No news. So there. Counting Crows on the way to work and the sound track from Grosse Pointe Blank on the way home. Yeah, Baby! I was getting my 80's groove on. Hey, The Specials and The Clash still hold up for me Rudie! I can say that I am being a nicer driver listening to tunes instead of news. This seems to be at trend although I could be delusional. It has been known to happen. Either way, I am running through a whole lot more CD's.
Today's lesson was that when you are not watching or listening to the news all the time, you have more time for helping friends, even if you only help them by showing them how not to do things. A friend of mine, who is truly a good person going through what my Gram used to call "a rough patch", asked me to accompany her to the orientation at a local Buddhist monastery of which I am a member, albeit not a very active member. My friend was feeling a little less than confident and did not want to go alone. Our local Buddhists aren't quite as intimidating as say your Pentecostal snake handlers, but it was a new thing and I was outwardly happy to go with her and inwardly full of trepidation.
The last two years have not exactly been my strongest spiritual phase, so I was already feeling a bit fraudulent. Before we even set foot inside I managed to forget to walk clock-wise around the stupa in front of the building even as my friend said "Clock-wise, right?"
It was as if Dante had a really challenged second-cousin who, out of charity, was allowed to give the tour of Purgatory on Dante's one day off each year. He could not be trusted with the Inferno or Paradiso, of course, because he forgot all the names of the important sinners, got lost, made references to the Easter Bunny and then had the tour group take the wrong bus out so everyone ended up in hell and had to be rescued, Evangelicals and all.
Beginner mind. Never a problem for me.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Day # 17 Airports
There was no day seventeen. There was only me being a huge mess. I hate it when The Kid leaves, and I am not just saying that to make other people think I am a good Dad because I miss my offspring. He is, for the most part, damn fine company and I hate it that he lives 1218.95 miles away and I get a little irrational about how much I let that bother me. So sue me. For the record, some days I am a really good parent and other days, when i get selfish, not so much. Day seventeen was not one of the good parent days.
There was news, however. I had forgotten about waiting area TV monitors. When I looked to see what The Kid was looking at, I saw a news blurb about searchers looking for three missing boys after their father committed suicide. I don't really need an in-depth follow-up to know that this is not going to have a happy ending. I will try to remember about the monitors in the future.
At SeaTac, the nice TSA folks have set up the full body scanners at every other security line. The Kid and I just happened to pick a line that was the traditional metal detector. I had an opportunity to watch the people going through the scanner. Based on my very limited and unscientific observations, I would have to say that the overwhelming emotion exhibited by the people going through was one of bemusement or curiosity. I certainly did not see any sign of protest or indignation nor did I see anyone opting for a "pat-my-junk". Of course the scanners were not operating in every line so this is a pretty meaningless set of impressions. If, however, one was holding their breath for a large scale civic outcry, one would be turning a lovely shade of azure right about now. At least so far.
I stand by my prediction that eventually we will all just be run through the chutes naked while the Haliburton or Diebold barcode is tattoo'ed on our collective asses.
Seriously, safer my aging butt. Until the checked luggage and all the shipped parcels are 100% scanned, this is all just smoke and mirrors.
There was news, however. I had forgotten about waiting area TV monitors. When I looked to see what The Kid was looking at, I saw a news blurb about searchers looking for three missing boys after their father committed suicide. I don't really need an in-depth follow-up to know that this is not going to have a happy ending. I will try to remember about the monitors in the future.
At SeaTac, the nice TSA folks have set up the full body scanners at every other security line. The Kid and I just happened to pick a line that was the traditional metal detector. I had an opportunity to watch the people going through the scanner. Based on my very limited and unscientific observations, I would have to say that the overwhelming emotion exhibited by the people going through was one of bemusement or curiosity. I certainly did not see any sign of protest or indignation nor did I see anyone opting for a "pat-my-junk". Of course the scanners were not operating in every line so this is a pretty meaningless set of impressions. If, however, one was holding their breath for a large scale civic outcry, one would be turning a lovely shade of azure right about now. At least so far.
I stand by my prediction that eventually we will all just be run through the chutes naked while the Haliburton or Diebold barcode is tattoo'ed on our collective asses.
Seriously, safer my aging butt. Until the checked luggage and all the shipped parcels are 100% scanned, this is all just smoke and mirrors.
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Day # 16 Turnabout
There was no outside news for me today. There did not need to be. My son leaves tomorrow to fly back to Tucson and I hate that. As always, I spent the day pretending the impending departure doesn't matter, not wanting to spoil the day and as always, by the end of the day, I have become dark and resentful while trying not to let it show.
I have no insight, no creativity and no humour to make this any better. I have never gotten even passable at dealing with this and it does not seem that I ever will. Tomorrow I will put The Kid on a plane, he will fly off and I will head to my office to resume my regular routine. Yes, he will be back in a month. I don't care, I hate it that he is not here, I hate the distance, the literal miles, that are between us.
I want to turn and raise my hands in supplication that this not be true. If he looked back and saw me, he would ask "What's with the hands, Dad?"
I profess the desire to be able to see things exactly as they really are. I seem to want this ability, this clarity of perception, right up until I have to look at a thing which, exactly as it is, causes me intense grief. Then I don't want to see it so clearly after all.
I have no insight, no creativity and no humour to make this any better. I have never gotten even passable at dealing with this and it does not seem that I ever will. Tomorrow I will put The Kid on a plane, he will fly off and I will head to my office to resume my regular routine. Yes, he will be back in a month. I don't care, I hate it that he is not here, I hate the distance, the literal miles, that are between us.
I want to turn and raise my hands in supplication that this not be true. If he looked back and saw me, he would ask "What's with the hands, Dad?"
I profess the desire to be able to see things exactly as they really are. I seem to want this ability, this clarity of perception, right up until I have to look at a thing which, exactly as it is, causes me intense grief. Then I don't want to see it so clearly after all.
Day # 15 Grinderman
There was no news yesterday. And no blog entry either.
There was marital strife, a continuing frustrating struggle with a recalcitrant moto malfunction and a holiday card photo session.
Lest the day sound like a total wash, the evening was spent with good friends from out-of-town, a great dinner and then slipping off with them to the Grinderman show at the King Kat.
Nick Cave worked the crowd like the madman that he is and although I was not anointed with his sweat, the folks just ahead of me were. Grinderman is a long departure from the Bad Seeds with Nick and Warren Ellis getting back to some serious Punk roots. It was grand. I did not think much about anything except that I need to be doing more live music shows.
The Kid and TBG were still up when I got home late, no news had intruded on the day and neither had blogging. So this is all there is.
There was marital strife, a continuing frustrating struggle with a recalcitrant moto malfunction and a holiday card photo session.
Lest the day sound like a total wash, the evening was spent with good friends from out-of-town, a great dinner and then slipping off with them to the Grinderman show at the King Kat.
Nick Cave worked the crowd like the madman that he is and although I was not anointed with his sweat, the folks just ahead of me were. Grinderman is a long departure from the Bad Seeds with Nick and Warren Ellis getting back to some serious Punk roots. It was grand. I did not think much about anything except that I need to be doing more live music shows.
The Kid and TBG were still up when I got home late, no news had intruded on the day and neither had blogging. So this is all there is.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Day #14 Blackness & Rockwell
I have long since joined the "Buy Nothing Day" movement. Due to this abstention, Black Friday does not exist for me and I do not need news of it. Given the annual excesses of holiday madness, I can imagine in my mind's eye the local TV news reports of poor, deluded consumers shivering in the early morning hours waiting to trample their fellows to secure a bargain on the latest must-have item from the nearest big-box emporium. As for the rest of the news today, there will be speculation on the economic importance of the shoppers mood, reports on how this years shopping compares to last years shopping and what impact the expected levels of holiday consumption will have on the retail community's bottom line.
