This is a little rough, and I will probably revise and expand it, but enjoy the beginnings:
As I was reviewing a few posts, reflecting on my negative state of mind as of late, I had a thought; shocker.
While I pondered on what precipitated this current fit of self deprecation, I thought back to my psych days. All the terms that could be used to describe the mindset I was experiencing popped in and out if my head: a low self-esteem, hopelessness, poor self image, depressed, bipolar, distorted sense of self, etc.
And as all these terms ran through my head, I wondered if figuring out an antonym would be a better approach. Then it happened. For some reason the term 'Delusions of Grandeur" popped in my head followed quickly by the term "Delusion of Insignificance." Fitting? Yes, very much so, but let me delve a little deeper.
The idea behind this term is out of a deep rooted feeling of having nothing to offer, being worthless, a definite underachiever; a failure. Hence the word 'insignificance'. This may seem incredibly harsh, and I know intellectually it is, but I am a wicked self critic. However, I have had many accomplishments, friends, a wife, house, job, many skills and talents. I know this, I really do, yet the sense of failure dominates.
The intellectual, rational aspect of my mind fights against the notions of failure, poking holes in the theory, the irrational thoughts; the 'Delusions'. My perception of insignificance is based on a belief, false belief; irrational thoughts. It is akin to a fantasy, a lack of accurately perceiving reality.
I have struggled with this for years, although when I can feel the onset approaching I can now, typically, ward off the worst of such a negative mindset. As my posts show, I am more successful at times than others.
But what is key is that I am aware; I am aware of the arising, I am aware of its being, I am aware I will not always be able to manage such feelings.
I am after all a mere mortal.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Nothing...
It's one of those days; nothing seems to stand out that interests me to write. Yet, here I am, hashing out some reflective thought on why that may be.
I do find it interesting that my posts related to Buddhist thought (taken from this blog) on HubPages.com have been fairly popular, which I am pleasantly surprised. I am happy they are bring read as they were great experiences I feel are worth sharing. Even as I read over them, proofreading, revising, I am brought back to that mindset.
I wonder, why does it still take so much effort sometimes to remain so mindful, at peace? The clarity, understanding, patience, compassion; yet it can be as hard to maintain as it is letting go of anger. Odd, I think.
Silly me.
The very answer is in that statement: the desire, the attachment. The desire to 'make it happen' instead of just being; trying to make anger go away verses being with anger is what makes it so hard.
Funny how the clarity and understanding I can find so elusive can be so surprising in its arising. Always a lesson to he learned; perhaps I am being more mindful more frequently than I am aware.
Kind of a riddle, I guess...
Maybe I need to figure out how to write some Buddhist fiction to share my limited insights; that would be great.
I do find it interesting that my posts related to Buddhist thought (taken from this blog) on HubPages.com have been fairly popular, which I am pleasantly surprised. I am happy they are bring read as they were great experiences I feel are worth sharing. Even as I read over them, proofreading, revising, I am brought back to that mindset.
I wonder, why does it still take so much effort sometimes to remain so mindful, at peace? The clarity, understanding, patience, compassion; yet it can be as hard to maintain as it is letting go of anger. Odd, I think.
Silly me.
The very answer is in that statement: the desire, the attachment. The desire to 'make it happen' instead of just being; trying to make anger go away verses being with anger is what makes it so hard.
Funny how the clarity and understanding I can find so elusive can be so surprising in its arising. Always a lesson to he learned; perhaps I am being more mindful more frequently than I am aware.
Kind of a riddle, I guess...
Maybe I need to figure out how to write some Buddhist fiction to share my limited insights; that would be great.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Why do I have to be on time?
I arrived at my doctor appointment this afternoon, in a slight rush as traffic held us up a little. I am the type of person who shows up five to ten minutes early, regardless the appointment type, and considering that things typically never move fast here at The University of Iowa Hospitals & Clinics, I try to get get here even earlier. So being right in time today caused a bit of irritation, and I rushed so fast from the parking ramp to get to the clinic, I almost left my wife behind.
Normally, a visit to the orthopedic clinic is a quick one for me by University standards, but after my mad dash to get checked in for my appointment I find that my doctor is running forty-five minutes behind; yes 45. I felt like an ass for rushing my wife, still do. I guess I get to be a typical patient today and wait. At any rate, I guess it was forty-five minutes to start writing this post, I guess!
Why am I writing about waiting at the doctor's office?
Get over it, right?
Everyone has to wait, big deal. That's just the way it is.
Well, it is a big deal, isn't it? I mean, isn't the while point of scheduling an appointment to agree for two parties to be in the same place at the SAME time? And what happens if you are late to a doctors appointment - you are either shit out of luck or they will try to "work you in" to their schedule that now has a gap in it since you were late.
Why is that acceptable? I understand stuff comes up, some patients need more attention, and sometimes time just goes by too quickly. However, why squeeze in the appointments, typically every fifteen minutes, if you can't keep the appointments?
Why is my time so much less important that it is okay for me to sit around and wait? Why is it okay for me to take time off of work for a fifteen minute appointment, yet I get to spend my vacation time waiting in a doctor's office on a beautiful spring day?
Now, don't get me wrong, I love my doctors. They are friendly, personable and good doctors. I understand it is not their fault they are forced to squeeze in thirty minutes of patient care in to fifteen; it's the system they limited by that Is broke. It's the bean counters and pencil pushers who decide how little time a doctor should spend with a patient. That is the root of the problem, no doubt. But, do these bean counters and pencil pushers realize what they are doing? Nope. And they won't until they fall ill, or a loved one, and have to come to repeated appointments and be forced to wait.
I must acknowledge this is not merely an issue in health care, but much more wide spread. This corporate mentality is damaging to not only patients/customers, but employees as well. How frantic were the nurses ribbing around today, trying to help the doctor keep/catch up? Too frantic. Why force all this stress on people, everyday?
Oh right: the almighty bottom line. Silly me.
Normally, a visit to the orthopedic clinic is a quick one for me by University standards, but after my mad dash to get checked in for my appointment I find that my doctor is running forty-five minutes behind; yes 45. I felt like an ass for rushing my wife, still do. I guess I get to be a typical patient today and wait. At any rate, I guess it was forty-five minutes to start writing this post, I guess!
Why am I writing about waiting at the doctor's office?
Get over it, right?
Everyone has to wait, big deal. That's just the way it is.
Well, it is a big deal, isn't it? I mean, isn't the while point of scheduling an appointment to agree for two parties to be in the same place at the SAME time? And what happens if you are late to a doctors appointment - you are either shit out of luck or they will try to "work you in" to their schedule that now has a gap in it since you were late.
Why is that acceptable? I understand stuff comes up, some patients need more attention, and sometimes time just goes by too quickly. However, why squeeze in the appointments, typically every fifteen minutes, if you can't keep the appointments?
Why is my time so much less important that it is okay for me to sit around and wait? Why is it okay for me to take time off of work for a fifteen minute appointment, yet I get to spend my vacation time waiting in a doctor's office on a beautiful spring day?
Now, don't get me wrong, I love my doctors. They are friendly, personable and good doctors. I understand it is not their fault they are forced to squeeze in thirty minutes of patient care in to fifteen; it's the system they limited by that Is broke. It's the bean counters and pencil pushers who decide how little time a doctor should spend with a patient. That is the root of the problem, no doubt. But, do these bean counters and pencil pushers realize what they are doing? Nope. And they won't until they fall ill, or a loved one, and have to come to repeated appointments and be forced to wait.
I must acknowledge this is not merely an issue in health care, but much more wide spread. This corporate mentality is damaging to not only patients/customers, but employees as well. How frantic were the nurses ribbing around today, trying to help the doctor keep/catch up? Too frantic. Why force all this stress on people, everyday?
Oh right: the almighty bottom line. Silly me.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Calm Mind, Yet Restless Sleep
I have been off from my 'day job' recovering from wrist surgery the past couple of months, and while the pain is more than I expected at this point, I have been making the most of my time; reading, writing, napping, walking and doing computer work. However, even having this relaxing and enjoyable stretch of life, I am still sleeping in spurts; maybe an hour or two at a time. Frustrating? Sure, but I have just gotten used to it at this point.
Why would anyone just accept crappy sleep? The dreams. I have vivid, crazy dreams that often lead me to awaken either talking or laughing. A couple examples: Beer Run dream and President Obama dream.
