Showdown

After decades of playing silly product placement games and receiving swooning contestant kisses, The Price is Right's Bob Barker is going to retire. This is very sad news as it will change irrevocably my lifelong dream of attending a taping. I'm sure that without Bob things will change. The network will try to jazz it up, modernize it, do something new to attract new viewers. [Does anyone else remember Wheel of Fortune in the Chuck Woolery days, where contestants bought items as they circled by?) I have never harbored delusions of success on game shows, but on this one every person in the audience stands a chance. I know, I know, only a small portion of the Price is Right audience ultimately is called to the front. Then you have to make clever use of the $1 bid or not go with the lemmings and overbid before you get to play a game with Bob, then spin the big wheel (I admit, that's my favorite part) and then if all goes really well you get to make wildly unrealistic bids on the Showcase Showdown. Still, I'd like to have a shot. Have you ever seen an episode where the winner took home both showcases only to be followed by a reminder to spay or neuter your pets? I have. And I am here to tell you there will never be anything like it again on television. Pure cheesy joy paired with responsible pet guardianship. Love it.

PS Happy Halloween

Students

We had a reception at school last night to honor Hersh Waxman, who left us this year to go to A&M. It was a lovely event, and very nice to get so many of the doctoral students together, all looking quite spiffy, I might add.


Joining me in this picture with Dr. Waxman are Donna, Jay, Becky, David, Brenda, Gregg, Allegra, Blanca, Kevin, Jeff, Liz, David, Deb, Peter, Khalilah, Carlos, Gloria, Robin, Lynette, Seth, Brent, Dai, and Karen. A few others from the 03, 04, and 05 cohorts missed the photo or couldn't join us that night but were with us in spirit as we thanked Dr. Waxman for all he has done for us. As our gift said, we will miss him.

Fantasy

Do you remember Schoolhouse Rock's sad little wannabe law, Bill?

I'm just a bill
Yes, I'm only a bill
And if they vote for me on Capitol Hill
Well, then I'm off to the White House
Where I'll wait in a line
With a lot of other bills
For the president to sign
And if he signs me, then I'll be a law.
How I hope and pray that he will,
But today I am still just a bill.

Well, it's your chance to make Bill's dream a reality. It's time for Fantasy Congress! Join a league now and draft a team of hot shot legislators as they try to push their bills through committee, gain favor with the power players, and avoid veto.

I haven't been this excited about the goings on in Congress in a long time. Maybe next we can play Fantasy Presidential Cabinet or better yet Fantasy President. Oh wait, that game goes under a different name: Election 2008. (Sadly, unlike Fantasy Congress, there is little chance for interim participation in Election 2008, apart from polls.)

It's just a fantasy
It's not the real thing
But sometimes a fantasy
Is all you need
--Sometimes a Fantasy, by Billie Joel

Creeping

From the New York Times comes this innocuous yet thought provoking news: Entrees Reach $40, and, Sorry, the Sides Are Extra (see story). Have you been to a restaurant with a menu featuring a $40 entree? I will be on the lookout, though my haunts are not likely to indulge this whim. I want to know what single entree in the real world is worth paying that much for. Are we just being swindled? How much are these places paying their wait staff? My optimist's brain tells me such restaurants actually pay all employees a living wage (dish washers included). That is probably a delusion.

[W]hat makes the rise of the $40 entree so significant is not just the price creep, it’s the sophisticated calculation behind it. A new breed of menu “engineers” have proved that highly priced entrees increase revenue even if no one orders them. A $43 entree makes a $36 one look like a deal.

At that, I am rendered mute.

Cookie

I'm a big fan of Thich Nhat Hanh and of the wonders of mindfulness. Here's a lovely introduction to the two, from one of his books:

When I was four years old, my mother used to bring me a cookie every time she came home from the market. I always went to the front yard and took my time eating it, sometimes half an hour or forty-five minutes for one cookie. I would take a small bite and look up at the sky. Then I would touch the dog with my feet and take another small bite. I just enjoyed being there, with the sky, the earth, the bamboo thickets, the cat, the dog, the flowers. I was able to do that because I did not have much to worry about. I did not think of the future, I did not regret the past. I was entirely in the present moment, with my cookie, the dog, the bamboo thickets, the cat, and everything. It is possible to eat our meals as slowly and joyfully as I ate the cookie of my childhood. Maybe you have the impression that you have lost the cookie of your childhood, but I am sure it is still there, somewhere in your heart. Everything is still there, and if you really want it, you can find it.

