Funding Education

This is why I think education funding is important:

What bothers me about cuts in elementary schools is that Art and PE are the two subject’s administrators, who have no real connection with teaching, think are not important, so are the first to go.  These are the two subjects I taught.

I learned a tremendous amount from these children in my classes, on both a physical and a psychological level.  Part of my job was to evaluate these kids, and this was important because motor skills at that age will reflect whether or not there will be psychological problems later on in their life. 

In my art classes, I watched how a child would use a pair of scissors, or a pencil, etc.  Or in my PE classes I watched for unusual uses of their legs and arms, or their balance.  That may not sound like much, but coordination is extremely important for a future healthy development. 

Social skills were ongoing in my teaching, and are overall the most important aspect of the learning process.  These classes give away so much about a child's skills with another individual, when you see how they interact with their peers.  Every child is different, individual, and when in a classroom, under strict rules of teaching and often quite time, these skills are ignored or overlooked.

Art gives way to freedom of expression, and shows us what that child goes through on a daily basis; showing up in those personal moments when pencil or brush hits that paper surface.  A tactile observation, with their eyes closed, gives them a way of seeing what’s before them, seeing with their imagination, broadening their view of all things around them.

I attended ongoing workshops, which was part of my training, and believe it or not, performing arts was part of this too.  Whatever the age of those children, or whatever they were learning in their classrooms, I incorporated those subjects into their art projects.  They would, either in groups or individually, perform their alphabets, or numbers, etc….This was my way of reinforcing memory retention for those subjects.  They, themselves, became a visual work of art.

How a child receives information is individual and personal, and you never really know what a child is capable of learning, unless a child is singled out and tested.  And that is not always possible from a standpoint of finances.  So I took this challenge on.  A rewarding process, for me, is an understatement. 

Kurt Vonnegut on how to write a short story

*The following on lifehacker: From Vonnegut's "Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction"

1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.

2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.

3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.

4. Every sentence must do one of two things-reveal character or advance the action. 

5. Start as close to the end as possible.

6. Be a Sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them-in order that the reader may see what they are made of.

7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia. 

8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible.

To hell with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages. Vonnegut qualifies the list by adding that Flannery O'Connor broke all these rules except the first, and that great writers tend to do that.

Entitlement and Slavery, The Stigma of Blackness

Not a unique idea, Sierra Leone trumps the list

Wealth based on acquisitions

Blacks enslaving blacks

Equaled a slave in all nations 

Slaves of blacks within these wars

Captive, enslaved, sold to the bidder

Lucrative business, this white faced regale

Slaves, a race, based on race, unique idea 

Blood lined streets, 1756, South Carolina

No parents

No language

No home

Child labor 

The brutality of slavery

Death traps…snakes…mosquitoes - Rice fields littered with wealth 

History follows the enslaved, to food and culture

Creolization occurred

Ideas and freedom

Liberties and freedom

Politics and freedom

Sends the Spanish of Florida 

Sunk into swamps, gone into and through the years of time, 1779

Revolts

African army on the march

Drums of rebellion

Death and blood on the trail of severed heads

Insurrection dies

Revolts and rebellion to freedom

American Revolution ignored the slaves

Washington’s slaves

Liberty and independence, an ideal 

Black pioneers, volunteer for the British army

Loyalists

Canada, the recipient of slaves thrown away by the British

Founding fathers committed to slavery

Thirteen colonies

Built on the blood of slavery

The Capitol built on the blood of slaves

Coffee plantations

Revolutions

Haiti takes charge, and owned by the blacks

Pride spills over into a free nation

2013 - Traditions of Mardi Gras -Two centuries, 1819

A celebration and evolution of freedom

Dare to Dream

Many Rivers to Cross

500 years of African History and misery

COMMUNICATIONS

This has always been a subject that is near and dear to me, “communications”.  I’ve spent my lifetime either writing, or talking about it - Or attempting to put it into practice.  It’s not a word that gets far away from any of us, but sometimes I wonder how this word ends up prefaced with mis- 

From the time my kids were in school, when my job on our PTO Board was “Communications” - to now, with my discussions on Barnes & Nobles, where writing clarity is so incredibly important, you have no other way to get or receive these thoughts between participants except by reading them.  It is inevitable that someone will misread you, or you them.  Authors have editors to make words clearer to their readers, we only have ourselves.

