This blog was my first I created sometime ago. When it came time to name it, I wanted it to mean something to me and possibly even describe myself and the blog's contents. It took 4 seconds to come up with the name "Bare Bones' Blather.
"Bones" is the nickname my mother gave me because I was a very skinny, lanky child. The name is straight forward with an endearment attached to it.
The act of writing can be revealing in many ways. My thoughts have always been something I value and sharing them can sometimes be difficult for me. Putting my thoughts and feelings on display is like stripping me bare.
Is there a need to explain the "blather?" Somedays I think I make some sense. Somedays I don't make any sense even to myself. But, I will continue to blather on, practicing my thought flow to the screen and laying bare my bones.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Beautiful summa cum laude
Video source via gluclax on YouTube
“Every day is so wonderful then suddenly it’s hard to breath. Now and then I get insecure from all the pain. I’m so ashamed. I am beautiful no matter what they say. Words can’t bring me down.”
That’s how Christina Aguilera’s song “Beautiful” starts out. For almost a year now, whenever I hear it, the same person always comes to mind. I think of her often though I can count on one hand the number of times we have spoken at length.
This special person struggles with several things including her weight. I know little detail of her struggles, but feel them run deep to the core of who she doesn’t want to be. And in spite of all of that, she is beautiful. She is a person of intelligence, integrity and love with a giving-spirit, gorgeous understanding eyes and a complexion to instill jealousy as only Hollywood can make us have.
Her self-esteem fluctuates from one of outstanding self-assurance to complete self-doubt though she may not even realize it. She has much to measure up to in her marriage to an almost perfect husband, whom absolutely adores her by the way. He is very smart, handsome, even-tempered and successful at almost everything he sets his mind to. How irritating. No, seriously.
For a person with little direction, little initiative for her career or life, the success of a spouse can be at the very least, a constant reminder of failure and struggle. No matter how supportive the husband is, no words overcome the differing levels. She struggles to overcome many emotions, physical pain and depression.
Though we share little about our lives, I feel a connection that pulls at me every time I hear of her struggles. That’s when I want to tell her she’s beautiful and sing this song for her.
(I wrote about her marriage some time ago in the little poem, J'ai vu beaute aujourd'hui at http://barebonesblather.blogspot.com/2010/04/when-stupidity-comes.html )
Monday, October 11, 2010
Our Mountain
Usually, when I close my eyes, I can see your face full of calm, focus and serenity. I count on it always being there.
A week of tears, bad sleep and apologies blur your face now, even when I close my eyes. I can’t focus and I can’t breathe if I can’t see your face.
So I go for a walk with my eyes closed. Trekking to the top of the mountain at pre-dawn, I hear your footsteps behind me. Filtered sunrise shadows us as we take our seats on the rocks facing each other. You speak and your voice helps form your face in my mind. Ah, there you are.
The sun rises at the sound of your voice and I see your face. By listening to your voice, I can hold your face in my mind through sad tears, heartbreak and work. Don’t stop talking. I don’t want to come down off the top of our mountain when I open my eyes.
A week of tears, bad sleep and apologies blur your face now, even when I close my eyes. I can’t focus and I can’t breathe if I can’t see your face.
So I go for a walk with my eyes closed. Trekking to the top of the mountain at pre-dawn, I hear your footsteps behind me. Filtered sunrise shadows us as we take our seats on the rocks facing each other. You speak and your voice helps form your face in my mind. Ah, there you are.
The sun rises at the sound of your voice and I see your face. By listening to your voice, I can hold your face in my mind through sad tears, heartbreak and work. Don’t stop talking. I don’t want to come down off the top of our mountain when I open my eyes.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Free Fall
Today was an awesome day.
Sorry, make that A-W-E-S-O-M-E!
The Ropes Course at Leadership Lubbock has long been the day to fear because of all of its challenges. I knew some of what I was in for having completed a course over a decade ago. I was ready for the physical and mental challenges. I was not prepared for the emotional ones at all.
Sitting down to write about it all seems impossible. I've made a good start but emotions are overflowing one another to the point of putting them down on paper doesn't make sense. That's a first for me.
Briefly, the day was about leadership through team building. With today's lessons as confirmation, everything I've been taught since kindergarten about meeting challenges and being successful needs to be scrapped. I've suspected it for while, learning from a co-worker who lives the team concept.
The biggest challenge of the course for most people was climping up and jumping from the top of a telephone pole to grab a trapeze bar hanging in mid-air ten feet away. I felt excited to be harnessed up and hooked to a belay line. I felt like I couldn't climb up the 55ft pole fast enough. My jump partner waited at the top after his climb to the 1ft x 2ft plank we were to jump from. I vividly remember standing up on top of the plank and looking around the horizon. It was very pretty in the overcast of clouds. A cooling breeze calmed me. It was easy. Too easy. I was too calm.
Then it hit me. Jumping from that pole was one of the easiest things I have ever challenged myself to do. To have a whole team at my back on belay, jumping to essentially fall to the ground was not difficult at all. Difficult is the way I've been doing things for years, alone.
Months ago I realized I need to apply this thinking to my whole life. I'm reeling from dozens of lessons learned today but I've been in free fall long enough. That's what made jumping off the pole a breeze.
Sorry, make that A-W-E-S-O-M-E!
The Ropes Course at Leadership Lubbock has long been the day to fear because of all of its challenges. I knew some of what I was in for having completed a course over a decade ago. I was ready for the physical and mental challenges. I was not prepared for the emotional ones at all.
Sitting down to write about it all seems impossible. I've made a good start but emotions are overflowing one another to the point of putting them down on paper doesn't make sense. That's a first for me.
Briefly, the day was about leadership through team building. With today's lessons as confirmation, everything I've been taught since kindergarten about meeting challenges and being successful needs to be scrapped. I've suspected it for while, learning from a co-worker who lives the team concept.
The biggest challenge of the course for most people was climping up and jumping from the top of a telephone pole to grab a trapeze bar hanging in mid-air ten feet away. I felt excited to be harnessed up and hooked to a belay line. I felt like I couldn't climb up the 55ft pole fast enough. My jump partner waited at the top after his climb to the 1ft x 2ft plank we were to jump from. I vividly remember standing up on top of the plank and looking around the horizon. It was very pretty in the overcast of clouds. A cooling breeze calmed me. It was easy. Too easy. I was too calm.
Then it hit me. Jumping from that pole was one of the easiest things I have ever challenged myself to do. To have a whole team at my back on belay, jumping to essentially fall to the ground was not difficult at all. Difficult is the way I've been doing things for years, alone.
Months ago I realized I need to apply this thinking to my whole life. I'm reeling from dozens of lessons learned today but I've been in free fall long enough. That's what made jumping off the pole a breeze.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Walking In My Shoes
Plain
Sane
Brain
Rain
Vain
Mane
Insane
Pain
Mountain
Maintain
Inane
Campaign
Remain
Regain
Champaign
Sane
Brain
Rain
Vain
Mane
Insane
Pain
Mountain
Maintain
Inane
Campaign
Remain
Regain
Champaign
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Remedy for a Bad Day: Laugh at Yourself
Everyone has bad days. I had a rare one today. It happens. Being overwhelmed with work didn’t help either so I thought I would go home at the end of the day and crawl into bed. But, something else happened; something that made my day.
I got my iPhone4, my first iPhone, exactly two months ago today. And, like most new iPhone owners, I can’t image what I ever did without it. During this time, I’ve read books on it, my Kindle, my laptop, and on paper (I can go vintage at times). But, I haven’t downloaded any new items to my Kindle since April. I have a serious backlog of material to read. I bought a paperback book in June I haven’t even cracked!
A co-worker brought a book to my attention late in the day called Empowered: Unleash Your Employees, Energize Your Customers and Transform Your Business by Josh Bernoff and Ted Schadler. For only one week, it’s a free Kindle download. After properly greeting my family when I arrived home, I went straight to my Kindle on my nightstand.
I turned on my Kindle and found where I left off in a book a couple of weeks ago (with a sweet message about how I had read to a particular point in the book on my iPhone app and asking me if I wanted to go to it. Okay, that was cool). I hit the menu button so I could turn on the wireless access (saves battery life to keep it turned off). When the menu came up on the screen, I did what I have learned to do in the last couple of months: I touched the screen. I immediately busted out laughing. I laughed so hard at myself, I cried. It felt so good because the day had been so bad.