At any rate, we all know that a lack of sleep can make one a bit... irritable. I am very guilty of that; although I have learned through a lot of reflection that my tiredness is not anyone else's fault and I am in err to lash out at them. I am also aware this does not only apply to sleep, but I will stayed on task. It is too bad I did not learn this over twenty years ago as it would have saved my loved ones much headache.
So, I am tired often, but have finally grown enough to put it in perspective. A daily struggle to be sure, but getting easier as the days pass as well. I find that when I am tired, I no longer fight being tired anymore; I just let the tiredness be. I understand that unless sleep is an option, I can either live in the moment with tiredness or I can lose the moment and set my mind in the future looking ahead to sleep or set my mind in the past and regret not sleeping.
In knowing sleep will come in the near future, I have to be patient for that moment and make effort to be mindful of the present moment until then. Our greatest teachers are those who we do not recognize as teachers. For example, I have found that being tired makes you notice different sounds, smells, sensations; your pace is slower, your mind is slower. This is neither good or bad; it just is. Just like the tiredness. I often wonder instead of tiredness being a hindrance, if it is not merely another technique, method in developing awareness and cultivating compassion.
Not too sure tiredness can be a opportunity to foster mindfulness? Next time you are tired, go sit outside, shut off the TV or computer and let your sleepy mind just be. You will be surprised and pleased at what arises, and what doesn't. Don't forget to share the experience!
Yet, even after all of this insight, this mindset of accepting tiredness (among other things) I still sleep like crap. I am not looking for a cure or a solution, honestly, I feel I would lose something if I did! I just find it intriguing how I can be the most calm and centered as I have ever been, and still sleep like a paranoid schizophrenic!
I guess it just goes to show you how deeply ingrained habits can be after years and years; but if I can overcome alcohol, I think I can overcome crappy sleep.
Why would anyone just accept crappy sleep? The dreams. I have vivid, crazy dreams that often lead me to awaken either talking or laughing. A couple examples: Beer Run dream and President Obama dream.
At any rate, we all know that a lack of sleep can make one a bit... irritable. I am very guilty of that; although I have learned through a lot of reflection that my tiredness is not anyone else's fault and I am in err to lash out at them. I am also aware this does not only apply to sleep, but I will stayed on task. It is too bad I did not learn this over twenty years ago as it would have saved my loved ones much headache.
So, I am tired often, but have finally grown enough to put it in perspective. A daily struggle to be sure, but getting easier as the days pass as well. I find that when I am tired, I no longer fight being tired anymore; I just let the tiredness be. I understand that unless sleep is an option, I can either live in the moment with tiredness or I can lose the moment and set my mind in the future looking ahead to sleep or set my mind in the past and regret not sleeping.
In knowing sleep will come in the near future, I have to be patient for that moment and make effort to be mindful of the present moment until then. Our greatest teachers are those who we do not recognize as teachers. For example, I have found that being tired makes you notice different sounds, smells, sensations; your pace is slower, your mind is slower. This is neither good or bad; it just is. Just like the tiredness. I often wonder instead of tiredness being a hindrance, if it is not merely another technique, method in developing awareness and cultivating compassion.
Not too sure tiredness can be a opportunity to foster mindfulness? Next time you are tired, go sit outside, shut off the TV or computer and let your sleepy mind just be. You will be surprised and pleased at what arises, and what doesn't. Don't forget to share the experience!
Yet, even after all of this insight, this mindset of accepting tiredness (among other things) I still sleep like crap. I am not looking for a cure or a solution, honestly, I feel I would lose something if I did! I just find it intriguing how I can be the most calm and centered as I have ever been, and still sleep like a paranoid schizophrenic!
I guess it just goes to show you how deeply ingrained habits can be after years and years; but if I can overcome alcohol, I think I can overcome crappy sleep.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Aaarrrrgggg...
I think I have reached my limit. I think I am to the point that I am either going to start biting off heads or just not talk. Quite frankly, neither of those options sounds appealing to me.
And what, pray tell, am I talking about? I am tired of trying to say something and be cut off in mid sentence. I am tired of being asked a question and while answering, being cut off, interrupted or talked over. I am tired of telling a story and being snapped at or, again, cut off before I finish my thought. I am tired of having to fight to be able to uphold my end of an allegedly two way conversation.
And by whom do I feel so frustrated? My family, in-laws, physical therapist, coworkers, clients... Could it be me? Sure, I could accept that, but during most conversations? But let me lay out my thoughts to help you understand what I am thinking.
Do I have anything important to say? Probably not anymore than the next person, but casual conversation rarely necessitates one to say anything important. But I do have thoughts, feelings and questions about the topic, of you don't want me to say anything, you're best off not talking to me as I perceive conversation as a two way street.
Do I have incredible stories to tell? Again, probably not anymore than the next person, but I do have stories about my experience in life - JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. I have never been good at small talk, but I make the best effort I can. Yet, if I have to listen to the recap of your day, complaints and giggles alike, why don't you have to listen to my boring ass stories?
Do I have interests on subjects most people don't? Yep. But that doesn't mean my stories, thoughts or ideas are any less valid because either you don't understand what I am talking about or you don't care about the subject. If I don't care about what your story I still try to be empathetic towards you, but not necessarily your drama. If I don't understand, I ask questions; I don't say 'whatever' or just ignore what you are saying (unless is it the same thing over and over).
So, while I don't enjoy small talk type conversation for the most part, I do understand the ground rules. Maybe I am frustrated by those who prefer an A conversation verses an A-B conversation. I like to be talked to, not talked at. I find even less interest in that than chit-chat itself.
And then I arrive at this thought: If people don't want to listen to what I say, what the hell makes me think they will really want to read what I write?
I guess it is a good thing 90% of why I write is of intrinsic value.
And what, pray tell, am I talking about? I am tired of trying to say something and be cut off in mid sentence. I am tired of being asked a question and while answering, being cut off, interrupted or talked over. I am tired of telling a story and being snapped at or, again, cut off before I finish my thought. I am tired of having to fight to be able to uphold my end of an allegedly two way conversation.
And by whom do I feel so frustrated? My family, in-laws, physical therapist, coworkers, clients... Could it be me? Sure, I could accept that, but during most conversations? But let me lay out my thoughts to help you understand what I am thinking.
Do I have anything important to say? Probably not anymore than the next person, but casual conversation rarely necessitates one to say anything important. But I do have thoughts, feelings and questions about the topic, of you don't want me to say anything, you're best off not talking to me as I perceive conversation as a two way street.
Do I have incredible stories to tell? Again, probably not anymore than the next person, but I do have stories about my experience in life - JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. I have never been good at small talk, but I make the best effort I can. Yet, if I have to listen to the recap of your day, complaints and giggles alike, why don't you have to listen to my boring ass stories?
Do I have interests on subjects most people don't? Yep. But that doesn't mean my stories, thoughts or ideas are any less valid because either you don't understand what I am talking about or you don't care about the subject. If I don't care about what your story I still try to be empathetic towards you, but not necessarily your drama. If I don't understand, I ask questions; I don't say 'whatever' or just ignore what you are saying (unless is it the same thing over and over).
So, while I don't enjoy small talk type conversation for the most part, I do understand the ground rules. Maybe I am frustrated by those who prefer an A conversation verses an A-B conversation. I like to be talked to, not talked at. I find even less interest in that than chit-chat itself.
And then I arrive at this thought: If people don't want to listen to what I say, what the hell makes me think they will really want to read what I write?
I guess it is a good thing 90% of why I write is of intrinsic value.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Ditching the Community...
So, I got rather irritated last night as I wanted to discuss a book on the WD Community site, The Art Of War For Writers. I bought the book as I was curious about its structure, but more because I was interested to gain insight into a published author's perspective on writing. I felt it would be interesting to read, if not at least for entertainment value.
I was met by responses form a couple members that I took as insulting. They told me that I could not "buy a magic key to writing"; that such books were written "by hacks to pander to the masses"; that "the way to write better is to write". No shit.
While I understood what they were getting at, or at least I was trying to keep an open mind, their responses were so uppity, arrogant, it rather pissed me off and for several reasons.
First of all, I love to learn. Reading a variety of information is a good way to exercise my brain. Now, if the book sucks, I will study it to figure out why I think it sucks, what I would do different and what I would not do.
Second, why not look at books that aim to help writers? Are we all not in this to learn more and more to hone the craft? And yes, I know writing is the best, if not the only, way to get better at writing. Worse case scenario, read it to warn others to stay away, that it may do harm or at least is a waste of time.