I feel a certain compunction to rail about how hard it was to get through the day without sneaking off to the loo with the recycle bin in my arms so that I could peruse the pilfered newspaper in peace.
"What are you doing in there Honey?"
"Nothing (rustle, rustle), be out in a minute..."
That is just not, however, the case. Today was an almost Rockwellian wallow in good family time without the benefit of either heading off to gather legal tender, spend said tender on stuff, or make use of the news media to see what other families are up to. To be honest, I did not miss the news at all. I feel like such a failure in the obsession department. It is a good thing there are still motos and guitars to redeem my compulsive credentials.
After a rousing round of "left-over brekkie" and a good turkey flaying were behind us, the morning was spent with The Kid helping me get a huge pot of soup going. A teen-aged son willingly tending to soup making is a thing to be treasured because by all accounts, it won't last. Soup on, there was a family walk to the beach and back, followed by pie and a rousing game of Scrabble. While I should be struggling with the anxiety of not knowing exactly what is going on in the world, I am frittering away my time with counting word scores and then retiring with the little tribe to eat soup and watch "Breaker Morant" because hey, the TBG and Kid had not seen it and its one of my favorites. We followed up the movie with a Scrabble rematch which I won and now The Kid is reading Christoper Moore whilst I blog.
Days of contentment are rare for me, so excuse me if I gush the littlest bit. I think I may be more flawed than the average human when it comes to the contentment thing. Constant hungering for input or information, looking for answers to problems or solutions to puzzles, these things I understand. I do not like to admit it, but just being alive in my own small world is not my strongest skill set. I profess a desire to live in the moment, but more often this manifests as a desire to be in the world's moment, often at the expense of my own.
So maybe I got it a little right today or perhaps I am just taking a slow cruise on the river denial. Regardless of which is more true, the day had a bit of an old Saturday Evening Post cover art air about it. I know that things will change, as is their wont. The Kid will fly back to Tucson, as he does every month. I will miss him terribly, as I always do. Someone will mention a development or happening in the world and I will feel like an idiot for not being up to the minute on whatever it might be.
But not today. There are rumblings of a final scrabble winner-take-all match. Gotta go.
I feel a certain compunction to rail about how hard it was to get through the day without sneaking off to the loo with the recycle bin in my arms so that I could peruse the pilfered newspaper in peace.
"What are you doing in there Honey?"
"Nothing (rustle, rustle), be out in a minute..."
That is just not, however, the case. Today was an almost Rockwellian wallow in good family time without the benefit of either heading off to gather legal tender, spend said tender on stuff, or make use of the news media to see what other families are up to. To be honest, I did not miss the news at all. I feel like such a failure in the obsession department. It is a good thing there are still motos and guitars to redeem my compulsive credentials.
After a rousing round of "left-over brekkie" and a good turkey flaying were behind us, the morning was spent with The Kid helping me get a huge pot of soup going. A teen-aged son willingly tending to soup making is a thing to be treasured because by all accounts, it won't last. Soup on, there was a family walk to the beach and back, followed by pie and a rousing game of Scrabble. While I should be struggling with the anxiety of not knowing exactly what is going on in the world, I am frittering away my time with counting word scores and then retiring with the little tribe to eat soup and watch "Breaker Morant" because hey, the TBG and Kid had not seen it and its one of my favorites. We followed up the movie with a Scrabble rematch which I won and now The Kid is reading Christoper Moore whilst I blog.
Days of contentment are rare for me, so excuse me if I gush the littlest bit. I think I may be more flawed than the average human when it comes to the contentment thing. Constant hungering for input or information, looking for answers to problems or solutions to puzzles, these things I understand. I do not like to admit it, but just being alive in my own small world is not my strongest skill set. I profess a desire to live in the moment, but more often this manifests as a desire to be in the world's moment, often at the expense of my own.
So maybe I got it a little right today or perhaps I am just taking a slow cruise on the river denial. Regardless of which is more true, the day had a bit of an old Saturday Evening Post cover art air about it. I know that things will change, as is their wont. The Kid will fly back to Tucson, as he does every month. I will miss him terribly, as I always do. Someone will mention a development or happening in the world and I will feel like an idiot for not being up to the minute on whatever it might be.
But not today. There are rumblings of a final scrabble winner-take-all match. Gotta go.
Day # 13 Turkey
Family, friends, food and the traditional Holiday Movie fare after dinner : "The Road Warrior".
Damn near a perfect day, including a spirited apres-movie political discussion that included weighing the merits of the news itself.
The day did not, however, include the news media. What more do I need to say? Not much.
Damn near a perfect day, including a spirited apres-movie political discussion that included weighing the merits of the news itself.
The day did not, however, include the news media. What more do I need to say? Not much.
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Day # 12 Bliss and Recrimination
Today I will admit, right at the start, that I read the news headline of the Seattle Times as the genetic envelope and I walked by the paper box. "Why Can't Seattle Handle The Snow" was emblazoned across the graffiti carved plastic window. I had already read the banner and was laughing out loud to The Kid before I remembered I wasn't supposed to be perusing the news.
In my defense, I have to say that Seattle not being able to handle the snow is not really news. The city handling or lack thereof, of the winter storm of 2009, was the undoing of our former mayor, Greg Nickels. Well, that and losing the Supersonics, caving to Paul Allen and quashing the voter approved monorail. Now Mayor Mike "The Bike" McGinn ain't faring any better. Just a little snow paralyzes the city. Why? There are simply too many morons who have to try out their untested snow driving skills, too many hills and not enough plows. Seattle is also, duh, at sea level so whatever snow we get promptly turns to a glaze of ice because it is usually just barely cold enough to freeze and not nearly cold enough for snow to stay fluffy and driveable.
So why should the city or WSDOT care if they are short on plows? In truth it doesn't snow here very damn often so why spend a gazillion dollars on a bunch of plows just so people can move effortlessly on the two or three days a year on average that we are inconvenienced by the white stuff? Hey, its a snow day!! These days are a gift from the weather gods. Its a bonus, so why not enjoy it? Everyone knows just how lame our fair burg is when it comes to coping with snow so it is an almost ironclad excuse to get out of anything. I say take the excuse, run with it and stop looking a gift horse in the mouth. What kind of slackers are these people anyway?
With all the extra time afforded by the snowy excuse for slacking, the Thanksgiving shopping was accomplished with ease, the pies were secured from the folks at Shoofly and The Kid cheered our success with a resounding "Huzzah!!" Really, that was his exact phrasing and it made me proud.
Bliss follows recrimination as "Fawlty Towers" and "A Bit of Fry and Laurie" follow power slides in the snow when no one was watching, The Kid is reading "The Stupidest Angel" to ensure his literary corruption at my hand. And I, forgiving the City their transgressions, look forward to Thanksgiving and lots of free time to watch the YouTubes my peeps are sending me of Seattlites sliding down snowy hills like so many mechanized pin-balls.
In my defense, I have to say that Seattle not being able to handle the snow is not really news. The city handling or lack thereof, of the winter storm of 2009, was the undoing of our former mayor, Greg Nickels. Well, that and losing the Supersonics, caving to Paul Allen and quashing the voter approved monorail. Now Mayor Mike "The Bike" McGinn ain't faring any better. Just a little snow paralyzes the city. Why? There are simply too many morons who have to try out their untested snow driving skills, too many hills and not enough plows. Seattle is also, duh, at sea level so whatever snow we get promptly turns to a glaze of ice because it is usually just barely cold enough to freeze and not nearly cold enough for snow to stay fluffy and driveable.
