Bring on the Geeks
25 May 2012 8 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: Geeks, Nerds, Sapiosexual
I’m a geek-lover. Always have been.
Growing up, most of my friends were attracted to rock stars or big, muscly guys. But I thought rock stars were usually too stringy looking (with the gross long hair), and muscly guys seemed too into sports for my tastes. No, I had a fondness for the quiet, unassuming guy in the corner reading a book or shyly watching the action around him. I don’t quite go to the level of Robert Carradine in Revenge of the Nerds, but Anthony Edwards’ character in that same movie? In a heartbeat!
The 80′s were where geeks began to be celebrated. They were still picked on, but usually wound up winning in the end. And you can see a softening in how they were portrayed, in comparison to earlier decades. They no longer wore the thick glasses or pocket protectors, but still had their own style, like Ducky from Pretty In Pink. Andrew McCarthy’s characters always seemed to have really good fashion sense, but still exuded a cute nerdiness. And Eric Stoltz as Keith from Some Kind of Wonderful dressed in the everyman outfit of jeans and t-shirt, but had the heart and soul of an artist. YUM!
It’s been my experience that “nerds” are usually the most interesting, well-read, and artistic people out there. We’re quirky, unique, and generally see things that others don’t, because we look at life from unusual angles. Yes, I wholeheartedly include myself in the general term of “geeks,” and it’s one of the few labels that I wear proudly.
In men, being a geek also often means there’s a sensitivity not obviously apparent in others of their gender. I’m not saying that jocks can’t be emotional, but typically they tend to buy into the belief that showing emotion is a “sissy” or “wussy” thing to do.
The biggest turn on about a geek for me is their intelligence. I’ve yet to meet one who isn’t whip-smart. They can talk about nearly any subject, and when you find the right one, it’s amazing to see how passionate they become about the topic. I’ve learned so many things from those impassioned discussions.
Keeping with the movie star theme, there are quite a few actors that – if you look only at their physical features – don’t seem all that attractive. But if you delve a little deeper into who they are and what they do in their spare time, they’re some of the sexiest actors out there, in my opinion. The men that come to mind in this category are David Strathairn, Viggo Mortensen, and Aidan Quinn. These are guys you just KNOW would have lots of interesting stories to tell, and not just because they’re actors. David went to clown college, for crying out loud . . . how can that NOT be interesting?
There have been a few “bad boy” actors, like Colin Farrell, or action stars, like Pierce Brosnan, who have piqued my interest along the way, but they’re Irish; being from a foreign country almost guarantees “interesting” in my book. Besides, I’m guessing Pierce was a geek when he was younger. He just grew into “cool.”
Which is what normally happens, if you give it time. Much like the young Barbara Streisand and her nose, many geeks are just in that “awkward” phase, waiting to grow into themselves. All that’s needed is a few years of life to polish them into the gem that’s hidden underneath the multiple layers of carbon.
Craig was one of these “geeks” back in high school, so it’s no wonder that I found him so attractive. He had a bowl cut – which I still think looked cute on him – and had glasses, too (which he says were held together by tape once or twice in his life). But he was an artist, could walk on his hands, juggle and ride a unicycle, AND he had just as many movie quotes running around his head as I did. Nowadays, he’s still a great artist, still juggles and now rides a motorcycle. He’s got just as many movie quotes in his head as he ever did, and can be emotional enough to enjoy a chick flick, but still enjoys getting together with the guys to watch football or baseball. YUM!
What about you? Do you love geeks as much as I do? If so, share some of the geek love here.
Finding the Relevance
18 May 2012 10 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: Relevance, Weight loss, Weight Watchers
I’ve been a member of Weight Watchers for six years now. I feel it’s the best weight-loss plan out there for several reasons:
1) No food is off-limits; this teaches you portion control
2) There’s no blame on the program; it’s all about recognizing choices and learning to make the healthier ones.
3) There’s so much support at the meetings. People have gone/are going through the exact same things you are/have.