Oh, how quickly the iPhone’s touch screen has spoiled me! If you know anything about a Kindle, you know it does not have a touch screen. Thus, you can see the humor of the situation and why my day ended on a better note than I had hoped. Oh, I needed that laugh!
Who knew laughter could release so much anxiety and tension? The Mayo Clinic does and writes online about how laughter can relieve stress. Laughter produces endorphins and neuropeptides, and increases oxygen intake. Good stuff to stock up on for rough days.
I don’t plan to have another bad day any time soon, but if I do, I hope I’ll remember touching the screen on my Kindle and laugh out loud again.
(Thanks to James, Apple and Amazon for bringing this humor together for me!)
I got my iPhone4, my first iPhone, exactly two months ago today. And, like most new iPhone owners, I can’t image what I ever did without it. During this time, I’ve read books on it, my Kindle, my laptop, and on paper (I can go vintage at times). But, I haven’t downloaded any new items to my Kindle since April. I have a serious backlog of material to read. I bought a paperback book in June I haven’t even cracked!
A co-worker brought a book to my attention late in the day called Empowered: Unleash Your Employees, Energize Your Customers and Transform Your Business by Josh Bernoff and Ted Schadler. For only one week, it’s a free Kindle download. After properly greeting my family when I arrived home, I went straight to my Kindle on my nightstand.
I turned on my Kindle and found where I left off in a book a couple of weeks ago (with a sweet message about how I had read to a particular point in the book on my iPhone app and asking me if I wanted to go to it. Okay, that was cool). I hit the menu button so I could turn on the wireless access (saves battery life to keep it turned off). When the menu came up on the screen, I did what I have learned to do in the last couple of months: I touched the screen. I immediately busted out laughing. I laughed so hard at myself, I cried. It felt so good because the day had been so bad.
Oh, how quickly the iPhone’s touch screen has spoiled me! If you know anything about a Kindle, you know it does not have a touch screen. Thus, you can see the humor of the situation and why my day ended on a better note than I had hoped. Oh, I needed that laugh!
Who knew laughter could release so much anxiety and tension? The Mayo Clinic does and writes online about how laughter can relieve stress. Laughter produces endorphins and neuropeptides, and increases oxygen intake. Good stuff to stock up on for rough days.
I don’t plan to have another bad day any time soon, but if I do, I hope I’ll remember touching the screen on my Kindle and laugh out loud again.
(Thanks to James, Apple and Amazon for bringing this humor together for me!)
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Tears Not Spent
I run back up the beach to the sunny spot you occupy. It is your magic blanket that holds nothing but happiness and calm. When I have to step away from it, I hold my breath, waiting for the waves to threaten, walking in the shadows of the day.
If I can sit with you on your blanket, the waves will stay away, the sun will always shine and the tears will not come. But, funnily enough, I will still hold my breath.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Mon Ciel
Il n’y a pas de ciel, mais vous la lumière de mon bonheur.
Vous n’avez pas besoin de porter ce fardeau et je le cacher.
Je reconnais mon addiction au soleil et à la chanson de la séduction.
C’est l’amour, à croissance lente plus, mon petit coin de paradis.
Vous n’avez pas besoin de porter ce fardeau et je le cacher.
Je reconnais mon addiction au soleil et à la chanson de la séduction.
C’est l’amour, à croissance lente plus, mon petit coin de paradis.
Monday, August 9, 2010
When the Gods Smile
When a day starts off beautifully and ends badly it always seems the world is conspiring against you. If things get off to a bad start but end fantastically, almost unrealistically perfect, has the world decided to be nice? I don’t believe so.
A day, or just a moment, is what you make of it. Call it karma, good vibes, God, Vishnu or whatever; it doesn’t matter. How the world is and how your day turns out, is part reality, part perception and part reception. How you perceive and receive reality is how your day will go.
The key is to stay positive even when something less than perfect happens. If you hit a bump in your day, smile. The gods just might smile back at you.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Don't Fight the Riptide
Living just half an hour from the ocean as a child, I spent weeks and weeks of summers at the beach. Moving into the middle of the continent as an adult was not easy but I’ve learned to love my new hometown. Still, I miss the beach, the taste of the salt on the air, the sound of the crashing waves and the endless horizon. Respect for the fierce power of the ocean was one ingrained in me very early, most especially its riptides.
Riptides, or rip currents, are currents that flow straight out from shore toward open ocean. They can move swiftly and alarm a swimmer unfamiliar with them. The currents themselves don’t drown swimmers, but swimmers sometimes drown when caught in riptides because they exhaust themselves trying to swim against them.
Experienced beach goers and ocean swimmers know to swim out with the riptide until you can get to the edge of it to get out of it. After swimming parallel with the shore to get away from the riptide, simply swim back toward shore. I know this works because I’ve done it.
Some days make you feel like you’re swimming against a riptide. It’s exhausting, demoralizing and frustrating. But, you can take the same survival strategies of ocean riptides and apply them to your day. Just let the current push you from shore, your goals and your desires. Literally go with the flow, swimming out towards open ocean.
It can be scary, but remind yourself you’re still in control by swimming with the current instead of against it. As the current slows down or you get to the edge of it, change direction so you’re at least tracking parallel to your objective. When you no longer feel the current pulling you farther out, turn straight at what you want and go for it. I know this works because I’ve done it.
Riptides, or rip currents, are currents that flow straight out from shore toward open ocean. They can move swiftly and alarm a swimmer unfamiliar with them. The currents themselves don’t drown swimmers, but swimmers sometimes drown when caught in riptides because they exhaust themselves trying to swim against them.
Experienced beach goers and ocean swimmers know to swim out with the riptide until you can get to the edge of it to get out of it. After swimming parallel with the shore to get away from the riptide, simply swim back toward shore. I know this works because I’ve done it.
Some days make you feel like you’re swimming against a riptide. It’s exhausting, demoralizing and frustrating. But, you can take the same survival strategies of ocean riptides and apply them to your day. Just let the current push you from shore, your goals and your desires. Literally go with the flow, swimming out towards open ocean.
It can be scary, but remind yourself you’re still in control by swimming with the current instead of against it. As the current slows down or you get to the edge of it, change direction so you’re at least tracking parallel to your objective. When you no longer feel the current pulling you farther out, turn straight at what you want and go for it. I know this works because I’ve done it.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Get Over Yourself
A little over three years ago I emerged from a second bout of depression. The first time was post partum in 2000. I quit my anti-depressant cold-turkey, just like they tell you not to. Yeah, it wasn’t the best decision of my life, but I got through the physiological side effects all by myself.
Why did I quit and how did I get through the depression and anxiety without medicine? Intestinal fortitude. I decided to get over myself. I heard this phrase again recently and I flashed back to the decision of doing it for myself.
I had dissected, evaluated and relived all the reasons why I was depressed to the point I was sick of myself. I was done. I decided no more excuses and definitely never to give control and power to my fears and anxiety ever again. It took less than a 60-second conversation with myself, and I was cured. It was a beautiful moment. Three weeks of drug withdrawal were a little more involved but I feel like a real survivor. It was exactly three years ago this weekend that I was finally over it.
Since then, I have lived through two awful life experiences and I’m working on a third, but no depression. I have met each moment head-on with my chin up in defiance. But, I haven’t done it alone. So many people have been an inspiration for me to be the better version of myself. Depression closes you off from all of them when you need them the most.
The more I let people into my life and the more I involve myself with others, the easier life is overall. I realize my struggles are similar to others; my disappointments and anxieties are shared by many. I don’t feel alone and different. Life really is too short to give in to moments of self-pity, self-doubt and self-denial. As one of the best quotes from one of my favorite movies says, “Get busy living or get busy dying.” Everyone has to decide for themselves.
Why did I quit and how did I get through the depression and anxiety without medicine? Intestinal fortitude. I decided to get over myself. I heard this phrase again recently and I flashed back to the decision of doing it for myself.
I had dissected, evaluated and relived all the reasons why I was depressed to the point I was sick of myself. I was done. I decided no more excuses and definitely never to give control and power to my fears and anxiety ever again. It took less than a 60-second conversation with myself, and I was cured. It was a beautiful moment. Three weeks of drug withdrawal were a little more involved but I feel like a real survivor. It was exactly three years ago this weekend that I was finally over it.
