This is how American poet Anne Sexton once defined luxury. An informal poll of my friends and family revealed pipedreams of private jets, maids and summer homes. Definitions of luxury are as subjective and varied as the dreams attached. To me, luxuries are not pipedreams unlikely to ever be realized, but a mindset of attainable, non-essentials that contribute to my pleasure and comfort.
I believe that luxury can be separated into sub-groups, the first of which is, “Stuff that is easier to complain about NOT having.” Into this category, I put bubble baths, pedicures and eyebrow waxes. None of these are “big-ticket” items. If they were a true priority in my life, they could be attained with relative ease. It would take no effort for me to lock myself in the bathroom, light scented candles and hang a sign on the door that says, “If you dare knock, something had better be bleeding, burning or broken!” Apparently, these things aren't all that important, or I would pamper myself a bit more.
The second sub-group I call “Back in Black” luxuries. These are things that seem like novelties in the beginning, but when the reality hits that you couldn’t financially survive without them, it stings. These are things like shopping at garage sales; fun when you’re 16, a little harder to reconcile at 36. A true luxury for me would be shopping at Target and not worrying about it. Coupon clipping also goes into this category. I would love to shop at Hen House and stop running between bakery thrift stores and double-coupon days. Creative bill paying also goes here; comfort would be not paying bills based on which ones were in danger of being shut off.
The luxuries I have now though, far outweigh the above and are the most dear. I call them “Karmatic Luxuries”. These are home, family, truth, beauty and goodwill. They are luxuries because when I can share these with people around me, I immediately receive both pleasure and comfort. The true reward, however, is that I am also “paying it forward”. Every time I see one of my children reach out to help a stranger, or comfort a friend, I know how blessed I am. If I can inspire people around me to keep faith, and not lose hope, I am paying it forward. If, by example, my children see that material rewards should be the pleasant by-product of a life well-lived, not the purpose, then I will happily clip coupons forever.
Is my definition of luxury today different than ten years ago? Absolutely. I would expect no less of life’s journey. Do I expect it to change in the future? Certainly. As I stated in my opening, luxuries are attainable, and as I do that, I expect new desires to fill those vacancies. I think the key to success is to recognize that wants are different than needs, and if you can separate the two, a life of luxury isn't that hard to realize.
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Sunday, July 09, 2006
I despise exercise...
but not for the obvious reasons. I dislike it because I have to commit to it and anyone who knows me can tell you, I can't commit to wearing the same pair of socks for an entire day! I also despise it because I am now at a point that even I know I MUST do it...no longer a choice...and I HATE being told what to do - even by my own body. At this point, it almost seems futile..I have no desire to be the next Susan Powder (sp?)...you know, the "Stop the Insanity" hardbody...which is good, because she's a freak of nature. I know, I know...they always say, the best time to do something is when you don't feel like doing it etc...builds discipline or some squawk like that...but if you really think about it, that would mean that you will NEVER be able to give yourself an out. If every time you feel like slacking, you bully through and do it anyway, you become just another robotic drone with no free-will whatsoever! If I subscribed to that life-choice, I would never be allowed to say no to myself...now there are plenty of things in my life that I cannot say no to without dire consequences: car payments, utility bills, laundry...but I guess I would like to control just one thing in my life...my body...and by george, if my body says, "Today isn't gonna work for me..." I would like that to be okay...without the guilt and failure complexes every Nike and Mountain Dew commercial has subliminally implanted in my brain. So today, I give myself permission not to exercise...and my body is thanking me...so free yourselves...exercise when you feel like it - as a reward for loving youself - not a persecutorial punishment for merely channel or web surfing (both highly underrated activities)...and not because someone says you have to...c'mon...the Great Bambino lived on a diet of hot dogs, alcohol and cigars...and that's part of what makes him so spectacular...anyone can break records on a diet of granola and steroids! So on that note...I sign off...having only exercised my metacarpals!
Friday, July 07, 2006
Independence Day
United we stand
For just one night
Beryl skies the palette
Starbursts bloom as sanguine rain
And Minutremen pay homage
With mortar shells that pierce through time
Recalling Death is Freedom's utmost tariff
For just one night
Beryl skies the palette
Starbursts bloom as sanguine rain
And Minutremen pay homage
With mortar shells that pierce through time
Recalling Death is Freedom's utmost tariff
Saturday, June 17, 2006
To My Dad...
Sometimes the pedestals we put people on don’t seem quite so high the taller we get, with time and maturity, perspectives change. As an adult, I reflect on the idolatry I had for my father when I was a child as compared to the platform of respect and understanding I place him on today.
My earliest recollection of my father is cast through a dazzling, sunlit filter. He is crouching next to me in our garden; I am “petting” a daisy and he is whispering softly, “Gentle, just gentle.” Not to discount my mother, but I was a Daddy’s Girl. His first, my mother’s eighth. My world revolved around him. As soon as he hit the door from a long day at work, I would leap into his arms. He would then carry me upside-down into the living room where we would have “con-ver sa-tion”. It was the biggest word I had ever heard, and he was the smartest man I knew. He became a deity to me, encompassing my ideal of perfection and infallibility; and with every godly act he performed, the pedestal where I had set him lifted a little higher into the sky.
As an adolescent, I took those early impressions and continued building on them – oversimplified, he was never wrong. Dinner conversations were peppered with truths to live by like, “Be true to yourself” and “Your handshake is your word”. His pedestal was now so high, I had to make it self-buttressing so it did not collapse under it’s own weight. I had the same acme of perfection set for myself – because I was his daughter.
As a young adult, I spent years resenting his omnipotence, doing just about everything I could to defy him. I can remember playing Devil’s Advocate in arguments, just to challenge his correctness. Every time his unheeded advice proved right, it only increased my resentment and underlined my failure. Could I not be perfect without him? I kept that flawed perception of him well into my twenties, and it was only recently that I was able to put everything in proper perspective.
The shift began when I went to work for him. Another personal setback left me wanting for work; and, as usual, I ate crow and he threw me a bone. Working for his company afforded me the not only the opportunity to learn the business, but also to meet the people with whom he had professional relationships. These were people I had heard about my entire life, a few of whom I had previously met, who were now getting to know me as someone other than “Bob’s Daughter” ; I was a business associate.
I spent nearly twenty years in financial services as an assistant, a broker, a wholesaler and finally as a financial planner. In that time, I met many people who had known my father in a different context and for much longer than I had. I heard some of the same stories I had heard as a child, but in a different light. This was not dirt digging on my part, nor mud slinging on theirs. This was a common thread we wove into a new fabric. Through their narratives, both professional and personal, the “deity” became tangible to me; the hero started to become human.
The pedestal is now realistically proportioned. I see my father as a fallible human, not an infallibly deity. The platform has also broadened to include all the qualities my previous, singular perspective had obscured. My father is three-dimensional. He has feelings, and can be hurt. He has flaws, and can be wrong. What I know now is that he never thought himself perfect, I did; and he never asked perfection of me. All the times I expected perfection from us both, I was the only one disappointed. By letting my father “out of the box” of my childhood perceptions, I have released us both.
