Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
I never got any verbal criticism. I just got some puzzled looks. Facial expressions that expressed, "UH...what?"
I'm sure people did not appreciate what I had to say. They kept me around because they loved me. Or got stuck with me like college roommates.
I'm also sure they talked about me behind my back. I didn't care. I simply wished there was a hole under me I could fall into when I said something stupid.
The strange thing, well one of them, was that I could think perfectly good ideas and communications. There was just some twist between my brains and my mouth. I didn't speak gibberish. I was terribly inept at being a person. I presume.
What I said often sounded perfectly understandable to me. But others seemed not to get it. (It is a shame, too, that I blamed myself all these years when I could have decided that they were stupid conversationalists.)
An example would be my terror at calling people on the phone. Not only didn't I know what to say, I frequently couldn't say a word. Thank goodness there was no caller ID in those days. Actually I didn't hang up anonymously. I just never made phone calls until I was into my 40 and beyond. And then rarely.
Oh, teenage years don't count. I could talk to my friends and even boys on the phone back then. But teenaged girls are silly and I was cute so boys didn't care what I said. They called me. I wasn't allowed to call boys back in those days. (And we only had ONE phone per household. What could we have been thinking?)
I think part of the telephobia (is that a word?) stemmed from the first time I was forced to answer the phone. I can't remember how young I was but my parents thought it was high time I learned how to answer the phone. They told me, "Find out who it is and what they want."
Just then the phone rang and they said, "Now's your chance." They just as well could have been teaching me to fly in an airplane by pushing me out the door with no parachute.
I reluctantly crept over to the phone and said, "Hello. Who is this and what do you want?" Amen. I was a little girl for godsakes.
The caller hung up and a couple of seconds later the nextdoor neighbor came running over to tell us that our backyard was on fire.
It all went downhill from there. One of my worst other memories is when I called my cousin who was living at my grandma's. She said, "Hello." I said, "Is John there?" She said, "No. This is his grandmother, can I help you?" I said, "This is his cousin." There was a long pause and my Grandma said, "Sandy?"
That's bad enough but she told my mother and my mom told me my grandma got a weird call from me. I thought it was perfectly understandable. (It's my sense of humor, I guess. Stupid people still don't get my humor.)
I've gained enough self-confidence now to suppose that someone else might be to blame.
So, partly I learned to take part in a conversation by observing people for about 40 years.
That and learning to write I don't mean A B C D. I mean put my ideas, thoughts, feelings and poetry down on paper. I learned to converse with writing. Later I published a book for short short stories (humorous flash fiction) and a book of poetry.)
I turned to journals as my confidants and BFFs. I have 120 full journals and counting. (Someday I will sit outside with a nice bonfire, read each one and toss it into the flames..)
I turned to writing fiction too but didn't have as much luck as I had hoped.
I preferred writing because I could say important things on paper, and most importantly, I could cross out and correct what I'd written so I'd be pleased with what I'd said. And nobody would read it (besides me and I never did anyway. That's why I'll read them before I burn them. I'm curious.)
Oh, wait a minute. I did read the end of one journal one time. Ten years later I realized I was still ranting about the same things.
So I got a divorce.
I still write and do editing as I go along--cross out things and keep going. (And rewrite endlessly. Somebody stop me before I get hurt!)
But now I can talk.
Now I'm learning how to shut up.
And get over my phobia of listening.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Amen. I've got that. On occasion.
I'm sure there are thousands of people the world over who hate me for it. Especially when I try too hard to be witty.
I encounter conversationalists (?) now and then who can't stand being interrupted, or have to stop and think before they speak, or need to FINISH what they're saying. Oh, the ones who talk so ssssssss-lllllllllll-ooooooooooo-wwwwwwww. (Fred, you know who you are.) I find myself wanting to reach down their throats and pull the words out.
Oh, I also try to set them straight regarding the truth or at least the facts. I challenge their opinions in a polite way for the most part, and assert myself in a way I just can't do in the rest of my life.
Another problem is the difference between the way women listen and men listen. A woman nods her head or in some cases shakes her head and makes little comments while listening. This means, "Go ahead, I'm listening."
Men consider that nodding indicates agreement, and comments are rude. Without some feedback you never know whether they're listening or not.
My brother is one example. He goes on and on about something (much like I do) and actually stops when I murmur and all the while he's getting angrier and angrier. It's like he can't talk when there are other people around.
His wife told me, in private, that our constant arguing was making her sick--literally--and I ought to wait til my brother was finished before saying anything.
Well, here's an explanation:
1: I don't want to make people sick, but I think most people need to learn how to deal with things for themselves. .
2: I've reached the point in my life when I'm not going to allow myself to do things the way some MAN's behavior pressures me to. I'm not that codependent anymore. I'm old and single, what do I have to lose? I just can't understand why these mens' significant others put up with it.
3: AND my brother and I are NOT arguing. That's just the conversation style we used in our family. Genetic, so to speak. We talk a lot, talk fast, debate everything, and do all that LOUD.
I've adapted that to a form of "preaching"
I've told my friends that if they want to talk to me they're going to have to learn to interrupt and/or talk over me. I don't mind. It's just my conversation "style." They don't have to follow my example but it helps. They don't have to change their conversation style, just bear with it for awhile if they'd like to be part of my conversation. My talk isn't aggressive; theirs should be. (I don't see why this is different than the way my brother talks but it just is.)
I have so many thoughts and ideas that I just express them fast enough. (And evidently people don't consider trivia relevant to everyday life.) At least I do to add now, "I probably told you this already but..." and the more polite "Sorry to change the subject..." and plunge forward.
I wish I could write as fast as I talk. And as much. I'd have a 20-volume. memoir published by now.
This is my third blog entry today. About the same subject. Be warned: I also have bouts of hypergraphia.
|MY VIEW FROM HERE|
Are you a writer if you're not published?
Is a blog considered writing? Is it considered published? Does anyone ever read it?
I just can't bring myself to keep a diary, journal or dream log in my various computer programs/files. For one thing the take up too much storage on my computer memory banks. And who cares? If no one reads them including me and they aren't published just hidden away, What a waste of time. (Or someone can switch on my computer and see my private entries.)
At least when I write in actual journals like the 12-dollar plastic hardcovers from WalMart, it's serious & beneficial therapy. I could dump it and forget it. Like flushing the....well, you get it.
I like the new blogspot.com feature that tells you your stats: how many hits you're getting on your blogspot and individual blog entries. I don't know why I feel joyful that 17 people went to my blog today and saw one of the entries. (Alas, looking is not the same as reading.) Why do I thrill to see that 17 people found me in a sea of personal essays cconsidering there are about a gazillion people googling on the worldwide web this very minute. It's comparable to the array of radio-telescopes listening for a little noise in a vast universe. LOL
When you put something out here in cyberspace it's "published". It even has an implied copyright (so people who steal your stuff are supposed to give you credit even if in teeny-weeny letters at the bottom.)
So what's this got to do with anything?
I'll get to the point someday if I can figure out what it is and how to write it.
Thanks for stopping by.
I often break into hypergraphia (writing lengthy treatises exceedingly fast and hodge-podge, seemingly forever.) I used to write on paper in journals. I have over 120 of them. They go on and on about my thoughts, my feelings, my gripes, my opinions, and godknowswhatelse. It doesn't matter much because no one is ever going to read my journals not even me.
Someday when I feel death coming on I'm going to take them out in the backyard and have one sonofabitch bonfire. It won't matter because there is absolutely no culture or history or current events in any of them. I suspect some of the essays are boring writing about a boring life. I'm afraid the rest reveal various levels of insanity.
