As one of the very few urbanites left on this planet without a cell phone, I can honestly say, I heart being unplugged and unavailable.
Of course, I can still be dialed-up the old fashioned way via land line--suits me just fine.
By not using a cell phone, I'm not only saving money, I may be doing myself a health favor, avoiding the very real risk of stimulating cancer cells.
Keys, glasses, water.
That's all I need when I walk out the door. At the rate I misplace my glasses, I really can't afford one more thing to keep track of or lose.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
No Coincidence
OK, I'll admit: I am a big dreamer!
Not just a daydreamer but particularly, while I sleep. I usually can't remember many details but I try anyway. Never sure where I am or what I'm doing there, one thing is recurrent. I am traveling, solo.
What a perfect metaphor for life since we're all temporary visitors on this plane we call Earth. No one can walk in your shoes with your purpose or your gait.
We all walk alone.
Is it coincidence that I live in the state whose slogan boasts: "We love dreamers"?
Nah! There are no coincidences!
Not just a daydreamer but particularly, while I sleep. I usually can't remember many details but I try anyway. Never sure where I am or what I'm doing there, one thing is recurrent. I am traveling, solo.
What a perfect metaphor for life since we're all temporary visitors on this plane we call Earth. No one can walk in your shoes with your purpose or your gait.
We all walk alone.
Is it coincidence that I live in the state whose slogan boasts: "We love dreamers"?
Nah! There are no coincidences!
Monday, August 4, 2008
Music Therapy
Today is a sad anniversary. Four years ago my Papa, dear patriarch of our family, passed away...after, gratefully, only a short struggle.
Sad also because I missed seeing him alive by mere hours, although my siblings assure me I was fortunate not to be there. His audible suffering the night before and refusal of any more morphine, was a sure sign the end was near.
On the flight back to Michigan, I knew Dad was already gone. I needed the truth; it was my oldest brother who called to tell me, "Yes, dad just died..."
I flew with the heaviest heart, trying to hold back tears, glad to have my mate's shoulder to cry on.
It's only been four years, but it feels like forty!
Maybe all these mixed emotions are what compelled me to find and listen to Neil Young's "Old Man" today.
Oddly comforting but taking it wherever I can get it.
Sad also because I missed seeing him alive by mere hours, although my siblings assure me I was fortunate not to be there. His audible suffering the night before and refusal of any more morphine, was a sure sign the end was near.
On the flight back to Michigan, I knew Dad was already gone. I needed the truth; it was my oldest brother who called to tell me, "Yes, dad just died..."
I flew with the heaviest heart, trying to hold back tears, glad to have my mate's shoulder to cry on.
It's only been four years, but it feels like forty!
Maybe all these mixed emotions are what compelled me to find and listen to Neil Young's "Old Man" today.
Oddly comforting but taking it wherever I can get it.
Ewwww!
In an effort not to offend foreign visitors, Chinese officials have ordered all food venues to curtail the sale of "prepared dog" on their menus during the Olympics.
Upon reading this report, my immediate response was "Ewwwwww!" but the truth is: had I grown up eating dog meat, I'd probably think nothing of it...just as I do whenever I eat cow, pig or chicken.
Were those animals singled out as acceptable livestock to slaughter and consume in America because, aesthetically-speaking, they're the least attractive? The most plentiful?
I kept waiting for the author to report that dog tastes "just like chicken" but was surprised to read it tastes like lamb. That's some strong meat!
I'm not going to make any wise cracks about tough times in America and missing dogs but I will say this. Despite not being a "dog" person, the very thought of eating man's best friend makes me want to heave...
...proving once again, we are all nothing more than creatures of habit and indoctrination.
Upon reading this report, my immediate response was "Ewwwwww!" but the truth is: had I grown up eating dog meat, I'd probably think nothing of it...just as I do whenever I eat cow, pig or chicken.
Were those animals singled out as acceptable livestock to slaughter and consume in America because, aesthetically-speaking, they're the least attractive? The most plentiful?
I kept waiting for the author to report that dog tastes "just like chicken" but was surprised to read it tastes like lamb. That's some strong meat!
I'm not going to make any wise cracks about tough times in America and missing dogs but I will say this. Despite not being a "dog" person, the very thought of eating man's best friend makes me want to heave...
...proving once again, we are all nothing more than creatures of habit and indoctrination.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Past Lives
Though I'm grateful not to have lived during Victorian times, encumbered by layers of garb and prurient attitudes, I find many of the graces that came out of that era to be very endearing.
Life may not have been easy but it was simpler. Afternoon tea was a time set aside each day to take a break and enjoy one of life's natural beverages.
I have an affinity for vintage things.
When it comes to music, I dig classic rock and American standards; retro household items, too, for nostalgia's sake. With an old Raleigh bicycle and an '87 Honda Accord, my love for old things makes me wonder, "Am I an old soul"...
...or just old?
Life may not have been easy but it was simpler. Afternoon tea was a time set aside each day to take a break and enjoy one of life's natural beverages.
I have an affinity for vintage things.
When it comes to music, I dig classic rock and American standards; retro household items, too, for nostalgia's sake. With an old Raleigh bicycle and an '87 Honda Accord, my love for old things makes me wonder, "Am I an old soul"...
