4:46 PM PST, El Cajon, CA, San Diego County:
Tonight, while fixing dinner, I received a telephone call. I am expecting an important phone call concerning a job. I answered. I don't recall the exact words but I do remember the name. Brad Williams. Republican running for state senate. Wow. I hadn't heard of him. Then they said he was endorsed by the Boston Globe. Cool. But why would a candidate for state senate in California be endorsed by the Boston Globe. Then the announcer said "Brad Williams, candidate for state senate, Massachusetts. Really?
Geesh. I am being bombarded. The daily mail brought a whole tree of campaign literature. Vote for this, vote for that. Vote for me, vote for them. Ok. I love our electoral system, but geesh, can't you get the phone number right.
Mr. Williams, I wish you well.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Wow. Saddam Hussein really did have Weapons of Mass Destruction.
Wow. Saddam Hussein really did have weapons of mass destruction. George W. Bush, and all the other European nations that had the same intelligence, were right. Amazing.
Wired magazine just posted this on their website (www.wired.com/dangerroom/) in an article by Noah Shachtman (is that pronounced "shocked man"?). I had to throw that last parenthetical question in there because I was confident that Saddam did have them. I am not privvy to any information I just took him at his word.
But you should also check this out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHJJQ0zNNOM
Found this also on Wired.com. I want one.
Thanks for checking in.
D.
Wired magazine just posted this on their website (www.wired.com/dangerroom/) in an article by Noah Shachtman (is that pronounced "shocked man"?). I had to throw that last parenthetical question in there because I was confident that Saddam did have them. I am not privvy to any information I just took him at his word.
But you should also check this out:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cHJJQ0zNNOM
Found this also on Wired.com. I want one.
Thanks for checking in.
D.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Coke Machines
I remember those coke machines with the little 5 or 6 ounce cups, and the small cubes of ice about the size of a dime. You know, the ones where you dropped in a couple of quarters and you got a nice little refreshing cold drink. The drink you could finish in a few gulps, but it still quenched your thirst.
I miss those. Don't see many of them around. Now you either get 12 oz. aluminum cans or 20 oz. glass or plastic bottles. I could drink 5 or 6 ounces, not 12 and definitely not 20 at a time. I am glad they have resealable caps but still, it seems like such a waste.
Why not bring those machines back? I know. They compete with the baristas and fast food joints. It just seems like a healthier choice or, at least, a more moderate one.
I miss those. Don't see many of them around. Now you either get 12 oz. aluminum cans or 20 oz. glass or plastic bottles. I could drink 5 or 6 ounces, not 12 and definitely not 20 at a time. I am glad they have resealable caps but still, it seems like such a waste.
Why not bring those machines back? I know. They compete with the baristas and fast food joints. It just seems like a healthier choice or, at least, a more moderate one.
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Old Friends and Love Stories
The other day was a rainy day in Southern California. I get rather pensive on days like that.
I was working at my computer, doing job searches, looking for work and hoping for the best. I don’t know why I thought about it. Something in the weather, I guess, must have reminded me of the story. It was a love story. The kind of endless, undying love, with lovers too young to know any better and dumb enough to give their hearts so fully. They relied on each other too much. They were kids, they were unprepared. This was my friend’s story.
Reggie was an independent spirit. I met him about 25 years ago. We met by chance. We worked in the same hotel. We became friends. We were about the same age. I was married, he was not.
I had been working at the Italian Restaurant in the hotel when Reggie was hired. He was immediately assigned to our restaurant as a prep cook. We hit it off immediately. He had a wonderful sense of humor and lots of great stories to tell. He was a pleasure to work with.
He had come to the lake to start something new. He was tired of his old life and needed something different. He had been chasing a living running a deep fried vegetable concession truck at county fairs, carnivals and craft festivals. He needed a change. I think the economy had something to do with it. The money just wasn’t there.
I remember he rolled into Tahoe in his camper truck. He lived like a turtle, with his home on his back. Come to think of it, he was kind of built like a turtle too, kind of round and hard, about 5 foot 5 (or 6) inches tall, 240 to 250 pounds, not fat, muscular. He used to tell us stories of his traveling to carnivals and festivals, the people he’d meet and things he had seen.
At one time during his travels in the early 80’s, at the height of the mud wrestling popularity, Reggie and a buddy went to a bar one evening. There was a huge sign over a mud wrestling pit that advertised that wrestling would begin that evening at 7PM. There were pictures of nice looking young women all around the pit. After a few beers, as Reggie told it, and with some cajoling from his friend, Reggie was ready to sign up for the wrestling. He figured he would need a few beers to get into a mud pit with a couple of bikini clad waitresses and make a fool of himself.
