Yea. And spend too much money on it. And it makes me happy that I live in 2007, because, well, I love technology, and I wouldn't have wanted to miss any of this.
Disclosure: My birthday is next Sunday.
Further Disclosure: I will be 52.
Full Disclosure: Even though I'm old, I'm on Facebook.
I've had arguments--discussions, anyway--about why some people embrace technology and some don't. Some old, and some young.
I think it's a function of personality and interest. And sometimes, need. (Those arguing think it's because somebody's old--showing their prejudice, in my opinion.)
People who are scared of learning, people who don't like change, people who aren't confident--those folks, those "older" folks--are the ones saying, "I hate computers." They don't have one, they might not even have cable or a cell phone, and they don't want to hear about what they're missing.
Other older folks, like my dad (84), can't get enough. He went out and box an Xbox a couple months ago and was frustrated because one...ONE...of his computers was not showing up on its network list. (Oh, yea, he has three computers: one for my mom (mostly games), a media computer (like a DVR) and his working computer.)
Sometimes it's need that drives people to computers--an illness, a need to research a business, or wanting to communicate with family members. And sometimes they learn just what they need to to get by, and sometimes they go crazy (often when they discover eBay).
I will admit, kids who have grown up with all this technology in place--no learning curve. Their brains are wired and trained, starting with their babyhood LeapPads.
You know what I bought last week? I love this little thing. It's a ionizer that plugs in to a USB port! It makes me feel GREAT!
Oh and guess what! I can get a new cell in December! I'm goin' to Verizon and check out all the new models.
Okay, so I'm a pathetic Gen-X wanna be baby boomer. That's why it so great to be old! I don't give a rip what anyone thinks!
Well, except you. Because we're thinkers. And I want to know: What little tech gadget are you wantin'? And how much time are you spendin' on Facebook?
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
About The Last King of Scotland
No more baseball 'til March. I know the months will fly.
So that meant it was Monday Night Football on TV last night, and the Brett Favre love fest--er, sorry, the Packers/Broncos game--just failed to capture my interest.
(Although, the almost manic hype of the upcoming Colts/Patriots game was mildly interesting, if only because 1) we are Colts fans, and 2) as an example of how sports media can make a plain, old, regular-season football game [as Tony Dungy calmly, and rightly, pointed out] can become the apocalypse of the season. Until the next big game.)
So I grabbed the Blockbuster DVD that had been sitting on a shelf for way too many weeks (part of my online membership, it wasn't late!) and threw it in the laptop and put my headphones on.
I rarely manage to see all the Oscar movies BEFORE the Oscars, but I try to see them at some point...and you can see how long that takes me.
I knew The Last King of Scotland contained Forest Whitaker's Academy Award-winning performance, and I also knew it contained, as the warnings say, "gruesome violence." So I should have known better than to watch it just before bed.
Oh well--thank God for the fast-forward feature.
It was really, really well done. I loved the scenes that set the atmosphere of Uganda--the people, the music, the stunning country.
And Whitaker was excellent--his physical resemblance to Amin striking, too.
The actor who played the Scottish doctor gave an excellence performance; his character, however, is terribly flawed (as flawed as Amin?) -- he just makes one weak moral mistake after the other. And, just talking movie-wise for a minute, it was pretty dang obvious that nothing good was going to come of sleeping with the dictator's wife. That's just never a good idea.
I did a little research to discover what parts of the movie were real and what parts made up--Wikipedia tells about that in its entry on the novel, here»
Unfortunately, the worst parts are not made up. 300,000 died in Uganda under Amin's regime.
So I went to bed and I woke up thinkin': How do we save the world from despots?
So that meant it was Monday Night Football on TV last night, and the Brett Favre love fest--er, sorry, the Packers/Broncos game--just failed to capture my interest.
(Although, the almost manic hype of the upcoming Colts/Patriots game was mildly interesting, if only because 1) we are Colts fans, and 2) as an example of how sports media can make a plain, old, regular-season football game [as Tony Dungy calmly, and rightly, pointed out] can become the apocalypse of the season. Until the next big game.)
So I grabbed the Blockbuster DVD that had been sitting on a shelf for way too many weeks (part of my online membership, it wasn't late!) and threw it in the laptop and put my headphones on.
I rarely manage to see all the Oscar movies BEFORE the Oscars, but I try to see them at some point...and you can see how long that takes me.
I knew The Last King of Scotland contained Forest Whitaker's Academy Award-winning performance, and I also knew it contained, as the warnings say, "gruesome violence." So I should have known better than to watch it just before bed.
Oh well--thank God for the fast-forward feature.
It was really, really well done. I loved the scenes that set the atmosphere of Uganda--the people, the music, the stunning country.
And Whitaker was excellent--his physical resemblance to Amin striking, too.
The actor who played the Scottish doctor gave an excellence performance; his character, however, is terribly flawed (as flawed as Amin?) -- he just makes one weak moral mistake after the other. And, just talking movie-wise for a minute, it was pretty dang obvious that nothing good was going to come of sleeping with the dictator's wife. That's just never a good idea.
