Eat Pray Love

One of my friends gave me a book to read this week. This is the same friend that sometimes brings me margarita glasses or bottles of wine or yoga DVD's. She's also been known to motivate me into exercising, and she's the only other person on the planet who can get anywhere near my one-woman cat, so she's his sitter. As you can see, she's a valuable friend. She's a gem, and she brought me a gem of a book. It was so good I just have to tell you all to go get it and read it. I loved every bit of it. From the cover art to the last goodbye, this book is fantastic.

The book entitled Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert is a series of articles about a year in her life when she stepped back and said “who am I”, and the path she took to discover the answer. Ms. Gilbert, as it turns out, was already a professional writer, and that may explain why the book was so well written. Her style of writing has depth and humor rolled into one. When I grow up, I want to write like she does. In fact, I wish I had written this book.

During her year of living discoverously, she traveled to three areas of the globe that held some sort of fascination for her and along the way she met many a strange and wise character. She learned to listen with her heart as well as her ears, and write from her being as well as her mind.

I can’t tell you too much, or it would ruin your read, but I will tell you that she threw herself whole heartedly into three very foreign landscapes and came out looking like a local. She did, in fact, learn who she really was at the time and developed a path to continue to lead her to who she was going to be in the future. She became, I think, very flexible.

There were many times during my read that I would say to myself, that was fantastic, I should put that in my blog, there were just so many really cool concepts to ponder. I guess my favorite, and the one I will share with you is this:

On page 95 she says “The Bhagavad Gita – the ancient Indian Yogic text- says that it is better to live your own destiny imperfectly then to live an imitation of somebody else’s life with perfection”.

I definitely have that living imperfectly concept down. Living imperfectly is a constant companion on my path. We hold hands while we walk. We are great friends. You could say we are peas in a pod. Add to that the fact that I have never been attracted to imitation anything, except of course when it comes to acrylic nails, and although I often find bits and pieces of others that I admire and wish to emulate, like for instance Tony Robbins in his live with passion frenzy or this writer, Elizabeth Gilbert with her humorous insightful style of writing, I think I’m safe in saying my life’s goal has never been to imitate anyone.

I’m an imperfect original and apparently I’m walking an imperfectly authentic path. According to the Bhagavad Gita, I’m doing great!

Mass at Yankee Stadium with Pope Benedict XVI

I'm still percolating on my article about meandering to NYC to see the Pope. It was really amazing, I can tell you that. Check back soon for the truth, the whole truth, and nothin' but the truth.

Three Days of Peace and Music

while I was meandering to NYC to see the Pope, I figured why not take a side trip and make another pilgrimage to another inspirational spot? The site of Woodstock is now a performing arts center with lots of parking, restrooms, and a visitors center. It's still a beautiful natural amphitheater surrounded by farmland and woods, and I swear it still carries "the vibe" of August 1969 when 3 days of peace and music birthed a new nation.

When The World Becomes to Large

It seems to me, that as our global world becomes smaller, our personal worlds become larger. Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe not.

Remember way back when you had to go to the library to look up things or, if you were really lucky, you had a set of the Encyclopedia Britannica (first printing- 1768 in Scotland) at your house? Now all you have to do is sit at the computer and click away.

Remember when mass communication was unheard of? No, well, neither does anyone else. Newspapers (first printed, Germany, late 1400’s-first weekly, Britain 1622) have been around for a long time, but it wasn’t that long ago that newspapers were the only source of mass communication and a large part of the humanity couldn’t read! News got around by word of mouth. The first newspapers were only printed when something “news worthy” occurred.

It also wasn’t that long ago that a person’s interest in the world was pretty much limited to their home town, and possibly an occasional rumor of what was happening in the world outside that town. Top speed for a buckboard and horses is approximately 30 mph- try traveling around the world like that. It was a very large world, while personal worlds were relatively small.

Time moved slower it seemed.

Quantum physics discoveries seem to imply that as the universe expands, time is indeed speeding up, but I was unable to find a definite article on this topic.

