Tomorrow is July 13, 2018.
It's also a Friday.
Now this is a Thursday 13, not a Friday 13. I'm not afraid of 13 things on Thursdays.
Friday? That's a different story.
I've had two car wrecks - both on Fridays with the date of the 13th. So I stay home on Friday the 13th.
I have no idea why Friday the 13th is a big deal. I suspect it is a religious thing, probably going back to Judas being the 13th guest at the Last Supper and the crucifixion of Christ on a Friday.
Fear of Friday the 13th is called paraskevidekatriaphobia.
Here are some things that supposedly have happened on Friday the 13th.
1. On Friday, Aug. 13, 2010, a 13-year-old boy was struck by lightning at 13:13 (1:13 p.m.) in Suffolk, England. The boy’s name was not released, according to British publications the Daily Mail and the Mirror. Rex Clarke, a St. John Ambulance team leader, told the Mirror: “Suddenly there was this huge crack of lightening really close to the seafront and really loud thunder. Seconds later we got a call someone had been hit. The boy was breathing and was conscious.” The boy had only a minor burn. Clarke said, “It’s all a bit strange that he was 13, and it happened at 13:13 on Friday 13.”
2. On Jan. 13, 1989 the “Friday the 13th virus” infected hundreds of IBM computers across the UK. It was programmed to delete files on Friday the 13th.
3. On November 13, 1970, the Bhola cyclone killed an estimated 500,000 people in Chittagong and the surrounding area. The 1970 Friday the 13th cyclone is described by the Indian Ocean Naval Symposium as “the deadliest tropical cyclone ever recorded, and one of the deadliest natural disasters in modern times.”
4. On Friday, Oct. 13, 1972, a Fairchild airplane carrying a rugby team from Montevideo to Chile disappeared over the Andes. It was later immortalized in the film Alive. Sixteen of the 45 passengers by eating the passengers who had died—a gruesome tale that captured the attention of the world. On that same day, another plane crash killed 160 people. An Aeroflot Il62 airliner flying to Paris via Leningrad crashed near the Sheremetyevo airport, killing all aboard, UPI reported at that time.
5. On December 13, 1995, Joshua Dudley was touring an exhibition of Faberge eggs at the Virginia Museum of Fine Art when he received a phone call telling him he had inherited a $3m estate from a deceased uncle. He began a major celebration that resulted in $4m in damages to the museum.
6. On Friday, October 13, 1972, Dana Hamilton of Rye, New York sold her luxurious hair to a local wigmaker so she could buy her husband a gold chain for his beloved pocket watch. That same evening, she returned home to discover that her husband had sold his watch to buy a pearl necklace for his secretary, with whom he was having an affair. (Sounds like a bad version of an O'Henry story, doesn't it?)
7. Tawny Wetzel, a researcher investigating the correlation between Friday the 13th and emergency room visits, was attacked and killed by hornets on Friday, January 13, 1977.
8. While preparing a lecture on fatalism and external locus of control for his students on Friday, February 13, 1993, psychology professor Claiborn Phillips was struck by lightning a record 13 times in row. (Oh, the irony.)
9. On Friday, July 13, 1951, the state of Kansas had over 25 inches of rain. The cities of Manhattan, Lawrence, and Topeka were most affected, and over two million acres of land were damaged by the flood. At its highest, the flooding exceeded previous records by four to nine feet.
10. On Friday, October 13, 1989, the stock market fell 7 percent. Known as Black Friday, the market dropped after the buyout of United Airlines fell through. A lot of people lost a lot of money.
11. According to National Geographic, a Swedish flight disappeared while flying over the Baltic Sea on June 13, 1952. For 40 years, the Swedish government stuck by the story that the plane was merely performing training exercises. However, National Geographic reported that in the '90s someone leaked that the crewmembers were actually spying on the Soviet Union for NATO — even though Sweden was officially neutral during the Cold War. Russia responded with its own confession. A Russian pilot told a Swedish diplomat that he had shot the plane down.
12. From October 12 to October 13, 2006, western New York was hit with two feet of snow. Over 300,000 people were left without power, thousands of trees were damaged, and the Governor of New York declared a State of Emergency for the Buffalo region.
13. Here's a future prediction: according to Geek.com, an asteroid will come within 22,000 miles of the Earth on April 13, 2029. The closeness of the asteroid could cause damage to the Earth's surface, and there's a one-in-100,000 chance it could collide with us.
______________
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while and this is my 560th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.
Thursday, July 12, 2018
Wednesday, July 11, 2018
Tell Me Every Story Told
A long time ago, a friend who is no longer with us told me she was not going to work on writing novels anymore.
The world has enough people trying to write and publishing things. There are already too many books, she said.
My total astonishment at her words was profound. She went on to blast our mutual alma mater as a place that actually deters writing even though it is a college that has Pulitzer Prize winning authors and national poet laurates among its alumnae. The teaching, she maintained, was so geared toward writing The Great American Novel of Literature that it overlooked and discounted multiple genres and forms of writing.
She never published a novel, though she did publish a history book. Like me, she wrote for newspapers. She also had five novels tucked away in a drawer when she passed away, and who knows what else.
I did have a novel tucked away in a drawer, but I threw it out some time ago. I have another stashed in a file cabinet someplace that I never finished. My essay for my masters degree is probably the longest piece of decent writing that I have.
Truth is, I never wanted to write The Great American Novel. I wanted to be a ghost writer and write Nancy Drew books. I wanted to be Janet Evanovich and write Stephanie Plum novels. I wanted to be Victoria Holt and write gothic romances.
I didn't want to write Catcher in the Rye or Jane Eyre. I read those books and enjoyed them, but I couldn't see myself writing them.
My friend was correct about one thing - the college I graduated from gave short shrift to anything not deemed "literature." Aspirations for other forms of writing were ignored.
I don't know if it is still that way. When I went after my masters degree, it wasn't quite as "literary" but that sense of it was still there. It helped that one of my professors was a genre writer, I think. She didn't look at genre quite like other teachers.
Story comes in many forms. Oral stories are great - my father and brother are both great orators. They can bullshit with the best of them and both are salesmen. I am not a good oral story teller, but I do all right with words on paper. I operate best there.
Everyone has a story, but every story is the same. Right? Wrong? I think not, because even in a family, no one sees a situation or event in the same way. What may be funny to one person might horrify another.
That's the thing about humanity and the human story. Differences abound everywhere, even among twins, triplets, or quadruplets. We have a basic underpinning - we're born, we live, we die. It's the middle part that is so fascinating (although some births are rather fascinating stories, in and of themselves). That "live" part.
Living is so different for everyone. Hard for most, easy for a few. Some laugh their way through it, some cry. Some see joy everywhere while others see nothing but sorrow. Some see a mix of everything.
And who's to say who is right or wrong about any of it? Who has the right to tell someone else that what they see with their own eyes, and feel with their own heart, is good, bad, right or wrong? Society has a set of morals that we use to determine certain things in life - it's bad, for example, to murder someone. That feeling needs to be set aside and not acted upon, if you're feeling murderous toward someone. That goes for any other emotion that causes someone else harm or angst. Societal mores have said we don't do those things, and we are raised to know this. Well, most of us are, anyway. If we didn't know this, society would break down and not function.
My friend did not really stop writing. Being a writer means you never stop thinking like a writer, even if you aren't writing. Being a writer is a different way of seeing the world, a way of looking at details, of searching for the overlay of story arc in an event. A search for the protagonist and antagonist in every outing. Is that the good person? The bad person? Who is right or wrong? Who is going against the dictated social mores?
Sometimes I think that every story has been told. Maybe all we're all doing is rewriting Shakespeare in invisible ways, or telling stories from the Bible in new ways, thousands of times over. Maybe we're telling stories with meaning, or maybe our stories mean nothing at all.
Supposedly there are only seven basic plots: overcoming the monster; rags to riches; the quest; voyage and return; comedy; tragedy; rebirth. I always read them as conflicts of man against self, man against man, man against nature, or man against other/society.
