Summertime is something that has escaped me because of the climate where I’m located. I’m definitely not complaining because I could be in 100+ degrees Fahrenheit temperatures. However, the past couple of days has seen summertime weather break through from nowhere. This summertime is different as I’ve put a lot on the line to move several steps closer to my dreams, goals, desires (fill in the blank with appropriate phrase). On one hand, it is as if I’m on a three month vacation in an idyllic location that many would love to visit. On the other hand, because the direction of my future hangs in the balance, it is more like a tense time of uncertainty and anxiety, mixed with moments of resignation and frustration. Today, I made desperate pleas to the universe, requested any divine intervention on my behalf, did Reiki and prayed for a positive outcome on something that came up. After doing what I could do, I then decided it was time for me to leave all of that tense anxiety alone and to get outside to take in some of the abundant summertime. During times like these, I lean on and embrace the restorative power of nature to move me beyond anxiety. I hopped on the bike and decided to pedal to where my two legs on two wheels could take me. For over two hours, I went into the heart of Summertime. I passed pastures where cows where grazing and sleeping. I passed sheep that were peacefully eating. I marveled at horses leisurely roaming. Insects, usually a concern for me while in nature, didn’t bother me. A few came along (on me) for a free ride and one dragonfly had a T-bone collision with my chest from which I hope he recovered. On my route, I passed houses that were at once removed from the hustle and bustle of the high-density population area I started from but only a 20 or 30 minute bicycle ride away. As I pedaled in this area, one of the things that overcame me echoes the lyrics from the song “Summertime”. “Summertime, and the living is easy.” The ride enlisted almost all of my senses (except taste). I saw the interplay of light and shadow as I rode along a tree-lined route. At times, I heard the gurgle of water lazily flowing through the canals under dense cover of underbrush. I could also hear the sound of the air rushing past my ears as I rode along. I smelled the intensely earthy smell that animals, water and earth can make. Unlike areas with animals clustered close together, this smelled good and it smelled right. As I pedaled in this area, enjoying the alternating coolness of the shade and the warmth of the sun, life for a couple of hours felt easy. The concerns that were foremost on my mind faded away as I imagined what it would be like to wake up in one of the houses along the way and live what seemed to be a peaceful, idyllic and serene life in this most tranquil setting. Although those exact houses are not on my list of desires (although I did see notices for a couple of houses that WERE for sale), that peaceful feeling of being in such a tranquil setting, experiencing being alive with almost all of my senses will stay with me after today. Hopefully it won’t be until tomorrow, lol. With Summertime being the title and theme of this post, I give you the great Sam Cooke whose delivery of this song mirrors how I felt on this ride. Enjoy!
Author: pfspirit
I’ll Repeat Something One More Time
In “If You Repeat Something Enough Times…“, I posted a video montage by Conan O’Brien to highlight how a single piece of information is parroted across 18 news programs around the country with little to no editing. The intent of the previous post – the dangerous repetition and almost verbatim conformity of message found across the media – may have been lost to those who were derailed by the subject matter (same-sex marriage). Newscasters introducing the topic with “Conan O’Brien may be about to push the envelope” already give an opinion of what’s about to come after that loaded statement. Without knowing what Conan is about to do, the viewer knows that Conan is about to do something that goes beyond what the media perceives (and thus should you) as acceptable. By leading into the facts in this manner, many viewers will passively accept this same stance. That is just one hot button topic that Conan happened to have been monitoring.
