even needed to be said. And there is feedback there - lots of feedback. Which makes it addictive, because at heart I like the attention. We all do when we sit down to write.
And I entered the fray being over confident in my ability to sort out the 'fakes' and 'trolls' from the legitimate people. Those people who were looking for another outlet or venue where the F-word was not taboo...
Fortunately, after many stops and starts I found that key group - those people who you just know that were you to sit down for coffee the conversation and discussion could last for hours.
But what few talk about honestly is those people who are there for a single reason, and since it is integrally tied to their ego and view of their place in this world, everything, literally everything is wrapped up in your walking lock step with them, affirming their every move ( even the horrendous ones ) and for this writer the worst offense: making thoughtless comments that neither relate to what has been written or add a damn thing to the conversation.
What we often fail to realize as readers is that while it does feel like a conversation with the writer, we are not privy to those oh so intimate tells that we have in real life, tone, facial expression, body language, even whether or not someone will meet your eyes. While the words may bring you to tears at the horror of the scene, you don't know if the intention was simply to retell a story OR to create a sense of sympathetic openness in the readers one is cultivating. Because in the mind of some, any attention is positive - keep them patting me on the head and I can continue to behave abominably because 'I've had it rough'. I don't want to sound harsh or even dismissive of the natural and real ( and in my mind GOOD ) stirrings of empathy and perhaps pity and even admiration.
And yes - there is a point...
We all, those who blog; imagine, dream and fancy ourselves as facile and competent with our manipulations of the written word. We read, see, relive and even imagine scenarios and scenes in our daily lives with a mental note ( or perhaps a jotting with a real pen to real paper ) "I must develop that idea". And sometimes we do it extraordinarily well. Exhibiting skills to rival Shakespeare in his facility with setting tone, scene and emotion. Bringing you in, and making you see as we do. Other times it's a near miss, and still others litter the floor with crumpled bits and half formed ideas.
I'm just expanding to spend more energy in this exercise called writing in spaces where the coop isn't so crowded and the chickens don't require the rose tints.
11 December, 2011
That tiger is only partially housebroken ...
This post has been 'brewing' for a couple of weeks. And recent events where I live brought it all into a focus that I hadn't had previously.
A seven year old girl was abducted, raped and bludgeoned to death after being snatched between her apartment's playground and the apartment in which she lived. A playground that is, mind you, in full and complete view of at least 50 residents. A playground. Full of children. Most without supervision. Because really, you expect that your child, of school age, is going to be safe a few steps from your door. With other children present.
As is the norm in Georgia - the first instinct is to persecute the parents. What prior history of abuse or neglect, was this child alone frequently, did anyone notice the parents who may or may not have failed to 'watch' their children. And you know what? It's all not important. Not in this situation - because there were 5 or 6 girls of the same age at that playground the moment that child disappeared. The predator just took one. A random one. And whether or not the parents were watching, or cavalier in their attitude is not and should not be the concern. You do not, as a parent, expect that an hour on the swings is dropping your child into the shark tank. Yes, we all know that bad things happen, and can happen. But none of us should be preventing our children from socialization and fun and play because of 'what could' happen.
I say none of us. Which brings up the next piece of this set of thoughts. The reality is that some of us, because we were never protected in the smallest ways as children do always have that moment of pause, where the imagery and memories of being alone, being vulnerable, being 'hung out to dry' with no one to protect or cherish us; what can go wrong is the first thought.
How do you overcome the blows to your psyche when those who should have protected you, should have kept the bogeyman away were the bogeyman. Or at least complicit by leaving you there to be damaged, alone and unprotected? How do you learn that everyone isn't that way? And, more importantly, how do you recover.
See - I know what it is to not be protected. To not matter enough to those who should care, should have some concern where your well being and safety are endangered. One turned a blind eye, one played the bogeyman for years.
While the bogeyman went all maudlin and tried to 'apologize', the continued demeaning manner and dismissive approach, including abusive language and threatening gestures were far more representative of the 'real' reasons. It is said that everyone has their 'come to Jesus' moment as the end is near, and when that end is not so palpable - it is situation normal. Or whatever the 'new normal' in that mass of dysfunction has deteriorated to become.
Yet, the one who failed to protect - has yet to even acknowledge a complicity in the mess that I was to become. And, in some ways still am. I don't believe in the 'apology' - for it won't rewrite history and years of ignoring, retaliatory acts or even the words spoken in anger. But - it would be nice to see that they at least made the attempt to see where they were wrong.
And I won't hold my breath.
See - I realized that the only person in all of that family dynamic I can count on is myself. I cannot necessarily overcome the pile of garbage that smashes down my esteem. I can revel in the good things that are said and that I accomplish. And I can learn. Learn to control that tiger that is buried within, who can fiercely protect hers. And the "hers" is really not important to list - because like a cat, I have made a marking, a claiming on things that strike a chord with me. Things that are important to me. And I shall, will and do defend it.
Sometimes that defense is all on me. It's my feelings of impending loss or readjustment to the way I see things, the feeling that something is 'missing' and the desperate struggle to regain that which I thought I lost. What I most often realize is that I never lost it in the first place - I just failed to see that things were changing. And one day I woke up. And panicked. Thus started the scramble. And the obsession with my role, my part in the change. And you know what? That sort of stuff is what sticks with you, and can colour the 'having' from that point forward. Even when things are lost there is something that I learned. I think. I hope.