My handwriting is shot to hell at my age so I'm determined to capture my ideas on a computer. That doesn't serve me as well since handwriting was an autonomic behavior for me. Thoughts went directly from my brain to paper via fingers. Fingers aren't as reliable as they used to be.
I'm also hindered by my compulsion to tell the truth and be accurate. And an attempt to manipulate others into being that way too.
On a computer I actually have to think about what I'm writing. I can't whiz along making a mess of it. Typos and misspellings are automatic now instead of my thought-to-paper process. I was able to do things in writing that I just can't do on a computer. Like spell bad with disaster grammar and scribbling over words and continue to write long passages non-stop (much the way I think. And talk. (That's another story.)
Thanks to a career in clerical work/typist my editing and correcting is built into my writing. My fingers (besides hitting a lot of wrong keys) automatically hits the backup-delete button. I suspect, too, my career influenced me by not having to think about what I was typing.
There's a vast difference between typing someone else's words and writing your own stuff creatively.
I also edit as I write but that's like throwing your car into reverse every yard or two. You get there eventually but the journey is hell. By the time I get my typing corrected and edited I've lost my train of thought.
In fact, this wasn't what I wanted to write about at all.
O heck it's lunch time I better go eat breakfist. By.
PS: Writing in a journal is a waste of words, ideas, writing and time. You're not really a writer unless someone reads you. Except journaling for therapy--in that case it serves well. And cheaper than a $120 therapy session.) If no one ever reads it you might as well tear it up and toss it in the trash, right? Writing a blog you have a choice--click on the publish button or use the delete key. At least when you write a blog someone out of 2-billion people with computers might stumble on it and actually read it--maybe even like it.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
He recently told me a lot of guys were dead. I asked him "WHAT?" And he said he was playing "James Bond." OH.
I'm concerned it's not the same as reading Huckleberry Finn or the Hardy Boys. His mother says playing video games increases kids' imagination. If it's okay with her, I'm only the grandma and my vote doesn't count.
But it really is amazing to me when I consider video games didn't even exist when my two oldest kids were born.
Neither did disposable diapers for that matter. I used to wash diapers and hang them on clothes lines to dry.
Where am I? Oh yeah iPods or iPads, whatever. Who can actually afford those things? I got an HP from WalMart.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Monday, August 08, 2011
The artist is Whitt Pritchette and the art work is entitled "Aces and Eights" and it's of Wild Bill Hickcok with aces and eights hidden in the details of the picture.
If anyone knows an artist or former artist by that name or if you ARE this Whitt Pritchette, please contact me.
If you are familiar with other pieces by Whit Pritchette I am interested in getting a ballpark figure on what his artwork might be worth. If I don't find out something about it, to the Salvation Army Thrift Store it goes.
Also, I'd like to know where the Ace of Clubs is hidden. I've found the two 8s, but only the Ace of Spades.
It's based on this photo of Hickok. Exceptionally well done with embellishments in fine black and white pen strokes.
Update: I found Rein Whitt-Pritchett on the internet. Watched a video of an interview. He's a long time if not well known artist with stuidos/galleries in NM and CO. I emailed him and he wrote back that "There's only one Whitt-Pritchett." He said it would probably not be a good idea to donate one of his drawings to the Salvation Army. He also told me that the Albuquerque Art Museum bought and displayed two of his works.
Immediately I thought it couldn't have been an original drawing so I looked at the penciled signature. It also said 14/40. So, I have print 14 out of 40 that were made. (I don't mean a xerox copy. A professional copy, a PRINT. My brother-in-law, an artist, asks up to $500 for a print of his work depending on the size.
So I hung the picture back on the wall where it belongs. I'm not a big fan of Wild Bill Hickok but I did get a question about him correct when I was watching Jeopardy.
I am a fan of art, Wild Bill or not. I was thrilled to hear from the actual artist. Thank you Mr. Whitt-Prichette.
Saturday, July 09, 2011
Found on the internet from Edain McCoy:
"When one defines oneself as Pagan, it means she or he follows an earth or nature religion, one that sees the divine manifest in all creation. The cycles of nature are our holy days, the earth is our temple, its plants and creatures our partners and teachers. We worship a deity that is both male and female, a mother Goddess and father God, who together created all that is, was, or will be. We respect life, cherish the free will of sentient beings, and accept the sacredness of all creation."
I like that
Sunday, July 03, 2011
"I don't think witchcraft is a religion. I would hope the military officials would take a second look at the decision they made."
Guess who said this.
G.W. Bush (R), as Governor of Texas. Interviewed on ABC's Good Morning America, 1999-JUN-24. He disapproved of Wiccan soldiers being given the same religious rights as others in the military.
What I say is, "I don't think GW has a clue about anything he ever said."
How did we elect this guy president -- NOT ONCE BUT TWICE?!?
Wiccan IS a religion. And Texas is another country.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
I haven't been able to find validation for my own theory about how the pyramids were built.
Most theories revolve around how the Egyptians (or their slaves) lifted humongous blocks, one after the other, to the top of a rising structure as massive as the pyramids especially the Great Pyramid of Giza.)
My theory is that they were built from the top down! I saw only ignorant or derisive comments about this suggestion on a forum someplace in cyberspace. But that was before I explained it.
Here is my theory that makes logical sense, or a least as much sense as saying people moved blocks weighing many tons up to the top of an ever increasing structure as tall as the great pyramid.
My theory is certainly far more reasonable than assuming aliens built the pyramids or aliens taught human beings a method of levitation (that people promptly forgot.)
There has to be an explanation how the Ancient Egyptians (and do we really know who they were?) moved the blocks to the building sites. Once we have the answer to that mystery understanding the rest will be a snap.
Were the huge "bricks" quarried elsewhere and moved to the site? Were they quarried right there in a geological rock deposit long gone from the earth? Or were they perhaps constructed in an unknown way similar to the way a sacred dung beetle makes a ball out of manure? Who's to say the blocks were square to begin with? They could have been rolled there and shaped in cubes after they arrived. Or perhaps they were made with a superior form of concrete?
The possibilities are endless.
Here's how I speculate they were built and it', no more more difficult to ponder than the theory of building them the other way(s).
Built from the top down?!?
Think about it. Weren't the pyramids discovered by someone tripping over a big pointed stone sticking out of the sand? (That's what I heard, though I haven't checked it with Snopes yet.) Didn't that stone turn out to be the top of a pyramid? The discovery of the pointed rock must have resulted in the mother of all gargantuan archaeological digs.
So, my theory is the ancient builders (and I assume they were just as smart--or as dumb--as modern man) dug a hole under one side of the first block, wherever it came from, and pushed, pulled or rolled the next block under it? They then repeated that sequence until they'd moved lots and lots of sand that hopefully blew away in the winds of the desert every night when they knocked off for dinner and beer. When the second block was in position, another hole was dug on the other sides. This process continued until the first layer was in place to lay layer after layer.
I even think that taking sand away from a building site would be a darn sight easier than moving it there to make ramps. If the wind is anything like it is in NM there goes the sand.
If you go to the beach try to make a pile of sand and stand on.
I'm sure some jerk will say it's too hard to put big square rocks under other big square rocks. This same jerk, of course, who easily believes huge blocks were rolled, pushed or pulled onto the top of other blocks. (Or the weirdos who believe in alien builders.)
As far as the remarkable closeness of pyramid blocks (and in other ancient stone constructions around the world) it's a wonder no one else considered the simplest theory...that the weight of the stones would press down over the years and compress the other stones. All it would take is some gravity and some really heavy stones. Hey, we got plenty of that.
As long as we're speculating, perhaps gravity was weaker in the old days. You just never know for sure. Just like believing there might have been atmosphere or water on Mars, right?
