My iPhone now has an and application that allows me to post whenever and wherever I want to. I am thinking that this will be a good thing. In addition it has a vocal recognition program. Therefore this is a test. I want to see if I can post easily using that vocal recognition program.
All but the first sentence of this post was done using the vocal recognition software. It took me less than two minutes to dictate and correct this post. Cool beans.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Mulligan
The following was generated as a response to a question about whether I should of remained single given the challenges I often depict with my children in this blog.
In responding to my post you ask if I would get married again, if I had a mulligan. The real answer is I don’t know. In my life I have made choices, some good but many poor. But they all add up to make me what I am today. Could I improve on who I am, yes I think so. Am I trying to improve on who I am, yes every single day. Would marriage make the difference between being something better and what I am, I doubt it.
The God’s honest truth is that I need a person in my life to balance my excesses out. Without a significant other I would be a raging alcoholic, perhaps a drug fiend. Without children I would have no compassion for those burdened by life. I am not saying my children are a burden, I am saying they make me think outside myself. The dispassionate perspective of another’s needs, of caring for their growth can really show itself in a parenting setting. It can occur in other relationships but for me parenting has been the catalyst.
If I had it to do all over again I would have exercised more intellectual rigor in each and every subject I undertook to study. Hell, I would have exercised more and taken better care of my body. If I had it to do all over again I would have been the archival tech as opposed to the liquor store assistant manager. If I had it to do all over again I would have slept around a great deal more just to have memories of their hearts and passion . If I had it to do all over again I would have lived by the maxim if it ain’t scary you aren’t going fast enough.
Ah if I had a mulligan that is where I would be, living with compassionate open hearted intensity driving fast to the next best future somewhere. Chances are I would be with someone on that journey a wife or a lover but they would be there because they too wanted that particular journey.
You know what where I am is okay, I am comfortable in my skin. It is frustrating, it is challenging, but I am who I am and we don't get mulligans. Be here, be now.
In responding to my post you ask if I would get married again, if I had a mulligan. The real answer is I don’t know. In my life I have made choices, some good but many poor. But they all add up to make me what I am today. Could I improve on who I am, yes I think so. Am I trying to improve on who I am, yes every single day. Would marriage make the difference between being something better and what I am, I doubt it.
The God’s honest truth is that I need a person in my life to balance my excesses out. Without a significant other I would be a raging alcoholic, perhaps a drug fiend. Without children I would have no compassion for those burdened by life. I am not saying my children are a burden, I am saying they make me think outside myself. The dispassionate perspective of another’s needs, of caring for their growth can really show itself in a parenting setting. It can occur in other relationships but for me parenting has been the catalyst.
If I had it to do all over again I would have exercised more intellectual rigor in each and every subject I undertook to study. Hell, I would have exercised more and taken better care of my body. If I had it to do all over again I would have been the archival tech as opposed to the liquor store assistant manager. If I had it to do all over again I would have slept around a great deal more just to have memories of their hearts and passion . If I had it to do all over again I would have lived by the maxim if it ain’t scary you aren’t going fast enough.
Ah if I had a mulligan that is where I would be, living with compassionate open hearted intensity driving fast to the next best future somewhere. Chances are I would be with someone on that journey a wife or a lover but they would be there because they too wanted that particular journey.
You know what where I am is okay, I am comfortable in my skin. It is frustrating, it is challenging, but I am who I am and we don't get mulligans. Be here, be now.
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Norman Vincent Peale Made it Look Easy
Motivation isn't easy, ever, not when you are trying to be Dale Carnegie to two diametrically different audiences. Motivation is illusive for teen. Motivation plumb eludes an ASD teen. Enthusiasm escapes into the ether for an ADD teen. Their future is thus what?
In trying to suss out this disparate duos hopes and dreams and to maybe get a idea that would spark some impetus toward studying, I played a Dad generated twenty question game. Where do you want to live? What kind of job do you want? Do you have a particular car you favor? What would it take for you to live comfortably?
Primus wants to live in an urban environment but and this is the key without many people. Secundus wants to live a life out on the stage. One never looks inward. One never looks outward. One never sees trauma or turmoil or worries about it. The other is frozen by what ifs and what should be and what should have been.
