For the multitude out there who continue to read this blog despite my febrile attempts to scare you away (and yes, I did seem to suffer brain fever there for a while as I fought off the desire to continue the easy life of a business tyke), I invite you to join me on the skip and hop through the field of Academia.
The view from here...how do I describe what I see? Flattened blades of last year's forgotten grassy undergraduates - trampled underfoot by those more eager to migrate to the other side - like bodies long ago turned to dust that fell beneath the throngs of Cincinnatians rushing forth to see The Who? The what? No, The Who, a once-famous band relegated to the Muzak rack dedicated to dinosaur rock.
Fields such as these find themselves hosting whole civilizations uninteresting to all but entomologists, herpetologists and crazy hippopotamuses. Armies of ants and legions of locust, spiders with mites and grubs on antlions.
My research, no matter how much fun such searches would be had I decided to study the earth while crouched on one knee, takes me into the hallowed hallways of ITT Tech, where we will hope that wonders never cease.
Today, although I'd already received the textbooks and teacher's courseware, and filled out the paperwork to become of ITT Educational Services, Inc., a temporary employee (an adjunct instructor, to you academic types), I'd yet to step into the Land of Higher Education.
My feet are now wet. I've sunk to my ankles in the Bog of Big Thoughts.
I took two more steps and left my business shoes behind, now barefoot but carrying with me a crisp cravat I'd snuck into my casual business sport coat, with soiled business pants but clean business shirt to cover my girth.
'Tis strange, this new terrain. In the corporate world, I'd say that those with whom I worked seemed to hold back their personalities in an understood constraint. Inside the walls of this academe, to display your personality is part of the product we're selling.
Product? Selling? Can words such as these dare find themselves lurking on the circular stairs of an ivory tower?
Indeed, they can. For you see, institutes of instruction incorporate industrial insights. In the universe of ideas, malleable brains represent raw material and instructors the research department, engineering department, factory workers and everything but shipping/receiving (and the debate still rages over who's running that department).
As I traipse and tramp 'cross this emerald illusion, where some can't see the simple solution for dissolving minds first into quality samples before mixing and pouring the new batch of Internet-ready bodies, I'll let you know when I find the connecting road I seek, taking me from the world of seven-year olds at promising schools like KIPP to a place and time showing those closer to twenty-seven that their promises were put on hold until now.
To those future students of mine who know me not just yet, I invite you into my classroom, where we'll soon see that hating school is okay and deploring homework is itself a chore. We're not getting together to get better. Put those thoughts aside. Instead, let's look at life from where we're at. That's right. We're in what everyone but me calls a recession. People are losing what they thought was a job. I don't live in that world and now, neither do you. We're here to redefine what we're all about.
So hop aboard this double decker bus with me. We're going for a ride. Imagine I'm the tour guide. This urban/suburban, hiphopping crowd, just as likely these days to wear a turban, 's not going to waste time on convention. We're rewriting history. What you thought was all this stuff about school, that in ancient times you wrote off as uncool, is done. Instead, what you've got is a new life. Look at your fellow riders. Uh-huh. That's right. We're riding to freedom. We're in the fast lane to the next big "what's it all about."
How's that going to happen? Well, the secret's with me now but not for long. But I'll give you a little hint. Ever heard of Junior Achievement? Well, what if you walked into a college class and found out that your so-called school work was really a way for you to make money? Imagine your schoolmates are really your business co-owners. So when you thought you were having to learn something new for a few years just for the opportunity to put a piece of paper on the wall that's supposed to get you a better future, you were instead actually making money in the lessons themselves?
Think about it for a while. I'll see you in class in a few weeks.
28 February 2009
27 February 2009
"The Mind's Aye" -- ready for your preview
To all who have expressed interest in my latest creation, the anti-novel titled "The Mind's Aye," I give you the opportunity to preview the novel for free. I have dried out my eyes going through the paragraphs and pages while looking for unintentional typographic errors and think that now's the time to give readers their chance to join in the editing and refinement process. Therefore, if you want to rest your eyes on a few novel thoughts, I give you the following URL:
https://www.createspace.com/Preview/1055140
DESCRIPTION:
Here's the first part of the book:
Here's the last part of the book:
The rest is up to you to read. I've got to go work on my teaching skills for a while, adding a third class to my list of lectures over the next three months: Introduction to Personal Computers. Time to get out my tap shoes and start dancing! See the rest of you instructors at orientation and in-service tomorrow.
https://www.createspace.com/Preview/1055140
DESCRIPTION:
- Deconstructive dadaism. The anti-novel. Saying "NO!" to commercialism. What happens when an author falls into the book s/he is writing? The ennui and repetition of life seep into the story, too.
Here's the first part of the book:
The best way to tell the truth is to lie.
You see, that’s why the story starts like this. My name is Max. My full name is Maximilian Esophagus Mize. My childhood friends call me Gus. My enemies know me as Max. E. Mize (yeah, that’s right, the son of an efficiency expert).
And to keep you from wondering where this story is going, let me tell you, I ain’t much of a storyteller. I also call myself Bruce, Lee and any other name I feel like. I know a few tall tales, like this one, for instance...
Here's the last part of the book:
How do I know this? When you’re a ghost, you get to learn a lot of interesting facts otherwise hidden from mere mortals. Haha haha ha!
The rest is up to you to read. I've got to go work on my teaching skills for a while, adding a third class to my list of lectures over the next three months: Introduction to Personal Computers. Time to get out my tap shoes and start dancing! See the rest of you instructors at orientation and in-service tomorrow.
A Quick Note To Dad
My father asked me how many publications I had under my belt. Dad, here's the list:
"The Mind's Aye", 2009
"A Space, A Period, and A Capital", 2009 [a 2009 ABNA entry]
"Passing The Time – A Novella", 2008
"Are You With The Program?", 2007
"Sticks to Lying", 2006
"Helen of Kosciusko", 2006
"Milk Chocolate", 2005
"A Work In Progress: The Unabridged Works of Rick Hill", 2004
==> Including works from the previously published books,
- "A Quiet Repose", 1998
- "Of Friends, Neighbors, Lovers and Miscellaneous Passers-by", 1992
Works also published elsewhere (as Rick Hill):
- "And So It Came To Pass"
- "Romance Writers Try Comedy"
"Arête – Literary Magazine", University of Alabama In Huntsville (2001)
- "The Official Social Protest Songs"
- "Striving for Efficiency"
"Gallery" - Walters State Community College literary magazine (1985)
I also have one unpublished work called "The Last Word?"
"The Mind's Aye", 2009
"A Space, A Period, and A Capital", 2009 [a 2009 ABNA entry]
"Passing The Time – A Novella", 2008
"Are You With The Program?", 2007
"Sticks to Lying", 2006
"Helen of Kosciusko", 2006
"Milk Chocolate", 2005
"A Work In Progress: The Unabridged Works of Rick Hill", 2004
==> Including works from the previously published books,
- "A Quiet Repose", 1998
- "Of Friends, Neighbors, Lovers and Miscellaneous Passers-by", 1992
Works also published elsewhere (as Rick Hill):
- "And So It Came To Pass"
- "Romance Writers Try Comedy"
"Arête – Literary Magazine", University of Alabama In Huntsville (2001)
- "The Official Social Protest Songs"
- "Striving for Efficiency"
"Gallery" - Walters State Community College literary magazine (1985)
I also have one unpublished work called "The Last Word?"
The Mother of Necessity
Waiting for my food at a local restaurant last night, I overheard a conversation between a man and a woman sitting beside us. He seemed distressed or a little confused and she seemed bored. The man said that he wondered how long it would be before all the government debt issued during the Bush and Obama administrations would be owned by China and thus when would China officially announce it had annexed the United States, not to mention other countries. The woman didn't seem to care - she wanted to get back home to see a particular popular TV program with her kids.
One thing about living in a town where the average level of formal education is higher than most cities is hearing interesting comments like that, usually followed up by discussions about the latest NASA rocket launch (a dud, in this case) or continued level of government military funding (still unknown).
The couple beside us who voiced the view on China looked African-American and represent the typical young couples pouring into north Alabama over the last few years, bringing a modern view to a sleepy Southern state.
And of course, my dreams were filled with variations on that guy's questions, with friends of mine appearing as members of a panel of peers in a mock debate.
During the debate, one side held the view that this is a global economy and the strengths of the few are the strengths of the many. Therefore, one's view of ownership must be changed, not placated. In other words, when one country captures the means of global production and by doing so holds a vast sum of money, it still depends on the rest of the world to give the money any value. The currency market could be manipulated by the indebted countries in such a way that foreign reserves become worthless, even if such a shakeup would devastate the world market for years to come.
The other side argued that such a view is a theory - the reality is that many countries that used to depend on internal tax structures to prop themselves up (municipal, local, state and national taxes) were convinced by corporate citizens to give up billions of tax dollars, letting corporations buy and trade among themselves tax-free by using a peer-to-peer free trade zone called the Internet. Thus, a country's worth that used to be measured in tax collections had slipped out the back door in the form of profit-taking by foreign entities, corporate-like in makeup (with virtual or brick-and-mortar offices using Internet addresses), forcing such countries to prop themselves up on the foreign purchase of each country's debt issuance to cover tax shortfalls.
My buddy, Helen, who always saw things from a different perspective than mine but one which I understood, stopped the debate. She said that she and her husband had raised their kids buying American goods, sent their kids to private school and could look at their lives as successful. When the stock market started falling, they had converted most of their market holdings to cash reserves and dividend-bearing stock. They had done their share to pay taxes and live the American Dream. What, in all this debate, could an average American like her see as worthwhile? Had any of the debate team members raised children? What's the purpose of debating unless you can propose solid solutions?
There was a lot of laughter. The "American Dream"? What was she talking about?
Helen looked straight into my eyes and said, "See, that's why I'm here. I don't just raise children. I have a brain, too."
Of course she has a brain. And that's what the debate team seemed to be missing -- the wisdom of mothering.
For years we have run our countries like men, as if our tough-guy, warlike modes of seeing teh* world were the perfect models for progress. "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness," etc., blah, blah, blah.
["teh" = ode to Ganesh Sivananthan]
What was it the wise gurus of the past had told us? "Have children. Take care of your family." Oh yeah, that. Funny how it's usually the guys who are credited with the wise sayings of the past when what I've often seen is that it's the women who are having the children and taking care of their families while us guys go off to play.
I woke up after Helen spoke to me, partly because what she said was so startling and partly because a raging rainstorm battered our house, stirring my wife and cats, and thus, me.
You know that saying, "Necessity is the mother of invention"? Well, who is the mother of necessity? In other words, if one looks at life, what is necessary? Are we guys going to keep playing around and pretending we're important by sitting in our clubhouses debating the high ideal of when a country is a country? No, we're going to listen to the women who are in the marketplace with us and turn our ideals into shovels.
In the new "shovel ready" economy, let's roll up our sleeves and put our money where our mouth is, placing a few side bets on the currency exchange market while we pour our personal cash reserves into the local economy, and spend our former play (I mean, debate) time with our families.
I'll help you if you want to build schools and improve the local roads but if you want my cash to get your mortgage out from under you, well...sometimes you've got to pay the price for not taking care of your own family. I know the whole "it takes a village to raise a child" thing should mean I care about your family, too, and shouldn't let them be punished for your overpriced house and overextended mortgage. But you know what? Your kids will learn a valuable lesson when they see you have to move to a smaller domicile and sell off all your toys -- Mommies and Daddies who weren't paying attention in class don't always know what's best for themselves and their families, so you better pay attention in class and get good grades 'cause the cellphone texting and other diversions of your classmates ain't going to help you learn how to pay the bills when you're a adult.
One thing about living in a town where the average level of formal education is higher than most cities is hearing interesting comments like that, usually followed up by discussions about the latest NASA rocket launch (a dud, in this case) or continued level of government military funding (still unknown).
The couple beside us who voiced the view on China looked African-American and represent the typical young couples pouring into north Alabama over the last few years, bringing a modern view to a sleepy Southern state.
And of course, my dreams were filled with variations on that guy's questions, with friends of mine appearing as members of a panel of peers in a mock debate.
During the debate, one side held the view that this is a global economy and the strengths of the few are the strengths of the many. Therefore, one's view of ownership must be changed, not placated. In other words, when one country captures the means of global production and by doing so holds a vast sum of money, it still depends on the rest of the world to give the money any value. The currency market could be manipulated by the indebted countries in such a way that foreign reserves become worthless, even if such a shakeup would devastate the world market for years to come.
The other side argued that such a view is a theory - the reality is that many countries that used to depend on internal tax structures to prop themselves up (municipal, local, state and national taxes) were convinced by corporate citizens to give up billions of tax dollars, letting corporations buy and trade among themselves tax-free by using a peer-to-peer free trade zone called the Internet. Thus, a country's worth that used to be measured in tax collections had slipped out the back door in the form of profit-taking by foreign entities, corporate-like in makeup (with virtual or brick-and-mortar offices using Internet addresses), forcing such countries to prop themselves up on the foreign purchase of each country's debt issuance to cover tax shortfalls.
My buddy, Helen, who always saw things from a different perspective than mine but one which I understood, stopped the debate. She said that she and her husband had raised their kids buying American goods, sent their kids to private school and could look at their lives as successful. When the stock market started falling, they had converted most of their market holdings to cash reserves and dividend-bearing stock. They had done their share to pay taxes and live the American Dream. What, in all this debate, could an average American like her see as worthwhile? Had any of the debate team members raised children? What's the purpose of debating unless you can propose solid solutions?
There was a lot of laughter. The "American Dream"? What was she talking about?
Helen looked straight into my eyes and said, "See, that's why I'm here. I don't just raise children. I have a brain, too."
Of course she has a brain. And that's what the debate team seemed to be missing -- the wisdom of mothering.
For years we have run our countries like men, as if our tough-guy, warlike modes of seeing teh* world were the perfect models for progress. "Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness," etc., blah, blah, blah.
["teh" = ode to Ganesh Sivananthan]
What was it the wise gurus of the past had told us? "Have children. Take care of your family." Oh yeah, that. Funny how it's usually the guys who are credited with the wise sayings of the past when what I've often seen is that it's the women who are having the children and taking care of their families while us guys go off to play.
I woke up after Helen spoke to me, partly because what she said was so startling and partly because a raging rainstorm battered our house, stirring my wife and cats, and thus, me.
You know that saying, "Necessity is the mother of invention"? Well, who is the mother of necessity? In other words, if one looks at life, what is necessary? Are we guys going to keep playing around and pretending we're important by sitting in our clubhouses debating the high ideal of when a country is a country? No, we're going to listen to the women who are in the marketplace with us and turn our ideals into shovels.
In the new "shovel ready" economy, let's roll up our sleeves and put our money where our mouth is, placing a few side bets on the currency exchange market while we pour our personal cash reserves into the local economy, and spend our former play (I mean, debate) time with our families.
I'll help you if you want to build schools and improve the local roads but if you want my cash to get your mortgage out from under you, well...sometimes you've got to pay the price for not taking care of your own family. I know the whole "it takes a village to raise a child" thing should mean I care about your family, too, and shouldn't let them be punished for your overpriced house and overextended mortgage. But you know what? Your kids will learn a valuable lesson when they see you have to move to a smaller domicile and sell off all your toys -- Mommies and Daddies who weren't paying attention in class don't always know what's best for themselves and their families, so you better pay attention in class and get good grades 'cause the cellphone texting and other diversions of your classmates ain't going to help you learn how to pay the bills when you're a adult.
26 February 2009
Misapplied Misanthropism
Because I write to myself on this planetary piece of electronic paper, do I owe my fellow human beings, the only ones I know of who would bother interpreting each other's cave paintings, any level of responsibility?
Billions of texts and blogs zip across wires and radio waves every minute. This tiny little voice in the wilderness, trying to make itself heard among all the other forest sounds (and yes, a tree does make a sound when it falls in a forest; it'll scare the bejebees out of you when you're standing 50 feet away, hearing the little pop-pop sounds of wood separation before the cracking sounds get your full attention, while limbs tear down neighboring tree limbs during the tree's descent and then the whoosh-THUD as the tree hits the ground and sends you running for no particular reason), a human voice that silences all the birds and sends the squirrels scampering. Although I may be sitting in the forest today, on this warm and sunny morning, breathing in the spores of wet earth and looking at the tree buds reaching for the sky, sneezing and laughing at the thought of the chattering woodpecker above me saying, "Jupiter bless you*," in his own way, I sit here with any number of the billions of electronic mini-billboards saying, "LOOK AT ME! YES, I EXIST!"
[*Ode to Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire]
According to my notes from last night, this blog entry would have announced the pre-release of my new book, "The Mind's Aye." Of course, now it does, doesn't it? I would have outlined the book's storyline, discussing the deconstructive dadaism of its form. I would have presented an excerpt from the first chapter not yet posted.