Variety

Rain and wind lull my California brain into thinking it is winter and there is need for a cup of hot tea and a blankie on the sofa. Alas, these needs were not to be associated with today's tropical deluge in Houston. The rain did mean that my break time would be indoors though, and I sought out appropriate leisure activities (laundry would have been a useful break from work, but the rainy weather would have rendered my efforts moot). Of today's amusements, I would heartily recommend a bit of loud music (of the classical and metal varieties), some new television (brought to me by my newly reunited friend Timminy Tivo), and a healthy dose of new math reading. If you check out only one of the above links, make it the new math. Utterly delightful.

Stuffed

My head is full. Mutti sternly corrected us at dinner one time that we were not "full" but "sated." My thoughts this weekend have wandered from deadlines to fantasy fiction, hunger to indulgence, nostalgia to hurt. Amid the stacks of coursework and visions of laundromats that confront me there are pangs of anxieties and hormones (dear god, I have those?). As of this morning there are even golf balls in my head. I'm stuffed, and that is not a feeling of being sated. Thoughts are consumed by action. Today's lesson: think less, do more.

News

Have I ever been happier by a headline related to President Bush? Breaking news on the New York Times this morning:

Bush Condemns North Korea, but Says Diplomacy Is Focus

It's gray outside and I sense the potential for cool fall weather soon. I lingered over my breakfast this morning knowing I had no appointment to hurry me out the door. Even the incessant thumping rhythm of a hydraulic pump across the street has ended its weeks-long torture on my ears (and heartbeat). This Monday is looking better than many in a long while.

Fiction

It's sharing time. During sharing time we sit and listen and don't pass judgment and may or may not care about the contents, but we listen on anyway, because it's polite. This is all a long way of saying I have no point today, no rant deserving of the soapbox, and am divulging something of a guilty pleasure for which I would rather not get any grief about. :)

It's been a long semester already. Work and life have taken my mind off fun at various moments, and so when I have time for fun I actually want it to be, well, fun. Descriptive enough for ya? I've had more coherent days, it's true. The new television season has held little if any allure, and I've not seen a movie in ages. So the time I might otherwise have spent in one of those amusements has been focused on reading. As if reading articles and books and data sets is not enough to fatigue my eyes I have recently devoured an 850 page novel. And what is quite sad (or sadly tempting) is the fact that it is the first in a series, each of which is as long or longer than the first. I am referring to Diana Gabaldon's Outlander and its (thus far) five sequels. Apparently there are lots of devoted readers of these Scottish time-travel/romance/historical adventure books (women especially), so I don't feel alone at least. (It's nice to engage in solitary activities but not feel alone. Does that make me more social?) Today I found an alt.books.outlander discussion group and a site that sorts out the increasingly crazy timelines. And there is a fabulous page of Outlander humor, including toungue-in-cheek poetry and t-shirt sayings for characters. I feel so positively normal and mainstream.

In investigating this series I have learned a few things. There is a genre of literature known as bodice rippers (I do not know if Outlander applies, as it does not seem to be mysoginistic or extremely tawdry). Secondly, Scottish Highlander men and English women are a cliched romatic pairing (this definitely fits the Outlander series). See, my endeavors have not been without meaningful lessons.

Sharing complete.

UPDATE: What a difference a day makes. The first sequel is turning out to be a disappointment. Story's good but there are too many repetitions from first book, too many leaps, and (uh oh) too much bodice ripping. I might jump ahead to a later book that looked good upon perusal and let it catch me up. *sigh* I was having fun for a moment there....
UPDATE 2: The next book in series is good, very good. Though there are sizable passages which can be skimmed, there's enough to read that it makes for a satisfying escape.
UPDATE 3: Ditto the fourth book. I think what I like about the stories is that the characters are idealized yet events are realistic enough (read: good things don't always come to good people) to be compelling. Not that you asked. :)
UPDATE 4: Now David's read the first book and is plodding through book 2. Tee hee.

Missing

Sorry, loyal readers, I have lost my funny. Can anyone out there help me locate it and welcome it home? Stay posted for updates to this developing story. Cross your fingers, light a candle, whatever might help get the laughs back to this blog. Thank you. :)

Tolls

Death is part of life and military duty includes known risk of death--got it. Still this news that the death toll from military action (2974 and counting) initiated in response to 9/11 attacks has surpassed deaths from those attacks (2973) is sad indeed.

