We're Slow (Normal for us) but Live

We have online connectivity at home again. Whew!  

I've been working at my new (old) job for five days now and I've only made a couple of glaring errors, only one of which could get me written up (or fired, since I'm on probation.)  I'm getting some of my old speed back, though, which is nice.  I'm not the fastest cashier in the world by a long shot, but I think I'm pretty efficient w/o being like a machine focused entirely on scanning stuff in.  In a lot of ways it would be easier to be just a machine, but making eye contact, listening to the customers, and having those fun micro-conversations makes work more pleasant.  Hopefully the customers like it too.  

I balanced to zero today.  For non-cashiers, that means you're neither short nor over on cash, various slips, coupons, and stuff like that.  I like my boss, I like my coworkers--it's good to be working again, especially considering our local unemployment rate.  We dipped below ten percent, finally, but too much of that includes temporary jobs.  Some of those temporary jobs showed up outside our house and then later on the highway at the bottom of the hill as large road crews worked on our roads.  Yay for better roads ... except I don't think they were that bad, at least not compared to the interchange near our usual bridge which is riddled with potholes.

I suspect complex budgeting issues created by our government's system of spending are why we're getting all this attention while other areas fall apart.  It might be that the politicians aren't in touch with what people really need and want, but I think it's actually more likely that the political system itself makes budgeting so hard that even experts end up making weird or even bad choices because the alternatives are worse.

But, that's all depressing stuff.  I'd rather celebrate the job thing for now.  I can grind my teeth later when I have less stuff to catch up on.

Memorial Day 2010

I post this in gratitude to the men and women who have served, serve now, and will serve to protect everyday people.  Though this is Memorial Day in the USA, I also am grateful to men and women who fight for freedom all over the world.

It's very easy to forget how lucky I am to live under a beautiful constitution that many work to uphold, and to have the ability to vote, among many other freedoms.  

My grandmother's cousin was taken from her side and died in a concentration camp.  When I was an infant, my family was forced to leave a country where the military was unable to hold back invaders that reduced a thriving nation to a third world coal-mining center.  Today I remember to be grateful that the US and other military organizations throughout the world are able to help maintain independence.  No nation, including my own, has a perfect record when it comes to the various rights that humanists long ago fought to establish not only as cultural norms in the western world, but as ideals that they hoped the entire world would embrace.  Despite the imperfections of my own nation, I don't have to worry that machete-wielding men will break into my house to rape and chop my family to pieces.  I live in a place where women are not mutilated under the guise of culture or religion, nor are they killed under local law or custom because they tried to leave home, or protect their children from conscription or slave labor, or they had the audacity to be raped.  I live in a place where children are protected by laws that large organizations work to uphold, and where the vast majority can expect to grow up to be adults.  My home has a very long list of privileges that are so ingrained in my being as basic rights that I often don't realize on a conscious level that other people can only fantasize about them in a quiet moment.

Lots of people live in great places like the USA.  These countries can only hold onto the freedoms they have as long as they can defend themselves against people willing to use all levels of violence to gain their ends.  

I wish that violence didn't have to be used to stop violence, but I learned long ago that strong language will not stop a punch to the face, and wishing will not change that.  I wish that governments had little or no corruption, but I learned long ago that even the best government, any organization for that matter including the military, has people in it that manipulate the system for their own ends.  Wishing will not make these kinds of people disappear, or make it impossible for them to find jobs in key places that give them great wealth and power.  

Neither of these truths tarnish the depth of gratitude I have for what the military, and that means every man and woman who serves in it individually, has given me.  When I see American protesters screaming "This is what a police state looks like!" I have to shake my head and wonder how many of them died in that protest, and how many went home to find that their family had disappeared.  I wonder how many were arrested and remained in jail for the rest of their lives.  A police state?  Really?  But I'm grateful that they have the freedom to protest, as do I.

I don't know if the fallen can accept my thanks, or if my tears can express all the things I feel when I think of the soldiers, oh so young, buried everywhere in marked and unmarked places.  I know the vast majority of their families will not read my words, and I doubt the ones that do will find little if any comfort in them.  

I post this in gratitude to the men and women who have served, serve now, and will serve to protect everyday people all over the world.  Thank you.

Thank you.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
   That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
   Scarce heard amid the guns below.

   We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
   Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
         In Flanders fields.

   Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
   The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
   We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
         In Flanders fields.

             -- John McCrae

Inauguration Aftermath

I listened to the radio on the way home from the Fireside today.  You know, people can be awful.  I found it interesting that all the conservatives could come up with was an accusation of racism for yellow/mellow white/do what's right.  What the heck?  Sometimes I'm entertained by some of the conservative radio talk shows, but today I was sickened.  I couldn't listen to it.  I mean, seriously, couldn't they hear the laughter in the crowd?  Hear and see the smile behind the words?  The joy?  The release of pain?  Are Asians all across America going to be offended, really?  Am I offended by having white being rhymed with doing what's right?  Heck no!  I'm proud that a white majority nation helped vote President Barack Obama into office.  To see that rhyme as anything other than white Americans voting the right man into office despite years of racial prejudice is really reaching.  Get over yourselves, poopyheaded conservative radio people.  

