tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7355379788548313672024-03-22T05:14:41.633-07:00Word to Words by Gwyn English NielsenGwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.comBlogger359125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-79643904797809514722024-03-22T05:13:00.000-07:002024-03-22T05:13:45.114-07:00Veneration and its Converse: Renting an Apartment as a Retiree in Los Angeles<p> </p><p>veneration - n. - great respect; reverence</p><p><br /></p><p>Although I have probably touched on this before, I feel I must state the obvious one more time: veneration is rare these days. It used to be that if you were a halfway decent person (meaning kind, compassionate, etc.) had money in the bank, the world was your oyster. Well, let's put it mildly, if you consider yourself to be venerated today, chances are you may have the attributes aforementioned, but you aren't sixty five or over.</p><p>Over the past weekend, I was hit with ageism head on while trying to rent an apartment in Los Angeles. Mind you, L.A. likes to bask in the often obfuscated light of a democratic state, well aware of the hazards of discrimination. In fact, there are placards posted in myriad places reminding the public reader that it just won't tolerate prejudice of any kind. Funny thing, though, every possible example of bias is mentioned except ageism. </p><p>Case in point: admittedly, I, like many of my kind, am a senior citizen with a healthy portfolio and income coming from several sources. Fortunately, I can afford to lease an apartment in both New York and Los Angeles, albeit not simultaneously. In Los Angeles as in many other hot spots in the U.S., in order to secure an apartment, you must prove that your income is three times the monthly rent, which is not easy if the rent is 3K or more. The main problem, though, is that if you happen to be retired, there is no separate application for you. These conglomerates that own the luxurious resort hotel apartment complexes operate on a "one size fits all" policy. Basically, they are not interested in you if you do not have a steady job that pays you a high weekly salary, not even if you are a multi-millionaire sans an occupation other than gardening and golf. Their computer algorithms are created to accept only those who are gainfully employed, blind to the probable possibility that if they are living paycheck to paycheck, they could get laid off at any time, rendering them unable to pay the rent. Contrarily, New York real estate operates on the basis of common sense. In New York City, you have to prove you have fifty times your monthly rent in the bank, which is hard to do when the average price of a one bedroom is $4,500 (or $225,000 in the bank), of course, but most of the young renters have wealthy parents who can and do co-sign their leases for them. The real estate moguls in the City know that money in the bank pays the rent on time, not an iffy weekly salary. </p><p>As for me, I liked a complex in the lush, tropical, yet pragmatic planned community of Playa Vista just south of Marina del Mar (both in L.A. county) and applied to rent at Runway, a sleek resort-style complex with all of the amenities you can think of in tow. Because Runway's rental application completely disregards retirees, I was rejected not once, but twice. After much frustration, I gave up on renting there (even though the leasing manager finally emailed me offering me the apartment and apologizing for the ineptitude of his colleagues and data base) and signed with a competitor who took one look at my portfolio and said, "You're approved with verification from your bank." Smart man. He did the mental math. </p><p>Regardless of your particular age, it should not be so incredibly hard to rent an apartment these days. And landlords of any kind should not discriminate against cotton tops turned Clairol box tops like me who slaved for many, many years yet cannot boast that they are earning a consistent weekly paycheck. Correct your websites, people in this biz. Add a separate application for retirees or very lucky independently wealthy scions before you continue to embarrass yourselves. You're losing business due to your dearth of common sense. Money is money regardless of its source. That being said, as a new renter, I am still thrilled to be free of all the complications associated with homeownership. The algorithmic aggravation was well worth the transition from money pit to someone else's responsibility. To me, that is a taste of veneration right there.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth, #LiteraryCriticism, #satire, #society, #real estate, #LosAngeles </span></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-52104411094124345182024-03-02T13:23:00.000-08:002024-03-02T13:38:06.627-08:00Selling a Home? Beware of the Overly Punctilious and Entitled<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>punctilious - adjective - showing great attention to detail</p><p><br /></p><p>Anxious to kickstart a new chapter in my life on the West Coast, I decided to sell my home in the Jersey suburbs myself with a generous portion of help from an associate, a former friend, turned beau, turned friend again, who happens to be a real estate agent. Of course, I am paying him something for his time as even one percent amounts to a comfortable chunk when the house is worth 750K. What started as an innocuous pairing of the Bobbsey Twins (I'm dating myself here) has segued into Beowulf and Wiglaf (now I'm really dating myself) as it is NOT easy to sell a house in this age of the punctilious and entitled. In fact, it was probably easier for Beowulf to slay the dragon because after all, he and Wiglaf did have knives, something no respectable seller can rely on when negotiating a sale with the buyer's cutthroat real estate attorney. </p><p>At present, most of the buyers out there are Millennials, a generation that is used to receiving trophies for showing up. Although most of them are intelligent, they seem to get away with doing comparatively little to earn their inflated salaries. Yet it probably isn't their fault entirely as it is easy to "quiet quit" when supervisors' expectations are low. Unfortunately, the lackadaisical attitude has carried over into real estate sales. </p><p>Twenty-five years ago, I was a single mom in my late thirties, fresh out of divorce court with a seven-year-old daughter who wanted to reside in a neighborhood of families with children. I was desperate to provide the right, healthy environment for her, so I bought an old, decrepit house in a solid environment and spent the next 24 years dumping money into the money pit, only to realize recently, much to my disappointment, that no matter what you spend and how much you do to improve your property, it is not good enough for these young, newly wed buyers who see the house as yet another potential trophy. The feeling is if they put up enough in the way of savings and loans and mom and dad's monetary gifts, the house should be picture perfect in every way regardless of its age. Sorry. It just doesn't work that way. Like the human body, no matter the age, continual maintenance is involved. There will always be something that needs attention.</p><p>This is a wake-up-and-smell-the-roses moment for all of you nouveau riche Millennials out there migrating from your primitive apartments in Brooklyn to the overpriced suburbs of New Jersey or Connecticut: If you buy a house, no matter how old or new it is, you are going to have to work and spend a lot of money to maintain the the luster of the trophy, no matter how it was obtained. Nothing will come easily. And in ten years, when you decide to sell your Cape Cod starter home in order to buy the McMansion dream, you must realize that even your township of record will try to take you down by dredging up open permits from before you even bought your place and then charging you $150 to inspect areas that have nothing to do with the open permits, only to fail you, again charging you another $150 to return after you have spent even more money to appease them. I just wrote over $500 in checks to my township this past week. Why they need this kind of cash is beyond me. You would think my 10K a year in property taxes would appease them. Think again. As a result of the shenanigans, I am beginning to put a lot of credence in conspiracy theories involving the government, any form of it at all. </p><p>For those of you Florida-bound-hopeful Boomers who are thinking of trying to take advantage of the current sellers' market by putting "For Sale" signs on your front lawns, think twice. No matter how much you have put into your houses to make them presentable, you are going to have to cough up a lot more because no Millennials want to buy fixer-uppers, for what should be obvious reasons by now. If there is too much to be done, save yourselves some aggravation and sell to builders. To these wet-behind-the-ears buyers, new is always better no matter how well built your Jazz Age, craftsman bungalows are. </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth, #LiteraryCriticism, #satire, #society </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-2908261821583694732024-02-20T09:48:00.000-08:002024-02-20T09:48:27.500-08:00A Needed, Avuncular Voyage<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>avuncular - adjective - like an uncle; careful, heedful</p><p><br /></p><p>Sometimes it is unsteadying to reach a certain milestone in life and then look back at the past, as the tendency is to compare what was then to what is now. If you are 65 or over and gaze back over your shoulder about fifty years, the differences between then and now are so extreme that they could make you dizzy. Although I make a conscious effort to live in the present, occasionally I drift back into the past when prompted. </p><p>The other day, a gentleman whom I met recently suggested that I watch an oldie but goodie, Carl Reiner's black comedy "Where's Poppa?" (1970, United Artists) on a streaming service. Since the film's cast is topnotch (George Segal, Ruth Gordon, Ron Leibman, Trish Van Devere, Rob Reiner, and Vincent Gardenia), I could not say no. If you are brave enough to follow my lead and take a walk on the unwoke, wild side, make sure you are safely ensconced on a couch for the entire duration so that you don't get a quick case of vertigo from the experience of watching. After having gotten used to a sanitary, woke world, to take in scenes of the opposite got me reeling. Nothing, believe me, nothing about this movie is remotely politically correct. If writer Robert Klane were to attempt to submit his screenplay to any production companies today, he would be laughed out of Hollywood. Cancelled indefinitely. </p><p>In case you are too scared to take the plunge, I'll spill the beans re: the contemporary atrocities in a work wherein cultural stereotypes abound. Warning: there is no subgroup that is not satirized. To start, Jewish men, their wives, and their mothers are ridiculed: Ruth Gordon, a brilliant character actress, plays the insufferable Mrs. Hocheiser, demented mother to forcibly avuncular George Segal (lawyer Gordon) and Ron Leibman (henpecked Sidney). She has them both shackled to their dying father's wish, not to put their impossible mother into "a home," the only sane solution to the problem. George bends over backwards to get her into an early grave, including buying and then wearing a gorilla suit in order to scare her to death. When he meets the love of his life, angelic Louise (Trish Van Devere), a caregiver who answers Gordon's ad for help with mom, he loses patience and informs his brother Sidney (Ron Leibman) that he will throw Mom out of the window if he doesn't take her off his hands. Despite the protests of Sidney's unsympathetic wife, he answers the call but must first go through Central Park after dusk before he can get to Gordon's apartment. While in Central Park, he is accosted by ruffian rapists and muggers (all played by African American male actors, which would NEVER fly today) not once, but twice. Fragile, malleable Sidney himself is forced by the unlawful gang to "rape" an off-duty, gay police officer dressed as a woman who doesn't not press charges, claiming the encounter was one of the passionate highlights of his life, icing the cake that is his infatuation with red roses. There are other subgroups that are criticized, namely American military officers who are depicted as austere, profane, immoral warmongers capable of genocide. Naturally, the film is an unforgiving, biting satire at which audiences laughed only to realize that '70s society needed to change drastically.