Other times, I am just a tiger. There is no thought involved, everything is running on pure instinct and reacting to all of the piles of stuff in the backroom of my life. The pieces that most days I leave unexamined and sorted neatly into the piles it took years to create. Reacting not being proactive. Defensive and scared, backed into a corner and lashing out and forward. Forgetting my boundaries, both physical and mental, and trying to take back something that may not have really been lost in the first place...just in case.
It used to be the 'usual' reaction to all things. Not even remotely attractive, and as I look back, I see just how much it hampered my life. Then, I learned about measured risk, and boundaries. I learned that defensive and offensive are nothing more than saloon doors that allow all the good to slip out when you are otherwise occupied.
And I haven't yet been able to totally control that tiger. Some call it ego and superego and self esteem all roiling together for control. Control of reactions, actions and moods. Mine is now far more a paper tiger that is full of sparkly bits and dark shadows, not yet balanced but not so scary. And, funnily enough, even less important to the who I am now, and the who I have yet to become than I ever thought possible.
Is it because I acknowledge it that it has become less scary, less shameful to have and struggle with? Or, has my growth and time spent sorting that backroom of psyche and 'what came before' into manageable piles of 'dealt with' and 'yet to touch' made my control much better? I don't think I have an answer for that yet. And maybe never. Because that's how the gods work. It's not important that you know the why, but that you can manage the what, and function in ever improving ways each day.
A seven year old girl was abducted, raped and bludgeoned to death after being snatched between her apartment's playground and the apartment in which she lived. A playground that is, mind you, in full and complete view of at least 50 residents. A playground. Full of children. Most without supervision. Because really, you expect that your child, of school age, is going to be safe a few steps from your door. With other children present.
As is the norm in Georgia - the first instinct is to persecute the parents. What prior history of abuse or neglect, was this child alone frequently, did anyone notice the parents who may or may not have failed to 'watch' their children. And you know what? It's all not important. Not in this situation - because there were 5 or 6 girls of the same age at that playground the moment that child disappeared. The predator just took one. A random one. And whether or not the parents were watching, or cavalier in their attitude is not and should not be the concern. You do not, as a parent, expect that an hour on the swings is dropping your child into the shark tank. Yes, we all know that bad things happen, and can happen. But none of us should be preventing our children from socialization and fun and play because of 'what could' happen.
I say none of us. Which brings up the next piece of this set of thoughts. The reality is that some of us, because we were never protected in the smallest ways as children do always have that moment of pause, where the imagery and memories of being alone, being vulnerable, being 'hung out to dry' with no one to protect or cherish us; what can go wrong is the first thought.
How do you overcome the blows to your psyche when those who should have protected you, should have kept the bogeyman away were the bogeyman. Or at least complicit by leaving you there to be damaged, alone and unprotected? How do you learn that everyone isn't that way? And, more importantly, how do you recover.
See - I know what it is to not be protected. To not matter enough to those who should care, should have some concern where your well being and safety are endangered. One turned a blind eye, one played the bogeyman for years.
While the bogeyman went all maudlin and tried to 'apologize', the continued demeaning manner and dismissive approach, including abusive language and threatening gestures were far more representative of the 'real' reasons. It is said that everyone has their 'come to Jesus' moment as the end is near, and when that end is not so palpable - it is situation normal. Or whatever the 'new normal' in that mass of dysfunction has deteriorated to become.
Yet, the one who failed to protect - has yet to even acknowledge a complicity in the mess that I was to become. And, in some ways still am. I don't believe in the 'apology' - for it won't rewrite history and years of ignoring, retaliatory acts or even the words spoken in anger. But - it would be nice to see that they at least made the attempt to see where they were wrong.
And I won't hold my breath.
See - I realized that the only person in all of that family dynamic I can count on is myself. I cannot necessarily overcome the pile of garbage that smashes down my esteem. I can revel in the good things that are said and that I accomplish. And I can learn. Learn to control that tiger that is buried within, who can fiercely protect hers. And the "hers" is really not important to list - because like a cat, I have made a marking, a claiming on things that strike a chord with me. Things that are important to me. And I shall, will and do defend it.
Sometimes that defense is all on me. It's my feelings of impending loss or readjustment to the way I see things, the feeling that something is 'missing' and the desperate struggle to regain that which I thought I lost. What I most often realize is that I never lost it in the first place - I just failed to see that things were changing. And one day I woke up. And panicked. Thus started the scramble. And the obsession with my role, my part in the change. And you know what? That sort of stuff is what sticks with you, and can colour the 'having' from that point forward. Even when things are lost there is something that I learned. I think. I hope.
Other times, I am just a tiger. There is no thought involved, everything is running on pure instinct and reacting to all of the piles of stuff in the backroom of my life. The pieces that most days I leave unexamined and sorted neatly into the piles it took years to create. Reacting not being proactive. Defensive and scared, backed into a corner and lashing out and forward. Forgetting my boundaries, both physical and mental, and trying to take back something that may not have really been lost in the first place...just in case.
It used to be the 'usual' reaction to all things. Not even remotely attractive, and as I look back, I see just how much it hampered my life. Then, I learned about measured risk, and boundaries. I learned that defensive and offensive are nothing more than saloon doors that allow all the good to slip out when you are otherwise occupied.
And I haven't yet been able to totally control that tiger. Some call it ego and superego and self esteem all roiling together for control. Control of reactions, actions and moods. Mine is now far more a paper tiger that is full of sparkly bits and dark shadows, not yet balanced but not so scary. And, funnily enough, even less important to the who I am now, and the who I have yet to become than I ever thought possible.