Independence

I've rarely been more sure of who I would vote for in a major election than I am this fall with the gubernatorial race in Texas.

UPDATE: Alas, 13% of popular vote is not enough to win governor's race (but a very respectable showing for a third party candidate, dontcha think?). I was with ya all the way, Kinky. Oddly I am not saddened by fact that Governor Perry won with less than half of the state's votes. Four legit candidates in the running! I am so not a fan of the pure two-party system.

Venting

I advised someone recently to limit the venting and pessimistic talk that comes with frustration. My point was that focusing on positives, speaking in optimistic terms, and stating frustrations without embellishment or blame was a positively reinforcing, good thing. I have since then gone about some venting of my own. Oh well, call me (yet again) a well intentioned hypocrite. I do believe in the power of positive thinking and work on acting upon it daily.

Do, or do not. There is no try. --Yoda

An article about frustrated teachers' blog postings points to the serious problems associated with venting, especially about one's work and especially in public venues. I'm all for the need to vent from time to time, but I think it's a form of self indulgence. I want to be negative, so I let myself be negative. I want ice cream, so I let myself have ice cream. I think it's possible to vent and have ice cream within healthy bounds, as in the case of a person who is generally self aware, reflective, disciplined. Trouble is, most of us go about our day in an oblivious state. Discipline is often an external force, not internally, consciously acted upon. We pay attention to that which presents itself most forcefully to our consciousness. What is the answer? Like the 12 step approach advises: first acknowledge we have a problem.

If we all said we had a problem, does that in itself become a problem? Isn't acknowledging the problem the first step in coming to a sustainable solution? Maybe we don't actually believe in the possibility of a solution. There goes that negative thinking again. Like I said before, the power of positive thinking is its own reward. Try it.

I have few if any qualms about being a broken record. Am I in denial? I found a few quotes on the subject of repetition. Which of these most resembles my thoughts and actions? Which resembles yours?

Repetition does not transform a lie into a truth. --Franklin D. Roosevelt

The happiness of most people we know is not ruined by great catastrophes or fatal errors, but by the repetition of slowly destructive little things. --Ernest Dimnet

We cannot always control our thoughts, but we can control our words, and repetition impresses the subconscious, and we are then master of the situation. --Florence Scovel Shinn

I had not yet read today's Daily Darma when I wrote the above, but it seems eerily coincidental:

What one thinks or reads is always qualified by the preposition "of," or "about," and does not give us the thing itself. Not mere talk about water, nor the mere sight of a spring, but an actual mouthful of it gives the thirsty complete satisfaction. --D. T. Suzuki, Essays in Zen Buddhism

Outnumbered

As you read, remember that women make up more than half of the population. Where do you see women and where do you not?

I found an interesting article about the adapting and regendering, in essence, of female-authored stories by male filmmakers, in particular specific works of Allende, Walker, and Dinesen. The author considers what was and was not included or changed from the books to the movies. Get past the initial lingo and consider the evidence presented and you start to see a very good point. Not all storytelling comes from a single gendered viewpoint, but most movies do and it is a male one.

Next time you watch a movie made by a female director (are you even conscious of a female director?--their names are not often attached to megamovies), consider what if anything is different about the way the story is told. Who is at the center? What complexities and simplicities are ascribed to what sorts of people? What is the nature of the plot? Who wins and loses and what is "won" or "lost"?

In college I took a women's history class with Bettina Aptheker. Fascinating person, great lecturer, amazing office hours experience. Anyway, she taught from the viewpoint of cycles of history, social experiences and identities being the basis of historical record and analysis/discourse rather than war, governance, and economic systems. Finally I was able to put to words the unease I felt in many of my discussions about history with people. I've met many people who profess to loving history, but often times they end up being military or war buffs. I'm not saying this is not history, just that there is something more as well. I felt in college that too often when I said "I'm a history major" people assumed that meant I knew tons about World War I and II and the name of every President. When I became a teacher, the certification exam for social studies focused on these exact things as well, which frustrated me to say the least. My point comes to this: Not all of history is about what primarily involved men.

I am not for radical genderism of any kind. This being said, I would argue we have in many ways lived in a radical male-ist or phallocentric world for quite a while, and some think a tilt in the other direction is all that can alleviate the strife that came with phallocentric living. I feel radicalism in any form is unhealthy for the masses. Going full-tilt gynocentric does not help the masses either. Um, how about balance? Like, honoring all genders, honoring people as people, with male/female parts hormones, drives, frailties. What is so wrong with being human?!?! But I digress...

