Have you ever wondered why Americans (and citizens of other nations) have this fascination with reality shows? Just when did it start and why? Isn't life itself enough of a reality show without having to peek voyeuristically into the lives of others? When did the line become crossed between voyeurism into entertainment?
I have so many questions about this strange phenomenon that it is hard to stop typing them.
Why should my attention be drawn to people with physical deformities, people seeking to lose mega-numbers of pounds, single parents with fifty-five children, twelve-hundred ways to lose your own life, people who collect two thousand tissue boxes and refuse to part with any of them......the list could go on and on and on.
In real life, thousands of gallons of crude oil are pumping into the Gulf of Mexico, creating an environmental nightmare of untold proportions; soldiers continue to lose their lives in service to our country; unemployment remains in high numbers, forcing families to make difficult, heart-wrenching decisions; brilliant students have to make decisions regarding where to go to school because their parents are unemployed and have no health insurance.......need I say more?
These types of issues make the public choosing of a future mate on the small screen seem so irrelevant. What genius decided that a suitable wife or husband could be selected, on television, among a stable of studs or a bevy of beauties?
I just do not understand the preoccupation and fascination with what the media refers to as reality shows. Furthermore, whose reality is it? Tell me it is not staged, scripted and choreographed. Broadway has more reality than reality television.
Let's get real here.
Ancora imparo
Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
A Country Of Their Own
The inspiration for this posting came from reading about a book by Michael J. Trinklein, entitled Lost States: True Stories of Texlahoma, Transylvania, and Other States That Never Made It, published by Quirk Books. As I indicated, I have not read the book, I've just read about it but the book review was so enticing, I'll be hoping to get my hands on a copy of the book shortly.
In his book, Trinklein outlines, with map detail, all of the states that were proposed but never made it to the finish line. His subject matter gave rise to a thought of my own, regarding people, groups, or institutions that I think should be organized together into countries of their own. Please read on.
BP Oil: Let's put all of the BP execs, from upper-mid-level to the top, on a large, floating barge, in the oil-stained and ruined Gulf area. Let's see if they can manage a sustainable living in the morass they helped to create. For their principal economic driver, they can rely on environmental waste collection and the currency could be oil-soaked feathers.
Health Insurance Companies: This country should be where the sun seldom shines, perhaps at one pole or the other. The extreme cold would do well to shrink unreasonable salaries, profits, and egos. In this country, all of the employees, from the top to the bottom would be required to carry individual insurance, with at least a $5,000.00 deductible, accompanied by the constant threat of coverage cancellation by themselves! The perfect Catch-22. And, did I mention, all of the exclusions they would endure due to pre-existing conditions?
The entire Illinois State Legislature, governor and upper-level appointed officials: Their country of residence would be simply obvious - put all of them on a cargo ship that has to anchor off the tip of South Africa, where Somali pirates frequent the waters, looking for ships to hijack. The catcher here is that when the Illinois Legislative Floating Cargo Ship is hijacked for ransom, no one could pay it because the state is practically bankrupt. The perfect oxymoron for legislative morons.
Lastly, all of us humans who possess overly abundant amounts of hubris: The problem with placing all hubris-possessed humans in one country is that the weight of the hubris would cause the country to sink, which is why my recommendation would be to hire BP to excavate the city of Atlantis, ostensibly to provide hubristic (my word) people a place of their own to inhabit. The final prognosis: It will never happen. Perhaps there is a nuclear-waste facility that would accept hubristic humans as residents.
Ancora imparo
In his book, Trinklein outlines, with map detail, all of the states that were proposed but never made it to the finish line. His subject matter gave rise to a thought of my own, regarding people, groups, or institutions that I think should be organized together into countries of their own. Please read on.
BP Oil: Let's put all of the BP execs, from upper-mid-level to the top, on a large, floating barge, in the oil-stained and ruined Gulf area. Let's see if they can manage a sustainable living in the morass they helped to create. For their principal economic driver, they can rely on environmental waste collection and the currency could be oil-soaked feathers.
Health Insurance Companies: This country should be where the sun seldom shines, perhaps at one pole or the other. The extreme cold would do well to shrink unreasonable salaries, profits, and egos. In this country, all of the employees, from the top to the bottom would be required to carry individual insurance, with at least a $5,000.00 deductible, accompanied by the constant threat of coverage cancellation by themselves! The perfect Catch-22. And, did I mention, all of the exclusions they would endure due to pre-existing conditions?
The entire Illinois State Legislature, governor and upper-level appointed officials: Their country of residence would be simply obvious - put all of them on a cargo ship that has to anchor off the tip of South Africa, where Somali pirates frequent the waters, looking for ships to hijack. The catcher here is that when the Illinois Legislative Floating Cargo Ship is hijacked for ransom, no one could pay it because the state is practically bankrupt. The perfect oxymoron for legislative morons.
Lastly, all of us humans who possess overly abundant amounts of hubris: The problem with placing all hubris-possessed humans in one country is that the weight of the hubris would cause the country to sink, which is why my recommendation would be to hire BP to excavate the city of Atlantis, ostensibly to provide hubristic (my word) people a place of their own to inhabit. The final prognosis: It will never happen. Perhaps there is a nuclear-waste facility that would accept hubristic humans as residents.
Ancora imparo
Saturday, May 29, 2010
It Graced My Path
I used to have a health-care professional who practiced Native American religion, if that is the correct terminology. She believes that any human encounter with wildlife happens for a reason. Once, when I shared with her that I had a goal of seeing a cardinal every day, she told me that was highly significant.
Well, today, she would have given birth to four-legged creatures that moo.
As I was on my morning walk, bouncing along to my trusty I-pod and the music that gives me energy, suddenly, not more than ten feet in front of me, the most gorgeous bird landed, looked at me, and simply sat for about sixty seconds. I immediately froze so I could observe the bird and appreciate its splendid plumage. I came home and found my bird book, discovering that the bird must have been some type of Oriole, maybe even a Tanager. 'Bird' and I studied each other and I was so thankful that the bird seemed not, in the least, troubled by my close proximity. After about one minute, the bird flew off, hopefully to grace another human's eye sight and not that of a feral cat's evil gaze.
Of course, I know not why the bird chose me to get up-front-and-personal with, but I did feel as if some part of nature was speaking directly to me. Who knows, maybe it was my childhood/adulthood cat, Duke, who had been sent back to earth to do penance as a bird? Or, perhaps, the bird just needed to rest, eat a bug, or relieve itself. Whatever this avian's purpose was, it certainly had a profound effect on me. Its visage is prominently featured in my mind's eye and probably will be for some time to come.
Thank you, bird.
Well, today, she would have given birth to four-legged creatures that moo.
As I was on my morning walk, bouncing along to my trusty I-pod and the music that gives me energy, suddenly, not more than ten feet in front of me, the most gorgeous bird landed, looked at me, and simply sat for about sixty seconds. I immediately froze so I could observe the bird and appreciate its splendid plumage. I came home and found my bird book, discovering that the bird must have been some type of Oriole, maybe even a Tanager. 'Bird' and I studied each other and I was so thankful that the bird seemed not, in the least, troubled by my close proximity. After about one minute, the bird flew off, hopefully to grace another human's eye sight and not that of a feral cat's evil gaze.
Of course, I know not why the bird chose me to get up-front-and-personal with, but I did feel as if some part of nature was speaking directly to me. Who knows, maybe it was my childhood/adulthood cat, Duke, who had been sent back to earth to do penance as a bird? Or, perhaps, the bird just needed to rest, eat a bug, or relieve itself. Whatever this avian's purpose was, it certainly had a profound effect on me. Its visage is prominently featured in my mind's eye and probably will be for some time to come.
Thank you, bird.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Another Concept
For reasons unknown to me, I am stuck in a pattern of contemplating nebulous and intangible concepts. Yesterday I mused about the concept of 'time'. Currently, my mind has settled on silence.
Today, while I was administering a test and relishing the relative silence of a class that is, as a rule, anything but silent, I began mulling over the concept of silence.
Personally, silence seems to come in two categories: Welcome and unwelcome.
The welcome kind of silence usually signifies a feeling of peach and/or contentment........the feeling that all is right with the world and the planets are advantageously aligned.
Unwelcome - or awkward - silences usually signify some type of either unpleasant
or even sad situations. An awkward silence may follow an inappropriate remark that was overheard or a question that was asked but the answer may be unpleasant and, therefore, not quickly forthcoming.
Silences at funerals or memorial services are appropriate but very awkward as mourners struggle to deal with their grief.
At times, silence is simply golden. The less said the better, or as I was once trained on how to close a deal.......he who talks first, looses the deal.
On that note, I'll close and go observe a few moments of silence. I hope that there is a golden silence slated for your evening tonight.
Ancora imparo
Today, while I was administering a test and relishing the relative silence of a class that is, as a rule, anything but silent, I began mulling over the concept of silence.
Personally, silence seems to come in two categories: Welcome and unwelcome.
