http://www.kansas.com/2010/03/01/1204128/work-key-to-long-life-for-102.html
I love this article. And not just because Judge Brown reinforces my not-retirement plan. I also love his comment about privacy laws. I had never really thought about it in that way. Our expectations of privacy really are pretty new in human history if you really think about it.
We think sex is something private. But until well into the 20th century, many people in western society lived as a family group in a one-room set-up. If you were a farm kid living in a sod house, or an immigrant living in a one-room tenement in a big city, you probably had no questions about where babies came from. You were more than likely present when your baby sister was conceived. And if you were wealthy, you probably had some sort of hired help who saw what you threw away, cleaned your dirty linen or coughed discreetly before they entered a room.
The fact that we are more mobile as a society has given us some illusion of privacy too. If you are born in a town and live there until the day you die, more than likely everyone will know every little thing you’ve ever done. Hard to have secrets when someone can say “You know those Joneses. Cheap as can be, every last one of them.” And though it’s much rarer to live your entire life in one place, we’re starting to create our own villages on the internet. You can live 5,000 miles from your hometown, but one posted picture of you doing body shots off of a waiter named Jaime on Facebook and suddenly everybody you’ve ever known once again knows your business.
I think the judge is probably right – the more we push each other away as a society, the more we find ways to draw each other close again.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Give a little bit
Not sure if anyone else is inclined this way, but I thought I’d pass along something I found out. I was making a donation to the Red Cross for Haiti a few weeks ago, and discovered that you can make a donation through your Amazon account. First, don’t tell my Dad that I’m donating to the Red Cross – he hates them, something to do with Vietnam, even though my Dad served in Turkey not Vietnam, but he gets all purple in the face, so I’m not going there to find out. Second, I’m donating to the Red Cross because they’re there. Wherever the disaster is, they are there.
So, knowing what I did about the Haiti donation, I went again for Chile, and it is incredibly easy to just give $10. I spend $10 on a lot of stupid things in this world, so giving a little dough to help people whose lives have fallen down around them is the least I can do. And my biggest barrier to donating at times like this is that I think of it, then I forget because I don't have a phone number, or website, or my credit card right then. The Amazon link makes it instant grat giving. What a concept!
And of course I have an Amazon account. I put Mr. Amazon’s youngest through college. I know there’s a lot of things that are questionable, but still, I adore Amazon. I do at least half my holiday shopping through them. I can buy just about anything that’s available on the internet, without coughing up my credit card info to anyone and everyone. And now they make it completely donate money right when it’s need. I heart Amazon very, very much.
So, knowing what I did about the Haiti donation, I went again for Chile, and it is incredibly easy to just give $10. I spend $10 on a lot of stupid things in this world, so giving a little dough to help people whose lives have fallen down around them is the least I can do. And my biggest barrier to donating at times like this is that I think of it, then I forget because I don't have a phone number, or website, or my credit card right then. The Amazon link makes it instant grat giving. What a concept!
And of course I have an Amazon account. I put Mr. Amazon’s youngest through college. I know there’s a lot of things that are questionable, but still, I adore Amazon. I do at least half my holiday shopping through them. I can buy just about anything that’s available on the internet, without coughing up my credit card info to anyone and everyone. And now they make it completely donate money right when it’s need. I heart Amazon very, very much.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Walk this way . . .
So, I started ushering for the big performing arts center downtown. Gotta say – luv it!
For one thing, I can pull off the Greta Garbo/half-drag/boy look that is the ushering costume. One of the benefits of having no boobs. Androgyny I can do. It’s the standard “everybody look the same” thing where you bring a white dress shirt and black slacks, and they provide a charcoal, menswear vest and burgundy tie. No style points, and no room for personal flair. But if I’m going to do it, I’m going to do be the best little drag boy I can be. So I spent a half hour on Saturday learning to tie a Windsor knot (which one of the male ushers noted approvingly is the “Cadillac of knots”). I think I looked a right treat.
For another thing, it’s a nice social activity for the socially awkward. There’s a weird sense of anonymous camaraderie that you get. There are so many volunteers, you’ll have a smile-and-nod acquaintance with a lot of people, but never have to come up with more than 2 minutes of conversation with any of them. And how hard can it be to like anyone for 2 minutes at a time?