With communicants, and that includes all of us, we still find issues, whether written or said, that catch us off guard, moving all of us into heated emotions, until there seemingly is no point of return… All personalities differ, understand that from the beginning; and if we do not, then we will find ourselves lost in the muck and mire that ensues and insinuates, to the point where barriers are erected between parties.  This is not what we want to see happen, here. 

But I do see this happening, time and again, to where parties involved only want to out shout, and have their own voices made clear over others. There becomes a point where you have to shelve the emotions, and stop and listen, and work at looking at the words that sit between you. 

When sides are drawn, everyone ends up caught on one side or the other, either intentionally, or unintentionally.  It becomes divisive and hurtful; not only to the people involved, but these issues find themselves transferred onto innocent people. Everyone gets thrown off guard, until you have no point of reference to return to in finding the real issues you have strayed from - unless you sit down and listen to one another.

My point to this is, listen to the other person.  Meetings are a number-one way to do this. Listening to second hand information, hearsay, is not the way to clarify and resolve any type of misunderstanding, it only makes it worse.  Most of the time we only hear our own voices in a debate, a debate is not what you want to have happen. You want understanding.

Follow the rule of putting yourself in others’ shoes, and asking yourself where is the conversation leading, and how does it apply to my perspectives or views? What questions can I ask of the other party that will clarify this conversation for me?  These are simple thoughts to consider, but most often overlooked when emotions run high. Do not enter into communication with a preordained agenda - to attack.  Be open to views that are perhaps different from yours.  Different doesn’t make that person, or their views, wrong, what it does mean is, that communication has to be open and honest to hear another voice besides your own. The major thing we all want to hear is how we can make living here a better place, a harmonious place for everyone.   

Menopause, a Potential Killer

Writing on this subject of Menopause and these unwanted traumas and what they can do to a person if left undiagnosed, has been one of the most difficult writings I have ever had to put in print.  When you read it you will understand why.  I have lost my nerve and deleted this blog twice, but hopefully it will stick this time.

I browsed through the books for sale at the college library today, something I love doing; you can pick up some fun and interesting books in excellent condition for very little money.  In the past I’ve bought both fiction and nonfiction, feeling like I’ve rescued a friend in the process. Today I spotted this book: Menopause and the Mind, by Claire Warga, PH.D. 

Something clicked and an image became illuminated in my mind.  I immediately opened the pages, and as I skimmed through the contents and their subjects, I knew then I had to buy this book, if for no other reason than to help me research this subject of Menopause, knowing it must have some answers to these nagging questions of mine, about these unwanted physical and mental changes I’ve now been forced to endure for possibly the rest of my life.  The important question for me:  How does menopause change psychological perspectives, altering the mind’s eye, and can they be reversed?  At the very moment I asked myself these questions I had a mental image of Virginia Woolf coming into my view.

For a number of years I’ve been interested in Virginia Wolf, not just her literature with its unique style, but how it all comes together to tell me her story; what this woman was about, inside and out; how she lived, where she lived, and why she lived.  I have dug into her fascinating history; from her stories, to stories written about her; from her diaries, to biographies putting these little pieces of her self together.  And all during this time I felt a determination, a need to see what lead her to her suicide.  I had no idea as to the why I needed to know, I just knew there was something much more than what has already been written. What I’m about to say is as much about me as it is about her. Maybe that’s the “why” in all of this.

From the first moment I began to read Virginia Woolf’s novel, To The Lighthouse, she spoke to me in a strange and mystical voice, a voice I had never heard before.  And with the help of Dr. Ilana Simons, a true teacher on this subject, I began to search for that deeper meaning of why she chose to take her life.  I know I’m not the only one who feels a deep connection to Virginia Woolf; she has a long list of admirers.  And, I know the popular consensus for Virginia Woolf’s suicide is that she had bipolar disorder.

Definition

By Mayo Clinic staff

Bipolar disorder — sometimes called manic-depressive disorder — is associated with mood swings that range from the lows of depression to the highs of mania. When you become depressed, you may feel sad or hopeless and lose interest or pleasure in most activities. When your mood shifts in the other direction, you may feel euphoric and full of energy. Mood shifts may occur only a few times a year, or as often as several times a day. In some cases, bipolar disorder causes symptoms of depression and mania at the same time.

