I'm a little surprised I remembered how to wander over to this corner of the internet. My password still works, so I guess I'm good to go.
I just "Unfriended" three folks on Facebook. I could no longer take the fundamentalist christian posts nor the tea party rhetoric. I know, I'm a weird idealist who thinks of FB as a place where some actual discourse might happen. And while most people on FB don't give a shit about a substantive conversation, I guarantee many people who think they do are actually stunting, not advancing, honest dialogue.
Since it's been nearly 11 months, and surely no one is following my blog anymore, I can be honest, right? For many, many years I've had to actively work against anti-christian sentiments within my own heart. I have, at times, had to curb my anger channeled in a desire to defame what I see as hypocrisy and hatred amongst those who would label themselves so. Frankly, christians are lucky they have themselves because they're not winning many friends at large as far as I can tell. This political season isn't helping one good, goddamned bit.
These folks I culled from my FB friends list were acquaintances from a radical church my dad dragged us off to when I was an adolescent and teenager. It was a mindfuck of an organization. My dad was no posterchild for the congregation either. He smoked. He drank. He was a womanizer. All things that don't mesh so well with those sorts of fundamentalist cults. Why he felt compelled to keep attending I will never know. I tried my best to focus on what I regard as the core beliefs -- kindness toward others (ALL others), respect for the earth, service, and humility. Precisely the things I see are lost in the popular christian stance on our nation's debate stage.
I still remember the utter shock I experienced when I moved away for college (a mere 4 hours away, but far enough). All of a sudden I could do what I wanted to do. I had freedom from this artificially imposed belief system. I turned to the mountains and began backpacking. Then, eventually, climbing, kayaking, canoeing. I turned those passions into a career. I joined that affinity for time spent outdoors with my spirituality. In short, I opened my mind to new places, new things, new people. I have rarely glimpsed backwards.
I remain deeply troubled for and by those who cower beneath a narrow stricture of beliefs. While I would be labeled a pagan by most, an atheist by many (neither should possess morals, right?), I do not believe hate is an acceptable response. This includes hatred of the narrow-minded, who, if given their ways, would lord over the masses of infidels in some bloody old testament play of vengeance and submission. Even if the most vocal of christians seem to have forsaken the core teachings of their Christ (a person I will acknowledge was a bodhisattva, an advanced being) I cannot hate them back. I will not allow myself that crutch with which to prop an atrophying intellect. No, I will forbear.
But I damn sure don't have to read their ignorant shit on Facebook anymore.
Be well, all. But most importantly, be kind to one another.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Basic Humanity
An issue that has planted itself in my thoughts of late is the vitriolic rancor sweeping America. This thought has been triggered by the myriad welfare bashing posts that were a minor trend on Facebook a while back. (They still pop up from time to time, ocassionally from my own family which grates me to no end.) There seems to be a commonly accepted myth that everyone on welfare is a crack addict who milks the system and sits back letting the government pay their ways. It’s not unlike Reagan’s favorite stump speech about the “welfare mom” that hatched in the 80s. The story was proven to be hype. But people latch onto such images, mindlessly repeating them as truths with little concern for the hatred and contempt that is bred as a result. Perhaps it's human nature to despise the notion of someone getting something for nothing. Especially if we “hard working” Americans are getting squeezed ever tighter in a recession economy.
This profiling manifests itself in many ways, like support of mandatory drug testing for welfare recipients. It’s also present in the call for bounties on welfare violators. I’m no fan of people acquiescing to a lifestyle of defrauding the system. However, the popular backlash among many rank and file Americans smacks of hatred, divisiveness and gross labeling. It does little justice to a system that has helped countless Americans better themselves over the years. Growing up it helped my family from time to time. I feel fortunate that we had that assistance and I am lucky to have a firsthand knowledge of some of welfare’s benefits. I believe too many people clogging the airwaves in dissent have no clue. They'd rather spread lies and hatred in an effort to protect their piece of the pie, I suppose.
This is a difficult time in America. It’s made only more difficult when we citizens mimic the infighting and partisanship that our supposed leaders in Washington have made a standard operating procedure. One of my favorite bumper stickers of all time reads “If the people lead, the leaders will follow.” It is as true to me today as it was the day I first saw it. But we are not leading. We are choosing to blame everyone and everything we can, not unlike our "leaders." It’s Obama’s fault, the government’s fault, big corporations’ fault, immigrants’ fault and , now, poor people’s fault.
We must break this cycle of blame, forge and hammer it, refine and focus it to something useful that will propel us forward. Surrender non-productive ideologies for the sake of tangible progress. Quit arguing religion and political party alliance. This movement to vilify the less fortunate among us disgusts me. It’s hatred and resentment personified and it is wrong. Americans engaging in such chatter would do well to focus attention on our leaders and their coddling of the most fortunate among us. Press them to revise tax code in a way that makes the uber rich pay more of their fair share.
Furthermore, quit worrying that someone’s stealing your cheese. A miserly approach to living is never healthy. In our recession climate it will only help ensure we bleed and starve to death a large segment of our citizenry on whom the sun has set. Our insular habits and self-protectionism will be the demise of us all.