Plus, it gives me the chance to exercise my “alternate personality.” I am painfully shy. But over the years, I’ve developed this other identity. I use her in situations where I have to look like I’m an extrovert. She just struts right up to strangers with a big smile, “Hi! Can I help you find your seats?” All that contact with strangers would make me a nervous wreck, but she seems to do just fine (seriously, I swear I’m not nuts. I think they call this a coping mechanism). I haven’t actually had to use those outgoing muscles in awhile, so I was kind of surprised that I was able to just jump in and be Miss Perky without feeling too rusty.
So, I’m going to sign up for a few more sessions between now and April 1. Keeps me from that blank, accusing stare from the TV. And as for volunteer work, it beats picking up trash by a country mile.
For one thing, I can pull off the Greta Garbo/half-drag/boy look that is the ushering costume. One of the benefits of having no boobs. Androgyny I can do. It’s the standard “everybody look the same” thing where you bring a white dress shirt and black slacks, and they provide a charcoal, menswear vest and burgundy tie. No style points, and no room for personal flair. But if I’m going to do it, I’m going to do be the best little drag boy I can be. So I spent a half hour on Saturday learning to tie a Windsor knot (which one of the male ushers noted approvingly is the “Cadillac of knots”). I think I looked a right treat.
For another thing, it’s a nice social activity for the socially awkward. There’s a weird sense of anonymous camaraderie that you get. There are so many volunteers, you’ll have a smile-and-nod acquaintance with a lot of people, but never have to come up with more than 2 minutes of conversation with any of them. And how hard can it be to like anyone for 2 minutes at a time?
Plus, it gives me the chance to exercise my “alternate personality.” I am painfully shy. But over the years, I’ve developed this other identity. I use her in situations where I have to look like I’m an extrovert. She just struts right up to strangers with a big smile, “Hi! Can I help you find your seats?” All that contact with strangers would make me a nervous wreck, but she seems to do just fine (seriously, I swear I’m not nuts. I think they call this a coping mechanism). I haven’t actually had to use those outgoing muscles in awhile, so I was kind of surprised that I was able to just jump in and be Miss Perky without feeling too rusty.
So, I’m going to sign up for a few more sessions between now and April 1. Keeps me from that blank, accusing stare from the TV. And as for volunteer work, it beats picking up trash by a country mile.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
That, kid, is the circle of life
Okay, the killer whale.
Those poor, poor kids, and their poor, poor parents. Just out to have a fun day at a theme park and look at all the wonderful sea life. And then the sea life kills a trainer. Ooooohhhh. Not good. “Jimmy, this is Dr. Rosenblatt. Show her with the dolls what happened at the bad place.”
On the other hand, score one for the killer whales. I’ve been to Sea World, and I wanted bite somebody after 2 hours. Imagine 6 shows a day with those yappy bastards in the wetsuits and Janet Jackson headsets. Out of the pool, into the pool. Out of the pool, into the pool. Out of the pool, into the pool. Wave at the crowd, Shamu! If I was an orca I’d be thinking, “Hey, you know, I probably have these choppers for a reason.”
Plus, no matter how big one of those pools is, it’s not the open ocean. For an orca, it’s got to be the equivalent of an 8’x10’ cell. You can take a few laps, but eventually it’s all gonna look pretty much the same.
And maybe the killer whale wasn’t even pissed off. Maybe it was just a bad day. No performer is on every show. Sometimes you’re hitting on all cylinders, they laugh, they cry, everything you do is golden. And sometimes you fall on a trainer and squash her. It pretty much was going to happen someday.
Still. In my book, that’s one for Shamu.
Those poor, poor kids, and their poor, poor parents. Just out to have a fun day at a theme park and look at all the wonderful sea life. And then the sea life kills a trainer. Ooooohhhh. Not good. “Jimmy, this is Dr. Rosenblatt. Show her with the dolls what happened at the bad place.”