The welcome kind of silence usually signifies a feeling of peach and/or contentment........the feeling that all is right with the world and the planets are advantageously aligned.
Unwelcome - or awkward - silences usually signify some type of either unpleasant
or even sad situations. An awkward silence may follow an inappropriate remark that was overheard or a question that was asked but the answer may be unpleasant and, therefore, not quickly forthcoming.
Silences at funerals or memorial services are appropriate but very awkward as mourners struggle to deal with their grief.
At times, silence is simply golden. The less said the better, or as I was once trained on how to close a deal.......he who talks first, looses the deal.
On that note, I'll close and go observe a few moments of silence. I hope that there is a golden silence slated for your evening tonight.
Ancora imparo
Tough Toenails
When I was in high school, many moons ago, there was a phrase, "tough toenails" that was used frequently. It basically meant, 'tough'. Today we might hear the phrase, "too bad, so sad", which basically means, 'tough'. Not a lot of sympathy in those phrases. There are slang phrases for 'tough', which are not appropriate for this blog and there is always the perennial finger motion for 'the world's tiniest violin playing the world's saddest song', which again, means 'tough'.
Well, this afternoon I had an encounter of a different type with 'tough toenails' and it was 'tough' all right......tough on one of my toenails, which had an encounter with the sharp bottom of a commercial door. It was as if I had decided that ten toenails were one too many and that trying to eliminate one nail would be good for my foot. Not.
The attempt at eliminating a toenail was made easier by the fact that I was wearing open-toed sandals and, thusly, all of my nails were exposed, just waiting for a door bottom to run into, which I did with lightning speed and great gusto. Moving slowly is not my forte. Perhaps it should be. Reality set in quickly and the toe is still talking to me. I tried wearing a slipper at home, which was not successful. Definitely bare-footed is currently the way to go. I have just three days to be able to get my foot (and toe) into a jogging shoe so I can march in a parade. Somehow a parade in sandals just won't cut it.
As I conclude, I can imagine that readers are saying to themselves, "too bad, so sad"!
Ancora imparo
Well, this afternoon I had an encounter of a different type with 'tough toenails' and it was 'tough' all right......tough on one of my toenails, which had an encounter with the sharp bottom of a commercial door. It was as if I had decided that ten toenails were one too many and that trying to eliminate one nail would be good for my foot. Not.
The attempt at eliminating a toenail was made easier by the fact that I was wearing open-toed sandals and, thusly, all of my nails were exposed, just waiting for a door bottom to run into, which I did with lightning speed and great gusto. Moving slowly is not my forte. Perhaps it should be. Reality set in quickly and the toe is still talking to me. I tried wearing a slipper at home, which was not successful. Definitely bare-footed is currently the way to go. I have just three days to be able to get my foot (and toe) into a jogging shoe so I can march in a parade. Somehow a parade in sandals just won't cut it.
As I conclude, I can imagine that readers are saying to themselves, "too bad, so sad"!
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Time: What Is It?
Time - a dichotomy - at once both tangible and intangible. There are very few words that can claim this characteristic.
'Time' can be a measurement of the passing of minutes, hours, days, years, decades, centuries and millennia. (My trusty Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary tells me that I have spelled the plural of millennium correctly. The other spelling for plural 'millennium' is millenniums but 'millennia' is the plural noun listed as first preference.)
'Time' can be less finite and describe an event; i.e. "I had a good time."
'Time' can be a specific, identifiable moment; i.e. "At the tone, the time will be six o'clock p.m."
'Time' can be a nebulous concept, as in the question, "What time is it?"
'Time' can be a non-quantifiable concept such as the beginning of a fairy tale, "Once upon a time...."
I know that there is never enough time. Never enough hours in the day, never enough time in the weekend, never enough time spent on a vacation, never enough time spent in pleasurable activities, never enough time spent with family, children, grandchildren, good friends, or a beloved pet named Max.
I am guilty of wasting time. I waste so much time that could be better spent in other places or with other people. As I age, I am aware that I am becoming very particular with whom I spend time or activities that I spend time engaged in. Life is just too short to spend time doing 'things' that do not interest me, or participating in activities that waste my time. It is bad enough when I waste my own time but when I allow another human to waste my time, I am aware and resentful that I allowed my most valuable resource to be squandered.
Thusly, so as to not waste the time of this blog's readers, I will sign off. It is time to create the evening meal.
Ancora imparo
'Time' can be a measurement of the passing of minutes, hours, days, years, decades, centuries and millennia. (My trusty Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary tells me that I have spelled the plural of millennium correctly. The other spelling for plural 'millennium' is millenniums but 'millennia' is the plural noun listed as first preference.)
'Time' can be less finite and describe an event; i.e. "I had a good time."
'Time' can be a specific, identifiable moment; i.e. "At the tone, the time will be six o'clock p.m."
'Time' can be a nebulous concept, as in the question, "What time is it?"
'Time' can be a non-quantifiable concept such as the beginning of a fairy tale, "Once upon a time...."
I know that there is never enough time. Never enough hours in the day, never enough time in the weekend, never enough time spent on a vacation, never enough time spent in pleasurable activities, never enough time spent with family, children, grandchildren, good friends, or a beloved pet named Max.
I am guilty of wasting time. I waste so much time that could be better spent in other places or with other people. As I age, I am aware that I am becoming very particular with whom I spend time or activities that I spend time engaged in. Life is just too short to spend time doing 'things' that do not interest me, or participating in activities that waste my time. It is bad enough when I waste my own time but when I allow another human to waste my time, I am aware and resentful that I allowed my most valuable resource to be squandered.
Thusly, so as to not waste the time of this blog's readers, I will sign off. It is time to create the evening meal.
Ancora imparo
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Four Years Ago
Four years ago, I made a big decision......a decision that was not-too-well thought out. The finality of it has never quite left me. My decision to leave teaching was a gut-wrenching one, made all the more memorable by the class of students that left my building the same time as I. They left as eighth graders, going on to the exciting world of high school. Now, four years later, they leave high school and move on to whatever they have selected as the next step in their life-journeys.
I have managed to keep track of most of them and have stayed in touch, one way or another, with many of them. It has been rewarding to me to watch how these young people have grown and matured. More than several of them will be continuing on in something connected to music, either as a career path or as highly sought-after participants in college performing ensembles. I find this gratifying and take pride that I had a small part in their musical 'upbringings'.
Invitations to their graduation open houses have been arriving in the mail and I cannot wait to see them in person, as well as their parents. All of these students have been blessed with rock-solid home lives and parents that are deeply invested in their students' well-beings and futures. Lucky young people, wouldn't you say?
My hat goes off to the 2010 graduating seniors.
Ancora imparo
I have managed to keep track of most of them and have stayed in touch, one way or another, with many of them. It has been rewarding to me to watch how these young people have grown and matured. More than several of them will be continuing on in something connected to music, either as a career path or as highly sought-after participants in college performing ensembles. I find this gratifying and take pride that I had a small part in their musical 'upbringings'.
Invitations to their graduation open houses have been arriving in the mail and I cannot wait to see them in person, as well as their parents. All of these students have been blessed with rock-solid home lives and parents that are deeply invested in their students' well-beings and futures. Lucky young people, wouldn't you say?
My hat goes off to the 2010 graduating seniors.
Ancora imparo
Monday, May 24, 2010
Is There Such A Thing?
This posting began in my head with the rapid-onset, out-of-the-blue rise of temperatures as Mother Nature declared that, instead of May, it should feel like mid-July.
Whilst the seed of this posting idea was germinating in my head, I stepped outside to retrieve the newspaper. Because I have AADD (according to Click and Clack, the Car Guys) - that is, Adult Attention Deficit Disorder - as I was on my way to fetch the newspaper, I noticed weeds that needed pulling. During my weed-pulling stint, I stepped on something hard, stopped to investigate, and found a PVC drain pipe in the lawn I did not know existed. While I was outside at this early hour, I realized just how hot this day would become, and I thought to myself, "Isn't this just a bit too sudden for summer?" Then the cogitating began.
Is there such a thing as 'too sudden' or is that an oxymoron? If something occurs suddenly, isn't that the end-all of the incident? Just what would be considered 'too sudden'? More rapidly than rapid? More suddenly than sudden? More abruptly than abrupt?
You must realize that this thought-process and succession of events took place in not-much-more than five minutes, which further convinces me that Click and Clack, the Car Guys on Public Radio, are on to something with their acronym of AADD.
It all happened a bit too suddenly.
Ancora imparo
Whilst the seed of this posting idea was germinating in my head, I stepped outside to retrieve the newspaper. Because I have AADD (according to Click and Clack, the Car Guys) - that is, Adult Attention Deficit Disorder - as I was on my way to fetch the newspaper, I noticed weeds that needed pulling. During my weed-pulling stint, I stepped on something hard, stopped to investigate, and found a PVC drain pipe in the lawn I did not know existed. While I was outside at this early hour, I realized just how hot this day would become, and I thought to myself, "Isn't this just a bit too sudden for summer?" Then the cogitating began.