So why should the city or WSDOT care if they are short on plows? In truth it doesn't snow here very damn often so why spend a gazillion dollars on a bunch of plows just so people can move effortlessly on the two or three days a year on average that we are inconvenienced by the white stuff? Hey, its a snow day!! These days are a gift from the weather gods. Its a bonus, so why not enjoy it? Everyone knows just how lame our fair burg is when it comes to coping with snow so it is an almost ironclad excuse to get out of anything. I say take the excuse, run with it and stop looking a gift horse in the mouth. What kind of slackers are these people anyway?
With all the extra time afforded by the snowy excuse for slacking, the Thanksgiving shopping was accomplished with ease, the pies were secured from the folks at Shoofly and The Kid cheered our success with a resounding "Huzzah!!" Really, that was his exact phrasing and it made me proud.
Bliss follows recrimination as "Fawlty Towers" and "A Bit of Fry and Laurie" follow power slides in the snow when no one was watching, The Kid is reading "The Stupidest Angel" to ensure his literary corruption at my hand. And I, forgiving the City their transgressions, look forward to Thanksgiving and lots of free time to watch the YouTubes my peeps are sending me of Seattlites sliding down snowy hills like so many mechanized pin-balls.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Day # 11 State Sanctioned Sloth
God Bless the Washington State Patrol
Anyone who knows my brisk riding habits might question the preceding statement but, at least for today, I stand by it. Following on the heels of the Snowpacalypse of yesterday was the Icepacalypse of today. Because of the incredible chaos wrought by a mere bagatelle of a snow storm, the infinite wisdom of the WSP decreed that all non-essential travel should be curtailed. I took that to mean travel to my office should be foregone and enjoyed a State Sanctioned snow day. So besides blessing the WSP, I wish for God to bless socialism as well for looking after the public weal.
Once again, news came to me by word of mouth from neighbors and friends as I was re-shoveling the snow that had drifted back during the winds of the night. Tales were spun of three and four hour drives from the near neighborhoods of Ballard and Downtown Seattle, trips that would normally be short jaunts. The winning duration was a twelve hour bus ride from Seattle to the strip mall suburb with the unfortunate name of Federal Way. Twelve hours on a metro bus. Metro buses have no bathrooms Maybe that would explain my sighting yesterday of the gentleman micturating, not on The Dude's rug, but on the edge of the I-405 while traffic idled at a dead stop. The calm creation of yellow snow when all about him was stalled in suspended snowiness did sort of tie the whole scene together.
Now the icy night is calm, no new snow is falling and my genetic envelope is winging his way through the skies towards Seattle. In a few minutes I will engage my trusty four-wheel drive and venture out to retrieve him from the clutches of the TSA and the traveling hordes.
It was another day without the news media and I was pretty darn happy, but mostly that was because I got a chance to shovel snow and that always makes me giddy. So I don't know if that counts.
Anyone who knows my brisk riding habits might question the preceding statement but, at least for today, I stand by it. Following on the heels of the Snowpacalypse of yesterday was the Icepacalypse of today. Because of the incredible chaos wrought by a mere bagatelle of a snow storm, the infinite wisdom of the WSP decreed that all non-essential travel should be curtailed. I took that to mean travel to my office should be foregone and enjoyed a State Sanctioned snow day. So besides blessing the WSP, I wish for God to bless socialism as well for looking after the public weal.
Once again, news came to me by word of mouth from neighbors and friends as I was re-shoveling the snow that had drifted back during the winds of the night. Tales were spun of three and four hour drives from the near neighborhoods of Ballard and Downtown Seattle, trips that would normally be short jaunts. The winning duration was a twelve hour bus ride from Seattle to the strip mall suburb with the unfortunate name of Federal Way. Twelve hours on a metro bus. Metro buses have no bathrooms Maybe that would explain my sighting yesterday of the gentleman micturating, not on The Dude's rug, but on the edge of the I-405 while traffic idled at a dead stop. The calm creation of yellow snow when all about him was stalled in suspended snowiness did sort of tie the whole scene together.
Now the icy night is calm, no new snow is falling and my genetic envelope is winging his way through the skies towards Seattle. In a few minutes I will engage my trusty four-wheel drive and venture out to retrieve him from the clutches of the TSA and the traveling hordes.
It was another day without the news media and I was pretty darn happy, but mostly that was because I got a chance to shovel snow and that always makes me giddy. So I don't know if that counts.
Monday, November 22, 2010
Day # 10 Snowpacalypse!!!
OK, I swiped that from John Richards, the KEXP morning DJ. John may have swiped it from someone else, but I give credit where credit is due.
What I don't need the news to tell me:
A Little Snow in Seattle is a Big Deal No news required on this one, I can assure you. If you live in Seattle, look outside and see that it is snowing, you do not need any media to tell you that the entire infrastructure is about to come to a screeching, grinding halt.
Your Commute Just Got a Lot Longer Really, a traffic report is just not going to be needed. This is the scene: I am in my office in Sumner, about 31 miles from my apartment in West Seattle. As I look out my office window, I see the snow is sticking to the ground and the roadway. I don't need a traffic update to tell me that my trip home is going to be epic. There will be crunching, spinning, sliding and swearing and all this is before you manage to get to the freeway on-ramp. Once on the freeway, any freeway, things are only going to get worse. In really bad snow storms (what would be a mild dusting in the Midwest) Northwesterners have been know to abandon their vehicles on I-5 and wander off on foot. This snow journey was not, however, accompanied by a constant stream of news about which roads were worse than which other roads. I let KEXP roll out the afternoon show of alt-rock, snow songs requested by other travelers and your basic musical whatnot.
Shoveling Snow is Fun I know, more middle-aged American men drop dead shoveling snow than almost anything other activity. Being from the Midwest, I have the dominant SSMHK gene, which made itself apparent when I was a young boy and my dad would say "Snow Shoveling Must Happen Kid". So when I jumped out of my lovely four-wheeled drive truck after surviving the bumper car ride that is Seattle in the snow, all I could think of was the super hero Midwest Man, whose super powers were clearing sidewalks and driveways. That's me!! While the traveling masses confirmed on the radio why they were not traveling and those that were home watched the local news to see those that were not traveling, I was shoveling like a super hero. While I was making big piles of snow, my neighbors were wandering home with tales of their three hour journey from Bellevue, less than fifteen miles away, or how the West Seattle Bridge was now closed or that their husband was still stuck downtown. That was the real news, delivered in person.
Roo Would Love This Yes, little Roo would have been thrilled. SNOW!!!! Crazy, sliding, spinning cars and trucks!! Blustery cold wind and piles of snow to shovel into other piles of snow. Snowpacalypse!!
I did not partake of the news today. I did not need to. First of all, I didn't need to go to the news, because the news came to me without the requirement of any other delivery system except the event itself. Second, I don't need the media to tell me how to act like an overgrown kid. As it turns out, I'm still pretty good at that.
What I don't need the news to tell me:
A Little Snow in Seattle is a Big Deal No news required on this one, I can assure you. If you live in Seattle, look outside and see that it is snowing, you do not need any media to tell you that the entire infrastructure is about to come to a screeching, grinding halt.
Your Commute Just Got a Lot Longer Really, a traffic report is just not going to be needed. This is the scene: I am in my office in Sumner, about 31 miles from my apartment in West Seattle. As I look out my office window, I see the snow is sticking to the ground and the roadway. I don't need a traffic update to tell me that my trip home is going to be epic. There will be crunching, spinning, sliding and swearing and all this is before you manage to get to the freeway on-ramp. Once on the freeway, any freeway, things are only going to get worse. In really bad snow storms (what would be a mild dusting in the Midwest) Northwesterners have been know to abandon their vehicles on I-5 and wander off on foot. This snow journey was not, however, accompanied by a constant stream of news about which roads were worse than which other roads. I let KEXP roll out the afternoon show of alt-rock, snow songs requested by other travelers and your basic musical whatnot.
