Give a Little, Save a Lot

Received a gift today from an old friend.  So now I share it with you.

I've been following the Bioneers movement for a few years now.  They sent me a solicitation for support letter that included this audio.  I'm inspired by the people featured in the special audio "show" that is nicely produced and professionally presented.  I wish I had some extra cash to send their way, but I don't.  At least, not at the moment.  Such things can change.  I am hopeful.

The people featured are citizens who are part of a revolutionary movement to save ourselves from ourselves.  There is so much wisdom and intellect in what they are doing.  Please check out the link-- it's about an hour and it's packed with great information, fun stories, and even some good music.  I highly recommend it.  I will listen to it more than once, I do believe.

You can also check out Bioneers.org for more great stuff.  Enjoy.

The War That Drove Me Crazy

For my fourth blog entry, I got political.  At least, I attempted to.  I took the urging of the Obama campaign at the time and wrote a letter to the editor.  I wasn't published (what else is new) and I didn't garner many responses even from my family and friends.  But I think it was an interesting (if a bit too ambitious) foray into the politics of the War on Terror.  The very war that would help to drive me crazy.  Crazy enough to be hospitalized (again).

Those were tough times.  But then, times are tough.  All over.  Jobs still hard to find, economy trudging along, mired in mud, as is politics.  I still have hope for Obama, although I'm wondering why more and more.  I think Lewis Black has it right: that neither of the two main parties are the answer, be it the Republicans or the Democrats.  They're both too tied up in corporate money to be able to answer to the needs of the American people.  There is great change needed, on that most people agree.  But we're too scared to change it all in a grand sweep, without engaging in the whole electoral campaign extravaganza that itself wastes a ton of resources and limits our options to choosing between two evils.  God forbid we try and establish a 3rd party.

But anyway.  Why listen to me-- I'm nuts.

But then, aren't we all just a little bit crazy? 

I think there's more crazy out there than we tend to admit.  We joke about it, but deep down, we know it's true.  We're all bat-f-ing crazy.  And there ain't no normal.  Normal is just an illusion.  Much like reality.

Now I sound crazy.  Another day, another straitjacket.

Eggs, Embryos, and Ethics

In my third blog entry I took a stab at short fiction.  Inspired by actual events, however.  My wife actually hard-boiled some eggs and put them in the fridge and they ended up frozen.  Such things inspire creative (or warped) minds...

There's more to be said about stem cell research.  I think there's a lot more that can be done and should be.  We need to find ways to use resources for the greater good, and frozen embryos, mostly forgotten until some goofball thought of a political angle, are a resource for research that could bring a lot less suffering into the world.  This does not threaten unborn life, as most of the embryos expire in the freezer, waiting to be unfrozen and used for some purpose.  There's no reason to waste them waiting for more parents to step forward and claim them to make children of their own (sort of) because doing that ends up wasting the embryos anyway (not enough folks are stepping forward and signing up to be parents of these would be children, if they are successfully implanted in an appropriate mom's uterus and brought to term, a long haul in and of itself).  Since the genetic material is extra, having been "surrendered" by parents opting out of further doctor intervention, and isn't sought after for another purpose, and since the research could lead to the relief of a lot of suffering for those with spinal cord injuries, for example, 

And anyway, why is it okay to bioengineer and experiment with the DNA of seeds, affecting our food supply, but not okay to do stem cell research?  Aren't both practices messing with "God's Plan" so to speak?

Your thoughts are welcome.  More from me later.

Grinnell 15-Year Reunion Revisited

In my second blog entry (EVER!) I wrote about my 15-year college reunion.  Check out what I had to say then here.  The last thing I had to say then was that I would write more later.

Now is later.

It's over four years later, and now I'm looking forward to the 20-year reunion (and I'm wondering how we're going to pay for a trip out there...)  Grinnell is a magical place;  there's something that brings out the best in people when you're there.  Maybe it's the people entirely, I don't know.  But so much inspiration is born there, in the conversations between old friends and new acquaintances.

