This is part of my dream this morning. I wake up through the night, look at the clock, then fall back to sleep. I looked at the clock a little after 4 a.m. and got up at 5:30, so this dream happened between then. Closer to 5:30, since I was still working on the whole aftermath when the alarm went off.
I was at a place in my town. My car was there and a companion. I looked up the street and saw big bombs, shaped like bombs are, with those things at the back that are like feathers on an arrow but are metal. The bombs were white with some red insignia on them, like decoration, nothing nefarious.
By the time I saw the bombs, they were within 100 or 50 feet of the ground. They weren't moving in real time, I'd say, since I had a little time to think through some things. But it was quick, since I can think a lot of a short amount of time.
I was thinking it's too late to make a run for it, that if I'd had some advance notice I would be in the car and away from there, but now it's too late -- it goes without saying, it goes without thinking. In an instant, they hit the ground. I couldn't see them land because the street I was looking up had the upper part of a hill and they were behind it somewhere, like maybe 100-200 yards from me.
There wasn't a terrible explosion, but what I might call a muffled explosion. The thing that impressed me was the change in the color of the air between here and there and the way the color spread toward us quickly. Like a creamier, yellowish color in the air coming this way. I was thinking that it would be bad for us.
After that we got in the car and headed west. The bombs were east.
But we never got out of town. We were still in town, still with people we know, talking it over, very worried and anxious. But I still had a sense of humor about it, although I was very worried about the after effects that it would have for me and us.
I came into a room and there were some guys sitting on the front and second rows of some chairs. They were there for Sunday School. I wondered where the guy was who normally lead them. He was off in another room. They had cut their lesson book in many places and made a paper sculpture out of it. I said to one guy, they guy holding it, "Are you pleased with yourself?" In a joking way.
That's basically what I remember about the dream. It's been close to five hours ago, so much of it is fizzling out of my memory.
About the bombing, I had some vague recollection that this was going to happen, like people knew it was going to happen. Maybe they told us a couple months ago. But I hadn't kept track, hadn't remembered, hadn't noted the time and place, or I wouldn't have been there.
Friday, February 5, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The Truth You Live By
In my seemingly constant campaign, "Drive for Pride," I've hammered away at the things that make for confidence, self-esteem, and pride.
This is no time for a review, but of course a key part of the whole thing is how you think. The "Drive" has as part of its purpose to bring forth good thoughts. I think I've insisted on it from time to time. Because without that we're forever stuck in a rut. The things we tell ourselves are critical.
I know in my life so many of the things I've told myself have been downright disgusting. Especially in hindsight, but I thought they were disgusting at the time as well. I've been my own worst critic, it seems. But somewhere back there, I put most of it behind me and changed my thoughts. That doesn't mean I'm completely over it, with relapses happening occasionally.
The self-loathing, self-questioning, self-doubts, everything, got to be so great, I'd wake up in the middle of the night in weird dream loops, my pajamas drenched in sweat. My eyes were bugged out. I was sweating bullets. I felt about myself then what I feel about Republicans now. It was a bad scene.
What happened for me, I may as well say it, was that I put a lot of these feelings to the test. What part of me was doing the loathing, the questioning, and having the doubts? If there was a part of me that was separate and had these opinions about what was wrong, why wasn't I living from that place instead of having a separate critical stance.
Of course none of this is literal; it's mental. If there's this part of you up here that knows better, what if you just thought from that point of view all the time, or all the time you could manage it. This has some religious overtones, so for me I also check out some verses from the Bible, chapters, with meditation and some serious psychological orientation coming from those teachings.
See how they can be combined? What is of God, in this way of thinking, is what your highest part is saying anyway, the part that knows better. If you can take the time and work up a little discipline toward consolidating some of this stuff, that's when you can see some progress. It works, as imperfect as things are.
So for the better qualities, the self-esteem, etc., it matters what "truth" you live by. Is your "truth" simply what bogs you down? Or is your "truth" what lifts you up? That's the way to do it!
NOTE: Since this is a serious post today, let me say that I pretty much believe what I wrote above. I can't think of any of it I don't believe. But it's fictional to say I was bogged down in self-loathing, etc. That's the "character" of my blog. There have been times, like probably most people have experienced. But there wasn't a time when it was all one way, then a sudden switch. I actually do do some spiritual discipline things regularly, but not as much as would be good for me.
There actually is a spiritual/psychological side of life that, if tended to, generally will make things go better for the average person. Of whom I am one.
I just happened to be serious tonight. I'll try to get back to my crazy character, if I can manage it.
This is no time for a review, but of course a key part of the whole thing is how you think. The "Drive" has as part of its purpose to bring forth good thoughts. I think I've insisted on it from time to time. Because without that we're forever stuck in a rut. The things we tell ourselves are critical.
I know in my life so many of the things I've told myself have been downright disgusting. Especially in hindsight, but I thought they were disgusting at the time as well. I've been my own worst critic, it seems. But somewhere back there, I put most of it behind me and changed my thoughts. That doesn't mean I'm completely over it, with relapses happening occasionally.
The self-loathing, self-questioning, self-doubts, everything, got to be so great, I'd wake up in the middle of the night in weird dream loops, my pajamas drenched in sweat. My eyes were bugged out. I was sweating bullets. I felt about myself then what I feel about Republicans now. It was a bad scene.
What happened for me, I may as well say it, was that I put a lot of these feelings to the test. What part of me was doing the loathing, the questioning, and having the doubts? If there was a part of me that was separate and had these opinions about what was wrong, why wasn't I living from that place instead of having a separate critical stance.
Of course none of this is literal; it's mental. If there's this part of you up here that knows better, what if you just thought from that point of view all the time, or all the time you could manage it. This has some religious overtones, so for me I also check out some verses from the Bible, chapters, with meditation and some serious psychological orientation coming from those teachings.
See how they can be combined? What is of God, in this way of thinking, is what your highest part is saying anyway, the part that knows better. If you can take the time and work up a little discipline toward consolidating some of this stuff, that's when you can see some progress. It works, as imperfect as things are.
So for the better qualities, the self-esteem, etc., it matters what "truth" you live by. Is your "truth" simply what bogs you down? Or is your "truth" what lifts you up? That's the way to do it!
NOTE: Since this is a serious post today, let me say that I pretty much believe what I wrote above. I can't think of any of it I don't believe. But it's fictional to say I was bogged down in self-loathing, etc. That's the "character" of my blog. There have been times, like probably most people have experienced. But there wasn't a time when it was all one way, then a sudden switch. I actually do do some spiritual discipline things regularly, but not as much as would be good for me.
There actually is a spiritual/psychological side of life that, if tended to, generally will make things go better for the average person. Of whom I am one.
I just happened to be serious tonight. I'll try to get back to my crazy character, if I can manage it.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Automatic Writing
I should look up some of the mystical teachings on automatic writing and see what's behind it, if there's any pointers to it. It'd be better than looking at a blank screen, and yawning at the same time.
