After achieving a stunning victory in my ability to "trust" God, I ran into the minefield of "Why" I have never been able to "trust" Him deeply before now (age 53: over 25 years attempting to "walk" with God.)
Always remember, fellow travelers, behind every victory of new, healthy, fluffy, clean and wonderful behavior, lies the tangled web of whatever went so wrong with your young life. I now can choose when, where and for how long I endure this necessary, but highly painful encounter with my past.
My Victory:
I have to give you a bit of background, before my victory will make sense. I'm in a Charismatic Denomination. We believe in radical public displays (at times) of the work of the Holy Spirit. Sometimes during group prayer, people get so overwhelmed they collapse to the floor, or dance, or walk/run in the Spirit. For us, it is just an occurrence of healing. People watch one another and when someone gets "happy" as I like to think about it, those closest to them make sure they don't trip, or fall over people, or objects.
I've seen this stuff faked as well as truly happening. The church I'm currently attending is the real item. I've seen people writhe on the floor, troubled with drugs, or worse and when they return to themselves, they find the strength and courage (from God) to stop the destructive behavior which had formerly trapped them.
Usually this gets started by the congregation just deciding to continue collective prayer and or singing. There have been testimonies of people who swore they'd never let themselves "go" like that. When God really gets a hold of you, there is no choice. But, when I heard and saw these things I was filled with a rage fed by terror. I delivered an ultimatum to God: "YOU WILL NOT EVER THROW ME ANYWHERE!" This amazingly strong attitude really bothered me. I've been with God long enough to know that He is boss, not me. I'm free to share my feelings, plead for things and so forth. But I NEVER call the shots over HIS behavior. All I could do was back off and apologize, in my mind, asking Him to heal me of whatever I was reacting to so fiercely.
God healed me by revealing to me, the root of my trouble. The next time prayer got serious the pastor invited anyone who wanted to, to come down to the alter, and really seek the Lord. I usually don't feel prompted to do this for myself. Most of the time, I feel led to do intercessory prayer work for other people. This day, however, I had an issue. So down to the alter I went. I also figured if God was going to "throw" me, I'd already be on the floor and it wouldn't be as bad, as being "thrown" from a standing position. (Sure was a surrendered soul here, NOT!)
I began to cry, begging God from some little-kid place of abject terror, not to throw me. I couldn't stop crying, but I was not medically out-of-control. God then showed me where my fear was coming from. He also surrounded me with a type of gentleness I know to be one of God's traits with me. An amazingly soothing, gentle and understanding spirit "held" me while I went back to the memories of my mother throwing my rebelling two-year-old self against a wall. I was watching this event from a point on the floor, in a standing position. Clearly, I had left my body. I watched myself hit the wall full force, on my left side, bent at the hips.
My left shoulder hit a picture. Both I and the picture in its frame fell to the floor. I realized from this memory why I always have had trouble when people try and massage my back on the left side. I'm prone to go into true hysterics. Needless to say, I've learned to avoid most massage!
I guess I was at the alter for about twenty minutes. I was absolutely reassured that God would NEVER hurt me. His feather-soft God-ness fulled me with peace. I shared, in my testimony about this incident. I wanted to be WILLING to let God get physical with me, if He wished to. I felt much better about my attitude. I was thankful I wasn't trying to order Him around. This change of spirit happened about a month ago.
Friday night we had a lovely sermon on the 23rd Psalm. One of those "God's got your back" sermons. I love that concept. I always remember being so afraid. Knowing at the deepest level that the last thing I could do, if I didn't want to get hurt, was to "trust" my drunken and mentally ill parents.
I remember being on my swing set as a small little girl, probably three, or four. I loved my swing set and sometimes after my father got home from work, both parents would come outside to enjoy the summer evening with me as I swung.
One night my father was really drunk. He sat down on the swing next to me and really went at it. I felt the THUMP-WHOOMP! of the entire structure being pulled out of the ground. I tried to tell my father to stop going so high. Just like he had told me, when I got carried away. My mother got angry with me, while my father just kept going higher and higher. I knew the swing set was going to fall over and got off my swing. My mother yelled, ordering me back to my swing. I did as I was told and, sure enough, the back end of the triangular swing set came completely out of the ground It toppled over, throwing me to the ground. Yeah, it was not a good idea to relax around these (or any other) people.
My mind returned to Pastor and his reassuring sermon. He asked us all to stand. There were about twenty people at church spread out around the sanctuary. I was in the second row on the left, taking sermon notes for the website. Since we were going into prayer, I put my notes down and stood. Pastor then started visiting different people individually, to pray for them. I love this process. It is so marvelous to watch the healing that happens. Most of the time it is subtle, but not always. Pastor was now in front of me. He reached out and firmly placed his hand over the top of my head. He kind of shakes when he prays. Its not a put-on or a trick. I felt myself lose my balance. I remember thinking: "God, I'm not going to fight this."
I fell back and just naturally sat back down on my pew. But, if I had fallen to either side, I knew with absolute confidence that the women on either side of me would keep me from getting hurt. I was completely relaxed! It felt good to show God that I was willing to really "risk" something. I felt strange inside. I didn't realize until returning home, that a whole lot of stuff had gotten stirred up. Trust is very hard when there is so much treachery.
I noticed this experience of trusting felt totally new. It was like the first time in my life I consciously remember doing a for-real "I trust". I thought of my friend in Boston. One of the great gifts of his friendship is the safety of being able to tell him things. I know for sure I won't lose his friendship, no matter how "out there" I might become. (That is such a lovely encouraging and nurturing fact). Since I've asked him to help me with socialization skills, from time to time he'll explain things to me. I refer to two adults joking with one another as "banter" rather then "play". He is also gently guiding me through the confusion of what is and isn't appropriate for a female to share with a male. I have great trouble with this, as depending on who I'm with, the rules seem to radically change.
I also remembered part of an almost forgotten song. Lyrics that shot through me like electricity, when I first heard it in the early 80's. I made a copy of the song, for my friend, with the lyrics. I knew this one was touching me at a very deep and still hurting place. My friend and I have radically different ideas about "what is music", but I knew he'd listen to the song and tell me what, if anything he "got" from it.
Don't Make Promises
Lyrics by Marianne Faithful.
Performed by Helen Reddy, 2006 Album : I Don't Know How To Love Him.
It seems the songs we're singing
Are all about tomorrow,
Tunes of promises that we can't keep.
Every moment bringing
A love I can only borrow,
You're telling me lies in your sleep.
Do you think I'm not aware
Of what you're saying
Or why you're saying it ?
Is it hard to keep me where
You want me staying ?
Don't go on betraying.
Don't make promises that you can't keep.
We had a chance to find it,
Our time was now or never,
You promised me things that I need.
And then the things behind it
Took away the chance forever,
You're telling me lies in your sleep.
Do you think I'm not aware
Of what you're saying
Or why you're saying it ?
Is it hard to keep me where
You want me staying ?
Don't go on betraying.
Don't make promises that you can't keep.
Don't make promises that you can't keep.
Don't make promises that you can't keep.
Don't make promises that you can't keep
-------------------------------------------------
One of the ways I heal is to find a piece of music which really "speaks" to me. I listen to it for hours, as the memories wash over me. The music helps me find my "voice". The pivital line for me is:
"We had a chance to find it,
our time was now or never
You promised me things I need"
Every time that section would replay I'd feel acute pain, with no memory. I knew if I asked God to help me, I'd locate the problem and once I remembered it, I could release it for God to heal.
My entire early life was basically one gigantic unmet need. I can tolerate almost anything else from someone in my life, except a broken promise. Here's the great part. Healthy people know how hard it is to guarantee anything - for that is what a promise is, an implied guarantee. Healthy folks don't pass out promises lightly.
When I told my friend, in Boston, that I'd be coming his way in October, he was glad. But, immediately told me that he wasn't even sure he'd be in town in October because of his ever changing work contracts. This is fine. I have goofy work stuff also and totally understand. I am so thankful that my friend hasn't ever promised me anything, officially. No dramatic speeches. Healthy people know what hell can result from an emotionally motivated promise, which is accidentally forgotten, to the hurt of someone they care about.
I trust my friend's friendship because of his consistent behavior towards me. I know that he's not perfect, as we are all flawed. So, when I feel let down, over very minor stuff, I chalk it up to his acknowledged weaknesses.
He is one of my strongest supporters. He faithfully reads my blog as I also follow his blog and pod casts. A very nice relationship which continues to deepen and broaden with the passing of time. I try to give all my friends a "safe" place where they can tell their truth. I know how good it feels to finally come out of hiding, so to speak.
Did some social phone time with another friend. I noticed I was having trouble giving her my undivided attention. My mind was busy processing something not very nice. I had to leave that phone conversation for another time, when I could be more "Present" with her. I absolutely hate it when, I'm trying to relate with someone and their mind is AWOL. Be real, I can take it. If this isn't a good time for you, your busy, tired or whatever, JUST TELL ME! I hate that co-dependent "please 'em at any cost, even if its a total lie" approach. Thankfully, most of those type folks are GONE, GONE, GONE!
After shutting down my computer chat programs and getting off the phone I knew I was free to roam back into a slime pit. I kept remembering my cousin. God, what a piece of work, one very troubled lady. Remember, before you can move to that lovely state of true forgiveness, with the details of all of THEIR problems, you have to figure out what they did TO you! Memory trolling isn't a good time to attempt a forgiving nature. I always ask God to be close to me while I relive the painful or enraging. Once the infection has been opened up and is draining, healing and real forgiveness (and freedom) from the past begin to naturally take place.
"You promised me things that I need". I kept emotionally snagging on that one line. Then it came back. Now mind you, my cousin is only ten years older then me. Taking on raising me, as she had to, after her mother's death was very hard on her life. She told me, she almost lost her marriage over the problems. I don't feel she was exaggerating. I was a mental mess and she was twenty-three and married only a few years. She found herself dealing with an enraged, broken and stubborn thirteen-year-old who actually was in need of professional help. I was too afraid to tell the truth, to get help. But, I was a mess.
One pattern with my cousin and her husband was the drunken "speech". Usually my cousin would trap me somewhere and just start talking about how much they loved me and how they'd always be there for me. She'd wrap up this emotional blow-out by sharing how they were learning to raise me, as we all stumbled along. I hated these sessions, but my aunt did the same thing. So, I'd get numb and endure.
What I didn't understand at the time, was the fact that I BELIEVED all of this. I built my basic security and person hood on the knowledge that no matter how difficult things were between my cousin and myself, she DID love me.
If I'd analysed her behavior, I would have picked up on the less then subtle clue of her real feelings. I'd be talking to her and when I no longer got a response, I'd realize that she'd just walked away without telling me! The rhythm of instant messaging threw me for awhile, as people carry on long periods of time, available to one another without actually messaging to one another. Most of the time, you don't send a message of: "I'm going away now, bye". You just realize that your partner has logged off. There is no inconsiderateness to this. When you are actively messaging to one another the "got to go" message is given.
Now I realize why I felt so strange at times when someone would just log off when we'd both been on line. The log off came after almost two hours of not messaging to each other. Ah, one less thing I have to get insecure about.
By age fifteen I began to look for God. My father had apparently laid a trip on my aunt of making sure I became a Catholic. (No WAY!) I hated THEIR God! My father's sister had clearly told me, at a very young age, just shortly after learning to walk, all I needed to know about THEIR God. Squatting down to look directly at me, she cooed: "God loved those best, He suffers most." and then she looked over my head and spoke to my drunken parents. "God did this to her because of your sin." Ladies and gentlemen, that is a very strange life script to try to follow. I was madder then hell.
I found the Baha'i' Faith. They are an apostate offshoot of Islam that believes their prophet is the fulfillment of all the promises from all other religions. My new non-Christian faith freaked out my cousin. The Baha'i's were non-political and very new age. She landed on the "you shouldn't waste your time to vote, as we're busy building heaven on earth". My summary, not necessarily theirs. So, my cousin and I went to emotional war. For religion I'll go through anything. We had many tearful, very over-dramatic fights. You know, like everyone else I heard about in high school. Mind you, I only had one friend, but she and her dad fought like me and my cousin.
I came home from school to find my cousin's husband waiting for me. I had the strangest feeling, like my room was absolutely full of people. I remember looking around, because it "felt" crowded. I sensed I was being protected from something, but it was just my cousin's husband leaning against the open door to my room, with me standing on the other side of my bed, listening to him. He dropped a bomb into my physical, moral and ethical system.
"My wife, your cousin, went to the doctor today. You know she's pregnant. I know you know that. The doctor told us that because of all your rebelling and the stress, you are causing her to have another miscarriage." This was baby number two on the way. Baby number one was born dead about four months into the pregnancy. I literally began to disassociate reality.
I began looking at things and people while thinking: "You haven't happened yet." I couldn't quite figure out what the year was. Was I in California, or Arizona? Only thing I knew was that my cousins "hadn't happened yet". I found out later, after being forced into therapy, that I was in BIG trouble. These times of confusion would last for hours. When I finally told my counselor at school about how I was thinking, she pulled out all the stops to get me help.
I had to try and figure out why they would do something like that to me. My biology teacher became completely enraged when I told him about being accused of causing my cousin to possibly lose her baby. He was shaking with anger as he carefully explained that it took more then a couple of family fights to "cause" a miscarriage.
Thankfully, the baby was born full-term and healthy in all respects. After about six months, I asked my cousin about the bit with her and the possible miscarriage. (She was never in any medical danger). She snorted and laughed: "Oh, we just made it up. I never even went to the doctor." Again, a little snorted laugh. I stood up for myself. I told her it was really damaging for me. I was freaked out through the remainder of her pregnancy. I just completely shut down.
She shocked me with her brutal reply: "Well, it worked, didn't it? Got you to damn well stop rebelling, didn't it?" my cousin was walking away from me, as she spoke.
At the lovely age of sixteen, my cousin decided to do what she always did. Drop the truth into my world because she was tired of lying. I had been having a rough time in high school and casually mentioned about how her love helped me through.
I was sitting in the breakfast room, but had moved into the kitchen to talk to my cousin face to face. I didn't want her doing an unannounced "walk out". My cousin had had enough of the facade. She leaned back against the counter next to the stove top and blew my entire world apart.
"Cybey" (I hate that "y" at the end of my name!) "I think its time you know the truth. I have never loved you. My mother dumped you into my lap. I mean, sure I didn't want you living with your father's sister - she's really insane. But love never entered into it. When you're eighteen we're done. No rides to school, nothing. You are going to have to fend for yourself, we're done." With this preachment she stalked out of the kitchen. I literally felt the floor slope to one side. Everything became blurry, almost milky and distorted. I felt really strange, like I didn't have a physical body anymore. I just kind of walked around in a total daze for a long time.
Being I desperately wanted her words NOT to be true, I eventually found the courage to ask her about all the past speeches. Oh, they were just drunk and lying. All very simple and expedient. A very large part of me died over this incident.
My school counselor didn't believe me, when I pleaded with her not to write my cousin about the stress they were putting me through about getting good grades. I was grounded for an entire year because my English grade slipped from an A plus to an A! By grounded, I mean I was only allowed to leave the house for school, no church, no socializing, and no telephone. The loneliness became so strong as to almost be palpable. I used to chant prayers for hours trying to get the pain down low enough to where I could handle it.
Against my best advice my school counselor wrote a letter to my cousin telling her that they were endangering my mental health to the extent of risking me being put into a state hospital. I desparately told my well intentioned counselor how such a letter would only get me into more trouble.
Upon receipt of this communication from my counselor, my cousin hit the ceiling. I was taking a bath. She burst into the bathroom waving the letter. She quickly read it to me. I braced myself for something to happen. She took out a red pen and corrected the letters grammar and style, berating my counselor with every correction. She then screamed at me awhile and nothing about my "grounding" changed. My counselor was shocked into silence when I told her the effect of her correspontence!
So I have a problem with people promising me things. I like to visit the dictionary when investigating concepts. Check out the forethought of betrayal. It isn't an "accident". My family never did anything without planning. They played a Ph.D. level game of "gotcha".