Since then, I have lived through two awful life experiences and I’m working on a third, but no depression. I have met each moment head-on with my chin up in defiance. But, I haven’t done it alone. So many people have been an inspiration for me to be the better version of myself. Depression closes you off from all of them when you need them the most.
The more I let people into my life and the more I involve myself with others, the easier life is overall. I realize my struggles are similar to others; my disappointments and anxieties are shared by many. I don’t feel alone and different. Life really is too short to give in to moments of self-pity, self-doubt and self-denial. As one of the best quotes from one of my favorite movies says, “Get busy living or get busy dying.” Everyone has to decide for themselves.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Reminiscence of Gold
While shucking fresh ears of corn I picked up at the market today, I became fully immersed into a memory I had no idea I had. The sound of pulling back the husks, the feel of the soft silk and the smell of the raw sweetness overcame me.
The July day was a typical hot, humid Carolina summer haze. And, it was time to harvest and put up some corn from my grandparents grand garden. My Papa had been at it for hours, pulling corn by hand, lost in his long rows as tall as buildings. When the wheelbarrows of ears were dumped into a pile as tall as me underneath the shade trees, my Nanny put us to work.
Picking out corn silk was not my favorite thing to do. Shelling butter beans was much more fun. But, this hot day called for peeling back the husks in hopes of finding the biggest cutworm to scare my sister. Of course, my Uncle Kyle, only six years older than me, looked for the same to scare me.
The ears of gold went into huge pans and buckets to wash them then taken inside to prepare for blanching and freezing. “Putting up a mess of corn” was what my Nanny called it. I always thought “a mess” was what the process was because every surface in the kitchen would be covered up with corn. It was always with particular pride that I would hear my Nanny tell people later exactly how many ears and how many quarts of corn she had put in her freezer chest.
My Nanny doesn’t freeze or can vegetables anymore and my Papa barely keeps a garden. It’s just too much for them. Despite hating the hot work then, the memory was a gift of gold that I unwrapped again while shucking corn in the quiet coolness of my own kitchen.
The July day was a typical hot, humid Carolina summer haze. And, it was time to harvest and put up some corn from my grandparents grand garden. My Papa had been at it for hours, pulling corn by hand, lost in his long rows as tall as buildings. When the wheelbarrows of ears were dumped into a pile as tall as me underneath the shade trees, my Nanny put us to work.
Picking out corn silk was not my favorite thing to do. Shelling butter beans was much more fun. But, this hot day called for peeling back the husks in hopes of finding the biggest cutworm to scare my sister. Of course, my Uncle Kyle, only six years older than me, looked for the same to scare me.
The ears of gold went into huge pans and buckets to wash them then taken inside to prepare for blanching and freezing. “Putting up a mess of corn” was what my Nanny called it. I always thought “a mess” was what the process was because every surface in the kitchen would be covered up with corn. It was always with particular pride that I would hear my Nanny tell people later exactly how many ears and how many quarts of corn she had put in her freezer chest.
My Nanny doesn’t freeze or can vegetables anymore and my Papa barely keeps a garden. It’s just too much for them. Despite hating the hot work then, the memory was a gift of gold that I unwrapped again while shucking corn in the quiet coolness of my own kitchen.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Don't Wait
It’s been another full day of repeated lessons. The one that stands out the most is “don’t wait until it’s too late.” I know this one all too well because I would crumble to pieces if regret didn’t hold me together. A mesh of the HBO show, “True Blood” and the movie, “Remember Me” came together today to echo this lesson to me.
Why again? I wonder. Well, we’re half through the year and it’s a good point to stop and check on the progress of those great promises I made to myself as New Year’s resolutions. Let’s see, number one resolution: tell people what you really think and feel. That was going okay until some things, or someone, blindsided me so badly I can’t even begin to explain so I can’t tell them when I don’t understand myself. Number two resolution: work on public speaking. Well, I had been working on it until the problem with number one resolution got in the way. My plans were to start going to a Toastmasters meeting regularly, but big news today threw that out the window, at least for a year. Oh, best laid plans.
Am I waiting until it will be too late? One of the main characters of “True Blood” tells another to say what they need to say to people important to them before it’s too late. Appropriate to the plot line, but when I heard it a second time, it held deeper meaning in the presence of other people. Then the movie, “Remember Me”, made it bluntly clear not to wait to tell or show someone how much you care for them. (Yes, I finally saw it and the post about that is here).
But, what I need to express isn’t something I should say. What I think and feel is only important to me. I’m not so full of hubris to assume anyone else gives a damn. Even with this post, it’s just a release more than making sure the rest of the world knows about it.
Marking this half way point of the year made me realize I don’t have to successfully complete the resolutions by the end of the year; I just have to work on them. And, I do every day just like this older post.
Why again? I wonder. Well, we’re half through the year and it’s a good point to stop and check on the progress of those great promises I made to myself as New Year’s resolutions. Let’s see, number one resolution: tell people what you really think and feel. That was going okay until some things, or someone, blindsided me so badly I can’t even begin to explain so I can’t tell them when I don’t understand myself. Number two resolution: work on public speaking. Well, I had been working on it until the problem with number one resolution got in the way. My plans were to start going to a Toastmasters meeting regularly, but big news today threw that out the window, at least for a year. Oh, best laid plans.
Am I waiting until it will be too late? One of the main characters of “True Blood” tells another to say what they need to say to people important to them before it’s too late. Appropriate to the plot line, but when I heard it a second time, it held deeper meaning in the presence of other people. Then the movie, “Remember Me”, made it bluntly clear not to wait to tell or show someone how much you care for them. (Yes, I finally saw it and the post about that is here).
But, what I need to express isn’t something I should say. What I think and feel is only important to me. I’m not so full of hubris to assume anyone else gives a damn. Even with this post, it’s just a release more than making sure the rest of the world knows about it.
Marking this half way point of the year made me realize I don’t have to successfully complete the resolutions by the end of the year; I just have to work on them. And, I do every day just like this older post.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Late Letter to My Late Dad
When I was little I didn't understand why you left, didn't come back, call or write.
On the occasions I did see you, I was scared of you. You were like a stranger.
I remember the only time you punished me was for hiding in the dark with a friend and not answering your call.
As punishment, you gave me a mile-long list of words and their definitions to memorize;
words like responsibility, respect, discipline and dignity. It was my 10th birthday.
I saw you less and less as I grew up, the last time at Leigh's wedding in 1996.
So many words I didn't say, haven't said until now.
Now that I'm not your daughter and you're not my dad, I understand.
You were human, fallible. You made bad decisions.
I realize now how difficult life can be and how easily bad decisions can be made.
I didn't have a wedding because I couldn't tell you not to walk me down the aisle.
I didn't introduce you to your grandson because I couldn't explain to him my feelings about you.
I didn't come to your funeral because we had said our goodbyes long ago.
Now that you've been gone five years I can finally say, I forgive you.
It was always too late to ask you to forgive me.
On the occasions I did see you, I was scared of you. You were like a stranger.
I remember the only time you punished me was for hiding in the dark with a friend and not answering your call.
As punishment, you gave me a mile-long list of words and their definitions to memorize;
words like responsibility, respect, discipline and dignity. It was my 10th birthday.
I saw you less and less as I grew up, the last time at Leigh's wedding in 1996.
So many words I didn't say, haven't said until now.
Now that I'm not your daughter and you're not my dad, I understand.
You were human, fallible. You made bad decisions.
I realize now how difficult life can be and how easily bad decisions can be made.
I didn't have a wedding because I couldn't tell you not to walk me down the aisle.
I didn't introduce you to your grandson because I couldn't explain to him my feelings about you.
I didn't come to your funeral because we had said our goodbyes long ago.
Now that you've been gone five years I can finally say, I forgive you.
It was always too late to ask you to forgive me.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Absence of Desire is Death
My point of view then was like waiting for a huge wave to come on shore. I thought if I held onto enough apathy about things I could not be sad or hurt. But I couldn’t even begin to be apathetic about life and happiness found me. When life should be crushing in on me, I’m happy. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in denial. I’m scared to death but with a serenity that comes from somewhere else.
