What if?

Imagine a World Without Free Knowledge

2012-01-18T09:43:00.000-08:00

Ask yourself, "What good is an opinion unchallenged?"

http://www.savetheinternet.com

Stop_Online_Piracy_Act

how-sopa-would-affect-you-faq/

Censorship is to art as lynching is to justice. Henry Louis Gates
Assassination is the extreme form of censorship. George Bernard Shaw
Censorship reflects a society's lack of confidence in itself. Potter Stewart
The first condition of progress is the removal of censorship. George Bernard Shaw

Angela's Random Images

2012-01-09T17:50:00.000-08:00

As Apple's MobileMe Gallery/iWeb option is going away, I have added a photography blog that will focus more exclusively on new things I am doing with photography.

Angela's Random Images

Napa Valley Starlings December 26, 2011

2011-12-26T21:28:00.000-08:00

Starlings Napa Valley December 26, 2011

Dear Friend I Last Saw More Than 20 Years Ago Who Has So Kindly Continued To Include Me As Part of Your Yearly Christmas Form Letter,

2011-12-15T16:31:00.001-08:00

I hope this Christmas finds your vision 20/20 and your faculties sound. It has been kind of you to include me among the family and friends you keep in touch with each Christmas. I was surprised to look at your picture this year and find your hair has grayed and your children are both about the age we were when we first met. To be honest, perhaps I would have noticed years ago, had I not been throwing your card, unread, into my recycling bin for the last five years. I could claim I didn’t realize it was intended for me, as it is addressed to my married name and I reclaimed my maiden name nine years ago when I got a divorce. At the time, I informed you of my update in name and circumstance in my handwritten note at the bottom of the my handmade card I sent to my Christmas card list.

Over the next five years, I continued to receive mail for a woman I have never been - you actually are sending it to a woman with my ex-husband’s last name, which I never actually took. When I was married, my name was my maiden name combined with my husband’s name, hyphenated. Each year I tried to find a new and creative way to update your address list by highlighting my last name, writing it in bold, or surrounding it with arrows. Finally I was forced to conclude that you weren’t reading my cards. That is why I stopped sending them several years back.

I’ve forgotten, did your husband work for the US Postal Service? You seem to have a decided interest in keeping them busy at this time of year.

It is only this year, filled with the spirit of “WTH it’s Christmas,” when I opened your card and saw your smiling, innocent faces that it occurred to me - perhaps these letters have been intended for my ex-husband and his new wife? I’m sorry I never thought to forward their address to you. How thoughtless of me. But then, the included Hallmark card always has my name, just my name. Hmmm it is a puzzle.

I was glad to hear the year has been kind to you and you have been busy, that your son graduated at the top of his class and your daughter is getting married. I’m glad your husband has remained in good health.

Until next year,

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

WARNING: MAY CONTAIN ADULT THOUGHTS OR LANGUAGE

2011-11-19T12:53:00.000-08:00

Lately I've been talking a lot about curse words and insults. Not actually using them, just talking about them. Really, who out there who appreciates lovemaking and the sexual act, hasn't wondered why we insist on using the word "fu@k" in such an abusive way? Why isn't "Fu@k You" the equivalent of "Have a Nice Day?" The thought really come to a head when a friend told me his name translated as "douche bag" in The Urban Dictionary. While one part of my mind was wondering why men insist on creating disagreeable insults based on a woman's vagina when such a large percentage of them would like nothing better than to be in a woman's vagina, the other part was thinking: "douche: something inserted into a woman's vagina that makes her feel good afterwards." Hmmmm, really should that be that insulting? Granted, it also brings to mind the notion that perhaps the lady in question's vagina needed a douching, which may be at the heart of the insult.

Really even the curse words that are about something unpleasant, like say "$hit" don't bring to mind the sheer intensity of discomfort as say "shart" would. ("Shart" the equivalent of vurp, which is a burp with a bit of vomit. A shart is a fart with a bit of $hit.) $hit can be in many forms, dry, damp, smelly, in the toilet bowl, from a different species even. But calling a person a shart instead of a piece of $hit, well you summon up the inconvenience, the embarrassment. Now you have called someone something with grit. Something that means something.

When thinking this way, embellishment is important. Calling someone a booger or even a green booger, lacks the intensity of you "sinus infection nuclear green booger." But then you run the risk of using too many words. Insults or curse words that have a person walking away before you finish uttering them are absolutely useless, as would be having to repeat them because the recipient didn't hear the whole sentence. The use of the words "wipe" or "smear" should be considered because, after all, wipe or smear in the context of bodily fluid or discharge is never a good thing. Discharge itself is not a good thing and is a handy noun for your vocabulary.

So the next time you feel the need to really tell someone how you feel, may I propose some of the following: (In most cases, the word "you" proceeding the phrase is assumed.)

premature ejaculation stain
pus leakage
oozing sore
shart
vurp
infected knob end (infected anything is good, oozing infected is better)
broken stringed tampon
tea toned jock strap

Well, I'm sure you get the idea. Go out and creatively use some of your own. And try to stop using the word "c*nt." It disturbs women and ..... really do I have to remind you again?

The vagina is your friend. Most of you out there either have one, want to have one, or want to be in one.

'nuff said.

As If Underwater: No. 2

2011-11-15T07:37:00.000-08:00

As If Underwater: No. 2: I sit in my parents’ living room. It’s hot and it’s stuffy. Anyone else in the room is asleep. My only company left is “Sherlock Holmes a...

As If Underwater: Moments With My Father

2011-11-14T22:26:00.000-08:00

I have begun working on a tentative new body of work based on my experiences caring for my father, who had a stroke a little more than a year ago. The entries, persistent little voices in my head who seem to want to be written, whisper quietly, haltingly. At first I wasn't sure what to do with them. Am I writing a memoir? Am I writing a "how to" guide? Am I simply stumbling through experience, grasping at moments like pebbles along my way? Either way, my experiences 10 years or so back sharing my feelings about getting a divorce, have taught me that sometimes simply sharing your own voice, even if it is simply saying "this is hard," can be a great comfort for others going through the same thing. I can hope for no better for this blog than to accomplish that same result.

As If Underwater: No. 1: There are human experiences that can't be written. You are sitting next to a huge koi pond with a fountain. That noise, not quite "babblin...

Open Letter of Apology to My Writing Group

2011-10-13T16:27:00.000-07:00

I'm doing the best I can . .. . but the wrong muse is calling . .. .lol.

Slide show of a photo project a very long time in the dreaming and just two days in the making.

Personal Photo Project

"The Red Means"

2011-07-27T13:19:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had the blues. Actually I was descending towards what Truman Capote's character, Holly Golightly, would call "the red means." Why? Too much negative self introspection? Absolutely. Too much reminiscing over the sadder moments of my life? Can I get an amen to that? But mostly I had one of those moments where, like that sharp pain you get under your ribcage from too much exertion, I knew I had missed out. To be fair my mood had already darkened before I listened to one of my dearest friends in the world convey knowledge he gained from having a daughter and I was introduced to the notion of yet another thing I missed out on by not having children.

Even as I actively pursued "not having children" - because while the notion courted me, I found merit and actively followed that path - I knew I would live a different life from many people. I knew I could never claim the immortality of a healthy, vibrant family tree branching out into a future I couldn't hope to live to see. My heart always ached a little to know I would never hold a tiny hand in my hand or feel the unconditional or unquestioning love of a toddler, while I breathed a sigh of relief that I would never know the distain of a teenager.

My father once had a story he told about friends of friends. Apparently they had an unexpected windfall and were questioning whether they should spend the money towards adopting a child or buying a new car. Everyone in my family rolled their eyes in exasperation and said, "Well, if you have to ask ..." **sneer** "buy the new car."

I bought the new car. I took the vacations. Most of the time, I never looked back.

Until two days ago when I listened to a single parent speak with passion of the things he has learned. The selfless wisdom that comes only from having had a child. And I knew I had missed out. There was an entire wing of knowledge in the library of life from which I had detoured myself away.

Sometimes the bitch slap of what you already should have realized stinging your face can shock.

I spent the day irritable, on edge, ready to cry at a simple change in the breeze. Until this morning. You see this morning, I remembered something. It is the reason Christians have the saying, "Whenever God shuts a door, he opens a window." We tend to look at our choices as black and white, right or wrong creatures. Just recently while watching "Celebrity Rehab" - yes I occasionally watch very schlocky television - I watched Sean Young tear her hair out over losing a part in the movie, "Batman." After asking who had eventually won the part, the counselor sagely asked, "and how has her career been lately?"

We look at all these choices as things that will make or break us. "I could have been somebody. I could have been a contender." If only I . .. .. . got married, had kids, inhaled, didn't inhale, went to college . . . well, you get the point. The truth is they are more like the Robert Frost poem, "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood ......" While sometimes you may return to visit the unchosen path, choosing a path very likely means sights on that other path that you will never see. Sometimes you will find yourself a continent away and no longer will even remember what words to program into Mapquest to find those unchosen detours. Sometimes, strangled by indecision, you will forget that not choosing a path is actually a choice in itself. One that leads to conclusions and outcomes just as surely as consciously choosing would have done. Sometimes you will despair that what you chose led you to what seem to be inconsequential victories, like learning how to play a mean game of Pinochle; while the choices of other people around you seem to have led them to sainthood.

I suppose the trick is to remember to be as kind to yourself as you would be to others and try to appreciate the things you DID learn. Most of all, remember. It is just a road you have chosen to walk upon. You can always change directions and choose another path. Of course, do so too often and you may find yourself walking in circles, never arriving anywhere, but even that probably has merits only those travelers can truly see and appreciate. Because, best of all, all of the journeys have wondrous things to see and learn for those whose eyes and hearts aren't afraid to be open.

Perspective

2011-06-10T18:16:00.000-07:00

When I was five or six years old, I went to a public pool for the first time. I didn't go unsupervised, but my direct supervision was loose. Loose enough that, after talking with other kids my age, I was convinced into jumping off the diving board into the deep end of the pool and no adult intervened and stopped me. I don't remember feeling any fear. I do remember hitting the water and sinking under. I remember bobbing to the surface three times only to slip back under three times. I remember being rescued by a lifeguard. I remember being ordered to stay at the shallow end of the pool. I remember spending the rest of the day there, alone.

It seems to me all of the different highlights of your life can be charted, like points on a map or a model of our solar system. The points remain stationary, separated by dates and time, but your perspective changes depending on where you have moved along the map. At different times in my life, I have reflected on that swimming pool story and focused on my lack of supervision or painted the other kids as "the bad guys." For a long time, the story was my excuse for being an uncertain swimmer or "a little uncomfortable" in the water. Nowadays, my focus is that little girl who jumped off the diving board. It would be easy for me to dismiss her as an idiot, but instead I see someone who was fearless: literally "fear less." That little girl had such a positive outlook on the world she heard not even a whisper of the possibility of negative outcome. Nowadays, I want to climb into that little girl's head and see just a glimpse of the world through her eyes.

Four or five years later, a completely different little girl, I had a poster above my bed. It had a single seagull in flight and read "Hold fast to your dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly." I did not know at the time the words were taken from a Langston Hughes poem and he was not credited on the poster. By this time, I was so familiar with the possibility of a negative outcome I think the image of "a broken winged bird" was what I identified with most in the words. I don't remember how long the poster hung there, but I know I never went into my room without giving it at least a glance.