Third, how is this book any different than the advice these two gave on the site? They are two of the most commenting members by far, telling everyone else how good they are with sprinkles of feedback mixed in, of course. The very site they seem to monitor is no different than said book. It it another tool to help refocus, recharge the weary art of writing. There was a hint of resentment from the two, who had one published novel between them, I believe. And from what I read, nothing to pass along, just pass.
Last, this was suppose to be a site of support, a community, a place where we could not only share our work, but ideas and conversation. I guess not. It quickly reminded me of an AOL chat room gone bad.
Sure, I sought a dialogue; but I felt I received put-downs instead. So, after several exchanges, I decided this community was not something I really wanted to be a part of after all and deleted my account.
A bit hasty? Perhaps. However, I had been contemplating leaving anyway as I felt it wasn't really offering much in terms of a workshop environment as I had originally thought.
I was met by responses form a couple members that I took as insulting. They told me that I could not "buy a magic key to writing"; that such books were written "by hacks to pander to the masses"; that "the way to write better is to write". No shit.
While I understood what they were getting at, or at least I was trying to keep an open mind, their responses were so uppity, arrogant, it rather pissed me off and for several reasons.
First of all, I love to learn. Reading a variety of information is a good way to exercise my brain. Now, if the book sucks, I will study it to figure out why I think it sucks, what I would do different and what I would not do.
Second, why not look at books that aim to help writers? Are we all not in this to learn more and more to hone the craft? And yes, I know writing is the best, if not the only, way to get better at writing. Worse case scenario, read it to warn others to stay away, that it may do harm or at least is a waste of time.
Third, how is this book any different than the advice these two gave on the site? They are two of the most commenting members by far, telling everyone else how good they are with sprinkles of feedback mixed in, of course. The very site they seem to monitor is no different than said book. It it another tool to help refocus, recharge the weary art of writing. There was a hint of resentment from the two, who had one published novel between them, I believe. And from what I read, nothing to pass along, just pass.
Last, this was suppose to be a site of support, a community, a place where we could not only share our work, but ideas and conversation. I guess not. It quickly reminded me of an AOL chat room gone bad.
Sure, I sought a dialogue; but I felt I received put-downs instead. So, after several exchanges, I decided this community was not something I really wanted to be a part of after all and deleted my account.
A bit hasty? Perhaps. However, I had been contemplating leaving anyway as I felt it wasn't really offering much in terms of a workshop environment as I had originally thought.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
P-BO
It was another fantastic dream filled night; at least in the spurts of sleep I get through the night. The one dream that stands out the most was centered around P-BO (President Barack Obama). It's funny how it should be weeks later after seeing P-BO pass by in his motorcade that I would dream of interacting with him.
The dream started like most: I'm in a public place and my anxiety flares up. Then, I realize my surroundings are not familiar, yet not foreign, either. My curiosity takes over at that point and the anxiety fades away.
Begin dream:
I am walking along a city street eating a McDonald's Sausage McMuffin when I approach the corner; something I felt I did everyday. This morning, however, the corner was packed with people. I looked down the hill to my left wondering what parade was happening in San Francisco this early during the week. Then it hit me: what am I doing in San Francisco?
I shrugged it off and tried to fight my way through the crowd to get to my meeting; a meeting of which I had no idea what the meeting was about or who I was meeting. I finally reach the comer and am met by police barricades, police and what I took for Secret Service agents. I hesitated to jump the barricade, and my hesitation brought two Secret Service agents to me.
They asked what I was doing, where I was going and why was I trying to break the perimeter. I told them I was in my way to work and didn't want yo be held up by another parade. I then realized it wasn't a parade, apologized to the agents and asked what was really going on today.
They looked at each other, then at me as though I was either lying or really stupid. I assured them I was definitely stupid. The grabbed their ears and the larger bald man stepped closer to me and took hold of my shoulder.
"You'll stay with me for a few minutes," he said. "Understood?" There was nothing to misinterpret: he was still unsure about me. As a strange reflex I handed him my wallet and asked what was going on. And then it happened.
The motorcade came up the hill and there he was sitting in the back seat (just like it really happened). A quick wave and he was gone. Several support vehicles followed; I turned to the agent who was handing me back my wallet.
"That..." I began, "That was..."
"You really are that stupid," he said letting go of my shoulder and patted me on the back. "Have a good day, sir." and he was gone.
I stepped through the barricades, dazed and walked around the corner to what felt like my place of work.
The next thing I knew I was walking with a man, on my left, who dressed in a khaki jumpsuit and shackles. He was short, clean cut and had a mild demeanor. The shackles were on, but they were long; he could have run or grabbed me with ease.
Upon realizing this, I looked around at the buildings surrounding the plush courtyard we were strolling through, the relaxed feel of the facility. Federal prison, of course. Another place of which I would have no personal knowledge. But, again, it all felt normal.
As we walked, casually chatting, I realized that on my right was the President: Barack Obama. We were discussing about the recent trend of communities cutting teaching positions in areas all ready short on good, qualified teachers.
The President was listening intently to our conversation; we were some kind of authorities, experts in which he was seeking our council about... something; I couldn't tell if it was strictly education, or the economy in general. Either way, the President was taking our comments seriously as he walked with us without his jacket, no tie and sleeves rolled up. At one point in the conversation I felt as though it was in part a job interview with the President, as though he was looking to appoint me for some duty.
We approached a building with a revolving door, with rivets; it looked like the steel framework from an old school skyscraper, with glass. President Obama excused himself as he needed to use the restroom. The 'inmate' and I continued to discuss the education issues that were still trickling down from the economy and current state of recovery.
We walked into the revolving door, together. After all, he was an inmate and I was his CO; at least that is what I was feeling, anyway. The inmate and I made our way through the huge old hallway (it reminded me of the buildings on the University of Iowa Pentacrest) to the bathroom; the old, locker room feeling bathroom with the old semi-circle wash basins the sprayed water from a ring when you stepped on the lever.
President Obama was coming out of a stall as the inmate went in; I could see him from the shoulders up the stall walls were so short. I went to the wash basin and began to was my face, freshen up, as President Obama made he way to the basin as well, my nerves flared a bit. I heard the clanking of his belt as he tucked his shirt in to his pants when he called out "Oh crap!"
Startled, I reacted to his response as I never expected him to use such terminology and saw he was fumbling to catch his watch after his band broke. Mind you, he had not finished fastening his pants and a swatch of his boxers was showing. They were the same as a pair I owned. My nerves fled. We were just two guys in the bathroom in a public building.
I chuckled a little and continued to freshen up and President Obama laughed as well. "Michelle wouldn't be too happy if I lost my watch in the toilet!" he said as he shoved the watch pieces in his pocket.
End dream.
I would love to add more of the dialogue from the dream as well as edit it to be more in the active voice.
I guess I remember more details than I give myself credit for as this is a rather long post, and I even skimped on the dialogue!
Good times, good stuff.
The dream started like most: I'm in a public place and my anxiety flares up. Then, I realize my surroundings are not familiar, yet not foreign, either. My curiosity takes over at that point and the anxiety fades away.
Begin dream:
I am walking along a city street eating a McDonald's Sausage McMuffin when I approach the corner; something I felt I did everyday. This morning, however, the corner was packed with people. I looked down the hill to my left wondering what parade was happening in San Francisco this early during the week. Then it hit me: what am I doing in San Francisco?
I shrugged it off and tried to fight my way through the crowd to get to my meeting; a meeting of which I had no idea what the meeting was about or who I was meeting. I finally reach the comer and am met by police barricades, police and what I took for Secret Service agents. I hesitated to jump the barricade, and my hesitation brought two Secret Service agents to me.
They asked what I was doing, where I was going and why was I trying to break the perimeter. I told them I was in my way to work and didn't want yo be held up by another parade. I then realized it wasn't a parade, apologized to the agents and asked what was really going on today.
They looked at each other, then at me as though I was either lying or really stupid. I assured them I was definitely stupid. The grabbed their ears and the larger bald man stepped closer to me and took hold of my shoulder.
"You'll stay with me for a few minutes," he said. "Understood?" There was nothing to misinterpret: he was still unsure about me. As a strange reflex I handed him my wallet and asked what was going on. And then it happened.
The motorcade came up the hill and there he was sitting in the back seat (just like it really happened). A quick wave and he was gone. Several support vehicles followed; I turned to the agent who was handing me back my wallet.
"That..." I began, "That was..."
"You really are that stupid," he said letting go of my shoulder and patted me on the back. "Have a good day, sir." and he was gone.