Dictionary (From Apple's Dictionary Program)
betray |biˈtrā| verb [ trans. ] be disloyal to : his friends were shocked when he betrayed them. • be disloyal to (one's country, organization, or ideology) by acting in the interests of an enemy : he could betray his country for the sake of communism. • treacherously inform an enemy of the existence or location of (a person or organization) : this group was betrayed by an informer. • treacherously reveal (secrets or information) : many of those employed by diplomats betrayed secrets and sold classified documents. • figurative reveal the presence of; be evidence of : she drew a deep breath that betrayed her indignation. DERIVATIVES betrayal |-əl| noun betrayer noun ORIGIN Middle English : from be- [thoroughly] + obsolete tray [betray,] from Old French trair, based on Latin tradere ‘hand over.’ Compare with traitor .
Thesaurus
betrayal noun betrayal in the workplace | the CIA leak was a serious act of betrayal disloyalty, treachery, bad faith, faithlessness, falseness, duplicity, deception, double-dealing; breach of faith, breach of trust, stab in the back; double-cross, sellout; literary perfidy. antonym loyalty.
treachery |ˈtre ch ərē| noun ( pl. -eries) betrayal of trust; deceptive action or nature : his resignation was perceived as an act of treachery | the treachery of language. ORIGIN Middle English : from Old French trecherie, from trechier ‘to cheat.’
duplicity |d(y)oōˈplisitē| noun 1 deceitfulness; double-dealing. 2 archaic doubleness. ORIGIN late Middle English : from Old French duplicite or late Latin duplicitas, from Latin duplic- ‘twofold’ (see duplex ).
Thesaurus
duplicity noun he got caught up in the duplicity of his crooked partners deceitfulness, deceit, deception, double-dealing, underhandedness, dishonesty, fraud, fraudulence, sharp practice, chicanery, trickery, subterfuge, skulduggery, treachery; informal crookedness, shadiness, dirty tricks, shenanigans, monkey business; literary perfidy. antonym honesty.
-------------
For the first time I can remember I "trusted" not only God, but the people around me. I am so deeply thankful for being given the grace by God to recover from a very shakey beginning.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Philosophy On Life.
I got this in an email this morning and feel it is worth your time and attention. Sadly, I do not know who the author is. Yes, I do get philosophical from time to time. - CG
GOOD COFFEE !! (Author: Unknown)
A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got
together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon
turned into complaints about stress in work and life. Offering his guests
coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot
of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal,
some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help
themselves to the coffee.
When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: "If
you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving
behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the
best for yourselves, that is the source of your
problems and stress.
Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases
it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What
all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went
for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each other's cups.
Now consider this: Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in
society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the
type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of life we
live.
Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee.
The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the
best of everything.
Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly. The future has a peculiar way of arriving unannounced.
GOOD COFFEE !! (Author: Unknown)
A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got
together to visit their old university professor. Conversation soon
turned into complaints about stress in work and life. Offering his guests
coffee, the professor went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot
of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, crystal,
some plain looking, some expensive, some exquisite - telling them to help
themselves to the coffee.
When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the professor said: "If
you noticed, all the nice looking expensive cups were taken up, leaving
behind the plain and cheap ones. While it is normal for you to want only the
best for yourselves, that is the source of your
problems and stress.
Be assured that the cup itself adds no quality to the coffee. In most cases
it is just more expensive and in some cases even hides what we drink. What
all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went
for the best cups... And then you began eyeing each other's cups.
Now consider this: Life is the coffee; the jobs, money and position in
society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, and the
type of cup we have does not define, nor change the quality of life we
live.
Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee.
The happiest people don't have the best of everything. They just make the
best of everything.
Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly. The future has a peculiar way of arriving unannounced.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Snopes.com: To Verify If That Hysterical Email Is Fact Or Fabrication.
Here is the link to snopes.com "content" page. This covers their philosophy and policies.
We all have friends who send us email when they learn of something they feel is noteworthy. As a Christian, I am called upon, from time to time, to get involved in petition-signing and / or a letter whiting campaigns. I've even re-published personal correspondence on this blog - after securing permission.
The first thing I look for in any correspondence is who wrote this AND who will receive my petition, or letter-sign-on. Two emails came to me recently which disturbed me enough to consider passing them on to a friend. A friend, who is too busy to have his time wasted via flim-flam.
I couldn't find an author / publication citation for a lovely story about 87-year-old Billy Graham leading a walk-through in New Orleans on his scooter. This was a thrilling account which would have gotten into some news story. The point of the email was that since NO PRESS reported this story, we need to get hot and bothered about poor and deliberately slanted press coverage.
No, it wasn't covered, because, although Billy Graham was in New Orleans, there was never the heroic walk-through with 25,000 people (after his crusade). These facts were verified by The Billy Graham Assoc.Thankfully, going to snopes.com and searching for "Billy Graham" brought up this story as the first entry. Once visiting the story's investigation page, I discovered the walk-through to be a fabrication. I was prevented from spreading falsehood and wasting my time, as well as the time of my friends.
The second hysterical email alerted me to the pending demise of all Christian Radio. Specifically, it would become illegal to broadcast any reading of the Bible over the public airwaves. Since I enjoy listening to Christian Radio, I got geared up to sign the email petition and forward it to everyone I thought might care enough to participate. I was also planning on reproducing the email on this blog, to further enlarge the scope of an effort to save Christian Radio.
Again, I went to snopes.com, searching the term "christian radio" Bingo! First story cited was this troubling petition. It is a really old hoax which has morphed into various forms, over the years. The FCC has tried in vain to clear itself of this insanity. When the Government needs a good hand slapping, I say: Let's Go! But, millions of letters, phone calls and emails have bombarded the FCC over a hoax! What a sad waste of people's trust and good name. I actually found myself feeling a bit sorry for the FCC being buried in this well-meaning, but misguided grass roots campaign.
I found snopes.com through a science site that was attempting to disprove some of the fluky "cure" claimo of the alternative medicinemovement. snopes.com appears to have no axe to grind. If its a real story, they guide you back to the original story and publication. If its fake, they document who they contacted and what they discovered.
I always look for the name of an author, or authoring organization. (ABC, BBC, or The San Francisco Chronicle, for example). If there's a citation, I go to the net and retrieve the original post. I then contact the author to get permission to re-publish on this blog.
I also check where my response email (and requested information) is GOING. Who gets my response? Usually you are to forward the correspondence to all your friends AND some other person or organization. If I don't see something, or someone who looks familiar, or is associated with the story. I don't reply.
Once the email is determined to be a probable hoax, I search for the story via the Internet, and the pro ported organization. When that turns up empty, I turn to snopes.com.
What's to stop someone from "pretending" to be from the BBC, etc.? Nothing, in the beginning. But, once the BBC is alerted to the evidence of someone writing things using their name without permission, lawyers become involved quickly. Why? The BBC can't afford to NOT be a credible news source. It doesn't take long for a hoax to travel around the world. I'm sure the BBC would take swift and decisive action against someone pretending to be one of their reporters, when they weren't on staff.
As the sign-off for a police podcast says: "Be careful out there".
We all have friends who send us email when they learn of something they feel is noteworthy. As a Christian, I am called upon, from time to time, to get involved in petition-signing and / or a letter whiting campaigns. I've even re-published personal correspondence on this blog - after securing permission.
The first thing I look for in any correspondence is who wrote this AND who will receive my petition, or letter-sign-on. Two emails came to me recently which disturbed me enough to consider passing them on to a friend. A friend, who is too busy to have his time wasted via flim-flam.
I couldn't find an author / publication citation for a lovely story about 87-year-old Billy Graham leading a walk-through in New Orleans on his scooter. This was a thrilling account which would have gotten into some news story. The point of the email was that since NO PRESS reported this story, we need to get hot and bothered about poor and deliberately slanted press coverage.
No, it wasn't covered, because, although Billy Graham was in New Orleans, there was never the heroic walk-through with 25,000 people (after his crusade). These facts were verified by The Billy Graham Assoc.Thankfully, going to snopes.com and searching for "Billy Graham" brought up this story as the first entry. Once visiting the story's investigation page, I discovered the walk-through to be a fabrication. I was prevented from spreading falsehood and wasting my time, as well as the time of my friends.
The second hysterical email alerted me to the pending demise of all Christian Radio. Specifically, it would become illegal to broadcast any reading of the Bible over the public airwaves. Since I enjoy listening to Christian Radio, I got geared up to sign the email petition and forward it to everyone I thought might care enough to participate. I was also planning on reproducing the email on this blog, to further enlarge the scope of an effort to save Christian Radio.
Again, I went to snopes.com, searching the term "christian radio" Bingo! First story cited was this troubling petition. It is a really old hoax which has morphed into various forms, over the years. The FCC has tried in vain to clear itself of this insanity. When the Government needs a good hand slapping, I say: Let's Go! But, millions of letters, phone calls and emails have bombarded the FCC over a hoax! What a sad waste of people's trust and good name. I actually found myself feeling a bit sorry for the FCC being buried in this well-meaning, but misguided grass roots campaign.
I found snopes.com through a science site that was attempting to disprove some of the fluky "cure" claimo of the alternative medicinemovement. snopes.com appears to have no axe to grind. If its a real story, they guide you back to the original story and publication. If its fake, they document who they contacted and what they discovered.
I always look for the name of an author, or authoring organization. (ABC, BBC, or The San Francisco Chronicle, for example). If there's a citation, I go to the net and retrieve the original post. I then contact the author to get permission to re-publish on this blog.
I also check where my response email (and requested information) is GOING. Who gets my response? Usually you are to forward the correspondence to all your friends AND some other person or organization. If I don't see something, or someone who looks familiar, or is associated with the story. I don't reply.
Once the email is determined to be a probable hoax, I search for the story via the Internet, and the pro ported organization. When that turns up empty, I turn to snopes.com.
What's to stop someone from "pretending" to be from the BBC, etc.? Nothing, in the beginning. But, once the BBC is alerted to the evidence of someone writing things using their name without permission, lawyers become involved quickly. Why? The BBC can't afford to NOT be a credible news source. It doesn't take long for a hoax to travel around the world. I'm sure the BBC would take swift and decisive action against someone pretending to be one of their reporters, when they weren't on staff.
As the sign-off for a police podcast says: "Be careful out there".
My Work As A Housekeeper
Awhile back I put together a resume for a housekeeping job and discovered I've got over twenty years experience. Unfortunately, due to my several major disabilities I don't have a prayer of being hired, unless I'm already acquainted with the prospective employer. Now that I use a walker, it is easier to understand why my situation may give someone reason to pause. So, I get work word of mouth and all is well.
When I was younger and much cockier, I fell for the argument that I was too smart to do housework. It was beneath me. After some demolition of my pride, I realize that my low vision interferes the least with housework. I like cleaning things, especially when compared to cooking things. Hey, you make me dinner, I'll gladly do dishes and clean the kitchen!
One thing is crucial. Do things the way the homeowner wants, no matter how stupid you think their ideas are. I had one gal who insisted I wash down her tiled shower, weekly with Tilex. Tilex is strong enough to take layers of skin off one's hands. I knew this was asking for trouble. I went to the homeowner and said that she'd destroy the grout between the shower tiles using Tilex every week. She ignored me and I followed her instructions. About six weeks later one entire wall of tiles had fallen off the wall. She then decided to listen to me!
Tact is everything. I find it is best to follow given directions, and then, after a few months, I can suggest changes. Remember, before you came along, they cleaned their own house. You are not indispensable.
Because of my low vision I am flexible on wages. I prefer to get paid by the job and not by the hour. Since, I work slower, why should someone have to pay more for the same work because of my low vision? I find out what they paid the last person and start with that rate. My work speaks for itself and I've had the joy of bonuses and raises in recognition of the quality job I perform.
If you can't supervise yourself, this isn't the job for you. I prefer to work alone. I am used to having the house to myself for a weekend. It messes up my rhythm when people are around. Sweet Maria, is easy. She stays put while I work and doesn't hover over me. I can't stand the hovering supervisor who is afraid I don't know what I'm doing. There is money which is too painful to secure. Working for the hovering supervisor, or the person who insists on treating me like some kind of lower species, are two situations I walk away from.
I don't do elder-care, or any kind of medical care for people. Sometimes, when people say they want a housekeeper, what they truly want is an inexpensive nurse. I also don't work for actively out-of-control alcoholics. Very painful and traumatic experiences I won't EVER repeat.
It is better to clean a home once every week, then to have to do a full muck-out after several weeks. Dogs and cats are job security. Ah, yes! Shed, my darlings, shed! I've never met a dog yet who doesn't play a type of vacuum cleaner tag. I just know that whatever room I need to vacuum, Hanna will lie down somewhere on that particular rug. Cats love to "help" me make beds.
The cat accomplishes this feat by leaping under the sheet I'm attempting to put on said bed. I remove cat to the floor, but by the time I've returned to the sheet - WHOOMP! The cat's BACK! The only real solution is to place helpful cat outside the bedroom and close the door. The cat will then cry pitifully behind the closed door. I have to be strong, I tell you. I just have to be strong.
Staying over night in sweet Maria's house has several "situations" I must remember not to call the police about. There are two different kinds of trees which drop, or throw things at the house. The plums crash down on the roof, while the flowering bushes twirl their seedpods in a tight loop and then they let fly. It can sound like buck shot hitting the windows! I have nightmares of calling the local cops only to be told they can't arrest falling plums!
Since I take care of animals and or clean homes I get a variety of wonderful "perks". Gourmet coffee and expensive food treats of all kinds keep me coming back. I get to use the home computer, TV or piano, while keeping animals company. I have to get the cat inside by eight PM. She then cries at the kitchen door for about twenty minutes, to see if I'll relent and let her go outside once again. An electric blanket is a luscious experience. The cat drapes herself around my lower leg and we drift off to peaceful sleep, warm and toasty.
At around five-thirty in the morning, miss kitty is ready to get up and start a new day. I, however, am NOT a morning person. Swing shift was invented for me. So, I let the cat outside and crawl back into bed.
The part of housework I like the least is good old furniture dusting. Man, I don't see a change. Whereas, when I 'oil' the furniture, it looks absolutely stunning. I've learned to use a small raglet to get most of the oi on the furniture and not just on the rag. Forget about using wax-based products. Oil is really the way to go.
I have discovered a trick when using any product which boasts that you don't need to rinse it off the surface. THEY lie! I have seen floors change color after being cleaned with a floor cleaner and RINSED. Yes, its extra work, but when you hear the family rave about how you've transformed their home, the extra work is worth the effort.
A final note. Things get broken, misplaced and used up. Always tell the truth. Be ready to replace what you break. It happens to the most careful of us. Never attempt to lie to the home owner. I am continually amazed at the following situation. An acquaintance goes on in great detail about how they've stolen from their current employer. Then they hit me up for a job! Now, the number one problem with house cleaners, is a lot of them think the homeowner "won't miss it". When you go out of your way to establish truthfulness and openness with the homeowner, the rewards are amazing.
I'm not tempted over money, or most things. But, I've been tempted to eat something the wife is saving for the husband. I don't eat that home made banana bread, no matter how badly I want to. This trust is extremely important. If I'm supposed to stay over for a weekend for dog care and cleaning, I won't take my wages if I'm too sick to clean the house. I'm a greatly complimented when my abandoned wages are returned to me, even though most of the work didn't get done.
So, I complete a home, groom a pet and earn my pay. The house is clean and I'm a bit of a dusty, sweaty mess. There is nothing nicer, after wrapping up cleaning a house, then to jump into their shower to relax and refresh. Another fabulous perk I receive is the use of all that expensive bath stuff. Bubbles, fizzes and fragrant hair care products. I get all the joy of expensive property and pets with none of the headaches.
When I was younger and much cockier, I fell for the argument that I was too smart to do housework. It was beneath me. After some demolition of my pride, I realize that my low vision interferes the least with housework. I like cleaning things, especially when compared to cooking things. Hey, you make me dinner, I'll gladly do dishes and clean the kitchen!
One thing is crucial. Do things the way the homeowner wants, no matter how stupid you think their ideas are. I had one gal who insisted I wash down her tiled shower, weekly with Tilex. Tilex is strong enough to take layers of skin off one's hands. I knew this was asking for trouble. I went to the homeowner and said that she'd destroy the grout between the shower tiles using Tilex every week. She ignored me and I followed her instructions. About six weeks later one entire wall of tiles had fallen off the wall. She then decided to listen to me!