I was reminded of the other little girl, the fearless one, just today when I listened to the 21-year-old caregiver assigned to my father tell me her dreams in life and then systematically, one by one, tell me why she couldn't achieve them. I should say here: the dreams were only sketches, not definite, concrete plans detailing what she wanted and the obstacles were noted as somewhat temporary, transitory blockades. Nothing was set in stone. But nothing voiced any confidence in a positive outcome either, and as I drove home, I wondered why it is that we do that? Why do we voice a dream, if only silently, secretly to ourselves, and then shoot it down so utterly and completely? Is it because we reach a saturation point where others have shot us down often enough a need emerges just to get it over with before they get the chance to do it again? Is our need for recognition or agreement so strong that we will freely ridicule ourselves simply to be part of the crowd? After all, across the internet on Facebook and Twitter, you can watch the world bitch and moan about it being Monday and breathe a sigh of relief when it is Friday. Misery does love company.

I'm not sure what the polar opposite of misery is. Success? Happiness? Whatever it is, the first little girl had it in abundance and I'm pretty sure she had it in common with a lot of people we hold up as role models or wish we had lives like theirs. I think the only thing they have she didn't have was a little bit of knowledge. She hadn't learned yet some things don't just come naturally to you, they have to be learned. She lacked experience and a little bit of perspective, but the rest of it she had right.

Sometimes, whether the crowd is with you or not, you just need to get on the diving board and step off . .. ..

Baycon 2011

2011-05-31T11:10:00.001-07:00

Baycon 2011, a set on Flickr.

Random photos and unedited video from Baycon 2011

RIP Mark Haines - I will miss you

2011-05-25T17:31:00.000-07:00

I will always remember Mark Haines as one of the few individuals on television who, just when I was thinking "I wish someone would speak up about fill-in-the-blank," actually did speak up about just that. He made me laugh, he gave me hope that not everyone on television was a marketing automaton, and I will miss him.

Below is a link to Forbes' Eric Jackson excellent blog entry "Why Mark Haines was Special."

http://blogs.forbes.com/ericjackson/2011/05/25/why-mark-haines-was-special/

"Be The Change You Want To See In The World"

2011-05-14T11:29:00.000-07:00

In any given time, there are numerous platitudes peppering the white noise of our lives. They come from religious leaders, philosophers, famous athletes, song titles and all sorts of popular culture sources. They shift from the ones in vogue in your parent's lifetimes to the ones that are sick in your children's. What doesn't change is why they are there. Like metaphorical Burma Shave signs, they hang out hoping the viewer will take action. Most of the time, other than a small laugh or acknowledgement of a saying's "correctness;" we don't take action. Most of the time, in fact, we do the exact opposite.

Consider:

"That which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger"
"Don't worry, be happy"
"When life gives you lemons, make lemonade"
"Time heals all wounds"
"Be the change you want to see in the world"
"Success is the best revenge"

How many times have you watched someone cling to one of those, almost like a life raft, only to need it once again just a short time later? If they actually work; if they actually have power; should we need to repeat them again and again like a meditative mantra?

It's because we simply pay lip service to the platitude and focus on the problem that led us to the saying in the first place. Whatever unhappiness, inadequacy, pain, suffering, lack - whatever unpleasant truth we have encountered; we clutch it to our bosoms and keep it alive much like an addict who promises himself he will seek help: tomorrow. Instead of embracing life and fighting for our happiness, we revel in sad songs, complaining about nearly everything and no matter how many bumper sticker self help sayings we know, we secretly believe this IS the best it can be. Most of us are so negative that we don't even recognize it when we speak it.

So how about this?

Whatever platitude is currently stalking you, whispering to your subconscious for you to take action; why not follow the advice? Just like we know that if we actually DO floss, it is better for your teeth. Your mouth feels better, your breath smells better and your teeth last longer. So what if an apple a day actually does make you "healthy, wealthy and wise?" What if all of your combined suffering actually has made you like Captain America in a crisis? What if the pain you feel from the boyfriend who dumped you really won't even be a blip on your radar next year?

Think about it.

If you knew that everything will work itself out and this too shall pass; if you really knew it like it had already happened; would you bother wasting your time grousing about it today?

Hell no. You'd go out and enjoy the beautiful day with a song in your heart and a smile on your face.

So why not?

Go out into the beautiful day with a smile on your face.

I'm going to.

Of course, the platitude that has been dogging my footsteps?

"Be the change you want to see in the world . . . . "

Infinity Visuals - Israel Valencia Photography

2011-04-21T23:36:00.000-07:00

Israel Valencia - Primavera-Rota

A good friend and wonderful photographer, Israel has photos on display currently at Bistro Sabor in Napa and will have a photo booth at the Earth Day Celebration in downtown Napa on Saturday, April 23, 2011.

Dear Woman

2011-04-08T11:47:00.000-07:00

Video I found on the wall at Facebook. Where some men may find it a little "touchy feely" or resist a message that, at least in the beginning, seems to blame men for all of the ills of the world; the video has an uplifting message and a vision that could greatly improve our world.

Johnny Smith The Slip.mov

2011-03-24T22:27:00.000-07:00

Video for Johnny Smith's "The Slip" from the album "Gentlemen X." A musician local to me, I have always been impressed with Johnny's voice, as well as his gracious and unassuming personality. When trying to blip some of his songs at blip.fm, I saw that he didn't really have a lot of videos online so I donated this video and the photos to his cause.

"Fated" by S.G. Browne

2011-03-17T16:12:00.000-07:00

http://sgbrowne.com/novels/fated/

"Rule #1: Don't get involved."

My entire life I have been told I think too much. While I'm not really sure that I agree that it is possible to think "too" much, perhaps only too "little;" I am pretty sure that author, S. G. Browne is a thinker. I don't believe he could have written this book without a fair amount of pondering about the meaning of human existence. "Fated" is a book where all of the elements work so well together, it almost felt like "deja vu" reading it. Which is not to say the story is predictable or you've read it before. Actually it is more like his description of all of the immortals in the book just feels so accurate; I found myself saying "yes!" aloud more than once. If you've ever been frustrated wondering why humans continually do the stupid things they do, you will immediately identify with Fate, who is forced to continually adjust his humans' fate after they make bad decision after bad decision.

While "Fated" may not shift you to the path of Destiny, it is a great read.

Reel Wisdom: Lessons from 40 Films in 7 Minutes

2011-02-20T08:43:00.000-08:00

Reality vs The Perception of Reality

2011-02-20T02:35:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not, reality vs the perception of reality was the argument du jour on my news wall at Facebook. Actually that in itself makes a good illustration of the argument. In reality, Facebook is a social networking site. A more simplified way to describe that reality would be: Facebook is a place where individuals can post thoughts, photographs, game information - nearly anything of a digital nature that they would like; and make them available for other individuals to access. Perception of that reality then becomes more involved with what people do with the site. Given the capabilities of Facebook, (for our discussion) it makes no difference to the "reality" if an individual uses it to play Farmville 12 hours a day or to post hourly reporting on anything from the current events of "my vacation" to the current state of the world. You see, what the people use the medium for IS their perception of why it is available to them and what is its appropriate usage. Although those perceptions involve a certain amount of judgment, it is the next layer that gets judgmental. That is where, having witnessed a segment of posts or time on Facebook, the individual "judges" Facebook as, let's say, "a place where silly, boring people waste precious hours of their life playing equally silly games." Now, keep in mind, this is NOT reality. This is perception. Facebook still sits there - unbiased as to what its life purpose is. It is the perception based glasses or blinders of the human individual that makes a judgment about that reality and then reinvents it. The problem arises when the human is unaware he is filtering reality through his own perceptions.

On my Facebook news wall, the reality vs perception question invariably traveled to the question of "if a tree falls in the woods, but no one is there to hear it; does it still make a sound?" But when you think about it from a purely, "reality vs perception," point of view; while it may be a fun little game to play with, it doesn't provide us a lot of enlightenment. Unless, of course, we allow ourselves to travel far enough to make judgments about whose fault it is that the tree fell. Otherwise, it is not a question about what the difference is between reality and perceived reality; it is a question about whether or not there actually IS a reality beyond what we perceive. Which is another ballpark altogether.

Let's look at another one just to see where it gets us.

There is an elderly man in a nursing home. One day, a water glass leaves the grasp of his hand, falls to the floor and shatters into many pieces. That's the fact. That's the reality. We have a man. We have a nursing home. We have a broken glass on the floor. But, to the individual's witnessing or impacted by the event, the perception based reality can vary greatly. Perhaps the son of the man perceives the event as a sign of his decreasing strength and decline in health. Perhaps the daughter of the man perceives the event as a sign of the nursing home staff's lack of proper care for her father. Perhaps the nursing home attendant perceives the event as a patient's attempt to receive more attention than the rest of the patients.

Now here's the next problem with perceived reality. We can judge all of those individual's perceptions based on what they witnessed or didn't witness on that day or in the entire life of the elderly man and his personality; but what our "rational" mind fails to grasp is that ALL of the perceived realities are correct. Every one of them is correct whether they appear to be in conflict with each other or not. Now, "correct" is probably not the best word actually, so let's substitute "real." Every one of those perceived realities is real. Every one of those perceived realities is real and represents the reality of the individual perceiving its existence.

Understand? We are now in "one man's junk is another man's treasure" territory. You see, humans are nearly incapable of simply reporting the facts of reality. Our opinions, our need to understand and feel safe in our own existence, our fears - they all give us the guidelines of what reality looks like and what it means.

Now the argument on Facebook involved American government. A whole bunch of "isms" were being paraded around as realities. It is impossible for an "ism" to be reality OUTSIDE of perception. Let's break American government down to the "facts."

There are three branches of federal government: fact. One branch is the Judicial Branch: fact. One branch is the Legislative Branch: fact. One branch is the Executive Branch: fact. Together, these branches make, execute, and interpret the laws that govern America: fact.

But when Americans get together to talk about their government, this is almost never what they are really discussing. Instead, they are arguing about whether or not the laws enacted by the government are right or good; why the individual's working in the branches enacted the particular laws that they did; and what the government should be doing that they are not. All of that involves perceptional reality.

Now here is the important part. It is the scary part, but it is also the part where empathy can begin.

Remember all of those perceived realities are real. They are absolutely the real realities of the persons perceiving them. Let's take one that is as far out on a fringe as you can get in order to make the point. Let's say an individual witnesses all of the news of what laws and decisions the federal branches are making and he perceives that the President of the United States is actually an alien from outer space determined to initiate the destruction of the human race. Just because you or I believe that perception to be ridiculous, it is still that person's reality in which he resides every day. Or at least until the next election. We can't assume that any amount of our reassuring him that we have seen the president's belly button - he is a human - will alter his perception. In fact, he might even perceive our attempts to persuade him as evidence we may also be aliens.

So now that I've brought you to this point - this distinction between reality and perceptional reality - what is MY point? Why bother, especially if we can never cajole, argue, or persuade the individual into changing his perceptional reality. He can only do that on his own. My point is what I take from the knowledge that an individual's perceived reality IS his reality.

That man, the one who believes the president is an alien bent on the destruction of the human race? He lives in a very frightening world. Where we may see joy and laughter and all of the best possibilities for the human race; in a very real sense, he is living in a Philip K. Dick novel and is feeling only fear and doom. Imagine how that must feel for him. He must face every day with a generalized sense of dread. He is essentially facing a hell on earth. It is so important that we attempt to interact with him only in a compassionate way. It's my belief, at least, that it is only possible for an individual's perception of reality to change when he or she is in a calmer, more relaxed state away from his or her fears. So rather than yelling at people and calling them idiots for what they believe or attempting to argue them into agreeing with you; take a step into the painting that is their perceived reality. Try to understand why they would believe that. Try to understand what it must feel like.