I posed the question to Primus do you want to ever get married? The answer was unequivocal. No. Why not I inquired? What do you have against marriage? His reply was that it is too boring! You think Mom and I are boring? Oh yeaaaah. Low hanging fruit, I should never have left that one out there.
So I ask the other one do you want to get married. The answer was a little different. “Like I would ever tell you.”
To the ASD child that is Primus I suggested his choice of locale leaves you certain areas of Detroit or the warehouse districts in most cities in which to reside. You will be living among the muggers and ne'er do wells. Shrug.
I continued, “You understand Mom and I will not be letting you live here after you graduate from high school right? We'd like to get back to some of the things in our lives we lost when we had you like camping.” The ASD child asks, “Is that what they call it when they let you visit each other in your separate rooms at the home.” “Will they let you put up tents inside Shady Glen?” he inquires.
“You are changing the topic,” I say. I ruminated you don't get to go anywhere if you don't have the grades. You get to be a bagger at a hyper mart. You get to ask Regular or Menthol and let me see your ID as you press down on the button and say "Pump one, your card didn't clear you have to prepay."
Arggh.
If you haven’t guessed it Martin Luther King Day was motivation for finals day for Primus and Secundus. It was the onset of major depression for Dad.
In trying to suss out this disparate duos hopes and dreams and to maybe get a idea that would spark some impetus toward studying, I played a Dad generated twenty question game. Where do you want to live? What kind of job do you want? Do you have a particular car you favor? What would it take for you to live comfortably?
Primus wants to live in an urban environment but and this is the key without many people. Secundus wants to live a life out on the stage. One never looks inward. One never looks outward. One never sees trauma or turmoil or worries about it. The other is frozen by what ifs and what should be and what should have been.
I posed the question to Primus do you want to ever get married? The answer was unequivocal. No. Why not I inquired? What do you have against marriage? His reply was that it is too boring! You think Mom and I are boring? Oh yeaaaah. Low hanging fruit, I should never have left that one out there.
So I ask the other one do you want to get married. The answer was a little different. “Like I would ever tell you.”
To the ASD child that is Primus I suggested his choice of locale leaves you certain areas of Detroit or the warehouse districts in most cities in which to reside. You will be living among the muggers and ne'er do wells. Shrug.
I continued, “You understand Mom and I will not be letting you live here after you graduate from high school right? We'd like to get back to some of the things in our lives we lost when we had you like camping.” The ASD child asks, “Is that what they call it when they let you visit each other in your separate rooms at the home.” “Will they let you put up tents inside Shady Glen?” he inquires.
“You are changing the topic,” I say. I ruminated you don't get to go anywhere if you don't have the grades. You get to be a bagger at a hyper mart. You get to ask Regular or Menthol and let me see your ID as you press down on the button and say "Pump one, your card didn't clear you have to prepay."
Arggh.
If you haven’t guessed it Martin Luther King Day was motivation for finals day for Primus and Secundus. It was the onset of major depression for Dad.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Sunday Morning Just Past
Sunday morning came. White snow lies sleeping outside. Cold air has finally come. Years and years of living with this season of cold and it is still hard to find a way to approach it. Snow seems to have overtaken the world as I look out at it through my bay window. Better brew some coffee.
Sunday morning on this occasion is a midpoint in the weekend. Yes, a long weekend is upon me and all the usual frenzy of Sundays can be stretched out over the daylight hours and even into Monday morning. Maybe this will be a day for sledding on the hill, or shooting pucks at a brick wall in addition to the normal mundane tasks.
Pour the water, grind the beans (today I through in some flakes off a cinnamon stick), hit the orange button and the gurgling sounds begin. Standing barefoot in my kitchen I feel the cold creep under the door to the breezeway. Someone must have taken recycling out to the garage yesterday and the draft doggie is not in place. With my toes I push the long pliable fuzzy fabric cylinder decorated with pine trees and moose back into place. The cold current slows. I turn to another task but soon the coffee is smelling strong and is enticing me to pour a cup. Cream yes, sugar no.
My hope is that someone else will cook breakfast. There is movement around in the house. Taking all the socks I folded last night upstairs I see my wife is checking Facebook. Primus is rumbling about in his room looking for clothes. I put the socks in a drawer.