These symptoms apparently drove her into the river to her death.  But something else was telling me to keep looking for something other than this obvious and speculative diagnosis.  I didn’t get these feelings of bipolar from her, whether right or wrong, this answer did not wholly satisfy me enough to accept.

  As I continued to read about VW, I found times when I had to stop and step away, mentally walking away from something that became my emotional, subjective triggers; intense, compellingly, in metaphorical and honest beauty.  Over time, I’ve written to and about VW, and I’ve listed these writing references at the end of this blog.

There is nothing more personal than our own story, whether fiction or nonfiction; putting that story in writing makes life all that more real.  We write that story by living it every day, whether we like it or not.  Virginia Woolf couldn’t help but make you feel a full awareness of what life means, a true story; she was more than aware of her own personal stake in her challenges she met, fought, and concurred, and eventually lost; her writing as proof, her writing affected her self as well as her readers.

  Virginia Woolf manipulated her words, as we all try to manipulate life; she could hide from the truth in metaphor, as I often do, she could overtly throw words out to you, or into space, or into your face; she edited and re-edited, just to see if there was more to see - to see her own reactions, to live up to these words, or maybe hating them, and eventually throwing them away; or maybe save and ponder for another day.

I was in my twenties when I first experienced what is called a “hot flash”, but it felt more like I was losing control of my mind.  I was out to dinner with my husband, and in a split second I saw the room from eyes that weren’t mine, as if I were looking down upon myself.  Then a noise out of nowhere felt like it was coming through my ears, a noise so obscure, I couldn’t quite identify this hum of sorts, like a thousand bees at work on its hive in my head. 

Into my thirties, and after a major surgery, depression came alive and real.  I struck it down, trying to ignore it, getting on with my life.  Personal problems started intervening, only to compound the depression. Depression struck like a vengeance, this time I was withdrawing completely.  I entered into a six year weekly, one on one, program of psychotherapy.

Now into my forties, I underwent a partial hysterectomy for medical reasons, and upon recommendation my surgeon left one ovary to keep the hormones doing their job as long as possible, keeping me generally healthy.

But, over time, an ovary starts to “dry-up”, as my doctor put it, and during that time I started to have more strange physical symptoms. My head took the brunt of this bizarre onslaught.  Before the extreme heat struck again, covering my entire body with sweat, saturating my face and clothes, I felt a loud roaring rushing through my head like a train that wouldn’t stop, not just the hum of bees this time; this was the unbearable prelude, the warning.

It disrupted my daily life, to say the least, so I consulted my internist. He gave me a prescription for hormone replacement, Premarin, the smallest dosage, and to be only taken five days a week, M-F he said; let’s try this regimen, because there is no need to go any stronger if this works.  It did the trick.  No more loud trains, no more unwanted heat coursing through my body.  I got my life back on track.

Into my sixties, and about two years ago, doctors thought it would be a good idea to take their patients off of hormone therapy.  My cardiologists said go off NOW, today; and my primary physician said to take my time.  I hated the thought of going cold turkey, so he suggested I wean myself, slowly.  But neither of these doctors warned me of the possible symptoms I would be showing after I stopped taking this pill.

Everyone’s physical reactions during menopause has varying degrees, and I thought I was way past the age for those symptoms to rear their ugly heads, but taking NO hormone replacement did not bode well with my body.  I couldn’t see how no estrogen was the better alternative, whatever those alternatives might be.

I had a history of depression, but dealt with it by way of psychotherapy.  Now, I had that issue to deal with, again.  I’d been depression free for twenty years.  Now, as my hot flashes increased in intensity, my stress and anxiety levels increased, and anxiety levels were accompanied by depression.  The heat is bad enough, but seconds before that hits, I could feel my mind sinking down into what felt like a deep bottomless nothingness, hitting me broadside, out of nowhere; with distress, I cried, it was so emotional and physically debilitating, falling into that place I feared, hour after hour, day after day.