But here is the most important part.

Let me make it plain, I am not saying we need to be on the outlook for weapons of mass destruction under the bed or in the garage of everyone who doesn't agree with us politically.

What I am saying is that just because we believe another individual's perceived reality is "crazy talk;" we should never assume that whatever actions they claim they may make are anything other than factual statements of their capabilities in their current perceived state of reality. It is action based on shared perceived reality that brings about change and revolution, but can also bring about destruction and slayings of the Charles Manson variety. Individual perceived reality can bring about great thinkers, artists, visionaries, inventors, but it can also deliver that mundane job worker who takes the whole office hostage.

Underestimating someone else's capabilities within their perceived reality can bring about an end to your own.

Terrorists in Your Own Life

2011-02-15T23:19:00.000-08:00

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=akZZd7Hz0rE

Today, for the first time, I elected to "hide all posts" from one of my "friends" on Facebook. I am still such a Pollyanna, I couldn't just delete him altogether - I try to find the good in people, even when they seem determined to hide it. For weeks I had been hiding individual posts from the person as he spewed closed minded negativity in the name of educating the rest of us about politics. I play Farmville, I have hundreds of friends; but there were days when nearly the entire "News Wall" would be him ranting and raving.

The final straw came tonight.

I posted a video on my wall. You know, I really don't care if the video is real or faked. I really don't care if someone in the youtube comment said a curse word. The video makes me laugh EVERY time I see it. Every time. I would almost be ashamed to admit how many times I have laughed. That video gives me joy. Sure, it's a joy that's about on par with The Three Stooges, but I never promised you highbrow humor. I simply wanted to share a second of that joy with others.

Here came this tendril of negativity from this person over onto my wall.

Was it to tell me the video was stupid or in poor taste? No.

It was to tell me how he couldn't be bothered to watch my video because it didn't tell him enough about it and it could be anything. "Not even tempted," he said.

So I thought about that. Apparently, the fact I was a "friend" and had posted it, didn't give it any sort of recommendation. Apparently, the fact I had known him since kindergarten gave him cause to find things that I posted "not even tempting."

I realized .. . I had been in a good mood. Like I said, that video makes me laugh EVERY time. I'm grateful that the man in it wasn't hurt and I don't really care if it was a stunt. It's funny.

What isn't funny is when others feel the need to put their stamp of disapproval on EVERYTHING including things they don't even intend to watch.

Like I said . . I HAD been in a good mood; I wasn't anymore. I realized I had given him the power not only to spew something negative on a post I enjoyed, but on my entire state of mind and mood.

I thought about how, as a country, we frequently talk about the world in terms of "not letting the terrorists win."

EVERY day we let the terrorists in our own lives win. They put us down; they bully us; they think only their opinion counts. They never hear you because they're too busy thinking of what they want to say next. We give them rights they have no right to claim and we call them "friend."

A true and wise friend once told me that he thinks of his happiness as a precious thing and he defends it from people who would try to take it from him.

From now on, so do I.

I think everybody should.

Walt Disney World Animal Kingdom Dec 12, 2010

2011-01-27T11:35:00.000-08:00

A Love Letter to Rep Gabrielle Giffords and President Barack Obama in a World Gone Mad

2011-01-13T03:14:00.000-08:00

The notion that inside our 30 to 90-year-old bodies resides the 10 to 14-year-old we once were, bewildered and wondering why no one sees that we are just playing an adult in the theater of life, is not a new one. For me, even though I learned in college that political and moral issues are complicated and frequently both sides of an issue can have merit (when faced with having to write a paper taking a side on euthanasia, I cheated and wrote a pro-paper for my moral issues class and an anti-speech for my speech class;) adulthood has been a time of disillusionment. Voting has always been a bitter pill to swallow as candidates never seemed to be ideal or, indeed make much sense, speaking from hateful and biased places and driven by fear. That is true today more than ever.

On Saturday, January 8th, 2011, while watching Fox News and waiting to hear the news of the shooting in Tucson, Arizona, the channel replayed the attached interview and I would like to thank them for that. You see, before Saturday, although I had seen a picture of Rep. Giffords, I was largely unaware of her and had never heard her speak and on Saturday, before all of this backlash of who said or did what, I heard this interview and for the second time I fell a little in love with a politician.

Yes, I said for the second time.

You see that's why I voted for Barack Obama in November 2008. As I listened to him speak at some point along his campaign trail, for the first time I heard a rational voice in politics. For the first time, I heard someone with intelligence whose voice and attitude were unclouded by fear. I saw a man I could understand and relate to because he was saying what I was feeling. I'm not going to say he is completely unbiased. We are humans and we will always have some pet ideas or notions that are more important to us. It has always been my belief that healthcare is a hot topic for President Obama due to the death of his mother and education is one due to his love for his children. I see nothing wrong with that. Rather, by trying to fix a system that undoubtedly failed his mother, he is attempting to protect us all from facing that sad situation and by loving his children and wanting the best for them, he is attempting to help all of our children. That's what I see and during his time in the presidency, I have never once felt disillusioned or disappointed by President Barack Obama. When I listen to him, he still has a voice that shines with intelligence and is clear from irrational fears; but I do see a man who is largely a lone rational voice in a cacophony of rhetoric, biases, fear, petulance, and, increasingly, bullying behavior.

On that recent Saturday, when Fox News replayed Rep. Gifford's interview and I absently worried that no one was too badly injured and the death toll would be low, I was suddenly riveted to the voice on the television. I should say here, I guess, that I am an independent: I am not a Democrat nor am I a Republican. I may have voted for a Democrat in the last presidential election, but don't get me wrong, both parties are equals in disillusioning behavior and rhetoric. But, on that Saturday, for the second time I heard a politician's voice on the television and heard a person of intelligence, a voice clear of the angry byproducts of irrational fear and, frankly, one who refused to be drawn into the mudslinging and partisan fight that sensationalist newscasts enjoy for their very survival. I was immediately smitten by this gently jovial, charming intelligent woman and I knew, had the circumstances of my hearing her voice been different, had she ever been campaigning for my vote: she very likely would have gotten it.

So while my adult self remains trapped in a world of mudslinging and anger and irrational rhetoric, that 10-year-old inside is hoping for a Hail Mary play. She is hoping that Rep. Gabrielle Giffords will not only survive, but thrive and choose once again to be her country's voice of reason. She is hoping to someday see her name on a ballot where Rep. Giffords can represent not just the 8th District of Arizona, but her too. If I were writing the comic book, that's the way it would be.

Let me also say that in no way do I mean any offense in regards to the death of 9-year-old Christina Taylor Green. I did not choose the analogy of an inner child around her age to capitalize upon her portion of the tragedy. I chose that age because it is the age when a human seems to be a "little adult" and, subsequently, seems to be the age I view my "secret" child-like inner voice of reason. It is somewhere around that age where a child seems to be more awake and aware of the world around her, yet still retains much of her childlike vision of magic and possibilities. Losing Christina at that age is an enormous loss to the world as we will never experience the gifts she may have had to give us and heart wrenching because she will never experience them herself.

If there is a God, let him take the victims of the Tucson shooting and their families in his hands and care for them at this time; but whether there is a God or not, let us please, stop all the blaming; stop all the arguing; stop all the violent rhetoric and stop all of the excusing the violent rhetoric. Let us remember that for every opinion you have; there is someone else with a different one. Someone who deserves to be heard and cares for their family just as much as you care for yours. Remember too, whatever mess you personally are in or this country is in, as Andy Andrews points out so eloquently in his self-help seminars, "you got here with your best thinking." No one ever thinks "how can I screw up my life as completely as possible?" - not even a country. So no matter how much "your best thinking" is telling you "I'm right - those other people are idiots," listen to the other side. Listen to the other side with as open a mind as you can muster, because everybody's "best thinking" can always use a little help. Try to be a little optimistic that maybe, just maybe, the world won't end if you don't always get your way. Try to find the graciousness that comes from true gratitude for the abundance that you have.

Nothing Can Ever "Unhappen"

2010-08-27T08:27:00.000-07:00

Some times many ideas and pieces of advice you've heard over the course of your life suddenly align themselves like a constellation of stars and paint a picture. It may be a picture you have known all of your life, but never fully comprehended until just that moment. That happened to me recently and when I tried to explain my newly learned concept to Art, he nodded and said, "Yes. Of course." Like I had simply said the sky is blue or fire is hot, when, to me, I had mapped out an entire network of why life can be so difficult to navigate.

In case you, like me, find this a more complicated, "I could get lost in the woods" sort of journey; I want to drop bread crumbs at each turn I think bears watching or noticing. I think my own journey began at the first bread crumb, "forgiveness is a gift you give yourself, not something you 'bestow' on somebody else." That tidbit of information first caught my attention on the Dr. Phil Show. His guest was a woman whose husband had cheated on her. Now I have another whole complicated network of opinions and beliefs about infidelity - none of which will appear here. What was important about the show was what happened when Dr. Phil tried to make the woman hear and understand the concept about forgiveness being a gift you give yourself. Rather than considering, embracing or finding relief in the idea, she was hopelessly stuck in the notion that if she forgave her husband it would mean he "got away with" cheating on her. Sitting in the comfort of my living room, far away from this woman who wasn't even among my sphere of acquaintances, let alone friends, I didn't know if I wanted to bang my head against the wall or throttle her. "He already GOT away with it." I screamed at the television. "Now you just have to decide what you're going to do with your life going forward. Stay with him or dump him." My money was on "dump him" because I couldn't see any way a person who was as stuck as she was could possibly ever find comfort or love in his companionship. I could see my way out of part of the puzzle she couldn't see. "Fish or cut bait" that's how I saw it. But even though I hadn't really realized it yet, I hadn't fully embraced this notion of forgiveness being a gift you give yourself. All I could see was the inertia present due to the corner she had painted herself into.

I think it's time to drop another bread crumb, here.

Anyone who has ever heard anything about a 12 Step Program has heard the concept: "The first step is admitting you have a problem." Many of us, knowing that we don't have a drug or alcohol problem, hear that phrase from the safety of a mind that feels it is information which doesn't pertain to me. We may joke about it occasionally with a friend who really enjoys chocolate or golf or "Survivor," jostling them with a friendly elbow telling them it is time to "admit they have a problem." We may hear about a friend of a friend or someone on television who is struggling with addiction and shake our heads feeling sadness about the destructive need to "hit bottom," but it is a still a concept about others rather than something we consider about ourselves. Think about the woman on the Dr. Phil show: if you asked her if she had a problem, what would she say? She would tell you her problem was her husband cheated. She would say he was her problem. But is he? Isn't her problem really that she can't let go of the fact that he cheated on her?

Bread crumb time. . ..

I first heard this from Andy Andrews, I have since seen it enough places that I'm not sure where the idea originated from, but the concept is "your best ideas got you where you are today." The advice is to look for mentors or experts who can give you other ideas because no one was looking to screw their lives up. No one actively pursues "how can I make my life as miserable and messed up as possible." It was their best thinking that got them to this place where they are unhappy. Now, if we consider the woman on Dr. Phil again, perhaps you can see why I begin to think this is so complicated rather than easy like Art does. Her best ideas got her to this miserable place where she can't let go of the fact that her husband cheated on her because then "he'll get away with it," but she also can't figure out how to punish him or what to do about him in order for her to stop feeling the pain. On some level, she knows this and she has gone to a mentor or expert, Dr. Phil; but she can't implement any of his advice because the two of them have not reached an agreement as to what exactly the problem is.