I stepped through the barricades, dazed and walked around the corner to what felt like my place of work.
The next thing I knew I was walking with a man, on my left, who dressed in a khaki jumpsuit and shackles. He was short, clean cut and had a mild demeanor. The shackles were on, but they were long; he could have run or grabbed me with ease.
Upon realizing this, I looked around at the buildings surrounding the plush courtyard we were strolling through, the relaxed feel of the facility. Federal prison, of course. Another place of which I would have no personal knowledge. But, again, it all felt normal.
As we walked, casually chatting, I realized that on my right was the President: Barack Obama. We were discussing about the recent trend of communities cutting teaching positions in areas all ready short on good, qualified teachers.
The President was listening intently to our conversation; we were some kind of authorities, experts in which he was seeking our council about... something; I couldn't tell if it was strictly education, or the economy in general. Either way, the President was taking our comments seriously as he walked with us without his jacket, no tie and sleeves rolled up. At one point in the conversation I felt as though it was in part a job interview with the President, as though he was looking to appoint me for some duty.
We approached a building with a revolving door, with rivets; it looked like the steel framework from an old school skyscraper, with glass. President Obama excused himself as he needed to use the restroom. The 'inmate' and I continued to discuss the education issues that were still trickling down from the economy and current state of recovery.
We walked into the revolving door, together. After all, he was an inmate and I was his CO; at least that is what I was feeling, anyway. The inmate and I made our way through the huge old hallway (it reminded me of the buildings on the University of Iowa Pentacrest) to the bathroom; the old, locker room feeling bathroom with the old semi-circle wash basins the sprayed water from a ring when you stepped on the lever.
President Obama was coming out of a stall as the inmate went in; I could see him from the shoulders up the stall walls were so short. I went to the wash basin and began to was my face, freshen up, as President Obama made he way to the basin as well, my nerves flared a bit. I heard the clanking of his belt as he tucked his shirt in to his pants when he called out "Oh crap!"
Startled, I reacted to his response as I never expected him to use such terminology and saw he was fumbling to catch his watch after his band broke. Mind you, he had not finished fastening his pants and a swatch of his boxers was showing. They were the same as a pair I owned. My nerves fled. We were just two guys in the bathroom in a public building.
I chuckled a little and continued to freshen up and President Obama laughed as well. "Michelle wouldn't be too happy if I lost my watch in the toilet!" he said as he shoved the watch pieces in his pocket.
End dream.
I would love to add more of the dialogue from the dream as well as edit it to be more in the active voice.
I guess I remember more details than I give myself credit for as this is a rather long post, and I even skimped on the dialogue!
Good times, good stuff.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Tuesday, Beautiful Tuesday
It is amazing how many consecutive beautiful days we have been having this spring here in Eastern Iowa. As I have been taking more walks this week, it is fun to see the trees fill, the grass shoot up and the blooming of so many flowers; intentional and not so intentional. Dandelions next to bluebells; lilac blooming next to a pine; clover amongst grass.
Today was no different as I walked through the neighborhood. Nearing the house, I came upon a yard that had incredibly tight packed clover growth. It made me laugh as I thought it was miniature clover, even for a Leprechaun! As I walked past the next yard, I saw a neatly manicured lawn. It made me stop and think about the vegetative difference between the neighboring yards, and what we miss out on naturally because society has set forth a picture perfect ideal of a lawn.
I let things grow in my yard; partly out of curiosity, but more so due to the awe and wonder the diversity of nature has in our tiny little half acre. My wife seems annoyed by my lawn care philosophy, but she tends to let it slide as she knows how much I enjoy the growth. Not to mention the oxygen.
I understand there are fertilizers, weed killers, seed and many other options to 'properly' care for one's lawn. However, for me it is more about living in harmony with nature; I don't feel the urge to have to control nature. I understand I have a civic duty to care for more public areas of my property, and I uphold those duties. But the rest of the yard is free, for the most part!
And perhaps I am misguided, uninformed or merely stuck in a phase. However, there have been over twenty different wild flowers bloom in our yard at various times of the year; at least six types of grass; a baker's dozen types of ferns; lilies, lilacs, goldenrod and on and on. All in just half an acre!
Now do you see why I love to let things just be, for the most part? Another season is upon us; old friends have begun to bloom, and new friends will surely surprise us!
Today was no different as I walked through the neighborhood. Nearing the house, I came upon a yard that had incredibly tight packed clover growth. It made me laugh as I thought it was miniature clover, even for a Leprechaun! As I walked past the next yard, I saw a neatly manicured lawn. It made me stop and think about the vegetative difference between the neighboring yards, and what we miss out on naturally because society has set forth a picture perfect ideal of a lawn.
I let things grow in my yard; partly out of curiosity, but more so due to the awe and wonder the diversity of nature has in our tiny little half acre. My wife seems annoyed by my lawn care philosophy, but she tends to let it slide as she knows how much I enjoy the growth. Not to mention the oxygen.
I understand there are fertilizers, weed killers, seed and many other options to 'properly' care for one's lawn. However, for me it is more about living in harmony with nature; I don't feel the urge to have to control nature. I understand I have a civic duty to care for more public areas of my property, and I uphold those duties. But the rest of the yard is free, for the most part!
And perhaps I am misguided, uninformed or merely stuck in a phase. However, there have been over twenty different wild flowers bloom in our yard at various times of the year; at least six types of grass; a baker's dozen types of ferns; lilies, lilacs, goldenrod and on and on. All in just half an acre!
Now do you see why I love to let things just be, for the most part? Another season is upon us; old friends have begun to bloom, and new friends will surely surprise us!
Monday, April 19, 2010
Outdoor Work
Sitting at my netbook around noon, I looked outside and felt it was too nice of a day to be sitting in the couch; again. Computer work is rewarding and pays great, but there just are not a lot of perfect spring days in Iowa. So, I made a decision, designed plan and set the wheels in motion. I was headed outside.
First, I needed lunch. I didn't feel like making anything so I headed to McDonald's for a small picnic meal. Ten minutes later, I grabbed my netbook and the tv tray it sits on and took it out to the patio. Another trip inside for a folding chair, hooking up the iPod to the stereo, and opening a couple windows.
As I sat down for my working lunch, I tested my internet connection and continued on my way. Great music flowing out the window, warm sun on my feet, revamping of a program, birds and squirrels rummaging through the unmulched leaves and the neighbor's cat carrying a dead baby rabbit through my yard.
Sitting there, feeling so free, I wondered if it could be any better than this? Not really.
I worked away for a few hours, even did some remote tech support on my netbook for my dad. It was then that I decided I could really get used to this life style. Being able to do a project of my choosing sitting outside was wonderful.
I just might have to work in making this my lifestyle. Granted, I would be considered a fledgling developer at best, but you gave to start somewhere, right? I don't really seek out clients, mostly because of time constraints; however, what if I really decided to make the time?What if I decided to make a career move? Would it really be possible?
I am not sure, but I think I would be silly to not look in to my options.
First, I needed lunch. I didn't feel like making anything so I headed to McDonald's for a small picnic meal. Ten minutes later, I grabbed my netbook and the tv tray it sits on and took it out to the patio. Another trip inside for a folding chair, hooking up the iPod to the stereo, and opening a couple windows.
As I sat down for my working lunch, I tested my internet connection and continued on my way. Great music flowing out the window, warm sun on my feet, revamping of a program, birds and squirrels rummaging through the unmulched leaves and the neighbor's cat carrying a dead baby rabbit through my yard.
Sitting there, feeling so free, I wondered if it could be any better than this? Not really.
I worked away for a few hours, even did some remote tech support on my netbook for my dad. It was then that I decided I could really get used to this life style. Being able to do a project of my choosing sitting outside was wonderful.
I just might have to work in making this my lifestyle. Granted, I would be considered a fledgling developer at best, but you gave to start somewhere, right? I don't really seek out clients, mostly because of time constraints; however, what if I really decided to make the time?What if I decided to make a career move? Would it really be possible?
I am not sure, but I think I would be silly to not look in to my options.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
I'm Tired... GET OVER IT!
I'm tired today. I have been tired all day; not really sure why, but it did result in a thirty minute nap that actually lasted ninety. Does it matter that I slept away an "extra" hour? Nope, not really, but I did have a lot if computer work to get done today, which ended up giving way to lunch with dad, physical therapy and the aforementioned nap. And this evening has not been challenging by any means; tech support on the wife's laptop; scan here, defrag there. Nothing much at all, but it almost led to a 10pm nap.
