I don't watch much television these days, but when I do...
I sound like one of those 'The Most Interesting Man in the World" commercials, don't I? Sorry.
To continue... but when I do, I watch things like Stephen Hawking's Grand Design, which tonight focused on The Meaning of Life -- dah dah dum (insert ominous music here). He spent most of the hour talking about how everyone perceives reality differently, but in the end he concluded that the meaning of life was found in your mind.
I examined this question, as I'm sure all of us have, many times in my life and here is my conclusion. There is no Meaning of Life, in the grand plan of creation meaning of the term. To me, the meaning of life is an internal, personal thing.
What is the meaning of your life? And that, to me, is a two-fold question. The meaning of one's life consists of what are you passionate about and what do you do. And I don't mean your hobbies or your job.
In my life, the two things are interwoven. I am passionate about my love for my family and that makes part of the meaning (or purpose) of my life to raise children into thoughtful, responsible, intelligent adults. It also entails helping my husband fulfill his life's dreams, even if that means learning to Bondo a 1970 Chevelle SS and knowing how positraction affects a turning radius. (I can and I do.)
I have always believed the Native American saying, "We do not inherit the earth from our ancestors, we borrow it from our children." So I am a passionate, tree-hugging environmentalist from way back. I practice and advocate solar energy, wind power, and recycling. I used cloth diapers on all three of my children; this was in the late eighties and early nineties.
I believe in taking care of those who cannot take care of themselves, so I donate time and money to causes that help those less fortunate than myself. I am also one of the very few people happy to pay their taxes, as those taxes are providing necessary help to those who need it (at the moment, this may change after the next election).
I am so passionate about animals that my husband has made me promise never again to walk into a pet store or an animal shelter. I cannot stand to see animals in cages. When a neighbor abandoned two dogs, guess who took them in? I am passionate about child protection laws and decent healthcare for everyone. I am a member of the Human Rights Campaign and the ACLU. I could go on, but I think you get the idea.
All of these things make the meaning of my life. And that's all that matters really. What does your life mean? Whose life are you changing for the better and what did you do today to make your house, your community or your world a better place? That, my friends, is the meaning of life.
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Memory, or the Lack Thereof
And I'm not talking about my hard drive this time. You haven't heard from me for a few days because I am bipolar and with this condition comes occasional insomnia. You don't want to read anything I've written after not sleeping for four days, trust me on this.
But today, on the eight hour drive home from Dallas (we made a couple of stops) I had two ideas for blog posts that I liked, one of which I remember thinking was excellent. The problem is, I can't remember what either of those ideas were. I can remember thinking they were good, but not the ideas themselves. Do you want the kicker? I have a small pad and pen in my purse for just such an occasion. I also write fiction and so I always keep something nearby to write on so that if inspiration should strike, I will be able to write it down. But this time I forgot to remember to write it down.
So I want to get a tattoo that says Write it down but I don't know where one would put such a tattoo so that it would be both inconspicuous and yet somewhere I would see it so that I would remember not to forget.
It's a quandary. I'll think about it for a while.
If I don't forget.
But today, on the eight hour drive home from Dallas (we made a couple of stops) I had two ideas for blog posts that I liked, one of which I remember thinking was excellent. The problem is, I can't remember what either of those ideas were. I can remember thinking they were good, but not the ideas themselves. Do you want the kicker? I have a small pad and pen in my purse for just such an occasion. I also write fiction and so I always keep something nearby to write on so that if inspiration should strike, I will be able to write it down. But this time I forgot to remember to write it down.
So I want to get a tattoo that says Write it down but I don't know where one would put such a tattoo so that it would be both inconspicuous and yet somewhere I would see it so that I would remember not to forget.
It's a quandary. I'll think about it for a while.
If I don't forget.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Wasn't This Supposed To Be Fun?
My siblings and I did not play a lot of games when we were growing up. Not because we didn't have any; my parents, like many parents of the 1970s, felt it was their Christian duty to buy us the newest games every Christmas, whether we wanted them or not. But playing games, in my childhood home, was never fun. And isn't that what games are supposed to be? Or so the commercials tell us. Fun for the whole family! Hours of delightful fun for your children!
No. Because in our house, my mother - for whatever reason - felt the need to sit next to us as we were playing a game and tell us what we were doing wrong. Not that we were breaking the rules, but we weren't making the move that she would have made. Whether it was Monopoly or solitaire, it didn't matter. She could never sit idly by and watch us play or, even better, go in another room and read a book or something. She had to not only watch at close quarters, but play the game for us.
Believe me, any fun to be had disappears very quickly and you stop playing games all together.
