Hidden, Secret Worlds

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

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

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.)

The Human Ticker Tape

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

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

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.