Seven PM rolled around and Reggie, slightly inebriated, eagerly awaited the girls and the mud. Soon, an announcement was made to the now-crowded bar that the mud wrestling would soon begin. A small cheer went up as the crowd moved to gather around the small pit and arena. As luck would have it Reggie’s name was called first. Reggie stepped forward, was lead into the arena and, beer in hand, yelled, “Bring on the girls!”
Right on cue, Reggie’s opponent was brought in to the arena. No girls. His opponent was to be a six foot alligator with duct tape around his snout and carried by two attendants. The crowd let out a cheer.
“Had I been sober, I would have backed out,” Reggie told us. But since he had “several” beers he really didn’t care about the outcome. He stepped up to “rassle the gator”.
The bell rang and the gator was let loose. Reggie pounced and grabbed the gator. The first two times the gator wiggled free. But the third time Reggie held on for dear life. The gator was having none of that and swung his tail in the air, with Reggie precariously attached, and whipped Reggie completely out of the ring. Reggie did not get back in. Getting thrown out of the ring once was enough.
This was Reggie. He was fun-loving, hard drinking and had a great sense of humor. He was also a very passionate guy. Reggie had been married, to the love of his life he said. They married young, just after he had established himself in the carnival food business. He would winter in Yuma, Arizona, a hotbed meeting place of fellow carnies and fair food service types. The mild winters made Yuma an excellent place to rest in the off-season, to repair machines, and to get ready for the next season.
Reggie met a local girl. They fell in love and married in the spring. He moved her to his home in Modesto, California where they lived a life as idyllic newlyweds.
Reggie and his wife moved into a working class neighborhood in Modesto. He had a small house with a carport. Life was good.
One night Reggie heard a noise coming from his carport and, upon investigating, found someone (or two) breaking into his car. He confronted the individual(s) only to be beaten severely. Reggie told me he spent several weeks in the hospital with multiple broken bones. His young wife was so afraid to stay in the house alone, and not having any relatives in the area, went home to her family in Yuma.
When Reggie finally got out of the hospital he divorced her. “She wasn’t there when I really needed her,” he told me. He also told me it was one of the great mistakes of his life. He never married again.
I knew Reggie 20 years ago. I haven’t seen him since. I have tried to find him a few times over the years. But not for the last five years or so. Internet searches, but to no avail. But just recently, after being laid off, I started my search again. I had an idea for a lunch truck as a last resort, if my current career path doesn’t pan out. I have not been able to find a job. So, I thought a lunch truck, working for myself, might be the route to go. I knew Reggie had that experience. I needed his help for my lunch truck business venture. I needed advice.
I tried searching again. His name came up. I hit the link for the Stanislaus County District Attorney’s office, Crime Victim’s Unit. Yes. There was Reggie’s name, listed on a plaque honoring the homicide victims in Stanislaus County for 2004-2005. This bit of news broke my heart. I should call the DA’s CVU (I have the number on my desk) to verify the identity of my friend but I am too afraid of the truth. It is a scary proposition. Is it better to know? Or should I cling to the hope that it is a coincidence? Perhaps a different Reggie? I do not know what I am going to do. I may never know.
He was a good man. Such a shame.
Keep in touch.
D.
I was working at my computer, doing job searches, looking for work and hoping for the best. I don’t know why I thought about it. Something in the weather, I guess, must have reminded me of the story. It was a love story. The kind of endless, undying love, with lovers too young to know any better and dumb enough to give their hearts so fully. They relied on each other too much. They were kids, they were unprepared. This was my friend’s story.
Reggie was an independent spirit. I met him about 25 years ago. We met by chance. We worked in the same hotel. We became friends. We were about the same age. I was married, he was not.
I had been working at the Italian Restaurant in the hotel when Reggie was hired. He was immediately assigned to our restaurant as a prep cook. We hit it off immediately. He had a wonderful sense of humor and lots of great stories to tell. He was a pleasure to work with.
He had come to the lake to start something new. He was tired of his old life and needed something different. He had been chasing a living running a deep fried vegetable concession truck at county fairs, carnivals and craft festivals. He needed a change. I think the economy had something to do with it. The money just wasn’t there.
I remember he rolled into Tahoe in his camper truck. He lived like a turtle, with his home on his back. Come to think of it, he was kind of built like a turtle too, kind of round and hard, about 5 foot 5 (or 6) inches tall, 240 to 250 pounds, not fat, muscular. He used to tell us stories of his traveling to carnivals and festivals, the people he’d meet and things he had seen.
At one time during his travels in the early 80’s, at the height of the mud wrestling popularity, Reggie and a buddy went to a bar one evening. There was a huge sign over a mud wrestling pit that advertised that wrestling would begin that evening at 7PM. There were pictures of nice looking young women all around the pit. After a few beers, as Reggie told it, and with some cajoling from his friend, Reggie was ready to sign up for the wrestling. He figured he would need a few beers to get into a mud pit with a couple of bikini clad waitresses and make a fool of himself.