</p><p>And somehow at some point it did a 180. Today, nothing is politically incorrect, nothing is satirized for fear of reprisal, cancellation on social media. Very few have the audacity to take pot shots at what is wrong with society today, even comedians are kept at bay. So it all comes down to us being left to take an honest look at what is going on around us and make a few alterations. "Where's Poppa?" of the 1970s may very well segue into "Where's Sanity?" in the 2020s, a needed, avuncular voyage.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth, #LiteraryCriticism, #satire, #society </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-54615881107063143182024-02-08T18:03:00.000-08:002024-02-08T18:03:09.998-08:00Is LESS More? (a book review)<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>spoony - adjective - foolish, tenderhearted</p><p><br /></p><p>Andrew Sean Greer's celebrated <i>Less </i>(Back Bay Books, 2017), a gay take-off on Elizabeth Gilbert's <i>Eat, Pray, Love, </i>features forty-nine-year-old Arthur Less, a self-deprecatory, "spoony,"gay author who attempts to solder heartbreak by traveling the world to fulfill long-overdue literary obligations (and a suggestion made at a poker game). Greer's voice has a unique flair, belting the reader with one bizarre metaphor or simile after the next, humorous on occasion as some of the farfetched comparisons are so exaggerated and incongruent that the reader can't help but collapse into guffaw at the absurd imagery projected. </p><p>The hard truth is that the unsympathetic protagonist, Less, is, more or less, not likable. He comes off as a stereotype of a gay man: eternally lonely, weak, promiscuous: a fool for beautiful young boys or famous, older mentors. Ironically, at one point, his homosexual writer colleague criticizes him for denigrating the community by composing a minimally successful modernization of Homer's <i>The Odyssey </i>via his <i>Kalipso! </i>about a bi-sexual Odysseus trapped in hedonistic paradise with a beautiful man, Kalipso. Naturally, when he breaks away to rejoin wife Penelope, the critic feels slighted as no self-respecting, authentic gay man would do that even if the woman happens to be the beguiling, long-suffering Penelope. Despite the denigrating criticism, his well-written novel lands Less invitations to various literary events in Europe, all of which he accepts on account of former paramour Freddy's marriage; Less needs a valid excuse as to why he can't attend one day's nuptials, so he makes sure he is out of the country for a least a month. But it does make sense since the groom, Freddy, the son of Less's nemesis Carlos, remains his biggest love, an insurmountable emotional obstacle since it is left unrequited. Towards the end, just to elongate the book, Greer has Less venture into Morocco to visit an old friend and India to give him ideas for a new tome. At the end, he winds up in Japan to critique the food. How desultory is that? </p><p>Worthy of mention as well, but not surprising, is that there are no leading ladies in this tall tale. There are a few interesting, yet fleeting females that seem to appear and vanish like mirages in the Sahara, but not one is memorable unlike some mirages that are :). </p><p>Unfortunately, there is no real eating (but there's the drinking of champagne and there's what he does or attempts to do in Japan) or praying (Less is not religious, yet he winds up on the grounds of a Christian retreat in India) in the 259-page book. Which means there are no actual concrete motifs (unless you count the champagne) to unite the random except for the anticipated, unconnected, outlandish conceits that kept me picking up the book instead of putting it down and leaving it closed indefinitely. The novel is glorious in its wordplay. It does not surprise me that Greer won the coveted Pulitzer as he is the only young author whose work I've read lately whose creative writing comes close to inspired or inspiring, so there is that. </p><p>However, as a conservative, pedantic, Old School writer, I am pretty closed minded when it comes to rules. A half century ago, I was taught to keep the point of view of the narration consistent. Greer doesn't, and it confuses the reader as most shifts that come out of nowhere do. Going from third to first in the last few pages may suffice as the "unpredictable" touch that one learns to add into a short story in one's first fiction class, but it is just unnecessarily jarring to the reader. (Actually, I guessed the identity of the narrator from the very beginning, so I wasn't surprised at all.)</p><p>Unless I get my small group of close gay friends together in a book club, which is highly unlikely because most of them are touring actors, I think I'll pass on any "Less" sequels by Greer. But that doesn't mean that you should. This is a subjective opinion piece, after all. Read it for the uniqueness of voice and wish secretly that you could come up with comparisons as inventive as Greer's. </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth, #BookReview, #LiteraryCriticism </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-15418076725440489862024-01-23T06:37:00.000-08:002024-01-23T06:41:59.174-08:00Chick-A-Chick-A Boom! The Residual Effects of War<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>residual - adjective - remaining after the greater part or quantity has gone (Google).</p><p><br /></p><p>There can be no debate. Nothing good comes from full-scale destruction. Obviously, the weightier the war, the more consequential the effects on the people who experienced the fray head-on in the trenches. Yet the deleterious outcome or outcomes are not limited to the participants. Successive generations can feel the sting of violent opposition. Hatred can obliterate the capacity to love over decades. </p><p>Case in point: take the damaged men of my generation, most aptly named the Baby Boomers. The moniker is not meant to stand as onomatopoeia attached to the soundtrack of battle as in "Boom went the bombs" (but if the shoe fits...). No doubt, <i>boom</i> could be a play on the word <i>boon (windfall) </i>or the slang term <i>booming </i>(as in <i>increasing</i>)<i>, </i>representing the surge in population after World War II. Let's face it, after being deprived of physical love for such a long time, the soldiers wanted to make up for lost time,"boom-boom"legitimately with their significant others, and they did. The results of which produced about 2.5 babies per household, many more if the vet dads ascribed to a specific religion. Yet the shoe does fit in the literal sense. Many Boomers are suffering from the after effects of the bombs that fell around their desperately ducking dads on the battlegrounds. They are damaged goods and got that way due to the residual effects of the war. Sorry, men of my generation. You are inextricably blemished, and I have the common sense to prove it.</p><p>World War II left its participants torn, bleeding, not merely physically (in some cases), but psychologically. Most who had survived combat walked away with PTSD. There was no way around it. However, these men were expected to "get over" their feelings perceived as "weak." Of course, they couldn't do it themselves; consequently, having no choice, they went on with their daily lives, thankful to be alive. These psychologically impaired men continued on to become the flawed fathers of Boomers, who couldn't authentically be available for their children. The halved vets were incapable of being whole, and their sons, who really needed them as role models (Moms couldn't do everything but often did), found them to be feckless examples as absentee parents. </p><p>The most tragic residual effect of World War II? Male Boomers' inability to love. Okay, fine. I'm not saying all of them are cursed in this sense, but many of them are. (Most of the single ones are. Believe me.) Just listen to the complaints of us female Boomers, who often are creased as well but who have ironed out better and can function well emotionally because we are wired that way. There are men of my generation who hold topnotch degrees and successful positions in their places of employment, but these same people can't seem to love in the true sense albeit they think they can. Ironically, they can commit to academia and the demands of their vocations, and perhaps even their offspring, but they are clueless when it comes to intimacy in the form of romantic love, hence the growing rate of divorce and mass loneliness. As for the predecessors of the Boomers, are they better off? I think not. Many of them can't commit to anything at all, no less love.</p><p>Maybe the defect I'm underscoring has nothing to do with war at all? Maybe it is just part and parcel of human nature? I can't give you a definitive answer because my thesis is based on opinion and personal experience. But this I do know to be factual. Nothing good comes from war. So if you feel the solution to the miscellaneous confrontations making front-page news today is bombing the antagonists all to oblivion, think again. A solution can never fall under the nomenclature of HATE and pan out well. I think Martin Luther King, Jr. whose birthday we recently celebrated, said it best: "Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that." </p><p>So man up, Boomer men, and learn how to love your women well. Gender and generational differences aside, we all need to stop blaming our parents for whatever they might have or might not have done and commit to full-scale love.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-82643249613292447082024-01-10T08:20:00.000-08:002024-01-10T08:20:14.373-08:00Wealthy, Fortunate, Blessed <p> </p><p>wealthy - adjective - having a great deal of money, resources, assets; rich.</p><p>fortunate - adjective - favored by or involving good luck, fortunate; lucky.</p><p>blessed - adjective - feeling lucky to have health, fame, fortune, talent. </p><p>-Google </p><p><br /></p><p>Happy New Year to my few, but quality readers!</p><p>Stepping into a new year often includes taking along with you a few adjectives pertaining to how you feel about who you are. Hopefully, the descriptors are positive as opposed to negative. You always want to begin on the right foot. Right?</p><p>As some of you know, I have a friend–a psychotherapist, in L.A.–where I am planning to move this spring. Because he cares (I hope so, anyway), he is constantly preparing me for the environmental changes indicative of Los Angeles that I might not be aware of, most of which I am. Sometimes I think that he thinks I live in the state of Naivety rather than New Jersey, too close to the pavements of New York City to be as green as grass, but he means well. He commented that as wealthy as I might consider myself on the East Coast, my monetary status pales in comparison to the riches pretentiously displayed in L.A. I retorted that many of those Lost Angels may have a lot in terms of money, resources, assets, what have you, but little in the way of actual wealth, wealth of character, spirit–the kind that can't be minted or grown on trees. He agreed. I told him that I am in a different category in that I'm under the Fortunate-To-Be-Blessed nomenclature. My angels are not lost as they always seem to be working overtime to keep my head above water unlike many other heads today who are genuinely struggling to keep from drowning.</p><p>The conversation progressed into a discussion of socialism versus capitalism, uneven, controversial ground. What we both agreed upon is the idea that the billionaires need to remove their heads from the sawdust long enough to see that our country is becoming a land of severe monetary contrasts: the have's and have-not's are in juxtaposition to each other, and it is wrong. Rather than writing checks, these wealthy types (who tend to be miserable in their selfishness) need to spend some time on the other side of the tracks. Only after they acknowledge the disparities can they make any differences so that no one needs to suffer unnecessarily. The churches and civic organizations, funded by the wealthy, are doing what they can do, but everyone must get involved.