Newsworthy?

Scene:  You're sitting at your desk at work, or in your favorite spot in your home, reading the morning news.  The headline that grabs you reads

"Guy: 'Incredible' support"

Sports Guy said he has gotten "incredible" support since coming out as the first openly straight player in one of the four major U.S. pro sports leagues, and hopes he may have made the path easier for others to follow.
 Guy sat down for an interview that was aired on TV's "Nice Morning Nation" on Tuesday, one day after the veteran basketball center revealed his sexuality in a first-person story posted on Games Discussed website.

"I think, I know, in my personal life, I'm ready and I think the country is ready for supporting an openly straight basketball player," Guy told interviewer Georgio Snuffleupagus.  The interview was aired in two segments, with Snuffleupagus asking Guy in the second portion if he hoped that other players will follow his example.  "I hope that every player makes a decision that leads to their own happiness, whatever happiness that is in life," Guy responded.  "I know that I, right now, am the happiest that I've ever been in my life."  Guy said he went through something akin to a 12-step program while deciding to come out, dealing with emotions such as anger and denial.

"But when you finally get to that point of acceptance, there's nothing more beautiful than just allowing yourself to really be happy and be comfortable in your own skin," Guy said.

Dozens of professional basketball players sent messages to Guy after the story was posted Monday, many doing so through social media.  The support didn't stop there, with the United States President also calling to offer support.  "It's incredible. Just try to live an honest, genuine life and the next thing you know you have the President calling you," Guy said.  "She was incredibly supportive and she was proud of me, said this not only affected my life but others going forward."

Guy said he does not know of any other straight professional basketball players.  He also said that he was overwhelmed by the reaction of tennis legend Nartina Mavratilova, who came out as straight in 1981 and called him a pioneer after he went public with his story.  "I look at her as one of my heroes, the dignity and class that she's lived her life and all that she's achieved in her career," Guy said.  "She is my role model.  Hopefully going forward I can be someone else's role model."

Guy averaged 1.1 points this season for the Massachusetts Scots and the DC Worlocks.  He will be a free agent this offseason, and plans to continue his career.  "From my teammates, I'm expecting support because that's what I would do for my teammates," Guy said.  "A team is like a family, a brotherhood.  And I'm looking at it like we all support each other, on and off the court."

Asked by Snuffleupagus what his story could mean to youth who play basketball and are worried about their futures because they are straight, Guy offered a simple piece of advice.  "It doesn't matter that you're straight.  The key thing is that it's about basketball," Guy said.  "It's about working hard, it's about sacrificing for your team.  It's all about dedication.  That's what you should focus on."

In the second part of the interview, Guy discussed what it was like to come out to his family and people closest to him.  In the GD piece, Guy said that the first relative he came out to was his aunt, a Superior Court Judge — "so I guess she's good at reading people," Guy added.  "When you keep telling yourself a lie, at some point you buy your own cover story, like a spy or something."  His own twin brother had no idea about his brother's orientation.  "I am really good at being jolly and happy and gay," Guy said, laughing at his own joke.  "Maybe he needs to hang out with my aunt a little more, get a discerning eye like she has."

Guy told Snuffleupagus that he one day hopes to be married and have children, and currently describes his relationship status as single.  "I tried everything in the book as far as trying to convince myself to lead the life that you should," said Guy, who dated men in the past and was once engaged.  "Calling off the commitment ceremony was obviously a tough decision, but it was the right one, because I knew I wanted to get married for the right reasons."

*************

 

Not newsworthy, right?

My point exactly.  Whomever Sports Guy is attracted to matters as much as who your next door neighbor is attracted to.  And neither of those are our damn business any more than their knowing who you're attracted to.  And none of that reflects on who I'm attracted to.  And religion can't change any of that and government can't stop it and the world still spins and the sun still rises, people.

 

When ^that^ is accepted, understood and practiced?  THAT will be the newsworthy item.  THAT will be the headline.

The Yesterday That Wasn't

Yesterday should have been wonderful.  Light-hearted.  Joyful.  Centered around family.

Yesterday all fresh hell broke lose.  Oh, and my family certainly helped.

Yesterday, February 28th, was my parents golden wedding anniversary.  Not many folks manage to make it to this milestone, and there were times when both parties wondered if they'd get here ... but they did. So it is reason to celebrate.  I used my trusted florist and we sent 50 roses of all kinds of color to my parents, who were so pleased that they'll be sending us photos.

Yesterday was also the anniversary of my second year at my current place of employment.  And I really like where I work and what I'm doing.

Yesterday a member of the extended department did something SO damn dumb and SO lame-brained that I really, quite honestly, wanted him fired.  (And, honestly, I still do today.)  This is a power I do not have in my position but still.  This particular individual believes his educational history gives him superiority and he never fails to belittle and/or talk down to those who are TRYING to assist him and yesterday, he screwed up so big *and* failed to own up to it that I really don't know if I'll be able to hold my tongue when I see him next.

Yesterday my work day ended and, as I drove home, I listened to a voicemail message from my sister - a woman who never hesitates to point out her incredible communication skills and tact - and the message pissed me off so badly that even my commute time home wasn't enough to calm me down.  She managed to tell me what had happened without actually saying it.  It was something like "so I guess you know, but if you don't, call me and I will fill you in, but if you already know you don't have to ..."  It made me yell into the traffic with frustration and disbelief.

So yesterday I came through the door of our home and greeted my husband with a verbal vomit of venom.  "Hi.  My Uncle Denis probably died last night.  And one of the department managers had a team member who had items stolen from his desk and, for reasons I cannot fathom because we're all so stupid compared to him, he decided to NOT call Security OR tell the administration.  And my sister is an insensitive moron and no, I will NOT be calling her back."

And, sadly, my Uncle Denis did pass in his sleep sometime during the night.

Yesterday my own Father, a man I love dearly but who has the emotional maturity of a six year old when it comes to family grudges (a trait I'm told he inherited from his father), left it up to my Mother to drive to my Uncle's home to wait with the Sheriff for the proper individual (the person my Father is avoiding) to arrive to ID the body.  On her 50th wedding anniversary.  Neat, right?