On a related note -- long live the Occupy protesters! Our government leaders and business leaders need to realize the people are speaking, even if it's a message they don't want to hear. These people are my heroes because instead of turning their ire on the other (the phenomenon described above) they're directing it at corrupt banks, corporations and leaders who have usurped the Dream that underpins our nation's legacy.
For better or worse questions are being asked, accusations fielded. We'd all do well to get behind that.
This profiling manifests itself in many ways, like support of mandatory drug testing for welfare recipients. It’s also present in the call for bounties on welfare violators. I’m no fan of people acquiescing to a lifestyle of defrauding the system. However, the popular backlash among many rank and file Americans smacks of hatred, divisiveness and gross labeling. It does little justice to a system that has helped countless Americans better themselves over the years. Growing up it helped my family from time to time. I feel fortunate that we had that assistance and I am lucky to have a firsthand knowledge of some of welfare’s benefits. I believe too many people clogging the airwaves in dissent have no clue. They'd rather spread lies and hatred in an effort to protect their piece of the pie, I suppose.
This is a difficult time in America. It’s made only more difficult when we citizens mimic the infighting and partisanship that our supposed leaders in Washington have made a standard operating procedure. One of my favorite bumper stickers of all time reads “If the people lead, the leaders will follow.” It is as true to me today as it was the day I first saw it. But we are not leading. We are choosing to blame everyone and everything we can, not unlike our "leaders." It’s Obama’s fault, the government’s fault, big corporations’ fault, immigrants’ fault and , now, poor people’s fault.
We must break this cycle of blame, forge and hammer it, refine and focus it to something useful that will propel us forward. Surrender non-productive ideologies for the sake of tangible progress. Quit arguing religion and political party alliance. This movement to vilify the less fortunate among us disgusts me. It’s hatred and resentment personified and it is wrong. Americans engaging in such chatter would do well to focus attention on our leaders and their coddling of the most fortunate among us. Press them to revise tax code in a way that makes the uber rich pay more of their fair share.
Furthermore, quit worrying that someone’s stealing your cheese. A miserly approach to living is never healthy. In our recession climate it will only help ensure we bleed and starve to death a large segment of our citizenry on whom the sun has set. Our insular habits and self-protectionism will be the demise of us all.
On a related note -- long live the Occupy protesters! Our government leaders and business leaders need to realize the people are speaking, even if it's a message they don't want to hear. These people are my heroes because instead of turning their ire on the other (the phenomenon described above) they're directing it at corrupt banks, corporations and leaders who have usurped the Dream that underpins our nation's legacy.
For better or worse questions are being asked, accusations fielded. We'd all do well to get behind that.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Thanks, Dad ... & Super Glue
I was an accident prone kid. I had well over a couple hundred stitches before I started school. Really. (That's counting a major eye injury as well as "normal" dermal sutures.)
My Dad was a carpenter and a pragmatist. He was always getting injured -- from minor to seriously minor. He never went to a doctor. It didn't help that we were chronically uninsured. Doctor visits were reserved for life-altering moments. Blood loss and strong illness were not necessarily those sorts of moments in his regard.
Much to the chagrin of my Mom, Dad would tape flaps of skin back onto fingers using duct tape. For infections he was not unknown to patronize the local pet store and purchase tetracycline. He dabbled in poultices occasionally and generous doses of alcohol were part of the prescription. His pain care regimen was old school -- like teeth clenched against a stick.
I used to think he was a total hard ass. I cut myself mowing the lawn once during my teenage years. While pushing up a hill in our backyard, my footing slipped and I came down on my knee which fatefully planted onto a shard of glass. He met Mom and me in the emergency room as the doc was numbing me up for sutures. "Next time wear blue jeans," was his advice. Then he left to return to work. No matter it was late July in Tennessee -- "Blue jeans, you fucker?!" I mused. Being sixteen, I suppose I would have thought him a jerk no matter what he said.
(I want to insert a caveat that we have taken our kids for all recommended and necessary care, as well as the frivolous visit or two [in retrospect] because we were paranoid. However, in terms of my own personal injuries I have adopted a more liberal policy of professional attention that I owe in no small part to my father.)
Not long after starting college about 20 years ago, I embarked upon a serious interest in rock climbing. Like everything I take on, I read lots to supplement the actual practice of the craft. I learned knots and studied stories of climbs. That's when I first learned that cyanoacrylate -- Super Glue -- can be used to seal wounds in place of sutures. Sounds painful but cool. Like many things any of us read that information was filed into the cabinet of my twenty-something brain.
Being that I have a shop space (and more than a few lacerations occur in my shop courtesy of edge tools), I've had reason to recall that knowledge. I have Super Glue on my adhesive shelf anyway. In addition, I recently read an article about how to properly glue shut a laceration. I've tried it out. It works wonders.
(Let's pause a moment for another parenthetical paragraph. I'm not talking about injuries from powered blades or serious cuts that affect more than soft tissue [read: tendon, ligament or bone]. Rather I am referring to the deep cuts where one cannot quickly stop bleeding with pressure or a bandage so as to resume normal activity. If I retained a lawyer, s/he would thank you for reading that statement.)