Shoveling Snow is Fun I know, more middle-aged American men drop dead shoveling snow than almost anything other activity. Being from the Midwest, I have the dominant SSMHK gene, which made itself apparent when I was a young boy and my dad would say "Snow Shoveling Must Happen Kid". So when I jumped out of my lovely four-wheeled drive truck after surviving the bumper car ride that is Seattle in the snow, all I could think of was the super hero Midwest Man, whose super powers were clearing sidewalks and driveways. That's me!! While the traveling masses confirmed on the radio why they were not traveling and those that were home watched the local news to see those that were not traveling, I was shoveling like a super hero. While I was making big piles of snow, my neighbors were wandering home with tales of their three hour journey from Bellevue, less than fifteen miles away, or how the West Seattle Bridge was now closed or that their husband was still stuck downtown. That was the real news, delivered in person.
Roo Would Love This Yes, little Roo would have been thrilled. SNOW!!!! Crazy, sliding, spinning cars and trucks!! Blustery cold wind and piles of snow to shovel into other piles of snow. Snowpacalypse!!
I did not partake of the news today. I did not need to. First of all, I didn't need to go to the news, because the news came to me without the requirement of any other delivery system except the event itself. Second, I don't need the media to tell me how to act like an overgrown kid. As it turns out, I'm still pretty good at that.
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Day # 9 The Funnies?
Sunday, Sunday, Sunday! A lovely day chock full of possibility. Like drag racing, football, drinking beer and beating your spouse or spiritual renewal. Sunday is also the only day that I take the time to read the funnies in the Seattle Times. Until today that is.
This morning, a late morning following a German Sparkle Party, I was asked if I wanted to read the comics. I automatically said no as the comic section is obviously a part of the whole that is the Sunday newspaper. But is it news? Frazz is certainly not news, although it is one of my favorite comic strips. Get Fuzzy and Pearls Before Swine aren't concerned with current events, focusing instead on puns and cat humour. Ah, but there is Doonesbury, which I have read for many years. Mr. Trudeau indeed has a political ax to grind and while it is an ax wielded for the same side, usually, that I stand for, it does not pass the news sniff test. So when tempted a second time with an offer of the comics section, I refused for a second time.
A Sunday without the funnies. It was a day that included, well, not much. The morning contained the completion of "Romeo and Juliet" because without the news, where does one find tragedy? I was able to confirm that Bruce "Don't Call Me Ash" Campbell was in most, but not all, of Sam Raimi's movies, a quest for information that was spawned by re-watching "Intolerable Cruelty" and seeing Mr. Campbell as a soapbox doctor on a TV screen in the movie. The only societal contribution I made today was plunging one of our tenant's toilets, because she is in her nineties and uses a walker. I don't feel the need for lots more descriptors for that little incident.
A Sunday without news, without the promised snowfall and without the funnies. Based on the lack of the first, I suppose it was a day spent successfully resisting obsession as well, but mostly I did exactly as I pleased which did not add up to much. How glorious once in a while!
This morning, a late morning following a German Sparkle Party, I was asked if I wanted to read the comics. I automatically said no as the comic section is obviously a part of the whole that is the Sunday newspaper. But is it news? Frazz is certainly not news, although it is one of my favorite comic strips. Get Fuzzy and Pearls Before Swine aren't concerned with current events, focusing instead on puns and cat humour. Ah, but there is Doonesbury, which I have read for many years. Mr. Trudeau indeed has a political ax to grind and while it is an ax wielded for the same side, usually, that I stand for, it does not pass the news sniff test. So when tempted a second time with an offer of the comics section, I refused for a second time.
A Sunday without the funnies. It was a day that included, well, not much. The morning contained the completion of "Romeo and Juliet" because without the news, where does one find tragedy? I was able to confirm that Bruce "Don't Call Me Ash" Campbell was in most, but not all, of Sam Raimi's movies, a quest for information that was spawned by re-watching "Intolerable Cruelty" and seeing Mr. Campbell as a soapbox doctor on a TV screen in the movie. The only societal contribution I made today was plunging one of our tenant's toilets, because she is in her nineties and uses a walker. I don't feel the need for lots more descriptors for that little incident.
A Sunday without news, without the promised snowfall and without the funnies. Based on the lack of the first, I suppose it was a day spent successfully resisting obsession as well, but mostly I did exactly as I pleased which did not add up to much. How glorious once in a while!
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Day # 8 The View from Brazil
Tudo Bem! No, I did not peruse the news of the day today. Again, bully for me, as I like to think it shows that I possess at least a shred of stick-to-it-tive-ness. So, the good news is no news and now on to other things.
I was challenged to write an entry on how similar the modern news media is to that depicted in Terry Gilliam's dark vision of the future in his movie "Brazil". Alas, I cannot agree. With rare exceptions, most of the modern American news media seems to be composed of talking heads vociferously defending one point of view or another while yelling at or shaming some other talking head whose opinion differs from theirs. There are some examples of differing ideas being discussed and debated in a civil manner but they are few and far between. By contrast, the newscast as portrayed on Terry Gilliam's tiny TV screens of the future is all well-modulated and polite with no yelling of any kind, hardly Fox News. Although it has been at least eight days since I have watched the news or the movie "Brazil", based on my memory of both I have to conclude that the there is almost no similarity between news in the movie and news as it is rendered today.
However, setting the news comparison aside, there are some almost frighteningly prophetic images from the movie "Brazil" when viewed in the present time. The movie was made in 1985 and paints a picture of a dark world of bureaucracy, societal control and technology run amok where information retrieval is the name of the game and ducts are very important. There are shadowy groups who periodically set off bombs in public places and the government is powerless to stop them. On the tiny TV screen of the future, which Gilliam intentionally got wrong, the newscaster asks a government official, Mr. Helpmann, about the terrorists and why they are staging a bombing campaign. (thanks and credit to Internet Movie Database for the quotes)
Mr. Helpmann: Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless minority of people seem to have forgotten good old-fashioned virtues. They just can't stand seeing the other fellow win. If these people would just play the game....
The newscaster then ask Mr. Helpmann (love the names) if the government is making any progress and he replies:
I was challenged to write an entry on how similar the modern news media is to that depicted in Terry Gilliam's dark vision of the future in his movie "Brazil". Alas, I cannot agree. With rare exceptions, most of the modern American news media seems to be composed of talking heads vociferously defending one point of view or another while yelling at or shaming some other talking head whose opinion differs from theirs. There are some examples of differing ideas being discussed and debated in a civil manner but they are few and far between. By contrast, the newscast as portrayed on Terry Gilliam's tiny TV screens of the future is all well-modulated and polite with no yelling of any kind, hardly Fox News. Although it has been at least eight days since I have watched the news or the movie "Brazil", based on my memory of both I have to conclude that the there is almost no similarity between news in the movie and news as it is rendered today.
However, setting the news comparison aside, there are some almost frighteningly prophetic images from the movie "Brazil" when viewed in the present time. The movie was made in 1985 and paints a picture of a dark world of bureaucracy, societal control and technology run amok where information retrieval is the name of the game and ducts are very important. There are shadowy groups who periodically set off bombs in public places and the government is powerless to stop them. On the tiny TV screen of the future, which Gilliam intentionally got wrong, the newscaster asks a government official, Mr. Helpmann, about the terrorists and why they are staging a bombing campaign. (thanks and credit to Internet Movie Database for the quotes)
Mr. Helpmann: Bad sportsmanship. A ruthless minority of people seem to have forgotten good old-fashioned virtues. They just can't stand seeing the other fellow win. If these people would just play the game....