It's probably time for a small crouton here in the form of the definition of insanity. Albert Einstein once said "the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." Maybe it's just me, but I think if you can apply Einstein's definition to anything you yourself are doing??? You might want to go back to "admit you have a problem" although you still might have problems identifying what the problem is. Look at it this way, if you can apply the insanity definition to yourself, YOU are the problem. Not outside forces like your parents, your spouse or the government. It is something YOU are doing or, more likely, something you are thinking.

Bread crumb.

I'm sorry; I don't know who introduced this next notion to me. It could be Eckhart Tolle; it could be Wayne Dyer. When I heard it, I felt an awestruck realization of truth. The idea is: "what everyone who has had something bad happen to them in life - they've experienced abuse or a spouse cheating on them or rape or whatever bad thing you can think of - if the person has experienced it and just can't get over it or past it - what they really want is for the event to have never happened." I knew the truth of it. I knew that was actually how I personally felt about some of the more unfortunate events of my own life. But simultaneously, I also knew that it is absolutely crazy to want that. Insane. Because that is nearly the definition of the grammatical concept of the past tense. It HAS happened. Not "will" or "is," but "did." Done, over, and out. Oddly, the notion what I actually wanted was "cuckoo for cocoa puffs" or absolutely bonkers gave me an odd sort of relief. It gave me the freedom not to want it anymore.

We're nearly there, just a few bread crumbs left.

So here you are, stuck banging your head against this wall of an event that can never "unhappen" feeling miserable. You can't have what you want, but what do you have? Thank you Eckhart Tolle, you have "The Present Moment." All you have is this moment. Whatever that bad thing was, it isn't happening in this moment. The only thing that can drag that bad thing to this moment, is you; and there are so many better things you can do with this moment. In this moment, you can choose to listen to that mentor or expert and take the steps to effect a change in your life. In this moment, you can take stock of your surroundings and realize not only is the bad thing not here, but you are safe and blessed with comforts you previously never really noticed. In this moment, you can choose not to be a scared, sad victim. In this moment, you can choose life.

That might be enough. Maybe we don't need any more bread crumbs. But I have one and it's a good one. Perhaps it is the bread crumb that can lead you back to the present moment when the boogie men and gremlins from that past bad thing try to drag you back into its grip. Because it happened. It isn't going away and whatever mistrust you nursed into life or whatever survival skills you nutured as coping mechanisms; chances are they are here to stay as well. At least just a little bit. There is a sad but excellent chance you will not stay in the present moment, but will have to gently nudge yourself back here. So consider my bread crumb.

In Alan Ball's "American Beauty" there is a beautiful scene about an abused boy who finds beauty, spirituality and transcendence in video he has made of a plastic bag being blown about by the wind. About the video, the boy says, "Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... I need to remember." I loved the scene from "American Beauty" and coveted a plastic bag moment of my own. Since one of the hats I frequently wear is that of a photographer, I have been nearly obsessed with capturing my own plastic bag moment on film. Only a week or two back, I realized I have been so numb and absent from the present moment that I already have had - I won't say "my plastic bag moment" because I don't think you need to be limited to just one - but I have had a plastic bag moment and captured it on film.

Several years back I went on a weekend vacation to Lancaster, California, to witness the Poppy Festival and California Poppies in the desert. On the way to Lancaster, I drove up the Grapevine and through Gorman, California. Some years, and I was lucky to have gone there during one of those years, for a brief few days the hills of Gorman are painted in color as if dropped right out of a painter's pigment jars. No artist could paint a scene as magical and fantastic as the one you see - live and in person - in front of you. I knew I was seeing one of the best things I had ever seen.

But wait a minute . . . . where's the bread crumb?

It's just this. Bad things happen. Bad things may happen to you. Nothing happens out of this "present moment." It happens, it is done and we may be many moments away from what happened. You can choose whether to ever think of it again. But you know what? Good things happen in this moment too. "Plastic bag moments." In one of my moments, I witnessed the beauty of Gorman, California and I can choose THAT to think of again. " . . . . it helps me remember. I need to remember."

Breathe

2010-08-17T08:24:00.000-07:00

On July 1st, I started the P90X exercise program. I didn't start it because I'm an athlete; I'm not. I didn't start it because I wanted to be an athlete; I don't. I started it because I want to be strong. I wanted to regain strength I felt I had lost over the years. I wanted to build and rebuild muscle. I wanted to look and feel capable. Less than 30 days into the program, I found myself waiting at the emergency room for a family member who had had a stroke, desperately searching for strength and capability.

There is a moment during Stretch X, where you are performing some sort of complicated maneuver that is stretching your gluts and Tony Horton talks about discomfort. It is a longish, rambling quote spoken by a man who is feeling the discomfort that he describes: I don't think I can quote it directly, but I can paraphrase it. Horton says that he feels discomfort and asks "so what do I do? I don't think about it. I breathe." He explains that every time you breath out a muscle releases slightly which, of course, would remove some of the discomfort, but that you can't breathe out unless you breathe in . . ... "So breathe."

So that's what I did. That advice got me through the day and I realized even if Tony Horton had created a mini catalyst in my brain, it had been advice I had already been using before I had ever heard it. I had done that in the dentist's office when a cleaning seemed too long or too uncomfortable. I had used it when heavy traffic suddenly felt like a parking lot and I wanted to throw open my car door, scream and run off into the distance.

Anytime I had felt pressured and too fragile not to break, I had used it.

There will be times where you feel such physical or emotional pain that it is as if half of you has been crushed and you don't know if you want to die or crawl away from the part of yourself that is gone. Breathe.

There will be times when the fear and discomfort is so real and strong you will think you would willingly chew your own arm off just to get away from the trap that you've found yourself in. Breathe.

I can't promise it will make you a better person. I can't promise it won't happen again or again or again. I can't promise it will be easy the next time. But I can remind you of the Nietzsche quote we have all surely heard by now . ..

"That which does not kill us makes us stronger."

The key to being stronger is surviving what is in front of you.

Just breathe.

Vision

2010-08-11T13:08:00.000-07:00

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about all of the advice I've received over the years - even if it was disguised as simple conversations or opinions. It seems to me that some of it applies to more circumstances than the one in which it was given. So today I come to the advice given to me by two very different boyfriends about driving.

"Don't get ahead of the evidence" has almost become one of Art's favorite sayings. While we were still watching CSI, he frequently would point out how the plot went awry when a character "got ahead of the evidence." What does that have to do with driving? Well, it corresponds nicely with and conveys the same message as "don't overdrive your vision," another Art favorite. In both instances, the individual is being cautioned about getting too far ahead of themselves . . . making wedding plans when you've only had a first date, assuming that you just can't lose any weight when you fail to lose a pound the first day . .... Getting ahead of yourself fails to recognize that much of life depends on laws of averages. There will be good days; there will be not so good days. Bank on all good days and prepare to be broke; bank on all bad days and prepare to be broken hearted. Overdriving your vision makes you susceptible to hitting animals in the road, driving off the road entirely or getting into accidents. Both in driving and in life, getting ahead of the evidence diminishes your capacity to predict the future and adjust to it.

But sometimes, it does pay to look ahead. A long time ago, my college boyfriend Pat and I were driving along the Sonoma Coast. I was behind the wheel and I think he was urging me to pass a car. The Sonoma Coast is as curvaceous as a young Marilyn Monroe and I am lucky if I don't get sick, let alone have the courage to pass a car. We were probably on the cusp of an argument when he pointed out a long snaking, loop back of road ahead. He pointed out that, even though I could barely see a car length distance immediately in front of me, I could predict the traffic ahead because the loop back created essentially a long straight away length of traffic I could view and predict. So despite the fact my immediate vision was blocked, I had gained the capacity to predict the future. Of course it isn't an infallible future vision. All it would take is one car pulling back onto the road from the shoulder or a car emerging from a driveway I didn't see and I could have a nasty surprise, but in cases where an individual's vision is lacking, it could give a means to begin forward momentum. Remember that nasty first break up? What if you had seen the long road your life would take in the future? Would it still have seemed like the end of the world? Awareness that unpleasantness or unhappiness or pain is happening in this moment only and there is an entire stream of moments drifting along in the future, each with their own separate potential to be good or bad or neutral, can be a great equalizer or neutralizer in moments of panic. Watching the rhythms of life and reflecting on their patterns can help you outlive economic failures, make money in down stock markets, buy goods at discount prices, never run out of toilet paper (lol) . . . the possibilities are endless. Observing the rhythms of the road can help you navigate highways; observing the rhythms of world and the people in it can help you navigate life.

The challenge, then, is not what we see or how we see it; but to use the proper vision at the proper time.

Choices

2010-08-07T10:43:00.000-07:00

A long time ago I took one of those Globus Gateway bus trips in Ireland. I became great friends with the tour guide, Paul Rose, and he said something that had a lasting affect on my life. Jet lagged and tired, spending hours driving around countryside that didn't look too much different from my own native Northern California, I had dozed off. Passing by handing out chocolates or examples of Irish linen or something, he nudged me and reminded me I was missing the countryside. I mumbled something about being tired and he said cheerfully, "Ah well, it's your holiday and you can spend it how you like" and moved on down the aisle.

I think that was the first time that idea was presented to me in that way. Prior to that it was all "you should," for example, "your parents paid for this trip, you should be taking in as much as you can from it . . ." lol. The only time choices were pointed out to me were when somebody felt I was making the wrong one.

The wrong one . . . it has taken me a long time to realize that there really are no "wrong choices." Oh sure, if you decide to strip naked and run out into traffic, you are likely to have a bad outcome. It could be considered a "wrong choice." But for so many things we hem and haw about, spend hours worrying and deliberating about; there is no wrong choice. Most of the time, if the choice has a bad outcome, it could even be due to unforeseeable circumstances unrelated to the choice itself. Of course, sometimes choosing one thing means you miss out on something else. Two weeks vacation in Hawaii probably means you will miss out on two weeks vacation in Alaska . . . at least until next year. But too often we spend most of the two weeks in Hawaii lost in a critical evaluation and judging if we made a mistake so that by the time we return home, it's like we never took a vacation at all and we're counting the days until next year.

We approach choices with superstition and fear and we live them out with "if only's," "what if's" and regrets.

"What if" instead we approached our choices like there could be no wrong ones? What if we saw that the only wrong thing about a choice was not living it whole-heartedly and supporting it? What if the only reason so many choices look wrong to us in the rear view mirror is because we never learned to follow Tony Horton of P90X's advice and simply "Bring It?" What if we realized that staying in the indecision and not choosing at all, was actually making a choice? What if we could look back and not wonder what would have happened if we had taken the job, married the girl, finished college, gone to a different college, chosen a different major, gotten better grades, applied ourselves more . . .. .. . . .. infinitum . . .

What if we could simply say (and believe) "that's my choice and I'm sticking to it."

Much Ado about Farmvlle

2010-02-28T12:14:00.001-08:00

You can’t please everyone, but Zynga’s “Farmville” has managed to make an estimated 75 million people happy; and that is despite the fact it can be as buggy as I’m supposed to be when I get old (according to a recent Facebook quiz, “What kind of demented old lady will you be?”)