Tact is everything. I find it is best to follow given directions, and then, after a few months, I can suggest changes. Remember, before you came along, they cleaned their own house. You are not indispensable.
Because of my low vision I am flexible on wages. I prefer to get paid by the job and not by the hour. Since, I work slower, why should someone have to pay more for the same work because of my low vision? I find out what they paid the last person and start with that rate. My work speaks for itself and I've had the joy of bonuses and raises in recognition of the quality job I perform.
If you can't supervise yourself, this isn't the job for you. I prefer to work alone. I am used to having the house to myself for a weekend. It messes up my rhythm when people are around. Sweet Maria, is easy. She stays put while I work and doesn't hover over me. I can't stand the hovering supervisor who is afraid I don't know what I'm doing. There is money which is too painful to secure. Working for the hovering supervisor, or the person who insists on treating me like some kind of lower species, are two situations I walk away from.
I don't do elder-care, or any kind of medical care for people. Sometimes, when people say they want a housekeeper, what they truly want is an inexpensive nurse. I also don't work for actively out-of-control alcoholics. Very painful and traumatic experiences I won't EVER repeat.
It is better to clean a home once every week, then to have to do a full muck-out after several weeks. Dogs and cats are job security. Ah, yes! Shed, my darlings, shed! I've never met a dog yet who doesn't play a type of vacuum cleaner tag. I just know that whatever room I need to vacuum, Hanna will lie down somewhere on that particular rug. Cats love to "help" me make beds.
The cat accomplishes this feat by leaping under the sheet I'm attempting to put on said bed. I remove cat to the floor, but by the time I've returned to the sheet - WHOOMP! The cat's BACK! The only real solution is to place helpful cat outside the bedroom and close the door. The cat will then cry pitifully behind the closed door. I have to be strong, I tell you. I just have to be strong.
Staying over night in sweet Maria's house has several "situations" I must remember not to call the police about. There are two different kinds of trees which drop, or throw things at the house. The plums crash down on the roof, while the flowering bushes twirl their seedpods in a tight loop and then they let fly. It can sound like buck shot hitting the windows! I have nightmares of calling the local cops only to be told they can't arrest falling plums!
Since I take care of animals and or clean homes I get a variety of wonderful "perks". Gourmet coffee and expensive food treats of all kinds keep me coming back. I get to use the home computer, TV or piano, while keeping animals company. I have to get the cat inside by eight PM. She then cries at the kitchen door for about twenty minutes, to see if I'll relent and let her go outside once again. An electric blanket is a luscious experience. The cat drapes herself around my lower leg and we drift off to peaceful sleep, warm and toasty.
At around five-thirty in the morning, miss kitty is ready to get up and start a new day. I, however, am NOT a morning person. Swing shift was invented for me. So, I let the cat outside and crawl back into bed.
The part of housework I like the least is good old furniture dusting. Man, I don't see a change. Whereas, when I 'oil' the furniture, it looks absolutely stunning. I've learned to use a small raglet to get most of the oi on the furniture and not just on the rag. Forget about using wax-based products. Oil is really the way to go.
I have discovered a trick when using any product which boasts that you don't need to rinse it off the surface. THEY lie! I have seen floors change color after being cleaned with a floor cleaner and RINSED. Yes, its extra work, but when you hear the family rave about how you've transformed their home, the extra work is worth the effort.
A final note. Things get broken, misplaced and used up. Always tell the truth. Be ready to replace what you break. It happens to the most careful of us. Never attempt to lie to the home owner. I am continually amazed at the following situation. An acquaintance goes on in great detail about how they've stolen from their current employer. Then they hit me up for a job! Now, the number one problem with house cleaners, is a lot of them think the homeowner "won't miss it". When you go out of your way to establish truthfulness and openness with the homeowner, the rewards are amazing.
I'm not tempted over money, or most things. But, I've been tempted to eat something the wife is saving for the husband. I don't eat that home made banana bread, no matter how badly I want to. This trust is extremely important. If I'm supposed to stay over for a weekend for dog care and cleaning, I won't take my wages if I'm too sick to clean the house. I'm a greatly complimented when my abandoned wages are returned to me, even though most of the work didn't get done.
So, I complete a home, groom a pet and earn my pay. The house is clean and I'm a bit of a dusty, sweaty mess. There is nothing nicer, after wrapping up cleaning a house, then to jump into their shower to relax and refresh. Another fabulous perk I receive is the use of all that expensive bath stuff. Bubbles, fizzes and fragrant hair care products. I get all the joy of expensive property and pets with none of the headaches.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Recovery: Emotionally Thawing Out.
One of the real tragedies resulting from major child abuse is your total inability to relate to life around you. Oh, sure, you are alive, you "appear" to be living, but inside you can't be reached by anyone. You are locked in a prison of terror.
One of the true shocks of therapy was learning that for most people, there was a difference between an event viewed on TV, or at a movie and actually living an event. For me, TV was more real than my "real" life. (another one of those: "oops" moments, where I again scrambled to try and "construct" reality).
So, as I continue in this fascinating, but at times, very strange new world of mental health, I'm discovering my emotions in real time. I'm experiencing the emotional reactions of other people and animals in real time also. It is most interesting and totally new to me.
All of this growth springs from my ever decreasing fear level. I cannot emphasize too strongly how much my fear kept me locked in an emotional deep freeze. It used to be, I'd go to an event, feel nothing while actually at the event and only "experience" it as a memory. A memory, when it was safe to feel, later, when I was alone. This is severe isolation which can be difficult to explain to people.
While at an event, I'd attempt to "act" correctly. Since I was alone most of the time, I learned most of my social skills from TV. If you give me a gift, I'd "act" happy. If you were punishing me, I'd attempt to "act" like I cared enough not to act up again. I just would look for something I'd seen, or read somewhere to "show" the expected reaction. But, my emotional core was not there at all. Only when safely alone, would I be able to process what had happened.
However, I feel very deeply about people who are close to me and have a way of touching your emotions. I care deeply and can express it in written communication. People would give me feedback like: "This is the kind of card that is very emotional and makes me uncomfortable." To which I'd draw a complete blank. I had no idea what my friends were talking about. To me, it was all like a big math equation. I do behavior A and (according to TV), you'll react with emotion X. You express emotion Y to me and I'm expected (according to a novel), to react with emotion Z in response. I always felt like I wasn't quite all there. I totally related to the Simon and Garfunkel song, Fak'in It. Hell, that WAS how I managed my world. It was all a gigantic theory, I felt like i was working without a net..
But of late, sweet Marie has managed to get past my old defenses and actually touch my emotions. Sometimes when I'm giving her a scalp massage I can truly feel her reaction. I sense emotions as physical things. If you could see them, it would be like little puffs of energy coming off of the person reacting. This little cloud of reaction drifts towards me, I feel it and it goes away. I first noticed this with Hannah, the dog.
I was giving her a tummy rub and I suddenly became aware of a swarm of reaction coming from the dog to me. It was like a swarm of little puffs of feeling coming from the dog to me. She was very happy. It made me joyful to interact like that. It was all new to me. I also wondered if I was having some kind of altered state due to a possible medication problem. I do not always feel emotions, but I believe when they are particularly strong, is when I tend to sense they are there.
The next time I experienced the emotional reaction was from sweet Maria. She had fallen into a light sleep as I massaged her scalp. I was happy to be there and I again noticed emotions. Same general reaction, but she felt different from the emotions of Hannah, the dog. Bigger bits of feeling in each Little emotional puff. It was really quite pleasant to experience this.
But, I hadn't noticed any changes on my side of the emotional equation. Then Maria and I began sharing more Girlie Days with lunch. It has been established that I absolutely adore garlic buttered, french bread. So, Maria has taken to buying me one or two loaves of this bread, when I come to dog sit. It really stirred something way down deep inside me. But, I'm not afraid of Maria, so I wasn't afraid to accept her demonstration of affection.
Then came Christmas. Maria, my dear, you really got to me. Now I know what it is like to feel emotionally vulnerable and uncomfortable. I had so much joy, I almost cried. Since I'm saving money for both a new computer and a Boston vacation, I assumed my "Christmas" present of $100 would automatically go into my savings account.
I have no problem with this arrangement. Maria, however, explicitly stated that she wanted me to have at least part of that money to do something as a gift from her. She guessed I'd want to go to the Marriott for dinner. Tears welled up in my eyes. I have truly come to terms with giving up some of my normal "fun" activities now, for the money I have to save for later. I was completely moved by her love. It would be a real treat to go to the Marriott for a real dinner - about $50. Something I'd figured I'd not do again until mid October.
The last time I dog sat for Maria, I discovered a loaf of my beloved french bread in the Refrigerator, which she'd just put there for me to find. Again, I was moved to tears. It is wonderful to be able to react to life in real time, instead of "experiencing" it via a memory, later.
Now, that I'm getting weepy over things loved ones say and do, I understand that expression of discomfort. I'd feel really silly getting all drippy in front of Maria. But, I get the sense, it is meaningful to her. I love to watch others do "joy", so why should I be surprised if people like me doing "joy" with them also?
I did indeed go to the Marriott for dinner. It was a much richer experience then when I'm spending my own money for the adventure. I kept remembering how Maria insisted I DO something for Christmas. It was almost like I was having love for dinner.
It was a beautiful, totally new, encounter with a part of life I'm just becoming aware of. I am so grateful to finally be learning not to be afraid all the time. This is all so new to me. I want to continue documenting recovery as I'm discovering it. Guys, it is really worth the struggle to find mental health. Took me almost twenty years from when I first made a commitment to getting well in therapy to my experiences today. But, this emotions stuff is really nurturing. It is almost like another level of physical touch. Good bye emotional isolation and hello mental health!
One of the true shocks of therapy was learning that for most people, there was a difference between an event viewed on TV, or at a movie and actually living an event. For me, TV was more real than my "real" life. (another one of those: "oops" moments, where I again scrambled to try and "construct" reality).
So, as I continue in this fascinating, but at times, very strange new world of mental health, I'm discovering my emotions in real time. I'm experiencing the emotional reactions of other people and animals in real time also. It is most interesting and totally new to me.
All of this growth springs from my ever decreasing fear level. I cannot emphasize too strongly how much my fear kept me locked in an emotional deep freeze. It used to be, I'd go to an event, feel nothing while actually at the event and only "experience" it as a memory. A memory, when it was safe to feel, later, when I was alone. This is severe isolation which can be difficult to explain to people.
While at an event, I'd attempt to "act" correctly. Since I was alone most of the time, I learned most of my social skills from TV. If you give me a gift, I'd "act" happy. If you were punishing me, I'd attempt to "act" like I cared enough not to act up again. I just would look for something I'd seen, or read somewhere to "show" the expected reaction. But, my emotional core was not there at all. Only when safely alone, would I be able to process what had happened.
However, I feel very deeply about people who are close to me and have a way of touching your emotions. I care deeply and can express it in written communication. People would give me feedback like: "This is the kind of card that is very emotional and makes me uncomfortable." To which I'd draw a complete blank. I had no idea what my friends were talking about. To me, it was all like a big math equation. I do behavior A and (according to TV), you'll react with emotion X. You express emotion Y to me and I'm expected (according to a novel), to react with emotion Z in response. I always felt like I wasn't quite all there. I totally related to the Simon and Garfunkel song, Fak'in It. Hell, that WAS how I managed my world. It was all a gigantic theory, I felt like i was working without a net..
But of late, sweet Marie has managed to get past my old defenses and actually touch my emotions. Sometimes when I'm giving her a scalp massage I can truly feel her reaction. I sense emotions as physical things. If you could see them, it would be like little puffs of energy coming off of the person reacting. This little cloud of reaction drifts towards me, I feel it and it goes away. I first noticed this with Hannah, the dog.
I was giving her a tummy rub and I suddenly became aware of a swarm of reaction coming from the dog to me. It was like a swarm of little puffs of feeling coming from the dog to me. She was very happy. It made me joyful to interact like that. It was all new to me. I also wondered if I was having some kind of altered state due to a possible medication problem. I do not always feel emotions, but I believe when they are particularly strong, is when I tend to sense they are there.
The next time I experienced the emotional reaction was from sweet Maria. She had fallen into a light sleep as I massaged her scalp. I was happy to be there and I again noticed emotions. Same general reaction, but she felt different from the emotions of Hannah, the dog. Bigger bits of feeling in each Little emotional puff. It was really quite pleasant to experience this.
But, I hadn't noticed any changes on my side of the emotional equation. Then Maria and I began sharing more Girlie Days with lunch. It has been established that I absolutely adore garlic buttered, french bread. So, Maria has taken to buying me one or two loaves of this bread, when I come to dog sit. It really stirred something way down deep inside me. But, I'm not afraid of Maria, so I wasn't afraid to accept her demonstration of affection.
Then came Christmas. Maria, my dear, you really got to me. Now I know what it is like to feel emotionally vulnerable and uncomfortable. I had so much joy, I almost cried. Since I'm saving money for both a new computer and a Boston vacation, I assumed my "Christmas" present of $100 would automatically go into my savings account.
I have no problem with this arrangement. Maria, however, explicitly stated that she wanted me to have at least part of that money to do something as a gift from her. She guessed I'd want to go to the Marriott for dinner. Tears welled up in my eyes. I have truly come to terms with giving up some of my normal "fun" activities now, for the money I have to save for later. I was completely moved by her love. It would be a real treat to go to the Marriott for a real dinner - about $50. Something I'd figured I'd not do again until mid October.
The last time I dog sat for Maria, I discovered a loaf of my beloved french bread in the Refrigerator, which she'd just put there for me to find. Again, I was moved to tears. It is wonderful to be able to react to life in real time, instead of "experiencing" it via a memory, later.
Now, that I'm getting weepy over things loved ones say and do, I understand that expression of discomfort. I'd feel really silly getting all drippy in front of Maria. But, I get the sense, it is meaningful to her. I love to watch others do "joy", so why should I be surprised if people like me doing "joy" with them also?
I did indeed go to the Marriott for dinner. It was a much richer experience then when I'm spending my own money for the adventure. I kept remembering how Maria insisted I DO something for Christmas. It was almost like I was having love for dinner.
It was a beautiful, totally new, encounter with a part of life I'm just becoming aware of. I am so grateful to finally be learning not to be afraid all the time. This is all so new to me. I want to continue documenting recovery as I'm discovering it. Guys, it is really worth the struggle to find mental health. Took me almost twenty years from when I first made a commitment to getting well in therapy to my experiences today. But, this emotions stuff is really nurturing. It is almost like another level of physical touch. Good bye emotional isolation and hello mental health!
Friday, January 12, 2007
Meet Hannah and Sugar-Bear: Two Wonderful Newfoundland Hounds.
Finally, I have some pictures of my beloved dogs to share. CyberGal had a senior moment, running off to my week long dog sitting job without checking to make sure I had fresh batteries in my digital camera. (Oh, yeah, as though you'd never done that, HA!) So, thanks to computers and the Internet, this first shot is of Hanna this Christmas.Yes she is a BIG girl.
Hannah is a Newfy mix. We don't know with what, but she has much longer legs than the usual Newf. She can easily drink coffee right out of my mug (when I'm dumb enough to leave the mug near the edge of the breakfast table.) Didn't seem to affect her. Only, now she barks with a Columbian accent.
Hannah is a slightly confused 120 pound lap dog want-to-be. When she was a puppy, she was allowed into someone's lap and she still tries to capture those heavenly days, but she is so big and tall, she can straddle your lap. She attempts to "cuddle" by leaning her weight in on the seated human she has come to visit.
Dog and cat sitting is a wonderful job for those of us who love animals. The only bad thing about the job, is, once the animal associates my appearance with the exiting of "their" people, they become unhappy and moody. Hannah gets the sulks. I'll pet her and she'll refuse to pick up her head, or move in any way. Unlike Sugar-Bear, who refused to eat or drink for at least twenty-four hours, Hannah recovers very quickly.
It is always best to meet with the animal I will be sitting before the owners go away. This step was omitted on my first official dog sitting job with an extremely high strung Dalmatian. This poor creature cowered under a coffee table, drooling, whimpering and trembling for our first three days together. It really tore my heart out. So, I now have a hard and fast rule about meeting the pet in the presence of their owners in their home.This beautiful photo above is of Sugar-Bear, who died a few years ago. This photo was an international contest winner, featured in a magazine about Newfoundland Hounds. Sugar-Bear was built like a pure Newf. She had shorter legs and a bit thicker build. She was extremely laid back and NOTHING bothered her. Well, except when I'd show up and John and Maria would disappear for a week, or weekend. THAT bothered her.