However you define it, even if there are only seven plots, there are endless stories, as many stories as there people. Maybe as many stories as there are stars in the sky.
And here I am writing blog posts, or essays. It counts. It's a story about stories. Somewhere in what I have written this morning, is a story.
The world has enough people trying to write and publishing things. There are already too many books, she said.
My total astonishment at her words was profound. She went on to blast our mutual alma mater as a place that actually deters writing even though it is a college that has Pulitzer Prize winning authors and national poet laurates among its alumnae. The teaching, she maintained, was so geared toward writing The Great American Novel of Literature that it overlooked and discounted multiple genres and forms of writing.
She never published a novel, though she did publish a history book. Like me, she wrote for newspapers. She also had five novels tucked away in a drawer when she passed away, and who knows what else.
I did have a novel tucked away in a drawer, but I threw it out some time ago. I have another stashed in a file cabinet someplace that I never finished. My essay for my masters degree is probably the longest piece of decent writing that I have.
Truth is, I never wanted to write The Great American Novel. I wanted to be a ghost writer and write Nancy Drew books. I wanted to be Janet Evanovich and write Stephanie Plum novels. I wanted to be Victoria Holt and write gothic romances.
I didn't want to write Catcher in the Rye or Jane Eyre. I read those books and enjoyed them, but I couldn't see myself writing them.
My friend was correct about one thing - the college I graduated from gave short shrift to anything not deemed "literature." Aspirations for other forms of writing were ignored.
I don't know if it is still that way. When I went after my masters degree, it wasn't quite as "literary" but that sense of it was still there. It helped that one of my professors was a genre writer, I think. She didn't look at genre quite like other teachers.
Story comes in many forms. Oral stories are great - my father and brother are both great orators. They can bullshit with the best of them and both are salesmen. I am not a good oral story teller, but I do all right with words on paper. I operate best there.
Everyone has a story, but every story is the same. Right? Wrong? I think not, because even in a family, no one sees a situation or event in the same way. What may be funny to one person might horrify another.
That's the thing about humanity and the human story. Differences abound everywhere, even among twins, triplets, or quadruplets. We have a basic underpinning - we're born, we live, we die. It's the middle part that is so fascinating (although some births are rather fascinating stories, in and of themselves). That "live" part.
Living is so different for everyone. Hard for most, easy for a few. Some laugh their way through it, some cry. Some see joy everywhere while others see nothing but sorrow. Some see a mix of everything.
And who's to say who is right or wrong about any of it? Who has the right to tell someone else that what they see with their own eyes, and feel with their own heart, is good, bad, right or wrong? Society has a set of morals that we use to determine certain things in life - it's bad, for example, to murder someone. That feeling needs to be set aside and not acted upon, if you're feeling murderous toward someone. That goes for any other emotion that causes someone else harm or angst. Societal mores have said we don't do those things, and we are raised to know this. Well, most of us are, anyway. If we didn't know this, society would break down and not function.
My friend did not really stop writing. Being a writer means you never stop thinking like a writer, even if you aren't writing. Being a writer is a different way of seeing the world, a way of looking at details, of searching for the overlay of story arc in an event. A search for the protagonist and antagonist in every outing. Is that the good person? The bad person? Who is right or wrong? Who is going against the dictated social mores?
Sometimes I think that every story has been told. Maybe all we're all doing is rewriting Shakespeare in invisible ways, or telling stories from the Bible in new ways, thousands of times over. Maybe we're telling stories with meaning, or maybe our stories mean nothing at all.
Supposedly there are only seven basic plots: overcoming the monster; rags to riches; the quest; voyage and return; comedy; tragedy; rebirth. I always read them as conflicts of man against self, man against man, man against nature, or man against other/society.
However you define it, even if there are only seven plots, there are endless stories, as many stories as there people. Maybe as many stories as there are stars in the sky.
And here I am writing blog posts, or essays. It counts. It's a story about stories. Somewhere in what I have written this morning, is a story.
Monday, July 09, 2018
A Diamond Road
At first, we came here for the soil. A dirt road was good enough.
Then we went west for the gold.
For a while we settled for plastic and asphalt as the wheels of industry turned.
And now?
Now we search for diamond roads. Roads littered with sparkles and jewels, roads that lead only to riches. And not the riches of heaven, either. We search for the spoils of the day. Big cars. Big homes. Nice clothes. Expensive shoes. A yacht, maybe.
Living the good life, walking that diamond road.
The thing about diamonds is they are hard and nearly impenetrable. You can't eat them. You can carve them into pretty things, or use them as tools to cut things, but they're rather useless in the day-to-day world.
Walking a diamond road is about like walking a gravel road. Just shinier.
In Frank Baum's book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the road is a yellow brick road. The book was written in 1900, so the gold boom in California was still fresh on everyone's mind, I imagine. A yellow brick road would be like that diamond road of today.
Baum's book has lots of lessons. Dorothy is the immigrant to Oz, which one could consider to be the United States. She follows the path and has to traverse lots of dangers to get to the Emerald City (aka the United States). She is then spit-polished and sent back out into danger, to emerge victorious in her return to Oz. In the end, though, she discovers Oz is an illusion. (Don't mind the man behind the curtain.)
Is the "American Dream" an illusion? I think it is for a lot of people.
Robert Frost took the "road less traveled." In an Eagles song, a couple goes rushing down a highway and then are dying to get off as they live "life in the fast lane."
It seems to me today most people want that diamond road. They're not searching for the dirt road, or the soil path, or even a yellow brick road. They want on that fast lane and they want all the riches they can grab.
While riches are not like pie - there really is enough for everyone, if the thing is only carved properly - the spoils seem to be spun out in strange fashion in this country. The diamond road is pranced upon by a small few, while the rest believe they are walking on it but they're really on a dirt road and the rocks beneath their feet aren't diamonds. Just rocks.
Most people ultimately travel many roads as they head toward their ultimate destination - which is, for every single one of us - death. I have often wandered off the road to see what is across the meadow or on the other side of the pond. It leads to an interesting and creative life, these adventures, but it doesn't bring diamonds.
At some point I decided I really didn't want diamonds. I'm not sure I even want a road. I think maybe I'd just like a little path, one not trod by many, with lots of distractions along the way.
Then we went west for the gold.
For a while we settled for plastic and asphalt as the wheels of industry turned.
And now?
Now we search for diamond roads. Roads littered with sparkles and jewels, roads that lead only to riches. And not the riches of heaven, either. We search for the spoils of the day. Big cars. Big homes. Nice clothes. Expensive shoes. A yacht, maybe.
Living the good life, walking that diamond road.
The thing about diamonds is they are hard and nearly impenetrable. You can't eat them. You can carve them into pretty things, or use them as tools to cut things, but they're rather useless in the day-to-day world.
Walking a diamond road is about like walking a gravel road. Just shinier.
In Frank Baum's book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, the road is a yellow brick road. The book was written in 1900, so the gold boom in California was still fresh on everyone's mind, I imagine. A yellow brick road would be like that diamond road of today.
Baum's book has lots of lessons. Dorothy is the immigrant to Oz, which one could consider to be the United States. She follows the path and has to traverse lots of dangers to get to the Emerald City (aka the United States). She is then spit-polished and sent back out into danger, to emerge victorious in her return to Oz. In the end, though, she discovers Oz is an illusion. (Don't mind the man behind the curtain.)
Is the "American Dream" an illusion? I think it is for a lot of people.
Robert Frost took the "road less traveled." In an Eagles song, a couple goes rushing down a highway and then are dying to get off as they live "life in the fast lane."
It seems to me today most people want that diamond road. They're not searching for the dirt road, or the soil path, or even a yellow brick road. They want on that fast lane and they want all the riches they can grab.