This theory can be proved with a simple "experiment." Get one of your rumpled books and stack a pile of other books (or rocks if you want to go to that trouble) on top of it. Come back a few months later and you'll see your rumpled book at the bottom of the pile is no longer rumpled. The weight of the books compressed the rumples. This also works shelf of books -- especially with those hard-readen paperbacks that resemble fans.
My whole point is that no theory is substantiated adequately to be positively, without-a-doubt correct explanation.
A theory is not really a theory without some substantiated evidence anyway. Until that time it's just speculation. Speculations are a dime a dozen. (Sorry for the cliche.)
Another thing, as far as believing the pyramids were tombs--it's not certain they were tombs. Actual burial sites found in the area were not in pyramids. Those other tombs out-numbered the pyramids. In fact, no certain burial sites were found in pyramids.
The truth is, modern man (archaeologist or not) hasn't got a clue how and why pyramids were built.
Oh, regarding another mysterious site Machu Picchu.
Perhaps Machu Picchu was built at sea level and an earthquake bashed the tectonic plates together pushing the site up to the top of the previously non-existent mountains. (I read that theory in a book, by the way.)
Think about it? Wouldn't that make as much sense as builders bringing a bunch of big rocks to the top of a mountain to build another thing we don't know the purpose of?
So, my real point is: DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU HEAR. (Well, someone said that already but it bears repeating.)
Think about what you do hear and decide for yourself. Don't just buy a theory because a bunch of so-called experts sold a popular idea, swore to it and put it on the Discovery Channel.
In fact, you don't have to believe anything after you consider the all possibilities. The theories cancel each other out.
A hundred or a thousand years from now the "truth" will be just another theory based on "expert" popularized belief if books and television still exist.
Didn't people used to believe draining blood out of sick people would cure them? There were a lot of "facts" in ages past. More people died of exsanguination (ex·san·gui·na·tion--ekˌsaNGgwəˈnāS)than the illness plaguing them. (I think one was Beethoven, though you can't believe everything that comes out of Hollywood.)
Comments are invited.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Take a look at our Women's Lionshead Mary Jane. We've combined classic Mary Jane styling with sporty, contemporary materials to create our Women's Lionshead Mary Jane.
Womens Lionhead Mary Janwe
Sizing: Feels true to size
Width: Feels true to width
Pros: Comfortable, Stable, Good Cushioning, Durable, Breathes Well
Cons: Strap doesn't open, Needs shoehorn to get on
Best Uses: Casual Wear, Travel
Describe Yourself: Trendy, High-end shopper, Stylish, Comfort-oriented
These are wonderfully comfortable; and stylish enough to wear everyday including going out. I can wear them everywhere. My only shoes except for boots in the winter and my old Timberland's that are now "slippers."
I was disappointed that the strap was just for looks and didn't open.
It's advertized as slip-on but I had to get a shoe horn to get the back of my foot in. (I wear Medium width.)
Price is reasonable and these are quality shoes that look great and will last a long time.
I had Thimberland shoes, similar Mary Janes, and I loved them. I can't see why everyone wouldn't love them once they try them.
Easy to order online. No long wait. Delivered right to my door.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
ADVICE I WISH I'D FOLLOWED:
1. Don't cook spaghetti wearing your good shoes.
2. Don't wear a good shirt or blouse when you eat spaghetti.
C. If you have to eat spaghetti at a formal gala, make sure do so in a rented tuxedo. Women wear your strapless evening gown enough that the sauce splashes on your cleavage. (You know who you are. And I don't think you can rent gowns.)
(Not that #3 pertains to me, but maybe some rich and famous people read blogs. (I know Aston Kutcher does, oh no sorry, that's facebook.)
OTHER WORTHLESS MUSINGS:
I know Karl Jung is pronounced Karl "Young" in English and in German much the same but with a German accent (and not the one Hogan's Heroes came up with. Oh no--I've dated myself unless you count re-runs.)
Did you ever think how his Karl Jung's name would sound in Spanish? Carlos Hung?
And in Chinese would he sound something like Chang Wang? (Or am I thinking of John Wayne as pronounced by Jackie Chan in one of his bone-breaking movies?)
ABOUT COMPARATIVE RELIGIONS:
I've pretty much discovered all religions are the same at the root (except maybe fundamentalism which focuses on sending everyone else to hell. Though that's irrelevant to the study of religions, especially those with a spiritual basis.)
I compare religions and spiritual teachings to find the similarities, not the differences. Contrary to public opinion.
That outlook might work better than the traditional way of fighting in the name of God or like locking up your own countrymen for very mean reasons, and/or killing a bunches of each other at home and abroad. (Oh no, are we back to German and Chinese. No offense intended. Don't exclude America. And, of course, the Spanish Inquisition.)
As this is designed to be a humorous blogspot (I hope), I won't let you in on how I've connected some dots in comparing religions.
Since it would tend to be rather boring to people not into reading, writing and being opinionated. (Wait, I've heard that " everyone has an opinion". Didn't Ben Franklin coin that phrase or was it one of the President Bushes?)
So, OK. Blog-over for now. Toodle-oo
PS: Comments are welcome except from people suffering from a lack of sense-of-humor.
Friday, April 22, 2011
I received this email today. I hope it's a joke. My comments afterwards are heavily imbued with cynicism, sarcasm and humor. (This is a long one so go get a sandwich first. Good luck.)
Things That Will Disappear in Our Life Time
1. The Post Office. It's so deeply in financial trouble that there's no way to sustain it long term. Email, Fed Ex, and UPS have just about wiped out the minimum revenue needed to keep the post office alive. Most of your mail every day is junk mail and bills.
2. The Check. It costs the financial system billions of dollars a year to process checks. Plastic cards and online transactions will lead to the eventual demise of the check. This will help the death of the post office. If you didn't receive & pay your bills the post office would be gone.
3. The Newspaper. The younger generation simply doesn't read the newspaper. & certainly don't subscribe to home delivery. Reading the paper online, get ready to pay. The rise in mobile Internet devices and e-readers has caused all the newspaper and magazine publishers to form an alliance with big computer and the major cell companies to develop a model for paid subscription services.
4. The Book. You say you will never give up the physical book that you hold in your hand and turn the literal pages? I said the same thing about downloading music. I wanted my hard copy CD. But I discovered I could get albums for half the price without ever leaving home. The same thing will happen with books. You can browse a bookstore online and read a preview chapter before you buy. And the price is less. It's also convenient! You'll forget that you're holding a gadget instead of a book.
5. The Land Line Telephone. Unless you have a large family and make a lot of local calls, you don't need it anymore. Most people keep it simply because they've always had it. You're paying double charges for phone services if you have a cell phone. Already the cell phone companies are letting you call customers with the same provider and include long distance calls, unlike the land line companies.
6. Music. The music industry is dying a slow death. Not just because of illegal downloading, but the greed and corruption. Record labels and the radio conglomerates are simply self-destructing. Over 40% of the music purchased today is "catalog items," meaning traditional music that the public is familiar with by older established artists. This is also true on the live concert circuit.
7. Television. Revenues to the networks are down dramatically. Not just because of the economy. People are watching TV what they want to watch online and streamed to their TV's and computers. They're playing games and doing lots of other things that take up the time that used to be spent watching TV. On top of that cable rates are skyrocketing and commercials run about every 4 minutes and 30 seconds.
8. Privacy. If there ever was a concept that we can look back on nostalgically, it would be privacy. That's gone. It's been gone for a long time anyway. There are cameras on the street, in most of the buildings, and even built into your computer and cell phone. 24/7 "they" know who you are and where you are, right down to the GPS coordinates, and the Google Street View. If you buy something it's put into a zillion profiles, and your ads will be customized to you. Of course, "they'll also send ads to try to get you to buy something else. Again and again.
