On A Wish And A Prayer

I spent the last week in upper New York and Manhattan. What a truly wonderful place to be for many reasons! I did so many things, went to countless places and loved every minute of it, but one special experience stands out above all the rest.

I'd walked into the Guggenheim Museum, late afternoon. There is a small fountain in the generic, contemporary shape of a fish, and as I am always wont to do, I stopped there to toss in pennies and make a wish for myself and two people who were not with me in person, but are always with me in spirit. 

As I was standing there, taking my time and giving careful consideration and thought to my purpose, I could feel that I was being watched, and after tossing in the last penny, I looked to my side and there were three lovely young girls of Asian origin; I'd venture an educated guess at Korean, who were watching me very intently. I knew they were trying to ascertain the scene before them, staring in fascination while trying not to be invasive.

I smiled widely at them to let them know they were welcome to communicate, if they wanted to.

One of them stepped forward bravely as the other two watched with wide eyes and shy smiles. She pointed toward the fountain and asked in her soft, broken English,

"What is it?". I knew she meant, 'What are you doing? What is the purpose of this custom?'

I explained, "I'm making a wish. I throw in the penny and make a wish that I would like to see come true." The young ladies stared silently and I knew the word 'wish' did not register with them. There was another way to explain.

"It is a hope, a prayer.  To hope for something; a job, health, love, luck, anything you want. A prayer for these things."  At this explanation of 'prayer', all the light bulbs above their heads flashed on and they became delighted that they understood it finally... a simple and universal concept... a sacrifice for a prayer or hope... pennies for wishes.

They got it.  They were very happy.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out two dimes and a nickel and handed them each a coin and gestured to the fountain. They went through a quick array of emotion; surprise, honor and humbleness, thankfulness, and then it gave way to serious contemplative prayer. Amidst bowing lowly, smiling and thanking me, they lined up shoulder to shoulder, all three folded their hands; coins in palm, prayed earnestly and one by one opened their eyes and tossed their coins into the fountain.

I watched with absolute pleasure. It brings me such happiness to create bonds with people, to teach and learn, to share joys and break down barriers and this was a very special one. The language challenge was gone. The opportunity to share with each other created a memorable experience for all, and it was serenely sweet to watch them all partake in this simple, heartfelt custom that they knew in a different way.

They turned to me, bowing, grinning, giddy with delight and I offered to use their camera to take a photo of them in front of the fountain, but they all three said no, they wanted a photo of me with them and I complied. We got an image of the four of us together, and I had them make one with my camera, and then they all hugged me tightly and went on their way.

What a truly wonderful blessing to be able to trade a few coins for this priceless memory. It was the best part of the trip.

Letters To The North Pole

 Dear Santa,

In an effort to be more ecologically mindful this year, could you please trade out the coal for a renewable energy source; preferably sunshine.

Thank you!

Merry Christmas!
Love, Scarlett

Straight From The Heart

I was visiting my dear Cupcake Man and discovered that this friend had reached right down onto one of the soft quiet beaches shoring the deep oceans of my heart and discovered a lovely sea shell that he plucked up, put in his pocket and took back to his own shore.

He proudly displayed it by way of publishing it and there I discovered it, recognizing it right away but never  having seen it before. That familiar shell brought forth a sea spray of salt water from my heart to my eyes and the waves inside me swelled with a powerful current.

Here is the treasure he has taken from the dark and placed prominently in the light...

"Overboard I fell, overlong we dwelled. I was lifted up in the arms of that strong one, lifted up into his cape, too tired to thank the man, I spent a month harvesting his grapes. When he let me play with his children, when he let me sit at his table, I gained a position, small bit of dignity in the household a go to child when a salesperson dropped in from town. "Please sir sit down and let me pour you green tea." Please sir, I would think to myself, can you tell me what happens in town? I was thirteen and heard of the glass fountains in the main square, covered with lights in spring evenings." ~ Cupcake Man

It is his creation and it is my truth.

Isn't it surreal when we find ourselves in each other by mere whim or chance? Perhaps it isn't chance at all, perhaps it is not serendipity perhaps it is because we are all made of the same elements of everything in the universe and sometimes those elements rediscover grains of themselves when circumstance brings them near one another again & again.