</p><p>Okay, I'm getting a bit preachy here. I know. But I think we can all embrace a mutual New Year's resolution to spend a little more time doing our share for others. If nothing else, the effect of the cause may be feeling blessed, which is a prime adjective to describe you. One that you can be proud of.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-75246996989324574182023-12-15T07:11:00.000-08:002023-12-15T07:11:10.836-08:00Agape at Agape <p> </p><p><br /></p><p>1. agape - adjective - wide open; being in the state of wonder. </p><p>2. agape - noun - highest form of love, fatherly love, charity </p><p><br /></p><p>Every Wednesday annually, I make a serious attempt (at which I am usually successful) at participating in agape. Along with a church group of about twenty good samaritans (actually, true Christians) in an old van, I venture out in my quest to enact agape (2) among the multitudes of the down and out, a.k.a. homeless people in a nondescript New Jersey city called Elizabeth. What usually leaves me agape (1) is how easy it is to bring divergent peoples together in one room and witness and live agape (2) full on via the distribution of food. </p><p>What always impresses me is how the youngest members of the group, the middle school students, usually quite wayward by nature, can find self-discipline and parcel out meals to over a hundred hungry people off of the streets, proving that when one entrusts another with an important task, age doesn't matter. These kids overcome all obstacles met on the floor and enjoy the responsibilities given to them. Heck, they can even manage the adults quite well while learning what is known as a work ethic. (Sound familiar?) The process is painless. In fact, most of them consider the experience to be "fun." Who would've thought? I stand agape (1) at their willingness to meet all incoming challenges. They leave me with hope that the younger generations will be able to tackle the world's myriad problems. </p><p>I am usually in the kitchen, ladling out potatoes, meatloaf, beans, bread, bananas onto to paper plates at incomprehensible speeds. It is astounding that most of the goods don't wind up on the floor. This talent of keeping everything on the plates comes with experience, of course. I figure that it must be like working on an assembly line in a GM plant except that the rewards transcend the monetary since all of us on staff are volunteers. Imagine that: doing a job for nothing but love. I see it as another verse to Lennon's "Imagine." "Imagine all the people working for the sake of love..." Why not? I'm sure John would have approved. </p><p>Perhaps my favorite segment of the evening comes after all needy bellies have been satiated and have found their way back out on the streets and we "disciples" sit to recount where we saw God throughout the evening. The kids usually see God in themselves; the adults see God in the kids, and I see God in the homeless people themselves who, on their way out, often come up to the kitchen door to thank me and my staff of friends. They grin with appreciation albeit they have little to be thankful for. Love is, after all, kind, selfless. </p><p>In this season that is all about agape, let's try to think more about disseminating love. Christmas, after all, is not about materialism although most advertisers at this time of year might try to convince you that it is. Ignore them. Get back to basics. Be brave. Make a difference, even if it is just in your own neighborhood. Don't just stand agape at agape. Embrace it. Let it become a portion of yourself. </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth, #agape, #love </span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-55293704154354715362023-11-21T17:57:00.000-08:002023-11-21T17:57:02.864-08:00The Color Vermilion<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>vermilion - noun - a brilliant red color (Google)</p><p><br /></p><p>For whatever reason, lately I've been noticing colors, red in particular. Yes, I've been seeing red, but mainly in the positive sense. Perhaps it is because it is autumn in the New York area, and the trees that are still managing to hang on to their leafy headdresses are modeling their most brilliant hues, vermilion being one since the Japanese maple is common in these parts. Two days before Thanksgiving, the retail store owners are busily preparing for the upcoming holiday season, displaying garlands of Fraser fir, garnished with vermilion ribbons to festoon the tops of the in-store cases. Even the winter wreaths that droop from up high on the street lamps sport smiling vermilion bowties. Like a narcissist, red likes to be noticed.</p><p>Yet vermilion isn't seasonal. The ubiquitous signs of red generally exist to warn not to forewarn. But are we beings who are inured to the color becoming immune to their attempts to control our actions? I often think we are, intentionally or unintentionally. For instance, there is a huge vermilion plaque that is posted next to the pool in my health club. It reads: "Shower Before Entering" or something to that effect. It is large enough to be viewed and ignored. Seriously, I think people see it and do the opposite, thinking it is just a suggestion, not a command. Heck, even I ignore it because it has a dictatorial attitude that is off putting. Yet the belligerent majority goes unpunished since the apathetic lifeguards dressed in matching red T-shirts don't enforce it. Maybe they should because I've noticed that the dirt littering the concrete bottom of the pool is becoming more and more apparent. Maybe I'll set an example and obey the signage if only to be rebellious. Other vermilion signs are meant to direct traffic accordingly, and I have witnessed oblivion in regard to them as well. Yes, I'm talking about the stop signs and the red lights at intersections. Running these might cause vehicular injuries or deaths, and does; however, some still don't respond to vermilion posts. And they should even if it is inconvenient. </p><p>In this busy world filled with complications and distractions, it is hard to stay on track, hard to see the vermilion sign posts that exist to save us from ourselves. Despite being human, wanting to change the course of history by not following the rules, we just have to sometimes because in doing so, the greater good becomes better, healthier, safer. I am hoping to live to see more in the way of red. Just sayin'. </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth, </span></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-61820205562440693502023-11-12T06:32:00.000-08:002023-11-12T06:32:50.893-08:00American Public Schools: Ephemera? <p> </p><p><br /></p><p>ephemera - noun/plural form of ephemeron - things that exist for a short time</p><p><br /></p><p>I watch very little programming on "the box," otherwise known as the television. But when I do, I tend to focus in on offerings that stimulate my brain. Albeit controversial, Bill Maher's <i>Real Time</i> is one of my weekly choices. I tend to agree with him on a number of fronts, particularly when it comes to public education, this week's topic for the hour's closing monologue. Talk about hitting the nail on the head when it comes to the state of the nation's schools (and parenting)! Taking advantage of freedom of speech, Bill didn't spare words, not that he usually does anyway. According to Bill, contemporary statistics surely point to the nation's public schools as being an example of impending ephemera if positive change is not enacted immediately.</p><p>Just in case you didn't already know, I taught English full time to myriad students in grades 6-12 and substituted for pre-K through five children for 25 years. Four of those years I spent being the only Presbyterian instructor in an all-girls Catholic school, a member of the legions of effective parochial schools Bill mentioned. And yes, it is true that the private schools in the country are doing much better when it comes to meeting educational objectives. Why? For one, they don't put up with smart phone usage in the classroom, something that public educators seem to care less about as they use their devices for personal reasons in class as well (I saw this myself). And of course, the parents are no angels as they insist on being in constant communication with their children and can't wait until they get out of class to ask them how their day is going. (This I witnessed as well.) Teachers who put their foot down and tell the students to put their phones away are either harassed, threatened, or beaten by the unruly natives. Now I will say that the violence is nothing new as in the 1980s, I had a public high school senior, posing as a sophomore, threaten to shoot me because I had told him to stop talking, but I suppose things are getting worse as the culprits known as cell phones are all too ubiquitous and addictive. No wonder there is an 86% teacher vacancy rate in public schools today. Common sense will tell you that no great young minds want to deal with shenanigans like this for barely enough money to meet rent. </p><p>Of course, as Bill stressed as well, not all public schools (and parents) are guilty of carelessness, but too many are. Either positive change needs to occur or the face of education will turn in an alternative direction towards Catholic schools, expensive prep schools, or homeschooling (and who has time for that?). The public school system, founded by Ben Franklin himself, used to be an example of socialism at its best. Now it is transitioning into a bad joke, one that needs to be rewritten into an illuminating parable worthy of remembering. </p><p>Just remember that all things are possible with a bit of effort :). </p><p><span style="font-size: 16px; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth, #public schools, #teaching in America </span></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-40998523283834272292023-10-20T13:32:00.004-07:002023-10-24T05:20:28.834-07:00Public Domain: The Slow, Painless Death of a Classic (Review of The Great Gatsby: The Musical)<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>public domain - noun - the state of belonging or being available to the public as a whole, therefore not subject to copyright.</p><p><br /></p><p>On January 1, 2021, F. Scott Fitzgerald's comparatively brief, literary masterpiece, <i>The Great Gatsby </i>entered the public domain after 95 years of copyright protection. With it, the doors to Jay's mansion were opened up to permit party crashers (present writers) to enter and reek anarchic havoc indefinitely on a flawless classic that deserves to be preserved since perfection needs no improvement.</p><p>The other night, a close friend of mine invited me to see the premiere of the new musical <i>The Great Gatsby </i>at the Tony-winning regional theater, the Paper Mill Playhouse in Millburn, New Jersey. As a <i>Gatsby </i>connoisseur, I gratefully accepted, hoping for the best.</p><p>On the plus side, the show's cast list reads like the Broadway version of <i>Who's Who,</i> and the production values are excellent, completely comparable to that of any present-day Broadway musical. The music is pretty much Disney-esque (think "Frozen" here). Surely, the producers must have high hopes to realize a continuation of the show on the Great White Way after the limited engagement at the Paper Mill ends in December. The entire run, apparently, is sold out, which is most unusual for a local New Jersey theater. For <i>The Great Gatsby: The Musical, </i>the buzz is loud and boisterous. But is the reality? Sadly, no.