I have many sweet memories of my charges. Sugar-Bear would always show her affection for me by licking my ears. I'd be sitting on the floor, petting, or brushing her and we'd drift into this lovely petting, licking and laughing good time. Sugar-Bear, like every other dog I've known loved to be brushed. She'd routinely fall asleep while I'd brush her lush, soft inch-long fur. Hannah, on the other hand would rather do ANYTHING other then be groomed. I mean, she HATES it. But with long hair, one must be groomed. She's the only dog I've ever worked with who has managed to make me feel guilty when I bring out the dreaded brush. She lowers her head in resignation and then tries to high tail it out of the room. But I grab that collar and enforce my will upon her. She then lies down with a pointed sigh. Sheesh!
I will continue about my beloved dogs and cats in another post. Off to bed now, and dog sitting for the weekend.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
Jesus Christ: In Historical Perspective.
As A Christian, I am often amazed and saddened at how Jesus Christ is depicted for the non-Christian audience. I'm linking you all to one of the best presentations I've read anywhere. For those of you who are into pod casts, this is the transcript from The Biography Pod Cast. You'll find all the information at the link below. This is a positive portrayal which didn't lapse into lunacy. Thank you Phillip Zannini!
A Biography of Jesus Christ
A Biography of Jesus Christ
Setting Limits: The Stress-Free Christmas
I gave myself the best Christmas present of all this year. NO Stress! Usually, since this is such a "special" time of year, all rules and limits totally vanish in an orgy of hysterical co-dependency. Now I had a rough start for this season, but once I landed back on my emotional feet with God's help and prayers from friends, I was fine. But the actual Day, Christmas Eve, fell on a Sunday.
I set a limit with my Pastor, that the bulletin information had to be called into me by nine PM on Saturday. I wanted to avoid cranking out the bulletin at midnight. But, because of the holiday, I told Pastor to call me when he could. About ten PM I heard from a totally wiped-out Man Of God.
After stumbling through the bulletin, he told me NOT to stay up all night to get it done! I was overjoyed. I needed to sleep and he was giving me permission to take proper care of myself. Now do you all understand why I love this man and my church? I went to bed and set the alarm for an earlier-then-usual time.
I remembered a very sweet conversation with an old friend who has come back into my life. She and I are both telephone addicts. We can talk for hours. This is fun, but with my crazy work schedule, I had to make sure I only get late night calls from her on a Friday. Obviously, if its an emergency prayer request, that is different. But for general yack-yack, Friday night is my only good night to play.
She had praised me for this! Still being ever so prone to the guilt of co-dependency, I worried that she'd think I was being snobbish, or something. She respected my request and watching me set a limit, reminded her that its all right to set limits. A lovely conversation, all around.
At six AM my alarm went off and I attempted to jump-start my mind with coffee. Oh man, I needed like three more hours to put all the fancy stuff into the bulletin! It was now almost eight AM and in order to pick up the sheet cake for the church dinner, I'd be leaving in an hour. I made a decision to put out a one sheet bulletin with some of the words in color. I realized, I was getting all uptight over this bulletin thing. The world would not stop turning if I didn't manage to get the fancy-schmancy bulletin out. I made up my mind I was going to be late for Sunday School. I needed time to eat and dress without getting all wound up. I couldn't believe I was ignoring all that early training about being hysterical for the holidays.
Pastor then called and offered me a ride to pick up the cake, as he had to get food also. I accepted, but let him know I was going to be late for Sunday School. He told me it was fine and to relax and take my time!
After getting off the phone, I lapsed into a few thank-you prayers to God. I could actually eat a quiet meal, meaning I wouldn't have the heartburn monster to fight with for the rest of the day! I got enough sleep to actually enjoy our longer-then-usual church day and I didn't even feel guilty!
I'm learning to not only take control of my world, but to keep control of my world. Now, this is stunning mental health. A stress-free holiday. I hope everyone is able to stop hurting themselves in the name of making others happy.
I set a limit with my Pastor, that the bulletin information had to be called into me by nine PM on Saturday. I wanted to avoid cranking out the bulletin at midnight. But, because of the holiday, I told Pastor to call me when he could. About ten PM I heard from a totally wiped-out Man Of God.
After stumbling through the bulletin, he told me NOT to stay up all night to get it done! I was overjoyed. I needed to sleep and he was giving me permission to take proper care of myself. Now do you all understand why I love this man and my church? I went to bed and set the alarm for an earlier-then-usual time.
I remembered a very sweet conversation with an old friend who has come back into my life. She and I are both telephone addicts. We can talk for hours. This is fun, but with my crazy work schedule, I had to make sure I only get late night calls from her on a Friday. Obviously, if its an emergency prayer request, that is different. But for general yack-yack, Friday night is my only good night to play.
She had praised me for this! Still being ever so prone to the guilt of co-dependency, I worried that she'd think I was being snobbish, or something. She respected my request and watching me set a limit, reminded her that its all right to set limits. A lovely conversation, all around.
At six AM my alarm went off and I attempted to jump-start my mind with coffee. Oh man, I needed like three more hours to put all the fancy stuff into the bulletin! It was now almost eight AM and in order to pick up the sheet cake for the church dinner, I'd be leaving in an hour. I made a decision to put out a one sheet bulletin with some of the words in color. I realized, I was getting all uptight over this bulletin thing. The world would not stop turning if I didn't manage to get the fancy-schmancy bulletin out. I made up my mind I was going to be late for Sunday School. I needed time to eat and dress without getting all wound up. I couldn't believe I was ignoring all that early training about being hysterical for the holidays.
Pastor then called and offered me a ride to pick up the cake, as he had to get food also. I accepted, but let him know I was going to be late for Sunday School. He told me it was fine and to relax and take my time!
After getting off the phone, I lapsed into a few thank-you prayers to God. I could actually eat a quiet meal, meaning I wouldn't have the heartburn monster to fight with for the rest of the day! I got enough sleep to actually enjoy our longer-then-usual church day and I didn't even feel guilty!
I'm learning to not only take control of my world, but to keep control of my world. Now, this is stunning mental health. A stress-free holiday. I hope everyone is able to stop hurting themselves in the name of making others happy.
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Humor: A True Perpetual Motion Machine
This idea was posted to Art Bell's website about eight years ago by one of his listeners. I don't know if you can find it on the current CoastToCoast.com website. I tried and couldn't locate it. Whoever wrote this deserves our undying gratitude.
A True Perpetual Motion Machine
Universal Law #1: A falling cat will always land on its feet.
Universal Law #2: Falling buttered toast always lands butter-side-down.
(Note: this is a "proof of concept" proposal. No cats have been ill-treated in any way).
The Device:
Take a piece of buttered toast and attach it to your cat's back, butter-side up.
From an elevation of at least three feet, drop your cat.
Result:
Your buttered-toast-cat combination will gently rotate indefinitely about a foot off the floor because of the two scientific laws cited above.
A True Perpetual Motion Machine
Universal Law #1: A falling cat will always land on its feet.
Universal Law #2: Falling buttered toast always lands butter-side-down.
(Note: this is a "proof of concept" proposal. No cats have been ill-treated in any way).
The Device:
Take a piece of buttered toast and attach it to your cat's back, butter-side up.
From an elevation of at least three feet, drop your cat.
Result:
Your buttered-toast-cat combination will gently rotate indefinitely about a foot off the floor because of the two scientific laws cited above.
Monday, December 25, 2006
HURRAY! Australia Stands Up For Her OWN Culture!
We have gotten oh, so politically correct and "sensitive". Lord, if my Christianity and its symbols offend you, why I'll just "pretend" not to be a Christian for your COMFORT! We have Pseudo-terms for people who have "challenges". We dare not state a fact that I can't see the side of a building more then ten feet from me! So, I become differently-abled, Visually-challenged, or my current favorite: "differently-abled".
Oh STOP IT!
I don't see very well and the actual name is "legal blindness". This gives me the legal right to carry a white cane, or use a dog-guide. Yes, it used to be a guide dog, but the owners sued to make sure people knew the blind human was actually in charge!
Hat's off to the Australians! The Muslims in their midst wanted to practice their own religious laws - instead of Australia's laws. They have been told: our way, or the highway. Hurray!
Oh STOP IT!
I don't see very well and the actual name is "legal blindness". This gives me the legal right to carry a white cane, or use a dog-guide. Yes, it used to be a guide dog, but the owners sued to make sure people knew the blind human was actually in charge!
Hat's off to the Australians! The Muslims in their midst wanted to practice their own religious laws - instead of Australia's laws. They have been told: our way, or the highway. Hurray!
Friday, December 22, 2006
Installing RAM: From Arrogance To Humility In One Hour!
I manage a website for my church which grows by about five pages a week. We've been up since last may and the site is now over one-hundred-forty pages. Because I am not a REAL geek, I use iWeb and cheat on website development. IWeb is a lovely program by Apple which is NOT designed for a business application. But, being users don't read things like Application Documentation, I use iWeb to build and update this website.
Since iWeb was never designed to be Dream Weaver Lite, there are a lot of things one CANNOT do in iWeb. Mainly, you can't break up your site. You re-create all code generated for the entire site every time you "publish to a folder". So, I had a problem.
Just to "open" iWeb takes about five minutes. To "Save" the raw file in iWeb took a half-hour, or more. To "publish" also took a half-hour or more AND to actually upload it to the Server was another half-hour or more.
I began to loathe updating this site because when iWeb is running, I can't run other things, unless I want to take even more time to process the site. I was driven to seek out a way to make my eMac work faster. I did some nosing around and discovered something called RAM: Random Access Memory. This is the temporary memory area for your computer. I had a tinsy 256 MB! When friends were informed of this, I got lots of encouragement and sympathy! So, I called my Apple Representative. She recommended an add-on to my machine of a 1 GB RAM chip. She assured me, that even with my crumby vision, I could install it myself.
She emailed me the customer documentation from Apple and I sent in $135. After several panicked readings of the customer documentation, I called my Apple Rep., introducing her to levels of patience, she hadn't had to explore before. I couldn't keep my voice from going up in pitch with the whine of a cat in pain. It was dreadful. I was petrified!
"Why do you ground yourself before unplugging the cord from the computer?"
"Cybe, listen to me. That is geek speak. Just disconnect the cables, unplug the electrical cord, both ends, ground yourself and you are good to go" My Apple Rep. was starting to sound frustrated.
"But... in the documentation..."
"Cybe. That was written by Engineers. They don't know what they're doing. Just do what I said. You can wear rubber shoes if you are really nervous, but you'll do fine." Her voice was showing the strain of emotional control. I decided to stop hassling her.
I was going to involve a neighbor to move the computer, but I really didn't want a stranger telling me I didn't know what I was doing. So, I began my Odyssey alone at 9:45 PM.
I had to pad my desk with a soft towel, put my computer on its monitor, with the "user access door" facing me. So far so good! Thank God, I have enough sense to do this all myself. Why pay some idiot a $100 for something I can do. This will be done in twenty-minutes, just like the documentation says (Starting time 9:45 PM, Ego, inflated and cocky).
Got the door off, and found the latches for the empty "slot" for my new chip. But, where was the chip that was already in here? I wasn't supposed to touch anything, so I'm using various magnifying glasses to attempt to divine what was happening. Oh, well, as long as I know where the new chip is supposed to go, who cares about the other one? (9:50 Ego, slight deflation, less cocky).
I carefully open up the chip, ground myself several times and attempt to "slide" it into its "slot". I figured it would slide in like a drawer, disappearing into the computer. Yeah, that's why I can't find the other chip. Well, that can't be right, because I feel its latches...
So, I begin to try and figure out where the "top" of the new chip is. I'm not supposed to touch it. I figure if I touch it, I'll ruin it. I'm now feeling a bit scared. This ain't going so easy as I thought it would. So, I placed, pushed (ever so gently), flipped the chip and placed and pushed... Now, there are only four positions possible for this chip. After NONE of them worked, I made a decision. I am almost blind, I can't tell what is supposed to happen. Its time to grope this puppy, so I can learn what's going on. If I screw my equipment, I screw my equipment, ($1,135.00 down the shoot.) Well, if the memory refuses to work, Apple Care just might cover it. Until they ask questions as to how I managed to mess up my RAM!
"Well, I thought any idiot could do this... but I'm not just any idiot. I got in there and groped every little thing trying to figure this out, so I could put my computer right-side-up and go to bed!" Apple Care would read this as user incompetence and refuse to fix it for free. (10:20 Ego descending fast, a sense of futility rising to the challenge).
Well, everyone should grope the guts of their computer. I found the first, already installed chip. It was at the very top of the opening, and it was ninety percent hanging out of the machine! The hinges were holding it at its midpoint! Well, I'm amazed! (10:30 Slight hope replacing futility, but body is covered in sweat).
Now, to shove it in the "slot". Wait, there are two slots. A large gap and a little slit-slot. By now I'm beginning to feel genuine mental fatigue and a sense that I'm in so far over my head as to be standing in the need of prayer. (10:35 Labored breathing and sweating)
I figured out that the larger gap was not a slot, but a space between the two slots. I again tried to line it up, in the hing guides and make it "snap" into place. It didn't "snap" into place in any of the four possible positions. (10:45 Abject despair and life-confession prayer)
"God, you know, sitting here, thinking about my life. I admit that I took on something I shouldn't have. I realize that I've been a jerk, like this my entire life" In total fatigue, with my hands still on the chip, I leaned on it, to rest my weary body and..."SNAP"!
"Holy God! It went in. Oh thank you God. Now, to put it all back together. Geez, I feel like sobbing in relief!"
Put it all back together and it WORKED. All 1.25 GB of RAM registered and had an OK status!
I now notice I'm shaking all over. No longer paying attention to the time. Oops, I have lost my external disc with all my backup and "extra non-backed-up stuff". Oh man, not all my photos!
Yes, I got it all working. The power cord for the external disc drive had worked loose. Funny, no power, no disc drive! So, now, it is all up and running. Booted REALLY fast! I must write my friend. But I don't feel like boasting. I feel like I've survived a trauma and am not sure I even want to talk about it at all. Hmmm, that's a curious reaction.
Friends and my Apple Rep., were elated at my accomplishment and I got good strokes all around. I also had a friend plead for me to document this struggle, so he could have a good laugh. (He's a real geek and my first waltz with electronics brought back memories for him).
He even said he'd READ my blog - at least this post. So, Merry Christmas, Adorable! You know my email address and I've earned that gift certificate from amazon.com I told you I want.
Since iWeb was never designed to be Dream Weaver Lite, there are a lot of things one CANNOT do in iWeb. Mainly, you can't break up your site. You re-create all code generated for the entire site every time you "publish to a folder". So, I had a problem.
Just to "open" iWeb takes about five minutes. To "Save" the raw file in iWeb took a half-hour, or more. To "publish" also took a half-hour or more AND to actually upload it to the Server was another half-hour or more.
I began to loathe updating this site because when iWeb is running, I can't run other things, unless I want to take even more time to process the site. I was driven to seek out a way to make my eMac work faster. I did some nosing around and discovered something called RAM: Random Access Memory. This is the temporary memory area for your computer. I had a tinsy 256 MB! When friends were informed of this, I got lots of encouragement and sympathy! So, I called my Apple Representative. She recommended an add-on to my machine of a 1 GB RAM chip. She assured me, that even with my crumby vision, I could install it myself.
She emailed me the customer documentation from Apple and I sent in $135. After several panicked readings of the customer documentation, I called my Apple Rep., introducing her to levels of patience, she hadn't had to explore before. I couldn't keep my voice from going up in pitch with the whine of a cat in pain. It was dreadful. I was petrified!
"Why do you ground yourself before unplugging the cord from the computer?"
"Cybe, listen to me. That is geek speak. Just disconnect the cables, unplug the electrical cord, both ends, ground yourself and you are good to go" My Apple Rep. was starting to sound frustrated.
"But... in the documentation..."