Thank you, Cupcake Man, how very sweet this is.

Keep It Simple Scarlett

~K.I.S.S.~

To say that I have a busy, chaotic life is a monumental understatement. For a long time I've lived under the misconception that if there is a free moment, it should be filled with something that needs to be done. There is always something that needs to be done. Sisyphean tasks... always more to do... never done...

I am solely responsible for the life I make for myself; when did I ordain that I emulate Sisyphus? The things that spill over the edges of my time are not great steps to completing a magnum opus, they are like sea shells... lovely on the outside, hollow on the inside, save for the echo of something greater that isn't there.  Each duty a puzzle piece that builds the image of my life, filling moments with an immutable story that can never be unwritten, undone or remade.

There is no resource as precious and priceless as time. Not in the whole universe.

I procrastinate... and I've said that one of these days I shall stop procrastinating. I always carry my planner with me and I pencil in chaos until even a glance at the month I've made is overwhelming. Busy does not equal productive. Work smarter not harder.

Scheduling balance into life is a gamble at best... I allow so many things to come up and change the direction of the ever flowing river of time I navigate. Balance is imperative for stability, growth, strength and peace.

Peace isn't something to be scheduled into a day after the gym and before work.  We carry it within us, in every moment, in every place.

I decided to downsize. I decided to make a change to live simply. Less clutter everywhere in my life, my home, my work, my schedule; everywhere in every aspect. I began to eliminate at every juncture.
Then one of my friends moved and gave me half of the contents of her house. I have a lot of stuff. You want stuff? I got stuff. What I will not use now will be donated to those who need it far more than I. The Sisyphean task of elimination has begun again; only this time, that boulder will be resting at the top of the hill and I will walk off the mountain. Here's a great piece on what I mean by downsizing and amen to Zen.

There is a way to find peace and organization and simplicity and focus by creating it in our lives. Our hectic, noisy, chaotic, non-stop, stress filled, busy, runaway train lives.

I'll let you in on a little secret... shhh... listen...
~you really are in charge of everything in your life~.

If you don't like it, change it.

There are roughly 4 billion bits of information being processed by our brains every single second. That is a LOT of information. It does not help that we have so much more coming into us constantly (i.e. the endless stimulants to our senses that are an inherent foundation of our culture such as tv/radio/media/ads/phones/computers/entertainment/
noise/lights/all the amenities of our lives that are supposed to make our existence easier but somehow just fill up more space and time and leave us with a deficit of  enrichment).

Consider:

Environment ~ start with environment. A seed cannot grow in poor soil. If your environment isn't conducive to nurturing healthy growth, then repot yourself. Old soil doesn't have the nutrients we need to grow stronger, either, but instead leads our experience to stagnancy and inhibition.

Circumstance ~ we have basic needs to meet and the labor we trade for providing for those needs does require some of our time, but not all of it. Two things that matter here are; first, is the labor we are trading worthy of the recompense we receive? Are you happy in your work? Is it fulfilling? Will you look back at the days you've spent toiling and believe that each one was worth what you accomplished at the end? Second... all of the time that isn't given to supporting your lifestyle is yours to make what you will of it... what do you make a priority of in that time? What is it given to? Are those things something worth giving your time to? If you do not have enough time for the things you want, then change your life to make those things happen. Each second of our lives burns away so quickly, until they are gone. Make them count. Make them all count.
They don't all have to be big moments, but they should all count. Let go of the ones that clutter your precious time, the things that would continue on without you, the Sisyphean tasks that will subtly devour your life if you let them.

Opportunity ~ It has been said that the harder one works, the luckier one gets. I said above that it's a better use of time to work smarter not harder, but sometimes working smart is hard work, too. The more you go after, the more opportunity will favor you; this I know to be true in my own life. Many times people have asked me how it is that so many wonderful experiences have found their way into my life... the answer is easy. I go after them. I ask for and work for the opportunities in my life, and the rewards are that I am able to experience living outside the box. I take risks and chances. I dream big. I don't give up unless I know for certain that my endeavor isn't truly within my realistic grasp. There is always a way... like water that runs against a rock until it finds a way through, opportunity will come if it is sought. It is a rare visitor if one sits idly by and waits for it to come of its own accord.