There are many more reasons to like the program, but those are my top three. Another one is that–while Weight Watchers has one main structure–the program also realizes that not everyone is built the same way, and there are allowances for that. There’s enough flexibility to allow each person to find workable solutions to the program. My meeting leader, Julie, is amazing for helping people find those workable solutions. She’s been a member since the 70′s, and knows every emotional roadblock, excuse, and reason that can come up.
For those of you who don’t know the program, the basic gist of it is that you have to track your daily food points. Not calories . . . food points. The program has already done the math on nearly every product a person consumes. And if you can’t find something in their seemingly endless list, there’s a handy calculator where you plug in the calories, fat, fiber and protein grams and voila! You see how many points are in a serving of the food you just entered.
So, track your food points. That’s it. You get a certain allowance of points a day, and even a cache of extra points to use throughout the week. You can either use those points to splurge one day on a meal that you really want, or you can portion them out any way you want to. Like I said, flexibility. You can also gain more food points by exercising, but it’s not necessary. There’s a woman from my group who lost nearly 100 pounds simply by eating healthier and tracking her points. I think she went on a walk once a week, but it wasn’t anything too strenuous.
When I first started the program, back in 2006, I was GREAT about tracking my points. I got halfway to my goal weight in the first six months on the program. Then, I hit the roadblocks. Once I started reaching a point where I was going to have to make tougher food choices, all my emotional reasons for using food as a crutch came roaring to the forefront. I stopped tracking as diligently as I had been before, and have been tracking sporadically ever since.
I’ve struggled to get back to regular tracking, because as I’ve said, I’ve seen the results of doing so first hand. I KNOW it works, if you just do it. I’ve got reminders on my work calendar to track–two of them to be exact–but I often end up dismissing the reminders, and not doing the work. I’ve tried so many things to get me back on track with . . . well, tracking, but none have stuck. I recently asked Julie for some suggestions to help me want to track again, and she basically told me that I have to find the relevance. Find out what will trigger my determination so much that I’ll WANT to track my food points.
This phrase stayed with me long after I’d gone home for the night. Where would I find the relevance, I wondered. Some would think that getting married would be relevant enough. And while, yes, I want to look amazing on my wedding day, I have the most wonderful man who thinks I’m beautiful, whether I’m as large as I am now, or lose a bunch of weight. So that’s not applicable. Someone else suggested that I might find relevance in wanting to set a healthy example for Athena, but that just sounds like a guilt trip waiting to happen. I don’t do guilt trips.
I’m not sure what exactly will be the catalyst for me to jump back on the tracking bandwagon, but now that I’m on the search for it, I’m sure it won’t be long before I find it.
Have you struggled with weight loss? If so, what was the defining moment when you realized you were done with the excuses? What made it relevant for you?
Rediscovering Courage
11 May 2012 6 Comments
in Philosophy Tags: Courage, Mom, Mother's Day
Mother’s Day is usually a day we thank the women who have nurtured us because they have generally sacrificed so much in their lives to make sure we grow into competent, decent human beings. Well I’m taking this Mother’s Day to celebrate my mom doing something for herself . . . reclaiming the courage deep inside of her.
My mom moved back to Michigan last week. We packed her U-Haul trailer on Sunday and she took off along Interstate 80. She passed through eight states, and logged over 2,300 miles on her little car. Over mountains, and through the vast plains of the Midwest, she drove; stopping only to refuel (both car and person), partake of the “facilities,” or sleep for the night. What’s more, she did this all by herself, at the age of 65.
She didn’t want to make this monstrous journey–and in fact, was an emotional wreck for the week leading up to the trip–but her parents (my grandparents) are getting on in years, and it seemed that she was the best option amongst her siblings to live near them, in case any emergencies arose. She was so nervous about the upcoming trip that her trepidation transferred to me, and I wished Craig or I could accompany her on this trek. Our financial and work situations didn’t allow for it, though, so my mom had to dig deep inside of her to find the courage that had been packed away for a while.