Just like all popular things, Zynga games have drawn fire from other Facebook users in the form of groups like “I don’t care about your farm, your mafia family or your fish-tank,” even though there are blocks people can set on their accounts so they don’t have to see what are apparently unsightly posts asking for fertilizer or announcing free Mystery Eggs. I wouldn’t know how to activate those blocks; I like watching people’s walls for what they’re really like. I don’t need to pretend that humanity is smarter or uses their time more efficiently than they do.

In my first days on Facebook, I drew fire myself for playing too many of the silly quizzes. I work a job that has a lot of waiting until I have to do the next thing. Anything, from books to DVDs or Netflix to Farmville or quizzes on Facebook, that fills that empty, “I’m stuck here, but I have to wait until I can do something” time is much appreciated. My posts, however, weren’t appreciated by everyone and I was cut by at least one “friend” because he felt I wasn’t doing the work I was supposed to be doing.

Truthfully, I avoided Farmville myself for quite awhile. I had been stung by a Mafia Wars “invite list” phish on Twitter - not once, but twice. After feeling foolish and having to tell hundreds of people that I didn’t actually have a mafia crime family, I was hesitant to click on almost anything. But friends who were playing Farmville kept sending me chickens, goats and cows, and it has often been pointed out to me that, at heart at least, I am quintessentially a people pleaser. So I just had to send apple trees, picket fences, and rabbits back to them.

Now a level 34, with the largest plantation currently available, I must admit I find (and found) Farmville posts on walls far less disturbing than all of the remarks of “insomnia,” “societal rage,” (the equivalent to road rage, but aimed at anything else from that annoying co-worker to the unhelpful salesclerk,) or a generalized depression that is evident daily at Facebook. I also have to admit that I find Farmville a delightful, adult equivalent to finger-painting or coloring books; and I wonder, if more people played Farmville, would all that depression subside?

Certainly there would be fewer bumper stickers begging, “Don’t be a hater.”

And yet, alas, there will always be haters. For anything you enjoy doing, do it with extra zeal, because for each and every one of you, there are at least three people who hate it and another one who hates you for doing it. It is simply what the haters enjoy the most; just like all those Farmville players seem to love those Mystery Eggs.

As for me, I like to watch. The haters, the players, the poor depressed souls - it is all part of the human ant-farm that we know as the internet. No one part is less “human” than another; although whether or not they are “humane” is another story.

And as for Zynga? If you happen to decide to go public, I’d like to see you release at least 100 shares in one of those wonderful Gold Mystery Eggs.

That would be something to watch.

And play for. . .

New Photo Gallery

2010-01-13T13:48:00.000-08:00

New Photo Gallery

Third Song or My Version of the Family Christmas Letter People Send Out With Their Cards

2009-12-19T15:59:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting on my sofa, with a cat on either side, taking an inventory of my state of mind as is typical to do this time of year.

I feel happy.

Despite the economy, despite all the fear and unrest in the world, I have had a good year. Except for some complaints of sore muscles here and there, the people I love are relatively happy and healthy. I am warm and dry and have a roof over my head. I have discovered new friends and rediscovered old friends over the internet via Facebook, Twitter and Blip. I have good relationships with man and beast and I still have a job.

Truly, in what could be described as some of the "worst of times," I am blessed with what is quite near "the best of times."

For me the happiest Christmas song is "Carol of the Bells." I probably first encountered it as the background music for the Andre Champagne advertisement. I miss the days when that was the first Christmas advertisement of the season.

"Hark how the bells,
sweet silver bells,
all seem to say,
throw cares away"

When I'm in the midst of a good conversation or enjoying a good meal or watching a good movie, everything seems to compete for attention at once. Every neuron in my body seems to fire simultaneously and the world seems brighter and richer. I feel alive.

"Oh how they pound,
raising the sound,
o'er hill and dale,
telling their tale, "

"Carol of the Bells" is that same experience packaged in a song. The words stumble over each other, as if in the midst of excited conversation. Even the instrumental versions have a hurriedness; not the rushed anxiety of "I have to get to work, I'm late," but the boisterous joy of "I'm alive."

At this time of year, we become so distracted. Too much attention is devoted to fears about our future disguised as "New Year's Resolutions;" too much attention is devoted to what we are afraid we are going to lose disguised as "the clerk said 'Happy Holidays' instead of "Merry Christmas." Too much attention to what we don't have; whether it is time to write Christmas cards and decorate for the holidays or it is money to buy gifts for everyone we love.

"Gaily they ring
while people sing
songs of good cheer,
Christmas is here,"

As for me, from now on I want to take my Christmas cue from "Carol of the Bells." I'm not so naive that I believe I can be happy and giddy every moment, but I want to enjoy those moments - the happy ones - full to bursting over the brim, stumbling over each other with the boisterous joy of "I'm alive."

May this year's holiday moments, no matter what your beliefs or celebration, fill you with love and excitement and peace.

My Favorite Blog

2009-11-28T08:06:00.000-08:00

Enjoy!

"Tales of Woe and Misadventure"

Don't just read the latest post, some of the earliest posts are my favorites.

Sometimes . . .

2009-11-21T08:48:00.000-08:00

a voice will speak up out of the mire of confusion and dissonance in which you find yourself surrounded. This editorial worked that way for me. For those who don't agree, I am surely going to hell for linking this; for those who do agree, grab on friend - here is a friendly life raft for awhile.

http://www.moronicox.com/scared-and-stupid-yanez.html

Sunset Cuttings Wharf Area - South Napa

2009-11-16T14:57:00.001-08:00

Still rough beginnings. Cuts have noises that I don't want there, but can't quite avoid.

This video has first attempt with Garageband which was scary and hard and, oddly, kinda easy too. Made me feel good because Art couldn't tell I had pieced it together from Garageband pieces - that's something at least.

Not sure it fits the subject well enough . . . but it is a beginning.

Highlights of Napa Valley - Fall Colors

2009-11-09T00:28:00.001-08:00

This weekend's new attempt with my new camera. Monopod is a lot steadier than simply hand-holding, but I've got to learn not to pan - or at least pan less.

New Novel Attempt

2009-11-05T12:38:00.000-08:00

Started yet another attempt at a novel. http://Writing.Com/authors/aephoto

Halloween Highlights of Napa

2009-11-03T09:29:00.001-08:00

Early attempt with my new camera, a Sanyo Xacti HD2000. I like the idea of the pistol grip, but I'm not sure if I like the handling of it yet. I'll be posting a bunch of tests with tripods/monopods over the next few weeks. As for the Halloween video . . .

you know how 40 is the new 30?

It looks like Halloween is the new Christmas.

The "Up" Series

2009-10-17T12:45:00.000-07:00

“Perhaps there isn’t any more to life than just being what you are” Neil from “49 Up”

In my lifetime I’ve been happy and I’ve been unhappy. I don’t believe there is any shame in that. The unhappy times have simply given me the initiative or drive to discover what it is that makes me happy or sad. In fact, I came to believe that there are two types of people in the world: people who are interested in how things work and people who are interested in how people work. In reality there are probably people who could give a hang about how anything works, but I’m interested in how people work.

I wish that the participants in the “Up” series could watch the shows through my eyes. They can be so hard on themselves. When I was growing up, my mother would always hide her face behind her arm, hand or whatever was available in movies and still pictures; and there was a nervousness, shyness or lack of confidence in my mother I believe you can see riding almost, but not quite, invisibly coating over her skin like quicksilver. I think that’s what I look for most when I look at people: a mercury coating of fear. Despite their quiet comments about how difficult the television appearances are, for the most part the “Up” participants bravely reveal details of their lives without a trace of quicksilver. For a person like me, a series like this is like being given a seven pound box of mixed center chocolates. (I didn’t see the different episodes seven years apart, but back to back over about a week’s time.) At the end of each episode, it’s like I have the basic framework of what each person is like and I get to see if solid dark chocolate outside still produces solid chocolate center in the next episode or whether it will suddenly become lemon creme.

Solid chocolate center morphs into lemon creme far more often than I ever would have expected.

In the beginning one or the other of them would make a comment and I would think, “Well, I don’t like that person;” but after seven episodes I have fallen a bit in love with all of them. Collectively, they are the only people on film that I believe if I saw them in person I would be compelled to try and hug them and probably be driven to tears and start balling. Why? Because they’ve exposed their humanity. Over the course of the episodes they have proven themselves not to be any label. The less educated individuals will say some of the most intelligent things; the conservative individuals will perform some of the most liberal deeds; those who proclaim they are weak prove to be strong; there is no end to the little surprises and contradictions.

Sometimes I wonder if the series itself did influence the various outcomes of its participants and there is only one instance where I feel a little indignant against the producer’s. In “35 Up” Tony said on camera that there wasn’t anything that he had attempted in life that he didn’t do. I could immediately see his point and agree with him. He wanted to be a jockey and he was a jockey; he wanted to drive a cab and he drove a cab; he wanted to act and he acted. But the interviewer said something to the effect of “but you didn’t make a success of any of those things.” From the view through my little window on the show, a look flashed across Tony’s face like he had been hit by a brick. It looked as if the notion of success or lack of success qualitatively had never crossed his mind. What he had set his mind to do, he had done - end of story.

There was another moment in either “42 Up” or “49 Up” where Jackie observes that one of her sons is much like her and the interviewer asks if that worries her. Her reaction is less heart wrenching than Tony’s, but is much like a dog being smacked with a newspaper. “How could you say that to me?” She finally sputters. “Do you think that I’ve turned out so badly?”

It probably can’t avoid a bit of the butterfly effect. No matter how neutrally the interviewer tries to phrase his questions, he will occasionally influence and startle his subject and no doubt slightly nudge the trajectory of his/her path forward.

In “49 Up,” John compares the “Up” series to “Big Brother” and “I’m a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here” and says it has the added bonus that people get to watch them over a longer period of time and see who got fat and whose marriage broke up. The “Up” series, for me, is so much more than any of those reality programs. It embodies exactly why reality programming can be compelling; i.e. watching real people; but without the “stupid human tricks” circus that reality programming inevitably ends up. It is exactly because those 14 children weren’t seeking their 15 minutes of fame like so many reality show contestants that they are fascinating to watch and worth watching. It is why as Nick says in “49 Up” that the series is so important.

Perhaps because I’m American and not British, I was immune to some of the class comparisons (although I did compare schooling priorites between the two countries.) For me, it is fourteen individuals navigating the waters of life like we all do. Because you only see about 10 minutes of each person (which includes clips from previous shows,) you could never claim to know any of them; but because you so frequently find yourself saying “I’m just like that” or this friend or that friend is just like that - you DO know them.

At least I do.

(The “Up” Series is available to watch at Netflix.)

Second Movie (stated in no particular order)

2009-06-27T17:46:00.000-07:00

When I was in college, I was required to take one language class. I’d taken two years of Spanish in high school, but it was a small school and that was really the only language offered. So at college I fought against logic and took French. I’m ashamed to say that I did well enough in school (mostly B’s) without studying - so I usually didn’t. (I suppose I picked up enough to get by- simply by listening in class. I have no other explanation - I can’t claim to be a genius when I wasn’t even smart enough to study. I can claim to be lazy and maybe a little stubborn.) Even as a six-year-old in first grade, I had no interest in learning the alphabet until the teacher explained that you needed to learn it in order to read and after that, she had to dangle books I did want to read in front of my imagination in order to force me to read the books I didn’t want to read. “Read the blue and red readers first; then you can read the book about the cats.”