"Cybe. That was written by Engineers. They don't know what they're doing. Just do what I said. You can wear rubber shoes if you are really nervous, but you'll do fine." Her voice was showing the strain of emotional control. I decided to stop hassling her.
I was going to involve a neighbor to move the computer, but I really didn't want a stranger telling me I didn't know what I was doing. So, I began my Odyssey alone at 9:45 PM.
I had to pad my desk with a soft towel, put my computer on its monitor, with the "user access door" facing me. So far so good! Thank God, I have enough sense to do this all myself. Why pay some idiot a $100 for something I can do. This will be done in twenty-minutes, just like the documentation says (Starting time 9:45 PM, Ego, inflated and cocky).
Got the door off, and found the latches for the empty "slot" for my new chip. But, where was the chip that was already in here? I wasn't supposed to touch anything, so I'm using various magnifying glasses to attempt to divine what was happening. Oh, well, as long as I know where the new chip is supposed to go, who cares about the other one? (9:50 Ego, slight deflation, less cocky).
I carefully open up the chip, ground myself several times and attempt to "slide" it into its "slot". I figured it would slide in like a drawer, disappearing into the computer. Yeah, that's why I can't find the other chip. Well, that can't be right, because I feel its latches...
So, I begin to try and figure out where the "top" of the new chip is. I'm not supposed to touch it. I figure if I touch it, I'll ruin it. I'm now feeling a bit scared. This ain't going so easy as I thought it would. So, I placed, pushed (ever so gently), flipped the chip and placed and pushed... Now, there are only four positions possible for this chip. After NONE of them worked, I made a decision. I am almost blind, I can't tell what is supposed to happen. Its time to grope this puppy, so I can learn what's going on. If I screw my equipment, I screw my equipment, ($1,135.00 down the shoot.) Well, if the memory refuses to work, Apple Care just might cover it. Until they ask questions as to how I managed to mess up my RAM!
"Well, I thought any idiot could do this... but I'm not just any idiot. I got in there and groped every little thing trying to figure this out, so I could put my computer right-side-up and go to bed!" Apple Care would read this as user incompetence and refuse to fix it for free. (10:20 Ego descending fast, a sense of futility rising to the challenge).
Well, everyone should grope the guts of their computer. I found the first, already installed chip. It was at the very top of the opening, and it was ninety percent hanging out of the machine! The hinges were holding it at its midpoint! Well, I'm amazed! (10:30 Slight hope replacing futility, but body is covered in sweat).
Now, to shove it in the "slot". Wait, there are two slots. A large gap and a little slit-slot. By now I'm beginning to feel genuine mental fatigue and a sense that I'm in so far over my head as to be standing in the need of prayer. (10:35 Labored breathing and sweating)
I figured out that the larger gap was not a slot, but a space between the two slots. I again tried to line it up, in the hing guides and make it "snap" into place. It didn't "snap" into place in any of the four possible positions. (10:45 Abject despair and life-confession prayer)
"God, you know, sitting here, thinking about my life. I admit that I took on something I shouldn't have. I realize that I've been a jerk, like this my entire life" In total fatigue, with my hands still on the chip, I leaned on it, to rest my weary body and..."SNAP"!
"Holy God! It went in. Oh thank you God. Now, to put it all back together. Geez, I feel like sobbing in relief!"
Put it all back together and it WORKED. All 1.25 GB of RAM registered and had an OK status!
I now notice I'm shaking all over. No longer paying attention to the time. Oops, I have lost my external disc with all my backup and "extra non-backed-up stuff". Oh man, not all my photos!
Yes, I got it all working. The power cord for the external disc drive had worked loose. Funny, no power, no disc drive! So, now, it is all up and running. Booted REALLY fast! I must write my friend. But I don't feel like boasting. I feel like I've survived a trauma and am not sure I even want to talk about it at all. Hmmm, that's a curious reaction.
Friends and my Apple Rep., were elated at my accomplishment and I got good strokes all around. I also had a friend plead for me to document this struggle, so he could have a good laugh. (He's a real geek and my first waltz with electronics brought back memories for him).
He even said he'd READ my blog - at least this post. So, Merry Christmas, Adorable! You know my email address and I've earned that gift certificate from amazon.com I told you I want.
A Web Security RANT!
I have a friend who refuses to follow directions. I have been stalked and have learned the hard way about security in all its forms. Security issues prevent me from allowing email on this blog. You can comment, until the cows come home, but I have to contact YOU. I realize that ninety-nine percent of my readers are great people, but it only takes one trouble maker to ruin it for everyone.
So, when a friend started sending me those obnoxious chain-letter-email things, I politely told her to stop sending them. I will never send on something that smacks of magic, or "luck". It goes in the trash, period. I was polite, as this person didn't know my feelings and didn't deserve my pent-up rage over all things unethical. Being the dedicated and untreated co-dependent she is, she informed me that she didn't like those things either (? - then why are you sending them out to the tune of several per day?!) She seemed a bit hurt, but for awhile, I didn't hear from her over the Internet very much.
Somehow, I've gotten back into her Internet good graces and again started receiving forwarded information. Stuff from newspapers, her mother and newsletters. As I always check out security on email, my address was not passed on. But TODAY I got something called a "Hug Certificate". (Rage Alert!)
CyberGal's response:
A nasty person can "trick" your computer into doing things without your knowledge or permission. The first thing these hacking, spying and Trojan Horse programs do, is to go into your address book and use all that information! So, I get an email from "Phillip". I know him, and normally wouldn't hesitate to open something from him. These days I check the subject line to see if it "feels" right. If Phillip is suddenly trying to "pitch" me, I KNOW there is something wrong. Once I scan the subject line, I look to see if there are attachments. This in itself isn't necessarily a problem, but it can be.
I open the email and read the content. If the content checks out, I view the associated attachment, to make sure it is what it purports to be and all is fine. One of the newer developments in the world of malware is burying secret code in pictures. They look like cartoons, or photos, but they have "hidden" programming code for turning your machine into a spam factory, or worse.
My friend's email had sixteen recipients. When I requested "more information" from Firefox, my full same and complete email address popped up along with fifteen other names! Oh My God! I then read the (to me) smarmy poetry. I was already angry with the line: Let's see who reads their email... I hate having to re-tell someone something more then twice. I know I've politely written and spoken to this gal about these darn chain-letter emails. Now, I was going to give her a smarmy poem back, along with explicit directions on how to send duplicate emails without screwing around with people's personal information.
I haven't heard back. Her computer may be having a problem. The last time she had a problem, she was totally virus-ridden and it took almost a week for the technical firm to "clean" her system.
Please, folks. We have to be more careful now. This goofy email had eight .gif attachments. All o them containing some kind of script command. We have to be careful with our name and address information. Malware is getting more and more sophisticated, even a protected machine may get "tricked". Don't use the "To: field for a bulk mailing of your address book buddies! Address it to one person and put everyone else in the BCC field. PLEASE.
Yes, I have made this error. I bulkemailed everyone in my address book with a change of email address. I quickly heard from a small business man making the speech of this blog. The days of innocence have to come to an end. Not all is roses out on the Information Highway.
So, when a friend started sending me those obnoxious chain-letter-email things, I politely told her to stop sending them. I will never send on something that smacks of magic, or "luck". It goes in the trash, period. I was polite, as this person didn't know my feelings and didn't deserve my pent-up rage over all things unethical. Being the dedicated and untreated co-dependent she is, she informed me that she didn't like those things either (? - then why are you sending them out to the tune of several per day?!) She seemed a bit hurt, but for awhile, I didn't hear from her over the Internet very much.
Somehow, I've gotten back into her Internet good graces and again started receiving forwarded information. Stuff from newspapers, her mother and newsletters. As I always check out security on email, my address was not passed on. But TODAY I got something called a "Hug Certificate". (Rage Alert!)
To: CyberGal (and fifteen others with complete names email addresses!)Eight .gif attachments were included!
Subject: Fw: Hug Certificate
LET'S SEE WHO READS THEIR EMAIL
A Hug Certificate for You!
This poem is very sweet. It will be interesting to see who sends it back.
Forward this on and back. Thanks!
If I could catch a rainbow
I would do it just for you
and share with you its beauty
On the days you're feeling blue.
If I could build a mountain
You could call your very own;
A place to find serenity,
A place to be alone.
If I could take your troubles
I would toss them in the sea,
But all these things I'm finding
are impossible for me.
I cannot build a mountain
Or catch a rainbow fair,
But let me be what I know best,
A friend who's always there.
Love, Anonymous
CyberGal's response:
Now, let me explain the problem with an email with open names and addresses. Of course you trust your friends and business associates and family members! Like me, anyone who is obviously causing your computer to be attacked by Spam, or worse, is quickly gone from your address book and most likely your life. But, there is a very bad problem out there on the Internet with PCs especially.I do enjoy your friendship -
a quiet joy for me,
but I am scared about Web security.
I scanned the flock of receivers,
quite a curious list
If these names got mis-used, someone would get pissed.
I do not forward things ahead
with personal ID's
I learned a painful lesson - from someone stalking me.
You may trust these people
but I'm distressed to say:
Please don't forward me along in any email chain.
Happy holidays, my dear. A hug for you to!
Please don't include me in a list of forwarded email. It is not that
hard to delete "sender" info. from a forwarded email. If you want to
send one email to three people, put the first address on the "To:" line.
Put the other receivers on the "BCC" line. This stands for "Blind
Carbon Copy". Please do not send my info. out where anyone can
harvest my name and email address. Thanks allot.
Love Cybe
A nasty person can "trick" your computer into doing things without your knowledge or permission. The first thing these hacking, spying and Trojan Horse programs do, is to go into your address book and use all that information! So, I get an email from "Phillip". I know him, and normally wouldn't hesitate to open something from him. These days I check the subject line to see if it "feels" right. If Phillip is suddenly trying to "pitch" me, I KNOW there is something wrong. Once I scan the subject line, I look to see if there are attachments. This in itself isn't necessarily a problem, but it can be.
I open the email and read the content. If the content checks out, I view the associated attachment, to make sure it is what it purports to be and all is fine. One of the newer developments in the world of malware is burying secret code in pictures. They look like cartoons, or photos, but they have "hidden" programming code for turning your machine into a spam factory, or worse.
My friend's email had sixteen recipients. When I requested "more information" from Firefox, my full same and complete email address popped up along with fifteen other names! Oh My God! I then read the (to me) smarmy poetry. I was already angry with the line: Let's see who reads their email... I hate having to re-tell someone something more then twice. I know I've politely written and spoken to this gal about these darn chain-letter emails. Now, I was going to give her a smarmy poem back, along with explicit directions on how to send duplicate emails without screwing around with people's personal information.
I haven't heard back. Her computer may be having a problem. The last time she had a problem, she was totally virus-ridden and it took almost a week for the technical firm to "clean" her system.
Please, folks. We have to be more careful now. This goofy email had eight .gif attachments. All o them containing some kind of script command. We have to be careful with our name and address information. Malware is getting more and more sophisticated, even a protected machine may get "tricked". Don't use the "To: field for a bulk mailing of your address book buddies! Address it to one person and put everyone else in the BCC field. PLEASE.
Yes, I have made this error. I bulkemailed everyone in my address book with a change of email address. I quickly heard from a small business man making the speech of this blog. The days of innocence have to come to an end. Not all is roses out on the Information Highway.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Taking A Stand: Building Character
I sometimes watch parts of my life, like a movie in my mind. Now, with this admittedly narcissistic perspective, I want my movie to be a good one, full of pathos, action and of course - I just come out looking really good. (Admit it, you've thought like this, but have enough sense not to make it official).
At church, we had just wrapped up a cool mini revival. Like a pep-talk, or rah-rah session for the religious. I realized I wanted to add to my Christian commitments. I wanted to make sure I attended scheduled meetings reliably. Not just when there wasn't something more interesting to attend. I fear making commitments. If you voice them, people have the outrageous idea that you are serious and then, when you don't follow through, ask nagging questions of "why?". Oooh, I hate it when that happens.
I am too much like the Apostle Peter. Shoot my mouth off first and worry about the consequences later. I checked myself. I was serious about this new-found desire to consistently attend meetings. In my mind I was the struggling hero scrambling up that hill of commitment to plant the flag. I'm sweating and panting BUT determined. Music, up, as I gallantly plant that flag of victory! I made a commitment! Fade to black.
Unfortunately, I also don't plan ahead for the challenges, or conflicts in life. Not a week later a friend calls me up for a lunch date. I stumble into a problem by asking her when she wants me to meet her. Now, it is Friday morning, Prayer is at noon... She specifies 11:30 AM. What do I do? Yeah, agree to it and ditch prayer! Oh, oops, I ponder if a hamburger might have some spiritual importance. No, God didn't go for that one either.
I have to make a plan to avoid this problem. After some serious thought, I realize I can stake out meeting times and schedule around them. I will keep control of my schedule. Once again, I climb that hill, victory is mine!
Sure enough, the next social invitation rolled around on a day of a prayer meeting. This time I was ready. I carefully explained I was busy from 11:30 AM to 1:30 PM. My friend elected to meet me after prayer. Yes! This works. Confident I'd never let myself down, ever again, I turned my attention to other matters.
I had gotten an invite to co-host a pod cast because of one of my email rant-o-thons. I carefully prepared notes and other information the host would need and began to play the ever popular: "When can we schedule this?" game. The first week I was about as easy to track down as a Mexican Jumping Bean. Week two, I was around, but on this particular Wednesday night, I had a prayer meeting in 45 minutes.
My friend was totally busy and I figured it was time to disconnect my headphones, put my music on the external speakers and prep for church. My friend is in business for himself. When he finds some time to do something, he wants you NOW! This man did not get where he is by being indecisive. Any of you abuse refugees have trouble with assertive people? My newly created spine was about to be reduced back to a pile of quivering jell-o.
"Hey - poke - tap - are you there?" came a string of one-line instant messages. He wanted me to switch to Skype, so we could work together over the phone to record his show. I get totally freaked out when I have more then one thing to do at a time. I've learned to try and disguise my internal sense of panic. After some fiddling around, I finally got the headphones and mike set up. Now, I had less then thirty minutes before prayer. No problem. I'll just use that fact to move our session...
"This is the only time I'll have available for this for the next three weeks." Note, he's just stating his fact. Did I heroically forsake the fame and fortune of pod casting for God, like the hero in Chariots of Fire? (He gave up an Olympic competition, in order to go to church). Oh heck NO! I folded like a house of cards! You know the old people-pleasing: "Well, since you put it that way, I'll ditch prayer".
As soon as I typed that response, I felt a curious sense of internal discomfort. Oh nuts, I've violated a REAL personal value. Oh well, too late now. "God, I'm gonna put you on hold, until I finish this pod cast and then we can work it out. CyberGal Out". Hmmm, I must be getting healthier, this doesn't feel good and I definitely won't do it again...
Damn, maybe I really am building character, wow!.
My friend was being challenged by several unexplained technical problems making it impossible to do a quality recording for his program. At this point I started to pray that God would help him solve the difficulty. It didn't resolve, and I had the crazy notion that I'd better finish getting dressed, in case I could still, actually make it to church! I ached to pray that the problems WOULDN'T get fixed, but I stopped myself. But as the minutes ticked by and my friend was still having problems I rejoiced when he threw in the towel with: "Go, on to church, this computer is having a problem."
Inside I cheered. I'd already explained to my ride that I may not be able to come. Now, when she called to let me know she was downstairs, I like Cinderella waltzed triumphantly, into my carriage and off to church!
Prayer had the largest attendance I'd ever seen over my year at this church. A lady got saved and a wonderful time was had by all. My friend, being the class act he is, rejoiced with me. So, "...when the moon is in the second house, and Jupiter Aligns with Mars..." We'll both be available, at the same hour to record his pod cast.
I hope the next time I'm confronted with an objection to my planned prayer commitment, that I'll stick to my guns and not do a fabulous imitation of a waffle!
At church, we had just wrapped up a cool mini revival. Like a pep-talk, or rah-rah session for the religious. I realized I wanted to add to my Christian commitments. I wanted to make sure I attended scheduled meetings reliably. Not just when there wasn't something more interesting to attend. I fear making commitments. If you voice them, people have the outrageous idea that you are serious and then, when you don't follow through, ask nagging questions of "why?". Oooh, I hate it when that happens.
