A short short 200 word story just in time for Halloween (published in the Antelope Valley Press 10/29/2010)
*****
“Dern moths,” old man Hinkle muttered under his breath as he rummaged through the shed for a can of Raid. He impatiently batted at a faint fluttering at his ear. “Gets worse ever’ year!” His gnarled fingers closed around the can and he let out a wheeze of triumph. “Get a load of this, you…” He turned, raising the can high. The room suddenly darkened, the tiny fluttering becoming a roar. “What the…” He stood still and stared in shock as thousands of moths filled the small room like a writhing cloud. The dark mass paused for a second, then converged on the old man, covering his face, quivering in his ears and up his nostrils, writhing through his disheveled grey hair. They covered his hands, fluttered down the loose collar of his shirt and wriggled up the sleeves. An unrecognizable sound emerged from the center of the cloud as the old man gasped for air and swallowed a score of the winged horde. The mass swayed unsteadily and collapsed. The moths cheerfully disengaged and flew way, abandoning a few dying moths with vibrating antennae, and the still figure of one suffocated old man who never did like moths.
*****
Just Musing,
Susan
Friday, October 29, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
...and then came Twilight
*****
The current rage of vampire novels, TV shows and movies that pretty up these so-called denizens of the night has its genesis many years ago. Bran Stoker’s novel crystallized and popularized vampires, taking bits of legends and folk stories from all countries and cultures and distilling them into one coherent mythos, one that remains fairly intact. Everyone “knows” that Vampires drink blood, are super strong, do not like garlic, crosses or holy water, and that they will live forever if they avoid sunlight, staking through the heart, beheading or fire. Everyone knows that they have to be invited in, have cold and pale skin, and have powers to persuade or charm. The males are all excessively male and the women highly sexualized. Add to all this is the fact that their soulless state allows them to do whatever the heck they want with no regard for consequence or censure and you have a very compelling story telling device that pits all of these rather exciting gifts against the many societal and moral constraints imposed by our religions, laws and social norms.
No wonder people are intrigued with the concept of vampires.
This latest teen vampire craze, which has its genesis with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, also portrays them as possible boyfriend/girlfriend material. They are beautiful, old/wise, enigmatic, lethal, world-weary, tortured, wear cool leather coats, and, if engendered with a soul, have capabilities that make them veritable super-heroes.
They do still have to drink blood and stay out of the sun and have scary hair-trigger tempers, but that just seems to add to their mystique.
Then came Twilight.
Now suddenly, vampires are not just cool bad boys, they are beyond beautiful, able to withstand the sun, are not affected by weather or religious icons, are incredibly hard to kill and fight epic battles to protect someone they love. In addition, they seem to somehow eschew the much storied “demonizing” effects of losing one's soul and actually retain their human personalities. As such, they can choose to live ethically as “vegetarians” and seem to have no real flaws. They talk about a lack of a soul as an excuse for not wanting to change humans, but really, what is that in comparison to all that great beauty and strength and immortality, too?
Who wouldn’t want to be a vampire?
As much as I enjoyed the Twilight books, there has always been a sense that something real is absent; the lines of good and evil are carefully drawn and in the central Vampire family, the Monster is almost completely missing.
I think the vampire stories are a bit more compelling when things are not so easy, when they are struggling against their inner demons, when they feel the weight of their years and the watch the humans they love die off one by one. How long would it take before they would remove themselves from human society to protect themselves against caring for creatures who are so short-lived? How long can a being live before they begin to look at the human race with the same detached curiosity as a child watches an anthill, sun at his back, magnifying glass in hand…
Being a monster should be a bit messier than current modern pop culture dictates. There should be a price, even if that price is not readily apparent and is found centuries into the future when eternal life and beauty brings nothing but crushing loneliness and despair.
That would indeed be monstrous.
Just Musiing,
Susan
****
The current rage of vampire novels, TV shows and movies that pretty up these so-called denizens of the night has its genesis many years ago. Bran Stoker’s novel crystallized and popularized vampires, taking bits of legends and folk stories from all countries and cultures and distilling them into one coherent mythos, one that remains fairly intact. Everyone “knows” that Vampires drink blood, are super strong, do not like garlic, crosses or holy water, and that they will live forever if they avoid sunlight, staking through the heart, beheading or fire. Everyone knows that they have to be invited in, have cold and pale skin, and have powers to persuade or charm. The males are all excessively male and the women highly sexualized. Add to all this is the fact that their soulless state allows them to do whatever the heck they want with no regard for consequence or censure and you have a very compelling story telling device that pits all of these rather exciting gifts against the many societal and moral constraints imposed by our religions, laws and social norms.
No wonder people are intrigued with the concept of vampires.
This latest teen vampire craze, which has its genesis with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, also portrays them as possible boyfriend/girlfriend material. They are beautiful, old/wise, enigmatic, lethal, world-weary, tortured, wear cool leather coats, and, if engendered with a soul, have capabilities that make them veritable super-heroes.
They do still have to drink blood and stay out of the sun and have scary hair-trigger tempers, but that just seems to add to their mystique.
Then came Twilight.
Now suddenly, vampires are not just cool bad boys, they are beyond beautiful, able to withstand the sun, are not affected by weather or religious icons, are incredibly hard to kill and fight epic battles to protect someone they love. In addition, they seem to somehow eschew the much storied “demonizing” effects of losing one's soul and actually retain their human personalities. As such, they can choose to live ethically as “vegetarians” and seem to have no real flaws. They talk about a lack of a soul as an excuse for not wanting to change humans, but really, what is that in comparison to all that great beauty and strength and immortality, too?
Who wouldn’t want to be a vampire?
As much as I enjoyed the Twilight books, there has always been a sense that something real is absent; the lines of good and evil are carefully drawn and in the central Vampire family, the Monster is almost completely missing.
I think the vampire stories are a bit more compelling when things are not so easy, when they are struggling against their inner demons, when they feel the weight of their years and the watch the humans they love die off one by one. How long would it take before they would remove themselves from human society to protect themselves against caring for creatures who are so short-lived? How long can a being live before they begin to look at the human race with the same detached curiosity as a child watches an anthill, sun at his back, magnifying glass in hand…
Being a monster should be a bit messier than current modern pop culture dictates. There should be a price, even if that price is not readily apparent and is found centuries into the future when eternal life and beauty brings nothing but crushing loneliness and despair.
That would indeed be monstrous.
Just Musiing,
Susan
****
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Do Yourself a Favor...
*******
I consider myself to be a pretty easy person to get along with. And with that rather gregarious personality I also have become a “Go To” person when people need all kinds of help (usually computer related) or need a question answered on many topics. Usually I don’t mind helping out, most of the time it only takes a couple of minutes and a smile and the deed is done.
Every once in a while the favor is a bit bigger, and requires a lot more time, concentration and focus to complete.
Those favors are a little harder to accommodate, although I do tend to say, “sure!” and, if possible, take care of it right away, letting my work or other projects pile up for a bit longer in order to help. Sometimes I can't do it right away, and have to take care of it later because of my own time constraints.
Again, not a real problem.
The problem that I have is that when people become so used to coming to you for help, they sometimes forget that you are, indeed, doing them a favor and their expectations that everything be dropped in order to accommodate them start to become onerous.
These are the people who seem to think that they then have the right to comment on (or even sneer about) how you plan your day in work or play, simply because they want you to schedule their little project FIRST. They pounce on me before I have even had my first cup of coffee in the bleary mornings, when I come in the door at work or at home, they ambush me in the hall or make disparaging comments about the amount of time I seem to spend on Facebook (not as much as they think – it is on in the background when I am on the computer and I pop in for a few minutes several times a day).
Sometime I have to bite my tongue. What business is it of anyone’s how I spend my time…??? it’s MY time. Just because you don’t “get” the attraction doesn’t give you the right to deride me about how I “waste” the day away. Do you follow people around and deride them about how drinking coffee or chatting over the proverbial water cooler or talking with their child on the phone is a waste of time and they should be working on YOUR little freebie project instead?
For heaven’s sake, if I have promised you that I will help you out with something out of the goodness of my heart, why would you want to antagonize me by appearing ungracious?
And leave me alone about Facebook. I like it, and apparently, judging by the number of people who tell me that they like reading my posts, other people do, too.
And if I do a favor for you, a simple “thanks!” goes a long way.
Just Musing,
Susan
*******
I consider myself to be a pretty easy person to get along with. And with that rather gregarious personality I also have become a “Go To” person when people need all kinds of help (usually computer related) or need a question answered on many topics. Usually I don’t mind helping out, most of the time it only takes a couple of minutes and a smile and the deed is done.
Every once in a while the favor is a bit bigger, and requires a lot more time, concentration and focus to complete.
Those favors are a little harder to accommodate, although I do tend to say, “sure!” and, if possible, take care of it right away, letting my work or other projects pile up for a bit longer in order to help. Sometimes I can't do it right away, and have to take care of it later because of my own time constraints.
Again, not a real problem.
The problem that I have is that when people become so used to coming to you for help, they sometimes forget that you are, indeed, doing them a favor and their expectations that everything be dropped in order to accommodate them start to become onerous.
These are the people who seem to think that they then have the right to comment on (or even sneer about) how you plan your day in work or play, simply because they want you to schedule their little project FIRST. They pounce on me before I have even had my first cup of coffee in the bleary mornings, when I come in the door at work or at home, they ambush me in the hall or make disparaging comments about the amount of time I seem to spend on Facebook (not as much as they think – it is on in the background when I am on the computer and I pop in for a few minutes several times a day).
Sometime I have to bite my tongue. What business is it of anyone’s how I spend my time…??? it’s MY time. Just because you don’t “get” the attraction doesn’t give you the right to deride me about how I “waste” the day away. Do you follow people around and deride them about how drinking coffee or chatting over the proverbial water cooler or talking with their child on the phone is a waste of time and they should be working on YOUR little freebie project instead?
For heaven’s sake, if I have promised you that I will help you out with something out of the goodness of my heart, why would you want to antagonize me by appearing ungracious?
And leave me alone about Facebook. I like it, and apparently, judging by the number of people who tell me that they like reading my posts, other people do, too.
And if I do a favor for you, a simple “thanks!” goes a long way.
Just Musing,
Susan
*******
Monday, August 2, 2010
Ten Things I like About...
*******
There is a proliferation of TOP TEN, TOP FIFTY even TOP 100 lists out there, especially in entertainment. They always seem to spark tremendous controversy as readers agree/disagree with various degrees of vehemence.
I am CERTAINLY not loathe to jump on the bandwagon… so here’s one of mine:
TOP TEN REASONS I LOVE SUMMER IN THE AV
1. Warm Summer Nights: The days may be sweltering, but the nights… ahhhhh, pure heaven! Balmy temperatures, gentle breezes, the smells of BBQs, children’s laughter. The nights make the days bearable!
2. Pool Time: Until I had a pool, I did not realize how much just having one simply takes the edge off of the summer heat and tempers. A half an hour floating with a light read and a glass of wine after work does WONDERS for I’m-so-hot-I-could-DIE-and-on-top-of-that-I-had-a-horrible-day days.
3. Summer Thunderstorms: The few truly humid days we have during the summer sometime transform into rumbling, flashing downpours… like the sky soaked up all the moisture it can and is just letting it all loose in a torrent of rain and a marvelous light show.
4. BBQs: Suddenly there seems to be no reason to cook indoors… Fire up the Barbie, the burgers are ON!
5. Long Days: The sun is up early and stays out late… somehow the long days create an energy that fosters getting up, getting out, getting things DONE, unlike the early dark of winter that encourages yawning and cocooning.
6. Blue Skies Peppered with Jets: The clear blue sky of summer, the long hours of light seem to call to the jets to come out and play… hearing rumbles in the sky means running out to see what it is!!!
7. Desert Flower Surprises: These strange clumps of flat olive green plants randomly pop up in the desert, usually on the side of the road, that suddenly bloom into huge white and pale pink trumpet flowers in the highest heat of the summer, after all the poppies and other flowers are long gone.
8. Casual Dress/Casual Reading/Casual Movies: Up here in the AV, summer means flip flops, shorts, jeans, tank tops and everyone seems to be just fine with that! Light reading, fun movies, lots of opportunities to lighten up and give your overheated brain a little break.
9. Evening Outdoor Activities: Concerts in the Park, Thursday Night on the Square, Ice Cream Socials, Dive-In Movies at the Pool… The AV is bristling with engaging and light entertainment for just about any taste.
10. AV Fair: Okay, this is the biggie! It may always be held during the hottest two weeks of the year, but there are so many interesting things to do, to see, great concerts of name performers, local talent, livestock and llamas, terrific local exhibits of local photographers and artists of all types.
There you have it! Everyone will have their own lists, tailored to their own lifestyle, but mine is the best… because I posted it FIRST!!!
Just Musing,
Susan
*******
There is a proliferation of TOP TEN, TOP FIFTY even TOP 100 lists out there, especially in entertainment. They always seem to spark tremendous controversy as readers agree/disagree with various degrees of vehemence.
I am CERTAINLY not loathe to jump on the bandwagon… so here’s one of mine:
TOP TEN REASONS I LOVE SUMMER IN THE AV
1. Warm Summer Nights: The days may be sweltering, but the nights… ahhhhh, pure heaven! Balmy temperatures, gentle breezes, the smells of BBQs, children’s laughter. The nights make the days bearable!
2. Pool Time: Until I had a pool, I did not realize how much just having one simply takes the edge off of the summer heat and tempers. A half an hour floating with a light read and a glass of wine after work does WONDERS for I’m-so-hot-I-could-DIE-and-on-top-of-that-I-had-a-horrible-day days.
3. Summer Thunderstorms: The few truly humid days we have during the summer sometime transform into rumbling, flashing downpours… like the sky soaked up all the moisture it can and is just letting it all loose in a torrent of rain and a marvelous light show.
4. BBQs: Suddenly there seems to be no reason to cook indoors… Fire up the Barbie, the burgers are ON!
5. Long Days: The sun is up early and stays out late… somehow the long days create an energy that fosters getting up, getting out, getting things DONE, unlike the early dark of winter that encourages yawning and cocooning.
6. Blue Skies Peppered with Jets: The clear blue sky of summer, the long hours of light seem to call to the jets to come out and play… hearing rumbles in the sky means running out to see what it is!!!
7. Desert Flower Surprises: These strange clumps of flat olive green plants randomly pop up in the desert, usually on the side of the road, that suddenly bloom into huge white and pale pink trumpet flowers in the highest heat of the summer, after all the poppies and other flowers are long gone.
8. Casual Dress/Casual Reading/Casual Movies: Up here in the AV, summer means flip flops, shorts, jeans, tank tops and everyone seems to be just fine with that! Light reading, fun movies, lots of opportunities to lighten up and give your overheated brain a little break.
9. Evening Outdoor Activities: Concerts in the Park, Thursday Night on the Square, Ice Cream Socials, Dive-In Movies at the Pool… The AV is bristling with engaging and light entertainment for just about any taste.
10. AV Fair: Okay, this is the biggie! It may always be held during the hottest two weeks of the year, but there are so many interesting things to do, to see, great concerts of name performers, local talent, livestock and llamas, terrific local exhibits of local photographers and artists of all types.
There you have it! Everyone will have their own lists, tailored to their own lifestyle, but mine is the best… because I posted it FIRST!!!