THAT'S ONE GUY'S OPINION. THIS IS MINE: These things won't become obsolete any time soon. (Except for # 8 which, I fear, is already true. How cheery.)
First of all there's too many people without computers. What about blind people? Paralyzed people? Those without fingers? Hire someone to describe the pictures?
Computers run on electricity. What about people that can't afford the higher electricity bills?
How are people who don't have enough food going to get computers and more electricity? Who's going to issue computers to every man, woman, and child in the world and teach them to use them--especially 80 to 90-year-olds and illiterate people?
This responsibility (and cost) will fall on government which is already understaffed and in debt up to the eyebrows.
Oh, I forgot, medicare and medicare will be out of money so all the old folks, poor folks and handicapped people will be dead. Or living in the woods foraging for food. (No more food stamps.)
Are they going to download the food via computer to refrigerators?
No, wait, the forests will all be gone. Maybe since paper is obsolete the trees can grow back. Oh, without trees there won't be any oxygen so we'll ALL be dead.
In the meantime what are we going to use for toilet paper?
The mail service is run by private companies already. You can bet the farm it makes a profit, mostly from the government who use the services.
Post Office being obsolete will "unemploy" all the postal workers.
A million employees who did all the manual work before computers took over will all be let-go too. These people will all want unemployment benefits and welfare. We can pay them with computers but they won't get these benefits because they won't we be able afford computers or electricity.
We'll all be screwed because our taxes are going to be so high we'll each need our own electronic bank to pay them.
With all this heavy computer use, we'll have to train people to run the computers. Computers can't program themselves, can they? Not yet anyway. We'll need programmers to do that. There'll be a lack of programmers because they won't be able to afford college. Whoa, colleges won't exist! They won't be able to afford all the electricity needed to run everything by computer.
Electric cars will have to be produced too since fuel will be gone by them. Yay, no fumes to poison the skies. But it won't matter because most of us will be dead from the pollution and insecticides we use right now and from bad guys killing & robbing us to pay for their computers and electricity. Oh, wait. They'll be killed off by pollution too. DUH.
If we can't afford to pay benefits for unemployed, poor, handicapped and old people, how will we afford to pay for wars and help poor countries who don't even know what computers are yet? I mean, where is a remote African in a village going to plug in their computers anyway?
We won't be able to kill off everyone without war, will we? We'll eventually have a shortage of military to do the killing and be available to be killed. They'll already be unemployed and dead. I guess computers could kill each other with on line war games.
What about land line phones? Not everyone has a cell phone. Remote areas can't get cell reception. It'll take more signal towers, so's who's going to build them? And pay for them? The government will still be broke, and people'll be poor or dead with no work/money because they couldn't afford computers or electricity.
Whoever builds signal towers would have to buy property to build them on or the government can take the land away from already poor people who still don't have computers and electricity.
But the government, being broke, won't have computers and electricity either.
Also, most wireless computer services go through land lines. So without a land line they won't have internet access. The question will be: will they have enough computers at the library?
Computers are not secure nor safe and it's getting worse. They "crash" and lose all saved material. So there goes, for instance, all the billing data. Nobody gets paid on either end. (I'd like to see rich guys like Donald Trump trust the internet totally to run their business.)
I think doing away with money is a good idea, though. I use my debit card for everything already. I don't like cash or checks. I pay most of my bills on the internet. Internet providers can't stop people from hacking into stuff now...what about when it's all bigger and more complex? No one's electronic money will be safe.
Add in the extra electronic load of billing and paying that will slow connections down even worse, and...oh, I forgot--all those unemployed people won't be paying bills. So never mind.
Terrorists will have a new target, an easy way to stop civilization as we know it--hacking and destroying electronic signals and the world-wide-web. Assuming they won't have to use computers or electricity which they won't be able to afford because they won't be getting rich on oil production anymore.
No oil, no gas, no cars, no jobs, no electricity, no land lines. It'll snowball in a chilly chain reaction. Stephen King would have a ball. But then no one could read his "books" without computers/electricity. Well, you get the idea.
There's nothing anyone can do to stop bands and orchestras from playing LIVE music. Even if there is no electricity they can use non-electric instruments. We could have one band on every street corner...heck, IN the street if there're no cars due to no oil. At least the bands can play til dark. With no street lights for the same reasons overstated several times above.
But what about no more sales from CD players? Won't manufacturers and stores be gone eventually? World economy won't just drop, it would fail completely without being able to sell stuff to everyone and his brother. I mean, China would go out of business.
Oh, of course! Silly me. Everyone will be unemployed, stuck at home in the dark with no food. Or dead. Problem solved.
People are publishing their own books and music more and more. How are we going to stop them? Door to door search to arrest people who write, publish, sell, and read paper books, or musicians and music fans?
We'd have to burn the books we already have. Oh. We tried that a couple three times, and it didn't work. Whew. (That also included burning up a lot of people. That's out of vogue now. Whew again.)
This all sounds like that stupid idea to make everyone use fluorescent bulbs. The little ones with toxic gases in them. So what if the broken ones kill a bunch of kids? They'd only grow up to be unemployed and starving at home with no computers and electricity anyway.
Of course there won't be any homes at all with all the repair people & builders who will all be unemployed as their tools run on unaffordable electricity. They couldn't get paid on computers they don't have. Not to mention being too weak from not having food. And/or dead of course.)
Who is going to take care of all this mess? The government? Not if taxpayers go the way of the dinosaurs and congress won't get paid.
What are the courts going to do with all the overload of people cited or arrested for reading paper books, listening to CD's, and using incandescent light bulbs? Of course Court will be convened on computers and closed circuit TV. What'll they do when someone fails to show up? Swear out a bench warrant for the computer?
I'm wondering when we're going get devices planted in our heads so we can receive signals directly into our brains. We can even include medical diagnoses and treatments with that. Then guess what? No hospitals just unemployed doctors and nurses.
I don't go by predictions much. The predictions from my childhood said we'd have hovercrafts by now instead of cars. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway because the new ice age would've been here by now, and I'd be frozen as stiff as a CD. If my teachers weren't all retired or dead by now, they could verify they mentioned it. But they'd have to have your email address and without any computers or electricity--forget it.
If you didn't have a computer or electricity you wouldn't be reading this anyway. So...have a good laugh. Turn off your computer right now and give your electricity a rest. Hopefully, computers'll become obsolete and we can get back to cooking over campfires and living in caves. Ah the good ole days.
None of this'll actually matter because people'll become obsolete. All the computers will be completely bored and commit electronic suicide. Assuming they have electricity.
As Anonymous said, "Life is short. Eat dessert first."
I watched an "old" (2004. Rated R) movie DVD I checked out of the library. I guess I can't complain since it was free. But...
Closer. I think it meant more close, not the meaning (or pronunciation) of Closer in Kyra Sedgwick's television cop series.
Close to what?
I was surprised to see these 30-something people acting more like teenagers or immature 20-somethings. Changing partners. Jealousy. Arguments. Throwing "fuck" into ever scene (verbally and implied.)
I was also surprised someone didn't off themselves or someone else.
This was definitely not a comedy unless you like to watch fools go 'round and 'round and never get anything except lots of action and self-created problems.
I didn't feel empathy for any of them. Is a comedy supposed to be focusing on sad pathetic people?
However, it IS worth watching if you want to see a younger Natalie Portman (nearly) nude. You can turn off the dialog to catch her scenes.
If you're single, lonely and want to get turned on (or turned off of seeking romance) try this movie. It would work for you either way.
And, oh--if you happen to like seeing grown men cry, Closer is for you.