Last Sunday morning I stopped by a friend's house before proceeding to the grocery store to get some grillable grub for dinner. I took a stupid spill in the alley hopping an obstacle. I landed on my left hand, elbow and ass. It hurt like hell, but like most accidents on a bike, I jumped up quickly and tried to walk off the pain. It wasn't until I grabbed my brake lever that I realized that wet, slippery grip meant I was bleeding a lot. I must have landed on some glass or something because my left palm was deeply gashed although it hurt nothing in comparison to my hip. Still, it needed attention.
I rolled home and applied first aid. April suggested, and I agreed, that it could use stitches. (One telltale clue is the depth and visibility of fatty tissue.) I told her I didn't want to spend four hours in urgent care on a Sunday and a few hundred dollars to mend something so minor. We have decent insurance, but I value my time. Besides, I've spent plenty of time in hospitals over the course of my life. They all smell the same.
The first application of glue peeled off yesterday. This evening I decided the wound was still flexible enough for another closure. I washed and dried it thoroughly and went to work:
The key, according to an MD whose article I recently read, is to gently hold the skin closed and glue across the laceration in criss-crossing strips. Let dry without gluing your uninjured hand's fingertips to the skin. Bingo!
My dressing consists of a Band-Aid smeared with Burt's Bees Rescue ointment applied over the laceration, and then tape holding the opposing sides of the wound closed (a band all the way around the knuckles). This is then supported by another band in an X configuration opposing any propensity for the cut to re-open, as well as the Band-Aid to peel off, with normal hand movement. Keep in mind this will only be in place for the next 12-18 hours. No need to leave it tightly bandaged longer than that since skin needs air.
Why am I sharing this? Honestly, I think it's good if we realize we don't have to rush off to the hospital at the sight of blood -- even flowing, dripping blood. Save your time. Don't forget the ER staff's time since they have fun stuff like trauma and gunshot wounds to deal with. By the way, hospitals use Super Glue all the time, so this isn't like some wacko application.
Please remember, I'm no doctor, so take everything you read on my blog with a grain of counterfeit French sea salt. That said, next I'm going to work on my skills at reducing dislocated digits. I've got a toe injury that still hurts from two years ago. Something tells me I didn't self diagnose that injury very well.
My Dad was a carpenter and a pragmatist. He was always getting injured -- from minor to seriously minor. He never went to a doctor. It didn't help that we were chronically uninsured. Doctor visits were reserved for life-altering moments. Blood loss and strong illness were not necessarily those sorts of moments in his regard.
Much to the chagrin of my Mom, Dad would tape flaps of skin back onto fingers using duct tape. For infections he was not unknown to patronize the local pet store and purchase tetracycline. He dabbled in poultices occasionally and generous doses of alcohol were part of the prescription. His pain care regimen was old school -- like teeth clenched against a stick.
I used to think he was a total hard ass. I cut myself mowing the lawn once during my teenage years. While pushing up a hill in our backyard, my footing slipped and I came down on my knee which fatefully planted onto a shard of glass. He met Mom and me in the emergency room as the doc was numbing me up for sutures. "Next time wear blue jeans," was his advice. Then he left to return to work. No matter it was late July in Tennessee -- "Blue jeans, you fucker?!" I mused. Being sixteen, I suppose I would have thought him a jerk no matter what he said.
(I want to insert a caveat that we have taken our kids for all recommended and necessary care, as well as the frivolous visit or two [in retrospect] because we were paranoid. However, in terms of my own personal injuries I have adopted a more liberal policy of professional attention that I owe in no small part to my father.)
Not long after starting college about 20 years ago, I embarked upon a serious interest in rock climbing. Like everything I take on, I read lots to supplement the actual practice of the craft. I learned knots and studied stories of climbs. That's when I first learned that cyanoacrylate -- Super Glue -- can be used to seal wounds in place of sutures. Sounds painful but cool. Like many things any of us read that information was filed into the cabinet of my twenty-something brain.
Being that I have a shop space (and more than a few lacerations occur in my shop courtesy of edge tools), I've had reason to recall that knowledge. I have Super Glue on my adhesive shelf anyway. In addition, I recently read an article about how to properly glue shut a laceration. I've tried it out. It works wonders.
(Let's pause a moment for another parenthetical paragraph. I'm not talking about injuries from powered blades or serious cuts that affect more than soft tissue [read: tendon, ligament or bone]. Rather I am referring to the deep cuts where one cannot quickly stop bleeding with pressure or a bandage so as to resume normal activity. If I retained a lawyer, s/he would thank you for reading that statement.)
Last Sunday morning I stopped by a friend's house before proceeding to the grocery store to get some grillable grub for dinner. I took a stupid spill in the alley hopping an obstacle. I landed on my left hand, elbow and ass. It hurt like hell, but like most accidents on a bike, I jumped up quickly and tried to walk off the pain. It wasn't until I grabbed my brake lever that I realized that wet, slippery grip meant I was bleeding a lot. I must have landed on some glass or something because my left palm was deeply gashed although it hurt nothing in comparison to my hip. Still, it needed attention.