Just Musing,
Susan
*******
Friday, July 30, 2010
Transformations...
********
Transform –verb (used with object) 1. to change in form, appearance, or structure; metamorphose. 2. to change in condition, nature, or character; convert. 3. to change into another substance; transmute.
It occurs to me that transformations are part of living. Every day we change and we adjust our way of thinking based on our experiences and our interpretation of events.
Even in breathing we participate in a remarkable transformation. We take in oxygen, noting the mundane and extraordinary smells around us. Our exhalations become part of what feeds our greenery, transforming something we DON’T want (mostly carbon dioxide) into something we DO want (mostly oxygen) via a very clever process built into the trees and foliage around us.
We see something on the news from halfway around the world and react, and maybe that reaction changes the way we perceive some person or event in our own town.
We exercise (or don’t) and eat healthy (or don’t) and our bodies become the sum of that care over time.
We age and our bodies slowly become less able to do what they used to be able to accomplish with ease… now we creak or take a few days to recover from hard exercise.
We wake up to the smell of smoke from fires miles away and realize that the difficulty breathing and the ashes in the pool are minor concerns when compared to what those who had to evacuate or who, even worse, lost their homes are going through.
We buy plants and fencing to transform ordinary yard space into something beautiful for ourselves, our neighbors, our home values, just because we CAN.
We work on a difficult project for months, and finally see it to fruition, and we adapt and learn from that experience to draw upon when something similar occurs again.
We hear of a catastrophic event or illness striking someone we know, and suddenly statistics are personal and courage has a face and a name.
Carbon Dioxide into Oxygen. Caterpillars into Butterflies. Thought into Action. Events into Experience. We are all transforming everyday.
The biggest question for each of us is … into what?
Just Musing,
Susan
**********
Transform –verb (used with object) 1. to change in form, appearance, or structure; metamorphose. 2. to change in condition, nature, or character; convert. 3. to change into another substance; transmute.
It occurs to me that transformations are part of living. Every day we change and we adjust our way of thinking based on our experiences and our interpretation of events.
Even in breathing we participate in a remarkable transformation. We take in oxygen, noting the mundane and extraordinary smells around us. Our exhalations become part of what feeds our greenery, transforming something we DON’T want (mostly carbon dioxide) into something we DO want (mostly oxygen) via a very clever process built into the trees and foliage around us.
We see something on the news from halfway around the world and react, and maybe that reaction changes the way we perceive some person or event in our own town.
We exercise (or don’t) and eat healthy (or don’t) and our bodies become the sum of that care over time.
We age and our bodies slowly become less able to do what they used to be able to accomplish with ease… now we creak or take a few days to recover from hard exercise.
We wake up to the smell of smoke from fires miles away and realize that the difficulty breathing and the ashes in the pool are minor concerns when compared to what those who had to evacuate or who, even worse, lost their homes are going through.
We buy plants and fencing to transform ordinary yard space into something beautiful for ourselves, our neighbors, our home values, just because we CAN.
We work on a difficult project for months, and finally see it to fruition, and we adapt and learn from that experience to draw upon when something similar occurs again.
We hear of a catastrophic event or illness striking someone we know, and suddenly statistics are personal and courage has a face and a name.
Carbon Dioxide into Oxygen. Caterpillars into Butterflies. Thought into Action. Events into Experience. We are all transforming everyday.
The biggest question for each of us is … into what?
Just Musing,
Susan
**********
Monday, May 3, 2010
Fringe People
*******
We have many interesting characters around town.
There’s Skinny Santa, the old guy with the very long wavy grey hair and beard who walks around the outside of a small tract close to where I live at least twice a day in any weather, gracefully swinging a long walking stick in front of him, up up up, then barely bouncing it off the sidewalk before it travels skyward again. He is clean and tends to wear crisp clean blue jeans and a blue denim shirt buttoned over a non-descript tee shirt and pretty much watches the sidewalk in front of him intently, as if half-expecting it to open up... but he’ll be ready when it does, by gum! If you drive too slowly past him, he will sometimes lift his head sideways to glare at you through thick black horn-rimmed glasses and telepathically remind you to mind your own damn business. I have seen him briefly talking with some people in the neighborhood, but usually he travels his allotted course, rhythmically swinging his walking stick, alone and undisturbed, thank you very much.
Then there’s Exercise Girl, a terribly thin woman of indeterminate age and sanity level who occasionally comes out to work out in public places. She selects a busy corner or bus stop and will jog in place, waving her arms about, sometimes stooping to do deep knee bends or stretches. Her apparel changes from season to season. In the winter, she tends to bundle up in several multi-colored/patterned layers and will have huge bright colored ear muffs vying for head space with oddly placed multiple ponytails. Sometimes she chooses to wear an outrageously multicolored knit cap perched completely upright on her head, like she stuffed the it so it wouldn’t flop over, its pompom splayed out like a yarn burst of fireworks above her head. In the summer, she tends to tight capri-style leggings and a dingy white short tank, exposing ribs and an almost frighteningly skinny frame. On these days, she wears her personality almost completely on her head, with antennae headbands (sometimes more than one at a time) of all kinds bouncing to her every movement. Pumpkins, fuzz balls, shamrocks, feathers, mirrored balls… all sorts of festive material catches the sunlight. Brightly colored wrists bands festoon her wrists and punctuate her flailing arms. Occasionally she will talk to herself – pep talks, I imagine – and will bounce and giggle and shout and generally enjoy the day.
Crosswalk man is a little unnerving. The first time I saw this very ordinary looking fellow in a dark multi-pocketed jacket and heavy dark pants and boots, he was crossing a very busy street and suddenly stopped to gestulate wildly and yell obscenities. I thought there was a problem and looked around for whoever was causing this alarming reaction. Now, after seeing him many times I know that he just stops in the middle of the street and yells and gestures at no one in particular and eventually makes it to the other side. I guess he is mad at the world and this gives him a somewhat captive audience.
Slurpee boy is a rather large young man who walks with a bit of an uneven gait, listing to one side and shuffling his feet a little. I have never seen him without a super-enormous-how-can-anyone-drink-all-of-that sized Slurpee. Slurpee boy tends to have very loud and passionate conversations with himself as he walks along Avenue K. He is conservatively dressed and fairly well groomed and on more than one occasion I have seen him fling his arms out wide to make a point to his invisible walking partner and slop red Slurpee slush, lid and red striped straw included, into the desert. This does not slow him down one instant, and he continues talking and yelling and flinging his arms about, all the while hanging on to the now empty plastic cup.
Evangelical Man has a boom box and megaphone strapped around his neck. He paces at certain semi-busy corners and shouts messages to all the passing cars. The sound system garbles his voice, so I have no idea what he is saying, but he seems to really believe in it, sometimes raising his free arm to the Heavens in apparent supplication, or shaking it at the traffic in evangelical fervor. Sometimes he simply broadcasts music and just walks up and down a predetermined path, head down and barely acknowledging traffic. I wonder if he sometimes has a hard time facing the world on those days and yet still bravely tends to his post, hiding behind the music and his lowered head.
There are all kinds of fringe people out there. They occupy the same space as we do, but are not always on the same plane of reality. I sometimes wonder what happened, if there was an event or accident that triggered the slightly odd behavior, or if illness or age crept up on them. They live their lives no less completely than we do, surviving day to day and wearing their routines like a mask...
...just like we do.
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
We have many interesting characters around town.
There’s Skinny Santa, the old guy with the very long wavy grey hair and beard who walks around the outside of a small tract close to where I live at least twice a day in any weather, gracefully swinging a long walking stick in front of him, up up up, then barely bouncing it off the sidewalk before it travels skyward again. He is clean and tends to wear crisp clean blue jeans and a blue denim shirt buttoned over a non-descript tee shirt and pretty much watches the sidewalk in front of him intently, as if half-expecting it to open up... but he’ll be ready when it does, by gum! If you drive too slowly past him, he will sometimes lift his head sideways to glare at you through thick black horn-rimmed glasses and telepathically remind you to mind your own damn business. I have seen him briefly talking with some people in the neighborhood, but usually he travels his allotted course, rhythmically swinging his walking stick, alone and undisturbed, thank you very much.
Then there’s Exercise Girl, a terribly thin woman of indeterminate age and sanity level who occasionally comes out to work out in public places. She selects a busy corner or bus stop and will jog in place, waving her arms about, sometimes stooping to do deep knee bends or stretches. Her apparel changes from season to season. In the winter, she tends to bundle up in several multi-colored/patterned layers and will have huge bright colored ear muffs vying for head space with oddly placed multiple ponytails. Sometimes she chooses to wear an outrageously multicolored knit cap perched completely upright on her head, like she stuffed the it so it wouldn’t flop over, its pompom splayed out like a yarn burst of fireworks above her head. In the summer, she tends to tight capri-style leggings and a dingy white short tank, exposing ribs and an almost frighteningly skinny frame. On these days, she wears her personality almost completely on her head, with antennae headbands (sometimes more than one at a time) of all kinds bouncing to her every movement. Pumpkins, fuzz balls, shamrocks, feathers, mirrored balls… all sorts of festive material catches the sunlight. Brightly colored wrists bands festoon her wrists and punctuate her flailing arms. Occasionally she will talk to herself – pep talks, I imagine – and will bounce and giggle and shout and generally enjoy the day.
Crosswalk man is a little unnerving. The first time I saw this very ordinary looking fellow in a dark multi-pocketed jacket and heavy dark pants and boots, he was crossing a very busy street and suddenly stopped to gestulate wildly and yell obscenities. I thought there was a problem and looked around for whoever was causing this alarming reaction. Now, after seeing him many times I know that he just stops in the middle of the street and yells and gestures at no one in particular and eventually makes it to the other side. I guess he is mad at the world and this gives him a somewhat captive audience.
Slurpee boy is a rather large young man who walks with a bit of an uneven gait, listing to one side and shuffling his feet a little. I have never seen him without a super-enormous-how-can-anyone-drink-all-of-that sized Slurpee. Slurpee boy tends to have very loud and passionate conversations with himself as he walks along Avenue K. He is conservatively dressed and fairly well groomed and on more than one occasion I have seen him fling his arms out wide to make a point to his invisible walking partner and slop red Slurpee slush, lid and red striped straw included, into the desert. This does not slow him down one instant, and he continues talking and yelling and flinging his arms about, all the while hanging on to the now empty plastic cup.
Evangelical Man has a boom box and megaphone strapped around his neck. He paces at certain semi-busy corners and shouts messages to all the passing cars. The sound system garbles his voice, so I have no idea what he is saying, but he seems to really believe in it, sometimes raising his free arm to the Heavens in apparent supplication, or shaking it at the traffic in evangelical fervor. Sometimes he simply broadcasts music and just walks up and down a predetermined path, head down and barely acknowledging traffic. I wonder if he sometimes has a hard time facing the world on those days and yet still bravely tends to his post, hiding behind the music and his lowered head.
There are all kinds of fringe people out there. They occupy the same space as we do, but are not always on the same plane of reality. I sometimes wonder what happened, if there was an event or accident that triggered the slightly odd behavior, or if illness or age crept up on them. They live their lives no less completely than we do, surviving day to day and wearing their routines like a mask...
...just like we do.
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
Friday, April 23, 2010
One Ringy Dingy... Two Ringy Dingy... It This the Party to Whom I am Speaking??
*******
Call me one crazy Realtor, but I do NOT want to be 100% reachable by telephone at all times…
Phones have been making me crazy for years. They are an interruption and a real disruption if I am engaged in something that requires a great deal of concentration. I resisted getting a cell phone for this very reason, and then resisted upgrading to a smart phone…. THAT one is okay because I can text a VERY short message or see emails, but those interruptions are of MY choosing. Phone conversations almost always last longer than they really need to since “one quick question” generally turns into a much longer chat as one question leads to another or someone feels the need to fulfill social niceties... So, by the time you hang up you have lost 10 plus minutes and all momentum.
I know that sounds almost anathema for a Realtor to hate answering the phone when I am in the middle of something, but I cringe when I hear other agents tells me that they have clients who call them at 10:30 at night during the week or at 7 in the morning on a Sunday or during an Anniversary dinner or constantly while they were on vacation...
I am aghast. THEY ANSWER THEIR PHONE!
Holy cow. Not me. If someone is up and wants to know something in the middle of the night, shoot me an email or text me. I will get to it as soon as I am up and available to talk. Now, if I know something important is coming in then yeah, I make allowances for that. Usually.
A good friend who has been in the business for many years advised me that I am missing out on business because I am not always 100% available and sometimes don’t get to answering phone messages for a few hours (or longer if someone has the nerve to call me in the middle of the freaking night!). Now, this very same person does NOT allow his cell phone number to be given out because it is an intrusion on his personal life. The crux of this is, of course, that I am looking for business and his is already set, but still. I feel like I can give good service to my clients without giving up every single second of my weekends or evenings! Why do I have to EARN the right to a private life?
I do answer emails and texts pretty quickly, for some reason those are easier to respond to… with the added bonus of having everything in writing for reference on both sides. As my memory gets a little jumbled now and then with so many issues and ideas and facts and people and and AND!!! all mixed up in my brain, I can be both concise and thorough in an email, or even a text. So, my rule is (and I tell my clients this), if I don’t answer the phone, shoot me a text or email if at all possible. I will probably answer that faster and will call later if a conversation is still needed.
It just seems to me that people’s attention span has gotten so short that they have forgotten how to live in the moment… everything is INSTANT! NOW! GOTTA HAVE IT! INFORMATION AT YOUR FINGERTIPS! As the late great Yoda says, they are always looking “to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was doing.” (picture Yoda poking you with a stick here)
I think we are becoming a society of schizophrenic hyper sensitive instant gratification junkies.
Tell me you haven’t seen THIS one: two people sitting at a restaurant, both of them facing slightly away from each other, both of them with a phone to their ear or texting away, not saying a word to each other, not even making eye contact. People walk side by side, but don’t talk to one another, they are texting or tweeting or chatting to someone else. They text or talk on the phone during movies, while walking the dog, in line at the grocery store, in coffee shops, book stores, walking down the street, in their front yards… when they are alone or surrounded by people they know.
And people are OKAY with this??
Well, I for one do NOT feel obligated to pick up the phone when I am with other clients, on the road, having dinner, watching my favorite-I-waited-to-see-this-episode-all-week TV show, in the middle of a project, talking to my kids, spending time with my husband, working in the garden, playing at Disneyland, bathing the dog… in other words, I want to have a LIFE.
That’s right, a LIFE! Which means you do NOT have the unmitigated right to interrupt me at all hours and get all pissy about it when I don’t pick up the phone to talk to you RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND, even if I am up to my elbows in gardening dirt or dog shampoo or am busy kissing my hubby.
Text or email me. I’m more likely to respond faster… when I am DONE washing the dog!
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
Call me one crazy Realtor, but I do NOT want to be 100% reachable by telephone at all times…
Phones have been making me crazy for years. They are an interruption and a real disruption if I am engaged in something that requires a great deal of concentration. I resisted getting a cell phone for this very reason, and then resisted upgrading to a smart phone…. THAT one is okay because I can text a VERY short message or see emails, but those interruptions are of MY choosing. Phone conversations almost always last longer than they really need to since “one quick question” generally turns into a much longer chat as one question leads to another or someone feels the need to fulfill social niceties... So, by the time you hang up you have lost 10 plus minutes and all momentum.