I started drinking heavily.  Depression worsened – a vicious cycle.  As we all know, drinking is not the answer, it only causes endless depression. I was desperate to escape, so I chose to throw away caution just to have something numbing, anything to take away that pain.  It just compounded all of these symptoms, but I wasn’t willing to give up that drink, not until I had my nurse practitioner tell me to STOP, and stop now, she said, unless I was trying to kill myself. I was damaging my liver, and liver transplants are far and few between, and risky.  Suicide was not far from my mind. Was I trying to kill myself?  What choices did I have?

She prescribed an antidepressant, and said it was known to help reduce hot flash episodes, and hopefully the depression would subside.  It worked on the depression, but the hot flashes still hit, but thankfully without a severe precursor, and residual depression.

During all of this time, working through my “menopausal syndrome”, I read a bit about Virginia Woolf’s mental state. I was hearing something in her voice as she wrote… I wandered a great deal about how she handled perimenopaus and menopause, and what symptoms she may have had during these years in her life. Virginia Woolf’s age was 59 when she killed herself, but I wondered what she was feeling, what was happening to her mind and her body in years prior to the time of her death.  Something told me it had to do with this topic of menopause, and had little or possibly nothing to do with bipolar disorder.  It was just a hunch, a speculation, not much more than that, it was just something I felt inside of me, nothing I could prove. Feelings are not scientific.  Yes, I know that.

When I started reading this book by Dr. Claire Warga, I had to see if there was any correlation between her findings, and what my feelings were about Virginia Woolf.  I’ve always thought of VW as an intricate blend of sensibilities.  She was, in my words, hyper-tuned to people and the world in which they lived.  

She was born in a period of time, January 25, 1882, into a family ruled by a scholarly father, where her brothers attended college, and where she was not allowed. Women and taboos were constantly making themselves known in front of her.
  

The world around VW was a man’s world, a discriminatory world, even though she was allowed to read extensively from her father’s library, it was like a hand-me-down, a discriminating parsing of pleasure by her father, drawing a deep, dark line across the world’s view of the sexes.  But, she intervened and crossed that line, to later become an exceptional debate member of the Bloomsbury group, compiled mostly of men; she was determined to be the exception to this rule.
 

I can only imagine her having to downplay her sensitive monthly feelings, this was before the term PMS became known as a popular acronym of today…no matter what these symptoms were, physical or mental, she had to present a front to these young men, and in the same breath she was a determined woman who never threw away her pride in these debates.

There were personal tragedies and circumstances within VW’s life, and these appeared to amp up psychological changes, manifested by unwanted advances made towards her, and in which would later alter her senses and perspectives of herself as she related to the people she was close to during her lifetime. It is all in her writing.

This book by Dr. Claire Warga takes a look at a whole new perspective of the symptoms of Menopause, a list a mile long.  Personal accounts are given by friends and patients of Dr. Warga, some leaving their name, some staying anonymous. I see how taboo this subject would continue to be, from Virginia Woolf’s “female problems” during the eighteen hundreds, and then continue into the nineteen hundreds.  We are now in the twenty-first century, and only now are we beginning to see and understand what a toll Perimenopaus and Menopause will take on the human body.  Men are not exempt, I might add.  Hormones are the necessities for life.

I can’t help but think of Virginia Woolf, after reading these personal accounts in which Dr. Claire Warga sights.  Paranoid Schizophrenia - hearing and seeing that which is not there - forgetfulness, fuzzy brain, memory loss, frustrations, depressions and feelings of being crazy, how does this add up to the  “change of life” symptoms women had, and still have, before science recognized the answers to these physical-mental feelings of wellbeing?  How many women were wrongly diagnosed, sent off to sanatoriums, or a crazy house, and in VW’s case, sent to bed with limited outside contact for months at a time, confined and put on a restricted diet?   It took a determined woman like Dr. Claire Warga to find the answers most doctors hadn’t even thought about, especially male doctors. 

I kept wondering if my feelings about VW were strictly emotional, a result of reading her literature, but if that were the case, how did I base those emotions I was feeling towards her mind?  Was I comparing her life around my own frame of mind?  How could I find the answers to link the equation to suicide?  What did I use as a guide to find that base, other than just “feeling” it? 

How often I thought about Bipolar individuals being misdiagnosed. I can only answer this, knowing it’s possible from my own personal family experiences.