I am too much like the Apostle Peter. Shoot my mouth off first and worry about the consequences later. I checked myself. I was serious about this new-found desire to consistently attend meetings. In my mind I was the struggling hero scrambling up that hill of commitment to plant the flag. I'm sweating and panting BUT determined. Music, up, as I gallantly plant that flag of victory! I made a commitment! Fade to black.
Unfortunately, I also don't plan ahead for the challenges, or conflicts in life. Not a week later a friend calls me up for a lunch date. I stumble into a problem by asking her when she wants me to meet her. Now, it is Friday morning, Prayer is at noon... She specifies 11:30 AM. What do I do? Yeah, agree to it and ditch prayer! Oh, oops, I ponder if a hamburger might have some spiritual importance. No, God didn't go for that one either.
I have to make a plan to avoid this problem. After some serious thought, I realize I can stake out meeting times and schedule around them. I will keep control of my schedule. Once again, I climb that hill, victory is mine!
Sure enough, the next social invitation rolled around on a day of a prayer meeting. This time I was ready. I carefully explained I was busy from 11:30 AM to 1:30 PM. My friend elected to meet me after prayer. Yes! This works. Confident I'd never let myself down, ever again, I turned my attention to other matters.
I had gotten an invite to co-host a pod cast because of one of my email rant-o-thons. I carefully prepared notes and other information the host would need and began to play the ever popular: "When can we schedule this?" game. The first week I was about as easy to track down as a Mexican Jumping Bean. Week two, I was around, but on this particular Wednesday night, I had a prayer meeting in 45 minutes.
My friend was totally busy and I figured it was time to disconnect my headphones, put my music on the external speakers and prep for church. My friend is in business for himself. When he finds some time to do something, he wants you NOW! This man did not get where he is by being indecisive. Any of you abuse refugees have trouble with assertive people? My newly created spine was about to be reduced back to a pile of quivering jell-o.
"Hey - poke - tap - are you there?" came a string of one-line instant messages. He wanted me to switch to Skype, so we could work together over the phone to record his show. I get totally freaked out when I have more then one thing to do at a time. I've learned to try and disguise my internal sense of panic. After some fiddling around, I finally got the headphones and mike set up. Now, I had less then thirty minutes before prayer. No problem. I'll just use that fact to move our session...
"This is the only time I'll have available for this for the next three weeks." Note, he's just stating his fact. Did I heroically forsake the fame and fortune of pod casting for God, like the hero in Chariots of Fire? (He gave up an Olympic competition, in order to go to church). Oh heck NO! I folded like a house of cards! You know the old people-pleasing: "Well, since you put it that way, I'll ditch prayer".
As soon as I typed that response, I felt a curious sense of internal discomfort. Oh nuts, I've violated a REAL personal value. Oh well, too late now. "God, I'm gonna put you on hold, until I finish this pod cast and then we can work it out. CyberGal Out". Hmmm, I must be getting healthier, this doesn't feel good and I definitely won't do it again...
Damn, maybe I really am building character, wow!.
My friend was being challenged by several unexplained technical problems making it impossible to do a quality recording for his program. At this point I started to pray that God would help him solve the difficulty. It didn't resolve, and I had the crazy notion that I'd better finish getting dressed, in case I could still, actually make it to church! I ached to pray that the problems WOULDN'T get fixed, but I stopped myself. But as the minutes ticked by and my friend was still having problems I rejoiced when he threw in the towel with: "Go, on to church, this computer is having a problem."
Inside I cheered. I'd already explained to my ride that I may not be able to come. Now, when she called to let me know she was downstairs, I like Cinderella waltzed triumphantly, into my carriage and off to church!
Prayer had the largest attendance I'd ever seen over my year at this church. A lady got saved and a wonderful time was had by all. My friend, being the class act he is, rejoiced with me. So, "...when the moon is in the second house, and Jupiter Aligns with Mars..." We'll both be available, at the same hour to record his pod cast.
I hope the next time I'm confronted with an objection to my planned prayer commitment, that I'll stick to my guns and not do a fabulous imitation of a waffle!
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Meet My New Peace Lilly!
Well, hot damn, I'm now blessed with a Peace Lilly! I don't remember its technical name. Leaves are shiny and the older onse get wrinkled (like the one on the top right). I did a favor for a neighbor and she graced me with this beautiful plant, which I am nervous about caring for.
I searched the net and discovered that this plant is from the tropics and can handle temperatures from 60 degrees F. to 90 degrees F. That is pretty much the range in this area. Supposedly this plant needs to go into "dormant" states from time to time lasting for from six to eight weeks.
Being moved, re-potted, or blooming causes the plant to need to take this rest. What is making me crazy, is when the plant goes "dormant" I'm advised to not water it at all until it totally dries out. Normally it needs water once a week. If it isn't in the mood for a plant nap, wouldn't withholding water be like torturing the poor thing? The literature says, this treatment duplicates the weather of the tropics.
So, if any of you recognize whether this plant looks like it wants to go dormant, please, leave me a comment. It is totally beautiful and I really fear hurting it, or worse.
I live in a very small space. I recently got a bigger refrigerator from my landlord and have added fruit and vegies to my diet! The three foot square area where my little plant now lives is my only counter space. This plant was all scrunched up when I first got it. Its leaves were all pointing almost straight up. Now, it has spread out and is adding leaves almost weekly. I really have to love something to let it have that precious kitchen real estate! I just know its going to take over the whole table!
Dear Maria gently inquired where my latest blog was. Well, I've been busy. We had a six day revival at church with one of the most authentic Christian speakers I've had the pleasure to listen to. She even excited our normally non plussed teenagers! I'm trying to get the church website caught up and sometimes I just want to listen to my music and think about how cool God is.
I have a three-year-old computer and it only has 256 Mb. of RAM. (For those of you who don't get this, skip the rest of this paragraph). Updating the website, just to save, publish and upload was taking over an hour and a half. That's not counting the data entry time! I finally called my Apple rep and for $120 I'm going to be upgrading to 1.25 GB of RAM. This means that things will speed up markedly. Only harrd part, is that I have to brave putting the memory chip in myself! (To pay a tech to do it would cost in excess of another $100. Somehow, I'm warming to the idea of futzing with my Mac. Those of you that are religious - please pray I don't mess up my machine, or the $120 memory chip - thank you!
I've gotten my money plans in order and essentially will do nothing more then pay bills and save money for the next twelve months. But, thanks to some wonderful friends who have graced my life with audio, ebooks and print books, I won't miss my normal shopping haunts (much).
One last bit of humor. I am getting really tired of some of the problems with program updates and hardware, which have been floating around Apple-Land. See, when I pay schlock prices, I don't complain when the product is garbage. But when I throw down $2,000+ for a computer, by GOD, the case better not split, crack or discolor! So, in my normal style I ranted in an email to my friend who does the macnation podcast.
He said I seemed indignant. Oh, such diplomacy. I was shooting my mouth off and ranting! So, I've been invited to be on the show to cover the topic. See, that is two times when ranting in an email has secured me an opportunity! Oh, how sweet it is. And all those years of trying to act reasonable and mature to get a job! Now mind you, there is no money involved for these opportunities, but hope springs eternal. When the show gets posted to iTunes, I'll, of course, provide a link.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
Recovery: God's Way.
Since I have a major traffic spike over the holidays, (all of us loners trolling the net, while we wait for the Christmas music to stop), I'm going to try and leave more content, as I wonder through the grief work I've arrived in. Monday night was an interesting combination of fighting the urge to cry and having some kind of body overload. I'd be lying in bed and suddenly my heart would start pounding and racing, like I was having an anxiety attack. I had some breathing trouble, but mentally I felt nothing. I'm not any where near done with this process.
So, I ran through Monday's events with sweet Maria, who lovingly tried to explain my friend's (and her own) viewpoint. I'm poor, they aren't and it is wrong to take from someone who is so poor. I just continued to feel cut off from humanity. Like I'm not allowed in the game.
In a way its a relief. I can scale back on gifts, radically, or fore go them all together. Why am I trying to step out of reality? I don't have to sacrifice for anything but God. I can postpone my trip to Boston and get the G5-super-duper computer I need. Maybe this is another time when I have to face what is real. I don't have the money to share. So, I'm done.
At church, Tuesday night I was angry and joked about finding my purpose. "The poor ye shall have with you always" I find job security in being poor. And "when you have a banquet, don't invite your friends, for they will just invite you again. But invite the lame, the blind and the poor. For they can't recompense you, but your Father will reward you". Yeah, I have a liscence to be selfish: so hand it over! I got asked if I was able to have a pity party alone. Actually, yes, quite comfortably, thank-you. Compared to the torture of AA meetings and their abandonment methods, this was a mild rebuke.
The lesson was on the two greatest commandments. Love God and love thy neighbor as thyself. I honestly confessed I felt shut out on this gift-giving business. Pastor brought up the idea of putting the other person's needs above my own. It suddenly hit me, people don't like me sacrificing my meager resources on their behalf (my pride), but I can sacrifice my pride on the alter for God by letting them have their way and not fighting their wishes.
We also talked about the pride on the part of the "refuser". But that isn't my problem. Although having some kind of explanation, other then just being pushed away by people I care about was comforting.
I have to rise above my hurt, anger and fear. Unlike my marriage, where my husband demanded emotion and affection out of me I had no idea how to give, backing off from sharing is easy. I'll still share, but not using my money.
When I got home from Church I logged on and started this post. My friend then emailed me, responding to my last post. I had the reasoning wrong. He, senses I try to spend more then I have. He figured this out with my declaration that he'd get his Christmas gift in Feb.! Too much sacrifice and something is out of balance. As I was reading his kind and encouraging response, I suddenly realized where my hurt really sprang from.
I use money as a front to hide behind. I may be a jerk, but I know you'll LOVE my money! My real friends are keyed into who I am as a person and don't care about the money thing. I realized I'd made money into a really filthy idol. I worshiped it because it fed my illusion of having control over my life.
This is one of the reasons God hates pride. Pride drives one to lie, to themselves first, and then to everyone else. I had to admit that I truly don't have the money I intend to spend, right nowe Therefore I have to change some of my plans. Then I was able to really cry about all the years of holding up this false front. Just like the betrayed wife, I was the last to know that I was believing a lie.
The terrific news, however, is: I'm NOT IN CRISIS! At no time did I feel the need for emergency medication, or a trip to the hospital. This was normal tears. Lasted about five minutes and my body began to relax. I was then very thankful that God has been so patient and kind with me. I still love to do the Peacock-strut, even though I'm missing all the pretty feathers! I then began to unravel why sacrificing beyond all reasonable limits seems so right to me.
My family had two basic messages for me. "God, you're EXPENSIVE! We hate you" and "Damn I wish I could make you just LOOK normal!" These two messages combined into a lethal combo which has mesmerized me until now. The message I got as a child and a teenager was the old guilt-inducing ploy: "We've sacrificed EVERYTHING for YOU!" I will literally give up food to make something happen for someone else. Is this out of balance...? Naaaah. How about absolute hysterical insanity. Looking back as an adult, the drunken speeches were not true. For sure nobody went hungry because of me!
I have always believed that two additions to my childhood would have stopped all the abuse. A credit card and several fake body parts. The credit card would have stopped the torrent of their simpering sacrifice speeches. Fake eyes and an artificial right leg would have kept my mother from her antics. She would attempting to make me look normal by scotch taping my eyes fully open, and at times, beating me senseless.
I almost could feel years of guilt and a self-imposed prison of fear dropping off of me. It is alright and even praise-worthy for me to truly care properly for myself. I rejoice when I see other troubled people begin to pull back and help themselves. So, I will give, but on a much smaller scale. An e-card will be fine until my financial situation is altered by God's guiding hand. I don't have to try and be something I'm not. I don't have to feel so damn guilty! Oh, I rejoice!
So, I ran through Monday's events with sweet Maria, who lovingly tried to explain my friend's (and her own) viewpoint. I'm poor, they aren't and it is wrong to take from someone who is so poor. I just continued to feel cut off from humanity. Like I'm not allowed in the game.
In a way its a relief. I can scale back on gifts, radically, or fore go them all together. Why am I trying to step out of reality? I don't have to sacrifice for anything but God. I can postpone my trip to Boston and get the G5-super-duper computer I need. Maybe this is another time when I have to face what is real. I don't have the money to share. So, I'm done.
At church, Tuesday night I was angry and joked about finding my purpose. "The poor ye shall have with you always" I find job security in being poor. And "when you have a banquet, don't invite your friends, for they will just invite you again. But invite the lame, the blind and the poor. For they can't recompense you, but your Father will reward you". Yeah, I have a liscence to be selfish: so hand it over! I got asked if I was able to have a pity party alone. Actually, yes, quite comfortably, thank-you. Compared to the torture of AA meetings and their abandonment methods, this was a mild rebuke.
The lesson was on the two greatest commandments. Love God and love thy neighbor as thyself. I honestly confessed I felt shut out on this gift-giving business. Pastor brought up the idea of putting the other person's needs above my own. It suddenly hit me, people don't like me sacrificing my meager resources on their behalf (my pride), but I can sacrifice my pride on the alter for God by letting them have their way and not fighting their wishes.
We also talked about the pride on the part of the "refuser". But that isn't my problem. Although having some kind of explanation, other then just being pushed away by people I care about was comforting.
I have to rise above my hurt, anger and fear. Unlike my marriage, where my husband demanded emotion and affection out of me I had no idea how to give, backing off from sharing is easy. I'll still share, but not using my money.
When I got home from Church I logged on and started this post. My friend then emailed me, responding to my last post. I had the reasoning wrong. He, senses I try to spend more then I have. He figured this out with my declaration that he'd get his Christmas gift in Feb.! Too much sacrifice and something is out of balance. As I was reading his kind and encouraging response, I suddenly realized where my hurt really sprang from.
I use money as a front to hide behind. I may be a jerk, but I know you'll LOVE my money! My real friends are keyed into who I am as a person and don't care about the money thing. I realized I'd made money into a really filthy idol. I worshiped it because it fed my illusion of having control over my life.
This is one of the reasons God hates pride. Pride drives one to lie, to themselves first, and then to everyone else. I had to admit that I truly don't have the money I intend to spend, right nowe Therefore I have to change some of my plans. Then I was able to really cry about all the years of holding up this false front. Just like the betrayed wife, I was the last to know that I was believing a lie.
The terrific news, however, is: I'm NOT IN CRISIS! At no time did I feel the need for emergency medication, or a trip to the hospital. This was normal tears. Lasted about five minutes and my body began to relax. I was then very thankful that God has been so patient and kind with me. I still love to do the Peacock-strut, even though I'm missing all the pretty feathers! I then began to unravel why sacrificing beyond all reasonable limits seems so right to me.
My family had two basic messages for me. "God, you're EXPENSIVE! We hate you" and "Damn I wish I could make you just LOOK normal!" These two messages combined into a lethal combo which has mesmerized me until now. The message I got as a child and a teenager was the old guilt-inducing ploy: "We've sacrificed EVERYTHING for YOU!" I will literally give up food to make something happen for someone else. Is this out of balance...? Naaaah. How about absolute hysterical insanity. Looking back as an adult, the drunken speeches were not true. For sure nobody went hungry because of me!
I have always believed that two additions to my childhood would have stopped all the abuse. A credit card and several fake body parts. The credit card would have stopped the torrent of their simpering sacrifice speeches. Fake eyes and an artificial right leg would have kept my mother from her antics. She would attempting to make me look normal by scotch taping my eyes fully open, and at times, beating me senseless.
I almost could feel years of guilt and a self-imposed prison of fear dropping off of me. It is alright and even praise-worthy for me to truly care properly for myself. I rejoice when I see other troubled people begin to pull back and help themselves. So, I will give, but on a much smaller scale. An e-card will be fine until my financial situation is altered by God's guiding hand. I don't have to try and be something I'm not. I don't have to feel so damn guilty! Oh, I rejoice!
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Recovery: Reality Check For Us Child Abuse Rufugees.
Holiday time again. I'm not hanging in as well this year as I thought I would. A friend of mine unintentionally has thrown me back into some extremely painful Reality Checking. This is not a mature, all-together post. I'm distraught, angry and very unhappy. This is the stuff no body has the guts to tell. Well, since nobody has thousands of dollars for real therapy, this is my contribution to the literature. Friends, I haven't lost my recovery.