Is it because I acknowledge it that it has become less scary, less shameful to have and struggle with? Or, has my growth and time spent sorting that backroom of psyche and 'what came before' into manageable piles of 'dealt with' and 'yet to touch' made my control much better? I don't think I have an answer for that yet. And maybe never. Because that's how the gods work. It's not important that you know the why, but that you can manage the what, and function in ever improving ways each day.
06 December, 2011
My Label? Comes with a Surgeon General's Warning ...
In reading the comments to the last post on labels, I learned several interesting things. Apparently, as a general rule: people don't want to be labeled. I don't see them as a bad thing, not until you are tasked to create one for yourself, or if that is the ONLY measure by which you quantify and define the people you meet.
For me, the labels are simply a shorthand. It's not perfect, never was meant to be. But just as some surnames come as a result of professions of forefathers ( Cooper, Baker, Smith ), sometimes a label can carry something positive forward.
I think that we tend to rail most against the 'idea' of being labeled, as if that simple word or set of words will then define who we are and confine our possibilities to a little box. That in some way, a label will haunt you, or discourage you from exploring options. And, when one is given a particularly heinous label, it can ( and often does ) make you rethink your approach. Or it does for me.
Lately, what amuses me is the "troublemaker" addendum that has been added to references about me by different groups. See, you get those sorts of additions when you either refuse to play the reindeer games, or are questioning an opinion that someone holds so clearly as a spoon fed belief that their little brains explode from the contradictions. And the fact that I, as most sentient beings should do, am able to and open to reevaluating my position and ideas about any one thing am not above saying "I was wrong" or "I never saw it that way" is somehow an anathema to their views on the world, so much so that my admission of my mistakes is a personal and direct attack that somehow will send their world spinning into oblivion.
It's amazing to be so powerful and omnipotent. I assume dictators get that same rush. Then I realize, I'm really NOT that important. I am someone who simply enjoys learning and evaluation and discussion. And I like people who enjoy the same things. I understand that ideas simply are - and that there are no crimes committed when people discuss ideas and options. But, things do break down and go all pear shaped when people start to dissemble and deny, or start to judge and limit ideas, behaviours and people simply because they can't engage in a similar manner. Oh - and when they can't remember what they did or said a week, a month or a year ago ... and how it directly conflicts with what they are saying now. And get angry when that simple issue is pointed out.
See - labels, to me aren't the issue. It's the people who are all too involved with or concerned with stuffing me into that little box covered with their determinations and labels. I don't think that you can neatly package anyone, tick off all the boxes that is them, in a single adjective.
And, somewhere in there - if you are all to concerned with rebelling against being labeled rather than seeing if those labels can somehow, in some small way, effect the way you do things or approach people ....maybe they could be seen as something helpful?
It's how I'm trying to see them.
For me, the labels are simply a shorthand. It's not perfect, never was meant to be. But just as some surnames come as a result of professions of forefathers ( Cooper, Baker, Smith ), sometimes a label can carry something positive forward.
I think that we tend to rail most against the 'idea' of being labeled, as if that simple word or set of words will then define who we are and confine our possibilities to a little box. That in some way, a label will haunt you, or discourage you from exploring options. And, when one is given a particularly heinous label, it can ( and often does ) make you rethink your approach. Or it does for me.
Lately, what amuses me is the "troublemaker" addendum that has been added to references about me by different groups. See, you get those sorts of additions when you either refuse to play the reindeer games, or are questioning an opinion that someone holds so clearly as a spoon fed belief that their little brains explode from the contradictions. And the fact that I, as most sentient beings should do, am able to and open to reevaluating my position and ideas about any one thing am not above saying "I was wrong" or "I never saw it that way" is somehow an anathema to their views on the world, so much so that my admission of my mistakes is a personal and direct attack that somehow will send their world spinning into oblivion.
It's amazing to be so powerful and omnipotent. I assume dictators get that same rush. Then I realize, I'm really NOT that important. I am someone who simply enjoys learning and evaluation and discussion. And I like people who enjoy the same things. I understand that ideas simply are - and that there are no crimes committed when people discuss ideas and options. But, things do break down and go all pear shaped when people start to dissemble and deny, or start to judge and limit ideas, behaviours and people simply because they can't engage in a similar manner. Oh - and when they can't remember what they did or said a week, a month or a year ago ... and how it directly conflicts with what they are saying now. And get angry when that simple issue is pointed out.
See - labels, to me aren't the issue. It's the people who are all too involved with or concerned with stuffing me into that little box covered with their determinations and labels. I don't think that you can neatly package anyone, tick off all the boxes that is them, in a single adjective.
And, somewhere in there - if you are all to concerned with rebelling against being labeled rather than seeing if those labels can somehow, in some small way, effect the way you do things or approach people ....maybe they could be seen as something helpful?
It's how I'm trying to see them.
04 December, 2011
Label you, label me
I've been dancing with this idea for a few days ... lots of people have had different ideas and questions. But really - it all comes to labeling someone or something. See - I think that we have a need in our lives to have some neat little package that explains just what something is. We have a word that both describes and others are able to understand for things: when I use the word 'table', everyone has an idea of what a table is.
But then we get into people. And the labels become more like a loaded die, there are many connotations and emotions tied into words that describe what a person is. See - I can use mother, woman, lover, blonde, caucasian, short-ish, slim-ish .. the list goes on. But, just what those words mean to everyone else - what you get as a 'mind image' and your reaction to that image are all going to be different.