More medical research is finding links between hypothyroid symptoms in women and menopause, and body fat changing the Estrogen amounts to the brain; more links to add to the equation.

Physical all-around health appears to be a major concern, attributed to decline when Estrogen levels fluctuate. I am now considering, in this year of 2013, alternative treatment by specialists in this area of hormone therapy.  Foods and supplements are becoming the more and more accepted norm; when MD prescribed Estrogen is taken away, for cancer causing reasons.

Virginia Woolf was an extremely thin woman, she was constantly losing weight.  Eating habits bordered on bulimia, which may have accounted for more Estrogen loss. 

Determining a reason for her death, for me, is a guess, my guess for closure.  Accepting her as bipolar was just too easy a guess.  At that time no real medications existed for either of these guesses.  Her loss, at what we consider an early age, is felt deeply.  Suicide feels like such a senseless and hopeless act, when in this day and age of medications and diet alternatives we could possibly have saved her, no matter the diagnosis.

  Virginia Woolf’s death, on March 28, 1941, during WWII, was a tragedy that I cannot begin to change for her or myself.  I wish I could turn back the years, but I cannot; I just write my feelings instead. 

These blog posts are not listed in any particular order.

http://kathys-aliceinwonderland.blogspot.com/2011/04/million-miles-from-nowwhere-prologue.html

http://kathys-aliceinwonderland.blogspot.com/2011/03/to-lighthouse.html

http://prosetryinmotion.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-is-beauty.html

http://prosetryinmotion.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2011-01-01T00:00:00-08:00&updated-max=2012-01-01T00:00:00-08:00&max-results=47

http://prosetryinmotion.blogspot.com/2011/09/yesterday-today-and-tomorrow.html

No Winning, Just a Bargaining Chip

There are times when I get up on my soapbox and talk about issues.  I guess it's time.  I know I've been silly in this discussion about fair wages, only because it's a no win situation we've been fighting for and against for as long as I can remember. Yes, I think everyone agrees that it seems like no one makes a living wage, that's the crux of this whole problem - Because large corporations are the greedy bastards they are, as well as real estate companies jacking up the prices so that no one can buy a home any more without more than one job, or living with family and friends.  We get caught in-between; its catch 22 when buying and selling.  We want a little profit, but real estate brokers want that selling profit, which is nice for the seller, but bad for the buyer.  It’s hard to re-buy, when you, the homeowners don't get a little profit on the deal.  I've been at both ends of these negotiations. Inflation, the man made evil. 

I've been involved in a Lock-out, which was caused by another market chain, in another state, going on Strike.  The President of that chain was a greedy lunatic, and wanted to take AWAY the precious things his workers had worked for all their life.  Health Insurance!  We didn't want more; we just wanted to keep what we had had worked for, for years.  Strikes aren't always what they seem.  We were forced to stand outside, day and night, summer through winter, holding a damn Locked-Out sign for five months.  Patrons didn't know what that meant, they only saw us as the greedy ones, trying to force “their market” into giving us more money, causing the consumer’s prices to go up…..and that was far from the truth.  I spent five months, along with my fellow employees, re-educating these people.  Even our Union was new to this kind of “Lock-out” situation; it was a learning experience all around. 

Independent markets, who weren't under the same contract, or were financially too small to participate, were exempt from this whole mess, and some of these companies volunteered to hire some of our workers on a temporary basis until the strike/lock out ended.  But by the time it was over, we lost, not won.  Holding out during this time, cost millions of dollars, lives, families and homes, no one was exempt from the hardships that affected each of these people.  The President of the Arizona chain was determined to break the Union, which was the whole plan all along.  And that’s the truth. We didn't break, but in the end, we caved in.

Corporations hate the Unions, because they negotiate to give workers a fair income, and it may, in projection, put a minor scratch in the corporation's profit margin, but it’s just enough of a small margin to affect THEIR Corporation’s profits.  We wouldn't want them to have to forgo buying that villa in France! These companies don't think about their workers, it's all about their greed. And we all know how greed affects the mentality of these money hungry people.  It boils over into the political world, corrupting everyone in its wake.  A lot of things, and people, affect these margins, and in the end, the employees and the consumers take the hard end brunt of it.