Seven PM rolled around and Reggie, slightly inebriated, eagerly awaited the girls and the mud. Soon, an announcement was made to the now-crowded bar that the mud wrestling would soon begin. A small cheer went up as the crowd moved to gather around the small pit and arena. As luck would have it Reggie’s name was called first. Reggie stepped forward, was lead into the arena and, beer in hand, yelled, “Bring on the girls!”
Right on cue, Reggie’s opponent was brought in to the arena. No girls. His opponent was to be a six foot alligator with duct tape around his snout and carried by two attendants. The crowd let out a cheer.
“Had I been sober, I would have backed out,” Reggie told us. But since he had “several” beers he really didn’t care about the outcome. He stepped up to “rassle the gator”.
The bell rang and the gator was let loose. Reggie pounced and grabbed the gator. The first two times the gator wiggled free. But the third time Reggie held on for dear life. The gator was having none of that and swung his tail in the air, with Reggie precariously attached, and whipped Reggie completely out of the ring. Reggie did not get back in. Getting thrown out of the ring once was enough.
This was Reggie. He was fun-loving, hard drinking and had a great sense of humor. He was also a very passionate guy. Reggie had been married, to the love of his life he said. They married young, just after he had established himself in the carnival food business. He would winter in Yuma, Arizona, a hotbed meeting place of fellow carnies and fair food service types. The mild winters made Yuma an excellent place to rest in the off-season, to repair machines, and to get ready for the next season.
Reggie met a local girl. They fell in love and married in the spring. He moved her to his home in Modesto, California where they lived a life as idyllic newlyweds.
Reggie and his wife moved into a working class neighborhood in Modesto. He had a small house with a carport. Life was good.
One night Reggie heard a noise coming from his carport and, upon investigating, found someone (or two) breaking into his car. He confronted the individual(s) only to be beaten severely. Reggie told me he spent several weeks in the hospital with multiple broken bones. His young wife was so afraid to stay in the house alone, and not having any relatives in the area, went home to her family in Yuma.
When Reggie finally got out of the hospital he divorced her. “She wasn’t there when I really needed her,” he told me. He also told me it was one of the great mistakes of his life. He never married again.
I knew Reggie 20 years ago. I haven’t seen him since. I have tried to find him a few times over the years. But not for the last five years or so. Internet searches, but to no avail. But just recently, after being laid off, I started my search again. I had an idea for a lunch truck as a last resort, if my current career path doesn’t pan out. I have not been able to find a job. So, I thought a lunch truck, working for myself, might be the route to go. I knew Reggie had that experience. I needed his help for my lunch truck business venture. I needed advice.
I tried searching again. His name came up. I hit the link for the Stanislaus County District Attorney’s office, Crime Victim’s Unit. Yes. There was Reggie’s name, listed on a plaque honoring the homicide victims in Stanislaus County for 2004-2005. This bit of news broke my heart. I should call the DA’s CVU (I have the number on my desk) to verify the identity of my friend but I am too afraid of the truth. It is a scary proposition. Is it better to know? Or should I cling to the hope that it is a coincidence? Perhaps a different Reggie? I do not know what I am going to do. I may never know.
He was a good man. Such a shame.
Keep in touch.
D.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
This is Not the Silent Century
This is not the silent century,
everyone has a voice.
This is not the age of truth,
everyone has a choice.
We can toil or not and persevere,
We can stand on our faith and cheer.
We can never regain our youth.
D.
everyone has a voice.
This is not the age of truth,
everyone has a choice.
We can toil or not and persevere,
We can stand on our faith and cheer.
We can never regain our youth.
D.
Monday, October 4, 2010
List for the Unemployed
Note: I got laid off from my job on July 22. I need to make a list of what I need to do each day, lest I waste too much time doing nothing but watching tv.
My lists:
July 23rd.
1. Cheer up. You now have time to work on your poetry, novel and your historical tome.
2. Don’t think about the lost vacation plans.
3. Savings can cover the mortgage.
July 25
1. Look for work. Send out 5 resumes to all competitors of old company.
2. Don’t think about the lost vacation plans.
3. Savings can cover the mortgage.
July 26
1. Look for work. Send out 5 resumes to any company that you have an address on.
2. Don’t think about the lost vacation plans.
3. Savings can cover the mortgage.
July 27
1. Have a happy birthday.
2. Take time to read a book. Relax.
3. Play scrabble on the computer.
4. If bored, play some mindless, noisy games on the internet.
5. Don’t think about the lost vacation plans.
6. Savings can cover the mortgage.
August 2
1. Look for work.
2. Don’t think about the lost vacation plans.
3. Savings can cover the mortgage.
September 7
1. Drive son to school.
2. Look for work on the computer, for an hour.
3. Find at least one job a day to apply for.
4. 9AM. Play some mindless, noisy games on the internet.