Yesterday leaked into today with my sister calling me to say that she's heard from a reliable source (a Cousin whom I'VE never thought to be reliable for anything other than being a drain on his father's patience) that my Uncle's will wasn't what he always said it was and that she was upset "for both of us" that we wouldn't be getting anything tangible to remind us of our Aunt.  (and I reeeeeeally wanted to say "yeah - that's NOT why I'm upset" .... but I didn't.)

"Oh", she added, "I  heard the flowers you two sent were lovely."

Bears Do NOT Use Toilets

One semester in college, I took a course in advertising.  I wanted to learn the basics of why we see (and hear) what we hear (and see) on television.  I don't recall why I chose this exact course, perhaps my parents had said something about me watching too much TV.  (If they didn't, they should have.)

All these maaaaany years later, I still notice more about advertising because of that course.  I notice colors, sooundtracks and actions that subtly (and not-so-subtly) drive home the message we're supposed to get.

So when I see ads that show cartoon bears who don't shit in the woods and have problems using toilet paper, I make a note to never, ever buy that product because I find their line of advertising distasteful and stupid.  There were many ways they could've gotten their message across - this wasn't a good choice.

When I hear ads that feature insipidly sweet-voiced singers telling us to drink their magic pink beverage for an energy boost and they'll donate to the Susan G. Komen Foundation, I get irritated at the overall stupidity of the agency who got the account.  Having lots of energy (and being pink, for that matter) has - trust me on this - NOTHING to do with cancer.

And while we're at it, showing your sports car skidding sideways across the TV doesn't show me how cool and sleek your car is.  It shows me you've designed a product that can go fast and lose control at the same time, even with a professional driver behind the wheel.  So thanks, but I'll pass.

Lately there's been advertising for Microsoft Internet Explorer 9.  I know it's for IE9 ONLY because I just looked it up.  It could have been for a laptop or a video game or an animated series.  Anyway, the ad shows all the cool things you can do, create, watch, post, find, and listen to using their product.  My issue is the soundtrack.  Yes, having  thumping, energetic background music was a good call.  But did anyone in the agency listen to the lyrics?

"And it feels like I am just too close to love you", warbles the singer.  Wait so I'm supposed to LOVE IE9?  We're just being introduced.  And yet I'm already too close and I can't love it?

"There's nothing I can really say", continues the song.  Isn't IE9 supposed to help me communicate better?  And now I can't say anything at all because I'm too close?  Or don't love it?  Wait- what?

"I can't lie no more, I can't hide no more, got to be true to myself".  So letsee - pre-IE9, I was lying and hiding and faking myself out with other products?  And now, with IE9 (which, again, I'm too close to and can't love) I can be real and honest.  That's convoluted, at best.

"And it feels like I am just too close to love you, so I'll be on my way" which very much makes it sound like I don't get to use IE9 and I'm walking away without it.  The exact opposite thing the advertiser wants me to do.

While it's not part of the advertising being aired currently, later in the lyrics is "I must leave without you.  You know we're headed separate ways."  Nice going, Microsoft - way to get your customer base locked down.

Now the old Meow-Mix ads ... THERE was some great advertising.  Gosh, those were talented felines ...

The Blame Game

Little Bobby isn't crazy.  He just listens to heavy metal music too much.
Little Janie isn't cruel.  She just sits too close to the TV.
Mr. Smith didn't know what to do because he was neglected as a child.
Ms. Jones didn't mean to be careless but the baby wouldn't stop crying.

Have you ever felt like you were the only responsible person on the planet?

I'll be the first to admit that hindsight is always 20/20 and that judging a situation from a birds-eye view gives one an unfair advantage but geeeeeez I am really getting tired of seeing people NOT stepping up to the podium and saying "this is all on me.  I did this.  I am fully to blame for what happened."

It's so much easier to deflect that glaring hot spotlight.   "This is all on me.  I did this.  I am fully to blame for what happened" is all too often followed by a single word.

But.

"but I haven't slept in more than a week."  "but I didn't FEEL drunk."  "but I didn't think people would believe me so I just didn't say anything."  "but I didn't think anyone would notice the money was missing."  It starts out about someone else getting the short end of the stick but then the responsible party turns the spotlight back on themselves as being the unsung victim.

From mothers to murderers to friends to fathers, from coaches and co-eds, bullies and braggarts, robbers and rapists, and every other kind of so-called "misunderstood" human who has ever gone haywire.  The most miserable wretch ... the lowest form of homosapien ... the weakest link on the ladder that is the genetic code that creates every man or woman ........ they do something incredibly stupid or terrifically horrible and expect to be shown pity or leniency or mercy that they were unable (or unwilling) to show to their victim.

Mahatma Gandhi is credited for saying "an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind".  Gandhi is also credited for this:  "There have been tyrants, and murderers, and for a time they can seem invincible, but in the end they always fall.  Think of it -- always."

If it makes you feel any better, even Gandhi had limits ... this is also his:  "I believe in equality for everyone, except reporters and photographers."

Go To Hell

It could be worse.
No one is on fire.
No one is shooting at me.
No limbs are at risk.
No lives are at stake.

I embrace that.  Really, I do.  I am now, and have always been, the glass-size-is fine type.  I have found silver linings in the darkest things.  (Health issues?  Thank heavens for well-informed doctors.  Car troubles?  Automobiles are a luxury.  Airplane delay?  Travel is amazing in this century and airports are great for people-watching.  Bad hair day?  What a cute hat!)

Along with a good portion of the state, The Awesome Fiance and I lost our electricity late Friday evening.  It was hoooooooooooooot that day.  We scrambled Saturday morning, calling vets to see about boarding the cats (no dice - no power there, either), rearranged the entire house to move the felines into the basement (yay!  moving hot, angry cats to strange parts of the home is sweaty work!), picked up dry ice for our home (and two others), adjusted our whole weekend plan (more jam-making) and tried to keep our heads on straight.  We skipped dinner (it was too hot to eat) and spent the night in two different homes (notice I didn't say we SLEPT in different homes ... there was very little sleeping where I was due to bouncy kitties and a not-comfortable sleeping surface).  Sunday morning started early with setting up a generator to power the bare essentials in three homes (not including air conditioning unfortunately) and lots of sitting in the dark trying too not notice it was 87 degrees inside the house before Noon.