In short... your life is what you make it. Make it truly good.

For Love Or Money

This morning as I was getting ready for work, the dj's on the radio asked a controversial and interesting question.

Who should pay on a date? Without getting into too many specifics or politics on variations in the subject (i.e. same sex dating/short term and long term relationships/level of physical involvement in the relationship etc) because those things do play into this, but I'm only referring to the 'skim across the top of the subject' that was brought up this morning on the radio...
who should pay on a date?

Of course I had an immediate albeit well thought out opinion.  I am independent and strong and able to care for myself and others in many ways. Yay me. That does not mean that if a man were to try to woo me that I should not allow that pursuit with grace and enjoy being treated like the valuable lady that I am (the dj referenced a Goddess concept which I delighted in).

Allowing the man in pursuit to express his affections by treating does not detract from my independence at all; on the contrary, it reinforces the ideal that I am open minded enough to allow someone else the pleasure of offering a kind gesture. If I insist that we go dutch every time or that I pay every other time, that does disesteem the man who is interested in me by denying him the opportunity to show it in this way, if he chooses to.

I also agree that it’s good for the lady to treat on occasion as a means of reciprocating the affection and gesture he offers her.

On the flip side of this coin and the other side of the truth in the middle is this (because truth is always in the middle); while it is very nice to be treated by a beau, it is absolutely and inherently wrong to allow a man to try to buy the ladies affections.  There is a difference between the two and if the lady is unsure of that boundary then she should not be in the relationship.

Men have tried to buy my affections in inordinately extravagant ways and I flat out refuse to allow it at every instance; integrity must always be at the heart of the action, but I definitely support the custom of the man treating the woman as long as it does not compromise either of them. It is romantic, it is thoughtful and it is slightly in a chivalrous vein.

What do you think about it?

Passport Stamps ~ On The Lighter Side

"Yes, I'd like the Reality entree with the special Common Sense Sauce, a side of Snark, lightly grilled, the Wild Side Salad but please hold the Stupid Nuts, bring the Spice of Life dressing on the side and Chocolate Covered Dreams for dessert, please."
~ Wanderlust Scarlett

3.5 Minutes

In June, 2009 AirFrance Flight 447 fell out of the sky and crashed into the Atlantic Ocean.  France's Bureau of Investigation and Analysis has stated that it fell from 38,000 feet in three and a half minutes. That's 10,000 feet per minute.

A minute can be a long time.

60 seconds.

Watch a clock tick for 60 seconds and see how long it is.

I believe that in the experience of all of those people aboard that flight, that it was very likely the longest three and half minutes and simultaneously the shortest three and a half minutes of their lives. They had to have known... falling at 10,000 feet per minute. What were they thinking? What did they do?
Our truest colors show through in the most difficult times.

What would you think or do in that circumstance? If you were on that plane... if you knew that your life was about to end and there was nothing you could do to stop it. If you knew the lives of others around you were ending... what would you do? Three and a half minutes.

I believe, if there were a loved one sitting next to me, that I would hold them tightly and tell them how much I loved them. If I were seated by a stranger, I would hold their hand, if they wanted it. I would think prayers and thoughts of love to all those who mean the world to me. I would probably watch, as I would very likely be seated by the window, in hopes that somehow it would work out.  Disbelief. 

The truth is that we are all in that position, constantly, though undoubtedly not as tragically. The minutes of our lives are unknown, and they tick away incessantly. There may be mere moments left to us, 3 minutes or 3 billion minutes. Does it make it any less valuable if you have more of it? No. Are you making every minute count? Do your loved ones know how much they mean to you?

Would you leave it unsaid or undone?

Masking The Truth

This is not the first post that Viaggiatore and I have published on masques... but it is a different masque, this time.

Oscar Wilde said, "Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth."

Why do we hide behind our masks? Why do we only feel the confidence to bare our souls to the universe when our faces our hidden?