Telephones were the next invention that made the world smaller. No longer did you have to wait weeks or months to get a letter from a relative or friend to find out the latest happenings out side of your town.

Then came radio, (first broadcasts to public, early 1920’s) and families gathered together to hear from the world. Before that, printed news traveled slowly. Suddenly news traveled at the speed of radio waves (The speed of a radio wave radiated into free space by a transmitting antenna is equal to the speed of light - 186,000 miles per second).

Television wasn’t far behind (first commercial broadcast July 1st, 1941) and now you could see what was going on as well as hear it. The world was as small as it could get- or so they thought.

Now it’s even smaller, because we have the ability to go out and get the information we want, our knowledge is not limited to what is delivered to us by newspapers or TV. Want to know what’s going on in Tibet (oh, excuse me, the Tibetan Autonomous Region of China) right now? Just get on line and search.

This onslaught of information is enough to crush anyone, but especially those born back when news was something you got at the picnic after church and it consisted of what was happening in your town of 300.

Back then you only had to worry about the three cows farmer Bill lost last week, or the fact that the town mill may close and leave people out of work. Now multiply that amount of worry by about a gazillion as you watch Buddhist Monks killed in Burma, children starving in Africa, floods in Germany, drought in Australia and that’s not even mentioning what’s going on in your own country, state and community. At one time it was a privilege of the educated to stay informed of global events, now maybe it’s not.

Now days you may not know your neighbors, but you can know what is going on around the globe. You probably don’t know the manager of the store you shop in (because the tiny corner grocery store is gone and you now have to drive to the big chain store to shop), but you feel like you know the cast of the latest successful TV show.

The global community has replaced the home town and that is pretty cool, unless you happen to be a 70 year old who feels the world has out grown you. It’s difficult for the young to keep up, how do we expect the elderly to cope?

We can’t really, and they often don’t. Their way of life has passed and they are lost, wondering what happened to family dinners, evenings on the porch and living in a neighborhood where you know the people next door, the banker, the grocer, the cop and the guy who filled the gas tank on your car.

How do you cope when your town has grown so large it’s hard to find your way around even on a good day? How do you keep your family together when the average person now changes jobs every ten years, and often with geographic change as well? How do you cope with 55 mph speed limits, ATM’s, E- tickets , automated customer service lines with menus having 20 options that lead to menus with 20 more options, and self serve everything? Now add in the general anxiety caused by ageing and you have way to much stress for one person. The world has changed, it’s become to large!

And all that modern, time saving, world uniting, robotic stuff looked so inviting back at the 1962 Worlds Fair hosted by Seattle. The Fair used the theme “The 21st Century” and a tag line of. ‘Better Living Through Science” to entice people with visions of a leisurely future in a global community enhanced by automation. Maybe no thought was given to the possibility that the science would run amok and leave the very people who nurtured it lying in its dust.

Off To See The Pope

In some blessed event apparently reigned over by numerous saints, I ended up with a ticket to see His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI in NYC this weekend.

Really, it was like winning the lotto. My devote catholic friend, who went to see His Holiness The Dalia Lama with me and made me swear to be her road trip buddy if The Pope ever came to the US, managed to get our names into a lottery for tickets in a parish just outside of the city.

Now here's where the blessed event reigned over by numerous saints comes in - somehow, out of all those hundreds of names, both our names were pulled! We both received letters saying our tickets were being held for us in the parking lot of a mall north of NYC where we would board the bus with a few hundred other devout catholics to drive into NYC to see the POPE! Then, heaven rain down on us, we found out Harry Connick Junior is among the warm up entertainment for His Holiness!

Now I don't know about you, but I was not about to turn my back on this nudge from the universe, even though I'm not Catholic. I mean, it's a miracle I got a ticket, I think I better go. Besides, I did promise my devout catholic friend some back up for just such an event, and I just Love Harry Connick Junior.

So I'm off to see the Pope and I will let ya know how it goes.

Nom de Plume

I was thinking maybe I should have a Nom de plume. Nom de plume has nothing at all to do with bird feathers although that is what it brings to mind when I hear the phrase. Nom is the word for “name”, de translates as “of”, and plum is literally “pen”. Name of Pen. Nom de plume is the fancy French pen name for a pen name. Many writers have used Nom de plumes over the years, and maybe it’s one of those things ya just gotta have to be a writer.