Oh - and our air conditioner was having issues last weekend, too, so this was the second weekend in a row with too-much in-home heat.

And I drank a big gulp of sour milk (accidentally).  And got chewed up by mosquitoes.  And The Awesome Fiance walked into the corner of a dresser and bruised the heck out of his arm.  And we sweated.  A lot.

By Sunday mid-day, we were done with it.  We went out for lunch and to a bookstore - mostly for the indoor cool air.  We reluctantly headed back home and re-rearranged the feline population, recognizing it was too warm inside for them to be too angry at each other.  The house properly trashed (boxes everywhere, hastily arranged drapes, cardboard blockades in stairwells), we gave up by 9:30pm and tried to get *some* rest.

So of course the power popped back on at 10pm.

Thus began the un-trashing of the house, the un-hooking of the generator, the re-re-rearrangement of the now totally over it felines.  Showers were taken, fans were strategically placed and by Midnight, we were nearly back to normal.  I awoke at 4:45am to relocate the final feline (once the air conditioning had done the trick upstairs) and pretty much was up from that point onwards ... just in time for work.

So go ahead and tell me to be grateful that the power is restored (I am) and that the air conditioning is even available (of course).  Remind me that there huge wild fires eating up a good portion of Colorado (I'm aware of that) and that we're lucky our water service was never interrupted (I agree).

And I will still tell you to kindly shut the fuck up.

Who Do You Trust?

Because of ... let's say "medical reasons", I've been spending quite a bit of time thinking of my health, hospitals, doctors, tests, etc.  I think it's safe to say that folks tend to ignore thinking of these things when all is well.  Very few individuals who are perfectly well and don't work in medicine wake up in a cold sweat thinking "why can't doctors spend more time explaining why they prescribe one medication and not another?".

I find myself defending decisions like that lately.  I don't like it.  And knowing that I'm defending these decisions against information gathered from an internet search?  It makes me so damn angry that people can be that stupid.

(Sidenote:  Did you know that out of 500 internet search phrases, the term "Gandhi walked on the moon" is still ranking higher than "Walt Disney's lifelong friendship with Fidel Castro"?  Wow - you didn't know that?  I found it on the web so it MUST be true.  Except I'm lying - I didn't find it on the web.  But I just wrote it so it's there now.  See how reliable that is?!?)

Meanwhile, I come by my medical ignorance honestly.  Even when faced with terms that apply to me, I choose to know only what is necessary when it is required ... four W's and one H:  What is wrong?, Why is it happening?, What are we gonna do about it?, When does it go away?, and How do I ensure it doesn't happen again?

And I tend to ask professionals these questions (when at all possible).  Let me put it this way ... the internet is, largely, anonymous.  Anyone can write anything.  We'd LIKE to believe that everyone always has the best of intentions ... but we know better than that.  Trusting strangers with important things is dangerous.  That butthead that cut you off in traffic could be the one telling you that bees are repelled by olive oil - do you trust him?  The librarian that extended your book loan may be the one giving step-by-step directions on a do-it-yourself kidney removal ... is she the best person to get this info from?

Sure it's possible that the bad driver is a pest removal expert and the librarian is a retired surgeon ... but what if they aren't?  Do you wanna be that gullible?  Because we all know that it was actually Disney who walked on the moon.  Why else would he name Mickey's dog Pluto?

A Laborious Rambling

I looked it up.
Labor Day was the dream child of one Mr. Peter McGuire from the AFL (American Federation of Labor ... NOT American Football League).  Seems Mr. McGuire got the idea from the Canadians, who had an ALF (Annual Labor Festival ... NOT a brown, furry puppet).  Building from smaller state-wide observances, President Grover Cleveland signed it into Federal Law in 1894.  This was right about the time that the nation also started having white sales, too.  (*sigh* no ... not really.  Sarcasm just doesn't work on the Internet.)

Somewhere along the way, Labor Day also ushered in the new school year, the end of Summer, the last great BBQ and my mother's birthday.  As a kid, Labor Day also signaled the countdown of days until Halloween and then Christmas.

I have had jobs that have allowed me to not work on Labor Day and I've also had jobs that rewarded me/expected me to work on Labor Day.  Those who do not get Labor Day as a paid holiday tend to be quite bitter about it, as though those who don't labor on Labor Day are somehow undeserving of such luxury.  To which I reply "you forgot to ask me if I wanted fries with that order".

(Again ... sarcasm.  Mostly.)

My mother was employed for most of her life, with a few chosen exception periods of time to allow for the proper care and upbringing of her children.  She would have liked to have had more help from my father, I'm sure, but he worked about 10 days a month.

As a firefighter.

He averaged 10 24-hour watches each month ... sometimes less but most of the times more.  When he was home, there was a never-ending list of large tasks to do for the house and surrounding land:  Build a new fence and electrify it for the horses, continue to shore up the retaining wall, repaint the shed, take down the scaffolding on the back, insulate the attic, remodel the bathroom, fix the shingles that were put up wrong, re-tar the side driveway that leads to the back of the house oh, and in your spare time, could you borrow a backhoe and dig out underneath the dining room for that second garage you keep saying you really want.  They weren't exactly things my mom and her two challenging brats could do alone, so we did them as a family.

I don't remember a lot of family vacations but I remember helping my folks celebrate paying the last mortgage payment.  We maybe didn't camp or take ski-weekends, but we would go get Sunday Doughnuts together or one of us kids might be invited for a last-minute run to the hardware store.  We stayed home a lot but ... home was fun and big and there was lots to do and we all kept busy.  Hell, we didn't even have cable TV ... but we had critters and we had imagination.

I don't remember us having a lot of relaxing down-time but we spent years of weekends working on that land, building that fence, slopping that tar, and digging the second garage.  (That's NOT sarcasm.  We really did that.  It's why my parents have an upstairs garage and a downstairs garage.  We worked moving that dust and rock bucket-full by bucket-full so much that my sister and I still know the smell of the land and can both remember finding it in our ears and noses.  We worked so much that we ALL remember the time my mom challenged my uncle to an arm-wrestling match after our Thanksgiving meal to see who would do dishes ... and she unapologetically kicked his ass.)

