Too Much Information (Revised)
Ex-pat is not a life of empowerment (unless one defines empowerment strictly in economic terms). An important substitution for empowerment is being in the know on someone else's private affairs. Passing along the latest Guess-What-I-Heards produces a high especially if the info is meant to be kept secret and especially if one isn't inclined to hold self-worth in high esteem by holding trust in high esteem.
What I find liberating and self-empowering sharing daily incidentals about my is that I know how deflating and anti-climatic the whole gossip experience can be when one party asks a second party, "Have you heard about. . ." and the second party answers, "Yes, I've already heard. . .I read his/her blog this morning"
Basically I feel as Anne Frank might have felt, that is gossip crones are good people as we are all good people in some measure, and they see should see themselves as such, maybe even more so when manhandling trustworthiness--they need our sympathies.
Perhaps they see a good in it-gossip mongering. They are reactionaries and reactionaries speed along social evolution towards newer and tastier social paradigm shifts.
Many things we think of as moral imperatives, many of which come into conflicts with others, have some good in them however spurious.
But if you were to ask these gossip mongers, other people watchers, ego-less beings at the center of their meaningless life spans if they thought rumor mongering a worthwhile human enterprises, perhaps they'd disagree, say "It's against the Bible", "a Veda" or "the Quran" or something.
However, as with all people who are the world over disempowered somehow: spiritually, philosophically, homeless, who daily endure their impoverished souls, their deflated self esteeem, their dreams deferred or just plain are emotionally demoralized by the onset of years, what others seem to know that they don't know or own which their covet, it’s easy to offer them our sympathies for they have loss all sense of indignity (yet they may inherit this Earth afterall--so a litle sucking up might be worthwhile as well). Oh, and c'est moi.
Today the late March sky is gray and somber, putting gloom in my coffee. It's going to be a Zoloft kind of day.
Meanwhile, on TV, more dismembered corpses are piling up; everyday there is fresh kill, body counts which leave me numb, more and more slabs in morgues, body bags marked members missing, or soldiers of God lifeless on the dusty ground, arms and legs retracted into fetal positions--from Sudan to Mosul to North Korea to Chicago. Let's face it. It's dangerous out there. Who can argue that it is safer to dial a number and spend hours on the phone blathering on about someone else?
It's World War 3. It may not look like the third one we'd expected. I mean, we aren't living in some post-apocalyptic Mad Max Thunder Dome World (unless you've been to Ibra, Oman you might not be able to imagine what one loks like), but if you open a map and start sticking red pins into all of the countries in the world that have been recently rocked by explosions, have seen gun battles in the streets where children wait for the bullets to stop flying to resume their football games, if you seem to be seing more and more post-adolescent soldiers dispatched to some place other than the sanctuary of hearth and home, ordered to shoulder a weapon for an artful, guileful cause, you might be witnessing an artful dodgy Third World War and not even know it.
See the many countries involved in this war as mangy pups to the communal bitch who walks the Earth in order to tell us lies.
Consider yesterday's papers: The dead last year in Thailand were not necessarily disaffected Muslim youth; they were youth who happen to be targets on the campaign trail of a Machiavellian politico. And there ain't much any of us can do to stop any of it. Taking drugs may help, sometimes. Turning off the television helps always.
C
Things are. Full stop.
As for me daughter--good news. Julia has been accepted into her state's arts academy. I helped a little--just a little. I paid for her summer camp there last year and chipped in on the car that drove he there. That helped her to put together her first short film (for which she won a prize) -so maybe she inherited some of my bi-polarity insights into the world from pole to pole. Though I was on the road throughout most of her life and I am only her father--her Mom married ( and later divorced her dad) she (like me) plays multiples of instruments--and she can write as beautifully as her mother, "too beautifully for words" (Grass) And her mother of course deserves an armada of boats laden with credit for cradling her as a baby. But mostly, Julia has done it on her own and perhaps whatever goodness she can offer to this world, this will be my contribution to that better world--those 26 chromosomes she inherited from her rouge daddy.
What I find liberating and self-empowering sharing daily incidentals about my is that I know how deflating and anti-climatic the whole gossip experience can be when one party asks a second party, "Have you heard about. . ." and the second party answers, "Yes, I've already heard. . .I read his/her blog this morning"
Basically I feel as Anne Frank might have felt, that is gossip crones are good people as we are all good people in some measure, and they see should see themselves as such, maybe even more so when manhandling trustworthiness--they need our sympathies.
Perhaps they see a good in it-gossip mongering. They are reactionaries and reactionaries speed along social evolution towards newer and tastier social paradigm shifts.
Many things we think of as moral imperatives, many of which come into conflicts with others, have some good in them however spurious.
But if you were to ask these gossip mongers, other people watchers, ego-less beings at the center of their meaningless life spans if they thought rumor mongering a worthwhile human enterprises, perhaps they'd disagree, say "It's against the Bible", "a Veda" or "the Quran" or something.
However, as with all people who are the world over disempowered somehow: spiritually, philosophically, homeless, who daily endure their impoverished souls, their deflated self esteeem, their dreams deferred or just plain are emotionally demoralized by the onset of years, what others seem to know that they don't know or own which their covet, it’s easy to offer them our sympathies for they have loss all sense of indignity (yet they may inherit this Earth afterall--so a litle sucking up might be worthwhile as well). Oh, and c'est moi.
Today the late March sky is gray and somber, putting gloom in my coffee. It's going to be a Zoloft kind of day.
Meanwhile, on TV, more dismembered corpses are piling up; everyday there is fresh kill, body counts which leave me numb, more and more slabs in morgues, body bags marked members missing, or soldiers of God lifeless on the dusty ground, arms and legs retracted into fetal positions--from Sudan to Mosul to North Korea to Chicago. Let's face it. It's dangerous out there. Who can argue that it is safer to dial a number and spend hours on the phone blathering on about someone else?
It's World War 3. It may not look like the third one we'd expected. I mean, we aren't living in some post-apocalyptic Mad Max Thunder Dome World (unless you've been to Ibra, Oman you might not be able to imagine what one loks like), but if you open a map and start sticking red pins into all of the countries in the world that have been recently rocked by explosions, have seen gun battles in the streets where children wait for the bullets to stop flying to resume their football games, if you seem to be seing more and more post-adolescent soldiers dispatched to some place other than the sanctuary of hearth and home, ordered to shoulder a weapon for an artful, guileful cause, you might be witnessing an artful dodgy Third World War and not even know it.
See the many countries involved in this war as mangy pups to the communal bitch who walks the Earth in order to tell us lies.
Consider yesterday's papers: The dead last year in Thailand were not necessarily disaffected Muslim youth; they were youth who happen to be targets on the campaign trail of a Machiavellian politico. And there ain't much any of us can do to stop any of it. Taking drugs may help, sometimes. Turning off the television helps always.
C
Things are. Full stop.
As for me daughter--good news. Julia has been accepted into her state's arts academy. I helped a little--just a little. I paid for her summer camp there last year and chipped in on the car that drove he there. That helped her to put together her first short film (for which she won a prize) -so maybe she inherited some of my bi-polarity insights into the world from pole to pole. Though I was on the road throughout most of her life and I am only her father--her Mom married ( and later divorced her dad) she (like me) plays multiples of instruments--and she can write as beautifully as her mother, "too beautifully for words" (Grass) And her mother of course deserves an armada of boats laden with credit for cradling her as a baby. But mostly, Julia has done it on her own and perhaps whatever goodness she can offer to this world, this will be my contribution to that better world--those 26 chromosomes she inherited from her rouge daddy.
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