</p><p>Considering what it is, a musical loosely based on <i>Gatsby</i>, the title is all wrong. It should have been called, "Jay and Daisy, Nick and Jordan." Why? Perhaps ignorant of the original, yet conscious of the contemporary trend to erase the ugliness of history in favor of "woke" ideology, the updated version pays little attention to Fitzgerald's organization of events, realigning key moments and lines of dialogue so that they just do not make any sense contextually. It also reimagines the main characters (a buffoonish Jay; a manipulative, vengeful Daisy) as well as relatively insignificant secondary characters, changing them to significant ones by reconceptualizing their personalities, and adding contemporary dialogue to make all of them scarcely credible given the setting of the 1920s. Forget about Nick's first person narration as well. Meyer Wolfsheim enters on occasion from stage left as somewhat of a stage manager–for what reason, I have no idea. Further plot complications are also included (Myrtle Wilson winds up pregnant with Tom's baby, which makes Daisy guilty of double manslaughter), but definitely not needed. The jostling, rearranging, reimagining and adding amount to chaos. Yet apparently, the audiences are eating it all up, awarding the piece with standing ovations night after night. Do they not see that the Emperor is not wearing any clothes? "Ignorance is bliss." I'll say so. </p><p>No doubt, the money from the box office receipts will continue to pour in, bolstering this parody of the original. If Fitzgerald were still alive and seated in the audience, he might have enjoyed it, but don't forget that he had a sense of humor (he married Zelda), needed the money desperately, and most likely would have been roaringly drunk at the performance. My guess is that the masterminds of <i>The Great Gatsby: The Musical </i>might be fans, not of Scott but of Mark Twain, embracing his idea that it is "easier to fool people than to convince them that they have been fooled." </p><p>My hope is that the laws of public domain will be edited so that classic literature will be protected from slanderous imitation indefinitely. Tip for writers: Be original. Come up with your own ideas for musicals. Don't borrow from the greats just for the sake of the all-mighty dollar. You'll most definitely come up short, maybe not in this climate, but in the long run when people finally wake up to see that the Emperor is actually naked, recognizing what they might have thought was ingenious is actually rubbish. </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #truth, #OffBroadwayReview. #PlayReview, #MusicalReview, #TheGreatGatsby:TheMusical, #TheGreatGatsby, #F.ScottFitzgerald, #PaperMillPlayhouse, #MillburnNewJersey </span></p><div class="qYXF9" style="border: none; display: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; 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(Thank goodness it doesn't come up at cocktail parties.) Three days a week, I am usually fighting to find a lane for myself. I'm usually lucky, but when I'm not and have to wait, I spend the minutes watching how other people swim. Since no one stroke for anyone is executed in exactly the same way, it is quite amusing to see just how many personal styles there are. Believe me, there are multitudinous pool personalities, different strokes for different folks.</p><p>For one, men swim differently then women, generally–and not surprisingly–more aggressively. In my experience as an observer, when most men hit the water to swim freestyle, they proceed to hit the water– literally, unintentionally (maybe) slapping it with open palms so that swimmers in other lanes get splashed in the face. If you happen to enjoy keeping your head above water (good advice in and out of the pool), then you can't escape the brutal spray, which, I would imagine, might be comparable to swimming laps in the Olympic-size fountain at the Bellagio Hotel, Las Vegas. Not fun. However, whenever the younger men who sport Speedos, wide, V-like shoulders, and six-pack abs approach the tank, you can bet they spent time swimming competitively. These men are perfect physically and are a joy to swim beside as they don't pound angrily. They alternate their arms, forming smooth arcs at the base of which are hands that dip quietly into the water, their legs beating out the right rhythm to guarantee forward moment with minimum wake. Ah! They are the sons of Neptune himself. A joy to observe and swoon over. (Too bad they don't come along too frequently.)</p><p>The women swimmers, on the other hand, can be idiosyncratic. For instance, there is one very petite Asian woman, a regular as I am, who likes to do the backstroke. Yet her stroke is more like that used in ballet. Her alternating arms move in slow motion to silent orchestration, her hands are splayed and her thumbs and forefingers, touching, like those of a plastic baby doll's. She doesn't get across the pool rapidly, but she composes her own aquatic poetry. Other women, the ones in my age group, tend to bring props like flippers and masks, noodles and such into the pool. They make me feel like I am on the beach at a resort hotel in the Caribbean, watching people snorkel among the shallow reefs. (I hope the club isn't thinking about making the pool into a salt water tank for colorful fish as it is kept healthy via bromide.) Perhaps these women at a young age were inspired by Aphrodite or Calypso albeit I can't imagine either in snorkel gear. </p><p>Although I am not an athlete, I can still remember what I learned in fourth grade when our gym class had the unique pleasure of taking swimming classes at the local pool, conveniently located next door to our elementary school so that we could walk to the outdoor natatorium in June just before the end of the school year. I try to practice good pool etiquette when I can; however, I must admit that I disregard all signage that insists that swimmers take showers before diving into the pool. I have noticed that most people do ignore the signs. I guess we are rebels without much of a cause other than to get in and out of the pool sooner than later to free up lanes for others. After all, unselfishness is amphibious. I'd like to think so anyway.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #self #therapy </span></p><div class="qYXF9" style="border: none; display: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 12px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><footer aria-label="Post Footer" class="tOKgq eIaSl" role="contentinfo" style="border: none; color: rgba(var(--black),.65); font-family: var(--font-family); 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font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 0px 2px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></button></span></span></span></span></div></div></div></footer></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-12004743631350742222023-09-27T14:45:00.005-07:002023-09-28T10:55:26.380-07:00The Grass Is Always Greener: A Syndrome <p> </p><p>"Grass is Greener" Syndrome - noun - the thought that there is always something better elsewhere, so rather than experiencing security, stability, and satisfaction in the present environment, there is the feeling that there is more or better elsewhere, and anything less than ideal is not acceptable (psychcentral.com).</p><p>syndrome - noun - a condition characterized by a set of specific symptoms (Google). </p><p><br /></p><p>I learned something new today: the aforementioned syndrome, GIGS. Previously, I had thought 'The grass is always greener" was strictly a proverb that applied to some dreamers who have a difficult time committing to person, place, or thing, or accepting (figuratively) the type of grass or even weeds and their shades of green in their own backyards or spaces. (I read somewhere once that there are about three hundred hues of green, but humans can only perceive a fraction of them. Which might mean that the person suffering from the syndrome will more or less, never be satiated. And yes, I am trying to be witty here.) </p><p>After just spending nearly a week in SoCal with my thirty-something daughter, I have come to the unsettling conclusion that she suffers from the malady, GIGS. Her life-long dream has always been to live in the Los Angeles area as her passion–anything and everything having to do with making movies–primarily lies there. Before deciding to attend UCLA for her MBA in the field of entertainment, she had lived and worked in New York City, yet another location associated with dreams and dreamers and the entertainment industry. She was contented for a relatively short period of time before she lost the occupation wielding contentment and was catapulted feet first into two other jobs, one after the other, that could never quite equal the first. Looking west, she saw blue skies (literally) and the potential for verdant professional landscapes that the "magical" albeit black-and-white New York could not give her on a regular basis. And Central Park just wasn't the answer in terms of providing the ultimate green space. Now that she is fully ensconced comfortably in LaLa Land, where everything seems to be quite perfect (except for the freeways and "crazy" drivers on them) and green since they have had a lot of rain this past year, she misses New York. Ugh. GIGS. </p><p>Do you have an adult kid who has this syndrome, too? If so, what advice do you give him/her/them, or every time that said relation complains, do you just make a sour face and shrug exaggeratedly with frustration knowing that unless you are on FaceTime (or the equivalent), she or he or they can't see you?</p><p>Yet for every problem, there is a solution, or so sayeth this optimist. For my daughter, it might be to find a job that is consistently propelling her back and forth like a tug-of-war between the two locations, which is not impossible to find, apparently, since many communications-oriented companies have offices in both cities. I am praying she finds this solution as I am tired of the whining from her end and the unattractive grimaces and vehement shrugging on my end.</p><p>Hopefully, you, personally, are not a victim of GIGS. If you are, just remember "no matter where you go, there you are." </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #self #therapy </span></p><div class="qYXF9" style="border: none; display: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 12px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><footer aria-label="Post Footer" class="tOKgq eIaSl" role="contentinfo" style="border: none; color: rgba(var(--black),.65); 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Just in case you have either 1. never heard of the tome or 2. read it so long ago that you remember nothing about it, it is a seething satire of humanity in 1885 (exactly one hundred years before my experience with it). Twain (a.k.a. Sam Clemens) depicts his own society as hopelessly, haplessly gullible so that they believe just about every nonsensical deed done and reported, even the most ridiculously farfetched. Sound familiar? Well, as I have probably mentioned before, human nature doesn't change, just technology. </p><p>And despite a preponderance of said technology (A.I.), we have no more common sense than we ever had, falling for every royal scam out there, even political ones, not that that is surprising since politicians have been pulling the wool over both bespectacled and 20/20 eyes since the beginning of organized time. Mendacity is just the rule of thumb in that club. In some states, people have come down to voting for the most gifted of all con artists so that they can con their colleagues into whatever it is they want more effectively and efficiently and most likely unlawfully. (Huh? Is this really the right way to rationalize, my fellow Americans?)</p><p>As I continue to sell, sell, sell on Facebook, I am coming across more and more scammers, who, frankly, aren't terribly bright themselves. In case you want to sell anything on FB Marketplace, beware of the potential buyers who act like they are interested and turn around and ask for your phone number. Since Messenger is the rule of form, any other variation of communication is unnecessary. I'm guessing that once the charlatans obtain the numbers from the gullible, they sell them. (Never give out your phone number to anyone you don't know personally because your phone number can open many doors to your identity that you would rather leave shut and bolted.) The other day, a more sophisticated crook tried to hoodwink my daughter via Venmo. He nearly convinced her that his "business" account would credit her account $250, $200 of which she would need to send back since the item for sale was priced at $50. As you have probably already guessed, the deal wound up being bogus. He tried to scam her into believing that his account had been depleted of the amount, which she then owed him when in fact her account had never been credited. Seller, beware! These grifters are pretty convincing. But they can fool some of the people some of the time, but not all of the people all of the time. Be the latter, not the former.