Multiple Mutations On The Horizon

My laptop is quickly becoming the next find for electronic palaeontologists.  I watch the television ads for all of the gizmos that the phone companies are promoting (hawking is more like it), coupled with Apple's promotion of iPad, iTouch, iPhone, iiiiiiiiiiiii is everywhere.  I have never seen so many lower-case i's in the media in my life. 

I am also struck my the way texting and Tweeting have overtaken the world, or so it seems.  I am a texter, but not a Tweeter.  Besides, texting is really a form of Tweeting, is it not?  The people I text with all share the commonality of a strange, abbreviated dialogue that will someday probably become a language.  Children's books will be much easier to write.  Imagine the dialogue:

hi, devon.  howr u?  urcute. ib fine. whtr u up 2?  gotta run.  by4now.

There will be no upper case lettering because hitting the shift key with a thumb is simply too time-consuming.  Shaving off letters and using single letters or numbers to represent words will take the place of formal, proper spelling.  Spelling taught in schools?  Forgeddaboudit.  Cursive writing and keyboard typing?  No one will know these skills were ever needed except in the faded, yellowed pages of antiquated textbooks.  Textbooks?  What were they?     

Imagine the human, physical transformation that will take place.  There is a song, from 1965, "Everyone's Gone To The Moon", by the Englishman Jonathan King.  He wrote the line, "Arms that can only lift a spoon".  I argue that our mutation will go far beyond that.  We will truly be a race with thumbs only.  The thumbs on future humanoids will be much smaller and thinner than present mankind's due to texting.  Our phones will have become our computers and primary, if not only, methods of communication.  The small keys necessary on these devices will necessitate physical mutations.  Ever watch teens texting?  I predict that these mutations may evolve by the end of the next generation.  The world will be a strange mix of the 'next generation' that has arms with a single, thumb-like digit and the 'lost generation'.....those emerging from caves still possessing all four fingers AND  a thumb.  

i have 2 go.  my fingers are shrinking and my thumbs r changing b4 my very is.

Ancora imparo

True Bright Spots

Amidst all of the ugliness of this world, I am seeing bright spots.  Besides my family and grandchildren, which are always bright spots......

• I saw smiles on the faces of my choir members last night and heard their laughter.  Priceless.
• My SO took us for a long ride in the country today.  The harvest colors are splendiferous.
• We visited our favorite apple orchard today and came away with fresh apples and we got to eat our allotted ONE apple-cider doughnut for the year.  There is just something magic and glorious about the combination of white flour, processed sugar and grease.
• I finally moved off square one today and tackled my to-do list that I had been avoiding for too many days.
• Lastly, I cannot close without mentioning the luminous bright spot shining over the country of Chile right now.  As moments have allowed throughout the day, I have been following the rescue of the trapped miners as they come to the surface, emerging from their virtual entombment for over two months.  Watching their faces as they step out of the capsule, watching the faces of their loved ones, people all over the world have become viral voyeurs as we observe this strange pageant play out thousands of miles away. This is a reminder that, for those who have reached the surface, there is a God - a supreme being - that has been present throughout the ordeal and the rescues that have taken place thus far.

True bright spots.

I am humbled and uplifted.

Ancora imparo 

My Talent and Proud Of It

I'm always searching for identifiable talents in others.  Genuine praise for another person is a powerful motivator, in any circumstance.  So, I guess it stands to reason, that I would be on the lookout for personal useful talents as well.  After all, who does not want to feel as if they possess a talent or two?

For a number of years, (most of my marriage to my SO) I have enjoyed a quirky talent that enables me to pick up items with the toes of my feet.  This drives my SO nuts, particularly when, in warm-weather months, we will be driving along and I will manipulate the buttons, levers and dials on the car's dashboard with the toes of my feet.  This seems natural to me, especially when I am just sitting in the car's seat, being driven down the boring interstate highway like "Miss Daisy".  Whenever possible, if a piece of paper or some other smallish item has fallen to the floor, I will retrieve it using either my toes or both of my feet.  (My theory here is whatever keeps me out of trouble with the rest of the world and doesn't hurt anyone else is just fine.)