Growing up in a very small farming town outside of Lansing, Michigan, she was the middle child, who wound up being the black sheep of the family. While her older brother was the favored son (able to carry on the family name), and her younger sister the baby (and peacekeeper) of the family, my mom found that she just didn’t seem to fit in too well. Throughout her youth, mom believed that there were better ways to treat children than the “seen, but not heard” manner that was the parenting norm back then. She also found the hypocrisy of the town’s churchgoers (including her parents) to be so blatant as to turn her off from organized religion forever.
As soon as she was of age, she left her parents’ overbearing rule, and took off for her own slice of the world. She met new people, found new ideas, and discovered things about herself that she’d only ever dreamed were true before. It took her breaking away from them to prove the dreams were real; one of which was that she had a large amount of courage.
Over the next few decades she married, had kids, got divorced, moved around to new homes and new jobs, and struggled through life the best she could; just like we all do. There were trials and tribulations along the way, and over the years, I think some of the harsher ones took their toll on her. She began to find that she preferred to remain in her own home, where she felt safe. Safe from things in this world that didn’t feel harmonious to her. In her own haven, she didn’t have to worry about falling prey to people and circumstances that would make her feel like a victim. I think she lost some of her courage along the way . . . or rather, she misplaced it.
So when the date for her move loomed closer, she started worrying about the long drive, by herself, in a packed car, towing a trailer behind her. She knew there would be mountains, and had been told to buy some tire chains, because there was talk of snow still on the mountainous roads. My mom doesn’t drive in snow well–it’s one of the reasons she left Michigan in the first place–so that added to the fear. In addition to all that, she would be leaving a town she’d come to love, as well as people she cared for. I’ve no doubt that my mom cried a lot during her trip back East.
However, she still made the journey. Through all the daunting prospects of driving that kind of distance alone, in her later years, she still drove it. Better still, she weathered the mountains (white-knuckled for much of them), the lonely stretches of open road, and whatever other obstacles cropped up, very well. I congratulated her every day when she called to let us know of her progress, and encouraged her to celebrate each day’s victories, as well. I know she didn’t necessarily feel courageous during most of the trip, since she was besieged by so much fear, but as Mark Twain said:
Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear,
not absence of fear.
Now that she’s safely ensconced back in Michigan, I hope my mom will be able to look back at this journey and see it not as a harrowing cross-country trip, but as the experience that helped her dust off the courage she once wore as a cloak fit for the Amazonian Goddess that she is.
What’s That Line?
04 May 2012 2 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: Mondegreen, song lyrics
I’ve loved music since before I can remember. My earliest music memory was at the age of about six. I remember standing inside my toy box, singing my favorite song at the time, which was I Like Dreaming. Why I was standing in my toy box I don’t know, but I know that I knew all the words to that song.
Later, when I was about seven or eight, I remember sitting underneath the piano at my babysitter’s house, while the Styx song Come Sail Away was playing. I sang all the words then too, and even understood their full meaning. To this day, that song is one of my all-time favorites.
I’ve got well over 5,000 songs on my computer’s music library (not including classical music), and it’s not an exaggeration to say that I know every word to at least half of them. Something about song lyrics has always grabbed me, and there have been many times when I’ve played a CD over and over again until I know every word, every inflection, and how long each note is held. If it’s a song that I really like, but can’t quite figure out on my own–The Beatles’ Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds comes to mind–I will actually look the words up online.
Because I am so diligent about knowing song lyrics, Craig often asks me “What’s the line?” when something comes on that he doesn’t know. Or else he’ll sit there quietly and listen while I sing along with the song, and then say “That’s what they’re singing?” Sometimes, however, he prefers to make me giggle by intentionally singing the wrong words . . . and sometimes, it’s not so intentional.
A mondegreen–or what I call lyric psychosis–is when you hear a song lyric wrong, because the words sound so similar to other words in your vocabulary. It’s such a common thing, that Gavin Edwards (no, not the sports dude) has actually published four different books full of misheard lyrics that he’s compiled from people he knew and other submissions from readers. I’ve got two of the books, and can tell you I nearly bust a gut when I read them, so hilarious are the bungles.
But even someone like me–who loves knowing the lyrics so much–is susceptible to lyric psychosis. While I never thought Mr. Hendrix sang “Scuse me while I kiss this guy,” I did at one point think the words to Manfred Mann’s Blinded By the Light were “wrapped up like a douche.” It wasn’t until much later that I learned the real words.