The newscaster then ask Mr. Helpmann (love the names) if the government is making any progress and he replies:
Mr. Helpmann: We're fielding all their strokes, running a lot of them out, and pretty consistently knocking them for six. I'd say they're nearly out of the game.
Persisting, though in quiet Brit speak, the interviewer asks how the bombing campaign could still be going on after more than ten years:
T.V. Interviewer: How do you account for the fact that the bombing campaign has been going on for thirteen years?
While re-watching this a few weeks ago, The Kid, the TBG and I were struck by the almost mirror image of the fictional setting of "Brazil" and some aspects of modern reality. The festive holiday music of a posh restaurant is blown all to hell by a sudden bombing. The shattered diners right the tables and chairs and resume their meal while the battered band members pick up instruments and the music continues. Is this a dark, futuristic vision or is it CBS Evening News? From my point of view, it is not that the portrayal of the news in "Brazil" is the same as modern newscasts, but that the portrayal of everyday life is so similar.
There is more than just bombings which make the comparisons seem accurate. As the holidays draw near, a little girl gets her turn to speak with Santa.
Santa Claus: What would you like for Christmas?
Little girl on his lap: My own credit card. Sort of speaks to some of the strongly prevalent views of what the holidays are all about.
Throughout the movie there is a clunky and intrusive modern "technology" which is supposed to make life better and simpler, but inevitably accomplishes the opposite. In 1985 technology was already changing so quickly people were having difficulty keeping up with it. Today that change has become exponential and will continue to be, or so it seems. While our cars and televisions are cooler and sleeker than those in the movies and our duct work is not quite so obtrusive, the question of whether any of our real technology makes our lives better has been and will be debated by people a lot smarter than I am. So I will leave them to it. I would only add that anyone who has waited on or dealt with the Cable Guys or the Phone Guys has had a nice glimpse of Central Services, whether or not they have ever seen the movie.
Perhaps the most pervasive and prescient aspect of society portrayed in the film is the all-encompassing bureaucracy everyone is subjected to. Today we have a most formidable bureaucracy of our ownthat we have allowed and actually helped build. Most formidable indeed, at not very different from the one Sam Lowry grapples with. In the film, the most important government agency is Information Retrieval. Not very nice folks. As Michael Palin's character Jack Lint so cheerfully and creepily states when asked for some information:
Jack Lint: This is information retrieval not information dispersal.
Tuttle becomes Buttle as key strokes go wrong in tiny offices and peoples lives are forever ruined or ended not to mention all the severe damage to floors and ceilings. And when our hero Sam tries to enlist the help of a superior bureaucrat he is met with the cyclical labyrinth of the organization:
Sam Lowry: Excuse me, Dawson, can you put me through to Mr. Helpmann's office?
Dawson: I'm afraid I can't sir. You have to go through the proper channels.
Sam Lowry: And you can't tell me what the proper channels are, because that's classified information?
Dawson: I'm glad to see the Ministry's continuing its tradition of recruiting the brightest and best, sir.
Sam Lowry: Thank you, Dawson.
Dawson: I'm afraid I can't sir. You have to go through the proper channels.
Sam Lowry: And you can't tell me what the proper channels are, because that's classified information?
Dawson: I'm glad to see the Ministry's continuing its tradition of recruiting the brightest and best, sir.
Sam Lowry: Thank you, Dawson.
Yes, thank you Dawson and thanks to Terry Gilliam for sticking to his guns and keeping the full print of the movie alive instead of the sappy "Love Conquers All" version the the studios came up with after hacking forty minutes of the film away to contrive a happy ending. Give me what I perceive as the dark and real over the saccharine any day. Maybe that's why I'm a news-junkie: I am always suspicious of a happy ending.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Day # 7 Monk-ification and Kibbitzers
Today, the morning newspaper was replaced with the history and peoples of Laos, in preparation for being there in February. The commute to work was set to Thelonius Monk instead of Morning Edition. During the day I remembered to delete the cute little head line banners that inhabit my Google home page (lower right corner) and the drive to the cigar tasting at the end of the day was enlivened with more Monk.
In other words, another day without seeking out the news. Bully for me. In truth I was so busy today that I did not really miss the loss. I admit to doing a quick mental scenario of what nefarious schemes the folks on the hill were getting up to but I did not pursue it with any actual facts.
One of the small side benefits of blundering into the land of blog are the great suggestions for subject material I get from the very few people who are aware of the existence of my little experiment. The latest is how similar the state of modern news is to that portrayed in Terry Gilliam's film "Brazil".
But tonight I am too tired, in a good way, to tackle that one or much of anything else. Since leaving the salt mine I have had a very fine cigar, volunteered whatever help I might lend to a motorcycle maintenance seminar for women, shared a fantastic meal and managed this meager entry. That's enough.
In other words, another day without seeking out the news. Bully for me. In truth I was so busy today that I did not really miss the loss. I admit to doing a quick mental scenario of what nefarious schemes the folks on the hill were getting up to but I did not pursue it with any actual facts.
One of the small side benefits of blundering into the land of blog are the great suggestions for subject material I get from the very few people who are aware of the existence of my little experiment. The latest is how similar the state of modern news is to that portrayed in Terry Gilliam's film "Brazil".
But tonight I am too tired, in a good way, to tackle that one or much of anything else. Since leaving the salt mine I have had a very fine cigar, volunteered whatever help I might lend to a motorcycle maintenance seminar for women, shared a fantastic meal and managed this meager entry. That's enough.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Day # 6 Voyeurs and Butt Paint
Butt Paint I did not pursue the news today. I did not read the papers, watch television or listen to the radio. However, news, being what it is, made its way into my life but it did so within the allowable parameters established at the beginning of this shindig. It seems that the TSA shenanigans have so irritated people that news of the tempest was transmitted to me by word of mouth in my very office. In truth I had already known about the full body scanners since I have seen them at SeaTac where I pick up and drop off my genetic envelope at least once a month. Because The Kid is still 15 the airline lets me have a standby pass to go through security so I can take him to the gate and wait with him, a rarity these days. Thus I have the privilege of dealing with whatever security screening is in place on any given month. Up to now the scanners have not actually been in use but may be by the time I head to the gates with The Kid after Thanksgiving.
You may ask what in THE hell this has to do with Butt Paint? Well, The Kid and I decided that it would be fun to find some sort of metallic based novelty makeup with which to write messages on our body parts so that when we get the full body scan we could also send the printed word to the viewing TSA operatives. In all probability the TSA folks would not view such activities in the spirit intended and yank us from the scanner to pat down our junk, but that is a risk we are willing to take. Or so we say. The messages could range from the simple, such as an arrow on the belly pointing down with "Junk" written above it or something more political such as "Why the Hell aren't you scanning all of the checked luggage where someone is much more likely to put a freakin' bomb you silly bureaucrats" although we will need to write fairly neatly to get that all legibly on one body part.
Voyeurs The suggestion was made to me that the act of reading about another person's struggle with obsessive behavior turns those persons from readers into voyeurs. I cannot argue that this suggestion is without truth. Yet if we look at the Web, reality TV, YouTube or Facebook, what else do we find but opportunities for voyeurism. What is "The Biggest Loser", besides a tragedy, if not an enormous voyeuristic window on other peoples suffering? By the way, my Kid has an alternate title for TBL which is "Fat People Crying".
