The wolphin knows...

Someone else for a day

It's fascinating how travel -- even a couple of hours by car -- opens up new experiences and lets us see our day-to-day lives through a new lens.

So, in our less-than-perfect travel arrangements, it became necessary to occupy myself and a 2 year old for 5 1/2 hours, in a place I'm not particularly familiar with. This seems, on face, to not be a very tall task. But about three hours into looking for an elusive park that I had asked directions to from FOUR different people, I started to wax philosophical....about our car culture, also musing what it would be like to actually live out of my vehicle, with a toddler in tow.

It was illuminating, although but a brief glimpse.

So, travel's good for clarifying what you have to be thankful for, among other things.

Millennial battle, part 1,198,200

Yes, another delightful day of duking it out with millennial wunderkinds...you know who you are, you little darling dolly bugs.

I think it is worth noting that many millennials will grow up to become mediocre overachievers. So do enjoy the trouble you cause now, because eventually you will be faced with the following:

-grumpy older co-workers who weren't fond of your antics when you were "cute" and "young" and "filled with optimism" and will likely rouse themselves from their grumpifying to note your slow descent into the reality the rest of us have been occupied by for some time

-parents who feel betrayed that they put so much effort into your awesomeness, only to find its come to not much beyond debt and a general sense of weariness - oh, yes, and your permanent residence in their home, dooming them to work until they are 75

-perhaps, eventually, children that are stupified by your self-centeredness, neatly wrapped in precociousness (doesn't play well after about 27 or so) and loudly proclaimed desire to be part of something "bigger than me" while still retaining your unique, special aforementioned awesomeness

Bitter hyperbole? Perhaps...but I'm sticking by it, having spent another several hours battling nothing but someone else's bad attitude and overestimation of self.

'Nuff said.

American Idol's redemptive moments

I was THRILLED to the gills to hear Kris Allen sing Falling Slowly tonight. It's just amazing, that's all. Good for you, Jason Mraz-esque young 'un -- you found a gem and have exposed a sizable audience to some lovely music.

Do yourself a favor and have a listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W0lIdr5TsaU

Back in the day

One of the first CDs I owned was the Counting Crows' August & Everything After. I had that and Matthew Sweet to get me through an entire summer. It could've been worse.

Listening to Round Here right now on last.fm. Good stuff!

on compassion and my sad personal limits

Compassion, as defined by Merriam Webster

: sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it

In the midst of this economic crisis fear is king, from the banks fear and refusal to lend to individuals' "tightening the belt" and non-profits feeling the effects of fewer donations. The fear seems to be fueled by both real and imagined scarcity, and as such, the value and need for compassion increases.

But I'm finding my own compassion tested, and a certain self-righteous reaction to endless calls to give, give, give.

I think part of my reaction stems from what I perceive as a presumptious attitude that I'm not doing or giving enough. Who measures it? And what's the "it" in question...question upon question upon question

smoke signals - get out your binoculars

I heard the news of the Rocky Mountain News' imminent demise and felt, well, sad, furious, anxious and resigned.

This comment from a MarketWatch profile summed it up nicely:

learn to read smoke signals and question authority, good journalism is going away

The same poster laments the ongoing demise of "content providers," which is a huge concern, from my perspective, because most "current events" bloggers are simply mining the information assembled by other people - trained professional journalists.

Perhaps with the health care nightmare we are currently facing, we can look forward to a future in which the local barber can cut your hair and remove your appendix, since qualifications' metrics are on the downward slide - devolution, baby!

bloggin blues

It seems so fabulous & fancy free - the bloggin' life, right? Until...you kindasorta forget that you once wrote about XXXXX after the party at YYYY's house and now...oops - your boss/new fiance/ex-best friend has found it!

Welcome to blogosphere hell -- and all its levels of insanity, inanity and consequence. Here's a tip for all you brilliant twentysomethings out there -- people in their 30s, 40s, and beyond also know of this "internets" thing and may even know how to use it... and may find information you wish they had not.

Whitney P has a few ruminations on how blogs ruin lives (mostly the lives of non-bloggers).

And there's another interesting article from the Village Voice on an author's blogging trials.

the curse of the rectangular living room

So I'm sure it will be a relief to know that I'm coming back to the mundane, topic-wise. No more moaning and nashing of teeth over "dreams" - pshaw!

I've got more immediate problems-my rectangular living room! It's semi-long and narrow and has been overtaken by toddler toy-a-palooza!

There isn't much of a solution to this situation. TBO and I joke that if we hold our hands up to block off the bottom 2/3 of our view, it looks like a grown-up sitting room. So that's what we do.

I'm trying to shed stuff over the next few days - too much stuff = too much craziness in my head. I think our things can hold residual energy - sometimes that's lovely, and we call it "nostalgia" and sometimes it's just a bunch of junk that collects dust and makes us feel sad and weary. So bye-bye, my tchotckes.

The lovely Anna Quindlen puts it far better than I:

Americans have been on an acquisition binge for decades. I suspect television advertising, which made me want a Chatty Cathy doll so much as a kid that when I saw her under the tree my head almost exploded. By contrast, my father will be happy to tell you about the excitement of getting an orange in his stocking during the Depression. The depression before this one.

I remember the disbelief I experienced when I awoke to a Cabbage Patch doll, the very first year they came out. I said "Santa made a mistake and gave me someone else's doll," as my parents had told me to not expect such a present. So I understand her comment about exploding heads on Christmas morn.

The bambino still seems more enthralled by the boxes the gifts come in than the gifts themselves. So I'm grateful that I have a house, even with its odd-shaped living room, and really will work to embrace the "less is more" mantra!

 

Never happy, ya know

So while I panic and watch the hours literally tick by - deadline at 8 a.m. and you know I'll be running right up against it - I consider what would make me happy

-no more prescriptions to be filled, although i suppose i'd be (possibly) dead without the wonder of 'modern medicine'

-no more crazies, right, left, purple, spotted, male, female, whatEVER. It seems that we are moving at hyperspeed toward sheer insanity. Sigh. I have moments where I think I glimpse a sign that we might overcome our collective human weakness, but it's usually dimmed within hours. Gives us all something to fight for, right?

-bill maher having an extreme religous experience (i'm not counting his extreme anti-religulous rants, people). it'd be good for him (and us) to think beyond his (our) narrowly contrived, smug, you-people-with-religious-beliefs (or fill in the blank with your favorite)-bear-the-burden-for-all-evil-in-the-world. and he can take hitchens along for the ride. yuck - narrow-mindedness comes in all the nasty flavors you can imagine, right, boys?

okay, 'nuf.

Slice o' life

I was sharing my new-found love of the Flobots with TBO earlier; bambino likes 'em too.

So TBO went in to change a dirty diaper and made a funny - he said I need an American flag handkerchief to survive this!