</p><p>The moral of the story is, of course, try not to be gullible. What is perhaps easier than honing common sense is not to trust anyone. Pretend that everyone, even the leading Republican presidential candidate, is not worthy of your certitude. If you were to do this, you'd feel a lot safer, more confident, and our democracy would be a lot better off :). </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #self #therapy </span></p><div class="qYXF9" style="border: none; display: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 12px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><footer aria-label="Post Footer" class="tOKgq eIaSl" role="contentinfo" style="border: none; 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Heinlein. The four-hundred-plus-page book set at no specific time in the distant future was penned in the early 1960s, yet still remains remarkably futuristic albeit a tad dated like <i>The Jetsons </i>or <i>The Fifth Element </i>with its inclusion of dirigible taxi cabs. The protagonist, the "Man from Mars," Valentine Michael Smith, a human raised by Martians, groks more than speaks to Earthlings once he is physically returned to his parents' home planet, Earth. The term <i>grok </i>was apparently used widely during the 1960s; however, only those in STEM use it today. Which is why when I came across the word in the novel, I didn't recognize it. Seriously, even though I did grow up in the 1960s, the word was not part of my parents' vocabulary. Perhaps it should have been, though. Parents should always at least make an attempt to grok their children, something that can be hard to do. </p><p>Maybe, just maybe we should contemplate the value of grokking. As classic books are slowly being banned or just no longer taught in public schools, as a former high school English teacher, I am concerned that abstract concepts, such as grokking, may no longer be explored in classrooms. Let's face it: we need to remember and live sympathy and empathy, their definitions, as true understanding comes from them. Although it has merits, technology can also have its drawbacks, especially as it has drawn us more and more into ourselves. What we really need to do is walk out of our shoes and step into those of others. To grok is to be profoundly human. Which might have been what Heinlein had in mind for his novel's paradoxical theme. Smith has to lose his humanity in a strange land in order to regain it by interfacing with nonhuman, Martian strangers. </p><p>Hopefully, we won't have to travel to Mars and back to learn that grokking is something we should all find time to do.</p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #self #therapy </span></p><div class="qYXF9" style="border: none; display: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; 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Let's face it. It tends to be safer to deceive the self. However, every once in a while, there comes a social phenomenon that speaks veracity albeit in a roundabout way, and audiences take notice. Take the recent billion-dollar-grossing, movie-hit "Barbie," which uses innocence to underscore guilt in our society. As good satire purports to do, it quietly exposes human flaws between the breaths viewers take to recover from bouts of laughter. </p><p>What "Barbie" does well is return to the war between the sexes. In brilliant, pastel, technicolor "Barbie Land," the film's first setting, viewers see hordes of Barbies of all shapes, sizes, colors, etc. as happy, healthy, successful, prosperous, intelligent, whereas they see the Kens existing as obscure objects who have little identity and virtually nothing to do but "beach," or stand around and look pretty on sand. Of course, the depiction is a magnification of a world in which women rule. Yet once Ken gets a taste of the real world of L.A., thanks to Barbie who needs to return there to save herself and the other Barbies, he joyfully uncovers the opposite of Barbie Land in that the patriarchy or his male people rule. Soon, he returns to "Barbie Land" intent on making a change for what he feels is the better. The transformation he poses amounts to "Kendom," a land wherein men can be their stereotypical, self-possessed selves and Barbies are reduced to "long term, long distance, low commitment, casual girlfriends." Ugh! (Did this phrase ring true, especially for me as my relationship with my own long-term, long-distant L.A. guy is perhaps a living example of Ken's false ideal.)</p><p>If "Barbie" does shine a flashlight on the gospel truth about relationships between women and men, we are in trouble. Lurking beneath the skin of this heavily made-up satire is the realization that we need to look closely at how we treat each other and what our priorities actually are. In both Barbie Land and Kendom, the self (or just which sex is more deserving to reign) seems to take precedence over other selves (humans sans labels), so much so that there isn't enough time to give to worthwhile pursuits, such as unselfish, loving relationships. In life, our undying quest for identifying labels, meaningful, lucrative work, and effective technology consumes us, eventually making us anxious and/or depressed, another truth that the movie exposes in one scene via the innocuous play of human eight-year-old girls. As we watch and listen to "Barbie," we guffaw at the exaggeration of the fictive aspects, but when we leave the theater, we realize the themes that the film presents really aren't anything to laugh about. As they say, "The truth hurts."</p><p>On the other hand, the positive takeaway is that there is hope: hope that the millions of audience members who have seen the movie at least once, if not more, won't accept the movie at face value. "Barbie" is eons away from a kids' movie. So if you haven't seen it, please do. It might change something about your own life. </p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #self #therapy </span></p><p></p><div class="qYXF9" style="border: none; display: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 12px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><footer aria-label="Post Footer" class="tOKgq eIaSl" role="contentinfo" style="border: none; color: rgba(var(--black),.65); 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font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 0px 2px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></button></span></span></span></span></div></div></div></footer></div><p></p><p><span></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-27798906207533003032023-08-02T06:53:00.000-07:002023-08-02T06:53:11.112-07:00The Imprimatur, ADD, and the "Talkaholic"<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>imprimatur - noun - a person's acceptance or guarantee that something is of a good standard (Google).</p><p><br /></p><p><span>The other day, I came across this word in a somewhat facetious text message that a fellow member of my book club had sent to the group. Apparently, her daughter issues the same imprimatur, "That's funny" to all examples of humor, no matter what. As I put down my iPhone, I asked myself this question: If someone uses the same catch phrase all the time in response to whatever, is the person truly listening? Did the person actually hear and comprehend what was just spoken? I would wager that the answer could be no. As I get older, I am realizing that listening to others can be a behemoth task, especially if the diagnosis is ADD and the speakers provide TMI, too much information, but not the salacious kind.</span><br /></p><p><span>ADD, Attention Deficit Disorder, can affect not only children but adults, too. Mine comes and goes, which makes me think that what I have is voluntary ADD as opposed to involuntary. Simply put, I select what I want to hear and disregard the rest. Like a kindergartener, my attention span is limited. It has been said that small children can only concentrate for a sustained period of about 25 minutes. I think I can only focus on what is being told to me for only five minutes, but it varies depending on the speaker and the content. </span></p><p><span>I have found that I have little patience for "talkaholics," communicators who jabber interminably sans breaths at points of punctuation. If there are indeed any end points, these folks make it impossible to tell. Oddly enough, I know more garrulous men than women, and they tend to be bachelors. Which isn't surprising. People who live alone can be lonely. When placed in social situations, they overreact/overcompensate in a sense, becoming grand mal communicators at the expense of their listeners. At present, I am trying to avoid a new male friend, who talks so incessantly about himself that I can't get a word in edgewise. It's frustrating as I find that I am forced to step on his words just to participate in the conversation. It feels like being on the losing end of a tug-a-war rope.</span></p><p>If you are open to it, here is some practical advice from a former Public Speaking teacher (i.e. me): </p><p><span>If you are self-aware, most likely you already know whether or not you are a talkaholic. Unfortunately, there isn't an AA equivalent for those afflicted with this malady. Whatever or whoever you are, just be cognizant that your receivers can be suffering from ADD. Limit what you have to say so that there is genuine give and take. Without the interplay, there is really no conversation, just a monologue or soliloquy that perhaps belongs on a stage rather than in two-way communication. </span></p><p><span>Considering the state of affairs nationally and internationally these days, there is a lot to talk about. I will issue an imprimatur of excellence (A+) to those who can step up and step back to allow for a balanced, equitable conversation. </span></p><p><span>Thanks for "listening." </span></p><p><span><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #self #therapy </span></p><p><span></span></p><div class="qYXF9" style="border: none; display: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 12px 0px 0px; 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What is the reason why I am on YouTube? To find an international audience for my original music and homemade videos, of course. How do I do that? I tend to start conversations with fellow YouTubers to advertise my music.</p><p>However, every once in a while in my search for people who could possibly what to listen to my songs, I will come across videos that relate to psychology, a subject of personal fascination and study, and I will learn something about human beings that I didn't already know. Thankfully, to save me some time, YouTube with its superior algorithms will find videos for me based on my existing searches. Just this evening, YouTube found a video for me that Psychology Daily released, providing a litany of affirmative quotes, the best of which, I would like to share with you so as to save <i>you</i> a bit of valuable time. They are in no particular order. "Woke" alert: Some of the quotes assume everyone is heterosexual. If you are someone outside the nomenclature, I apologize. I'm guessing whoever wrote the material did so sometime during the last century. Just substitute in the appropriate nouns and pronouns that will work for you. </p><p><span>The quotations are as follows: </span></p><p><span>"If you focus on the hurt, you will continue to suffer. If you focus on the lessons, you will continue to grow." </span></p><p><span>"A real man/woman will be honest no matter how painful the truth is. A coward hides behind lies and deceit."</span></p><p><span>"The main reason behind most breakups is misunderstanding." </span></p><p><span>"A woman can't change a man because she loves him. A man changes himself because he loves her."</span></p><p><span>"Once you are in a relationship, you think it's going to last forever, but in reality, it only lasts as long as you are working for it. If one person stops working, it falls apart."</span></p><p><span>"Hearing a single negative thing can damage at least five positive memories. Distancing yourself from negativity is self-care."</span></p><p><span>"Learn to love without condition. Take without bad intentions. Give without any reasons. And most of all, care for people without expectations." </span></p><p><span>"Don't treat people as bad as they are; treat them as good as you are."</span></p><p><span>"We don't need to explain our love. We only need to show it."</span></p><p><span>"People who hide their feelings usually care the most."</span></p><p><span>"Crying is actually very healthy. Tears lubricate your eyes, remove irritants, and reduce stress, making you feel better."</span></p><p><span>"Real people stay faithful to their partners. They don't have time to look for others because they are too busy looking for new ways to love their own."