I disagree with the author of the piece which started this whole posting. She seems to villify male directors for ruining works of feminine genius. The male director's take is simply another version. Another man might give a different spin (though averages might tell us the spin would fall within a fairly narrow range, anyway...). A woman might have done similar to the man or not (dominant forces in movie making industry might determine part of this, anyway...). What matters is that there is a thoughtful version, whatever the particular gender identity.

I would argue that the fact of people looking to escape more through over-hyped, under-developed movies and television than through literature, or in either case avoiding anything not well pre-chewed, is more of a problem than there being multiple versions of a single story. There are always other views, and they are worthy. Being the most common or most popular or most familiar does not mean something is superior.

I could go on and on; I will not, not today at least. Turns out my soap box appeared benath my feet while I was talking. I now step down and give someone else a turn. Thank you for your time.

Momentum

It's not a soapbox day today (though my strong feelings about the goodness of feeling good and being good and doing good did come to mind as I wrote the following), but I have been pondering. Pondering does not lend itself to brevity or necessarily clarity. Thus I ponder...

Democracy does not, in my mind, mean turning on a dime. There is nothing in human social systems to suggest any positive, productive change can occur instantaneously. I was brought to this thought by another blogger's post on the subject of democracy. I especially enjoyed the last paragraph. Anyway, it got me thinking about the bad things that happen in our country and the responsibility we as citizens in a representative-democratic state have to address the bad things.

In most cases conscious attempts at change occur in response to perceived problems and crises. When things go well, if we take note of them as true successes, then we might change only insofar as we slack off in effort, which itself produces a change of some kind. If we took note of a success and kept doing what we had been doing, and success continued, we might fail to see it as success anymore. It disappears, leaving behind a sense, at best, of complacent comfort, and at worst stagnation and decay. Ironic, isn't it?

You can't be neutral on a moving train. --Noam Chomsky

Anyway, I do not believe democracy is about success and failure but about response. (The subject of failure and democracy is intriguing though, and I found several interesting posts on the subject: first, second, and third.) The actions and reactions of millions of individuals and groups form an often unconscious collective, one that reinforces and reinvents the system, the society. People are unbelievably powerful, even as we feel individually anything from conceit to helplessness. Whatever I feel individually, I am contributing to a larger feeling in society as a whole. My malaise, my diffidence, my enthusiasm, they feed into and off of the feelings of all those with whom I have contact. So everything begins in some sense with me (and you). Over our feelings we have some control. More important is what we act upon, as over this we have considerable control. Whatever I act upon or react to individually, I am contributing to a larger body of action, influencing more directly the world around me.

I am not under any orders to make the world a better place. --Troy Dyer, in Reality Bites

Democracy is not about turning on a dime. Democracy is about the collective will of all its participants, the sum of individual actions and beliefs. Democracy begins with me, and with you, as does any social construct. The government, the society, are ours for the influencing. We do so whether we intend to or not. So what influence are you having right now? Is it a positive influence?

If you choose not to decide, you still have made a choice. -- Rush, from the song "Freewill"

Go do something good. You'll feel better, I promise.

Outlook

I'm cranky today. It happens from time to time, but not often enough that I know how to manage when it hits me. As a result I've been out of sorts all day. Normally I patiently overlook the neighbors' dog poop on the front lawn, the late mail (dated Aug 18, arrived today), and the hair that falls in my eyes. Not today. And nothing has improved my mood either. Not the tasty chocolate ding dong I ate this afternoon, not the sheepish grin and wave of the man who good naturedly cut me off on the way home. And most sadly of all, not even the music that has enthralled me for the last week (thank you Neko and Emiliana for trying). I'd like to think that those with whom I have interacted today noticed a difference from the usual, but it's possible that any perceived change in demeanor was purely in my head. I can only hope that my dreariness and lack of feeling efficacious is negatively correlated to David's success on his presentation. That could make me happy.

Update: Crankiness turned out to be indicator of looming physical illness. Note to self when cranky again--stay home and avoid people.