I rolled home and applied first aid. April suggested, and I agreed, that it could use stitches. (One telltale clue is the depth and visibility of fatty tissue.) I told her I didn't want to spend four hours in urgent care on a Sunday and a few hundred dollars to mend something so minor. We have decent insurance, but I value my time. Besides, I've spent plenty of time in hospitals over the course of my life. They all smell the same.
The first application of glue peeled off yesterday. This evening I decided the wound was still flexible enough for another closure. I washed and dried it thoroughly and went to work:
The key, according to an MD whose article I recently read, is to gently hold the skin closed and glue across the laceration in criss-crossing strips. Let dry without gluing your uninjured hand's fingertips to the skin. Bingo!
My dressing consists of a Band-Aid smeared with Burt's Bees Rescue ointment applied over the laceration, and then tape holding the opposing sides of the wound closed (a band all the way around the knuckles). This is then supported by another band in an X configuration opposing any propensity for the cut to re-open, as well as the Band-Aid to peel off, with normal hand movement. Keep in mind this will only be in place for the next 12-18 hours. No need to leave it tightly bandaged longer than that since skin needs air.
Why am I sharing this? Honestly, I think it's good if we realize we don't have to rush off to the hospital at the sight of blood -- even flowing, dripping blood. Save your time. Don't forget the ER staff's time since they have fun stuff like trauma and gunshot wounds to deal with. By the way, hospitals use Super Glue all the time, so this isn't like some wacko application.
Please remember, I'm no doctor, so take everything you read on my blog with a grain of counterfeit French sea salt. That said, next I'm going to work on my skills at reducing dislocated digits. I've got a toe injury that still hurts from two years ago. Something tells me I didn't self diagnose that injury very well.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
More Great Press for Biking & Infrastructure
Stories like this often make my day -- NYT Economix: The Bicycle Dividend. You see, when cycling is part of one's everyday transportation equation it is often easy to get into a rut. This can be due to a number of factors: The emotional effects of dealing with belligerent drivers; the physical effects of riding a bike over distance in all types of weather; fielding off-base comments from non-cyclists who regard bike transportation as freakish; and generally concluding that society is not moving more in support of cycling, but simply polarizing the parties involved into more or less 'for' and 'against' positions.
But when an article like this comes along it reminds me of two things: 1) There are numbers, the result of more frequent study and analysis, that support the benefits of biking on many different fronts (health, environmental, economic) as well as the benefits of investing in bike infrastructure; 2) These articles are popping up more often on higher profile news outlets which signifies greater awareness and interest in the topic. The article is a short read and well worth the time.
I'm not expecting motorists to cheer me or stop and ask to shake my hand any time soon. However, I will bask in the glow I feel whenever I read one of these articles. While the pro-cycling message is agreable to me, that is not the biggest theme I take away from such press features. What really brings me hope is that Americans are beginning -- out of necessity and lack of legitimate counter-argument -- to examine the myriad destructive legacies of building our culture and shaping our daily lives around the automobile. Bike lanes and trails are good, but this realization is the source of truly profound change yet to come.
The article closes with this quote: "Hats (and helmets) off to the bicycle activists and policy makers who work to promote bicycle paths and lanes. They are spinning us all in a good direction." Agreed.
I'd like to take a couple revolutions backward, however, and tip my hat to the vigilant cyclists who have quietly maintained a road presence in the decades up to now, before cycling (specifically for transportation) was enjoying more frequent and positive PR. Many such individuals have been my role models and sources of inspiration. No matter their motivation for biking, they're visionaries all the same.
But when an article like this comes along it reminds me of two things: 1) There are numbers, the result of more frequent study and analysis, that support the benefits of biking on many different fronts (health, environmental, economic) as well as the benefits of investing in bike infrastructure; 2) These articles are popping up more often on higher profile news outlets which signifies greater awareness and interest in the topic. The article is a short read and well worth the time.
I'm not expecting motorists to cheer me or stop and ask to shake my hand any time soon. However, I will bask in the glow I feel whenever I read one of these articles. While the pro-cycling message is agreable to me, that is not the biggest theme I take away from such press features. What really brings me hope is that Americans are beginning -- out of necessity and lack of legitimate counter-argument -- to examine the myriad destructive legacies of building our culture and shaping our daily lives around the automobile. Bike lanes and trails are good, but this realization is the source of truly profound change yet to come.
The article closes with this quote: "Hats (and helmets) off to the bicycle activists and policy makers who work to promote bicycle paths and lanes. They are spinning us all in a good direction." Agreed.
I'd like to take a couple revolutions backward, however, and tip my hat to the vigilant cyclists who have quietly maintained a road presence in the decades up to now, before cycling (specifically for transportation) was enjoying more frequent and positive PR. Many such individuals have been my role models and sources of inspiration. No matter their motivation for biking, they're visionaries all the same.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Community
I'm home on a Monday. It's a beautiful, sunny day. I haven't been outside once. In fact, I am still in my pajamas. A sickness came on yesterday. When I awoke this morning I felt like I'd been dragged behind a pick-up through a gravel parking lot. I don't get sick often, so when the sinus pressure and painful deep coughs set in I tend to shut down if I need to. I slept away a good portion of this stellar summer day.