Now, when I close my eyes at night, happiness is the last thing I see before I fall asleep. Happiness is the first thing that meets my eyes when I wake even before I open them.
Focusing on that happiness keeps me going day after day. It makes me float into the clouds when things try to weigh me down. It makes me strong when blows come too close together. It makes me giddy with laughter when the tears threaten. It makes me feel everything will be okay when I need it most.
Absence of desire is death. Living is not just about having passion, but expressing it. Being able to express it is happiness.
Friday, June 4, 2010
A Thousand Times and One
My words cut deeply, unintentionally and my mortification still grows.
I am sorry.
My point was left unmade as usual and the hurt overflowed in your eyes.
I am sorry.
My insensitivity is my stupidity and all I can do is ask forgiveness.
I am sorry.
My heart hurts that you hurt because of my shortcomings.
A thousand times, I am sorry.
Please forgive me.
I am sorry.
My point was left unmade as usual and the hurt overflowed in your eyes.
I am sorry.
My insensitivity is my stupidity and all I can do is ask forgiveness.
I am sorry.
My heart hurts that you hurt because of my shortcomings.
A thousand times, I am sorry.
Please forgive me.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
My Furry Little Bloggers!
I have six cats and three blogs. If each blog is monitored by two cats, I still have to clean the litter box. : )
One of my blogs is what comes out of my creative right brain (yeah, right, in my dreams), one blog comes from the logic left brain (ha, again!) and the third is what I call my deepest current.
For the right brain blog, with creativity, wonderment and confusion, the cats would post all the fun of playtime, the chase, the hide-and-seek, and staying up all night. Would their blog posts be about seeing imaginary things in the air to cutely paw at or be about the secret place they hide my hairbands?
On the left brain blog, and because I think most of my cats are strategic in everything they do, I imagine I would find out the truth of what happened the day I came home to find two of my science fiction books chewed to shreds (thanks for saving the covers, Einstein). The books were on a shelf over 6 1/2 feet off the ground, one of the favorite jumping off places for the cats to and from another shelf. Did they plan it? Did they know how upset I would be at the loss of these vintage books? Did they sit there looking down their superior noses from high above at the canines in the floor? Did the cats laugh behind their paws or smile directly at the dogs while thinking of the whirlwind they would reap when I got home? I hope they would write about it to share their sneaky strategy with other felines. Knowledge is power, and if it works, it can be hilarious!
My cats' posts about their deepest feelings on my third blog would possibly be a confession of how much they really love the dogs they torment so much, an admittance of how vulnerable they truly are despite their haughtiness, or a recount of the dream about the brown tabby tom down the alley. Tsk, tsk, girls! You're spayed already!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
The Damned
Without your smile my strength will buckle, the dam will break and I will come undone.
The pain will wash over me, and I will not want to come up for air.
With your smile my strength will buckle, the dam will break and I will come undone.
The pleasure will wash over me, and I will not want to come up for air.
The pain will wash over me, and I will not want to come up for air.
With your smile my strength will buckle, the dam will break and I will come undone.
The pleasure will wash over me, and I will not want to come up for air.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Famous Last Words
Some words from the Bible, though I don't make it habit to quote from this source, seems appropriate for the moment: "It is finished."
Where I will gather strength from here is anyone's guess. Perhaps finally, I have found my intestinal fortitude. It doesn't feel like in this moment, but there are many days in front of me to find out.
"I failed," said Jean Paul Sartre, and I quite agree. But lessons are learned from failure, usually not easy ones, yet important ones. I'm a good learner, actually a very good learner.
I am weaker than I like to appear but stronger than I think I am.
“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” - Lao Tzu
I am half way there already. I will find strength again one day. My courage gives me hope.
It is finished.
Where I will gather strength from here is anyone's guess. Perhaps finally, I have found my intestinal fortitude. It doesn't feel like in this moment, but there are many days in front of me to find out.
"I failed," said Jean Paul Sartre, and I quite agree. But lessons are learned from failure, usually not easy ones, yet important ones. I'm a good learner, actually a very good learner.
I am weaker than I like to appear but stronger than I think I am.
“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” - Lao Tzu
I am half way there already. I will find strength again one day. My courage gives me hope.
It is finished.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Se Eu Pudesse Te Abraçar
If I could I would but don’t want some but all.
If you would, I could not let you take that fall.
If you should think I would, you know too much.
If you would, to know that, could be enough.
If you would, I could not let you take that fall.
If you should think I would, you know too much.
If you would, to know that, could be enough.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Between Meals
Purpose
(When the changes in people change us, it can be unnerving but appreciated).
Your petals came on softly with refrain
In the shadows of green they gather strength
Above the darkness is a canopy
That asks for naught but all one might give
To pick you from the moss you’ve grown interred
With the hope of being plucked in one breath.
Black and White
(This one is for the authors I've read)
In between the lines of black and white, I see you.
In the words not spoken, in the silence there, I hear you.
Without a touch, far removed in time, I feel you.
With all of this in mind and more, I know you.
(When the changes in people change us, it can be unnerving but appreciated).
Your petals came on softly with refrain
In the shadows of green they gather strength
Above the darkness is a canopy
That asks for naught but all one might give
To pick you from the moss you’ve grown interred
With the hope of being plucked in one breath.
Black and White
(This one is for the authors I've read)
In between the lines of black and white, I see you.
In the words not spoken, in the silence there, I hear you.
Without a touch, far removed in time, I feel you.
With all of this in mind and more, I know you.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Anticipation
Just a few days more and the bird flies.
There will be only feathers left, and lies.
Soaring high above on the wind at last
The hurt will come and go with the past.
Let the breeze direct where you will go
Feeling each rise while looking below.
You will touch down again one day soon
With your feet beneath you, and the moon.
There will be only feathers left, and lies.
Soaring high above on the wind at last
The hurt will come and go with the past.
Let the breeze direct where you will go
Feeling each rise while looking below.
You will touch down again one day soon
With your feet beneath you, and the moon.
Friday, April 23, 2010
At 6's And 7's
Working in an advertising agency can be fun. In a session where we brainstorm ideas, we make thousands of connections in minutes to come up with something that works for the need at hand: an image, a name, color combinations or more entire concepts for what goes into a mailer, an ad or broadcast spot. Entire campaigns can take whole days at a time. Some sessions can be like P90X for the brain.
During a recent session, in making a connection between the number 6 and the number 7, I threw out "at 6's and 7's" without remembering what it meant. Did it sound familiar in relation to gambling? Was it negative? I asked what "at 6's and 7's" meant? Someone said "crazy, confused." Well, maybe that's why it was so familiar.
Intuitiveness is my strength. Compartmentalizing is my game. I missed the mark on both counts this past month and it had me at 6's and 7's to my core. Working out a misunderstanding led to a disturbing realization.
Deciding what to do about it is equally difficult because decision making is my weakness. My fallback is ignoring the problem like I do so many times. Tuck it away in a compartment and write about it, laugh about it in a few years.
But, that is at odds with a personal goal: be myself, be real. I envy others without guards, without governors on their brains. If what others think of me doesn't matter, why do I guard myself? Mostly, I think to make sure I understand myself. I have always been different from my peers and it took a long time into adulthood to accept it. Mostly, the difference between myself and other females has always stood out for me, beginning with my mom and my sister. As much as I enjoyed being in their company, shopping with the girls was painful for me. A book and a swing in the hammock always seemed to torturously call my name when I had to do my duty. I had fun talking to the guys about politics or sports but never the girls about hair and clothes. This remains with me still. Forcing myself to connect with women over ridiculous conversations about shoes and babies continually makes me wonder what is wrong with me. I have accepted that I am different, but I wonder why all the time.
Should I be out shopping for a pretty Spring dress instead? What does it matter? Can I evolve not to be at 6's and 7's with what I've been told is natural and normal? Is that what has confused me? Finally, for once, I know what it feels like to be normal? Give me back odd and different, please!
During a recent session, in making a connection between the number 6 and the number 7, I threw out "at 6's and 7's" without remembering what it meant. Did it sound familiar in relation to gambling? Was it negative? I asked what "at 6's and 7's" meant? Someone said "crazy, confused." Well, maybe that's why it was so familiar.