Automatic writing is one of the many subjects that I've heard of but don't know much more about it than the bare facts. I believe W.B. Yeats did it, or his wife, or someone close to him. And I've heard of various ones around the turn of the century (1900), in the days of mediums and seances, going into a trance and coming out with something they didn't actually write. So it's said.
I could use a skill like that. And maybe I've got it already but just don't know about it. There seems to be a certain logic in the idea that if you just "let yourself go," you could come up with lots of things that go beyond yourself, that is, the conscious, calculating self. It makes sense because you're always thinking -- and it seems like you're always thinking in multiple streams of thought, some more fully realized than others.
Then there's all the unconscious stuff that may be below or above direct knowledge. Like monitoring everything around you but not being consciously aware of it till something in those other fields becomes more pronounced all at once. Bankei mentions this in his sermons, that the people listening to him were also busy monitoring everything going on around them.
As for automatic writing itself, if you can write, you can also just steam ahead. You could do it consciously, just writing a stream of consciousness type of thing. Then the more you do, the more associations there are in it, the more associations there are, the more your conscious and unconscious will be working in harmony, to produce something. Or you can just sit and think, and keep pressuring yourself, until what you're thinking is only about how you're not thinking anything. That's when you find yourself staring at a blank page or empty screen.
It seems to me that if you could just start, then become less demanding of yourself, i.e., not being a perfectionist, not being afraid to edit, you could relax and stream it out and it wouldn't be bad. In my case, which is of course what I can speak to best, I can relax very well, but no matter how much I write, it still sounds exactly like my conscious thoughts. I don't hear another voice in here anywhere.
Maybe if I were sleep deprived -- and could stay awake -- that's when the real automatic writing might start. Because I'd be that much closer to the dream state, which is sort of like automatic writing, except it's just automatic thinking and automatic imaging.
Automatic writing is one of the many subjects that I've heard of but don't know much more about it than the bare facts. I believe W.B. Yeats did it, or his wife, or someone close to him. And I've heard of various ones around the turn of the century (1900), in the days of mediums and seances, going into a trance and coming out with something they didn't actually write. So it's said.
I could use a skill like that. And maybe I've got it already but just don't know about it. There seems to be a certain logic in the idea that if you just "let yourself go," you could come up with lots of things that go beyond yourself, that is, the conscious, calculating self. It makes sense because you're always thinking -- and it seems like you're always thinking in multiple streams of thought, some more fully realized than others.
Then there's all the unconscious stuff that may be below or above direct knowledge. Like monitoring everything around you but not being consciously aware of it till something in those other fields becomes more pronounced all at once. Bankei mentions this in his sermons, that the people listening to him were also busy monitoring everything going on around them.
As for automatic writing itself, if you can write, you can also just steam ahead. You could do it consciously, just writing a stream of consciousness type of thing. Then the more you do, the more associations there are in it, the more associations there are, the more your conscious and unconscious will be working in harmony, to produce something. Or you can just sit and think, and keep pressuring yourself, until what you're thinking is only about how you're not thinking anything. That's when you find yourself staring at a blank page or empty screen.
It seems to me that if you could just start, then become less demanding of yourself, i.e., not being a perfectionist, not being afraid to edit, you could relax and stream it out and it wouldn't be bad. In my case, which is of course what I can speak to best, I can relax very well, but no matter how much I write, it still sounds exactly like my conscious thoughts. I don't hear another voice in here anywhere.
Maybe if I were sleep deprived -- and could stay awake -- that's when the real automatic writing might start. Because I'd be that much closer to the dream state, which is sort of like automatic writing, except it's just automatic thinking and automatic imaging.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Step It Up In Life
I have a rock solid belief that anyone can step it up in life.
Meaning that you (or anyone) don't have to be in the same old rut, don't have to live in dire straits all the time, and don't have to have the same poor conditions next year as you're suffering this year.
Call this a "Drive for Pride" entry. Because that's what it is. It's time to get the pride of life, in the good sense of the phrase, and not to dwell in the same old disgusting pits.
I was helping someone with some forms, tax forms. We came to the space for the refund, routing it to a savings or checking account. You don't have a savings account? You don't have a checking account? No and No.
"Good grief," one's thinking goes, "How are you cashing checks? By paying constant fees? That's crazy! Is it that the minimum balance is too much? Some places it's only $100. You could quit buying DVDs, CDs, and junk food for a month and probably have $100 in discretionary income sufficient to have the minimum balance in the bank. What would it take? About an ounce of discipline? You could surely muster an ounce of discipline. Then who knows? You save all the money on cashing your checks, and in a little while that $100 minimum balance has paid for itself."
This whole short term living it up spirit of things is terrible. With a growing balance, putting away something, trying to live within your means, having something for a rainy day, etc., it's going to eventually do something for your pride and confidence as well. There's something to it, financial security.
To me this is crystal clear. I'm not rich by any means. But I'm not on the verge of total collapse from one minute to another. And I'm trying to make progress. I couldn't handle endless catastrophes, but maybe a few. Then once they'd passed, I'd try to rebuild in the event of the next one.
Stepping it up in life is a matter of saying, "I may have made some terrible choices in the past. But I'm not going to live that way anymore. I'm going to get a hold of myself. I'm going to get a grip. I'm going to be the master of my fate (to the extent that I can be) instead of letting fate master me."
Do it. Do it immediately. Step it up. It may be hard. But there's a lot more regrets in not stepping it up. You can bank on it!
Meaning that you (or anyone) don't have to be in the same old rut, don't have to live in dire straits all the time, and don't have to have the same poor conditions next year as you're suffering this year.
Call this a "Drive for Pride" entry. Because that's what it is. It's time to get the pride of life, in the good sense of the phrase, and not to dwell in the same old disgusting pits.
I was helping someone with some forms, tax forms. We came to the space for the refund, routing it to a savings or checking account. You don't have a savings account? You don't have a checking account? No and No.
"Good grief," one's thinking goes, "How are you cashing checks? By paying constant fees? That's crazy! Is it that the minimum balance is too much? Some places it's only $100. You could quit buying DVDs, CDs, and junk food for a month and probably have $100 in discretionary income sufficient to have the minimum balance in the bank. What would it take? About an ounce of discipline? You could surely muster an ounce of discipline. Then who knows? You save all the money on cashing your checks, and in a little while that $100 minimum balance has paid for itself."
This whole short term living it up spirit of things is terrible. With a growing balance, putting away something, trying to live within your means, having something for a rainy day, etc., it's going to eventually do something for your pride and confidence as well. There's something to it, financial security.
To me this is crystal clear. I'm not rich by any means. But I'm not on the verge of total collapse from one minute to another. And I'm trying to make progress. I couldn't handle endless catastrophes, but maybe a few. Then once they'd passed, I'd try to rebuild in the event of the next one.
Stepping it up in life is a matter of saying, "I may have made some terrible choices in the past. But I'm not going to live that way anymore. I'm going to get a hold of myself. I'm going to get a grip. I'm going to be the master of my fate (to the extent that I can be) instead of letting fate master me."
Do it. Do it immediately. Step it up. It may be hard. But there's a lot more regrets in not stepping it up. You can bank on it!