Truth is no stranger, but why would we keep it… hidden away, secret… unable to face the truth without a mask?

A child's plaything? Oh no… this game is for the grownups. Children are openly honest and truthful; sometimes painfully so, but not the adults. Not the ones who believe that they must hide themselves from the world, and only come out to play when the lighting is right, and the curtain is up and the mask is on: then we can be anything we dare to be, without concern or recompense.

A mask to hide behind to tell the truth… to say this is who is inside me, what I believe, what I want, what I think, how I feel. But look neither upon my face, nor into my eyes… for therein lies my mortal soul, and it would whither should you see it bared before you.
Oh but it wouldn't… really. Fear binds us tighter than any other lie. Fear suffocates us into silence, tethers our feet to the ground so that we cannot fly into the heavens that call us, and over time it dissolves our cores like a rotting disease.

Fear is the impetus behind the need for the mask.
And for what purpose? What need? There is none.
Why would we ever hold tight to a disease that destroys us?

If we are without a mask to hide behind, then what is lost, and what is gained?

What strength could be found by defeating that façade… what honesty, truth, love and beauty could be given fully when there is no masquerade? No pretense. Would we discover that we are much closer to becoming the person that we long to be, if we did not hide our true selves away from the world?

Oh yes. Yes, indeed.

Dreams In The Deep

Federico Fellini (a man with a brilliant mind, in my opinion), said... “You exist only in what you do.”

I thought about that this week... especially this week, having just come away from Martin Luther King Jr. Day (MLK is my most loved hero). I always steep my heart and mind in unfathomable depths of philosophy, integrity, morality, goals, dreams, love and values of character during this week more than many others in the year.  It is my own personal mental and spiritual epiphany; thank you kindly for your indulgence!

So... Federico...

"You exist only in what you do."

At first glance, I thought... why yes! Yes, of course that's true. I smiled at his thought. Then I thought of Martin.  One of the most incredible things about Dr.King was that he not only existed prominently in what he did... but he most assuredly existed, famously even, in what he did not do.  Non violence.  Not accepting the world as it was, but working peacefully to change it into what it ought to be; the better place that it could be.

Then I realized that both ideas are correct.  Really, it's a glass half full or half empty sort of thing.  In effect, when an action is not taken, it could be viewed as action by inaction... could it not?

My mind goes to a dear friend of mine who is oftimes quiet and thoughtful in most circumstances, taking everything in silently, processing, and only occasionally offering a response.  I have seen so many people attempt to affect this friend's opinion, thought and action, by means of sugar & honey, by salty tears & heartfelt pleading, by anger & rage, and by so many countless other means that very rarely bring an end to their solicitor. Nearly always, these trials effect not much more than a nod at best, and when it truly matters, there is no reaction left ungiven, but more often than not... most of the waves that sweep in to that shore are left to retract back out to sea without so much as a whisper. 

This inaction is another example of existing in what is not done... which is the same, I think, as existing in what is done, from another point of view. 

...and you? What do you think?

Grains Of Sand

There were so many different grains of sand that fell this year. Each one very precious. Each one with significant purpose and meaning. I learned so much, this year, more than I have in a very long time. Listening affords one the opportunity to hear and then change, if one is open to that.

This was the year that seemed to ride on shifting sands all the way through... everything I thought would go one way, went another, so many plans were changed or let go of, and things I didn't expect presented themselves from seemingly nowhere.

Fine grains~

     There was forgiveness between people I love, and I forgave, and I was graciously forgiven.  It emphasized compassion, understanding, patience, devotion and love, and it strengthened bonds.