Thursday, April 07, 2011
Good lord and lady, it's raining here in the mountains! No wonder my joints were aching yesterday. (That and lifting the filled 20-pound (or is it 20-gallon?) propane tank. I can see I'm going to have to have some help with tanks when I live alone. A dolly or a serious cart. I doubt it would work to roll a full tank. I really don't want to blow up. If I do I'd rather die quick. I HATE going to the hospital for extended visits. And I really LOVE having skin.
On the other hand, I could get an electric hot water heater if I should hit the lottery. A hot water heater and taking a trip to Europe, I mean, and not necessarily in that order.
Hmmm, I could get propane delivered for $1000 a fill-up. It’d probably take me a two or three years to use up the propane needed for my hot water alone. But they make you order a fill-up now and again or they come and take the tank back. (Really.)
I suppose I could heat the damn water on the stove. I don’t need showers much. I have a hot tub to sanitize me, but I don't know if I really like that idea.
I'm going to have to get someone to teach me how to hook up the tank. Of course I can get a bigger tank that would last longer and have my lazy, grumpy, inconsiderate son (he says it's stress) to get it filled and hook it up for me. He told me that if I wanted him to help me, I should call him and say, "Get your ass over here and hook up the fucking propane tank, you lazy son-of-a-bitch asshole." And he added, "You don't know how to talk to people!"
Okay... And who's he kidding? I taught him to talk like that.
I wouldn't be using as much propane and hot water as he and his family do. Of course if I were rich I'd get an electric hot water heater and pay an electrician to hook it up. It couldn't cost much more than the damn electric stove. It was a $1400 stove, a last-year's-model, marked down to a mere $450. I got it home and found out that we didn't really have a 220-outlet behind the gas stove after all. So I only had to pay an electrician $1100 to have the line put in. Not bad considering he had to run the line along the outside roof overhang in a metal pipe all the way from the main electric box in the back of the house to the kitchen near the front. About fifty miles of it. So much for a good deal on the stove.
I guess the stove was worth it. It features what I wanted--ceramic top and self-cleaning oven and considerably cleaner than my old stove. It’s a small price to pay for cooked food the rest of my life, right?
Like I started to say, my son & his sweetie take showers everyday and wash their kids up very often in the over sized bathtub that leaks into my laundry room below (they deny their kids are splashing.) It's a big tub with “jacuzzi” jets that I never used after we got the hot tub.
I'd have the tub removed if I could. But it's non-removable. Probably weighs as much as a hundred 20-pound propane tanks.
Not to mention cemented-in.
BTW, I thought little boys are supposed to be dirty. When my kids were little I found out a lot of dirt rubs off on the sheets at night. That was Las Vegas NV desert dirt (modified sand that brushes off.) I loved it. Las Vegas I mean, not just the sand. The weather was so good that the kids could pay outside all year. It only rained 4 inches a year (mostly at the same time causing flash floods.) It only ever snowed once while we lived there and then only because one of my kids--never admitted who he was--prayed for snow. It melted about 20 minutes later.
The only thing about LV sand, you didn’t dare walk on it bare-footed in the summer. Super-Ouch. Though you could probably bake an egg on it. I think my kids tried it once. The dog ate it before we could tell.
Here in the East Mountains the dirt is what adobe bricks are made of. You have to wash your kids off quick or it sticks. There are some houses in old town with adobe bricks 300 years old. I wouldn't want my grandsons walking around looking like Horno Ovens. I've included a picture of an horno below for people who have never seen one. Those who thought NM was really in Mexico. And thought they needed a passport to visit here. (I met person who thought Las Vegas was in California. But at least CA’s in the United States.)
New Mexicans really use modern BBQ grills here. Most hornos are for decoration. Or in museums.
Oh the sun's trying to come out now. Partly cloudy must be weatherman code for intermittent overcast. I do hope the trees got enough water to keep them going a little while longer. Though I suppose the 100-foot Ponderosa Pines have roots a hundred feet deep into an underground river or something. Our well is only 199 feet deep so we aren't in competition with the trees for water. I hope. If we run out of water we can have it delivered. I saw the truck a couple months ago.
What did I want to say today? Oh yeah. I watched the movie The Social Network about the guy(s) that started Facebook. It was mostly talk -- very very fast talk. I did get the feel of what a college is like as well as seeing the horrific types of parties kids have now-a-days. Hell, I admit I might have been to some equally scary parties back in my college days and early marriedhood. But I didn’t shock as easily then and of course I was drunk so who can remember?
It hasn't rained here since...I don’t know when. It snowed precious little all winter. Mild winter except for the cold snaps of 35 below zero with warmer gusts of minus ten. Froze our water pipes twice.
I called the snowplow guy only once (for 75 fucking dollars) and bought some new all-season tires (for a mere 500 dollars plus tossing out the tires off my year-old car.)
Holy shit. I have a good excuse for throwing away money — "mania." Thank God and Goddess, there'er good meds for that now. I still have the habit of getting rid of money. I’m just not depressed about it like I used to be.
I was sure after getting all-weather tires installed that I wouldn't ever need them. It's like the reverse of washing your car and it rains. Like, umm, get car insurance so you won't have an accident. Or buy health insurance so you never get sick. Having life insurance so you don't die. Well, you will eventually. But you know what I mean. I guess getting new tires when you already have really new tires is better than wasting money on candy for instance.
At least I'm prepared in case the universe decides to put things back to normal, i.e., piles of snow and hubcap-deep mud. Driving on ice is tricky too. Since the road is paved now it makes the snow melt all day. When it freezes at night it's like ice hockey with a 3000-pound puck.
I had a little car when I first moved to Juan Tomas that could get up steep Juan Tomas hill only sliding down a few times getting to the top. At least I slid in a circle and faced downhill. Anyone coming along would think I’d planned to come and would know enough to get the hell out of the way so I wouldn't bounce off of them on the way to the bottom.
I'm too chicken to drive in snow or mud these days. Wisdom comes with age, you know.
I have experience with slippery mud, too. I took the top of unpaved Juan Tomas Road in the mud. Much to my surprise, I found out brakes don't work on slippery stuff! I slid onto a tree stump. I didn't notice the bumper was a bit crooked until later. I didn’t consider a slip off the road to be an accident and I'm pretty sure I wasn't at fault. I had a good excuse: MUD. So my insurance company never heard from me. At least it was a relief to know the stump couldn't sue.
Gravel is equally slippery. I found out the hard way when I took a turn a wee bit too fast. I made the turn on two wheels. I mean, literally. My son who was about eleven said, "Hey, cool. Let's do it again!" Recently, on his way to drop off his little boy at school on the snowy road, he gunned his “vintage” (dilapidated) Camero to take Juan Tomas hill and slid into a tree. Twice. Some people only learn by repetition. He didn't think THAT was cool. No one was hurt and the Camero was officially declared junk finally, so some good came out of it.
I hoped it would rain enough today even if it led to mud. I haven't ventured out to see for myself. It would be easy to let the dog in and watch for muddy footprints. I could actually walk outside to see how much mud clings to my shoes, but I don't dare do that. As I said, adobe mud is slippery and it’s vastly heavy when it dries on shoes. Adobe mud hardens into industrial strength cement.
Oh yeah. I have to record my dream before I forget the whole thing. I usually forget my dreams but find the mood they set lingers with me all day. I was with some guy that looked like a cross between two of Ed's friends Harold and Tim at a self-improvement conference lead by some jackass that wanted us to remove our pants and line up in our underwear so we would get over embarrassment. I refused to do it. I decided then and there I was a rebel. Finally I did get up and get in a line for woman's restroom. When I dream I'm waiting for a stall, it means I have to go in real life. So I usually wake up and go. Thankfully it's in that order.