Saturday, June 03, 2006
7 x 16
I wandered through the literati looking for my voice,
And in the streets of Dublin, I bumped into James Joyce
He was running to the doctors, having awful stomach pain
But he said that he found Dedalus, reading Ibsen on a train
The Wife of Bath I went to next, and knocked upon her door
But alas, she could not hear me, so I traveled to the moors
In Denmark I found Grendel, who left me in a fright
And our ever tortured Hamlet, chasing phantoms in the night
The Hollow Men, their voices dried, could only bang and whimper
And Dylan Thomas in a rage – the man had quite a temper!
Byron and two Shelleys were busy snubbing Britain
The Brownings, they had too left home – with Italy were smitten
My last stop was in Paris to give a Rose to Gertrude Stein
She made a batch of brownies (I must admit they were sublime!)
In searching for the perfect voice, I had tramped through many tomes
And finally had reconciled - the voice must be my own
Abuse
House
Older than her years
Walls aching and cracked
Spackle masks but does not mend
A lifetime of pain
Nails driven with such force
Beauty goes unseen
Structural damage with curb appeal
Older than her years
Walls aching and cracked
Spackle masks but does not mend
A lifetime of pain
Nails driven with such force
Beauty goes unseen
Structural damage with curb appeal
Sunday, May 28, 2006
TAG!!! You're It!!!...or not...I'm flexible
Okay...I got tagged...and now have the dubious honor of revealing to you all a "Five Things In My..." Categories below: (I told you...Fun and brainless for a while...)
FRIDGE:
Rice Milk
Eggs
Asparagus
Hershey's Syrup
Sun tea
(note: as I just CLEANED my refrigerator, and a heavenly choir now sings whenever I open the door, this list is nearly the entire content of said fridge!)
PURSE:
Gum (Stride...I highly recommend..."A Ridiculously Long Lasting Gum" is their slogan...my record: 85 minutes...beat that Orbit!)
Sweet Rain perfume oil
Keys
My lucky Mardi Gras token (Bacchus)
CAR:
A lamp (to be repaired or trashed)
CD's
A leather jacket (no room in the closet)
Jumper cables (somewhere)
A Kooky Crayon Maker (goodwill wouldn't take it - they have gotten AWFUL picky lately)
THINGS I DID TODAY:
finished a crappy book
found carpenter ants under my deck
found carpenter bees IN my deck (they chew louder than the ants)
called for a quote on a new deck
was late for a kickin' birthday party for a friend's little girl!...that was the high point of my day...and did I ever need it!
THINGS I ATE TODAY
cookies and cream Dibs
sushi
hot dogs and fabu pasta salad
birthday cake/ice cream
and am gonna' eat something now...probably an omelet with items listed above...
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Learning your ABC's...
(okay - I promised to lighten up with these posts...this is lighter, but I can't get off this writing kick lately...I'll get back to freestyle from the hip soon - I promise...just gotta get this stuff out of my system!)
It was St. Patrick’s Day 2000, and I had met my parents for a traditional, liquor soaked, Irish Breakfast. The pub was crowded, a pennywhistle was playing a lively reel, and haze clung heavily to the tawny sunlight saturating the room. The aroma of breakfast fare and fresh baked soda bread was peppered with the pungent tang of pipe tobacco.
“Let’s go to Ireland” my mother blurted.
We fell quiet, then broke out laughing.
“Today?” I grinned, and polished off my pint.
“No, September – all 20 of us – a reunion!” she smiled. The ice in her empty whisky tumbler clinked and the glass made a resolute “thunk” as she set it on the polished oak table.
This breakfast set in motion a chain of events that saw this seemingly off the cuff quip become reality. Holidays had sparse turnouts due to a long family history of personality conflicts. It seemed that bringing us to our collective identity, Ireland, was the only way to bring us together at all. While faced with an unfamiliar dialect at the airport, I realized that families are a lot like other countries: just because you share an alphabet doesn’t mean you speak the same language.
Our arrival in Shannon was chaotic, we had lost luggage, people and car reservations. Since Ireland is an “English speaking country“, I hadn’t given a thought to possible language barriers, until Customs. The agent told me the “crack” was great in Limerick, our destination, and “You’ll ‘ave good fun widdit“. That got my attention. I started noticing more as we waited: diapers were nappies, naps were kips; pacifiers were dummies, a dummy was a plonker, kids were snappers and craic (“crack”) was good humor.
My kids were famished, so I ordered a lemonade and a ham sandwich at the deli. The clerk queried:
“D’ja mean a lemon-squash or an Orange Club?”
Feeling stupid I said, “Water’s fine.“
“An’ woodja’ be havin’ a salad witcher sanwich?”
I learned the hard way this meant cabbage slaw ON the sandwich, not leafy greens next to it.
We found Ma in the shadow of her luggage. She was old-fashioned, a real Mary Hick; she had packed two of everything. One set could be checked through, and she could carry on a miniature version, “just in case“. Her bags were crammed full of everything from hand sanitizer and toilet seat covers to groceries (messages) and clean underwear (drawers) – all of which she offered at every opportunity.
I scanned the rest of our weary group. My younger sister had disappeared into the nearest restroom (bog/jacks) with her substantial cosmetic bag for a complete makeover. My older brother Terry and his kids were just the opposite - bumpkins (bogtrotters). Terry’s hair stood on end and he needed three shaves; his clothes had given up all hope of ever being washed and were just hanging on for dear life – he was in complete flitters. He couldn’t have cared less. Terry lived life on his own terms, which made him a “black sheep” to some.
We discovered that my brothers Tim and John had missed their connections. Tim was a confirmed bachelor, world traveler and unapologetic (except around mother) pot smoker. He was a millionaire who wore only tracksuits and runners. He was miserly but fun, and fiercely loyal. He’d give you the shirt off his back, but you’d better buy him a new one in return. John had been away the longest. Time and distance were his self-imposed penance for an alternative lifestyle. In the States, he smoked cigarettes and was a fag; in Ireland he smoked fags and was a steamer.
Given the glaring differences between us, it’s no wonder we rarely got together. I guess between the rednecks, yuppies, dreamers, snobs and slackers that are my family, it had always been easier to underline differences rather than remember commonalities. A family reunion in a foreign country ultimately helped us remember those common threads: love, family, heritage, and failing all else, an alphabet.
It was St. Patrick’s Day 2000, and I had met my parents for a traditional, liquor soaked, Irish Breakfast. The pub was crowded, a pennywhistle was playing a lively reel, and haze clung heavily to the tawny sunlight saturating the room. The aroma of breakfast fare and fresh baked soda bread was peppered with the pungent tang of pipe tobacco.
“Let’s go to Ireland” my mother blurted.
We fell quiet, then broke out laughing.
“Today?” I grinned, and polished off my pint.
“No, September – all 20 of us – a reunion!” she smiled. The ice in her empty whisky tumbler clinked and the glass made a resolute “thunk” as she set it on the polished oak table.