I pause and look out the window. The sun is bright but the air is cold. I can tell these facts to be true because there is no water dripping off roofs, angles of shingles that are already heating from the sun. I can tell this because there is absolutely no activity at all to be discerned on the street. If it were even a little warmer somebody would be out and emptying a waste bin into the garbage can at the edge of the garage. Somebody else would be walking the far too large dog for this neighborhood. The dog walker would be dressed in some ungodly shade of spandex.
My wife must have taken up the cooking I smell bacon, our once only weekly treat. I smell something else too. It might be pancakes or waffles but there is definitely a third note to the mix of coffee and squealer delight. I had best go get the rest of the folded t-shirts into peoples' drawers now and head downstairs now.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
What Yesterday Cost My Soul
Each day I listen carefully and try to really hear people as they talk about change in their lives. I really want to know what they have experienced and what is left inside of them afterwards. Often a single being sitting inform of me will recount a specific incident that led them to whatever purported redemption they have found.
Many individuals will detail very precision a specific act like their traumatic failure in providing for the needs of a spouse or a child as the catalyst for their transformation. Sometimes the tale I hear is one oft told on the big screen. You’ll know it I am sure. While lying in a county’s holding cell they sober up to the reality that prison time probably awaits them. Surrounded by concrete and steel the individual inventories what they have done, what they have done wrong and then they balance it against their hopes and aspirations. I do believe some of these tales and there are other tales that I do not find valid.
Sometimes the tale is nothing more than just “Meh, I dunno it just seemed like I should change.” Obviously the last response carries little weight with me. To me meh doesn’t carry a great deal of weight for me as a change catalyst.
No matter what is said, what particular story is told there is an emotional cost I experience listening to each and ever story. It is like I have to give up a thousandth of a per cent of my soul each time I weigh the claims of redemption against the record of failures. Over time that erosion of my moral being adds up. Without a doubt I pay a price and my family pays a price for the bit of heart inside of me that disappears or grows hard and cynical.
Last night in my role as a school official I had to sit in judgment of a case involving sexual impropriety amongst high school students. I had to read police reports, affidavits, and narrative statements. Then I in conjunction with my fellow officials had to listen to testimony. For 3 ½ hours my colleagues and I debated about what the actual nature of the offense was and what sanction if any should be involved.
Our debate was heated and tinged with issues of race, the role of authority, questions as to what constitutes acquiescence or consent, the reliability of the depictions, the internal consistency of statements made at the time of the incident versus statements made at the hearing.
Ultimately I cannot hint as to what the outcome was or why. I cannot divulge to you or my wife or my closest confidants anything that would unburden me except to talk about the experience in the most general of terms as I am doing now. My obligation is one of confidentiality and that obligation is as sacrosanct as the confidentiality mandate imposed on my in my status as a lawyer.
What I can tell you is that I believe as I have believed since I was at university that sexual crime against women or sexual crime against any non consenting person is one of the most heinous behaviors a person can engage in. I can tell you also that while we can argue about the meaning of gestures and the ambiguity of words in the context of a sexual encounter in the end the fact that any ambiguity remains speaks volumes about the lack of respect we as a society have for the integrity of a person. In the end the decision I made last night was right, and just. However may soul has lost forever a bit more of it essence than a normal day costs me.
Many individuals will detail very precision a specific act like their traumatic failure in providing for the needs of a spouse or a child as the catalyst for their transformation. Sometimes the tale I hear is one oft told on the big screen. You’ll know it I am sure. While lying in a county’s holding cell they sober up to the reality that prison time probably awaits them. Surrounded by concrete and steel the individual inventories what they have done, what they have done wrong and then they balance it against their hopes and aspirations. I do believe some of these tales and there are other tales that I do not find valid.
Sometimes the tale is nothing more than just “Meh, I dunno it just seemed like I should change.” Obviously the last response carries little weight with me. To me meh doesn’t carry a great deal of weight for me as a change catalyst.
No matter what is said, what particular story is told there is an emotional cost I experience listening to each and ever story. It is like I have to give up a thousandth of a per cent of my soul each time I weigh the claims of redemption against the record of failures. Over time that erosion of my moral being adds up. Without a doubt I pay a price and my family pays a price for the bit of heart inside of me that disappears or grows hard and cynical.