I did a little research to discover what parts of the movie were real and what parts made up--Wikipedia tells about that in its entry on the novel, here»
Unfortunately, the worst parts are not made up. 300,000 died in Uganda under Amin's regime.
So I went to bed and I woke up thinkin': How do we save the world from despots?
Monday, October 29, 2007
About politics
Hell of a way to wake up on a Monday morning, huh?
Indiana is not exactly a hotbed of presidential activity--no visits, no fundraising, no analysis of "what way the Hoosiers might go." So consequently, one feels as if one is watching an election happening in another country, not one's one. Kind of disconnected.
I used an online tool a week or so ago that let you answer a few questions on the issues, then it spit out the candidate you matched most closely. My political twin? Chris Dodd.
I had to go look him up. Didn't even know he was a senator from Connecticut. My bad. I need to listen to NPR harder in the mornings.
Locally, it's more fun, and more interesting. The mayoral race has been one of those juicy contests with a Republican primary upset, a new-kid-on-the-block campaign Republican vs. a veteran, experienced council member, a potential felony conviction, and then of course the cake controversy.
All politics is local, excerpt for presidential contests in Indiana, when we might as well be on Mars.
Well, what are you thinkin'? How many more debates can we stand?
Indiana is not exactly a hotbed of presidential activity--no visits, no fundraising, no analysis of "what way the Hoosiers might go." So consequently, one feels as if one is watching an election happening in another country, not one's one. Kind of disconnected.
I used an online tool a week or so ago that let you answer a few questions on the issues, then it spit out the candidate you matched most closely. My political twin? Chris Dodd.
I had to go look him up. Didn't even know he was a senator from Connecticut. My bad. I need to listen to NPR harder in the mornings.
Locally, it's more fun, and more interesting. The mayoral race has been one of those juicy contests with a Republican primary upset, a new-kid-on-the-block campaign Republican vs. a veteran, experienced council member, a potential felony conviction, and then of course the cake controversy.
All politics is local, excerpt for presidential contests in Indiana, when we might as well be on Mars.
Well, what are you thinkin'? How many more debates can we stand?
Sunday, October 28, 2007
About the new Sunday Survey!
Here's your chance to weigh in! We were talking this morning about how the Red Sox have ended up being the team on the hot streak--NOT the Rockies, whose hotness seems to have faded with their eight-day layoff. I said I thought the Sox dominance over the Rockies should make the Indians feel better; others weighed in that it would make them feel worse, since the Tribe was within a game of ending their series.
Well, what do you think? Who's feelin' less love? Tribe or Rox?
Well, what do you think? Who's feelin' less love? Tribe or Rox?
Friday, October 26, 2007
About how to help people
How to help fire victims - Los Angeles Times: "Charitable groups responding to the Southern California wildfires are seeking donations to assist residents affected by the disaster."
Well, the other day I posted a picture to my other blog of a sunset on our street. I described it as "the sky being on fire."
But of course sky was not on fire--it was red and orange and beautiful, but it was just clouds and sun. Not fire.
In California--well, there the sky was really on fire. And the earth.
So take a minute to click over to the LA Times site--you'll find links to organizations you can help.
Well, it's Saturday. Start givin', start livin' and quit surfin'.
Well, the other day I posted a picture to my other blog of a sunset on our street. I described it as "the sky being on fire."
But of course sky was not on fire--it was red and orange and beautiful, but it was just clouds and sun. Not fire.
In California--well, there the sky was really on fire. And the earth.
So take a minute to click over to the LA Times site--you'll find links to organizations you can help.
Well, it's Saturday. Start givin', start livin' and quit surfin'.
About fittin' my feet in your shoes
Since Taylor learned to talk a month or so ago, she's been easier to get along with. She was one frustrated human being there for awhile. As I would watch her try to communicate before her verbal skills caught up with her cognitive ability, I'd think of stroke patients, who, I think, have the same problems. As frustrated as a two-year-old gets, it was easy to see how hard it must be to learn to talk all over again for a grownup.
Sometimes, still, when she is tired especially, her emotions win out. Like last night, when she was wailing inconsolably, and no one could figure out just what she wanted, or was mad about. And she worked herself up so much that she lost that new ability she has to communicate.
Snack? we asked.
Wahhh! she said.
Drink? we offered, holding out her sippy cup.
Wahhh! she said.
I tried to sit down with her and calm her down.
Upppp! she cried.
What!? we asked.
Wahhh! she said.
Well, as normal household chaos ensued, stuff was happening, and people/kids coming in and out, and she started to get distracted, and then she decided, yes, she did want her drink, and little by little she came around, and in about 10 minutes, was ready to resume life as a functioning human being.
In another situation, I think I would have just set her down in a quiet chair, and let her calm herself down. Because ultimately, it's what she needed to do.
I thought about when her mom was around one or so, and teething with one-year molars. I happened to be teething at the same time...with wisdom teeth. It itched...and bothered me...and helped me understand a little of why the baby was cranky, or drooling (I managed not to drool), or chewing on stuff all the time. Because I felt like that too (as I said, except the drool).