5. Think about your writing. Ok, that’s enough.
6. Lunch time? Already.
7. Call your wife.
8. Tell her to call you (the phone must be broken.)
9. Check Facebook. See who played hooky today.
10. Just me.
September 14
1. Drive son to school.
2. Look for work on the computer, for an hour.
3. Find at least one job a day to apply for.
4. 9AM. Play some mindless, noisy games on the internet.
5. Groceries – bleach, drain cleaner, rat poison, lighter fluid, Milk, eggs, cheese, pudding, bacon, butter, sausages.
6. Think about your writing, but read a book instead.
September 27
1. Drive son to school.
2. Stop for newspaper and donut.
3. Think about tomorrow’s list.
September 28
1. Drive son to school.
2. Come home, shower, shave, put on clean clothes.
3. Leave in plenty of time for interview. (first one in weeks.)
4. Be nice.
5. Call your wife.
6. Tell her we find out next week.
October 1
1. Drive son to school.
2. Look for work on the computer, for an hour.
3. Rake the leaves, mow the lawn.
4. Go to chiropractor. Back hurts.
5. Thank God for the vicodin.
6. And Ice.
7. …
October 4
1. Drive son to school.
2. Stop for newspaper.
3. Check the phone.
4. Coffee, breakfast, newspaper.
5. Check the phone.
6. Check e-mail.
7. Lunch time already. Call your wife.
8. Check phone.
My lists:
July 23rd.
1. Cheer up. You now have time to work on your poetry, novel and your historical tome.
2. Don’t think about the lost vacation plans.
3. Savings can cover the mortgage.
July 25
1. Look for work. Send out 5 resumes to all competitors of old company.
2. Don’t think about the lost vacation plans.
3. Savings can cover the mortgage.
July 26
1. Look for work. Send out 5 resumes to any company that you have an address on.
2. Don’t think about the lost vacation plans.
3. Savings can cover the mortgage.
July 27
1. Have a happy birthday.
2. Take time to read a book. Relax.
3. Play scrabble on the computer.
4. If bored, play some mindless, noisy games on the internet.
5. Don’t think about the lost vacation plans.
6. Savings can cover the mortgage.
August 2
1. Look for work.
2. Don’t think about the lost vacation plans.
3. Savings can cover the mortgage.
September 7
1. Drive son to school.
2. Look for work on the computer, for an hour.
3. Find at least one job a day to apply for.
4. 9AM. Play some mindless, noisy games on the internet.
5. Think about your writing. Ok, that’s enough.
6. Lunch time? Already.
7. Call your wife.
8. Tell her to call you (the phone must be broken.)
9. Check Facebook. See who played hooky today.
10. Just me.
September 14
1. Drive son to school.
2. Look for work on the computer, for an hour.
3. Find at least one job a day to apply for.
4. 9AM. Play some mindless, noisy games on the internet.
5. Groceries – bleach, drain cleaner, rat poison, lighter fluid, Milk, eggs, cheese, pudding, bacon, butter, sausages.
6. Think about your writing, but read a book instead.
September 27
1. Drive son to school.
2. Stop for newspaper and donut.
3. Think about tomorrow’s list.
September 28
1. Drive son to school.
2. Come home, shower, shave, put on clean clothes.
3. Leave in plenty of time for interview. (first one in weeks.)
4. Be nice.
5. Call your wife.
6. Tell her we find out next week.
October 1
1. Drive son to school.
2. Look for work on the computer, for an hour.
3. Rake the leaves, mow the lawn.
4. Go to chiropractor. Back hurts.
5. Thank God for the vicodin.
6. And Ice.
7. …
October 4
1. Drive son to school.
2. Stop for newspaper.
3. Check the phone.
4. Coffee, breakfast, newspaper.
5. Check the phone.
6. Check e-mail.
7. Lunch time already. Call your wife.
8. Check phone.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Whales on a Beach
What if whales stranding themselves on beaches is just a part of the evolutionary process of a million years? What if one of those whales finally develops the necessary features needed to live on land? What if they just want to join their fellow mammals and live on land like other air breathers?
Perhaps it is just a question that we as humans just can't answer. We have to look at the entire history
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100925/ap_on_sc/as_new_zealand_whales_stranded
Just a Saturday morning pondering. I need coffee.
D.
Perhaps it is just a question that we as humans just can't answer. We have to look at the entire history
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100925/ap_on_sc/as_new_zealand_whales_stranded
Just a Saturday morning pondering. I need coffee.