Instead, I find myself in reverse, backing up to previous blog entries to clarify statements misunderstood by readers. To you, reader/emailer, as anonymous as you can be in an email to me that contains your IP address (but I won't tell everyone else where your IP address indicates you live), I have already admitted that I believe I'm an intellectual snob but that is not the same as calling myself a misanthrope. To be sure, yes, I did imply that everyone leads a boring life. However, I included myself in that assessment. I was celebrating humanity, not accusing it of something untoward. It was a statement of fact, a recognition that we upright primates, with overdeveloped brains and well-developed vocal cords, keep adding more and more synaptic connections and by doing so, project that neuronic network outward, expecting the historically recent byproduct of neurochemical processing - our collection of thoughts - to have some meaning, despite the nearly opposite up-and-down fluxuation of our equally-influential hormonically pheromonic processes. Thus, in our competition with each other for food and shelter, we create this vastly overbuilt anthill we call civilization to accommodate our contradictory need to be unique while gathering en masse to show solidarity. If we really think we're human beings, then we should act like them -- let's content ourselves with our thoughts (no matter how boring they may be at times; after all, life is repetitious so what's the matter with repetitious thoughts?) and quit feeding our hormonic need for instant gratification.
To the other reader who sent me a rather pornographic email, I thank you for your consideration of my needs. But when I referred to autoerotic thoughts and masturbation, I was making a literary reference, not a literal one. It is my literary writing that gets me excited and wants me to write more, not the erotic writing of others that literally makes me "get off," as you suggested. I thank you, too, for offering to send me photos of yourself, but I will only delete them so save us both the few seconds of Internet time and keep the photos for and to yourself.
Oh boy, this adventure in blogging is not what I expected. I thought blogs allowed me to post my thoughts in virtual space so I could access them anywhere there was a power grid and wired/wireless connection to the Internet. In other words, convenient access to a metaphorical journal. Instead, I'm discovering that the world of experience is not a figurative one. People from all walks of life can and do read what others have blogged about. Not only that, but the readers' view of life filters what writers are trying to say.
The sky is clouding up and I can't decide if I keep shivering or go back to the house... No Internet access from here to my wireless router so I don't know if it's going to rain but this morning's forecast didn't mention wet weather. What do you think, Mr. Gnat? Do you have any clue about atmospheric conditions? No, I didn't think so. Ooh, there's the sun again. Mmm... There it goes away again.
Enough. The wind's picking up. I'm going back to the house to look at my new novel.
===
Okay, I'm back. Let's see. Here are my notes for the blog entry I intended to write:
Here's the excerpt of the first chapter I planned to post:
About the rest of my notes. You see, I grew up in a fantasy world called Suburbia that many others before me have praised, including John Updike. Like all fantasies, there's a dark side that looms on the edge of one's view, including the thoughts that despite our suburban fortresses, we're susceptible to the unknown forces of evil perpetuated in this age by religio-moral tales like "The Exorcist." But what is suburbia? Is it reflected in the stack of Playboys that fathers hid in their closets? Is it just for show? After all, down the street from me in my perfectly average, middle-class suburban neighborhood, other kids showed me Polaroids of their parents getting together for swinger parties (group orgies to those of you who aren't familiar with the term "swinger"). I saw children with bruises and bumps that their "loving" parents gave them with curtain rods. I saw upstanding citizens abuse alcohol and drugs (prescription, nonprescription and organic).
Like creating the concept of suburban safety, people read novels to momentarily escape reality - another trick to overcoming the stresses and strains of daily living. I look from the other direction - life is the escape from the stresses, strains and boredom of my daily thoughts.
My latest novel will not provide you an escape. Instead, "The Mind's Aye" shoves daily living in your face, complete with the inane, repetitive thoughts of people. A novel celebrating boredom, lovingly written by me, for me.
Why did I write this novel? Because I understand what this life is all about. I have read all the philosophical and religious dogma spouted by my ancestors and other humans around the world. Sayings by religious figures who were human (or might have been human) like Gandhi, Buddha, Mohammed, Jesus and Confucius. What did they all tell us? They repeated simple truths:
That's it. Anything else and we turn ourselves away from reaching our full human potential. So all this talk about rescuing our global economy, saving the whales and stopping global warming is a smoke screen covering up what should be plain to see. Many of you already know this and have done a great job, even if your insistence on seeing the truth is biased and skewed toward one religion or another.
No matter when we discover life forms on another planetary body, we are still members of the currently labeled species, Homo sapiens. We can talk about anything else, painting lavish pictures of alternate universes, alien species, and life after death. But each of us is still flesh and blood. Therefore, do yourself a favor. Admit to yourself that you're one human being. Then, celebrate that fact because no one else is you. For instance, I'm celebrating the fact that my boredom is mine and no else's. So, too, your boredom is yours and no one else's. And by extension, it's okay to have boring children and a boring family. We all do, if not to ourselves, then at least to someone else.
And that's how we'll turn this economy around, by having children and taking care of our families. Not by filling our lives with junk to try to make our lives look less boring than our neighbors'.
Well, I said more than I planned to say but that's me. Happy in the wisdom that being myself is boring. I know it sounds odd but I'll say it anyway. Have a boring day - it's the best kind of day you can have!
Billions of texts and blogs zip across wires and radio waves every minute. This tiny little voice in the wilderness, trying to make itself heard among all the other forest sounds (and yes, a tree does make a sound when it falls in a forest; it'll scare the bejebees out of you when you're standing 50 feet away, hearing the little pop-pop sounds of wood separation before the cracking sounds get your full attention, while limbs tear down neighboring tree limbs during the tree's descent and then the whoosh-THUD as the tree hits the ground and sends you running for no particular reason), a human voice that silences all the birds and sends the squirrels scampering. Although I may be sitting in the forest today, on this warm and sunny morning, breathing in the spores of wet earth and looking at the tree buds reaching for the sky, sneezing and laughing at the thought of the chattering woodpecker above me saying, "Jupiter bless you*," in his own way, I sit here with any number of the billions of electronic mini-billboards saying, "LOOK AT ME! YES, I EXIST!"
[*Ode to Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire]
According to my notes from last night, this blog entry would have announced the pre-release of my new book, "The Mind's Aye." Of course, now it does, doesn't it? I would have outlined the book's storyline, discussing the deconstructive dadaism of its form. I would have presented an excerpt from the first chapter not yet posted.
Instead, I find myself in reverse, backing up to previous blog entries to clarify statements misunderstood by readers. To you, reader/emailer, as anonymous as you can be in an email to me that contains your IP address (but I won't tell everyone else where your IP address indicates you live), I have already admitted that I believe I'm an intellectual snob but that is not the same as calling myself a misanthrope. To be sure, yes, I did imply that everyone leads a boring life. However, I included myself in that assessment. I was celebrating humanity, not accusing it of something untoward. It was a statement of fact, a recognition that we upright primates, with overdeveloped brains and well-developed vocal cords, keep adding more and more synaptic connections and by doing so, project that neuronic network outward, expecting the historically recent byproduct of neurochemical processing - our collection of thoughts - to have some meaning, despite the nearly opposite up-and-down fluxuation of our equally-influential hormonically pheromonic processes. Thus, in our competition with each other for food and shelter, we create this vastly overbuilt anthill we call civilization to accommodate our contradictory need to be unique while gathering en masse to show solidarity. If we really think we're human beings, then we should act like them -- let's content ourselves with our thoughts (no matter how boring they may be at times; after all, life is repetitious so what's the matter with repetitious thoughts?) and quit feeding our hormonic need for instant gratification.
To the other reader who sent me a rather pornographic email, I thank you for your consideration of my needs. But when I referred to autoerotic thoughts and masturbation, I was making a literary reference, not a literal one. It is my literary writing that gets me excited and wants me to write more, not the erotic writing of others that literally makes me "get off," as you suggested. I thank you, too, for offering to send me photos of yourself, but I will only delete them so save us both the few seconds of Internet time and keep the photos for and to yourself.
Oh boy, this adventure in blogging is not what I expected. I thought blogs allowed me to post my thoughts in virtual space so I could access them anywhere there was a power grid and wired/wireless connection to the Internet. In other words, convenient access to a metaphorical journal. Instead, I'm discovering that the world of experience is not a figurative one. People from all walks of life can and do read what others have blogged about. Not only that, but the readers' view of life filters what writers are trying to say.
The sky is clouding up and I can't decide if I keep shivering or go back to the house... No Internet access from here to my wireless router so I don't know if it's going to rain but this morning's forecast didn't mention wet weather. What do you think, Mr. Gnat? Do you have any clue about atmospheric conditions? No, I didn't think so. Ooh, there's the sun again. Mmm... There it goes away again.
Enough. The wind's picking up. I'm going back to the house to look at my new novel.
===
Okay, I'm back. Let's see. Here are my notes for the blog entry I intended to write:
- Next blog entry - the announcement of my book, "The Mind's Aye"! Post excerpt.
- John Updike
- The Exorcist
- Playboy in the closet
- Swingers down the street
Here's the excerpt of the first chapter I planned to post:
The best way to tell the truth is to lie.
About the rest of my notes. You see, I grew up in a fantasy world called Suburbia that many others before me have praised, including John Updike. Like all fantasies, there's a dark side that looms on the edge of one's view, including the thoughts that despite our suburban fortresses, we're susceptible to the unknown forces of evil perpetuated in this age by religio-moral tales like "The Exorcist." But what is suburbia? Is it reflected in the stack of Playboys that fathers hid in their closets? Is it just for show? After all, down the street from me in my perfectly average, middle-class suburban neighborhood, other kids showed me Polaroids of their parents getting together for swinger parties (group orgies to those of you who aren't familiar with the term "swinger"). I saw children with bruises and bumps that their "loving" parents gave them with curtain rods. I saw upstanding citizens abuse alcohol and drugs (prescription, nonprescription and organic).
Like creating the concept of suburban safety, people read novels to momentarily escape reality - another trick to overcoming the stresses and strains of daily living. I look from the other direction - life is the escape from the stresses, strains and boredom of my daily thoughts.
My latest novel will not provide you an escape. Instead, "The Mind's Aye" shoves daily living in your face, complete with the inane, repetitive thoughts of people. A novel celebrating boredom, lovingly written by me, for me.
Why did I write this novel? Because I understand what this life is all about. I have read all the philosophical and religious dogma spouted by my ancestors and other humans around the world. Sayings by religious figures who were human (or might have been human) like Gandhi, Buddha, Mohammed, Jesus and Confucius. What did they all tell us? They repeated simple truths:
Have children. Take care of your family.
That's it. Anything else and we turn ourselves away from reaching our full human potential. So all this talk about rescuing our global economy, saving the whales and stopping global warming is a smoke screen covering up what should be plain to see. Many of you already know this and have done a great job, even if your insistence on seeing the truth is biased and skewed toward one religion or another.
No matter when we discover life forms on another planetary body, we are still members of the currently labeled species, Homo sapiens. We can talk about anything else, painting lavish pictures of alternate universes, alien species, and life after death. But each of us is still flesh and blood. Therefore, do yourself a favor. Admit to yourself that you're one human being. Then, celebrate that fact because no one else is you. For instance, I'm celebrating the fact that my boredom is mine and no else's. So, too, your boredom is yours and no one else's. And by extension, it's okay to have boring children and a boring family. We all do, if not to ourselves, then at least to someone else.
And that's how we'll turn this economy around, by having children and taking care of our families. Not by filling our lives with junk to try to make our lives look less boring than our neighbors'.
Well, I said more than I planned to say but that's me. Happy in the wisdom that being myself is boring. I know it sounds odd but I'll say it anyway. Have a boring day - it's the best kind of day you can have!
25 February 2009
Happy Birthday, Dad!
Today, my father celebrates 74 years of living on this planet. So, in honor of him, I dedicate this blog entry to my father and the lessons he taught me.
Dad, thanks for everything. Of course, some parts of who I am I cannot attribute to you but without your genetic material, I would not be.
You bought me my first plastic model kit, a U.S. battleship, when I was six years old. I sat with you at the dining area of the great room and glued the pieces together while my sister sat with my mother and watched "The Wizard of Oz" on television in the den area of the great room, training my sister and me in the gender-specific roles of your upbringing. You probably built most if not all of the outdoor playsets I enjoyed, including the slides, swings, jungle gyms and other metal contraptions that could be called art if displayed in a modern metropolitan museum. We just thought of these things as utilitarian, didn't we, mon pere?
From you I learned to appreciate the taste of beer and cigars, the thrill of stock car racing and the necessity for team sports (mainly, to keep aggressive young people focused on bullying each other).
You also told me about my heritage, the Scots-Irish immigrants who came to North America and helped build a new nation out of the scattered settlements of the British, Spanish and French Colonies. With you I traveled the backwaters of the East Coast, reliving the fights on the battlefields like King's Mountain and the starvation of settlers who stepped foot on Roanoke Island and the shores of Jamestown. I imagined what our ancestors might have seen as their imported diseases and fighting machines wiped out whole populations of the indigenous North American people -- huge tracts of land free for the taking. I understood that the men of my past felt that, after winning the Revolutionary War, they deserved the right to buy and sell other men and women to work the land given to them by the new government of the United States of America. Later, I would learn the irony of history after you told me that you had grown up on land sold to your family by a freedman.
Such is the heritage you have given me, teaching me that skin color does not tell you much about another person and genetics only partially determines your fate.
So now, enjoy your retirement, living as a "snowbird" in the subtropical home you inherited from your mother, and look with pride at the society that you and our ancestors helped create. To be sure, the economic situation appears rather bleak. Crime is on the rise in some parts of the country. But as you taught me, we look at the present moment of our lives through the wrong end of a telescope or microscope, turning minutiae into catastrophes (or did you say militia?) and the other way around. Nothing is permanent. What is down will be up before we know it.
I still take what you say to heart. Indeed, nothing is permanent. As you have noted, the glory days of the Scot-Irish, German and English people may well be on the wane. Now, a man with Irish and African heritage serves as President. His opponent in the next election may well be of Indian descent. In the case of either one of them, their ancestors lived in different parts of the world than ours, celebrated different cultures, rights, rituals, and moral values than the ones imposed on us by Puritanical and Calvinistic forebears of ours. But hey, guess what -- they're still humans, too. Aliens have not taken over the world just yet (with jokes from movies like "MIB" that you haven't seen not withstanding).
The Hollywood cowboy heroes of your youth are gone. The cowboys of my generation wear rhinestone, ride mechanical bulls and die of lung cancer (a few of them turned into sheep herders and...well, never mind...neither one of us saw that movie!). The cowboys of the next generation may eat curry and ride off into the Bollywood sunset on elephants.
Life is still worth living. The beaches are still worth seeing (just don't step out into the untreated water). Your friends still like you. There's still many a sunset to watch and book to read. The Internet will continue to expand, giving you all sorts of new email jokes to exchange with colleagues and websites on which to look up your old Army and school buddies.
Best of all, your children and grandchildren still need you! So, keep your head up high and laugh, even when your family is all talking at once and miss something you say. Be happy that you have a family to celebrate holidays and birthdays with you (sadly, many people in this world do not).
You have given this world a corporate, academic and genetic heritage you can be proud of, including a son who writes not-so-serious quips that still drive you up a wall! That's why I'm posting this on a blog you won't read instead of in a nice birthday card that you will (guess that "fear of God" thing you put in me still lingers in my mind; to disappoint your father is to disappoint The Father, according to your Baptist/Presbyterian elders).
Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, mein Vater!
Dad, thanks for everything. Of course, some parts of who I am I cannot attribute to you but without your genetic material, I would not be.
You bought me my first plastic model kit, a U.S. battleship, when I was six years old. I sat with you at the dining area of the great room and glued the pieces together while my sister sat with my mother and watched "The Wizard of Oz" on television in the den area of the great room, training my sister and me in the gender-specific roles of your upbringing. You probably built most if not all of the outdoor playsets I enjoyed, including the slides, swings, jungle gyms and other metal contraptions that could be called art if displayed in a modern metropolitan museum. We just thought of these things as utilitarian, didn't we, mon pere?
From you I learned to appreciate the taste of beer and cigars, the thrill of stock car racing and the necessity for team sports (mainly, to keep aggressive young people focused on bullying each other).
You also told me about my heritage, the Scots-Irish immigrants who came to North America and helped build a new nation out of the scattered settlements of the British, Spanish and French Colonies. With you I traveled the backwaters of the East Coast, reliving the fights on the battlefields like King's Mountain and the starvation of settlers who stepped foot on Roanoke Island and the shores of Jamestown. I imagined what our ancestors might have seen as their imported diseases and fighting machines wiped out whole populations of the indigenous North American people -- huge tracts of land free for the taking. I understood that the men of my past felt that, after winning the Revolutionary War, they deserved the right to buy and sell other men and women to work the land given to them by the new government of the United States of America. Later, I would learn the irony of history after you told me that you had grown up on land sold to your family by a freedman.
Such is the heritage you have given me, teaching me that skin color does not tell you much about another person and genetics only partially determines your fate.