Guts

Wow. I have a very strong stomach and a fascination with anatomy and physiology, but I may have met my match this time. Last week I had Timminy record a 45-minute documentary on HBO called The Virtual Corpse. Words rather escape me at this moment after watching it, and I think most of you couldn't stomach the details. But suffice it to say this is one captivatingly real show. It tells the background of the man whose body became the source material for the National Library of Medicine's Visible Human Project. Joseph Paul Jernigan was an executed prisoner in Texas who agreed shortly before death to donate his body to science. In The Virtual Corpse we hear from family, lawyers, and scientists to get a full picture, no pun intended, of one man's life, death, and dismemberment.

Downgrading

"It's like an amicable divorce," he said. "The legal status has changed but the person really hasn't. It's just single again."

The IAU made it official. The news of Pluto's demotion from planetary status has deeply saddened me. Indeed I am in deep denial. I shall refuse all access to my old reference books or science texts for fear that someone will cross out the 9 and put an 8. [Okay, not that anyone is clamoring for access.] Next thing you know, we'll be reading about how the entering freshman class has never known anything but 8 planets. Sigh.

Pluto, 1930-2006
This enigmatic orbital oddity died this week at the age of 76. Address condolences to International Astronomical Union. Donations in lieu of flowers to neighborhood stargazing group.

Farewell, Pluto. I hardly knew ya, but you seemed like a nice planet. Rest in peace.

Quotability

I shall dedicate a post to things my co-worker Denisse says. I'll add to it as the need or inspiration arises.

We're having a Mexican fiesta themed lunch at work next week. Denisse (who was, by the way, born in Mexico) described a time when she was forced to wear her co-worker's fifth grade daughter's traditional Mexican dress and dance during a similarly themed luncheon. She wished not to repeat that experience, but thought other costumes might be fun. Then she recalled a Mexican costume she had worn proudly to another function: revolutionary. The only problem, she was told...

You can't take that rifle into church.

Denisse is delightfully fascinated by the Body Worlds exhibit which has been in Houston these last few months. I realized after the fact that she was referring to the plastination process at the heart of this exhibit when she told a co-worker this morning...

If you're going to have an abortion, you might as well donate it to science.

Indeed.

Sept 6: I heard some loud, aggressive alternative rock music emanating from Denisse's office today. I commented that I did not picture her as being a fan of, then I paused. "Head banging?" she finished the thought for me, and then went on to say...

You just have not met all my personalities yet.

Oct 25: Denisse paused as we were chatting and I thought she might have been leaving space for an implied profanity. It struck me that I never heard her swear, but that she might have that tendency, so I asked if that was the case. Her reply was affirmative. She added, without any prompt from me,...

I did not start cursing or drinking until I was married.

Her husband must be so proud. :)

Romantics

I don't know what it is about Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice that is so deeply satisfying, but it's become a bit of an obsession recently. Okay, I confess, I've been checking out fanfiction. Let me start by saying there's some really bad stuff out there. But then there is plenty to keep the heart atwitter (or some other cheesy, sigh-ful sort of response to boldfaced romanticism). For example, this 6-chapter long piece, a Darcy perspective from mid-novel to end called No Less a Gentleman, seems tolerably well written, it feels authentic. Or here's a fantastic blog which is largely "JA" related (with a healthy dose of other obsessions thrown in).

Jane Austen fans have created a glut of writing about, inspired by, and in critical support of the various novels, but Pride and Prejudice is the most hotly debated. [My choice of word there is quite appropriate given the, um, heat some fans have post facto ascribed to the novel's hero and heroine. You should see what some people have written about their feelings toward the Mr. Darcy pond diving scene in the BBC edition, and ensuing delight with Colin Firth. Oh my.] Anyway, I'm not looking into this fanfiction stuff for passionate alternatives to the confined manners portrayed in the original. I'm just enjoying the endless variations on a relatively simple story that bring hundreds, nay thousands or millions, of people together. It's a nice connection, wouldn't you agree?

[I can picture David rolling his eyes at all this, but then, I know how he reacted to the ending of the miniseries....]

Torrents

Soaked through. At the 4th floor it was gray but bright outside. Upon reaching 1st floor I heard an odd hollow thumping. The opened door revealed an awesome display of rain. Option: walk to car in rain, wait there for a break before walking to car (running versus walking would not have changed wetness outcome), or go back up to 4th floor and give up a bit on plan of leaving before commuter rush. I had places to be, like the grocery store for some school lunch snack items, so the decision was made--go for it.