Nome de plumes have been used for protecting a writers’ identity when they wanted to say something but were embarrassed to have it credited to them. So far I haven’t posted anything I might be embarrassed by, but who knows, at some point I might want to blather on about my years as an Osmond Brothers fan and maybe associating that with my given name, Meandering, would have long lasting repercussions.

Writers in Victorian times used Nome de plumes to fool the public into reading things written by – GASP!- females! Case in point: Emily Bronte writing as Ellis Bell and Karen Blixen publishing “Out of Africa” under the name Isak Dinesen.

Funny isn’t it? I mean, in those days you were not considered a well rounded female unless you had self published, to the delight of your proud father and joyous family members, at least a small volume of prose or a skillfully executed short novel just for fun (as in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, oh, and by the way, her name was Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin), however public publishing was for men only.

In this day and age I don’t think I have to masquerade as a man, but at times I am amazed by the archaic attitudes still entrenched in some peoples tiny brains.

Some writers use nom de plumes because their names were too strange for public consumption, like Theodore Geisel, who wrote as Dr. Seuss,( oh yes doc, that's better, more normal sounding) Charles Lutwidge Dodgson better known as Lewis Caroll , Chloe Anthony Wofford, writer Toni Morrison, and my personal favorite - Mark Twain who was actually Samuel Langhome Clemens, and used Sieur Louis de Conte as his nom de plume for his nom de plume.

Another good example of this use of nom de plumes is Western novelist Pearl Gray who dropped his first name and changed the spelling of his last name to become Zane Grey, because he believed that his real name did not suit the Western genre. Smart move Pearl. And what the heck were Pearl’s parents thinking anyway, when they named him Pearl? It’s not like they were contemporaries of Frank Zappa!

Some writers used nom de plumes to make them sound more educated, like they might actually know what they were writing about, or possibly to entice the upper class into reading a contemporaries works. Maybe this is why Mary Westmacott became Dame Agatha Clarissa Mary Christie.

So, how could I come by a really fine nom de plume?

I went looking for ideas and found this: Japanese poets who write haiku often use a haiga or penname. The famous haiku poet Matsuo Bashō had used fifteen different haiga before he became fond of a banana plant (bashō) that had been given to him by a disciple and started using it as his penname at the age of 38.

WHAT? I swear, that is so Zen!

Well, OK, I have a nice philodendron bipinnatifidum I’m fond of, maybe I could use that for my nom de plume. I could change it a tad to be Phillis Dendron Bipinnatifi’dum. How’s that sound?

OH MY! Maybe I’ve just stumbled onto the secret of getting published! Maybe I would not have received those three rejection letters this week if, when I submitted my stories to magazines, I had used the appropriate nom de plume! I should resubmit my article to “Better Homes and Gardens” with my new nom de plume – Phillis Dendron Bipinnatifi’dum! It So Fits!

I could write for Cigar Aficionado as Charles Hector Anthony Hubert Esq.! I could publish snooty travel memoirs as Royal Dame Mary Martha Prudence Windsor!

I could keep my real name, Meandering, just for use in my blog, among friends, so to speak. After all, if I do blather on about some really embarrassing incident in the novel of my life, there is a good chance some of you would turn up as the other main characters, right? And ya’ll wouldn’t be laughing me out of blogdom, because you were involved too! So for now I’ll just sign off- Meandering

PS My research for this article turned up this little nugget- Anne Rice was born Howard Allen O'Brien- I’m just not going for it though, I met Anne Rice once and I’m pretty sure her parents did not name her Howard.

Cyberspace Is So Flexible

I do love this internet, and I will tell you why- it's so flexible, so expansive and so convenient. I can do research for my articles with a click, and I can go shopping with a click as well. It's so easy!

It opens up so many possibilities for people it's really amazing. I mean you can plan your dream vacation and buy tickets, make reservations and do research on your destination. Want to find some all natural remedy to improve your health? Want to learn what essential oils can do for you? Just look it up! You will find pages and pages of information.