Then we can talk about that famous phase in our lives where we used things to express our 'individuality': the teen years. How some cloaked themselves in long bangs or black, donned 'shocking' ( to our parents ) clothing and accessories, maybe even wore our underwear on the outside. And if you looked around - you would find at least one, and usually several other of your peers expressing themselves and their individuality in exactly the same way.
So, if there isn't something that truly just defines WHO you are - how is it that we are all often far too comfortable and content to try to fit the labels others give, or strive to emulate the ones that we find are most comfortable for us to adopt as some sort of personal mantra? We've all seen the people who seek to convince us of their superiority and good fit to a label .. those who are constantly and consistently telling us how wonderful, sexy, smart, enlightened, researched, open minded, whatever positive you find. And we have seen people who truly are those things, and they are far more content to just exist quietly - letting their actions and selves just BE the word.
It all sprung from a set of posts from the Urban Dictionary - put your name in, and see what comes up. But, mine - wasn't there. Oh sure - sound the same but spelled differently .. and about seven million entries for Ashley and all of it's spelling variants - but none for mine. So a suggestion was posed - that I write my own. And you know what - it's damnably difficult to do. Because it means either completely expounding on every word so the connotations are removed, or accepting labels as they come - with connotations. And then - what about the pieces that aren't so wonderful - those pieces of me that I am still trying to organize and either change or decide how their outwardly negative feel ( to me ) can actually be something of use and value?
And - overcoming my initial knee jerk reaction to being labeled in the first place.
I know they are handy. I know that we all have this internal shorthand that puts people we encounter into little outlines - that we sort them into 'not interested' to 'has potential' to 'impressed' and all of those other little spaces that keep our need for having some sort of communal language to define one person to another. It's my table theorem. That someone can say of me ____ -- and immediately everyone understands. Or at least is close to the same idea.
And, it's far easier to admit that while I don't like being labeled - I want to have one that is so accurate and feels so right that everyone who hears it has a similar idea.
And then - it dawned on me. I had one of those. A few simple words that said it all.
I am human.
But then we get into people. And the labels become more like a loaded die, there are many connotations and emotions tied into words that describe what a person is. See - I can use mother, woman, lover, blonde, caucasian, short-ish, slim-ish .. the list goes on. But, just what those words mean to everyone else - what you get as a 'mind image' and your reaction to that image are all going to be different.
Then we can talk about that famous phase in our lives where we used things to express our 'individuality': the teen years. How some cloaked themselves in long bangs or black, donned 'shocking' ( to our parents ) clothing and accessories, maybe even wore our underwear on the outside. And if you looked around - you would find at least one, and usually several other of your peers expressing themselves and their individuality in exactly the same way.
So, if there isn't something that truly just defines WHO you are - how is it that we are all often far too comfortable and content to try to fit the labels others give, or strive to emulate the ones that we find are most comfortable for us to adopt as some sort of personal mantra? We've all seen the people who seek to convince us of their superiority and good fit to a label .. those who are constantly and consistently telling us how wonderful, sexy, smart, enlightened, researched, open minded, whatever positive you find. And we have seen people who truly are those things, and they are far more content to just exist quietly - letting their actions and selves just BE the word.
It all sprung from a set of posts from the Urban Dictionary - put your name in, and see what comes up. But, mine - wasn't there. Oh sure - sound the same but spelled differently .. and about seven million entries for Ashley and all of it's spelling variants - but none for mine. So a suggestion was posed - that I write my own. And you know what - it's damnably difficult to do. Because it means either completely expounding on every word so the connotations are removed, or accepting labels as they come - with connotations. And then - what about the pieces that aren't so wonderful - those pieces of me that I am still trying to organize and either change or decide how their outwardly negative feel ( to me ) can actually be something of use and value?
And - overcoming my initial knee jerk reaction to being labeled in the first place.
I know they are handy. I know that we all have this internal shorthand that puts people we encounter into little outlines - that we sort them into 'not interested' to 'has potential' to 'impressed' and all of those other little spaces that keep our need for having some sort of communal language to define one person to another. It's my table theorem. That someone can say of me ____ -- and immediately everyone understands. Or at least is close to the same idea.
And, it's far easier to admit that while I don't like being labeled - I want to have one that is so accurate and feels so right that everyone who hears it has a similar idea.
And then - it dawned on me. I had one of those. A few simple words that said it all.
I am human.
21 November, 2011
Fuzzy teeth?
Groggily he awoke to the announcer exclaiming the perfection of a
ball landing. Rolling toward the table, he picked up his dentures which
prtially obscured the cover of a National Geograpic with some large cat
featured. A puzzled look crosses his brow, as he thought he had placed
the teeth next to the Pepsi glass. Slowly arising, he places his teeth into
their intended orafice, runs a hand through his rumpled hair and heads toward
the voices he hears in the next room. From around the corner she spots
him, t-shirt untucked, chinos in a state of dishabille guaranteed to make a
plumber proud. His eyes scan the group, noting that the sheltie pups were
piled in various states of sleep, their mother watching over them. A
conversation revolving around the lesson just completed, the control and
flexion work necessary for the coming week; was under way. His daughter,
clad in black riding tights, with little flecks of horsehair over her legs, was
listenting intently. Her hair showed signs of being captured under a
helmet, an overly large t-shirt, hole in the shoulder due to an errant pair of
Morgan teeth searching for snacks, was curled on a chair, drinking water.