My little blog may incite voyeurism from someone if anyone actually takes the time to read it. And I would admit that I may be calling attention to the ubiquitous nature of modern voyeurism to excuse the same in my own tiny corner of the blog world. It is like hiding a little tree in a damn big forest, it works really well.
So I am going to let this one go. Today I listened to Son Volt instead of All Things Considered and I think that maybe, just maybe, I was a little more calm on the drive home. I am still sure that They are up to something and if I am not constantly vigilant the Evil-Doers will get away with it but I suppose it is a risk I will have to take. Again. Tomorrow.
You may ask what in THE hell this has to do with Butt Paint? Well, The Kid and I decided that it would be fun to find some sort of metallic based novelty makeup with which to write messages on our body parts so that when we get the full body scan we could also send the printed word to the viewing TSA operatives. In all probability the TSA folks would not view such activities in the spirit intended and yank us from the scanner to pat down our junk, but that is a risk we are willing to take. Or so we say. The messages could range from the simple, such as an arrow on the belly pointing down with "Junk" written above it or something more political such as "Why the Hell aren't you scanning all of the checked luggage where someone is much more likely to put a freakin' bomb you silly bureaucrats" although we will need to write fairly neatly to get that all legibly on one body part.
Voyeurs The suggestion was made to me that the act of reading about another person's struggle with obsessive behavior turns those persons from readers into voyeurs. I cannot argue that this suggestion is without truth. Yet if we look at the Web, reality TV, YouTube or Facebook, what else do we find but opportunities for voyeurism. What is "The Biggest Loser", besides a tragedy, if not an enormous voyeuristic window on other peoples suffering? By the way, my Kid has an alternate title for TBL which is "Fat People Crying".
My little blog may incite voyeurism from someone if anyone actually takes the time to read it. And I would admit that I may be calling attention to the ubiquitous nature of modern voyeurism to excuse the same in my own tiny corner of the blog world. It is like hiding a little tree in a damn big forest, it works really well.
So I am going to let this one go. Today I listened to Son Volt instead of All Things Considered and I think that maybe, just maybe, I was a little more calm on the drive home. I am still sure that They are up to something and if I am not constantly vigilant the Evil-Doers will get away with it but I suppose it is a risk I will have to take. Again. Tomorrow.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Day #5 Questions, Questions
Grumpy Me Another day without news and I am still amongst the ambulatory, albeit somewhat grumpy, humans. What else is having a forty odd minute commute good for if not to listen to the thoughtful news and analysis of NPR. You will never realize just how sexy Cokie Roberts is until she isn't there anymore. And I don't want to even think of how much I miss the sound of Sylvia Pugoli's voice purring about labor unrest in Europe.
No matter my desire, today I maintained my news boycott with only the slightest grumbling. Happier? Well, the jury has a long bus ride ahead of itself over that question.
Questions Given the basic parameters of this experiment (will yours truly be more or less happy than at present after a year of no news? You remember, right?) one would think that the questions asked would be along the lines of "How are you going to avoid billboards?" or "What if the news is on in a waiting room?" Well, you would be wrong, a condition I am not unaccustomed to.
One of the big questions is "Doesn't the blog about not watching the news take the place of the obsession of watching the news?" While it is no secret that I do have a teeny problem with obsessive behavior, I can proudly say that the persons asking me this question greatly under-estimate the power of my news watching, reading and listening ability. The same people have obviously not read my blog posts. This little blog is not even in the same league for total expended durations by comparison.
On a typical news day, I would read the paper whilst eating breakfast, accounting for at least a half an hour. Commuting to work with the radio was a minimum of forty minutes of news. Not counting news updates on the web during the day, there was a journal of something at lunch time and ATC on the way home. That is forty more minutes plus lunch. Once home, there was the News Hour with Jim or Gwen and a half hour of the local news if I could stand the commercials. (Yes, yes, I already admitted to being a snob in a previous post). Adding up the main chunks, not counting the updates and links and bits from Facebook sent by news friends, that's a baseline of 230 minutes per day. That is 3.8333333 hours out of the 86,400 SI seconds each day is composed of. Of my waking and sleeping hours, I was spending 15.97 % boning up on current events and the odd feel-good human interest story.
As any discerning reader can see, I do not spend anywhere near that amount of time writing this blog. Of course if you were a discerning reader, you wouldn't be here, would you? Ha! So the answer to those of you who have expressed concern over obsession transference is "No, the blog has not taken the place of the news, thank you very much." Pity.
Tomorrow: The next pervasive question: Readers versus Voyeurs.
No matter my desire, today I maintained my news boycott with only the slightest grumbling. Happier? Well, the jury has a long bus ride ahead of itself over that question.
Questions Given the basic parameters of this experiment (will yours truly be more or less happy than at present after a year of no news? You remember, right?) one would think that the questions asked would be along the lines of "How are you going to avoid billboards?" or "What if the news is on in a waiting room?" Well, you would be wrong, a condition I am not unaccustomed to.
One of the big questions is "Doesn't the blog about not watching the news take the place of the obsession of watching the news?" While it is no secret that I do have a teeny problem with obsessive behavior, I can proudly say that the persons asking me this question greatly under-estimate the power of my news watching, reading and listening ability. The same people have obviously not read my blog posts. This little blog is not even in the same league for total expended durations by comparison.
On a typical news day, I would read the paper whilst eating breakfast, accounting for at least a half an hour. Commuting to work with the radio was a minimum of forty minutes of news. Not counting news updates on the web during the day, there was a journal of something at lunch time and ATC on the way home. That is forty more minutes plus lunch. Once home, there was the News Hour with Jim or Gwen and a half hour of the local news if I could stand the commercials. (Yes, yes, I already admitted to being a snob in a previous post). Adding up the main chunks, not counting the updates and links and bits from Facebook sent by news friends, that's a baseline of 230 minutes per day. That is 3.8333333 hours out of the 86,400 SI seconds each day is composed of. Of my waking and sleeping hours, I was spending 15.97 % boning up on current events and the odd feel-good human interest story.
As any discerning reader can see, I do not spend anywhere near that amount of time writing this blog. Of course if you were a discerning reader, you wouldn't be here, would you? Ha! So the answer to those of you who have expressed concern over obsession transference is "No, the blog has not taken the place of the news, thank you very much." Pity.
Tomorrow: The next pervasive question: Readers versus Voyeurs.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Day #4 The Cheater News Card
So, great, I did not fill the hours of my day keeping up on what the ruling junta in Myanmar is doing or whether the worlds leaders have come to any new agreements on global warming. No I did not. I raked leaves. Because hey, big news flash, there was a dandy little wind storm last night and the stupid leaves were everywhere. Instead of parking the truck after work and heading up the stairs for a cuppa and The News Hour with all of my unbiased and fair-minded peeps, I went straight to the store room, got the rake and broom, and proceeded to scoop and stuff leaves, in the dark mind you, until the yard waste bin was fuller than full.
Coping and avoidance through manual labor. Years ago I stayed clean on the endorphin plan until eventually a better idea came along. Leaf raking, hours in the gym, whatever. Same thing. There aren't any televisions out there by the leaf piles.
Yesterday, while waiting for that perfect little plate of noodles to come down the conveyor belt, a friend of mine was giving me a coping tip for dealing with the symptoms of news withdrawal. His idea is that there is really very little difference between the news yesterday and the news today, so I really wasn't missing much. It goes like this: the Evil-Doers are out to do evil and those who oppose the Evil-Doers are out to stop them. Every day we get in-depth reports on the status of the Evil-Doers and the resistance to same.