I saw my old acting partner, Erika Krouse, and we bonded about writing.  She's got a book out there to check out if you'd like-- it's called "Come Up and See Me Sometime"  and is a compilation of short fiction organized around some Mae West quotes.  At least, I think so.  I still haven't read it, but my wife did and liked it.  So there you have it.

I also spent time with some folks that I knew but didn't know well when we were in school together, and my wife and I had some nice, relaxed, flowing conversations with them about things such as other Grinnellians, permaculture, and parenting.  I made a connection with another Grinnellian writer with one of the best blog names I've heard-- the parenting/mommy advice blog known as Breed 'em and Weep.  And I saw old friends who still cause some trepidation and anxiety, in the form of old roommates.  Well, okay.  One roommate who is sometimes intellectually confrontational and makes me nervous.  But he can be a great guy, he just makes me self conscious sometimes.

So it was a fabulous weekend that was exactly what the doctor ordered, as far as what I needed to lift my mood and my outlook on life.  We had a blast dancing inside Carlos' refurbished Airstream trailer.  He does beautiful work.  We danced some more in the Harris Center where they had a dj that was kind of annoying.  So annoying that a group broke off, grabbed a boombox, found another venue and started another dance hall party.  It was fun to sit in the hallway as the dance tunes pounded out and people jumped into a frothy euphoria.  We sat and had a calm, fun conversation with a few of my closer friends from Grinnell, and a handful of others that are friends of friends.  Perhaps I should find the article that I wrote about it and post it here.  That sounds like a good assignment.

Reunions can be a very good thing.  This one definitely was.  There was renewal and rejuvenation.  There was networking and positive connections.  And there was fun.  Laughter.  Tears.  Celebration.

I really can't wait for next year.  My 43rd birthday and  my 20th Grinnell reunion.  And my 25th high school reunion.  All good.

All things to look forward to.

***UPDATE***

Here's the article I wrote about the reunion that was published somewhere, I just don't know where.  Irene?  Can you hear me?  Can you remind me what publication this went into?  Thanks.

----------------------------------------------------

The evening began with dinner and an auction.  Lots of friends that hadn’t seen one another in several years.  And it ended with music reverberating in the collective ear.

After the meal everybody had pitched in and cleared the tables and chairs from the dance floor.  Some of the folks with kids bid their adieu to honor set bedtimes.  Those of us without kids (and some parents who had arranged for sitters, not to mention the mom or dad who won the coin toss while the other parent slinked back to the dorm, festooned with responsibility...) started gearing up to party.

We were sold the idea that a DJ would play music by request.  But it soon became evident that Mr. DJ had another agenda.  Not ones to settle for anything other than our own agenda, we hit the road.  Some of us splintered off to investigate another party, an impromptu gathering in an alumnus’ refurbished Airstream trailer.  A warm evening, hot tunes, and cold beer—Now, that’s a party.  My wife and I sauntered between locales, dancing and drinking and chatting at both. 

We soon learned of a third splinter group.  Someone had checked for availability of another “party space” over at the Joe Rosenfeld Center.  Others had secured tunes and amplification.  Soon, there was sweat.  There was dancing.  There was thudding bass, stomping feet, and clapping hands.  There were a number of, shall we say, aromas.  And there was the open exploitation (y’know, fun being had) by all.

Sure, there was a great diversity displayed.  Grinnellians ooze diversity.  Some danced hard and fast, working up a sweat.  Others bobbed and weaved near the amplification source.  Still others stood on the outskirts of the room, taking turns leaning into each other’s ear as they tried to carry on conversation.

My wife and I danced a bit, but soon took to the hallway of the Joe (aka the JRC, or the “jerk”), where we could still hear the music and singing of the crowd, but could more easily speak to each other.  We took to the couches and benches there with a handful of other friends and had a pot-luck conversation of sorts.  Everybody brought something to the discussion. 