Her instructor (and owner of 3 of the 4 pups, and their mother) was
demonstrating with her hands; drawing concentric circles on the table with her
fingertip in an ever-increasing radius. The only person to notice him was his
wife, who quickly picked up her coffee cup, masking all expression.
He clears his throat, then states "my teeth are furry. I know I put them by my glass, but when I just woke up, they were moved, and are now furry". To this he recieved no respose, had he been more awake, or focused, he would have noticed the quick glances exchanged by the three at the table. The girl quickly reached for her glass, ducking her head and concentrating on the liquid contained wthin. He repeats the first statement, sounding not ulike Sherlock Holmes without the accent, and adds "would anyone know how they came to be this way? Or, better yet, who is going to tell me what happened?". Three pairs of human eyes turn toward him, and Follie (the mother of the pups) raises her head to look at him as well. The pups, alerted into movement by the new voice in the room, lift their heads sleepily, first to their mom, then to him, then proceed to chew on each other, as puppies will. The only voice to break the silence was Sue, "I'm sorry Larry, what did you just say?". Perfect combinations of concern, politeness and innocence captured in her voice, impressive demonstration of control. His wife merely glanced up at him, over the rim of her mug. As the pups were stirring and venturing in search of more trouble, as one went to the girl, and proceeded to pull on the ankle of her sock, smelling as it did of horses. The girl, avoiding all eye contact, leaned over to play with the pup, goading the others into displays of one-upmanship and jealousy.
Hitching up his pants with a loud sigh, and some muttered comments to which the clear words were collusion and liars, he bent down to the Follie: "anything you have to say about this Fee dog?" he asked her. Her response, in the way of Shelties, was simply to huff out a noise sounding faintly reminiscent of 'hamburger'. "I am going to get to the bottom of this, and one of you will tell me how this happened" he stated in a sharp voice. Instant images of deerstalker caps and magnifying glasses popped into my head, and a small giggle escaped my lips. He immediately turned to me, the full force of his inspection and anger centred on that giggle. "I'm laughing because you asked the dog for an answer; not only is that laughable, but futile. Perhaps if you rethought your part in this, leaving your teeth out which is just so totally gross", emphasizing this point by a complete look of disgust "you too would find it funny". "Just what part did you play in this?" he asked in an ever-increasing tone.
The interrogations continued, similar to those performed by the SS or Gestapo in wartime, his focus so narrow and intent that each denial was treated with increasing disbelief and scorn. The only props missing were a blinding light, manacles to tie the interrogated to the chairs and the constant "thwack, thwack" as the riding crop hit the side of the tall boots. Neither Sue nor his wife cracked however, and the whole display of his dominance and logical methods of dedcution were reduced to nil. A pathetic display of a man, shabbily clad, circling in his own incompetance and impotency.
Horses cared for, I returned with the pups to find him again, napping on the sofa, teeth next tothe Pepsi glass. Immune to his constant displays of disgustingness that only a thirteen year old can see, I sighed, reached down to scritch Magoo behind the ears, coaxing him back to the room in which Sue and my mother sat. A decision was made to load up the car, and the three of us would head over to the ice cream stand, with the dogs. Loaded up, dogs in various positions over and around me in the back, my mother and Sue in the front, Sue driving the car erupted with hysterical laughter as we left the driveway.
Sue catches my eye in the rear-view mirror, "well Watson, shall we break down the chain of events?"
Not three hours before, after a very long and protracted play session involving snacking on horse manure, chasing brooms, and running in circles during my lesson, the pups were settled into a nap. We were going over the same lesson, drinking water and coffee, and discussing the work to come. Into the room entered Magoo, the mischievious pup, withe the largest smile known to dogdom. He marched in proudly, head held high, tail wagging, a little spring in his step, and a complete pair of dentures dellicately grasped in his teeth ...smiley side out. After smothering the laughter and recovering the teeth, my mother gently placed them back on the table, not near the Pepsi glass, but on the National Geographic. The mystery was solved, and I can still laugh like a fool when I picture the puppy smiling at us.
He clears his throat, then states "my teeth are furry. I know I put them by my glass, but when I just woke up, they were moved, and are now furry". To this he recieved no respose, had he been more awake, or focused, he would have noticed the quick glances exchanged by the three at the table. The girl quickly reached for her glass, ducking her head and concentrating on the liquid contained wthin. He repeats the first statement, sounding not ulike Sherlock Holmes without the accent, and adds "would anyone know how they came to be this way? Or, better yet, who is going to tell me what happened?". Three pairs of human eyes turn toward him, and Follie (the mother of the pups) raises her head to look at him as well. The pups, alerted into movement by the new voice in the room, lift their heads sleepily, first to their mom, then to him, then proceed to chew on each other, as puppies will. The only voice to break the silence was Sue, "I'm sorry Larry, what did you just say?". Perfect combinations of concern, politeness and innocence captured in her voice, impressive demonstration of control. His wife merely glanced up at him, over the rim of her mug. As the pups were stirring and venturing in search of more trouble, as one went to the girl, and proceeded to pull on the ankle of her sock, smelling as it did of horses. The girl, avoiding all eye contact, leaned over to play with the pup, goading the others into displays of one-upmanship and jealousy.