Intuitiveness is my strength. Compartmentalizing is my game. I missed the mark on both counts this past month and it had me at 6's and 7's to my core. Working out a misunderstanding led to a disturbing realization.
Deciding what to do about it is equally difficult because decision making is my weakness. My fallback is ignoring the problem like I do so many times. Tuck it away in a compartment and write about it, laugh about it in a few years.
But, that is at odds with a personal goal: be myself, be real. I envy others without guards, without governors on their brains. If what others think of me doesn't matter, why do I guard myself? Mostly, I think to make sure I understand myself. I have always been different from my peers and it took a long time into adulthood to accept it. Mostly, the difference between myself and other females has always stood out for me, beginning with my mom and my sister. As much as I enjoyed being in their company, shopping with the girls was painful for me. A book and a swing in the hammock always seemed to torturously call my name when I had to do my duty. I had fun talking to the guys about politics or sports but never the girls about hair and clothes. This remains with me still. Forcing myself to connect with women over ridiculous conversations about shoes and babies continually makes me wonder what is wrong with me. I have accepted that I am different, but I wonder why all the time.
Should I be out shopping for a pretty Spring dress instead? What does it matter? Can I evolve not to be at 6's and 7's with what I've been told is natural and normal? Is that what has confused me? Finally, for once, I know what it feels like to be normal? Give me back odd and different, please!
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
When Stupidity Comes
My Ghost
You’re not an apparition but you’re untouchable.
You’re not translucent but I can see through you.
You’re not a cold wisp of air yet you send chills down my spine.
You’re not a ghost, but you haunt me.
_____________________________________
J'ai vu beaute aujourd'hui
I saw beauty today and it did not bother me.
As long as I can glimpse its soul, I will set it free.
The depths rose up to meet me but desire overcame.
If I lost sight of it, my heart would not be the same.
_________________________________________
It's easier to love someone than to like them.
___________________________________
With You
Fourteen times I see you blink then stare.
Are you here, there, or anywhere?
Closing my eyes so you can't see
I am there with you, you and me.
You’re not an apparition but you’re untouchable.
You’re not translucent but I can see through you.
You’re not a cold wisp of air yet you send chills down my spine.
You’re not a ghost, but you haunt me.
_____________________________________
J'ai vu beaute aujourd'hui
I saw beauty today and it did not bother me.
As long as I can glimpse its soul, I will set it free.
The depths rose up to meet me but desire overcame.
If I lost sight of it, my heart would not be the same.
_________________________________________
It's easier to love someone than to like them.
___________________________________
With You
Fourteen times I see you blink then stare.
Are you here, there, or anywhere?
Closing my eyes so you can't see
I am there with you, you and me.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Tribute to Bunny Watson*
Opening my heart and mind to new possibilities recently has led to almost constant occurrences of connecting so many things together that I feel the need to further ponder on some of them. External and internal sources, old movies, new acquaintances, blogs, something said in a meeting last week, a song, a photo, the label on a can of hairspray… my mind doesn’t stop connecting what I hear, see or think even after I go to sleep.
The following came to me as I watched the movie, Working Girl, and it reminded me of something a coworker said about their enthusiasm for their work:
I had the awesome privilege of working with my favorite magazine’s creative director years ago. He was fresh out of college, eager, naïve, inexperienced but absolutely brilliant and he knew it. His creativity and determination to take risks at every turn paid off. He became a graphic designer then art director at our state’s foremost magazine. There was no stopping this force of ingenuity and he finally landed where he belongs at Wired Magazine.
It is amazing to me that I have the fortune to encounter such a unique individual again. He is nothing like the first one in that his brilliance is not delivered in the same manner and that he is actually modest to the point of being demure. His passion for his work has been called naïve in attempts to squash it. Heartbreaking. My boss recently commented that he wanted this person's passion and idealism encouraged. I assured him that no one could stand in the way of the determination I’ve seen.
The killing of passion for something is murder, even if the passion is sometimes misdirected. There are ways to motivate, guide and reward passion. I often wish I could bottle it so I could administer it to others as a cure for their cynicism or apathy. Or, possibly take it for my own jaded outlook on life at times.
The movie is over and the heroine of the story succeeds in accomplishing her dreams. In real life, I hope there is no end to what my heroes can and will accomplish. As for myself, I will keep striving to do my best, look for answers, make connections and encourage passion at every opportunity.
*Title refers to Bunny Watson, Katharine Hepburn's character in the movie, Desk Set, in which Bunny "associates many things with many things."
_______________________
UPDATE:
After writing this but not ready to post it, I found this article about Wired Magazine posted yesterday. The creative director speaks on the development of the digital magazine format in the video at the bottom. Amazing.
The following came to me as I watched the movie, Working Girl, and it reminded me of something a coworker said about their enthusiasm for their work:
I had the awesome privilege of working with my favorite magazine’s creative director years ago. He was fresh out of college, eager, naïve, inexperienced but absolutely brilliant and he knew it. His creativity and determination to take risks at every turn paid off. He became a graphic designer then art director at our state’s foremost magazine. There was no stopping this force of ingenuity and he finally landed where he belongs at Wired Magazine.
It is amazing to me that I have the fortune to encounter such a unique individual again. He is nothing like the first one in that his brilliance is not delivered in the same manner and that he is actually modest to the point of being demure. His passion for his work has been called naïve in attempts to squash it. Heartbreaking. My boss recently commented that he wanted this person's passion and idealism encouraged. I assured him that no one could stand in the way of the determination I’ve seen.
The killing of passion for something is murder, even if the passion is sometimes misdirected. There are ways to motivate, guide and reward passion. I often wish I could bottle it so I could administer it to others as a cure for their cynicism or apathy. Or, possibly take it for my own jaded outlook on life at times.
The movie is over and the heroine of the story succeeds in accomplishing her dreams. In real life, I hope there is no end to what my heroes can and will accomplish. As for myself, I will keep striving to do my best, look for answers, make connections and encourage passion at every opportunity.
*Title refers to Bunny Watson, Katharine Hepburn's character in the movie, Desk Set, in which Bunny "associates many things with many things."
_______________________
UPDATE:
After writing this but not ready to post it, I found this article about Wired Magazine posted yesterday. The creative director speaks on the development of the digital magazine format in the video at the bottom. Amazing.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Convergence of Wisdom
I am not smart but I enjoy being around intelligent, wise people and reading all kinds of information to compensate for my shortcomings. A recent company blog was echoed by someone I follow on twitter from the other side of the world. It’s sort of cool when things happen like that. When I read or hear it once, it’s interesting but when it is twice in two days from seemingly unattached sources, it makes me think I’m suppose to stop and listen. Both even mention Thomas Edison!
“We can choose to change our thoughts.”
“Are we allergic to change?”
“Failures sometimes produce results that are better than the original plan.”
“All those failures are just leading you to that one success.”
I have failed. I will fail again.
“There are no failures, just experiences and your reactions to them.” – David Krause
A change of heart, change of mind came in a flash of lightning months ago and I’m just now realizing it as it manifests itself in the strangest ways. Heartbreaking, gut-wrenching frustration and anger gave way to an almost giddy, idealistic dream-state a few weeks ago. Actually, that manifestation is denial of failure and change. Now that I understand it for what it is, I can face it, stare it down and crush it.
“We can choose to change our thoughts.”
“Are we allergic to change?”
“Failures sometimes produce results that are better than the original plan.”
“All those failures are just leading you to that one success.”
I have failed. I will fail again.
“There are no failures, just experiences and your reactions to them.” – David Krause
A change of heart, change of mind came in a flash of lightning months ago and I’m just now realizing it as it manifests itself in the strangest ways. Heartbreaking, gut-wrenching frustration and anger gave way to an almost giddy, idealistic dream-state a few weeks ago. Actually, that manifestation is denial of failure and change. Now that I understand it for what it is, I can face it, stare it down and crush it.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Beauty in the Simple Things
There are few things in life more satisfying than finding beauty in the simple things. Being able to see that beauty often times means an open heart, an open mind and a positive attitude.
Acquiring a positive attitude can sometimes be difficult, but if one is willing to change their perspective and look at a problem, a challenge or just a simple task with different eyes, it’s possible. Attitudes are the outward portrayal of our inner thoughts. Negativity in our attitude indicates troubled waters beneath.