     There was discovery and adventure in small and huge ways, in new places and in old, hand in hand with friends, which only serves to enrich those kind of experiences even more.  These excursions included the procurement of a red satin fringed flapper dress, Tony Bennett, King Tut, incredible moments in Muir Woods, tigers & leopards, ocean waves, orca whales, beautiful cities, a champagne birthday on a beach before an ocean sunset, a random cow, tangible history in Westminster Abbey, new friends in London, old and new hidden treasured places along the Thames, midnight under Big Ben, a movie set & some incredible actors, dolphins in SF Bay (?!), the best breakfast cafe in SF, the best sushi in the world in V.BC, a girl and her horse make beautiful subjects before a lens, mountain lakes don't last for eternity, there are faerie glens in woods & secret mountain places, I went halfway up the Eiffel Tower... again, the umbrella salesman has a stand at the end of the rainy road, I already met the only accordion player who knows La Vie En Rose and he's not in Vegas, art comes in every form and when it's water, it's beautiful, there's no rush or thrill like standing on a stage in a theatre singing your heart out to strangers, and it is equally thrilling to see dear friends do the same.

    

Medium grains-

     Friendships mean different things to different people and when they are lost, it isn't always a bad thing.  In the face of lost friendships, the loyalty and devotion of good friends is truly shown for its priceless worth. 

     When times are very difficult, in loss, in fright, in pain, in anger, in confusion, there isn't anything so good or precious as the warm steady strength of a friends hand or loving arms to make it through the darkness.

     We have control over our environments, most of the time, and we have absolute control over how we choose to react to our environments and our experiences.  I quote Viktor Frankl, a holocaust survivor, “...The last of human freedoms – the ability to choose one’s attitude in a given set of circumstances.” as he explains how he made it through his unthinkable ordeal.  I repeated lessons in learning to adapt and grow in different environments... learning to make choices that would benefit others as well as myself.

     Humbleness is found in honesty with self and when spoken with love by others, and it is the essential nutrient a soul needs to grow strong and upright. 

     Allowing shame and guilt to dictate behavior and thought is an unnecessary self-inflicted binding that hinders recovery and growth and should be left alone entirely.

Coarse grains- 

     One of the biggest lessons of the year, and one I am still working through, is that love is all encompassing... real love knows no bounds, it is not ruled by organization... by trying to force it into categories and definitive segments... compartmentalized until it is nicely and neatly controlled. It is fluid, powerful, endless, as the oceans I love so much. Learning how to love like that is a work in progress for me.  It is astounding what I've held back from others because I did not understand the way that love is.  I raged against the wall only to discover that I'd built the dam with my own two hands, all by myself.  There's a confounding revelation.

      Another lesson is learning to deal with everything as it comes, instead of pretending it does not exist, as has been my modus operandi for a long while.  This behavior has excluded me from the very world at large... known, unknown, wanted, unwanted, and I've missed more than I could ever express. I have a passion for life that is boundless within certain bounds.  That paradox cuts off so much possibility. I want boundless passion for life... period. I don't want to miss anything. Ever.      

    

I hope that this year has found you well and successful in every way. Healthy, strong, and happy. I hope you've realized dreams and goals, and I hope you have new ones shining in the distance of days to come.

Happy New Year

Incognito

incognito \in-kahg-NEE-toh\ adverb or adjective

: with one's identity concealed

Example: "[Mary, Queen of Scots] loved St. Andrews, where she kept a small vacation cottage and often stayed incognito, doing her own shopping and cooking, and playing golf along the links by the Firth of Forth." -- From an article by Sally Jenkins in The Washington Post, July 15, 2010

This blog has oftentimes been my mask. My voice aloud, my identity incognito (for the most part)... and I find that Oscar Wilde was perhaps partially correct when he said,

"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth."

...but I do not think that this idea is entirely true.  In the midst of the current political blizzard of lies, slanders and shallow promises, it is hard to see truth and the public masks that are worn aren't unlike those creepy clown masks with the empty eyes and painted smiles. 

There are those rare and wonderful leaders who believe in honesty, revel in it, in fact... Winston Churchill, Martin Luther King Jr., Abraham Lincoln, Sister Theresa, Mahatma Ghandi, and so on and so forth. No mask did they wear, to speak the truth.  

I've found that I have different masques... different persona's for different circumstances and situations. 

A masque for work

  

   A masque for play

A masque for family

A masque for friends

A masque for various circumstances

I've wondered, when I gaze into the looking glass... if I wear a masque for myself too often.  I wonder how much truth comes from behind these masques... if they are half truths, partially disguised for the viewer, partially revealed, because honestly, we really want people to know who we truly are, to some extent... or at least, we show them who we want them to believe we are.