</span></p><p><span>"A man always remembers the woman who has captivated his mind."</span></p><p><span>"Without communication, there is no relationship. Without respect, there is no love. Without trust, there's no reason to continue."</span></p><p><span>"Lucky is the man who is the first love of a woman's life, but luckier is the woman who is the last love of a man's." </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit; white-space-collapse: preserve;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #self #therapy </span></p><p><span></span></p><div class="qYXF9" style="border: none; display: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 12px 0px 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><footer aria-label="Post Footer" class="tOKgq eIaSl" role="contentinfo" style="border: none; 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font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 0px 2px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></button></span></span></span></div></div></div></footer></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></p><p><span><br /></span></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-57268799607818915562023-07-17T07:53:00.001-07:002023-07-17T07:53:31.389-07:00The Epistle: A Thumbs-Up for Letter Writing<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>epistle - noun - a letter (Merriam-Webster: Google)</p><p><br /></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span> In this age of over-the-top technology, the emphasis, of course, is on communication. Yet believe it or not, there are some who shun the popular means of reaching out by clinging to what worked well in the past, letter writing, for example. Ah, you may turn up your nose and/or scoff at what you may deem to be outmoded. However, there are some solid reasons why you might want to return to</span> penning and sending an epistle (a letter) as opposed to using email, texting, a Skype/FaceTime, or a phone call to catch up with others. Here are five good reasons why you should go back to letter writing (and they have nothing to do with Lucy van Pelt's fingers or fist):</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span> One: </span>A letter is palpable, concrete yet abstract at the same time. You can experience a letter via all five senses albeit I wouldn’t recommend tasting it. (And to experience the audio sense, you can rustle it in a soft breeze as opposed to tearing it up.) It also can convey symbolism or other literary tropes if the writer happens to be a poet and tries very hard to impress the recipient. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span> </span>Two: A letter can defy time. Just think of all the letters written by famous people over the years that have wound up in museums or books. Think Mary B. Shelley’s in the Huntington Library if you have ever been there. If not, definitely put it on your bucket list.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span> </span>Three: A letter can unite (or separate) people. If I hadn’t found the letter that my current love interest had written to me in 1980 while digging around in my attic, he and I would not be an item today. Admit it: If you are intent on your lover remembering you over time, write him or her or them a love letter. Letters are way more romantic than emails, and you won't delete them by mistake.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span> </span>Four: A letter is a display of written expression that can be telling. Handwriting analysis or graphology has helped people fathom an individual’s personality, unlocking the mysteries of the self. (Okay, maybe not legitimately, but it sounds good.)</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span> </span>Five: </span><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;">A letter (esp. a love letter) is a purveyor of joy in the moment and over time. The recipient can read and reread it until she or he is convinced that it is real and not a come-on. Or if the recipient is trustworthy, he or she can read and reread it for the pure pleasure of it. (I admit to doing just that.) After all is said and done, digital won't last over time because technology is constantly being changed and upgraded, whereas analog (the basic paper epistle) will if you take time to preserve it. </span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;">I probably can think of more reasons as to why the letter shouldn’t go the way of the Pontiac. (Gosh, I miss my Sunfire.) I'll leave it up to you to come up with a few more reasons on your own, perhaps in a letter to yourself? :)</span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><div class="VDRZ4" style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="Qb2zX" style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; 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padding-right: var(--post-padding); padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve; width: 540px; word-break: break-word;"><p style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 0.75em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #self #therapy </p></div></div></span></div></div><p><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></p><div class="qYXF9" style="border: none; display: inherit; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; 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font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;" tabindex="-1"><svg height="20" role="presentation" style="--icon-color-primary: rgba(var(--black), 0.65);" width="23" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><use href="#managed-icon__fire-empty"></use></svg><span class="y56NR" color="rgba(var(--black),.65)" face="var(--font-family)" style="border: none; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 0px 0px 0px 2px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></button></span></span></div></div></div></footer></div><p><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-19118798277513499732023-07-04T07:41:00.000-07:002023-07-04T07:41:05.227-07:00Wraiths and Reality<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="So6RQ" data-id="721315567916744704" style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 20px; outline: none; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" tabindex="-1"><div class="ge_yK" style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" tabindex="-1"><div class="c79Av" style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"><article class="FtjPK" style="border-radius: 3px; border: none; color: RGB(var(--black)); font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px; max-width: 540px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline; width: 540px;"><div class="VDRZ4" style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="Qb2zX" style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="GzjsW" style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><div class="k31gt" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; color: RGB(var(--black)); font-family: var(--font-family); font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 8px 0px 15px; min-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: var(--post-padding); padding-right: var(--post-padding); padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve; width: 540px; word-break: break-word;"><h1 style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1.625rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1.3077; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></h1></div><div class="k31gt" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; color: RGB(var(--black)); font-family: var(--font-family); font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 15px 0px; min-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: var(--post-padding); padding-right: var(--post-padding); padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve; width: 540px; word-break: break-word;"><p style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 0.75em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">wraith - noun - a ghost or ghostlike image of someone, especially one seen shortly before or after his/her/their death. (Google)</p></div><div class="k31gt" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; color: RGB(var(--black)); font-family: var(--font-family); font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 15px 0px; min-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: var(--post-padding); padding-right: var(--post-padding); padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve; width: 540px; word-break: break-word;"><p style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 0.75em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">This past weekend, I drove down to the Eastern Shore of Virginia to attend an informal reunion of friends from college at the lovely Victorian home of one of the friends. "The Big Chill" it was not, however. It was more on the order of "Three's Company," comical, but not silly.</p></div><div class="k31gt" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; color: RGB(var(--black)); font-family: var(--font-family); font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 15px 0px; min-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: var(--post-padding); padding-right: var(--post-padding); padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve; width: 540px; word-break: break-word;"><p style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 0.75em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">On Sunday evening toward sun down, we three treated ourselves to a two-hour, historically focused, walking tour of the downtown, which featured a ghost story about a man, murdered for monetary reasons, who has been haunting the movie theater for decades. One employee swore that she actually saw him limp into the men's room only to dissolve completely into thin air. Naturally, this initial, stranger-than-fiction anecdote incited a litany of personal experiences involving wraiths. My male friend went so far as to inform us that he has seen and communicated with multiple apparitions, friends and relations, either in his dreams or during dreamlike states. I don't doubt it, for I, too, received a visit from my father in a dream that I had shortly after his death. Whether or not you believe in this sort of supernatural, Macbethian/Dickensian thing is certainly up to you. If your life experience has not led you down this shadowy path, then most likely you don't think about the presence of spirits, and your reality is more or less normal as opposed to paranormal.