While riches are not like pie - there really is enough for everyone, if the thing is only carved properly - the spoils seem to be spun out in strange fashion in this country. The diamond road is pranced upon by a small few, while the rest believe they are walking on it but they're really on a dirt road and the rocks beneath their feet aren't diamonds. Just rocks.
Most people ultimately travel many roads as they head toward their ultimate destination - which is, for every single one of us - death. I have often wandered off the road to see what is across the meadow or on the other side of the pond. It leads to an interesting and creative life, these adventures, but it doesn't bring diamonds.
At some point I decided I really didn't want diamonds. I'm not sure I even want a road. I think maybe I'd just like a little path, one not trod by many, with lots of distractions along the way.
Sunday, July 08, 2018
Sunday Stealing
Sunday Stealing
1. Where were you 3 hours ago?
A. Right here in front of the computer, playing Skyrim.
2. Have you ever eaten a crayon?
A. Not that I recall.
3. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
A. Yes. I have some empty picture frames that are pink that I need to print photos to for so I can place them in the bathroom.
4. When is the last time you went to the mall?
A. It has been so long I do not remember. I'm not much of a shopper.
5. Are you wearing socks right now?
A. I am.
6. When was the last time you drove out of town?
A. About a month ago.
7. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
A. No.
8. What was the last thing you had to drink?
A. Water.
9. What are you wearing right now?
A. Sweats and a T-shirt.
10. Do you wash your car or let the car wash do it?
A. I let the husband do it for me.
11. Last food that you ate?
A. An egg sandwich.
12. Where were you last week at this time?
A. Same bat time, same bat channel.
13. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
A. No.
14. When is the last time you ran?
A. Ha. That is the most hilarious question I have ever thought of answering.
15. What's the last sporting event you watched?
A. A NASCAR race, I guess. I don't watch sports at all but my husband watches the car races.
__________
I encourage you to visit other participants in Sunday Stealing posts and leave a comment. Cheers to all us thieves who love memes, however we come by them.
1. Where were you 3 hours ago?
A. Right here in front of the computer, playing Skyrim.
2. Have you ever eaten a crayon?
A. Not that I recall.
3. Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
A. Yes. I have some empty picture frames that are pink that I need to print photos to for so I can place them in the bathroom.
4. When is the last time you went to the mall?
A. It has been so long I do not remember. I'm not much of a shopper.
5. Are you wearing socks right now?
A. I am.
6. When was the last time you drove out of town?
A. About a month ago.
7. Have you been to the movies in the last 5 days?
A. No.
8. What was the last thing you had to drink?
A. Water.
9. What are you wearing right now?
A. Sweats and a T-shirt.
10. Do you wash your car or let the car wash do it?
A. I let the husband do it for me.
11. Last food that you ate?
A. An egg sandwich.
12. Where were you last week at this time?
A. Same bat time, same bat channel.
13. Have you bought any clothing items in the last week?
A. No.
14. When is the last time you ran?
A. Ha. That is the most hilarious question I have ever thought of answering.
15. What's the last sporting event you watched?
A. A NASCAR race, I guess. I don't watch sports at all but my husband watches the car races.
__________
I encourage you to visit other participants in Sunday Stealing posts and leave a comment. Cheers to all us thieves who love memes, however we come by them.
Saturday, July 07, 2018
Saturday 9: Chains
Saturday 9: Chains (1962)
Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.
1) The song is about a woman who is in love with her boyfriend, but still attracted to someone else. Do you believe a woman can be in love with more than one person at a time?
A. Yes.
2) What about the male of the species? Do you believe a man can be in love with more than one person at a time?
A. Yes.
3) These lyrics were by Gerry Goffin and the music by Carole King. Carole was a favorite guest of David Letterman's. When she appeared on his show, he often commented on how impressed he was by her firm handshake. She credited her memorable grip to time spent milking goats on her Idaho farm. Have you poured goat milk on your cereal? Eaten goat milk yogurt or cheese?
A. Yes.
4) When it first came out, "Chains" was a favorite of 18-year-old George Harrison. It was at his recommendation that the Beatles added it to their early stage shows and even recorded it on their first album. When you were in high school, what was one of your favorite songs?
A. I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor
5) In 1962, when this song was released, epic movies were popular on the big screen. The Longest Day was three hours long, and Lawrence of Arabia ran more than three hours and a half hours. Today's most popular movies are nowhere near that long. Do you think the average American has a shorter attention span today than he did in 1962?
A. Yes.
6) In 1962, First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy went on a two-week goodwill tour of India and Pakistan. She received a ceremonial "welcome necklace" in India. Made without jewels or precious metals -- just beads, sequins and paper -- it was valued by the First Lady for its delicate appearance and craftsmanship, and today it's on display at the John F. Kennedy Library. Tell us about a piece of jewelry that means a great deal to you, and why.
A. My wedding band and engagement ring mean the most to me of any of my jewelry, because my husband gave them to me.
7) In Pakistan, Mrs. Kennedy made headlines by riding a camel. Have you ever ridden a horse, donkey, camel or elephant?
A. I've ridden a horse and a donkey.
8) Also in 1962, the New York Newspaper Guild went on strike, so the nation's largest city went 114 days without a single daily paper. In 2018, how do you get your news?
A. I read the newspaper, watch TV, read various online sources.
9) Random question -- Complete this sentence: Before I go to sleep, I always ___________________________.
A. Go to the bathroom to pee.
_____________
I encourage you to visit other participants in Saturday 9 posts and leave a comment. Because there are no rules, it is your choice. Saturday 9 players hate rules. We love memes, however. (#240)
Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.
1) The song is about a woman who is in love with her boyfriend, but still attracted to someone else. Do you believe a woman can be in love with more than one person at a time?
A. Yes.
2) What about the male of the species? Do you believe a man can be in love with more than one person at a time?
A. Yes.
3) These lyrics were by Gerry Goffin and the music by Carole King. Carole was a favorite guest of David Letterman's. When she appeared on his show, he often commented on how impressed he was by her firm handshake. She credited her memorable grip to time spent milking goats on her Idaho farm. Have you poured goat milk on your cereal? Eaten goat milk yogurt or cheese?
A. Yes.
4) When it first came out, "Chains" was a favorite of 18-year-old George Harrison. It was at his recommendation that the Beatles added it to their early stage shows and even recorded it on their first album. When you were in high school, what was one of your favorite songs?
A. I Will Survive by Gloria Gaynor
5) In 1962, when this song was released, epic movies were popular on the big screen. The Longest Day was three hours long, and Lawrence of Arabia ran more than three hours and a half hours. Today's most popular movies are nowhere near that long. Do you think the average American has a shorter attention span today than he did in 1962?
A. Yes.
6) In 1962, First Lady Jacqueline Kennedy went on a two-week goodwill tour of India and Pakistan. She received a ceremonial "welcome necklace" in India. Made without jewels or precious metals -- just beads, sequins and paper -- it was valued by the First Lady for its delicate appearance and craftsmanship, and today it's on display at the John F. Kennedy Library. Tell us about a piece of jewelry that means a great deal to you, and why.
A. My wedding band and engagement ring mean the most to me of any of my jewelry, because my husband gave them to me.
7) In Pakistan, Mrs. Kennedy made headlines by riding a camel. Have you ever ridden a horse, donkey, camel or elephant?
A. I've ridden a horse and a donkey.
8) Also in 1962, the New York Newspaper Guild went on strike, so the nation's largest city went 114 days without a single daily paper. In 2018, how do you get your news?
A. I read the newspaper, watch TV, read various online sources.
9) Random question -- Complete this sentence: Before I go to sleep, I always ___________________________.
A. Go to the bathroom to pee.
_____________
I encourage you to visit other participants in Saturday 9 posts and leave a comment. Because there are no rules, it is your choice. Saturday 9 players hate rules. We love memes, however. (#240)
Thursday, July 05, 2018
Thursday Thirteen
Types of war:
1. Civil War
2. War of Independence
3. Cyberwar
4. Ethnic war
5. Cold war
6. Guerilla war
7. Undeclared war
8. Perpetual war
9. War of Succession
10. Trade war
12. Preemptive war
13. World war
What is really sad is I could pick and choose among a long list of different types of war. Humans apparently fight over everything.