The handy part of the Good/Evil tension is that the roles are interchangeable and can be ideas just as easily as people or things. Or marauding insects. If one is a right-wing conservative, the Evil Liberals are despoiling the nation and must be stopped. If one is a centrist (are there any?) the Evil Fringes are tearing us apart and if, lord help you, one claims to be a liberal, well then you are truly evil and need to be sent to a re-education camp for a very long time. Fortunately there are the Opposers of Evil who will oblige whatever perceived Evil needs opposing just like there are Good Scientists working against the Bad New Bug.
Based on the concept of an ever-revolving cast of Good/Evil players the idea for a cheater card to help with news withdrawal wasn't much of a stretch. All that was needed was a blank 3x5 card and a pen. On one side of the card I have printed the following: "Today, Evil Doers will try to do Evil and they will be Opposed." This is the morning side of the card and gives me an good glimpse of what will happen today in the world. On the other side of the card I have printed: "Today, Evil Doers tried to do Evil and they were Opposed." Did you note the clever use of present and past tense and the conservation of resources afforded by the use of both sides of the same piece of paper? That cleverness is a direct result of having extra time on my hands because I am not using it watching too much news. It also a result of me stealing my friend's idea. So there is one side for the morning, one side for the evening, a quick read and Robert is you Mother's Brother.
And that is quite sufficient for the day as we would not want the blog about the obsession to become the new obsession, would we? No we would not.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Day #3 Is it all self-indulgence?
I would like to be writing about how much richer my day has been because of how creatively I have filled the time I would have otherwise been spending on watching or listening to or reading the news. I can say truthfully that I did not engage in news-gathering today and that my time was spent well, aside from some mundane working for a living.
Today, what over-shadows my small, personal, struggle with obsessive news gathering are questions about whether this entire experiment is an exercise in self-indulgence. The issue of the indulgent nature of this blog has been raised by several people whom I hold in high esteem. Okay, one of the people who used the "I" word is a total maniac, but I love him like a brother so I can't just ignore him.
So while I should be wrestling with the issues of News-Withdrawal, I am forced to come to terms with the nature of self-indulgence and blogging. I have to agree that any personal blog, by its very nature, runs the risk of being self-indulgent or narcissistic. Does anyone really care about someone else's travels or struggles and is the very act of making those travels or struggles public self-indulgence? In the pre-blogosphere past, many people kept journals or corresponded with other people and sometimes those journals or letters were saved. If those persons later became famous, their journals or letters would be collected and published to the delight of historians and sometimes the reading public as well. If the journals or correspondence or memoir (what is more indulgent than a memoir?) were interesting enough, or informative enough, or shocking enough, then we the readers tended to forgive much.
I see a blog as being a journal or collection of thoughts that is made public on the web. The personal thoughts and feelings, insights or lack thereof, are cast out in a public forum. If the contents of a blog are funny or insightful or thoughtful or entertaining on a consistent enough basis, that blog will be discovered, read and then recommended to others. If not it will just be more chaff on the web.
If I can write about my news withdrawal with humour or insight, or hold a reader's interest for a few minutes, perhaps I can avoid the inherent trap of self-indulgence. I certainly do no think today's post will qualify, however. I received other comments and feedback today which were positive or supportive but I have spent the bulk of this post walking dangerously close to defensiveness.
It is only day three of my little experiment. This process is important to me and I am trying to be scrupulously honest about it. I hope that the people who take the time out of their busy days to read this, if anyone does, find something in it that is worthwhile. Should my little blog about my news-withdrawal prove to be without value or humour or insight, I know that I will hear about it in short order.
At any rate, I have made it through the day without the news and the world seems to have made it through the day without my guidance or oversight. And now I have reading to do and music to play and tomorrow is another day.
Today, what over-shadows my small, personal, struggle with obsessive news gathering are questions about whether this entire experiment is an exercise in self-indulgence. The issue of the indulgent nature of this blog has been raised by several people whom I hold in high esteem. Okay, one of the people who used the "I" word is a total maniac, but I love him like a brother so I can't just ignore him.
So while I should be wrestling with the issues of News-Withdrawal, I am forced to come to terms with the nature of self-indulgence and blogging. I have to agree that any personal blog, by its very nature, runs the risk of being self-indulgent or narcissistic. Does anyone really care about someone else's travels or struggles and is the very act of making those travels or struggles public self-indulgence? In the pre-blogosphere past, many people kept journals or corresponded with other people and sometimes those journals or letters were saved. If those persons later became famous, their journals or letters would be collected and published to the delight of historians and sometimes the reading public as well. If the journals or correspondence or memoir (what is more indulgent than a memoir?) were interesting enough, or informative enough, or shocking enough, then we the readers tended to forgive much.
I see a blog as being a journal or collection of thoughts that is made public on the web. The personal thoughts and feelings, insights or lack thereof, are cast out in a public forum. If the contents of a blog are funny or insightful or thoughtful or entertaining on a consistent enough basis, that blog will be discovered, read and then recommended to others. If not it will just be more chaff on the web.
If I can write about my news withdrawal with humour or insight, or hold a reader's interest for a few minutes, perhaps I can avoid the inherent trap of self-indulgence. I certainly do no think today's post will qualify, however. I received other comments and feedback today which were positive or supportive but I have spent the bulk of this post walking dangerously close to defensiveness.
It is only day three of my little experiment. This process is important to me and I am trying to be scrupulously honest about it. I hope that the people who take the time out of their busy days to read this, if anyone does, find something in it that is worthwhile. Should my little blog about my news-withdrawal prove to be without value or humour or insight, I know that I will hear about it in short order.
At any rate, I have made it through the day without the news and the world seems to have made it through the day without my guidance or oversight. And now I have reading to do and music to play and tomorrow is another day.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Day #2 Finding Common Ground
Before anyone else posts a comment pointing this out, I have to note that there is at least one other person who has a blog that is very similar to mine, dealing with a year of no news. So my idea is not an original one, not that I thought it was, but in fairness I did think of the idea on my own and only found out about the other blog after I had started mine. So there, I said it first.
Sundays are never my biggest news day so getting through this day without resorting to serious updates on current events was not the greatest feat. I was up early to head to my shop so the Sunday paper stayed where it was on the threshold, waiting for other eyes.
Later in the morning I was joined in my shop by my friend, TD, so working on bikes came to a halt and smoking cigars came to the fore. During the course of the conversation I told TD about my attempting to suffer withdrawal from news media and about the beginning of this blog. Before I could launch into a detailed explanation, my friend got the bit in his teeth and described himself as a lifelong news junkie, doing an admirable job of paraphrasing my first blog post and then went on to say that he was wrestling with the exact same issues. He concluded that maybe he would "join me" in a news boycott.
I am definitely not trying to get other people to join me or to start any sort of a movement, even if I thought I could. OK, OK, if I could get a million people to boycott Fox (faux) News I would. Hey, I am a recovering news junkie. Some of that sort of babble is going to burble out every once in awhile.
Now that I have gotten that off my chest, I have to say that it was interesting to find common ground with the first close friend I mentioned this experiment to.
Sixty Minutes is about to air on the tube. I think I will go see "Despicable Me" instead.
Sundays are never my biggest news day so getting through this day without resorting to serious updates on current events was not the greatest feat. I was up early to head to my shop so the Sunday paper stayed where it was on the threshold, waiting for other eyes.
Later in the morning I was joined in my shop by my friend, TD, so working on bikes came to a halt and smoking cigars came to the fore. During the course of the conversation I told TD about my attempting to suffer withdrawal from news media and about the beginning of this blog. Before I could launch into a detailed explanation, my friend got the bit in his teeth and described himself as a lifelong news junkie, doing an admirable job of paraphrasing my first blog post and then went on to say that he was wrestling with the exact same issues. He concluded that maybe he would "join me" in a news boycott.