Knowing that we constantly change; daily even, I am growing towards leaving the masques behind, so that I can see clearly, so that others can see me clearly and make no mistake about who I really am and what I really think.

To thine own self be true ~ remove the masques for my own perspective and for all of those around me, because if they are interacting with a masqued me, the self is lost in shadow and the interaction is skewed.

and...

Actions speak so much louder than words ~ the truth will out, one way or another.

and...

Truth is somewhere in the middle ~ there is a bit of honesty on both sides of the masque.

But... perhaps I will keep one or two masques around... for special occasions.

Dear, Dear Diary

Dear, Dear Diary,

You know I do some of my best thinking in the shower, where there is no distraction, only the sound and feel of hot water and steam.  Nothing there but soft light and the water, washing the world away, washing all of the little parasitic thoughts that constantly consume my mind, down my back in rivulets.  'I need to get the oil changed in the car, I need to call this friend, I need to go visit that friend, I wonder if I'll have time to clean out the closet in the guest bedroom this weekend, I hope my brother is doing well... and his kids... I better call, must get a birthday card and paper towels, and on... and on...

And there they go... sliding down the drain, and my mind clears and it almost feels like it's spreading, growing, right outside of my head, and I can hear and think from the inside out, instead of thinking about all the information coming in - I am able to focus on information going out.

This morning I breathed in the steam, let the world go away and started wondering about reality.

I think we are all in our own little reality, and all of our realities have overlapping areas where we share a cohesive reality; that realm where we can communicate and understand each other, for the most part.  There is no normal and I think, no definite reality - because where is that bar set? Who could set it? Who could say 'this is reality and that is not' because they're looking at it from their own perspective, from their own mind, lifestyle and their own reality. 

Albert Einstein had a fascinating reality.  A different reality.  Nikola Tesla.  Leonardo da Vinci.  Marilyn Monroe. Stephen King. That guy on the sidewalk with the guitar and the hat filled with loose change and a dollar bill.  The little girl sitting in that desk at the school, staring out the window and finding herself somewhere completely separate from the shared reality of her desk in her classroom. The pastor of the church down the street. The woman who is beaten by an angry man nearly every day. The single parent struggling to raise children on their own. The performer who spends their life on Broadway under a spotlight. The politician...

I wondered how far realities stretch... there are some people who are so far gone from our shared reality that they are labeled insane; unfit for society.  What a different world is their reality! How far do they all go; our realities... and how much are really shared? Is there more of one than there is of the other... our own individual realities and our shared realities? If we are in one more often than we are in the other, how does it shape our lives? Is it easy for most people to keep that line between the two, drawn - to keep them separated? Do they blend and mesh for everyone?

How much do we have control over, and how much can we change? What about what we can't see and those things that aren't tangible?

I know I could change a lot of my shared reality; and I could change quite a bit of my own individual reality... what I think, what I believe, what I say, how I live, what I do, what dreams I allow myself to indulge in, and what I refuse to accept in my life. 

Every single one of those actions and indeed, even every inaction, has that ripple effect that changes our lives and the lives of those around us (and then in turn the lives around them... so many degrees of separation later), and really impresses the significance of the incomprehensibly dynamic world of controlled chaos that we live in. 

...and that's about when the hot water ran out.

Holding On To The Real Thing

A friend of mine recently got a Kindle for her birthday.  She was very excited and reports that it is one of the best things she's ever gotten.  I was surprised, as she's an avid reader, and I expected that she would miss reading real books. 

She said she thought she'd miss them, too, miss turning the pages... but she's found that she doesn't, and is thrilled with her new electric book.

I am of another opinion.

I love to lose myself in every aspect of a real book.  The introduction; I love the look of the book; it draws me in closer, and I examine if from all sides.  The first touch; texture is enormously important... the feel of it underneath my fingers; sometimes course, sometimes gently worn, and the pages! Oh... the pages, some thick, and when I'm lucky, roughly hewn around the edges, or thin... like a parchment, delicate as a flower petal.  Open it up and examine the inside; the style of the font and layout of the words that splay across the pages, like the skeleton of the body held in my hands, about to be fleshed out with the story that all of the words create.  Breathing it in... the smell of a book is paramount; it tells age, care, quality... a whole other story altogether.  