</p></div><div class="k31gt" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; color: RGB(var(--black)); font-family: var(--font-family); font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 15px 0px; min-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: var(--post-padding); padding-right: var(--post-padding); padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve; width: 540px; word-break: break-word;"><p style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 0.75em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Or so you might think. Whether or not you'd like to admit it, most likely you are being haunted in some sense of the word. If wraiths are ghosts, they are transparent images of the pasts that they had once inhabited. If your memory serves you well, it has the ability to visit and spook you. What I am getting at is that the Past can be a wraith that stays with you and may or may not wreak havoc if you allow it to do so. The only way past an unpleasant, wraithlike Past is to walk through her/his/their vapors by way of the present. Translation? Stay in the present. Which is easier said than done. I admit to being haunted myself, both in the conscious and unconscious states of mind. I don't expect that I'll ever be quite free from the two insistent specters who played significant roles in my life, but to placate or just protect myself, I try to remain fixated on memories of them that are pleasant as opposed to unpleasant. Memory can be selective. You can simply make a choice, which is a theme that I tend to come back to repeatedly in this blog. You can choose to remember the good things about the Past as opposed to the bad. The Past won't evaporate, but it will be more tolerant. At least, you will be able to coexist with it. </p></div><div class="k31gt" style="border: none; box-sizing: border-box; color: RGB(var(--black)); font-family: var(--font-family); font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 1rem; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; line-height: 1.5; margin: 15px 0px; min-height: 1.5em; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: var(--post-padding); padding-right: var(--post-padding); padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve; width: 540px; word-break: break-word;"><p style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 0.75em; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #self #therapy </p></div></div></span></div></div><div class="qYXF9" style="border: none; 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padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="BPf9u" data-testid="controlled-popover-wrapper" style="border: none; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top; width: inherit;"><span class="BPf9u" style="border: none; display: inline-block; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top; width: inherit;"><span class="Vcrhu" data-testid="controlled-popover-wrapper" style="border: none; display: flex; flex: 1 1 0%; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; 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display: flex; flex: 1 1 0%; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: top;"><button aria-label="Like" class="TRX6J" style="border-color: initial; border-style: none; border-width: initial; cursor: pointer; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: none;"><span class="EvhBA B1Z5w" style="border: none; color: inherit; display: block; font: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline;" tabindex="-1"><svg height="21" role="presentation" style="--icon-color-primary: rgba(var(--black), 0.65);" width="23" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2000/svg"><use href="#managed-icon__like-empty"></use></svg></span></button></span></span></span></span></div></div></div><div class="yTb5J" style="border-bottom: none; border-image: initial; border-left: none; border-right: none; border-top: 1px solid transparent; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; max-height: 0px; opacity: 0; overflow: hidden; padding: 0px; transition: opacity 0.3s ease-in-out 0s; vertical-align: baseline; width: 540px;"></div></footer></div></article></div></div></div><div class="So6RQ" data-id="720756124825092096" style="border: none; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px 0px 20px; outline: none; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" tabindex="-1"><div class="ge_yK" style="border: none; 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width: 540px;"><header aria-label="Posted by wordtowords" class="BjErQ PpzOx" role="link" style="align-items: center; background-color: white; border-radius: 3px 3px 0px 0px; border: none; box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; font-family: Favorit, "Helvetica Neue", HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-alternates: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; justify-content: center; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; max-width: 540px; padding-bottom: var(--post-header-vertical-padding); padding-left: var(--post-padding); padding-right: var(--post-padding); padding-top: var(--post-header-vertical-padding); vertical-align: baseline; width: 540px;" tabindex="0"><div class="q4Pce" style="border: none; display: flex; flex-direction: row; flex-grow: 1; font-family: var(--font-family); font-feature-settings: inherit; 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padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" tabindex="-1"><figure class="DdFPj" style="border: none; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit; font-feature-settings: inherit; font-kerning: inherit; font-optical-sizing: inherit; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-variation-settings: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 0; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; vertical-align: baseline; width: 540px;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" /></figure></span></button></div></div></span></div></div></article></div></div></div>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-53894679176698830462023-06-30T08:18:00.001-07:002023-07-01T06:13:30.931-07:00Illustrious Illeism <p> </p><p><br /></p><p>Illeism - noun - referring to the self in third person in order to separate oneself from the self.</p><p><br /></p><p>Is it possible to separate oneself from the self for clarity?</p><p>One of my favorite television series has always been "Sex and the City." Although it saw its last episode a while ago, I still like to watch all six seasons via HBO Max. The latest installment, the sequel,"And Just Like That" just isn't the same, especially sans the controversial character of Samantha. Say what you will about the original. You can't argue that it isn't well written for what it is: risky, bawdy, yet groundbreaking cable TV. As I have been a writer since my twenties (a long time) and a high-school English teacher to boot, I can appreciate how the character of Carrie, a journalist, begins each episode with a question. (I might have stolen the idea a few times to use in my classroom, but don't quote me on that.) One show from the fourth season, I believe, features the theme of perception: how we can never quite perceive ourselves with an absolute degree of accuracy. Which is true. We can't. We are either too self-critical or too self-justifying or too self-somewhere-in-between. Not being able to judge oneself well, I think, may be one of the myriad flaws of human nature. However, if you are the exception (in the extreme minority) and tend to view yourself authentically, society considers you "cursed with self-awareness" as ironically, it can be a liability when you are flying solo 20/20 in a farsighted or blind community. So either way, I guess we caught in a Catch-22 and can't win.</p><p>Last week, I was scrolling through the BBC's World News' website and came across an article devoted to the concept of self-perception. Apparently, there are individuals out there who can dole out the advice, but when it comes to being able to self-direct, they can't, probably because they are too close to themselves; so when they look at themselves in a mirror, they have a tough time seeing themselves for who they are. In short, they can dish it out, but can't take it, meaning their own advice. But how can you advise yourself if you can't read yourself realistically? The BBC's answer? Illeism. According to the article, ostensibly, you have to provide yourself some distance from yourself by talking to yourself in the third person, which is known as Illeism. Here's an example: "You know, Gwyn, you really should try to stop coming across as a know-it-all and mind your own business when it comes to other people's lives." You get the idea. </p><p>I suppose the idea isn't new since perfectly sane people (?) have been talking to themselves in third person since forever. I suppose it may make sense to try if you are indeed capable of separating yourself from your ego long enough to see that it could be the reason why you can't recognize your own shortcomings. </p><p>Let's face it (if we can), being human isn't easy. Life isn't easy. It was never meant to be. A little bit of self-deception is probably not too self-destructive. For instance, if I look in the glass this morning and see a rock star, will the falsity kill me? Probably not. A boost of fake reality may just make me feel like I can tackle the actual day better. Is there anything wrong with that?</p><p>Speaking of rock stars, I'll leave you with a bit of sound advice borrowed from Pink Floyd albeit I might have quoted it before: "Shine on, you crazy diamonds." Be your best self, whomever you perceive yourself to be. </p><p><br /></p><p>#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-31284214049400855182023-06-16T15:57:00.002-07:002023-06-16T15:57:21.977-07:00Love and Marriage in Perpetuity <p> </p><p><br /></p><p>in perpetuity - forever</p><p><br /></p><p>About a week ago, I came across the phrase "in perpetuity" as I was registering one of the singles off of my second, original album with BMI, a "performance rights" agency that distributes loyalties to composers/artists after their copyrighted music has been played publicly. It definitely has a legal, contractual ring to it. Lucky for me, all I had to do was check off a box, agreeing that I am and will be the sole owner of the rights to the song forever. And as we know, forever is a very long time. </p><p>In life, contracts abound. In fact, we can't get through reality as adults sans signing agreements. That being stated, few belong under the nomenclature of "in perpetuity." However, marriage does promise to be interminable albeit the divorce rate in reality tends to nullify the original arrangement and usually quite expeditiously at that. Still, there are exemplary couples that embrace the covenant for the long term. In March, I unveiled the ingredients necessary to perpetuate a loving relationship. The blog was called "Netflix and the Secret of Loving Longer." Which had all of two readers. (I'm going for at least three this time around.) Ever since I saw that documentary about the uber committed couple, living happily in perpetuity up in Vermont, I have been meeting real people who mirror that particular pair in at least one sense. </p><p>Just today, as my musical partner and I were setting up to perform Sinatra and Motown tunes for about fifty residents in an assisted living facility, an elderly husband and wife were ensconced in the third row of the house, 30 minutes early, watching reruns of Seinfeld on the TV situated just above our heads. The gentleman just happened to mention that he and his bride had recently celebrated 70 years of marriage. Yes, 70. Most of us don't make it to ten, sadly enough. Of course, I didn't want to assume that what I had noted in the aforementioned blog could possibly apply to everyday reality, but surprisingly, it does. </p><p>This ordinary human being verified a theory I had had even before I watched Netflix, perhaps even before there was a Netflix. The male (sorry, but this might only be true for straight couples) in a long-term relationship has to possess a stubborn choke hold on love. In clearer, less violently graphic terms, he has to be in love with his woman in perpetuity. The euphoric, somewhat seemingly nonviable emotional state has to last forever. Or the deal is off. My own father hung onto an unrequited love affair (or should I say, a marriage) with my mother in perpetuity in spite of her being an often difficult, imperious woman who had pretty much nothing in common with him. Since he was in love with her, it didn't much matter that she didn't return his variety of love because it made him blind to any and all imperfections she inhabited. Ergo the union lasted until the death-do-us-part clause of the agreement kicked in. He never remarried although he did date a woman only because she reminded him of my mother. (You see what I mean? In perpetuity is without a doubt forever.)