...or just old?
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
One Amazing Man
Last night I saw another tribute to Randy Pausch, the charismatic Carnegie Mellon professor who died recently from pancreatic cancer. Diane Sawyer interviewed the family a few times to document his last months and activities.
Pausch's thoughtful book, 'The Last Lecture' was originally written for his children but became an instant best-seller because of its authentic message about living a righteous life.
Randy was 39 when he got married because 'he hadn't met anyone whose happiness meant more than his'...until he met Jai who became his wife and life partner. But she proved to be one of his greatest challenges as she was not immediately convinced that he wasn't gay. After all, he had an affinity for stuffed animals and he liked to sew! (Not that there's anything inherently gay about that!)
Terminal illness, be damned!
In the face of impending death, Pausch's optimistic attitude was the best antidote! It was as if he was mocking The Reaper, looking physically fit and carrying on normally.
His first symptoms were a flu-like fatigue but shortly after a series of tests, the tumors surrounding his pancreas, were discovered. He went on to explain that since his bile duct was compromised, the fats he consumed were not being processed which caused his stool to be lightweight and floating. That was his second symptom.
Pancreatic cancer is the most deadly because being behind other organs, the pancreas is hidden. By the time one feels any discomfort, the disease is usually progressed. In that regard, Pausch's illness was textbook.
In 47 years, Randy Pausch lived more life than most of us do given much longer. His inspiration and contributions are exemplary but the greatest trait he possessed was 'joie de vivre'. In his own words, he claimed, 'I don't know how to not have fun!'
When his children were finally told of his sickness, his oldest son said, 'My dad taught me that there's no problem that can't be solved.'
Unfortunately, cancer remains one of the few that defies that statement.
Pausch's thoughtful book, 'The Last Lecture' was originally written for his children but became an instant best-seller because of its authentic message about living a righteous life.
Randy was 39 when he got married because 'he hadn't met anyone whose happiness meant more than his'...until he met Jai who became his wife and life partner. But she proved to be one of his greatest challenges as she was not immediately convinced that he wasn't gay. After all, he had an affinity for stuffed animals and he liked to sew! (Not that there's anything inherently gay about that!)
Terminal illness, be damned!
In the face of impending death, Pausch's optimistic attitude was the best antidote! It was as if he was mocking The Reaper, looking physically fit and carrying on normally.
His first symptoms were a flu-like fatigue but shortly after a series of tests, the tumors surrounding his pancreas, were discovered. He went on to explain that since his bile duct was compromised, the fats he consumed were not being processed which caused his stool to be lightweight and floating. That was his second symptom.
Pancreatic cancer is the most deadly because being behind other organs, the pancreas is hidden. By the time one feels any discomfort, the disease is usually progressed. In that regard, Pausch's illness was textbook.
In 47 years, Randy Pausch lived more life than most of us do given much longer. His inspiration and contributions are exemplary but the greatest trait he possessed was 'joie de vivre'. In his own words, he claimed, 'I don't know how to not have fun!'
When his children were finally told of his sickness, his oldest son said, 'My dad taught me that there's no problem that can't be solved.'
Unfortunately, cancer remains one of the few that defies that statement.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Every picture tells a story
Skin Art. That's what it is, after all.
No longer confined to the epidermis of the young and fitful or drunken sailors, tattoos grace the skin of every age and economic status nowadays.
People who etch their bodies with ink in the name of creativity and self-expression intrigue me. Like passing a car-wreck, I'm compelled to stare at those who decorate their bodies with more than clothing and accessories.
Some tattoos very clearly scream 'look at me!' like the freak, er, I mean, the guy with his whole face inked who struts his stuff in the crowds on Alberta during Last Thursday. He must WANT people to stare, right? So, I oblige!
I always wonder, "what kind of work do they--with loud, visible 'tatts'--do for a living?" 'Ink Face' is probably a tattoo artist advertising his craft, front and center, wherever he goes.
I understand many people get tattoos to mark, quite literally, a special date or to enshrine a moment in time. Most are discreet about body placement for only their intimates to see and enjoy while others...aren't so.
This much I know: the more bodies I see covered in ink, the happier I am to be "tatt-free".
Only marks on this epidermis are beauty--that's au natural, baby!
No longer confined to the epidermis of the young and fitful or drunken sailors, tattoos grace the skin of every age and economic status nowadays.
People who etch their bodies with ink in the name of creativity and self-expression intrigue me. Like passing a car-wreck, I'm compelled to stare at those who decorate their bodies with more than clothing and accessories.
Some tattoos very clearly scream 'look at me!' like the freak, er, I mean, the guy with his whole face inked who struts his stuff in the crowds on Alberta during Last Thursday. He must WANT people to stare, right? So, I oblige!
I always wonder, "what kind of work do they--with loud, visible 'tatts'--do for a living?" 'Ink Face' is probably a tattoo artist advertising his craft, front and center, wherever he goes.
I understand many people get tattoos to mark, quite literally, a special date or to enshrine a moment in time. Most are discreet about body placement for only their intimates to see and enjoy while others...aren't so.
This much I know: the more bodies I see covered in ink, the happier I am to be "tatt-free".
Only marks on this epidermis are beauty--that's au natural, baby!
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