I know that sounds almost anathema for a Realtor to hate answering the phone when I am in the middle of something, but I cringe when I hear other agents tells me that they have clients who call them at 10:30 at night during the week or at 7 in the morning on a Sunday or during an Anniversary dinner or constantly while they were on vacation...
I am aghast. THEY ANSWER THEIR PHONE!
Holy cow. Not me. If someone is up and wants to know something in the middle of the night, shoot me an email or text me. I will get to it as soon as I am up and available to talk. Now, if I know something important is coming in then yeah, I make allowances for that. Usually.
A good friend who has been in the business for many years advised me that I am missing out on business because I am not always 100% available and sometimes don’t get to answering phone messages for a few hours (or longer if someone has the nerve to call me in the middle of the freaking night!). Now, this very same person does NOT allow his cell phone number to be given out because it is an intrusion on his personal life. The crux of this is, of course, that I am looking for business and his is already set, but still. I feel like I can give good service to my clients without giving up every single second of my weekends or evenings! Why do I have to EARN the right to a private life?
I do answer emails and texts pretty quickly, for some reason those are easier to respond to… with the added bonus of having everything in writing for reference on both sides. As my memory gets a little jumbled now and then with so many issues and ideas and facts and people and and AND!!! all mixed up in my brain, I can be both concise and thorough in an email, or even a text. So, my rule is (and I tell my clients this), if I don’t answer the phone, shoot me a text or email if at all possible. I will probably answer that faster and will call later if a conversation is still needed.
It just seems to me that people’s attention span has gotten so short that they have forgotten how to live in the moment… everything is INSTANT! NOW! GOTTA HAVE IT! INFORMATION AT YOUR FINGERTIPS! As the late great Yoda says, they are always looking “to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was. Hmm? What he was doing.” (picture Yoda poking you with a stick here)
I think we are becoming a society of schizophrenic hyper sensitive instant gratification junkies.
Tell me you haven’t seen THIS one: two people sitting at a restaurant, both of them facing slightly away from each other, both of them with a phone to their ear or texting away, not saying a word to each other, not even making eye contact. People walk side by side, but don’t talk to one another, they are texting or tweeting or chatting to someone else. They text or talk on the phone during movies, while walking the dog, in line at the grocery store, in coffee shops, book stores, walking down the street, in their front yards… when they are alone or surrounded by people they know.
And people are OKAY with this??
Well, I for one do NOT feel obligated to pick up the phone when I am with other clients, on the road, having dinner, watching my favorite-I-waited-to-see-this-episode-all-week TV show, in the middle of a project, talking to my kids, spending time with my husband, working in the garden, playing at Disneyland, bathing the dog… in other words, I want to have a LIFE.
That’s right, a LIFE! Which means you do NOT have the unmitigated right to interrupt me at all hours and get all pissy about it when I don’t pick up the phone to talk to you RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND, even if I am up to my elbows in gardening dirt or dog shampoo or am busy kissing my hubby.
Text or email me. I’m more likely to respond faster… when I am DONE washing the dog!
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Anticipa-yay-shun...
*******
Anticipation is a delicious thing. It encompasses the physical, mental and emotional as it revs up the heart, creates a whirlwind of thoughts tumbling over each other and heightened sensitivity that crescendos as the Event nears.
It is can be the preparations for a party, or the Super Bowl, or a wedding, or the birth of a child or grandchild… the opening of a business, the start of a favorite TV show or movie, a date with someone you care about, a rare vacation or a special Holiday. Buying a house or new car. Graduation. A loved one’s return. So many things in this life are anticipated; so many times we get excited about something that we expect to happen in our lives.
And there is the flip side. Anticipation of something unpleasant uses the same physical, mental and emotional forms to trigger anxiety.
Much of the time we mold, create, build on and stir up this anticipation into a frenzy; building up the excitement of an upcoming event to massive proportions, allowing the excitement to build and build… much like the clack clack clack as you climb up that first steep incline on a rollercoaster until….. WHEEEEEEEEEEE whoosh! You are right in the middle of a fast and furious ride.
The funniest thing is that most anticipatory events are rather fleeting as compared to the planning and preparations leading up to it. Planning a wedding, training for a race, rehearsing a play, riding that ‘coaster… long hours and weeks and months of anticipation for one shining moment. We live for that!
And we never think it is a waste of time. That glorious moment is sooo worth it!
Unless it is a bad thing. In that case, the dreaded event is usually not as awful as we pictured; the world didn’t end, no one got hit, we didn’t wind up in prison, no one laughed (too hard), no one even NOTICED... The sigh of relief once it is over with is huge! We feel as though we have been given a second chance to do it all again and, more importantly, do it better next time. All that anxiety gives way to learning and resolution. So even BAD anticipation is a good thing!
We like roller coasters, humans are adrenaline junkies… and our planning, anticipation and eventually ending up at the end with our fists in the air shouting "YESSSSSSSS!", that is what makes the major portion of our lives (you know, the tedious day to day stuff) worth it all.
(and suddenly I have a craving to go to Magic Mountain…)
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
Anticipation is a delicious thing. It encompasses the physical, mental and emotional as it revs up the heart, creates a whirlwind of thoughts tumbling over each other and heightened sensitivity that crescendos as the Event nears.
It is can be the preparations for a party, or the Super Bowl, or a wedding, or the birth of a child or grandchild… the opening of a business, the start of a favorite TV show or movie, a date with someone you care about, a rare vacation or a special Holiday. Buying a house or new car. Graduation. A loved one’s return. So many things in this life are anticipated; so many times we get excited about something that we expect to happen in our lives.
And there is the flip side. Anticipation of something unpleasant uses the same physical, mental and emotional forms to trigger anxiety.
Much of the time we mold, create, build on and stir up this anticipation into a frenzy; building up the excitement of an upcoming event to massive proportions, allowing the excitement to build and build… much like the clack clack clack as you climb up that first steep incline on a rollercoaster until….. WHEEEEEEEEEEE whoosh! You are right in the middle of a fast and furious ride.
The funniest thing is that most anticipatory events are rather fleeting as compared to the planning and preparations leading up to it. Planning a wedding, training for a race, rehearsing a play, riding that ‘coaster… long hours and weeks and months of anticipation for one shining moment. We live for that!
And we never think it is a waste of time. That glorious moment is sooo worth it!
Unless it is a bad thing. In that case, the dreaded event is usually not as awful as we pictured; the world didn’t end, no one got hit, we didn’t wind up in prison, no one laughed (too hard), no one even NOTICED... The sigh of relief once it is over with is huge! We feel as though we have been given a second chance to do it all again and, more importantly, do it better next time. All that anxiety gives way to learning and resolution. So even BAD anticipation is a good thing!
We like roller coasters, humans are adrenaline junkies… and our planning, anticipation and eventually ending up at the end with our fists in the air shouting "YESSSSSSSS!", that is what makes the major portion of our lives (you know, the tedious day to day stuff) worth it all.
(and suddenly I have a craving to go to Magic Mountain…)
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Support Systems in Place, Captain!
*******
Support systems can mean so many different things. Emotional support: providing a shoulder when someone close to you is hurting. Cheerleading support: spurring someone on to achieving goals. Monetary support: allowing someone to concentrate on other things by providing for their home and board. Group support: providing understanding and ideas for overcoming the effects of divorce, alcoholism, abuse, overeating, etc.
All of these systems are meant to be temporary.
In time our friend grows stronger and doesn’t need to cry on our shoulder so much. Grief, disease, separation, all the emotional spill-over works itself out eventually. The right time to straighten up, wash your face and go back “out there” does arrive. The supporting person can wring out their shoulder pads, put away the ice cream and wine, smile and go on with their own lives.
Eventually your children or spouse finishes their project/school and can fend for themselves without monetary support from us. The kids move out. The spouse in school attains their goal, be it a degree or finishing classes to further their careers and can get that better paying job or realizing a lifetime dream. The college age kid who came home because he couldn’t find a job right after getting his degree will, hopefully, find the wherewithal to move out on his own again, warp speed!
Cheerleading is usually for the duration of the “game”; spurring someone on to achieve their ultimate amibition, which is often a huge deal to that person, even if you don't quite understand it. That can mean bolstering a flagging ego, or standing by their side at yet another boring (to you) function, or taking care of things by yourself, or closing the door so they can work in relative silence, or sometimes it is as simple as not saying a word and listening to some ranting. Once the goal is achieved, however the active cheerleading must stop, and roles go back to at least a semblance of the way they were before the task was undertaken. Active cheerleading is very tiring if done for too long, because it often means that the supporting partner is sidelining their own needs for another’s benefit.
Most group support systems also have a “graduation”, even if it is years away, when strength and time have allowed the person make a certain level of peace with what has happened to them and have gained the strength and tools to make it on their own. Spend too much time in most of them (excepting AA and a few others) and people start to think that you are whining… time to move on!
A person may be in need of all kinds of different support systems throughout their lives, sometimes needing several different types at all at once. Monetary plus Cheerleader (kids in college), Emotional plus Group (going through a divorce or other grief), Monetary plus Emotional plus Cheerleader (helping a spouse adjust to being laid off) or any other conceivable combination.
But the specific situations are all different and all do sooner or later expire. If they don’t eventually the people providing that support will become less supportive and positive and will feel like they are being taken advantage of, leading to resentment, impatience and a final cut off of unconditional support. Full stop!
So, first support, then weaning and finally, graduation.
There is one kind of support that never expires, however. Marriage is one big daily support system that never goes away. While you may be able to break down some of the major instances into expiration-date type periods, in general marriage requires daily support and help of each other. Some people might call it is Partnership in Action, which is pretty much what it is, but it is also much more than that alone.
It is taking care of the little things for each other every single day. The smile and kiss you have for each other when you come home from work. Running your fingers through his hair at the end of the day. Remembering to bring home that gallon of milk she called about. An activity – it doesn’t matter what it is – that allows you to share an experience. Saying “Thank you”… a lot. Allowing each other some space. Watching him sleep. Bringing her flowers just because. Texting I <3 U during the day. Remembering birthdays and most anniversaries. A random big hug and twirl around because you feel like it. Keeping silent when we know that our angry words will hurt. Making her favorite dinner. Keeping him from putting on his motorcycle gloves before he puts on his helmet, again, every single morning.
These little everyday things are supporting your marriage, keeping it strong, healthy and ready to weather the storms that life just carelessly throws at us like so much flotsam. Our daily caring makes us stronger, so we can stand side by side against the giant sucking wormhole in space, make Captain Kirk-like jokes, hold hands and walk boldly into the maelstrom, knowing that whatever happens, we will live to make jokes about it... we will make it through to the other side.
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
Support systems can mean so many different things. Emotional support: providing a shoulder when someone close to you is hurting. Cheerleading support: spurring someone on to achieving goals. Monetary support: allowing someone to concentrate on other things by providing for their home and board. Group support: providing understanding and ideas for overcoming the effects of divorce, alcoholism, abuse, overeating, etc.
All of these systems are meant to be temporary.
In time our friend grows stronger and doesn’t need to cry on our shoulder so much. Grief, disease, separation, all the emotional spill-over works itself out eventually. The right time to straighten up, wash your face and go back “out there” does arrive. The supporting person can wring out their shoulder pads, put away the ice cream and wine, smile and go on with their own lives.
Eventually your children or spouse finishes their project/school and can fend for themselves without monetary support from us. The kids move out. The spouse in school attains their goal, be it a degree or finishing classes to further their careers and can get that better paying job or realizing a lifetime dream. The college age kid who came home because he couldn’t find a job right after getting his degree will, hopefully, find the wherewithal to move out on his own again, warp speed!
Cheerleading is usually for the duration of the “game”; spurring someone on to achieve their ultimate amibition, which is often a huge deal to that person, even if you don't quite understand it. That can mean bolstering a flagging ego, or standing by their side at yet another boring (to you) function, or taking care of things by yourself, or closing the door so they can work in relative silence, or sometimes it is as simple as not saying a word and listening to some ranting. Once the goal is achieved, however the active cheerleading must stop, and roles go back to at least a semblance of the way they were before the task was undertaken. Active cheerleading is very tiring if done for too long, because it often means that the supporting partner is sidelining their own needs for another’s benefit.
Most group support systems also have a “graduation”, even if it is years away, when strength and time have allowed the person make a certain level of peace with what has happened to them and have gained the strength and tools to make it on their own. Spend too much time in most of them (excepting AA and a few others) and people start to think that you are whining… time to move on!
A person may be in need of all kinds of different support systems throughout their lives, sometimes needing several different types at all at once. Monetary plus Cheerleader (kids in college), Emotional plus Group (going through a divorce or other grief), Monetary plus Emotional plus Cheerleader (helping a spouse adjust to being laid off) or any other conceivable combination.
But the specific situations are all different and all do sooner or later expire. If they don’t eventually the people providing that support will become less supportive and positive and will feel like they are being taken advantage of, leading to resentment, impatience and a final cut off of unconditional support. Full stop!
So, first support, then weaning and finally, graduation.
There is one kind of support that never expires, however. Marriage is one big daily support system that never goes away. While you may be able to break down some of the major instances into expiration-date type periods, in general marriage requires daily support and help of each other. Some people might call it is Partnership in Action, which is pretty much what it is, but it is also much more than that alone.
It is taking care of the little things for each other every single day. The smile and kiss you have for each other when you come home from work. Running your fingers through his hair at the end of the day. Remembering to bring home that gallon of milk she called about. An activity – it doesn’t matter what it is – that allows you to share an experience. Saying “Thank you”… a lot. Allowing each other some space. Watching him sleep. Bringing her flowers just because. Texting I <3 U during the day. Remembering birthdays and most anniversaries. A random big hug and twirl around because you feel like it. Keeping silent when we know that our angry words will hurt. Making her favorite dinner. Keeping him from putting on his motorcycle gloves before he puts on his helmet, again, every single morning.
These little everyday things are supporting your marriage, keeping it strong, healthy and ready to weather the storms that life just carelessly throws at us like so much flotsam. Our daily caring makes us stronger, so we can stand side by side against the giant sucking wormhole in space, make Captain Kirk-like jokes, hold hands and walk boldly into the maelstrom, knowing that whatever happens, we will live to make jokes about it... we will make it through to the other side.
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Living Out Loud
*******
It used to be that Living Out Loud meant you were living as BIG life, full of adventure, risks, fun… Jumping out of airplanes, climbing mountains, backpacking in Nepal, joining the Peace Corps and generally just taking Big Bites outta Life.
Now, however, living out loud means you are living in the public arena on Social Media like Facebook... every word, action, mistake, private humiliation, rant and embarrassing moment is paraded, laughed about and posted for all to see.
I love Facebook. I check it out several times a day, post comments, update my status and play with old friends (and my SuperPoke Pet, Chilly)… but the version of me I put up there is fairly sanitized. I try not to be too negative or whiny, and I certainly don’t give a blow-by-blow of the latest argument with my hubby (although ranting about teenagers is okay for some reason), really stupid mistakes that I make or why I hate… anything. Wait. Anything except people who talk during movies. They’re fair *grrrrrr snarl pfttt pffft* game!