This breakfast set in motion a chain of events that saw this seemingly off the cuff quip become reality. Holidays had sparse turnouts due to a long family history of personality conflicts. It seemed that bringing us to our collective identity, Ireland, was the only way to bring us together at all. While faced with an unfamiliar dialect at the airport, I realized that families are a lot like other countries: just because you share an alphabet doesn’t mean you speak the same language.
Our arrival in Shannon was chaotic, we had lost luggage, people and car reservations. Since Ireland is an “English speaking country“, I hadn’t given a thought to possible language barriers, until Customs. The agent told me the “crack” was great in Limerick, our destination, and “You’ll ‘ave good fun widdit“. That got my attention. I started noticing more as we waited: diapers were nappies, naps were kips; pacifiers were dummies, a dummy was a plonker, kids were snappers and craic (“crack”) was good humor.
My kids were famished, so I ordered a lemonade and a ham sandwich at the deli. The clerk queried:
“D’ja mean a lemon-squash or an Orange Club?”
Feeling stupid I said, “Water’s fine.“
“An’ woodja’ be havin’ a salad witcher sanwich?”
I learned the hard way this meant cabbage slaw ON the sandwich, not leafy greens next to it.
We found Ma in the shadow of her luggage. She was old-fashioned, a real Mary Hick; she had packed two of everything. One set could be checked through, and she could carry on a miniature version, “just in case“. Her bags were crammed full of everything from hand sanitizer and toilet seat covers to groceries (messages) and clean underwear (drawers) – all of which she offered at every opportunity.
I scanned the rest of our weary group. My younger sister had disappeared into the nearest restroom (bog/jacks) with her substantial cosmetic bag for a complete makeover. My older brother Terry and his kids were just the opposite - bumpkins (bogtrotters). Terry’s hair stood on end and he needed three shaves; his clothes had given up all hope of ever being washed and were just hanging on for dear life – he was in complete flitters. He couldn’t have cared less. Terry lived life on his own terms, which made him a “black sheep” to some.
We discovered that my brothers Tim and John had missed their connections. Tim was a confirmed bachelor, world traveler and unapologetic (except around mother) pot smoker. He was a millionaire who wore only tracksuits and runners. He was miserly but fun, and fiercely loyal. He’d give you the shirt off his back, but you’d better buy him a new one in return. John had been away the longest. Time and distance were his self-imposed penance for an alternative lifestyle. In the States, he smoked cigarettes and was a fag; in Ireland he smoked fags and was a steamer.
Given the glaring differences between us, it’s no wonder we rarely got together. I guess between the rednecks, yuppies, dreamers, snobs and slackers that are my family, it had always been easier to underline differences rather than remember commonalities. A family reunion in a foreign country ultimately helped us remember those common threads: love, family, heritage, and failing all else, an alphabet.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
“I Can See Clearly Now…”
As I reflect on my life, my memories seem to run like a video tape through a VCR. I rewind and fast-forward, sometimes pausing at happy memories; other times I stop at more sobering events that seem to stand alone. Our memories mark milestones, turning points and celebrations. In this case, a recollection of a time when my mother gave me something I couldn’t give myself: Hope.
It was March 1997, and I was getting ready to take a vacation with my children. My pre-trip checklist included an eye exam - something I only did when my glasses broke; they had.
“One…or two?” asked the optometrist.
“One.”
“Two…or three?”
“Uhmmm…”
(Eyeglasses are one prescription you can’t blame the doctor for if they’re wrong.)
“Three?”
The doctor flipped on the fluorescents overhead.
“I can’t figure it out, Ms. Murray, but I can’t seem to get your vision back to 20/20.”
“Maybe I should’ve said two not three.” I half-jokingly wondered aloud. I decided to go on vacation and consult a “more capable” doctor when we returned.
For those next six months, my video memories are strung in soundless blurs. Every once in a while, the tape slows to quarter-speed, and faceless doctors drawl:
“I want you to see a specialist…”
“Close your eyes - does this feel sharp or dull?”
“We’ll have to run more tests…”
I was drowning in a tsunami of words: lesions, neuropathies, lumbar puncture; then the shattering conclusion: Multiple Sclerosis. In an instant, I went from drowning to washing up on the beach gasping for breath. Grasping those words was like trying to clutch the air we breathe. The VCR was now eating the tape; the video comes to a grinding halt with a distorted image on the screen. “Are they NUTS?” I screamed in my head. “I went in for a freaking EYE EXAM!! I’m only 26...I have two kids, work - I’m NORMAL!”
I don’t remember leaving the doctor’s, but I do recall an immediate feeling of having been branded. Wasn’t I the same person I had been that morning? I didn’t feel any different but apparently I was.
I vividly remember standing in my parent’s kitchen, sobbing like a baby. I must have driven there. The video now flashes to my mother, her hands holding my face and wiping my tears. Strength in her eyes, voice cloaking a heart I am certain was breaking, “Shannon, we will get through this.” Her words will never leave me. Six words that gave me hope; that let me know I was not alone. Since that moment we have walked through this together, my family and I.
That was nearly ten years, and thousands of feet of “video” ago. Yes, my life has changed, but not in the ways I had imagined. Yes, it took time, and I have struggled to accept without surrendering. I never believed then that life would have more essence now than it ever did before; my mother did.
It was March 1997, and I was getting ready to take a vacation with my children. My pre-trip checklist included an eye exam - something I only did when my glasses broke; they had.
“One…or two?” asked the optometrist.
“One.”
“Two…or three?”
“Uhmmm…”
(Eyeglasses are one prescription you can’t blame the doctor for if they’re wrong.)
“Three?”
The doctor flipped on the fluorescents overhead.
“I can’t figure it out, Ms. Murray, but I can’t seem to get your vision back to 20/20.”
“Maybe I should’ve said two not three.” I half-jokingly wondered aloud. I decided to go on vacation and consult a “more capable” doctor when we returned.
For those next six months, my video memories are strung in soundless blurs. Every once in a while, the tape slows to quarter-speed, and faceless doctors drawl:
“I want you to see a specialist…”
“Close your eyes - does this feel sharp or dull?”
“We’ll have to run more tests…”
I was drowning in a tsunami of words: lesions, neuropathies, lumbar puncture; then the shattering conclusion: Multiple Sclerosis. In an instant, I went from drowning to washing up on the beach gasping for breath. Grasping those words was like trying to clutch the air we breathe. The VCR was now eating the tape; the video comes to a grinding halt with a distorted image on the screen. “Are they NUTS?” I screamed in my head. “I went in for a freaking EYE EXAM!! I’m only 26...I have two kids, work - I’m NORMAL!”
I don’t remember leaving the doctor’s, but I do recall an immediate feeling of having been branded. Wasn’t I the same person I had been that morning? I didn’t feel any different but apparently I was.
I vividly remember standing in my parent’s kitchen, sobbing like a baby. I must have driven there. The video now flashes to my mother, her hands holding my face and wiping my tears. Strength in her eyes, voice cloaking a heart I am certain was breaking, “Shannon, we will get through this.” Her words will never leave me. Six words that gave me hope; that let me know I was not alone. Since that moment we have walked through this together, my family and I.