So now, enjoy your retirement, living as a "snowbird" in the subtropical home you inherited from your mother, and look with pride at the society that you and our ancestors helped create. To be sure, the economic situation appears rather bleak. Crime is on the rise in some parts of the country. But as you taught me, we look at the present moment of our lives through the wrong end of a telescope or microscope, turning minutiae into catastrophes (or did you say militia?) and the other way around. Nothing is permanent. What is down will be up before we know it.
I still take what you say to heart. Indeed, nothing is permanent. As you have noted, the glory days of the Scot-Irish, German and English people may well be on the wane. Now, a man with Irish and African heritage serves as President. His opponent in the next election may well be of Indian descent. In the case of either one of them, their ancestors lived in different parts of the world than ours, celebrated different cultures, rights, rituals, and moral values than the ones imposed on us by Puritanical and Calvinistic forebears of ours. But hey, guess what -- they're still humans, too. Aliens have not taken over the world just yet (with jokes from movies like "MIB" that you haven't seen not withstanding).
The Hollywood cowboy heroes of your youth are gone. The cowboys of my generation wear rhinestone, ride mechanical bulls and die of lung cancer (a few of them turned into sheep herders and...well, never mind...neither one of us saw that movie!). The cowboys of the next generation may eat curry and ride off into the Bollywood sunset on elephants.
Life is still worth living. The beaches are still worth seeing (just don't step out into the untreated water). Your friends still like you. There's still many a sunset to watch and book to read. The Internet will continue to expand, giving you all sorts of new email jokes to exchange with colleagues and websites on which to look up your old Army and school buddies.
Best of all, your children and grandchildren still need you! So, keep your head up high and laugh, even when your family is all talking at once and miss something you say. Be happy that you have a family to celebrate holidays and birthdays with you (sadly, many people in this world do not).
You have given this world a corporate, academic and genetic heritage you can be proud of, including a son who writes not-so-serious quips that still drive you up a wall! That's why I'm posting this on a blog you won't read instead of in a nice birthday card that you will (guess that "fear of God" thing you put in me still lingers in my mind; to disappoint your father is to disappoint The Father, according to your Baptist/Presbyterian elders).
Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, mein Vater!
24 February 2009
What is a novel?
While waiting at a local haircut shop this morning, I skimmed through a copy of a popular news magazine that commemorated the recent U.S. Presidential inauguration. I glanced through the articles in the special edition portion of the magazine, getting a feeling of deja vu, knowing that the stories about the new President were nearly identical to the articles from a copy of Life magazine I have that commemorated an equally "maverick" President in the early 1960s. Nothing is new under the sun -- it's just repackaged and sold to the next generation.
As I moved out of the special edition section and into the regular features of the magazine, I found an article about the current state of the "NOVEL," that great and glorious epitome of civilization that proves the right of literacy to call itself the culmination of human evolution. Well, like all evolving things, the jury's out the revolving door on the format of the novel. Seems like the Japanese craze for miniature things electronic, including handheld wireless walkie-talkies (i.e., cell phones), has sparked a new craze for equally-small novels. Thus, literature, instant gratification and attention deficit syndrome have finally mated (in an era where a ménage à trois can, with the aid of genetic manipulation, result in an entirely new species) and created the mini-masterpiece. In the meantime, self-publishing continues to grow in self-respect, joining fan fiction in the need for knowledge to be free.
Thus, as a kid, while reading cartoon stories (oops, I mean classic tales like Ivanhoe that we would now call graphic novels), I saw the advent of the online novel. Hell, that's why I'm here, isn't it, cranking out my own stories in this little mishmash mashup virtual shop of horribly written novels.
I have always kept a copy of Thomas Payne's Common Sense beside my writing desk. He was the pamphleteer who inspired me to care about my writing, infusing it with meaning while using concise language. In him, I saw that the desire to write is truly a manifest destiny wherein that which we call a self is not fully reflected in a mirror but sometimes also reflected in the use of words, the toolset given to us by our forebears to show to ourselves and others that we exist outside time and place. A hall of funhouse mirrors, if you will, with embedded webcams to capture our fleeting facial expressions.
Isn't that what a novel really is, anyway? An exaggeration of our vanity? An image we can laugh at or with, depending on our point of view? Emmett Kelly incarnate, a sad-faced clown looking back at us, with Pathos and Irony leaning against his shoulders?
The answer, of course, is yes.
Therefore, my novels reflect me, a user of mainly Western European languages, who writes outside the mainstream. I do not write specifically for others, although Muses do catch my attention and give me the strength to write when I feel too depressed to move. I write for me. I write to me. I fall in love with the idea of reading my writing everytime I open this blog. I crave the next woid I put down on paper ("woid" = ode to Dorothy Parker). Well, actually, I use paper so little now that paper has become my pocket shorthand, little guideposts I write to myself to remind me what I did on a certain day, in hopes that the zeitgeist will be remembered later on.
I write long tales that will not sell in Books-A-Billion or Barns of Novels. I write to the reader in me. I'm just as likely to write nonsense as common sense. One of my favorite poems has no purposefully-written English words but tells the story of a desert prince whose object of his affection he can never marry so they meet one last night at an oasis, where, unbeknownst to them, an alien spaceship is dumping some toxic waste from its sewer receptacle and accidentally blinds and disfigures the two Persians, giving a whole new meaning to "star-crossed lovers":
As we completely pave over this planet with homogeneous neighborhoods and shopping districts, let's recognize that life is Chaos ruled by Entropy. Anything is possible and anything can happen. Shouldn't a novel be the same way?
As I moved out of the special edition section and into the regular features of the magazine, I found an article about the current state of the "NOVEL," that great and glorious epitome of civilization that proves the right of literacy to call itself the culmination of human evolution. Well, like all evolving things, the jury's out the revolving door on the format of the novel. Seems like the Japanese craze for miniature things electronic, including handheld wireless walkie-talkies (i.e., cell phones), has sparked a new craze for equally-small novels. Thus, literature, instant gratification and attention deficit syndrome have finally mated (in an era where a ménage à trois can, with the aid of genetic manipulation, result in an entirely new species) and created the mini-masterpiece. In the meantime, self-publishing continues to grow in self-respect, joining fan fiction in the need for knowledge to be free.
Thus, as a kid, while reading cartoon stories (oops, I mean classic tales like Ivanhoe that we would now call graphic novels), I saw the advent of the online novel. Hell, that's why I'm here, isn't it, cranking out my own stories in this little mishmash mashup virtual shop of horribly written novels.
I have always kept a copy of Thomas Payne's Common Sense beside my writing desk. He was the pamphleteer who inspired me to care about my writing, infusing it with meaning while using concise language. In him, I saw that the desire to write is truly a manifest destiny wherein that which we call a self is not fully reflected in a mirror but sometimes also reflected in the use of words, the toolset given to us by our forebears to show to ourselves and others that we exist outside time and place. A hall of funhouse mirrors, if you will, with embedded webcams to capture our fleeting facial expressions.
Isn't that what a novel really is, anyway? An exaggeration of our vanity? An image we can laugh at or with, depending on our point of view? Emmett Kelly incarnate, a sad-faced clown looking back at us, with Pathos and Irony leaning against his shoulders?
The answer, of course, is yes.
Therefore, my novels reflect me, a user of mainly Western European languages, who writes outside the mainstream. I do not write specifically for others, although Muses do catch my attention and give me the strength to write when I feel too depressed to move. I write for me. I write to me. I fall in love with the idea of reading my writing everytime I open this blog. I crave the next woid I put down on paper ("woid" = ode to Dorothy Parker). Well, actually, I use paper so little now that paper has become my pocket shorthand, little guideposts I write to myself to remind me what I did on a certain day, in hopes that the zeitgeist will be remembered later on.
I write long tales that will not sell in Books-A-Billion or Barns of Novels. I write to the reader in me. I'm just as likely to write nonsense as common sense. One of my favorite poems has no purposefully-written English words but tells the story of a desert prince whose object of his affection he can never marry so they meet one last night at an oasis, where, unbeknownst to them, an alien spaceship is dumping some toxic waste from its sewer receptacle and accidentally blinds and disfigures the two Persians, giving a whole new meaning to "star-crossed lovers":
Sounds In The Night
Onaki som
Vrimurnika
Ola, mifrind, ola
Cizurpi, Ta
Omal jamal
Amarki ti nipur
Solonga long
Ananika
Aloki fanipa
Apar tipar
Avert aumur
Nipusi ti amour
- 7 October 1985
As we completely pave over this planet with homogeneous neighborhoods and shopping districts, let's recognize that life is Chaos ruled by Entropy. Anything is possible and anything can happen. Shouldn't a novel be the same way?
23 February 2009
Overcoming Boredom
In a few months, I'll have lived and breathed on this planet for 47 years. During that time, I have repeated myself so often that I've come to understand the concept of the midlife crisis more than once, too. You know what I mean, the reality that you've lived as an adult for 20-plus years and mortality is no longer a concept but an actual counting down of days so you look around you and see the ennui associated with seeing the same thing over and over and over again, despite attempts at experiencing something new.
Sometimes, enough time has elapsed that I can repeat something I've forgotten about. But eventually, the brain pathways are refreshed and memories return.
So it was that I experimented with online social networks. I got in contact with schoolmates I hadn't seen or heard from in 30 years or thereabouts. I discovered the lives they had led and thus some of the various possibilities that any one of us could have taken from the day we left the mandatory education labor camp known as high school (or primary school). I learned that there are some genuinely nice, caring people out there while I am still the intellectual snob I always thought I was, laughing my way through life as if I was somehow better than everyone else (and yes, no need to tell me, it's as pathetic as it sounds -- I grew up in an average middle-class home, with an average middle-class life and average middle-class intellect).
At the start of the day, I am still stuck with me. Sure, I woke up at 4 a.m. this morning to watch the sky brighten, with the tree silhouettes slowly coming into view in the foreground, as the luscious deep reds and blues in the background dimmed the stars, outlined the mountains, and gave way to a gorgeous sunrise. After all, I am an animal capable of wonder, unaware if my fellow housemates -- a black-and-white tetra fish, two Cornish Rex cats, female human being, some potted plants, and hidden ones such as spiders, roaches, and the like -- enjoy the wonders of the universe as much as I do.
I suppose that's what it's all about for me, discovering whatever "it" is in the moment. Once "it" is tagged, numbered and filed away, I'm ready for the next "it" to enter my field of view. Otherwise, if I have to stare at "it" for too long, I get bored, nervous and edgy. Like a child throwing a temper tantrum, I scream and shout, pushing people out of the way, calling them whatever names and making up whatever stories I can to get them out of my way (as if someone would bother stalking me) so I can go on to the next "it" I find by myself.
I suppose that's what worries me. If enough of a surrogate me is created in cyberspace, thus giving others who may not even know me an idea of what the next thing may be that will hold my attention as the "it" of the moment, I may never discover something new for myself. Instead, I will be fed a diet of things that are just enough different or far enough in time from the last time I encountered them that I'll believe it's something new and completely different.
After all, a car is just a car. A pair of shoes is just a pair of shoes. They are all just accessories and necessities. Yet, look at how many of my fellow humans get excited when the next car model hits the showroom floor or a pair of shoes gets displayed in a store window. They will fully exclaim that this is "IT"!!!!
I have owned Italian and German sports cars. I have jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. I have traveled to foreign lands and spoken foreign tongues. I have held a variety of jobs. But the one thing I've never been is someone else. No matter what I do or where I go, I fall asleep as me and get up with me in the morning.
Of course, we can never escape ourselves. We can reshape our bodies, calling it steroid therapy, botox injection, cosmetic surgery (just exactly what is "plastic" about plastic surgery?), artificial limb attachment and so on. We can replace many of our organs. But we haven't found a way to replace our genetic heritage, our collection of thoughts and other aspects of whatever "it" is that basically makes us us. [The symptom of amnesia is an interesting manifestation of that idea, though.]
Today, I have nothing to offer myself as a solution to my boredom. Usually, I just entertain myself with another short story disguised as a blog entry (which later serves as a portion of a chapter in a future book). However, last night's dreams were so delightful that I don't feel like writing anything down, not even my dreams, which would be too difficult to translate into words. I can savor the dreams and not spend a penny today.
I'll just jot down a note for myself here, trying to capture the dream image of myself as a baby in a crib staring up at math formulae floating above my head like stars in the sky or figures in a rotating mobile, each one being a partial solution to the economic turmoil we're now facing. As I reach up and pull down a formula, I see the way to fix the economy. I keep pulling down more and more math symbols until I see that the solution to the economic mess is not mathematical at all. Instead, it's simply a matter of telling people to realize that our mindsets will be messed up for a while until we get used to the idea of resetting our financial goals and expectations. It won't stop economists from touting large numbers or politicians from promising political fixes. What it will finally take is a concerted effort by the people to declare war on the economic profiteers (né pirates) and look for sacrifices in order for them to fully vent their rage before they can accept defeat in the worldwide battle for economic supremacy.
Will there be a modern-day version of storming the Bastille? It depends on how well the governments and news outlets can keep people feeling helpless and disconnected from one another. I look for either a rise in despondency/apathy or increase in random acts of violence against financial institutions to show which way the people are going. Ireland is already showing increasing signs of violence but it is a relatively isolated place, both geographically and informationally speaking. But is it the canary in the mine, though? And how many times has someone like me seen and felt these same thoughts, thinking that he's the first one to discover them?
Ah, boredom...'tis hard to overcome when methinks too much, eh? Best be entertaining meself quietly while I keep me mind focused on cranking the millstone like a good peasant. Them feudal lords knows what they're a-doing, don't they?
Yeah, right!!!
I especially like the political idea of "You just keep working so we can use your taxes to fix the situation." Hmm...isn't "fixing the situation" why I've already paid off my house, put money away for retirement and lived below my means my whole life? At least I have the luxury of not working right now so there are no taxes that I pay to fix someone else's life savings, home equity value or underwater mortgage. My wife and I are good students of history and have always avoided overextending ourselves.
Sorry, but after looking at the lives of others on facebook, I'm mad as hell and can't take it anymore -- I have no desire to help some of you repair your overextension just because you weren't good students to begin with. I'm taking a small part-time teaching position to reach out to those who still have an open mind and may want to learn how to enjoy a comfortable life without plastic surgery, overpriced neighborhoods and heavily-mortgaged lifestyles.
For the rest of you who lived below your means, I congratulate you. Join us in the revolution to turn this economy around! Teach others to turn off their televisions and stop listening to the radio. Stop subscribing to advertising-based magazines. Don't open general-interest or other ad-based websites. In other words, don't let someone else tell you what you like -- use your own brain to decide what you like or dislike. You'll be amazed at how much more relaxing your life can be when you spend more time with people like you who enjoy a basic lifestyle without constantly competing with each other about who has the bigger boat, newer backyard grill, shinier diamond ring or fancier renovated house. You'll taste foods for the first time for what they are and not for what the advertising agencies promised. You'll appreciate the leaf on the tree for the color it has and not think of it as just something you "have to" mow or rake in the fall because your yard has to look more pristine than your neighbor's.
That's what resetting your expectations is all about -- simply redefining what it takes to overcome the boredom in your life. You don't have to buy things or change your body to substitute for an empty life. Why not just be you, complete with all the warts, boredom and everything else that comes with it? You'd be surprised how much fun, creative and fulfilling it can be to discover more about yourself!!!
Sometimes, enough time has elapsed that I can repeat something I've forgotten about. But eventually, the brain pathways are refreshed and memories return.
So it was that I experimented with online social networks. I got in contact with schoolmates I hadn't seen or heard from in 30 years or thereabouts. I discovered the lives they had led and thus some of the various possibilities that any one of us could have taken from the day we left the mandatory education labor camp known as high school (or primary school). I learned that there are some genuinely nice, caring people out there while I am still the intellectual snob I always thought I was, laughing my way through life as if I was somehow better than everyone else (and yes, no need to tell me, it's as pathetic as it sounds -- I grew up in an average middle-class home, with an average middle-class life and average middle-class intellect).
At the start of the day, I am still stuck with me. Sure, I woke up at 4 a.m. this morning to watch the sky brighten, with the tree silhouettes slowly coming into view in the foreground, as the luscious deep reds and blues in the background dimmed the stars, outlined the mountains, and gave way to a gorgeous sunrise. After all, I am an animal capable of wonder, unaware if my fellow housemates -- a black-and-white tetra fish, two Cornish Rex cats, female human being, some potted plants, and hidden ones such as spiders, roaches, and the like -- enjoy the wonders of the universe as much as I do.
I suppose that's what it's all about for me, discovering whatever "it" is in the moment. Once "it" is tagged, numbered and filed away, I'm ready for the next "it" to enter my field of view. Otherwise, if I have to stare at "it" for too long, I get bored, nervous and edgy. Like a child throwing a temper tantrum, I scream and shout, pushing people out of the way, calling them whatever names and making up whatever stories I can to get them out of my way (as if someone would bother stalking me) so I can go on to the next "it" I find by myself.