In reading the posts of FB Friends over the past year and a half that I have been active, I first noticed that the younger people tended to be more open and unfiltered in their posts: decrying injustices large and small, spewing venom or praise, being petty and generous, passionately defending their right to be passionate about anything and everything. Swearing, vitriol, biting wit, absolute definitive statements (the kind that young people and extremists are wont to make) peppered their status updates, affording amusing, aggravating, thoughtful and LOL moments to their readers.
It is almost as if the mere anonymity of typing onto a keyboard or phone freed them from the usual unwritten rules of an admittedly dying polite society. Despite reports of employers finding out about nasty comments said about them online, they still vent about bosses on their status. Despite the fact that everyone they “friend” will be a witness, they still say things about people that they cannot just take back, but is immortalized forever on some server somewhere. Posting “Having a GREAT time at the beach!” when you called in deathly sick is a mere "heehee" moment when you are caught in the lie.
Perhaps younger people have more tolerance for this sort of thing as they have thoroughly immersed themselves the concept of instant communication. Instantaneous validation, comment, being free with their wildly fluctuating emotions without regret or pause seems to be a part of their daily lives, like breathing or downing Energy Drinks. Texting when out with friends is not only acceptable but encouraged. Instant, 24/7 access to your many BFFs seems to be a requirement with many younger people.
Of course, I admit that having a bad day, posting about it and receiving several positive “you’ll be okay”’, “I hear ya”, “((hugs))” and other encouraging words from people all over the world just feels good. When you are feeling the most down, reaching out semi-anonymously makes you realize that you are not, indeed alone. It is better than a session with a therapist… plus you have any number of them online all day long. For free!
The negatives – having something you post, or something a friend or frenemy posts about you – can bite you in the butt down the line – don’t stand a chance. The FB Era is here and is changing the way we interact with one another.
So, does that mean that my generation is also, albeit more slowly, riding this Out Loud train? Yeah, I think so. More and more older adults (and by older adults I mean over 35 or so) are embracing the concept of Living Out Loud… to a point. The instant validation of opinion, virtual hugs, finding other Bones or Firefly fans in your friends list are intoxicating plusses to this brave new world.
The choice we have is just how transparent we want to live. Our presentation to the world on Facebook is every bit as important as our grooming to go out in public. A smile generates a smile. Truly or incessantly negative people will eventually be hidden or blocked. Political activists will encourage – no DEMAND – hot debates. Business people will hawk their goods (careful! Too much and you will be blocked, too!). And, just like in real life, we will tailor our friends list to our specific needs and weed out the ones that are just not a good fit eventually, even if it makes our friend count go down.
It all boils down to what kind of person you choose to be online. It is simply another mask, just like the one you wear to work, or when you are in a meeting with a client, or are with your family (including the crazy cousin everyone seems to have who will completely misinterpret something you say and spread all those nasty rumors), at the pub on Friday night or having dinner with your kids, You are many different people during the course of your day, and Facebook is just one more persona.
Who do you choose to be online?
Me, I have an almost pathological aversion to hurting people and so don’t say a lot of negative things in person, why would I do it on Facebook? And who knows, maybe my generally happy posts are helping others who are having a bad day – making them laugh or smile or simply not feeling as if they are all alone in the world.
So, for the time being, I will still sanitize things a bit and continue to be fairly positive online.
But that’s just me.
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
It used to be that Living Out Loud meant you were living as BIG life, full of adventure, risks, fun… Jumping out of airplanes, climbing mountains, backpacking in Nepal, joining the Peace Corps and generally just taking Big Bites outta Life.
Now, however, living out loud means you are living in the public arena on Social Media like Facebook... every word, action, mistake, private humiliation, rant and embarrassing moment is paraded, laughed about and posted for all to see.
I love Facebook. I check it out several times a day, post comments, update my status and play with old friends (and my SuperPoke Pet, Chilly)… but the version of me I put up there is fairly sanitized. I try not to be too negative or whiny, and I certainly don’t give a blow-by-blow of the latest argument with my hubby (although ranting about teenagers is okay for some reason), really stupid mistakes that I make or why I hate… anything. Wait. Anything except people who talk during movies. They’re fair *grrrrrr snarl pfttt pffft* game!
In reading the posts of FB Friends over the past year and a half that I have been active, I first noticed that the younger people tended to be more open and unfiltered in their posts: decrying injustices large and small, spewing venom or praise, being petty and generous, passionately defending their right to be passionate about anything and everything. Swearing, vitriol, biting wit, absolute definitive statements (the kind that young people and extremists are wont to make) peppered their status updates, affording amusing, aggravating, thoughtful and LOL moments to their readers.
It is almost as if the mere anonymity of typing onto a keyboard or phone freed them from the usual unwritten rules of an admittedly dying polite society. Despite reports of employers finding out about nasty comments said about them online, they still vent about bosses on their status. Despite the fact that everyone they “friend” will be a witness, they still say things about people that they cannot just take back, but is immortalized forever on some server somewhere. Posting “Having a GREAT time at the beach!” when you called in deathly sick is a mere "heehee" moment when you are caught in the lie.
Perhaps younger people have more tolerance for this sort of thing as they have thoroughly immersed themselves the concept of instant communication. Instantaneous validation, comment, being free with their wildly fluctuating emotions without regret or pause seems to be a part of their daily lives, like breathing or downing Energy Drinks. Texting when out with friends is not only acceptable but encouraged. Instant, 24/7 access to your many BFFs seems to be a requirement with many younger people.
Of course, I admit that having a bad day, posting about it and receiving several positive “you’ll be okay”’, “I hear ya”, “((hugs))” and other encouraging words from people all over the world just feels good. When you are feeling the most down, reaching out semi-anonymously makes you realize that you are not, indeed alone. It is better than a session with a therapist… plus you have any number of them online all day long. For free!
The negatives – having something you post, or something a friend or frenemy posts about you – can bite you in the butt down the line – don’t stand a chance. The FB Era is here and is changing the way we interact with one another.
So, does that mean that my generation is also, albeit more slowly, riding this Out Loud train? Yeah, I think so. More and more older adults (and by older adults I mean over 35 or so) are embracing the concept of Living Out Loud… to a point. The instant validation of opinion, virtual hugs, finding other Bones or Firefly fans in your friends list are intoxicating plusses to this brave new world.
The choice we have is just how transparent we want to live. Our presentation to the world on Facebook is every bit as important as our grooming to go out in public. A smile generates a smile. Truly or incessantly negative people will eventually be hidden or blocked. Political activists will encourage – no DEMAND – hot debates. Business people will hawk their goods (careful! Too much and you will be blocked, too!). And, just like in real life, we will tailor our friends list to our specific needs and weed out the ones that are just not a good fit eventually, even if it makes our friend count go down.
It all boils down to what kind of person you choose to be online. It is simply another mask, just like the one you wear to work, or when you are in a meeting with a client, or are with your family (including the crazy cousin everyone seems to have who will completely misinterpret something you say and spread all those nasty rumors), at the pub on Friday night or having dinner with your kids, You are many different people during the course of your day, and Facebook is just one more persona.
Who do you choose to be online?
Me, I have an almost pathological aversion to hurting people and so don’t say a lot of negative things in person, why would I do it on Facebook? And who knows, maybe my generally happy posts are helping others who are having a bad day – making them laugh or smile or simply not feeling as if they are all alone in the world.
So, for the time being, I will still sanitize things a bit and continue to be fairly positive online.
But that’s just me.
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Whimsy
*****
The world is on serious information overload. Everywhere we look we are bombarded with up-to-the-second news of horrible, evil, scumbaggy, criminal, shocking, OMG, unbelievable acts of depravity.
And then Congress takes a break.
Not to make light of things that are happening today, but we really need to make light of things that are happening today. It used to be that we all got our news once a day, sometimes twice (newspaper in the morning and then evening news) and then we went about our lives, blissfully unaware of the world at large because we were completely immersed in our OWN world: family, work, friends, those were the sharp focus of our lives.
Now the outside world intrudes constantly. It bangs on the door, jumps us as we ‘round the corner, blocks our way, screams at us incessantly… It is everywhere – TV, ads, internet, updates on phones, Facebook… we cannot escape it. All the craziness and horror that can be conceived by the blackest, deepest puts of humanity is pushed in our faces All. The. Time.
Jokes have become downright mean. TV has become a showcase for viciousness masquerading as entertainment. Celebrities are alternatively revered and reviled as we discover that they are less/more than we demand them to be. Good manners and common sense have become quaint relics of another time. We celebrate bad behavior in sports “stars”. People who do not believe everything that we believe are loathed and reviled, and visa versa. Rumor is forwarded around the internet as fact. The polite phrase “excuse me” has come to mean “GET OUTTA MY WAY!”
Everyone has a myopic opinion about the state of the economy, international affairs, the housing crisis, the banking crisis, the ethics crisis, the state of our state… and everyone is LOUD. Politics is loud. Religion is loud. Rumor is loud. Panic is loud. Rebellion is loud. Everyone is screaming at the top of their lungs and no one is slowing down to listen to or even NOTICE the other side.
You people are yelling and pushing and shoving yourselves into heart attacks!
So, my idea is this: LIGHTEN UP, PEOPLE! Humorlessness in the face of the very serious state of the world is NOT going to make the world any better. People tend to shy away from others who take themselves too seriously because those kinds of people just aren’t any fun to be around. The impact of your words is not improved by sheer volume, nor is your cause helped by jumping into a light discussion with diatribes.
Personally, I think we need more whimsy in our lives. Frogs, spas, singing stars, LOL moments… indulging in silly pastimes, read the comics, play with the dog, tease the cat, watch the butterflies flit like drunken sailors, eat ice cream, roll your eyes as people who predict the end of the world in two years, jump in a rain puddle, watch old Bugs Bunny cartoons with your kids – or by yourself! – sneak out and catch a movie in the middle of the afternoon, listen to vintage Bill Cosby, take a bubble bath, read a really trashy doesn’t-even-have-one-redeeming-social-value book, take a different route to work, count the dandelion flowers in your lawn (ooooh, that one kinda hurts!), chat with a dear friend, tell an old joke, write run-on sentences once in a while… encourage flights of fancy in yourself.
You will be in a far better position to tackle those tough issues once you have aired out the garbage that has been mustering closed up inside your skull for far too long. Doesn’t your house smell better after throwing open the windows to let the Spring breeze waft through after a long, closed in Winter?? Same principle.
Give yourself and the world a break. Who cares if people look at you funny because you are singing in your car?? Sing anyway! Who cares if people think you aren’t being serious enough because you roll your eyes when you hear crap? Roll away!
Who cares if people question your sanity because you listen to the stars sing?? Listen anyway.
Be whimsical!
Just Musing,
Susan
********
The world is on serious information overload. Everywhere we look we are bombarded with up-to-the-second news of horrible, evil, scumbaggy, criminal, shocking, OMG, unbelievable acts of depravity.
And then Congress takes a break.
Not to make light of things that are happening today, but we really need to make light of things that are happening today. It used to be that we all got our news once a day, sometimes twice (newspaper in the morning and then evening news) and then we went about our lives, blissfully unaware of the world at large because we were completely immersed in our OWN world: family, work, friends, those were the sharp focus of our lives.
Now the outside world intrudes constantly. It bangs on the door, jumps us as we ‘round the corner, blocks our way, screams at us incessantly… It is everywhere – TV, ads, internet, updates on phones, Facebook… we cannot escape it. All the craziness and horror that can be conceived by the blackest, deepest puts of humanity is pushed in our faces All. The. Time.
Jokes have become downright mean. TV has become a showcase for viciousness masquerading as entertainment. Celebrities are alternatively revered and reviled as we discover that they are less/more than we demand them to be. Good manners and common sense have become quaint relics of another time. We celebrate bad behavior in sports “stars”. People who do not believe everything that we believe are loathed and reviled, and visa versa. Rumor is forwarded around the internet as fact. The polite phrase “excuse me” has come to mean “GET OUTTA MY WAY!”
Everyone has a myopic opinion about the state of the economy, international affairs, the housing crisis, the banking crisis, the ethics crisis, the state of our state… and everyone is LOUD. Politics is loud. Religion is loud. Rumor is loud. Panic is loud. Rebellion is loud. Everyone is screaming at the top of their lungs and no one is slowing down to listen to or even NOTICE the other side.
You people are yelling and pushing and shoving yourselves into heart attacks!
So, my idea is this: LIGHTEN UP, PEOPLE! Humorlessness in the face of the very serious state of the world is NOT going to make the world any better. People tend to shy away from others who take themselves too seriously because those kinds of people just aren’t any fun to be around. The impact of your words is not improved by sheer volume, nor is your cause helped by jumping into a light discussion with diatribes.
Personally, I think we need more whimsy in our lives. Frogs, spas, singing stars, LOL moments… indulging in silly pastimes, read the comics, play with the dog, tease the cat, watch the butterflies flit like drunken sailors, eat ice cream, roll your eyes as people who predict the end of the world in two years, jump in a rain puddle, watch old Bugs Bunny cartoons with your kids – or by yourself! – sneak out and catch a movie in the middle of the afternoon, listen to vintage Bill Cosby, take a bubble bath, read a really trashy doesn’t-even-have-one-redeeming-social-value book, take a different route to work, count the dandelion flowers in your lawn (ooooh, that one kinda hurts!), chat with a dear friend, tell an old joke, write run-on sentences once in a while… encourage flights of fancy in yourself.
You will be in a far better position to tackle those tough issues once you have aired out the garbage that has been mustering closed up inside your skull for far too long. Doesn’t your house smell better after throwing open the windows to let the Spring breeze waft through after a long, closed in Winter?? Same principle.
Give yourself and the world a break. Who cares if people look at you funny because you are singing in your car?? Sing anyway! Who cares if people think you aren’t being serious enough because you roll your eyes when you hear crap? Roll away!
Who cares if people question your sanity because you listen to the stars sing?? Listen anyway.
Be whimsical!
Just Musing,
Susan
********
Friday, March 5, 2010
Do Overs
**********
Have you ever reached a point in your life when you look back and wish you could change one, two, three things, rectify mistakes, reverse decisions, taken a different career path, or.... maybe just whisper something into your younger self's ear, a warning perhaps?
What would you do if you had the ability to do just that, to whisper one sentence in your younger self's ear, knowing that what you said would be absolutely believed. Would you do it?
Would you really do it, would you change that one thing?
Would you go back in time and change something that could, no, WOULD change everything that happened afterwards? Perhaps leading you into a completely different life, different path, career, home...
Not everyone feels that they have made really terrible mistakes along the road of this life, but most people, I think, have one or two things they would have done differently if they "knew then what they know now".
In the deepest, darkest corners of my own mind, when I look back on nearly 53 years of living, I see a whole slew of mistakes, really bad choices, times when I was too fearful to do something I should have done, or was too arrogant to look at both sides, or said the wrong thing and hurt someone, or went along with something I knew I shouldn’t have just because it was easier, or I believed in the absolute wrong person… My life is rife with these errors in judgment, some big, some small, some huge, some too embarrassing to even recall without cringing.
So if I had ONE do over, one chance to warn myself, would I take that chance, even though it might change everything?
Yeah, I think I would.
I would warn myself about getting involved with a particular person who ended up stealing four years of my life and hurting me on so many levels, including my relationship with my own children. I still think back on the entire episode in my life with real bitterness, even after nearly fifteen years.