Monday, February 1, 2010
I Should've Numbered All My Posts
I like numbering things. It's so exact. And everything is so definitely pinpointed when it's numbered.
But sometimes I don't like the numbering process that much. And maybe for the same reason -- it can bother me when everything is so definitely pinpointed.
I can get a slight mental tremor when it comes to numbering and ordering things. Especially if I'm moderately queasy, like I am tonight. I can feel the edges of it and don't really want to provoke it. It's when you don't want to provoke some mental tremor that they like to do their thing on their own. So it's tough to win.
I'll say it -- I've said it before. Somewhere. This feels strange. Say I'm trying to order a series of cards. As an example, say I have a series of 25 cards here, in random order. And they need to be ordered. You find the first one, you find the second, the third, the fourth. At some point here you're going to come to the point of no return. That point can trigger the tremor, a feeling that builds on itself apparently because it is so definite, so ordered, and will be accomplished.
Not a good explanation, I know, but it can't be explained.
Let's get it away from me and this strange hangup. The numbering of things makes things very convenient. Say you had a stack of a monthly magazine, from 1950-1960. There's Volume 1, Number 1. Then all of Volume 1. Then Volume 2, Number 1, 2, 3, 4, etc. It's all very definite. If you're missing one, that's a hangup, so you make a mental note that it's not there. It screws up the numbering, but most collections have at least one problem.
The good thing about the numbering is you know exactly what you have and what you're missing.
The bad thing about it being so definite is ... there's no spontaneity. What is known is known and there's nothing to discover. Each page is also numbered. No one's able to slip in anything. A magical page that just appears and you're transfixed. No, if the Lucky Strikes cigarette company advertised on page 5 of Volume 1, Number 8, it's going to be there till doomsday.
I was numbering some things today. They were automatically numbered by my scanner. Then I noticed I needed to insert some other pages that got missed. Because sometimes if the pages used to have a staple, the little paper jags catch on one another and the scanner takes more than one sheet. So I had to manually insert a few pages without wanting to change the numbers on all the other files. Meaning I ended up with files called 18a and 18b. It's still definite, but it's sneaking new files in, because there's no definite number between 17 and 19 except 18.
When I'm looking for a page in a magazine, I like them all to be numbered. Sometimes they're not. I don't like that. In a way it's refreshing, for the reasons above, it makes it less definite and therefore less predictable. But even if they're not numbered, you could still figure out what their number would have been.
It's probably good that I didn't number my posts. There is a definite number. But they're not all equal. And for all I know there might be a few false starts in the mix.
Those are some of my thoughts on numbers.
But sometimes I don't like the numbering process that much. And maybe for the same reason -- it can bother me when everything is so definitely pinpointed.
I can get a slight mental tremor when it comes to numbering and ordering things. Especially if I'm moderately queasy, like I am tonight. I can feel the edges of it and don't really want to provoke it. It's when you don't want to provoke some mental tremor that they like to do their thing on their own. So it's tough to win.
I'll say it -- I've said it before. Somewhere. This feels strange. Say I'm trying to order a series of cards. As an example, say I have a series of 25 cards here, in random order. And they need to be ordered. You find the first one, you find the second, the third, the fourth. At some point here you're going to come to the point of no return. That point can trigger the tremor, a feeling that builds on itself apparently because it is so definite, so ordered, and will be accomplished.
Not a good explanation, I know, but it can't be explained.
Let's get it away from me and this strange hangup. The numbering of things makes things very convenient. Say you had a stack of a monthly magazine, from 1950-1960. There's Volume 1, Number 1. Then all of Volume 1. Then Volume 2, Number 1, 2, 3, 4, etc. It's all very definite. If you're missing one, that's a hangup, so you make a mental note that it's not there. It screws up the numbering, but most collections have at least one problem.
The good thing about the numbering is you know exactly what you have and what you're missing.
The bad thing about it being so definite is ... there's no spontaneity. What is known is known and there's nothing to discover. Each page is also numbered. No one's able to slip in anything. A magical page that just appears and you're transfixed. No, if the Lucky Strikes cigarette company advertised on page 5 of Volume 1, Number 8, it's going to be there till doomsday.
I was numbering some things today. They were automatically numbered by my scanner. Then I noticed I needed to insert some other pages that got missed. Because sometimes if the pages used to have a staple, the little paper jags catch on one another and the scanner takes more than one sheet. So I had to manually insert a few pages without wanting to change the numbers on all the other files. Meaning I ended up with files called 18a and 18b. It's still definite, but it's sneaking new files in, because there's no definite number between 17 and 19 except 18.
When I'm looking for a page in a magazine, I like them all to be numbered. Sometimes they're not. I don't like that. In a way it's refreshing, for the reasons above, it makes it less definite and therefore less predictable. But even if they're not numbered, you could still figure out what their number would have been.
It's probably good that I didn't number my posts. There is a definite number. But they're not all equal. And for all I know there might be a few false starts in the mix.
Those are some of my thoughts on numbers.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
The Difference In Big Productions And Two Bit Stuff
I'm watching the Grammys tonight and writing this blog.
Each of these is a big production. Watching the Grammys, I'm impressed by the enormous musical productions they put on. Pink is flying through the air and there's no problem, no static with the microphone. She doesn't sound like she's out of breath or having any trouble maintaining perfect pitch while being twirled at 30 feet up. Could she possibly be lip syncing? Now she's dripping with water, somehow she got sopped.
A while ago Lady Gaga was thrown into a fiery pit, then she emerged at a piano with Elton John across from her. And Beyonce was out there with a dozen storm troopers and enough fans blowing her hair up to power the Balloon Boy.
I've done some sound work in my time. Like setting up a few microphones and some speakers. It's never been great stuff, but I've been able to work with what I had to make it work. You plug in the white plug into the white socket, etc., and it generally works. Or if there's no colors, you just feel your way. I had a speaker that was blown out. Maybe it just deteriorated because it was 30 years old and the speakers are made of some kind of paper. It was buzzing. It was up to me to get rid of the buzz. So I tried some hot glue on it, but it didn't do any good. It might've had a psychological effect.
I have a drawer of various cords from over the years. Some of them I've spliced together. So that if I really work at it, I can hook up any record player to any computer. I've never tried it, but I'm guessing it would even work with an old Edison record player, if I had enough cords and enough time to try every combination.
So there's the Grammys and their big productions. Then there's me, with my stash of cords, plugs, a few microphones, and hot glue.
Then there's all the two bit stuff out in the world, lesser shows and those with less abilities than me.
UPDATE: I'm hoping Lady Gaga wins everything. She didn't win the first thing, the Song of the Year. I hope she at least wins something. Besides my aging heart, although that's definitely worth winning.
Each of these is a big production. Watching the Grammys, I'm impressed by the enormous musical productions they put on. Pink is flying through the air and there's no problem, no static with the microphone. She doesn't sound like she's out of breath or having any trouble maintaining perfect pitch while being twirled at 30 feet up. Could she possibly be lip syncing? Now she's dripping with water, somehow she got sopped.