Hitching up his pants with a loud sigh, and some muttered comments to which the clear words were collusion and liars, he bent down to the Follie: "anything you have to say about this Fee dog?" he asked her. Her response, in the way of Shelties, was simply to huff out a noise sounding faintly reminiscent of 'hamburger'. "I am going to get to the bottom of this, and one of you will tell me how this happened" he stated in a sharp voice. Instant images of deerstalker caps and magnifying glasses popped into my head, and a small giggle escaped my lips. He immediately turned to me, the full force of his inspection and anger centred on that giggle. "I'm laughing because you asked the dog for an answer; not only is that laughable, but futile. Perhaps if you rethought your part in this, leaving your teeth out which is just so totally gross", emphasizing this point by a complete look of disgust "you too would find it funny". "Just what part did you play in this?" he asked in an ever-increasing tone.
The interrogations continued, similar to those performed by the SS or Gestapo in wartime, his focus so narrow and intent that each denial was treated with increasing disbelief and scorn. The only props missing were a blinding light, manacles to tie the interrogated to the chairs and the constant "thwack, thwack" as the riding crop hit the side of the tall boots. Neither Sue nor his wife cracked however, and the whole display of his dominance and logical methods of dedcution were reduced to nil. A pathetic display of a man, shabbily clad, circling in his own incompetance and impotency.
Horses cared for, I returned with the pups to find him again, napping on the sofa, teeth next tothe Pepsi glass. Immune to his constant displays of disgustingness that only a thirteen year old can see, I sighed, reached down to scritch Magoo behind the ears, coaxing him back to the room in which Sue and my mother sat. A decision was made to load up the car, and the three of us would head over to the ice cream stand, with the dogs. Loaded up, dogs in various positions over and around me in the back, my mother and Sue in the front, Sue driving the car erupted with hysterical laughter as we left the driveway.
Sue catches my eye in the rear-view mirror, "well Watson, shall we break down the chain of events?"
Not three hours before, after a very long and protracted play session involving snacking on horse manure, chasing brooms, and running in circles during my lesson, the pups were settled into a nap. We were going over the same lesson, drinking water and coffee, and discussing the work to come. Into the room entered Magoo, the mischievious pup, withe the largest smile known to dogdom. He marched in proudly, head held high, tail wagging, a little spring in his step, and a complete pair of dentures dellicately grasped in his teeth ...smiley side out. After smothering the laughter and recovering the teeth, my mother gently placed them back on the table, not near the Pepsi glass, but on the National Geographic. The mystery was solved, and I can still laugh like a fool when I picture the puppy smiling at us.
20 November, 2011
I am a thief ...
Oh not of anything interesting. No, I don't have the missing millions from Iraq, or the paintings from the Gardiner Museum. I don't even have a real grasp on where Rick Perry's brain cell went to die.
But, a thief I am nonetheless.
Emotions, phrases, experiences, trials, tribulations. All of these I steal from those I know and encounter. Not to take them away - but to stash them into this little box of "fodder", to be mulled over in quiet times. Perhaps to include in a story or an idea, that moment of triumph that spurs on a coincidental fearless jolt of energy within me.
See, I am a writer. Sure, at the moment I am using the word, unadorned and perhaps a bit softer than the other I am's that I could announce.
But, despite it's being smaller, and somehow "less" it is none of those in import or investment from my perspective.
As I come to grips with using that as one of the many labels that I can whip out at any moment to give a small descriptive of "who I am"; I also have learned that thief is possibly the one thing that best fits that new me, as it can fit any who have been "writers" before or since.
The sum total of everything I read, hear, see and do is also somehow, somewhere informing the words I put down here that you, hopefully, read. And, when something seems familiar, a turn of phrase or the outlines of a situation you encountered you will look back and realize that writers of fiction and fancy are,
above all,
thieves.
But, a thief I am nonetheless.
Emotions, phrases, experiences, trials, tribulations. All of these I steal from those I know and encounter. Not to take them away - but to stash them into this little box of "fodder", to be mulled over in quiet times. Perhaps to include in a story or an idea, that moment of triumph that spurs on a coincidental fearless jolt of energy within me.
See, I am a writer. Sure, at the moment I am using the word, unadorned and perhaps a bit softer than the other I am's that I could announce.
But, despite it's being smaller, and somehow "less" it is none of those in import or investment from my perspective.
As I come to grips with using that as one of the many labels that I can whip out at any moment to give a small descriptive of "who I am"; I also have learned that thief is possibly the one thing that best fits that new me, as it can fit any who have been "writers" before or since.
The sum total of everything I read, hear, see and do is also somehow, somewhere informing the words I put down here that you, hopefully, read. And, when something seems familiar, a turn of phrase or the outlines of a situation you encountered you will look back and realize that writers of fiction and fancy are,
above all,
thieves.
06 November, 2011
Stepping from ennui
It is a curious facet of this thing, this drive to write. Ennui does raise it's ugly head far more often than it should. Ennui. Great word. That 'meh' feeling with everything. Funny that it is only a 'meh' feeling with writing. Writing something worth committing to paper. Writing something that makes me understand better the compulsion to put it on paper. For it is a compulsion for me sometimes I think. There are multiple times a day I think 'that would be good to write one'. Mull it over for some time, create a line that encapsulates the feeling.
But then comes the time to commit. To take that thought and run with it. Not a huge fan of the 'edit' or the prewrite - often my first step in dancing with a topic is to open the "Create a Post' window and tap away at the keys. More often than not, of late, the window was just as quickly closed for lack of interest after a few paragraphs were tapped out.
Tapped out. That is exactly how it's felt of late. No interest. No real sense of purpose. Putting it all down and out there feels so self pitying and attention seeking. But - it's real. It's there. That who cares and why should they.