I suppose that's what worries me. If enough of a surrogate me is created in cyberspace, thus giving others who may not even know me an idea of what the next thing may be that will hold my attention as the "it" of the moment, I may never discover something new for myself. Instead, I will be fed a diet of things that are just enough different or far enough in time from the last time I encountered them that I'll believe it's something new and completely different.
After all, a car is just a car. A pair of shoes is just a pair of shoes. They are all just accessories and necessities. Yet, look at how many of my fellow humans get excited when the next car model hits the showroom floor or a pair of shoes gets displayed in a store window. They will fully exclaim that this is "IT"!!!!
I have owned Italian and German sports cars. I have jumped out of a perfectly good airplane. I have traveled to foreign lands and spoken foreign tongues. I have held a variety of jobs. But the one thing I've never been is someone else. No matter what I do or where I go, I fall asleep as me and get up with me in the morning.
Of course, we can never escape ourselves. We can reshape our bodies, calling it steroid therapy, botox injection, cosmetic surgery (just exactly what is "plastic" about plastic surgery?), artificial limb attachment and so on. We can replace many of our organs. But we haven't found a way to replace our genetic heritage, our collection of thoughts and other aspects of whatever "it" is that basically makes us us. [The symptom of amnesia is an interesting manifestation of that idea, though.]
Today, I have nothing to offer myself as a solution to my boredom. Usually, I just entertain myself with another short story disguised as a blog entry (which later serves as a portion of a chapter in a future book). However, last night's dreams were so delightful that I don't feel like writing anything down, not even my dreams, which would be too difficult to translate into words. I can savor the dreams and not spend a penny today.
I'll just jot down a note for myself here, trying to capture the dream image of myself as a baby in a crib staring up at math formulae floating above my head like stars in the sky or figures in a rotating mobile, each one being a partial solution to the economic turmoil we're now facing. As I reach up and pull down a formula, I see the way to fix the economy. I keep pulling down more and more math symbols until I see that the solution to the economic mess is not mathematical at all. Instead, it's simply a matter of telling people to realize that our mindsets will be messed up for a while until we get used to the idea of resetting our financial goals and expectations. It won't stop economists from touting large numbers or politicians from promising political fixes. What it will finally take is a concerted effort by the people to declare war on the economic profiteers (né pirates) and look for sacrifices in order for them to fully vent their rage before they can accept defeat in the worldwide battle for economic supremacy.
Will there be a modern-day version of storming the Bastille? It depends on how well the governments and news outlets can keep people feeling helpless and disconnected from one another. I look for either a rise in despondency/apathy or increase in random acts of violence against financial institutions to show which way the people are going. Ireland is already showing increasing signs of violence but it is a relatively isolated place, both geographically and informationally speaking. But is it the canary in the mine, though? And how many times has someone like me seen and felt these same thoughts, thinking that he's the first one to discover them?
Ah, boredom...'tis hard to overcome when methinks too much, eh? Best be entertaining meself quietly while I keep me mind focused on cranking the millstone like a good peasant. Them feudal lords knows what they're a-doing, don't they?
Yeah, right!!!
I especially like the political idea of "You just keep working so we can use your taxes to fix the situation." Hmm...isn't "fixing the situation" why I've already paid off my house, put money away for retirement and lived below my means my whole life? At least I have the luxury of not working right now so there are no taxes that I pay to fix someone else's life savings, home equity value or underwater mortgage. My wife and I are good students of history and have always avoided overextending ourselves.
Sorry, but after looking at the lives of others on facebook, I'm mad as hell and can't take it anymore -- I have no desire to help some of you repair your overextension just because you weren't good students to begin with. I'm taking a small part-time teaching position to reach out to those who still have an open mind and may want to learn how to enjoy a comfortable life without plastic surgery, overpriced neighborhoods and heavily-mortgaged lifestyles.
For the rest of you who lived below your means, I congratulate you. Join us in the revolution to turn this economy around! Teach others to turn off their televisions and stop listening to the radio. Stop subscribing to advertising-based magazines. Don't open general-interest or other ad-based websites. In other words, don't let someone else tell you what you like -- use your own brain to decide what you like or dislike. You'll be amazed at how much more relaxing your life can be when you spend more time with people like you who enjoy a basic lifestyle without constantly competing with each other about who has the bigger boat, newer backyard grill, shinier diamond ring or fancier renovated house. You'll taste foods for the first time for what they are and not for what the advertising agencies promised. You'll appreciate the leaf on the tree for the color it has and not think of it as just something you "have to" mow or rake in the fall because your yard has to look more pristine than your neighbor's.
That's what resetting your expectations is all about -- simply redefining what it takes to overcome the boredom in your life. You don't have to buy things or change your body to substitute for an empty life. Why not just be you, complete with all the warts, boredom and everything else that comes with it? You'd be surprised how much fun, creative and fulfilling it can be to discover more about yourself!!!
22 February 2009
Who Do You Work For?
I don't believe in international conspiracies. I don't see spies around every corner. Of course, that doesn't mean they don't exist.
As I once said, I rarely have dealt with the underworld of crime. But then, what exactly is the underworld? And what is crime but the violation of someone else's definition of correct behavior?
I grew up in a small town in the United States in the 1970s. I joined a youth gang when I was nine or ten years old. In the gang, we stole cigarettes, candy, magazines, over-the-counter drugs, and other items from local stores. We also snitched cigarettes, cigars, liquor, and prescription drugs from our parents. We broke into other people's homes to steal the same items, which we would consume in houses under construction as we vandalized them. Sure, we had a clubhouse but the core members of the gang never fully trusted it because it was an open secret among all the neighborhood kids. We terrorized little kids to keep them from telling on us but inevitably a kid would tell a sibling who would inform his or her parents about one of our activities, getting us in trouble.
Once you join a gang, you never really get out. Even though I left the gang after my parents found out about a house I vandalized, my gang buddies never forgot about me. Throughout my teenage life as the perfect Boy Scout, which included earning an Eagle Scout Award, I always had the old neighborhood bullies on my back, so to speak. My later "crimes" with them, such as they were, included cheating on tests, ratting out rival gang members to teachers, terrorizing younger kids and generally protecting my former fifth grade band of brothers whenever they got in trouble (diverting a teacher's attention is just too plain easy when you have an angelic face like mine).
After high school, I lost touch with my buddies. Their criminal lives had taken some of them in and out of juvenile delinquent detention centers and later county jails. One of them served time in a federal penitentiary, from what I heard. Overall, our lives had taken tracks in two different directions.
Or so I thought.
A couple of years ago, after accumulating a large stock portfolio, I decided to retire in midlife. I looked forward to a life of leisure, doing whatever I wanted to do. And for the most part, I have. Except for this one small thing.
You see, just about the time I retired, I got a call from a woman named Melissa Wu. Ms. Wu claimed she had seen my CV (or resume, if you will) posted on a website called monster.com. Now, I don't exactly remember posting my CV on the Internet but sure enough, there it was. Anyway, Ms. Wu mentioned that I had been highly recommended by a colleague named Litho. Litho? Wow, I hadn't heard a name like that since...well, since fifth or sixth grade.
Ms. Wu told me that the job she was interested in my taking involved a software development project between a firm in China and one in the United States. She told me that both firms wished to remain anonymous in exchange for a hefty bonus and a exclusive contract for my services for the next two years.
Smelled fishy to me, doesn't it to you, too? Like a really bad movie plot. But, unfortunately, life is like that sometimes. I told Ms. Wu that I had retired and wasn't interested in a job. She told me that she or someone from her recruiting firm would call me back.
A few weeks later, I got a call with no identity on the Caller ID. The caller's voice sounded familiar.
"Litho?"
"Gus! Hey, how's it going?"
"Pretty good. Yourself?"
"Can't complain! Hey, I understand you're available for hire?"
"Well..."
"Hey, come on, man. Do me a favor here, will you?"
"You in trouble?"
"Not at all. It's just that I've got this Web business thing going on and I need someone who can help me get the whole system all tested out. We're using worldwide connections to computers tied to a Microsoft Home Server and thought maybe your software testing skills and management skills could get this thing finalized."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Say, I tell you what. We were hoping to get you or someone from back home involved in this. But, thing is, we need you to move to Shanghai."
"Shanghai?"
"Yeah, pretty cool, huh? Look, I know you ain't working right now and could use a little spare pocket change. What say you come over to China and check us out?"
To cut the story short, I told Litho I'd think about it. He called me back a time or two and when I was still hesitant, he got Ms. Wu back involved.
Melissa was more convincing than I thought. She walked me through the technical details of the setup, which intrigued me. We finally worked out a deal where I didn't have to travel out of country. Instead, using a simple VPN connection, I communicated with a test team in Shanghai, one in the U.S. and one in Bangalore to organize a complete test team.
We finished our task last October.
I felt like I was in the movie, "Paycheck." As soon as I received confirmation of a deposit of my bonus check in my account in UBS in Switzerland, I started getting odd vibes, especially since my deposit occurred the day the stock market took a dive. In a panic, I checked my account and it had actually grown.
Litho had told me that the system I had tested would truly be a global network. Sure enough, I and my team had shown how a small network of home servers strategically placed in homes, offices, universities, government facilities, convenience stores and just about any out-of-the-way places could control untold number of computers, no matter whether the computers had so-called secure antivirus and firewall software installed, by taking advantage of a backdoor method I had developed in testing KVM switches. A KVM switch is a device that lets you hook up a computer to a box and extend the length of cable of the Keyboard, Video, and Mouse devices (as well as USB devices like flash drives and MP3 players) -- extending the cable included a virtual cable connection across the Internet. Thus, while theoretically you could not directly download files from the computer through the KVM cables, you could take "pictures" of what was going on across the KVM cables and process them realtime, meaning you could duplicate the exact actions of your home computer or a computer in a government lab and send those actions to a bank of servers halfway across the globe. Litho was impressed that my test team not only worked out all the bugs but had made excellent suggestions for improving the system's robustness, transparency and scalability. He promised that my work would not go unnoticed.
Today, while the global stock markets are plunging, my private accounts are growing. BTW, I no longer have an account at UBS. Seeing the attention that UBS was getting a few weeks ago at a quiet government office near Washington D.C. that my own private home server network alerted me to, I just as quietly split my UBS account into deposits at other remote locations under companies, accounts and names that Litho highly suggested I use to protect my investments.
Why am I telling you all this? Well, you see, everything I've done in the past two years is completely legitimate. I have contracts, paycheck stubs, IRS tax payments and other documentation to clearly show my work is on the "up and up." But I still smell a fish, don't you? So, when you think you're working for a U.S.-based company, take a look at the list of U.S. companies that are foreign owned, like Holiday Inn, compiled in the book, "The United States of Europe" by T.R. Reid.
Think about it. Who do you work for? Don't lean in too closely or you might smell a fish, too. Sometimes it's better not to know. Hey, if the IRS thinks it's legit, it's legit. Take my word for it.
As I once said, I rarely have dealt with the underworld of crime. But then, what exactly is the underworld? And what is crime but the violation of someone else's definition of correct behavior?
I grew up in a small town in the United States in the 1970s. I joined a youth gang when I was nine or ten years old. In the gang, we stole cigarettes, candy, magazines, over-the-counter drugs, and other items from local stores. We also snitched cigarettes, cigars, liquor, and prescription drugs from our parents. We broke into other people's homes to steal the same items, which we would consume in houses under construction as we vandalized them. Sure, we had a clubhouse but the core members of the gang never fully trusted it because it was an open secret among all the neighborhood kids. We terrorized little kids to keep them from telling on us but inevitably a kid would tell a sibling who would inform his or her parents about one of our activities, getting us in trouble.
Once you join a gang, you never really get out. Even though I left the gang after my parents found out about a house I vandalized, my gang buddies never forgot about me. Throughout my teenage life as the perfect Boy Scout, which included earning an Eagle Scout Award, I always had the old neighborhood bullies on my back, so to speak. My later "crimes" with them, such as they were, included cheating on tests, ratting out rival gang members to teachers, terrorizing younger kids and generally protecting my former fifth grade band of brothers whenever they got in trouble (diverting a teacher's attention is just too plain easy when you have an angelic face like mine).
After high school, I lost touch with my buddies. Their criminal lives had taken some of them in and out of juvenile delinquent detention centers and later county jails. One of them served time in a federal penitentiary, from what I heard. Overall, our lives had taken tracks in two different directions.
Or so I thought.
A couple of years ago, after accumulating a large stock portfolio, I decided to retire in midlife. I looked forward to a life of leisure, doing whatever I wanted to do. And for the most part, I have. Except for this one small thing.
You see, just about the time I retired, I got a call from a woman named Melissa Wu. Ms. Wu claimed she had seen my CV (or resume, if you will) posted on a website called monster.com. Now, I don't exactly remember posting my CV on the Internet but sure enough, there it was. Anyway, Ms. Wu mentioned that I had been highly recommended by a colleague named Litho. Litho? Wow, I hadn't heard a name like that since...well, since fifth or sixth grade.
Ms. Wu told me that the job she was interested in my taking involved a software development project between a firm in China and one in the United States. She told me that both firms wished to remain anonymous in exchange for a hefty bonus and a exclusive contract for my services for the next two years.
Smelled fishy to me, doesn't it to you, too? Like a really bad movie plot. But, unfortunately, life is like that sometimes. I told Ms. Wu that I had retired and wasn't interested in a job. She told me that she or someone from her recruiting firm would call me back.
A few weeks later, I got a call with no identity on the Caller ID. The caller's voice sounded familiar.
"Litho?"
"Gus! Hey, how's it going?"
"Pretty good. Yourself?"
"Can't complain! Hey, I understand you're available for hire?"
"Well..."
"Hey, come on, man. Do me a favor here, will you?"
"You in trouble?"
"Not at all. It's just that I've got this Web business thing going on and I need someone who can help me get the whole system all tested out. We're using worldwide connections to computers tied to a Microsoft Home Server and thought maybe your software testing skills and management skills could get this thing finalized."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Say, I tell you what. We were hoping to get you or someone from back home involved in this. But, thing is, we need you to move to Shanghai."
"Shanghai?"
"Yeah, pretty cool, huh? Look, I know you ain't working right now and could use a little spare pocket change. What say you come over to China and check us out?"
To cut the story short, I told Litho I'd think about it. He called me back a time or two and when I was still hesitant, he got Ms. Wu back involved.
Melissa was more convincing than I thought. She walked me through the technical details of the setup, which intrigued me. We finally worked out a deal where I didn't have to travel out of country. Instead, using a simple VPN connection, I communicated with a test team in Shanghai, one in the U.S. and one in Bangalore to organize a complete test team.
We finished our task last October.
I felt like I was in the movie, "Paycheck." As soon as I received confirmation of a deposit of my bonus check in my account in UBS in Switzerland, I started getting odd vibes, especially since my deposit occurred the day the stock market took a dive. In a panic, I checked my account and it had actually grown.
Litho had told me that the system I had tested would truly be a global network. Sure enough, I and my team had shown how a small network of home servers strategically placed in homes, offices, universities, government facilities, convenience stores and just about any out-of-the-way places could control untold number of computers, no matter whether the computers had so-called secure antivirus and firewall software installed, by taking advantage of a backdoor method I had developed in testing KVM switches. A KVM switch is a device that lets you hook up a computer to a box and extend the length of cable of the Keyboard, Video, and Mouse devices (as well as USB devices like flash drives and MP3 players) -- extending the cable included a virtual cable connection across the Internet. Thus, while theoretically you could not directly download files from the computer through the KVM cables, you could take "pictures" of what was going on across the KVM cables and process them realtime, meaning you could duplicate the exact actions of your home computer or a computer in a government lab and send those actions to a bank of servers halfway across the globe. Litho was impressed that my test team not only worked out all the bugs but had made excellent suggestions for improving the system's robustness, transparency and scalability. He promised that my work would not go unnoticed.
Today, while the global stock markets are plunging, my private accounts are growing. BTW, I no longer have an account at UBS. Seeing the attention that UBS was getting a few weeks ago at a quiet government office near Washington D.C. that my own private home server network alerted me to, I just as quietly split my UBS account into deposits at other remote locations under companies, accounts and names that Litho highly suggested I use to protect my investments.
Why am I telling you all this? Well, you see, everything I've done in the past two years is completely legitimate. I have contracts, paycheck stubs, IRS tax payments and other documentation to clearly show my work is on the "up and up." But I still smell a fish, don't you? So, when you think you're working for a U.S.-based company, take a look at the list of U.S. companies that are foreign owned, like Holiday Inn, compiled in the book, "The United States of Europe" by T.R. Reid.
Think about it. Who do you work for? Don't lean in too closely or you might smell a fish, too. Sometimes it's better not to know. Hey, if the IRS thinks it's legit, it's legit. Take my word for it.