My own scars I maybe could have lived with, but what it did to my relationship with my own wonderful, marvelous kids is just... awful. My children, who I carried, bore and raised, loved more than my own life then and now, one selfish and stupid mistake in character judgment changed everything.
We have managed to get through it and now I am close - in as many different ways as they are different from each other - to all three of my now grown children, but there was heartache that did not need to happen, tears that did not need to be shed, confidence that did not need to be shattered, pain that I did not have to put them – or, let's be honest here, myself – through.
Yeah, I would do it.
How about you?
Just Musing,
Susan
***********
Have you ever reached a point in your life when you look back and wish you could change one, two, three things, rectify mistakes, reverse decisions, taken a different career path, or.... maybe just whisper something into your younger self's ear, a warning perhaps?
What would you do if you had the ability to do just that, to whisper one sentence in your younger self's ear, knowing that what you said would be absolutely believed. Would you do it?
Would you really do it, would you change that one thing?
Would you go back in time and change something that could, no, WOULD change everything that happened afterwards? Perhaps leading you into a completely different life, different path, career, home...
Not everyone feels that they have made really terrible mistakes along the road of this life, but most people, I think, have one or two things they would have done differently if they "knew then what they know now".
In the deepest, darkest corners of my own mind, when I look back on nearly 53 years of living, I see a whole slew of mistakes, really bad choices, times when I was too fearful to do something I should have done, or was too arrogant to look at both sides, or said the wrong thing and hurt someone, or went along with something I knew I shouldn’t have just because it was easier, or I believed in the absolute wrong person… My life is rife with these errors in judgment, some big, some small, some huge, some too embarrassing to even recall without cringing.
So if I had ONE do over, one chance to warn myself, would I take that chance, even though it might change everything?
Yeah, I think I would.
I would warn myself about getting involved with a particular person who ended up stealing four years of my life and hurting me on so many levels, including my relationship with my own children. I still think back on the entire episode in my life with real bitterness, even after nearly fifteen years.
My own scars I maybe could have lived with, but what it did to my relationship with my own wonderful, marvelous kids is just... awful. My children, who I carried, bore and raised, loved more than my own life then and now, one selfish and stupid mistake in character judgment changed everything.
We have managed to get through it and now I am close - in as many different ways as they are different from each other - to all three of my now grown children, but there was heartache that did not need to happen, tears that did not need to be shed, confidence that did not need to be shattered, pain that I did not have to put them – or, let's be honest here, myself – through.
Yeah, I would do it.
How about you?
Just Musing,
Susan
***********
BEING GOOD: What Kind of Vampire Do You Want to Be?
(just having a little bit of fun...)
*************
So you want to be a GOOD Vampire...
One of the very first thoughts – right after the initial shock and elation of The Turn – that enters most new Vampire’s minds is what kind of Being they are going to be. History is fraught with tales of the most vile and evil dating back all the way back to Adam (try googling Lilith, Adam's legendary first wife who became the first Demon Being).
Thanks to pop culture’s current love affair with our kind as evidenced by numerous popular books and TV and movies, a few new concepts have been introduced into our lexicon, breathing new - you will pardon the expression - life into what heretofore had been a solitary journey.
Leave it to the humans to come up with the very concept of ethical vampires; good guys who fight their baser natures to become purveyors of justice, or at the very least, fight the overwhelming urge to prey on humanity with impunity.
This book was written to guide you on your journey to becoming an ethical vampire, in that concept’s many forms, so that you can take charge of your own existence without falling prey to the eternal boredom that so afflicts our kind.
At least for a while.
**********
Choosing to become an ethical Being is your first step. Whether you are a new Vampire who is struggling to maintain a similar moral code as you had in your mortal life against The Thirst, or you are an experienced Being who is weary of the tedium that almost inevitably surfaces after centuries of life and are simply looking for something new to do, this chapter will help define what type of Being you wish to become:
Vegan-Only Hunts animals, never partakes of human blood under any circumstances.
Vegetarian-Feeds on animals, supplemented with packaged human blood and/or "Juice Boxes" or other human volunteers
Judge-Researches, Hunts and Feeds only on human evil-doers.
Executioner-Similar to the Judge, but works with human law enforcement either within the penitentiary system or individual contracts to eliminate evil doers who cannot be brought to human justice
Protector-Exacts a "tithe" from the community that the Being protects. usually in outlying or third world areas. Generally out of favor with the advent of better roads, communication and technology.
Ambulance Chaser-Feeds on the dying in hospital, usually in conjunction with a Kevorkian doctor, hospital morgue attendants or morticians.
Street Cleaner-Feeds on homeless, usually the mentally disturbed, drunks or drug abusers
COMMON TERMS:
The Turn –The individual experience of the change from human to Vampire
The Thirst – the urge to Feed
The Hunt- the urge to physically chase down or outsmart prey
Interval – time between The Thirst, typically one moon cycle, or roughly one month
The Rush – the initial euphoria that follows Feeding
Munchies – Eating for pleasure when not overcome with The Thirst
Juice Box – A human who voluntarily elects to be partially drained for a fee when a Vampire has the Munchies. Cannot be used during The Thirst as the desire to feed completely will usually take over a Vampire by all but the most strong willed of Beings. Sometimes referred to as Cup O’ Soup.
Grocer - A Being who runs a cooperative which coordinates, certifies, preps and cares for humans who elect to become Juice Boxes for a fee.
...yeah, there's more, but not tonight!
Just Musing,
Susan
*************
*************
So you want to be a GOOD Vampire...
One of the very first thoughts – right after the initial shock and elation of The Turn – that enters most new Vampire’s minds is what kind of Being they are going to be. History is fraught with tales of the most vile and evil dating back all the way back to Adam (try googling Lilith, Adam's legendary first wife who became the first Demon Being).
Thanks to pop culture’s current love affair with our kind as evidenced by numerous popular books and TV and movies, a few new concepts have been introduced into our lexicon, breathing new - you will pardon the expression - life into what heretofore had been a solitary journey.
Leave it to the humans to come up with the very concept of ethical vampires; good guys who fight their baser natures to become purveyors of justice, or at the very least, fight the overwhelming urge to prey on humanity with impunity.
This book was written to guide you on your journey to becoming an ethical vampire, in that concept’s many forms, so that you can take charge of your own existence without falling prey to the eternal boredom that so afflicts our kind.
At least for a while.
**********
Choosing to become an ethical Being is your first step. Whether you are a new Vampire who is struggling to maintain a similar moral code as you had in your mortal life against The Thirst, or you are an experienced Being who is weary of the tedium that almost inevitably surfaces after centuries of life and are simply looking for something new to do, this chapter will help define what type of Being you wish to become:
Vegan-Only Hunts animals, never partakes of human blood under any circumstances.
Vegetarian-Feeds on animals, supplemented with packaged human blood and/or "Juice Boxes" or other human volunteers
Judge-Researches, Hunts and Feeds only on human evil-doers.
Executioner-Similar to the Judge, but works with human law enforcement either within the penitentiary system or individual contracts to eliminate evil doers who cannot be brought to human justice
Protector-Exacts a "tithe" from the community that the Being protects. usually in outlying or third world areas. Generally out of favor with the advent of better roads, communication and technology.
Ambulance Chaser-Feeds on the dying in hospital, usually in conjunction with a Kevorkian doctor, hospital morgue attendants or morticians.
Street Cleaner-Feeds on homeless, usually the mentally disturbed, drunks or drug abusers
COMMON TERMS:
The Turn –The individual experience of the change from human to Vampire
The Thirst – the urge to Feed
The Hunt- the urge to physically chase down or outsmart prey
Interval – time between The Thirst, typically one moon cycle, or roughly one month
The Rush – the initial euphoria that follows Feeding
Munchies – Eating for pleasure when not overcome with The Thirst
Juice Box – A human who voluntarily elects to be partially drained for a fee when a Vampire has the Munchies. Cannot be used during The Thirst as the desire to feed completely will usually take over a Vampire by all but the most strong willed of Beings. Sometimes referred to as Cup O’ Soup.
Grocer - A Being who runs a cooperative which coordinates, certifies, preps and cares for humans who elect to become Juice Boxes for a fee.
...yeah, there's more, but not tonight!
Just Musing,
Susan
*************
Friday, February 5, 2010
Why I Love Joss (and Buffy)
******
Joss Whedon is either revered by rabidly loyal fans or reviled by people who don’t get what all the fuss is about. There is very little in between.
Until about 7 years ago, I was in the latter, “Who the hell is Joss and is that really the way you spell his name?” group; now I am firmly ensconced in the “I Will Watch ANY PROJECT With Joss Whedon Attached” crowd.
There are two main reasons for this sudden and irrevocable change of heart: His ability to write unforgettable, completely rounded flawed, heroic and funny characters and his absolute and utter fearlessness as a writer and as a director.
This man can make you fall in love, make you angry, make you laugh and rip your heart out, in the span of an hour’s episode (roughly translated to 43 minutes of air time). .
Today’s subject will focus on, arguably, one of Joss’ most celebrated popular TV series: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER. (I will get into my other favorites in separate blogs, where I am sure I will reveal more about me than about Joss!)
First, the name: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER. Oh please. What an utterly stupid premise, a teenage high school blonde girl named BUFFY (of all things!!) who is super strong and fights vampires?? How childish! I refuse to watch because even the TITLE sounds dumb.
Then I caught the end of the episode when Evil Willow carelessly ripped Warren’s skin right off his body.
WHOA.
What just happened? Why? What did I miss?? I spent the same hour every day trying to figure out what was going on. It was so compelling , even at that late date in the series, that I kept watching day after day… Complex and intertwining, overlapping stories and characters that just pulled me in: Who was a good guy, who USED to be a good guy but was temporarily bad because of a combination of grief and access to power, wait and someone else used to be a really really bad guy and now he was a good guy because of a “curse” (how do you curse a bad guy into being good??? Isn’t that the opposite of curse?) and, of course the Vampire Slayer is somehow in love with a Vampire, no matter how cute he is… WHAT? Unapologetic, quirky, charismatic and somehow amazing interesting bad guys. Really good friends who will literally pull you back from the brink of hell. Even regular guys who just seemed to be sucked up into following the wrong person and end up feeling guilty, but somehow lack the courage to get out. Characters who actually EVOLVE and grow and sometimes even change completely… All that evil personified into characters who were alternately funny and scary and complex and then REALLY scary because it hit close to home.
Joss is unflinching… he knows how to add layers to his characters and pull them all together in a really compelling story, the best of which stay with you for hours, days, weeks. Many essays, blogs, articles, books have been written on Joss’ ability to draw people in, college classes have been taught dissecting the “deeper meaning” of his work, so I won’t attempt to reinvent the wheel here.
Since this is my blog and I don’t really have to impress anyone, I will indulge myself a little.
Here are my Awards for favorite Episodes, Moments and Characters:
BEST EPISODES:
*Creepy Harlan-esque horror: Hush (s4)
*Real life, helpless horror: The Body (s5)
*Funny, Clever and Painful Your Secret’s Out: Once More With Feeling (s6)
*Best Cross-Over with Reality that Really Makes You Wonder: Normal Again (s6)
*Most Fun Had by Grown-Ups: Band Candy (s3)
*EEEEEEwww!: Doublemeat Palace (s6)
*Best Averted Apocalypse: The Gift (s5)
MOMENTS:
*Scariest Hook-Up: Xander and Faith
*Favorite Strong Buffy Moment: Buffy telling the Council off – and throwing a sword at the pompous guy to shut him up
*Best Character Reveal: Spike realizing he is in love with Buffy after a dream
*Best Character Reveal Reaction: Xander laughing after Buffy tells him Spike is in love with her
*Best Betrayal Scene: The Potentials and Gang kicking Buffy out of her house
*Most Powerful Love Scene: The building falling down around Buffy and Spike
*Funniest Tombstone: She Saved the World. A Lot.
*Most Heartbreaking Moment: Anya’s walk down the aisle
*Most Touching Moment: Spike putting the rifle down and awkwardly comforting a crying Buffy on the porch
*Best Payoff Moment: Series Finale, Anya: “Floppy, hoppy, bunnies…!”
CHARACTERS:
*Favorite - for so many reasons - Character: Spike
*The Most Evilest of Really Evil Bad Guys: Caleb
*Most Schizophrenic Bad Guy: Glory
*Best Evil Version of Themselves: Vampire Willow
*Funniest Version of Themselves: Buffy the Robot
*Most Pathetic Character: Riley
*Most Over-rated Character: Angel (except when he was Angelus)
Well, that’s it for today. I suddenly have this strange desire to re-watch the entire series again…
Just Musing,
Susan
******
Joss Whedon is either revered by rabidly loyal fans or reviled by people who don’t get what all the fuss is about. There is very little in between.
Until about 7 years ago, I was in the latter, “Who the hell is Joss and is that really the way you spell his name?” group; now I am firmly ensconced in the “I Will Watch ANY PROJECT With Joss Whedon Attached” crowd.
There are two main reasons for this sudden and irrevocable change of heart: His ability to write unforgettable, completely rounded flawed, heroic and funny characters and his absolute and utter fearlessness as a writer and as a director.
This man can make you fall in love, make you angry, make you laugh and rip your heart out, in the span of an hour’s episode (roughly translated to 43 minutes of air time). .
Today’s subject will focus on, arguably, one of Joss’ most celebrated popular TV series: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER. (I will get into my other favorites in separate blogs, where I am sure I will reveal more about me than about Joss!)
First, the name: BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER. Oh please. What an utterly stupid premise, a teenage high school blonde girl named BUFFY (of all things!!) who is super strong and fights vampires?? How childish! I refuse to watch because even the TITLE sounds dumb.
Then I caught the end of the episode when Evil Willow carelessly ripped Warren’s skin right off his body.
WHOA.
What just happened? Why? What did I miss?? I spent the same hour every day trying to figure out what was going on. It was so compelling , even at that late date in the series, that I kept watching day after day… Complex and intertwining, overlapping stories and characters that just pulled me in: Who was a good guy, who USED to be a good guy but was temporarily bad because of a combination of grief and access to power, wait and someone else used to be a really really bad guy and now he was a good guy because of a “curse” (how do you curse a bad guy into being good??? Isn’t that the opposite of curse?) and, of course the Vampire Slayer is somehow in love with a Vampire, no matter how cute he is… WHAT? Unapologetic, quirky, charismatic and somehow amazing interesting bad guys. Really good friends who will literally pull you back from the brink of hell. Even regular guys who just seemed to be sucked up into following the wrong person and end up feeling guilty, but somehow lack the courage to get out. Characters who actually EVOLVE and grow and sometimes even change completely… All that evil personified into characters who were alternately funny and scary and complex and then REALLY scary because it hit close to home.
Joss is unflinching… he knows how to add layers to his characters and pull them all together in a really compelling story, the best of which stay with you for hours, days, weeks. Many essays, blogs, articles, books have been written on Joss’ ability to draw people in, college classes have been taught dissecting the “deeper meaning” of his work, so I won’t attempt to reinvent the wheel here.
Since this is my blog and I don’t really have to impress anyone, I will indulge myself a little.