However, this same tactic applies in so many other instances. One area – the urgent need for deficit reduction by way of government spending cuts – had received immense reinforcement of the message to the exclusion of alternative scenarios. Before Occupy Wall Street, how many successful discussions centered on raising taxes (corporate ones especially)? As a matter of fact, last year, there were articles touting GE’s zero tax liability and how it had an entire department devoted to minimizing its liability. I’ve successfully managed to NOT take an accounting course, however, I do know that any budget has two components – income and expenses. Yet, in the media, the one cure for the deficit was spending cuts. No credible discussions were had on revenue generation i.e. taxes especially from the sector of society that actually has cash. Coming back to the topic, how is it that we’ve gotten to the point where our “news” is nothing more than an “echo chamber” echoing the same predominant viewpoints? Media consolidation goes a long way towards being the answer for that question. The Nation published a chart in 2006 entitled The National Entertainment State that shows the top six media owners in the United States. The information that you receive comes from very limited sources, primarily six to be exact. If each of the corporations were in agreement that an idea was a good one (or, as in my original example, a bad one), how would you know otherwise? Alternative media doesn’t have the reach nor coffers of mainstream media, however, I increasingly find myself perusing those outlets for their alternative viewpoints. Yes, I continue to read the major news outlets online (while ignoring TV news altogether – they’re just soundbites). But I now consider alternative media to be the companion that, for me, provides an alternative voice that mainstream media silences. A couple of my companions:
www.fair.org/
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www.thenation.com/
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www.truth-out.org/
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Whitney Houston duets
Whitney Houston’s death earlier this year provided a lot of nostalgic look backs at the body of work she left behind. Most of the references that I saw/noticed/paid attention to were based on solo hits. However, my memory of Whitney extends farther back than the start of her solo career. My memories include work she did with Jermaine Jackson and Teddy Pendergrass. Of course, I love her solo work but I think references to her music that exclude these two gems are incomplete and I would like to set the “record” straight, pardon the pun. Enjoy!
Hold Me
Crumbs from the table
I found this cartoon at www.otherwords.org/ and it reminded me of this post that I started April 1 and never sat down to fully form. It is still not fully formed but I will allow the cartoon to do most of the speaking with only a few words from me.
Why does it increasingly seem as if American society is devolving into we, the people, fighting each other for crumbs from the table while those who control the levers of power enjoy the lavish cornucopia? Even worse, it seems as if there are those who intentionally drop crumbs from the table in order to enjoy the spectacle of fighting for crumbs. Imagine if we, the people, recognized ourselves in the other with whom we fight for the crumbs? And stopped fighting each other. Then decided to look up and question why there is a cornucopia out of reach of the masses. And set about to change that. Imagine that if you can.
Pater Noster
Father’s Day. A day in which men are recognized and honored for being a father. For me, Father’s Day is a day I will look forward to celebrating once I create my own family. However, as the child of an absent father, I could just as easily celebrate Flag Day instead. It too is in June and starts with an F. Although I look forward to someday (soon hopefully) having my own children with someone who will be a father courtesy of me, I struggle to move beyond the hurdles that not having grown up with a father present. When I meet people that I’m actually interested in, I immediately ask myself the question “will he stay?” “Will he stay” then becomes the question reiterated throughout every aspect of the relationship. The one relationship that I had where I harbored the hope, dream and desire to have a family together was dogged by my debilitating fear that he would leave. In hindsight of that relationship, I realize that one of the key abilities I lack is that of being endearing. I’ve (obviously) never been endeared to my father and don’t know the process of endearment (if there is one). In addition, I can be rather direct because I hate ambiguity. Somehow endearment and a direct manner don’t seem like a likely combination. I probably stomp through moments of endearment like an elephant in a flower garden simply because I don’t know. When I do recognize that the direct approach is definitely not a good one, I then say nothing because fine art of beating around the bush escapes me. In addition, moments of vulnerability render me mute. If only there was an adult version of the elementary school note “will you be my girlfriend – yes or no?” I could provide a direct response to the question. I’ve met many people who have found me anywhere from attractive to the dreaded four-letter word – sexy. Yet, of the people I’ve met, the ones who have offered a route to mother/fatherhood have come with a Faustian bargain – they have had no intentions of actually being there. In keeping with the desire to provide a better life for your children than what you’ve had, having a child grow up without its father (if I can help it) is not an option. That would be like reliving all the painful aspects of growing up without my father again through my own children. The first time around I was helpless to do anything about it. If there is motherhood for me, as much as I can help it, I plan for my children to have the benefit of their father. On the bright side, I am currently living in a country (and continent) where I see fathers everywhere with their children. I’m living under the same roof with a father (and best friend) who loves and spends time with his children quite frequently. I’m a phone call (and maybe two hour plane ride) away from the other best friend who is also a father who loves and spends time with his children. I’m heartened that, despite my own experiences growing up without a father, surrounded by legions of others without fathers, I see examples of what fatherhood really looks like. Maybe, just maybe, there will be a Father’s Day that I celebrate with my own nuclear family. Hopefully soon. In the meantime, maybe I should design cards for men that ask the critical questions: “Will you be my girlfriend – yes or no?” “Will you be my wife – yes or no?” “Will you be the mother of my children – yes or no?” More on fathers later…
Emotionally disconnected… (Part II)
After having read the book, Alone Together, I’m now ready to post an update to my last post. I will start by saying that I’ve taken solace in finding that it’s not just me who has noticed the shift away from direct human contact. Unlike me, the author, Sherry Turkle, has gone several steps further by interviewing and documenting a phenomenon that has left me confounded for years.