Back to my dad.  It'd be easy to say that, based on days worked in a month, my father wasn't a "full-time" employee and maybe didn't *deserve* Labor Day off.  (An empty argument ... he didn't get it as a holiday anyway.  If it was on his regular watch schedule, he worked it.)  But there was no "Firefighters Day" to celebrate at the time.  (There is now - May 4th.  I looked that up, too.)

But I put this to you:  When your car is on fire ... when your child has stopped breathing at the mall ... when you're stuck in an elevator ... when the smoke from the kitchen gets to be too thick and you have to call someone for assistance, who shows up?  Look at an average emergency situation sometime and count the responders ... 9 times in 10 you'll see a firefighter.  It makes sense - they're local, they don't usually patrol outside of their district, and they're ALWAYS waiting for your call so the dispatch transfer doesn't eat up valuable time.  Next time you really need help, give your checkout clerk at the market - the one who feels he's EARNED Labor Day off - a call and see what happens.

And it's not just Labor Day, either.  I can count on one hand the number of Christmas Days we celebrated ON December 25th.  Family birthdays, Anniversaries, and pretty much all the other "special" days *still* have a 3-day window of happening within the ACTUAL day.  Old habits die hard.

So maybe Betty Bitter and Paulie Pissedoff should just take a moment from bagging groceries, pumping gas, driving their bus, working the takeout window, answering the help-desk, or whatever their supposedly thank-less job is, and look around.  Unemployment is STILL in the 8% average for the nation and if Betty and Paulie are that bent out of shape about working on a holiday that they feel must take a stand, they should do it somewhere else so the next person in line can take that job and be thankful for the opportunity.

The thing is that this country, like my parents home, was built by all sizes of hands.  If you don't wanna get yours dirty or feel like you deserve a pat on the back for just doing your job ... well I recently learned that Canada has an ALF for you.

Weight A Second

For me, it all started with the microwave.

I remember the box sitting on the counter, the classes my mother took, the "recipes" (and I use that word that very hesitantly) in the instruction manual, the warnings about not standing too close or immediately open the door when the unit shut down ... and I remember the wonder of being able to cook - or, more accurately, heat - items in less than half the the time of traditional methods.

Instant rice.  Instant oatmeal.  Fax machines.  Copier machines.  Instant messaging.  Text messaging.  Flying across the entire country in a matter of hours.  We are a people who enjoy a longer lifespan than our great-great relatives could have ever considered and yet we feel compelled to bitch about how long the red light takes to change or roll our eyes at how much time we waste waiting for our iced, short, triple breve shots, extra whip, half-caf, almond soy mocha ... with sprinkles.  And fudge-drizzle sauce.

And - to me, at least - the second-worst offenders of this "gimme now" demand are the companies who sell instant fixes to non-instant problems ... the diet-pill/diet-shake manufacturers.   The worst offenders?  The ones at the top of that list?  The people who buy their crap.

If you are overweight - and I am, for what I'd PREFER to look like - did your body change in a week?  In three weeks?  In six?  No - of course not.  Barring extreme circumstances and/or pregnancy, you slowly added a few ounces here and a few ounces there until you had to change the size of the pants you were buying.  It took lots of months.  Hell, it probably took years.

So why do people feel that they can buy a pill or a shake or - and this may be my favorite snake-oil ever - a fat-eliminating creme (*snork*) and, in less than a month, ta-dah there's your 24-year old body once again?!

Why?  Because of instant rice, instant oatmeal, fax and copier machines, instant and text messaging, and the microwave.  We want it all and we wanted it 4 minutes ago.  It's what THIS generation has always had.  It's not instant gratification ... it's more like instant expectation.  I mean - who actually waits for the elevator doors to close on their own anymore?  Why would you do that, since there's a button that will close the doors for you faster than the sensor would do so?

Well, to everyone who is starving themselves, putting themselves through surgeries, slurping down nasty-tasting crap and slathering on cellulite-reducing lotions, my advice is to slow down, take a deep breath, throw out your scales and calorie-counters and measuring cups, toss your secret cookie stash (yeah - you thought no one knew about that, didn't ya'?) and just give yourself a break.  Yes, if you've decided to get your weight in check, you should do so but - just like you took the time to add pounds, give yourself permission to take time to loose them.
And whatever else you decide to do - for cryin' out loud - stop trying to find the instant fix to a non-instant problem.  Close your mouth AND your wallet and just open your brain.  Even if all you ever do is develop a morning routine of stretches or leave a table without clearing your plate or stop asking for dessert after every meal or take the stairs instead of the elevator ... it will be a step in the right direction.  And from there, you can add another step and another.  Because that's how it all started.

The solution really does need to come from YOU - not a pill, or creme or any of that oh-so-tempting crap that folks are so eager to have you believe.  If the easy-solution that you may be considering worked forever for everyone who tried it, the entire weight loss market would have just that one option, right?  Clearly there is no "one-size-fits-all" solution to this issue.  This will just be one of those things where you'll need patience and persistence, strength and conviction, determination and forgiveness, and if you set reachable goals for yourself ... well, just weight and see.

De Nile

My sister lives there.

I Hate To Go All "Bob Barker" On Your Ass ...

Ghandi has been credited with saying "the greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated."

More recent, Cardinal Roger Mahony (1998) said "any society, any nation, is judged on the basis of how it treats its weakest members; the last, the least, the littlest."

Everyone has their "line in the sand" of tolerance.  Things we just WILL NOT PUT UP WITH.  Things which, when they occur, we throw a flag on the play and say "no - that is totally unacceptable".  Mine is animals in pain.

Are there bigger problems in the world?  Of course there are.  Starvation still exists, crimes against humanity happen daily, disease runs wild, homelessness, unemployment ... geez, depressed yet?  While those things are horrible and scary and awful, we - as a communicating people - can discuss them.  We can debate them.  We can work through them.  In time, sometimes in very small ways, we can even solve them.