Last night in my role as a school official I had to sit in judgment of a case involving sexual impropriety amongst high school students. I had to read police reports, affidavits, and narrative statements. Then I in conjunction with my fellow officials had to listen to testimony. For 3 ½ hours my colleagues and I debated about what the actual nature of the offense was and what sanction if any should be involved.
Our debate was heated and tinged with issues of race, the role of authority, questions as to what constitutes acquiescence or consent, the reliability of the depictions, the internal consistency of statements made at the time of the incident versus statements made at the hearing.
Ultimately I cannot hint as to what the outcome was or why. I cannot divulge to you or my wife or my closest confidants anything that would unburden me except to talk about the experience in the most general of terms as I am doing now. My obligation is one of confidentiality and that obligation is as sacrosanct as the confidentiality mandate imposed on my in my status as a lawyer.
What I can tell you is that I believe as I have believed since I was at university that sexual crime against women or sexual crime against any non consenting person is one of the most heinous behaviors a person can engage in. I can tell you also that while we can argue about the meaning of gestures and the ambiguity of words in the context of a sexual encounter in the end the fact that any ambiguity remains speaks volumes about the lack of respect we as a society have for the integrity of a person. In the end the decision I made last night was right, and just. However may soul has lost forever a bit more of it essence than a normal day costs me.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Out of the Mud
The fact that life is change has been noted by so many writers, poets and singers over the years that the concept of transformation and alteration has become wallpaper to our reality. Such a state of affairs is very, very dangerous. The reality of change becoming merely background noise in a popular series of couplets deludes us into thinking there will be another time, another opportunity to say hello or goodbye, to act to ameliorate a hurt or to give a helping hand. But today or maybe even this moment might in actuality be the only chance or the last chance or even the last best chance for the action contemplated.
As I sat in my governmental meeting last night amongst those with agendas so divergent as to make our discourse seem like a John Cage piece, I thought of acts I left undone or things I have left unsaid over the years. I cannot make any difference on the vast majority of things I cataloged as I watched the political theatre play out before me. However I can again make a promise to myself this day to do the thing that needs to be done in a timely way. If only one thing is improved so long as nothing is made worse I will have made the world a better place.
Kurt Vonnegut said and I am paraphrasing here is the thing that makes us different is that we made a choice to get up out of the mud and to do something. Makes sense to me. My hope is that the something we do will be moral and good.
As I sat in my governmental meeting last night amongst those with agendas so divergent as to make our discourse seem like a John Cage piece, I thought of acts I left undone or things I have left unsaid over the years. I cannot make any difference on the vast majority of things I cataloged as I watched the political theatre play out before me. However I can again make a promise to myself this day to do the thing that needs to be done in a timely way. If only one thing is improved so long as nothing is made worse I will have made the world a better place.
Kurt Vonnegut said and I am paraphrasing here is the thing that makes us different is that we made a choice to get up out of the mud and to do something. Makes sense to me. My hope is that the something we do will be moral and good.
Monday, January 9, 2012
Tired..
Right now I have arrived back from Alpena, Michigan. It is a small city with no easy was to get there located in the northeastern portion of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula. My eldest son, Primus had a hockey tournament and we went.
My major feeling from the tournament was exhaustion. Four games in less than 36 hours took a toll on players and parents. The team did not prevail but they did become what appears to be a team. Probably the moment I realized this was happening was when they had taken the pool balls and cues and began playing mini golf using pool equipment. It was sight to see six foot tall man children lying upon their bellies lining up shots into an indoor putt-putt hole with a cue stick.
When I find the adapter necessary to put a photo with this entry I will. Right now I have a ton of work and so this entry must be short. I will offer this, our lives are shot and everyone has a story. Listen to those stories, it will tell you a great deal of what the person next to you is made of.
My major feeling from the tournament was exhaustion. Four games in less than 36 hours took a toll on players and parents. The team did not prevail but they did become what appears to be a team. Probably the moment I realized this was happening was when they had taken the pool balls and cues and began playing mini golf using pool equipment. It was sight to see six foot tall man children lying upon their bellies lining up shots into an indoor putt-putt hole with a cue stick.
When I find the adapter necessary to put a photo with this entry I will. Right now I have a ton of work and so this entry must be short. I will offer this, our lives are shot and everyone has a story. Listen to those stories, it will tell you a great deal of what the person next to you is made of.
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