Showing posts with label not like the others. Show all posts
Showing posts with label not like the others. Show all posts

Monday, February 15, 2010

Sounds like somebody has a case of 'The Mondays'

.75 $ Daily

I am not depressed.

I am tired.

I am overwhelmed by inertia.

I think if I got regular exercise I would have more energy.

I do not get regular exercise.

I tried to exercise this past weekend and was thwarted by the awakening of my son

... who won’t allow me to do anything in his presence that doesn’t include him in some appendage-like way.

My husband probably thinks the situation is well deserved.

He's probably right.

The boy, after all, is still nursing. Still sleeping in our bed.

He is why we are tired.

Or more accurately ... My inertia is why he is causing me to be the way I am ...

I don't blame you if you can't follow that.

It doesn't make sense.

Exercising makes sense.

My husband gets up at the crack of dawn. I hear him downstairs gliding in place in the living room. The ski machine is now wedged between the couch and the toys. In front of the television. Like everything else we own.

Momentary.

Distractions.

The scraping of wooden ski against the metal rollers is rhythmic to itself alone. The sound of talking - a morning news broadcast - is just a backdrop of babble on war, and destruction and apathy. All of it floating up through the floor, filtered.

Diminished.

We have settled in here.

Few boxes are left to be unpacked.

Things that finally have a place are being encroached upon by the things of new desires.

Get healthy. Need the fitness machine. Bring it in.

Need to fill time. Make stuff. More and more stuff.

Some things that were waiting for a place, wait no longer.

A counter is made especially for the under-the-counter television.

Move. Perch. Pile.

The landscape changes daily. I don't seem to change with it. Nothing is as I thought it would be.

Most days I can accept that.

Most days I can just keep plodding forward. I can keep believing there is a purpose. For me. For this, whatever it is.

I can remember all the times I listened to people say they could have been just like …

And all the times I thought: 'Nope. You couldn’t have been just like ...

'You are not ...

'You are nowhere near ...

... Of course, neither am I.

We are all jealous of Dot-dot-dot's success.

We all think it could have been us.

But it couldn’t have been us.

When did I stop moving forward?





...I am not depressed.

I am overwhelmed by inertia.

Monday, November 23, 2009

I've never seen this smile before

kindergartener

No doubt, this is what happens when she's NOT ignoring the photographer.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

The navel-gazing rhetorical question that *might* just break that camel's back

So ... when you've gotten the children breakfast, and you've washed the dishes from the night before, and you've gathered lunches, wiped counters and swept the floors (not to mention p*ssed off the husband by not caring what he gets done in the house while you are away ... so long as he gets the youngest child to put on clothes) ...

AND there are still 15 minutes before you have to battle your way to the car and the commute and work ...

So you sit down with your lukewarm coffee to watch your kids as they play ... and watch the Grinch Who Stole Christmas (Walter Matthau narrating) because they, unlike you, really can multi-task.

AND then your littlest one creeps around the corner of the chair that's facing yours, peeps his little scrunched-up face in your direction and crooks his finger as if he's waving at you with some imaginary puppet ...

You just look at his beamish little face and have to ask yourself ...

What *bleeping* JOB is worth missing this all day long?


And your brain snaps you back to sanity: The one that provides health insurance benefits.

And you can't help but hope that someone, anyone, you've elected to public office realizes the costs of doing nothing are just too high.

And they finally do something about it, even if it costs them the next election.

Often, doing the right thing hurts.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Random Request Thursday

As I was flitting around on Twitter diligently researching potential topics for discussion on Random Question Thursday ... yeah ... I know ... reasearching randomness is a blatant contradiction right?

Neveryoumindthat ... where was I?

Oh yes, I was looking for ideas when a new virtual friend, Velveteenmind, Tweeted a request for lullabys. It struck a chord with me immediately since I was still soothing a sore throat from bedtime the night before wherein I had indulged Ittybit's requests for several encores of her favorite go-to-sleep song.

As I was searching the Interwebs for links to the song lyrics to send Velveteenmind's way, nothing I found seemed to be exactly like the song I sang to Ittybit. The best I could do were lyrics from a somewhat contemporary band, The Cure.

Now she was able to find a download link that song, which she most graciously shared with me, but as I was listening to The Cure sing this old folk song, it occured to me real part I found lacking was a mother's voice.

Don't they always tell us how our children are soothed by our voices no matter how off key or warbly? How we mothers convey the songs to our children is something we each have the ability to preserve and share.

For me, Life's Rich Soundtrack starts with the songs my mothers sang to me and meanders along, returning to a place of origin in how I sing to my daughter, perhaps it will move her one day as she sings to her own children. ...