It all started around 2008 when I was debating deleting my MySpace account. I joined the website in 2003 or 2005 (I think) and was encouraged by the fact that I could create a space that included my favorite movies, music, books and photos; I could even write blog entries about whatever was on my mind. In addition to being able to create my own space, I could also look at the spaces of others and see who had similar interests and “friend” them. The account even came with an automatic friend, Tom, the founder. So far, so good. I moved to a different city in late 2005 and the amount of activity increased all of a sudden. I would receive email messages from a variety of people. One communication was from an alleged 18 or 19 year-old who wanted me to “deflower” him. I was thrown by the request but responded as I would if I were his mother’s best friend from whom he sought advice – wait for that special person and be (hopefully equally) awkward with her. As time with the active account moved forward, I would receive email messages from people who wanted to “hook-up” or who just wanted to tell me in great detail what they’d like to do to me (and vice-versa). My photos were never erotic nor obscene, it’s actually the same photo on the main site. In addition, I went through being defriended online by someone I had actually met in person. When he realized I could no longer read his blog, he then resubmitted his friend request so that I could then read his blog posts that seemed to have had a very pointed (in my direction) topic. After a laidback start where I did actually “friend” some people with similar interests or interesting but dissimilar interests, MySpace had devolved into the kind of place populated by “Hey Baby” kind of people. I hate men who yell out “Hey Baby” in real life and online “Hey Babies” were worse because they were not constrained by the same consequences that the physical real presented (rejection, a thorough curse-out, fisticuffs). Although I felt put out by the overall downward spiral MySpace was taking for me, I hesitated to delete the account because of the time and material I had put into creating my space. It was, after all, my space.
However, I ultimately decided in the beginning of 2009 that MySpace would go. At the same time, I met one person who was a part of an interesting and fun clique of people. I enjoyed ever so often hanging out with the group and trying to remember the countless names and faces that I was presented with. If I had not realized that I was a one-at-a-time social person before then, I realized it at that time. One of the clique members, more like a fun-loving ringleader, always had her camera at the ready to take photos of any and EVERYTHING the clique did. Countless conversations were had about clique dynamics that happened on Facebook. One of the first questions asked of me when we first met was, was I on Facebook. I explained that I was contemplating deleting my MySpace account and didn’t want to join another social networking site at that time. Despite my explanation, she insisted that Facebook was different and had a far better user base than MySpace. Maybe so, but the dynamics seemed to have been the same. Maintaining an online presence with time and energy I was no longer interested in expending online. I did, however, enjoy socializing with the group ever so often. My “entree” friend would let me know of upcoming things she would be attending and I would decide if I had an interest in attending or not. One such invitation I attended was a lunch with just the ringleader and her. During the lunch, I had the opportunity to hear about the “scandal” that broke out among the clique regarding a married woman who was out partying with one of the clique members. Nasty comments were posted regarding the photos of the woman dancing with the clique member. Publicly he stated he didn’t know she was married, privately he said otherwise. It felt like the absolute worst aspects of high school all over again but in the midst of adulthood. I’ve always hated cliques and realized that joining Facebook to be a part of THAT was definitely not worth it. I drifted away after my “entree” friend moved.
Simultaneous to that, I was in a relationship with someone who was on Second Life. Although the site is named Second Life, I soon realized I was a First Life spectator of the enormous amount of time he spent on Second Life. In this situation, his primary life was actually Second Life. He grudgingly took breaks from it to be with others (me included) in First Life.