Today I had a visit with my favorite bone-cruncher.....otherwise known as my chiropractor.  (Whatever you may think about chiropractic medicine does not bother me.  It works well for me.....that is all I know.)  This chiropractor works on my feet a lot.......more than I wish he did because the manipulations are never comfortable.  He has, however, done some amazing things for my body so I play along and try to adopt whatever suggestions he makes for me to improve my health.  Today he announced that my ligaments had improved enough to add one more exercise to my daily regimen:  Walking about, barefoot, on my tiptoes, for five minutes a day.  He has been after me, for months, to spend more barefoot time, which I have, and I can now go barefoot on hardwood floors, for more than an hour, whereas before, my feet would hurt after five minutes of bare-time.  Thusly, I do not question.....much.

I tell you this so that if you see me on my tiptoes, anywhere other than the grocery store where most things I want are out of my shortish-reach, you will understand why.

I'm working on my talent!

Ancora imparo

Mine Field?

Disclaimer:  This post is NOT related to any conversation I had with my SO but rather with recent occurrences that the media have covered.

Equality?  Sameness?

When I heard these two descriptors uttered in the same sentence, my mind immediately latched onto the social ramifications for so many diverse groups of humans.  The notions of 'equality' and 'sameness' were part of a presentation revolving around the sexes and I found my mind could not escape considering the two concepts.  At first blush, these two words would seem to represent polar opposites in thought, but my fascination narrowed in on the idea that there are those who believe that equality should equate to sameness. Can it be that if you and I are 'equal' we are the same? 

"Nay, nay!", say I.  In fact, it seems ludicrous to even consider that if I am someone's equal, we are the same.

Speaking only on behalf of myself, I can say, with absolute firmness, that while I may desire equality with someone else, I have zero desire to be the same as another person.  When considering the sexes, there is just no biological, physiological, gynecological, or even mental way that a female is the same as a male.  The world, as we know it, would come to an end if all humans were just one androgynous species.  The differences between males and females have their purpose(s) and to not recognize those differences just seems not only short-sighted with tunnel vision, but downright ignorant.  I'll step out on a precarious limb, right here, and say that when considering equality between the sexes, we, as a society, cannot nor should not ignore the differences between the sexes.  'We' can camouflage ourselves all we want, but in the end, there are just, flat-out, differences we cannot overlook, nor do I want those differences overlooked.

I am stepping off my soapbox and going to find my pink slippers, my pink housecoat, my pink hair curlers, and my pink bon bons.  I'll watch soap operas all day, then go read my Harlequin romance novels.....after which I'll welcome home my man from his hunter-gather day with his pipe and slippers.  The dog will sleep at his feet and I'll have a fire burning in the fireplace.  I'm certain he'd do the same for me......he just wouldn't look good in pink.

We'll be the "Stepford Spouses".

Ancora imparo

Lesson Re-learned

Today I had a viewpoint of mine driven home unexpectedly.  The scenario that I watched underscored and emphasized something that I already know.........what NOT to do in a group setting.

Groups are funny 'things'.  They rather have a life and a hierarchy of their own and I pity the person or persons who dare to disrupt a group's procedures.  I sat in with an established group and witnessed some discomforting realities:  Established groups do not adapt easily to new members, the leader of the group is vital to the group accepting new members and 'claimed' chairs are alive and well.  None of these descriptors bode well for groups to grow, but perhaps, that is the point.  Perhaps groups do not want to welcome new members.

What I observed transpiring is that newcomers to this group were not verbally welcomed, although a 'welcome back' was issued to an existing group member that had been absent; mention was made that "there were new team players and old team players in new seats"; and a comment/complaint from an existing group member that someone was "sitting in my chair" was allowed to remain without the group's leader responding with any welcoming remark to the newcomers.  My awareness was heightened throughout the time frame that the group met and I wondered if the newcomers would return next week.

I do not think I would return to this group.  Little effort was made to enfold the 'newbies' into the group and, frankly, some of the comments made might have encouraged me to get up and walk out, which these brave and intrepid folks did not.  They stayed, much to their credit.

It was a powerful lesson driven home.  As leaders, we have an incumbent responsibility to welcome new people to any group we are working with.  To not do this shouts weak leadership skills and sends an all-too-powerful message to newcomers:  Don't bother coming back.  We like things the way they were.  Go somewhere else.

May I long remember the lesson I re-learned today.

Ancora imparo

Under The Drill

I am facing the fact that I am a 'dental wimp'.  It is hard to believe that until I was around thirty years of age, any dental work I had done was performed without local anesthetic.  Somewhere, in my early thirties, I grew uncomfortable with oral pain and started accepting 'shots'.