That was nearly ten years, and thousands of feet of “video” ago. Yes, my life has changed, but not in the ways I had imagined. Yes, it took time, and I have struggled to accept without surrendering. I never believed then that life would have more essence now than it ever did before; my mother did.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
To the Pale...
Marcie and I had a conversation a while back about summer, bathing suits and trouble spots...the usual hips, thighs, waist things. I jokingly commented that my body WAS the trouble spot - I do not turn any color but pink from May to August...and from my knees down, not even that! Sprays and creams turn orange on me, and well, they just look wierd...so I told her I had doubled my coffee intake in the hopes of absorbing pigment internally - like tea stains...I can DREAM can't I?
So this morning, in the shower, I decided it was time to shave my legs. Something I avoid in the winter - my excuse being that it adds a layer of warmth...really I am just lazy. Shaving is mandatory in the summer months, but at least with a winter fuzz on, from a distance, my legs don't blind people. Shorts are something that I have to work myself up to and it usually takes until July. I try them on for fit...then maybe I wear them around the house - just to let my eyes adjust to my glaring gams. I try on white shorts (hoping something paler than me will help), dark denim (thinking, why try to hide it?), and finally a khaki compromise...this process will go on for weeks...shaving, trying on, walking around the house with an ocassional venture to the mailbox and then finally retreating into my Old Navy jeans. The only thing that eventually coaxes me into shorts or a bathing suit is pure heat delerium. Have no fear, I pass out complimentary sunglasses when I go to the pool =)
Speaking of sunglasses, I wasn't always this self-conscious. I was raised to be proud of my Irish roots...and I am - on cloudy rainy days...but everyhting changed 7 years ago, one innocent day at work. I was a rep with a brokerage firm downtown. It was a relatively laid back office and we had summer hours and casual Fridays. The A/C broke conveniently on a Thursday, so we all decided since Fridays we closed at one, and there were no clients coming in, we would brave the heat, wrap-up the week and come in very casual: a la shorts (khaki bermudas of course...it is Wall Street!) The next morning, I came in, settled into my morning routine, called some clients and wrote up some trade tickets. My traders were in the bullpen, in a separate office. To "drop the tickets" or place my trades, I had to walk through the operations area of my firm. As I left my office, tickets in hand and walked in the Ops/Trading room, I said my "good Mornings" with my head buried in a newspaper. Halfway through the room I became conscious of snickering. I looked around, and every person in the room, cashiers, wire operators, security traders and analysts...all had put on their SUNGLASSES! We exploded in laughter, I placed my trades, returned to my office and stayed there! Now, we were all friends, and the prank was good-natured...but it definitely left a mark!
Here's to all the jean-wearin' chalk people everywhere!
So this morning, in the shower, I decided it was time to shave my legs. Something I avoid in the winter - my excuse being that it adds a layer of warmth...really I am just lazy. Shaving is mandatory in the summer months, but at least with a winter fuzz on, from a distance, my legs don't blind people. Shorts are something that I have to work myself up to and it usually takes until July. I try them on for fit...then maybe I wear them around the house - just to let my eyes adjust to my glaring gams. I try on white shorts (hoping something paler than me will help), dark denim (thinking, why try to hide it?), and finally a khaki compromise...this process will go on for weeks...shaving, trying on, walking around the house with an ocassional venture to the mailbox and then finally retreating into my Old Navy jeans. The only thing that eventually coaxes me into shorts or a bathing suit is pure heat delerium. Have no fear, I pass out complimentary sunglasses when I go to the pool =)
Speaking of sunglasses, I wasn't always this self-conscious. I was raised to be proud of my Irish roots...and I am - on cloudy rainy days...but everyhting changed 7 years ago, one innocent day at work. I was a rep with a brokerage firm downtown. It was a relatively laid back office and we had summer hours and casual Fridays. The A/C broke conveniently on a Thursday, so we all decided since Fridays we closed at one, and there were no clients coming in, we would brave the heat, wrap-up the week and come in very casual: a la shorts (khaki bermudas of course...it is Wall Street!) The next morning, I came in, settled into my morning routine, called some clients and wrote up some trade tickets. My traders were in the bullpen, in a separate office. To "drop the tickets" or place my trades, I had to walk through the operations area of my firm. As I left my office, tickets in hand and walked in the Ops/Trading room, I said my "good Mornings" with my head buried in a newspaper. Halfway through the room I became conscious of snickering. I looked around, and every person in the room, cashiers, wire operators, security traders and analysts...all had put on their SUNGLASSES! We exploded in laughter, I placed my trades, returned to my office and stayed there! Now, we were all friends, and the prank was good-natured...but it definitely left a mark!
Here's to all the jean-wearin' chalk people everywhere!
Getting Down With God...
Dylan getting "Right with God" on April 23rd at his First Holy Communion...I am a practicing Catholic - it works for me...personally I don't care if my kids join the "Church of Brian" but I do think it's important that they learn that there is a greater force than us - whatever you care to call it: Karma, energy, the Great Spirit, Allah...in the words of Gertrude Stein, "a rose is a rose is a rose..." So here are the Catholic Cliff Notes I sent my brother...if ya' can't laugh at yourself then everyone else is just laughing AT you!now, a quick brush up for fallen Catholics...
pen-ance (pen-UNCE) v. fr. Latin penintentiarius - confessor...reconcilio - repair
a child's first soul scrubbing...frought with panic, fire and brimstone as the young child must determine if it is better to confess eating meat on Friday in Lent, or confess that when they remembered, they wasted the rest of the hamburger by throwing it away. This is a necessary ritual before the child can receive communion (see below) as receiving communion into an unscrubbed soul can result in eternal damnation and nasty acid reflux.
comm-un-ion (kuh-MEW-nyon) n. fr. Lat. commessatio - to eat together...a child's first experience actually eating a little piece of God. Devout Catholics believe that the mystery of the Mass occurs when the bread and wine are actually TRANSFORMED into the 2000 year old decayed flesh and blood of their savior. It is now believed that there is a direct correllation between this belief and the need for intensive psychiatric counseling later in life.
con-fir-ma-tion (khan-fur-MAY-shun) n. fr. Lat confirmo - to confirm(imagine that!) the sacrament where Catholic teens lie to the Bishop by telling him that they VOLUNTARILY are choosing Catholocism as their OWN religion. The Bishop, knowing full well that these kids are only there to score points with their parents, slaps them publicly to humiliate them into submission and servitude to God.
hope that helped...lol...you should go to church more!!
Monday, May 15, 2006
Belated Mother's Day...
A quick post, as I am again at the library and my minutes are swincling. I got thru my psych exam in one piece, and as long as I manage to sit thru my art crit tomorrow, I am DONE for the semester. (By DONE, I mean there is nothing I can do to screw up my grades any more! it is our of my control!)