I try to make the best of most situations. I had a long and pleasant weekend. I was genuinely ready for the work week ahead. There's plenty to do and I want to get it done. However, when it hurts to simply stand up chances are productivity will be nil and mistakes plentiful. Leave it alone. Send the attendance email and walk away. Lie down. Let the body mend.
Last Wednesday I opened a Facebook account. Now, if any of you who still happen to read my infrequently updated blog recall, I have been a vocal holdout from the social media thing. I have numerous reasons for "giving in". Over the years I've sought dozens of opinions on the matter. The facts I kept coming around to were simple: 1) The motivation is pure -- we are social critters; people want to keep in touch and 2) I have the power to make Facebook whatever I want it to be.
The past few days have been full of confirming friend requests, uploading photos and generally attempting to make my page a representation of who I am and what I do. I regard these as valuable considerations since a good portion of the people I've signed on as friends are folks from a past life in a place far away where I rarely visit. Yet, a fondness and friendship endures and I'm looking forward to keeping up with them.
Another motivation comes from what I regard as the highly polarized state of our culture today. A shaky economy, wars many don't support, oil spills and natural disasters haven't helped. We have looming problems with our nation's ability to address energy problems, quality of life for citizens (i.e. economic equality and health care) and the definition of our role as a waning global economic power. Leaders have become little more than bandwagon sensationalists fomenting debates on hot-button topics in order to bolster a fan base for re-election. Fingerpointing has become an art at the Washington level.
Something wonderful I have been reminded of these past few weeks/months is that most people are rational. Really, I believe they are. During a trip to China back in May I was availed of something else (we murdered bin Laden while I was on that trip) -- Americans take ourselves, our problems and our role in world drama way too seriously.
So, in an effort to take myself a little less seriously, I started a Facebook account. It's a small token perhaps, but an attempt nonetheless to curb polarization, cynicism and hate that have become easier than ever to foster these days.
Be well.
I try to make the best of most situations. I had a long and pleasant weekend. I was genuinely ready for the work week ahead. There's plenty to do and I want to get it done. However, when it hurts to simply stand up chances are productivity will be nil and mistakes plentiful. Leave it alone. Send the attendance email and walk away. Lie down. Let the body mend.
Last Wednesday I opened a Facebook account. Now, if any of you who still happen to read my infrequently updated blog recall, I have been a vocal holdout from the social media thing. I have numerous reasons for "giving in". Over the years I've sought dozens of opinions on the matter. The facts I kept coming around to were simple: 1) The motivation is pure -- we are social critters; people want to keep in touch and 2) I have the power to make Facebook whatever I want it to be.
The past few days have been full of confirming friend requests, uploading photos and generally attempting to make my page a representation of who I am and what I do. I regard these as valuable considerations since a good portion of the people I've signed on as friends are folks from a past life in a place far away where I rarely visit. Yet, a fondness and friendship endures and I'm looking forward to keeping up with them.
Another motivation comes from what I regard as the highly polarized state of our culture today. A shaky economy, wars many don't support, oil spills and natural disasters haven't helped. We have looming problems with our nation's ability to address energy problems, quality of life for citizens (i.e. economic equality and health care) and the definition of our role as a waning global economic power. Leaders have become little more than bandwagon sensationalists fomenting debates on hot-button topics in order to bolster a fan base for re-election. Fingerpointing has become an art at the Washington level.
Something wonderful I have been reminded of these past few weeks/months is that most people are rational. Really, I believe they are. During a trip to China back in May I was availed of something else (we murdered bin Laden while I was on that trip) -- Americans take ourselves, our problems and our role in world drama way too seriously.
So, in an effort to take myself a little less seriously, I started a Facebook account. It's a small token perhaps, but an attempt nonetheless to curb polarization, cynicism and hate that have become easier than ever to foster these days.
Be well.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Sprung
Two happy girls. Happy because they don't tune into weather forecasts perhaps. It's cold and rainy here today. There's talk of the S word falling from the sky tonight. All we can do is wait and see. Spring is lodging here, but we can't seem to locate our esteemed guest for the honorary dinner announcing her arrival.Willa's just turned three and Sylvia will be six in a week and a half. My how time flies. Seems like just yesterday I was growing my hair and listening to the Grateful Dead. We'll be shipping Mom off in a couple of days for a vacation with friends in NYC. It's a long weekend with Dad coming up. We did this same thing last year. I'm really looking forward to it.
****************************
Here's an interesting tidbit on "Made in America." It has to do with cars, but what other topic strikes so close to we Americans' hearts? Honda exports to 30 countries from assembly plants in the US. Hmm ... this topic could be more complex than it sounds. After all, Honda's not an American company.
For some reason the adamant insistence of some people to "Buy American" has always bothered me. It's a protectionist mentality that has little basis in practicality or sustainability. We're better off in our buying decisions to support locally owned businesses as much as possible and to extrapolate downward to purchasing locally sourced products from food to bath soap.
The "Buy American" argument is often waged at the corporate-produced level of cars. It presumes power is in the hands of large corporations. And I think we all have plenty of evidence that equation gets balanced at the expense of everyday workers and taxpayers.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Springing
The remains of the longest winter in my short MN history are melting away. Happy spring, everyone. Go ride your bike.