I recently came across another song whose words I didn’t know; I didn’t even know what the actual title of the song was. My original interpretation of the chorus to Boz Scaggs’ Lido Shuffle was:
Leo, whoa-oh-oh-oh
Peas porridge hot, peas porridge cold
Peas porridge in the bowl
Once you’ve picked yourself back up off the floor, you can see that the actual lyrics are:
Lido, whoa-oh-oh-oh
He’s for the money, he’s for the show
Lido’s waitin for the go
Hey . . . I was pretty close on the first line! 
The entire time I was singing the wrong lyrics, I KNEW they weren’t right. I mean, there’s only one song I know that talks about peas porridge, and I knew it wasn’t a classic rock hit originally written by Bruce Springsteen. Unfortunately, now that I’ve looked up the words to Lido Shuffle, I gotta tell you that the song makes no more sense to me now than when I sang the wrong lyrics. Plus, my version was funnier (apologies to all of you who won’t ever be able to hear the song again without my mondegreen version).
According to the Wikipedia page, a mondegreen can happen in any form of our language, and at any time, but it’s probably more noticeable in songs, because there are so many more people who know the same ones.
Okay, so I’ve given you one of my bungled lyrics . . . now it’s your turn. Please share a song lyric that you sang wrong until you learned the right version.
The Nikster
27 Apr 2012 Leave a Comment
I want to take a moment and talk about my best friend, Nikki. Or, as she’s sometimes known, The Nikster. We met when I worked at a financial company back in Chicago. I was the admin and she was a financial analyst. I don’t remember exactly how our friendship started, but I think it had something to do with the fact that she had traveled a lot, and I wanted to.
Up to that point I hadn’t been out of the country, but Nikki had. She’d been to France, Spain, London and a bunch of other places I don’t remember. She also knew exactly where to find the best deals for travel. I don’t think she’s paid more than $900 for an airline ticket too often, even when she traveled to Australia.
So I think our first “friend” encounter was me asking her about one of her trips to Paris; a city I’ve loved since I saw my first Pepe Le Pew cartoon. After that, I kept asking her for advice on how to vacation out of the US on a small budget, and from there it blossomed into what I consider one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.
At first, I think Nikki wasn’t sure what to make of me. I’d go into her office and start a conversation off with “Have you ever seen the movie History of the World, Part 1?” or some other non sequitur. In the beginning, this would cause her to laugh out loud, but after a while she learned to wait the conversation out, knowing I would eventually get to the reason I’d made the odd comment.
If you looked at the surface of our relationship, you’d be hard-pressed to find out why it’s such a great friendship. We have different economic backgrounds, and many of our personal beliefs–as well as other factors–couldn’t be more dissimilar. However, we’re often able to talk for hours on end, laughing about the silliest things, and the few times we’ve traveled together have been some of the most fun trips I’ve ever taken.
One of the things that I think makes our friendship so strong is that we accept the other for who she is. Nikki might shake her head or say “that’s Alyx” and I might do the same about things she says and does, but it’s always done with a smile, and genuine affection. I knew ours would be a defining relationship in my life when we had our first disagreement.
They say that you never know how strong a friendship is until you’ve had your first fight (I think they say that about any relationship), and I used to be afraid of telling someone that something they’ve done upsets me. One night, we were supposed to meet somewhere, and Nikki was late (a habit of hers that bothered me at first). I was so angry about it that I decided to say something. I worried that our friendship might end, but I was learning to say what I felt, rather than keep it bottled up inside.
When she arrived, I told her how much it bothered me that she had arrived so late, and that she hadn’t even called me to let me know of her tardiness. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I’m sure it was said with a lot of force (though no yelling). Her response was a simple “Okay.” There was no defensiveness on her part, and no yelling back at me for being upset with her. Just a simple acceptance of my anger.