Yesterday was the first of two sessions for a crown and it was my first crown experience with this particular dentist.  He was meticulous, careful (redundant, I know), and kept apologizing  for his perfectionist tendencies, to which I replied, "I like the perfectionism trait in my dentist!"  What I realized was that even after my mouth had been numbed with three shots, and I really couldn't feel him working, probing, drilling, and poking about in my mouth, I was still 'thinking' about the pain.  Although I felt no discomfort (for the first two hours, at least), I knew great pain was lurking about and I kept waiting to feel it.  Every time he'd withdraw his hand, and the wicked instrument it held, my body would instantly relax, even if only for a brief moment.  As soon as his hand reappeared in my peripheral vision field, my sub-conscious would signal potential pain, and I'd find my body involuntarily taking a deep breath and then holding my breath.  I had to keep reminding myself to breathe. I'd then give myself an internal chastisement over my fear of potential pain, only to feel the same reaction happen again - deep breath followed by the holding of my breath.  For the last half hour of my two-and-a-half hour dental visit, my tooth began to wake up and the resulting sensations were not pleasant but I did not wish to encourage my own wimpiness.

I know that perceived discomfort is just as troublesome as actual discomfort but I found that it was nigh to impossible for me to overcome the fear of possible pain.  Our psyches are such powerful forces, are they not? I am still marveling at the realization that all I had to do was 'see' the dentist's hand and I was certain that great pain was looming largely in my immediate future.  I can see why dental torture is so effective.  Ouch!

Enough already!  My new dentist is great.  Long live perfectionist dentists!

Ancora imparo

"Hip To Be Square"

"Hip to be square".

This is not a new idea.  Huey Lewis and the News gave it musical credence in a great song that came out in the mid-1980's.  In yesterday's posting, I posed the question, "When did it stop being OK to be square?"  I thought a lot about the answer to my own query and decided that, for me, I was just fine being square.

I'll segue to last night.  A friend and I traveled north to a Big-Ten college town to watch a rock/soul band perform.  The venue was a trendy lounge that still has the financial where withal to sponsor live music, to which I give the owners huge credit.  I don't 'get out' much, certainly not with anyone other than my SO, but since he was out of town, I hornswaggled a good friend into making the trip with me.  The lounge was full of mostly thirty through fifty-somethings, casually dressed for a night out, and looking for fun.  They all looked 'hip' and I shout 'square'.  I sidled up to the bar, which had a few empty chairs, took a twenty-dollar bill in my fingers - the 'hip' way I saw others holding currency - and tried to look like I did this all the time.  The 'mixologist' asked me what I would like and here is where my new-found 'hipness' vaporized.

I am not a drinker, per se, and I rarely stand at a bar, ordering drinks.  My SO always takes on this task.  Or, when in a restaurant, if I order an alcoholic beverage, it is a glass of riesling wine.  I am safe with wine.  I only like one type.  But, last night, when I inquired to my friend, "What can I get you?", she asked for vodka on the rocks and a chaser glass of water.  I was confident I could get the job done.  So I found myself, at the bar, face-to-face with this young thing waiting to take my drink order.  I told her what I wanted and she asked what kind of vodka I wanted.  Well, now, I don't drink vodka, never have.....that I know of......and, off the top of my head I could only think of one brand of vodka...."Blue Goose", I said.  (Little did I realize my mistake.) She was very polite, gave me a funny look and said, "Would you like to see the list of vodkas we have available?"  By now I knew that "Blue Goose" was probably not the name of a vodka brand and I saw my hipness fading quickly into the sunset.  I looked at the list and instantly knew my mistake.  "Grey Goose", I said. "Two shots".  I thought I would get a glass with two shots of vodka in it and a glass of water, as well, in addition to my wine.  What she brought me was two glasses, two shots each, of Grey Goose, along with the water and wine.  I paid (a lot) and took the beverages back to our table, which was full of thirty-somethings.  My astonished friend looked at the glasses and I told her the story.  We laughed so hard our Depends got a good workout.  She tasted the vodka and confirmed that each glass had two shots worth in them and declared I'd have to carry her out on a stretcher.  It was then that I realized that being 'hip' was not in the cards for moi. 

As I drove home, I had time to reflect that one truly cannot turn a square peg into a hip-looking round peg.  As Popeye would say, "I yam what I yam".  Just don't send me up to the bar.

By the way, the Grey Goose bottle has blue on it.  I knew I'd seen blue somewhere.

Ancora imparo