An open mind is a welcome to all ideas, differences and views. It doesn’t mean discernment is tossed to the wind but that there is no threat to core values from other things not originating in our own minds.
An open heart is the most difficult to nail down because it is not logical and actually is a misnomer. Our hearts are biological in nature and have nothing to do with thoughts and feelings. While it may seem that feelings originate there when something emotional happens to us, it is the physical change of the heart muscle and flow of blood in reaction to our thoughts or surroundings that is felt. An open heart is simply a willingness to feel, whether attached to logic, fact or something not understood.
Of the three, attitude, mind and heart, it is an open heart, the permission to feel, that helps us to see the beauty in the simple things. Sometimes it is not the physical vision that is beautiful, but the feeling itself. It is time to find beauty in the simple things again.
Acquiring a positive attitude can sometimes be difficult, but if one is willing to change their perspective and look at a problem, a challenge or just a simple task with different eyes, it’s possible. Attitudes are the outward portrayal of our inner thoughts. Negativity in our attitude indicates troubled waters beneath.
An open mind is a welcome to all ideas, differences and views. It doesn’t mean discernment is tossed to the wind but that there is no threat to core values from other things not originating in our own minds.
An open heart is the most difficult to nail down because it is not logical and actually is a misnomer. Our hearts are biological in nature and have nothing to do with thoughts and feelings. While it may seem that feelings originate there when something emotional happens to us, it is the physical change of the heart muscle and flow of blood in reaction to our thoughts or surroundings that is felt. An open heart is simply a willingness to feel, whether attached to logic, fact or something not understood.
Of the three, attitude, mind and heart, it is an open heart, the permission to feel, that helps us to see the beauty in the simple things. Sometimes it is not the physical vision that is beautiful, but the feeling itself. It is time to find beauty in the simple things again.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Kudos for The Constitution State!
Catholic bishops in Connecticut have gone too far. http://bit.ly/bCMuxj Contempt chokes me. Catholic bishops should have nothing to fear, right? Place faith in God or in a jury of your peers. If the Connecticut Senate passes this bill, their fears will become redemption of many victims.
And then the IRS can make their investigations: any organization that moves to influence voters, legislators and lawmakers should not be tax-exempt.
And then the IRS can make their investigations: any organization that moves to influence voters, legislators and lawmakers should not be tax-exempt.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Bedtimes and Headlines
This will be the most candid of anything I've written so far, in my life.
My Google Reader is my best friend, the introvert that I am. As I sifted through the headlines during lunch today, I drank from the articles of industry rags, news wires, history and science associations and special blogs as if they were an alixir to problems I wanted to cure. Good 'ole rock n roll buffered me from my main distraction, letting it drown out the voice that commands my heartbeat.
One headline I scanned quickly among the news items was this NY Times's one about sexual abuse cover up by the Catholic Church. Moving quickly past it, I thought I had left it behind, at least until I saw it on the news or in another headline later. But, no, it had attached itself to that part of my brain that processes things unconsciously, or subconsciously, (guess it depends on if I've been drinking), to flash across the iPad inside my eyelids when I was ready to go to sleep (yes, at 8:30pm).
The flash of fury had been there when I first saw the headline, but having mastered the skill, I pushed it aside to keep company with the rage of a sexual abuse survivor. The fury still burned and would not let me sleep. I opened up my laptop to find the story and write about it.
Fully understanding the influence and authority of the Catholic Church over its people, finally reading the story made me want to vomit. Even though I'm not Catholic, this is my confession: the last three years have been the worst years of my life save for my 5th year as a child. When I was a little girl, a young man thought he'd teach me a thing or two about life. Suffice it to say, I learned enough.
Stories of child abuse, church or organizational cover up, family cycles of abuse, they all get to me not because I went through it, but because most incidences can be prevented if the first one is reported. I never opened my mouth until I told my Mom when I was 22 years old. After all those years of crying in the dark, the tears still would not betray me after words had told the tale. Shame, fear and uncertainty were my childhood friends but we don't stay in touch much anymore. If children are told not to be ashamed, to tell us of any uncomfortable situations with anyone, including relatives, maybe first time predators will be one time predators.
The current Pope is culpable for continuing the Church's policy of sweeping ugly truths under papal robes and pointy hats. The bishops' red robes are now visibily stained with the blood of the children they have damaged for life. I feel the hatred of the same papal power Queen Elizabeth I felt during her reign. No omnipotent supreme being in existence would allow innocent children to be defiled in their name. But that's another post and now I must sleep if I can.
(hesitating. hesitating. hesitating. Can I really post this? Yes. No shame, no fear.)
My Google Reader is my best friend, the introvert that I am. As I sifted through the headlines during lunch today, I drank from the articles of industry rags, news wires, history and science associations and special blogs as if they were an alixir to problems I wanted to cure. Good 'ole rock n roll buffered me from my main distraction, letting it drown out the voice that commands my heartbeat.
One headline I scanned quickly among the news items was this NY Times's one about sexual abuse cover up by the Catholic Church. Moving quickly past it, I thought I had left it behind, at least until I saw it on the news or in another headline later. But, no, it had attached itself to that part of my brain that processes things unconsciously, or subconsciously, (guess it depends on if I've been drinking), to flash across the iPad inside my eyelids when I was ready to go to sleep (yes, at 8:30pm).
The flash of fury had been there when I first saw the headline, but having mastered the skill, I pushed it aside to keep company with the rage of a sexual abuse survivor. The fury still burned and would not let me sleep. I opened up my laptop to find the story and write about it.
Fully understanding the influence and authority of the Catholic Church over its people, finally reading the story made me want to vomit. Even though I'm not Catholic, this is my confession: the last three years have been the worst years of my life save for my 5th year as a child. When I was a little girl, a young man thought he'd teach me a thing or two about life. Suffice it to say, I learned enough.
Stories of child abuse, church or organizational cover up, family cycles of abuse, they all get to me not because I went through it, but because most incidences can be prevented if the first one is reported. I never opened my mouth until I told my Mom when I was 22 years old. After all those years of crying in the dark, the tears still would not betray me after words had told the tale. Shame, fear and uncertainty were my childhood friends but we don't stay in touch much anymore. If children are told not to be ashamed, to tell us of any uncomfortable situations with anyone, including relatives, maybe first time predators will be one time predators.
The current Pope is culpable for continuing the Church's policy of sweeping ugly truths under papal robes and pointy hats. The bishops' red robes are now visibily stained with the blood of the children they have damaged for life. I feel the hatred of the same papal power Queen Elizabeth I felt during her reign. No omnipotent supreme being in existence would allow innocent children to be defiled in their name. But that's another post and now I must sleep if I can.
(hesitating. hesitating. hesitating. Can I really post this? Yes. No shame, no fear.)
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Voices in the Dark
It comes in a whisper, an easy breeze through mossed trees
Touching down just out of sight.
Little flutters tickle, warning of what is to come
When my heavy heart takes flight.
In one small breath, trying to exhale brings darkness near
While the whisper promises air.
The day wears on with the wind in the trees, still not seen
Is the answer to prayer.
Touching down just out of sight.
Little flutters tickle, warning of what is to come
When my heavy heart takes flight.
In one small breath, trying to exhale brings darkness near
While the whisper promises air.
The day wears on with the wind in the trees, still not seen
Is the answer to prayer.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Ode to a Spring Morning
Aspens gently sway by rushing waters
Luring bird song to promise another day.
In green depths of heavenly shadows lashed
Winter loses its last hold on the fort.
Smooth moss runs its path across hard stone black
With graceful tendrils left to work their trade.
Thickets of vines and thorns often bristle
To whisper warm wind in vales long waiting.
Luring bird song to promise another day.
In green depths of heavenly shadows lashed
Winter loses its last hold on the fort.
Smooth moss runs its path across hard stone black
With graceful tendrils left to work their trade.
Thickets of vines and thorns often bristle
To whisper warm wind in vales long waiting.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Change of Scenery
Before spring cleaning my blog with a little updating of the main photo, I was thinking about the picture above and letting some of the thoughts lead me down a path I usually don't let people follow because it is my past. I think that it is not a part of me, but I am wrong.