Mother's Day...I hope the day found everyone well, and not stressed or overworked. Sometimes the fanfare of a day like that can take away from the peace. Well, I was so in need of rest that I passed on the family brunch at the Brasserie, but I have it on good advice that rabbit stew was NOT on the menu this time. (re: my Easter post)...I actually slept until noon yesterday. I almost feel bad putting that out there. Almost. Honestly, I told the kids that I didn't want any gifts...just a sleep-in and a letter from them to me...you know, for the drawer in my dresser that holds all manner of teeth, hair clippings and scribble pictures. Well, at least Dylan tried - he wrote Happy Mom's Day on the dry erase board on the fridge! The Divine Miss Em made me "brunch" to order - which goes without saying was PHENOM...okay, so they're not Hemmingway...they are, however, the lifeblood of my world and give me more reasons to smile than I ever thought I would have...
if the universe is in a pleasant mood, my next post should be from home!!!
Mother's Day...I hope the day found everyone well, and not stressed or overworked. Sometimes the fanfare of a day like that can take away from the peace. Well, I was so in need of rest that I passed on the family brunch at the Brasserie, but I have it on good advice that rabbit stew was NOT on the menu this time. (re: my Easter post)...I actually slept until noon yesterday. I almost feel bad putting that out there. Almost. Honestly, I told the kids that I didn't want any gifts...just a sleep-in and a letter from them to me...you know, for the drawer in my dresser that holds all manner of teeth, hair clippings and scribble pictures. Well, at least Dylan tried - he wrote Happy Mom's Day on the dry erase board on the fridge! The Divine Miss Em made me "brunch" to order - which goes without saying was PHENOM...okay, so they're not Hemmingway...they are, however, the lifeblood of my world and give me more reasons to smile than I ever thought I would have...
if the universe is in a pleasant mood, my next post should be from home!!!
Friday, May 12, 2006
Here I am !!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hey Everyone!!! I am SO SORRY...my computer is sick, and I am in the midst of finals. I am currently at the library doing some reseatch and thought I would touch base...haven't checked in on your spots lately either..man am I spoiled by the computer thing. I never realized how much a part of my life it is. Who sang "Don't know what'cha got til its gone..." Whitesnake, Poison, (insert any 80's hair band here)...I use the dang thing for everything from bill paying to college to groceries...and to now schedule my world around the libraries schedule...not to mention library patron "rush hour" for internet access (yeah - don't even try to get on at the library between 3-6 - unless you have other things to do there!)..it's a new reality...and I ma realizing how spoiled I am...and judging from the constant usage at the library, a LOT of people go without these "Modern Necessities"...
As you can see, I got a new layout...still not my ideal, but working on it. Lost my old links, and when I transferred from my old script, the new template would not read them...so lots to work to do on here. First finals. I should be settled and done by late next week, and able to turn my attention to fixing that viral piece of crap on my desk...so until then...I bid you adieu
As you can see, I got a new layout...still not my ideal, but working on it. Lost my old links, and when I transferred from my old script, the new template would not read them...so lots to work to do on here. First finals. I should be settled and done by late next week, and able to turn my attention to fixing that viral piece of crap on my desk...so until then...I bid you adieu
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Ode to Spring...
Ode to Spring and sunshine curse
The Ice Cream Man will drain my purse
Kids will play ‘til after dark
Homework? What’s that? Lots of luck
Rusty arms throw grapefruit pitches
Spring Break gives us summer itches!
Barefoot feet turn black with dirt
Wash the car? - “Take off that shirt!”
Bugs of every shape and size
Delight the kids - I hide my eyes
Bikes and scooters swarm en masse
Streets too packed for cars to pass
Band-Aids run in short supply,
Use tape and cotton to get by
Kids now try to make a buck
Cuz’ I won’t fund the Ice Cream Truck
Kool-Ade stands on every corner -
Watered down and served much warmer
Water bills do start to soar
A Slip-n-Slide, a backyard war
Climbing trees and tire swings
Bar-B-Que and moody rings
Capture the Flag into the night
Friends of one day soon do fight
Petty squabbles soon will pass
Whistles from a blade of grass
So many kids from big to small
My fingers just can’t count them all
Springtime brings all this and more -
What could Summer have in store?!
4/6/05 srm
The Ice Cream Man will drain my purse
Kids will play ‘til after dark
Homework? What’s that? Lots of luck
Rusty arms throw grapefruit pitches
Spring Break gives us summer itches!
Barefoot feet turn black with dirt
Wash the car? - “Take off that shirt!”
Bugs of every shape and size
Delight the kids - I hide my eyes
Bikes and scooters swarm en masse
Streets too packed for cars to pass
Band-Aids run in short supply,
Use tape and cotton to get by
Kids now try to make a buck
Cuz’ I won’t fund the Ice Cream Truck
Kool-Ade stands on every corner -
Watered down and served much warmer
Water bills do start to soar
A Slip-n-Slide, a backyard war
Climbing trees and tire swings
Bar-B-Que and moody rings
Capture the Flag into the night
Friends of one day soon do fight
Petty squabbles soon will pass
Whistles from a blade of grass
So many kids from big to small
My fingers just can’t count them all
Springtime brings all this and more -
What could Summer have in store?!
4/6/05 srm
I just felt...
in a sharing mood tonight...nothing trite or contrived (what a trite and contrived phrase that is!)...just some stuff I've written...good, bad or otherwise...it's all me...
The Upright...
The old upright
Piano smiling
Years playing
Sweetness
Thirsty to remember
The good
Starting to show age
As laugh lines
On a grandmother’s face
Just as finely tuned
SRM 2/03
Piano smiling
Years playing
Sweetness
Thirsty to remember
The good
Starting to show age
As laugh lines
On a grandmother’s face
Just as finely tuned
SRM 2/03
Monday, May 01, 2006
blah blah blah...
wasn't that an Iggy Pop album?? I think I have that one on vinyl...okay now I was going to say that I had nothing much to talk about today, but I may have just hit on something...
It has been important to me over the years to keep/maintain a turntable...there's something about hearing Double Fantasy (At least the songs without Yoko)in it's original stereophonic grandeur...replete with that nostalgic hissing and popping through the speakers. So as I stumbled on my Iggy Pop reference above, I started thinking about my prized collection of vinyl that will never be downloaded, ripped or burned. There is something to be said for that eternal quarantine at 33 and 1/3 revolutions per minute...those discs are special. There's my original copy of "Teen Hits the Clebanoff Way", and "Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass" with the whipped cream covered woman on the front...classical music masterpieces from Lizst to Chopin, and the 45 that I bought on Ebay that my uncle Jackie Goetchess cut in the 60's (and my brothers used as skeet targets when Jackie was at his day job)...definitely a family heirloom - NOT a chart-topper! I have some 78's that I can't play, but can't part with, still encased in their library quality binders and cases...there are albums that commemmorate every twist in taste...Lords of the New Church, Blancmange, Duran Duran, The Argent Anthology and Frampton Comes alive. There are the standards like Marley and the Dead, UK releases of U2 singles, others from Peter Murphy, Love and Rockets, and Tracy Chapman to Billy Joel, Anti-Nowhere League, Bowie and the Eagles...and with nearly every album, a distinct set of auditory imprints and memories...memories of Westport and Pennylane, Music Exchange (God Rest its soul - and that of the guy that worked there for over 20 years - you know the one...little blue spectacles...committed suicide a couple months back when the store announced it was closing), of Rush Street in Chicago and Wax Trax...