I also had a dream about being back at my old job at the LVMPD standing at the counter trying to see over a bunch of old typewriters. I suggested to the boss that we move some of them, and she was the same bitch she was back then. No. They had to stay there. I still have nightmares about the records bureau.
Oh, I know what woke me up in the night. The electricity kept blinking off and on. I could hear the cordless phone bleeping when the electricity started back up again. It was out only a few seconds at a time. But I noticed instantly that it is so QUIET when the electricity was off. There is definitely a sound when electricity goes thorough wires, even when electrical devices “off.” It’s amazing (until I get an electric bill for $500.)
We're too far from Taos to hear the Taos Hum. But I could swear, now and then, that Juan Tomas has a hum too. Or maybe it's the Air Force base a few mountains over testing some sort flying craft they made with secret alien technology?
This IS New Mexico, home of the Roswell flying saucer crash sixty-five years ago. Yeah, right. LOL-doubled. That rumor didn't even start until 30 or 40 years later. I have heard rumors it was a weather balloon. True, those suckers are scary when you see your first one. But I'm sure I read somewhere it was a spy balloon that the American government put up to circle the earth to see what Russian war-mongers were up to in the cold-war era after WWII.
However, my theory is it was a leftover Japanese balloon that had a bomb attached that crashed in Roswell. The government DID have a cover-up on those things. There were hundreds (or at least dozens) of them) drifting across the Pacific long after the war was over. None of the others, of course, exploded.
Hey. I saw it on PBS so it's true. PBS doesn't lie.
I hope all these armed balloons are gone by now. You just never know.
I’ve got to go now. It's almost lunch time and I haven't eaten breakfast yet.
To my friends and relatives, come over and visit me in NM. You don’t need a passport. Honest.
I'm still thinking about that movie South from Granada I mentioned on my other blog Movie Opinions April 4, 2011. Since I don't do spoilers on that blog, merely give my opinion of a movie to let people know a bit about the movie so they can decide to watch it or not, I thought I go ahead and spoil it on here.
Does anyone read this anyway?
First of all, what foreign movie industries label "comedy" or "romantic comedy" is WAY different than what American movies mean by "romantic" and/or comedy. This movie, in my opinion, was far from a comedy. This was a drama. Few laughs except when Brenan calls after the girl who ran out of the room after the first time they made-love, "Was it that bad?"
I watched my way through Matthew Goode's movies, mostly newest to oldest, until I got to his first movie South from Granada (there's one earlier made-for-British-TV movie which no one's ever heard of, Ugliest Stepsister or something.)
I've liked all his movies (Leap Year is still my favorite even thought it's not his best.) All except Chasing Liberty, that is. Groan, Cough-cough. Icky-poo.
South From Granada, a Spanish movie, is based on a memoir of Gerald Brenan, a writer, who lived in Spain circa 1920.
Matthew Goode, in an attempt to make him look a little like Brenan, had his hair dyed golden blond. He has naturally curly hair so this made him look like a cute little English Moppet. Except for the fact he is long and lanky (over 6-feet tall and almost painfully slender) and has a glorious deeper than deep voice. He looked quite good with blond hair, just not as powerful or as mature as he looks with natural black hair.
Another scene, completely unbelievable at the end was supposed to be 20 years later. The daughter who would then be 23, still looked like a young teenager, while the Brenans looked about 70. I sure didn't like seeing Matthew mostly white-haired and bald with wrinkles and bags under his eyes. And you'd think he'd gain a little weight by then and not stay so string-beany.
I was amazed to read that Matthew Goode doesn't speak Spanish. (The Spanish in Spain is as different from New Mexican Spanish that they might have been speaking Martian. All all I caught was por favor a couple of times.) In reality, Matthew spoke his lines by phonetic imitation. It takes exceptional talent and intelligence to be able to do that.
I found it hard to read the subtitles AND keep my eyes on the characters and action at the same time. I had to keep backing the DVD up and replaying it to catch some of the dialog and/or look at Matthew's beautiful face.
In one delicious scene, that looked awkward as hell, Gerald and Juliana are learning to dance to the tune of a gramophone. The actor and actress were both completely naked. It was just a few delightful seconds, so don't blink or you'll miss it. But I must say, Matthew is definitely hung, if you know what that means. (You can see this scene on YouTube if you search a little.) He's also surprisingly muscular which isn't obvious when you see him clothed.
I feel a bit about this movie the way I felt about Imagine Me and You. In that movie, I was sad for the husband who was dumped by his new bride in favor of another woman. It was a comedy in the sense that it had a happy ending, I guess. But Matthew did such a convincing performance as a worried, hurt and sad man that he had me crying. At least it had a few more laughs in it than South from Granada.
In South from Grenada, Matthew's character Gerald Brenan has a child with his young lover who was a maid in his rented house, as was the custom at that time (and might still be for all I know.) He leaves her to go back to England, promising he'll be back. But he doesn't come back for three years and, in fact, get married in the space of that three years. (If I were writing this, I would bring him back to town to live with his lover joyfully forever. I guess real life is different. In this movie I'd prefer more fiction.
Not only that, the guy he returns three years later with mustache and his wife in tow and they get his little girl and leaves town again.
Granted, the mother did say yes. Actually she said, "If she stays here she'll be as poor as the rest of us," or words to that effect.
It's how I felt about Buddha Gautama when I first heard he left his wife and child (and palace) to go sit under a tree and contemplate. How spiritual is that, I ask you? I've forgiven him now. But hard on the kids, these broken families.
South from Granada is a little like Madame Butterfly the opera, without all the singing, in which the navy lieutenant leaves the Japanese "wife" there with their son. Then he returns with his wife to claim the boy. Of course the Japanese girl does what is expected of her...commits supuku or ritual suicide. In this movie, the Spanish senorita doesn't kill herself, she just goes on jumping into bed with other lovers and presumably having more children. But still...
It's time to put Leap Year on my DVD player and chase South from Granada out of my mind.
Matthew Goode as Declan. Leap Year 2010
Sunday, April 10, 2011
I used to be one of those people obsessed with eating/not eating. Not necessarily interested in food or preparing it, just woofing it down or preventing myself from woofing it down. But now that I've kicked the compulsive eating syndrome, I'm beginning to feel an appreciation for food and cooking.
I can see now why cooking is considered and art. It's creative. It's enjoyable to prepare meals that are both beautiful and delicious. (Ohmygod, I sound like Martha Stewart.)
The problems that discouraged me in the past were:
1) Never having all the ingredients in recipes in my kitchen, so I made them up with what I had,
2) Wanting something easy, simple and fast to feed a passel of kids,
3) Using packaged food,
4) Having at least one husband who didn't give a flying fig about food or eating with me,)
5) Recipes did work right or look like they were supposed to.
Then there were the times when we didn't have anything to eat in the house except macaroni (well, once.) Now when young people say, "We don't have anything to eat," they mean, "Everything is frozen and I don't have time to defrost it," or "We don't like anything we have, Or "We don't do leftovers so let's throw them away." Which means, in my eyes, "Let's waste food." Or, a new one, "My food stamps haven't come yet."
Sorry if I'm so cynical but I think I'm turning into my mother-in-law who used to freak out if her kids or her grandkids waste food or ate popcorn for dinner. Heck, we truly didn't want to eat everything on our plate because we really were full. And we were on the way to the movie theater so didn't really have time to eat a full, nutritious meal she always wanted to cook us.
Now to the point. I attend a book discussion group once a week with other single ladies. It's heavy reading and takes a lot of energy to plow through (like Tibetan Book of the Dead with editor commentary) so we began to alternate bringing something to eat afterwards so we could relax and enjoy conversation.
It's gone from a potluck fare to becoming a gourmet dinner party. There might even be a smidgen of "Can-you-top-this?" involved.