Some people have said this is a control issue; that some people feel the need to control their environment. I can understand controlling your environment to a certain extent - it brings calm to your world if there are no surprises. But when you need to control it to the point where you're telling the people around you how to play solitaire, you need counseling. Which my mother would never have considered. "Normal" people didn't go in for psychiatry back in the 1970's. And, while my mother wasn't normal - in ways I cannot even begin to go into here - she liked to think she was and living in a suburban neighborhood would have meant that the neighbors would talk and we couldn't have that, now could we?
My mother's peccadilloes no longer effect me; she died in 2003. But the reason I bring it up is because almost every night before I go to sleep, I play a game on my computer called Bejeweled Twist. It's not in the least bit difficult, there is no way to play it wrong - and the game never even ends. It saves after every move, you stop whenever you want to and you just play on and on forever and ever. I think my score is in the 75 millions right now. It is relaxing and somewhat mind-numbing so that you can forget all the crap that happened during the day (or will happen tomorrow) and let yourself drift into a peaceful world where you can sleep. Side note: my body is not fond of sleep. It rebels against it in horrible ways and so I go to great lengths, almost every night, to get myself to a state where I can sleep.
Back to the point. I cannot play this game if my husband is around. Because... you guessed it. He will tell me what moves I should make or should have made. Let me repeat - THERE IS NO WAY TO PLAY THIS GAME WRONG. You don't die. You don't lose a turn. You don't have to start over. You are not penalized in any way if you don't make a match. So why oh why does he feel the need to do this?
My husband is not a control freak. (Except during construction or car mechanics, but since he's the only one who understands these things, we want him to tell us what to do anyway.) But the rest of the time, there is not a controlling bone in his body. And he knows about my mother and knows how I felt about her telling us how to play games. But he forgets when he's sitting next to me and he sees a move he thinks I should make. Because something inside of him just needs that move to be made.
I think there should be a law against this kind of behaviour, but I can't think of a punishment strong enough. Do any of you have any ideas?
Believe me, any fun to be had disappears very quickly and you stop playing games all together.
Some people have said this is a control issue; that some people feel the need to control their environment. I can understand controlling your environment to a certain extent - it brings calm to your world if there are no surprises. But when you need to control it to the point where you're telling the people around you how to play solitaire, you need counseling. Which my mother would never have considered. "Normal" people didn't go in for psychiatry back in the 1970's. And, while my mother wasn't normal - in ways I cannot even begin to go into here - she liked to think she was and living in a suburban neighborhood would have meant that the neighbors would talk and we couldn't have that, now could we?
Back to the point. I cannot play this game if my husband is around. Because... you guessed it. He will tell me what moves I should make or should have made. Let me repeat - THERE IS NO WAY TO PLAY THIS GAME WRONG. You don't die. You don't lose a turn. You don't have to start over. You are not penalized in any way if you don't make a match. So why oh why does he feel the need to do this?
My husband is not a control freak. (Except during construction or car mechanics, but since he's the only one who understands these things, we want him to tell us what to do anyway.) But the rest of the time, there is not a controlling bone in his body. And he knows about my mother and knows how I felt about her telling us how to play games. But he forgets when he's sitting next to me and he sees a move he thinks I should make. Because something inside of him just needs that move to be made.
I think there should be a law against this kind of behaviour, but I can't think of a punishment strong enough. Do any of you have any ideas?
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Does Your Backup Have A Backup?
It's official. My external hard drive has died. One of the pins inside the drive where the cord connects has broken and I no longer have access to over 500 GB of information. Luckily, I keep all of my important things on my computer and I have a Mediafire account where I keep some of my ebooks and music stored. You can bet I'll be expanding that selection pretty quickly.
I wasn't really in favour of the concept of "cloud" storage before, but I'm warming to the idea. Google has the new Google Drive, where it will create a folder on your computer and anything you put in the folder will automatically sync with your Google account. You get 5 GB for free, I guess you have to pay for more than that. But I have 4 Google accounts (don't ask) and my MIL and my husband won't be using their storage on their accounts, so I'm pretty sure I can get most of my essential programs and documents uploaded without having to pay. I also have a website where I can store anything that Google or Mediafire might consider "questionable" should SOPA or a version of it ever pass. But the thing about paid accounts is - if you miss a payment, there goes your information. I'm not planning on my husband losing his job - he's an engineer and there are no lack of jobs for engineers - but you never know.
But still, I was a programmer BC (Before Children) and I know how essential backups are. And I know that you always have backups of your backups. So why didn't I? I don't know. But you can bet I won't be making that mistake again. I will buy another external hard drive. I don't always have internet access, the instability of my satellite internet at home guarantees that if we have a hard downpour, my internet will go out. So it will be nice having a hard backup in case of lack of internet. But getting things stored somewhere reliable where I can get to them again, even if I have to go to the library to do it, will be a very good thing.