************
I wrote that "post" over a week ago and intended it to accompany a photo of my bike parked next to a tenaciously lingering snow drift slowly melting on a warm, sunny morning commute. The photo was taken with my new phone -- a smartphone, nonetheless, and smarter than I -- but I have to reconfigure some settings to get things to work for blog posts. If you're in the Mpls area you get the picture without need of an actual photo. Pretty much everyone's been tired of winter for a while now. And it's been spring for nearly a month. That's saying something.
It's easy to personify winter in a less than pleasing get-up when you've gone four months without seeing green grass (e.g. the 'ole man winter' image ... I think I even refered to winter as a baby boomer whose retirement account tanked in one post a few months ago).
I must note, however, that spring has been showing its instability -- its unmedicated, bipolar side. One minute it's warm and balmy like the party's in full swing; the next, spring's sobbing uncontrollably and smashing soft plates of half-frozen precip on the kitchen walls.
Settle in and have another beer. You're better off pinning your hopes on nothing this early in the game.
************
So I got this new phone. Did I mention that? I like gadgets; I have to fess up and admit I really do. This new phone (a Motorola Defy [with Motoblur], in case you're wondering) has me enamored. I'm glad I didn't hop on the smartphone craze right away because it seems developers are ironing out a lot of things. No, I don't chase technology, but I like a good gadget. I'm especially prone to the compact, powerful gizmos that can store and access an inordinate amount of information. I guess it helps that I don't mind reading small fonts. Oh, and I always wait for my contract to expire so I can get a good deal. Weird.
Right after getting this phone I pondered the list of gadgets I've owned in the past 10-12 years. This is my sixth cell phone (five I actually bought since the first was a hand-me-down). Back in the late 90s I inherited an Apple Newton (anyone remember those?) and followed that up with a Palm III and a T|X purchased five years ago. Whew -- color screen and WiFi! I no sooner bought the T|X than realized I should have bought a netbook instead. I have a netbook now and love the thing. Fortunately I'm not a Mac person or I would have an iPod, an iPhone and now an iPad. I have none of those but can appreciate their appeal, I guess.
Where the hell am I going with this anyway? Oh, my blog!
If you read my blog with any regularity you might have noticed that it gets updated rather infrequently. Well, I think about this a lot more than you might imagine. I've read articles about how no one blogs anymore. I'm hip to the "Twitterization" of our culture. I think there's substance and truth in much of this. Vinyl gave way to tapes which gave way to discs and now it's all in the clouds. Who'da thunk it?
In my case, part of it is the sheer coincidence of timing. Blogs were cool way back when and now Facebook is all the rage. I always enjoy digging beneath pop culture trends to explain behavior though. For me it has more to do with where I was then and am now. A handful of years ago when I started this blog I was a student (again) working part-time in a warehouse. I checked my email 3-5 times a day. I rode my bike from school to work and then home. My mind was on fire with ideas and advocacy. I wrote papers for shcool and vented my spleen on my blog, based largely on the issues I saw on a firsthand basis aboard my bike every day.
I'm still aboard my bike most every day, but things have changed. The infant we had when I went back to school is now a young lady and our second daughter is not far behind. My job is more involved, meaning not only do I reside behind a computer screen for long periods of time in the office, I often bring my work home in order to catch clients in time zones stretched around the world. Don't get me wrong -- I am a lucky bastard and I love my job. But my point is I spend most of my day in front of a computer toiling over emails, documents, reports. I'm often ashamed how long it takes me to reply to personal email (sorry, JB and Aaron). Let alone how long it takes me to work up the resolve to write a coherent blog post.
Perhaps that is the issue that reveals me as a hold-out -- the fact I think of a meaningful blog post as an essay with a thesis, supporting material and a conclusion. In our Twitterized society, publicized thoughts become the prostituted haiku of techno-altered parents conceiving illegitimate children with half-baked intellects.
Perhaps that was harsh. But I digress.
I have this new phone now. Have I mentioned that? It came with all these pre-loaded apps (Widgets, even) to facilitate interfacing with social media. But not blogs, because blogs are no longer legit social media apparently. I can work it out though and as soon as I get my next burst of blog energy to follow this one I plan to do just that.
In the meantime, I've been giving some more thought to the Facebook thing (FB, I understand the kids are abbreviating it these days). This could be due to a couple of things. One is a trend I read about last extended winter that indicated the authorities responsible for the OED (or Oxford English Dictionary, as opposed to OCED which is Obsessive Compulsive English Disorder) began admitting text slang to the venerable tome. Maybe I'm just fighting the inevitable? My new phone has Swype, so I'm texting more, dawg. OMFG YO.
Then last night we watched 'The Social Network'. After seeing the depiction of how miserable all those bastards are I have little hope that anyone created social networking sites based on philanthropy or goodwill. It's all posturing, self-absorption and money-grubbing capitalism. I can dig that desperation.
Why can I dig that desperation? Because I have an immense respect for the breadth and depth of holes that people dig for themselves. And I do include myself ...