Animals, 'tho ... when an animal is in pain, you can not explain to it what is happening.  I mean, sure - you CAN ... but you may as well be reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, 'cause they don't really know what you're telling them.

I've written about our "adopted street cat", Shiloh.  I don't know how she found us, why the timing worked out like it did, or how much longer she would have lived if we hadn't stepped in.  I know that I never saw any "lost cat" signs in our neighborhood.  I also know that, for a "free" cat ... *sigh* well, but I can't put a price on an animal.  That's the part that a lot of people may not understand.  It's my weakness ... it's my line in the sand... animals in pain.  If I can help, I will.

"Tom", the un-neutered orange marmalade cat, is injured.  Badly.  I noticed it last night.  Two, maybe three deep puncture wounds in his back right leg.  They were fresh, and he was limping.  Tom more than likely belongs to someone.  The Awesome Boyfriend and I know this - or think this - because when he was in his last fight, someone took him in and got his head stitched up  Plus he's very approachable and friendly.  Heck, he was nice to us before Shiloh was.  (They were buddies before Shiloh had her litter.  Tom is probably the kitty-daddy.)  So I hoped last night that Tom would go to that kind soul with these latest battle scars and get care.

Today he was not on the stoop when I went to get coffee.  I was glad.  Clearly he did go home.  White kitty, who we believe really is homeless, was there to greet me and showed no signs of a fight.  Besides, Tom's wounds were too deep to have been made by another cat.  They looked to me to be from a dog or a wild critter of some kind.

When I got back from coffee, Tom was sunning himself on the stoop.  Knowing that getting him fixed up would have taken longer than that, I sighed.  And yes, as I fed him, there were the untreated punctures.  Now he's gone at least 12 hours without medical care.

As you read this, I'm waiting for Shiloh's vet to call me back.  I've explained the situation.  Tom is not my cat.  I've been "retired" for 18 months and have no regular source of income.  I've already rescued one cat and she doesn't get along with our resident cat ... I cannot care of any more felines and have no safe place to stash Tom.  Plus, even if he does (somehow) recover from this latest fight, then what?  He's an un-neutered  male cat ... fighting is what he does.  What about the next fight?  So my plea to the vet was that I'd pay for pain meds if she treats him and adopts him out or, if he's beyond hope, puts him down painlessly.

That's what I'm left with.  Making life-and-death deals for a cat that is not mine.  Because someone, somewhere, at some point gave up on Tom.

So pet owners - if the ONLY thing you ever do for your animal is get them "fixed" to control the population, please know I thank you from the bottom of my pet-lovin' heart.

The Wednesday Wimper, Whine and Wallow

Just because I don't tend to write, talk, whine, discuss, whimiper, dwell, or wallow on the "not so great" parts of things going on in my orbit doesn't mean I don't have any such parts.  So, in no particular order and to just get everything out in the open, here's just three of my "not so greats"...

Whimper

• The 16-year old gray cat (already crying as I write those six words) that I left in good hands is dying.  I was care-ape to this feline ... this life-line to my weak grasp on sanity ... for more than 14 years.  He got me through *e*v*e*r*y*t*h*i*n*g*.  And now I'm a country-width away and am powerless to change anything.  (Realizing that I could have him sitting on my lap and I'd still be powerless.)  So I'm here waiting for the phone call to tell me that he's passed.

Whine

• The "new" cat that the Awesome Boyfriend and I have nursed back to health will need a forever home and it can't be ours.  I'm worried that it won't matter how great, fun, good, loving, soft, and beautiful she is that it won't be easy to find.  I don't wanna fail her after all this.  (See above bullet point for the line of guilt on this.)

Wallow

• The cousin who was fighting her cancer battle when her mother and I were doing the same is back on the "not recovering" list.  I got nothing more to add to this one.  I believe the amount of suckage involved here rather goes without saying.

So yes, I'm a little less social and a lot more bitter than usual.  As with most things, I will work through all of this  (I always do) but give me a break and let me figure it out.  Don't tell me how it'll all be alright.  Don't tell me how you can relate.  Don't tell me how it'll get easier - because, honestly, this part is NEVER easy.

I just don't wanna hear it right now.  I deserve a good wallow and I at least have enough decency to wallow quietly and to myself.  I know I'm not in fit shape right now to be good company to anyone so just be thankful I have enough respect to spare the rest of humanity.  I will recover when I'm ready to do so.  I'm just not ready yet.

Just because I don't share every crappy thing that happens doesn't mean I don't have crappy things.  We all do.  These are but three of mine.

Positive Energy

You know at least one person like this.  The "every cloud has a silver lining" person.  The "always look on the bright side, never let 'em get you down, tomorrow is another day, every closed door has an open window, the sun will come out tomorrow" type.  The seemingly always happy person.

They probably annoy you.  Even though they aren't causing you any actual harm, there are days when you'd REALLLLY like to tell them to get real.

How do I know this?  I am that person.

Which is *not* to say that I'm not moody.  I have my very dark days, too - TRUST me on this.  But those days are the exception.  I've noticed as I get older that I'm far more inclined to find the good in things.

Did your car breakdown?  At least it happened during the day.
Didn't get the news you wanted from your dentist?  Well now you can prepare for what's ahead of you.
Got passed up for that job?  Start on Plan B and I'll bet ya' the phone will ring with good news soon.

Yesterday, someone I don't know really rained all over my spirits.  If I weren't flu-ish and had a more focused brain, I woulda asked them who had peed on their cereal.

So - on behalf of all of us perpetually "things aren't so bad" people - let me ask a favor.  When you meet us, when we show you our personality, when you see that we're acting on a good impulse, try not to crush us with all your doom and gloom.

We KNOW the reality.  We realize how the real world works.  Crap happens.  Horrible stuff occurs every day to every one.  Even us.  We're just trying to get through as best we know how, and sometimes being positive takes all the energy we have.

So, if you have nothing positive to contribute, kindly shut the fuck up and just have a nice day.

Privately Public

As promised from my last post, I'd like to address and further define a couple of words that I think have started to lose their meaning. In this, the very-digital age, where everything (and I do mean EVERYTHING) can be found online, it may be hard to remember how to categorize certain things. Why is categorization important? It brings order. It brings understanding.