I'm not complaining. I LOVE IT. I'm becoming eager to my week to cook and shopping at the fancy-schmancy grocery stores, Sunflower or Trader Joe's, for tasty, fresh and/or organic items.
We began with sharing "main course." Gradually we added appetizers for when someone showed up hungry--snacks to nibble while we read and sipped herbal tea such as brie cheese and those small whole grain Wheat Thins.
Our next addition was a selection of bread, some of which homemade and sometimes rare and exotic. With nice, soft, creamy butter or warm garlic bread.
Then our hostess began making these amazing salads because she has a garden. The salads would make a full meal but we eat them with the main course. Lately I noticed she's also adding more and more amazing ingredients. Things that I love such as artichoke hearts or avocado. With homemade balsamic vinegar dressing also. Yum.
Then the lady that loves to bake started doing little breads and unusual cookies, so we advanced to another course--desert. One week it was fresh, sliced strawberries, out of season. Yum again.
Some of the wonderful things we've fixed and/or eaten are lasagna made from scratch. Ditto on spaghetti and meat balls. Bruschetta. Homemade green chile stew. Makes me hungry to even think about it. Steamed homegrown asparagus. Yum times three.
The week I fixed a green chile stew I had to say, "This is so good I can't believe I made it!"
We've also added sides to the main course.
This is magnificent!!! I'm so glad to be a part of it.
The week before last, in my fervor for Julie and Julia (and books the movie was based on)I made a creamed mushroom soup. I even chopped the mushrooms into little pieces rather than just slicing them, used the leeks instead of onions that were substitutes. It called for three cups of milk and a cup of sour cream. The sour cream from the health food store was thick and shiny and had a taste out of this world! (Is that an old cliche? Sorry. Now I sound like a Campbell's Soup can.)
I told another friend about this great dinner party/book discussion group and my mushroom soup and she gasped and said it was terribly "unhealthy." I stood by my Julia Child recipe and declare it was only milk like we drink anyway, and sour cream instead of heavy cream. (I didn't mention the butter I'd sauteed the leeks in.) I also told her since we weren't eating meat it wasn't overdoing it with "fat." So she knuckled under and said it was okay since we shared it among several people (And I had leftovers which I don't mind eating.)
If you'd like to join a book discussion groups with fabulous books, cooks and food, the next book on the reading list is Mysteries of the Kabbalah, call me, and I'll give you directions.
Friday, April 08, 2011
I'm not exactly inspired or eager. I just have a lot to say and no one around to talk to.
Besides I have to put off vacuuming to the last minute. I do better with a deadline. And a friend I've known since mid-school is stopping by on her way from L.A., CA to someplace else. She has this really cool van with extra headroom and a queen sized bed and a warm feather comforter.
She's fearless of driving on freeways and around cities. I guess it's the training she's had on treacherous CA freeways. (I, on the other hand, live in the country far enough away from a SMALL city, so I don't need to drive on freeways.) On I-40 in Albuquerque people actually let you into traffic when your coming from an on-ramp. Except the people from out-of-state. Theey're most likely from CA. And trucks don't count being filled with crazy truck drivers apparently above the law.
My friend thinks nothing of driving three-thousand miles alone. She pulls over into parking lots at night to sleep. (Godforbid, is it a WalMart parking lot?)
I have two questions for her that I don't have the guts to ask. Is she armed? And does she have a port-a-potty in there?
Also this morning, I can see my reflection in the computer screen and my hair, from sleeping all night, is a mess. I look like a 1960's NY artist. I plan to take a shower and fix my hair after I vacuum, right after she calls and says she's nearly here.
I just can't tear myself away from writing sometimes. Especially when my brain keeps streaming me words like Netlix streams me movies.
I have to let the ideas out or my head might explode splattering words everywhere. Another thing I'd have to vacuum up.
I took my last two blog entries off this blog Advising Myself? And started a new one called Advising Myself Too (get it? too/two?) They had "adult" words and I have to post a "warning. I've always thought people who talked cuss words and dirty remarks were not "adult" but rather immature.
There you go.
I do love to cuss as much as I love to use big, intellectual words to show how smart I really am and not immature. I guess some people just think that's stupid.
You know the difference between dumb and stupid, don't you? My son told me this about 20 years ago (when he was 11.) Dumb is when you don't know anything. Stupid is when everything you know is wrong.
Perhaps you've heard that old joke. Sorry. I'm not dumb or stupid. The worst I can be chastised for is either trying to show I'm smarter than other people, or of dumbing myself down so people will think I'm normal like them. See? I use bad grammar to ingratiate myself to the masses.
I hope you check out my other blog Advising Myself Too. I think the entries (two so far) have more to offer than this silly blog; that is, if you can stand reading assorted "adult" words and the occasional f-word. (BTW, I think blogspot might have a computer that scans for dirty words. I can't imagine a real person reading these blogs.)
So, where was I?
Ah, words. This blog is for and about writers today. Specifically it's about breathing. Or writing about it. I know writers are looking for new and exciting words to say the same old thing over and over. But, come on, some of these things are just awful.
My pet peeve is the narrative containing "He took a deep breath and blew it out." It brings to mind an image of a guy pursing his lips and blowing like he's putting out this birthday cake.
The expression "He took a deep breath and let it out slowly," brings to mind one of those seminars where some guru is trying to teach an auditorium to visualize or meditate. He can even say, "Take a deep breath and blow it out." if it's for dramatic effect and emphasis.
Why can't the writers just say, "He took a deep breath." I mean, the exhale is a given, right? We all know you breathe out after you breathe in. Unless of course you want to set a mood and convey something like a victim dangling from a noose. "He took a deep breath and gasped for air." Now that would be descriptive enough to give you an inkling that you're reading something like Stephen King.
Well, that's it. That's my message today. (I'll bet some writers just cringe when I write "well" at the beginning of a sentence. But if I write like I talk, well, "well" is a good word to set a mood and let you know it's a blog and not horror novel.)
I have to go clean up the house. And then myself. Though, I've heard it said (Dear Abby?) that people come to you, not your house. It helps if they don't step in something sticky. Although, getting covered in cat hair from the waist down is a given, right?
Thanks for reading me!
Cat Clip Art
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Have you ever wondered what happens to the words and pictures on posts and letters when you enter them into your computer and press send?
I can understand where money goes when you order something online. Some sort of electronic brain adds you to a list; then a person then puts the item in a box with your address and ships it to you. (Or are boxing and labeling done by machines now?) Do you ever wonder why there's not more mistakes. For instance, you ordering a book on automobile repairs and get a used DVD of old Lawrence Welk shows?
The electronic "stores" zap the money out of your account into their account. Simple.
Banking on line is getting more amazing than that. We can actually deposit checks from our computers and our cell phones.
So you send an image of your check. This picture of your check enables your bank's computers to zap money out the other guys bank into your account. It seems fool-proof, right? George Doe won't be able to zap your deposit into his off shore Cayman account. Unless he has a smarter computer than your bank. It's just a matter of time. Hopefully the rate of technological change will stay one step ahead of him.
However, I do wonder what money really is if it isn't wrinkled green pieces of paper and little round disks with dead politicians' pictures on them.
Where does information fed into computers actually go? When I click publish on my blog and turn off my computer where are the words stored? Someplace in computerized warehouse with humongous storage bins of electronic drawers? Or does it just linger in the air between your computer and other peoples computers?
Just where is facebook really? Where is blogspot? And where the hell are Amazon and Netflix? Are they buildings, people or are they just a gigantic brain called world wide web?
Many stores can send movies and e-book instantly to our computers, TVs, and other amazing electronic devices like Wii and Kindle. Where ARE these e-books and movies before someone zaps them to you (and zaps away your money?) At least you can see books on a shelf at the bookstore or movies projected on a screen at the theater.