I felt something shift in me that night. A sense that THIS was how relationships should be (not just with friends or lovers, but with everyone). It felt wonderful that I was able to express my displeasure, and didn’t have to deal with any guilt for doing so. I don’t know if Nikki consciously took my tirade with calm acceptance, but the fact that she did allowed me to see that it was possible to express a “negative” emotion to someone, and then be able to to let it go after that. And it was never brought up again in a “you hurt me when you yelled” sort of moment. It was the start of my learning to be more open and honest with people, and I am forever grateful to her for that.
There are so many other wonderful things about our friendship; many of which I’m sure I’ll discuss here in the future. But I just wanted to take a moment to “introduce” you wonderful readers to my best friend.
Thanks for reading!
Channeling Woody Allen
20 Apr 2012 6 Comments
in Philosophy Tags: Inner critic, Neurosis, Worry
I admit it, I’m a bit neurotic. This is something I’ve recently had to admit to myself. I’ve never cared for Woody Allen or his films, and I often don’t get what’s termed “Jewish humor,” so it’s understandable that it’s taken me so long to discover this idiosyncrasy of mine. And it’s really only been in the last couple of years that I’ve noticed it more and more.
I don’t worry about big things too often, because I feel that life will generally work itself out. No, me? I LOOK for things to worry about. And again, it’s not about big things. I have no daytime nightmares that the car will break down, or that someone close to me is going to die. When I have a true sense of calm in my life, that’s when my inner critic decides to rear its head. I start picking myself and my actions or thoughts apart until I drive myself crazy from over-analyzing.
My neurosis tends to come out most when things in my life are going well; like now. I’ve got a great paying job. I live in a town I love. I’m taking steps toward a career I really enjoy, and have other artistic outlets. I’m even in a relationship more wonderful than I ever imagined I could have. So why my brain feels the need to find something to worry about, I don’t know.
Part of it stems from how I was raised, I’m sure. My mom has always loved psychology, and uses it to help her understand herself and why she does things. She wanted my brother and I to reap the same benefits, so when we were younger, she would often ask us questions like “Why do you think you chose to do that?” or “How would you punish your child if s/he did that same thing?” The latter one was how we picked our own discipline, or as she called it, deprivation.
Don’t get me wrong, I found this way of child-rearing very useful for me and enjoyed it for the most part. For one, it showed that she regarded us as full human beings, able to think and reason for ourselves. She didn’t talk down to us, but rather with us, to help us become more well-rounded and mature.
The other reason I thank my mom for this method of nurturing is because I enjoy finding out what makes me (and others) tick. I feel that understanding myself more helps me to understand my fellow humans, too. Analyzing the reasons for the things I do teaches me acceptance of myself, which in turn affords me the ability to accept others. I just wish I knew how to keep my inner analyst from showing up when there’s no good reason.
I wonder if I over-scrutinize because somewhere deep in my psyche I feel it’s “wrong” to be so happy, or maybe my brain just really enjoys working out a puzzle, and feels dusty with nothing to “solve.”
Even now, what am I doing? I’ve exposed my inner therapist for all to read.
Now that I’m able to recognize this aspect of myself, I’d like to think that will help me on my quest to quiet my inner questioner. Craig and my mom are doing what they can by asking me if I’m just worrying to have something to worry about, whenever I come to them with a random examination. And they do it in a nice or fun way, not in an exasperated “Jeez, Alyx! Can’t ya just turn that brain of yours off for a minute?!” which is how my inner critic would sound.
Now I wonder why I would be that mean to myself . . .
Accepting Anger
13 Apr 2012 10 Comments
in Philosophy Tags: Anger, Debbie Ford
The other day at work, I was upset about something that someone did (or rather, didn’t do). I won’t go into it here, other than to say that communication is a WONDERFUL tool . . . when it’s used.
Anyway, I was angry about this, and a co-worker tried to cheer me up. She used the upbeat funny voice that people use when they’re trying to make someone feel better, and kept saying “It’s okay,” or “Calm down.” It occurred to me that she was uncomfortable with me being upset, and confirmed this when I asked her. Later that same evening, I was still in an angry mood (guess it was my day), and Craig started reacting to my anger like he had to walk on eggshells. He didn’t try to change my mood, but later admitted that he too was ill at ease around anger, due to some issues in his childhood. In neither case did I direct my anger at my co-worker or Craig. They simply witnessed the emotion coming off of me.
