The muss, fuss, and bother of Monday morning madness — vanquished by the retreat to office where, sipping coffee, I ponder the load of work I have today. A trip through email nets potential irritants, and I close the client, moving on to checks the sites, the blogs, the forums. …Well, I start. Then, input from the tedious goads me to address some nonsense, but not quite yet. First I’m going to enjoy the quiet of my morning without fervor.
It’s always nice to start the day with laughter. A good article poking fun at the state of the Bushite, some welcome news on the eco-front, a brilliant cartoon lampooning some human idiocy. Of course, then there’s that bit of joy with coffee, watching the early morning sky. This sets up breakfast, when, if the eggs turn and hub’s yolks don’t break, the happiness there is its own reward as he daintily dips the end of his sausage into the yellow.
I sat sipping coffee as a manuscript was going through an evaluation process. I also half-listened to a conversation happening over my shoulder…about that editorial process — young women sissy-whispering about who that might be with that manuscript box loaded with postage and whose manuscript was being evaluated.
Pages were sifted and shifted by the editor, notes checked, references made, and an occasional comment jotted. With each new development, the surreptitious audience got a little louder…and louder…and louder…until, finally, the editor looked over at them, frowned, and asked them exactly what it was they found so stimulating that they felt it necessary to make themselves a nuisance.
I expected the brazen young ladies to slink down out of sight, or at least turn their heads and muffle it. To my surprise, they scooted their chairs nearer and started to ask questions, chattering on and on about how they were writing books and…well, you know, pouring their details out as if pitching an agent. They didn’t even pause long enough upon asking something to give space enough for an answer to happen in between their incessant, burbling chatter.
ADD I wondered? Too much sugar? (Both were drinking sweetened beverages.) Or was it just too much self-infatuation?
If you want answers, you’ve got to listen and, then, hear.
I’ve been dealing, one on one and many on one, with people my whole life. Some, I always enjoy engaging; others, well, two minutes into becoming acquainted with them, and I’m yawning already.
Self-infatuation and a penchant for caring more about the surface than about the depths, along with shallow thinking are the main culprits that bring me the “yawn reflex.” Give me someone who isn’t seeking flattery and adulation, give me someone who doesn’t give a damn about what color lipstick they put on this morning…or even if they are wearing any, give me someone whose entire mental repertoire consists of more than parroting the latest ad, fad, and fatuous flatulence as fed them from the boob tube, church, government, or the gossip queens, and, maybe, just maybe, I’ll not dismiss them out of hand.
I like someone who can think for themselves. (The churches, governments and the mega-corps do not.)
I like anyone who doesn’t swallow, hook, line, and stinker, the “truths” convenient for getting along and going along with status quo.
I like anyone who knows how to substantiate their position, and who, if they discover that maybe their position might be wrong, can admit it and take another look.
I like anyone who challenges opinion and accepted circumstance.
Polly Parrot, Missy Aren’t I Pretty, and Mister Dodges Anything Which Pins Him Down is not for me.
I might argue with you, and we might disagree, but that’s how we learn and grow and explore perspectives, isn’t it? If I lend an ear, if I speak, and, if you, in turn, respond and listen, too, isn’t that the highest honor you and I can pay each other?
Yes.
Well, the good news is that my eyes are getting better…as long as I don’t look at a computer screen too much, and especially if I don’t read work that uses movable type…which means stay away from blogs, online newspapers, most forums…. If it is static type, it doesn’t bother me, go figure. So that’s the good and bad of it.
Gripes: Writers. Too much to go into at the moment. My decision? I’m cutting them loose. They can make it or break it on their own. I don’t need the abuse. I don’t need the headaches. I don’t need the financial drain.
More gripes: Sandpoint, Idaho. Oh, can we see the mayor sign the green bill? And then what? Cut more big trees down to make way for yet more development — non-green development.
And last but not least: Petulant men and women whose only goal in life is to get their way — men and women driven only by selfish desire.
Andrew Gibson’s photography takes you to magical places, putting you there.
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Today was beautiful. It still is. And it promises to be a very wonderful evening. I’m going for a walk. You should, too. Life is wonderful…except for the Stirrers. What are they? Those are cretins passing themselves off as alive who actually died a long, long time ago. But we won’t get into that right now. It’s much too nice outside to discuss foibled peebles.
See the Light. Be the Wind. Sing with Trees.
Joy.
Once again, I’m saturated with people who desire, above all,
- BRIGHT VIVID COLORS,
- CLEAN, STERILE SURFACES,
- SHINING PLASTIC FACADES,
- SMOOTHNESS WITH NO RIPPLES, NO MOUNDS,
- STRAIGHT LINES, SQUARES, RECTANGLES,
- ORDERLY ROWS UPON ROWS,
- FEATURELESS FLATNESS,
- LIGHTED TO BLIGHTED,
- MERCILESSLY MUNDANE,
- HERMETICALLY ANTISEPTIC.
This, of course, is Hell they are describing — human designed and engineered — brought to you compliments of primal terrors, encouraged by suburbanized American Protestant Fundamentalist Christian dogma. Not only is this utterly boring, it’s killing us all. Sorry, folks, even your own body requires bacteria and other microorganisms for healthy survival. Love mold, love fungi, too. Life depends on it…and a lot of other things you’re trying to eradicate with your clean, light, antiseptically bright fetishes.
Around the Internet is a story about Isaac Newton, discoverer of calculus, among other things…and, no, I won’t go into why I say discover rather than invent, is a story about him predicting that the “end of the world” would occur in 2060 A.D.. Most of the articles are blips simply stating that he did. It took going to the isaacnewton.org website to find the “Rest of the Story.” For those interested,
here’s the link: http://www.isaac-newton.org/update.html
zentao.com