A while ago Lady Gaga was thrown into a fiery pit, then she emerged at a piano with Elton John across from her. And Beyonce was out there with a dozen storm troopers and enough fans blowing her hair up to power the Balloon Boy.
I've done some sound work in my time. Like setting up a few microphones and some speakers. It's never been great stuff, but I've been able to work with what I had to make it work. You plug in the white plug into the white socket, etc., and it generally works. Or if there's no colors, you just feel your way. I had a speaker that was blown out. Maybe it just deteriorated because it was 30 years old and the speakers are made of some kind of paper. It was buzzing. It was up to me to get rid of the buzz. So I tried some hot glue on it, but it didn't do any good. It might've had a psychological effect.
I have a drawer of various cords from over the years. Some of them I've spliced together. So that if I really work at it, I can hook up any record player to any computer. I've never tried it, but I'm guessing it would even work with an old Edison record player, if I had enough cords and enough time to try every combination.
So there's the Grammys and their big productions. Then there's me, with my stash of cords, plugs, a few microphones, and hot glue.
Then there's all the two bit stuff out in the world, lesser shows and those with less abilities than me.
UPDATE: I'm hoping Lady Gaga wins everything. She didn't win the first thing, the Song of the Year. I hope she at least wins something. Besides my aging heart, although that's definitely worth winning.
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Nothing Colder Than A Cemetery In January
I was at a funeral today, with the loss of the father of a friend.
And it, being a cold day, it was very cold at the cemetery, a country cemetery. Being a country cemetery, it's surrounded by fields of snow, flat fields, right where the breeze blows unobstructed.
I was looking out across the fields and saw how perfect the snow was, no tracks, no disturbance. We had the freezing rain over a week ago, so that is still a perfect crust on top of the snow, very shiny and slick. The fresh snow that came since then has either blown away, up against a fence, or has settled in the crevices.
The fields being vast, they definitely have room to expand the cemetery, if the landowner would sell them another couple acres. Whoever it is, they probably would.
They had a tent we were gathered in, but it was still very cold. I noticed my ears starting to get brittle, so about halfway through I pulled my hat up. It wasn't that long a time out there. The time was divided in two, the religious ceremony and the military's part.
Seven guys shot their guns three times on command. The flag, which they had mercifully already folded, was presented to the family, they dismissed and we headed to the cars.
In addition to my ears, my old fingers really felt the cold.
It made me think of the bodies under our feet, obviously frozen in place.
And it, being a cold day, it was very cold at the cemetery, a country cemetery. Being a country cemetery, it's surrounded by fields of snow, flat fields, right where the breeze blows unobstructed.
I was looking out across the fields and saw how perfect the snow was, no tracks, no disturbance. We had the freezing rain over a week ago, so that is still a perfect crust on top of the snow, very shiny and slick. The fresh snow that came since then has either blown away, up against a fence, or has settled in the crevices.
The fields being vast, they definitely have room to expand the cemetery, if the landowner would sell them another couple acres. Whoever it is, they probably would.
They had a tent we were gathered in, but it was still very cold. I noticed my ears starting to get brittle, so about halfway through I pulled my hat up. It wasn't that long a time out there. The time was divided in two, the religious ceremony and the military's part.
Seven guys shot their guns three times on command. The flag, which they had mercifully already folded, was presented to the family, they dismissed and we headed to the cars.
In addition to my ears, my old fingers really felt the cold.
It made me think of the bodies under our feet, obviously frozen in place.
Friday, January 29, 2010
The Textbook Blog
This is the one they'll be studying.
It's been pointed out to me by those who know blogs -- and after examining the evidence, I concur -- that this blog likely has a very rich future ahead of it. Not so much because of the impact that it's made in its own time, which has not been negligible by any means, but for what it represents (and will represent) as a great example of a blog in future media studies.
Like I said, I've examined the evidence as it was put before me, and, stifling a blush or two because I'm so very personally involved in the enterprise, I truly believe they're on to something.
What the evidence shows is that there's a real thinking person behind the blog. And that this thinking person has opened his mind to the world, reluctantly at times but still he has been very revealing. It's exactly these kinds of personal revelations -- thoughts, opinions, and descriptions of events -- that will be very useful, even valuable to the future researcher.
Just between you and me, my fellow folks of the present day, knowing this about the future might inhibit me as I continue to write. Because I hadn't really thought about the heritage aspect of it, and now I might be doubly watching my language, grammar, and opinions, to make sure I don't embarrass us when the future gets here, and let's say it's a distant future and we're all dead and gone.
Really, if you think of it, what makes western movies so violent? The people back in those far off days weren't giving a single thought to what their behavior would say about their generation. It's like they didn't consider we'd be sitting out here over 100 years later looking back. So they lived like a bunch of devils, shooting each other on Main Street, shooting up a bunch of saloons, and probably engaging in prostitution, those who provided the service and those who paid for it. They weren't concerned with what we would think.
When I think about the future, I think about people who are still to be born. It's going to happen, even though it seems bizarre from our point of view. What? We're going to turn the world over to a bunch of people who aren't even born yet? That sounds crazy! Because at this point, since they're not even here, it seems foolhardy to entrust them with anything. But if we look a little closer, and think it through, that's exactly what happened with us. In the past, we weren't here yet. So we were just as inexperienced. But then we were conceived and born, grew up, and bit by bit the future unfolded. Of course we didn't just take over one day, but it happened gradually.
Having said all that, it's still kind of wild to consider that there are very attractive women (or will be) who aren't even alive yet. And not to leave anyone out, there are very attractive men who also will be born. And of course there's folks like the rest of us, still to born, who will constitute the future generation(s) that we hear so much about. That's one of the reasons I personally conserve water, so it'll be there for them to use.
Now, let me just say a word to the researchers of tomorrow who are not yet born: I am happy (from my place in your past) to be the textbook blog that you all are studying. I hope that you see that I kept everything on the up and up. There are probably some very foulmouthed blogs from this present day that you've studied as well. One of the things you no doubt noticed about mine is that I don't allow anything "blue" to be posted. I'm interested in elevating the discourse, so that's something I insist on. If you are literally taking a class on early 21st century blogs, I hope my archives have survived intact. I have very little control over it, actually, because it's a thing that Google does. If they've gone out of business and changed hands between now and then, apparently they've transferred some or all of the files adequately for you to be reading this. Study hard, get a good job, and be a credit to your society. By then, I'm sure society will be very far advanced. So enjoy it as much as you can.
OK, back to the present day. What I said to the folks of the future, I would say to you as well. Be a credit to your society. Study hard, etc., and enjoy yourself as much as you can.
As to my blog, I'm going to try to put the whole "textbook blog" thing on the back burner and just be myself, as much as I can. Because when they start studying it in the future, I want them to have something to study that is genuine and not just something that's been written with a constant eye on the future.
It's been pointed out to me by those who know blogs -- and after examining the evidence, I concur -- that this blog likely has a very rich future ahead of it. Not so much because of the impact that it's made in its own time, which has not been negligible by any means, but for what it represents (and will represent) as a great example of a blog in future media studies.