D.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Spider Housekeeping
This weekend I saw a spider. EEK!
I awoke yesterday morning and found him/her building, no, tending the web. It was early morning and over my coffee and morning paper I watched him. Nothing unusual was happening. I, drinking my coffee, reading my newspaper, he, watching his web and waiting for gnats, flies or any other insects that happened to wander by.
Midway through my paper I noticed a leaf hanging on the web, near the bottom where he attached the web to the house. The leaf was wiggling in the slight early morning breeze. With every breeze the web shook. The little leaf was aggravating the whole web. The spider, finally got annoyed and moved down the web to flick the leaf off into the yard. I was intrigued about the spider and impressed with the effort at web housekeeping.
He was back tonight. I noticed there were some insects in the web already. I wish him well. But I hope he dismantles it in the morning because I have some yardwork to do and it is a common passageway around the house. Tonight I will let him sleep.
I awoke yesterday morning and found him/her building, no, tending the web. It was early morning and over my coffee and morning paper I watched him. Nothing unusual was happening. I, drinking my coffee, reading my newspaper, he, watching his web and waiting for gnats, flies or any other insects that happened to wander by.
Midway through my paper I noticed a leaf hanging on the web, near the bottom where he attached the web to the house. The leaf was wiggling in the slight early morning breeze. With every breeze the web shook. The little leaf was aggravating the whole web. The spider, finally got annoyed and moved down the web to flick the leaf off into the yard. I was intrigued about the spider and impressed with the effort at web housekeeping.
He was back tonight. I noticed there were some insects in the web already. I wish him well. But I hope he dismantles it in the morning because I have some yardwork to do and it is a common passageway around the house. Tonight I will let him sleep.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Balance
For a moment there I stumbled, lost my balance.
Yes, I fell. It happens, at my age and circumstance.
While laying on the floor the only thing on my mind
was that this doesn't seem right.
I used to walk upright, head held high,
shoulders back.
I used to have the self-confidence to stand tall.
Used to...but lately...
I momentarily lost my balance.
I can pull myself up
And get back on my feet.
D.
Yes, I fell. It happens, at my age and circumstance.
While laying on the floor the only thing on my mind
was that this doesn't seem right.
I used to walk upright, head held high,
shoulders back.
I used to have the self-confidence to stand tall.
Used to...but lately...
I momentarily lost my balance.
I can pull myself up
And get back on my feet.
D.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
"Burrocrats"
I saw a report where the US debt now totals $13,310,379,000,000.00 and works out to about $44,000 per citizen. I cannot afford that. I wrote to my congressman asking him to introduce a bill in congress that would deduct the $44,000 each year from the salary compensation given to our senators and representatives and other “Burrocrats” until the debt reaches zero or until the budget gets balanced or debt gets under “control”. This is getting ridiculous. This is destroying our country.
D.
D.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Safe At Home by Alyssa Milano
Alyssa, thank you for this wonderful book. I found it very soothing.
I just wanted to let my family know that I finally finished reading Alyssa Milano's great tome and fascinating tribute to baseball and family. It brought me to tears in the end. She is a great writer and has really uncovered some truths about baseball. I will have to give baseball another look, especially now, since I have so much time on my hands.
You see, I just recently got laid off. I know I mentioned it a few weeks ago, but the realities are starting to sink in. My final paychecks have just run out and I am waiting for the unemployment to kick in. The depression has already kicked in. I get up in the morning, check my e-mail for responses to the e-mails and resumes I sent out the day before and last week and the week before that. (Yes, I know it is a run-on sentence.) The e-mails lately have been about new openings on the jobsites I signed up for. I respond to them.
I am actually applying for 4 to 5 new jobs a day. I might have to print a stack of resume's and hit the road. On some sites they prefer that you don't show up at their door. On those, I wait for the call.
I have a list of the apps in a binder on my desk and I have the application dates listed on my calendar. I plan on contacting them again in about a week after receiving my resume and application. I have heard no responses other than from the companies that are hoping that I am some one I am not.
And so, the depression sets in. I have worked for 40 years. I put myself through college, supported myself and my wife while raising two children. I now have too much time on my hands. I use it to read the books I have been stacking for several years.
Friends and faithful readers know me as a lapsed baseball fan. I thoroughly enjoyed Ms. Milano's book, but I don't think it will rekindle the flame that once was there. I have other books to read, other fires to stoke. But I do agree with her about baseball and life in general. She has awakened in me a feeling of nostalgia for a game I used to love. She has a wonderful writing style and a great philosophy on life.
But I am looking forward. I am trying to remake myself into someone I have always dreamed of being. I have ideas. I can write, too. I may have enough for a book also. But I lack the cohesion of one topic. I shall keep plugging away.