Means and Meanings
I should not be here, putting words on patches of global paper, scratching my thoughts with found fonts, carving my name on lumps of coal or in swirls of oil.
I meditate on words, all the same....ommmm....I cannot escape the past and I never live in the future...the present moment leads to the next...that's all...ommmm.
Hahaha. Today I look at the world I live in and marvel at the provincialism inherent in my being. I see that others, including Barthelme and Ballard, wrote their fictional best often while wrapped in the cocoon of suburbia, so provincial living is not a crutch upon which to lean my limits.
I'm granting myself some patience here. My blood pressure is up because I am still distraught about giving up the future of running a company and while I'm writing this, I'm converting my pop albums to MP3 that I once bought to impress some forgotten girls (The Moody Blues, Loverboy, Peter Schilling, The Rolling Stones, and Lionel Richie). The time and money we waste on the false sense of romanticism!!! I love my wife but the women I chased until they started telling me all I wanted to talk about was my wife...ironic, isn't it? Pay for dates with other women so they can tell me who I love. That's okay. I can forgive the indiscretions of my youth. It's the boring albums that still clutter my house that make me shake my head. For a person who shuns materialism, I sure am a pack rat. To quote Tracy Daugherty, who paraphrased Henri F. Ellenberger from the piece called "The Psychology of Destiny," published by Donald Barthelme in Forum:
In other words, I have elected to accept my pack rat attitude from various family members. No excuses.
As far as my tough business decision goes...sigh... A little background here. A work colleague invited me to his church a few weeks ago for a Friday evening get-together. That evening enlightened me about my strengths, weaknesses, desires and dislikes. As I walked among the churchy engineers and their spouses, watching their behavior -- mainly, their range of comfort in a crowd -- I clearly saw that running a company or being involved in any business at all is not what I want to do in life, despite its attractiveness. As my sister pointed out to me recently, at heart I'm a nonsocial nerd. Thus, I know deep down I will always be uncomfortable in crowds and shouldn't be trying to manage a group of people (I learned that lesson at my last job but sometimes forget about it). Rather than keep being involved in a venture that I'm not interested in and pushing my blood pressure up in the process, I feel it's best to step away now and let those get involved who are comfortable taking the lead. Someone like another work colleague who played sports in college and is successful in sales/marketing, or a prominent local attorney who founded a sports team (in other words, guys who are team players and have been involved in organized sports) tend to do a great job talking up a brand-new product line and running a company better than a typical old nerd like me -- Bill Gates and Steve Jobs being the notable exceptions to typical nerds, of course.
In that, my father and I are different. I remember when he and I were at a sports function one evening and there was a private reception going on. My father felt no qualms insinuating himself into the crowd whereas I understood that we were walking in uninvited. That uninvited attitude of mine is a clear indication that I am not completely a chip off the old block, as the saying goes, and not cut out to hob-nob with business owners and others who feel comfortable mixing with each other as if they belong together. My father has no problem with the instant feeling of belonging to a group. I, however, do not feel as if I belong to any group, and act like a jovial, laughing clown to hide my discomfort. Like Groucho Marx said, I do not want to belong to a club that would have me as a member.
I am not a loner but I am not a joiner, either. I walk my own path where sometimes others walk with me and sometimes I walk alone. I do not need or want others following me because I don't necessarily know where I'm going but sometimes people follow me, anyway, because it seems that some people have the idea that I'm good for entertaining them for a little while.
Such is my life as I approach 47 years on this planet, not having any clue what I'm doing but about to stand up for eleven weeks of four-hour stretches in a classroom and tell kids how to live their lives. God help the poor kids in my classes. If they only had a clue!!! lol Perhaps in my entertainment, they'll find nuggets of wisdom to call their own.
How can the means justify the end if there is no end in mind? Does one seek the mean? Can one find meaning anyway? If there is no meaning, no means, no end, and no bounds for a meaningful mean, then what? Easy answer: laugh at the questions because they are just the smoke and mirrors of words. That which I call a tree looks like a giant stalk of broccoli to a giraffe, a stack of timber to a lumberjack and a house to a bird. In other words, if you find yourself drawn to my writing, don't take anything I say seriously because I'm just playing with the arrangement of words and offer no concrete advice. I am entertaining myself. Nothing more. All else is just a reflection of the cultural norms, ethics, morals and disjointed commercial advertising upon which I was raised. There is not some coherent whole hidden among the reeds that I am slowly revealing to you like a wise sage. But if there is, then let me know 'cause I haven't seen it yet myself. %^D
I meditate on words, all the same....ommmm....I cannot escape the past and I never live in the future...the present moment leads to the next...that's all...ommmm.
Quote: [of Aldous Huxley:] "You could always tell by his conversation which volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica he's been reading. One day it would be Alps, Andes, and Apennines, and the next it would be the Himalayas and the Hippocratic Oath."
-- Bertrand Russell, Letter to R. W. Clark, July 1965, from the Yale Book of Quotations
Hahaha. Today I look at the world I live in and marvel at the provincialism inherent in my being. I see that others, including Barthelme and Ballard, wrote their fictional best often while wrapped in the cocoon of suburbia, so provincial living is not a crutch upon which to lean my limits.
I'm granting myself some patience here. My blood pressure is up because I am still distraught about giving up the future of running a company and while I'm writing this, I'm converting my pop albums to MP3 that I once bought to impress some forgotten girls (The Moody Blues, Loverboy, Peter Schilling, The Rolling Stones, and Lionel Richie). The time and money we waste on the false sense of romanticism!!! I love my wife but the women I chased until they started telling me all I wanted to talk about was my wife...ironic, isn't it? Pay for dates with other women so they can tell me who I love. That's okay. I can forgive the indiscretions of my youth. It's the boring albums that still clutter my house that make me shake my head. For a person who shuns materialism, I sure am a pack rat. To quote Tracy Daugherty, who paraphrased Henri F. Ellenberger from the piece called "The Psychology of Destiny," published by Donald Barthelme in Forum:
the individual is free to choose from among the traits he has inherited from his family to shape an elected destiny.
In other words, I have elected to accept my pack rat attitude from various family members. No excuses.
As far as my tough business decision goes...sigh... A little background here. A work colleague invited me to his church a few weeks ago for a Friday evening get-together. That evening enlightened me about my strengths, weaknesses, desires and dislikes. As I walked among the churchy engineers and their spouses, watching their behavior -- mainly, their range of comfort in a crowd -- I clearly saw that running a company or being involved in any business at all is not what I want to do in life, despite its attractiveness. As my sister pointed out to me recently, at heart I'm a nonsocial nerd. Thus, I know deep down I will always be uncomfortable in crowds and shouldn't be trying to manage a group of people (I learned that lesson at my last job but sometimes forget about it). Rather than keep being involved in a venture that I'm not interested in and pushing my blood pressure up in the process, I feel it's best to step away now and let those get involved who are comfortable taking the lead. Someone like another work colleague who played sports in college and is successful in sales/marketing, or a prominent local attorney who founded a sports team (in other words, guys who are team players and have been involved in organized sports) tend to do a great job talking up a brand-new product line and running a company better than a typical old nerd like me -- Bill Gates and Steve Jobs being the notable exceptions to typical nerds, of course.
In that, my father and I are different. I remember when he and I were at a sports function one evening and there was a private reception going on. My father felt no qualms insinuating himself into the crowd whereas I understood that we were walking in uninvited. That uninvited attitude of mine is a clear indication that I am not completely a chip off the old block, as the saying goes, and not cut out to hob-nob with business owners and others who feel comfortable mixing with each other as if they belong together. My father has no problem with the instant feeling of belonging to a group. I, however, do not feel as if I belong to any group, and act like a jovial, laughing clown to hide my discomfort. Like Groucho Marx said, I do not want to belong to a club that would have me as a member.
I am not a loner but I am not a joiner, either. I walk my own path where sometimes others walk with me and sometimes I walk alone. I do not need or want others following me because I don't necessarily know where I'm going but sometimes people follow me, anyway, because it seems that some people have the idea that I'm good for entertaining them for a little while.
Such is my life as I approach 47 years on this planet, not having any clue what I'm doing but about to stand up for eleven weeks of four-hour stretches in a classroom and tell kids how to live their lives. God help the poor kids in my classes. If they only had a clue!!! lol Perhaps in my entertainment, they'll find nuggets of wisdom to call their own.
How can the means justify the end if there is no end in mind? Does one seek the mean? Can one find meaning anyway? If there is no meaning, no means, no end, and no bounds for a meaningful mean, then what? Easy answer: laugh at the questions because they are just the smoke and mirrors of words. That which I call a tree looks like a giant stalk of broccoli to a giraffe, a stack of timber to a lumberjack and a house to a bird. In other words, if you find yourself drawn to my writing, don't take anything I say seriously because I'm just playing with the arrangement of words and offer no concrete advice. I am entertaining myself. Nothing more. All else is just a reflection of the cultural norms, ethics, morals and disjointed commercial advertising upon which I was raised. There is not some coherent whole hidden among the reeds that I am slowly revealing to you like a wise sage. But if there is, then let me know 'cause I haven't seen it yet myself. %^D
21 February 2009
Chapter excerpt -- Gus [for mature audiences only]
Hello, my name is Gus. Have I told you that already? I can’t remember. My memory is slipping past me in the checkout aisle. All I’ve got is this grocery cart full of miscellaneous items, like a box of floppy disks, a broken ceramic sculpture of a seated pipe musician, a stone mask from Mexico, a HotWheels Ferrari dealership, half-empty bottle of Stetson cologne, and a purple fish net. In front of me, two books about men whose ideas and writing greatly influenced my life. J.G. Ballard. Donald Barthelme.
I am alive today because of them. I am dead today because of them.
The “Best of the Doobies” vinyl LP album spins on a record player, the sounds playing quietly through the needle like the thumping of an automobile audio system nearby, flexing my eardrum at the threshold of my thoughts while stopped for a red traffic light.
According to people who grew up with me during our years together attending primary school, my label was “nerd.” Despite my dislike of labels, people label me and each other anyway. I cannot change people’s perception of me from that time period.
I want to die. I did not plan to live this long. I do not plan to live this long. I have had enough of people and their labels. I have had enough of my labeling animals “people” just because they happen to look like me. I have had enough.
I have nothing left to contribute to this world. It will and does exist without me. I am not a megalomaniac. I do not need to rule any part of this world. I do not want to prey upon the fears and desires of others, even though that is essentially what I’ve done my whole life, in my own small way, from baby life onward to other lives and incarnations but never, I think, as a carnation.
I have tried but never succeeded in escaping the world of words. Instead, I perpetuate it.
Tonight, I’ll eat dinner with my wife and two of our friends. After dinner, the four of us will attend the traveling version of the musical, “In Recognition Of Your Achievement,” loosely based on the movie, “As A Member In Good Standing Through The Year.” I saw the Broadway version of the show in NYC back in February 2007. Two years ago this month, as a matter of fact. Tonight, I am reliving my personal private history, adding other humans to the memories of laughter, frowns, and boredom I experienced by myself for a $180 ticket to a Broadway show while on a week-long training session in the “art and nuance of creatively wasting people’s time unknowingly” at the Crowne Plaza during a New York winter, where I also experienced a taping of the ever-popular television show, “Laughing with Llamas,” down the street.
I have relived history my whole life, too. Speech and writing in itself is a reuse of our history of learning to talk, read and write. Damn. I guess there is no social human future that is absent of the past.
I don’t remember how old I was when I realized I was ambivalent and ambiguous but not ambitious about sexual orientation. I first understood the feelings when I was five or six, sensing that I was attracted to no particular person, regardless of gender. Then, as I grew older, when I reached the edge of the slide down into the sensual pool of sexual maturation, I knew what my body was saying even if the thoughts had not sufficiently been trained or developed to understand the chemical attraction I felt for no one. Once, seeing my behavior, my father asked me if I was a homosexual. I honestly answered no. I had no specific attraction to people of the same sex. Instead, I was attracted to neither sex but silently suppressed any personal desires to act upon my chemical needs, knowing that my successful participation in the suburban subculture of my hometown meant that I should maintain a general healthy sexual attitude toward others. Thus, throughout high school, I kissed two people – publicly displaying affection for a couple of months with a woman a year younger than me and privately sharing a kiss with a man a year older than me. Otherwise, I was celibate, sharing the majority of my years in primary school with a woman, Helen, who did not desire sexual relations with me so that I didn’t have to pretend to want to kiss, hug or otherwise feign sexual interest in her, which in turn let me suppress any sexual attention I knew I wanted to pay to no specific gender. I maintained my sanity by adopting a jovial attitude, perpetuated by my schoolmates even to this day.
My sister and others in primary school thus called me a “nerd.” Yeah, that’s right. Me, Gus!
When I started college at the Good Citizenship College, I had only one schoolmate from secondary/primary school upon whom I could depend to help me maintain my sanity and false self – Cambie, who was my roommate at the dorm during my freshman year in college. To shorten that story, I flunked out of school as my persona fell apart. Cambie was too interested in girls and not enough interested in school to pay much attention to his roommate’s sanity.
I returned to the subculture of my youth in an effort to reestablish my connections to a false sense of self, living at home with my parents. In that mode, I completed college-level courses at Flunkin University, left home to attend the Institute of Model Rocketry Appreciation (where I also reconnected with my female friend from primary school, Helen, who helped me once again fully function in a dysfunctional funk for a while, until I started spiraling downward) and finally, after running away from home on a 10-day route from my hometown to Seattle, WA, to Los Angeles, CA, and back in late September/early October 1984 and a detox visit to my grandmother at the end of that year, I returned home one more time and graduated from Questionable Character College, where, in the midst of taking classes, my first official mental breakdown occurred in 1985, followed by a short series of psychological counseling sessions. You should have seen the fuss they made over a guy named Gus. I did tell you my name is Gus, didn’t I?
So, by 1985, I had lost myself, found myself, realized myself was not myself and still had not accepted who I was. Well, what’s a guy to do but find the woman with whom he knew would not want children by him and marry her? In 1986, I married the one woman from my childhood who waited patiently on me to “grow up” and become a money-earning man. For many years, we stayed interested in each other sexually, diverting any nonmarital sexual attraction back to one another. Chemically, we were compatible (and still are, as far as I know). In our years of marriage, I have had only one full mental breakdown, in mid-1991, and one partial mental breakdown, in 2006. In the first one, I was able to stay employed with the aid of counseling to keep me within the bounds of my subcultural social upbringing. In the second one, I lost the desire to project my false self any longer. Since then, I have been essentially unemployable from a personal point of view. I leave the house occasionally, always fearful that others can see or have seen the real “me” and will label me incorrectly. I am not heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, androgynous, transsexual, or any other label of sexual orientation that I’m aware of. I prefer sex with myself, basic autoerotic notions of masturbation having satisfied my sexual needs my whole life, while I can think about anyone or anything I’ve seen in fantasies as a personal turn-on.
In other words, I do not need contact with others to satisfy me sexually. Is that the definition of a “nerd,” a person who is satisfied by one’s self and no other? If so, then I reached the limit of myself much too long ago. All else, this investigation, a so-called self-discovery, is for naught. But I’ve always known that, haven’t I?
In this cage of words that surrounds me, I limit myself, I know. But I have no other understanding of the world without words. I do not understand infinity although I know how to spell it. I see a rotating mass slowly cooling down and call it a planet, giving names to pieces and parts of it, claiming ownership of a section of thin crust that floats over the roiling magmatic core and call that piece of crust my home.
Did I tell you my name is Gus? I can’t remember. But I remember something. The temporary intransigence of others, who led me to believe one thing while I have led myself to believe another, makes me laugh. We try so hard to give permanence to that which does not exist in perpetuity. We want to save species whose end time may have come due to our population explosion but we cannot accept the inevitable wholesale elimination of creatures that found a way to survive on Earth’s crust for millennia before our species swept all before it. We especially cannot see that no species is permanent, including ours, but the magnification of a few thousand generations of us makes many believe in the concept of “forever.” So be it. Let the masses keep massing. They have and will do so without me. I have found me and now can let myself go on.
As I have said more than once, no need to keep repeating myself. As I have said more than once, no need to keep repeating myself. As I have said more than once, no need to keep repeating myself. Oops, sorry about that. Sometimes, these old records of mine skip a few times before I notice. Did I tell you my name is Gus?
“RE/Search No. 8/9: J.G. Ballard” Copyright © 1984
“Hiding Man: a biography of Donald Barthelme” Copyright © 2009
I am alive today because of them. I am dead today because of them.
The “Best of the Doobies” vinyl LP album spins on a record player, the sounds playing quietly through the needle like the thumping of an automobile audio system nearby, flexing my eardrum at the threshold of my thoughts while stopped for a red traffic light.
According to people who grew up with me during our years together attending primary school, my label was “nerd.” Despite my dislike of labels, people label me and each other anyway. I cannot change people’s perception of me from that time period.