I attempt to believe that.
Some of you will not recognize this kind of agony. For the rest of us, check out the best description of a manic depressive's depression I've found anywhere. Notice the all-or-nothing attitude? The anger?, despair? Isolation? But through it all, he knows tomorrow will be another day.
Now, why am I in this swamp? I'm being a butt-head, immature and HONEST! Most of the time I work really, really hard at finding all the ponies in the piles of horse shit that make up my life. Most of the time, I almost believe my rose-colored approach. With it I ignore a few basic, hard facts. (Please don't comment about self-pity, I already said I'm being a butt-head).
I'm living alone because I have found it impossible to successfully live with other people.
Most of my "friends" are people who I've never met, in the flesh. We either speak to one another over Skype, or text message one over Adium or Firefox.
I have one (sort-of) close friend, when I remember to not tell most of the truth about who I am, or what I like, or feel. But, I do know her in the flesh.
I have an amazing capacity to ignore reality and replace it with fantasies I "live in" and add to as I go along. This works great until someone reacts differently then I'd imagined they would act.
I'm getting along better at my present church, then I have anywhere. But, I am VERY careful to tow the "party" line so as to be accepted as "one of us". When depressed I want to laugh at all things religious. I want to laugh as I fill out a form as #153,724 on the Berkeley Housing Authority's "Housing Voucher Wait List". (to let them know that I still want to hang out on the list and continue to wait.) To wait for housing with people I dread being around in an area I pray I never have to live in again. The area I dread, namely a drug-infested ghetto. But the one good thing about crashing into a depression like this, is I get angry and scared enough to act like the disabled, impoverished and wretched (it helps for the workers to see me like that) person I am.
When I get upset enough to throw more begging papers at the government, Mick Jaggar captures my general sense of how life "really" is.
A while back, a friend declined my offer of a birthday gift. This caused me a great deal of pain because for most of my life people want to give to me, but don't want anything I want to give to them. Somehow, an e-card feels so empty. Why don't I like e-cards by themselves? Only contact between my drunken father and myself , once I moved to California, was through letters. Then my relatives saw fit to block even that small communication. But, that's me and not my friend. He says he's happy with an e-card.
So, I figured I'd try it again at Christmas. No dice, same reaction and a polite request not to send a gift certificate. After I protested I got the: "fine, do what you want," (oh, no, I know what THAT means - 'scuse me, I'm out-of-here!) I had to let it happen. I couldn't not cry. I loathe it when I cry. I had to get to the bottom of this.
Here's my warped view and the screaming agony I'm in at the moment. It is not my friend's doing. He is just "another one" in a continuing series. I'm having trouble with the "series" aspect. The real problem is I want to be a part of his life at a level he is not comfortable with and therefore, blocking. I've done the same thing. Pushed some folks back to where I was comfortable.
I had a whacko, homeless guy bringing me all sorts of gifts. I flatly turned him down, why? I didn't want the involvement. In his case, when he found out I wasn't going to come across with the sex he wanted, he took his trinkets with his passion and moved on to the next "girl". I've also refused gifts when I felt I couldn't give anything back, usually a money issue. I like to give gifts because it is one of the ways I feel like I'm a part of something. The mail, or an e-card is like paying a bill, or trying to have a deep emotional involvement with say, my bank.
Here's the really, really irrational part. He takes gifts from his mom, his wife and kids. See, I have to face it, I ain't a part of his family and will never be a part of his family. Not like I want to be. I am not finding total relief from this maddening drive, even though I am moving farther and farther into "sanity". The other maddening drive which is not lessening is looking for a father-figure. My Pastor is stuck with that part of me. I just am having to face the reality of being alone.
Oh, I have a physical family, but just after I got married, my cousin flew into a rage when we gave her a Christmas present because:"Oh shit, now I have to buy you something. I don't want you to give me anything anymore. I don't want to have to buy you anything." I finally gave it up and have had nothing further to do with my relatives. But, hope still springs up from time to time (damn!)
I guess I still can't accept all the pain of not being wanted by my parents, my aunt or my cousin. My x-husband wanted me because he thought I was "good breeding stock". Before he discovered I refused to be a mother. Our marriage also proved (for awhile) that he really wasn't a homosexual.
I just have that sickening feeling of being "out". Oh, sure, I'll meet you, your family and I'll act appropriate. We'll engage in simple small talk. I will be so very careful. I will pass myself off as more-or-less normal. But, I'm "out".
Problem is I still long to be "in" somewhere. God is cool, but its a bit abstract. Somehow snuggling with my bedding and talking to God, at times, feels a bit empty.
The reality is when you come from severe abuse you will over react to stuff like this. Some of you may not like this post. It may upset your carefully constructed denial. You may realize that you aren't as "happy" as you thought. Give it a read in a couple of months. This blog is to document the crazy-quilt patch-work of recovery. Some days are better then others. Right now, I don't feel so good.
"But, you must have FAITH! God will..." Pardon me, right now, I say: "put a sock in it!"
I keep hearing how we Christians are to prosper and all of that "abundant life" rheetoric. Somehow I don't recall the Apostle Paul having a condo with a hot tub. He had so much crap to deal with, he openly toyed with wanting to kill himself! Now, he decided to hang around for the benefit of his "flock", but he was really, really not a happy camper in a few places.
I prefer not to do to much looking into the future. It is all I can do to keep from being in this kind of down, tantrum-esk state more often. Because the reality is I'm disabled enough that the Government has deemed it okay for me to live off your taxes until I die. (or until they change the rules - sarcastic giggle). I'm on housing lists because there is a very real chance that I won't be able to continue to pay my own rent, without help. I used to buy my own insurance, until I had to go begging to the system for help. It is only a matter of time before I'm forced to return to the world of the "drug-house in the ghetto" life-style.
I'm a tither, I am dedicated, try to be honest and not totally bullshit my church. I do, however lie about my extra income. I know what would happen if I could even find the office to write to, in order to "declare" my income. I'd be "punished". I'd have to pay out 250% of my extra income in paying my own insurance again! I played this game when I was working part-time. I even tried to declare a lousy $70 and the letter was returned. Even the Post Office couldn't find the office address I was given to write in for my "declaration"! Screw it. I am going to keep doing what I've been doing and if I end up in prison, I'll end up in prison.
I will survive and even thrive. Pastor really got on me for "lying" until he attempted to talk his landlord into taking a 50% rent reduction to "help me out". She sold the property and ignored his pitch for the "less fortunate". If I don't say anything, nobody else will say anything either.
The only time I take crap from people is when I dare to act like I might be able to get off the system. Maria knows what has happened and what will happen if I try to play by middle class rules. So, I work part-time, under-the-table and everyone (including the bureaucrat who manages all my files) is happy.
When I come face to face with how isolated and "out" I really "feel", I get a bit crazy. I'm bone tired of a whole lot of things I can't change. So, I choose to take my anti-depressants and put a happy spin on things. I am still gagging on not having that damn imagined closeness of being "in" somewhere. My friend actually admitted that "family isn't always so great". Yeah. I'll be able to ignore all of this in the morning. But right now, Neil Diamond captures my mental state.
So, here's the deal as I see it. From time to time "reality" will bring you up short and drive you to your knees. I have always felt rootless, abandoned and rejected at a real deep level. No human being in your life can ever really fill up that hole. Sometimes God seems to be able to provide real comfort. But you will continue to chafe at the holes which still cry out, but aren't getting filled.
This is what makes the "holidays" a living hell for many of us. It is the one time of year when we get a real in-your-face, reminder that we "know" no one and belong "nowhere". Even though I'm a Christian, this song still speaks to me when I'm grappling with all of the above.
"weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning"
I attempt to believe that.
Some of you will not recognize this kind of agony. For the rest of us, check out the best description of a manic depressive's depression I've found anywhere. Notice the all-or-nothing attitude? The anger?, despair? Isolation? But through it all, he knows tomorrow will be another day.
Gi' Me Wings
(Rod Stewart, Steve Harley / Chen, Savigar, Cregan, Grainger)
Driving in my car
There's nothing on the air
Play a song that'll ease my pain
D.j.s telling me
That this is what'll be
Help me I'm depressed again
My best friend disappeared
With the girl I had for years
My life's going down the drain
The skies are crying
Everybody's lying
Oh God I'm depressed again
Give me wings I'll fly away
Magnificent and free
Far away from the madding crowd
There's gotta be a place for me
The boss is on my back
I know I'm gonna crack
Looks like I'm paranoid again
Can't do nothing right
See only black and white
Oh God I'm depressed again
Give me wings I'll fly away
Magnificent and free
Far away from the madding crowd
There's gotta be a place for me
How can I plan ahead
With this hanging round my neck
Looks like I'm coming down again
Thought about it well
Analysed myself
Yeah, I'm depressed again
Give me wings I'll fly away
Magnificent and free
Far away from the madding crowd
There's gotta be a place for me
I'm down, I'm coming down again
I'm down, looks like I'm coming down again
I'm down, I'm down
Looks like I'm coming down again
I'm down, I'm down
Looks like I'm pissed off again
Now, why am I in this swamp? I'm being a butt-head, immature and HONEST! Most of the time I work really, really hard at finding all the ponies in the piles of horse shit that make up my life. Most of the time, I almost believe my rose-colored approach. With it I ignore a few basic, hard facts. (Please don't comment about self-pity, I already said I'm being a butt-head).
I'm living alone because I have found it impossible to successfully live with other people.
Most of my "friends" are people who I've never met, in the flesh. We either speak to one another over Skype, or text message one over Adium or Firefox.
I have one (sort-of) close friend, when I remember to not tell most of the truth about who I am, or what I like, or feel. But, I do know her in the flesh.
I have an amazing capacity to ignore reality and replace it with fantasies I "live in" and add to as I go along. This works great until someone reacts differently then I'd imagined they would act.
I'm getting along better at my present church, then I have anywhere. But, I am VERY careful to tow the "party" line so as to be accepted as "one of us". When depressed I want to laugh at all things religious. I want to laugh as I fill out a form as #153,724 on the Berkeley Housing Authority's "Housing Voucher Wait List". (to let them know that I still want to hang out on the list and continue to wait.) To wait for housing with people I dread being around in an area I pray I never have to live in again. The area I dread, namely a drug-infested ghetto. But the one good thing about crashing into a depression like this, is I get angry and scared enough to act like the disabled, impoverished and wretched (it helps for the workers to see me like that) person I am.
When I get upset enough to throw more begging papers at the government, Mick Jaggar captures my general sense of how life "really" is.
Out Of Focus by Mick Jaggar
I saw a glittering moon
I saw a beautiful morning
Shining on the hill
And I grabbed the cat by the tail
The future with my finger nails
But now I live in fear
It's all out of focus
It's all, baby, so unclear
It's all out of focus
It's all, baby, so unreal
I saw towering spires,
I heard beautiful chimes,
I heard them peal
I saw visions of grace,
I saw heavenly place,
then it disappeared
Maybe I lied a little bit too much
Maybe I cried a little bit too much
I saw the future just shatter in glass
It's all out of focus
It's all, baby, so unclear
It's all out of focus
And nothing is revealed
I was walking on clouds,
yeah and talking so proud,
but I did not hear
Voices singing so loud,
said you're tumbling down,
to the streets of tears
It's all out of focus
It's all, baby, so unclear
It's all out of focus
It's all, baby, so unreal
Sometime I lied a little bit too hard
Sometime I cried a little bit too hard
I saw the future just vanish like glass
It's all out of focus
It's all, baby, so unclear
It's all out of focus
And nothing is revealed
A while back, a friend declined my offer of a birthday gift. This caused me a great deal of pain because for most of my life people want to give to me, but don't want anything I want to give to them. Somehow, an e-card feels so empty. Why don't I like e-cards by themselves? Only contact between my drunken father and myself , once I moved to California, was through letters. Then my relatives saw fit to block even that small communication. But, that's me and not my friend. He says he's happy with an e-card.
So, I figured I'd try it again at Christmas. No dice, same reaction and a polite request not to send a gift certificate. After I protested I got the: "fine, do what you want," (oh, no, I know what THAT means - 'scuse me, I'm out-of-here!) I had to let it happen. I couldn't not cry. I loathe it when I cry. I had to get to the bottom of this.
Here's my warped view and the screaming agony I'm in at the moment. It is not my friend's doing. He is just "another one" in a continuing series. I'm having trouble with the "series" aspect. The real problem is I want to be a part of his life at a level he is not comfortable with and therefore, blocking. I've done the same thing. Pushed some folks back to where I was comfortable.
I had a whacko, homeless guy bringing me all sorts of gifts. I flatly turned him down, why? I didn't want the involvement. In his case, when he found out I wasn't going to come across with the sex he wanted, he took his trinkets with his passion and moved on to the next "girl". I've also refused gifts when I felt I couldn't give anything back, usually a money issue. I like to give gifts because it is one of the ways I feel like I'm a part of something. The mail, or an e-card is like paying a bill, or trying to have a deep emotional involvement with say, my bank.
Here's the really, really irrational part. He takes gifts from his mom, his wife and kids. See, I have to face it, I ain't a part of his family and will never be a part of his family. Not like I want to be. I am not finding total relief from this maddening drive, even though I am moving farther and farther into "sanity". The other maddening drive which is not lessening is looking for a father-figure. My Pastor is stuck with that part of me. I just am having to face the reality of being alone.
Oh, I have a physical family, but just after I got married, my cousin flew into a rage when we gave her a Christmas present because:"Oh shit, now I have to buy you something. I don't want you to give me anything anymore. I don't want to have to buy you anything." I finally gave it up and have had nothing further to do with my relatives. But, hope still springs up from time to time (damn!)
I guess I still can't accept all the pain of not being wanted by my parents, my aunt or my cousin. My x-husband wanted me because he thought I was "good breeding stock". Before he discovered I refused to be a mother. Our marriage also proved (for awhile) that he really wasn't a homosexual.
I just have that sickening feeling of being "out". Oh, sure, I'll meet you, your family and I'll act appropriate. We'll engage in simple small talk. I will be so very careful. I will pass myself off as more-or-less normal. But, I'm "out".
Problem is I still long to be "in" somewhere. God is cool, but its a bit abstract. Somehow snuggling with my bedding and talking to God, at times, feels a bit empty.
The reality is when you come from severe abuse you will over react to stuff like this. Some of you may not like this post. It may upset your carefully constructed denial. You may realize that you aren't as "happy" as you thought. Give it a read in a couple of months. This blog is to document the crazy-quilt patch-work of recovery. Some days are better then others. Right now, I don't feel so good.
"But, you must have FAITH! God will..." Pardon me, right now, I say: "put a sock in it!"
I keep hearing how we Christians are to prosper and all of that "abundant life" rheetoric. Somehow I don't recall the Apostle Paul having a condo with a hot tub. He had so much crap to deal with, he openly toyed with wanting to kill himself! Now, he decided to hang around for the benefit of his "flock", but he was really, really not a happy camper in a few places.
I prefer not to do to much looking into the future. It is all I can do to keep from being in this kind of down, tantrum-esk state more often. Because the reality is I'm disabled enough that the Government has deemed it okay for me to live off your taxes until I die. (or until they change the rules - sarcastic giggle). I'm on housing lists because there is a very real chance that I won't be able to continue to pay my own rent, without help. I used to buy my own insurance, until I had to go begging to the system for help. It is only a matter of time before I'm forced to return to the world of the "drug-house in the ghetto" life-style.
I'm a tither, I am dedicated, try to be honest and not totally bullshit my church. I do, however lie about my extra income. I know what would happen if I could even find the office to write to, in order to "declare" my income. I'd be "punished". I'd have to pay out 250% of my extra income in paying my own insurance again! I played this game when I was working part-time. I even tried to declare a lousy $70 and the letter was returned. Even the Post Office couldn't find the office address I was given to write in for my "declaration"! Screw it. I am going to keep doing what I've been doing and if I end up in prison, I'll end up in prison.
I will survive and even thrive. Pastor really got on me for "lying" until he attempted to talk his landlord into taking a 50% rent reduction to "help me out". She sold the property and ignored his pitch for the "less fortunate". If I don't say anything, nobody else will say anything either.
