It's Exhausting!

Droid Incredible Phone

There's some dialogue from the movie, He's Just Not that Into You that has always resonated with me. Drew Barrymore's character (whose name is Mary, ironically) is tying to explain her confusing and frustrating love life,especially the pattern of communicating to schedule a meetup - and also scheduling the actual communicating - that her and and some guy have fallen into.

"I had this guy leave me a voice mail at work so I called him at home and then he e-mailed me to my Blackberry and so I texted to his cell and then he e-mailed me to my home account and the whole thing just got out of control. And I miss the days when you had one phone number and one answering machine and that one answering machine has one cassette tape and that one cassette tape either had a message from a guy or it didn't. And now you just have to go around checking all these different portals just to get rejected by seven different technologies. It's exhausting."

My iPad

For real, this IS exhausting and not far from the truth!

I've written about this before. I have thought about it a LOT. There is an incredible, bizarre, and addictive attachment to technology that is so pervasive in everything we do. And the constant interfacing - the relentless updating - and the fucking over-saturation of information - it's just a fuckload of wild. 

But I love some of this stuff. I love that I can update my laptop's calendar, which automatically pushes to my iPad, and my phone, which are all different platforms and O/Ss, and manufacturers and colors, and I think - Hell yeah, that makes things nice. Hell. Yeah.

Tom with part of the 343 Team, being shown concept art for Halo 4

Of course, having a mobile phone is de rigueur - is it so pathetic that I feel lost without it? But it can be quite a distraction. Not always crazy about sitting with a bunch of friends and everyone is silent - texting, surfing, emailing --- oyyy.


Speaking of lost, there's my GPS, Beatrice. She's gotten me out of a jam or two. 

And there's more good tech like online banking. And shopping. Recipes. Research. Writing.

Some day we'll have these guys in our homes?

But it sure gets wonky at times. Scary - this wonderful crutch.


So, despite our repeated exposure to the EMP, the data dump, and the dancing kittens, WoW, being pwned,  the braying politicos, traffic cams, internet trolls, the unfortunate disposed royalty of [insert African Country here], and the Epic Adventure in 3-Fucking-D...



We gotta make the best of it - and try to find the way to the simple heart of things - at all times.

Dark Blogging

I have a friend who blogs quite regularly. The posts are typical slices of life – glimpses into day-to-day activities and family stuff. Not boring at all, more like ‘comfort blogging.’

Heart in Darkness

Also the delivery of these scenes, the writing, is good. Sometimes joyous moments are recounted, and sometimes concerns about family members and friends darken this writer’s heart. Either way, it’s a good read. And at some point I think they mentioned the term “dark blog.”

Now I’m not sure what actually happened, but the premise was that this friend was starting a secondary blog, to write about private things. Things that weren’t meant to be shared with anyone. Or perhaps by anyone who could actually identify the author.

Now, this friend’s current blog does mention plenty of private things, but they are different. Not too different from some things I blog about. Sometimes painful things. When I post in this space, of course I know it’s public, but there’s still a sense of anonymity. Crazy idea, that. My justification is that I can be more of myself here. On Facebook I have to be a bit more careful. I have certain family members, peers, and some young people that I don’t want to offend by cursing or ranting against uptight conservative Republicans. ; )

But if someone stumbles across this blog and sees my flinging of the fucks and more, well – I didn’t actually invite them here. It’s not like I’m flaunting it.

And of course, the above is really some degree of bullshit. I have linked my blog on Facebook, and it’s also part of my email signature line. So, perhaps the invitation takes a more passive-aggressive approach – I dunno.

But the point is kids – I like the idea of dark blogging. A place to really examine what gives me anxiety, stress and even shame. I know what that is, it’s called a diary. No one is supposed to read a diary; it’s just the private musings of the author and beyond that, no one else.

But we take to the internet, the most public of forums to express the most private horrors. The vastness of the Ethernet seems like a safe place for confessions. I think it’s because we really want someone to read our thoughts. For commiseration or validation, or even punishment – we crave that connection that we can’t get with diary.

I will say that – and wow this makes me feel old – but those young kids are braver than I. Either they don’t care about filtering, or decorum, or whatever, but it feels like their blogs, vlogs and social network postings are SO much more personal than what I’m capable of, for good or for bad.

Maybe it’s because Gen-X,Y,Z have figured out at a younger age something very, very important:

Don’t worry about what others think about you! 

By not caring too much about what people think, I'm able to think for myself and propagate ideas which are very often unpopular. And I succeed.
- Albert Ellis

Or something a little different, but still applicable:

“Fashion fades, only style remains the same – Coco Chanel

And of course:

Conformity is the jailer of freedom and the enemy of growth.
- John F. Kennedy

Random Check-in

House is at it again, Mr. Machiavellian.  Taub and Chase are back, it's nice to have some continuity besides Wilson and Foreman. I'm intrigued by Park. She's odd. Patient nearly needed a liver transplant. 