Thomas Wolfe said that you can't go home again...and that's okay...but whether we keep our memories in a photo album or one with liner notes, they are unique to us and our story. About six of these dinosaurs are still in my regular rotation, the rest have not been played in years, preferring to keep the memories as I left them. On occasion though, I do pull one at random, run my hand over the cover, and drift back to the sights, smells and people inextricably linked to that singular moment in time.
Enjoy the memories that are yours alone - in whatever form they may be.
Now - does anyone have a spare needle???
It has been important to me over the years to keep/maintain a turntable...there's something about hearing Double Fantasy (At least the songs without Yoko)in it's original stereophonic grandeur...replete with that nostalgic hissing and popping through the speakers. So as I stumbled on my Iggy Pop reference above, I started thinking about my prized collection of vinyl that will never be downloaded, ripped or burned. There is something to be said for that eternal quarantine at 33 and 1/3 revolutions per minute...those discs are special. There's my original copy of "Teen Hits the Clebanoff Way", and "Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass" with the whipped cream covered woman on the front...classical music masterpieces from Lizst to Chopin, and the 45 that I bought on Ebay that my uncle Jackie Goetchess cut in the 60's (and my brothers used as skeet targets when Jackie was at his day job)...definitely a family heirloom - NOT a chart-topper! I have some 78's that I can't play, but can't part with, still encased in their library quality binders and cases...there are albums that commemmorate every twist in taste...Lords of the New Church, Blancmange, Duran Duran, The Argent Anthology and Frampton Comes alive. There are the standards like Marley and the Dead, UK releases of U2 singles, others from Peter Murphy, Love and Rockets, and Tracy Chapman to Billy Joel, Anti-Nowhere League, Bowie and the Eagles...and with nearly every album, a distinct set of auditory imprints and memories...memories of Westport and Pennylane, Music Exchange (God Rest its soul - and that of the guy that worked there for over 20 years - you know the one...little blue spectacles...committed suicide a couple months back when the store announced it was closing), of Rush Street in Chicago and Wax Trax...
Thomas Wolfe said that you can't go home again...and that's okay...but whether we keep our memories in a photo album or one with liner notes, they are unique to us and our story. About six of these dinosaurs are still in my regular rotation, the rest have not been played in years, preferring to keep the memories as I left them. On occasion though, I do pull one at random, run my hand over the cover, and drift back to the sights, smells and people inextricably linked to that singular moment in time.
Enjoy the memories that are yours alone - in whatever form they may be.
Now - does anyone have a spare needle???
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Don't Drink the Water!
EPA Didn't Know Anybody Was Still Drinking Water
April 26, 2006 | Issue 42•17
WASHINGTON, DC—Environmental Protection Agency Administrator Stephen Johnson apologized during a press conference Tuesday for what critics called "flagrant oversight and neglect" in monitoring ground- and tap-water quality across the United States, claiming that his department was unaware that citizens were still consuming it. "I can honestly say we had no idea that anyone used faucet water anymore," Johnson said. "Bottled water, sure—I have some here on the lectern. But if there really are people out there still drinking tap water, all I can say is you're better off not knowing what's in there." Johnson added that official EPA policy is that Americans should stick to sports drinks.
© Copyright 2006, Onion, Inc. All rights reserved.The Onion is not intended for readers under 18 years of age.
April 26, 2006 | Issue 42•17
WASHINGTON, DC—Environmental Protection Agency Administrator Stephen Johnson apologized during a press conference Tuesday for what critics called "flagrant oversight and neglect" in monitoring ground- and tap-water quality across the United States, claiming that his department was unaware that citizens were still consuming it. "I can honestly say we had no idea that anyone used faucet water anymore," Johnson said. "Bottled water, sure—I have some here on the lectern. But if there really are people out there still drinking tap water, all I can say is you're better off not knowing what's in there." Johnson added that official EPA policy is that Americans should stick to sports drinks.
© Copyright 2006, Onion, Inc. All rights reserved.The Onion is not intended for readers under 18 years of age.
Well, okay then...
I think I might be getting the hang of this...or at least starting too...I am, I must confess, a virginal blogger...but the learning curve seems to be flattening out. As I write this, one of my all time "cult" faves is on: "Tremors 3"...best line? "what kind of supreme being would condone such irony?" I know, a bit quirky, but if you can't be honest in a blog, then where??? Not much esle to commesnt on today...it has been a weekend reminiscent of Ireland. Cool, damp, steady drizzle...the sun occassionally peeking through just to coak the Irises out...a good time to curl up on the couch and read Breakfast at Tiffany's for the 18th time. Alas, with exams looming on the horizon, it has been more a "try to find the Watteau slide for my Art History final" and defining the word "synergy" for my definition paper in English...oh well, the only way out is through, right?
Question of the day: Would you rather have the ability to see ten years into your own future, or see twenty years into the future of the world??
Question of the day: Would you rather have the ability to see ten years into your own future, or see twenty years into the future of the world??
Friday, April 21, 2006
..and the Bees
I learned some things today about bumblebees. I have been getting my deck ready for spring and summer, planting herbs and cleaning etc. with the kid's help. Over the past couple of days we noticed a couple of bumblebees bumbling around our deck. They always hovered in the same place. Tonight though there were 4 of them, and slightly more aggresive, perhaps due to the fact that i was wielding a fly swatter and Emily a garden hose sprayer. They would not leave, and continued dive bombing us. We finally decided they must be building a nest, so i had Emily do a little research to find out what it was all about, and here's what we learned: 1.) Bumblebees live in a colony with a queen, nurses and worker bees, numbering upto 2,000. 2.) Bumblebees have only one natural predator, and that is a skunk. 3.) Bumblebees are on the endangered species list and killing a bumblebee can carry the same penalty as killing a bald eagle. 4.) Unlike other species of bees, bumblebees can sting multiple times and not die afterwards. 5.) The colony is living under our deck. Having given this much careful consideration, and having weighed the pros and coms of skunk ownership, we have decided to try peaceful coexistence. On the upside, bumblebees typically dont attack unless threatened and colonies do not nest in the same place twice, so if we make it through this year we should have filled our responsibility to endangered species everywhere.
The Birds...
An exciting week on the nature front...but first a little background:
Almost a year ago to the day, we had roof repairs made. We did this for a number of reasons: the roof had serious leakage in places, and a family of birds had taken up residence inside the eaves, basically in our kitchen ceiling. I hadn't thought much of it since, the roof was repaired, leak stopped, birds evicted - end of story, right? Well it wouldn't be much of a post now, would it?
