“The time for listening is over. The buzz word now is ‘engage.’”
But I want to know what happened to “reading.” As someone who has written since I could hold a pen in my sweaty little hand, I am appalled at how few people actually read these days.
Writers sit down every day and go through the agony of spilling their thoughts onto paper (or, more likely today, splashing them on a computer screen) for many reasons. One of those reasons is to have someone actually READ what we have written. (We get cranky when no one reads what we have sweated mightily over.) We believe that we have something to say, something that might resound with a stranger out there who is facing life in ways that we have already experienced. But people are not only NOT reading printed work, they have used all the flashy new technology to take them very quickly through listening to that material and they have moved on to “engaging” with it via their web-enhanced cell phones.
It’s all too much technology for me.
So, I have a proposition for you. I will show up here once a week in this newly-formed Writer’s Group and we can discuss the craft of writing and share some of the things that spill out of us. Much like my writer’s group that meets once a month (yes, we meet face to face and TALK and write….in person, no cell phones involved!), we can challenge ourselves to become better writers and discuss trends in the world of writing and publishing, among other things. We can share information on writer’s conferences, grants available (yes, I have heard they’re out there….somewhere), and anything else that appeals to our literary senses.
If you’d like to post your response to the following prompt during this week, feel free (keep it clean and suitable for on-line posting, and please restrict yourself to THIS topic!):
What about your New Year’s Resolutions? Do you make them? More importantly, do you KEEP them? What have you learned over the years about your resolution-making?
So, start writing, and I’ll be back next week. We can begin the discussion about resolutions and take off from there.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Just once......
Just once….
• I’d like to see all the men get up from the table to clean the kitchen and take care of the kids while the women go and watch television or talk.
• I’d like my insurance company to send a “reduction in rate” notice based on the fact that I’m healthy.
• I’d like the person weaving in and out of traffic 60 mph to understand that REAL driving isn’t a video game.
• I’d like the voice recognition system at the other end of the phone to actually recognize my voice.
• I’d like to watch television without being scared to death by previews for movies I would never pay to see.
• I wish we could “make” parents take responsibility for their kids.
• I would like to see a qualifying member of Congress get his or her health care from their local Veteran’s Administration clinic.
• I would like to know that all children in this country have enough to eat before they go to bed.
• it would be nice if all non-profit agencies coordinated efforts in order to maximize their limited resources.
• It would be refreshing for Democrats and Republicans to discuss the issues, and then actually work on them, instead of attacking one another.
• I wish I could sit near someone at a concert (or any event) who didn’t talk through the whole thing.
• I would love the legislature to leave education alone for at least a year, so school systems could implement the rules placed on them the previous year.
• I wish everyone who bought a ticket to a sporting event would make an equal donation to the charity of his or her choice.
• I’d like a publisher or agent to respond in this lifetime.
• I wish all elected or appointed officials acted ethically instead of merely “legally.”
• I wish adults would act with the same character they expect of their children.
• I wish I didn’t always have at least 11 items.
Just once……
• I’d like to see all the men get up from the table to clean the kitchen and take care of the kids while the women go and watch television or talk.
• I’d like my insurance company to send a “reduction in rate” notice based on the fact that I’m healthy.
• I’d like the person weaving in and out of traffic 60 mph to understand that REAL driving isn’t a video game.
• I’d like the voice recognition system at the other end of the phone to actually recognize my voice.
• I’d like to watch television without being scared to death by previews for movies I would never pay to see.
• I wish we could “make” parents take responsibility for their kids.
• I would like to see a qualifying member of Congress get his or her health care from their local Veteran’s Administration clinic.
• I would like to know that all children in this country have enough to eat before they go to bed.
• it would be nice if all non-profit agencies coordinated efforts in order to maximize their limited resources.
• It would be refreshing for Democrats and Republicans to discuss the issues, and then actually work on them, instead of attacking one another.
• I wish I could sit near someone at a concert (or any event) who didn’t talk through the whole thing.
• I would love the legislature to leave education alone for at least a year, so school systems could implement the rules placed on them the previous year.