Speaking of transplants, the Young Prince had a visit to Boston today. Went fine, blood work fine, iron will be decreased, and soon, the Valcyte will be gone. Still sorting out the nausea/vomit episodes, and we will discuss another endoscopy in a month. 

So, I've become enamored by Blunt Cards. These are profane little bits of hilarity dressed up in 1950s garb with a topical message.


But topical and hip and "now" and "wow" aren't all they're crackberried up to be. I've become increasingly dismayed by the speed that life demands of us. We are urged to go faster, do more, and we are saturated to the point of suffocation with information and how can a person even think, let alone breathe?

Happy Valentines Day

When we got married,

This was a card I made last year, it's still pretty apt one year later, with the exception of a certain TV show.










We had  

Then we had

And real life set in. So, sometimes we argued or said:










But that's OK. We're still here and we have 

And each other.

Speed of Thought

I used to go to libraries pretty frequently. Some of the time the motives were purely social, but I also used the resources there for lots of school work.

Then I used to work in one. A library, that is. It was a bit heady to have all those resources, the reference listings, the microfilm, the Mil-Specs, and all the ACM and IEEE goodness any person with an IQ of 155 could possibly want, all that...information really, really close by. You want the GNP of Algeria? CIA World Fact Book is ready with your info. How about the President's secretary's phone number? Exectutive Yellow Book -- here ya go. The ABCs and 123s of a Russian SCUD missle? Please - step this way.

Those were the easy requests. The harder ones sometimes involved me leaving the comfort of my carpeted cubicle (when I wasn't taking my shift at the Reference Desk), and hoofing it to Kendall Square, Cambridge - to one of MIT's fine libraries. Granted that only happened a few times, and no - I didn't actually "hoof" it. I drove to the subway station and then rode the line to Cambridge. But still, a bit of an unwieldy way to retrieve documents. And as you might have guessed, I worked in a tech library. No story time or quilter's corner here.

This was about 15 years ago, maybe more.

In a way, what I saw, what I dealt with, was cutting edge. Back then, the average consumer did not have or even understand what HDTV was, nor GPS, nor PDA. But these were terms I saw pretty frequently in the research that I pulled together for our staff of scientists and engineers. Much of the jargon and the nuts and bolts technologywas over my head. I didn't know an array from an alogorithm. (well OK I kinda did), but I understood the basic concepts of what HD and the rest meant.

So like, that's all cool and stuff. Right?

But our methods of getting the info, though sophisticated for our time, in retrospect seems so - so --

slow?





Yes, slow, that's the word.

Today, anyone with a computer and a decent connection can get nearly the same information all by themselves - if they know were to look. Of course, tons of erroneous stuff comes up as well, it takes a seasoned surfer to discern the difference. Yeah, like I'm all that.

My mother would have loved this stuff.

Hot Pocket!

Today I had my first ever Hot Pocket. It didn't suck, so that's a bright spot. It's not something I'd want to look forward to every day - but it didn't suck. I said that already. And it's funny, that on a day after Thanksgiving, I'd have a freakin' Hot Pocket to begin with. With all this food in the house, we have no food, to like - eat. Sure, there's some leftover pie. And the yummy mini-quiches. And some crabmeat and artichoke parmesean dip. Another yumm-o.

But, I had 3 mini quiches for breakfast. And later a mini cinnamon roll. And then later on a lemon poppy seed muffin. And I wanted something normal for lunch. But I realized the deli meat was dicey, same with the leftover chicken from the great Call of Duty 5 lost weekend. I had made a chicken casserole when our friend Dave (AKA known as "Captain Awesome") stayed over. But, umm, that was *cough* a couple weeks ago. I had planned to make chicken salad with the left over cubed up chicken, but never managed to do it. But the poor cubes still sit in their little plastic storage thingie - sick with the knowledge that they are doomed for the Top Secret penicillin experiments (covertly engineered by Massive Dynamics).

So, I peeked in the freezer. The other day I picked up some frozen/junk food type items. Taquitos. Burritos. French Bread pizzas. Yuk - nothing appealed, but then I found the breakfast Hot Pocket - and well, it didn't suck!

But the funny thing about the little HP. It comes with a special 'sleeve' for crisping. Or browning. Or both. But one must do some folding and tearing with these little 'sleeves'. It's very odd. I'm not a stupid person, but it took me a minute to get it.

It's nuts though, because the Pocket itself, is not that big...it's nearly pointless to take the time to build this sleeve contraption, just so someone can 'eat it on the go'. Eat what? It'd be gone before you start your car, or put on your backpack.

So, after I started eating mine in its little sleeve (I can see why they don't call the sleeves "pockets"), I realized why it had the sleeve.