So, the weather being beautiful (but extraordinarily dry) I was out on the deck watering my spring plantings. I was vaguely aware of a bird splashing in what little water must have accumulated in the gutter above the sliding glass door behind me. I assumed he was a resident chickadee at the Maple Inn Birdhouse, (obviously nailed to the Maple tree just off the deck). I made a light salad for dinner that night and we ate on the deck "al fresco". As we sat in the twilight, I looked up and noticed the bird, again standing in the gutter on the roof. As he was standing in nearly the spot where we had the access hole repaired a year ago, I decided to take a closer look. I stood on a chair and realized that what I had taken for a gutter downspout was, in fact, a perfect square of flashing that had been PEELED back from the eaves in order to build another nest in my ceiling! I was amazed - it was a perfect door, and I have no idea how this little bird had the ability to bend a four inch square piece of metal away from my house...After giving it some thought, I have decided that this is one of the birds that hatched from my ceiling last year, and had returned to start it's own family this year. The fact that his previous residence didn't exist anymore proved no match for instinct. A reminder to me that in reality, these animals have emminent domain, and they are tolerant enought to allow me.
Almost a year ago to the day, we had roof repairs made. We did this for a number of reasons: the roof had serious leakage in places, and a family of birds had taken up residence inside the eaves, basically in our kitchen ceiling. I hadn't thought much of it since, the roof was repaired, leak stopped, birds evicted - end of story, right? Well it wouldn't be much of a post now, would it?
So, the weather being beautiful (but extraordinarily dry) I was out on the deck watering my spring plantings. I was vaguely aware of a bird splashing in what little water must have accumulated in the gutter above the sliding glass door behind me. I assumed he was a resident chickadee at the Maple Inn Birdhouse, (obviously nailed to the Maple tree just off the deck). I made a light salad for dinner that night and we ate on the deck "al fresco". As we sat in the twilight, I looked up and noticed the bird, again standing in the gutter on the roof. As he was standing in nearly the spot where we had the access hole repaired a year ago, I decided to take a closer look. I stood on a chair and realized that what I had taken for a gutter downspout was, in fact, a perfect square of flashing that had been PEELED back from the eaves in order to build another nest in my ceiling! I was amazed - it was a perfect door, and I have no idea how this little bird had the ability to bend a four inch square piece of metal away from my house...After giving it some thought, I have decided that this is one of the birds that hatched from my ceiling last year, and had returned to start it's own family this year. The fact that his previous residence didn't exist anymore proved no match for instinct. A reminder to me that in reality, these animals have emminent domain, and they are tolerant enought to allow me.
Monday, April 17, 2006
My Horoscope...
Below is today's horoscope for Virgo...is it me, or is anyone else gettin' the sicko parallels??? I'm a pretty skeptical person..I read this at night to see how on target it was...and this is scarily accurate (also not something I am particularly proud of...but I'm still in therapy, give me time, maybe I'll find a Mercury Rising or something!=) catcha' later - sha
"You don't just think deeply, you feel deeply. You consider deeply. You imagine how things could be different on a deep level. You process deeply. You feel strongly about the world in both its spiritual and physical dimensions, and you aren't content if you haven't been able to penetrate to a deep level of understanding of your milieu. So get started. Don't sacrifice your goals for anyone. Pressure being put on you may be a bad sign. Remember that an initial pass at a project is simply that: an initial pass. No one requires that it be perfect (except, possibly, you). Be confident enough to listen to the criticism and do what helps the overall outcome."
"You don't just think deeply, you feel deeply. You consider deeply. You imagine how things could be different on a deep level. You process deeply. You feel strongly about the world in both its spiritual and physical dimensions, and you aren't content if you haven't been able to penetrate to a deep level of understanding of your milieu. So get started. Don't sacrifice your goals for anyone. Pressure being put on you may be a bad sign. Remember that an initial pass at a project is simply that: an initial pass. No one requires that it be perfect (except, possibly, you). Be confident enough to listen to the criticism and do what helps the overall outcome."
Easter Brunch...
so I'm wandering around the Brasserie in Crown Center scoping out the food stations at brunch. Man, they had everything! Standard omelettes, waffles etc...a seafood bar replete with salmon, mussels and to die for scallops...I get to the meat stuff and am chatting it up with the Chef:
"So, I see the ham out, but what else do you have today?" I ask.
"well, we have lamb, roast beef, corn chowder and rabbit stew."
I stopped cold, glancing at the costumed Easter Bunny taking a photo op with some kiddies in the background. The irony was too much and laughing, I said, "Rabbit Stew...AT AN EASTER BRUNCH!?" I lifted the lid to the nearly overflowing crock, "Many takers???" I quipped with a wry grin.
"Not so many...I can't figure it, it's wonderful, I made it myself!" was his reply.
I said, "You know, Mother's Day would be a better sell...at least on that day, we already know the rabbit DIED..."
He said he'd prepare it then if I promised to come back =)
"So, I see the ham out, but what else do you have today?" I ask.
"well, we have lamb, roast beef, corn chowder and rabbit stew."
I stopped cold, glancing at the costumed Easter Bunny taking a photo op with some kiddies in the background. The irony was too much and laughing, I said, "Rabbit Stew...AT AN EASTER BRUNCH!?" I lifted the lid to the nearly overflowing crock, "Many takers???" I quipped with a wry grin.
"Not so many...I can't figure it, it's wonderful, I made it myself!" was his reply.
I said, "You know, Mother's Day would be a better sell...at least on that day, we already know the rabbit DIED..."
He said he'd prepare it then if I promised to come back =)
Sunday, April 16, 2006
it's rabbit time!!!
some quick thoughts before the bunny gets here...I was doing some thinking about my earlier "rudeness" post. It came to me when I realized that Thursday night marked the beginning of Passover. We all pretty much know that matzah (unleavened bread) is a component of the Passover meal. I have always thought that represented the fact that when the Jews were freed from Egypt, they were short on time and didn't have a chance to let the bread rise. This is true but I also learned that it serves as a reminder in this season to "deflate" our egos. It helps us remember that humility is a component of humanity, something I did not know. I thought this was a good tie-in to the rudeness issue and egocentrism in general. To be self-absorbed and inflated is insulting on our part as children of God - whatever your perception of a divine being may be.
I just thought I would pass that thought along as food for the soul as we all go about our Easter and Passover reflections.
On that note, I wish you all well, and that the bunny hops by your place with lots o goodies...if that's your thing. Either way, welcome in spring by sending some positive energy into the universe and remember that we're all active participants - we can choose positive and fulfilling for ourselves and others, or negative and toxic which is nothing but your trying to lower the bar for everyone around you. It's easier to try to bring others down to our level, but it helps everyone when you work to bring yourself up.
Much love and good vibes...shash
I just thought I would pass that thought along as food for the soul as we all go about our Easter and Passover reflections.
On that note, I wish you all well, and that the bunny hops by your place with lots o goodies...if that's your thing. Either way, welcome in spring by sending some positive energy into the universe and remember that we're all active participants - we can choose positive and fulfilling for ourselves and others, or negative and toxic which is nothing but your trying to lower the bar for everyone around you. It's easier to try to bring others down to our level, but it helps everyone when you work to bring yourself up.