There isn't a list (that I could find, anyway) for types of peace. There are long explanations about "peace" but we don't call things "economic peace" or "trade peace." We do talk about World Peace (like that's ever going to happen). Apparently peace is the absence of war.
I think that says a lot.
______________
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while and this is my 559th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.
1. Civil War
2. War of Independence
3. Cyberwar
4. Ethnic war
5. Cold war
6. Guerilla war
7. Undeclared war
8. Perpetual war
9. War of Succession
10. Trade war
12. Preemptive war
13. World war
What is really sad is I could pick and choose among a long list of different types of war. Humans apparently fight over everything.
There isn't a list (that I could find, anyway) for types of peace. There are long explanations about "peace" but we don't call things "economic peace" or "trade peace." We do talk about World Peace (like that's ever going to happen). Apparently peace is the absence of war.
I think that says a lot.
______________
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while and this is my 559th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.
Wednesday, July 04, 2018
Happy July 4!
The fireworks are pretty, but the real reason for the day is to celebrate the birth of this nation as a new experiment in government, a democratic republic with checks and balances that are supposed to ensure the rights of the people and guarantee everyone the opportunity to live a happy and productive life.
Let's not roll back the clock to a time best forgotten but instead look ahead to a brighter tomorrow, when we are all standing tall, stronger together.
Tuesday, July 03, 2018
Coloring Again
This is a picture from my Lord of the Rings coloring book. I finished it yesterday.
This was actually difficult because of all the greenery/moss/brown, etc.. The artist did a good drawing of the scene, but honestly, things don't end and the lines are just crisscrosses and they are horrible to color in.
I think this was the scene from the movie:
As you can see, it's a very dark scene. How do you think I did with the coloring?
 |
| This is from The Fellowship of the Ring. Frodo, Merry, Sam, and Pippin had just found some mushrooms. Frodo yells, "Get off the road!" and they hide underneath this tree while a Black Rider goes by on his search for the One Ring. |
 |
| A detail of the hobbits as they hide. |
 |
| The Black Rider. |
I think this was the scene from the movie:
As you can see, it's a very dark scene. How do you think I did with the coloring?
Monday, July 02, 2018
That Time I Had a Cat
I do not have indoor pets. When I was young we had indoor dogs sometimes (mostly poodles), and I stayed sick and we never equated it with the dog, but it was the dog.
We never had cats, though. My father did not like cats.
I am not especially fond of them, mostly because I haven't been around them and because they make me sneeze. They also seem to know I don't want them near me - if I enter a house with a cat it makes a beeline for me, wanting to purr all over me and get hair on my pants.
I don't dislike cats, really, but I don't pick them up and pet them, either.
But for a little while, I had a cat. Or the cat had me.
We had been married around three months and were living in a cold four-room house when the little kitty showed up at our doorstep. My husband said, "Don't feed it," and of course I did. How could I not? I don't recall what I named her, but she was white with black on her.
My memories of her are few. Once, she helped my husband kill a snake he was trying to pull out from beneath the house we were renting. She bit the snake in the back. The snake immediately relaxed so my husband was able to pull the snake on out of its hole.
The other memory of her is that she had kittens. This surprised me because I didn't think she was old enough to have kittens, but there they were all the same. Unfortunately, she had them in the cellar way up under the house where I couldn't reach them. I heard them, though, the morning they were born, just before I left for work.
I assumed all would be well, but apparently this little mother had no milk, or else was too young to know how to nurse them. She tried to feed them by killing a bird and dragging it to the little mewling babies (at least, I know they were mewling there for a time because I heard them), but of course they couldn't eat a bird. Over the course of a day, the babies were born and they died and I was at work and didn't figure it all out until I came home and went to check on them.
I cried when I saw the dead bird and the little dead kittens.
My husband, of course, was at the fire station for the evening, so I called my brother and asked him to come by and help me with the dead animals under my house.
I am not sure what happened to the cat. We moved and we took the cat with us, but she ran off, never to be seen again.
And that's my only experience with cats.
We never had cats, though. My father did not like cats.
I am not especially fond of them, mostly because I haven't been around them and because they make me sneeze. They also seem to know I don't want them near me - if I enter a house with a cat it makes a beeline for me, wanting to purr all over me and get hair on my pants.
I don't dislike cats, really, but I don't pick them up and pet them, either.
But for a little while, I had a cat. Or the cat had me.
We had been married around three months and were living in a cold four-room house when the little kitty showed up at our doorstep. My husband said, "Don't feed it," and of course I did. How could I not? I don't recall what I named her, but she was white with black on her.
My memories of her are few. Once, she helped my husband kill a snake he was trying to pull out from beneath the house we were renting. She bit the snake in the back. The snake immediately relaxed so my husband was able to pull the snake on out of its hole.
The other memory of her is that she had kittens. This surprised me because I didn't think she was old enough to have kittens, but there they were all the same. Unfortunately, she had them in the cellar way up under the house where I couldn't reach them. I heard them, though, the morning they were born, just before I left for work.
I assumed all would be well, but apparently this little mother had no milk, or else was too young to know how to nurse them. She tried to feed them by killing a bird and dragging it to the little mewling babies (at least, I know they were mewling there for a time because I heard them), but of course they couldn't eat a bird. Over the course of a day, the babies were born and they died and I was at work and didn't figure it all out until I came home and went to check on them.
I cried when I saw the dead bird and the little dead kittens.
My husband, of course, was at the fire station for the evening, so I called my brother and asked him to come by and help me with the dead animals under my house.
I am not sure what happened to the cat. We moved and we took the cat with us, but she ran off, never to be seen again.
And that's my only experience with cats.
Sunday, July 01, 2018
Sunday Stealing
Sunday Stealing
1. Do you like parades?
A. I'm afraid my work as a news reporter has rather soured me on parades. I attended loads of them, taking pictures for the newspaper. I really don't care if I ever go to another.
2. Rate the following parade attractions in order of affection (I'll just move these around to the order of affection):
*. fire trucks
*. marching bands
*. floats
*. anything that gives away candy
*. antique cars/tractors
*. horses
*. politicians ride in cars
3. Have you ever been in a parade?
A. I used to be in the marching band in high school. We went to the parades. In July we sweltered, at Christmas we froze.
4. Do you bring lawn chairs to parades?
A. I was too busy working to sit.
5. Does it bother you to have to park a long way from the parade, and then walk back to the car afterwards?
A. Yes.
6. Do you wave at people you know?
A. Yes.
7. At people you don't know?
A. I used to wave and talk to everybody, whether I knew them or not. Press pass, you know.
8. Do you take pets -dogs particularly - to parades?
A. No. Dogs don't belong everywhere and I know everyone loves their little snookums, but I wish the animals would stay at home. I'm allergic to them and I'm also a little afraid of the larger ones. I can't be the only person who feels that way.
9. Have you ever been to a big parade in person (Rose Bowl, Macy's, etc)?
A. No.
10. Do you attend more warm weather or cold weather parades?
A. I attended both, but I think as the younger news reporter I often ended up with the cold and rainy ones more so than others.
__________
I encourage you to visit other participants in Sunday Stealing posts and leave a comment. Cheers to all us thieves who love memes, however we come by them.
1. Do you like parades?
A. I'm afraid my work as a news reporter has rather soured me on parades. I attended loads of them, taking pictures for the newspaper. I really don't care if I ever go to another.
2. Rate the following parade attractions in order of affection (I'll just move these around to the order of affection):
*. fire trucks
*. marching bands
*. floats
*. anything that gives away candy
*. antique cars/tractors
*. horses
*. politicians ride in cars
3. Have you ever been in a parade?
A. I used to be in the marching band in high school. We went to the parades. In July we sweltered, at Christmas we froze.