Then I realized. The who, well - it has to be me. That if I want to make something of an idea, that the process, the thought, the writing, the taking the step is what is really the important bit.
The rest will come. Or maybe it won't. But, I'll never know if I don't take that step...
Away from Ennui
But then comes the time to commit. To take that thought and run with it. Not a huge fan of the 'edit' or the prewrite - often my first step in dancing with a topic is to open the "Create a Post' window and tap away at the keys. More often than not, of late, the window was just as quickly closed for lack of interest after a few paragraphs were tapped out.
Tapped out. That is exactly how it's felt of late. No interest. No real sense of purpose. Putting it all down and out there feels so self pitying and attention seeking. But - it's real. It's there. That who cares and why should they.
Then I realized. The who, well - it has to be me. That if I want to make something of an idea, that the process, the thought, the writing, the taking the step is what is really the important bit.
The rest will come. Or maybe it won't. But, I'll never know if I don't take that step...
Away from Ennui
19 October, 2011
Can I please complete a thought?
Yeah. That's a real problem. Over at the other space - everyone is rehashing their justifications, pointing fingers and well ... enjoying their not being in the spotlight. Truth for all of them seems to be a malleable concept. As long as their "truth" is not in the spotlight - or bits are uncovered that conflict with their portrayal of self ... they are silent. Or behind the scenes gleefully rubbing hands and cackling.
What's the most interesting part of all of this is the idea of persona. We all have to agree and recognize that we are only portraying and sharing a part of the essential who we are in our writing. That as true to ourselves we try to be, and as descriptive and concise with the words we choose - everyone, literally every person who reads this has a different opinion of who I am.
Some are quite close to who I actually am - but, my dirty secret is that I am ( and always have been ) far more focused and well-spoken in the written word than in person. Sure - there is editing, but I don't use it that often. I like the shape and the flow of words in the written form, that connection and focus of just getting the thought out there, without interruption, that allow me to stay focused and optimize my time. In person, I am quite quiet, and oh so easily distracted, one thought leads to another - or I can pick up a word and have a whole parallel and completely unconnected series of thoughts, words and sentences about that. So the written me is the 'best' version of the spoken me - the thoughts are the same - just better organized.
It's this dichotomy that has led me to toss away more ideas than I have kept. Or to stall out midway through the idea, and since I am one who doesn't often spend time writing before I log into my blog and write - I have to have my idea pretty well flushed out and thought through before tapping away to the keyboard.
So - take this as a small placeholder as an "I am thinking" and will have something worth writing about soon.
I hope.
Perhaps when my muse returns from her world tour.
What's the most interesting part of all of this is the idea of persona. We all have to agree and recognize that we are only portraying and sharing a part of the essential who we are in our writing. That as true to ourselves we try to be, and as descriptive and concise with the words we choose - everyone, literally every person who reads this has a different opinion of who I am.
Some are quite close to who I actually am - but, my dirty secret is that I am ( and always have been ) far more focused and well-spoken in the written word than in person. Sure - there is editing, but I don't use it that often. I like the shape and the flow of words in the written form, that connection and focus of just getting the thought out there, without interruption, that allow me to stay focused and optimize my time. In person, I am quite quiet, and oh so easily distracted, one thought leads to another - or I can pick up a word and have a whole parallel and completely unconnected series of thoughts, words and sentences about that. So the written me is the 'best' version of the spoken me - the thoughts are the same - just better organized.
It's this dichotomy that has led me to toss away more ideas than I have kept. Or to stall out midway through the idea, and since I am one who doesn't often spend time writing before I log into my blog and write - I have to have my idea pretty well flushed out and thought through before tapping away to the keyboard.
So - take this as a small placeholder as an "I am thinking" and will have something worth writing about soon.
I hope.
Perhaps when my muse returns from her world tour.
26 September, 2011
It's a trend ... or something REALLY important
I say that as if I were the arbiter of 'importance'. But really - just how many times does the average rational thoughtful human being need to see the same behaviours repeated almost 'to the template' by a group of others before they speak out?
Today I hit my "critical mass". One more time was once too often. See - there are a group of 'self appointed' masters of the other space I blog at. Funny - on a sex site one would only expect to see master in terms of the dom / sub relationship. But not here. These twits are helpfully providing their superior popular half baked opinions on who one should interact with, how one should interact, what you should write on, and *gasp* all you needed to know ( including personal information ) about the 'people' out there.
The old .. I know better and the 'whole story' so trust me - coming from someone that you only 'know' from the internet. Really? Umm .. can anyone say school days lunchroom anyone?
See - the joy of a site like that is the persona you can create to show the better parts of yourself, or a side that isn't exactly 'ready for primetime television'. But - there are more who actually are just being themselves - learning from the interactions and discovering a place where you can get advice and be heard. It strokes that little place we all have that needs stroking and you know what? It feels GOOD. Yes - I said it .. it feels GOOD when people appreciate what you think and how you express it.
But - to every silver lining - there is a cloud - that thick miasma of agenda and jealousy and liars and control. And they are omnipresent. They even can, and do, ruin the whole tone and tenor of a space if left to run rampant. Mud ALL over the place. And - you could be next. Because - they can. If someone doesn't speak up and say - ENOUGH.
Today I spoke. Not because I particularly care about any in the game. I don't. I just find it completely ironic that the same ones who said it all would be done when they dethroned the 'former queen' are now hot and heavy again. And the targets - the same - dredging up the old stuff - and throwing in some new for obfuscation. Just because they are not exactly repeating the story - just adding details.