So, I offer you my humble, unprofessional voice, singing our favorite lullaby in hopes you will share yours.



**I'm thinking about asking my mother to sing The Ninth Prisoner, a Spanish folk song she use to sing to me at night. I'd be honored if you shared your songs by linking here.

Monday, March 16, 2009

And all along I thought I had a knack for science

ROCK CANDY CALAMITY

Two pounds of granulated sugar

A glass jar

Some cotton string -- measured to reach the bottom of the jar.

"Seed" string by soaking in water, rolling in sugar and allowing to dry for an hour

Tie seeded strings to a piece of cardboard that will fit over the jar

Heat 1 cup of water over medium heat, until boiling

Add 2 cups granulated sugar, stirring until clear

Add another cup of sugar until dissolved

Remove from heat and pour into jar

Suspend strings into jar

The next step is suppose to be "Watch the crystals grow over the course of a week ..." NOT over the course of 12 hours.



I am so getting an "F" in this project.

Thursday, May 29, 2008

What yesterday taught me



The universe is a joker. It's a little like that kid you always ran into in high school as you were running to fourth-period Earth Science. Remember him? He was the one carrying not a single book, and yet he'd always manage to step right into your path. You tried to avoid him but you'd end up sidestepping as he eased into the same collision course again.

He'd smile a satanic grin just before saying: "Shall we dance?"

Eventually you'd end up spilling the leaning tower of school books you balanced in your arms anyway. You'd hear his laughter dissappear down the hall as you picked up your things. Alone.

He is the Universe conspiring against you. You hate him.

But underneath all false starts and bad vibes, there's still no denying that jackass of a universe has a secret crush on you.

Perhaps yesterday the universe was just trying to tell me something: "The light at 8 p.m. is just so much better the light at 8 a.m. anyway."

Thanks universe. Now how about tinkering a little with that Check Engine light?

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

What's it gonna Costas?


king of the mountain, originally uploaded by toyfoto.



Any of you folks watch the Bob Costas "town meeting"-style fiasco last night in which a Pulizer prize-winning author with a blog-style name (Buzz Bissinger) unleashed a torrent of anger and abusive rhetoric at sports blogger Will Leitch, taking him to task for the evils and destruction that will be visited upon the entire field of sports reporting as a result of the uneducated and unskilled rantings of the unwashed public having louder voices than his compatriots, thanks to the home computer and the trendy new venue we all call blogging?

*Stops to take in air*

Bissinger lambasted Leitch on live television, and quoted at length and verbatim from the comments section of the fan-style Web site Leitch edits. His mission, presumably, was to point out that the unvetted thoughts of readers were not only classless but also debased the integrity of the media as a whole.

It was ugly.

I don't usually watch much sports television let alone sports commentary, but I had a hard time NOT watching the segment.

As someone who has thrown about my own tale of woe with respect to the decline of journalism, I couldn't help but recognize this Buzz fellow as a man who only sees an industry in danger of collapse, and who views himself perhaps, not as a passanger on a sinking ship but as one of the last, true sailors willing to go down to a watery grave if need be. The Hey Day is over.

I can't help but think, though, that Bissinger hit the airwaves swinging at the wrong guy.

He should have landed a punch or two in Costas' direction. Or maybe at one of the industry fat cats who pay his own salary. Maybe he should have sucker punched one of the same folks who started dumbing down the news when they voted to go for public offerings and promised shareholders 30 percent returns.

He should have gone a few rounds with the folks at the helm who, for the sake of saving money, cut spending on reporting staff and started developing infotainment. He should have taken to task the folks with the ratings meters who became successful in making entertainment look important. The people who saw dollar signs through gotcha journalism.

I believe Mr. Bissinger is mistaken when he said blogs are all about hatred and misinformation. I mean, Fox News certainly doesn't have ANY of THAT in its FAIR AND BALANCED reportage now does it?

It would be equally misguided to think news outlets such as the New York Times and The New Republic are merely rags of fabricated information. And yet, shit does happen, though, doesn't it?

Bloggers didn't cause the demise of the journalism. The industry started the mortal spiral at its own hand. All you need to do is watch the segment that followed, the one on how paid and educated sports journalists are seen by players as smarmy and disingenuous characters. You will see that a durable press card is the least of the industry's troubles.

In this particular horserace the winner will end up being the one who makes money. Period. And bloggers haven't pulled into the lead just yet. News outlets are still making money even if they're happily telling you they're dying. Bloggers? Some make cash, that's true, but most have day jobs.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

The big squeeze


Lunchtime walks, originally uploaded by toyfoto.