• I wish everyone who bought a ticket to a sporting event would make an equal donation to the charity of his or her choice.
• I’d like a publisher or agent to respond in this lifetime.
• I wish all elected or appointed officials acted ethically instead of merely “legally.”
• I wish adults would act with the same character they expect of their children.
• I wish I didn’t always have at least 11 items.
Just once……
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Moving In
Moving In
The roaches always came out the first night, skittering in the dark as we lay on our mattresses flung across the floor. Our belongings hadn’t caught up with us yet, the cardboard boxes following us from one duty station to the next, our identities neatly wrapped and taped up all over again. We had scrubbed and mopped all day, but the armored residents had been there longer than we had and they wouldn’t give up their territory without a fight.
It was the same on every moving day, a succession of agonizing upheavals for my siblings and me. New schools, new friends, new houses, a carousel of experiences that affected each of us differently, it seems. To me as the middle child (which may or may not have anything to do with it, I’m done examining that), a new dwelling whose walls echoed with the memories of dozens of previous tenants was one thing. A new school, however, was horrifying. Give me roaches any day, but all those eyes and then the whispers as I was introduced yet again as “the new girl,” my blue-framed eyeglasses giving them more to snicker about as I slunk to the designated desk? It was just too much for me.
I wonder if adults ever think about this as they traipse across the world fulfilling their dreams or sense of duty, dragging their children along with them like suitcases, bits and pieces of their lives spilling out along the way.
At first, I reached out to new friends, usually another girl who didn’t fit into the puzzle of her peers any more than I did. We would bond as best we could, misfits who stuck out like sore thumbs when all we wanted was to blend into the scuffed woodwork, unnoticed except by each other. By the time I reached adolescence, a minefield in itself, I succumbed to the pain and loneliness of leaving newly minted friends behind yet again. The attitude of “Out of sight, out of mind” cruelly slapped me down too many times to allow my life to remain open to such continuous horror.
I spoke little, either at home or in school, and wandered ghost-like through the hallways of high school. College was a blur of gymnasium-sized classes, but at least I wasn’t expected to participate other than to occupy a place on the seating chart. It didn’t really have to be me in the seat, and often it wasn’t, because I didn’t know who I was from one day to the next. I often changed clothes four or fives times a day trying to find out. My soul today yearns to revisit those lost opportunities for personal expression, the give and take of sharing opinions and glimpses into another’s heart and mind.
My days of silence are over, though. I have finally joined the flow of life rather than remain an obstacle around which it meanders. My own daughter grew up in one house, the tree in the front yard growing as she did over the years. The marks where she hammered wooden steps into its bark are still there, although she has moved on herself, a young woman now with her own life. I’ve managed to move on, taking the little girl on the mattress by the hand, the one who listened in fright to the demons skittering around her family on the floor whenever they moved in.
The roaches always came out the first night, skittering in the dark as we lay on our mattresses flung across the floor. Our belongings hadn’t caught up with us yet, the cardboard boxes following us from one duty station to the next, our identities neatly wrapped and taped up all over again. We had scrubbed and mopped all day, but the armored residents had been there longer than we had and they wouldn’t give up their territory without a fight.
It was the same on every moving day, a succession of agonizing upheavals for my siblings and me. New schools, new friends, new houses, a carousel of experiences that affected each of us differently, it seems. To me as the middle child (which may or may not have anything to do with it, I’m done examining that), a new dwelling whose walls echoed with the memories of dozens of previous tenants was one thing. A new school, however, was horrifying. Give me roaches any day, but all those eyes and then the whispers as I was introduced yet again as “the new girl,” my blue-framed eyeglasses giving them more to snicker about as I slunk to the designated desk? It was just too much for me.
I wonder if adults ever think about this as they traipse across the world fulfilling their dreams or sense of duty, dragging their children along with them like suitcases, bits and pieces of their lives spilling out along the way.