  It's a sham, all the smiles they train their employees to wear for the outside world, when on the inside you’re hurting.  I worked for one chain, Food 4 Less, when I first started in the business, and it was family owned, but still Union.  They treated their employees like family.  We were a subsidiary of the Yucaipa Corporation.  We were all happy, for a time.  Then the corporation started buying other market chains, like Alpha Beta, Ralphs, and then ended up selling what they bought to another corporations, and that corporation sold again, and again, until it's now all owned by the Kroger Corporation; bigger, and bigger and bigger, until employees just become a nameless speck on the wall.  

This is why small, independent businesses are the best, where employers treat their employees with respect, not a bargaining chip.

Snowden, Saint or Sinner?

Every day, when I think about this  young man Snowden and what he did, and then taking asylum in Russia, who we are now debating this issue of civil rights, I wonder what Snowden was thinking, or did he even think before taking all of that classified information?  Did he know what these breeches would do to our security system? 

It is not a matter of whether or not some of this information would be of interest to us here in the US, of course it would…..but he knowing divulged extremely sensitive information, and in this process his revelations would compromised our position with the world. 

It boggles my mind that someone who thinks they are American patriots, would do something this ignorant, and then take asylum in a country that has absolutely no regard for the rights of people.  It has now become so political, it stinks to high heaven, and Snowden is reeking at this point, like anyone should that has the label of a narcissistic **TRAITOR** on his chest.  I can't abide anyone who thinks this young man is a HERO....to me, in lay terms, he is nothing but a stupid, ignorant kid, who didn't think first, but acted on emotions that he is not even mature enough to handle.

I base some of my knowledge on this revelatory article , which gives an early on profile of this young man.  The balance of what I feel is based the many articles and discussions I have read and had on this subject. 

A great many people would like to reward Snowden for his “heroism”, but so many negative issues block my seeing him in this light.  Early on I felt a *premeditation* by Snowden, taking things into his own warped hands, and into this sinister and secretive plot to *reveal* everything for the sake of humanity.  It leaves me now to wonder and write this out, and in doing so, it assures me of his intentions, and my conclusions.

Snowden is not saving humanity from itself, but merely cleansing his conscience of a subject he got himself involved in by working in a controversial department of justice; how to go about keeping this country as safe as possible, even if it means delving into the private sectors of people who live here in the USA.

I honestly have nothing to hide, and if reading what I have to say on Facebook, or my blogs, or phone, is going to help keep me and everyone safe, they are welcome to it.  I cannot change minds who do not want to be changed, or minds who want to only see one side to this issue as breaking amendments by the USA.  I only know what I feel is good and right for me at this point in time when terrorism is rampant around the world.  It is here to stay, and if it means our security department is reading every darn thing that is written, privately or not, than I feel all that much more safe for this process. 

We are not living in the age of   McCarthyism.  …..and we never will go back to that age.  We are too aware as a whole, a Democracy that moves forward with hope and beyond, not backward as some policy makers seem want to see happen…we are a nation that fights for civil rights, and within this breath of mine, you and I need to be aware that all nations do not think the way we do; to them secrecy means damaging human rights, not protecting them. We hold and protect our rights high, but if it means using the grey areas of those rights to ultimately protect us, then so it must be.

Is All Good Fiction Psychologically Wise? Musing on Michael Cunningham’s Novels

I can't answer the question, whether I think all good fiction is psychologically wise, but I will always give it my best shot.  Maybe to me it should be, but I doubt that it is the expectation of the majority. 

As we say, not all works of fiction are read and enjoyed for the same reasons, or to find insights. 

During my reading of one of Michael Cunningham’s novels, By Nightfall, I felt uneasy, sadness prevailed in my mind, most of the time, and writers of this style of prose will almost always have significance on my personal life.   I will explain why. 

I find it disconcerting, while I’m reading, to feel every inch of me tingle, to feel as though someone were striking me as if I were a tuning fork - where words take hold of my nerve endings, while I await the next sentence, or the next paragraph, to bring some light into an uncomfortable subject that has to be viewed by this reader.   Until the shoe drops, I catch myself holding my breath. 

Writers such as Cunningham won't shy away from thoroughly expressing themselves, by expressing their characters needs and desires.  And even though this writer, Cunningham, holds a gentle hand, giving you a glimpse of the world around, and the world within, he can stir images up that will capture those insights we may or may not want to hold onto.  We very well may end up struggling with our own inner demons.

