February 2008 Archives

The great 20th century philosopher Charles Shulz once said that happiness is a warm puppy. This is a topic that's been bubbling about inside of me for quite a few weeks, maybe even months and I expect there will be more.

Previously I'd commented on being grumpy. The trigger for that post had been a comment a friend had made regarding how much negativity he saw in Blogdom and I couldn't help but agree with him. Blogdrama, blogtroversy is the order of the day in so many of the blogs I've been reading. Blogs apparently provide a great platform from which to vent, let off steam, maybe save the ribs of a few puppies who might otherwise get kicked.

Is it that we thrive on negativity?

I'm not so certain. Navel-gazer that I am, I pondered this -- usually in the shower 'cuz I do my best thinking there. Here're my thoughts, for now. They're mostly unformed, and I invite anyone to add their own thoughts. Stomp on mine, or flesh them out, whatever suits you.

Disclaimer: No philosophers have been harmed in the writing of this post.

'nother disclaimer: The title of this post is misspelled on purpose.

Interesting concept -- arguing the upside of being down, Eric Wilson, author of Against Happiness: In Praise of Melancholy was recently featured on NPR. He theorizes that there are people who are naturally grumpy who are made to feel stigmatized for their melancholy. Not despressives -- think Eeyore. Should people fret over their native emotional state of being, or simply chill with it and use it?

Thinking further about what makes me feel happy:

• Feeling wanted/needed/appreciated/useful -- family/friends/job


• Access to aesthetically pleasing things -- comfort, beauty


• Consistent exposure to fun/funny things -- entertainment, pets


• Accomplishment -- am I suitably challenged and able to meet my own goals?


• Spiritual satisfaction -- am I in the right place, spiritually?

What makes me feel grumpy:

• Feeling ill


• Hormonal swings


• Overwhelming events, or too many events, the sum of which overwhelm


• Someone else's relentless melancholy/grumpiness

Thoughts, anyone?

Categories:

• Op Ed

haz tagz:

• Personal,
• Society

I'm not easily grossed out by stuff, and I am certainly not a compulsive clean freak. You won't see me carrying packets of wipes or little bottles of hand sanitizer.

The video below, however, got my attention.

Yeah, I'll be carrying my own glassware from now on, thanks.

Pronouns. Gotta love 'em. Without them, our language would become torturous. Imagine having to use the correct nouns each and every time you spoke of something, rather than having the ability to substitute a pronoun? The first three sentences of this blog post, in fact, would probably end up having to read like this:

Pronouns. All people have to love pronouns. Without pronouns, the language of the American people would become torturous. As well, a language lacking pronouns would require a speaker to speak in the third person.

I'm not sure what lead me there, but I read some articles, recently, about teachers in Baltimore who have been documenting what they refer to as a new gender-neutral pronoun. Barbara Wallraff, senior editor and words columnist at the Atlantic Monthly blogged about it in The Detroit Free Press, saying:

The latest news from the language front is that teenagers in Baltimore have invented a gender-neutral singular pronoun: "yo." When I learned of this, I was fascinated -- for about 10 minutes. Then I started to get upset.

Gender neutrality seems to be a bit of a holy grail. I remember my first introduction to the concept -- and how many people take it very seriously -- a number of years ago when a transgendered person interacted with us on the misc.writing newsgroup. This person introduced many of us to the terms "zie" and "zir" to use in place of, say, "he" and "his."

There is a website, of course, dedicated to Gender Neutral Pronouns, and they discuss all of the alternatives, but ... I gotta tell ya ... I'm perfectly happy with the gender neutral pronoun set we already have. I see no need to invent, and foist upon us all, new terminology.

You're probably thinking "WTF?"

To my way of thinking, the pronouns "he" and "his" and "him" are all perfectly suitable. Don't bother pointing out that these are masculine pronouns. They used to be masculine pronouns, sure, but they're now gender neutral ones. They acquired gender neutrality in exactly the same way that all words acquire new uses, and new definitions: through repeated and consistent use. As well, the plural pronouns are also gender neutral, and came to be that way through the same device.

For those who are uber sensitive about the former masculinity of "he" and the former plurality of "they", well, fine. You may continue your search for something someone will swallow but I'll go on merrily referring to a person of unknown sex as "he" or "they."

It's how we all talk, man, and I am more concerned with being understood than in being genderally correct.

I really love shopping. I don't even have to buy things -- I like looking at stuff, too. It doesn't have to be a pricey store -- in fact, if it's a low cost store it's all the more exciting because then I could, theoretically, get even MORE stuff.

There's a Walgreens "Drug Store" within walking distance. It's more of a mini cheesy department store, or maybe a cross between a teeny discount store, a pharmacy, and a dollar store. It's so cool! You can find anything there!

I mean, you can find, well, prescription meds, and over-the-counter meds. You can get milk and chocolates. You can get cheap tee-shirts and flip-flops. There's film and batteries and really stupid toys. Why, you can even get, uh, a ... um ... sort of personal music appreciation device. This is the coolest store ever.

'Scuze me, now. Gotta go appreciate some music.

First it was water in handy plastic bottles -- for convenience, see. Or snoot-factor if it was "imported" water. Or water with a bit of a fizz. It wasn't long before people -- and I'm one of them -- believed that the water from the tap was icky, and water from a plastic bottle was pure and clean and healthier for you. 'k, skip the water kerfuffles we're getting from the green peeps for a moment.