At first, I reached out to new friends, usually another girl who didn’t fit into the puzzle of her peers any more than I did. We would bond as best we could, misfits who stuck out like sore thumbs when all we wanted was to blend into the scuffed woodwork, unnoticed except by each other. By the time I reached adolescence, a minefield in itself, I succumbed to the pain and loneliness of leaving newly minted friends behind yet again. The attitude of “Out of sight, out of mind” cruelly slapped me down too many times to allow my life to remain open to such continuous horror.
I spoke little, either at home or in school, and wandered ghost-like through the hallways of high school. College was a blur of gymnasium-sized classes, but at least I wasn’t expected to participate other than to occupy a place on the seating chart. It didn’t really have to be me in the seat, and often it wasn’t, because I didn’t know who I was from one day to the next. I often changed clothes four or fives times a day trying to find out. My soul today yearns to revisit those lost opportunities for personal expression, the give and take of sharing opinions and glimpses into another’s heart and mind.
My days of silence are over, though. I have finally joined the flow of life rather than remain an obstacle around which it meanders. My own daughter grew up in one house, the tree in the front yard growing as she did over the years. The marks where she hammered wooden steps into its bark are still there, although she has moved on herself, a young woman now with her own life. I’ve managed to move on, taking the little girl on the mattress by the hand, the one who listened in fright to the demons skittering around her family on the floor whenever they moved in.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Too Much Information
First it was answering machines. Then it progressed to cell phones, email, and texting. The idea that we must be accessible 24/7 has quickly become accepted in our culture. But is it helpful? Is it even healthy?
My daughter is 25 years old and moves among a group of friends who maintain contact through texting one another all day. They are representative of many young people, often beginning as early as pre-teens. They work or go to school (often both), but the texting never stops, regardless of whether they are “on the clock” or in a classroom. Employers are naturally concerned about the level of inattention of their employees. Professors and other teachers have to contend with the same thing.
Also, the texts perpetuate drama and gossip that might have died a natural death without this constant stream of discussion.
It seems that personal relationships aren’t being strengthened, either, with this ability to maintain constant contact. I’ve seen young women become hypersensitive to the lack of an immediate return of a text message. They react as if their boyfriends don’t like them any more if their text isn’t returned immediately. The second guessing begins: “Is he with someone else? Why isn’t he answering me? What’s wrong?” This behavior is unrealistic and destructive to relationships; yet it is the norm among young people today.
On a larger scale we also see this with the ever-present media coverage of minutia relating to just about everything, even if it isn’t newsworthy. Do I really need to know what the President’s favorite cheeseburger is or how many cattle he has on his ranch? Or who the latest hot entertainer was seen with over the weekend? I can’t help but think our government would run more efficiently if allowed to churn in its own machinations without our knowing truly unimportant details along the way. Yes, in a democracy we need to be informed about our representatives and their political ideas and stances, but we don’t need to know what they wore or where they went to lunch with whom. This over-indulgence of media coverage lends itself to the creation of the news instead of merely reporting it.
It’s all simply too much information.
My daughter is 25 years old and moves among a group of friends who maintain contact through texting one another all day. They are representative of many young people, often beginning as early as pre-teens. They work or go to school (often both), but the texting never stops, regardless of whether they are “on the clock” or in a classroom. Employers are naturally concerned about the level of inattention of their employees. Professors and other teachers have to contend with the same thing.
Also, the texts perpetuate drama and gossip that might have died a natural death without this constant stream of discussion.
It seems that personal relationships aren’t being strengthened, either, with this ability to maintain constant contact. I’ve seen young women become hypersensitive to the lack of an immediate return of a text message. They react as if their boyfriends don’t like them any more if their text isn’t returned immediately. The second guessing begins: “Is he with someone else? Why isn’t he answering me? What’s wrong?” This behavior is unrealistic and destructive to relationships; yet it is the norm among young people today.
On a larger scale we also see this with the ever-present media coverage of minutia relating to just about everything, even if it isn’t newsworthy. Do I really need to know what the President’s favorite cheeseburger is or how many cattle he has on his ranch? Or who the latest hot entertainer was seen with over the weekend? I can’t help but think our government would run more efficiently if allowed to churn in its own machinations without our knowing truly unimportant details along the way. Yes, in a democracy we need to be informed about our representatives and their political ideas and stances, but we don’t need to know what they wore or where they went to lunch with whom. This over-indulgence of media coverage lends itself to the creation of the news instead of merely reporting it.