We talked about what we had in common such that we found ourselves outside of the party room, choosing the cerebral exercise over the aerobic.  Our buffet table was set with one part reminiscence, one part levity, one part reality-of-getting-older lament.

 

There were other parts too, of course.  Beer drinking, wine sipping, joke telling, and problem solving.  We talked about things we were still working on—me and my writing, and my still-yet-to-be-completed degree requirements.  One woman in the group spoke about how she had conquered the beast of learning another language (the one thing left standing between me and my undergraduate degree).  She said that it had become a necessity—a matter of survival, in fact.  I suppose that’s what my problem has been—I’ve never bought in to the idea that I needed another language in my repertoire.  But then, I’m oh-so comfy with the one I use daily... it gets in the way anytime I try and use something else in my mind.  My English is the jealous sort, I guess.

By the end of the night, we’d partaken in plenty verbal entrees, laughed until the metaphorical milk ran out our noses, and seen plenty over-partying.  We watched one couple stumble and giggle their way back to their room, taking time to chat with others along the way.  We giggled heartily with them, and then at them, as they weaved away from us, for they were both of a physical age closer to my parents’.

Man, woman, and child of any gender. Overall, my reacquaintance with my Grinnell Experience was spectacular. Not like a Jerry Bruckheimer film, but a resonant, penetrating, rejuvenating sort of spiritual renewal. A molting of sorts. I had been in a depressed state before arriving at reunion, but I shed my sour skin of rigidity, the wheel-spinning frustration, and any bureaucratic entanglement. I lamented no more; I had returned to the womb, in a sense, and drank from the source that sustains life; the source which inspires, energizes, and heals; the source of focus.

And it was very good.

May we all party hearty and healthy well through our golden years.

 editor's note: It looks like some of my earliest blog spilled into this article.  All my content, so no plagiarism.  

To Start a Blog

When I started blogging some four years ago, I really had no idea what to expect.  I had visions of putting some of my writing "out there" and having an immediate, overwhelming response in readership and comments and fans...  Here we are many posts later (over a hundred, toot toot) and I'm still looking for the expanding readership.  I'm just now starting to learn about how to grow and encourage traffic on the site.  But I thought it might be a good time to go back and see what I've written before, what has worked, and what I might be able to expand upon.

The first entry came in 2007, and was very short.  And sweet, if you don't mind.  With a word, I was launched.  And my buddy was there, with a comment to urge me on.  I like the phrases around the starting of a journey with a single step-- whether it be a pilgrimage to enlightenment or a trip to the fridge.  Good stuff, no?

It was the launch of a great embarking; the smashed champagne bottle on the bow of next lessons.  I stepped forward into the unknown, setting aside my worries of criticism or ridicule.  Come what may, I was a writer with a blog, and I was putting myself out there.  Bring it on, as they say.  Let's see what is out there.

Thrilling Ride

Well, there have been a few things, here and there-- a number of chancers-by that have commented, encouragingly.  Mostly a number of "lurkers"-- those who look but do not let their impressions be known by commenting.

So I continue to explore my writing, practice the craft, and explore what I can and what I want-- and teach myself some things along the way.  And may there be more riders for this craft as we continue the journey.  This boat is big enough for many more passengers.  So hop onboard, don't be shy.  Bring your friends.  This adventure is just getting started.

I'll be revisiting topics as we venture on through the work of the last several years.  It'll be fun.  I'm looking forward to it.  Hope you'll join us.  There's sure to be some jovial conversation.  So grab a cocktail and settle into a lounger.  This is sure to entertain, if only to tickle by way of silliness.  Munchies forthcoming.  Relax and enjoy yourself.  Think of it as a virtual vacation.  And I'm Captain Stubing.  The love boat sails again!

Next

Writing is good for the soul. Get your thoughts out of your head and out there, out for the universe to work with. Express your energy.