Is there such a thing as 'too sudden' or is that an oxymoron? If something occurs suddenly, isn't that the end-all of the incident? Just what would be considered 'too sudden'? More rapidly than rapid? More suddenly than sudden? More abruptly than abrupt?
You must realize that this thought-process and succession of events took place in not-much-more than five minutes, which further convinces me that Click and Clack, the Car Guys on Public Radio, are on to something with their acronym of AADD.
It all happened a bit too suddenly.
Ancora imparo
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Acceptance
As a recent recipient of the concept of 'acceptance', I became curious about the word 'acceptance'. "Just what does the word mean?", I wondered and then proceeded to head to my favorite word-meaning source. (No, not Google.) My Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, Eleventh Edition. On page seven, I found the following accompanying the word 'accept':
A derivative of the Latin acceptuare, the second definition is as follows: to give admittance or approval to (~her as one of the group)
What is acceptance? It is always personal - whether it means I have accepted an outcome, i.e. recognize a decision and choosen to abide by it or, I have been 'accepted' into a group, i.e. The National Association of Math Geniuses, or accepted by a group, i.e. new friends or organization group.
My latest experience with acceptance has been first-hand, by a group of people that I began eating lunch with, daily, three weeks ago. As a stranger and newcomer, they could have easily dismissed me with either disregard or by ignoring me, neither of which has happened. Instead, I have felt welcomed, greeted by name, included in conversations and good-byes always accompany my exit from the lunch room. Trust me when I say that this is not always the case for newcomers to a group. I have been fortunate as well as lucky that these individuals understand and appreciate what it means to 'come late to the party'.
I am grateful for their hospitality. May I always remember my reception by this group and practice the same hospitality with others that I encounter for the first time.
Ancora imparo
A derivative of the Latin acceptuare, the second definition is as follows: to give admittance or approval to (~her as one of the group)
What is acceptance? It is always personal - whether it means I have accepted an outcome, i.e. recognize a decision and choosen to abide by it or, I have been 'accepted' into a group, i.e. The National Association of Math Geniuses, or accepted by a group, i.e. new friends or organization group.
My latest experience with acceptance has been first-hand, by a group of people that I began eating lunch with, daily, three weeks ago. As a stranger and newcomer, they could have easily dismissed me with either disregard or by ignoring me, neither of which has happened. Instead, I have felt welcomed, greeted by name, included in conversations and good-byes always accompany my exit from the lunch room. Trust me when I say that this is not always the case for newcomers to a group. I have been fortunate as well as lucky that these individuals understand and appreciate what it means to 'come late to the party'.
I am grateful for their hospitality. May I always remember my reception by this group and practice the same hospitality with others that I encounter for the first time.
Ancora imparo
Saturday, May 22, 2010
First Timer
Yesterday, I visited a theme park, Great America, for the first time. At my age....old....it was more like 'better late than never'. I've been in both Disney World and Disney Land, multiple times, but this was my initial visit to a Six Flags Great America.
I had no idea what to expect. My only impressions coming from those ads that I have seen on television with humans being whipped around, over and under, backwards (not really - it only seems as if they are being propelled backward), and straight up and down........all at dizzying speeds. As I walked the park and watched these death-defying roller coaster rides, all I could wonder is how many people get hurled upon from people above them. With all of the junque food readily available at every turn and step, there must be those who lose their 'cookies' while on the rides.
There are many vignettes stored in my memory from yesterday. First, and foremost, would be the sensory overload that a person is subjected to as one walks through the grounds. Visually, there are zero boring or muted colors. Everything seems to be in primary colors, elevated to cornea-burning levels - especially the stuffed animals, hats, capes, and other furry objects. Even the ever-present basketballs, that were EVERYWHERE, had some 'hot' color on each one. If one wanders into the dozens of memorabilia shops (or cash depositories, as I would characterize them), everything is in bright colors, often with highly-polished surfaces that further exaggerate the color. Common, colored-stones are even buffed to a Simonized-shine (Does that word 'date' me?) that would reflect a person's visage perfectly.
That is just the visual portion of the experience. Then there is the auditory.
Every so many feet, (not yards.......only feet) the pulsating beat of the latest rock/rap/or R and B song is being 'pumped' out at ear-splitting volume. Not just one song, each forty feet, but a different song each forty feet. I felt as is I was being propelled through one of those tubes at the drive-in bank lane, each inch blasting a different hit record. If that is not enough auditory stimulation, there are the 'barkers' at each game or merchandise 'hut', hawking their wares or games. These people are not just talking loudly, their voices are amplified, and not softly, either. Add to that, the photographers every few feet, approaching EVERYONE to have their pictures taken, and you have the recipe for a schizophrenic experience. Oh, and did I mention the screams and squeals from riders as well as the din of voices from the hordes of people EVERYWHERE around you?
The final auditory impression was an irritating one, although perhaps only to me. All employees you approach at a Six Flags theme park are instructed, as they end their conversation, interaction, or transaction with the public, to say, "Have a Six-Flags' Day." Catchy, maybe, the first one or two dozen times, but after a while I wanted to hold up my hand, in a motion to stop the person talking, and simply say, "I know, I know.....".
In conclusion, to all who will read this posting:
Have a Fix-Slags' Day!
Ancora imparo
I had no idea what to expect. My only impressions coming from those ads that I have seen on television with humans being whipped around, over and under, backwards (not really - it only seems as if they are being propelled backward), and straight up and down........all at dizzying speeds. As I walked the park and watched these death-defying roller coaster rides, all I could wonder is how many people get hurled upon from people above them. With all of the junque food readily available at every turn and step, there must be those who lose their 'cookies' while on the rides.
There are many vignettes stored in my memory from yesterday. First, and foremost, would be the sensory overload that a person is subjected to as one walks through the grounds. Visually, there are zero boring or muted colors. Everything seems to be in primary colors, elevated to cornea-burning levels - especially the stuffed animals, hats, capes, and other furry objects. Even the ever-present basketballs, that were EVERYWHERE, had some 'hot' color on each one. If one wanders into the dozens of memorabilia shops (or cash depositories, as I would characterize them), everything is in bright colors, often with highly-polished surfaces that further exaggerate the color. Common, colored-stones are even buffed to a Simonized-shine (Does that word 'date' me?) that would reflect a person's visage perfectly.
That is just the visual portion of the experience. Then there is the auditory.
Every so many feet, (not yards.......only feet) the pulsating beat of the latest rock/rap/or R and B song is being 'pumped' out at ear-splitting volume. Not just one song, each forty feet, but a different song each forty feet. I felt as is I was being propelled through one of those tubes at the drive-in bank lane, each inch blasting a different hit record. If that is not enough auditory stimulation, there are the 'barkers' at each game or merchandise 'hut', hawking their wares or games. These people are not just talking loudly, their voices are amplified, and not softly, either. Add to that, the photographers every few feet, approaching EVERYONE to have their pictures taken, and you have the recipe for a schizophrenic experience. Oh, and did I mention the screams and squeals from riders as well as the din of voices from the hordes of people EVERYWHERE around you?
The final auditory impression was an irritating one, although perhaps only to me. All employees you approach at a Six Flags theme park are instructed, as they end their conversation, interaction, or transaction with the public, to say, "Have a Six-Flags' Day." Catchy, maybe, the first one or two dozen times, but after a while I wanted to hold up my hand, in a motion to stop the person talking, and simply say, "I know, I know.....".
In conclusion, to all who will read this posting:
Have a Fix-Slags' Day!
Ancora imparo
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Have I Left Out Anything?
Tomorrow is one of those days that I would describe as 'too big'. Fortunately, I do not experience over-sized days very often, for if I did, I would crawl into a large hole, cover my head, and stay there for an indeterminate amount of time.
I've planned, prepared, planned, prepared, then planned and prepared some more. My dilemma is that I have never done, before, what I have to do tomorrow. I've been briefed and have studied notes on what will happen, but until I experience this first-hand, I will have so real sensation of how the day will play out. This will also be the only year I do 'this', so there will zero repeat years in which to get my collective act together.
Even with all of my planning, as I was driving home tonight, my cell phone rang and my co-worker asked me if I had remembered to do just one thing. Sadly, her question's answer may be the one detail that I missed in all of my preparations. When I realized my oversight, I felt overwhelmed and frustrated.....to think that I had missed one detail.
Perhaps it will be best now if I simply turn off my mind, eat some dinner, and pack up for tomorrow's adventure. I cannot re-invent the wheel, nor can I force tomorrow to come earlier. 'Tomorrow will be what it will be.
Wish me luck.
Ancora imparo
I've planned, prepared, planned, prepared, then planned and prepared some more. My dilemma is that I have never done, before, what I have to do tomorrow. I've been briefed and have studied notes on what will happen, but until I experience this first-hand, I will have so real sensation of how the day will play out. This will also be the only year I do 'this', so there will zero repeat years in which to get my collective act together.