Like I said, I've examined the evidence as it was put before me, and, stifling a blush or two because I'm so very personally involved in the enterprise, I truly believe they're on to something.
What the evidence shows is that there's a real thinking person behind the blog. And that this thinking person has opened his mind to the world, reluctantly at times but still he has been very revealing. It's exactly these kinds of personal revelations -- thoughts, opinions, and descriptions of events -- that will be very useful, even valuable to the future researcher.
Just between you and me, my fellow folks of the present day, knowing this about the future might inhibit me as I continue to write. Because I hadn't really thought about the heritage aspect of it, and now I might be doubly watching my language, grammar, and opinions, to make sure I don't embarrass us when the future gets here, and let's say it's a distant future and we're all dead and gone.
Really, if you think of it, what makes western movies so violent? The people back in those far off days weren't giving a single thought to what their behavior would say about their generation. It's like they didn't consider we'd be sitting out here over 100 years later looking back. So they lived like a bunch of devils, shooting each other on Main Street, shooting up a bunch of saloons, and probably engaging in prostitution, those who provided the service and those who paid for it. They weren't concerned with what we would think.
When I think about the future, I think about people who are still to be born. It's going to happen, even though it seems bizarre from our point of view. What? We're going to turn the world over to a bunch of people who aren't even born yet? That sounds crazy! Because at this point, since they're not even here, it seems foolhardy to entrust them with anything. But if we look a little closer, and think it through, that's exactly what happened with us. In the past, we weren't here yet. So we were just as inexperienced. But then we were conceived and born, grew up, and bit by bit the future unfolded. Of course we didn't just take over one day, but it happened gradually.
Having said all that, it's still kind of wild to consider that there are very attractive women (or will be) who aren't even alive yet. And not to leave anyone out, there are very attractive men who also will be born. And of course there's folks like the rest of us, still to born, who will constitute the future generation(s) that we hear so much about. That's one of the reasons I personally conserve water, so it'll be there for them to use.
Now, let me just say a word to the researchers of tomorrow who are not yet born: I am happy (from my place in your past) to be the textbook blog that you all are studying. I hope that you see that I kept everything on the up and up. There are probably some very foulmouthed blogs from this present day that you've studied as well. One of the things you no doubt noticed about mine is that I don't allow anything "blue" to be posted. I'm interested in elevating the discourse, so that's something I insist on. If you are literally taking a class on early 21st century blogs, I hope my archives have survived intact. I have very little control over it, actually, because it's a thing that Google does. If they've gone out of business and changed hands between now and then, apparently they've transferred some or all of the files adequately for you to be reading this. Study hard, get a good job, and be a credit to your society. By then, I'm sure society will be very far advanced. So enjoy it as much as you can.
OK, back to the present day. What I said to the folks of the future, I would say to you as well. Be a credit to your society. Study hard, etc., and enjoy yourself as much as you can.
As to my blog, I'm going to try to put the whole "textbook blog" thing on the back burner and just be myself, as much as I can. Because when they start studying it in the future, I want them to have something to study that is genuine and not just something that's been written with a constant eye on the future.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Psychology Of Possibly Getting Someone To Pay You Back
I was writing about a hypothetical, extrapolated situation yesterday, about someone irresponsible enough that their need bailing out financially (and, no, I'm not talking about the high financial centers of our great nation, where the bankers and Wall Street types are bailed out in spite of their crooked ways; those guys are allowed; it's the two bit characters on the street who are liable for various offenses.)
Let's say this hypothetical situation could be given a very concrete description, so that you could almost imagine it being a real thing or event. Let's say you were sitting at Dairy Queen, minding your own business, savoring a hot fudge sundae while your companion works on a Turtle Pecan Cluster Blizzard. And just to make it more concrete, you have your cell phone in your pants pocket and somehow don't hear it when it rings and then it apparently goes straight to voice mail. Then you listen to it and it's the desperate plea from an acquaintance, that he's having some kind of dire problem and needs to "talk."
At this point you would know that whatever "talk" you're going to have is likely going to cost you money. Or some other unpleasantness. But you dutifully call him back and try to discern exactly what has happened and what the options are. Since you don't keep track of his affairs ordinarily, it's all news to you, including the fact that he's behind on his rent a couple months and about to be evicted unless someone helps. Someone! And if he gets evicted and it happens to be zero degrees, which coincidentally it is, what's going to become of him?
Then let's add another possible detail, that you turn out to be a softie and promise to loan him $400 the next day, what would that do to your night? How great does the savored hot fudge sundae taste now? Is there any point of savoring it now? Just gulp it down, because the arguments have already started about the guy surely not being responsible to ever pay you back. Everyone says they will pay it back, but few do.
It sounds very realistic, I know.
Then the next day comes, which would be today, and the money would have to be gotten. Attitudes are flaring, recriminations are being bandied about, the whole issue of money going down the drain is raised. It's a mess (in this scenario).
Then we'll advance to the point where you need to present him the envelope of cash. What will you say? What kind of psychology will it take to impress upon him the serious need of paying it back? You could mention that your companion is "very mad about it." And that you have stood up for him in the face of this anger, assuring her that he's a hard worker, very trustworthy, and someone with other great qualities. He's a friend.
Once you see him you commiserate left and right over every setback he's ever experienced. It's all so awful, but you've come this far. You're strong. You've grown.
The openness, the belief in him, the recognition of all his hard work, our mutual friendship, our confidence that he will get everything squared away very soon by making better decisions. Every word would be true ... and geared to making sure he did mend his ways. And making sure he didn't forget to pay you back the $400.
$400 isn't that much money. But it would seem like a good chunk of change indeed if anyone else needed it.
Let's say this hypothetical situation could be given a very concrete description, so that you could almost imagine it being a real thing or event. Let's say you were sitting at Dairy Queen, minding your own business, savoring a hot fudge sundae while your companion works on a Turtle Pecan Cluster Blizzard. And just to make it more concrete, you have your cell phone in your pants pocket and somehow don't hear it when it rings and then it apparently goes straight to voice mail. Then you listen to it and it's the desperate plea from an acquaintance, that he's having some kind of dire problem and needs to "talk."
At this point you would know that whatever "talk" you're going to have is likely going to cost you money. Or some other unpleasantness. But you dutifully call him back and try to discern exactly what has happened and what the options are. Since you don't keep track of his affairs ordinarily, it's all news to you, including the fact that he's behind on his rent a couple months and about to be evicted unless someone helps. Someone! And if he gets evicted and it happens to be zero degrees, which coincidentally it is, what's going to become of him?
Then let's add another possible detail, that you turn out to be a softie and promise to loan him $400 the next day, what would that do to your night? How great does the savored hot fudge sundae taste now? Is there any point of savoring it now? Just gulp it down, because the arguments have already started about the guy surely not being responsible to ever pay you back. Everyone says they will pay it back, but few do.
It sounds very realistic, I know.
Then the next day comes, which would be today, and the money would have to be gotten. Attitudes are flaring, recriminations are being bandied about, the whole issue of money going down the drain is raised. It's a mess (in this scenario).