I'm tired of being one of those on the sidelines - or one of the 'collateral damage' victims. Thinking that I haven't a need to speak out is akin to watching the neighbours rousted out of their house at 3 am in 1939 Berlin. Just because you aren't on that list today -- you could be tomorrow. There is much being said about kids who are bullied today - and I bring you the genesis ..
Those who are old enough to be their parents, may be their parents - and should know better. Wasn't it Christ who said "Whatever you neglected to do unto one of these least of these, you neglected to do unto Me!" ?
Yeah. I thought so.
25 September, 2011
Yeah yeah yeah ...
It's a curious phenomenon for me - I have literally tons to speak on- yet I can't find the thread that makes things actually feel right. Perhaps this is all somehow woven into the overwhelming cat with cream on it's whiskers that is exactly HOW I feel right now.
Things are good - no - better than good. Solid and settled in this relationship at home. Not in the "oh it's you again" thing, but in that reveling in the enjoyment of each other. Laughing at bad and slightly ok WHOLLY tasteless comments, listening to him sing, and just being. Stupid people don't interfere much in those days. Not really participating in much reading at the other space. I see some 'highlighted' and have an automatic list in my head that gives me possible 'options' for their posts.
Oh - and the 'queen' gave up her crown. **pausing to hand out the airsick bags** Another pathetic ploy to remain relevant while denying all culpability for the fact that she just isn't a very nice or worthwhile human being. OK - perhaps harsh. But - that's me. I'm not alone in my thinking.
17 August, 2011
I've been joking
That my muse went off to Euro Disney and didn't even send back a pair of ears.
I just haven't had the yen to post. Comment, sure. But the overall tenor and tone at the other place has made me rather *meh* on the whole process. I do that far too often .. let the overwhelming attitude of a few miscreants ruin my space..or hamper my desire.
And well, there isn't alot of interesting stuff happening there. Sure - there are those I like to interact with, but the majority are in the same August doldrums that hit me like a semi rushing downhill with no brakes.
Yesterday I actually had the desire to write- to share. And, of course, my internet and phone and connections all went poofy. Some node issue. Fortunately - I am an NPR addict - and love podcasts .. so I had the Apple TV with podcasts loaded and ready for a listen. So I did.
I discovered the real joy in listening to ideas and learning new approaches. I learned that there are people who can clearly define an idea that is truly complex, but make it attainable. I found links to blogs and books and information that I, the true information junkie, had never before seen or explored.
And - I found out that my inherent distaste for some in the 'public forum' is far less based on my thinking they are idiots, but really do have a root that is tangible and logical.
And - I know that listening to more podcasts on a near daily basis will become part of my regular routine....
27 July, 2011
I am a throwback, and I am just fine with that...
So, it's the end of July and I am knitting. I also have an embroidered piece I am working on, a piece of cross stitch and always have some recipe or another going, for dinner or for treats. And, I realized something curious: each and every "home maker" type thing I do, be it cooking or handcrafts or even 'how' I clean has some association with wonderful memories of special women in my life. Women who meant everything to me at one time or another.
Knitting is an easy one. Growing up, every woman I knew knitted. My great aunts, their kids, my mother, and the one who first taught me, a neighbour at my parent's house - who actually was more an additional grandmother to me, and mother to mine. She was always knitting, mittens, sweaters, hats..you name it she knit it. It was fascinating to me to see this string become something warm and soft and comforting. And, the fact that she would let me do it too - magical.
Embroidery and cross stitch was something I learned from a great aunt on the other side of the family. Her entire house was laden with needlepoint and cross stitched pillows, and she always sat with a hoop in her hands, working on the next pieces. I learned on a very small piece, and have completed many, even using the skills to decorate my daughter's clothes when she was little. I still give pieces as baby gifts and wedding presents: including a linen tablecloth and 10 napkins stitched with cherry blossoms for a friend. There is something both relaxing and structured, leaving time to think when working a project..and there are always pieces in the works. Less so of late, but I have floss and cloth, so there may be a set of bookmarks and other bits coming from my fingertips soon.
Cleaning was another thing just learned at a knee. My grandmother always allowed me to follow along and 'help'. I learned how to use simple things like vinegar and newsprint for shine and coarse salt to lift stains. I still prefer to wash my floors 3 times, detergent the first, detergent with water the second, and a third water only ( or with some simple scented oil - usually tea tree ) to take up the last of the soap, make it really clean and add a nice scent to the house. I still can use paste or liquid wax too - and use blutcher's wax on all of the wood here.
Cooking is where I most notice the connections. Not only can it be the most obvious example of nurturing and caring FOR someone, I have tons of recipes directly from my Grandmother that I just 'know' and several more copied from her, or on small cards in her hand. I was just about 2 years old, sitting on the floor of her kitchen as she was kneading bread dough before the final proofing and bake, when she realized that I was reading her recipe book. Up to that point, since I was always around underfoot, she would read the recipe aloud, pointing to the words, and gathering the ingredients, often allowing me to "help" by mixing. That day, by the third ingredient, she realized I was reading her molasses cookie recipe, pages away from the bread she was baking. From that day onward, I was the designated "reader" for the recipes, as I learned to measure, mix and create the wonders that were to be found in her kitchen. To this day, there are some recipes of hers that I use, and I can actually hear her voice, instructing, guiding, encouraging.
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