Why am I rambling on about being tired? Good question, but I do have an answer of sorts, I guess. Rambling... or is babbling more accurate?
Anyway, my tiredness has left me feeling as though I don't have it in me to write much of anything tonight. No thoughts or ideas? Not really. Reflecting on the day that has passed I realized my state of mindfulness carried over from yesterday and I heard, saw and smelled a lot of good fodder for my imagination: the odd group in the physical therapy waiting area discussing the down payment on a new trailer coming from his mom's disability settlement; the fragrance from the flowering trees in bloom; the obese girls ahead of us at lunch, and the comfort my bed offered during a wonderful nap. A lot of things, good things happening around me.
As the evening wears on, I sit here struggling to motivate my self to write when it hits me: if I want to be a writer of any kind, I have to write even when I am tired! It will take a little more effort to focus, more effort to keep ideas flowing, just more effort; period.
Ug. Needless to say I felt instantly motivated to be better, to do more, to be a writer even though this entry sucks. Regardless, here I am, sharing yet another experience along the way. And with every few words that hit the page, it feels easier, smoother, even though this is not a great post. It feels good to know I can write even when I don't feel as though I can.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...
Why am I rambling on about being tired? Good question, but I do have an answer of sorts, I guess. Rambling... or is babbling more accurate?
Anyway, my tiredness has left me feeling as though I don't have it in me to write much of anything tonight. No thoughts or ideas? Not really. Reflecting on the day that has passed I realized my state of mindfulness carried over from yesterday and I heard, saw and smelled a lot of good fodder for my imagination: the odd group in the physical therapy waiting area discussing the down payment on a new trailer coming from his mom's disability settlement; the fragrance from the flowering trees in bloom; the obese girls ahead of us at lunch, and the comfort my bed offered during a wonderful nap. A lot of things, good things happening around me.
As the evening wears on, I sit here struggling to motivate my self to write when it hits me: if I want to be a writer of any kind, I have to write even when I am tired! It will take a little more effort to focus, more effort to keep ideas flowing, just more effort; period.
Ug. Needless to say I felt instantly motivated to be better, to do more, to be a writer even though this entry sucks. Regardless, here I am, sharing yet another experience along the way. And with every few words that hit the page, it feels easier, smoother, even though this is not a great post. It feels good to know I can write even when I don't feel as though I can.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming...
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Afternoon of Mindfulness
I set out this afternoon to allow myself the guilty pleasure of going for a walk around my little village of West Branch out on the old rail line now a nature trail known as the Herbert Hoover Nature Trail.
With a copy of 'The Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain' in hand and my nifty new journal in my pocket, I set forth hoping to find a spot or two to read, and, maybe, even write. No iPod made this journey, believe it or not, but I was resolute to disconnect.
I have been making a more concerted effort to spend time hand writing entries, if even only journal entries. Well, not 'if even only journal' entries; all writing us good. This I would further understand as the day developed.
I walked north on the old rail line and enjoying the shift from all human noise giving way to the rustling trees, the singing frogs, the various bird songs. The breeze became a light wind as I moved our of town; glad it was at my back.
I approached the first bridge and stopped. The gurgling stream was soothing, building upon the relaxed state developing. I looked back towards town and the spot where I watched a ground hog slink back into his burrow. Glad I was being mindful.
I continued north and strolled more than walked. The sun was strong, but I didn't care; it had been some time. The path before me was empty, budding trees and popping undergrowth lined the way. Being so early in spring there were very few tiny flying insects; perfect for reading.
I reached the second bridge and decided to sit and read a little. I only made it through a couple stories before I felt moved to stand at write in my journal at the bridge. As my thoughts focused as I wrote, I became more relaxed and more aware of my surroundings. I stopped writing, put my journal back in my pocket and let myself enjoy the scenery; the babble of the creek, the swooping birds, the swishing of the wind flowing through the brush, the fresh smell of spring.
In the mud some ten yards in front of me I noticed tracks; good sized, probably deer. They came from the wooded area to the west, in front of me and turned back towards the woods. Several trees had fallen over the winter, over the creek. They didn't disrupt the flow of the creek, however. It didn't matter, everything was as it should be: it simply was.
I am not sure how long this lasted, but I felt nothing, or perhaps everything. I had been here before, this state of mind; this existence - serenity, peace, perhaps even nirvana. And then, it began to fade; I began to disconnect from it all, but not completely. I had a warm glow in my head, my heart. I was at peace.
I turned and began to walk back towards town. My fair skin was feeling the afternoon sun and it was probably best I head back. But that was ok, it was as it should be; I was as I should be. Nothing is more amazing than the very present, the very moment.
I wish I could maintain this state of mind, consciousness more often, longer periods of time. However, I understand it is an on going practice, and I am but a novice student.
With a copy of 'The Complete Short Stories of Mark Twain' in hand and my nifty new journal in my pocket, I set forth hoping to find a spot or two to read, and, maybe, even write. No iPod made this journey, believe it or not, but I was resolute to disconnect.
I have been making a more concerted effort to spend time hand writing entries, if even only journal entries. Well, not 'if even only journal' entries; all writing us good. This I would further understand as the day developed.
I walked north on the old rail line and enjoying the shift from all human noise giving way to the rustling trees, the singing frogs, the various bird songs. The breeze became a light wind as I moved our of town; glad it was at my back.
I approached the first bridge and stopped. The gurgling stream was soothing, building upon the relaxed state developing. I looked back towards town and the spot where I watched a ground hog slink back into his burrow. Glad I was being mindful.
I continued north and strolled more than walked. The sun was strong, but I didn't care; it had been some time. The path before me was empty, budding trees and popping undergrowth lined the way. Being so early in spring there were very few tiny flying insects; perfect for reading.
I reached the second bridge and decided to sit and read a little. I only made it through a couple stories before I felt moved to stand at write in my journal at the bridge. As my thoughts focused as I wrote, I became more relaxed and more aware of my surroundings. I stopped writing, put my journal back in my pocket and let myself enjoy the scenery; the babble of the creek, the swooping birds, the swishing of the wind flowing through the brush, the fresh smell of spring.
In the mud some ten yards in front of me I noticed tracks; good sized, probably deer. They came from the wooded area to the west, in front of me and turned back towards the woods. Several trees had fallen over the winter, over the creek. They didn't disrupt the flow of the creek, however. It didn't matter, everything was as it should be: it simply was.
I am not sure how long this lasted, but I felt nothing, or perhaps everything. I had been here before, this state of mind; this existence - serenity, peace, perhaps even nirvana. And then, it began to fade; I began to disconnect from it all, but not completely. I had a warm glow in my head, my heart. I was at peace.
I turned and began to walk back towards town. My fair skin was feeling the afternoon sun and it was probably best I head back. But that was ok, it was as it should be; I was as I should be. Nothing is more amazing than the very present, the very moment.
I wish I could maintain this state of mind, consciousness more often, longer periods of time. However, I understand it is an on going practice, and I am but a novice student.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
The Buddha on PBS
I watched 'The Buddha' again on the PBS website and think I would love it if most everyone I knew would be willing to watch it at least once. But, I am by most opinions a heathen, sinner and have even been called a Satan worshiper by my Christian friends and family since my renouncement of Christianity.
I would be tainting their minds with such drivel as asking them to even try to understand what the Buddha taught five hundred years prior to the alleged incarnation of Christ in the form of Jesus. But that's okay. I do not feel I have to defend my ideas; ideas based on research and thrice as much introspection. I have done graduate work in Religious Studies as I love the interconnectedness of the human experience as manifested by the diverse and timeless traditions that have and still exist amount humanity.
I have studied the dharma, the teachings of Buddha for many years. In my initial learning, I realized how much it made sense to me more than my Catholic up bringing ever did, could. It falls in line with my own personal philosophies, beliefs in that people must be and ultimately are responsible for themselves. Plain and simple. I find it hard in life to label myself as anything other than a freethinker as I feel such labels lead to a closed mind, limited perspective and diminishes compassion.
I have read the scriptures of the new testament many times, and one thing I find consistent is my feeling, sensation as I read about the experiences of Jesus is how Buddhist his thoughts are. There are eighteen years unaccounted for in the life of Jesus. That's plenty of time for Jesus to travel to the east and learn the ways of the Buddha. I have held this conviction since the biography I wrote in third grade on Buddha. Yes, third grade. How I even knew about Siddhartha Gautama as a baptized Catholic child is still under scrutiny!