Then we'll advance to the point where you need to present him the envelope of cash. What will you say? What kind of psychology will it take to impress upon him the serious need of paying it back? You could mention that your companion is "very mad about it." And that you have stood up for him in the face of this anger, assuring her that he's a hard worker, very trustworthy, and someone with other great qualities. He's a friend.
Once you see him you commiserate left and right over every setback he's ever experienced. It's all so awful, but you've come this far. You're strong. You've grown.
The openness, the belief in him, the recognition of all his hard work, our mutual friendship, our confidence that he will get everything squared away very soon by making better decisions. Every word would be true ... and geared to making sure he did mend his ways. And making sure he didn't forget to pay you back the $400.
$400 isn't that much money. But it would seem like a good chunk of change indeed if anyone else needed it.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Adversity Sucks -- Deal With It
Yesterday as part of the "Drive for Pride" I was teaching on the subject of getting your duties accomplished, of being a responsible person.
1) It's good for your own sense of things; 2) The rest of us will hate you that much less. Because we are sick and tired of the half-witted irresponsibility of the world, particularly of those who come into contact with us.
How hard is it to be responsible? How hard is it to think ahead, to rub two stinking thoughts together long enough to reach some kind of intelligent conclusions? How difficult is it to plan ahead and think about what you're going to need for a rainy day? It drives me crazy that there are these folks out there who get their back up against the wall because they haven't got the sense to foresee what their actions (or lack of actions) will yield.
Then when the rain starts to fall, then when the bills come due, that's when you hear from them. And you'd like to backtrack and say: What did you do at this point? What did you do at that point? Why weren't you taking certain precautions? Why weren't you putting something away for this? Why weren't you on top of the situation back then? Did you not notice that this problem was getting bigger all the time instead of smaller? Sheesh.
No, no, no. Just hope and pray. Maybe tomorrow won't come. Maybe I'll win the big lottery. Maybe God will provide. Actually God was trying to get your attention all along, that you need to be diligent all along the way and not let these tiny problems become gigantic. God was shouting at you the whole time, but you didn't seem to notice.
Now adversity is your lot in life ... and suddenly it's someone else's worry. Because you need bailed out. Your irresponsibility is suddenly my problem.
Of course I'm not thinking of any particular incident here. Just extrapolating the way it would be if a case like this were to arise.
Well, here's the bad news. I'll give you the bad news in a few sentences: 1) Hoping and praying doesn't get it done; 2) Tomorrow will come, every time; 3) You aren't going to win the big lottery; 4) God wants to provide but He's not going to provide it in one lump sum. God provides for you all along the way, but it's up to you to save, not squander. Remember the story of Joseph and the seven years of plenty and the seven years of want? God provided when the seven years of plenty were going on. Then it was Joseph's sense that meant they had food during the seven years of want. 5) You have the same mental abilities as responsible people, you just didn't use them. (In this hypothetical, extrapolated case.)
If you don't want your back up against the wall -- because tomorrow does come -- take care of your life today. That's a "Drive for Pride" teaching that will come in very very handy, if you follow it.
1) It's good for your own sense of things; 2) The rest of us will hate you that much less. Because we are sick and tired of the half-witted irresponsibility of the world, particularly of those who come into contact with us.
How hard is it to be responsible? How hard is it to think ahead, to rub two stinking thoughts together long enough to reach some kind of intelligent conclusions? How difficult is it to plan ahead and think about what you're going to need for a rainy day? It drives me crazy that there are these folks out there who get their back up against the wall because they haven't got the sense to foresee what their actions (or lack of actions) will yield.
Then when the rain starts to fall, then when the bills come due, that's when you hear from them. And you'd like to backtrack and say: What did you do at this point? What did you do at that point? Why weren't you taking certain precautions? Why weren't you putting something away for this? Why weren't you on top of the situation back then? Did you not notice that this problem was getting bigger all the time instead of smaller? Sheesh.
No, no, no. Just hope and pray. Maybe tomorrow won't come. Maybe I'll win the big lottery. Maybe God will provide. Actually God was trying to get your attention all along, that you need to be diligent all along the way and not let these tiny problems become gigantic. God was shouting at you the whole time, but you didn't seem to notice.
Now adversity is your lot in life ... and suddenly it's someone else's worry. Because you need bailed out. Your irresponsibility is suddenly my problem.
Of course I'm not thinking of any particular incident here. Just extrapolating the way it would be if a case like this were to arise.
Well, here's the bad news. I'll give you the bad news in a few sentences: 1) Hoping and praying doesn't get it done; 2) Tomorrow will come, every time; 3) You aren't going to win the big lottery; 4) God wants to provide but He's not going to provide it in one lump sum. God provides for you all along the way, but it's up to you to save, not squander. Remember the story of Joseph and the seven years of plenty and the seven years of want? God provided when the seven years of plenty were going on. Then it was Joseph's sense that meant they had food during the seven years of want. 5) You have the same mental abilities as responsible people, you just didn't use them. (In this hypothetical, extrapolated case.)
If you don't want your back up against the wall -- because tomorrow does come -- take care of your life today. That's a "Drive for Pride" teaching that will come in very very handy, if you follow it.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Get Your Duties Accomplished
Here's an entry in the "Drive for Pride" file:
Get your duties accomplished. Live as a person who takes your responsibilities seriously. Do them, point by point, and do them well. Then lean back and feel proud, proud that what should be done is done.
I get up in the morning and think of what needs to be done. Sometimes I forget something but not very often. Then I step through it -- even sometimes doing the harder or less savory tasks first. As I get the things accomplished I feel pretty good about it and myself. Success seems to build on itself.
Who are some of the people who really stick out in your memory as sour apples? If you're like me, it's the ones you can't depend on to be on time, to be prepared, in general, to be responsible. I don't know how people live like that, I really don't. We're expecting you to be ready but you're not.
If you're an employer and that happens, you have some leverage. If you're just a friend or a coworker (at a certain level), you sometimes have to sugarcoat it. It'd be nice to really be able to speak your mind freely sometimes, like chewing them out and dressing them down like a drill sergeant. But no...mustn't let your true feelings slip out.
I'm not thinking of any particular incidences actually, I just know how it goes in the normal give and take of society. 'T would be a pity to dress someone down. You might bruise their poor ego. Stunt their mental growth (as though it's not already seriously stunted, by inactivity, lack of vigor, a poor self attitude, the constant sloughing off, and a look of ignorance that masquerades as dreamy indifference.) But hey ... I'm willing to pull back.
As for me, I was brought up to have some personal sense, some care for my presentation and accomplishments. So you'll see me bounding out of bed everyday at 5:30 a.m. I'll be making a list of things to do. I'll have my appointments in my phone with an hour's notice (the alarm) beforehand. Then I'll be constantly thinking of how I will do what must be done, and I will do it well.
Others apparently didn't have that upbringing. Must have been lost in the woods and raised by a family of sloths. Their whole attitude is so lackadaisical that you should check them for bedsores. A pile of driftwood has more spunk. You'd need a refinery to start a fire under them. Something's zapped their senses.