It’s all simply too much information.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Water, Water, Everywhere?
No, I don’t always remember my ugly lime green bag when I go shopping. Blame it on my age or blame it on the alignment of the stars from day to day, but sometimes I just forget.
Other times I don’t, though. The impact of my efforts to cut down on the number of plastic bags that come into my house can’t be quantified, of course. However, it illustrates one of the maxim’s I live by: All you can do is all you can do…just do something.
My efforts plus yours and his and hers and then theirs slowly become significant, and that’s all we can ask of each other. Our children and their children will be the beneficiaries, and they may some day thank us a great deal. We just don’t know at this point.
So, what else can we do to pool our efforts? Let’s talk about water:
• Buy a low-flow showerhead. (They feel great, too…like showering in a soft rainstorm.)
• Turn off running water when brushing teeth.
• Run the dishwasher only when it’s full.
• If you take baths, eliminate one a month in lieu of a shower (with your nifty new showerhead!).
• Use a commercial car wash instead of washing your vehicle in the driveway with a running hose.
• Eat less meat. The amount of water that goes into producing grains, meat, and other commodities is called “virtual water.” For one pound of meat, virtual water used is 30 times higher than that needed to grow wheat, for example.
Remember: All you can do…….
Which of these will YOU do?
Source: You Are Here: Exposing the Vital Link Between What We Do and What That Does to Our Planet, by Thomas M. Kostigan.
Other times I don’t, though. The impact of my efforts to cut down on the number of plastic bags that come into my house can’t be quantified, of course. However, it illustrates one of the maxim’s I live by: All you can do is all you can do…just do something.
My efforts plus yours and his and hers and then theirs slowly become significant, and that’s all we can ask of each other. Our children and their children will be the beneficiaries, and they may some day thank us a great deal. We just don’t know at this point.
So, what else can we do to pool our efforts? Let’s talk about water:
• Buy a low-flow showerhead. (They feel great, too…like showering in a soft rainstorm.)
• Turn off running water when brushing teeth.
• Run the dishwasher only when it’s full.
• If you take baths, eliminate one a month in lieu of a shower (with your nifty new showerhead!).
• Use a commercial car wash instead of washing your vehicle in the driveway with a running hose.
• Eat less meat. The amount of water that goes into producing grains, meat, and other commodities is called “virtual water.” For one pound of meat, virtual water used is 30 times higher than that needed to grow wheat, for example.
Remember: All you can do…….
Which of these will YOU do?
Source: You Are Here: Exposing the Vital Link Between What We Do and What That Does to Our Planet, by Thomas M. Kostigan.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Evoking Pizza
The air was rendolent with the smell of yeast as we entered the restaurant on the corner, its windows fogged and streaked with moisture from the heat of the ovens in the back. What it is about the smell of bread that makes us feel loved, comforted, like we’re back at home with mom’s fresh baked loaves cooling on the sideboard, even if we didn’t have a mother who baked?
Joe passed me a menu, but I knew what I wanted. It was always the same. I wasn’t one to tamper with something I liked after I finally found it. I closed my eyes, tasting it already, the thick chewy crust filling my mouth, a sprinkling of mushrooms adding an earthy undertone. Light on the tomato sauce, just enough to tease my taste buds into action, with a layer of mozzarella cheese that would string in loops from every bite. Green peppers added a crunch, tiny bits only please, no large chucks to overpower the delicate balance. I sighed in anticipation as I opened my eyes, my mouth watering already.
“Well, are ya ready to order your pizza or not, Bud?”
Joe passed me a menu, but I knew what I wanted. It was always the same. I wasn’t one to tamper with something I liked after I finally found it. I closed my eyes, tasting it already, the thick chewy crust filling my mouth, a sprinkling of mushrooms adding an earthy undertone. Light on the tomato sauce, just enough to tease my taste buds into action, with a layer of mozzarella cheese that would string in loops from every bite. Green peppers added a crunch, tiny bits only please, no large chucks to overpower the delicate balance. I sighed in anticipation as I opened my eyes, my mouth watering already.