In an effort to further my own understanding, I've decided to clarify the two words (and opposites) "public" and "private", and I'll include four points of definition.

Public. (Adjective) (1)Exposed to general view. (2)Well-known. (3)Prominent. (4)Perceptible.

Hmmm. Already I see a conflict - again, because of the digital-age. Something that is "exposed to general view" or "perceptible" may not be "well-known" or "prominent". Examples? There are individuals in the various entertainment industries (who, by virtue of their career path, are "exposed to general view") that have lives outside of their career that are not "prominent" or, even all that "perceptible". And as for "well-known", in the example I've given, that'd be more like "rumor", I suppose.

So already we have a contradiction problem. Drat. Let's step away and move to the other word.

Private. (Adjective) (1)Intended for or restricted to the use of a particular person, group, or class. (2)Belonging to or concerning an individual person, company, or interest. (3)Not known or intended to be known publicly. (4)Preferring to keep personal affairs to oneself.

Ok now we're achieving clarity! No fuzziness here ... but let's make sure by using my above-given example. This fictional entertainer could, in fact, be in the public eye but still have a private life. But only (and this is important) if that privacy is RESPECTED by the individuals who are not in the group or class where said private information was divulged.

Ahhhhhh ... there's the problem! The general population, other groups of individuals, family, friends, passing acquaintances and sometimes people that have not even met the subject in question - the PUBLIC - sometimes feels as though they are somehow owed access to a person's PRIVATE life.

And that respect is even harder to come by in this day of being able to find out damn near every detail of anything just by typing in a few terms to search by. How else would we know that Joanne Kathleen Rowling is better known as the author who writes under "J. K. Rowling"? That actor Tom Cruise is 5' 7"? That Mariah Carey was worth $225 Million in 2009? Heck - easy. We just type in a few key words and *bing* we get our answers. Ergo, one may assume that information that is found through electronic (or other) research is clearly public knowledge because, to use the definition, it is "exposed to general view".

But do we feel that we're owed that information, because we've done the research? Hmmm ... that's a slippery slope. It's one thing when the information is fairly harmless (one can estimate from photographs how tall Mr. Cruise is ... and from interviews she has given, Ms. Rowling herself has explained her initials and her reasons behind using them ... and tax records would show the 2009 income of Ms. Carey) but just because that information can be found, it is not all that "prominent" or, in many cases, all that "perceptible". It was discovered (verb - "to make known, to find out, uncovered"). Side-note ... the opposite of uncovered? Covered. 'Nuf said.

This issue becomes even murkier when dealing with a person who is not in the spotlight, such as a family member, a friend, a co-worker, or an acquaintance. Sometimes people who fall into that collective group feel that they ARE, in fact, owed such information. I know, for instance, that I could easily discover the cost of the home an acquaintance purchased, the current career path my ex-coworker is pursuing, the legal struggles that my cousin is going through, or the operating system, IP address, location, date, and time of every single person who ever reads this.

But just because I can find this information, just because this data is either part of public record, or word of mouth through family channels, or electronic search methods doesn't mean that the acquaintance, my ex-co-worker, my cousin, or you WANT me knowing these details of your private life. And I respect that.

For now.

Publically Private

*deep breath*

So here's the thing: There are public places, like shopping centers, and private places, like businesses. Public places need to be accessible to (duh) the public. No one is denying that. Private places can (but don't have to) allow the public "inside the doors" - if they desire.

What happens when these public places and these private places are under one security umbrella?

Example: When I worked at a Fortune 25 company, many years before the tragedy of 9/11, your vehicle was photographed as you parked in the company-provided parking structures. You were greeted at the front desk (even if it was just a nod and a wave) and that was as far as you could go without either a company escort or an employee badge. You couldn't access the elevators, the cafeterias, the bathrooms or even the back door exits into the campus without a badge or someone who had a badge.

Keep in mind that this was not a "private" company, in that they were publicly traded ... but they WERE private as far as their security was concerned. Now it's also true that if one was friendly with the receptionist staff and one had said, in advance, something like "my parents are coming to visit today and they want to meet me for lunch. Can you let them into the cafe in the forth building and tell them I'll be a few minutes late?" that it wouldn't be a big issue, but even so - for the most part, no badge, no entry.

*another deep breath*

I visited the Awesome Boyfriend at work recently. He works in one of those types of public/private facilities. I parked about a mile away and boarded a company-funded bus, where I was driven to the center where several buildings meet. This was shortly before Noon, and there were a total of four people on this bus, including me. The driver and the other two passengers had badges on lanyards draped around their necks. I did not. No one blinked at this at all, and as I exited the bus, I was wished a good day.

I opened my notebook to recall the instructions the Awesome Boyfriend had written as to which building I was to go to and, after refreshing my memory, I walked past the guard shack, where I noticed an individual wearing earbuds and reading a newspaper. This person never looked up at me, never saw me walk past, and likely wouldn't have heard me if I'd asked a question. I may have taken note of them but I saw no indication they took note of me.

I walked to the correct building - there were several to choose from, entered through the doorway, and saw the elevator bank. I pressed the button, got onto the elevator (alone), and exited a few floors up, where I'd been told (by the Awesome Boyfriend) a cafe would be. I walked to a small cluster of chairs outside the cafe area, checked my messages and let the Awesome Boyfriend know I'd arrived, and then entered the cafe. I set down my purse and notebook on a nearby table, strolled over to the cash register area, and purchased a cookie and a beverage, using cash. I returned to my table and nibbled at my cookie while reading from my notebook. I sat alone for about 20 minutes, then caught up with the Awesome Boyfriend who dropped by for about 10 minutes. After he departed, I continued to sit alone for about 30 minutes.

At the appropriate time, I got up from my table, gathered my items, and decided to freshen up in the restroom. As I had time before my meeting, I brushed my teeth and my hair and, since it was warm outside, cooled down with a paper towel dampened with water. Afterwards, I again gathered my belongings, got back into the elevators (this time it was not empty), pressed the appropriate button and exited at the correct floor.