We interupt this "Baby Book Gone Wrong" to send the following message: Hell has frozen over.

The home fires and work flame have intersected, at least for the moment. It seems I'm getting whatever the opposite of DOOCED would be. ... perhaps we shall call it JUICED.

The newspaper where I work is trying to find its niche online and is asking me - apparently the only blogger in the office - to try and jumpstart them into the 21th century by getting reporters up to speed on what it means to keep a Web blog, not to mention get our Web site all decked out to show all these inner monologs off.

As a bumbling idiot myself when it comes to the nuts and bolts of computing (for all I know a squirrel on a wheel really does run things inside the whirring black box that sits on my desk), I've finally figured out how the twain shall meet technically if not thematically.

It's going to feel a little like walking uphill for a while though. Maybe I'll have to institute a Bring Your Kids (and Dog) To Work day once a week you know for laughs at the damage they can cause just to bring the whole mixing of lives thing full circle.

... Stay Tuned.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Another piece of the puzzle

hide in shower curtain

Every time the news of the day is about a senseless tragedy where children are involved I feel helpless.

I feel as if I am in the minority of people in my profession in that I believe knowledge isn't power; mainly because I don't think the kind of reporting done today aids in true knowledge.

When the headlines read "10 children shot in Amish school, five dead," and days later the talking heads are still spinning off stories of sensational detail and opining about the lack of safety in the nations schools, I can't help but hang my head in desperation.

What no one seems to mention is how RARE these tragedies are or even try to put it in perspective. According to NISMART-2, a study released in October 2002, which researched the year 1999, an estimated 797,500 children were reported missing in the United States; 58,200 children were abducted by non-family members; 115 children were the victims of the most serious, long-term non-family abductions called "stereotypical kidnappings"; and 203,900 children were the victims of family abductions.

Let me repeat: Stereotypical kidnappings numbered 115 out of 797,500 children reported missing. That's less than one percent.

Of course, no one wants ANY children to be the victims of abduction or violence of any kind in school or at home but I can't help but think that by overreacting to such news, painting it with the broad brush of missunderstanding, we are trading one horror story for another.

We are willingly signing up for a life guided by fear and anxiety.

This week we're talking about the horror of two men walking into a schools, planning on doing unspeakable acts, and turning it into a shooting gallery before taking their own own lives. We surmise that the system must have failed, and to prevent another tragedy, we have to ACT now. We have to make something -- anything -- illegal. We have to lock down our schools, never let our children out of our sight and we have to get more cops, more jails, more walls.

Now I realize we can't throw up our hands and say: We can't keep ourselves safe so why bother. But by the same leveling of the sword we can't pull our kids out of school, hole ourselves up in our homes and wait for the apocalypse. Nor should we make this a school issue alone.

We have to understand that laws and enforcement can't prevent isolated instances from happening. We can't just rail against the scum of society, as if punishment were the answer. We have to fix problems that helped make the situation exist. We all have a part to play, even if that role is merely to be a part of the dialogue. We have to ensure that lawmakers are looking beyond prisons and into social services, mental health services and appropriate interventions.

Acting appropriately = not overreacting.

Overreacting does nothing to keep us safe, but everything to keep us in a state of perpetual fear and panic.

We need to TURN OFF our televisions sets and start writing letters demanding responsible coverage. We need to demand our elected officials pay more than lipservice to the problems. We have to demand reality and not its perception. We should accept no less.

We need perspective that actually gives us some, and not merely scares us into thinking the problem is bigger and more widespread. We need to be told (and listen to) the truth. We must seek it out instead of spreading fear.

Of course we can't let young children out of our sight; they can't even cross the street safely. But we also have to teach our sons and daughters to respect themselves, we have to teach them to be actively involved in the solution and not merely potential victims. We have to make them ready to be on their own and contribute the society we want them to have.

But we must do all these things without scaring them and without scaring ourselves. NOT every stranger is dangerous. Most are not, and just because it's hard to tell the difference sometimes does not justify the vilification of our fellow humans.

Now more than ever we need each other, and we have to get off our moral high horses. We have to realize we are not all cut from the same cloth, and that "if we just pull ourselves up by our bootstraps we can all be OK" is a lie. We have to understand that there are people unable to do that either by brain chemistry or upbringing or lack of upbringing. We can only expect, if we ignore the plight of the poor and the diseased, we will be inviting more of the destruction to bemoan.

I can't help but think we have to learn more about the crimes, more about the illnesses and more about the treatments before we build any more prisons or any more private schools that segregate us further. We have to make sure that we are giving the best care to all our citizenry, not just the ones we deem deserve it.