Even with all of my planning, as I was driving home tonight, my cell phone rang and my co-worker asked me if I had remembered to do just one thing. Sadly, her question's answer may be the one detail that I missed in all of my preparations. When I realized my oversight, I felt overwhelmed and frustrated.....to think that I had missed one detail.
Perhaps it will be best now if I simply turn off my mind, eat some dinner, and pack up for tomorrow's adventure. I cannot re-invent the wheel, nor can I force tomorrow to come earlier. 'Tomorrow will be what it will be.
Wish me luck.
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Ancora imparo
Ancora imparo, Latin for still I am learning, is so appropriate for my life. I do learn something, every single day. At times, I am humbled when I learn how much I do not know, for the amount and depth of my lack of knowledge is considerable.
It seems that the bits of knowledge I absorb each day come from many and varied sources. The newspaper is a frequent contributor to my learning, as are both the internet and television. Conversations with others can be enlightening, although I have learned to always check my source(s).
As I wrote earlier in the week, this past Sunday proved to have some thought-provoking and learning moments in the pastor's sermon. I remembered one more point that I thought deserved space in this blog.
In his discourse regarding transitions and change, he mentioned a tidbit of information that I found fascinating: The Chinese 'word' for crisis is a combination of two symbols - the symbol for danger and the symbol for opportunity. I completely agree that a crisis, while possibly being very dangerous, can also be a perfect vehicle for opportunity. While the two concepts - danger and opportunity - may seem diametrically opposed, one really does synchronize with the other .
And so, once again, I have gleaned a bit more knowledge than I had previously. One of these days, I might actually retain what I've learned!
Until then, let's all keep learning.
Ancora imparo
It seems that the bits of knowledge I absorb each day come from many and varied sources. The newspaper is a frequent contributor to my learning, as are both the internet and television. Conversations with others can be enlightening, although I have learned to always check my source(s).
As I wrote earlier in the week, this past Sunday proved to have some thought-provoking and learning moments in the pastor's sermon. I remembered one more point that I thought deserved space in this blog.
In his discourse regarding transitions and change, he mentioned a tidbit of information that I found fascinating: The Chinese 'word' for crisis is a combination of two symbols - the symbol for danger and the symbol for opportunity. I completely agree that a crisis, while possibly being very dangerous, can also be a perfect vehicle for opportunity. While the two concepts - danger and opportunity - may seem diametrically opposed, one really does synchronize with the other .
And so, once again, I have gleaned a bit more knowledge than I had previously. One of these days, I might actually retain what I've learned!
Until then, let's all keep learning.
Ancora imparo
Monday, May 17, 2010
I Listened
My pastor's sermon resonated with me this past Sunday. His over-all topic was transitions: How they can be good and that change can be positive.
I appreciated his approach to the near-future change of pastoral leadership at my church. His goal, over the next four Sundays, is to help prepare the congregation for the transition from one style of theological leadership to a new style. As with any kind of change, some congregants will be resistant, others will flat out refuse to embrace the new and others will embrace 'new' with open arms, hearts, and minds.
One of his points was that unpredictability is not all bad, a viewpoint that I completely subscribe to on one hand, and abhor on the other. Who among us doesn't like predictability and the familiar. Most of us are creatures of habit. We want to know, and sometimes long to know, exactly what will happen when X, Y, and Z happen at the same time. While routine may seem boring, routines are what help us to function......to be on automatic.
My pastor's sermon helped me to see that while automatic is reassuring, unpredictability can be invigorating, energizing and motivating. Sometimes it is OK to not know what is around the bend. Sometimes not knowing can unleash creativity and productivity.
I'm ready .
Ancora imparo
I appreciated his approach to the near-future change of pastoral leadership at my church. His goal, over the next four Sundays, is to help prepare the congregation for the transition from one style of theological leadership to a new style. As with any kind of change, some congregants will be resistant, others will flat out refuse to embrace the new and others will embrace 'new' with open arms, hearts, and minds.
One of his points was that unpredictability is not all bad, a viewpoint that I completely subscribe to on one hand, and abhor on the other. Who among us doesn't like predictability and the familiar. Most of us are creatures of habit. We want to know, and sometimes long to know, exactly what will happen when X, Y, and Z happen at the same time. While routine may seem boring, routines are what help us to function......to be on automatic.
My pastor's sermon helped me to see that while automatic is reassuring, unpredictability can be invigorating, energizing and motivating. Sometimes it is OK to not know what is around the bend. Sometimes not knowing can unleash creativity and productivity.
I'm ready .
Ancora imparo
A Day To Remember
Yesterday was a day to remember in church. A young man came to play "Amazing Grace" on the bagpipes with the choir that I have the privilege to direct. He is a very fine piper and his rendition of "Amazing Grace" moved many to tears. A few even came back to a service two hours later to hear him again. I could have listened over and over and still have heard more.
I thought carefully about why hearing a piper play this particular piece is so stirring, ranking right up there with "God Bless America", "America, the Beautiful", or "This Is My Country". Is is the haunting timbre of the pipes themselves? Is it the uniform of the pipers, combined with the lore of the Scots? Is it the powerful symbolism that is associated with the ceremonies that we typically hear "Amazing Grace" played on the pipes? Can there be any more emotional moments than the scene of hundreds of police officers or fire fighters, in full uniform, gathering to show one last display, of the powerful brotherhood that they share, for a fallen member?
I cannot adequately describe what I felt or even presume to think what others, yesterday, might have been experiencing. All I can write is that hearing the music and watching the piper's stately entrance into the sanctuary evoked emotions, from both myself and others, that were deep, profound, obvious and intense. I hope this young man is able to appreciate the gift that he gives time and again when he shares the ethereal beauty of his instrument's sound combined with the masterful appearance of his traditional uniform.
Thank you, Aaron.
Ancora imparo
I thought carefully about why hearing a piper play this particular piece is so stirring, ranking right up there with "God Bless America", "America, the Beautiful", or "This Is My Country". Is is the haunting timbre of the pipes themselves? Is it the uniform of the pipers, combined with the lore of the Scots? Is it the powerful symbolism that is associated with the ceremonies that we typically hear "Amazing Grace" played on the pipes? Can there be any more emotional moments than the scene of hundreds of police officers or fire fighters, in full uniform, gathering to show one last display, of the powerful brotherhood that they share, for a fallen member?
I cannot adequately describe what I felt or even presume to think what others, yesterday, might have been experiencing. All I can write is that hearing the music and watching the piper's stately entrance into the sanctuary evoked emotions, from both myself and others, that were deep, profound, obvious and intense. I hope this young man is able to appreciate the gift that he gives time and again when he shares the ethereal beauty of his instrument's sound combined with the masterful appearance of his traditional uniform.
Thank you, Aaron.
Ancora imparo
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Looking Out For Us
Our nationally elected and appointed officials have finally demonstrated concern for the American public and I would like to be one of the first to congratulate them. In a time when there are so many pressing concerns facing these politicians and career bureaucrats, they have stepped up to the plate and declared action to end bladder bias in our government and federal buildings. Nicknamed the "Potty Parity Act", this action is aimed to end the discriminatory longer lines at the women's bathrooms as compared to the men's. As a female, I know, first-hand, the humiliation and pain the fairer sex has experienced as a result of this wanton disparity.
Did our congressional representatives and senators let health care reform, education reform, state budget crises, immigration issues, or the economic mess derail them from the really important matters? No. Partisanship? Not on this issue. They have moved swiftly and with singular determination to ensure that all bladders are treated equally; that no man shall enter and depart a restroom faster than a female; that no woman can ever come late to a meeting, in a federal or government building, again with the excuse that 'the line was so long at the restroom'.
This is a sure sign that our tax dollars are truly at work. While students may not have textbooks and schools may have massive teacher-layoffs, we can rest assured that if we need to use a restroom in a federal or governmental building, there will be shorter, if any, waiting lines. Dollars are speeding toward restroom remodeling as I type.
That's our government...........looking out for us.
Ancora imparo
Did our congressional representatives and senators let health care reform, education reform, state budget crises, immigration issues, or the economic mess derail them from the really important matters? No. Partisanship? Not on this issue. They have moved swiftly and with singular determination to ensure that all bladders are treated equally; that no man shall enter and depart a restroom faster than a female; that no woman can ever come late to a meeting, in a federal or government building, again with the excuse that 'the line was so long at the restroom'.
This is a sure sign that our tax dollars are truly at work. While students may not have textbooks and schools may have massive teacher-layoffs, we can rest assured that if we need to use a restroom in a federal or governmental building, there will be shorter, if any, waiting lines. Dollars are speeding toward restroom remodeling as I type.
That's our government...........looking out for us.
Ancora imparo
Saturday, May 15, 2010
One-Eighty View
For years now, I've measured the passing of time by weeks. I'm not sure why, but I think it has something to do with being a church musician/director for almost thirty years. You think in weeks, can rattle off the dates of all the Sundays with ease, and find any other dates in a month based off the Sundays.