4. Do you bring lawn chairs to parades?
A. I was too busy working to sit.
5. Does it bother you to have to park a long way from the parade, and then walk back to the car afterwards?
A. Yes.
6. Do you wave at people you know?
A. Yes.
7. At people you don't know?
A. I used to wave and talk to everybody, whether I knew them or not. Press pass, you know.
8. Do you take pets -dogs particularly - to parades?
A. No. Dogs don't belong everywhere and I know everyone loves their little snookums, but I wish the animals would stay at home. I'm allergic to them and I'm also a little afraid of the larger ones. I can't be the only person who feels that way.
9. Have you ever been to a big parade in person (Rose Bowl, Macy's, etc)?
A. No.
10. Do you attend more warm weather or cold weather parades?
A. I attended both, but I think as the younger news reporter I often ended up with the cold and rainy ones more so than others.
__________
I encourage you to visit other participants in Sunday Stealing posts and leave a comment. Cheers to all us thieves who love memes, however we come by them.
Saturday, June 30, 2018
Saturday 9: Back in the USA
SATURDAY 9: BACK IN THE USA (1978)
Unfamiliar with this week's song? Hear it here.
1) This song lists seven cities -- New York, Los Angeles, Detroit, Chicago, Chattanooga, Baton Rouge and St. Louis -- that Linda just loves. How many have you visited?
A. I have been to three of them, I think.
2) The lyrics refer to hamburgers sizzling on the grill. What toppings do you believe make a perfect burger?
A. Cheese, mayonnaise, catsup, and a pickle.
3) The original recording of this song by Chuck Berry has always been one of Linda Ronstadt's favorites, one she used to enjoy singing along with in the car. What's the most recent song you sang?
A. I played Styx's Come Sail Away on the guitar a little while ago.
4) Linda sang The National Anthem at Game 3 of the 1977 World Series. The New York Yankees won both that game and the series. How is your baseball team doing this season?
A. I don't watch baseball.
Since this is our last Saturday 9 before Independence Day, let's ask some questions about the holiday.
5) During the Revolutionary War, General Washington celebrated the 4th of July by giving his troops a double ration of rum. Will you imbibe any spirits on Independence Day?
A. No. I don't drink.
6) The first man to sign the Declaration of Independence, John Hancock, said he wrote his name so large King George could see it, even without his glasses. Do you require glasses for reading?
A. I require glasses for seeing.
7) Since July 4 is a federal holiday, banks are closed and there's no mail delivery. Thanks to email and ATMs, Sam finds going without those services isn't a hardship. What about you? Will you find it inconvenient that banks and the USPS are closed on July 4?
A. No.
8) The first 4th of July parade each year is held at 12:01 AM in Gatlinberg, TN. Will you attend a parade or fireworks to celebrate the 4th?
A. We might see fireworks in town. We haven't made plans. My husband will be in between duty cycles and it rather depends on whether or not he is up all night Tuesday night.
9) More and more Americans celebrate our nation's holiday by eating foods from Italy and Germany. For the July 4, 2016 holiday, more than $50 million was spent on Italian sausage and bratwurst. What's on your 4th of July menu?
A. I don't have a July 4 menu. But I can guarantee you I won't be eating sausage or bratwurst. Talk about late night heartburn.
_____________
I encourage you to visit other participants in Saturday 9 posts and leave a comment. Because there are no rules, it is your choice. Saturday 9 players hate rules. We love memes, however.
Unfamiliar with this week's song? Hear it here.
1) This song lists seven cities -- New York, Los Angeles, Detroit, Chicago, Chattanooga, Baton Rouge and St. Louis -- that Linda just loves. How many have you visited?
A. I have been to three of them, I think.
2) The lyrics refer to hamburgers sizzling on the grill. What toppings do you believe make a perfect burger?
A. Cheese, mayonnaise, catsup, and a pickle.
3) The original recording of this song by Chuck Berry has always been one of Linda Ronstadt's favorites, one she used to enjoy singing along with in the car. What's the most recent song you sang?
A. I played Styx's Come Sail Away on the guitar a little while ago.
4) Linda sang The National Anthem at Game 3 of the 1977 World Series. The New York Yankees won both that game and the series. How is your baseball team doing this season?
A. I don't watch baseball.
Since this is our last Saturday 9 before Independence Day, let's ask some questions about the holiday.
5) During the Revolutionary War, General Washington celebrated the 4th of July by giving his troops a double ration of rum. Will you imbibe any spirits on Independence Day?
A. No. I don't drink.
6) The first man to sign the Declaration of Independence, John Hancock, said he wrote his name so large King George could see it, even without his glasses. Do you require glasses for reading?
A. I require glasses for seeing.
7) Since July 4 is a federal holiday, banks are closed and there's no mail delivery. Thanks to email and ATMs, Sam finds going without those services isn't a hardship. What about you? Will you find it inconvenient that banks and the USPS are closed on July 4?
A. No.
8) The first 4th of July parade each year is held at 12:01 AM in Gatlinberg, TN. Will you attend a parade or fireworks to celebrate the 4th?
A. We might see fireworks in town. We haven't made plans. My husband will be in between duty cycles and it rather depends on whether or not he is up all night Tuesday night.
9) More and more Americans celebrate our nation's holiday by eating foods from Italy and Germany. For the July 4, 2016 holiday, more than $50 million was spent on Italian sausage and bratwurst. What's on your 4th of July menu?
A. I don't have a July 4 menu. But I can guarantee you I won't be eating sausage or bratwurst. Talk about late night heartburn.
_____________
I encourage you to visit other participants in Saturday 9 posts and leave a comment. Because there are no rules, it is your choice. Saturday 9 players hate rules. We love memes, however.
Friday, June 29, 2018
Remembering Grandma
Yesterday was the anniversary of my maternal grandmother's death. She died on June 28, 2007.
I can hardly believe it has been 11 years.
My grandmother took care of me when I was small, and after I went to school, she took care of me when I was sick. Since I have always been puny, I generally missed anywhere from 30-35 days of school because of bronchial issues. I must have had bronchitis and/or walking pneumonia every year.
When I was sick, Grandma let me watch TV, which was a big deal because she could get more channels than we could down in the country. At Grandma's house, I could watch The Price is Right, which I think was one of her favorites because we never missed it. I also watched Dark Shadows, which I was really too young to be watching but I absolutely loved that show. It was also during this time that I began watching The Guiding Light, a soap opera that my grandmother seldom missed. I was too young to be watching that, too, I suppose.
Grandma was very good about giving me lots of chicken noodle soup along with Granddaddy cookies when I wasn't well. (Granddaddy cookies are what we called Little Debbie Oatmeal Cookies, because my grandfather took them with him for lunch every day. I still call them Granddaddy cookies.)
If I was very sick, Grandma would sit me in her lap, wrap me in an afghan made by Aunt Susie (her sister), and sing me to sleep. She usually sang, "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy all for the love of you. It won't be a stylish marriage. I can't afford a carriage. But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two." That's the one I remember the best.
Grandma also had a set of World Book Encyclopedias and she was very proud of those books. I could look at them if I wasn't too snotty or coughing a lot. I liked to sit and read them. I don't know that I've ever met another person who has said they sat and read the encyclopedia, but I loved looking at them and reading them.
I read anything I could find in the house. I read my aunt's Nancy Drew books, and a series of books that included children's novels like The Silver Skates and Five Little Peppers and How They Grew that apparently were strictly decoration because I think I'm the only person who ever read them. Grandma had a cherished set of The Little House books and I read all of those, too. Being sick wasn't necessarily fun - but since I liked to read I can't say I minded it all that much.
Grandma gave me lots of love, and I was a child who needed lots of love. I needed more love than I did discipline because I wasn't a naughty kid. Inquisitive, yes, but not naughty (my father may beg to differ, but really I was a good child). I asked lots of questions and seldom accepted pat answers. If you told me the sky was blue because God made it that way, you would get another, "why?" out of me. Yes, I was one of those children, always asking why.