On the other hand, score one for the killer whales. I’ve been to Sea World, and I wanted bite somebody after 2 hours. Imagine 6 shows a day with those yappy bastards in the wetsuits and Janet Jackson headsets. Out of the pool, into the pool. Out of the pool, into the pool. Out of the pool, into the pool. Wave at the crowd, Shamu! If I was an orca I’d be thinking, “Hey, you know, I probably have these choppers for a reason.”
Plus, no matter how big one of those pools is, it’s not the open ocean. For an orca, it’s got to be the equivalent of an 8’x10’ cell. You can take a few laps, but eventually it’s all gonna look pretty much the same.
And maybe the killer whale wasn’t even pissed off. Maybe it was just a bad day. No performer is on every show. Sometimes you’re hitting on all cylinders, they laugh, they cry, everything you do is golden. And sometimes you fall on a trainer and squash her. It pretty much was going to happen someday.
Still. In my book, that’s one for Shamu.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
True Confessions
Well, it’s been a week. It’s been a loooooong week. And I’d say I’d rate myself as 95% successful. I fell off the wagon twice. Once on each count.
The food has really been the easier task so far. I’ve been enjoying the home-cooked meals. Even if I did have to cook most of them myself. And my baked goods are just scrumptious, thank you very kindly. But this is the area where I deliberately and with malicious intent broke the rules. I snapped. Ate half of a Choxie coconut and dark chocolate bar. I did it. Enjoyed myself too. Guilt is delicious.
I blame the fact that I’ve completely got no idea what I’m doing as far as calorie count. You know, when you’re trying to keep track, packaged things have those handy little nutrition labels. Oranges do not. And I think I’ve been low-balling my calorie intake. Not good. When I get to the end of the day, and I haven’t quite made my numbers for the day, and I’m sitting around not watching TV, I’m really vulnerable to sneaky chocolate bars with delicate wrappers that you can just tear right off and that call my name from the pantry. Lesson learned.
The TV thing has been much harder, and made me incredibly irritable. It’s like somebody took my pacifier away from me. And I really have not been handling it well, in spite of a lot of support from friends and family on this. But I did not intentionally watch TV. I was looking at Yahoo, and saw a link for something that looked interesting, which I clicked. And 30 seconds later, while I’m watching the little video “this week in something or other” clip, I suddenly realized, “Oh, this is TV.” Just kind of happened.
But, I’m not going to let it derail me. I’m back on the horse. A little warier, a little wiser. And all the more determined that I’m going to make this work. These are deep habits. And it’s probably unrealistic to expect I’ll be able to make it through this with no mistakes. Like the song says, “Pick yourself up, brush yourself off, start all over again.”
The food has really been the easier task so far. I’ve been enjoying the home-cooked meals. Even if I did have to cook most of them myself. And my baked goods are just scrumptious, thank you very kindly. But this is the area where I deliberately and with malicious intent broke the rules. I snapped. Ate half of a Choxie coconut and dark chocolate bar. I did it. Enjoyed myself too. Guilt is delicious.
I blame the fact that I’ve completely got no idea what I’m doing as far as calorie count. You know, when you’re trying to keep track, packaged things have those handy little nutrition labels. Oranges do not. And I think I’ve been low-balling my calorie intake. Not good. When I get to the end of the day, and I haven’t quite made my numbers for the day, and I’m sitting around not watching TV, I’m really vulnerable to sneaky chocolate bars with delicate wrappers that you can just tear right off and that call my name from the pantry. Lesson learned.
The TV thing has been much harder, and made me incredibly irritable. It’s like somebody took my pacifier away from me. And I really have not been handling it well, in spite of a lot of support from friends and family on this. But I did not intentionally watch TV. I was looking at Yahoo, and saw a link for something that looked interesting, which I clicked. And 30 seconds later, while I’m watching the little video “this week in something or other” clip, I suddenly realized, “Oh, this is TV.” Just kind of happened.
But, I’m not going to let it derail me. I’m back on the horse. A little warier, a little wiser. And all the more determined that I’m going to make this work. These are deep habits. And it’s probably unrealistic to expect I’ll be able to make it through this with no mistakes. Like the song says, “Pick yourself up, brush yourself off, start all over again.”
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