Much love and good vibes...shash
Thursday, April 13, 2006
...A Vale of Tears
Today was a particularly challenging day on many levels. As perfect as yesterday was, today proved a constant stream of difficulties. If you can dream it, it went wrong. Unable to solve any of my problems at home, and my morning class having been cancelled, I decided to work on some projects in the art lab and sit in on the morning classes. It was good to focus on something other than myself, but the gravity of the morning's events weighed heavily on my spirit. My friend (and also the art director) asked me what I had planned for Easter. My reply: "I am going to pull a rabbit out of my hat." I thought it a telling pun. We both laughed. In fact, I am not looking forward to Easter, except that we have been invited to dinner with friends. As I left the lab, my temporary asylum, the oppressive heat of the afternoon (unusual for the season) was as physically suffocating as my personal troubles were to my emotions. I came home, really looking forward to seeing Emily. Her even keel was just what I needed to shift gears. I walked in to a ringing telephone. It was Emily, just checking in. I had forgotten she went straight to a babysitting job from school. I was deflated in the realization, but glad to hear her voice. I told her I missed her, and she told me that she had an off day, and wanted nothing more than to be home. Those words felt so good. Dylan got home, and bounded in the door bubbling about his spectacular day. Those two interactions did it for me. At the very moment that I was staring down futility and hopelessness, with no more solutions and no end in sight, my children held me up - with an everyday gift of love.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
A Barrel of Laughter...
what a phenomenal day! It was the Spring Fair at school so there was a huge picnic in the quad. I met up with some friends from psych and we ate and ate...brats, burgers, potato salad, beans, cotton candy...man, do they know how to entice poor college students - FREE FOOD!! There was a karaoke set-up with a sound booth and they were burning cd's for people who did it...needless to say, I was not one of them =)...Dylan rode the mechanical bull and we all watched the impromptu gymnastics tournament on the inflatable Twister game...my friends Bridget, Leslie, Mo and Aaron convinced me to try the 30 foot inflatable slide...vertigo and all...it was a blast, but I don't envy whoever was behind me on the highway home...just a wee bit dizzy! I figured I was still less impaired than the happy hour boozers (who are NEVER drunk, right?) on the highway with me. Smiling on the way home, I realized that for the first time in a VERY long time, I had a couple of totally free hours, that cost nothing, with friends but off the usual treadmill...and I never ONCE thought about bills, or finals, or the price of gas...I was free. What a recharge. Coming home to the routine juggling act was that much easier...and I looked forward to it that much more.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
A beautiful day...
There was a discussion today on society being more "rude" in general now than it used to be. After initially agreeing, I did some thinking and now wonder if there aren't some contributing factors:...am I all wet on this?
1) technology has made everyone far too accessible at any opportunity.
2) with a "true" middle class obsolete, we are only left with the rich (and people living rich - only one paycheck away from disaster) and the "monetarily challenged"...this huge gap only serves to highlight class differences, therefore heightening tensions and defenses.
3) people (in my opinion) now personalize everything to the extreme. Yes, in general, customer service has become more homogenized and less personal, but peoples perceptions have changed as well.
4) Egocentrism! The theory that the world revolves around you, and that everyone who enters your world better be a mindreader!
5) People do not apologize anymore. How about saying, "Hey, I'm sorry your order was wrong." or "I'm sorry, I'm in a bit of a rush."
When you experience a negative interaction with a stranger, at a store, on the bus - wherever, how many times do we walk away saying, "What the heck did I do to them?" The answer is usually NOTHING. We never consider the fact that maybe that person had a crummy day and we just walked into it. Maybe they lost their job, spouse, cat...whatever. How often do we slip on their shoes and try to see that their goal in life is not solely to tick us off? Are we that important to them?
Conversely, how often do we initiate the negative encounter without intending to, by being distracted, impatient, or just not "in the moment"? Oddly enough, it is never OUR fault: "You should have SEEN this clerk, he was a complete idiot...don't they train those people?!" You are still griping hours later, and that person has taken care of 75 people since you - you don't exist to them anymore. Who ends up with the negative baggage...not the idiot clerk =)
It's true that perception is reality but the rub's in the perception; both in what others project and how we percieve it, and what we, ourselves project. I don't think it's a question of rudeness escalating, but more that tolerance has waned. People aren't mindreaders...they're not out to get you, so don't personalize...it isn't your problem!...egocentrism is supposed to stop by age 8!
Didn't mean to vent - what do you think...are we ruder?
1) technology has made everyone far too accessible at any opportunity.
2) with a "true" middle class obsolete, we are only left with the rich (and people living rich - only one paycheck away from disaster) and the "monetarily challenged"...this huge gap only serves to highlight class differences, therefore heightening tensions and defenses.
3) people (in my opinion) now personalize everything to the extreme. Yes, in general, customer service has become more homogenized and less personal, but peoples perceptions have changed as well.
4) Egocentrism! The theory that the world revolves around you, and that everyone who enters your world better be a mindreader!
5) People do not apologize anymore. How about saying, "Hey, I'm sorry your order was wrong." or "I'm sorry, I'm in a bit of a rush."
When you experience a negative interaction with a stranger, at a store, on the bus - wherever, how many times do we walk away saying, "What the heck did I do to them?" The answer is usually NOTHING. We never consider the fact that maybe that person had a crummy day and we just walked into it. Maybe they lost their job, spouse, cat...whatever. How often do we slip on their shoes and try to see that their goal in life is not solely to tick us off? Are we that important to them?
Conversely, how often do we initiate the negative encounter without intending to, by being distracted, impatient, or just not "in the moment"? Oddly enough, it is never OUR fault: "You should have SEEN this clerk, he was a complete idiot...don't they train those people?!" You are still griping hours later, and that person has taken care of 75 people since you - you don't exist to them anymore. Who ends up with the negative baggage...not the idiot clerk =)
It's true that perception is reality but the rub's in the perception; both in what others project and how we percieve it, and what we, ourselves project. I don't think it's a question of rudeness escalating, but more that tolerance has waned. People aren't mindreaders...they're not out to get you, so don't personalize...it isn't your problem!...egocentrism is supposed to stop by age 8!
Didn't mean to vent - what do you think...are we ruder?
Monday, April 10, 2006
starting the dialogue...
Well, here I am, becoming more and more reliant on this abomination of technology that makes George Orwell look like a wet-nosed puppy dog. Being frustrated with my inability to maintain email relationships with any kind of regularity, I decided (thanks to the Ibsen/Laffler initiative =) to try my hand at blogging. I figured, what the heck, the margin for morbidly embarrassing moments is nil, and since my writing classes have proved very cathartic, I figured, the more writing, the more healing - right - so let's start the dialogue! Maybe it doesn't work quite like that, but hey - it's all about finding our own Eightfold Path...
My hope is to keep this relatively current to my life - and shed some light on my world, as I view it through the colored lens du jour. I'll get some pics posted and some links to my favorite sites - all in due course...and would love to hear from you.
much love and true peace...shash
My hope is to keep this relatively current to my life - and shed some light on my world, as I view it through the colored lens du jour. I'll get some pics posted and some links to my favorite sites - all in due course...and would love to hear from you.
much love and true peace...shash
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