“Well, are ya ready to order your pizza or not, Bud?”
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Ballerinas don't wear glasses
My new blue plastic glasses had tiny white stones embedded in each corner of the frame, sparkles that caught the light when I turned my head just right. They were "cat's eyes" glasses, my sister said, their edges slanting up to a sharp point near my temples. She had chosen plain black frames, boring and clunky, while mine changed the world I saw through them. And that was a very good thing for me.
I became the Queen of England with those glasses, or a ballerina creating magic on the stage. Life took on the gentleness I longed for, its hard edges sanded down as I put them on every morning that summer. I didn't even notice their weight, heavy on my nose, the thick lenses forcing their way through the back of the frame. All I knew was that my world had been transformed. I was someone else, maybe a girl everyone liked.
But when autumn was a mere hint in the air and school started again, I found out that ballerinas don't wear glasses. Even ones with tiny flashing stones.
I became the Queen of England with those glasses, or a ballerina creating magic on the stage. Life took on the gentleness I longed for, its hard edges sanded down as I put them on every morning that summer. I didn't even notice their weight, heavy on my nose, the thick lenses forcing their way through the back of the frame. All I knew was that my world had been transformed. I was someone else, maybe a girl everyone liked.
But when autumn was a mere hint in the air and school started again, I found out that ballerinas don't wear glasses. Even ones with tiny flashing stones.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Oil changes and a crisis of confidence
Saturday was oil-change day.
Well, it was actually due about 1000 miles ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to drive my car to the nearest….or any…..service facility to get the job done.
I just didn’t have the energy to face the clipboard held in the grimy hand of the technician (he is NOT a mechanic!) who wanted to sell me the “service of the month.” (Shortly after my daughter got her driver’s license as a teenager, I “allowed” her to undertake this task for me every 3000 miles. She was thrilled and I was off the hook.)
But, my daughter is now off living the life of a twenty-something, getting her own oil changed in between working three jobs, partying and surfing, and I was already 1000 miles overdue. It was on my “absolutely, positively have to do” list for the week, and the week had no more days left.
So, I took a deep breath, shored up my courage, and did the dirty deed.
What transpired over the next 30 minutes or so defines the crisis of confidence we have in our society. A woman alone in one of these places simply must practice saying the word “NO!” in the mirror before leaving the house and then lock up her wallet. Over the years, I’ve sat in the waiting rooms of these businesses and watched as, magically, every car that enters a bay at the business has the same problem that simply MUST be fixed! I’m not very mechanically inclined but I also don’t have an “S” on my forehead for “stupid.” I can't help but think men face this, too. I'm not sure.
I waited patiently for my car to be finished with its oil change, and VOILA! The technician approached me with a clipboard and a look of utter despair on his face. In years past, I panicked. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH MY CAR? As a single mother with a perpetually slim bank account balance, there was never any money for car repairs. Often there wasn’t enough money for food, so my car had to limp along as best it could.
But I’m wiser now, (notice I didn’t mention the OLDER part), and I’ve practiced the NO word enough that it just slips out easily. Sometimes I even smile when I say it. As a matter of fact, I laughed out loud when the tech told me my radiator water was brown instead of clear, and it would cost $74.99 to flush it out and replace that brown water, but wait…it would only cost $54.99 TODAY ONLY! (Laughing probably wasn’t in my own best interest since they did still have my car “un-done” there in the bay area, and who knows what they could have done to it if I hadn’t been watching every move at this point. Oh, hold on…that was the subject of a TV exposé once, wasn’t it?)
The point is that we have gotten so we don’t trust anyone, haven’t we? I don’t trust oil change technicians to tell me the truth about my car, or politicians to be straight with me about their platforms or just about anything else, or dentists to clean my teeth without finding cracked molars in the back where no one else can see them (the cracks, not the molars), or city government to disclose who they’re talking to about what in the shadows created by the sun. And our society grinds to a halt because none of us believe each other anymore.