************
On my ride home tonight I had one of the most egregious buzzes by a car I've had in a long while. A Nissan Altima, or some other Euro knock-off sedan, MN license plate 046 ATX, cruised by me above the speed limit on Xerxes just south of Hwy 62 passing within one foot of my handlebars. It was after 9pm. There was no other traffic about and I was lit up like a christ mass tree given the reflectives and LEDs. Didn't see me? Scary. Saw me and hated me and my presence? Even scarier.
I had no chance of catching up to confront but I had half my ride home to ponder. I passed two gas stations on the way and noted fuel is $4 a gallon. Maybe that's it? Maybe it's also the fickle weather that's got people cranky. I don't know.
I do know that a few years ago this sort of encounter made me mad. Don't get me wrong, I had a flush of anger. More so, though, I felt a wave of sadness. I related the story to April tonight and told her my philosophy of riding which goes something like this: "I take every precaution I can to ensure that I arrive home safely and avoid harming anyone else while I'm riding my bike. But I have no control over a driver approaching from behind who doesn't see me or sees me and regards me as little more than a bug on the floor."
I don't smash bugs on the floor and I try my damnedest not to berate those around me. Some of it is human nature, I suppose, lost in the moment of judgment by acquaintances. Still, we can regret and mend. How many are engaging that pattern, however? How many who wage a disparaging word have the courage to apologize? Moreover, how many who buzz a cyclist, intentionally or not, go home and think, "Geez, that was bad. I need to give that person more space because I could have killed her/him"?
The desperation I can dig is the trough that surrounds me, and us, at all times -- dug by people on both sides of the fence who want to berate, name call and otherwise sling shit at thine neighbor.
What is crying foul? In a caustic environment are words apt to burn more than the ire already ablaze in an inferno? The wisdom of age quells my desire to lift my finger, but in return my heart despairs all the more. We are a society of self-absorbed idiots. Fear rules us, not unlike my fear of some driver striking me from behind while I'm blogging away in my mind ... and thinking about getting home to my family.
It's not unlike our fear of $4/gallon gas, or Facebook and the breakdown of our culture. Does anyone truly think that while we stand steadfast by the empty bastions of our freedom that our language, our culture and our very "moral fabric" are not being stripped from beneath us? Apparently, yes, many people think so because there are armed guards with theoretical jurisdiction posted at every entry point as you read this. Thus the hatred for one another, those with opposing viewpoints, within our own country.
Ironically, the "threat" (if anyone dare label it as such) is so far beyond our borders yet embodied within each of us. We are all truncating our language, eating factory-farmed food and consuming willy-nilly. Meanwhile the places formerly known as the third world are emulating and chasing our own wake hoping to ride that elusive wave.
On that note, cheers and good night!
************
I wrote that "post" over a week ago and intended it to accompany a photo of my bike parked next to a tenaciously lingering snow drift slowly melting on a warm, sunny morning commute. The photo was taken with my new phone -- a smartphone, nonetheless, and smarter than I -- but I have to reconfigure some settings to get things to work for blog posts. If you're in the Mpls area you get the picture without need of an actual photo. Pretty much everyone's been tired of winter for a while now. And it's been spring for nearly a month. That's saying something.
It's easy to personify winter in a less than pleasing get-up when you've gone four months without seeing green grass (e.g. the 'ole man winter' image ... I think I even refered to winter as a baby boomer whose retirement account tanked in one post a few months ago).
I must note, however, that spring has been showing its instability -- its unmedicated, bipolar side. One minute it's warm and balmy like the party's in full swing; the next, spring's sobbing uncontrollably and smashing soft plates of half-frozen precip on the kitchen walls.
Settle in and have another beer. You're better off pinning your hopes on nothing this early in the game.
************
So I got this new phone. Did I mention that? I like gadgets; I have to fess up and admit I really do. This new phone (a Motorola Defy [with Motoblur], in case you're wondering) has me enamored. I'm glad I didn't hop on the smartphone craze right away because it seems developers are ironing out a lot of things. No, I don't chase technology, but I like a good gadget. I'm especially prone to the compact, powerful gizmos that can store and access an inordinate amount of information. I guess it helps that I don't mind reading small fonts. Oh, and I always wait for my contract to expire so I can get a good deal. Weird.
Right after getting this phone I pondered the list of gadgets I've owned in the past 10-12 years. This is my sixth cell phone (five I actually bought since the first was a hand-me-down). Back in the late 90s I inherited an Apple Newton (anyone remember those?) and followed that up with a Palm III and a T|X purchased five years ago. Whew -- color screen and WiFi! I no sooner bought the T|X than realized I should have bought a netbook instead. I have a netbook now and love the thing. Fortunately I'm not a Mac person or I would have an iPod, an iPhone and now an iPad. I have none of those but can appreciate their appeal, I guess.
Where the hell am I going with this anyway? Oh, my blog!
If you read my blog with any regularity you might have noticed that it gets updated rather infrequently. Well, I think about this a lot more than you might imagine. I've read articles about how no one blogs anymore. I'm hip to the "Twitterization" of our culture. I think there's substance and truth in much of this. Vinyl gave way to tapes which gave way to discs and now it's all in the clouds. Who'da thunk it?