One benefit of that time period was that I realized I needed to do something about my real life social life. I had few friends and few activities that I participated in. Sadly, I’m still in that spot today (mostly of my own choosing to be perfectly honest). However, I realize Facebook is not going to be my answer to that dilemma. I don’t want to feel compelled to go to the site and give it virtual maintenance while not having actual flesh and blood (or telephone) encounters. Most of the people I know are on Facebook and they refer to it all the time as the way they find out information about their friends and family. Me, I call and hold a conversation. Conversations where the emotions resonate to clarify the message. Conversations where I can make my own snarky comments with a light-hearted delivery that lets the recipient know that I’m not a vicious person but someone with a bit of an irreverent sense of humor. Conversations where I or the person I’m talking to shares something emotional and personal with respect for the profundity of the situation. I had a conversation with a friend earlier today and he updated me on a plethora of new developments in his life. I would never want to read the news he shared on Facebook, I’m happy to have heard it from the proverbial horses mouth.
Instead of being alone together, one solitary person with a virtual connection to others, I would prefer to be together alone, at least two people, alone, from distracting virtual connections.
Now back to the author…
Emotionally disconnected while technologically always-on
I checked out a book recently that caught my eye. I’ve purposely not started reading it yet because I wanted to write about the subject matter prior to reading the research and conclusions the author makes. The public library is getting slightly richer from my lax attention to deadlines so now might be a good time to start writing so that I may in turn start reading… From what I gather, the book, Alone Together, discusses the ways that technology allows us to be “connected” to the world while simultaneously isolating us. This is a trend I’ve noticed for years. I increasingly feel as if I compete with twitter’s constant 140 character limit messages to have a conversation. Can I condense all of the details of what I’m trying to convey to 140 characters? In a conversation where character count should be irrelevant. With an actual adult human being whose attention span has regressed to 30 seconds while looking for the 140 character cutoff? Most times, I feel as if the answer is no. Because I don’t live where I grew up or in a city where I feel necessarily understood, the phone used to be my lifeline. Yet, as time goes by, even the phone has become another vehicle for technological limitations as phone conversations shift to text messages. Let it be known here and now, I hate text messages. For simple yes/no questions, text messaging is fine. A conversation? Not so much. I used to enjoy the holidays because that was my designated time to call everyone far and wide to wish them a happy holiday and catch up. Now, I have people wanting to send me a “Merry Christmas” text message. I’ve had people refer me to Facebook regarding some planned get together. When I’ve told them I don’t have a Facebook account, they seemed at a loss as to how to give me details about the whens and wheres. To me, it seemed that they could just tell me or email me but my not having a Facebook account just disturbed the unnatural order of things to the point of utter communication breakdown. I miss unmediated human interaction the most. I feel like a flesh and blood, emotional hold-out in a digital, online age. Ultimately, I wish the title of this post were “Emotionally connected while technologically tuned out”. With my prayerful benediction almost over, I will now go out and experience the flesh and blood, emotional world around me…
Flamenco – movement and music of passion
Ever since the first time I had seen flamenco dancing, I was captivated by the passion that flowed through the dancer’s moves. Dance is only half an event without accompanying music (although dance does exist without music). Flamenco guitar (to me) is a perfect, passionate musical accompaniment to the dance. There is something about the passion that is expressed in both the dance and the music that makes indifference or tuning out not a viable option for me. There will be a flamenco dance performance coming up soon that I want to attend which spurred my curiosity about taking flamenco dance lessons. My curiosity is now abated. Lessons are offered so far away that I would be too exhausted from the effort of getting there to actually be effective in learning. I once took a few belly dance lessons and may need to resume those in order to instill some type of dance-related discipline and grace into my formerly awkward physical self. Or maybe I could imitate this performance in the confines of the bedroom as I did when I was an overly imaginative kid singing some Donna Summer song. As an adult, I would leave the standing ovation out of the scenario.