Here are my Awards for favorite Episodes, Moments and Characters:
BEST EPISODES:
*Creepy Harlan-esque horror: Hush (s4)
*Real life, helpless horror: The Body (s5)
*Funny, Clever and Painful Your Secret’s Out: Once More With Feeling (s6)
*Best Cross-Over with Reality that Really Makes You Wonder: Normal Again (s6)
*Most Fun Had by Grown-Ups: Band Candy (s3)
*EEEEEEwww!: Doublemeat Palace (s6)
*Best Averted Apocalypse: The Gift (s5)
MOMENTS:
*Scariest Hook-Up: Xander and Faith
*Favorite Strong Buffy Moment: Buffy telling the Council off – and throwing a sword at the pompous guy to shut him up
*Best Character Reveal: Spike realizing he is in love with Buffy after a dream
*Best Character Reveal Reaction: Xander laughing after Buffy tells him Spike is in love with her
*Best Betrayal Scene: The Potentials and Gang kicking Buffy out of her house
*Most Powerful Love Scene: The building falling down around Buffy and Spike
*Funniest Tombstone: She Saved the World. A Lot.
*Most Heartbreaking Moment: Anya’s walk down the aisle
*Most Touching Moment: Spike putting the rifle down and awkwardly comforting a crying Buffy on the porch
*Best Payoff Moment: Series Finale, Anya: “Floppy, hoppy, bunnies…!”
CHARACTERS:
*Favorite - for so many reasons - Character: Spike
*The Most Evilest of Really Evil Bad Guys: Caleb
*Most Schizophrenic Bad Guy: Glory
*Best Evil Version of Themselves: Vampire Willow
*Funniest Version of Themselves: Buffy the Robot
*Most Pathetic Character: Riley
*Most Over-rated Character: Angel (except when he was Angelus)
Well, that’s it for today. I suddenly have this strange desire to re-watch the entire series again…
Just Musing,
Susan
******
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Recognizing Talent
*****
There are too few people who recognize talent in this world, let alone have the presence of mind to encourage it.
This is true in all facets of our lives, from the workplace to family members and even extends to an industry that would seem to be completely dependent on finding new talent, the Entertainment Industry.
Let’s go over these one by one:
Workplace talent is all too often seen as a threat, especially in an economy where no job is bullet proof. Often, the talented individual is squelched – or ideas are stolen from – by the immediate supervisor. Either the Talent is compartmentalized and given very narrow duties or is actively sought under the guise of boss-employee “friendship” to have his/her brain picked for further nuggets to be mined, polished, re-packaged and sold to the higher ups, with whom the Talent generally has no contact.
There is little that can be done about these types of bosses… You learn to recognize them and either deal with it or find another place to work. Unfortunately, in many smaller companies, these kinds of bosses, managers and directors fill the halls, people who are so afraid of losing their position that they will stop at nothing to kill off a perceived threat to their position or status with the Bigger Bosses.
Many papers, articles and blogs have been written on this subject, so it looks as though it is prevalent across the U.S., if not the world.
Family talent is often dismissed because we hear it ALL. THE. TIME. Performing, writing, drawing, whatever the manifestation, the Talented One usually has shown, practiced, decorated, fixated on it above all else about his/her obsession until the family unit no longer has any patience… or has simply seen it all before, no matter how terrific. Familiarity may breed contempt, but FAMILY familiarity seems to breed invisibility.
Everyone is pretty much wrapped up in their own concerns and tend not to see clearly what is in front of them every day. Again, not much the Talent can do, except perhaps hold their work closer to the vest and only let it out at intervals, perhaps when a piece is finished rather than at all stages of creation.
Entertainment Industry. This is a strange one. So many famous people are only famous for being famous, have little or no talent, but are pretty (boys, too! Remember the young Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt) or interesting looking so they get plum roles and we are left scratching our heads as to why THIS person is on the stage or screen when we saw someone with much more presence in our local Playhouse last week. I guess it is hard to determine who is going to catch fire with audiences… But I do ask for a modicum of real talent if I am going to spend money on concert tickets or movies or TV show DVD collections!
That being said, there is one Hollywood type who is TERRIFIC at spotting real talent in all aspects of the industry, from actors to writers to production personnel to set designers. This person is pretty much universally considered to be one of the best talent magnets out there, and for very good reason: a huge percentage of his “alumni” go on to do very well for themselves, and yet remain amazingly loyal to him, willing to work with him at every opportunity.
Joss Whedon. Yeah, the funny looking geek with the slight lisp and many cancelled TV series who has somehow still managed to garner a rather rabidly loyal fan base who will pay to see anything – ANYTHING – that he has worked on in any capacity.
There are reasons for that. Many reasons. Many GOOD reasons.
Next: Rundown of his projects from the perspective of a movie/tv fan and somewhat late and reluctant fanatic on all things Joss.
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
There are too few people who recognize talent in this world, let alone have the presence of mind to encourage it.
This is true in all facets of our lives, from the workplace to family members and even extends to an industry that would seem to be completely dependent on finding new talent, the Entertainment Industry.
Let’s go over these one by one:
Workplace talent is all too often seen as a threat, especially in an economy where no job is bullet proof. Often, the talented individual is squelched – or ideas are stolen from – by the immediate supervisor. Either the Talent is compartmentalized and given very narrow duties or is actively sought under the guise of boss-employee “friendship” to have his/her brain picked for further nuggets to be mined, polished, re-packaged and sold to the higher ups, with whom the Talent generally has no contact.
There is little that can be done about these types of bosses… You learn to recognize them and either deal with it or find another place to work. Unfortunately, in many smaller companies, these kinds of bosses, managers and directors fill the halls, people who are so afraid of losing their position that they will stop at nothing to kill off a perceived threat to their position or status with the Bigger Bosses.
Many papers, articles and blogs have been written on this subject, so it looks as though it is prevalent across the U.S., if not the world.
Family talent is often dismissed because we hear it ALL. THE. TIME. Performing, writing, drawing, whatever the manifestation, the Talented One usually has shown, practiced, decorated, fixated on it above all else about his/her obsession until the family unit no longer has any patience… or has simply seen it all before, no matter how terrific. Familiarity may breed contempt, but FAMILY familiarity seems to breed invisibility.
Everyone is pretty much wrapped up in their own concerns and tend not to see clearly what is in front of them every day. Again, not much the Talent can do, except perhaps hold their work closer to the vest and only let it out at intervals, perhaps when a piece is finished rather than at all stages of creation.
Entertainment Industry. This is a strange one. So many famous people are only famous for being famous, have little or no talent, but are pretty (boys, too! Remember the young Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt) or interesting looking so they get plum roles and we are left scratching our heads as to why THIS person is on the stage or screen when we saw someone with much more presence in our local Playhouse last week. I guess it is hard to determine who is going to catch fire with audiences… But I do ask for a modicum of real talent if I am going to spend money on concert tickets or movies or TV show DVD collections!
That being said, there is one Hollywood type who is TERRIFIC at spotting real talent in all aspects of the industry, from actors to writers to production personnel to set designers. This person is pretty much universally considered to be one of the best talent magnets out there, and for very good reason: a huge percentage of his “alumni” go on to do very well for themselves, and yet remain amazingly loyal to him, willing to work with him at every opportunity.
Joss Whedon. Yeah, the funny looking geek with the slight lisp and many cancelled TV series who has somehow still managed to garner a rather rabidly loyal fan base who will pay to see anything – ANYTHING – that he has worked on in any capacity.
There are reasons for that. Many reasons. Many GOOD reasons.
Next: Rundown of his projects from the perspective of a movie/tv fan and somewhat late and reluctant fanatic on all things Joss.
Just Musing,
Susan
*****
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Shhhhhhhhhh!!!!
******
The problem with some people is that they tend to vocalize EVERYTHING they are thinking, even when it is not appropriate to do so.
Case in point: Talking, texting, checking email, etc. at the movies...
The problem I have is that I LOVE movies and want to get lost in them, to immerse myself in the experinece - the best movies are wonderful roller coaster rides!
Any distraction, even the blue glow of a cell phone in the row in front of me (stadium seating means that you can see right into the laps of all of the people in front of you!), takes me right out of the experience and back to reality. This can be mildly annoying to REALLY WANT TO RIP YOUR HEAD OFF BECAUSE YOUR LAME COMMENT MEANT THAT I MISSED SOMETHING IMPORTANT!!!!
As a result, I am ALWAYS shushing people, even my hubby and kids. Sometimes, if the distraction is great from stranger, I will begin with a glare and escalate to asking them to keep it down if they don't get the hint. A couple of times I have even threatened to have people thrown out (almost always teens with attitudes and very loud voices), and one time I did just that - to some scattering applause from the other patrons who were being annoyed by the antics of a few rude people.
Even when I am at home and watching something engrossing, whether it is my favorite TV show or a movie from our collection, I really want quiet!!! ESPECIALLY if it is a new movie that I haven't seen, or an especially good part in an old favorite. I am not sure why it is that some people feel the need to REPEAT the dialog we just heard - no matter how funny or wow-inducing - loudly accompanied by drawn out laughter or a long comment so that the next three lines are ALSO missed.
This may seem harsh, but with 1552 DVDs and Blurays in our collection we are obvious movie fanatics and I. Want. To. See. The. Movie... not listen to your comments about it!!
Really, people, really.
So pass the popcorn and SHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Just Musing,
Susan
********
The problem with some people is that they tend to vocalize EVERYTHING they are thinking, even when it is not appropriate to do so.
Case in point: Talking, texting, checking email, etc. at the movies...
The problem I have is that I LOVE movies and want to get lost in them, to immerse myself in the experinece - the best movies are wonderful roller coaster rides!
Any distraction, even the blue glow of a cell phone in the row in front of me (stadium seating means that you can see right into the laps of all of the people in front of you!), takes me right out of the experience and back to reality. This can be mildly annoying to REALLY WANT TO RIP YOUR HEAD OFF BECAUSE YOUR LAME COMMENT MEANT THAT I MISSED SOMETHING IMPORTANT!!!!
As a result, I am ALWAYS shushing people, even my hubby and kids. Sometimes, if the distraction is great from stranger, I will begin with a glare and escalate to asking them to keep it down if they don't get the hint. A couple of times I have even threatened to have people thrown out (almost always teens with attitudes and very loud voices), and one time I did just that - to some scattering applause from the other patrons who were being annoyed by the antics of a few rude people.
Even when I am at home and watching something engrossing, whether it is my favorite TV show or a movie from our collection, I really want quiet!!! ESPECIALLY if it is a new movie that I haven't seen, or an especially good part in an old favorite. I am not sure why it is that some people feel the need to REPEAT the dialog we just heard - no matter how funny or wow-inducing - loudly accompanied by drawn out laughter or a long comment so that the next three lines are ALSO missed.
This may seem harsh, but with 1552 DVDs and Blurays in our collection we are obvious movie fanatics and I. Want. To. See. The. Movie... not listen to your comments about it!!
Really, people, really.
So pass the popcorn and SHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
Just Musing,
Susan
********
Saturday, January 23, 2010
My Super-Power
***********
I live in a house full of men. My husband and his three boys (ages 16-22) toss one hell of a lot of testosterone around when they are all together. Noise, threats (even the ones in jest), talking (read: yelling) over each other to be heard, roughhousing, sounds of things and bodies falling, taunts, insults, sucking sounds (that is food disappearing as if there is a black hole in the pantry and fridge), uncontained energy that is actually a palpable viable entity, and did I mention a whole hell of a lot of NOISE???.
Sheesh.
Trying to hold my own in a conversation with these mooks is pretty much impossible for a mild-mannered female who really just wants someplace quiet to curl up and read a good book. Somehow, no matter where I am in the house, they all seem to gravitate to the room I have tried to claim and will enter talking, saying, “Oh, you’re reading. I don’t want to interrupt you when you’re reading. I just wanted to ask your advice about something. But I really don’t want to interrupt you. That’s really rude. What are you reading? No, it’s okay, I’ll just go; I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your reading…”
Or, while I am obviously typing away on my computer at a hundred miles an hour with paperwork spread out all around me, so therefore it must be the perfect time to ask the famous Most Important Question of All: “Susan, who do you think would win in an EPIC battle to save the world: Superman or Spiderman?” and then of course, no one would wait for my answer (since all they really wanted to do was tell me what THEY thought), they would all chime in and thus begins a loud half hour long debate about the merits of being born a superhero and being transformed against one’s will and which movie was the best and how metro-sexual Spidey in Spiderman III was just WRONG and Superman is really just a wimp who happens to be an alien so he doesn’t count and is it better to have cool toys like Batman or be invincible like Superman and what superpower would YOU want, I want to fly, no that’s dumb, invisibility is the way to go, no that would only be helpful if you were planning something illegal and and and AND…!!
Double sheesh.
However, in the midst of all of this crazy chaos, I have decided that I, too, have a super-power, but it is not one that I control or can use for the betterment of All Mankind – rather it is controlled by those around me, people who – perhaps unknowingly (which is the kindest and most generous way to look at it) – have the uncanny ability to confer the most Devastatingly Powerful Attribute on my person: Mutable Invisibility.
The power to Mute my voice when I am speaking on any subject is something that seems to be mostly controlled by men or near-men (teenagers). It is a fairly stereotypical power, one that has been chronicled in comics, movies, etc. Its power is convey powerlessness on the target, and it is very, very effective.
Sample conversation: “So, tomorrow we need to…”
Interrupts: “Did you pick up some Chlorine for the pool?”
Me: “I don’t have a…”
Interrupts: “Where are all my tools?? I can never find a hammer when I need one!”
Me: “I saw one in the…”
Interrupts: “When’s dinner? I’m starved!!”
Sha ZAM!
Invisibility is very similar to Mutability. It is generally characterized by looking in the general direction of the person speaking, but not really seeing him/her. This power can be conferred on both males and females equally, and is especially favored by teens to marginalize any adult.
Glazed or shifting eyes, slack mouth, mono-syllabic answers (in teens it is usually grunts or other generally assenting sounds that don’t require actual enunciation), abruptly sitting down, turning around or walking away while you are in the middle of sentence are some of the most common traits of the Invisibility Power Broker.
I suspect that many women in my generation, especially Mothers, have at one time or another felt the same way. So much of what we do daily is unseen and unacknowledged as important, so it has become a habit to take us for granted… and it becomes a habit not to join in the din and add to the chaos just to shout out, “Hey, stop ignoring me!” because, frankly, that just sounds whiney and petty.
So really, my Super-Power is the uncanny ability to remain unacknowledged and rendered silent and powerless, and really, isn’t that my own fault?
Just Musing,
Susan
******************
I live in a house full of men. My husband and his three boys (ages 16-22) toss one hell of a lot of testosterone around when they are all together. Noise, threats (even the ones in jest), talking (read: yelling) over each other to be heard, roughhousing, sounds of things and bodies falling, taunts, insults, sucking sounds (that is food disappearing as if there is a black hole in the pantry and fridge), uncontained energy that is actually a palpable viable entity, and did I mention a whole hell of a lot of NOISE???.
Sheesh.