The soaking through occurred almost instantly. The usual respite that comes with tree coverage had instead turned to collection raindrops. [What is the opposite in size of a droplet? Mere drops would not seem adequate for this rainfall.] Usually there are shallow, passable lanes through the sidewalks when it rains, but not today. Water came from all sides, as pools of it bounced up at me with every step. The warm water sloshing through my seen-better-days shoes reminded me of wading into tropical shores. I worried briefly about the books in my backpack until the droplets on my eyelashes made it difficult to see, thus distracting me. I smiled at fellow wet people, and none of them apepared any more concerned than I. I figured some drivers would take pity and allow easy crossing of the street. Maybe they too were blinded by the downpour, but either way they did not slow. By the time I made it to the parking lot I was hopping through puddles and reveling in my soakedness. A half mile down the road and all was dry--outside. Localized rainfall indeed.

Production

It's been long enough after the event that maybe it is safe to discuss now...When I was in New York on the subway, I sat next to a guy who was quietly memorizing lines for his part in an episode of The Sopranos. Okay a bit part, some unknown Italian-looking guy, and he appeared to be not playing someone who lived long, but STILL, The Sopranos, in their last season! I might have strained my neck a tad to read the script he was holding (snippets of scenes, with only his and preceding/following lines shown--it's all about secrecy, y'know), but I think I was subtle about it. I won't share further details for fear we might all get in trouble.

In my own production news, the book I was working on is printed and out there. You won't find it at your local chain bookshop, or even a specialty one, but it's printed and it has my name on the cover. Okay I'm "just" an editor, one of three, and it's a narrow subject with narrow geographic focus, but STILL. Tres exciting. I might even share a copy with you if you ask nicely. :)

Swearing

If you join the military voluntarily, do you get the right to choose participation in missions? I would think not. But then, I would not join the military. As much training and comradery and discipline I might learn there, I'd still be offering myself for fundamentally violent action. Sure, the military is tasked with "defense" but that defense is defined as weaponry and fighting. Not for me. Anyway, I am curious by the movement building around Lieutenant Watada, who has refused to serve in Iraqi missions. I heartily applaud his acting upon principles, but am unsure about the logic behind joining a hierarchical organization tasked with fulfilling the nation's militaristic "needs" (desires?) and then dictating the limits of that participation. Then again, it's tough to effectively challenge anything from the outside. More things to ponder.

For fun I looked up the military oaths. Can an atheist join the military? Does this oath give equal power to the President as to the Constitution? What is the operational definition of "enemy"?

The Oath of Enlistment (for enlistees): "I, _____, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of the President of the United States and the orders of the officers appointed over me, according to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."

The Oath of Office (for officers): "I, _____ (SSAN), having been appointed an officer in the Army of the United States, as indicated above in the grade of _____ do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign or domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion; and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter; So help me God."

Attitude

[Michelle stabilizes her soap box before stepping onto it.]

Is it possible for anyone to take pride in something that she feels is owed to her or that she feels is deserved? How do we learn to take pride in our actions and efforts? Is it not an osmotic thing, something absorbed from surrounding attitudes and reinforcements? So, what do you do that reinforces positive attitudes about hard work, selflessness, and pride above all in a job well done, rather than material or social rewards? Conversely, what do you expect from or complain about in others?

I like what New Hope Now has to say about perception of problems. When you believe something can be done or that something positive can happen, the problem seems less, well, problematic. Your sense of it changed and therefore the problem diminished in your mind. And ultimately, all problems are in our minds. The site goes on to list some points to ponder about your feelings toward a problem, such as reminders that we contribute to the problems we feel, and that problems are temporary. Good reminders, I think. Facing the music and accepting any level of responsibility, that's a lot tougher. But seriously, what have you got to lose? Maybe some problems, how does that sound?

And while I'm on the subject yet again of attitude, ask yourself, what is wrong with having a positive attitude? Does being negative actually make you feel good? So why hold on to the negativity? Does feeling good make you less productive? Does looking on the bright side mean you are weak? If you think positively, will you feel better? Why do we avoid feeling good?

Okay, lastly, just because I acknowledge my role in problems and feel good about myself does not mean I am justified in ignoring or furthering those problems. Unless or until I do something to remedy the problem, I am not helping anyone, myself included. Which brings me back to taking pride in one's actions. Do what is right because it feels good to do so. I hate the corporatization of this message, but man is it right: Just do it.

I'll discuss the pitfalls and personal experience with poor self discipline another day. Smile. Life is good. Or as Eric Idle sings...

If life seems jolly rotten
There's something you've forgotten
And that's to laugh and smile and dance and sing.