French did not come easy. For the first time, I was studying. I made cue cards for myself and a huge poster of verb conjugations for my wall. It was no use. I was getting a solid “D” in the class and it was beginning to drag my other grades down. So for the first time, I dropped a class. (I may never have studied for one - but I never walked away from one before.) Because I never learned French, I saw the movie “Amelie” with English subtitles - but I’m not sure that was a bad thing. Reading subtitles forces attention to detail and Amelie is a movie about attention to detail.

On the surface, Amelie is a movie about a lonely young woman who lives in a world of her own-appreciating the world and caring for the people in it, but like an isolated satellite-separate from it. Until you watch the details and realize that you are watching a movie that appreciates all the myriad details about everyone . . . For instance:

“Raphael Pulain dislikes peeing next to someone else.
He also dislikes catching scornful glances . . . .
at his sandals . . .
clingy, wet swimming trunks.
Raphael Pulain likes . . .
peeling large strips of wallpaper . . .
lining up and shining his shoes . .
emptying his toolbox, cleaning it out . . .
and putting everything back.”

After you read the details about enough people on the screen, you become like Amelie-wondering what everyone around you likes and dislikes. Realizing THEY DO have little personal likes and dislikes that make them interesting and endearing and human. After that you realize that something as simple as thinking a little bit like Amelie could bring peace to the world.

Let me introduce myself . . Amelie style . .

“angiece dislikes . . .
the feel of her waistband touching her skin . . .
the texture of overly ripened bananas touching her tongue.
She also dislikes watching people smirk.
angiece likes cats . . .
she likes putting her face right next to theirs . .
the feel of their fur against her cheek,
the rumble of their purr against her ear.
When she was a child . . .
she would hide in the bushes next to a cat . . .
pretend she was one.”

First Movie

2009-06-27T15:06:00.001-07:00

Recently I went to see Disney/Pixar’s “Up” in 3D. Art wanted to see the 3D, but I felt really unsure because I haven’t seen a Pixar movie yet that didn’t make me cry and I was pretty sure “Up” would be no different. Why not cry in the comfort of your own home? Isn’t that one of the perks of buying all that assorted electronic equipment?

Art couldn’t understand . . “It’s just a movie.”

My first movie, "Defending Your Life," proves there is no such thing as “just a movie.” Forget that it is easily Albert Brooks' best comedy; I need to thank him and his movie right here publicly for helping change my life.

On one surface Daniel Miller (Brooks) is a schmo that you could almost dislike. All of his insecurities ride right along the surface of his skin . . .nothing is held back . . and like anybody who is so involved in his own insecurities, Daniel is a little self-centered. But just when the viewer might think Miller represents the worst of us, he sits down next to a guy who owned strip clubs while he was living and is obviously several rungs down the ladder. We realize Daniel Miller is just an average schmo.

He is any one of us.

But I get ahead of myself . . .I used the words “while he was living.” The movie is the story of Daniel Miller - ANY ONE OF US - who dies and discovers that the purpose of life is to become more intelligent and use more of your brain. The first thing we “little brains” need to do is overcome our fears, because that is what we waste so much brain power on. In the movie, when you die you face a court trial to “defend your life” or prove that you moved beyond your fears in your lifetime. If you don’t prove that you have overcome your fears, you are recycled and return to Earth; but if you do prove it, you “move forward, continue onward.”

Now the movie also has a wonderful love story and some very funny bits about past lifetimes and Miller’s insecurities and foibles, not to mention the brilliant Rip Torn as Daniel's Defense Attorney Bob Diamond, but it is this idea that only fear stands in our way that has meant so much to me.

It is “just a movie,” but watch it and the next time you realize you’re afraid to do something - picture having to defend not doing it against Lena Foster (Lee Grant) arguing that you were simply afraid. I’m not going to insist I’m ready to advance now, but it helped me overcome fears and I can prove it.

I was afraid to go see “Up” because I was afraid I was going to cry in the movie theater right? But I went anyway . . .

and I cried . . .

thank God for those 3D glasses . . . .

Second Song

2009-06-11T06:39:00.000-07:00

My second song is "Comes Love." I don't know which version because I don't know who was singing it when I first heard it . . . some female vocalist from the 1930s, but I don't know which one . . . Perhaps I should explain.

I'm a big fan of the music of the 20's and the 30's. Earlier than that and the sound is liable to be a little operatic and shrill; later than that and it is too common, familiar. The 20's with the early jazz gyrations of exuberance like "Ain't We Got Fun? or "That's A Plenty;" the 30's with the crooning encouragements like "Pennies From Heaven" or "The Best Things in Life are Free;" and the bluesy innuendos of sexual decadence or, frankly, the substance abuse that perhaps accompanies a Prohibition like "I Wanna Be Bad" or "Minnie the Moocher" -performed with this wonderful nearly indescribable tinny, hollow sound. Frequently the performers' voices seem to mimic the sound of a trumpet that has been muffled by a "mute." I once played a 20s/30s favorite for Art, certainly the smartest guy about audio in my experience, and asked him "How do they get the singer to sound like that . .what IS that?" His answer? Bad microphones . . .

Perhaps . . . I've been known to use outdated, "bad" photographic equipment to achieve an artistic goal . . .maybe simply using old salvaged mics would achieve a similar distortion of sound that old lenses bring to sight. . . . . maybe.

I first discovered that I loved that music in another Steve Martin/Bernadette Peters film, "Pennies From Heaven" which was a big screen version of Dennis Potter's mini-series about a daydreamer who perpetually drifts into cinematic musicals when facing his humdrum life. My new favorites were Helen Kane, the Boswell Sisters, and the underappreciated Irving Aaronson.

I'm a big fan of 20's and 30's music; I'm not necessarily a fan of big amusement park rides. The two would seem to be mutually exclusive with nothing in common until you consider the Disney ride "Tower of Terror." The ride is themed around a haunted, dilapidated 1930's Hollywood hotel and while the "main action" is pushing you down faster than gravity can pull you, the gift shop is playing some truly wonderful music. I rode the Disney World Tower in 2005 and, don't get me wrong, it's a great ride. The number of drops varies each time you ride and the velocity of the surprise-when it comes-will lift things that aren't tied down up from the seat. But faced with riding the California Adventure Tower in 2008, I was a little reluctant.

Truthfully, I'm always reluctant about amusement park rides . . . I get motion sickness and I spend WAY TOO MUCH TIME evaluating whether I will throw up on a ride. There is some part of my brain that apparently thinks throwing up is the equivalent of death or worse. I don't like to throw up. But I realized that my reluctance to riding the tower wasn't because I was afraid I would throw up. I knew I wouldn't. Rather, I was anticipating it like someone who needs to use the restroom feels about an extremely bumpy road that stands between him and his end goal. I wasn't looking forward to the sensations the Tower was going to deliver. So I chose not to ride and retired to the giftshop to wait for my friends.

Giddy with relief and self-satisfaction at having made a decision not based on fear, I had a rare moment of "real" conversation with a middle-aged saleslady about the ride before she descended back into trying to sell me Hollywood Hotel bathtowels and shotglasses when all of the sudden "Comes Love" came over the shop's speakers. It was all I could do not to sway along with the music or attempt to sing along.

"Comes a rainstorm, put your rubbers on your feet

Comes a snowstorm, you can get a little heat

Comes love, nothing can be done . . ."

I nearly hit the saleslady like Dino hits Fred when he comes home to the Flintstone household. "That, you can sell me that," I said, pointing at the ceiling. When I finally made her understand that I meant a soundtrack to the ride, she led me to the only soundtrack the giftshop had to sell - "The Nightmare Before Christmas."

When I think back on Orlando's Tower in 2005, I remember hoping this was the last drop and that we could get off now. When I think about Anaheim's Tower in 2008, I remember everything I just told you-but in even greater detail-the saleslady's hair and glasses, the various items on display, the barriers at the check out (suggesting nearly as many people purchase the photo of them riding the ride as actually 'ride the ride,') the feel of the light carpet under my feet, the smiles on my friends faces as they exited towards me and I encouraged them to go again . . and it's wrapped up in this ribbon of a haunting tune that still makes me want to undulate and sing along with the cobwebbed earworm in my brain . .

even if I don't know who is singing . . .

but I someday I will . . .

cause I may not have bought the soundtrack,

but the song exists on media somewhere . . .

and I took home the thrill of the hunt.

First Song - (Stated in no particular order)

2009-06-10T11:51:00.000-07:00

I've been inspired by LL&L and I have decided to make a list of favorites. Only I'm going to list one per posting and I'm going to to start with music (although I reserve the right to switch to movies or books or whatever at anytime . . . lol.)

First song - "Lament" sung by Bernadette Peters from the show "Into The Woods."

I think I first became fond of Bernadette Peters when I saw her in Steve Martin's "The Jerk." I fell in love with the "You Belong to Me" sung acapella by Peters and Martin and it has been on every MP3 player I've ever owned.

I stumbled into "Into The Woods" kinda backwards . . . . I worked at an independent bookstore as the "returns department." It was a dangerous job for a book reader-books being returned could frequently be purchased by employees at the discount at which they had been sold to the store and I was exposed to many deals. One day an illustrated version of "Into the Woods" crossed my desk. I've always loved fairy tales and after glancing at just a page or two, I knew I would have to read this book. By the end of the day, I knew it had to come home with me. I had no idea it was also a Broadway show. I found that out when PBS broadcasted it one Christmas. I immediately laughed and enjoyed "The Steps of The Palace;" "Hello, Little Girl;" and "Agony;" but the songs that stuck with me . . that picked at my subconscious were "Stay With Me" and "Lament."

Both songs are told from the point of view of the witch who kidnaps Rapunzel.

In case you're not familiar with "Into The Woods," let me backtrack . . . in the story a group of different fairy tale characters - Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, Jack (from Jack and the Beanstalk,) among others - meet up and their individual tales intertwine and become something new. Beleaguered by the wife of Jack's giant, the characters are forced to perform a unique scavenger hunt so that Rapunzel's witch can set the world right again.

Now my favorite fairy tale as a child was "Rumplestiltskin" (who isn't included in "Into The Woods,") but essentially "Rumplestiltskin" and "Rapunzel" could almost be portions of the same story. (A) Magical creature (Rumplestiltskin/the witch) is irritated by non-magical commoner. (B) Angered, the magical creature exacts revenge by taking the non-magical commoner's first born child.

Until "Into The Woods," I think I always looked at the stories as a karmic phenomenon. The revenge is directed at the core of the original dilemma and hits the commoners essentially where they live. But if it is revenge, what do Rumplestiltskin and the witch really get out of the deal? What happens next? You can't exactly sing "I got yer baby" for the next 20 years.

The emotional and powerful delivery of Bernadette Peters in the song "Lament" is that of a mother caring and agonizing about her child, not a witch punishing the neighbors. It turned my notion of who was the bad guy and who was the good guy in the fairy tales forever on its ear.

Without the rights to "Lament," I can't present the song to you here (it isn't even on the list of things that are "blip"able,) but I wrote this short story, "Witch", with that song playing as an earworm.

Hidden, Secret Worlds

2009-06-01T14:09:00.001-07:00

Last night I went to bed as usual. Read a little, turned out the lights and went to sleep. This morning I woke up feeling like I had a splinter in my right palm - a splinter that wasn't there yesterday.