So, what's the solution?
I can't help but think that telling the truth might be a step in the right direction.
How about oil change businesses just changing my oil like their sign says they will do and let me, as an intelligent person, take my car to a mechanic when it sounds funny or my service book tells me it's time for that radiator to be flushed? Is it possible for an elected official to tell his cronies that they have to follow the rules of engagement in obtaining contracts just like everyone else? Maybe the dental office that signed up to be part of a nationwide chain could just perform the services needed instead of finding all kinds of issues to pad their bill? How about a business that admits it has not used shareholders' money wisely, so instead of asking for a bailout, they work smarter and more efficiently? You get the picture.
All I know is that I have about 3 months to steel myself before my next oil change.
Well, it was actually due about 1000 miles ago, but I couldn’t bring myself to drive my car to the nearest….or any…..service facility to get the job done.
I just didn’t have the energy to face the clipboard held in the grimy hand of the technician (he is NOT a mechanic!) who wanted to sell me the “service of the month.” (Shortly after my daughter got her driver’s license as a teenager, I “allowed” her to undertake this task for me every 3000 miles. She was thrilled and I was off the hook.)
But, my daughter is now off living the life of a twenty-something, getting her own oil changed in between working three jobs, partying and surfing, and I was already 1000 miles overdue. It was on my “absolutely, positively have to do” list for the week, and the week had no more days left.
So, I took a deep breath, shored up my courage, and did the dirty deed.
What transpired over the next 30 minutes or so defines the crisis of confidence we have in our society. A woman alone in one of these places simply must practice saying the word “NO!” in the mirror before leaving the house and then lock up her wallet. Over the years, I’ve sat in the waiting rooms of these businesses and watched as, magically, every car that enters a bay at the business has the same problem that simply MUST be fixed! I’m not very mechanically inclined but I also don’t have an “S” on my forehead for “stupid.” I can't help but think men face this, too. I'm not sure.
I waited patiently for my car to be finished with its oil change, and VOILA! The technician approached me with a clipboard and a look of utter despair on his face. In years past, I panicked. WHAT WAS WRONG WITH MY CAR? As a single mother with a perpetually slim bank account balance, there was never any money for car repairs. Often there wasn’t enough money for food, so my car had to limp along as best it could.
But I’m wiser now, (notice I didn’t mention the OLDER part), and I’ve practiced the NO word enough that it just slips out easily. Sometimes I even smile when I say it. As a matter of fact, I laughed out loud when the tech told me my radiator water was brown instead of clear, and it would cost $74.99 to flush it out and replace that brown water, but wait…it would only cost $54.99 TODAY ONLY! (Laughing probably wasn’t in my own best interest since they did still have my car “un-done” there in the bay area, and who knows what they could have done to it if I hadn’t been watching every move at this point. Oh, hold on…that was the subject of a TV exposé once, wasn’t it?)
The point is that we have gotten so we don’t trust anyone, haven’t we? I don’t trust oil change technicians to tell me the truth about my car, or politicians to be straight with me about their platforms or just about anything else, or dentists to clean my teeth without finding cracked molars in the back where no one else can see them (the cracks, not the molars), or city government to disclose who they’re talking to about what in the shadows created by the sun. And our society grinds to a halt because none of us believe each other anymore.
So, what's the solution?
I can't help but think that telling the truth might be a step in the right direction.
How about oil change businesses just changing my oil like their sign says they will do and let me, as an intelligent person, take my car to a mechanic when it sounds funny or my service book tells me it's time for that radiator to be flushed? Is it possible for an elected official to tell his cronies that they have to follow the rules of engagement in obtaining contracts just like everyone else? Maybe the dental office that signed up to be part of a nationwide chain could just perform the services needed instead of finding all kinds of issues to pad their bill? How about a business that admits it has not used shareholders' money wisely, so instead of asking for a bailout, they work smarter and more efficiently? You get the picture.
All I know is that I have about 3 months to steel myself before my next oil change.
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