Whatever the reason, looking back over a week is part of my life-ritual. Looking ahead can be overwhelming for me but a look in the rear-view mirror provides satisfaction, comfort - sometimes, and personal chastisement - if needed. I can review all that I accomplished and feel either good about what transpired or simple relief that the week has passed and that I am 'still standing'.
This past week was one of those where survival was the daily goal. Just brushing my teeth, showering and wearing clean clothes each day was a supreme accomplishment. As I prepared for bed last night, I took a mental tour back over the events of the week and here are a few take-a-ways:
Ancora imparo
Whatever the reason, looking back over a week is part of my life-ritual. Looking ahead can be overwhelming for me but a look in the rear-view mirror provides satisfaction, comfort - sometimes, and personal chastisement - if needed. I can review all that I accomplished and feel either good about what transpired or simple relief that the week has passed and that I am 'still standing'.
This past week was one of those where survival was the daily goal. Just brushing my teeth, showering and wearing clean clothes each day was a supreme accomplishment. As I prepared for bed last night, I took a mental tour back over the events of the week and here are a few take-a-ways:
- Some manufacturers' labeling systems are not set up for the two-thousands. I found a label, on a recently purchased product, that has an expiration date of 1913, which made me realize that the year 2013 is not that far away. Since most Americans have never lived in a year that ends in the number thirteen, I wonder if anyone else will think about the superstitious connotations associated with the number thirteen. I also wonder what the Year-of-Our-Lord, Thirteen-Thirteen was like in history?
- I missed one of my favorite boat rides and am feeling quite 'long-in-the-nose' about that.
- Wasting time is not my problem, wasting movement is. I have had to become very economical in my movements so I can add minutes to my day. Losing just two or three minutes has real consequences.
- I am now peacefully co-existing with the ancient Mac laptop I must use daily........as long as I do not have to add any additional tasks.
- After being closed for five solid days, opening the blinds this morning was a real treat.
- Seventeen minutes in which to eat (more like highly-focused chewing) is not very long. One must keep conversation to a minimum. It is more like nodding and smiling a lot while eating. I must be the smiliest (my word) person at the lunch table. I suppose if I tell the others that I just smile a lot because I have gas (you know, like babies do) that would be TMI.
- This list is now too long.
Ancora imparo
Friday, May 14, 2010
I Can Hardly Wait
Regular readers know that I direct a choir made up entirely of men. This group of singers infuses me with energy and inspiration weekly, giving me much more than I can ever share with them. In two days, as 'we' sing for the last time this season, we will be accompanied by a bagpiper during our rendition of "Amazing Grace". The combination of bagpipes and the hymn, "Amazing Grace" is so symbolic. It represents paying homage to the fallen heroes of our police, fire and rescue personnel in our country. The haunting timbre of the bagpipes will fill the church and , hopefully, the hearts of all in attendance. I know there are a few naysayers, feeling that the bagpipes will be too loud for the sanctuary and I hope that they are able to overcome their prognostication about too much volume and simply enjoy the musical treat.
I can hardly wait. My only disappointment is that I will not have the privilege of hearing the men and piper together from the 'audience' standpoint.
I think it will be just what my soul needs.
Ancora imparo
I can hardly wait. My only disappointment is that I will not have the privilege of hearing the men and piper together from the 'audience' standpoint.
I think it will be just what my soul needs.
Ancora imparo
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Triple Threat
Oh, I have discovered a triple threat to my sanity: Illiteracy, tiredness, and sore feet. Put those three together and I have a recipe for something to go wrong, which, I might add, already has.
Making brownies tonight (shamefully, from a mix), I was too tired to carefully read the 'added' ingredients and ended up doubling the butter amount. I am supposed to take these brownies to a potluck luncheon tomorrow. so how they turn out will be of the utmost importance. Since I do not have a back-up plan and have no desserts set aside, for emergencies, in the freezer, I have no clue what I will do if this brownie mix is a flop.
Normally I do not 'flop' desserts but tonight my feet were so tired and sore that all I could focus on was the body part(s) that I was standing on. Then, I received a phone call and that was enough to completely remove any ability to concentrate that I had.
I know what I need to do.....learn to read more carefully, get off my feet and get some sleep. That would eliminate the triple threat. I'd best get to concentratin' or I'll next be blogging about a quadruple threat.
May your threats be of a single or non-existent nature.
Ancora imparo
Making brownies tonight (shamefully, from a mix), I was too tired to carefully read the 'added' ingredients and ended up doubling the butter amount. I am supposed to take these brownies to a potluck luncheon tomorrow. so how they turn out will be of the utmost importance. Since I do not have a back-up plan and have no desserts set aside, for emergencies, in the freezer, I have no clue what I will do if this brownie mix is a flop.
Normally I do not 'flop' desserts but tonight my feet were so tired and sore that all I could focus on was the body part(s) that I was standing on. Then, I received a phone call and that was enough to completely remove any ability to concentrate that I had.
I know what I need to do.....learn to read more carefully, get off my feet and get some sleep. That would eliminate the triple threat. I'd best get to concentratin' or I'll next be blogging about a quadruple threat.
May your threats be of a single or non-existent nature.
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
AC/DC
The term 'AC/DC has different meanings. Possibly the most widely recognized meaning is that AC/DC is the name of an Australian rock band formed in 1973. According to Wikipedia, the authority of all authoritative, they were pioneers in hard rock and heavy metal music, even though the band considered itself a rock and roll band.
Another meaning of AC/DC is one who switches back and forth......from what I'll not discuss here in this venue.
It also has to do with electrical signals: AC for alternating current and DC for direct current.
Then there is my meaning for the purpose of this posting: Switching back and forth from a PC laptop to a Mac laptop. The differences are driving me nuts. To be fair, I should state, right up front, that I have always been a PC. I have never touched a Mac until a week and a half ago. Since that time, I have had to become quickly accustomed to the Mac and all of its idiosyncrasies.
My first order of whine is that the tiny, Mac laptop is as old as Methuselah and as sluggish as the Illinois State Legislature. Just as Methuselah had no modern tools, this laptop has no mouse attached to it. It also has no internet access plug-in in the office in which I must work, so I must take it to another room to gain internet access. But, where I must take it for internet access has no place in which to plug in the laptop, so I am always working on battery when I'm 'connected'.
My second order of whine is regarding the lack of a mouse. On the Mac, the 'mouse' area is totally different than the 'mouse' area is on my PC. Different enough that the thumb 'keys' have a reversed function, which also drives me crazy. I am used to a relatively responsive PC and this old-as-the-hills Mac might as well be two tin cans hooked together with a very long string.
Finally, the Mac laptop has no definitive backspace and delete keys. I think it only has a delete key, which, somehow, is supposed to allow me to go in either direction?
That is the end of my whines. Forgive me for venting about my AC/DC experience with laptops.
I'm a PC. I can learn new tricks and I think I could be a Mac, as long as the machine was made in the last six months and I could have high-speed internet........not the stone and chisel kind.
Ancora imparo
Another meaning of AC/DC is one who switches back and forth......from what I'll not discuss here in this venue.
It also has to do with electrical signals: AC for alternating current and DC for direct current.
Then there is my meaning for the purpose of this posting: Switching back and forth from a PC laptop to a Mac laptop. The differences are driving me nuts. To be fair, I should state, right up front, that I have always been a PC. I have never touched a Mac until a week and a half ago. Since that time, I have had to become quickly accustomed to the Mac and all of its idiosyncrasies.
My first order of whine is that the tiny, Mac laptop is as old as Methuselah and as sluggish as the Illinois State Legislature. Just as Methuselah had no modern tools, this laptop has no mouse attached to it. It also has no internet access plug-in in the office in which I must work, so I must take it to another room to gain internet access. But, where I must take it for internet access has no place in which to plug in the laptop, so I am always working on battery when I'm 'connected'.
My second order of whine is regarding the lack of a mouse. On the Mac, the 'mouse' area is totally different than the 'mouse' area is on my PC. Different enough that the thumb 'keys' have a reversed function, which also drives me crazy. I am used to a relatively responsive PC and this old-as-the-hills Mac might as well be two tin cans hooked together with a very long string.
Finally, the Mac laptop has no definitive backspace and delete keys. I think it only has a delete key, which, somehow, is supposed to allow me to go in either direction?
That is the end of my whines. Forgive me for venting about my AC/DC experience with laptops.
I'm a PC. I can learn new tricks and I think I could be a Mac, as long as the machine was made in the last six months and I could have high-speed internet........not the stone and chisel kind.
Ancora imparo
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
If The Weed Is Too Tall
Do you have weeds in your life? Either the kind of weeds that sneak into your grass, flower beds, or mulched areas or the other kind that remind me of the junque-mail of existence.