Trying to hold my own in a conversation with these mooks is pretty much impossible for a mild-mannered female who really just wants someplace quiet to curl up and read a good book. Somehow, no matter where I am in the house, they all seem to gravitate to the room I have tried to claim and will enter talking, saying, “Oh, you’re reading. I don’t want to interrupt you when you’re reading. I just wanted to ask your advice about something. But I really don’t want to interrupt you. That’s really rude. What are you reading? No, it’s okay, I’ll just go; I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your reading…”
Or, while I am obviously typing away on my computer at a hundred miles an hour with paperwork spread out all around me, so therefore it must be the perfect time to ask the famous Most Important Question of All: “Susan, who do you think would win in an EPIC battle to save the world: Superman or Spiderman?” and then of course, no one would wait for my answer (since all they really wanted to do was tell me what THEY thought), they would all chime in and thus begins a loud half hour long debate about the merits of being born a superhero and being transformed against one’s will and which movie was the best and how metro-sexual Spidey in Spiderman III was just WRONG and Superman is really just a wimp who happens to be an alien so he doesn’t count and is it better to have cool toys like Batman or be invincible like Superman and what superpower would YOU want, I want to fly, no that’s dumb, invisibility is the way to go, no that would only be helpful if you were planning something illegal and and and AND…!!
Double sheesh.
However, in the midst of all of this crazy chaos, I have decided that I, too, have a super-power, but it is not one that I control or can use for the betterment of All Mankind – rather it is controlled by those around me, people who – perhaps unknowingly (which is the kindest and most generous way to look at it) – have the uncanny ability to confer the most Devastatingly Powerful Attribute on my person: Mutable Invisibility.
The power to Mute my voice when I am speaking on any subject is something that seems to be mostly controlled by men or near-men (teenagers). It is a fairly stereotypical power, one that has been chronicled in comics, movies, etc. Its power is convey powerlessness on the target, and it is very, very effective.
Sample conversation: “So, tomorrow we need to…”
Interrupts: “Did you pick up some Chlorine for the pool?”
Me: “I don’t have a…”
Interrupts: “Where are all my tools?? I can never find a hammer when I need one!”
Me: “I saw one in the…”
Interrupts: “When’s dinner? I’m starved!!”
Sha ZAM!
Invisibility is very similar to Mutability. It is generally characterized by looking in the general direction of the person speaking, but not really seeing him/her. This power can be conferred on both males and females equally, and is especially favored by teens to marginalize any adult.
Glazed or shifting eyes, slack mouth, mono-syllabic answers (in teens it is usually grunts or other generally assenting sounds that don’t require actual enunciation), abruptly sitting down, turning around or walking away while you are in the middle of sentence are some of the most common traits of the Invisibility Power Broker.
I suspect that many women in my generation, especially Mothers, have at one time or another felt the same way. So much of what we do daily is unseen and unacknowledged as important, so it has become a habit to take us for granted… and it becomes a habit not to join in the din and add to the chaos just to shout out, “Hey, stop ignoring me!” because, frankly, that just sounds whiney and petty.
So really, my Super-Power is the uncanny ability to remain unacknowledged and rendered silent and powerless, and really, isn’t that my own fault?
Just Musing,
Susan
******************
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Twisty Memories
*********
Sometimes I wonder. Time streams in both directions, and every thought, dream, action and consequence is pinned in its place along the line – immovable in their reality, which cannot and will not, change.
And yet, in complete opposition to the facts, events in our past are oddly and entirely mutable by sheer force of will in the unrelenting playground of our own minds.
We have all edited our memories by playing them over and over again in the 102" wide flat screen HD in our heads; emphasizing certain moments, downplaying others, stretching and contracting the actual truth of events until they are virtually unrecognizable to any other point of view.
So basically, your memory of events – your movie trailer as it were – would be different than mine of that very same event because we have had different life experiences and consider the impact of words or physicality based on those experiences.
The impact of this memory editing is heightened by continually going back and re-playing our version of the event in our mind, further underscoring its importance in our minds; oftimes beyond the reality so far as to have become a fantastic re-telling of a story... scrolling across the screen in small letters at the very end of the movie: based on a true story.
Our minds may recall certain moments with absolutely clarity – the words, the feelings, even what we are thinking, and then blur the rest into a Monet watercolor, or some moody abstract with red and purple angry slashes, complete with movie score to emphasize the emotional ride.
And every time we visit those memories we are blurring, twisting, expanding… adding to, taking away from, making it more or less dramtic, actions more heroic or romantic, leaving out the boring stuff until you have a blockbuster (starring YOU!)playing in your head.
And what’s wrong with that? The memories that we chose to relive, whether good or bad – helped make us who we are and become part of the vast tapestry of our own being.
The biggest problem with playing with our memory is the “I should have done this” syndrome, or worse, extrapolating the consequences of events based on one moment that could have gone another way of we had been braver or said no or said yes or even said nothing. The object of this particular story, of course, is that we would be in a much better place right now if we had just made another choice sometime in the past.
And yet while our actual memories have been colored by our experiences, thinking about what “might have been” is really an exercise in futility. Those imagined events never were real and so become like smoke buffeted by breath and wind, easily made and even more easily dissipated into nothingness.
Everyone does this from time to time. An evaluation of our past – in the right doses – helps us to understand how we came to be where we are and perhaps learn from perceived mistakes.
The danger is if we spend too much time rewriting the past to suit our wish to live in a fantasy of having the perfect job, car, spouse, hair, kids, dog, physique, awards lining the walls of our perfect house and a slew of assistants to cater to our every whim, we lose what we really have right here, right now. We lose it by wishing for that fantasy so hard that we become restless, discontent and eventually poison our real life.
So let's replay the good stuff, sneer at the bad, smile at the knowledge that you have lived a varied and interesting life… and live that life, every day thankful for the actual (and imagined!!) memories that propel us through the roller coaster of our existence.
The end of our days will come soon enough. Let’s not waste too much time on regret.
Just Musing,
Susan
******************
Sometimes I wonder. Time streams in both directions, and every thought, dream, action and consequence is pinned in its place along the line – immovable in their reality, which cannot and will not, change.
And yet, in complete opposition to the facts, events in our past are oddly and entirely mutable by sheer force of will in the unrelenting playground of our own minds.
We have all edited our memories by playing them over and over again in the 102" wide flat screen HD in our heads; emphasizing certain moments, downplaying others, stretching and contracting the actual truth of events until they are virtually unrecognizable to any other point of view.
So basically, your memory of events – your movie trailer as it were – would be different than mine of that very same event because we have had different life experiences and consider the impact of words or physicality based on those experiences.
The impact of this memory editing is heightened by continually going back and re-playing our version of the event in our mind, further underscoring its importance in our minds; oftimes beyond the reality so far as to have become a fantastic re-telling of a story... scrolling across the screen in small letters at the very end of the movie: based on a true story.
Our minds may recall certain moments with absolutely clarity – the words, the feelings, even what we are thinking, and then blur the rest into a Monet watercolor, or some moody abstract with red and purple angry slashes, complete with movie score to emphasize the emotional ride.
And every time we visit those memories we are blurring, twisting, expanding… adding to, taking away from, making it more or less dramtic, actions more heroic or romantic, leaving out the boring stuff until you have a blockbuster (starring YOU!)playing in your head.
And what’s wrong with that? The memories that we chose to relive, whether good or bad – helped make us who we are and become part of the vast tapestry of our own being.
The biggest problem with playing with our memory is the “I should have done this” syndrome, or worse, extrapolating the consequences of events based on one moment that could have gone another way of we had been braver or said no or said yes or even said nothing. The object of this particular story, of course, is that we would be in a much better place right now if we had just made another choice sometime in the past.
And yet while our actual memories have been colored by our experiences, thinking about what “might have been” is really an exercise in futility. Those imagined events never were real and so become like smoke buffeted by breath and wind, easily made and even more easily dissipated into nothingness.
Everyone does this from time to time. An evaluation of our past – in the right doses – helps us to understand how we came to be where we are and perhaps learn from perceived mistakes.
The danger is if we spend too much time rewriting the past to suit our wish to live in a fantasy of having the perfect job, car, spouse, hair, kids, dog, physique, awards lining the walls of our perfect house and a slew of assistants to cater to our every whim, we lose what we really have right here, right now. We lose it by wishing for that fantasy so hard that we become restless, discontent and eventually poison our real life.
So let's replay the good stuff, sneer at the bad, smile at the knowledge that you have lived a varied and interesting life… and live that life, every day thankful for the actual (and imagined!!) memories that propel us through the roller coaster of our existence.
The end of our days will come soon enough. Let’s not waste too much time on regret.
Just Musing,
Susan
******************
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Flit's Story or Don't Believe Them When They Say That Rescuing Hummingbirds is Not Possible
*********
Magic is real.
Let me repeat that: Magic is real, it can be seen, touched and even held in your hand.
I see one particular brand of magic every day, taking sips of super-saturated sugar water from the feeder hanging on a low branch of the tree right outside my family room window. Fiercely territorial, completely fearless, shimmering with unexpected splashes of color in the sunlight, these tiny bits of “humming” magic are so small and fast that they appear to live in a different, more intense and infinitely more zippy parallel universe.
I have had many personal encounters with these tiny denizens of the air over the years. Most of the time a determined critter will dash into the house like he has foolishly accepted a dare from his little feathered friends – fly around like crazy for a couple of seconds (hours in the Hummer’s ‘verse) and find someplace to perch to get his bearings. His little chest is heaving and I can usually see that, for the first time, he has decided that perhaps he made a mistake of gargantuan proportions.
If I can catch him before his panic becomes full blown, I can scoop him up oh, so gently and carefully carry him outside. If, however he is in full panic-mode, he will focus on the terrible monster he sees coming at him and will fly as fast as he can to another perch, and another and another. At this point, I generally try to let him calm down a little as I do not want to induce a hummingbird cardiac arrest.
Eventually, however, I do win and can set him free – which is what he wants anyway.
(This actually happened at an open house I was holding last year, and the people who watched me catch and release the scared tiny bird were all freaked out – freaked out!!! – that I had actually touched the icky thing. My assertion that it was only a hummingbird didn’t make any difference - neither did washing my hands in the sink while they watched, their eyes actually wide in terror. They left right away, looking horrified, probably making scathing comments about the weird dirty Realtor who touches Unclean Birds in front of potential clients! Eh. Anyone who doesn’t appreciate the wonder of hummers would have been a problematic client anyway. So there!)
One time however, one magical time, it happened another way.
About 12 years ago, I lived in a house in Newbury Park, CA and had two lovely Golden Retrievers, Aislinn and Kensington. Aislinn was very red, very loving and very sweet. Kensington, on the other hand, was a beautiful dog, with classic light golden long hair, but he was just about the dumbest Golden I have ever seen. He got distracted by every (SQUIRREL!) thing, a trait that I could not train out of him, and somehow always managed to amuse with his crazy antics.
But I digress.
One spring afternoon, the man I was living with at the time was outside in the backyard talking with a friend and Kensington was, as usual, romping around them. Suddenly Kensington stopped prancing and got very interested in something on the ground, his tail wagging like mad. This was not unusual, it could have very well turned out to be a bug or a leaf or a piece of an old torn-up toy or old excrement – he wasn’t too particular: if it smelled, it was the Most Incredibly Fascinating and Amazing thing in the Entire Universe.
What was different this time was that I was called outside to “see this”.
While the two men debated only half-jokingly whether or not to just let Kenser “have it”, I saw what had so interested all three juvenile witless males.
A tiny hummingbird was hunkered down in the grass, one of its wings held slightly outstretched as if injured. I shooed all the mean boys away and carefully approached the bird. He fluttered a bit as I gently cupped my hands around him, but he did not attempt to fly away.
As I gingerly stood up, a tiny piece of magic in my hands, I could feel the barest of weight and the gentle scrabbling of tiny claws against my palm, indications of panic that quickly subsided into that very strange wild acceptance of fate I have noticed before in young creatures.
Upon entering the house, I looked for someplace to keep him that I could arrange with just my elbow, so a dishtowel was dragged into a clean sink and I carefully opened my hand to let him roll/flutter out.
He crouched down in the folds of the towel and looked up at me with bright eyes, his wing still partially extended. He did not attempt to flutter or hop, he just sat there.
This worried me a little, but, in my determination to save another flying creature, I instantly transformed into Susan: Super Savior to All Creatures Great and Small, complete with costume (no tights!) and placed a cutting board over the sink should he find that his wings actually DID work and so that Kensington, who was eagerly watching my every move with his typical Golden Smile and his ears so far forward with interest that they must ache, would not take advantage of that and do what Goldens do: retrieve birds with their mouths – which would absolutely, give my poor little injured hummingbird a major heart attack!
I mixed up some sugar water for him and place a shallow dish in the sink with him, put the cutting board back on and gave him a chance to calm down a little in privacy.
My youngest kids, Mallory and Adam, who were about 8 and 10 at the time, were also terribly interested in the proceedings and, despite my exhortations against doing so, I kept catching them lifting up the board to take a look at the little miracle all afternoon.
They, of course, wanted to name him Flit, after the feisty hummingbird in Pocahontas. Seemed like a good name. My little guy didn’t have the red slash across his throat, his throat feathers were kind of sparse and gold, but something about him suggested that he was a little on the young side.
I knew I had to find a better place for him than the kitchen sink if he survived the night.
In the morning, he was still alive, still holding his wing out and still looking up at me with wild interest. No fear, as with Jack, just a wild acceptance of his fate. I pondered his home as I went about my early morning routine and finally remembered an old octagonal fish tank and wood stand I had buried somewhere in the garage. It would be the perfect terrarium/cage for little Flit!
Finding the tank pretty much where I thought it was in the garage, I spent some time cleaning and prepping it for occupancy. Sand poured on top of flat paper towels, check – no paper towel shred for tiny little Flit – he would get lost!!
I went outside to our “orchard” of about a dozen fruit trees, searched for and found a good twig with lots of perching possibilities and brought it inside, bending it to fit inside the tank (now cage) to fit snugly against the side and under the top lip of the tank. A couple of smaller twigs were braced across the main branch and scattered on the bottom, as was a rock (found and proudly donated by my son for the cause) for visual interest. The same shallow dish with fresh sugar water was placed at the bottom.
When I was ready, I pulled the board off the sink and, talking soothingly, picked Flit up. He struggled to maintain his balance for a moment, but did not panic. I gently placed him at the bottom of the cage, which was harder than it looks… I was up on my tippy tippy toes to reach up and over that high edge with both hands carefully clasped together, straight-arming a tiny bird into the very bottom. Yeesh. Good thing no one had a camera!
Flit fluttered a bit and I carefully backed out of the room to give him some time to acclimate.
I tried to care for him with as little intervention as possible. And though I reminded my kids time and again to leave him alone, I now know that they often tip toed in there to watch the little physical manifestation of the cartoon bird who could not fly off and had to endure their stares and giggles.
A few days later, I found Flit perched on one of the lower branches! I had changed the sugar water – the levels were definitely going down - several times and finally brought in one of the feeders from outside, figuring that it would be more “natural” to sip red colored sugar water through the painted plastic flower in the bottom of a glass fish tank… yeah, I know, but at least the shape of the “flower” feed hole was right for his long beak.
This went on for a few weeks. Flit would perch on one of the lower branches and stay perfectly, watchfully still when anyone walked into the room, but he was eating and changed branch perches once in a while. He still held that one wing slight off his body, which was a little worrisome, but other than that he looked healthy.
After a while, I thought it was time to see if he was ready to fly.
I carefully reached into the cage and plucked him off his branch and took him outside, making sure that the dogs were locked in one of the bedrooms and the kids were in school. Walking out into the grass, I mentally prepared myself to “lose” little Flit as he took wing and zipped away without a backward glance, the ungrateful little wretch.