It made me think of an old tv movie of the week- I looked it up and it was called "Night Slaves" and it starred James Franciscus (the guy in the 2nd Planet of the Apes movie and/or the blind detective "Longstreet.) Anyway in the movie Franciscus has been injured or in some sort of accident and he has a metal plate in his head. He and his wife go to some small town for him to relax and recuperate, but he discovers that, at night, his wife and the rest of the town leave their beds and perform manual labor. I can't remember what manual labor; it was kinda like building roads or something. In the morning, they are a little tired, but remember nothing. Franciscus is immune, presumably due to the plate in his head.

So when I woke up feeling like I had a splinter in my hand, I thought, "Whoa! What unseen force is making me perform cabinetry at night?" I looked around my house, but no new wooden furniture was there to be found. . . .

Seriously, what is it about the idea of an unknown, parallel world that is so intriquing?

It's like that red pill and blue pill in "The Matrix." I never even saw the later movies, but in that first one-they had me in the palm of their hand. There was never a question, if given the choice, I'd take that red pill. I wanna meet the wizard; see whose hand is pulling the curtain . . .

But lately I kinda wonder. Maybe we believe too much in secret societies, hidden truths and mysteries to be uncovered. We believe in hidden foes that control the world and determine it's outcome; we dream of fantasy lovers and benefactors who will see us as something special and carry us off like Cinderella to a fairy tale life.

All of that is looking for validation outside of yourself.

It seems like it is divided into 2 camps: the camp that is looking for someone or something to give their life meaning and the camp that is looking for someone or something to blame because their life is meaningless . . . . .Neither camp is a good place to be and if you get too comfortable there you win . . . . . a longer stay in the camp -meaning you'll continue to look for someone to save you or blame someone for making you feel this way . . .either way . .you'll feel the same.

I once read that the ending of the movie "Pretty Woman" didn't originally have Julia Roberts running off with Richard Gere. She simply left "the life" and went to school, a stronger, more proactive, responsible person; but that wasn't good enough for audiences. They wanted the fairy tale.

Don't let wanting the fairy tale get in the way of your happy ever after.

No one is going to show up and offer you a red pill or a glass slipper.

It Takes 4 Weeks To Create a Habit

2009-05-09T10:27:00.000-07:00

I read a lot of self help books. About a year ago, I learned in one of those self-help books that it takes four weeks for a human to create a habit. It almost seemed like a message from beyond because it was reinforced and confirmed by numerous sources all at once. But it frightened me a bit at the time because I was in the midst of what had been predetermined to be at least four weeks of jury duty.

What about those things you do involuntarily for four weeks? A habit? So I would live the first four weeks AFTER jury duty building a habit to go back to work?

Yep . . . kinda.

Now I have been on Twitter for at least four weeks. As I've said before, those of you who "get it" understand what fun I'm finding. Those of you who don't, I'm not trying to exclude you - think of it more like the difference between those who enjoy hockey and those who enjoy opera. Twitter just isn't your cup of tea.

But after making jokes about the shorthand that people use text messaging and worrying that I wouldn't be able to understand the world because I don't text message: I find my thought flow when I'm writing has begun stuttering and stammering. I have created a habit of writing in the 140 character Twitter allotment! Actually typing out the words "you" and "your" feels almost painful and I can't tell you how many times I've had to erase "@" and type in "at!"

Just the other day, my Dad said to me . . "as an English major . . " It's true, I graduated from college as an English major, but that was long ago and far away and doesn't seem to even be an accurate descriptor for me any longer. After creating my new 140 character habit, a monkey at a typewriter probably feels less apoplexy getting his grammar right than I do.

Four weeks and I have definitely created a 140 character habit . . . .

So why am I still reading self-help books to overcome the same old problems after years of working at it?

Recently I had an epiphany about that. Let me explain.

It came to me when I was up @ Amazon researching self-help books. See that's what I do. When I begin to struggle with sadness, anger or negative emotions, I either begin reading or listening to what I already have or go searching for more of the same. At that point, I guess I figured I needed new inspiration and anger must have been what I was struggling with; so I searched through online page after page of books about coping with, dealing with and overcoming your anger. Suddenly, like a cold slap across the face, all that I'd read kicked in and I understood my mistake.

It's a question of focus and attention.

One of my favorite things lately to allude to is the idea that Mother Theresa wouldn't attend anti-war rallies. Rather, her position was that if you held a pro-peace rally, then you could count on her attendance. See the difference? It can be subtle and meaningless to those who would relegate it to simply semantics. An anti-war rally is giving all the attention to what you DON'T WANT, but a pro-peace rally is properly addressing what you DO WANT.

So all those anger books? Well, of course, they simply reaffirmed and underscored that I was exactly what I didn't want to be: an unhappy, angry person. You can't exactly build the habit that you want when you're focusing on the wrong activity. Really, I was simply continuing a habit I already had - the habit of wanting to change what I was feeling.

When I created that 140 character habit, I didn't read about how to Twitter. I just tweeted and twittered & blipped & followed my way 2 finding nu ways of talking so u could get big pic in short sentence.

Habits r created by doing not planning to do.

:-)

The World is a Scarier Place

2009-04-13T16:59:00.000-07:00

Three days ago, I discovered Blip.fm and ever since I have been creating the internet-digital-revolution version of "The Mix Tape." I have always been a fan of "The Mix Tape" - I should admit that right up front. I made them nearly every week, for me, to give to other people - I even made at least one for Somebody Else to give to Her Boyfriend. (I sometimes wondered what that said about their relationship - but, still in all, I was just grateful to get to make the tape. I even bought a 45 record (yes those black things that spun . . ) that I didn't like because she wanted it on the tape.

Of course, I progressed to making CDs, MP3 CDs, MP3 player mixes, and finally iTouch MP3 player mixes . . . and then Blip.fm.

It is an entire community of Dj's making mix tapes. . . . & exchanging music for mix tapes & commenting on each other's mix tapes. I'm so addicted it's a wonder I remember to eat or sleep. (Confidentially, I discovered Blip.fm late Thursday night and had problems going to sleep, I had so many songs swirling through my brain. It was like it was the night before the first day of school.)

Just as with Twitter, I'm sure there are people that just don't understand. Why bother? Aren't you just making more work for yourself? Why not just listen to your iTouch?

Because. Probably. And weren't you paying attention? This is an entire "community" that is an entity with it's own life . . unlike an iTouch . . you find songs you never heard before, you get the joy of sharing songs with someone else that they've never heard before, you're hearing music appreciated by people all over the world, and you can find kindred spirits that actually like that song no one else you know does.

But like any "community" there are moments when everybody just isn't in concert with each other. Some people want the old lady with all the cats to paint her house and cut her lawn. Some people think the people with the kids who play in the street should have them play in the backyard . . or better . . . at the park. Some people will smile and nod to you, but essentially want everyone in the neighborhood to mind their own business.

Anyway, on Blip.fm, I'm blissfully blipping away-I just may have the fastest growing music list on my page. (I'm afraid to know for sure.) I'm about to take a break from the computer and I blip what should be a nice, bluesy, benign version of Disney's Zip a Dee Doo Dah. (It is actually a 2 song medley containing Zip . . ) I set it up, get about 5 feet away from my computer, and the song begins saying some of the most vile racist trash I've ever actually heard aloud. (I'm fairly small town naive-I'm aware of such crud, but it is not a part of my life experience and I am not looking for it to be.)

And here I've blipped it to my treasured community like it is something I believe in.

Luckily, I've advanced far enough in my understanding of Blip.fm to get the danged thing deleted pretty fast. I apologized on Twitter & Blip in case anyone was offended. I admitted that . . . . I was. No one emailed, blipped or tweeted anything. As far as I can tell, the incident passed entirely unnoticed.

Except by me.

For me, the internet became a little bit scarier place this afternoon. Because I got a reminder that while we're all gleefully enjoying each other's company, we're not all the same. We don't have the same backgrounds. We don't KNOW how each other thinks. Even though it removes the barriers and some snap judgements of that other community that we live in; this world will also require patience and tolerance and, occasionally, just removing yourself from a bad situation.

To (roughly) paraphrase Aldous Huxley - What brave new world! That has such (wonders) in it.

BTW, for those who "get it" - there was a quote on Twitter the other day - Twitter isn't better than sex, but it has sliced bread on the run. (Sure does and Blip.fm does too.)

2009-03-26T09:31:00.000-07:00

The Human Ticker Tape

2009-03-15T08:25:00.001-07:00

This week I began "following" on Twitter. I never joined Facebook or My Space, but somehow Twitter with it's infinite gyrations caught my attention. You see .. "When I was a kid" . . and some holiday or big event would happen, I would picture the entire world sitting down to do exactly what I was doing. I was a REALLY NAIVE KID . . but it gave me a sort of comfort somehow. And I was a sweet kid, really, because I wanted us all just to be happy and enjoy the good moments.

So I began "following" on Twitter, not even realizing it would give me that glimpse I'd always desired. At first I "followed" the people I found through all of my interests . . .stocks, writing, cats, Buddhism, different celebrities; then I realized people were competing for "follows" so I followed everybody who followed me (even the direct marketers with their "sales pitch a posting;") and finally, now I am adding the people from other interests - not mine - just to see what they say.

The result is . . . yes a human ticker taper . . . from India, Scotland, the US . . . I couldn't even list all of the places . . . and at any given moment . . one person is having breakfast - another is having dinner; one person is going to a job interview - another is on their commute home; and one person is trying to help the world - another is just complaining about their small little corner.

It's addictive, heady stuff.

If you are a writer, I'd recommend Twitter. If you like to sit at a park or the mall and just watch people, I'd recommend Twitter.

But . . . (there's always a but!)

If you are needy, you're out there for adoration or friends or the responses you get are the most important thing; enter Twitter cautiously. It can be a large, lonely place if you enter with an ego based agenda.

But so is any place when you enter like that; why would Twitter be any different?

So enter for the pure joy of watching The Human Ticker Tape (or if you will, the passing parade.)

An Open Letter to California

2009-02-19T07:45:00.000-08:00

The other day on television I heard someone ask the question, "Do you know what a recession means to someone who has savings and no debt?" The answer was " You can buy things at a cheaper price." Everyone hurts a little during a recession, but as we watch the devastation around us, I just need to point out that the things that are hurting the most are the ones that were mismanaged in the first place. I'm sorry to tell you, honey, but you just can't keep coming to us with a $16 Billion Dollar credit card debt and expect us to increase your allowance.

Let me clue you in on a few things you apparently weren't aware of - 1. Those taxes you add to our service bills (phone, cable, satellite?) - those are TAXATION WITHOUT REPRESENTATION. We had some Great Great Great Great Great Great Great Grandparents who really raised a stink about those in the past .. it's in our genes . . . we won't put up with it forever; 2. If we need to pay for a new roof for the house and we don't have the money - WE SAVE MONEY until we can buy the roof. Maybe if the roof is leaking badly, we take out a loan to replace the roof - but we don't go looking to remodel the kitchen the next year - unless we paid off the first loan. We don't just take out a loan EVERY YEAR, and 3. If we get a cut in pay (like you did when you lost the income from all those foreclosed homes,) we don't call in and say that we can't come in to work because we can't afford it. You've said that you couldn't balance the budget if you closed all of our schools and prisons combined. Silly thing. Everyone knows that when you have to tighten your belt and stop overspending, you can't stop eating or paying for utilities . . . you cut the non-essentials . . . the things that aren't working.