At any rate, I know many who read this will think this a flippant remark, but I assure you I have spent the better part of the past twenty years seeking answers. I look to the human experience for understanding, and religious experience is the most abundant source of understanding the psychology behind the human experience.
I have never felt more at peace than when I spend time reading and reflecting on Buddhist writings. It all makes perfect sense to me, yet I find it incredibly hard to maintain that peaceful mindset! As it should be. Life is the practice of the dharma; the capture is in the pursuit.
I would be tainting their minds with such drivel as asking them to even try to understand what the Buddha taught five hundred years prior to the alleged incarnation of Christ in the form of Jesus. But that's okay. I do not feel I have to defend my ideas; ideas based on research and thrice as much introspection. I have done graduate work in Religious Studies as I love the interconnectedness of the human experience as manifested by the diverse and timeless traditions that have and still exist amount humanity.
I have studied the dharma, the teachings of Buddha for many years. In my initial learning, I realized how much it made sense to me more than my Catholic up bringing ever did, could. It falls in line with my own personal philosophies, beliefs in that people must be and ultimately are responsible for themselves. Plain and simple. I find it hard in life to label myself as anything other than a freethinker as I feel such labels lead to a closed mind, limited perspective and diminishes compassion.
I have read the scriptures of the new testament many times, and one thing I find consistent is my feeling, sensation as I read about the experiences of Jesus is how Buddhist his thoughts are. There are eighteen years unaccounted for in the life of Jesus. That's plenty of time for Jesus to travel to the east and learn the ways of the Buddha. I have held this conviction since the biography I wrote in third grade on Buddha. Yes, third grade. How I even knew about Siddhartha Gautama as a baptized Catholic child is still under scrutiny!
At any rate, I know many who read this will think this a flippant remark, but I assure you I have spent the better part of the past twenty years seeking answers. I look to the human experience for understanding, and religious experience is the most abundant source of understanding the psychology behind the human experience.
I have never felt more at peace than when I spend time reading and reflecting on Buddhist writings. It all makes perfect sense to me, yet I find it incredibly hard to maintain that peaceful mindset! As it should be. Life is the practice of the dharma; the capture is in the pursuit.
Monday, April 12, 2010
My wife: New iPod Touch Owner
After my jubilation over the iPad, my wife decided it was her turn to get a new toy. I wasn't going to argue since I got my netbook not too long ago. As we talked about her choices on the market, she knew she wanted something that could fit in her pocket, something she could take notes on, play music and carry photos. What else but the great iPod Touch would fit that description? Nothing. But, I wanted her to make an informed decision, and felt that could only happen after she played with an iPad.
We made our way to Best Buy and quickly we made our way to the iPad. Immediately she stated it was too big and she turned in hunt for the iPods. Ignoring my direction she sought out a staff member and was promptly directed to the location which I had tried to guide her. Nothing new; I am apparently easy to ignore.
Once there, she quickly surmised that she would need nothing bigger than 8GB. Perfect. $199 it was for the 3G, and we were out of there. My wife, the focused shopper, in and out in ten minutes.
We got home, downloaded iTunes and got her playing immediately. Now, I discovered that my iPod Touch is indeed a 1st gen so I was curious as to what the differences were between the two. External volume control, ability to play audio on the internal speaker and twice as much RAM. Also, the bodies are also different. The 3G is a touch slimmer and feels better in your hand. While this may not seem like a lot if difference, I assure you it had me itching for an upgrade.
At any rate, it is safe to say my wife isn't nearly as excited as I to have the new iPod around, but I think she likes it more than she will let on. I awoke yesterday to an email from her and I noticed the signature stated it was sent from an iPhone! She had been messing around with her new toy and figured out how to setup an email account! Good things. Still, she tells me she is not completely sold.
While I don't think she fully grasps what she will be able to use it for, she is on her way. I am trying not to overload her or push her, but it is nice to have something in common as simple as an iPod Touch to give us something new to discuss. Plus, it gives her a bit of insight in to my tech life a little, and it feels good she is a little curious as to what I do.
We made our way to Best Buy and quickly we made our way to the iPad. Immediately she stated it was too big and she turned in hunt for the iPods. Ignoring my direction she sought out a staff member and was promptly directed to the location which I had tried to guide her. Nothing new; I am apparently easy to ignore.
Once there, she quickly surmised that she would need nothing bigger than 8GB. Perfect. $199 it was for the 3G, and we were out of there. My wife, the focused shopper, in and out in ten minutes.
We got home, downloaded iTunes and got her playing immediately. Now, I discovered that my iPod Touch is indeed a 1st gen so I was curious as to what the differences were between the two. External volume control, ability to play audio on the internal speaker and twice as much RAM. Also, the bodies are also different. The 3G is a touch slimmer and feels better in your hand. While this may not seem like a lot if difference, I assure you it had me itching for an upgrade.
At any rate, it is safe to say my wife isn't nearly as excited as I to have the new iPod around, but I think she likes it more than she will let on. I awoke yesterday to an email from her and I noticed the signature stated it was sent from an iPhone! She had been messing around with her new toy and figured out how to setup an email account! Good things. Still, she tells me she is not completely sold.
While I don't think she fully grasps what she will be able to use it for, she is on her way. I am trying not to overload her or push her, but it is nice to have something in common as simple as an iPod Touch to give us something new to discuss. Plus, it gives her a bit of insight in to my tech life a little, and it feels good she is a little curious as to what I do.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Day Two...
I find it peculiar that I don't know what to write as I sit here with my fancy new journal, pen hovering. Yet I have no problem picking up my iPod Touch and type away.
Why is this? I am not sure, so I decided to do a little introspection, see what pops up when I grab my journal.
The most noticeable feeling is similar to the resistance I feel when I just want to sketch/doodle in my sketchbook: as though it is a waste of paper and/or time. I have it in my, head for some reason, that if I am going use up this paper, this tree, it better be worth it in the end.
However, when others draw or write, I don't have this feeling. I don't worry they are 'destroying' a tree, that their work will not be worth the 'defacement'. I rather enjoy the results others produce from their efforts. I don't scream from the mountain top about the environment, conservation of resources or wasting if time. Only in my head, only to me.
I understand that art in any form is a process; a process that takes patience, diligence and lots of practice. There will be periods of steps forward, and steps backward, and periods of no movement what so ever.
So what exactly is my resistance? I am not totally sure, however, I believe it all comes back to not having enough faith in my own skills, thinking that I am just wasting my time, the time of others or any valuable resources. Also, I need to remind myself that a lot of paper is either made from something other than trees or from recycled materials.
I realize I need to allow myself the same liberties and rights I permit others to grow and develop. I am not wasting anything, but fine tuning, practicing, learning how to become better at writing. While I can intellectually understand what I am doing to myself, it isn't so easy to take that step forward quite yet.
Why is this? I am not sure, so I decided to do a little introspection, see what pops up when I grab my journal.
The most noticeable feeling is similar to the resistance I feel when I just want to sketch/doodle in my sketchbook: as though it is a waste of paper and/or time. I have it in my, head for some reason, that if I am going use up this paper, this tree, it better be worth it in the end.
However, when others draw or write, I don't have this feeling. I don't worry they are 'destroying' a tree, that their work will not be worth the 'defacement'. I rather enjoy the results others produce from their efforts. I don't scream from the mountain top about the environment, conservation of resources or wasting if time. Only in my head, only to me.
I understand that art in any form is a process; a process that takes patience, diligence and lots of practice. There will be periods of steps forward, and steps backward, and periods of no movement what so ever.
So what exactly is my resistance? I am not totally sure, however, I believe it all comes back to not having enough faith in my own skills, thinking that I am just wasting my time, the time of others or any valuable resources. Also, I need to remind myself that a lot of paper is either made from something other than trees or from recycled materials.
I realize I need to allow myself the same liberties and rights I permit others to grow and develop. I am not wasting anything, but fine tuning, practicing, learning how to become better at writing. While I can intellectually understand what I am doing to myself, it isn't so easy to take that step forward quite yet.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
New Leather Notebook
This afternoon I had some time to kill as my wife decided to go to the gym once we arrived in town. Yes, you read that right, my wife went to the gym; I don't do gyms.
Anyway, I walked the half mile or so to the Office Depot to mill around. I love to play with all the toys, electronic toys, to keep myself current on the latest models and technology on the market.
Today, I just wasn't feeling it so much. After playing around with a touchscreen PC for about twenty minutes, I realized there wasn't anything all that new. And no iPad.