My husband is also a CBCP (Certified Business Continuity Professional), where basically they train you to think like a terrorist and examine all the ways a disaster can strike. I think my husband taught them more than they taught him, but I digress. Between the two of us, you'd think we would have had a better plan in place so that we didn't loose all of our important data. But we didn't.
Although, the one most important thing I learned in my college programming classes? KEEP YOUR PAPER DOCUMENTS. All of this nonsense about a paperless business world is crap. If you have a piece of paper documenting your information, it trumps whatever the computer says every time. Walk into any bank with your deposit receipt and even if that deposit isn't in their computer, you'll get your money.
So consider what you have on your computer and what you absolutely have to have, or what would be very expensive to replace. And then backup your backups. Keep your paper documents. Store whatever you can in reliable online storage - XYZ.com Computer Backup Company does NOT count as reliable.
Learn from my mistakes, people. Because even someone trained to avoid this can lose their files. And it's going to cost me a lot of time, effort, and money to replace what I lost.
I wasn't really in favour of the concept of "cloud" storage before, but I'm warming to the idea. Google has the new Google Drive, where it will create a folder on your computer and anything you put in the folder will automatically sync with your Google account. You get 5 GB for free, I guess you have to pay for more than that. But I have 4 Google accounts (don't ask) and my MIL and my husband won't be using their storage on their accounts, so I'm pretty sure I can get most of my essential programs and documents uploaded without having to pay. I also have a website where I can store anything that Google or Mediafire might consider "questionable" should SOPA or a version of it ever pass. But the thing about paid accounts is - if you miss a payment, there goes your information. I'm not planning on my husband losing his job - he's an engineer and there are no lack of jobs for engineers - but you never know.
But still, I was a programmer BC (Before Children) and I know how essential backups are. And I know that you always have backups of your backups. So why didn't I? I don't know. But you can bet I won't be making that mistake again. I will buy another external hard drive. I don't always have internet access, the instability of my satellite internet at home guarantees that if we have a hard downpour, my internet will go out. So it will be nice having a hard backup in case of lack of internet. But getting things stored somewhere reliable where I can get to them again, even if I have to go to the library to do it, will be a very good thing.
My husband is also a CBCP (Certified Business Continuity Professional), where basically they train you to think like a terrorist and examine all the ways a disaster can strike. I think my husband taught them more than they taught him, but I digress. Between the two of us, you'd think we would have had a better plan in place so that we didn't loose all of our important data. But we didn't.
Although, the one most important thing I learned in my college programming classes? KEEP YOUR PAPER DOCUMENTS. All of this nonsense about a paperless business world is crap. If you have a piece of paper documenting your information, it trumps whatever the computer says every time. Walk into any bank with your deposit receipt and even if that deposit isn't in their computer, you'll get your money.
So consider what you have on your computer and what you absolutely have to have, or what would be very expensive to replace. And then backup your backups. Keep your paper documents. Store whatever you can in reliable online storage - XYZ.com Computer Backup Company does NOT count as reliable.
Learn from my mistakes, people. Because even someone trained to avoid this can lose their files. And it's going to cost me a lot of time, effort, and money to replace what I lost.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Feeling Good About Yourself
I am a writer. Not a for-pay writer, but a writer nonetheless. I write fiction and give it away for free on the internet; I even have my own website. Many may scoff at this as a "hobby" but I can honestly say that I have touched people and changed lives with my writing. Not many for-pay writers can say that. And I have the good fortune to have made some amazing friends through my writing. Not superficial "internet friends", but real, in the flesh friends who have made a difference in my life and helped me through.
The last year or so, I haven't been able to write. Life changes, physical changes, dilemmas and laziness have all contributed to my lack of writing. And I have felt horrible. I am a writer - it isn't what I do, it's who I am. And not writing, to me, means that I am not anything.
But today, I wrote for the first time in over a year. I worked on a story that I had begun more than a year ago, but had not touched since. I edited, I researched and I wrote. And I feel good about myself. For the first time in a really long time.
There's something to be said for that.
The last year or so, I haven't been able to write. Life changes, physical changes, dilemmas and laziness have all contributed to my lack of writing. And I have felt horrible. I am a writer - it isn't what I do, it's who I am. And not writing, to me, means that I am not anything.
But today, I wrote for the first time in over a year. I worked on a story that I had begun more than a year ago, but had not touched since. I edited, I researched and I wrote. And I feel good about myself. For the first time in a really long time.
There's something to be said for that.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Housework? Not So Much...
I'm good at making lists. I'm good at making plans. I'm good at setting things up. But the day-to-day doing of things? I suck at that now. Oh, I'm great in a crisis. If you have to go to court or show your house or need five thousand cupcakes in two hours, you want me on your side.