It's HOT!

I suppose some dumb kid (sorry..but they are dumb sometimes - I have two, I know) burned himself on the pastry, and now they are putting these swell sleeves in the packages. Too bad they don't keep you from burning the inside of your mouth. I guess I'm still a dumb kid too.

Over Saturation on a Thursday Night

ER, last quarter hour or so. Simon has had a major freak-down and punched out a patient. Went to town on the man. The patient was nearly blinded. It was a mess of out-of-control bone on bone bloodletting.

And the staff seems to be less concerned about that, and more concerned that later he throws around some equipment. Well, sure now they have to be sterilized -- but --

OK, the thing is, he punched out the smoke inhalation guy. (The man who was an accused of and later found innocent of pedophilia). Wild stuff.

Then when the ER quiets down, Archie talks to Simon about the repercussions of his actions. And slowly, Simon starts to tell his story.

"I was ten, the first time."

Wrenching. Simon is crying, Morris tears up as he listens. The story is nauseating.

And then when we've really had enough, a scene is being played out in a recovery room down the hall. A young girl comforts an older man. They hug. He tells her, "We'll be special friends. Don't tell anyone."




And then the news...

It is NOT a damn party!

You know, I understand that TV execs, from network, or cable, to local branches are concerned about viewership. Especially the news, because it's all so available right here - on the Internet. So, viewers drift away from conventional news sources.

Got it. They want to bring viewers back; they want to keep viewers after the previous drama or comedy just ended. So, they do the following:

1) The anchors jump right in before the commercial break with a relentless couple of minutes of 'headlines.' These promo bits grab the viewer, who is probably a bit comatose from either the late hour, or the previous show (in my case, a riveting ER).

2) The female anchors and reporters dress like they are at a party. Shiny clothes, sparkly accessories, low cut tops, lots of leg. Sure they look pretty, but to me, it's pretty tacky. Big freakin' whoop that they are on TV. It's fucking NEWS, not a cocktail party. Even if every story ended in rainbows and kittens, the attire is totally inappropriate.

3) The men look a little too shiny as well. It's not a funeral, but it's not a party either. I mean shit, they might as well be hoisting martini shakers and clinking glasses.

4) A little too much glee when reporting stories. Some joker from News 7 Night Team was launching into a breaking news story last night, and the dude looked a little too happy.

Yeah, I know this trend has been around for a long time. "Dirty Laundry", written by Don Henley was released in 1982.

It's just getting worse.

I make my living off the evening news
Just give me something-something I can use
People love it when you lose,
They love dirty laundry

Well, I coulda been an actor, but I wound up here
I just have to look good, I dont have to be clear
Come and whisper in my ear
Give us dirty laundry

Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down
Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down
Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down
Kick em when theyre up
Kick em all around

We got the bubble-headed-bleach-blonde who
Comes on at five
She can tell you bout the plane crash with a gleam
In her eye
Its interesting when people die-
Give us dirty laundry

Can we film the operation?
Is the head dead yet?
You know, the boys in the newsroom got a
Running bet
Get the widow on the set!
We need dirty laundry

You dont really need to find out whats going on
You dont really want to know just how far its gone
Just leave well enough alone
Eat your dirty laundry

Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down
Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down

Kick em when theyre up
Kick em when theyre down
Kick em when theyre stiff
Kick em all around

Dirty little secrets
Dirty little lies
We got our dirty little fingers in everybodys pie
We love to cut you down to size
We love dirty laundry

We can do the innuendo
We can dance and sing
When its said and done we havent told you a thing
We all know that crap is king
Give us dirty laundry!

God Greed

“The God I believe in isn’t short of cash, Mister!”

- “Bullet the Blue Sky”, U2, The Joshua Tree.

I know I’m not alone in loving those words, that line spoken by Bono with a nice bit of snarl. It’s sickening what man does in the name of God. We can expect our good U2 frontman to address this, in the same way he does the shout out for other social causes, with conviction and often -humor.

Now, I have nothing against tithing. I believe that everyone can scrape a bit of money to help their church/clergy/temple/ashram/guru do some good work. You know how you watch those feel good movies were some kind benefactor steps in at the last moment and saves the orphanage? Or how community teamwork helps get that church built? Lilies of the Field anyone? (another Sidney Poitier gem).

Charity is a wonderful thing and it works. It really does take a village. Have faith, share, make Stone Soup, think loaves and fishes, and work together Yaddah, freakin’ yaddah. Y’all know the drill.

But some know it all too well. Them shysters, those flim-flam men – con men. Slick and smart and masquerading as The Lord’s workers. These men and women will convince you that you can only find the way if you pave it in a lil’ gold first.