I decided to look over their journals to see if they had anything sized either 4x6 or 5x7, and refillable. My wife and I had found a really cool 4x6 leather refillable journal at Barnes & Noble's, but they had no actual refills. Boo.
As I walked down the isle of day planners and calendars towards the journals, I was not optimistic as we had been keeping an eye out for the aforementioned ideal journal several months.
Needless to say I was pleasantly surprised today. I found a 5x7 tan Faux Leather journal sitting next to... actual refills for that exact journal! I almost danced a little jig as I snagged a journal and a refill. The fills are 256 55 lbs. ruled ivory pages with a ribbon marker! Absolutely wonderful find!
So, why am I so excited about a paper journal as I am typing on my fancy iPod Touch? (We all know I live this thing and not only for the ease of getting writing done and posted with the stroke of my mighty left thumb.) Anyone reading this who writes knows there is something ethereal about putting your pen to paper. It is a much more personal connection to your work; more intimate.
I know I write with more emotion on paper, at least. There are many journal entries I have tucked away that I will probably never share with anyone; they're just too personal. Regardless if I ever decide to completely bare my soul, those writings have allowed for opening myself to writing other things, exploring negative emotions, feelings, understanding different perspectives, and little by little help me continue to cultivate compassion.
Ultimately, though, it makes me feel more like a writer; an artist. I feel empowered, full of endless possibilities; each blank page holding the potential to capture in words the images, feelings in my head. The journal gives me the same feeling that my sketchbook generates, and that is a feeling that touches something very deep inside of me and produces only what I can describe as bliss.
Anyway, I walked the half mile or so to the Office Depot to mill around. I love to play with all the toys, electronic toys, to keep myself current on the latest models and technology on the market.
Today, I just wasn't feeling it so much. After playing around with a touchscreen PC for about twenty minutes, I realized there wasn't anything all that new. And no iPad.
I decided to look over their journals to see if they had anything sized either 4x6 or 5x7, and refillable. My wife and I had found a really cool 4x6 leather refillable journal at Barnes & Noble's, but they had no actual refills. Boo.
As I walked down the isle of day planners and calendars towards the journals, I was not optimistic as we had been keeping an eye out for the aforementioned ideal journal several months.
Needless to say I was pleasantly surprised today. I found a 5x7 tan Faux Leather journal sitting next to... actual refills for that exact journal! I almost danced a little jig as I snagged a journal and a refill. The fills are 256 55 lbs. ruled ivory pages with a ribbon marker! Absolutely wonderful find!
So, why am I so excited about a paper journal as I am typing on my fancy iPod Touch? (We all know I live this thing and not only for the ease of getting writing done and posted with the stroke of my mighty left thumb.) Anyone reading this who writes knows there is something ethereal about putting your pen to paper. It is a much more personal connection to your work; more intimate.
I know I write with more emotion on paper, at least. There are many journal entries I have tucked away that I will probably never share with anyone; they're just too personal. Regardless if I ever decide to completely bare my soul, those writings have allowed for opening myself to writing other things, exploring negative emotions, feelings, understanding different perspectives, and little by little help me continue to cultivate compassion.
Ultimately, though, it makes me feel more like a writer; an artist. I feel empowered, full of endless possibilities; each blank page holding the potential to capture in words the images, feelings in my head. The journal gives me the same feeling that my sketchbook generates, and that is a feeling that touches something very deep inside of me and produces only what I can describe as bliss.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
iPad
So, I stopped in to Best Buy on my way to Target this afternoon to see if I could get my hands on the new iPad and play a little. I was pleasantly surprised to find Best Buy had four demo models laid out on the Apple table.
Time to answer the big question if was still an 'if' I'll get one?
As a great lover of my iPod Touch, I knew I was going to like the iPad, but I wasn't expecting to like it so much. It was lighter and thinner than I expected, and the picture quality was incredible. Since the OS is based on the OS for the iPhone & Touch, I was quickly flipping through various settings.
Once the initial awe faded a bit, I wondered if it would be something I would actually use, verses my perception of the iPad being just a larger iPhone.
I turned to the Notes app as I used to use that to write blog entries. (It looks like a tiny legal pad) In portrait mode it was identical to the iPhone, but so much better larger. The keyboard is decent, definitely easier to type on the the Touch! I then turned the iPad to landscape mode and loved how part of the left hand of the screen turns into a list of notes while the remainder of the screen was the note pad. Very slick. I didn't test the keyboard with two hands pending recovery, but it seemed just a touch smaller than my netbook keyboard; I'll adapt!
I was so excited I decided to login to my webmail and send my non-loving tech wife an email. Popped open Safari, type in my URL, login in to webmail. Ready.
Everything was working great until I tried to type the body of the message. If I could even get in the body area it wanted to type all capital letters, but I couldn't backspace/delete text either. I was kind of annoyed.
Granted, I wouldn't need to use webmail if I owned the iPad, but I still felt that has the potential to cause problems with other sites I frequent. Sometimes I have to login to a server and use a similar interface to fix minor emergencies, so that could be a problem. More testing needed...
Now the awe was fading more. Not deterred, I decided to open the Weather Channel app hoping for a bigger interface. Nope. It was the version in my pocket, and the app only filled as much of the screen as the size of an iPhone. 2x? Sure, but that causes image distortion. Another bummer, but not all that big a deal.
I then turned to Books app. That was cool. Granted there was only a few sample books with a few same pages, but the interface was crisp, the pages flipped nice with a slight swipe of the finger and it looked good in either portrait or landscape.
I will write more about the iPad over the next week or two as I am sure to go play with it several more times! Heck, I haven't even played a game on it yet!
There was one little odd thing I will mention last. I noticed is that when I typed ipad in to the iPad, it automatically changed the p to a capital; obviously this iPod Touch has a dictionary update coming... Hopefully with multitasking.
How exciting. Overall I am pretty sure the iPad went from a 'if' I'll get one to 'when'. I look forward to its evolution over the next year or so, but until then, I'll just have to make do with the mini version in my hand for now!
Or will I...
Time to answer the big question if was still an 'if' I'll get one?
As a great lover of my iPod Touch, I knew I was going to like the iPad, but I wasn't expecting to like it so much. It was lighter and thinner than I expected, and the picture quality was incredible. Since the OS is based on the OS for the iPhone & Touch, I was quickly flipping through various settings.
Once the initial awe faded a bit, I wondered if it would be something I would actually use, verses my perception of the iPad being just a larger iPhone.
I turned to the Notes app as I used to use that to write blog entries. (It looks like a tiny legal pad) In portrait mode it was identical to the iPhone, but so much better larger. The keyboard is decent, definitely easier to type on the the Touch! I then turned the iPad to landscape mode and loved how part of the left hand of the screen turns into a list of notes while the remainder of the screen was the note pad. Very slick. I didn't test the keyboard with two hands pending recovery, but it seemed just a touch smaller than my netbook keyboard; I'll adapt!
I was so excited I decided to login to my webmail and send my non-loving tech wife an email. Popped open Safari, type in my URL, login in to webmail. Ready.
Everything was working great until I tried to type the body of the message. If I could even get in the body area it wanted to type all capital letters, but I couldn't backspace/delete text either. I was kind of annoyed.
Granted, I wouldn't need to use webmail if I owned the iPad, but I still felt that has the potential to cause problems with other sites I frequent. Sometimes I have to login to a server and use a similar interface to fix minor emergencies, so that could be a problem. More testing needed...
Now the awe was fading more. Not deterred, I decided to open the Weather Channel app hoping for a bigger interface. Nope. It was the version in my pocket, and the app only filled as much of the screen as the size of an iPhone. 2x? Sure, but that causes image distortion. Another bummer, but not all that big a deal.
I then turned to Books app. That was cool. Granted there was only a few sample books with a few same pages, but the interface was crisp, the pages flipped nice with a slight swipe of the finger and it looked good in either portrait or landscape.
I will write more about the iPad over the next week or two as I am sure to go play with it several more times! Heck, I haven't even played a game on it yet!
There was one little odd thing I will mention last. I noticed is that when I typed ipad in to the iPad, it automatically changed the p to a capital; obviously this iPod Touch has a dictionary update coming... Hopefully with multitasking.
How exciting. Overall I am pretty sure the iPad went from a 'if' I'll get one to 'when'. I look forward to its evolution over the next year or so, but until then, I'll just have to make do with the mini version in my hand for now!
Or will I...