My grandmother, who only had a fourth grade education, fostered my love of knowledge. She read the paper from front to back, including the advertisements, and she would read it to me. I was reading the paper without help by the time I was four and I have hardly missed a day of reading a newspaper since. A half-century of reading The Roanoke Times ought to be rewarded with something, you know? Especially when you're just a little older than a half-century yourself.
As I aged, I saw less of Grandma, and when I was old enough to stay by myself when I was sick, I did, unless I was very sick. By then my grandmother would have been in her late 40s or early 50s (she was a young mother and her youngest child is a year younger than I am - my mother was young, too) and probably a little more wary of germs. After my grandfather died when I was 12, her life changed and not for the better. She lived on Social Security because my grandfather died like 2 days before he was fully vested in his pension at Kroger, where he worked, and they refused to give my grandmother any of his pension money. For years after that, my mother and the rest of the family refused to shop at Kroger. I can't say I blame them. My grandmother's life would have been much better if they had been a bit lenient on the rules.
She lost her husband and my mother before she died, along with a sister and a brother. People handle death in different ways and of course I was a child when my grandfather left us. I never really knew how she felt about my mother's death. It had to have been painful and terribly difficult to lose your eldest child.
Some nights when I am lonesome I talk to my Grandma. She doesn't give me advice - she usually didn't do that - but she was a good listener. So I know she hears me even if I don't get a response back. I think I might have to have a good long talk with her very, very soon.
I can hardly believe it has been 11 years.
My grandmother took care of me when I was small, and after I went to school, she took care of me when I was sick. Since I have always been puny, I generally missed anywhere from 30-35 days of school because of bronchial issues. I must have had bronchitis and/or walking pneumonia every year.
When I was sick, Grandma let me watch TV, which was a big deal because she could get more channels than we could down in the country. At Grandma's house, I could watch The Price is Right, which I think was one of her favorites because we never missed it. I also watched Dark Shadows, which I was really too young to be watching but I absolutely loved that show. It was also during this time that I began watching The Guiding Light, a soap opera that my grandmother seldom missed. I was too young to be watching that, too, I suppose.
Grandma was very good about giving me lots of chicken noodle soup along with Granddaddy cookies when I wasn't well. (Granddaddy cookies are what we called Little Debbie Oatmeal Cookies, because my grandfather took them with him for lunch every day. I still call them Granddaddy cookies.)
If I was very sick, Grandma would sit me in her lap, wrap me in an afghan made by Aunt Susie (her sister), and sing me to sleep. She usually sang, "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do. I'm half crazy all for the love of you. It won't be a stylish marriage. I can't afford a carriage. But you'll look sweet upon the seat of a bicycle built for two." That's the one I remember the best.
Grandma also had a set of World Book Encyclopedias and she was very proud of those books. I could look at them if I wasn't too snotty or coughing a lot. I liked to sit and read them. I don't know that I've ever met another person who has said they sat and read the encyclopedia, but I loved looking at them and reading them.
I read anything I could find in the house. I read my aunt's Nancy Drew books, and a series of books that included children's novels like The Silver Skates and Five Little Peppers and How They Grew that apparently were strictly decoration because I think I'm the only person who ever read them. Grandma had a cherished set of The Little House books and I read all of those, too. Being sick wasn't necessarily fun - but since I liked to read I can't say I minded it all that much.
Grandma gave me lots of love, and I was a child who needed lots of love. I needed more love than I did discipline because I wasn't a naughty kid. Inquisitive, yes, but not naughty (my father may beg to differ, but really I was a good child). I asked lots of questions and seldom accepted pat answers. If you told me the sky was blue because God made it that way, you would get another, "why?" out of me. Yes, I was one of those children, always asking why.
My grandmother, who only had a fourth grade education, fostered my love of knowledge. She read the paper from front to back, including the advertisements, and she would read it to me. I was reading the paper without help by the time I was four and I have hardly missed a day of reading a newspaper since. A half-century of reading The Roanoke Times ought to be rewarded with something, you know? Especially when you're just a little older than a half-century yourself.
As I aged, I saw less of Grandma, and when I was old enough to stay by myself when I was sick, I did, unless I was very sick. By then my grandmother would have been in her late 40s or early 50s (she was a young mother and her youngest child is a year younger than I am - my mother was young, too) and probably a little more wary of germs. After my grandfather died when I was 12, her life changed and not for the better. She lived on Social Security because my grandfather died like 2 days before he was fully vested in his pension at Kroger, where he worked, and they refused to give my grandmother any of his pension money. For years after that, my mother and the rest of the family refused to shop at Kroger. I can't say I blame them. My grandmother's life would have been much better if they had been a bit lenient on the rules.
She lost her husband and my mother before she died, along with a sister and a brother. People handle death in different ways and of course I was a child when my grandfather left us. I never really knew how she felt about my mother's death. It had to have been painful and terribly difficult to lose your eldest child.
Some nights when I am lonesome I talk to my Grandma. She doesn't give me advice - she usually didn't do that - but she was a good listener. So I know she hears me even if I don't get a response back. I think I might have to have a good long talk with her very, very soon.
 |
| Grandma |
Thursday, June 28, 2018
Thursday Thirteen
Wisdom from an emotional intelligence test:
1. Recognize emotions for what they are. Emotions are a signal. Don't let negative emotions simmer; instead, milk them for information.
2. Emotions and logic are not enemies. Emotions are a message. Logic is the way we interpret the message.
3. Don't brush aside gut instincts or intuitions.
4. Know the consequences of suppression. A buildup of negative emotions can result in a messy explosion, like a shaken soda can.
5. Learn to relax. Take deep breaths. Repeat calming words to yourself. Use imagery. Do a soothing task. Practice stretching, yoga, tai chi, etc. Go outside and breathe in fresh air.
6. Learn to use empathy. (I think 9/10 of the world needs to figure this one out.) Increase your connection to other people by truly listening and trying to put yourself in their shoes.
7. Don't fall victim to "The Fundamental Attribution Error." This means stop trying to figure out the causes of other people's actions. For example, the person you call a jerk who cuts you off in traffic maybe just learned his mother died. Be more forgiving. Try to understand that others are under just as much pressure and stress as you are, and as a result, their behavior may not always represent who they are.
8. Learn body language. People are not always honest. Be alert to the contradictions between what people say and how they behave. A terse "I'm fine" means the person probably isn't.
9. Deal with conflict in a timely manner. Don't have words in a public place. Pick the right place and time, but don't let it fester.
10. Be open to compromise. Give a little. Look past your own self-interest and think of what is the best resolution to a conflict as a whole.
11. Nurture your mental and emotional flexibility. Get beyond black-and-white thinking. Be open-minded with others. Focus on the best solution, not the solution you want.
12. Think before you speak (or post on Facebook or Tweet, for God's sake). Ask yourself if what you are about to say or write is worth communicating. Will it be productive? Is there a better way to say it?
13. Use "I" phrases. When criticizing, phrase it from your own point of view. Instead of "You frustrate me" say "I am frustrated when you do blah blah because it does blah blah." Say how you feel, why, and ask the other person a question that leaves the ball in their court. "You" phrases are accusatory, which puts the other person on the defensive.
This came from testyourself.psychtests.com which has a lot of different personality/psychological tests on it. Some are free, most you pay for. This one is incredibly long, which I didn't realize when I started it, and after spending about two hours on it I went ahead and ponied up the money for the full results. Essentially my score was reasonably good (right in the middle of the bell curve), but low in areas like emotional expression, personal drive, emotional regulation, comfort with emotional situations or people, and goal-setting (which was my lowest score), and self-motivation (not good for a self-employed freelancer, I suppose). I scored high in identifying emotions, social competencies, adaptable social skills, social insight, conflict-resolution knowledge, empathy, and flexibility.