But that’s not what actually happened…
To any of you who are old enough to remember Mork & Mindy on TV, do you recall that scene that they put into the opening montage where Mork tries to set the egg free… and Mork’s look of incredulous horror when the egg did NOT fly and just fell and smashed on the counter???
Well, out on the grass, I held out my hands, opened them slowly. Flit looked all excited and bravely fluttered, his neck now shimmering with deep red jeweled tones in the sunlight, stepped off of my hand with a happy hop and immediately tumbled straight down onto the grass.
I “eeeeked”, horrified, and hastily knelt down, scooping the slightly dazed bird out of the long blades of grass and, cupping him gently, hurried back into the house, apologizing profusely and promising never ever to hurt him again!
Guilt. Huge masses of it. What had I done? *sob* Did he hurt his wing even more?? Did I scare him as he tumbled out of my hand, or when I picked him up again; did he just HATE the monster who turned gravity on HIGH? Would he ever, ever fly again?
Now this all happened before” self-esteem” but, projecting backwards, what if I irreparably damaged his self esteem and he would never be able to fly and spent his remaining short life telling a therapist all about the huge grinning evil Giant who hurled him to the ground when he was obviously still hurt???
I cradled him in my hand and with tiny little gentle as humanly possible movements, carefully, ever so carefully stretched out his injured wing. I could see nothing wrong with it, outside and underneath. It looked perfect in every way, miniature feathers, fine bones straight, but Flit could not, would not hold it flat against his body.
He did not flutter or make a sound during this exam, so I can only hope that my clumsy ministrations did not hurt him.
Another week or so went by.
The dogs started to lose interest, and the kids pretty much left him alone. He was settling in and we were all getting used to each other.
I was still very concerned. I spoke with several people who had kept various types of birds and even called one of the sanctuaries I found in the phone book and no one, NO ONE had ever heard of a hummingbird surviving in captivity. As a matter of fact, most of the people I spoke to expressed varying degrees of disbelief in my story.
I took Flit outside a couple of times during the next week and opened my hand and the sunlight again kissed his feathers with sparkling lights, but he looked up at me incredulously as if to say, “Are you NUTS???? After what happened LAST TIME???”
With a heavy heart and knowing that would never be able to train him to fly on my own, I called a local vet who cared for rescued wild creatures and told the receptionist my story. She, too, expressed the opinion that hummingbirds did not survive in captivity so I arranged to bring him in to have the vet look at his wing.
In the end, I simply could not take him to the vet myself and handed a shoebox with my miracle inside to my partner who drove away with him on the front seat.
I never saw Flit again.
When my partner returned with an empty box, my eyes welled up. He told me that Dr. Kind, the vet, examined the wing and said he could see nothing wrong with it, but it was obvious that Flit would never fly. Dr. Kind recommended that we leave the bird and he would call a sanctuary, which was Flit’s best hope of long term survival.
*sigh*
After a few days of mourning, I called the vet back and asked if there was any way to have the bird returned as he seemed to have been happy with us in his glass home. They said no, he was at the sanctuary, and retrieval would be impossible.
*bigger sigh*
Right then and there I swore that if I got another chance to rescue a bird, I would consider ALL of the ramifications before allowing it out of my sight.
And yet…
How many people have been lucky enough to say that they have been able to rescue, rehabilitate and release not just one, but TWO wild birds in an age when cynicism, materialism and a near fanatic obsession with gadgets blinds so many to the gorgeous wonder of nature around us?
Even here in the deceptively barren high desert, I am joined in my life’s journey with all kinds of critters right in my own back yard. Frogs, dogs, dragonflies, Henry the squirrel who lives under the shed, nesting doves, sparrows, mockingbirds, hummingbirds, black birds, robins and so many other flying critters (including bats!) who have all enriched my life.
So, I try to take time to enjoy my visitors every day… and watch the antics of the hummingbirds flitting around the feeder with a particularly foolish grin on my face.
Just Musing,
Susan
I have a couple of photos of Flit in my SUSAN’S OLDEN DAYS photo album on Facebook. If digital cameras had been around at that time, I would have taken a hundred pictures (yay, zoom!), but I was so afraid of scaring him that I only took these two photos.
*********
Magic is real.
Let me repeat that: Magic is real, it can be seen, touched and even held in your hand.
I see one particular brand of magic every day, taking sips of super-saturated sugar water from the feeder hanging on a low branch of the tree right outside my family room window. Fiercely territorial, completely fearless, shimmering with unexpected splashes of color in the sunlight, these tiny bits of “humming” magic are so small and fast that they appear to live in a different, more intense and infinitely more zippy parallel universe.
I have had many personal encounters with these tiny denizens of the air over the years. Most of the time a determined critter will dash into the house like he has foolishly accepted a dare from his little feathered friends – fly around like crazy for a couple of seconds (hours in the Hummer’s ‘verse) and find someplace to perch to get his bearings. His little chest is heaving and I can usually see that, for the first time, he has decided that perhaps he made a mistake of gargantuan proportions.
If I can catch him before his panic becomes full blown, I can scoop him up oh, so gently and carefully carry him outside. If, however he is in full panic-mode, he will focus on the terrible monster he sees coming at him and will fly as fast as he can to another perch, and another and another. At this point, I generally try to let him calm down a little as I do not want to induce a hummingbird cardiac arrest.
Eventually, however, I do win and can set him free – which is what he wants anyway.
(This actually happened at an open house I was holding last year, and the people who watched me catch and release the scared tiny bird were all freaked out – freaked out!!! – that I had actually touched the icky thing. My assertion that it was only a hummingbird didn’t make any difference - neither did washing my hands in the sink while they watched, their eyes actually wide in terror. They left right away, looking horrified, probably making scathing comments about the weird dirty Realtor who touches Unclean Birds in front of potential clients! Eh. Anyone who doesn’t appreciate the wonder of hummers would have been a problematic client anyway. So there!)
One time however, one magical time, it happened another way.
About 12 years ago, I lived in a house in Newbury Park, CA and had two lovely Golden Retrievers, Aislinn and Kensington. Aislinn was very red, very loving and very sweet. Kensington, on the other hand, was a beautiful dog, with classic light golden long hair, but he was just about the dumbest Golden I have ever seen. He got distracted by every (SQUIRREL!) thing, a trait that I could not train out of him, and somehow always managed to amuse with his crazy antics.
But I digress.
One spring afternoon, the man I was living with at the time was outside in the backyard talking with a friend and Kensington was, as usual, romping around them. Suddenly Kensington stopped prancing and got very interested in something on the ground, his tail wagging like mad. This was not unusual, it could have very well turned out to be a bug or a leaf or a piece of an old torn-up toy or old excrement – he wasn’t too particular: if it smelled, it was the Most Incredibly Fascinating and Amazing thing in the Entire Universe.
What was different this time was that I was called outside to “see this”.
While the two men debated only half-jokingly whether or not to just let Kenser “have it”, I saw what had so interested all three juvenile witless males.
A tiny hummingbird was hunkered down in the grass, one of its wings held slightly outstretched as if injured. I shooed all the mean boys away and carefully approached the bird. He fluttered a bit as I gently cupped my hands around him, but he did not attempt to fly away.
As I gingerly stood up, a tiny piece of magic in my hands, I could feel the barest of weight and the gentle scrabbling of tiny claws against my palm, indications of panic that quickly subsided into that very strange wild acceptance of fate I have noticed before in young creatures.
Upon entering the house, I looked for someplace to keep him that I could arrange with just my elbow, so a dishtowel was dragged into a clean sink and I carefully opened my hand to let him roll/flutter out.
He crouched down in the folds of the towel and looked up at me with bright eyes, his wing still partially extended. He did not attempt to flutter or hop, he just sat there.
This worried me a little, but, in my determination to save another flying creature, I instantly transformed into Susan: Super Savior to All Creatures Great and Small, complete with costume (no tights!) and placed a cutting board over the sink should he find that his wings actually DID work and so that Kensington, who was eagerly watching my every move with his typical Golden Smile and his ears so far forward with interest that they must ache, would not take advantage of that and do what Goldens do: retrieve birds with their mouths – which would absolutely, give my poor little injured hummingbird a major heart attack!
I mixed up some sugar water for him and place a shallow dish in the sink with him, put the cutting board back on and gave him a chance to calm down a little in privacy.
My youngest kids, Mallory and Adam, who were about 8 and 10 at the time, were also terribly interested in the proceedings and, despite my exhortations against doing so, I kept catching them lifting up the board to take a look at the little miracle all afternoon.
They, of course, wanted to name him Flit, after the feisty hummingbird in Pocahontas. Seemed like a good name. My little guy didn’t have the red slash across his throat, his throat feathers were kind of sparse and gold, but something about him suggested that he was a little on the young side.
I knew I had to find a better place for him than the kitchen sink if he survived the night.
In the morning, he was still alive, still holding his wing out and still looking up at me with wild interest. No fear, as with Jack, just a wild acceptance of his fate. I pondered his home as I went about my early morning routine and finally remembered an old octagonal fish tank and wood stand I had buried somewhere in the garage. It would be the perfect terrarium/cage for little Flit!
Finding the tank pretty much where I thought it was in the garage, I spent some time cleaning and prepping it for occupancy. Sand poured on top of flat paper towels, check – no paper towel shred for tiny little Flit – he would get lost!!
I went outside to our “orchard” of about a dozen fruit trees, searched for and found a good twig with lots of perching possibilities and brought it inside, bending it to fit inside the tank (now cage) to fit snugly against the side and under the top lip of the tank. A couple of smaller twigs were braced across the main branch and scattered on the bottom, as was a rock (found and proudly donated by my son for the cause) for visual interest. The same shallow dish with fresh sugar water was placed at the bottom.
When I was ready, I pulled the board off the sink and, talking soothingly, picked Flit up. He struggled to maintain his balance for a moment, but did not panic. I gently placed him at the bottom of the cage, which was harder than it looks… I was up on my tippy tippy toes to reach up and over that high edge with both hands carefully clasped together, straight-arming a tiny bird into the very bottom. Yeesh. Good thing no one had a camera!
Flit fluttered a bit and I carefully backed out of the room to give him some time to acclimate.
I tried to care for him with as little intervention as possible. And though I reminded my kids time and again to leave him alone, I now know that they often tip toed in there to watch the little physical manifestation of the cartoon bird who could not fly off and had to endure their stares and giggles.
A few days later, I found Flit perched on one of the lower branches! I had changed the sugar water – the levels were definitely going down - several times and finally brought in one of the feeders from outside, figuring that it would be more “natural” to sip red colored sugar water through the painted plastic flower in the bottom of a glass fish tank… yeah, I know, but at least the shape of the “flower” feed hole was right for his long beak.
This went on for a few weeks. Flit would perch on one of the lower branches and stay perfectly, watchfully still when anyone walked into the room, but he was eating and changed branch perches once in a while. He still held that one wing slight off his body, which was a little worrisome, but other than that he looked healthy.
After a while, I thought it was time to see if he was ready to fly.
I carefully reached into the cage and plucked him off his branch and took him outside, making sure that the dogs were locked in one of the bedrooms and the kids were in school. Walking out into the grass, I mentally prepared myself to “lose” little Flit as he took wing and zipped away without a backward glance, the ungrateful little wretch.
But that’s not what actually happened…
To any of you who are old enough to remember Mork & Mindy on TV, do you recall that scene that they put into the opening montage where Mork tries to set the egg free… and Mork’s look of incredulous horror when the egg did NOT fly and just fell and smashed on the counter???
Well, out on the grass, I held out my hands, opened them slowly. Flit looked all excited and bravely fluttered, his neck now shimmering with deep red jeweled tones in the sunlight, stepped off of my hand with a happy hop and immediately tumbled straight down onto the grass.
I “eeeeked”, horrified, and hastily knelt down, scooping the slightly dazed bird out of the long blades of grass and, cupping him gently, hurried back into the house, apologizing profusely and promising never ever to hurt him again!
Guilt. Huge masses of it. What had I done? *sob* Did he hurt his wing even more?? Did I scare him as he tumbled out of my hand, or when I picked him up again; did he just HATE the monster who turned gravity on HIGH? Would he ever, ever fly again?
Now this all happened before” self-esteem” but, projecting backwards, what if I irreparably damaged his self esteem and he would never be able to fly and spent his remaining short life telling a therapist all about the huge grinning evil Giant who hurled him to the ground when he was obviously still hurt???
I cradled him in my hand and with tiny little gentle as humanly possible movements, carefully, ever so carefully stretched out his injured wing. I could see nothing wrong with it, outside and underneath. It looked perfect in every way, miniature feathers, fine bones straight, but Flit could not, would not hold it flat against his body.
He did not flutter or make a sound during this exam, so I can only hope that my clumsy ministrations did not hurt him.
Another week or so went by.
The dogs started to lose interest, and the kids pretty much left him alone. He was settling in and we were all getting used to each other.
I was still very concerned. I spoke with several people who had kept various types of birds and even called one of the sanctuaries I found in the phone book and no one, NO ONE had ever heard of a hummingbird surviving in captivity. As a matter of fact, most of the people I spoke to expressed varying degrees of disbelief in my story.
I took Flit outside a couple of times during the next week and opened my hand and the sunlight again kissed his feathers with sparkling lights, but he looked up at me incredulously as if to say, “Are you NUTS???? After what happened LAST TIME???”
With a heavy heart and knowing that would never be able to train him to fly on my own, I called a local vet who cared for rescued wild creatures and told the receptionist my story. She, too, expressed the opinion that hummingbirds did not survive in captivity so I arranged to bring him in to have the vet look at his wing.
In the end, I simply could not take him to the vet myself and handed a shoebox with my miracle inside to my partner who drove away with him on the front seat.
I never saw Flit again.
When my partner returned with an empty box, my eyes welled up. He told me that Dr. Kind, the vet, examined the wing and said he could see nothing wrong with it, but it was obvious that Flit would never fly. Dr. Kind recommended that we leave the bird and he would call a sanctuary, which was Flit’s best hope of long term survival.
*sigh*
After a few days of mourning, I called the vet back and asked if there was any way to have the bird returned as he seemed to have been happy with us in his glass home. They said no, he was at the sanctuary, and retrieval would be impossible.
*bigger sigh*
Right then and there I swore that if I got another chance to rescue a bird, I would consider ALL of the ramifications before allowing it out of my sight.
And yet…
How many people have been lucky enough to say that they have been able to rescue, rehabilitate and release not just one, but TWO wild birds in an age when cynicism, materialism and a near fanatic obsession with gadgets blinds so many to the gorgeous wonder of nature around us?
Even here in the deceptively barren high desert, I am joined in my life’s journey with all kinds of critters right in my own back yard. Frogs, dogs, dragonflies, Henry the squirrel who lives under the shed, nesting doves, sparrows, mockingbirds, hummingbirds, black birds, robins and so many other flying critters (including bats!) who have all enriched my life.
So, I try to take time to enjoy my visitors every day… and watch the antics of the hummingbirds flitting around the feeder with a particularly foolish grin on my face.
Just Musing,
Susan
I have a couple of photos of Flit in my SUSAN’S OLDEN DAYS photo album on Facebook. If digital cameras had been around at that time, I would have taken a hundred pictures (yay, zoom!), but I was so afraid of scaring him that I only took these two photos.
*********
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