I thank you for your time. :)

Placement

I was nextblogging this morning (hitting the Next Blog button has become a verb) and came across a literate (or is it cultured?) blog by a guy named Peter Smikulas. It's riveting reading, but I have trouble placing it. As in, where am I to be mentally situated as I read it? An odd feeling, though not unpleasant. His rant on Mel Gibson's alcohol level is straight forward and quite amusing.
[As Tara points out, the blog and Mel rant have disappeared. They were last seen at http://petersmikulas.blogspot.com. It is sad when funny things just, poof, disappear.]
[Correction: it's Peter Mikulas not Smikulas; this correction does not change fact of site being gone.]

Thanks to nextblogging I have found my next hobby and blog idea--now that's nextblogging! There are lots of people who take a daily photo in the city where they live then post to a photo-blog site. Some are more artsy or exotic than others, there are bunches in Europe, and there are a few rather normal cities included. I notice Houston is not covered yet.

Visuals

Announcing the arrival of 2005 and 2006 pictures on my picture pages. That's right, we're going way back. So you get Greece, New York and Connecticut and a wedding and a graduation and some cemeteries and lots of family plus a few friends thrown in for good measure. Check em out!

Whirlwind

That's Heather and I atop the Empire State Building. We got a little silly with the picture taking. I'm prepping the other photos for posting to the web and I'll link to them ASAP.

Goodness

Came across this website and it cheered me a bit. It's an intro to Buddhism and makes the point that "Anyone can go to heaven--just be good." A lovely suggestion. Any takers? :)

News

Are we so used to sad news and division in the Middle East that we are no longer upset when horrible things happen there? For the record, I think the whole thing is horrible. I believe no side is "right" when each side is killing the other. People are being hurt and killed--what exactly is an acceptable loss? It's absurd and this absurdity is breeding the exact feelings that it purports to do away with.

Hatred never ceases through hatred, but hatred ceases by love alone.

I heard on the radio yesterday a commentator describing a hate crime in the US as "terrorism" (this term was key) because the perpetrator was Muslim. He went on to point out how this was the sixth such incident since September 11. He seemed to want listeners to be outraged over the lack of media attention to numerous domestic terrorist acts. I wanted to call him and ask about the daily hate crimes--all meant to instill terror--committed against gays, ethnic groups (or any other than self), and all sorts of average every day Americans, homegrown and fitting the usual look and religious predilections of US citizens. Why should I be up in arms about one horrible incident more than another? Is there any violence or hatred that is justified? Is it morally possible to choose one set of haters or killers over another?

Zippy usually helps me smile even when talking about unhappy things. Today even Zippy seems a bit sad.

Thank goodness for the Buddhist Peace Fellowship and others who acknowledge with compassion the pain and hurt but continue to hope and rally for peace.

Or listen to the Black Eyed Peas' Where is the Love, opening lyrics included here for your contemplation:

What's wrong with the world, mama
People livin' like they ain't got no mamas
I think the whole world addicted to the drama
Only attracted to things that'll bring you trauma
Overseas, yeah, we try to stop terrorism
But we still got terrorists here livin'
In the USA, the big CIA
The Bloods and The Crips and the KKK
But if you only have love for your own race
Then you only leave space to discriminate
And to discriminate only generates hate
And when you hate then you're bound to get irate, yeah
Madness is what you demonstrate
And that's exactly how anger works and operates
Man, you gotta have love just to set it straight
Take control of your mind and meditate
Let your soul gravitate to the love, y'all

Technology

For anyone who has an opinion about MySpace, check out this posting by Christopher Moore. Hilarious. If you have no idea what MySpace is, um, nevermind, go in blissfully unaware peace.

Notes to Self

The Avengers--1998 film starring Fiennes, Thurman, Connery--really is as bad as TV Guide predicted (1 star). It doesn't matter whether you start from end or beginning, it's bad all the way through. If you notice it listed in the broadcast schedule, do not be tempted to see how bad it could be.

The oil change man--Brian?--will never forget our having run into each other in the middle of nowhere during Rita evacuation. It's really very sweet, but I've made a mental note: Must gather witty hurricane-evacuation comments before going to oil change place.

Fast food isn't necessarily fast. Drive up window duty might be punishment for naughty not-so-fast food workers.

Dining alone is not pitiful but restaurant staff will look at you like it is. Bring a good juicy book to keep mind off the staring.