I like to do a little self-analysis from time to time to see where I might need to step up. Obviously I need to set some goals for myself. I was talking about this with a friend just the other day. I had major goals but I reached them (obtain my BA, obtain my masters, write for the newspaper), but I didn't replace them as I reached them. So I need to replace them and figure out where I'm going now. I suppose at my age this could be a bucket list sort of thing, since I am old enough to die.
If you've been reading my blog for a while, you may think you know me. What would you suggest I consider for goals?
______________
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while and this is my 558th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.
1. Recognize emotions for what they are. Emotions are a signal. Don't let negative emotions simmer; instead, milk them for information.
2. Emotions and logic are not enemies. Emotions are a message. Logic is the way we interpret the message.
3. Don't brush aside gut instincts or intuitions.
4. Know the consequences of suppression. A buildup of negative emotions can result in a messy explosion, like a shaken soda can.
5. Learn to relax. Take deep breaths. Repeat calming words to yourself. Use imagery. Do a soothing task. Practice stretching, yoga, tai chi, etc. Go outside and breathe in fresh air.
6. Learn to use empathy. (I think 9/10 of the world needs to figure this one out.) Increase your connection to other people by truly listening and trying to put yourself in their shoes.
7. Don't fall victim to "The Fundamental Attribution Error." This means stop trying to figure out the causes of other people's actions. For example, the person you call a jerk who cuts you off in traffic maybe just learned his mother died. Be more forgiving. Try to understand that others are under just as much pressure and stress as you are, and as a result, their behavior may not always represent who they are.
8. Learn body language. People are not always honest. Be alert to the contradictions between what people say and how they behave. A terse "I'm fine" means the person probably isn't.
9. Deal with conflict in a timely manner. Don't have words in a public place. Pick the right place and time, but don't let it fester.
10. Be open to compromise. Give a little. Look past your own self-interest and think of what is the best resolution to a conflict as a whole.
11. Nurture your mental and emotional flexibility. Get beyond black-and-white thinking. Be open-minded with others. Focus on the best solution, not the solution you want.
12. Think before you speak (or post on Facebook or Tweet, for God's sake). Ask yourself if what you are about to say or write is worth communicating. Will it be productive? Is there a better way to say it?
13. Use "I" phrases. When criticizing, phrase it from your own point of view. Instead of "You frustrate me" say "I am frustrated when you do blah blah because it does blah blah." Say how you feel, why, and ask the other person a question that leaves the ball in their court. "You" phrases are accusatory, which puts the other person on the defensive.
This came from testyourself.psychtests.com which has a lot of different personality/psychological tests on it. Some are free, most you pay for. This one is incredibly long, which I didn't realize when I started it, and after spending about two hours on it I went ahead and ponied up the money for the full results. Essentially my score was reasonably good (right in the middle of the bell curve), but low in areas like emotional expression, personal drive, emotional regulation, comfort with emotional situations or people, and goal-setting (which was my lowest score), and self-motivation (not good for a self-employed freelancer, I suppose). I scored high in identifying emotions, social competencies, adaptable social skills, social insight, conflict-resolution knowledge, empathy, and flexibility.
I like to do a little self-analysis from time to time to see where I might need to step up. Obviously I need to set some goals for myself. I was talking about this with a friend just the other day. I had major goals but I reached them (obtain my BA, obtain my masters, write for the newspaper), but I didn't replace them as I reached them. So I need to replace them and figure out where I'm going now. I suppose at my age this could be a bucket list sort of thing, since I am old enough to die.
If you've been reading my blog for a while, you may think you know me. What would you suggest I consider for goals?
______________
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; there is a list here if you want to read other Thursday Thirteens and/or play along. I've been playing for a while and this is my 558th time to do a list of 13 on a Thursday. Or so sayth the Blogger counter, anyway.
Wednesday, June 27, 2018
Monday, June 25, 2018
When You Disagree
This weekend, a somewhat local restaurant (within 45 minutes of me, anyway, in Lexington) made the news because the owner asked the press spokesperson for the White House to leave and go eat elsewhere.
Given the horrors of this administration, I can understand the owner's desire to have the woman leave. This is an administration that separated babies from parents and put them in cages. Just today the president himself is calling for the end of due process for asylum seekers. He wants to round 'em up and send 'em back without even asking them why they want to come here.
To hell with the U.S. Constitution, right?
Some people are very happy with President Trump and that is their right. I hope that time proves me wrong about what I think of him. I always hope that with people in power, that I am proven wrong when I think they are doing bad things.
Generally, I am proven right. But only Time knows that; people have short memories, they twist events to suit themselves, the outcomes ultimately only matter if blood is spilled, and usually not even then. To be sure, at this stage, right or left, it's my opinion that we have all lost.
I don't know what I would do if I owned a restaurant and persons with whom I vehemently disagreed wanted to come in. I don't particularly like to deal with "the public," which is why being a news reporter suited me. I attended thousands of public events, but I was like a small bee. I was the invisible observer, polite if spoken to, otherwise obscure. I listened attentively if someone sought me out so I could hear their point of view, whether or not I agreed. It was up to me, later, to decide if I wanted to let their words find a larger voice (I usually did, because I am a professional and that was what professionals did.). Sometimes what they said was all blather and did not pertain to the issue at hand. I listened anyway because you never know when one thing will lead to something else. And since I was a reporter, and doing research, I freely spoke to folks when I wanted to, if I thought they had something interesting to say or something to add to the story.
For me, it was all about the story. It wasn't about opinion, power, or political sides. It was about facts, and that was all I cared about.
There was this one time, though, when I turned down hot dogs. You'd have thought I had done the unthinkable. Perhaps back then it was. It stands out in my mind because I think it is one of the few times I walked away from a story for personal reasons.
The year was 1997. It was August, and hot. Candidate Jim Gilmore, who would that November win the Virginia governor's seat and who in 2008 ran for President of the United States, was stumping in Craig County (population 4,950 about that time).
I was the freelance reporter who was covering Craig County for the little tiny weekly paper. I was paid somewhere around $25 a story, plus mileage, so I tried to get three or four articles at a whack every time I drove over there. Otherwise it simply didn't pay because New Castle (the Craig County seat), like Lexington, is 45 minutes away.
So on this hot August day, maybe around 11 a.m., I showed up in downtown New Castle to take a photo of Jim Gilmore roaming around shaking hands, and write up a little something about his visit.
I was the only media there. No TV reporters with cameras, no daily newspaper reporter. Nobody with a cellphone with a camera because those hadn't hit mainstream yet. There was just me with my little notebook and my Nikon FG-50 film camera.
Mr. Gilmore was accompanied by three men, his handlers, I suppose we would call them today. They had on dark black suits and sunglasses, and looked sweaty in the broiling sun. They were loud, boisterous, misogynistic, and racist. They called me "little lady reporter" and offered suggestions for photos, as if I hadn't been doing this for 12 years by that time and couldn't figure out a good angle for a picture. They whispered quotes into Mr. Gilmore's ear about the charm of the historic venue. One of them snickered about the fact that New Castle was once a "sunset town" - that is to say, there was a sign there, taken down during my life time, that threatened black people if they were caught in the county after dark. (Not long after Mr. Gilmore's visit, the KKK had a party over there, too, and then someone burned a cross in the yard of a man who was housing a black person. I refused to write those stories, too. Not for $25.)
These busy important fellows also all smoked cigarettes and threw the butts into the street, grinding the cancer sticks beneath the heels of their expensive shoes. They left their litter on the sidewalk.
They stunk in every sense of the word, these men.
When they headed for the little hot dog restaurant that used to be in town, one of them asked me if I'd like to join them for lunch. "You know, get an exclusive," he said. Wink, wink.
"No thank you," I said. "I have all I need."
With that I walked off, trying not to double over laughing at their slack jaws. I don't think anyone in the media had ever told them no before. I heard them talking as I walked away. "Can you believe that?" one of them said.