In anticipation of watching the live performance, I found this video. Enjoy! Of course, a mention of flamenco would be incomplete without my favorite flamenco guitar performance…
Baby, baby, baby
Last night, we had a baby over and I spent much time holding him. He was four months old and had the sweetest temperament ever. I had what I thought would be an opportunity to hold him for a short while and ended up being attached for far longer than I anticipated he would allow. At one point, he became slightly cranky because sleep was coming for him. Realizing this, I decided to employ the Nighty-Night technique I figured out when my niece was a baby. When he had been awake and engaged, I held him near my right side. When I realized he was sleepy, I turned him so that he rested on my left side and could hear my heart beat. Within minutes, his eyes closed but then reopened after a pause. This happened a couple of times until he fell asleep without reopening his eyes again. To test his level of sleep, I later lifted his free arm and dropped it. It fell straight down without any stiffening from him. He was well and truly asleep. A sleeping baby is one of the sweetest things in the world. As much as I would love to experience the sweetness of my own sleeping baby, time continues marching forward and, at 40, the forward march of time is not a benign element in my desire for children. Although I’m an extremely capable and independent person in other areas of my life, I realize this is the one thing I don’t want to do alone. In New Year, New Optimism I outlined what I would like to do from a professional standpoint. This post is more personal. Personally, I would love to, first, have a relationship (I am a step-by-step person). However, it would need to be a loving relationship where creating a family would be a welcome option. Then, I would love to create said family. As before, I’ll do what I can solo and leave things open for change. Anything can happen…
New Year, New Optimism
The new year has begun and with it, a fresh dose of optimism. Both the good and bad (which seemed to be extremes) from last year are (hopefully) left in last year. I spoke with my Italian “brother from another mother” yesterday and we shared our wishes for this year. We both had big challenges in 2011 and formulated our wishes with the more trying aspects of last year in mind. I won’t reveal his simple wish but for a moment I almost ditto’ed his wish.
My wish
My wish is to get back on track (or, more accurately, on track). I have some pretty big professional goals, quite different from what I am currently or have previously been doing, that I would like to achieve. The time I spent in Switzerland made me feel as if I were on track. Many things fell into place to make that happen, notably a $5000 national scholarship. I spent the time since my return from Switzerland struggling. Struggling with lack of income. Struggling with low income once I started working again. Just struggling (see Living vs Existing). As stated in the previous paragraph, the struggles (along with the Swiss accomplishments) are left in last year. As this year begins, I’ve decided to focus my energies on getting back on track. It can never be said that I suffer from complacency by any stretch of the imagination…
What on track looks like
Sometimes I write things as little breadcrumbs for myself later. One of my greatest challenges is that I’m easily distracted and forget things quite frequently. Thus the breadcrumbs. I’ve not really needed a reminder of what on track looks like but I’ve decided to put it out here in the event someone reads this and wants to sign up. For me, on track ultimately means that I’ve started an organization (either a B-corporation or a non-profit) that works to manufacture disaster shelter. One of the twists of the idea is that it be a worker-owned cooperative. After having worked in some rather unsatisfying positions (ironically, the most unsatisfying was in manufacturing) and experiencing the upheaval caused by massive layoffs in the wake of the 2008 financial crisis, I would prefer to not re-create the same environment. This idea is a great leap from my previous work experience as an executive assistant or my current experience as a data administrator (I think it’s a fancier title for data entry clerk).
Challenges
One of the greatest challenges I face is that I don’t have a mentor or someone who I can turn to when everything is hazy. When I speak about the idea with people that I know, the tendency is that their eyes glaze over or they have a “that’s nice” response (sometimes it seems as if they fight to keep from patting me on the head absent-mindedly). It makes me feel as if I’m speaking into a void when that happens. One of January’s tasks is to find a mentor so that I can have someone against whom I can bounce some of my ideas and get feedback.
Leaving things open for change
One year many years ago, I had an extremely low paying job. My title was receptionist but my responsibilities were receptionist, executive assistant and administrative assistant. I was perpetually frustrated at this job because I felt I was working extremely hard and diligently for peanuts (a lower level of pay is peanut shells, peanut shell dust being the absolute lowest level of pay). When the company moved, I decided that I would not follow because the commute would be too taxing for the low level of pay. After I left, the company broke my position into separate positions; a receptionist, an executive assistant and an administrative assistant. The person who initially replaced me as receptionist (and all the other responsibilities) couldn’t believe that I did all of the things I did. After having left the position, I interviewed for a temporary position as an executive assistant. I wasn’t too sure about whether I qualified for the position but went anyway. I got the assignment. At the beginning of the year as the receptionist, my salary was $XK per year. With the temporary assignment, I went to $X+7K in annual salary. Once the assignment ended, I thought it was a fluke and worried that I might not find another position paying $X+7K. I started another assignment a few weeks after ending that assignment and was offered a permanent position a few weeks into the assignment. My permanent employment began in December, my salary? $X+15K… I’ve decided that I will take the steps that will lead me towards getting on track. However, I will also leave things open for change. A $15K annual salary increase was something that I could not have hoped or planned for, yet, it happened. And it happened to me. I’ll take a second round of that this year… Happy New Year!