So their reactions got me thinking about anger and how people are so uncomfortable around it. Now, I’m not talking about the anger where someone is screaming all the time or throwing things, or worse, taking their anger out on people (whether physical or verbal). That sort of anger is unhealthy, and unpleasant for everyone. But when someone is upset or frustrated at a situation, I see nothing wrong with them expressing it.
I used to, though. When I was a kid, I would often cower around my brother or father when they went on their anger tangents. However, I saw a cartoon on Sesame Street about a goat that got angry that struck me at the time. The first time I saw it, I completely disagreed with the sentiment; after all, we’re taught that it’s not “nice” or “good” to be angry or mad, especially little girls. We’re supposed to be sugar and spice and everything nice. So this song just went against everything I believed at the time.
Later in life, I read books and other items that also celebrated the benefits of being angry. Some schools of thought say that anger is a great motivator, while others believe that you need to accept every facet of your personality (even the “bad” emotions), if you’re to have a truly good relationship with yourself. While I’ve never found anger particularly motivating–other than to motivate me to clean my apartment–I do agree with the second thought. There’s a book called The Dark Side of the Light Chasers that talks about just that.
In her book, Debbie Ford says that trying to deny or ignore your less-than-perfect qualities can actually make them worse. She postulates that you need to be able to express every facet of being human, or the ones you repress will find other, unhealthier ways to come out. This means that it’s good to be a bitch sometimes, or to be angry, envious, etc. You obviously don’t want those negative emotions to control you, but by her logic they will, if you don’t let them come out and help you from time to time.
I actually found a very healthy outlet for my anger one time . . . boxing. I was working with a trainer a few years back and he had a big punching bag that he would have me work on occasionally. I’d never punched anything before, but I found that it was a great way to let out some aggression. To this day, I long for a time when I can have a big punching bag in my house, or garage, or some place where I can go and let out whatever stress I might be feeling that day.
Since I’ve come to accept that even negative emotions can be useful, I find that it upsets me even more when people try to bring me out of the cellar of anger before I’m ready. Unlike my brother, I don’t live in that cellar on a daily basis, but when someone mistreats me, or shows me a lack of respect in any way, you bet your bippy I’m gonna get mad. I usually wait until I’ve calmed down before I let someone know they did something that angered me, because I realize I’m not always a productive communicator when my emotions run high. But once I’ve dissected the situation in my own brain and have found the right words to use, I will tell them. Because, as was expressed in the cartoon, people can’t change their behavior toward me unless they know that something they did got me mad. And yes, I realize that it’s my choice to get mad or not (and not the other person’s fault), but if someone knows that something bothers me, they can also choose to do it or not in the future.
So how about you? Are you able to accept the anger inside of you? Have you found a useful outlet for it?
Alameda on Camera 2012
06 Apr 2012 6 Comments
in Uncategorized Tags: Exhibit, Frank Bette Gallery, Photography
I’m so psyched! I was accepted to be one of 48 artists in the Alameda On Camera exhibit at the Frank Bette Gallery again this year!
At first, I wasn’t sure if I’d have enough time to participate in the event, so I didn’t even enter any photos. But a couple weeks before the deadline, I received an email from the gallery informing me that the deadline was approaching, and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to submit myself for the contest. When I told Craig and Athena about it, they encouraged me to enter. In fact, they both asked me why I even hesitated.
The gallery accepts only 48 artists from all the applicant submissions, and those selected attend an event where they draw a piece of the map of Alameda. They then have 48 hours to take as many pictures as they want of the area they’ve drawn, and then they can turn those photos into any art form they want to. Last year, someone actually made a Monopoly board out of different areas on the island. Anything goes, so long as it includes images you photographed during the 48 hours, and there really are all sorts of interesting items to see.