I want to die. I did not plan to live this long. I do not plan to live this long. I have had enough of people and their labels. I have had enough of my labeling animals “people” just because they happen to look like me. I have had enough.
I have nothing left to contribute to this world. It will and does exist without me. I am not a megalomaniac. I do not need to rule any part of this world. I do not want to prey upon the fears and desires of others, even though that is essentially what I’ve done my whole life, in my own small way, from baby life onward to other lives and incarnations but never, I think, as a carnation.
I have tried but never succeeded in escaping the world of words. Instead, I perpetuate it.
Tonight, I’ll eat dinner with my wife and two of our friends. After dinner, the four of us will attend the traveling version of the musical, “In Recognition Of Your Achievement,” loosely based on the movie, “As A Member In Good Standing Through The Year.” I saw the Broadway version of the show in NYC back in February 2007. Two years ago this month, as a matter of fact. Tonight, I am reliving my personal private history, adding other humans to the memories of laughter, frowns, and boredom I experienced by myself for a $180 ticket to a Broadway show while on a week-long training session in the “art and nuance of creatively wasting people’s time unknowingly” at the Crowne Plaza during a New York winter, where I also experienced a taping of the ever-popular television show, “Laughing with Llamas,” down the street.
I have relived history my whole life, too. Speech and writing in itself is a reuse of our history of learning to talk, read and write. Damn. I guess there is no social human future that is absent of the past.
I don’t remember how old I was when I realized I was ambivalent and ambiguous but not ambitious about sexual orientation. I first understood the feelings when I was five or six, sensing that I was attracted to no particular person, regardless of gender. Then, as I grew older, when I reached the edge of the slide down into the sensual pool of sexual maturation, I knew what my body was saying even if the thoughts had not sufficiently been trained or developed to understand the chemical attraction I felt for no one. Once, seeing my behavior, my father asked me if I was a homosexual. I honestly answered no. I had no specific attraction to people of the same sex. Instead, I was attracted to neither sex but silently suppressed any personal desires to act upon my chemical needs, knowing that my successful participation in the suburban subculture of my hometown meant that I should maintain a general healthy sexual attitude toward others. Thus, throughout high school, I kissed two people – publicly displaying affection for a couple of months with a woman a year younger than me and privately sharing a kiss with a man a year older than me. Otherwise, I was celibate, sharing the majority of my years in primary school with a woman, Helen, who did not desire sexual relations with me so that I didn’t have to pretend to want to kiss, hug or otherwise feign sexual interest in her, which in turn let me suppress any sexual attention I knew I wanted to pay to no specific gender. I maintained my sanity by adopting a jovial attitude, perpetuated by my schoolmates even to this day.
My sister and others in primary school thus called me a “nerd.” Yeah, that’s right. Me, Gus!
When I started college at the Good Citizenship College, I had only one schoolmate from secondary/primary school upon whom I could depend to help me maintain my sanity and false self – Cambie, who was my roommate at the dorm during my freshman year in college. To shorten that story, I flunked out of school as my persona fell apart. Cambie was too interested in girls and not enough interested in school to pay much attention to his roommate’s sanity.
I returned to the subculture of my youth in an effort to reestablish my connections to a false sense of self, living at home with my parents. In that mode, I completed college-level courses at Flunkin University, left home to attend the Institute of Model Rocketry Appreciation (where I also reconnected with my female friend from primary school, Helen, who helped me once again fully function in a dysfunctional funk for a while, until I started spiraling downward) and finally, after running away from home on a 10-day route from my hometown to Seattle, WA, to Los Angeles, CA, and back in late September/early October 1984 and a detox visit to my grandmother at the end of that year, I returned home one more time and graduated from Questionable Character College, where, in the midst of taking classes, my first official mental breakdown occurred in 1985, followed by a short series of psychological counseling sessions. You should have seen the fuss they made over a guy named Gus. I did tell you my name is Gus, didn’t I?
So, by 1985, I had lost myself, found myself, realized myself was not myself and still had not accepted who I was. Well, what’s a guy to do but find the woman with whom he knew would not want children by him and marry her? In 1986, I married the one woman from my childhood who waited patiently on me to “grow up” and become a money-earning man. For many years, we stayed interested in each other sexually, diverting any nonmarital sexual attraction back to one another. Chemically, we were compatible (and still are, as far as I know). In our years of marriage, I have had only one full mental breakdown, in mid-1991, and one partial mental breakdown, in 2006. In the first one, I was able to stay employed with the aid of counseling to keep me within the bounds of my subcultural social upbringing. In the second one, I lost the desire to project my false self any longer. Since then, I have been essentially unemployable from a personal point of view. I leave the house occasionally, always fearful that others can see or have seen the real “me” and will label me incorrectly. I am not heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, androgynous, transsexual, or any other label of sexual orientation that I’m aware of. I prefer sex with myself, basic autoerotic notions of masturbation having satisfied my sexual needs my whole life, while I can think about anyone or anything I’ve seen in fantasies as a personal turn-on.
In other words, I do not need contact with others to satisfy me sexually. Is that the definition of a “nerd,” a person who is satisfied by one’s self and no other? If so, then I reached the limit of myself much too long ago. All else, this investigation, a so-called self-discovery, is for naught. But I’ve always known that, haven’t I?
In this cage of words that surrounds me, I limit myself, I know. But I have no other understanding of the world without words. I do not understand infinity although I know how to spell it. I see a rotating mass slowly cooling down and call it a planet, giving names to pieces and parts of it, claiming ownership of a section of thin crust that floats over the roiling magmatic core and call that piece of crust my home.
Did I tell you my name is Gus? I can’t remember. But I remember something. The temporary intransigence of others, who led me to believe one thing while I have led myself to believe another, makes me laugh. We try so hard to give permanence to that which does not exist in perpetuity. We want to save species whose end time may have come due to our population explosion but we cannot accept the inevitable wholesale elimination of creatures that found a way to survive on Earth’s crust for millennia before our species swept all before it. We especially cannot see that no species is permanent, including ours, but the magnification of a few thousand generations of us makes many believe in the concept of “forever.” So be it. Let the masses keep massing. They have and will do so without me. I have found me and now can let myself go on.
As I have said more than once, no need to keep repeating myself. As I have said more than once, no need to keep repeating myself. As I have said more than once, no need to keep repeating myself. Oops, sorry about that. Sometimes, these old records of mine skip a few times before I notice. Did I tell you my name is Gus?
A Carnival Setting
Saturday, 21 Feb 2009 – The Start of Carnival. My thoughts…what are thoughts? Oh boy, today is not a good day for me. Whatever thoughts are, perhaps the neurochemical firings of the synaptic endings inside an organ encased in a hard shell, they amount to junk.
So much flashing through these thoughts. Brief images. The increase of Latino gang activity in North America. The stock market plunge. Greed, greed and more greed. The detainment of Chinese dissidents during Hillary Clinton’s visit to discuss the triumph of economics over personal freedom. Brouhaha over a cartoon. The gangland murders inside Dublin pubs. The waste of energy to fight a “war” in Afghanistan that won’t ever be won (a few thousand years of history has proven that, in case you missed it). The continued reversal of investment in stock markets. Led Zeppelin songs on a record player. A “bill of rights” on facebook.
Today, I wish for a blank slate to begin new thoughts not influenced by mass media or pop records.
My wish is granted. Turned off the TV. No more surfing the ‘Net on general websites like google or yahoo that used to be an excuse to look for bargain stocks. Like my thoughts, the stock market is simply junk right now – I can wait a few weeks to buy or sell and probably won’t miss the bottom.
Instead, I’ll just sit and watch the bare trees swaying in the wind this afternoon. There’s always tomorrow. The luxury of not being human is not worrying about how to make money everyday or what to do about other mouths to feed. Today, the world can completely take care of itself without me. I just want to take care of myself, selfishly, deliciously so.
I’m going to enjoy Carnival by doing something I absolutely, positively enjoy more than anything I can think of – nothing!
No more journal/blog/facebook/twitter/plaxo/linkedin/comment entries for a while. Whenever I feel like getting back in front of this laptop computer, I’m going to work on a novel in progress. I put aside the novel to entertain others online, in the process ignoring me for too long. For now and a while longer, I’m disconnected from the online world, and will be kind to the one person who appreciates what I do, think, and see more than anyone else – me. I’ve spent too much time creating a surrogate “me” that I forgot the real “me” is here and needs his own special attention, especially from me. Call me a nerd, if you will, but I like me…a lot. And in my nonhuman world, “me” is all I’ve got!
So much flashing through these thoughts. Brief images. The increase of Latino gang activity in North America. The stock market plunge. Greed, greed and more greed. The detainment of Chinese dissidents during Hillary Clinton’s visit to discuss the triumph of economics over personal freedom. Brouhaha over a cartoon. The gangland murders inside Dublin pubs. The waste of energy to fight a “war” in Afghanistan that won’t ever be won (a few thousand years of history has proven that, in case you missed it). The continued reversal of investment in stock markets. Led Zeppelin songs on a record player. A “bill of rights” on facebook.
Today, I wish for a blank slate to begin new thoughts not influenced by mass media or pop records.
My wish is granted. Turned off the TV. No more surfing the ‘Net on general websites like google or yahoo that used to be an excuse to look for bargain stocks. Like my thoughts, the stock market is simply junk right now – I can wait a few weeks to buy or sell and probably won’t miss the bottom.
Instead, I’ll just sit and watch the bare trees swaying in the wind this afternoon. There’s always tomorrow. The luxury of not being human is not worrying about how to make money everyday or what to do about other mouths to feed. Today, the world can completely take care of itself without me. I just want to take care of myself, selfishly, deliciously so.
I’m going to enjoy Carnival by doing something I absolutely, positively enjoy more than anything I can think of – nothing!
No more journal/blog/facebook/twitter/plaxo/linkedin/comment entries for a while. Whenever I feel like getting back in front of this laptop computer, I’m going to work on a novel in progress. I put aside the novel to entertain others online, in the process ignoring me for too long. For now and a while longer, I’m disconnected from the online world, and will be kind to the one person who appreciates what I do, think, and see more than anyone else – me. I’ve spent too much time creating a surrogate “me” that I forgot the real “me” is here and needs his own special attention, especially from me. Call me a nerd, if you will, but I like me…a lot. And in my nonhuman world, “me” is all I’ve got!
20 February 2009
Update on the startup I worked with
I was supposed to meet with a local business leader about his involvement in a potential startup. A couple of weeks have passed and I have not heard anything more about a meeting with him. Of course, he's a very busy man so it doesn't mean he's lost interest in the idea. In fact, from what I understand, he clearly saw that the idea is a good one and should be established in the market, especially as this economy gets ready to turn around, meaning that the startup team should strike while the iron is hot.
On a separate note, my life has taken a detour. After much consideration, I regretfully informed the startup team earlier today that I've decided I'm not the one who should act as general manager for their group. For the startup to work, I believe the person in charge should have a burning desire to achieve specific, concrete goals, including staying on top of the incremental successes of a small startup. I recently accepted a teaching position and feel that at this point in my career my skills are best applied to teaching others, as opposed to always looking for the next round of funding, going on the road to sell/demo the product, managing engineering design, overseeing the manufacturing process, etc., that a startup will require of a general manager/CEO/president/project manager for many months to come as it ramps up into a full-fledged company.
I thanked my colleagues for inviting me to join the well-rounded group of engineers - I've always been impressed by the combined engineering talent of the team. I know they will be successful and encouraged them to keep plugging along on the design work. In the meantime, I'll keep my eyes and ears open for an available, proven leader to step in and help them get a solid sales/marketing plan put together and full production started. A colleague suggested they periodically check the US PTO database to ensure no one else has received a patent in their market. I also said that as soon as they get the prototypes built, including a small trifold brochure describing the product's basic functions and potential applications, one of the team members should work with his contacts in the product's market to promote the prototype units. He can use the prototypes and word-of-mouth advertising to get the short-term funding they need from local investors.
Legally speaking, I told them the business plan I created for them is theirs to keep -- they can feel free to use and/or modify it as needed. Also, with the email I sent them I surrendered any agreed or implied ownership I may have had in their startup.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my body, like I've lost a dear young friend who I deeply cared about. Although I look at life with a cheerful countenance, sometimes my decisions are painful. Today's decision was tough. As much as I like to think of myself as somewhat visionary and forward-thinking, I realize that my current actions might reflect a short-term attitude. Today I gave up a potential future of a pot of gold and a busy business life for a handful of change and a quiet academic life. Such is the mindset of a retired person with no more materialistic goals.
When your life goals have been met and quiet meditation is your daily existence, with self-actualization and a comfort zone fully established, you should not give in to the worldly temporary temptations of a past life you freely gave up to receive the bigger nonmaterialistic reward that now lasts indefinitely.
On a separate note, my life has taken a detour. After much consideration, I regretfully informed the startup team earlier today that I've decided I'm not the one who should act as general manager for their group. For the startup to work, I believe the person in charge should have a burning desire to achieve specific, concrete goals, including staying on top of the incremental successes of a small startup. I recently accepted a teaching position and feel that at this point in my career my skills are best applied to teaching others, as opposed to always looking for the next round of funding, going on the road to sell/demo the product, managing engineering design, overseeing the manufacturing process, etc., that a startup will require of a general manager/CEO/president/project manager for many months to come as it ramps up into a full-fledged company.
I thanked my colleagues for inviting me to join the well-rounded group of engineers - I've always been impressed by the combined engineering talent of the team. I know they will be successful and encouraged them to keep plugging along on the design work. In the meantime, I'll keep my eyes and ears open for an available, proven leader to step in and help them get a solid sales/marketing plan put together and full production started. A colleague suggested they periodically check the US PTO database to ensure no one else has received a patent in their market. I also said that as soon as they get the prototypes built, including a small trifold brochure describing the product's basic functions and potential applications, one of the team members should work with his contacts in the product's market to promote the prototype units. He can use the prototypes and word-of-mouth advertising to get the short-term funding they need from local investors.
Legally speaking, I told them the business plan I created for them is theirs to keep -- they can feel free to use and/or modify it as needed. Also, with the email I sent them I surrendered any agreed or implied ownership I may have had in their startup.
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my body, like I've lost a dear young friend who I deeply cared about. Although I look at life with a cheerful countenance, sometimes my decisions are painful. Today's decision was tough. As much as I like to think of myself as somewhat visionary and forward-thinking, I realize that my current actions might reflect a short-term attitude. Today I gave up a potential future of a pot of gold and a busy business life for a handful of change and a quiet academic life. Such is the mindset of a retired person with no more materialistic goals.
When your life goals have been met and quiet meditation is your daily existence, with self-actualization and a comfort zone fully established, you should not give in to the worldly temporary temptations of a past life you freely gave up to receive the bigger nonmaterialistic reward that now lasts indefinitely.
18 February 2009
One Self Expression
18 February 2009 – Big Cove, Alabama. How many of us align our daily thoughts with our daily actions? How many of us, instead, live a life where thoughts and actions pushme/pullya in different directions?
I put myself in the category of the latter. Why?
Well, the subculture which nurtured my childhood did not provide the outlet I needed to discover I was not part of that subculture. Therefore, I spent years of the one life I have living subconsciously. “Years,” a word which designates time, of planets and solar systems in motion, hinting at the piles of moments constituting what amounts to “me.”
Did I excel in my childhood subculture? To an extent, yes, I did. But not totally, because the subconscious self – the real “me” that was suppressed in order for a particular style of “me” to be on display for my parental units and their society – hovered transparently overhead.
At the same time, I am all of me, no matter who I think I am, so when I achieved or did not achieve a goal set by me or someone other than me, even I can only go by my behavior. My behavior and the record of my behavior determine who I am to those around me, because whatever my thoughts may or may not have been were unrecordable during my childhood.
As those before me were limited in the expressions of themselves due to the tools available to them (or created by them), the expression of me has been limited to the tools at my disposal – crayon, pen, pencil, typewriter, 35mm film, digital camera, 8mm movie film, camcorder, computer and smart pen. In the future, others will create and re-create themselves using brain scanners, mating their actions with their exact thoughts and thought patterns to create masterpieces of what it’s like to be one particular human with specific, unique visions.
And yet, the goal of the human species, collectively and individually, is procreation. No matter how well or imperfectly I capture and express myself, the fact remains I have no offspring to call my own. At the end of my life, when I look at the collection of artifacts that chronicle my participation in life on this planet, nothing truly matters except the evidence of my genetic re-creation. Human subcultures may contain evidence of my business and artistic participation. In fact, some may have celebrated what I did. But none of them will matter in 200 years any more than any of my ancestors from 200 years ago really matter to me except as contributors to my DNA. For those ancillary ancestors, the aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews of generations ago who had no children, their influence on me amounts to nearly nothing, unless their nurturing behavior preserved a direct ancestor of mine.