Familiarity attained, I find a comfortable cozy place to curl up and lose myself in the story between the covers.  As on any journey, the first few steps are taken as there is yet another introduction, and the first few pages are turned, but before long, I am one with the characters, and hand in hand, we head out into their world, to share every experience until the last page has been turned and we take our leave of each other with the closing of the book, and the end of the story. 

I somehow cannot find this experience with Kindle. I know it's great to have the convenience (is there anywhere you could take a Kindle that you couldn't take a book? The only power resource needed for a book is the imagination and a functioning brain...) and I know that we are progressing forward technologically.  But what of libraries, whose hallowed halls I hold in a reverence on par with that of any giant old cathedral? I do not expect retrograde motion... I know that Kindle is here to stay, and it's a good option for some people.  But I suspect that it will be all the rage for a while, and then, in time to come, something nostalgic and sweet will happen...

I think it will be the same thing that happened with cd's and records.  Records made a comeback.  There's nothing like listening to an old album, with the soft rustling scratch that accompanies the songs as the needle winds it's way around and around from the outside in.  Many friends have smiled with fond sentiment when I put an old Beatles album on and we listen to the way it used to be.  

So too, will be the way of books, perhaps, in years to come.  Friends will slide them off of my shelves and open them with a reminiscent gaze, gently touching the pages, turning them slowly, and thinking how wonderful it was, once upon a time, to explore endless worlds in this way.  

~Fair Warning~

If you lurk without commenting, I shall send my Pirate friends after you, and I've got lots of them.  If you are a Pirate, I shall send my secret Ninja. 

Shyness isn't paid, tipped or tolerated and opinions are like belly buttons; everybody's got one, so leave yours before you wander off.

Thank you.

HRH

In Which I Become The Muse Of Irony & Serendipity

Scarlett: I'll have a chicken salad, please.

Waitress: We don't have chicken salad.

Scarlett: Fine.  I'll have a chicken burrito with lettuce and tomato and hold the tortilla.

Waitress: No problem, that will be right out.

Scarlett:  :/

What You See & What You Get

OMG — oh my god
WTF — what the ~F~
STFU — shut the ~F~ up
PWN3D — aka 0wn2d = your computer is hacked, we own it down to the roots, we are already maxing out your credit cards buying stuff.
URAN00B — you are a n00b = newbie = my dog knows more about computers.
LMAOROTF — laughing my ass off, rolling on the floor = this is hilarious. (sometimes seen as ROTFLMAO or ROTFLMFAO)
KTHXBYE:P — ok thanks bye - pfffftthhbbbb.
IF YOU CAN READ THIS, UR EYEZ R THE L337. TTYL. — if you can read this, your eyes are “the leet” = excellent. talk to you later.

Of Murderers and Journalism

Obituary:
On Friday, February 27th, 2009, the Rocky Mountain News closed down. 55 days shy of 150 years of publishing, connecting citizens throughout Colorado and the world. 200 jobs were lost; all of those people listed on the last page of the final printing of this legacy in journalism. A very black Friday indeed. I was lucky enough to have a brief bit of my own personal work published in that paper before its demise.


A Prominent and Proud Murderer Boasts:

U.S. Rep. Jared Polis.


"I have to say, that when we say, 'Who killed the Rocky Mountain News,' we're all part of it, for better or worse, and I argue it's mostly for the better," Polis said, "The media is dead, and long live the new media, which is all of us,". "Since we killed the newspapers" and "own the media," bloggers and citizen journalists have a responsibility.
"We can't just kill it and walk away," he said. "It's important for all of us to reach out to some of those . . . on the other side and present the progressive point of view," he said.
~reported by the Denver Post.

With an ironic twist and a back handed blow, Jared Polis denigrates the very form of media that defended his stance on education for minorities as recently as July 24th, 2008. I wonder what former "opinion columns and blogs" editor & author of that passionate defense for Polis, Vincent Carroll, thinks of Mr. Polis' limited perspective, now.