At the map piece picking event, I actually wound up choosing the same area of Alameda that I’d gotten last year. When that happens, the artist is allowed to choose a different piece of the map, but I wanted to keep mine. The weather was slightly different this year, and I wanted to see what I might find. And sure enough, my eye found different things to focus on this time. Much of what I snapped were from the exact same areas as last year, but my mind was in a different place this year, as was the lighting. So it made for some vastly different shots than those I took before.
I didn’t take as many photos this year as I did last, but somehow the pictures just spoke to me. When it came time to choose which ones to print out for possible display, I found that I had five selections already done, one of which didn’t need to be altered or digitally enhanced at all. I was in the midst of editing a couple more, but I really liked what was already ready and waiting to be printed. Then came looking for frames and mat boards that would best display the shots. I had conveniently forgotten about that part from last year, so Craig and I were running around like crazy trying to find the perfect frames, etc.
Our entries were due last weekend, and tonight is the gala opening of the exhibit, where prizes are awarded to the artists in different categories. Naturally I’d love to win one of the prizes, but I’m just so happy that my photography was considered good enough to be a part of the exhibit again this year! It’s easy to believe actors when they say “I’m just glad to be nominated,” because it truly is a wonderful feeling to know your peers consider your work “good enough.” The exhibit will run for two months, so if you’re in the area, please stop on by and see all the wonderful items that our local artists have come up with. As I said, it’s not just photos, so there’s something for everyone.
The photos you see in this blog are some of mine from last year’s show. If you want to see the glorious pics I took this year, you’ll have to either come to the event (for those of you who live in the Bay area), or wait for this time next year after I see if I’ve been chosen a third year in a row.
A Difference of Religion
30 Mar 2012 2 Comments
in Philosophy Tags: Accepting differences, Coexist, Religion
It’s said there are three things one should never talk about among mixed company: politics, religion and sex. I’ve already discussed politics, and I’m about to break that rule a second time.
It’s not in my nature to be controversial; at least, not outwardly so. I’m normally someone who tries to accept everyone and everything as perfect in their own right. Not to say that I don’t have an opinion – I’m no uncarved block – but I see my opinion as simply that. I don’t feel the need to tell anyone else how to live their life. So I find that it bothers me when people try to force their beliefs onto others.
I’ve never condoned the idea of missionaries, or what they think they’re offering “savages” by bringing an organized religion in to overcome the “uncivilized” behavior that’s found there. First off, who died and made the missionaries responsible for “saving” people who are quite happy in their own beliefs and modalities? It’s like saying the natives are wrong and the converter is right.
This is something that’s bothered me for quite some time, so when I saw a t-shirt a few years ago that embodied my personal beliefs on religion, I had to order it:
I’ve seen several variations on this theme since, but they all point to one thing: acceptance of one another in our beliefs. It also infers that there’s enough room on this planet of ours to accommodate all beliefs. That’s a concept that I can wholeheartedly give a big AMEN! to.
I personally don’t follow a religion now, but I was once a practicing Wiccan, and always liked the last line of the Wiccan Rede:
An it harm none, do what ye will
That phrase epitomizes how I feel about life and living it, and I often wonder why other people don’t feel that way too. So many times I hear or see people talking (in person or on FB) about the “one true religion”. And it’s not just people of Christian faiths; this concept of only one “right” belief is very powerful in several big religions. Even some Atheists claim to be the “only ones” who know the “truth”.
There are an estimated seven billion people on this planet . . . SEVEN BILLION! With so many different people, and so many different ways to do things, why would anyone believe that there is only ONE “correct” belief? Your belief might be correct for you, but that doesn’t mean it’s the right one for your neighbor, or even your relatives.
There are thousands of different cheeses, ways to prepare them, and even ways to eat them. You don’t hear anyone claiming that one particular cheese is right or wrong. In fact, most people like more than one type of cheese (or other food item, if you’re lactose intolerant). So why can’t people look upon religion like cheese?
Okay, I realize that comparison may seem a little silly, but the concept behind it is still valid. Just as the concept behind all the world’s religions are valid.
I once had an opportunity to temp at a non-profit organization called World Religion Day. At least, I think that’s what it was called, but it’s been so many years ago, I could have the name wrong. Regardless, all around the office, there were posters outlining the foundations of several major world religions. I took the time to read these posters one day, and discovered that the basic foundation of all the religions highlighted there was the same; The Golden Rule.