So it is not the accolades of my life that determine who I am in human form, even if they boosted my ego and gave me a moment to enjoy. It is my gift of DNA that makes me human. Otherwise, if I have no children, then I might as well have been a computer or other machine, even if my nurturing behavior helps preserve a direct ancestor for a human offspring, because in this generation or the next, machines will nurture humans in a surrogate manner similar to the way people used to before the advent of computing machines, thus eliminating the excuse the childless have to call themselves human.
I accept the fact I may never be totally human, a fate I long ago determined while living in a subculture centered in the Appalachian mountain chain on the North American continent 37 years ago. In the interim, while I walk this planet, I will discover more of what it’s like to be the perfect embodiment of an animal that didn’t take the opportunity to reproduce itself when it had the chance. In the perspective of walking down the path of the second half of my life, I look up at a life clock I purchased nine years ago and placed on my desk to remind me to stay focused on my task of self-discovery (Internet version available here). According to its estimate, I have 15,052 days left of a natural life. In that timespan, I expect myself to contribute to the development of artificial human surrogates which mimic human thoughts and actions that will help the aging human population prepare a future for its offspring.
Imagine a “home companion” that reminds you of your significant other and can talk to you about your past while the two of you sit at home watching television or eating dinner together.
The home companion has collected all the bits of you:
That home companion exists today but you just don’t see it yet. And that is the contribution I am making to the success of your offspring. No need to thank me. I’m having fun doing this, including posts on facebook and the study of future cybernetic organisms – hope you’re having fun here, too!!
I put myself in the category of the latter. Why?
Well, the subculture which nurtured my childhood did not provide the outlet I needed to discover I was not part of that subculture. Therefore, I spent years of the one life I have living subconsciously. “Years,” a word which designates time, of planets and solar systems in motion, hinting at the piles of moments constituting what amounts to “me.”
Did I excel in my childhood subculture? To an extent, yes, I did. But not totally, because the subconscious self – the real “me” that was suppressed in order for a particular style of “me” to be on display for my parental units and their society – hovered transparently overhead.
At the same time, I am all of me, no matter who I think I am, so when I achieved or did not achieve a goal set by me or someone other than me, even I can only go by my behavior. My behavior and the record of my behavior determine who I am to those around me, because whatever my thoughts may or may not have been were unrecordable during my childhood.
As those before me were limited in the expressions of themselves due to the tools available to them (or created by them), the expression of me has been limited to the tools at my disposal – crayon, pen, pencil, typewriter, 35mm film, digital camera, 8mm movie film, camcorder, computer and smart pen. In the future, others will create and re-create themselves using brain scanners, mating their actions with their exact thoughts and thought patterns to create masterpieces of what it’s like to be one particular human with specific, unique visions.
And yet, the goal of the human species, collectively and individually, is procreation. No matter how well or imperfectly I capture and express myself, the fact remains I have no offspring to call my own. At the end of my life, when I look at the collection of artifacts that chronicle my participation in life on this planet, nothing truly matters except the evidence of my genetic re-creation. Human subcultures may contain evidence of my business and artistic participation. In fact, some may have celebrated what I did. But none of them will matter in 200 years any more than any of my ancestors from 200 years ago really matter to me except as contributors to my DNA. For those ancillary ancestors, the aunts and uncles and nieces and nephews of generations ago who had no children, their influence on me amounts to nearly nothing, unless their nurturing behavior preserved a direct ancestor of mine.
So it is not the accolades of my life that determine who I am in human form, even if they boosted my ego and gave me a moment to enjoy. It is my gift of DNA that makes me human. Otherwise, if I have no children, then I might as well have been a computer or other machine, even if my nurturing behavior helps preserve a direct ancestor for a human offspring, because in this generation or the next, machines will nurture humans in a surrogate manner similar to the way people used to before the advent of computing machines, thus eliminating the excuse the childless have to call themselves human.
I accept the fact I may never be totally human, a fate I long ago determined while living in a subculture centered in the Appalachian mountain chain on the North American continent 37 years ago. In the interim, while I walk this planet, I will discover more of what it’s like to be the perfect embodiment of an animal that didn’t take the opportunity to reproduce itself when it had the chance. In the perspective of walking down the path of the second half of my life, I look up at a life clock I purchased nine years ago and placed on my desk to remind me to stay focused on my task of self-discovery (Internet version available here). According to its estimate, I have 15,052 days left of a natural life. In that timespan, I expect myself to contribute to the development of artificial human surrogates which mimic human thoughts and actions that will help the aging human population prepare a future for its offspring.
Imagine a “home companion” that reminds you of your significant other and can talk to you about your past while the two of you sit at home watching television or eating dinner together.
The home companion has collected all the bits of you:
- recorded in your years of living on the Internet (e.g., as a member of social networking sites (facebook, myspace, twitter, yahoo, aol, napster, amazon, baidu, etc.), Internet search results, web browser bookmarks, random comments you’ve left on websites, the games you’ve played, the activity of any IP address that can be linked to you),
- your TV channel selections through the years recorded at the offices of cable/satellite TV offices,
- the electronic files on your computing devices (computers, cell phones, DVRs, smart appliances, etc.),
- your shopping patterns indicated by the items you’ve purchased,
- electronic captures of your brain patterns,
- images of the objects around your domicile, and other daily living areas (office, school, etc.), and
- links to every other connected person who may share objects or life patterns with you.
That home companion exists today but you just don’t see it yet. And that is the contribution I am making to the success of your offspring. No need to thank me. I’m having fun doing this, including posts on facebook and the study of future cybernetic organisms – hope you’re having fun here, too!!
17 February 2009
Taking a Break From Economic Analysis
[This post offers no advice, economic or otherwise, so feel free to skip it]
While I sorted my collection of old vinyl LP records recently, I found a set of albums that belonged to a schoolmate of mine. She and I had shared some good times together and presumably she left the records at my place because I had a stereo system on which to play them. In the 25 years that I've kept the records, I've lost track of why I was supposed to have them so I decided to believe she had loaned them to me until such time she could get them back.
I contacted my friend through facebook, copying her sister on my message, in case my friend was not a regular facebook user. Sure enough, her sister let me know that my friend rarely checks facebook (in fact, I think it was her daughter who set the account up for her). Therefore, the sister said she would gladly receive the albums instead of my friend.
So, to get the records back to my friend, or at least her family, yesterday I took the records with me to a local store that specializes in packing, boxing and shipping items. I have used the store in the past to ship items that I sold on ebay, with satisfactory results. I walked into the store on a Monday, a government holiday in the United States (Presidents Day or Washington's Birthday), not expecting to see anyone I knew.
Inevitably, when we're looking our worst or are in a mood for not talking to others, we run into someone we know. Wearing an old parka I picked up in Ireland a couple of years ago, I stood in line at the store and looked over to see a former work colleague, Don, who was dressed in nice casual business attire. Don had worked in marketing but as he looked at my ragged outfit, he told me he now has his own import business. I told him about Tree Trunk Productions while his eyes scoffed at me in Don's way of wearing his thoughts on his face (his face said, "He has his own website? Ha! Exactly what kind of website does a guy like that have?").
Don has an off-kilter sense of humor, sort of like Andrew Dice Clay and Sam Kinison rolled into the suave character actor, David Niven. He bites your head off and spits it out, all while telling you how nice you are and how well he will always remember you as he hands your head back to you, wrapped in paper and stuffed in a nice hat box.
[We exchanged emails later in the day, using both of our humorous points of view to take joking stabs at each other. Hey, what are friends for, right?]
I returned home, picked up my wife and drove us to the theater to see the movie, "Coraline." After seeing the movie, my wife felt depressed the rest of the day. It didn't help that we went to a local Chili's restaurant afterward, sat for 10 minutes without receiving service and walked out to the protests of "Wait, wait" from the hostess (going instead to a new corner pub that opened a little over a mile from our house and serves good burgers).
To be sure, the storyline of the movie is not the most uplifting:
I have lived a sheltered life, rarely bumping into the "underworld" of illegal activities we call 'crime' that some estimates say totals more than all government military budgets put together. So, while trillions of dollars are spent in the exchange of goods and services that don't get taxed, may include bribes, definitely include the exchange of free electronic copies of software, music, movies, and literature, I walk through the world expecting my colleagues to participate in the "up and up," buying and selling items for which we expect to pay government taxes and from whom the item was acquired legally, benefitting our society with this social framework of trust. I know, I know. Don't tell me. What kind of fantasy is that, especially in this economy?! ... lol ... At least I returned a set of albums to a friend of mine, which makes me feel good and costs nothing but packing and shipping.
While I sorted my collection of old vinyl LP records recently, I found a set of albums that belonged to a schoolmate of mine. She and I had shared some good times together and presumably she left the records at my place because I had a stereo system on which to play them. In the 25 years that I've kept the records, I've lost track of why I was supposed to have them so I decided to believe she had loaned them to me until such time she could get them back.
I contacted my friend through facebook, copying her sister on my message, in case my friend was not a regular facebook user. Sure enough, her sister let me know that my friend rarely checks facebook (in fact, I think it was her daughter who set the account up for her). Therefore, the sister said she would gladly receive the albums instead of my friend.
So, to get the records back to my friend, or at least her family, yesterday I took the records with me to a local store that specializes in packing, boxing and shipping items. I have used the store in the past to ship items that I sold on ebay, with satisfactory results. I walked into the store on a Monday, a government holiday in the United States (Presidents Day or Washington's Birthday), not expecting to see anyone I knew.
Inevitably, when we're looking our worst or are in a mood for not talking to others, we run into someone we know. Wearing an old parka I picked up in Ireland a couple of years ago, I stood in line at the store and looked over to see a former work colleague, Don, who was dressed in nice casual business attire. Don had worked in marketing but as he looked at my ragged outfit, he told me he now has his own import business. I told him about Tree Trunk Productions while his eyes scoffed at me in Don's way of wearing his thoughts on his face (his face said, "He has his own website? Ha! Exactly what kind of website does a guy like that have?").
Don has an off-kilter sense of humor, sort of like Andrew Dice Clay and Sam Kinison rolled into the suave character actor, David Niven. He bites your head off and spits it out, all while telling you how nice you are and how well he will always remember you as he hands your head back to you, wrapped in paper and stuffed in a nice hat box.
[We exchanged emails later in the day, using both of our humorous points of view to take joking stabs at each other. Hey, what are friends for, right?]
I returned home, picked up my wife and drove us to the theater to see the movie, "Coraline." After seeing the movie, my wife felt depressed the rest of the day. It didn't help that we went to a local Chili's restaurant afterward, sat for 10 minutes without receiving service and walked out to the protests of "Wait, wait" from the hostess (going instead to a new corner pub that opened a little over a mile from our house and serves good burgers).
To be sure, the storyline of the movie is not the most uplifting:
if your parents intentionally ignore you in order to pour their energy into their job (which, if their current project does not work out, means even less food on the table than the scraps you're eating now), turn to a fantasy world to relieve your boredom.Perhaps the story is poignant in this economy. I enjoyed the movie more than my wife because I fully comprehend the importance of a fantasy world for one's creativity. Understandably, fantasies in and of themselves do not put food on the table, but the fantasies may result in your creating something that attracts the attention of people who like seeing or reading fantasies and who will pay you to share your fantasies with them. Even if you have no ability to turn your fantasies into a viable enterprise, having a creative escape mechanism can help you relieve the daily stresses and boredom that creep into your life.
I have lived a sheltered life, rarely bumping into the "underworld" of illegal activities we call 'crime' that some estimates say totals more than all government military budgets put together. So, while trillions of dollars are spent in the exchange of goods and services that don't get taxed, may include bribes, definitely include the exchange of free electronic copies of software, music, movies, and literature, I walk through the world expecting my colleagues to participate in the "up and up," buying and selling items for which we expect to pay government taxes and from whom the item was acquired legally, benefitting our society with this social framework of trust. I know, I know. Don't tell me. What kind of fantasy is that, especially in this economy?! ... lol ... At least I returned a set of albums to a friend of mine, which makes me feel good and costs nothing but packing and shipping.
13 February 2009
The face of the future
First of all, I'm sorry that your company is losing such a valuable employee. However, these economic times catch people in jobs that have become superfluous to belt-tightening companies so it's not the employees who are missed so much as the company is glad to report reduced costs, no matter what the future circumstances may be. In other words, some layoffs are related to trimming dead wood -- this particular layoff looks more like strategic planning. I ate lunch with with a sales colleague the other day, and from what I gather, the OEM business is going through turmoil at your company right now. Guess you got caught in the crosshairs, to use a well-worn battle analogy.
In any case, wow! You're at a crossroads that I envy. The possibilities, though not endless, seem infinite nonetheless. The variety of skills, interests, resources, and mindsets you've built...I want to change your name to "THE BABEL TOWER OF POWER"! lol
As far as what you can do with what you've got...hmmm...that's an interesting one.
As you and I can clearly see, the global system of trade, quasi-capitalistic (certainly opportunistic, maybe too much so), is headed down a path toward more reductions in payrolls, more bankruptcies and more chaos at the macro- and microeconomic scale as small mom-and-pop businesses feel the pinch while their customers lose jobs at large factories and megacorporations. How far we keep spiraling down, I can't say. I know that I've lived through three recessions (about one per decade), including in the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, and now the fourth one in the late 2000s. The world hasn't come to an end during any of them. My mother in-law lived through the "Great Depression" while my parents were born during its late heyday in the mid-1930s, and they're still here to talk about economic cycles.
In every case, humans found not only a way to cope but a new way to live. My father in-law went from a life as a teacher/school principal to the life of a government inspector, then a radio DJ and finally the owner of a two-way radio installation/repair shop up until the year or so before he died. My grandfather spent 29 years in the Navy (1929 to 1959), and retired to the leisurely life of a security guard. My wife's aunt ran a florist shop. My great-uncle ran a post office and his wife was the secretary at a doctor's office.
In other words, in the work lives of many of my relatives, government employment helped them through the rough economic times, both during the Great Depression and WWII.
Hopefully, we aren't facing another major world war. What we are facing is a shift of the balance of economic strength from Europe/United States to Asia. China holds large reserves of purchased U.S. treasuries, as well as spent decades converting exported cheaply-manufactured goods into hordes of imported hard currency.
Therefore, on what does our long-term future rest? What, if I were you, would I consider the best place to invest my time and energy to ensure a healthy future for myself and my significant other(s)?
I'll recap your interests here for myself. You said you had reams of stuff ranging from books on business bios to fashion design, poetry, fiction, history, travel and marketing.
You've traveled more widely than I have and have more contacts in the Asian world, I surmise. Thus, I won't assume I know more than you do when it comes to both observing and imagining what the world will be like when Asian influences upon global mass media outshine the U.S.-centric "Western" mass media that we grew up with.
My discussions with Asian friends, employees and coworkers (mainly intellectual ones - I don't think I have a single "rural" Asian friend) has shown me that what I read in my youth about Indian and Chinese cultures incorporating other cultures as they travel, rather than overrunning them as Western culture tends to do, will reflect a future past replete with Western tones.
So, sitting here in my comfortable study, looking out the window where I can see wild Chinese privet (Ligustrum sinense) growing in the ditch of my wooded wild yard, populated with other non-native species like nandina (Nandina domestica), vinca (Vinca major), daffodil (Narcissus pseudonarcissus), Star of Bethlehem (Ornithogalum umbellatum) and untold others, I know that this planet is getting tinier every day.
If I were you, I'd study the next wave of human development, where the language of global business, English, will incorporate other pictographic symbols, such as Chinese characters for a logical numbering system that English does not have (for instance, note how our numbering system in the teens (eleven, twelve, thirteen, etc.) is different from the rest of the decade numbers (20s, 30s, etc. - decade+one (21), decade+two (22)), thus making English-speaking children waste time learning as archaic a numbering system as English money or American weights and measures). I would see if there is a university student exchange program that gives you a paid study time abroad, preferably in a large Chinese city (but studying in a small village has enlightened many of my friends who worked for the Peace Corps). I would use my skills of fashion, poetry and business to teach those around me about working holistically in the global marketplace, showing my new colleagues and fellow students that those who can absorb multiple cultures and find a way to combine the best of the cultures into valuable resources (like a computer system interface that is not slanted toward English but appeals to all humans' understanding of picture-words), will be the ones who define the "next great thing" like the intuitive interface on the iPhone, the image of a stadium as a bird's nest, a simple swoosh to define a product's marketing such as the ones that shoe manufacturers use, or any other method where storytelling and product sales meet elegantly.
I have always believed in your ability to see beyond your limitations. In some cultures, you are still "just a woman," good for having babies. To be sure, you are capable of and may desire to have children, but you will do more than that, too, I know.
Most importantly, the perspective of both sexes is necessary to move the world of humans fully into the 21st Century. The latest U.S. Presidential election showed us that gender and race have almost become a moot point. Almost. That's a word that worries me. When economic times get "bad," especially in the news, many people look back and declare the past as a better time, including old ideas that no longer make sense. If we want to keep moving forward to a truly better time, then you, a young, talented, ambitious businesswoman, are the reason we will do so.