The photo is one I took at the Balinese Pavillion of theWorld Garden in Marzahn, Germany in 2008. It was a beautiful Spring day and every plant in place was in full bloom. It was an absolutely magnificent showing that we had no idea awaited us at the end of our train ride out of Alexanderplatz. The photo is a pityful example of the beauty we encountered on our visit, of the city, its people, history and culture.
What is astounding about this photo is that I took it at all. I was brought up in the southern culture of the United States of strict religion and deep fear of anything and everyone different from it. Small town and small mindedness could not hold me and I grew beyond the inflicted boundaries of racism, sexism and xenophobia.
Experiencing Berlin forced the last shackles of my upbringing to fall from my shoulders that I always thought held me down. Being the lover of maps in the family, I fearlessly led my family through the trains from Alexanderplatz to Tiergarten, from Potsdamerplatz to Marzahn, all over the city where we overheard mostly nothing but German everywhere. We tried our broken German on patient maitre d's and gracious storekeepers. I was moved to tears in the Checkpoint Charlie Museum at the prominently displayed examples of what the people of East Berlin were willingly to endure to obtain what I so easily take for granted. My proudest moment was watching my son communicate in his own way with a Berliner about his age at a park as we took a break for lunch. He was eager to learn, to explore and make friends with someone he couldn't even understand. I love that he accepts peoples' differences because I know it opens so many doors for him that had been closed to me.
This photo says all of that to me with just a glance at it. I will replace it with one of equal meaning someday this Spring, if I can find one.
The photo is one I took at the Balinese Pavillion of theWorld Garden in Marzahn, Germany in 2008. It was a beautiful Spring day and every plant in place was in full bloom. It was an absolutely magnificent showing that we had no idea awaited us at the end of our train ride out of Alexanderplatz. The photo is a pityful example of the beauty we encountered on our visit, of the city, its people, history and culture.
What is astounding about this photo is that I took it at all. I was brought up in the southern culture of the United States of strict religion and deep fear of anything and everyone different from it. Small town and small mindedness could not hold me and I grew beyond the inflicted boundaries of racism, sexism and xenophobia.
Experiencing Berlin forced the last shackles of my upbringing to fall from my shoulders that I always thought held me down. Being the lover of maps in the family, I fearlessly led my family through the trains from Alexanderplatz to Tiergarten, from Potsdamerplatz to Marzahn, all over the city where we overheard mostly nothing but German everywhere. We tried our broken German on patient maitre d's and gracious storekeepers. I was moved to tears in the Checkpoint Charlie Museum at the prominently displayed examples of what the people of East Berlin were willingly to endure to obtain what I so easily take for granted. My proudest moment was watching my son communicate in his own way with a Berliner about his age at a park as we took a break for lunch. He was eager to learn, to explore and make friends with someone he couldn't even understand. I love that he accepts peoples' differences because I know it opens so many doors for him that had been closed to me.
This photo says all of that to me with just a glance at it. I will replace it with one of equal meaning someday this Spring, if I can find one.
Important Conversations
Through last week and the weekend, I managed to watch three movies that overwhelmingly surprised me. More indicative of where my mental state resided than the greatness of the movies, individually they didn’t necessarily speak to me, but as a whole they forced an internal dialog I had been avoiding for a very long time.
Ghosts of Girlfriends Past was a romantic comedy full of eye candy and the expert line delivery of Matthew McConaughey. As funny as his life long ailment of failure to commit could be, what was not funny was the reason behind it. To say the least, it hit home for me.
While the boys were out on Saturday at a chess tournament, I unintentionally fell into the movie, An American Quilt. Thinking incorrectly again that this movie was a romantic drama, it opened my eyes to all of my decisions, good and bad, and their consequences.
Last but not least, what I thought would be yet another romantic comedy, Marley and Me, that would deliver humorous physical comedy with an out of control dog, opened up a wound barely scabbed over. It caught me off guard. The crying jag lasted over an hour.
I don’t cry about movies. I hardly cry about life. But these movies opened my eyes to pain, consequences and what I really want out of life in an avalanche of emotion unlike I’ve ever experienced. Maybe I was open to it; maybe I was due a good cry. I'm just glad I finally had that conversation with myself.
Ghosts of Girlfriends Past was a romantic comedy full of eye candy and the expert line delivery of Matthew McConaughey. As funny as his life long ailment of failure to commit could be, what was not funny was the reason behind it. To say the least, it hit home for me.
While the boys were out on Saturday at a chess tournament, I unintentionally fell into the movie, An American Quilt. Thinking incorrectly again that this movie was a romantic drama, it opened my eyes to all of my decisions, good and bad, and their consequences.
Last but not least, what I thought would be yet another romantic comedy, Marley and Me, that would deliver humorous physical comedy with an out of control dog, opened up a wound barely scabbed over. It caught me off guard. The crying jag lasted over an hour.
I don’t cry about movies. I hardly cry about life. But these movies opened my eyes to pain, consequences and what I really want out of life in an avalanche of emotion unlike I’ve ever experienced. Maybe I was open to it; maybe I was due a good cry. I'm just glad I finally had that conversation with myself.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Are Americans Ready for "Remember Me?"
Do you remember where you were on September 11, 2001? Remember any arguments you had that morning? Did the day start like any other day? Do you remember thinking what a terrible mistake it was when the first plane flew into the first tower, then when you heard the news of the second plane hitting the other tower, your world came to a halt, flipped over and presented itself as the true, terrifying place we now live in?
Depending on your level of involvement of what happened on September 11, 2001, you may or may not be prepared to redress the feelings of that day through a film you may think is a regular romantic drama. While subsequent fox chases, captured terrorists and sanctioned wars have lured us into thinking we've continually dealt with the emotions of that awful day, all that most Americans have done are changed the ways we go through airport security, remain suspicious of our Muslim neighbors and become more conscious of our borders.
We've become accustomed to the real footage on CNN or documentaries of the four airplanes full of people and two of the world's largest buildings meeting tragic ends on September 11, 2001. But, are we prepared for everyday drama and romance with the beauty of Hollywood (or Great Britain and Australia in this case) drawing us into their story just to make a point that we've forgotten the lesson of living every moment of life to its fullest?
A new movie coming out this weekend will offer a window on that fateful day, but prepare yourselves. I want you to know that window may be a mirror you're not ready to look into yet. The movie's storyline supposedly does not prepare you for its ending. Luckily, many viewers will be young, following the popularity of actor Rob Pattinson. They probably don't remember all the emotions of what is now known simply as 9-11, but as Pattinson fans, they may be equally wounded. You can say it's just a movie, but movies have the power to move us. I do hope this film will move us in the right direction. It's called "Remember Me." Go see it, if you're ready.
Here is the official trailer on YouTube to help you decide: Remember Me Trailer
Depending on your level of involvement of what happened on September 11, 2001, you may or may not be prepared to redress the feelings of that day through a film you may think is a regular romantic drama. While subsequent fox chases, captured terrorists and sanctioned wars have lured us into thinking we've continually dealt with the emotions of that awful day, all that most Americans have done are changed the ways we go through airport security, remain suspicious of our Muslim neighbors and become more conscious of our borders.
We've become accustomed to the real footage on CNN or documentaries of the four airplanes full of people and two of the world's largest buildings meeting tragic ends on September 11, 2001. But, are we prepared for everyday drama and romance with the beauty of Hollywood (or Great Britain and Australia in this case) drawing us into their story just to make a point that we've forgotten the lesson of living every moment of life to its fullest?
A new movie coming out this weekend will offer a window on that fateful day, but prepare yourselves. I want you to know that window may be a mirror you're not ready to look into yet. The movie's storyline supposedly does not prepare you for its ending. Luckily, many viewers will be young, following the popularity of actor Rob Pattinson. They probably don't remember all the emotions of what is now known simply as 9-11, but as Pattinson fans, they may be equally wounded. You can say it's just a movie, but movies have the power to move us. I do hope this film will move us in the right direction. It's called "Remember Me." Go see it, if you're ready.
Here is the official trailer on YouTube to help you decide: Remember Me Trailer
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Twilight Series Critique - Top 5 Reasons the Story Appeals to the Mature Woman
As a favor to a friend that is researching the marketing phenomenon surrounding the books, I set down to analyze the Twlight series by Stephanie Myer. The first half of the first book, Twilight, was not easy. I knew it was a teenage romance story involving vampires but had no idea how difficult the first-person perspective would be nor how unbelievable the dialogue was written. But, I set out to accomplish this favor for a great friend so I couldn't let her down.