When televisions and phones were invented, we had an idea where the pictures and sounds came from. Much like light coming out of incandescent light bulbs, it was wires coming out of walls and strung on electric & telephone poles that connected us to the outside world. Right?
Then we found out that televion and radio waves are traveling invisibly through the air in each and every direction. (Air's oxygen and other elements, thank God.) THen again, have you alwasy wondered, along with me, whether these waves go around us or straight through us as they make their way to a receiver?
If anyone has a clue let me know what cyberspace is and more inportantly where it is. Surely it's more than just a concept?
Try not to wonder too much. Computers do most of everything for us, why not let them do it?
Saturday, February 26, 2011
I have some questions about some things in America that are contradictory besides the obvious such as "we park on a driveway and drive on a parkway."
Why is it, if we think of something bad it happens almost immediately, and what we want to happen never happens? Oh, I did drop a jelly bread that landed jelly side UP once.
Why can't most Americans understand accents from the British Isles when the British actually speak English?
Then again, in Leap Year, Matthew Goode spoke with an Irish accent and Amy Adams--"Anna from Boston"--spoke with her Californian accent and didn't even try to put on a Boston accent?
Speaking of accents, what about those actors using foreign accents to simlate a foreign language? If they were really speaking their own languages would they have accents? Why couldn't they just talk normally and let us assume they're speaking in their own languages? (Or speak in that language and use subtitles? (More movies are doing that. And why don't Americans learn second languages? Spanish in elementary, French in mid-school, German in high-school, and a choice in college? Maybe I should mention British, but that's supposed to be English. (Oh yeah, I forgot, they invented English.)
Exception: In The Man in the Iron Mask it was refreshing to see the three musketeers played by John Malkovich who spoke with his Chicago accent, Gérard Depardieu who spoke with his French accent and that other guy (Jeremy Irons) who had an English accent. The fourth musketeer d'Artagnan had a generic American accent (if there is such a thing.) It might have been embarrassing, but it was realistic. Bravo to the producer who allowed it. (Who knows? He might have given up. And if they were speaking in British accents, who would understand them?)
What's with a fourth musketeer in movie about the three musketeers anyway?
Why is it, too, that when you are married you have to fend off admirers, and when you're single and lonely there's nobody to be found?
Why is it when you're young you haven't got a clue about life and when you get wisdom and know how to use your brains you're too old to do anything with it? (Well, you can write blogs nobody reads.)
Why is it when you're young and start writing you don't have any experiences to write about and no writing knowledge, and when you're good at writing you can't remember which characters are which and what they said (or their eye color?) (I think it was Tony Hillerman who admitted he forgot a complete character.)
Why is it when you're working you have the money to do things and when you're not working you're broke? And when you're working you have plenty of time to do things, and when you're working you're too damn tired to do anything, let alone have time?
Why is it when you're young you don't appreciate your parents and when you realize they were pretty great they're dead? Same goes for your kids, not dead, but no longer sweet little babies you can lavish with love anymore?
What was that silly saying? "You don't miss the water til the river runs dry." Of course not. How can you "miss" something you still have? It should say, "You don't appreciate the water til the river runs dry." That must apply to everything.
How come you don't appreciate how thin you were when you first started thinking you were fat? When you're really get fat, oops, too late...
What's that saying, "You get what you deserve" only applies when something bad happens to you? To get good things you have to work hard and earn it?
I am so glad that when I order a ham and swiss sandwich with mayo on rye bread, I actually get ham and swiss with mayo on rye.
See my Movie Opinions Blog at www.sandy-schairer.blogspot.com
Sunday, February 20, 2011
See my other blog: Movie Reviews
I don't really write movie “reviews.” I add personal things to my Movie blog, so it doesn’t count as review. I don't care what people watch. But I do believe life is too short to watch bad movies. We can use all the help we can get as we wind our way through the isles of video stores, Netflix or Amazon websites, or flipping our way through television channels.
I think the movies the media raves about, no one really likes. The ones I like no one even sees. Hardly anyone. There is ME and the people that make them. And perhaps their relatives.
I think movies are the meaning to life. Fiction can be more real than real life. Have you noticed? Even ones based on true stories seem real.
Okay. Okay. I’m trying to be witty. But it's true. When I started being witty women weren't allowed to be witty. People who read my stuff frequently don't get my humor. One comment on facebook said they hoped I found something to make me happy soon instead of sounding so negative and sarcastic. What was his excuse?
I like older movies. With more recent movies I have a tendency to rent one and then buy it and watch it a bunch more times. I think that might be obsessive/compulsive, but it’s more fun than washing ones hands a million times a day. (If I were afraid of germs, I would've never had kids. I mean they're germy little things--children. (Not those other things you're thinking of.)
However, I have overcome my compulsion to shop and spend dozens of dollars on things I don’t really need. Like, I can either lose weight or gain some to fit perfectly into the clothes I already have.
I also get hooked on an actor or actress and watch all their movies, similar to reading all the books of a certain author. In order. I do that too.
I have been falling in-love with movie stars since I was 8. I think the answer is reincarnation. I knew those old Hollywood guys in a previous life. For instance, I loved Clark Gable. I think I was just a wanna-be actress who partied her self to death. (I don’t think partied is a real word. I hope I spelled it right.)
It's good to express myself in my blogs. Sort of like therapy. It’s good I have something to do (like write.) I like staying at home in winter. Only thing I must go to is doctor appointments and therapy. Therapy is starting to help. I do better when I act like an adult. I am building up my confidence more now. How else would I get the nerve to put this out into cyberspace? I wonder if Woody Allen has a blog? Could’ve saved himself a lot of money over the years on psychoanalysis.
I guess I could call my blog "Diary of a Mad Widow" (remember that old movie Diary of a Mad Housewife? I fell in love with the actor in that movie. He's ugly now and was in that horrid movie The Box. Icky. (Sorry Frank, nothing personal.)
My shrink put me on antidepressants because all I could do was sit here and cry and fee awful. I now sit here and watch movies and knit but I’m way happier. Life’s a blast no matter what you think, feel, say or do. No seriously, it is. Try it.
When the weather warms up I plan to travel. I’m taking my dog. I spend a lot of time treating my dog like a baby. She has a bad hip (so do I) so we can keep up with each other.
I like having her in my room at night because she wakes me up early. The only problem with that is feeling sleepy at 8:30 PM. Bad news if I happen to be out driving.
So...I reveal all my inner activities while other people tell me things they actually do. My therapist says I'm an introvert. No duh. Manic Depressive too. Known that for 50 years. Now that I am being treated for it I should probably find something to do with my life.
Oh, I do have something I do! I'm in a book study Monday nights. We’re reading Tibetan Book of the Dead with commentary. Mostly we bring dinner and visit with each other after reading out loud. We don't understand what we're reading so we can't really discuss it.
I make the effort to get dressed and go to church now and then, mostly to see my friends. I met my late husband at church in 1987. But meeting men that way isn’t going to work for me anymore. I used to attract men with sex and money. I need a blind boyfriend who doesn’t want to go shopping.
Now I hang out with my women friends, all other writers. They make me feel cool. And normal.
Thanks for letting me get this off my chest. (What does that mean?) Like that girl who said in Imagine Me and You her teacher always said (imagine English accents.) "There's no problem insoluble given a big enough plastic bag." The character she was cheering up asked, "What does that mean?" They were both very cool in that movie. One of them was nine.
I’d better quit now and go see what my daughter-in-law fixed for lunch. Oh yeah. I’m home alone. One of these days I’m gonna learn how to cook. My kids would have appreciated that.