It's true that convergent journalism and media is the wave of the future in that field. I will be part of that, but I will not sell my soul to it as the solitary means of publishing news and maintaining communications between citizens of the world.

There is still a place for the format of media that is a foundation of the correspondence world we have now; newspapers. To state that it is "mostly for the better" that this printed legacy has met its dissolution is to wave away with indifference more than 150 years of hard work, sacrifice, truth, connection between people and the chronicles of humanity that lived every one of those days. How dare you callously disregard that rich endowment.
Your words are filled with shallow indifference, and are tossed out with irresponsible, mindless disdain.

You've qualified yourself (and the entire populace of humanity) as 'citizen journalists of the world'... and that is a slap in the face of the professionals who hold together the entire media industry. How dare you disrespect and dishonor every single one of those individuals.

Perhaps you think you have the education, tact, talent and time to produce the quality work that currently educates and informs the rest of the world. Judging by your ever-so-eloquent dismissal of the Rocky Mountain News, I'd say absolutely not. Your over-inflated confidence in the rest of the populace to produce responsible, unbiased, intelligible, accurate, timely, current news is not only entirely without base, it is unquestionably impossible. Best of luck with that whole notion.


Mr. Polis:

Do NOT make the careless libertine assumption that all bloggers and online media are responsible for the cessation of the Rocky Mountain News and all of its ilk. You have no right whatsoever to include anyone but yourself in your ridiculously stated position. I am a blogger. I am an online media journalist. I am an 'in print' media journalist. I am a citizen. I fit nicely into each and every single category that your verbal incompetence has encompassed.

I demand of you that you never assume that you may include me in your self-deprecating drivel. I give you neither license nor permission to name me or my work when you make thoughtless unsubstantiated statements about a subject that you very obviously know too little about. Next time you open your mouth, try to refer to only those people who actually stand with you in your transparent and flimsy ideals.

**Update**

Before I had the chance to publish this diatribe for you, Mr. Polis, I see that you've already come to the press that you so shamelessly flouted, to offer regrets for your mindless remarks and ideas... you must have a very good public relations agent. That's good, Mr. Polis, it's painfully obvious that you desperately need one.

Shenanigans

Okay, it's been FAR too long since I put anything up. I think it was that last post... it was so long that it became an intimidation; some enormous wall to get past to the next post. I promise never to post something that long again.

Thank you for all the messages and continual checking in on me, I am okay.

Now then!

Let's get to some good writing, some laughs, some good photography and perhaps even some new Scarlett Shenanigans... as I am quite good at those!

*...And in other news...*

Is anyone making bets on whether Punxsutawney Phil will see his shadow this year? More winter, or an early spring? We've had more weather in the 60's and 70's this month than a few May's and June's I've seen... so I'm betting he's not going to see his shadow, we'll get a very early spring, and then we'll have white out blizzards in August... just a hunch.


I'll be making a brief pilgrimage to Arkansas to visit my sister and her family over Valentines weekend... I asked if she'd have moonshine on hand, and she said yes... ?! I wonder what the aftermath of this visit will be? Last time I pulled out my foreign visa and embarked on this sojourn, I met a zonkey by the name of Trouble; within 30 minutes of stepping off of the plane.
Some things are just too strange for words.

The Picture Worth A Thousand Words

Photo by Max Whittaker/Getty Images

Gov. Sarah Palin at a rally in Reno, NV on October 21, 2008.

I don't put political perspective up on my blog, but I just can't help it this time; it's too funny and the one liners are coming to me like wildfire. I beg your indulgence just this once. Forgive me, Rel.

~On the hunt and not an elephant in sight
~Fashion DON'T, Political DO
~True colors
~Subliminal messaging
~Wardrobe budget: $150,000, Wearing the other teams logo around her neck: priceless.
~Remember to vote!
~Donkeys or jackasses?
~Does she know what's going on around her?
~A true maverick
~Under cover agent
~Ambitiously ambiguous

Okay... okay. I'll stop there.
Feel free to add your own, however, if you like.

Happy Phoctober!