</p><p>So there you have it, ladies. If you believe in marriage (or even a monogamous liaison) and want yours to last forever, just find a man who is head over heels in love with you. If you do, like the song "At Last" that I am learning for my next gig at a local nursing home, a spell will be cast, you'll feel like you're in heaven, and he will be yours in perpetuity "at last." </p><p><br /></p><p>#love #marriage #word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #forever #monogamy </p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-77527690755049644222023-06-08T05:42:00.001-07:002023-06-08T05:42:29.509-07:00Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, Literally and Figuratively<p> </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p>deleterious - adjective - causing harm or damage (Google)</p><p><br /></p><p>Just in case you are unaware (or live under a rock), because of the seemingly preternatural abundance of wild fires burning in Canada and the southerly direction of the wind, the New York metropolitan area has been enveloped in smoke. The normally blue skies at this time of year appear to be burned a gray-orange, and the air is tinged with a corrosive musk, deleterious to the eyes and lungs of all creatures. Even with our advanced technology, there is little we humans can do but wait for the forces of nature to find us relief. Yet until that happens (it might take days for the patterns of wind to change), all of us in the path of the smoke will have to find suitable cover in order to prevent smoke from literally getting in our eyes and elsewhere. </p><p>In the 1960s, my pianist grandmother (1888-1983) introduced an inchoate me to a song, "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" written by Jerome Kern and Otto Harbach for a 1933 musical called <i>Roberta. </i>Since at the time, I was not even into my second decade of life, I couldn't distinguish between the literal and the figurative, so I just thought that the song's title underscored one of the hazards of smoking cigarettes, a popular pastime at the time, around non-smokers. How naive of me. It turned out that the lyrics contain tropes that have nothing to do with the superficial. The words denote the deleterious nature of romantic love. Passion, to be precise. In short, the heat of lovemaking tends to produce a wild fire, which in turn, exudes smoke, which in turn, gets in the lover's eyes, blinding him to any semblance of reality. "When your heart's on fire/you must realize smoke gets in your eyes." In the tune, the female lover absconds with the heart of her partner, leaving him with tears as a consolation prize (the effect of the cause) and the thought that "when a lovely flame dies/smoke gets in your eyes." Which simply implies that he will remain blind to her faults even though he is enduring heartbreak. </p><p>It pains me to think that in this natural crisis, there are individuals out there on the East Coast who ironically may be experiencing both the literal and the figurative meanings of "smoke gets in your eyes." If you are, then my heart goes out to you. All I can say is find a safe haven inside of a building possessing an interior that doesn't remind you of your ex and wear an N95 mask if you have to go outside :). After all, you just can't afford to have any more smoke getting in your eyes.</p><p><br /></p><p>#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #optimism, #philosophy, #truth, #everyday-philosophy, #current-events </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-76752899806311477752023-05-28T07:17:00.000-07:002023-05-28T07:17:54.393-07:00Chris, Mick and the Fine Art of Artifice <p> </p><p><br /></p><p>artifice - noun - clever devices used to trick or deceive (Google).</p><p><br /></p><p>Let's face the music and accept that for whatever reason(s), human beings embrace the concept of deception. And now that the Internet (via social media) has opened the backstage door for endless opportunities for a little or a lot of artifice, no one is safe from scammers, or in my case, ordinary people pretending to be rock stars. </p><p>Because I am in the music business along with just about everyone else, I have to spend time on social media just advertise my original songs and get them circulating among listeners throughout the globe. Although I am a minuscule presence on TikTok, Instagram, Pinterest, Twitter, Linked-In, Facebook, I try to post at least three times a week to generate a following, which isn't easy as there are 100,000 songs released on the music streaming channels daily and 100,000 artists promoting them. Apparently as FB is the medium of choice for celebrities, more grifters use it to impersonate them than any other platform. I am lucky because the con artists who hit on me generally do not want money; they just want to take me to bed. Case in point, one man, who just happens to have the name Christopher Cross like the musician (who is actually the real imposter since his surname isn't actually Cross) tried to impersonate him in order to trick me into meeting him. Fortunately, I was onto him right from the start. Just in case this should ever happen to you (maybe on YouTube in the comments section), an authentic celebrity would never ask you when you became his or her fan. And most likely as an icebreaker, he or she would never thank you for being his or her fan. I know from experience that unless they are extreme narcissists, celebrated people tend to want to step away from themselves for a few and come across as being average. So it was clear that Chris wasn't the celebrated Chris since he made the mistake of doing what all trolls do initially: he asked, "How long have you been my fan?" (I replied, "I've never been your fan." Oh, well. You can fool some of the people some of the time, but not all of the people all of the time.)</p><p>Of course, it is true that there are famous types out there who do interface with fans and do use artifice (such as different names) so that they don't attract attention. I am contending with someone right now who claims to be Micheal Philip Jagger, which is Mick Jagger's full name. Even though he has the blue checkmark verifying his identity, my daughter claims that he is in no way real, mainly because eighty-year-old men don't know how to navigate FB. Sensible, smart she contends that Mick no doubt has troops of well-paid assistants assigned to connect with the public on social media. The real Mick, romantically linked to a thirty-six-year-old dancer, would not have a second to reach out to me. Which all makes sense, yet this inchoate swindler is atypical so far. Like Macbeth and most politicians after him, Micheal could just be quite good at duplicity until some day, his artifice is exposed as such, and he is uncovered and cancelled (the beauty of social media). </p><p>On the other hand, I did read an article on the web stating that you can never truly be sure whether or not you are being hoodwinked. It is possible that the person is indeed the person he or she says he or she is. Just make sure you don't wire any money to him or her and you don't friend him or her. As far as my Micheal, I am playing his game, pretending I don't realize that he is attempting to be Mick. And I am acting as though I am the bigger celeb whose privacy is kept private. In the end, the greater pretender will win, I suppose, if there can be a winner at shenanigans. Let's put it this way, if the actual Mick should die, and Micheal keeps liking my posts, I'll have my answer. (I hope it doesn't come down to that, though, because I am Mick's fan.)</p><p>The obvious paradoxical takeaway here is that sometimes you have to be deceptive in order to expose deception. Truth doesn't come easily. </p><p><br /></p><p>#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth, #social media, #deception, #human nature </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-12152918769754269152023-05-20T16:36:00.006-07:002023-05-22T18:28:52.922-07:00The Age of Atavism <p> </p><p>atavism - noun - recurrence of or reversion to a past style, manner, outlook, approach, or activity (Google)</p><p><br /></p><p>Author William Faulkner in <i>Requiem for a Nun </i>wrote "The past is never dead. It's not even past." Which is something that certainly holds true today. It seems atavism is a daily occurrence as humans tend to enjoy nostalgia, visiting and revisiting the past. </p><p>Take for example the recent coronation of King Charles, III. According to <i>Time, </i>the British people gave up approximately $125 million of their tax dollars to shift their Aston Martins, Jaguars, Land Rovers, etc. into reverse so that they could experience a bit of what their proletariat predecessors had witnessed for hundreds of years. Apparently, the UK is the last country to induct their monarchs so lavishly. And with 58% of the population unwilling to take a leap of faith and shift into drive toward an authentic democracy (albeit on the lefthand side of the road), it seems that atavism is the transmission of choice. I did manage to drive a car in reverse down a thousand-foot, serpentine driveway once. It was uncomfortable, but I did get to the end of it safely :). </p><p>Yet another example of the past in the present would be the current trend backwards in recent fiction. I am just about finished reading Bangles' Susanna Hoffs's realistic novel <i>This Bird Has Flown, </i>just published recently. The first-person narrator, Jane Start, who is 33 and a jaded rock star take-off of Jane Eyre, behaves like she is 23 and thinks like she is 64 (the author's age). She has an annoying case of nostalgic Tourette's Syndrome in that she is addicted to spurting out allusions to the 1950s/1960s, something no thirty-three-year-old woman I have ever met, shy of my daughter, is capable of doing. Nor would anyone that age regardless of what kind of parents she had care to do so. (Right, Millennial ladies?) Why Hoffs would want to reference Don Ho and "Tiny Bubbles" for any reason is beyond me. Comic relief? Why didn't I laugh? Naturally, the New York <i>Times </i>gave Hoffs, most likely sans any undergraduate writing classes, a glowing review, which makes me think that each manuscript the major publishers send to the newspaper is accompanied by cash, something similar to payola, maybe? Payola? Oh, no! I suppose I am guilty of a trip down Memory Lane myself. Oh, the irony of it! </p><p>Hypothetically, if William Faulkner, who wasn't a Buddhist as far as I know, were alive today, I'm sure he wouldn't have a problem with the current wave of atavism. In fact, he would probably use it to bolster the authenticity of his words. As much as we try to think we are living in the now, creating and perpetuating uniqueness, all we are doing is reinventing the past, adding our own twist to what once was. Author Christopher Booker claims that there are only seven original plot lines. If that is true, we may be in repeat mode indefinitely. Even with advanced technology (just say no to A.I.), perhaps the Age of Atavism will be sticking around for a long time to come. </p><p>#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth, #critique, #literary criticism </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-735537978854831367.post-49167822480771762072023-05-10T06:36:00.004-07:002023-05-10T06:36:33.405-07:00Working for "Soul Cash"<p> </p><p><br /></p><p>"soul cash" - the gratification or "income" received when something is done voluntarily out of the goodness of the heart (Source: Jay, the electrician)</p><p><br /></p><p>When it comes to everyday living, I have come to expect the unexpected. Philosophers can and will show up at the door on occasion. On Monday morning as I was frenetically trying to get organized for a recording session some fifty minutes south, I heard a knock at my front door. Upon opening it, I found a disheveled gnome of a man with wild, gun-metal gray hair and gaping, blue eyes, smiling intensely at me. I told him I had not made any appointments with any maintenance companies, but he insisted upon staying to give my full-house generator a tune-up. I figured that if I had dismissed him entirely, he might never come back, and I did need the machine serviced. So I told him he had 45 minutes and mentioned the session, which sparked commonality. Apparently, he was a composer experimenting with prog rock vibes, which is not surprising since just about everyone is these days. Always blatantly honest, I informed him that since 100,000 songs are released a day, there is no monetary success available in the music business and that I just put my original music out there for a few people who might get something out of it. "Oh, so you are in it for soul cash," he commented. "Soul cash?" I asked. "I made it up. It is when you do something out of the goodness of your heart, and the payback is greater than any monetary amount you could receive."</p><p>Wow! Soul cash! What a concept. Today, I started to take a mental inventory of all the soul cash I had received over the years and realized that it amounted to quite a bit. Which made me happy. How could it not? I am probably a millionaire when it comes to my soul-cash bank account. </p><p>And the moral of the story?</p><p>If more people were intent on earning soul cash as opposed to authentic cash, the world just might be a better place. </p><p>Enough said. </p><p>#word-to-words, #slice-of-life, #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #optimism, #philosophy, #truth, #everyday-philosophy </p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Gwyn English Nielsenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02344803164416522426noreply@blogger.com0