Speaking of that, back in my college days (read, still young and stupid) I joined up with this group of nice happy shiny kids and decided I was going to temporarily throw off my Catholic shackles and really, really learn the Bible. I went to meetings on and off campus, and it was all nice. I had been introduced to the group by a fellow alumnus of my high school, and he was a decent guy, so – it’s all good, right?

Wrong. (You knew I was going to say that, right?)

More next time.

Control Theory

I started to think about commercials. Mostly I tend to see a TV ad as a time-out so I can run and finish loading the dishwasher for the night, go to the bathroom, or email a friend. A radio commercial is just a damn interruption from some good tunes. Print ads continue to do their good job of making me feel all inferior-like. (Skinny models and well decorated homes – don’t take no rocket scientist does it?) And everyone knows that the Super Bowl is just a mish-mash of clanking helmets and grass stained uniforms that appear in-between some of the finest efforts that Madison Avenue has put forth since – last year.

And it’s this effort that I applaud. For a long time I’ve harbored a secret desire to work in advertising. I don’t know much about story-boards and branding, and the industry is not exactly stress-free. Yet it fascinates me. The concept of creating a situation or series of imagined controls that will sway the behavior of a demographic. Of course, this is all around us. It’s not just on our TVs or radios. It’s in the way I plan dinner. (If I make something they like, they might take out the trash with less fuss.) It’s in education. Religion. Politics. (Duh!) And the Wachowski Brothers made a cool couple of bucks messing around with this concept of control.

Yesterday a local radio station was having issues with the Oprah show. They played a tape of Oprah announcing she was NOT doing some sort of long anticipated give-away on that day (for whatever reasons, they are not important). But the crowd went wild anyway. The DJs were laughing over this phenomenon, and played the tape of the cheering audience over and over.

Now, they didn’t exactly use the term ‘sheeple’, but it was implied. People get in a mindset of behaviors and seem to revel in doing what is expected of them. Again and again. Though I think this is not always such a good thing, I am still struck by the process. I think back on folks like Charles Manson and Adolph Hitler, or for that matter the Rev. King. What kind of charisma, or cojones did they have for getting their disciples to follow them? In the case of the former two, I have long wondered, ‘what if they used their powers for good?’

But with advertising, there is no wondering. There is no hidden agenda. Experts in manipulation and persuasion work in all fields, but in advertising their work is celebrated. These brainiacs can come out of the control closet with their heads held high; their blatant application of influential techniques is out there for all to see. It is what it is.

The Cancellation of The OC: Ryan, I hardly Knew Ye

Yeah, there was this show, not sure what network – but it sure generated some buzz among generation – what is now, Y? Z? OK, anyway, the kids liked it. Being the sort of person who at least pretends to be up on all things current, I had an inkling, a whisper, a gauzy bit of cognizance that this was some new show, starring some young hot things, and that sort of handsome guy with the eyebrows, Peter Gallagher. Mischa Barton was another name that floating in and out of my awareness, either for her achievements in being thinner than an 8 ½ by 11 sheet of copy paper or for the fetching purse she carried to some happening Hollywood fête. Other than that, I paid little attention to the show.

Now I hear it’s being canceled, and strangely the news gives me a little pang.

Why? I won’t exactly miss it. Now, please don’t get up in arms about this statement. I barely watched it – so I can really not miss something I didn’t see. And, it should be made clear at this juncture that I had no pretensions or snobbish intent. I wasn’t above watching it – I just didn’t feel I should make time for too many extra shows. I already have a few favorites that I feel I have already ‘committed to’ and it’d just be a bit too much to add one more show to my schedule.

But here’s the thing, one night a week or two ago, I watched nearly a whole episode. It was especially freaky, because two of the characters were yakking about alternative universes, or something equally nutty. I kept checking the ‘info’ button on my remote control. Yes, this was The O.C. No, this wasn’t Charmed. Nor was this an old episode of Sliders, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Quantum Leap where those kinds of popping in and out of ‘multiverse’ situations are common occurrences. And it certainly wasn’t The One with the wonderful Jet Li and the delicious Jason Stratham.

So, there were those two young-uns, typical privileged California types carrying on as if they were stuck in one of the above-mentioned Sci-Fi classics. Not that I minded either way, just trying to get my bearings. Thankfully, because of a much needed scene change, I realized that these two kids were actually lying in hospital beds, each in some state of coma type non-awareness.

Wow!

Hey, this was neat, if not a little – or a lot – contrived. I knew that because of the extra monkey wrench of the whole parallel world deal that I may not actually figure out who was who, or why they cared or hated one another. But in that short 40 minutes or so, I found that I actually had begun to care about those bright shiny kids and their parents and assorted other peeps, alternative or not.

So, though I’m not greatly saddened by the cancellation, I’m hoping that some version of The O.C. will live on in television’s answer to the multiverse – the re-run.