The only time I take crap from people is when I dare to act like I might be able to get off the system. Maria knows what has happened and what will happen if I try to play by middle class rules. So, I work part-time, under-the-table and everyone (including the bureaucrat who manages all my files) is happy.
When I come face to face with how isolated and "out" I really "feel", I get a bit crazy. I'm bone tired of a whole lot of things I can't change. So, I choose to take my anti-depressants and put a happy spin on things. I am still gagging on not having that damn imagined closeness of being "in" somewhere. My friend actually admitted that "family isn't always so great". Yeah. I'll be able to ignore all of this in the morning. But right now, Neil Diamond captures my mental state.
Shilo by Neil Diamond
Young child with dreams
Dreaming each dream on your own
When children play
Seems like you end up alone
Papa says he'd love to be with you
If he had the time
So you turn to the only friend you can find
There in your mind
Shilo when I was young
I used to call your name
When no one else would come
Shilo you always came
And we'd play
Young girl with fire
Something said she understood
I wanted to fly
She made me feel like I could
Held my hand and I let her take me
Blind as a child
All I saw was the way that she made me smile
She made me smile
Shilo when I was young
I used to call your name
When no one else would come
Shilo you always came
And you'd stay
Had a dream and it filled me with wonder
She had other plans
Got to go and I know that you'll understand
I understand
Shilo when I was young
I used to call your name
When no one else would come
Shilo you always came
Come today
So, here's the deal as I see it. From time to time "reality" will bring you up short and drive you to your knees. I have always felt rootless, abandoned and rejected at a real deep level. No human being in your life can ever really fill up that hole. Sometimes God seems to be able to provide real comfort. But you will continue to chafe at the holes which still cry out, but aren't getting filled.
This is what makes the "holidays" a living hell for many of us. It is the one time of year when we get a real in-your-face, reminder that we "know" no one and belong "nowhere". Even though I'm a Christian, this song still speaks to me when I'm grappling with all of the above.
Wandering Spirit by Mick JaggarAnd now, I want to show you a song by Bob Dylan that captures better then anything else I've found, why living in the ghetto is so bad. This is a raging hard-rock blues tune. Truly a work of truth.
When all the twelve Apostles try to ring me on the phone
Take a message but I won't return their call
For I have no eyes to see him and I thought I lost my way
And I know I've lost the keys to your door
And I climbed the highest mountain and I looked down on the sea
And I saw a ship a-sail to the shore
I took a passage to the East and I journeyed to the West
I made love from Battambang to Baltimore
I said, oh, am I running in a race
I said, oh, am I getting anyplace
I said, oh, can I make it
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit, yes I am a restless soul
I'm a wandering spirit, there's no place that I can call my own
I was a glutton at the banquet and I spilt the finest wine
Trod the pyramids and ruins of Angkor
I kissed the Mona Lisa and I breakfasted with kings
And I touched the nerves of nature in the raw
I said, oh, am I running in a race
I said, oh, take that smile right off your face
I said, oh, I can't make it
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit, no escape, no parole
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit, there's no place that I can call my home
I said, oh, am I running in a race
I said, oh, take that smile right off your face
I said, oh, I can't make it
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit, looking for a place to go
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit
I'm a wandering spirit, no escape, no parole
I'm a wandering spirit, I'm a lost and lonely soul
My friend is still my friend and the wonderful Dylan lyrics are beginning to pull me out of the worst of my mood. It does pass. I wish it wouldn't come at all, but at least I'm not spending months in a depressed and self-absorbed state. It really is getting better. My natural denial is coming back, which means I can sleep tonight and be civil with the world tomorrow.
The Groom's Still Waiting At The Alter by Bob Dylan
Prayed in the ghetto with my face in the cement,
Heard the last moan of a boxer, seen the massacre of the innocent
Felt around for the light switch, became nauseated.
She was walking down the hallway while the walls deteriorated.
East of the Jordan, hard as the Rock of Gibraltar,
I see the burning of the page, Curtain risin' on a new age,
See the groom still waitin' at the altar.
Try to be pure at heart, they arrest you for robbery,
Mistake your shyness for aloofness, your shyness for snobbery,
Got the message this morning, the one that was sent to me
About the madness of becomin' what one was never meant to be.
West of the Jordan, east of the Rock of Gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage,
Curtain risin' on a new age,
See the groom still waitin' at the altar.
Don't know what I can say about Claudette that wouldn't come back to haunt me,
Finally had to give her up 'bout the time she began to want me.
But I know God has mercy on them who are slandered and humiliated.
I'd a-done anything for that woman if she didn't make me feel so obligated.
West of the Jordan, east of the Rock of Gibraltar,
I see the burning of the cage,
Curtain risin' on a new stage,
See the groom still waitin' at the altar.
Put your hand on my head, baby, do I have a temperature?
I see people who are supposed to know better standin' around like furniture.
There's a wall between you and what you want and you got to leap it,
Tonight you got the power to take it, tomorrow you won't have the power to
keep it.
West of the Jordan, west of the Rock of Gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage, Curtain risin' on a new age,
See the groom still waitin' at the altar.
Cities on fire, phones out of order,
They're killing nuns and soldiers, there's fighting on the border.
What can I say about Claudette?
Ain't seen her since January,
She could be respectably married or running a whorehouse in Buenos Aires.
West of the Jordan, west of the Rock of Gibraltar,
I see the burning of the stage,
Curtain risin' on a new age,
See the groom still waitin' at the altar.
Copyright © 1981 Special Rider Music
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
The Stupidity Factor: Why Can't People Design Things Properly Any More?
(Finally, here is a post! I wrote most of it on 11/4. I'm just now getting back to speed after that nasty, nasty flu. If you get it, be good to yourself, it can really lay you out. I will try to get back to posting something once a week. Thanks for your patience.)
This is going to be a bit of a rant. I clean houses and hand mop large areas of hardwood flooring. I am not complaining about the task. With my low vision doing a floor on hands and knees gives me a chance to 'feel' where the dirt is. Using a mop, I just glide over the stuck-on stuff, never the wiser.
About eleven years ago I bought some serious knee pads. They were thick rubber with two sets of attachment straps. Due to wear, they no longer attach properly. So, I went to the local hardware store to replace them. After carefully describing what my needs are to a clerk, he came back with one choice. An unbelievably badly designed, thin rubber atrocity that I had to assemble. So ten bucks down the shoot. I mean, these things just don't work. The one strap is placed incorrectly causing the pad to drift downward while walking. But what really made me angry was the total lack of protection this device gave my knees. I would have been better off folding up one of the bathroom rugs and sliding around on it!
That last idea is also sold by my hardware store. It is called a kneeler. After trolling the Internet, I got a good look at said device. It is designed for GARDENING! Where crouching gets you to the perfect height. Now, friends, there is a design problem here. People who are up and down, on and off their knees all day long don't want to have to worry about moving their kneeling platform. People who are on and off their knees all day need more then 1/4 inch of cheap rubber between their knee and a hard surface. I can not believe my hardware store sold me what they did.
After trolling the net and being relieved of almost thirty bucks my new knee pads will arrive by November fifteenth! One of those secondary sellers on amazon.com. As a California resident, my state government has seen fit to force amazon and this other poor seller to warn me about the dangers from my product. (Knee pads - this I gotta see). Yes, friends this is no joke. Thanks to something called Prop. 65, I was warned that while working in dusty areas, or with wood and construction equipment, I might breathe in something harmful! Perhaps if I hold the knee pad over my nose and inhale, I might also get a rubber buzz! As David Steinberg used to say: thanks for clearing that up!
(Flash! Update. Since I didn't publish this when planned, my $30 knee pads arrived and they are worth every penny! I now can both do my job and still walk the next day. Now, I return you to the remainder of this post)
But, alas, there are mountains of stupidity out there. I own a walker. I love my walker and use it unmercifully through all kinds of weather and terrain. It is held together with various bolts and "#2 Phillips" screws. For those of you who don't know, the Phillips is the screw with a cross type head. it looks like a plus (+) sign. So, every so often one set of screws work themselves loose. The pharmacist who sold me the walker hands me a twelve inch long screw driver and I get the screws tightened up.
Twelve inches long? Yes. See the screws in question are buried deep within the handle assembly. People have difficulty looking at them, not to mention trying to tighten them, due to their insane placement. Since my x-husband worked on cars and TVs, he showed me one of the greatest inventions known to man: an angled, or 'bent' screw driver.
Take a screw driver and bend the end into a ninety-degree angle. (It forms one corner of a square). This is used a lot with wrenches. It is amazingly cool. I now own a little tool about two inches long that is bent at both ends. A Phillips on the left and a standard screw head on the right. Oh, how sweet it is!
But, why do mechanics and the like have to be understudies to Houdini? Somewhere, someone had an idea for, say my walker. After the device made it through the proof of concept stage it had to be built. Proof of concept: can/will it benefit the patient enough so that someone will buy it? Building it involves an assembly-line and efficiency.
Efficiency is in the eye of some of the workers. My troublesome screws probably go in very nicely on the shop floor. What one has to do to them once the product has been bought? Who cares?
We have the same thing within the technical / computer world. Entire careers have been spawned attempting to overcome some one's lousy design which wasn't supposed to stay in "production" for twenty years. There is some VERY bad code floating around from, oh say 1986 that some businesses have "patched" to where it still works on the Internet! Sure, there will be a day of reckoning, but the coding monkey who did the last set of revisions is gone, gone, gone!
I long for the day when people again know more then just their little slice of reality. Apple had a great idea, they'd have their computer talk to you. It would read text from the screen. This was back in the eighties. This was wonderful for the blind, right? Not quite. In order to get the computer to "read" text, one had to use a mouse to "select" the desired text. Huh? So totally blind folks are locked into the PC environment because, at least Microsoft didn't require a blind person to select things with a mouse! Somebody wasn't thinking. Oh how I hate it, let me count the ways.
But alas, I am also capable of being stupid. While acquiring the worst flu bug in years, I felt I could crank out a post on this blog. Oh how wrong I was. I had typing problems. Not because I didn't use a spell checker, but because I didn't proof it after the spell checker gave me a clean bill of health. Bat and bet are both correctly spelled words. However, context determines which one is actually correct. Well, after I thoroughly check this post, I'll go back and re-check my last post!
But, I have one last product lament. Right now, men's deodorants are pretty straight-forward solid stick affairs. But, gentlemen, your day is coming. I present the dumbest innovation I've ever had the displeasure of using.
I won't name the product, to hide their shame. It looks like a regular solid stick roll on. But upon opening it, I discovered a grill work over the top of the container. I figured it was a decorative way of keeping it fresh until I purchased it. After much serious tugging, I removed the second 'top' to discover the 'pond' of product underneath.
Folks, this stuff is like a bad hand lotion in consistency. So, now I comprehend what the grill is for. See, this is a system where I can neatly apply a wet version of what I thought was a stick solid. This is totally inane! You "notch" it up by clicks. One click per arm pit. I have to really fool with this set up to evenly spread this clop. For those of you who wish to avoid all this fun. Don't buy any deodorant labeled "soft" solid.
This is going to be a bit of a rant. I clean houses and hand mop large areas of hardwood flooring. I am not complaining about the task. With my low vision doing a floor on hands and knees gives me a chance to 'feel' where the dirt is. Using a mop, I just glide over the stuck-on stuff, never the wiser.
About eleven years ago I bought some serious knee pads. They were thick rubber with two sets of attachment straps. Due to wear, they no longer attach properly. So, I went to the local hardware store to replace them. After carefully describing what my needs are to a clerk, he came back with one choice. An unbelievably badly designed, thin rubber atrocity that I had to assemble. So ten bucks down the shoot. I mean, these things just don't work. The one strap is placed incorrectly causing the pad to drift downward while walking. But what really made me angry was the total lack of protection this device gave my knees. I would have been better off folding up one of the bathroom rugs and sliding around on it!
That last idea is also sold by my hardware store. It is called a kneeler. After trolling the Internet, I got a good look at said device. It is designed for GARDENING! Where crouching gets you to the perfect height. Now, friends, there is a design problem here. People who are up and down, on and off their knees all day long don't want to have to worry about moving their kneeling platform. People who are on and off their knees all day need more then 1/4 inch of cheap rubber between their knee and a hard surface. I can not believe my hardware store sold me what they did.
After trolling the net and being relieved of almost thirty bucks my new knee pads will arrive by November fifteenth! One of those secondary sellers on amazon.com. As a California resident, my state government has seen fit to force amazon and this other poor seller to warn me about the dangers from my product. (Knee pads - this I gotta see). Yes, friends this is no joke. Thanks to something called Prop. 65, I was warned that while working in dusty areas, or with wood and construction equipment, I might breathe in something harmful! Perhaps if I hold the knee pad over my nose and inhale, I might also get a rubber buzz! As David Steinberg used to say: thanks for clearing that up!
(Flash! Update. Since I didn't publish this when planned, my $30 knee pads arrived and they are worth every penny! I now can both do my job and still walk the next day. Now, I return you to the remainder of this post)
But, alas, there are mountains of stupidity out there. I own a walker. I love my walker and use it unmercifully through all kinds of weather and terrain. It is held together with various bolts and "#2 Phillips" screws. For those of you who don't know, the Phillips is the screw with a cross type head. it looks like a plus (+) sign. So, every so often one set of screws work themselves loose. The pharmacist who sold me the walker hands me a twelve inch long screw driver and I get the screws tightened up.
Twelve inches long? Yes. See the screws in question are buried deep within the handle assembly. People have difficulty looking at them, not to mention trying to tighten them, due to their insane placement. Since my x-husband worked on cars and TVs, he showed me one of the greatest inventions known to man: an angled, or 'bent' screw driver.
Take a screw driver and bend the end into a ninety-degree angle. (It forms one corner of a square). This is used a lot with wrenches. It is amazingly cool. I now own a little tool about two inches long that is bent at both ends. A Phillips on the left and a standard screw head on the right. Oh, how sweet it is!
But, why do mechanics and the like have to be understudies to Houdini? Somewhere, someone had an idea for, say my walker. After the device made it through the proof of concept stage it had to be built. Proof of concept: can/will it benefit the patient enough so that someone will buy it? Building it involves an assembly-line and efficiency.
Efficiency is in the eye of some of the workers. My troublesome screws probably go in very nicely on the shop floor. What one has to do to them once the product has been bought? Who cares?
We have the same thing within the technical / computer world. Entire careers have been spawned attempting to overcome some one's lousy design which wasn't supposed to stay in "production" for twenty years. There is some VERY bad code floating around from, oh say 1986 that some businesses have "patched" to where it still works on the Internet! Sure, there will be a day of reckoning, but the coding monkey who did the last set of revisions is gone, gone, gone!
I long for the day when people again know more then just their little slice of reality. Apple had a great idea, they'd have their computer talk to you. It would read text from the screen. This was back in the eighties. This was wonderful for the blind, right? Not quite. In order to get the computer to "read" text, one had to use a mouse to "select" the desired text. Huh? So totally blind folks are locked into the PC environment because, at least Microsoft didn't require a blind person to select things with a mouse! Somebody wasn't thinking. Oh how I hate it, let me count the ways.
But alas, I am also capable of being stupid. While acquiring the worst flu bug in years, I felt I could crank out a post on this blog. Oh how wrong I was. I had typing problems. Not because I didn't use a spell checker, but because I didn't proof it after the spell checker gave me a clean bill of health. Bat and bet are both correctly spelled words. However, context determines which one is actually correct. Well, after I thoroughly check this post, I'll go back and re-check my last post!
But, I have one last product lament. Right now, men's deodorants are pretty straight-forward solid stick affairs. But, gentlemen, your day is coming. I present the dumbest innovation I've ever had the displeasure of using.
I won't name the product, to hide their shame. It looks like a regular solid stick roll on. But upon opening it, I discovered a grill work over the top of the container. I figured it was a decorative way of keeping it fresh until I purchased it. After much serious tugging, I removed the second 'top' to discover the 'pond' of product underneath.
Folks, this stuff is like a bad hand lotion in consistency. So, now I comprehend what the grill is for. See, this is a system where I can neatly apply a wet version of what I thought was a stick solid. This is totally inane! You "notch" it up by clicks. One click per arm pit. I have to really fool with this set up to evenly spread this clop. For those of you who wish to avoid all this fun. Don't buy any deodorant labeled "soft" solid.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