Any kind of weed can be seen by everyone.....if we just look. We are surrounded by them. Some are of the obnoxious variety, making humans and animals sneeze and their eyes water. Other weeds thrive, only to grow tall, because they are prickly, thorny, or, perhaps, nettle and are protected from contact by living beings. A few weeds can be eaten, such as dandelion greens, before they flower. These greens, when picked early in their growth cycle, are tender and tasty, especially when smothered with sour cream, bacon, scrambled eggs and potatoes. If any kind of weed is not plucked from its surroundings, it will grow rapidly, often choking out the desirable vegetation and life that it touches - literally smothering its neighbors.
How do we rid ourselves of weeds in our life? We either bend over and manually pull the weeds with our hands or we use a tool to remove them. Then the weeds should be collected and deposited either in a compost pile or appropriate waste-removal bag. If we are fortunate to have extra dollars in our wallets, we can hire someone else to do our weed-removal. If not, then we must pull our own weeds. Weeding is not the responsibility of others. It rests squarely on the shoulders of those of us who do not like the weeds in our lives.
If the weed got too tall, we have only to look in the mirror.
Ancora imparo
Any kind of weed can be seen by everyone.....if we just look. We are surrounded by them. Some are of the obnoxious variety, making humans and animals sneeze and their eyes water. Other weeds thrive, only to grow tall, because they are prickly, thorny, or, perhaps, nettle and are protected from contact by living beings. A few weeds can be eaten, such as dandelion greens, before they flower. These greens, when picked early in their growth cycle, are tender and tasty, especially when smothered with sour cream, bacon, scrambled eggs and potatoes. If any kind of weed is not plucked from its surroundings, it will grow rapidly, often choking out the desirable vegetation and life that it touches - literally smothering its neighbors.
How do we rid ourselves of weeds in our life? We either bend over and manually pull the weeds with our hands or we use a tool to remove them. Then the weeds should be collected and deposited either in a compost pile or appropriate waste-removal bag. If we are fortunate to have extra dollars in our wallets, we can hire someone else to do our weed-removal. If not, then we must pull our own weeds. Weeding is not the responsibility of others. It rests squarely on the shoulders of those of us who do not like the weeds in our lives.
If the weed got too tall, we have only to look in the mirror.
Ancora imparo
Monday, May 10, 2010
Adults In Their Too's
The 'Terrible Two's'.
Most of us are familiar with this stage in the life of a toddler and recognize the behavior of a two-year old when it presents itself. The parents of two-year olds are forever recounting stories about their their child's actions.....mostly in public. Two-year olds seldom save their melt-downs for the quiet, anonymous confines of home.
Adults can have apoplectic fits as well. We don't favor home or public. Anywhere is fine for an adult 'fit'. Adults can 'lose' it at a sports function, a restaurant, home, the office, on a busy highway, a barbeque party..........well, anywhere. I call this 'being in the 'toos'. (Yes, I spelled the word wrong intentionally.)
Too tired.
Too grumpy.
Too overworked.
Too uptight.
Too frazzled.
Too busy.
Too self-centered.
Too timid.
As you can see, the Terrible-Two's are not just limited to those who are chronologically young, although it is certainly more socially acceptable to see a real two-year old writhing and screaming on the floor of a big-box store than a thirty-eight year old throwing a fit on the sidelines at a soccer match.
As I close tonight, I find that I am too pooped to participate......as we used to say in my much-younger days.
Ancora imparo
Most of us are familiar with this stage in the life of a toddler and recognize the behavior of a two-year old when it presents itself. The parents of two-year olds are forever recounting stories about their their child's actions.....mostly in public. Two-year olds seldom save their melt-downs for the quiet, anonymous confines of home.
Adults can have apoplectic fits as well. We don't favor home or public. Anywhere is fine for an adult 'fit'. Adults can 'lose' it at a sports function, a restaurant, home, the office, on a busy highway, a barbeque party..........well, anywhere. I call this 'being in the 'toos'. (Yes, I spelled the word wrong intentionally.)
Too tired.
Too grumpy.
Too overworked.
Too uptight.
Too frazzled.
Too busy.
Too self-centered.
Too timid.
As you can see, the Terrible-Two's are not just limited to those who are chronologically young, although it is certainly more socially acceptable to see a real two-year old writhing and screaming on the floor of a big-box store than a thirty-eight year old throwing a fit on the sidelines at a soccer match.
As I close tonight, I find that I am too pooped to participate......as we used to say in my much-younger days.
Ancora imparo
Sunday, May 9, 2010
What's Your Medium?
We are all painters, artists, arteests (my word), composers and illustrators. Daily, God provides each one of us with the tools to create something - whether it be a work of art, a poem, a conversation, a good or bad mood, a meal or dessert, a metal or plastic part used in machinery, a field of soy beans, a musical composition, a lesson plan, an article of clothing, a physical movement, a relationship, etc. Everything you and I do is a creation and we are all creators in some way. Each of our contributions will be different as we are all not alike. Just as our contributions will be unique, so are we - in our height, weight, hair color or amount(!), language, skin color, abilities, and levels of inspiration.
Because we are all creators, does it really matter if we are all using the same paint colors or medium? Are there really rules on how we must create? Of course, there are societal rules and laws that must be obeyed by all. There are moral and ethical standards and codes that should be observed and upheld in order to maintain decency and cultural stability. Beyond that, questions beg asking such as: "Does it really matter if we all use the same paint color?" "Must we all be interested in the same medium; i.e. water colors, copper, ceramics, styrofoam, charcoal, etc.?" Isn't the fact that we have one characteristic in common......our human-ness......enough?
Just because my preferred medium might be charcoal on paper grocery sacks, for argument's sake, that does not make my creation any lesser or greater than yours. Likewise, if you are working in copper, and your creation may ultimately sell for a far higher price than mine, most certainly does not qualify you for the 'thin-air club'. (This fictional club, existing only in the mind, is where your or my nose is so high in the air that the oxygen level is very low.) And yet, if I choose to work in copper, do not suppose yourself to be in the position of criticizing me for my choice or opportunity.
It should not be the medium of choice that defines me or you. What defines us should be that we are all creative beings who bring value and substance to the table each and every day. Where did the concepts of civility, humanity, personal responsibility and the acceptance of action-based consequences disappear to?
Paper grocery sacks or copper. What is your medium?
Ancora imparo
Because we are all creators, does it really matter if we are all using the same paint colors or medium? Are there really rules on how we must create? Of course, there are societal rules and laws that must be obeyed by all. There are moral and ethical standards and codes that should be observed and upheld in order to maintain decency and cultural stability. Beyond that, questions beg asking such as: "Does it really matter if we all use the same paint color?" "Must we all be interested in the same medium; i.e. water colors, copper, ceramics, styrofoam, charcoal, etc.?" Isn't the fact that we have one characteristic in common......our human-ness......enough?
Just because my preferred medium might be charcoal on paper grocery sacks, for argument's sake, that does not make my creation any lesser or greater than yours. Likewise, if you are working in copper, and your creation may ultimately sell for a far higher price than mine, most certainly does not qualify you for the 'thin-air club'. (This fictional club, existing only in the mind, is where your or my nose is so high in the air that the oxygen level is very low.) And yet, if I choose to work in copper, do not suppose yourself to be in the position of criticizing me for my choice or opportunity.
It should not be the medium of choice that defines me or you. What defines us should be that we are all creative beings who bring value and substance to the table each and every day. Where did the concepts of civility, humanity, personal responsibility and the acceptance of action-based consequences disappear to?
Paper grocery sacks or copper. What is your medium?
Ancora imparo
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Mine Came Early
I've had the best Mother's Day......ever.....and mine came a day earlier than every other mother's. All of my children and grandchildren were under one roof, even if for only for one night. This does not happen very often and when it does occur, I am almost giddy with excitement and energy. When my children were growing up, I took for granted the multitude of nights, days, and years when we were a nuclear family of four. When you are in the throes of parenting, there is a zero concept of being what I call an 'active' parent. However, slowly but surely, the years pass and suddenly one 'bird' leaving the nest is looming largely in your very near future. If you have more than one offspring, this natural life-cycle is repeated until you and your spouse (if you have one) find yourselves in the life-phase society refers to as 'empty-nesting'. While some look forward to this period in their lives with high anticipation, others almost dread the day and when it actually arrives, they feel as if permanent holes have been placed in their hearts.
And so, it is with joy, I can repeat that I've had the best Mother's Day I could imagine. I was able to touch the skin of all my loved ones, give hugs and kisses, and receive them in return. The smiles and laughter will ring in my ears (along with the bicycle bells we gave the boys for their birthdays) for weeks to come. On a disappointing note, I must add that the one Mother's Day gift I requested was denied to me by my SO. (For regular readers - that request was not a puppy, although it should have been!) I asked for a new, giant Rubbermaid garbage can to replace the twenty-plus year old metal one we have. The bottom is starting to rust out and I know it will not be long until the bottom has holes opening up in it. My SO nixed that idea, saying that if others found out, he would never hear the end of it.
Maybe next year?