So, in conclusion, if you want to be a person that we'd like to have around, keep track of your life and responsibilities, and get your duties accomplished.
Get your duties accomplished. Live as a person who takes your responsibilities seriously. Do them, point by point, and do them well. Then lean back and feel proud, proud that what should be done is done.
I get up in the morning and think of what needs to be done. Sometimes I forget something but not very often. Then I step through it -- even sometimes doing the harder or less savory tasks first. As I get the things accomplished I feel pretty good about it and myself. Success seems to build on itself.
Who are some of the people who really stick out in your memory as sour apples? If you're like me, it's the ones you can't depend on to be on time, to be prepared, in general, to be responsible. I don't know how people live like that, I really don't. We're expecting you to be ready but you're not.
If you're an employer and that happens, you have some leverage. If you're just a friend or a coworker (at a certain level), you sometimes have to sugarcoat it. It'd be nice to really be able to speak your mind freely sometimes, like chewing them out and dressing them down like a drill sergeant. But no...mustn't let your true feelings slip out.
I'm not thinking of any particular incidences actually, I just know how it goes in the normal give and take of society. 'T would be a pity to dress someone down. You might bruise their poor ego. Stunt their mental growth (as though it's not already seriously stunted, by inactivity, lack of vigor, a poor self attitude, the constant sloughing off, and a look of ignorance that masquerades as dreamy indifference.) But hey ... I'm willing to pull back.
As for me, I was brought up to have some personal sense, some care for my presentation and accomplishments. So you'll see me bounding out of bed everyday at 5:30 a.m. I'll be making a list of things to do. I'll have my appointments in my phone with an hour's notice (the alarm) beforehand. Then I'll be constantly thinking of how I will do what must be done, and I will do it well.
Others apparently didn't have that upbringing. Must have been lost in the woods and raised by a family of sloths. Their whole attitude is so lackadaisical that you should check them for bedsores. A pile of driftwood has more spunk. You'd need a refinery to start a fire under them. Something's zapped their senses.
So, in conclusion, if you want to be a person that we'd like to have around, keep track of your life and responsibilities, and get your duties accomplished.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Bind This Blog In Leather
I'm laughing already. Seriously. Just at the title. "Bind This Blog In Leather."
That's just the way I feel about it. That it's good.
I could write about the weather today -- I could do it easily because it's been terrible. A few little taps of my fingers, feeling very nimble today would be all it'd take. Some bouncing of my wrists as my fingers did their thing and it'd be accomplished. Cut and dried.
But I don't like filling up this blog -- a precious blog -- with news about the weather. Because the weather will have changed by tomorrow and my weather post would be old news. Instead of that, I like to put some serious thought and attention into something more conceptual, something that can stand the test of time.
That's what most of my posts are here. They're rock solid, good stuff. And people who like good writing will be reading them 20 years from now and really enjoying themselves. That's what I like when I see someone reading my blog. I might be walking through a hospital waiting room, just walking through like an average person. And I'll see someone sitting there reading my blog. They'll be laughing. It's good for their soul and it's good for mine.
One day this happened, not too long ago, and I was thinking, "Should I go up to the guy and reveal to him that I, apparently an average person passing by, am in fact the author of what he was reading?" I came that close to spilling the beans, but then I thought, "Nahh, it's kind of cool to be anonymous."
So you can tell I have a lot of pride in these posts. Especially when I think (at times) how effortless it is for me to do it. I might not even have a hint of an idea, like tonight, then I'll sit at the computer for a minute, open it up, and just start. Before you know it, I've come up with something truly inspired. I guess I'm thinking about that guy in the hospital and others. People at their job, people on breaks, maybe even at the White House, wanting a quick diversion, so they click on my blog and they go away satisfied.
I know there'll be times when I'm feeling a little blue myself. What I'll do is look at my archives -- I've written over 600 posts, close to 700 -- and I'll just click one at random. It lifts my spirits to know that I wrote that. That's one part of it. And it brightens my day because I might've forgotten it somewhat, and it'll even catch me by surprise and I'll have a quick laugh. It makes me doubly proud.
This blog is one of the most satisfying things in life that I do. So obviously I wouldn't want to fill it up with weather reports, grocery lists, or commentary on the news of the day. Those things have such a short shelf life. But funny stuff, insightful stuff, like I put out, that's something that you can look back on years later and appreciate.
If they ever bind this blog, I believe it should be bound in leather, then set on every bookshelf in America, the ones at least that want only the best books.
That's just the way I feel about it. That it's good.
I could write about the weather today -- I could do it easily because it's been terrible. A few little taps of my fingers, feeling very nimble today would be all it'd take. Some bouncing of my wrists as my fingers did their thing and it'd be accomplished. Cut and dried.
But I don't like filling up this blog -- a precious blog -- with news about the weather. Because the weather will have changed by tomorrow and my weather post would be old news. Instead of that, I like to put some serious thought and attention into something more conceptual, something that can stand the test of time.
That's what most of my posts are here. They're rock solid, good stuff. And people who like good writing will be reading them 20 years from now and really enjoying themselves. That's what I like when I see someone reading my blog. I might be walking through a hospital waiting room, just walking through like an average person. And I'll see someone sitting there reading my blog. They'll be laughing. It's good for their soul and it's good for mine.
One day this happened, not too long ago, and I was thinking, "Should I go up to the guy and reveal to him that I, apparently an average person passing by, am in fact the author of what he was reading?" I came that close to spilling the beans, but then I thought, "Nahh, it's kind of cool to be anonymous."
So you can tell I have a lot of pride in these posts. Especially when I think (at times) how effortless it is for me to do it. I might not even have a hint of an idea, like tonight, then I'll sit at the computer for a minute, open it up, and just start. Before you know it, I've come up with something truly inspired. I guess I'm thinking about that guy in the hospital and others. People at their job, people on breaks, maybe even at the White House, wanting a quick diversion, so they click on my blog and they go away satisfied.
I know there'll be times when I'm feeling a little blue myself. What I'll do is look at my archives -- I've written over 600 posts, close to 700 -- and I'll just click one at random. It lifts my spirits to know that I wrote that. That's one part of it. And it brightens my day because I might've forgotten it somewhat, and it'll even catch me by surprise and I'll have a quick laugh. It makes me doubly proud.
This blog is one of the most satisfying things in life that I do. So obviously I wouldn't want to fill it up with weather reports, grocery lists, or commentary on the news of the day. Those things have such a short shelf life. But funny stuff, insightful stuff, like I put out, that's something that you can look back on years later and appreciate.
If they ever bind this blog, I believe it should be bound in leather, then set on every bookshelf in America, the ones at least that want only the best books.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Downgrading Grandpa's Age
Grandpa and Grandma were six years apart in their age. Today would've been Grandpa's birthday, and had he lived, which he didn't, he would've been 113 today.
But on this blog, Grandma is perpetually 104. She doesn't age, much like what you see in the Peanuts comic strip or the Family Circus. The kids in the Family Circus have birthdays and Christmas every year but they stay the same year to year.