I find my days spent now trying to discover new paths. Old paths are becoming overgrown with uncertainty and chance. There are no guarantees. Ever. I remember the quote from Shaw. To paraphrase, The people who succeed in this world are not those looking for their perfect situations but those who, not finding the situations to their liking, go out and create one for them to succeed. I am looking for that opportunity.
Perhaps I'll drive a truck.
D.
I just wanted to let my family know that I finally finished reading Alyssa Milano's great tome and fascinating tribute to baseball and family. It brought me to tears in the end. She is a great writer and has really uncovered some truths about baseball. I will have to give baseball another look, especially now, since I have so much time on my hands.
You see, I just recently got laid off. I know I mentioned it a few weeks ago, but the realities are starting to sink in. My final paychecks have just run out and I am waiting for the unemployment to kick in. The depression has already kicked in. I get up in the morning, check my e-mail for responses to the e-mails and resumes I sent out the day before and last week and the week before that. (Yes, I know it is a run-on sentence.) The e-mails lately have been about new openings on the jobsites I signed up for. I respond to them.
I am actually applying for 4 to 5 new jobs a day. I might have to print a stack of resume's and hit the road. On some sites they prefer that you don't show up at their door. On those, I wait for the call.
I have a list of the apps in a binder on my desk and I have the application dates listed on my calendar. I plan on contacting them again in about a week after receiving my resume and application. I have heard no responses other than from the companies that are hoping that I am some one I am not.
And so, the depression sets in. I have worked for 40 years. I put myself through college, supported myself and my wife while raising two children. I now have too much time on my hands. I use it to read the books I have been stacking for several years.
Friends and faithful readers know me as a lapsed baseball fan. I thoroughly enjoyed Ms. Milano's book, but I don't think it will rekindle the flame that once was there. I have other books to read, other fires to stoke. But I do agree with her about baseball and life in general. She has awakened in me a feeling of nostalgia for a game I used to love. She has a wonderful writing style and a great philosophy on life.
But I am looking forward. I am trying to remake myself into someone I have always dreamed of being. I have ideas. I can write, too. I may have enough for a book also. But I lack the cohesion of one topic. I shall keep plugging away.
I find my days spent now trying to discover new paths. Old paths are becoming overgrown with uncertainty and chance. There are no guarantees. Ever. I remember the quote from Shaw. To paraphrase, The people who succeed in this world are not those looking for their perfect situations but those who, not finding the situations to their liking, go out and create one for them to succeed. I am looking for that opportunity.
Perhaps I'll drive a truck.
D.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Emotion and a Writer's life.
"The sharing of deep emotion - the sharing of those feelings - between two people is much more important to the survival of the collective human soul than moving the masses with a popular song, poem, or a book."
I hit upon this quote from my notes. I am cleaning up my desk and this is part of the detritus. What tripe. I mean, yes, it is important to love and to be loved, but it is also important to pursue your dreams. I had dreams, years ago.
My daughter is watching "good will hunting" in the other room. I remember when the movie came out years ago. I stumbled across a discussion group online about the use or non-use of God-given gifts. The question asked at the time was, 'was it a sin not to use the gifts from God?' I started to think about that. I have a gift. I didn't know it at the time but I have a gift. When I found out about this gift, that was all I wanted to do with my life. I want to write. But it is not that simple. There are demands, time, money and companionship.
I remember my parents 50th wedding anniversary. My brother asked me to offer a toast. He asked me if I needed some time to come up with something. I told him I was already working on it. Such is a writer's life. If you see a writer sitting quietly in a corner, with the lights off (or on), chances are he is thinking. He IS working. People don't seem to understand that. My mind is constantly working. I am always thinking, always working. The problem I have is in writing those thoughts down on paper. I don't always have the time.
So, years later, I find scraps of paper on my desk. I find little quotes, ideas, nice phrases and I have no idea of the context. Maybe I should just collect them all and publish them and let the reader decide. Yeah, that might work. I have read Vonnegut.
But back to my original topic and the use of gifts. That reminded me of a Springsteen song. See, these ideas are not new, and have haunted artist for a long time. Springsteen wrote:
"Now those memories come back to haunt me
they haunt me like a curse,
Is a dream a lie if it don't come true
Or is it something worse..."
So, is not using your God-given gifts a Sin? I have tried to get published. I have tried to become a better writer. I have not succeeded. That begs another question, is success the measure of success?
I leave that to my fellow ponderers.
D.
I hit upon this quote from my notes. I am cleaning up my desk and this is part of the detritus. What tripe. I mean, yes, it is important to love and to be loved, but it is also important to pursue your dreams. I had dreams, years ago.