And so I switched to a 'progressive' radio show.  I expected there to be good will, cheer, and hope.  Nope!  Instead I found that just couldn't let Bush go.  They had to see him face charges or America couldn't move forward (in their opinion.)  Um, maybe I'm just not getting it, but wouldn't dragging Bush Jr. tie up all kinds of time, resources, and political energy for ... what great positive goal?  Assuming he's even convicted of ... um ... whatever they want to charge him with, what will that do?  It was awful.  It was Bush this, and Bush that, Bush blah blah blah--as if this beautiful, wonderful day was all about Bush.  One guy wrote an email proudly declaring how he had Bush's helicopter for his computer wallpaper because it made him smile.  Um, guys, there's this guy named Barack Obama, and something special happened today involving him.  Maybe you should look into that and talk about that.  Oh, wait, you don't want to do that, do you, because selling hate and revenge buys you more radio time.  You'd rather put a hateful image on your wallpaper, than the portrait of our first black American president taking the oath of office.  Fine.  Be a poopyhead.

So I switched to music.  Ahhh, music.  I smiled, and sighed, and thought tomorrow at 7am Eastern time stuff is going to start to happen.  I hope it's good stuff.  It'll be wonderful to find out.  Yes, things can always get worse, but maybe, just maybe, things will get better.  Despite, rather than because of, the negative poopyheads.

Rock on, President Obama.  Rock on.  With that thought, I'll say good night with some classic Boston:

Dont look back
A new day is breakin
Its been too long since I felt this way
I dont mind where I get taken
The road is callin
Today is the day

I can see
It took so long to realize
Im much too strong
Not to comprimise
Now I see what I am is holding me down
Ill turn it around

I finally see the dawn arrivin
I see beyond the road Im drivin
Far away and left behind

Its a new horizon and Im awakin now
Oh I see myself in a brand new way
The sun is shinin
The clouds are breakin
canse I cant lose now, theres no game to play

I can tell
Theres no more time left to criticize
Ive seen what I could not recognize
Everthing in my life was leading me on
But I can be strong

I finally see the dawn arrivin
I see beyond the road Im drivin
Far away and left behind

(scholz)

20428

The results of the Measure 8 vote in California is disappointing.  I guess people aren't ready for sexual equality yet, and that's what this is (in part) about.  The anatomy may be the same, but the sexual reality is different.  I wonder if the voters who passed Measure 8 would be as gung ho about a yes if it was paired with losing the right to vote, or losing any of the other rights afforded to American citizens.  It seems so strange to me that people can vote, can fight for the country, can do any ol' darned thing they want but marry.  I'm not sure if the analysis in the article is correct, but it's interesting anyway.  A sad day for human rights, on a great day for the USA.

Meanwhile, my Nano is trucking along nicely.  I'm still fighting this sore throat cruddy thing, but I'm hoping if I sing la la la I don't see you! and sleep a lot and act like I feel perfectly fine, it'll get discouraged and go away.  

Yesterday I used one of my favorite writing novel tricks.  I ended in the middle of a really dynamic, exciting scene.  That way when I sit back down to write again today, I'll read back a bit, get all worked up and emotionally engaged again, and type away like crazy from there.  Whether I do this or not, what I try never to do is stop when I don't know what I'm going to do next.  That can lock a writer into an ugly place.  Do some quick research, brain storm, whine to your friends, poll people in your neighborhood, whatever it takes but get that plot rolling before you quit for the day.  Sometimes sleeping on it helps, but be careful.  If you're well and truly stuck, you can probably give yourself one sleep period (and take a nice, long hot bath or shower) to work it out subconsciously, but don't let that be your standard mode of operation.  The muse should be your inspiration.  You should not be it's slave.  Think about that.  There is a difference.  Also, muses are happier, healthier critters if they're fed a lot.  Watch a movie or read a book that inspires you with its brilliance.  Listen to music that inspires your creativity.  Page through a book of reading prompts, or turn to one of the dog-eared pages in your favorite how-to writing book.  Bubble chart your characters and plot.  But don't give in to writer's block, and don't feed the writer's block by putting off difficult decisions.  Especially don't decide to 'let it mull' or 'put it on a back burner' or 'let it rest' and then do nothing.  If you have to stop, be aware of exactly why and address the issues in an active way until they're all resolved.  Deal with it as if your job depended on it.  Because, in fact, it does.

More political stuff

Today I saw an image of Obama and realized he'd be our next president.  It brought tears to my eyes.  I normally don't get too terribly worked up about politics.  But I have to say that from a purely emotional, irrational viewpoint, from the view of my soul, I'm overwhelmed by the fact that this nation has a young, handsome, black President with a solid marriage that, when I look at him with his wife, looks like my marriage feels to me.  No sense of putting up a front for the public, or posing, or mutual respect but with emotional distance.  The kids look genuinely happy and healthy.  Typical school kid grins.  This feels like healing to me.  

And politically speaking?  He seems like a competent diplomat, and we really need one.  There's more that I like, and some stuff that I disagree with, but overall I most want America to have a serious, intelligent, and yet friendly face and I believe we got that and more.  Yay!