The main question my friend has asked, and I think everyone involved in the series from marketers of the book to actors in the movies have asked themselves, is why the series has been appealing to women beyond their teenage years? I will outline my top 5 reasons why the story appeals to some older women:
1)Not being completely sure of the book series' success before the first movie came out, I dare say, personifying the character of Edward through the actor, Rob Pattinson, has brought all the great traits that women find so attractive in Edward to life and in a strange reversal makes Edward unbelievable real. Rob has proven to be cool under pressure just as Edward forced himself to be in being attracted to Bella. He is polite, gentle, shy, vunerable and easy on the eyes. Some how the casting director found Edward in real life.
2)All females are attracted to what is most dangerous for them. Maybe it is ego, maybe it is the challenge of testing themselves in what they can and cannot handle. Bella wanted the guy that could kill her the minute he lost control and because that control was usually couched in sexual terms, even the reader has to contantly grapple with "do you want him to lose control and maybe kill Bella or can he just kiss her and deny himself?" How is that not appealing to any woman or man of any age?
3)Vampires are suppose to be able to live forever. Our collective issue with human mortality lures us to various religions to address it. Our desire to live forever portrayed in the mythic characters of vampires that are stronger than any human, full of sexual allure and can overcome so many of our natural weaknesses are the perfect heroes or heroines in any storyline.
4)Many of Bella's strengths are what we wish we had had as teenage girls and many of her vunerabilities that she has to deal with hits home at various levels for us. The main problem I had with the progress of Bella's character through the series is that she went from being mature and strong to a love-sick teenager that seemed to forget all of that strength she had at the beginning. And, it's all because she was in love, confused, lost and inexperienced. I liked her better in books 2 and 3 because of this. I remember being so called "in love" as a teenage and completely confused. That part made all the sense in the world to me.
5)With the advertising/marketing background that I have and used in reading the books, I can see how the movie marketing has played a huge roll in advancing the book series and its storyline. Living happily ever after (really!) with the perfect man is what almost every woman dreams of at 17, 35 or 50. The books and the movies offer an acceptable rendition of that, even if it is impossible to do as humans. This is a fantasy with many shared and relatable human elements.
I didn't like the first book because of its deniability of human nature, so I knew the first movie would not easily translate well on the screen. And it did come out awkward, especially for Bella's character and interpreting the attraction between Edward and Bella. They had to temper the natural sexuality that Myer doesn't let develop between the book's characters. It was too unnatural, even between a human and a "vamprire."
Since I had no interest in the books when the movies came out, I am playing catch-up. I have seen the first movie and look forward to viewing New Moon shortly. I don't think I will continue to critque the movies or the story. I just needed to outline my thoughts for my friend, but I will end with one final thought of the books overall: the lesson I learned from the books is that chasity is impossible for weak humans and has to be left to the immortals. I'm almost sure that was not the author's intention. ; )
The main question my friend has asked, and I think everyone involved in the series from marketers of the book to actors in the movies have asked themselves, is why the series has been appealing to women beyond their teenage years? I will outline my top 5 reasons why the story appeals to some older women:
1)Not being completely sure of the book series' success before the first movie came out, I dare say, personifying the character of Edward through the actor, Rob Pattinson, has brought all the great traits that women find so attractive in Edward to life and in a strange reversal makes Edward unbelievable real. Rob has proven to be cool under pressure just as Edward forced himself to be in being attracted to Bella. He is polite, gentle, shy, vunerable and easy on the eyes. Some how the casting director found Edward in real life.
2)All females are attracted to what is most dangerous for them. Maybe it is ego, maybe it is the challenge of testing themselves in what they can and cannot handle. Bella wanted the guy that could kill her the minute he lost control and because that control was usually couched in sexual terms, even the reader has to contantly grapple with "do you want him to lose control and maybe kill Bella or can he just kiss her and deny himself?" How is that not appealing to any woman or man of any age?
3)Vampires are suppose to be able to live forever. Our collective issue with human mortality lures us to various religions to address it. Our desire to live forever portrayed in the mythic characters of vampires that are stronger than any human, full of sexual allure and can overcome so many of our natural weaknesses are the perfect heroes or heroines in any storyline.
4)Many of Bella's strengths are what we wish we had had as teenage girls and many of her vunerabilities that she has to deal with hits home at various levels for us. The main problem I had with the progress of Bella's character through the series is that she went from being mature and strong to a love-sick teenager that seemed to forget all of that strength she had at the beginning. And, it's all because she was in love, confused, lost and inexperienced. I liked her better in books 2 and 3 because of this. I remember being so called "in love" as a teenage and completely confused. That part made all the sense in the world to me.
5)With the advertising/marketing background that I have and used in reading the books, I can see how the movie marketing has played a huge roll in advancing the book series and its storyline. Living happily ever after (really!) with the perfect man is what almost every woman dreams of at 17, 35 or 50. The books and the movies offer an acceptable rendition of that, even if it is impossible to do as humans. This is a fantasy with many shared and relatable human elements.
I didn't like the first book because of its deniability of human nature, so I knew the first movie would not easily translate well on the screen. And it did come out awkward, especially for Bella's character and interpreting the attraction between Edward and Bella. They had to temper the natural sexuality that Myer doesn't let develop between the book's characters. It was too unnatural, even between a human and a "vamprire."
Since I had no interest in the books when the movies came out, I am playing catch-up. I have seen the first movie and look forward to viewing New Moon shortly. I don't think I will continue to critque the movies or the story. I just needed to outline my thoughts for my friend, but I will end with one final thought of the books overall: the lesson I learned from the books is that chasity is impossible for weak humans and has to be left to the immortals. I'm almost sure that was not the author's intention. ; )
Friday, February 5, 2010
New Beginnings
After a short period of reflection, and the realization I'm old enough to do this, I have revamped this blog so that a wider audience will be welcomed, perhaps find a point or two to ponder for themselves and know who is behind it.
Venturing into this territory of umbiquity with an identity is new to me. Partially responsible for this decision are a couple of articles from my favorite magazine, Wired, about e-books, Amazon's pricing and Macmillian Publishing: http://bit.ly/9YQySV and http://bit.ly/c92Wym
I own a Kindle. I am pleased with it, but not with the set price of $9.99 for all books that Amazon demands. If I ordered some books in paperback and by volume, I could save money to use for other things, like $1.29 iTunes! Publishers insist that $9.99 is too low for many books, and of course they would say that as they prepare for the advent of college text e-books and possibly secondary school e-books as well. Cheap text books would shudder publishing houses.
Wouldn't the advantage of cheaper books mean that fewer books would be published, and those that made the cut to go to press would be of higher quality than the average tome printed today? Once again, another industry and segment of our society would realize volume does not equal quality.
With blogs, internet publishing and author's websites equipped with PayPal, the printed stacks of paper will soon be history. Self-publishing will only need to overcome inefficient distribution through self-promotion. A company called Google can help with that!
The published word, sharing of knowledge, imagination or just a different perspective, is powerful. That is why this blog is no longer anonymous.
Venturing into this territory of umbiquity with an identity is new to me. Partially responsible for this decision are a couple of articles from my favorite magazine, Wired, about e-books, Amazon's pricing and Macmillian Publishing: http://bit.ly/9YQySV and http://bit.ly/c92Wym
I own a Kindle. I am pleased with it, but not with the set price of $9.99 for all books that Amazon demands. If I ordered some books in paperback and by volume, I could save money to use for other things, like $1.29 iTunes! Publishers insist that $9.99 is too low for many books, and of course they would say that as they prepare for the advent of college text e-books and possibly secondary school e-books as well. Cheap text books would shudder publishing houses.
Wouldn't the advantage of cheaper books mean that fewer books would be published, and those that made the cut to go to press would be of higher quality than the average tome printed today? Once again, another industry and segment of our society would realize volume does not equal quality.
With blogs, internet publishing and author's websites equipped with PayPal, the printed stacks of paper will soon be history. Self-publishing will only need to overcome inefficient distribution through self-promotion. A company called Google can help with that!
The published word, sharing of knowledge, imagination or just a different perspective, is powerful. That is why this blog is no longer anonymous.
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