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Wal-Mart
In a momentary lapse in judgment, my wife and I decided to head into town to pick up a few health & beauty aid items from Wal-Mart on a warm spring Saturday afternoon.
Normally, we hit Walter Mart later in the evening, if not in the middle of the night, to avoid the chaotic mess of people milling around the store with their great demeanor and well behaved offspring.
I get it. Wal-Mart has the disposable products I need at the best price. That is a given. And seeing these lower income packs so highly represented on Wal-Mart makes perfect sense. Walter saw a need and filled it.
But does the majority of the Wal-Mart clientele have to be so rude and inconsiderate of other people? They walk in front of you, stop in front of you, try to run you over; basically they act as though they own the store and you are causing an inconvenience by your mere existence.
Just because Wal-Mart allows anyone to feel as though they are better off financially than most (or more than they truly are) and can actually buy the "necessities" of life in bulk or at massive discount, doesn't mean they can treat others just like them with such disdain.
Yet, why am I surprised? We live in the Great Society of "It's all about me. All shall treat me accordingly, bitches". The Great Society that has created a social fame out of materialistic greed. He who dies with the most toys, wins, right? For the most part.
Regardless, I can't act as such. I say excuse me and thank you, pardon and please. I try to be considerate of others around me, strangers or not. Is it really that hard?
Apparently.
Kind of a pissy post, huh? Interesting...
Normally, we hit Walter Mart later in the evening, if not in the middle of the night, to avoid the chaotic mess of people milling around the store with their great demeanor and well behaved offspring.
I get it. Wal-Mart has the disposable products I need at the best price. That is a given. And seeing these lower income packs so highly represented on Wal-Mart makes perfect sense. Walter saw a need and filled it.
But does the majority of the Wal-Mart clientele have to be so rude and inconsiderate of other people? They walk in front of you, stop in front of you, try to run you over; basically they act as though they own the store and you are causing an inconvenience by your mere existence.
Just because Wal-Mart allows anyone to feel as though they are better off financially than most (or more than they truly are) and can actually buy the "necessities" of life in bulk or at massive discount, doesn't mean they can treat others just like them with such disdain.
Yet, why am I surprised? We live in the Great Society of "It's all about me. All shall treat me accordingly, bitches". The Great Society that has created a social fame out of materialistic greed. He who dies with the most toys, wins, right? For the most part.
Regardless, I can't act as such. I say excuse me and thank you, pardon and please. I try to be considerate of others around me, strangers or not. Is it really that hard?
Apparently.
Kind of a pissy post, huh? Interesting...
Friday, April 2, 2010
Friday, Friday
Here we are on the eve of the first weekend of April already. Why does time seem to go so much more quickly with each passing year? Why is is that when we were younger, school drug along and summer seemed never ending? How, why, rather, does time become so fleeting?
I think most people would be inclined to believe this perception comes about due to the modern hectic lifestyle. Our lives become more and more busy as we form our families, steady our careers, pay bills, baseball practice, piano lessons, golf, mowing the lawn, shoveling the drive, holidays - and then we try to find time for ourselves!
It sure is hard to argue with that perception, but I find that I live my life near forty years of age more like my life merely twenty years ago! I am relatively carefree, adamant about private time write, draw, read, paint or just think. But, time has taught me a few things, bits of wisdom. I definitely have prioritizing my responsibilities: I hold down a shitty full time job with killer benefits to pay the bills and take care of me and my wife, as well as freelance computer programming for "extra" income!
Other bits of wisdom has taught me to make the most of whatever I am doing.
Wow. As I am typing this I realize how much I am doing a day even though it feels as though I am relaxing and just enjoying the environment around me! I guess I am really busy, but it sure doesn't feel like work. And that's not a bad thing, right?
Maybe this realization should be a wake up call for me and drive me to figure out how to make a living doing that which I love to do: write!
Any suggestions?
I think most people would be inclined to believe this perception comes about due to the modern hectic lifestyle. Our lives become more and more busy as we form our families, steady our careers, pay bills, baseball practice, piano lessons, golf, mowing the lawn, shoveling the drive, holidays - and then we try to find time for ourselves!
It sure is hard to argue with that perception, but I find that I live my life near forty years of age more like my life merely twenty years ago! I am relatively carefree, adamant about private time write, draw, read, paint or just think. But, time has taught me a few things, bits of wisdom. I definitely have prioritizing my responsibilities: I hold down a shitty full time job with killer benefits to pay the bills and take care of me and my wife, as well as freelance computer programming for "extra" income!
Other bits of wisdom has taught me to make the most of whatever I am doing.
- When I am frustrated with my job, I turn it in to a opportunity to study human behavior; externally and internally.
- When driving, the radio is off and I usually let ideas become a verbal exercise.
- If I am standing in line, I watch how people stand, walk, talk and move in general.
- Also pay enough attention to the people who talk as though others don't exist. Try it sometime and you may end up with an opening line to a new scene or chapter!
Wow. As I am typing this I realize how much I am doing a day even though it feels as though I am relaxing and just enjoying the environment around me! I guess I am really busy, but it sure doesn't feel like work. And that's not a bad thing, right?
Maybe this realization should be a wake up call for me and drive me to figure out how to make a living doing that which I love to do: write!
Any suggestions?
Thursday, April 1, 2010
iPod Touch Case
As you know from previous posts, I love my iPod Touch. I take it everywhere and without doubt would not know what to do with myself if it was lost or damaged. A protective case was an absolute much when I first bought this wonderful machine.
The first two cases I have had were fancy leather with flip open covers. Extra protection for the screen: check.
However, being off these past several weeks recovering, I became frustrated by the interference my case caused when typing. It came up and over the front enough that my thumb couldn't always hit the p, q, 1, 0, " and - buttons. Taking the Touch out of the case helped with reaching buttons, but having only the one hand (and thumb) the device is too slippery! Oh the drama, right?
So, I decided to try a case that was more of a shell or wrap, as the kids call them. Off to Best Buy we went in search of a new case, as I call them. I didn't care if there was a front cover as I wanted something that would let me type more than anything!
The wife and I tried seven (that's 7) different cases/shells/wraps and none of them fit right. And yes, we only tried the cases specified for the iPod Touch! They either were fairly loose, too big or so tight you couldn't even get them on the device! I was not adamant on a price range or brand, so we included an expensive and a cheap/clearance case. Still, we were denied.
Crap, I knew I'd just have to wait.
Today, the wait ended. A whole five grueling days.
I was meeting the wife for dinner and had some time to kill so I stopped in to the local Staples. I decided to see if they had any brands we hadn't tried at Best Buy. I grabbed the first case (XtremeMac's Tuffwrap) and what do you know. It fit, nice and snug!
After I placed the case on my Touch I left it on as I continued to browse to get a feel for the case. Let's just say I walked out of Staples like I often do the shoe store: an old case in the box and the new case on the device.
And as I type this entry I am amazed at the better grip, ease and Increased typing speed. At $25, I was a little hesitant, but not any more! It was well worth the money.
The first two cases I have had were fancy leather with flip open covers. Extra protection for the screen: check.
However, being off these past several weeks recovering, I became frustrated by the interference my case caused when typing. It came up and over the front enough that my thumb couldn't always hit the p, q, 1, 0, " and - buttons. Taking the Touch out of the case helped with reaching buttons, but having only the one hand (and thumb) the device is too slippery! Oh the drama, right?
So, I decided to try a case that was more of a shell or wrap, as the kids call them. Off to Best Buy we went in search of a new case, as I call them. I didn't care if there was a front cover as I wanted something that would let me type more than anything!
The wife and I tried seven (that's 7) different cases/shells/wraps and none of them fit right. And yes, we only tried the cases specified for the iPod Touch! They either were fairly loose, too big or so tight you couldn't even get them on the device! I was not adamant on a price range or brand, so we included an expensive and a cheap/clearance case. Still, we were denied.
Crap, I knew I'd just have to wait.
Today, the wait ended. A whole five grueling days.
I was meeting the wife for dinner and had some time to kill so I stopped in to the local Staples. I decided to see if they had any brands we hadn't tried at Best Buy. I grabbed the first case (XtremeMac's Tuffwrap) and what do you know. It fit, nice and snug!
After I placed the case on my Touch I left it on as I continued to browse to get a feel for the case. Let's just say I walked out of Staples like I often do the shoe store: an old case in the box and the new case on the device.
And as I type this entry I am amazed at the better grip, ease and Increased typing speed. At $25, I was a little hesitant, but not any more! It was well worth the money.
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