Maybe it was a missed opportunity. I could have written the greatest piece ever about the soon-to-be governor and how he loved chili and called the cook the best hot dog maker in the state. Or perhaps I could have overheard him say something like his cohorts did, something callous and racist, and printed it. It would have been in a newspaper that less than 2,500 people read, at a time when there was no Facebook, no Twitter, no social media. Maybe the daily newspaper would have picked it up, but I doubt it. They paid little attention to that area of their readership.
So I walked away, leaving Gilmore's handlers surprised and confused because the media - i.e., me - spurned them. They thought, I'm sure, that I was doing a poor job. What they didn't know was this: I was only being paid $25 and I had the story I was being paid to write. These men were jerks, they were smoking cigarettes, and I have asthma. I also thought Mr. Gilmore was insincere and I knew his "no car tax" mantra would ultimately fail if the legislation passed because I'd talked to two different commissioners of revenue who had done the math and shown me how it would never work. (The legislation passed. It destroyed Virginia's rainy day fund and we're still paying the car tax to this day. So much for slogans.)
So why would I go eat a hot dog with these people?
That was how I handled something I didn't want to deal with. I walked away from powerful men who were talking down to me, who were making fun of the community I was covering, and who were about as black-hearted as a vulture looming over the fence hungrily gazing at a dead deer. I've been a reporter for a long time. I can size people up fairly well.
Today? Today I'm older. Hopefully wiser. Would I do it differently now? Now I wouldn't even take the job. And if I took the job, I still wouldn't go eat a hot dog with chain-smoking, self-righteous braggarts who thought I owed them something simply because they existed. The only thing I might do differently is be more insincerely apologetic and say I had a previous engagement or something, simply because of social media. (Social media sucks but the reality is I wouldn't want some dude tweeting "news reporter just walked away from exclusive. What a bitch!")
After all, turning your back and walking away from someone is, in itself, a special form of power. It's a power we all have, if we only think to use it.
Throwing someone out of your restaurant is another form of power, similar to turning your back. Good or bad? Your guess is as good as mine.
Given the horrors of this administration, I can understand the owner's desire to have the woman leave. This is an administration that separated babies from parents and put them in cages. Just today the president himself is calling for the end of due process for asylum seekers. He wants to round 'em up and send 'em back without even asking them why they want to come here.
To hell with the U.S. Constitution, right?
Some people are very happy with President Trump and that is their right. I hope that time proves me wrong about what I think of him. I always hope that with people in power, that I am proven wrong when I think they are doing bad things.
Generally, I am proven right. But only Time knows that; people have short memories, they twist events to suit themselves, the outcomes ultimately only matter if blood is spilled, and usually not even then. To be sure, at this stage, right or left, it's my opinion that we have all lost.
I don't know what I would do if I owned a restaurant and persons with whom I vehemently disagreed wanted to come in. I don't particularly like to deal with "the public," which is why being a news reporter suited me. I attended thousands of public events, but I was like a small bee. I was the invisible observer, polite if spoken to, otherwise obscure. I listened attentively if someone sought me out so I could hear their point of view, whether or not I agreed. It was up to me, later, to decide if I wanted to let their words find a larger voice (I usually did, because I am a professional and that was what professionals did.). Sometimes what they said was all blather and did not pertain to the issue at hand. I listened anyway because you never know when one thing will lead to something else. And since I was a reporter, and doing research, I freely spoke to folks when I wanted to, if I thought they had something interesting to say or something to add to the story.
For me, it was all about the story. It wasn't about opinion, power, or political sides. It was about facts, and that was all I cared about.
There was this one time, though, when I turned down hot dogs. You'd have thought I had done the unthinkable. Perhaps back then it was. It stands out in my mind because I think it is one of the few times I walked away from a story for personal reasons.
The year was 1997. It was August, and hot. Candidate Jim Gilmore, who would that November win the Virginia governor's seat and who in 2008 ran for President of the United States, was stumping in Craig County (population 4,950 about that time).
I was the freelance reporter who was covering Craig County for the little tiny weekly paper. I was paid somewhere around $25 a story, plus mileage, so I tried to get three or four articles at a whack every time I drove over there. Otherwise it simply didn't pay because New Castle (the Craig County seat), like Lexington, is 45 minutes away.
So on this hot August day, maybe around 11 a.m., I showed up in downtown New Castle to take a photo of Jim Gilmore roaming around shaking hands, and write up a little something about his visit.
I was the only media there. No TV reporters with cameras, no daily newspaper reporter. Nobody with a cellphone with a camera because those hadn't hit mainstream yet. There was just me with my little notebook and my Nikon FG-50 film camera.
Mr. Gilmore was accompanied by three men, his handlers, I suppose we would call them today. They had on dark black suits and sunglasses, and looked sweaty in the broiling sun. They were loud, boisterous, misogynistic, and racist. They called me "little lady reporter" and offered suggestions for photos, as if I hadn't been doing this for 12 years by that time and couldn't figure out a good angle for a picture. They whispered quotes into Mr. Gilmore's ear about the charm of the historic venue. One of them snickered about the fact that New Castle was once a "sunset town" - that is to say, there was a sign there, taken down during my life time, that threatened black people if they were caught in the county after dark. (Not long after Mr. Gilmore's visit, the KKK had a party over there, too, and then someone burned a cross in the yard of a man who was housing a black person. I refused to write those stories, too. Not for $25.)
These busy important fellows also all smoked cigarettes and threw the butts into the street, grinding the cancer sticks beneath the heels of their expensive shoes. They left their litter on the sidewalk.
They stunk in every sense of the word, these men.
When they headed for the little hot dog restaurant that used to be in town, one of them asked me if I'd like to join them for lunch. "You know, get an exclusive," he said. Wink, wink.
"No thank you," I said. "I have all I need."
With that I walked off, trying not to double over laughing at their slack jaws. I don't think anyone in the media had ever told them no before. I heard them talking as I walked away. "Can you believe that?" one of them said.
Maybe it was a missed opportunity. I could have written the greatest piece ever about the soon-to-be governor and how he loved chili and called the cook the best hot dog maker in the state. Or perhaps I could have overheard him say something like his cohorts did, something callous and racist, and printed it. It would have been in a newspaper that less than 2,500 people read, at a time when there was no Facebook, no Twitter, no social media. Maybe the daily newspaper would have picked it up, but I doubt it. They paid little attention to that area of their readership.
So I walked away, leaving Gilmore's handlers surprised and confused because the media - i.e., me - spurned them. They thought, I'm sure, that I was doing a poor job. What they didn't know was this: I was only being paid $25 and I had the story I was being paid to write. These men were jerks, they were smoking cigarettes, and I have asthma. I also thought Mr. Gilmore was insincere and I knew his "no car tax" mantra would ultimately fail if the legislation passed because I'd talked to two different commissioners of revenue who had done the math and shown me how it would never work. (The legislation passed. It destroyed Virginia's rainy day fund and we're still paying the car tax to this day. So much for slogans.)
So why would I go eat a hot dog with these people?
That was how I handled something I didn't want to deal with. I walked away from powerful men who were talking down to me, who were making fun of the community I was covering, and who were about as black-hearted as a vulture looming over the fence hungrily gazing at a dead deer. I've been a reporter for a long time. I can size people up fairly well.
Today? Today I'm older. Hopefully wiser. Would I do it differently now? Now I wouldn't even take the job. And if I took the job, I still wouldn't go eat a hot dog with chain-smoking, self-righteous braggarts who thought I owed them something simply because they existed. The only thing I might do differently is be more insincerely apologetic and say I had a previous engagement or something, simply because of social media. (Social media sucks but the reality is I wouldn't want some dude tweeting "news reporter just walked away from exclusive. What a bitch!")
After all, turning your back and walking away from someone is, in itself, a special form of power. It's a power we all have, if we only think to use it.
Throwing someone out of your restaurant is another form of power, similar to turning your back. Good or bad? Your guess is as good as mine.
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