I'm back at Panera Bread in Sunnyvale for "Shut Up and Blog," a meetup for bloggers to gather and blog together. Today, I met Bill Belew, the organizer of the meetup. In fact, I'm sitting to his right as we type together. He's got quite a collection of data that allows him to get traffic a lot more than I've gotten to date. What I mean is, he's collected and analyzed a bunch of data and has uncovered some guidelines for being more successful at blogging. I took one of his webinars and learned about how to optimize connections with search engines and such so that you can garner more traffic to your website/blog.

I want more traffic because I want to make more connections with people who want to write and read and make their life better. I want to connect with other bipolar people who are looking for a better way of life, or just looking to improve their health or learn how to cope. Of course, I'd like to somehow turn this into a money making endeavor, but that's all secondary. That would be icing on the cake.

I am getting close to the end of my finances. The temporary disablility that I get could run out any day. Our savings is getting very low. I need to get something going financially. Some sort of job or something-- maybe a bank job? As in, robbing one? I don't know.

This is the one hundredth post that I've made to this blog. I've done some really good things, reading back over some of my work. Quite a bit of interesting stuff.

But this entry? Well, I ain't feeling it yet.

That's okay, it comes and goes. Just keep on moving.

Harder than it sounds...

I'm frustrated by this keyboard on the laptop. I can't seem to type without brushing the mouse button, so my cursor is constantly jumping all over the place. Must be some way to turn off the stupid thing.

Keep trying.

All caught up in the production construct. Worried about the output. The product. Can't get over the editing.

Want so badly to produce something inspiring. But I just feel bland today. Nothing but blandeur. Grandiose images of mashed potatoes without gravy.

I get to help my neice move again. She's got to move an awful lot. Luckily, she doesn't have a lot of stuff. And since I have a truck, I'm the favorite uncle. Oh well. She's a good kid and deserves the help. So I won't complain too loudly.

I am reading a book by a witch. Her name is Starhawk. She is the author of "The Fifth Sacred Thing," the book I intend to read next. This one is "The Earth Path," and is about spiritual practice. She speaks to the ways of nature and its mothering role. How nature is the grounding basis for spiritual practice. I love her summaries of schools of thought. It's a very intellectual account of things, so I'm reading quite slowly, but I'm enjoying it.

She has a way of presenting things and being politically savvy, such that she gets her point across without being totally disrespectful to her counterpoint's views and opinions. A good read.

So, despite feeling uncreative and kind of blocked, I've succeeded in blogging this whole time. Impressive.

Let's see how much attention this post gets.

One Hundred, Take Two

Seems my count of over one hundred posts to this blog was erroneously padded by a few false drafts. All drafts have been deleted and I now sit at 98 posts. This will be 99.

So the milestone awaits further production. I know, you're on the edge of your chair aren't you. Relax and enjoy the show: I bring you something that I call ninety-nine.

99 Bottles of Beer On the Wall is not only a song, it's the name of a bar in Santa Cruz. By drinking the 99 different kinds of beer that they offer there, one can get his or her name on the wall. My wife and I both have our names on the wall, having frequented the place for more than a decade. It took several trips (many of them overnighters) to Santa Cruz to get on the wall, and almost nine years, but I did it. And my name plate says, "Ten years I'll never remember."

My wife's name plate says, "Still prefers wine."

She's the sophisticated one.

What say we take a prompt?

If you could have your favorite dinner for your birthday, what would it be?

Ah, when in doubt, talk about food.

I love my mom's tamale pie. Have had it for several special occasions. Whole olives really make it special. Yum. So I'm hungry already.

Pizza is always a hit. Hard to go wrong with pizza, although it does happen (Thanks, L'il Ceasar's). But it's hard to beat mom's tamale pie.

I just realized that I haven't had dinner yet tonight. And I'm on my own... might have to set out and hunt down me some food like right soon here.

And now is the realization that I'm distracted from my task at hand, here, in delivering to you 99. I must break for sustenance, in the interest of artistic integrity. Besides, I'm starving. So an abbreviated 99, but 99 nonetheless. I hope you have enjoyed this session.

I know I have.