Looking for something special to purchase? Like maybe a book that would be really enlightening but you have checked with the library and they don't have it? Remember when you had to go to the bookstore, put in a special order and sometimes wait months to get the book? Well, no more! Now just log on and click away.

Looking for someone special? I do know people who have met and married (happily) people they found on line.

It's just amazing how handy cyberspace and this whole internet thingie can be. Especially if you live in a rural area, it allows you to become more integrated into the larger world, and gives you more options. For instance, if you live in an area with no health food stores, you can get many of the products you are looking for on line.

The fact that it is easily accessible and interactive makes it a really valuable tool for artists and writers, like myself.

You know, years ago the art of publishing was something that the average (average but probably somewhat financially well off)person had available to them. Many young men and women published volumes of poetry, verse or short stories printed by what we would call vanity publishers.

In a society (Victorian) where swooning was cherished and emotional sentiment a sign of intelligence, it was considered part of reaching maturity to enlighten your family and friends with your most intimate laments on the affairs of your heart and inner mind.

When that sensitive time had passed, vanity publishing became blasé, and writers had to struggle to get someone to look at their work. They couldn't get published unless they knew someone. It's still like that today, many of the publishers will not even look at your work unless you have been published before. It's what you call a "catch 22". How do you get published the first time if they won't look at your work unless you have already been published? How the heck do they ever find new talent? Is the literary world stagnant?

Not on line it isn't, anyone can be published. Anyone can post artwork. Any one can find a forum to express their creativity.

Now, you may not have tried this yet, but here is your chance. If you have always wanted to publish something, like a poem or a short story, send it to me. I will publish it for you. If you really enjoy seeing your name in print, you may want to consider blogging, but, just to get you started, send me your work. I don't care if you have never been published. I don't care if you don't have an agent. I don't care if your mom wears army boots. I will publish your work, right here!

For My Cousin, Richard

Hey, look, I found this cool image of Mr. Cooper, your guru and noted radio personality. I was listening to his show last night and you know, I think you are right- the guy is brilliant.
I don't know what your stock holders would think if they knew your guiding light was the billion dollar baby man, probably the same thing the board thinks when you are setting at the head of a big conference table, you roll up your sleeves to get down to the business of business, and they see all those tattoos. But hey, considering our genetics,the proper response is "who cares", right? You still rock cousin!
http://nightswithalicecooper.com/
888-99-Alice

When is a short guy tall?

Now I never would have thought I would fall for a really short guy, I mean, I've dated plenty of guys that were just the same height as I, but never one who was shorter. I'm not prejudice against short guys, it's just that although I may be taller than a lot of girls, I'm not taller than a lot of guys. I've never met many guys shorter than I.

Any-hoo, I am totally in love with a short guy. I can't help it. He's so handsome, he's so smart, he's affectionate to me and only me because he's also loyal. He's a one woman man. We just adore each other.

Then I got to thinking he actually is a very tall guy, because, at 17 inches he is tall for a cat. He's apparently a Norwegian Forest cat, or kin to, and they are known for their intelligence, long muscular legs, and amazing climbing ability.

So really, I've fallen for a tall guy because a short guy is tall when he's tall for his species even if his species is short. Right?

Just What I Needed

Ah the universe - an amazing, responsive, pliable, stretchy, fibrous coat of energy that surrounds each of us with infinite possibility. I've heard it responds to our every thought.

I was thinking about my plot for a horror story (see last post) when I was called to speak to college students at a large university. The topic was alternative health care and it was encouraging to hear these youngsters talking about Barbara Brennan, (search amazon "Hands of Light") Reiki, Aromatherapy, chakras and all that. A fair share of them said they learned it from their mothers, the other half said they were from, or had lived in, California.

They all were pretty clear on the fact that the food should be natural, pharmaceutical drugs were not good and alternative healing is cool. Whew- maybe there is hope for us after all.