I found my meeting location (where no one asked me if I had any difficulty in getting there - or where I'd parked) and had my meeting. Of the four individuals I was meeting with, only one had ever met me before. When the discussion was concluded, I left the room, exited into the hallway alone (since no one offered to escort me) and got onto the elevators. I'd decided to refresh myself with another cool paper towel and got off on the "cafe" floor, and revisited that same restroom. I returned to the elevator bank, got onto a fairly crowded elevator, and exited on the ground floor.

I left the building, walked past the guard shack (where a guard was having a sports-related discussion with someone standing outside the window), and waited for a bus - which arrived after about 8 minutes. I boarded, with about 7 other folks, most of which were still wearing their badges, and we were returned to the parking lot. I paid my parking fee (in cash), got into my vehicle, and drove away.

As far as that time period went, one would be hard-pressed to prove I'd ever been there at all.

Yes, it's possible that there are cameras in the halls, parking lots and elevators, but those don't prevent access .... they just identify who has done the accessing. I had every right to be in the building at the appropriate time, but I honestly had no business using the company-provided bus, or the cafe, or even exiting on any other floor but the one my meeting was on.

And yesterday, some terrible things happened at this facility. Not in the building where I'd been, but in a building where the same "security" procedures are (supposedly) in place. Do I want to tell someone how flawed their "security" is? Absolutely I do. I wouldn't know where to start, and don't mean to frighten anyone but I'm not exactly stealthy and I wasn't try to be invisible or secretive. I just strolled around that facility looking like I knew what I was doing and no one ever asked me if I did. It was easy.

In fact, it was too easy. It shouldn't be that easy. More importantly, we - the post 9/11 public - can't afford for it to be that easy.

As for the whole "going places where people have no business being" topic, I'll save that for another day.

The Angry Dream

So I had this dream last night, and it made me angry. Which is strange - I mean, I think it was strange that my subconscious made me angry anyway. Maybe it's not so uncommon for others, but it seemed weird to me.

In this dream, I was in a hotel room. The check-out time was 10am, and it was about 9:30am. There was a dining room table - an oval one - near the door to exit the room, and it had six chairs seated around it. There was (oddly enough) another door on an adjoining wall (where the couch was) that appeared to also be an exit.

I was in the process of gathering my things. I don't know what I'd been there for, but there seemed to be a lot of computer-type bags that I was packing. And then, without warning or even a knock, the door next to the table opened and hotel workers walked in and started to replace a trash can.

I looked at them blankly and said "I have the room until 10am - and you could have knocked, yanno." They apologized, and left. I continued to pack, a little more rapidly than before, and suddenly there were workers in both doors, coming through with new furniture and whatnot and I gathered that my room was some part of a renovation.

I started to yell. I cursed ... loudly. There was a camera crew (???) filming the new and improved room and I took the camera and threw it into the newly-installed flat screen TV and I remember too that I picked up the woman behind the camera and physically removed her - not so kindly - out of the hotel room. "Stop it!" I was screaming. "Don't you understand how incredibly rude you're all being?"

I got on the phone, called the front desk, and asked for the hotel General Manager. I was asked if there was a problem, and I believe I responded with something like "you bet your ass there's a problem". I went off, and went between apologizing for screeching at the front desk attendant who was only doing their job to demanding security to keep people from entering my room.

The problem with dreams is that you don't get to decide when to awaken from them. This dream was "loud" enough, apparently, that it woke me up. The Awesome Boyfriend was stirring slightly so I mumbled "what time is it?" and he said it was about 6am.

It's now almost 12 hours later and I'm still a little miffed at ... well see, that's the part that is difficult. How can you be angry about something that occurred only in your head?

Ten Reasons To Be The One

(10) Do ya' like seafood?
(9) Are birds fun to watch?
(8) Have you ever chilled out to the music of Dave Matthews? ... Lenny Kravatz?
(7) Do you enjoy the sound of the sea lapping onto the shore?
(6) Ever find yourself rooting for Drew Brees? ... Peyton Manning?
(5) Are you a fan of turtles? ... Pelicans? ... Dolphins?
(4) How do you feel about a relaxing day on the water and maybe doin' a little fishing?
(3) Ever learned anything while watching Emeril Lagasse? ... Giggled while seeing Harry Shearer in a role? ... Has John Goodman ever made ya' smile? ... Enjoyed the talents of Blake Lively?
(2) Do you support generationally-owned businesses?
(1) Do you respect the work - public and private - that Sandra Bullock has done?

I gave ya' ten questions. And now, if there's even one "yes" in there, I'm asking you to Be The One.

Who Are You?

I've just spent a bit of my day listening to our President outline his plan in regards to cleaning up the oily mess that BP has made of the Gulf Coast.

Let me come clean about a few things before I continue:
(1) I don't enjoy politics.
(2) I don't follow politicians.
(3) I DO believe in the power of voting.
(4) I DO educate myself on things before I check any boxes on a ballot.
(5) I don't make it a habit to watch every "town hall" meeting.
(6) I also don't spend my time listening to pundits or that sort of thing. It's just not how I would enjoy spending my time.
and
(7) I have spent enough time in the Gulf Coast to see - first hand - that it's been treated like the red-headed, left-handed step-child of this country. Furthermore, the last time I saw that area getting the short end of a barbed stick, it sickened me so much that I pretty much MADE my employer pony up money, time, and effort to respond.

So back to the President ...

I was listening - as unbiased as I could be and withholding judgement ..... right up until he said the following (and I looked this up to make sure I got it right): "My job right now is just to make sure everybody in the Gulf understands: This is what I wake up to in the morning, and this is what I go to bed at night thinking about. The spill."

Uh huh.

I can't say that I agree with that statement. Is that honestly the biggest, most important job he has? That everyone in the Gulf know he's thinking about their region? Does that stop animals and plants from being poisoned or waters from being fouled?

I would rather have heard something along the lines of "my job right now is to make sure that any need in the Gulf region with regards to this crisis, be it financially based, time based, energy based, tool based, organizationally based, education based, response based, cleanup based, prevention based ... whatever that area needs ... my job is to get those items to them today. Now." But no dice. Awwww well ...

What really got my goat though - what REALLY spun me up - was listening to all these talking heads afterwards with their "we need to get this cleaned up" and "they should just get started" and "you can clean up the beaches today", etc.