In my case, part of it is the sheer coincidence of timing. Blogs were cool way back when and now Facebook is all the rage. I always enjoy digging beneath pop culture trends to explain behavior though. For me it has more to do with where I was then and am now. A handful of years ago when I started this blog I was a student (again) working part-time in a warehouse. I checked my email 3-5 times a day. I rode my bike from school to work and then home. My mind was on fire with ideas and advocacy. I wrote papers for shcool and vented my spleen on my blog, based largely on the issues I saw on a firsthand basis aboard my bike every day.
I'm still aboard my bike most every day, but things have changed. The infant we had when I went back to school is now a young lady and our second daughter is not far behind. My job is more involved, meaning not only do I reside behind a computer screen for long periods of time in the office, I often bring my work home in order to catch clients in time zones stretched around the world. Don't get me wrong -- I am a lucky bastard and I love my job. But my point is I spend most of my day in front of a computer toiling over emails, documents, reports. I'm often ashamed how long it takes me to reply to personal email (sorry, JB and Aaron). Let alone how long it takes me to work up the resolve to write a coherent blog post.
Perhaps that is the issue that reveals me as a hold-out -- the fact I think of a meaningful blog post as an essay with a thesis, supporting material and a conclusion. In our Twitterized society, publicized thoughts become the prostituted haiku of techno-altered parents conceiving illegitimate children with half-baked intellects.
Perhaps that was harsh. But I digress.
I have this new phone now. Have I mentioned that? It came with all these pre-loaded apps (Widgets, even) to facilitate interfacing with social media. But not blogs, because blogs are no longer legit social media apparently. I can work it out though and as soon as I get my next burst of blog energy to follow this one I plan to do just that.
In the meantime, I've been giving some more thought to the Facebook thing (FB, I understand the kids are abbreviating it these days). This could be due to a couple of things. One is a trend I read about last extended winter that indicated the authorities responsible for the OED (or Oxford English Dictionary, as opposed to OCED which is Obsessive Compulsive English Disorder) began admitting text slang to the venerable tome. Maybe I'm just fighting the inevitable? My new phone has Swype, so I'm texting more, dawg. OMFG YO.
Then last night we watched 'The Social Network'. After seeing the depiction of how miserable all those bastards are I have little hope that anyone created social networking sites based on philanthropy or goodwill. It's all posturing, self-absorption and money-grubbing capitalism. I can dig that desperation.
Why can I dig that desperation? Because I have an immense respect for the breadth and depth of holes that people dig for themselves. And I do include myself ...
************
On my ride home tonight I had one of the most egregious buzzes by a car I've had in a long while. A Nissan Altima, or some other Euro knock-off sedan, MN license plate 046 ATX, cruised by me above the speed limit on Xerxes just south of Hwy 62 passing within one foot of my handlebars. It was after 9pm. There was no other traffic about and I was lit up like a christ mass tree given the reflectives and LEDs. Didn't see me? Scary. Saw me and hated me and my presence? Even scarier.
I had no chance of catching up to confront but I had half my ride home to ponder. I passed two gas stations on the way and noted fuel is $4 a gallon. Maybe that's it? Maybe it's also the fickle weather that's got people cranky. I don't know.
I do know that a few years ago this sort of encounter made me mad. Don't get me wrong, I had a flush of anger. More so, though, I felt a wave of sadness. I related the story to April tonight and told her my philosophy of riding which goes something like this: "I take every precaution I can to ensure that I arrive home safely and avoid harming anyone else while I'm riding my bike. But I have no control over a driver approaching from behind who doesn't see me or sees me and regards me as little more than a bug on the floor."
I don't smash bugs on the floor and I try my damnedest not to berate those around me. Some of it is human nature, I suppose, lost in the moment of judgment by acquaintances. Still, we can regret and mend. How many are engaging that pattern, however? How many who wage a disparaging word have the courage to apologize? Moreover, how many who buzz a cyclist, intentionally or not, go home and think, "Geez, that was bad. I need to give that person more space because I could have killed her/him"?
The desperation I can dig is the trough that surrounds me, and us, at all times -- dug by people on both sides of the fence who want to berate, name call and otherwise sling shit at thine neighbor.
What is crying foul? In a caustic environment are words apt to burn more than the ire already ablaze in an inferno? The wisdom of age quells my desire to lift my finger, but in return my heart despairs all the more. We are a society of self-absorbed idiots. Fear rules us, not unlike my fear of some driver striking me from behind while I'm blogging away in my mind ... and thinking about getting home to my family.
It's not unlike our fear of $4/gallon gas, or Facebook and the breakdown of our culture. Does anyone truly think that while we stand steadfast by the empty bastions of our freedom that our language, our culture and our very "moral fabric" are not being stripped from beneath us? Apparently, yes, many people think so because there are armed guards with theoretical jurisdiction posted at every entry point as you read this. Thus the hatred for one another, those with opposing viewpoints, within our own country.
Ironically, the "threat" (if anyone dare label it as such) is so far beyond our borders yet embodied within each of us. We are all truncating our language, eating factory-farmed food and consuming willy-nilly. Meanwhile the places formerly known as the third world are emulating and chasing our own wake hoping to ride that elusive wave.
On that note, cheers and good night!
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