My Plot For a Horror Story

I drifted into the movie rental store yesterday. This is not something I do very often, as my local library carries a wide selection of slightly outdated but still excellent films. I ended up being a bit disappointed in the amount of horror and violence apparent in the selections available on the perimeter of the movie rental store. It has been a while since I rented and something seems to have changed. What happened to romantic comedy, family films, heroic adventure and film noir intrigue? Now we have guts, violence, guts, sex, and more guts.

There were way to many people on DVD covers screaming in anguish, cowering in fear and running for their lives. There were hideous monsters, horrible machines of torture and unidentified slimy things. There was way to much blood and random body parts being served up for our entertainment. I felt like I had to cross myself and next time I go in that store I’m wearing a garlic necklace. Who the heck is renting all this stuff and where are their parents while they are watching it? Who the heck is making all this stuff and how could they make a living like this and frankly, why would they want to? Haven’t they heard about that quantum theory that goes like this: You are what you eat- oh, wait , wrong one- this is it- Your life becomes like that which you focus your attention on.

After a close to complete circuit around the store I had zeroed in on two possible films for my evenings entertainment. There were a few others I thought might be good, and I made a mental note to check the library for them. Then I got to the A’s (I started with the Z’s) and my choice was clear. I ditched the romantic comedy starring nobody we know and the adventure starring nobody we know either.

I rented American Gangster, purely for aesthetic reasons, I mean Russell Crowe of course. Not that Denzel Washington is anyone to sneeze at, he was looking very fine too.

The story is a true one, about the corruption that comes with drugs and big money. The US military was flying heroin in from Asia during the Vietnam War. Yes, the US military! They stashed it in coffins along with our fallen soldiers, and you can’t tell me the brass didn’t know. The cops were protecting the drug kings, and in doing so earning their big money payola. People were dying right and left from these drugs but that didn’t seem to matter. Oh, except of course to the one good cop and his newly formed DEA buddies.

It just illustrates how large organizations can become involved in corruption, how the people who are suppose to be protecting you are not always doing that, what some people will do to protect their ass- ets, and how expendable people can be when there is a product like drugs that can make big money for some unsavory types.

I recommend the film, a little violent but very well done and full of aesthetic value.

Meanwhile, I’ve been working on my own plot for a horror story. A what if, if you will. It’s been rolling around in my meandering mind for a few weeks now, growing and changing. Now, anyone who knows Stephen King is welcome to pass this on to him, I don’t care if he steals my idea and makes it a best seller because it sure would be nice to see the story in print.

The story goes like this:
What if there was, say, a country full of abundance, a population full of bliss who could afford many luxuries? What if they all seemed happily occupied by their jobs, homes, electronic gadgets. What if all looked normal on the surface but something was terribly wrong? Part of the horror is in the realization that what looks normal may not be. Like Invasion of The Body Snatchers- nobody was really sure who was real and who was a monster! The setting for the story is rather normal feeling. Just homes in a town in a state in a country where the “everyday normal” stuff is happening. It all looks so serene.

What if at a very young age, all the people were injected with something that they were told would keep them healthy, but in reality, made them start to get sick? What if their bodies were having bad reactions to the injections, but the reactions didn’t show up right away in most people, so there was no way to know? What if parents were told this was the way to protect their kids, and the “Evil Empire” made the stuff by the bazillions of doses so there was plenty to go around and people had money so they didn’t mind paying to protect their kids, in fact, they were happy to do it. The parents had no idea what was in the injections.

What if when the people got sick, they were convinced that another injection or pill or potion would make them well, so that’s what they did. There were all kinds of drugs available, always a new remedy to give the ever increasing sick population. People were eating multiple pills, multiple times a day, and were all happy because they thought it would keep them young, alive, well. Meanwhile the “Evil Empire” was making huge fortunes off the drugs sold to the happy population.

What if the people were being exploited and didn’t even know it? What if they were fooled into thinking everything was normal? Like in Soylent Green! Remember that movie? Soylent Green, which was set in 1999 by the way, depicted a society where nothing was as it seemed and people were a commodity. What they were eating was in fact, each other – Oh the horror!