Yanno the problem with those statements? The problem is in the "we", "they", and "you" part.

The last time I heard this sort of talk, I spent 6 weeks of my life over a two-year period doing what"we", "they", and "you" said should be done. Me. I did it. I put my life on hold and got on a plane. I changed my career path and signed up for a 65% pay cut. I missed out on major family events and begged for airline miles to go there not once but six ... SIX times and you know something else? I got it done, damnit, and while we're at it hey - I didn't see your ass down there, Mr. "I have all the answers and now here's Tracy with the weather". Where the hell were you then? In fact, there's still cleanup from Katrina to be done so don't let me stop you - get going and you can still get involved in THAT disaster today.


*exhale*


So just remember ... before YOU or THEY or WE come up with these quick and easy answers to things we read about or listened to for twenty whole minutes but actually have never seen with our own eyes, make sure YOU know who the THEY is ... or WE may tell you to shut the hell up and just do it ourselves.

... and I think it's gonna rain today.

An ex-coworker/manager - and completely decent individual with a young family and loving wife - diagnosed with a "somewhat aggressive colon cancer" ... before the age of 50.

A cousin who continues to fight for her recovery from numerous health-related issues, only to be now diagnosed with shingles.

A mother who only today admitted that she's been fighting eye infections for "several weeks" and, upon getting a check-up, was given stronger medicine to fight her high blood pressure, told to lose weight, and that she was a prime candidate for a significant stroke.

A sister in the process of changing her life yet again, hoping that she's making smart decisions for the sake of her own well being AND that of her two daughters.

A dear friend whose father was just told he has early-stage prostate cancer.
**********
It's just as alright for me to think on these things as it is to notice how bright the sky is this time of the evening, how happy and content the cat looks in her bed, how good I really am right now. I think it's important that I notice and acknowledge both sides of that coin ...

... and I'll remember this post for when I feel any sort of a pity party coming on.

Uncommon Courtesy

I mentioned in a recent post (the last one? the one before that?) that my patience level isn't all it could be. I am struggling with it today. As such, this will be a "stream of brain farts" kind of a post. Don't expect it to make all that much sense, mmmmk?

I used to plan large-scale corporate events. By "large scale", I mean upwards of the 45,000 attendance kind of things. HUGE conventions with 65 breakout rooms that rotated on an hourly basis for a week long learning experience for those attending. As I'm a food lover, a lot of those 45,000 people counted on me to make sure that their "fancy dinner event" after the day of meetings was the best. This meant that I had to know the best places to eat that were still within the established corporate policy (done with a "wink-wink" because they were NEVER in those parameters, but a good planner knows how to get around such matters).

For the first few companies I did planning for, I was the junior member. This made me a combination of a runner, a go-for, and the setup-and tear-down expert. I could flip a room setup for 250 people in less than 10 minutes (with help, obviously). Eventually, when I'd proven I could keep my head and follow through, I was given more responsibility and I have to say that I shined. There were core trainers that I just loved working with and would stay up until well after midnight going through their presentations the night before, making sure the timing was spot-on, the graphics were clear, and that the presenter was gonna succeed.

But by far, my favorite part was planning the dinners. Well - actually - it was my favorite part and the most maddening at the same time. See, I'd go to a lot of trouble making sure that the food selections were balanced, that the wines I'd selected would play nicely with the food, that the acoustics in the room were acceptable, that the tables were arranged in a way that worked, etc. And I was detail-oriented, too. If the room was very bright, I'd request for dark linens to add some visual contrast. If there were gonna be a LOT of people in the room, I'd make sure it was made cooler than usual from 1pm to 4pm so that, by 7pm when folks started showing up, the temperature was just right.

And every participant of the events I was in charge of knew to expect a "welcome" packet when they checked into the meeting that was made just for them. I'd tell them things waaaay beyond the usual "register here, opening statements from the CEO here" stuff. I'd tell them things like "less-busy coffee shop here" and "avoid the really expensive drinks here".

The maddening part was the people, not the details. No matter how much time and energy I'd spend on the event, there'd always be one person that just would screw it up in a very special way. There was the one person that missed the transportation bus to the theme park and called me to come back to get them, even though they were late in showing up. There was the one person that refused to RSVP for *anything* *ever* and would be offended that dinner wasn't held for their arrival. There would be the one that would absolutely not wear the personalized shirt that I'd had sent to their room the night before and, knowing that they'd likely do that, didn't bat an eye (or offer a "thank you") when I showed up with another shirt - that I'd ironed that morning - for them.

That's the part of events that I just can't tolerate anymore. For what it's worth, I also can't stand folks that don't respect MY time in my personal life. If Mr. Service Provider tells me he'll call at 9am, I expect a call at 9am. When I call at 9:30am and am told "whoops - sorry - I'll for sure call before Noon" and never hear back? Yeaaaaahhhh, that's just not gonna sit well for me. After all, Mr. Service Provider was the one who set the deadline, not me. And if Mr. Service Provider tells me "I'll be there", I expect that to be true.

To change this to something that most everyone can relate to, imagine that you've made a reservation at a restaurant for 6pm. You call the day of the reservation and say "yeah, can we move that to 7pm?" and so they do. At 7:20pm, the restaurant calls you and says "where are you?" and you say "whoopsie - I'll call you back at 9pm" and then you no show. Not cool, right? The good news is that it's a restaurant and they likely don't have a "black list" so no real harm is done.

Except it's NOT a restaurant. There's a person at the other end of that reservation that you've made. And you said you'd be there. Sure things come up and all but you gave your word. And no one MADE you call that restaurant and make THAT reservation.

I guess it's just a matter of courtesy. Either ya' have it or you don't. I shouldn't hold folks to my level of common (or not-so-common) courtesy but I still do, even after all this time (and experience).

Anyway, as I said from the onset, don't expect this to make too much sense. (And see - I TOLD you in advance that it may not. It was just the right thing to do.)

When did ...

Ingrid Michaelson sell her soul to the producers of "Grey's Anatomy"?

It seems like every song of hers has some fan-created YouTube video that just ... bites.