This line by Gustave Flaubert, ‘Madame Bovary, ch. 12, was altered and used in Cunningham’s novel.  “...exaggerated turns of speech conceal mediocre affections: as if the fullness of the soul might not sometimes overflow in the emptiest of metaphors, since no one, ever, can give the exact measurements of his needs, nor of his conceptions, nor of his sufferings, and the ‘human word is like a cracked cauldron upon which we beat out melodies fit for making bears dance when we are trying to move the stars to pity.’    

So, the question is, why do you love the fiction you love?  On an introspective morning, these were my thoughts. 

Let me put it this way, the question really is, why do I read what I read, if it turns my world inside out, and upside down?  Just for that reason!  Where are we, who are we, what are we, if we are standing still in the dark?  

Some people like to live in the mundane, because it is safe.  It cannot hurt you.  I do not live there, not any more.  We cannot move beyond stagnant, if we are not challenged by the least expected; we will never discover whom we are, and move forward, if we are standing alone.

Give me more 

Life evolves

Dormant is dead 

I don't always feel comfortable, being stretched to my limits by what I feel in the written word, but unless I experience it, I cannot know it is there, and never realize I am alive. 

Give me more

Deeper, Richer  

Appreciation for life 

In rereading Virginia Woolf's Mrs. Dalloway, in preparation to reading Cunningham's The Hours, I saw this quote from Shakespeare’s play Cymbeline. Cunningham also repeated this quote: 

" 'Fear no more the heat o' the sun

Nor the furious winter's rages.' " 

The ordinary is what VW and Cunningham’s characters tell you about in their stories. These intimate looks from these writers are what make them, and what they see and give us, extraordinary. 

In Today’s World

What Is a Conservative? - What Is a Liberal?

I'm not sure what moderate conservative means, then or now, as Dwight D. Eisenhower depicted a very aggressive stance in his beliefs in the fight for peace, and what appeared to be an at-all-cost use of U.S. nuclear threats against other countries.  I don't think that type of aggression will work in today’s world.  Reference:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dwight_D._Eisenhower

Do we see other countries looking at us, now, as they did during the Eisenhower days?  What I do see? 

I saw John McCain making it clear in HIS Presidential speeches/race/stance, the Republican Party being stuck in a past mentality.  With the introduction of the ultra-conservative, Palin, this opened the floodgates to an aggression that has turned Republican Party lines into a battlefield of chaos.  (Simply put in my humble words:  The world and the Republican Party, enough chaos.) 

I look at Mitt Romney, the handy-wipe man with an indecisive look in his eyes, and a stance echoing of corporate greed, all lying in the forefront of his running.  Someone who made it obvious, change in his party is needed, finding a true platform to succeed again, as an independent party system with respectable and meaningful values.  Respect is the operative word I see here. 

 Times change, countries, beliefs, people...EVERYTHING changes with time.  But the value in respect should never change.  History is best when seriously looked upon, as it WILL give an objective view of the future.  Balance, weigh, measure.... History teaches what was once good for the country, is not necessarily good for the current times, or the future, but true respect should never alter.

We now look at gun control...how many people live in the dark ages when seeing their right to bear arms?  Are these moderate conservatives or Liberals?  Just who are these people?  How many CAN'T see what guns have become, what people have become, in this day and age?  Archaic thinking clouds judgment, and clouds respect for any other view. 

We don't live in the backwoods, with friendly neighbors with small town thinking.  The world is no longer isolated.  We are no longer isolated.  And what's good for us, is not always good for the neighbors.

I can only speak for myself, I know, and what I want for this country and for this world.....The bottom line is, I want peace, and that only comes with a nurturing respect for each other, whether they live next door or a country away.

On The Subject of Procrastination:

I’m reminded of the animals who are settling down in their nest for that long winter’s nap; they sniff and circle, and circle, then sniff the area again, and circle some more until they find just the right spot to park their butt.  It's not so much wasting time, as it is making sure your nest is ready for that long journey into Never-Never Land, during the long sleep.

I imagine every writer is different, in their approach to parking their butt.  It can exclude you from the outside world.  So, what is it?  What makes order turn to chaos?  What pushes that button, to shut out the environment around you?  It all reverts back to that word, creativity. 