Ancora imparo
And so, it is with joy, I can repeat that I've had the best Mother's Day I could imagine. I was able to touch the skin of all my loved ones, give hugs and kisses, and receive them in return. The smiles and laughter will ring in my ears (along with the bicycle bells we gave the boys for their birthdays) for weeks to come. On a disappointing note, I must add that the one Mother's Day gift I requested was denied to me by my SO. (For regular readers - that request was not a puppy, although it should have been!) I asked for a new, giant Rubbermaid garbage can to replace the twenty-plus year old metal one we have. The bottom is starting to rust out and I know it will not be long until the bottom has holes opening up in it. My SO nixed that idea, saying that if others found out, he would never hear the end of it.
Maybe next year?
Ancora imparo
Friday, May 7, 2010
A Personal Favourite
Google's icon box includes graphic reminders of matter of import, from time to time. Today's 'box' reminds Googlers that this day would be the one-hundred and seventieth birthday of Russian-born composer, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. We are more familiar with the Anglicized spelling of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky.
Musically-speaking, Tchaikovsky composed in what we know as the Romantic Period. I came to really know, and quickly love, Tchaikovsky's music when I was in college. During my years as an active symphony musician, I had the great pleasure of playing many of his symphonic works. His music never ceases to inspire, comfort, or energize me. Of course, every composer speaks to different people in differing ways. Just because I am a Tchaikovsky aficionado doesn't mean that the person sitting in his car, next to me at the stoplight, cares one whit about the same music. But, I would be willing to wager that for those who appreciate the genre of 'classical' music, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky ranks up at the top of their personal favorites' list.
The Russian composers had a corner on the market of emotion-inspired compositions, perhaps because life for them could be very harsh and they understood pathos, grief, elation, and joy. Whatever the inspiration was, the Russians knew how to massage the notes on the page to form masterful music that is unparalleled still today, coaxing the maximum effect from the ink flowing out of their quill pens
If you are not familiar with Tchaikovsky's music, I would encourage you to take a trip to the library and check out a CD, or two, of his works. Any music will do, although his symphonies are a particularly easy way to become acquainted with his musical prowess. You will not be disappointed. His works just might become a personal favorite of yours, too!
Ancora imparo
Musically-speaking, Tchaikovsky composed in what we know as the Romantic Period. I came to really know, and quickly love, Tchaikovsky's music when I was in college. During my years as an active symphony musician, I had the great pleasure of playing many of his symphonic works. His music never ceases to inspire, comfort, or energize me. Of course, every composer speaks to different people in differing ways. Just because I am a Tchaikovsky aficionado doesn't mean that the person sitting in his car, next to me at the stoplight, cares one whit about the same music. But, I would be willing to wager that for those who appreciate the genre of 'classical' music, Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky ranks up at the top of their personal favorites' list.
The Russian composers had a corner on the market of emotion-inspired compositions, perhaps because life for them could be very harsh and they understood pathos, grief, elation, and joy. Whatever the inspiration was, the Russians knew how to massage the notes on the page to form masterful music that is unparalleled still today, coaxing the maximum effect from the ink flowing out of their quill pens
If you are not familiar with Tchaikovsky's music, I would encourage you to take a trip to the library and check out a CD, or two, of his works. Any music will do, although his symphonies are a particularly easy way to become acquainted with his musical prowess. You will not be disappointed. His works just might become a personal favorite of yours, too!
Ancora imparo
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Guilty Pleasures
I really do feel very guilty about being so happy......with all of the unfortunate circumstances in the world. After all, the European financial mess is sending serious, negative monetary waves across the Atlantic......the man-made oil slick is about to wreak havoc with the Gulf Coast and, perhaps, beyond......our fair state is in a state of disrepair and disrespect.......and wars rage on in foreign countries.
But.......my favorite short people and their parents will be here soon and that makes me very happy and excited. I've looked forward to this visit for some time now. I can't wait to hear TLV and TLV'sLB chatter and laugh and I cannot wait to hear Princess Leia shriek with glee.
The cookies are made, ice cream, Kraft macaroni with cheese, hot dogs, and potato chips are a-waitin' for a birthday bash and Spider Man cupcakes will be a huge hit. I feel like singing, "The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nickolas soon would be there.", because the beds are ready and so are Grandpa and Grandma.
Bring it on. I can't wait and I don't feel guilty any more!
Ancora imparo
But.......my favorite short people and their parents will be here soon and that makes me very happy and excited. I've looked forward to this visit for some time now. I can't wait to hear TLV and TLV'sLB chatter and laugh and I cannot wait to hear Princess Leia shriek with glee.
The cookies are made, ice cream, Kraft macaroni with cheese, hot dogs, and potato chips are a-waitin' for a birthday bash and Spider Man cupcakes will be a huge hit. I feel like singing, "The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nickolas soon would be there.", because the beds are ready and so are Grandpa and Grandma.
Bring it on. I can't wait and I don't feel guilty any more!
Ancora imparo
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
A Big, Hairy Deal
I've alluded to this topic before, but now I am about to whine in depth and with great verve.
I decided, waaaaay back in September of 2009, that I would let my bangs grow out. I did not think I would be struggling with this issue yet at this date, but here I am with identifiable bangs that come down to just under my lower lip. When I brush this mangy mass over my face, in order to see what progress I am making, I am struck thinking I look like a creature resembling something in "The Planet of the Apes". This has been (and is) a painfully slow process. Every six or seven weeks, when I visit my hair stylist, I tell her that I am not sure I can go any farther with this project. And then, there I am, once again at the next appointment, telling her the same thing.
My hair would be more useful, at the moment, attached to the end of a stick and being used to sweep the floor. Or, I could begin making my mother's favorite use for hair 'cuttings' - pin cushions. Mother made pin cushions constantly. I guess she couldn't stand to see anything go to waste, including hair clippings.
Perhaps the little bird who is nesting below our deck would like more additions to her nest. I'm sure my hair would make quite a comfy cushioning for the precious egg(s).
Hair. It is a curious necessity, isn't it? When we have hair, we are bothered when it does not cooperate. When we don't have hair, we are bothered - period.
This is a big, hairy deal.
Ancora imparo
I decided, waaaaay back in September of 2009, that I would let my bangs grow out. I did not think I would be struggling with this issue yet at this date, but here I am with identifiable bangs that come down to just under my lower lip. When I brush this mangy mass over my face, in order to see what progress I am making, I am struck thinking I look like a creature resembling something in "The Planet of the Apes". This has been (and is) a painfully slow process. Every six or seven weeks, when I visit my hair stylist, I tell her that I am not sure I can go any farther with this project. And then, there I am, once again at the next appointment, telling her the same thing.
My hair would be more useful, at the moment, attached to the end of a stick and being used to sweep the floor. Or, I could begin making my mother's favorite use for hair 'cuttings' - pin cushions. Mother made pin cushions constantly. I guess she couldn't stand to see anything go to waste, including hair clippings.
Perhaps the little bird who is nesting below our deck would like more additions to her nest. I'm sure my hair would make quite a comfy cushioning for the precious egg(s).
Hair. It is a curious necessity, isn't it? When we have hair, we are bothered when it does not cooperate. When we don't have hair, we are bothered - period.
This is a big, hairy deal.
Ancora imparo
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Across The Great Divide
Reaching out to others.....sounds good on paper......works well - sometimes......can bring harsh rebuffs at other times......you just never know what type of reception your overture will receive.
I've recently reached out - multiple times - to another person and my success rate is very low. While I haven't been rebuffed, my attempts at connecting have been, at best, met with little or no enthusiasm for reciprocation. And thusly, I've found myself wondering what would be my next step........or should there even be a next step?
After much soul-searching, I have arrived at the present conclusion that my next step will be to do nothing. I have tried....and tried....and tried, possibly to the point of seriously annoying the person.....to no avail. At least, when I put my head on the pillow at night, I can rest firm in the knowledge that I really tried. That, if nothing else, this person will have some glimmer of memory that I attempted to reach out 'Across The Great Divide'.
I have promised myself that I will not abandon this person, either literally or figuratively. I will hold them in my conscious mind until one of two things happen: Either they reach back to take my hand or enough time elapses that neither of us remembers who the other one is.
Reaching "Across The Great Divide" feels like holding outstretched arms over an abyss, into which objects fall but are never seen again. It is a lonely, quiet place, filled only with one's own voice and thoughts. I liked life better when it was a two-way system of communication, not a monologue from a one-person script.
If that person is reading, I'm reaching.
Ancora imparo
I've recently reached out - multiple times - to another person and my success rate is very low. While I haven't been rebuffed, my attempts at connecting have been, at best, met with little or no enthusiasm for reciprocation. And thusly, I've found myself wondering what would be my next step........or should there even be a next step?
After much soul-searching, I have arrived at the present conclusion that my next step will be to do nothing. I have tried....and tried....and tried, possibly to the point of seriously annoying the person.....to no avail. At least, when I put my head on the pillow at night, I can rest firm in the knowledge that I really tried. That, if nothing else, this person will have some glimmer of memory that I attempted to reach out 'Across The Great Divide'.