So since Grandma is always 104 and Grandpa was six years older, that means he has to be 110 (he would've been if he had lived. But he died in 1978, so obviously he's now deceased.)
I believe on his birthday last year I mentioned how old he was (or would've been), which was 112. So now that he's been downgraded to a permanent 110, he's younger this year than he was last! The ravages of time are very terrible.
But at least here, from now on, every time it's his birthday he will still be 110.
Happy 110th birthday again, Grandpa!
UPDATE: Amazon.com sells 100th birthday supplies but not for the 110th. So if there's any enterprising entrepreneurs out there, there's a niche market for you to exploit. I keep hearing that with modern medicine and the various modern procedures living to a ripe old age -- which I would define as anything over 109 -- is going to be more and more common. So maybe by this time a 100 years from now, Amazon will be selling 200th birthday supplies. Of course they'll have to update everything. The "over the hill" stuff will be moved from the 50th birthday to the 90th. And so forth. By then 50 will be the new 15. A guy like me, in my upper 50s, will no longer be a broken down wreck. It'll be a beautiful new age, living longer and spending your children's inheritance in more profligate ways.
But on this blog, Grandma is perpetually 104. She doesn't age, much like what you see in the Peanuts comic strip or the Family Circus. The kids in the Family Circus have birthdays and Christmas every year but they stay the same year to year.
So since Grandma is always 104 and Grandpa was six years older, that means he has to be 110 (he would've been if he had lived. But he died in 1978, so obviously he's now deceased.)
I believe on his birthday last year I mentioned how old he was (or would've been), which was 112. So now that he's been downgraded to a permanent 110, he's younger this year than he was last! The ravages of time are very terrible.
But at least here, from now on, every time it's his birthday he will still be 110.
Happy 110th birthday again, Grandpa!
UPDATE: Amazon.com sells 100th birthday supplies but not for the 110th. So if there's any enterprising entrepreneurs out there, there's a niche market for you to exploit. I keep hearing that with modern medicine and the various modern procedures living to a ripe old age -- which I would define as anything over 109 -- is going to be more and more common. So maybe by this time a 100 years from now, Amazon will be selling 200th birthday supplies. Of course they'll have to update everything. The "over the hill" stuff will be moved from the 50th birthday to the 90th. And so forth. By then 50 will be the new 15. A guy like me, in my upper 50s, will no longer be a broken down wreck. It'll be a beautiful new age, living longer and spending your children's inheritance in more profligate ways.
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Grandma's Last Driver's License
I was checking my driver's license the other day. I started thinking maybe it'd been a while, since I couldn't remember when I got my last one. It's happened before that I've checked it and it was expired for a whole year, meaning I'd have to take the whole test. But fortunately, still being young enough, I didn't have to do the actual driving with the officer.
I lucked out when I got my original license. The really tough, legendary driving officer, that everyone hated for his toughness and strictness, just happened to be on vacation that week. Meaning I had the substitute, who didn't know what he was doing. He had me drive to the west two blocks, to the north one block, to the east two blocks and park in the original parking space. I was done in about five minutes.
But if you're old and frail, they make you go out with the guy. Like it or not.
Checking my license, it reminded me of Grandma's last driver's license test, which was probably 15 years or so, back when she was 89 or 90. The driving officer they had then was what you might call a "reluctant" driving officer. Must've been a bunch of bad experiences for him along the way, sudden starts and stops, not seeing the lights, and not noticing oncoming traffic especially on the passenger's side.
I was also nervous about it -- mostly because of all her random blackouts. But at that time she didn't want to give it up, and so to the courthouse we went.
She was walking with a cane, and had to pause and sit on one of their benches every few steps. I was lifting her by getting a good grip under her arms. But it was a struggle just to get down the hall and to the guy's office.
I saw the reluctance on his face right away. It looked like he was conferring with some other officials in there, with some discreet pointing our way. For one guy it was even funny, who was laughing and patting him on the back, like "Maybe someday you'll get a desk job!"
Anyway, the reluctant officer came over. Grandma was up against the wall, sitting on the bench, trying to catch her breath, a real struggle. And it was a day like today -- snowy, blowy, icy, ice falling from the trees, a real mess. The reluctant officer was working his hardest to get out of taking her out.
He launched in with a lot of probing questions. "Are you OK to drive? Do you feel like driving with me today? We just want to make sure that you're safe to drive. I want to make sure that you're safe and we're safe. Did you come with a car that you feel comfortable driving? Do you feel like driving with me with today?"
I was answering some of the questions for her, that she did feel comfortable enough. Since she'd dozed off, you can't get more comfortable than that. But that wasn't what he wanted to hear. He called me over and in whispers told me that perhaps it would be best if we considered her years of driving behind her. I told him she didn't actually drive anymore anyway, but she didn't want to give up her license.
He steered us in the direction of the window and said she could still get a state ID card that looked a lot like a driver's license. So with that, like the reluctant driving officer said, her driving years indeed were behind her.
I lucked out when I got my original license. The really tough, legendary driving officer, that everyone hated for his toughness and strictness, just happened to be on vacation that week. Meaning I had the substitute, who didn't know what he was doing. He had me drive to the west two blocks, to the north one block, to the east two blocks and park in the original parking space. I was done in about five minutes.
But if you're old and frail, they make you go out with the guy. Like it or not.
Checking my license, it reminded me of Grandma's last driver's license test, which was probably 15 years or so, back when she was 89 or 90. The driving officer they had then was what you might call a "reluctant" driving officer. Must've been a bunch of bad experiences for him along the way, sudden starts and stops, not seeing the lights, and not noticing oncoming traffic especially on the passenger's side.
I was also nervous about it -- mostly because of all her random blackouts. But at that time she didn't want to give it up, and so to the courthouse we went.
She was walking with a cane, and had to pause and sit on one of their benches every few steps. I was lifting her by getting a good grip under her arms. But it was a struggle just to get down the hall and to the guy's office.
I saw the reluctance on his face right away. It looked like he was conferring with some other officials in there, with some discreet pointing our way. For one guy it was even funny, who was laughing and patting him on the back, like "Maybe someday you'll get a desk job!"
Anyway, the reluctant officer came over. Grandma was up against the wall, sitting on the bench, trying to catch her breath, a real struggle. And it was a day like today -- snowy, blowy, icy, ice falling from the trees, a real mess. The reluctant officer was working his hardest to get out of taking her out.
He launched in with a lot of probing questions. "Are you OK to drive? Do you feel like driving with me today? We just want to make sure that you're safe to drive. I want to make sure that you're safe and we're safe. Did you come with a car that you feel comfortable driving? Do you feel like driving with me with today?"
I was answering some of the questions for her, that she did feel comfortable enough. Since she'd dozed off, you can't get more comfortable than that. But that wasn't what he wanted to hear. He called me over and in whispers told me that perhaps it would be best if we considered her years of driving behind her. I told him she didn't actually drive anymore anyway, but she didn't want to give up her license.
He steered us in the direction of the window and said she could still get a state ID card that looked a lot like a driver's license. So with that, like the reluctant driving officer said, her driving years indeed were behind her.
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