My daughter is watching "good will hunting" in the other room. I remember when the movie came out years ago. I stumbled across a discussion group online about the use or non-use of God-given gifts. The question asked at the time was, 'was it a sin not to use the gifts from God?' I started to think about that. I have a gift. I didn't know it at the time but I have a gift. When I found out about this gift, that was all I wanted to do with my life. I want to write. But it is not that simple. There are demands, time, money and companionship.
I remember my parents 50th wedding anniversary. My brother asked me to offer a toast. He asked me if I needed some time to come up with something. I told him I was already working on it. Such is a writer's life. If you see a writer sitting quietly in a corner, with the lights off (or on), chances are he is thinking. He IS working. People don't seem to understand that. My mind is constantly working. I am always thinking, always working. The problem I have is in writing those thoughts down on paper. I don't always have the time.
So, years later, I find scraps of paper on my desk. I find little quotes, ideas, nice phrases and I have no idea of the context. Maybe I should just collect them all and publish them and let the reader decide. Yeah, that might work. I have read Vonnegut.
But back to my original topic and the use of gifts. That reminded me of a Springsteen song. See, these ideas are not new, and have haunted artist for a long time. Springsteen wrote:
"Now those memories come back to haunt me
they haunt me like a curse,
Is a dream a lie if it don't come true
Or is it something worse..."
So, is not using your God-given gifts a Sin? I have tried to get published. I have tried to become a better writer. I have not succeeded. That begs another question, is success the measure of success?
I leave that to my fellow ponderers.
D.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Forgetful Me
A funny thing happened to me today. I got laid off. I was told to go ahead and finish out the day. So I dutifully stayed at my computer until it just didn’t make any sense sticking around for the “rest of the day.” All the rest of us unlucky souls had already left the office.
I started to input my hours into the online time keeping system. I am a telecommuter. I usually work from home. I was asked to come to the office today. Never a good thing. Especially when your boss starts out the meeting with “Bad News.” Anyway, I went into the office today. I forgot my password at home.
I tried to do my time card. I was really nervous – never been laid off before. And I screwed up my password. I hate corporate America. It seems that no matter what program you use you need a password. Can’t they make it easier? I couldn’t for the life of me remember my password. Between all of my personal accounts and my work accounts (former) I must have 25 passwords. Well, I was nervous, I just wanted to go home and drink. On the third try the system kicked me out.
I had to call the help desk for my password to login for the last time. How pathetic is that? (Don’t answer that.) I really don’t need to know. So the guy picks up on the other end. I have to answer some security questions. First he asks me my name. I tell him.
I am already depressed by being laid off but he has to ask me my security questions. I feel awful about forgetting my password for my last official act as an employee. But he has to ask me a question about what high school I went to. I went to high school in New Orleans. My high school was destroyed in Hurricane Katrina, and, like my most recent job, it doesn’t exist anymore. Thanks man.
Then he has to ask me about my dad’s middle name. My dad, I love him, but it is hard watching him grow old. It is kind of depressing. Thanks man. Then he asks me my mom’s birthday. “Hey, knock it off, we are all getting older, ok.”
Well, he reaches the conclusion that I am who I say I am. I tell him that it is reassuring that I am who I say I am because on Mondays and Fridays I sometimes forget. We both got a mild chuckle about that one. He said he always remembers who he is on Fridays. Me, I am not so sure. Especially this “Friday”. This “Friday” (the end of my week was Thursday) I wasn’t too sure who I was. Two hours ago I was a gainfully employed, tax-paying citizen. But now…? I just don’t know who I am.
And so, I sit here tonight. Wondering if I should continue on this path, trying to be someone I am not sure I am, or if I should veer off on another course to see what is on the horizon. Who am I? What shall I do?
My daughter, bless her heart, found some jobs online that she thinks I should apply for. She is right. She knows who I am. Better than I do, I think. She chose some interesting jobs. Jobs which will allow me to pursue other options. Jobs which will allow me to grow. We shall see. Next week I might know who I am. Next week I may be a different person.
Wish me luck.
D.
I started to input my hours into the online time keeping system. I am a telecommuter. I usually work from home. I was asked to come to the office today. Never a good thing. Especially when your boss starts out the meeting with “Bad News.” Anyway, I went into the office today. I forgot my password at home.
I tried to do my time card. I was really nervous – never been laid off before. And I screwed up my password. I hate corporate America. It seems that no matter what program you use you need a password. Can’t they make it easier? I couldn’t for the life of me remember my password. Between all of my personal accounts and my work accounts (former) I must have 25 passwords. Well, I was nervous, I just wanted to go home and drink. On the third try the system kicked me out.
I had to call the help desk for my password to login for the last time. How pathetic is that? (Don’t answer that.) I really don’t need to know. So the guy picks up on the other end. I have to answer some security questions. First he asks me my name. I tell him.