Soon we had plastic bottles filled with flavored waters. And then it was health water -- water with added vitamins, water with protein. Meal Replacement water. This was getting a little crazy, I thought.

But what really gets me is the ad I just saw for a sports water. Healthy looking young men and women, exercising, hearing that their water has oodles of calories. They express disbelief as they do rapid math and count up how many more steps they have to walk to burn off the calories in their water. The ad asks how many calories my water has.

Ummmmm. None?

<shaking head>

"I don't need a blog," my friend said to me on many occasions. "I have enough things going on, and blogs are just too much work. I have a weekly column I need to crank out. I have lots to do. Blogs are just not for me."

Blogdom, it turns out, is just a bit too irresistible for someone with a pathological need to express his opinion, isn't it.

Dick Harper has a blog.

Welcome to the Dark Side, Mr. Harper.

I listened to a dog podcast on "hybrid" dogs -- defined as having two purebred parents of differing breeds, deliberately bred to attempt to combine qualities. Peekapoos, labradoodles, puggles, etc. all qualify. Usually the crossing is to try to get a shed-free dog that has the qualities of the shedding dog, hence labradoodles and goldendoodles and pretty much anything with poodles.

But some are going for cute factor or something else. Puggles are an attempt to get a longer nose on the pug and beagles have longer snouts.

Interestingly, there are some misguided idiots who are crossing shih tzus with poodles.

The guy on the 'cast didn't mention the hybrid's name, but I'm guessing it would be a shitpoo. Which, when you think about it, is rather perfect. Defines the only purpose of such a cross: to provide material for the filling of paper bags to be left on the doorsteps of CEOs, ex-spouses, and what-not.

I treasure the relationships in my life and would not want to cause any discord. So, since I've been spending all day on the computer, and then devoted a great deal of time to the new microwave oven, I'm off to watch a little t00b

Mondays in Blogland have sometimes been devoted to griping about minor problems -- peeves. Interestingly, a friend of mine who is about to launch his own blog (I'll link him when he says he's ready) noted that too many blogs seem devoted to kvetcherie or snidery or controversy, and too few offer up insight into fun, happy things.

Ultraviolet, with her cupcakes and kittehs, has certainly demonstrated the inverse of that, as did PJ, back when she had her Place. I've seen blogs where the authors can get themselves into knots of negativity, but they often recognize the trend and pulls themselves back up out of the grumps by visiting their happy places: music, food, their kids.

I haven't blogged much.

I haven't blogged much because I've been too mired in the mopes. When I think of a blog topic, it's inevitably a kvetch, a whine, a 'plaint. Issues that feel like bilious clouds of negativity keep rising around me and I'd rather stay away from obsessing over those -- rumors of bloodbath layoffs and doomesque prognostications for my company, a friend with breast cancer, financial difficulties and things in my house that are breaking down pretty much all at once. Too easy to get into the grumps.

My friend, -- the one with breast cancer -- said something that reminded me of other times in my life when I was wandering in the dark. She's been doing self-hypnosis as part of her therapy to help her cope with her cancer and her therapist has had her create a "safe place." She described it to a group of us, and then asked us about our own safe places.

That's when I remembered my little safe place, my happy place that I would use to help me ride through grumpy times in the past. It helped because it was pleasant and served as a way to stop dwelling on the bad things in life, and it helped, too, because it formed a sort of vague goal. A hope, if you will. It was sort of a "one day, with luck, I'll get to have this, and go here."

My safe place: a remote spot in a northern desert landscape where temperatures are warm, but not blazingly hot. My place is high on a hill where I could see all about me -- a craggy, rocky sort of hill with a winding road coming up 'round it. My house is nestled amid the boulders on this hill. It's a small house built of stone and wood and glass. Inside it is cozy -- austere furnishings, yet opulent with rich wood or stone floors, wood trim and beams, and broad, shaded windows that open to catch breezes, or close against storms. A spacious veranda, with a swinging hammock, and stacks and stacks of books complete this picture.

What or where is your safe place?

" lolcat gained national media attention in unitd statez when it wuz covered by tiem magazine...[8] which wrote that non-commercialized phenomena uv sort r increasingli rare... statin that lolcat has " distinctli old-school... earli 1990s... usenet feel 2 [them]." superimposed txt iz assumed 2 b uttered by kitteh in photograph. "

Iz happih iz no loldogg

How many times in your life have you kind of fucked up because, in your ignorance, you made a decision that pissed people off? Then, when the shit hit the fan, you got all red in the face and looked for someone else to blame for it?

 
"We will be talking to the supplier with regard to how the branding came about."
 

That's the final line in a news article about the Woolworth's retail store chain in Great Britain that was marketing a brand of beds meant for six year olds. You and I know about the literary character Lolita, and what that name symbolizes to the educated among us. We've read the novel, we've seen the movies, we've heard the references in other literature, in conversations. But a generation of Brits apparently did not know that the name "Lolita" signifies pre-teen quasi-incestuous sex and had no worries about advertising a bed for little girls called "The Lolita". After parents started expressing a little outrage, they used Wikipedia to find out more.

I'm not sure what is more amusing in this. That an entire department store chain full of people had no knowledge of classic literature, or that they're looking around to see who they can blame for their faux pas.

I'm wondering if I can sell licenses to use Murphy as a handy fall dog.

(Hat tip to Sal's misc.writing post)