I have promised myself that I will not abandon this person, either literally or figuratively. I will hold them in my conscious mind until one of two things happen: Either they reach back to take my hand or enough time elapses that neither of us remembers who the other one is.
Reaching "Across The Great Divide" feels like holding outstretched arms over an abyss, into which objects fall but are never seen again. It is a lonely, quiet place, filled only with one's own voice and thoughts. I liked life better when it was a two-way system of communication, not a monologue from a one-person script.
If that person is reading, I'm reaching.
Ancora imparo
Monday, May 3, 2010
Is It Possible?
Do you think it is possible to instill the desire to achieve in others? Or, is it one of the X-factors we are born with and we either have 'it' or we do not? Do you think it is possible to badger a person into a state of wanting to do well? Does the possibility exist that if expectations are kept high enough, individuals will achieve, simply due to striving higher and higher?
Recently I had coffee with a woman who told me that her son, soon-to-be a college junior and a former student of mine, was studying neuro-physics. He has an internship this summer to study living things that operate in groups; i.e. rats, ants, humans, wolves, etc. He will investigate the phenomenon of group psychology - what is it, why does it occur, why do some sub-groups have more success than others? Our conversation left me wondering if group psychology could help produce a collective desire to achieve.....to work above and beyond the bottom rung of success. If the group psyche is strong, does it serve as a greater motivation to individuals within the group?
There is an ant hill right outside my office window. Perhaps I should take a glass of wine with me while I get comfortable and observe the ant society hierarchy. That sounds like important research, doesn't it? Perhaps the better question to be answered would be: How many glasses of wine must one imbibe before you cannot see the ant hill anyway?
I've got the glass. Now to find the ant hill.
Ancora imparo
Recently I had coffee with a woman who told me that her son, soon-to-be a college junior and a former student of mine, was studying neuro-physics. He has an internship this summer to study living things that operate in groups; i.e. rats, ants, humans, wolves, etc. He will investigate the phenomenon of group psychology - what is it, why does it occur, why do some sub-groups have more success than others? Our conversation left me wondering if group psychology could help produce a collective desire to achieve.....to work above and beyond the bottom rung of success. If the group psyche is strong, does it serve as a greater motivation to individuals within the group?
There is an ant hill right outside my office window. Perhaps I should take a glass of wine with me while I get comfortable and observe the ant society hierarchy. That sounds like important research, doesn't it? Perhaps the better question to be answered would be: How many glasses of wine must one imbibe before you cannot see the ant hill anyway?
I've got the glass. Now to find the ant hill.
Ancora imparo
Sunday, May 2, 2010
It's All In The Shoes
I don't know about you, but my feet seem to receive a lot of deserved attention, and, subsequently, a fair amount of my money is spent on keeping them happy. After all, the feet do carry our entire body weight from the moment we arise to the moment we raise them, one final time, off the floor and onto the bed for whatever hours of rest and repose we can manage.
I guess, because I am attentive to what my feet are saying to me, I also notice other peoples' shoes. If I see a pair of shoes that look comfortable and they are being worn by someone who might not cause me bodily harm if a stranger approaches, I will inquire as to the brand of shoe the person is wearing. I have also discovered that people - women, that is - are more than willing to praise the virtues of whatever footwear they have on and will tell you more than you wanted to know about their footwear of choice, if asked.
Depending on the career one has, the shoes tell a story about how much time during the work day that individual spends on his or her feet. You see very few doctors, nurses, teachers, postal workers, or factory workers in any type of shoe other than the obviously comfortable. I'd be willing to wager I would find few women, if any, in the aforementioned job categories in stilettos. Practicality and comfort would win out over style.......at least one would think so.
I'm always on the lookout for the most comfortable shoe ever made and I have a closet full of experiments to back up my claim. The 'shoes' that have my current attention (but no purchase - yet) are shoes that look like gloves for the feet. People who wear these oddities swear by them, saying that they promote foot health and body stability. The rabid wearers even jog in their foot 'gloves'. So, if you see me in public and it looks as if I put my gloves on my feet, you will know that I have fallen victim to the need for yet one more podiatric experiment.
Here's to happy feet - mine and yours!
Ancora imparo
I guess, because I am attentive to what my feet are saying to me, I also notice other peoples' shoes. If I see a pair of shoes that look comfortable and they are being worn by someone who might not cause me bodily harm if a stranger approaches, I will inquire as to the brand of shoe the person is wearing. I have also discovered that people - women, that is - are more than willing to praise the virtues of whatever footwear they have on and will tell you more than you wanted to know about their footwear of choice, if asked.
Depending on the career one has, the shoes tell a story about how much time during the work day that individual spends on his or her feet. You see very few doctors, nurses, teachers, postal workers, or factory workers in any type of shoe other than the obviously comfortable. I'd be willing to wager I would find few women, if any, in the aforementioned job categories in stilettos. Practicality and comfort would win out over style.......at least one would think so.
I'm always on the lookout for the most comfortable shoe ever made and I have a closet full of experiments to back up my claim. The 'shoes' that have my current attention (but no purchase - yet) are shoes that look like gloves for the feet. People who wear these oddities swear by them, saying that they promote foot health and body stability. The rabid wearers even jog in their foot 'gloves'. So, if you see me in public and it looks as if I put my gloves on my feet, you will know that I have fallen victim to the need for yet one more podiatric experiment.
Here's to happy feet - mine and yours!
Ancora imparo
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Adjustments
I'm in the process of making adjustments - all voluntary, although some are driven by external forces. Some adjustments are exciting to contemplate, others, such as not drinking coffee in the morning, will exact much weeping, wailing, and hand-wringing......not to mention the bi-product of grumpiness due to the loss of my morning caffeine fix. But.....I do know that I will live, will eventually adapt and may even feel better. I just cannot imagine my day without a.m. coffee.
Being fully cognizant that I could have much worse problems than not drinking coffee first thing during the day, I'll focus on another positive adjustment and that is getting out for exercise earlier in the morning, walking faster, chugging up and down the hills in my neighborhood. Although my body always objects to awakening before six a.m., as the weather warms it is so much more pleasant to walk in the cool of the day than when the sun is up and beating on me. As I age, I find my body does not 'work' as well in the heat as it once did.
Since I brought up the word 'age', I discovered that my 'age' was showing today as I went shopping looking for a 'gizmo' that I lost and think I can not adjust to being without. (I see that as I 'age', I adapt to certain changes more readily than others!) This little 'gizmo' is a single, plastic hanging hook with a clothes pin-type 'thingee' on the bottom that comes in handy week after week. There used to be four of them until I misplaced one years ago. Then there were three......until a few days ago when I discovered I'd lost another one and I was down to two. Having just two is totally unacceptable, so this week I've been looking to buy replacements, only to discover they are seemingly nowhere to be found. My SO and I were out running errands today and I just had to stop at one of those chain stores that sell household gadgets and kitchen appliances, among other items. We scoured the store, coming up empty-handed. I stopped a store manager, described what I was looking for and she got this blank look while shaking her head and apologizing for not having what I was looking for. On our way back to the car, I told my SO I just didn't understand why I couldn't find 'them'. I went on to explain, "I received them for my high school graduation"............'Nuf said.
He then told me perhaps we should be looking at garage sales or vintage/antique stores.
'Nuf said.
Ancora imparo
Being fully cognizant that I could have much worse problems than not drinking coffee first thing during the day, I'll focus on another positive adjustment and that is getting out for exercise earlier in the morning, walking faster, chugging up and down the hills in my neighborhood. Although my body always objects to awakening before six a.m., as the weather warms it is so much more pleasant to walk in the cool of the day than when the sun is up and beating on me. As I age, I find my body does not 'work' as well in the heat as it once did.
Since I brought up the word 'age', I discovered that my 'age' was showing today as I went shopping looking for a 'gizmo' that I lost and think I can not adjust to being without. (I see that as I 'age', I adapt to certain changes more readily than others!) This little 'gizmo' is a single, plastic hanging hook with a clothes pin-type 'thingee' on the bottom that comes in handy week after week. There used to be four of them until I misplaced one years ago. Then there were three......until a few days ago when I discovered I'd lost another one and I was down to two. Having just two is totally unacceptable, so this week I've been looking to buy replacements, only to discover they are seemingly nowhere to be found. My SO and I were out running errands today and I just had to stop at one of those chain stores that sell household gadgets and kitchen appliances, among other items. We scoured the store, coming up empty-handed. I stopped a store manager, described what I was looking for and she got this blank look while shaking her head and apologizing for not having what I was looking for. On our way back to the car, I told my SO I just didn't understand why I couldn't find 'them'. I went on to explain, "I received them for my high school graduation"............'Nuf said.
He then told me perhaps we should be looking at garage sales or vintage/antique stores.
'Nuf said.
Ancora imparo
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