But the dog hair that needs to be swept up every single day? Nope, that's gonna pile up. I know what should be done. I can make you list upon list of what needs to be done and how to do it. I can give you diagrams and websites and references. But actually getting up and going and doing it when I know it's just going to need to be done again tomorrow? Not so much anymore. I hate doing things that have no visible and lasting results. So being a homemaker was really the last job I should have taken. The ultimate no-respect, no-visible-results job.
You can spend eight hours cleaning your house, polishing the silver, picking flowers and creating a table arrangement, bathing the muddy dog and then mopping up his muddy pawprints, buying your husband new underwear, ironing the tablecloth, and cooking a balanced, nutritious, tasty meal for your family and what does your husband say when he comes home? "What did you do today?" And before you can answer he will say, "My day was horrible; you're so lucky you get to stay home and do nothing all day."
My husband once actually said to a group of people that women had it easier than men because they could "find someone to take care of them and do nothing for the rest of their lives". (He means well, but he's clueless.)
Wouldn't you know it, but that was the day I stopped doing everything without him. If I had to grocery shop, he had to go with me. I stopped cooking dinner and he had to learn how to cook. When errands needed to be done, I could suddenly only do it when he was home to go with me and see all the "nothing" I did.
That isn't to say I did nothing when he was at work. I homeschooled my three children and that can take up plenty of time. I would be up at six to get some time to myself and prepare for school and then I would teach my kids, do the laundry, pay the bills, answer calls for my husband's work, make his work appointments, answer questions about the company computer system because no one at my husband's work seemed to understand it (he works as an engineer for a big insurance company), and then the main housework and errands would be done by the whole family when my husband got home. My husband used to complain that I would be asleep by ten at night and there never seemed to be any time to be romantic. It was all that nothing I was doing that was wearing me out.
And yes, even then, he still wondered what it was I did all day. Look in your drawers, honey. If there are clothes there, then I've been busy.
Alas, the children have grown and gone and it's just he and I. No one to do for anymore. So when he comes home and asks what I've been doing all day, I can honestly - and happily - say, "Nothing."
But the dog hair that needs to be swept up every single day? Nope, that's gonna pile up. I know what should be done. I can make you list upon list of what needs to be done and how to do it. I can give you diagrams and websites and references. But actually getting up and going and doing it when I know it's just going to need to be done again tomorrow? Not so much anymore. I hate doing things that have no visible and lasting results. So being a homemaker was really the last job I should have taken. The ultimate no-respect, no-visible-results job.
You can spend eight hours cleaning your house, polishing the silver, picking flowers and creating a table arrangement, bathing the muddy dog and then mopping up his muddy pawprints, buying your husband new underwear, ironing the tablecloth, and cooking a balanced, nutritious, tasty meal for your family and what does your husband say when he comes home? "What did you do today?" And before you can answer he will say, "My day was horrible; you're so lucky you get to stay home and do nothing all day."
My husband once actually said to a group of people that women had it easier than men because they could "find someone to take care of them and do nothing for the rest of their lives". (He means well, but he's clueless.)
Wouldn't you know it, but that was the day I stopped doing everything without him. If I had to grocery shop, he had to go with me. I stopped cooking dinner and he had to learn how to cook. When errands needed to be done, I could suddenly only do it when he was home to go with me and see all the "nothing" I did.
That isn't to say I did nothing when he was at work. I homeschooled my three children and that can take up plenty of time. I would be up at six to get some time to myself and prepare for school and then I would teach my kids, do the laundry, pay the bills, answer calls for my husband's work, make his work appointments, answer questions about the company computer system because no one at my husband's work seemed to understand it (he works as an engineer for a big insurance company), and then the main housework and errands would be done by the whole family when my husband got home. My husband used to complain that I would be asleep by ten at night and there never seemed to be any time to be romantic. It was all that nothing I was doing that was wearing me out.
And yes, even then, he still wondered what it was I did all day. Look in your drawers, honey. If there are clothes there, then I've been busy.
Alas, the children have grown and gone and it's just he and I. No one to do for anymore. So when he comes home and asks what I've been doing all day, I can honestly - and happily - say, "Nothing."
Life in Purple
Let's start with the name. I am not French. I was born in Philadelphia and raised in New Jersey. But there's an old French song called La Vie en Rose (literally translated to Life in Pink) about looking at life with a rosy view. Well, sometimes that's hard to do. I get overworked or I'm running late and the pink-ness starts to fade. So my life is more of a life in purple. Not quite rosy, but if I keep peddling, I may get there one day.
This blog is going to be about life. My life ... everybody's life. The good, the bad and the indifferent.
This blog is going to be about life. My life ... everybody's life. The good, the bad and the indifferent.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)