So, if the foundation of all religions is to essentially treat others as you’d want to be treated yourself, why have there been countless, needless wars fought over which one is the best? Do people simply get caught up in all the extraneous verbiage that surrounds the basic Golden Rule of their faith? So many people in this world believe in some form of a higher power that rules the world and has a master plan for us all. Why does it matter what name is given to this being?
I’m not here to try to change anyone’s opinion on religion, or to tell anyone that all religion is false; everyone needs to believe in something. All I’m asking is that people be allowed to believe what they want. ALL people. If there were more acceptance of our differences – religious or otherwise – there wouldn’t be such a need to fight over who’s “right” or “wrong”. Maybe we could even do away with those labels. Imagine the possibilities!
There is no “right” or “wrong”, there’s just a difference of religion . . . and that’s okay with me.
Raindrops Are Falling on My Head
23 Mar 2012 6 Comments
in Nostalgia
We’ve had a relatively dry winter this year in California . . . until recently. It rained nearly nonstop for four days last week in an attempt to make up for the lack of rain over the last few months. It hasn’t been the deluge that some countries get, but it’s rained enough that flights into or out of San Francisco were delayed for several hours last Wednesday night.
Many people out here in California dread the rain. Sure, they concede that it’s necessary to keep crops healthy, and to avoid forest fires during the summer, but that doesn’t stop them from cursing whenever a shower falls from the clouds.
Photo by Elena Kalis
Me? I love the rain. I’m not such a fan of the bitterly cold rains out here that seep through your skin and sink deep into your bones, but I love the warm rains that we got back in the Midwest; especially in the spring and summer. I actually never used to carry an umbrella with me when it rained – unless it was a deluge – just because I so thoroughly enjoyed them.
Out in the Midwest, the fat droplets of liquid clouds that fall are usually preceded by a nice thunderstorm, which I also love. If the thunderstorm and shower happen at night, even better. I used to love falling asleep to the sound of distant (or even not so distant) rumbling, followed by the ploop, ploop of the rain as it fell on the roof or windows.
Thunderstorms (or thunder in general) is something else that Californians don’t seem to care for. Craig’s daughter, Athena, recently told me that she hates thunder, and has actually lain awake in her bed all night long hoping that the thunder wouldn’t get any closer. I find that so interesting, because the few earthquakes that I’ve felt out here have quite similar sounds to the rumbling of thunder. And personally I’d prefer a thunderstorm any day of the week, because with thunder I don’t feel the ground shake and threaten to open up beneath my feet.
But I digress. I’m not here to discuss why I doubt I’ll ever get used to earthquakes, but why I love the rain . . .
After I’ve awoken from a very sound sleep – thanks to the soothing sounds of the shower outside – there are so many things to enjoy. The air has a wonderfully clean and fresh fragrance to it, and I find myself taking larger than normal breaths just to fill my nostrils with the scent. I even love the puddles that form from all the rain. There have been many times when I’ve emulated Gene Kelly (sans umbrella and lamp post), and just gone splashing about in a puddle, uncaring how wet my feet will get in my shoes. There’s something very childlike and happy about doing so.
I also enjoy driving through a huge puddle in a parking lot. Of course, I make sure it’s either an empty parking lot, or that there aren’t any cars close by, but then I put the pedal to the metal and revel in making huge waves from speeding the car through a deep pool of water. If it’s warm out, and your car can take it, I even recommend rolling down your windows and getting doused from your splash. Craig told me that he once did something similar while riding his motorcycle. I’d LOVE to try that, so I’ll make sure to ask him to take me along next time.
Another great thing about rainstorms is the drowsiness that seeps into your body; especially if you can stay snuggled up in bed, under the warm covers, and doze in and out of consciousness. Some people are able to do that for several hours past their normal wake up time. I only seem able to indulge in a few extra minutes of relaxing shut eye, but sometimes that’s all I need to feel energized and ready for my day.
How about you? What do you like best about the rain?