What's not working? Let me see. . . kids . . still going to school. Criminals .. . sadly . . still needing to be locked up. DMV workers . . . still telling that front person in line "Next" (no matter how slowly.) Parks . . still beautiful.

I've got it.

You know what isn't working?

Those lawmakers in Sacramento who just can't seem to manage OUR money. In the real world, they'd have been foreclosed on by now and would be looking for a good shelter or living under a bridge.

Battle of the Nutcrackers

2008-12-05T10:15:00.000-08:00

I've been watching The Battle of the Nutcrackers on Ovation TV and, frankly, it has become a metaphor for the economy, the solutions and the world in general. Let me explain, if I can . . . Ovation TV is playing six different versions of The Nutcracker, viewers will vote on which version they like the best and that version will play on Christmas. When I first heard about the competition, while channel surfing, I thought it would be basically the same as watching the Nutcracker on six different tvs - a little different size or clarity, but basically the same program over and over again. I couldn't be more wrong. Arguably, at least four of the Nutcrackers are entirely something different and three of them don't even resemble the Nutcracker at times. I mean you hear the music, you see ballerinas, but other than that . . .

So how is this a metaphor for anything? Well it's in that vote. Think about how that is going to shake out. There will be some people for whom the best Nutcracker will have to be the most traditional looking version; there will be some people for whom the best Nutcracker will have to be the most strikingly different version; and there will even potentially be resentment between the two factions for even existing . . . questions of whether someone should even have the right to call a ballet the Nutcracker when it has drifted so far from the original and eyes rolled at such a narrow minded view of the arts. There is even a version from a French choreographer who used the Nutcracker as an autobiography.

How dare he!

You get the point . . bail out the auto industry, don't bail out the auto industry . . . . capitalism, socialism . . . . tax cuts, welfare . . . the most truthful statement ever naively spoken by an individual was perhaps said by Rodney King, "Why can't we all just get along?"

Personally, my favorite Nutcracker is the Matthew Bourne version where the "nutcracker" looks like a Howdy Doody doll and the story takes place in an orphanage . . . it is kinda like the what the Nutcracker would be like if seen by Tim Burton on the big screen.

Miss Mew Mew & Peabody

2008-11-07T14:43:00.000-08:00

Speaking of fear . . . . . Money

2008-11-06T12:23:00.000-08:00

Money . . . "the sordid topic of coin" as Isabella Rosellini says in one of my favorite quotes from "Death Becomes Her," . . . I know that the number 1 fear spot for most Americans is public speaking. Simply raising your voice to be heard above the crowd is feared more than death, but I don't know where money ranks on the list. Certainly some people's money fears paralyze them to total inaction, whereas others act quickly and irrationally. Despite FDIC insurance, we did have a run on some of the banks during this financial crisis and despite FDIC insurance, some people did lose money because they held more than the insured amount in an institution.

You may have heard Dr. Phil say "you don't solve money problems by throwing money at them" or perhaps you've heard the statistics about lottery winners . . . they tend to settle back to the financial status they were at BEFORE winning the lottery. Moreless, if they managed their money well, they still did and if they didn't, they still didn't.

I think one of the reasons that money is so scary is that there are no set rules as to what to do with your money. The best choice at any given time is fluid and changes with the state of the world. For instance, how many people, right now, have $7000 in their savings account at about 1% interest, while they are carrying $7000 of credit card debt at 25%? How many people make the minimum payment on their mortgage at 5 or 6%, while holding that savings account at 1%? Simple math tells you to gravitate to the solution that earns you the most return; simple fear keeps you from doing it.

Warren Buffett says "Be fearful when others are greedy and be greedy when others are fearful." But truthfully, the individual investor tends to buy at the top and sell at the bottom. At the top, we're afraid of missing out on opportunity and at the bottom, we are afraid of losing it all . . . frequently just before things were going to get better.

Most of the time, we would rather trust someone else's judgement than learn about the subject and trust our own. I suppose it gives the illusion of someone else to blame.

Best Halloween Ever . . . aka Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

2008-10-31T23:42:00.000-07:00

So it was the best Halloween ever. Maybe it was the three man mariachi band accompanying my last trick or treaters who serenaded me with Cielito Lindo . . . but I also really enjoyed two comments. First, maybe I should say: 1. I have a very large honeysuckle hedge in front of my house that surrounds an arbor walkway to my front door. It completely blocks the front of my house from view and 2. I had a string of orange lights and a red rope light strung on the arbor, a large black spider in the arbor with a strobe light aimed at it, red celophane over my front porch lights, and a small rubber alien sitting on the front step. Oh and an unlit skeleton hand in a pot just on the door side of the arbor. Not alot of decoration, but some.

The first comment came from the only boy in my first group of trick or treaters. "I didn't know this was a house." The comment's counterpoint was made very late in the evening by a girl in one of the last groups. She repeated 2 or 3 times, probably not knowing who to tell, "I like your house. I like your house." Then she quietly added, "I think it's pretty."

I wasn't the person handing out candy just then . . . or I would have given her an extra piece or two.

Speaking of afraid . . . .

2008-10-30T15:25:00.000-07:00

The other night I was working on a customer's video to DVD project . . I was watching something else on tv, though, and when the customer's tape finished, it automatically rewound. I was sitting on the couch next to Peabody and Art was on his other side. The minute that tape began rewinding - Peabody puffed to twice his size, stood with his back arched, and no amount of consoling would keep him in the room. Later, after Art had gone home and the customer's project was long finished; I saw Peabody walk cautiously near the equipment only to slap a table leg . . .just in case.

I remember when Mew used to slap every padded hanger she'd encounter.

It's twisted, but I miss that a little. It seems like you move too quickly from the curious but cautious kitty to the over-relaxed, fat and always sleeping mature cat. While Peabody was fleeing the hissing VHS tape, Mew barely even cracked her eyes open.

Just comes down to another lesson learned . . .enjoy the now . . . now. If you spend too much time reminiscing about what the cat did last year . . .you may not notice what he did today and you'll spend your whole life missing what you barely noticed while it was happening.

Fear Itself

2008-10-18T22:29:00.000-07:00

"The only thing we have to fear, is fear itself." "It's always darkest before the dawn."

More than anything else, I think, your humanity is defined by your relationship with fear. Some people court their fear openly whether they are riding rollercoasters or freefalling out of airplanes; some live those "quiet desperation" lives barely able to leave their homes.

There is no greater high than beating your fear and there is no greater low than realizing you have sacrificed yourself . . . only because you were afraid.

I have a friend who loves to run her foot just adjacent to an unsuspecting cat to see how high it will jump. Watch the stock market these days and you will see the ones who yell "Fire" in new crowded theaters. Forcing someone else to expose their fears can make you feel more at ease with your own; in the right circumstances it can also make you a lot of money.

Don't kid yourself . . . something is always ending . . .but something is always beginning just beyond that.

What would you do if you weren't afraid?

The Dork . . . er that is . . Peabody responds

2008-10-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

Prrr. . . what? That old biddy? Well, she's good for some entertainment, isn't she? I mean, if you run, I will chase you, won't I? No matter how much you spit and hiss.

Prrrup prrup. . . oh. The human? A bit slow, but I won the jackpot when I met her. I showed up on her doorstep for a few weeks before she noticed that I was three times the cat my collar had been built for. I'd rub against her legs, do headstands on her feet . . . put on a show. When she finally did notice, I made sure not to spook her as she took it off - not an easy trick because she didn't have the sense to cut it off . . .she actually unbuckled it. . . .I thought she'd kill me while saving me.

Since then, . . . . prrrruuuup prp . . .well she's like a mouse dinner, isn't she? Right under my paw where I want her.

Let Me(w) Set things Straight

2008-10-17T23:08:00.000-07:00

So let me give you the real story . . . she's an all right human for the most part . . . a little soft maybe, but all right. She seemed lonely so I began visiting her house and she would feed me and eventually she brought me inside. I had it made. She was easy to train and soon I had her getting up at 3 am and 5 am to give me treats . . .in addition to regular meals at 6 am, 10 am and 7 pm, of course. I trained her which food was the proper one to give me, to lift the blankets for me on the bed and raise the curtains when I wanted to look out. Life was pretty sweet. I was boss of the house. The undisputed Queen Kitty.

She takes a little maintenance . . . she's a little needy. Checks in every hour or so when she's here, to run her paw on your fur or mumble into the back of your neck. It can be a little irritating when you've settled in for a nap or she pulls out that clicking metal thing just when the finches are in the fennel on the other side of the glass. Most of the time, she knows her place and is easy to manage.

But she's soft, all right? How could I know she'd bring that dork in too?

Random Play Negativity

2008-10-17T17:45:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you a secret . . . I used to hate my neighbors. I should explain upfront that I was a very unhappy person. Every negative thing that anyone had ever said to me or about me . . . my entire life . . . was stored in my brain and I routinely played them back . . . random play. So when I would come home and my neighbors would be having a party, complete with loud music and diminished parking availability - I took it as a personal affront. Deep inside I kept a score of every bad thing and thought . . . I've put up with fill-in-the-blank!!! I shouldn't have to put up with this! (I guess you wouldn't need to be told that I didn't have a lot of parties. Or that even when I was doing "happy" things; I wasn't . . . not really.)

I finally learned that I've been crueller to myself than all of those other people ever were - after all, they only said whatever they said . . . once. I'd repeat it every day; and, after lots of reading and thinking about things . . . I still don't throw a lot of parties and I still wonder how loud your music is inside if I can hear it outside . . . but I don't see it as an attack when others are simply trying to have fun.

I see a lot of the same thinking against "entitlement program" recipients during this presidential campaign. People who don't make $250,000 desperately defending the rights of those who do, not to be taxed more. When asked if they couldn't use the tax break themselves, they say it won't ever happen anyway. They say they're against "liberal policies" and, sometimes, vehemently speak against entitlement programs as if the recipients have broken into their car and stolen their stereos. And yet, one of the candidates is living proof that entitlement programs can work.

I recognize the anger and the hatred. None of the people in question are Warren Buffett-like billionaires. It just seems to me they are misdirecting their anger and frustration.

Perhaps it's that random play radio station repeating in their heads.

Restless

2008-10-16T23:00:00.000-07:00

I should have just gone to bed, but instead I'm creating this blog. Why? I keep talking to people about the election. I'm far too old not to understand why everybody doesn't separate their shinola from the other stuff in the same way, but I still don't understand. How can we all hear the same people speak, but yet hear so many different things? I just know that everyone I talk to worries about the worst that the government can be (isn't it really there already?) They want to have their "checks and balances" and keep all of the government branches at odds with each other. They talk about preventing the government from getting anything done like it is a good thing. They get hung up on sex and marriage and moral issues that aren't the Fed's business, aren't the State's business . . . that are really nobody's business but your own and then pick the "least offensive" alternative . . . . "the lesser evil." Well this time, I'm voting my heart. This time, I'm saying "What if ?" What if the country could be the place I wish it could be? What if the world could do the right thing? (And just from my saying that, perhaps you know who I'm voting for even if I don't say. But I wonder if you're right. Because, after all, we can both watch the same debate and pick a different winner. We both can watch and hear a different message. I have my issues and you have yours and don't get me started about each of our pet peeves.)

This is the first election where I've even cared. Until now, I was right with you . . . "I voted for the lesser evil . . . not like it makes any difference anyway . . . they're all the same guy just in a different package."

Well, this time I'm not voting out of fear or apathy. I AM voting largely to knock out one vote for the other guy, but I'm also voting because . . . what if . .. . . .