What if, in my horror story, the whole happy-go-lucky population was being farmed? The Evil Empire has turned the whole society into a farm full of people they could make sick. The people who were being farmed and made ill, would pay to get something that was supposed to make them well. The people spent their whole lives toiling away in their abundant society just so they could pay to be well. They spent alarming amounts of time in the horror of illness, disease and symptoms created in their bodies intentionally by the “Evil Empire”- Oh the horror!

What if the body farm includes a prison with out a cell? A prison of trip after trip to small cubicle offices where “smart guys” poke and prod with instruments and then give the people pills to take, pills that get rid of one symptom but cause another, which necessitates another trip to the cubicle?


What if some other unsavory types, like food producers, wanted a piece of the action, and teamed up with the “Evil Empire”? What if they introduced the prosperous population to all kind of designer foods that were really sweet, bright colored, full of chemicals, foods that looked and tasted good? BUT- what if all that food did was increase the chance that the population was going to get sick and need more drugs from the big drug kingpin- I mean- “Evil Empire”?

What if the population became suspicious and insisted on someone to oversee the safety of the drugs and food? They design a regulatory body to ease their minds and protect them from harm. What if the population doesn’t know that the regulatory body is on the take! Gasp – oh the horror! The regulatory body is protecting the Evil Empire and in doing so, they get their payola! They make huge amounts of money! They become rich and powerful!

I know, it all sounds far fetched, but doesn’t it make a good horror story?

Think of the horror as parents watch their children become introverted and silent after an injection, the horror of having a child born with no arms-just hands stuck to shoulders, waving in the breeze like five fingered wings, after the parent took a drug to stop the nausea of pregnancy. Think of the children being drugged as young as a few years old, and the horror of the parents when they find the number one side effect of this drug they have given their child is, in fact, suicide. Think of the horror of the parents when they find that a drug they gave their child so he could breathe better had turned his bones into spongy soft sticks that break all the time.

Think of the horror of masses of people with hearts that don’t work right, extreme body fat, blood sugar problems, breathing problems, sleep problems, attention problems, arthritis, pain, pain and more pain! They are trapped into being dependent on the “Evil Empire” and they don’t even know it! Think of the horror of a population of people getting old, but they can not die because the “Evil Empire” keeps feeding them stuff to keep them alive- but not well. As long as they are alive and sick, they are cash cows for the “Evil Empire”.

Most horror stories have an underdog- so in my story that would be the few people who figured the whole scheme out and refused to take part. They didn’t get the injections, they didn’t go to the cubicles, they didn’t take the pills, and they didn’t eat the foods that were enhanced. They, of course, were shunned and lived as outcasts on the edge of society. The “Evil Empire” said they were crazy, and most of the population believed it. They would pass their truth on to those who might listen, but few listened. They had to be careful what they did and said so the regulatory body would not hunt them down and stone them to death or shoot them in the head, which is what happened to the people in that other movie based on a true story, “The Constant Gardener”.

My God! I have an imagination don’t I? Scary isn’t it?

Three in One Post

Well, it’s been a very busy week and I’ve had numerous ideas for posts flitting through my mind and no time to stop and pitter pat on the keyboard. Now here I am, on Thursday morning feeling like I haven’t earned my keep, haven’t provided enough entertainment for my blog readers this week, and I know ya’ll are missing me because you have said you do when I don’t post on a regular basis.

So a smattering of ideas for posts have come in the past week and of course I’ve kept notes. I noticed the article on the internet a few days ago, John Cusack has a stalker! OH MY GOD! Well, can you blame her? I mean he is without a doubt the handsome-ist movie actor. Oh, and did you see him in “Identity”? No more mister nice guy and what a shocker of an ending. I can’t say, in case you didn’t see it.

Anyway, poor John, he has some crazy girl following him everywhere he goes. He had to get a restraining order, and now she’s violating it. It must be creepy to have to wonder if “she’s out there” every time you leave the house. He’s gotta be wondering if she adores Mark David Chapman too. If you don’t recognize the name search John Lennon + NYC + assassination.