I am already depressed by being laid off but he has to ask me my security questions. I feel awful about forgetting my password for my last official act as an employee. But he has to ask me a question about what high school I went to. I went to high school in New Orleans. My high school was destroyed in Hurricane Katrina, and, like my most recent job, it doesn’t exist anymore. Thanks man.
Then he has to ask me about my dad’s middle name. My dad, I love him, but it is hard watching him grow old. It is kind of depressing. Thanks man. Then he asks me my mom’s birthday. “Hey, knock it off, we are all getting older, ok.”
Well, he reaches the conclusion that I am who I say I am. I tell him that it is reassuring that I am who I say I am because on Mondays and Fridays I sometimes forget. We both got a mild chuckle about that one. He said he always remembers who he is on Fridays. Me, I am not so sure. Especially this “Friday”. This “Friday” (the end of my week was Thursday) I wasn’t too sure who I was. Two hours ago I was a gainfully employed, tax-paying citizen. But now…? I just don’t know who I am.
And so, I sit here tonight. Wondering if I should continue on this path, trying to be someone I am not sure I am, or if I should veer off on another course to see what is on the horizon. Who am I? What shall I do?
My daughter, bless her heart, found some jobs online that she thinks I should apply for. She is right. She knows who I am. Better than I do, I think. She chose some interesting jobs. Jobs which will allow me to pursue other options. Jobs which will allow me to grow. We shall see. Next week I might know who I am. Next week I may be a different person.
Wish me luck.
D.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
lost friends
on his way to a doctor's appointment he remembers an old friend. they dated once or twice in college. he met her in a geography class. geography always kept them apart. he had thought of her many times over the years. was it his fault they lost touch, or was it the fact that he married and had kids?
he thought of her today. he often does. her shops are all over town. he thinks he should call her up. but a lifetime has gone by. what is there to say? he thought maybe he would see her waiting for the doctor.
he saw her face in traffic. the driver of a car going in the opposite direction.
he thought of her today. he often does. her shops are all over town. he thinks he should call her up. but a lifetime has gone by. what is there to say? he thought maybe he would see her waiting for the doctor.
he saw her face in traffic. the driver of a car going in the opposite direction.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Priscilla Herdman
These words are long overdue. I have been listening to her music for several years now. Everytime I hear her voice she lightens my heart. Priscilla Herdman has the purest voice I have ever heard. And she chooses such wonderful, passionate and insightful songs. Such a sweet sound. Her voice has an amazingly calming affect on my troubled soul.
I have been a fan of Priscilla Herdman’s voice ever since I first heard her on the XM satellite radio back in 2003. I definitely have to thank the folk channel for that discovery. My first introduction to her music was through her work with the trio, Herdman Hills and Mangsen. The first song I heard was "More Wood" from their "Voices of Winter" CD. Wow, what a CD that was. Beautiful theme and I was struck right away by the pure artistry of it. These three ladies work very well together. There are about a dozen songs that I look forward to hearing when I put that CD in.
The only name I remembered (I was listening in the car) was Herdman’s. So I went home and immediately looked up her web site (http://www.priscillaherdman.com/) and I ordered the CDs. I was hooked. And I have thoroughly enjoyed the music of the trio and of Priscilla Herdman herself ever since.
I have been a fan of Priscilla Herdman’s voice ever since I first heard her on the XM satellite radio back in 2003. I definitely have to thank the folk channel for that discovery. My first introduction to her music was through her work with the trio, Herdman Hills and Mangsen. The first song I heard was "More Wood" from their "Voices of Winter" CD. Wow, what a CD that was. Beautiful theme and I was struck right away by the pure artistry of it. These three ladies work very well together. There are about a dozen songs that I look forward to hearing when I put that CD in.
The only name I remembered (I was listening in the car) was Herdman’s. So I went home and immediately looked up her web site (http://www.priscillaherdman.com/) and I ordered the CDs. I was hooked. And I have thoroughly enjoyed the music of the trio and of Priscilla Herdman herself ever since.
Last night I listened again. I couldn't sleep. I fired up the I-Pod and played only Priscilla's music. The music again lifted my soul and calmed my restless heart. I am particularly fond of her CD, "The Water Lily" - 1977. This was the album where she uses a lot of the Australian poet Henry Lawson's words and shares his works with the world. My favorites are the songs "Reedy River"(Henry Lawson-Chris Kempster) and "The Shame Of Going Back"(Henry Lawson-Priscilla Herdman). Amazingly beautiful songs. But her duet with the late Utah Philips ("I Remember Loving You" - Darkness Into Light - 1987) is just sheer artistry.
Priscilla Herdman is a true artist. Her voice is the most pure voice I have ever heard. These words are long over due. Priscilla, you have given me many hours of peace. I thank you for that.
D.
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