No matter what you do, you will succeed. No question there. You'll have fun while learning and teaching others. Another no-brainer. I'm no wise guru or oracle but I'll pretend to be one for a moment and peer into the future. This crystal ball in front of me is a little dusty so pardon me while I wipe it clean. Okay, the haze inside the ball is clearing. I see an image of you 30 years from now. You've received some sort of accolades from your associates. You're standing in front of a virtual podium, from which you're broadcasting a 3D message to viewers and fans around the globe, both to people on the street and to people in online role-playing games. From your words, I gather that you've written a bestselling story that was turned into a 3D "movie" -- apparently, in the future, as we write stories, our text is instantly converted into animated "movies" so that we can see we're moving our characters in 3D space as we type, complete with hyperlinks and running commentaries from online collaborators who can watch and participate in our writing with us -- a combination of word processors and role playing games that you helped invent. I can hear from your talk that storytelling is a completely market-driven vocation, so that any mention of a place, an article of clothing, food, or even the characters that we create (who typically resemble real people we know or celebrities), automatically links to the rest of the real-world existence of these. You thank a bunch of people who helped you out, including your university friends who were on the cutting edge of software development in a village of unemployed intellectuals in 2009 and 2010. Your friends pop up in 3D broadcasts next to you as you mention them and thank you for their success, too. Your son surprises you and sticks his head in from his job as a manager of a space hotel, saying that without your foresight to establish a foundation for research into how to tap the "brainpower" of idle computing devices in people's homes and offices (including computers, UMPCs such as cell phones, and smart appliances), we might never have figured out how to eradicate major diseases, an effort that ultimately enabled him to overcome the paralyzing disease that made him a quadriplegic and later learn how to permanently work and live in space.
See, I'm excited for your future! I hope your boyfriend is, too. Next time he wants to meet you, remind him that you've got a space colony to establish so you can't diddle-daddle too long. lol
BTW, the classes I'm teaching as a part-time adjunct instructor are "Introduction to Computer Programming," using the Python language, and "Strategies for the Technical Professional," which is the first class that students have to take at ITT Tech, meaning I am the teacher/coach that ITT Tech students see as the "face" of ITT Tech. No pressure on me, huh?
Gotta go. Time for lunch. Tell your boyfriend, in case he doesn't know it already in his country, that Valentine's Day is the biggest holiday in the U.S., so he owes you something important (whatever it is that you think he can afford to give you, of course), since he knows you before you got famous and can take you some place nice without having to take your entourage with you, too.
In any case, wow! You're at a crossroads that I envy. The possibilities, though not endless, seem infinite nonetheless. The variety of skills, interests, resources, and mindsets you've built...I want to change your name to "THE BABEL TOWER OF POWER"! lol
As far as what you can do with what you've got...hmmm...that's an interesting one.
As you and I can clearly see, the global system of trade, quasi-capitalistic (certainly opportunistic, maybe too much so), is headed down a path toward more reductions in payrolls, more bankruptcies and more chaos at the macro- and microeconomic scale as small mom-and-pop businesses feel the pinch while their customers lose jobs at large factories and megacorporations. How far we keep spiraling down, I can't say. I know that I've lived through three recessions (about one per decade), including in the 1970s, 1980s, and 1990s, and now the fourth one in the late 2000s. The world hasn't come to an end during any of them. My mother in-law lived through the "Great Depression" while my parents were born during its late heyday in the mid-1930s, and they're still here to talk about economic cycles.
In every case, humans found not only a way to cope but a new way to live. My father in-law went from a life as a teacher/school principal to the life of a government inspector, then a radio DJ and finally the owner of a two-way radio installation/repair shop up until the year or so before he died. My grandfather spent 29 years in the Navy (1929 to 1959), and retired to the leisurely life of a security guard. My wife's aunt ran a florist shop. My great-uncle ran a post office and his wife was the secretary at a doctor's office.
In other words, in the work lives of many of my relatives, government employment helped them through the rough economic times, both during the Great Depression and WWII.
Hopefully, we aren't facing another major world war. What we are facing is a shift of the balance of economic strength from Europe/United States to Asia. China holds large reserves of purchased U.S. treasuries, as well as spent decades converting exported cheaply-manufactured goods into hordes of imported hard currency.
Therefore, on what does our long-term future rest? What, if I were you, would I consider the best place to invest my time and energy to ensure a healthy future for myself and my significant other(s)?
I'll recap your interests here for myself. You said you had reams of stuff ranging from books on business bios to fashion design, poetry, fiction, history, travel and marketing.
You've traveled more widely than I have and have more contacts in the Asian world, I surmise. Thus, I won't assume I know more than you do when it comes to both observing and imagining what the world will be like when Asian influences upon global mass media outshine the U.S.-centric "Western" mass media that we grew up with.
My discussions with Asian friends, employees and coworkers (mainly intellectual ones - I don't think I have a single "rural" Asian friend) has shown me that what I read in my youth about Indian and Chinese cultures incorporating other cultures as they travel, rather than overrunning them as Western culture tends to do, will reflect a future past replete with Western tones.
So, sitting here in my comfortable study, looking out the window where I can see wild Chinese privet (Ligustrum sinense) growing in the ditch of my wooded wild yard, populated with other non-native species like nandina (Nandina domestica), vinca (Vinca major), daffodil (Narcissus pseudonarcissus), Star of Bethlehem (Ornithogalum umbellatum) and untold others, I know that this planet is getting tinier every day.
If I were you, I'd study the next wave of human development, where the language of global business, English, will incorporate other pictographic symbols, such as Chinese characters for a logical numbering system that English does not have (for instance, note how our numbering system in the teens (eleven, twelve, thirteen, etc.) is different from the rest of the decade numbers (20s, 30s, etc. - decade+one (21), decade+two (22)), thus making English-speaking children waste time learning as archaic a numbering system as English money or American weights and measures). I would see if there is a university student exchange program that gives you a paid study time abroad, preferably in a large Chinese city (but studying in a small village has enlightened many of my friends who worked for the Peace Corps). I would use my skills of fashion, poetry and business to teach those around me about working holistically in the global marketplace, showing my new colleagues and fellow students that those who can absorb multiple cultures and find a way to combine the best of the cultures into valuable resources (like a computer system interface that is not slanted toward English but appeals to all humans' understanding of picture-words), will be the ones who define the "next great thing" like the intuitive interface on the iPhone, the image of a stadium as a bird's nest, a simple swoosh to define a product's marketing such as the ones that shoe manufacturers use, or any other method where storytelling and product sales meet elegantly.
I have always believed in your ability to see beyond your limitations. In some cultures, you are still "just a woman," good for having babies. To be sure, you are capable of and may desire to have children, but you will do more than that, too, I know.
Most importantly, the perspective of both sexes is necessary to move the world of humans fully into the 21st Century. The latest U.S. Presidential election showed us that gender and race have almost become a moot point. Almost. That's a word that worries me. When economic times get "bad," especially in the news, many people look back and declare the past as a better time, including old ideas that no longer make sense. If we want to keep moving forward to a truly better time, then you, a young, talented, ambitious businesswoman, are the reason we will do so.
No matter what you do, you will succeed. No question there. You'll have fun while learning and teaching others. Another no-brainer. I'm no wise guru or oracle but I'll pretend to be one for a moment and peer into the future. This crystal ball in front of me is a little dusty so pardon me while I wipe it clean. Okay, the haze inside the ball is clearing. I see an image of you 30 years from now. You've received some sort of accolades from your associates. You're standing in front of a virtual podium, from which you're broadcasting a 3D message to viewers and fans around the globe, both to people on the street and to people in online role-playing games. From your words, I gather that you've written a bestselling story that was turned into a 3D "movie" -- apparently, in the future, as we write stories, our text is instantly converted into animated "movies" so that we can see we're moving our characters in 3D space as we type, complete with hyperlinks and running commentaries from online collaborators who can watch and participate in our writing with us -- a combination of word processors and role playing games that you helped invent. I can hear from your talk that storytelling is a completely market-driven vocation, so that any mention of a place, an article of clothing, food, or even the characters that we create (who typically resemble real people we know or celebrities), automatically links to the rest of the real-world existence of these. You thank a bunch of people who helped you out, including your university friends who were on the cutting edge of software development in a village of unemployed intellectuals in 2009 and 2010. Your friends pop up in 3D broadcasts next to you as you mention them and thank you for their success, too. Your son surprises you and sticks his head in from his job as a manager of a space hotel, saying that without your foresight to establish a foundation for research into how to tap the "brainpower" of idle computing devices in people's homes and offices (including computers, UMPCs such as cell phones, and smart appliances), we might never have figured out how to eradicate major diseases, an effort that ultimately enabled him to overcome the paralyzing disease that made him a quadriplegic and later learn how to permanently work and live in space.
See, I'm excited for your future! I hope your boyfriend is, too. Next time he wants to meet you, remind him that you've got a space colony to establish so you can't diddle-daddle too long. lol
BTW, the classes I'm teaching as a part-time adjunct instructor are "Introduction to Computer Programming," using the Python language, and "Strategies for the Technical Professional," which is the first class that students have to take at ITT Tech, meaning I am the teacher/coach that ITT Tech students see as the "face" of ITT Tech. No pressure on me, huh?
Gotta go. Time for lunch. Tell your boyfriend, in case he doesn't know it already in his country, that Valentine's Day is the biggest holiday in the U.S., so he owes you something important (whatever it is that you think he can afford to give you, of course), since he knows you before you got famous and can take you some place nice without having to take your entourage with you, too.
11 February 2009
Divvying Up Your Earnings
Making money is easy. Even in this economy. No matter where you find yourself, you can earn a wage using your own initiative. How you go about it is up to you.
I have seen people sitting in parking lots / carparks outside large box stores (Dunnes, Wal-Mart and the like) offering items for sale out of their vehicles. Although I declined to purchase the seller's "cheap" item that can be found at a higher price inside the big box store, including warranty and return policy, I have observed others buy an item from the trunk of a car without blinking an eye.
I can guess that some of those items for sale had walked out of a store on their own or "accidentally" fallen off the back of a delivery truck, couldn't you? But I'm not here to promote illegal sales. I'm only pointing out that people find ways to put food on their table without resorting to standing in line for unemployment benefits (or go on the dole, as they say).
So, if this economic downturn has put you on the street without a regular wage to call your own, what can you do?
I won't speak for everyone out there because the myriad ways one ends up without a living wage would require a book to describe how you ended up where you could sit and read this blog entry while wondering how you're going to pay your bills this month. Today, I will speak to those of you who've had the opportunity to earn a few years' wages and could have put a little money away for a rainy day.
Okay, so now it's a rainy day (as a matter of fact, right now the sky is falling outside my window as a rather large set of thunderstorms pass by overhead). You're sitting on the doorstep, deciding if you should hold your hand out while playing random tunes on a harmonica. [To be sure, you could earn a few coins an hour panhandling in that way and might even make yourself famous if you could park your body in front of a popular webcam. Never turn down the chance to make money and have fun at the same time.] What do you do?
Have you ever thought about an income based on company dividends? While all your friends are telling you to have a party because life sucks, look at the money you've put aside. Say, it's enough to pay a few months' rent. What do you do?
Well, I'm not your broker or your advisor, so don't expect me to have an insight into your financial goals. However, if I were you, I'd open a window on the Internet and see what my money could do for me. Perhaps I could start a small company, using the money to pay for fees and business licenses. Or I could buy a used van and put all my stuff inside, finding a free place to park down by the river. I could go down to the local bank and take out a loan using my money for collateral. Or I might just have to pay rent, after all. Certainly, I'd be looking for another job, calling up friend, coworkers and family to see what they had to offer. In the meantime, I suggest you look at your financial future.
This economic slump will not last forever, even if it will get worse. Therefore, now's the time to start looking at companies whose stock is very low yet they're stilling paying out quarterly dividends. Why should you care? Well, let's say that you and your friends all have the same amount of money to invest in your lives. Some of your friends will inevitably buy something to satisfy their need for instant gratification -- a boat, an RV, a second car, etc. In times like these, you can open the classified ads and find all sorts of bargain basement deals on motorbikes, SUVs and other items that looked good to someone when the economy was hopping but now are eating a hole in their wallet. So, while your friends are scrambling to find someone to buy their toys, what could you be doing? Instead of putting your money to instant use, why don't you invest your money in stocks that pay dividends? That way, once every three months, you have an income that you can use to buy more stocks or to pay household bills, instead of paying for a houseboat that you use a few months out of the year (of course, if your dividend income keeps growing, you could have both, but let's stick to the basics for a moment).
The point here is that you have a choice in what to do with your income -- before you find yourself on the street penniless, think about taking care of your future using today's paycheck. Sit down and determine what you're going to do with that 20% you promised you'd put aside every two weeks. Make sure some of it goes into dividend-paying company stocks. That way, when or if you end up without a regular paycheck, you have a little buffer built in that rewards you for your foresight. Then, when you're out of a job while sitting down looking at a small nest egg that will only cover a few months' rent, you know you can focus on the rent, and let your upcoming dividends pay for insurance or other bills you worked out to pay annually, semi-annually or quarterly. Better yet, if your dividends are working out well, you might even decide to take that nest egg and start your own Internet business.
Don't wait until you're out of work to say, "If only I saved up some money!" Your financial future starts now. Invest in it.
I have seen people sitting in parking lots / carparks outside large box stores (Dunnes, Wal-Mart and the like) offering items for sale out of their vehicles. Although I declined to purchase the seller's "cheap" item that can be found at a higher price inside the big box store, including warranty and return policy, I have observed others buy an item from the trunk of a car without blinking an eye.
I can guess that some of those items for sale had walked out of a store on their own or "accidentally" fallen off the back of a delivery truck, couldn't you? But I'm not here to promote illegal sales. I'm only pointing out that people find ways to put food on their table without resorting to standing in line for unemployment benefits (or go on the dole, as they say).
So, if this economic downturn has put you on the street without a regular wage to call your own, what can you do?
I won't speak for everyone out there because the myriad ways one ends up without a living wage would require a book to describe how you ended up where you could sit and read this blog entry while wondering how you're going to pay your bills this month. Today, I will speak to those of you who've had the opportunity to earn a few years' wages and could have put a little money away for a rainy day.
Okay, so now it's a rainy day (as a matter of fact, right now the sky is falling outside my window as a rather large set of thunderstorms pass by overhead). You're sitting on the doorstep, deciding if you should hold your hand out while playing random tunes on a harmonica. [To be sure, you could earn a few coins an hour panhandling in that way and might even make yourself famous if you could park your body in front of a popular webcam. Never turn down the chance to make money and have fun at the same time.] What do you do?
Have you ever thought about an income based on company dividends? While all your friends are telling you to have a party because life sucks, look at the money you've put aside. Say, it's enough to pay a few months' rent. What do you do?
Well, I'm not your broker or your advisor, so don't expect me to have an insight into your financial goals. However, if I were you, I'd open a window on the Internet and see what my money could do for me. Perhaps I could start a small company, using the money to pay for fees and business licenses. Or I could buy a used van and put all my stuff inside, finding a free place to park down by the river. I could go down to the local bank and take out a loan using my money for collateral. Or I might just have to pay rent, after all. Certainly, I'd be looking for another job, calling up friend, coworkers and family to see what they had to offer. In the meantime, I suggest you look at your financial future.
This economic slump will not last forever, even if it will get worse. Therefore, now's the time to start looking at companies whose stock is very low yet they're stilling paying out quarterly dividends. Why should you care? Well, let's say that you and your friends all have the same amount of money to invest in your lives. Some of your friends will inevitably buy something to satisfy their need for instant gratification -- a boat, an RV, a second car, etc. In times like these, you can open the classified ads and find all sorts of bargain basement deals on motorbikes, SUVs and other items that looked good to someone when the economy was hopping but now are eating a hole in their wallet. So, while your friends are scrambling to find someone to buy their toys, what could you be doing? Instead of putting your money to instant use, why don't you invest your money in stocks that pay dividends? That way, once every three months, you have an income that you can use to buy more stocks or to pay household bills, instead of paying for a houseboat that you use a few months out of the year (of course, if your dividend income keeps growing, you could have both, but let's stick to the basics for a moment).
The point here is that you have a choice in what to do with your income -- before you find yourself on the street penniless, think about taking care of your future using today's paycheck. Sit down and determine what you're going to do with that 20% you promised you'd put aside every two weeks. Make sure some of it goes into dividend-paying company stocks. That way, when or if you end up without a regular paycheck, you have a little buffer built in that rewards you for your foresight. Then, when you're out of a job while sitting down looking at a small nest egg that will only cover a few months' rent, you know you can focus on the rent, and let your upcoming dividends pay for insurance or other bills you worked out to pay annually, semi-annually or quarterly. Better yet, if your dividends are working out well, you might even decide to take that nest egg and start your own Internet business.
Don't wait until you're out of work to say, "If only I saved up some money!" Your financial future starts now. Invest in it.
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