My gramma was 101 when she passed away in 1993. Her mind was still sharp and her blue eyes bright. But it was so, so easy to look at her and see the little girl she once was--she had the vulnerablity that the very young, and very old, and very sick share.
We're hard on each other, aren't we? We want the baby not to cry, the parent not to get old, the hurt to go away. And it's hard to cram our feet into that other set of shoes, to walk even a half-mile, much less a mile, and sample what they might be going through.
Well, about you? Can you put that other set of shoes on, and walk a bit?
Sometimes, still, when she is tired especially, her emotions win out. Like last night, when she was wailing inconsolably, and no one could figure out just what she wanted, or was mad about. And she worked herself up so much that she lost that new ability she has to communicate.
Snack? we asked.
Wahhh! she said.
Drink? we offered, holding out her sippy cup.
Wahhh! she said.
I tried to sit down with her and calm her down.
Upppp! she cried.
What!? we asked.
Wahhh! she said.
Well, as normal household chaos ensued, stuff was happening, and people/kids coming in and out, and she started to get distracted, and then she decided, yes, she did want her drink, and little by little she came around, and in about 10 minutes, was ready to resume life as a functioning human being.
In another situation, I think I would have just set her down in a quiet chair, and let her calm herself down. Because ultimately, it's what she needed to do.
I thought about when her mom was around one or so, and teething with one-year molars. I happened to be teething at the same time...with wisdom teeth. It itched...and bothered me...and helped me understand a little of why the baby was cranky, or drooling (I managed not to drool), or chewing on stuff all the time. Because I felt like that too (as I said, except the drool).
My gramma was 101 when she passed away in 1993. Her mind was still sharp and her blue eyes bright. But it was so, so easy to look at her and see the little girl she once was--she had the vulnerablity that the very young, and very old, and very sick share.
We're hard on each other, aren't we? We want the baby not to cry, the parent not to get old, the hurt to go away. And it's hard to cram our feet into that other set of shoes, to walk even a half-mile, much less a mile, and sample what they might be going through.
Well, about you? Can you put that other set of shoes on, and walk a bit?
Thursday, October 25, 2007
About the nature of weddings
My friend had good news last week. Her son is engaged! And since she is the mother of the groom, she assumed all she had to do was write checks for the next year.
Au contraire, I told her. It's not just writing checks.
Yes it is, she said. I'm staying out of it.
You think, I said. You're forgetting what a wedding really is.
It's talking.
And talking.
And talking.
I'm staying out of it, she repeated.
You'll see, I said.
So, of course, the first thing that happened yesterday was, her son called. And called. And left messages. And desperately needed her help to write a letter last night -- it just couldn't wait! -- to the prospective church.
The conversations have begun.
Weddings are one long decision-making process. And of course some families are bigger talkers than others (and better decision-makers), but still -- it's a rare bunch that doesn't end up thrashing around SOMETHING ad nauseam, whether it's do we get married in his church or my church? or should the bridesmaids wear black or chartreuse? or should we have chicken or beef at the reception? to do we really have to invite Aunt Ethel? Because she's really annoying.
To say nothing of the really dicey stuff, like who's paying for the reception, and do we pay for the booze or have a cash bar?
Oh, weddings are plenty stressful and tends to bring out the best (Yes, of course Aunt Ethel should come. We love her.) to the worse (see any episode of Bridezilla) of folks.
And if you're planning a wedding this year, I have just one bit of advice for you: if in doubt, go classic. If you need convinced, email me, and I will show you my '70s wedding pictures. Those baby blue tuxes still glow in the 30+ year old pictures. I look damn good, though. Wish I'd have put my hair up, though....
Well, how 'bout you? What wedding conversation do you remember?
Au contraire, I told her. It's not just writing checks.
Yes it is, she said. I'm staying out of it.
You think, I said. You're forgetting what a wedding really is.
It's talking.
And talking.
And talking.
I'm staying out of it, she repeated.
You'll see, I said.
So, of course, the first thing that happened yesterday was, her son called. And called. And left messages. And desperately needed her help to write a letter last night -- it just couldn't wait! -- to the prospective church.
The conversations have begun.
Weddings are one long decision-making process. And of course some families are bigger talkers than others (and better decision-makers), but still -- it's a rare bunch that doesn't end up thrashing around SOMETHING ad nauseam, whether it's do we get married in his church or my church? or should the bridesmaids wear black or chartreuse? or should we have chicken or beef at the reception? to do we really have to invite Aunt Ethel? Because she's really annoying.
To say nothing of the really dicey stuff, like who's paying for the reception, and do we pay for the booze or have a cash bar?
Oh, weddings are plenty stressful and tends to bring out the best (Yes, of course Aunt Ethel should come. We love her.) to the worse (see any episode of Bridezilla) of folks.
And if you're planning a wedding this year, I have just one bit of advice for you: if in doubt, go classic. If you need convinced, email me, and I will show you my '70s wedding pictures. Those baby blue tuxes still glow in the 30+ year old pictures. I look damn good, though. Wish I'd have put my hair up, though....
Well, how 'bout you? What wedding conversation do you remember?
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