I am definitely not trying to get other people to join me or to start any sort of a movement, even if I thought I could. OK, OK, if I could get a million people to boycott Fox (faux) News I would. Hey, I am a recovering news junkie. Some of that sort of babble is going to burble out every once in awhile.
Now that I have gotten that off my chest, I have to say that it was interesting to find common ground with the first close friend I mentioned this experiment to.
Sixty Minutes is about to air on the tube. I think I will go see "Despicable Me" instead.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Starting my first Blog - News-Junkie goes Cold Turkey
This is the first post in my first blog. Why start blogging now at age 52? Mid-life crisis or some other banal aging issue? I hope not.
The actual reason I decided to start a blog is this: I am a news junkie. Always have been, since I was a kid. Even in my heavy partying days gone by, hung over as a dog, I would read at least one local paper, often the New York Times or some other paper as well as hitting NPR for All Things Considered on the radio. When I have had access to a TV (like now) I watched PBS News Hour and whatever talking head local news did not make me puke. News snob? You bet.
Besides gleaning the National and Local news from these sources, I tried to keep up on the local scene through "alt" weeklies like The Stranger and (less often) The Seattle Weekly. I guess the Seattle Weekly long since stopped being "alt" when the yuppies took over. Hell, I still remember some of my favorite movie reviews by Jim Emerson in the Rocket. Nobody panned a flick like Jim. Bless 'im wherever he is.
But now, all that has changed. That's right, I am taking a year off from the news media. The two obvious questions for me (and anyone bored enough to read this) are:
1) Why no news?
2) What does that mean?
Why no news? I work in an small office populated mostly with very conservative right wing folks. And as they say on Sesame Street: "One of these things just doesn't belong here". Not only is "Liberal" not a bad word to me I embrace the appellation even though I am a good bit left of that. So. Another day of over-hearing my boss complaining about President Obama, trying to foist off his inherited fear-mongering agenda on whomever is on the other end of the phone (hey, he's old and he shouts into the phone, I can't help but hear him so there) and I notice that I am getting angry. Again. Now my boss and I have had our discussions and we have found some common political ground and we are pretty genial about the whole thing, but my reaction to his side of a phone conversation that was not meant for me made me angry. Why? Its his right to pretty much say whatever he wants to whomever he is having a conversation with. So why the anger.
The more I thought about this, the more I contemplated the involvement I have in politics and civil affairs, and the more I had to ask myself: does this make me happy? And the answer to that question is no, it does not. I can tell you what cases the next Supreme Court session will hear and the bearing those court decisions may hold for the our country and I can tell you that wheat rust fungus is a growing problem that may effect the world's grain supplies and lots more vitally important information that may have a direct impact in your life or my life. But can I honestly tell you that the possession of that information makes me a happier person? No I cannot.
This is a conflict for me because like lots of people, I profess to desiring happiness. And I am a news junkie. So I have decided to do an experiment. I am going to go one year without seeking out current events information from newspapers or printed news, radio, television or the internet. There is no election pending that I have to keep up on and lord knows no election could get by without my participation (yes Mom, I am still going to vote) so we are all safe there. The foolishness in Washington and the rest of the world will just have to go one without me. No news for a year. Maybe after I uncurl from the tightly cramped fetal position I will no doubt be stuck in for a while I will be happier. Maybe I will just be uninformed. I don't know.
But here goes.
What does that mean? There is no good fast without good fasting rules so here are the rules that I am going to abide by. I am not going to read the paper. I am not going to listen to news on the radio. I am not going to read news on the internet or world wide web. I m not going to watch the news on television. News that comes to me on a personal level from friends or even people I meet on the street is going to be an acceptable form of information. That is the watershed that I am setting up: if I acquire news from direct contact with another human being, or a really smart dog or cat I suppose, I am not going to run away whilst humming with fingers in both ears so as not to hear them. I will listen to them. But I am not going to try incessantly questioning my friends and neighbors for tidbits of news. OK, I might for the first few days but let's hope not.
You might rightly ask what the criteria for judging the outcome of this experiment will be and I have to answer that I really don't know. But I have a year to find out.
The actual reason I decided to start a blog is this: I am a news junkie. Always have been, since I was a kid. Even in my heavy partying days gone by, hung over as a dog, I would read at least one local paper, often the New York Times or some other paper as well as hitting NPR for All Things Considered on the radio. When I have had access to a TV (like now) I watched PBS News Hour and whatever talking head local news did not make me puke. News snob? You bet.
Besides gleaning the National and Local news from these sources, I tried to keep up on the local scene through "alt" weeklies like The Stranger and (less often) The Seattle Weekly. I guess the Seattle Weekly long since stopped being "alt" when the yuppies took over. Hell, I still remember some of my favorite movie reviews by Jim Emerson in the Rocket. Nobody panned a flick like Jim. Bless 'im wherever he is.
But now, all that has changed. That's right, I am taking a year off from the news media. The two obvious questions for me (and anyone bored enough to read this) are:
1) Why no news?
2) What does that mean?
Why no news? I work in an small office populated mostly with very conservative right wing folks. And as they say on Sesame Street: "One of these things just doesn't belong here". Not only is "Liberal" not a bad word to me I embrace the appellation even though I am a good bit left of that. So. Another day of over-hearing my boss complaining about President Obama, trying to foist off his inherited fear-mongering agenda on whomever is on the other end of the phone (hey, he's old and he shouts into the phone, I can't help but hear him so there) and I notice that I am getting angry. Again. Now my boss and I have had our discussions and we have found some common political ground and we are pretty genial about the whole thing, but my reaction to his side of a phone conversation that was not meant for me made me angry. Why? Its his right to pretty much say whatever he wants to whomever he is having a conversation with. So why the anger.
The more I thought about this, the more I contemplated the involvement I have in politics and civil affairs, and the more I had to ask myself: does this make me happy? And the answer to that question is no, it does not. I can tell you what cases the next Supreme Court session will hear and the bearing those court decisions may hold for the our country and I can tell you that wheat rust fungus is a growing problem that may effect the world's grain supplies and lots more vitally important information that may have a direct impact in your life or my life. But can I honestly tell you that the possession of that information makes me a happier person? No I cannot.
This is a conflict for me because like lots of people, I profess to desiring happiness. And I am a news junkie. So I have decided to do an experiment. I am going to go one year without seeking out current events information from newspapers or printed news, radio, television or the internet. There is no election pending that I have to keep up on and lord knows no election could get by without my participation (yes Mom, I am still going to vote) so we are all safe there. The foolishness in Washington and the rest of the world will just have to go one without me. No news for a year. Maybe after I uncurl from the tightly cramped fetal position I will no doubt be stuck in for a while I will be happier. Maybe I will just be uninformed. I don't know.
But here goes.
What does that mean? There is no good fast without good fasting rules so here are the rules that I am going to abide by. I am not going to read the paper. I am not going to listen to news on the radio. I am not going to read news on the internet or world wide web. I m not going to watch the news on television. News that comes to me on a personal level from friends or even people I meet on the street is going to be an acceptable form of information. That is the watershed that I am setting up: if I acquire news from direct contact with another human being, or a really smart dog or cat I suppose, I am not going to run away whilst humming with fingers in both ears so as not to hear them. I will listen to them. But I am not going to try incessantly questioning my friends and neighbors for tidbits of news. OK, I might for the first few days but let's hope not.
You might rightly ask what the criteria for judging the outcome of this experiment will be and I have to answer that I really don't know. But I have a year to find out.
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