It’s not so much an illusive word, as much as it is a word that involves that “other” self; the self that floats and drifts, to conjure scenes, elements, and people with extraordinary means.  It’s a tug-of-war: To do or not to do; to say or not to say.  An actor staying in character, a writer becoming that character, when the outside world begs to differ, and challenge that person you've become, while delving into that character’s mind. 

It’s not a world that will always be pleasant to the writer; it’s not a world that is always secure, at times questioning, challenging the psyche to a breaking point.  It can be a vortex, a black hole, or on better days, a place of recognition of loved ones, a breathing space; a pleasurable escape from whatever beckons from the world outside of your nesting place.

Being creative can exhilarate, fulfill, damn and frustrate.

So what makes it all happen?  What’s it all about? What’s the draw? 

The key word is NEED.  Just as the animal needs to prepare for that long dream, we need to prepare for OUR long dream, and the long journey it takes before we fully wake to the world of reality.  We are two in one...selves.  Understanding this makes that drive, run, journey, into a need that is more acceptable. 

Procrastination is a prerequisite for some writers; a must; calm before the storm of creative adventure. 

The Downfall of an Honest Living...

When Companies Grow Bigger Than Their Britches

When did companies start to lose interest in their employees?  The family man, the woman at the job sight with kids at home to feed and clothe; when did the personal relations between the owners and the workers start to fall apart?

 

Family owned businesses brought families together, working together to make a living for themselves, and for the future of their employees to come.  Growing businesses mean growing income; growing income means more product or services to provide, and this leads to people hired to complete those services.  The expansion balloons; more stress, more needs, more worries to shuttle around - to avoid.

With responsibilities compounding, more responsibility is delegated to workers in management.  Here lies the dissolution of familial relationships.

 

The employer, now at the top, can only see their immediate surroundings, that snow caped mountain in which to take their immediate family for winter vacations; they can no longer see the valley beneath them; their extended family, their employees, where common man and woman live, eking out a life that is driven by a standardized cost of living wage, a wage that no longer can support their families.  

The equality, between employer and employee, is driven apart by the need for money.  The standards are no longer equal.

The employer now raises his own cost of living, by demanding more money to seek their own pleasurable needs, forgetting that they had employees who were once part and parcel to being their family in creative equality.

There will never be equality, that’s a given, but there should be recognition, understanding, and a giving heart.

Were it not for the hard work; of the employee, there would not be that mountain top of security for the employer.

A few thoughts about the word, change

http://retrocampaigns.tumblr.com/post/29904462329/labor-day-1956-young-republicans-salute-labor

     When I saw this Retro Campaign Sign, I had a thought.  

     You may say, to friends and family members who are Republican, "It's not the same party it once was", but you are actually implying they should listen, read, watch, and learn how to change their minds about their Party.  They do not want to listen.  I wondered why.  These are my thoughts about this illusive word, change. 

     But, first, the issue comes down to this:  Why can’t they listen?  Why can’t their minds open up enough to listen?  Why the wall?  Why the anger?

     How many people do you know who are hard core in their "traditions"?  Heritage rolls the dice, here, where these traditions are embedded in a heart and mind.  Embedded is the operative word.

     It appears, to me, that people who hand down those traditions, from family member to family member, have a very hard time understanding this concept of change....whether party change, or change in the food they eat, or altering that recipe, or places they inhabit; or to the point of not even wanting to change the color or style of clothes they wear...heritage becomes a ritual of sorts; practiced for generations, (whatever they may be) - Families holding onto these  sacred “things” for generations - Holding on for dear life, for the future of family. 

     It is now a mind-set.  It would take a stick of dynamite to change a mind-set, because common sense does not enter this equation:  It is tuned out.  No common denominator that I know of exists between two opposites; common sense does not exist because they know what they know, and nothing more to know; it would only complicate their equal plain of existence ....what has been passed down through the years; taught and learned....where learned responses become hard as granite.

     I think about my friend who I lost in this past political year. I understand, now, our differences.  My understanding won't bring her back into my world, or mine into hers, as I now see how different our worlds really are.  We exist.  We see.  We hear. We are there, but with an invisible world between us.