Meanwhile the lady has to be really nutty, I mean she apparently throws bags of rocks over his fence that contain love letters and screw drivers ( hint, hint) and the last time she was arrested ( for what it does not say) she gave Mr. Cusack’s address as her home address. Now that’s a novel way to impress a guy and get him to notice you. You can get a print out of your arrest record and show it to him, “see Honey, how much I love you, we belong together, it says so right here!”

Meanwhile it’s rumored she also has a stalking relationship with Tom Cruise. Now I know she’s crazy. I say “honey, wake up and smell the coffee”. I mean, have you ever, has anyone ever, seen so much as one photo of cutie pie John Cusack with a girl? Yes, on movie posters maybe, because he’s one of those romantic hero types but honestly, in any other photo has he ever been captured in the presence of a girl? I think not, and what is it about that guy friend who always ends up in his movies as his sidekick? He’s cute too if ya know what I mean.

Crazy stalking girl- Get a Life, Move on, he’s not for you.

Then we have idea # 2 from this week:

I happened to see a couple of kids outside the library this week. They were young teens, both very stylish. One boy, one girl. They were obviously together, but not together because although they were throwing sideways glances at each other, and standing close enough that they occasionally touched shoulders and giggled a bit, they were not together because each one had a phone in hand, screen flipped up and they were intent on typing.

Interesting way to “court”. Be in presence physically, but keep your eyes on the screen and talk to someone else. I don’t know, it seems to me like the divorce rate will go up when this wave starts to marry. Either that, or stock in companies that produce gadgets that allow us to not be with the person we are with will go up. What’s gonna happen to these poor kids when they have to talk about job choices, where to live or the baby?

Are they going to have sex while they IM or watch TV? WHAT? People already do?

Madre De Dios! Am I that old? I’m starting to think the world has gone crazy, so I must be old, that’s a sure sign, right? What happened to talking to the person you are dating? Giving your attention fully and gazing in sublime pools of honeysuckle water eyes? Holding hands instead of mini computers? Actually talking with the person you are standing in front of? All I can say is Bless the Beasts and Children.

Idea # 3 for this week:
I was watching an old video tape of Doctor Quinn, Medicine Woman. Remember her? And the 3,456, 347, 678 little girls named Michaela spawned during the mid-eighties?

I always watched that show. That was back when I still watched TV. No, I don’t watch TV anymore, I had my cable unplugged in 2000, when I was writing my first book and I never had it plugged back in.

If I want to stare at the tube I do what I was doing last night, watch a videotape or DVD of a movie or TV program. I never have to watch a commercial, I have no idea what the idols are doing and I’ve never seen a celebrity dancer. I don’t think I’m missing much. If I hear rumors about a great series, I can always watch it on DVD later and do it in my own time, not once a week at the networks time.

Any-hoo, I was reminded of how peaceful the fictional Colorado Springs of Dr. Quinn’s time was. How much the towns folk cared for each other, and the allowances small town folk have to make for each other. I mean, if you live in a small town, you are pretty much stuck with every one else there, like it or not. You can’t just blend into the crowd in a small town, you have to deal with your neighbors on a regular basis, like it or not. Maybe you learn to ignore. Maybe you learn to accept. Maybe you learn to support. Maybe you learn to ride a horse and get the hell ‘outta Dodge, I mean, Colorado Springs.

I had a little trip down memory lane because the tape I was watching had the commercials on it as well as the program and the news breaks were from a station in Austin. So the tape has to be pre-1986. It was Christmas time, judging from the holiday ads. It was cold, the storm center was flashing a tape of letters across the bottom of the screen. A freeze warning for Central Texas. Gadzooks! That is cold for Austin.

Dominos Pizza was spending billions on their holiday advertising campaign and those old phones with a portable hand set, remember them? The ones that had a recharge base with an answering machine (and everything!) right there in it? They were a hot Christmas item.

Someday archeologists will just watch old commercials rather than have to get all dirty digging up ruins.

OK, Idea # 4- well, that one is so good it needs a post all its own. The weekend is coming. My taxes are done. Check back next week. Peace, Meandering