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Social Media - Y U B H8n?

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Mon, 18 Jan 2010 01:24:00 +0000

You Tube, Twitter, Wave...so many new online applications have been developed to help turn a scattered world into a cohesive population. But how are we to expect our peers to take full advantage of these when there is still such a rebellion against email in favor of snail mail and cell phones for land-lines?

We've all heard it.

"I got along just fine before cell phones were invented." or,

"If someone wants to reach me they can wait until I get home."

Well, that's fine if life as status quo is your preference. If you think your biggest risk is not being reachable in case of an emergency and you're okay with that, then you can disregard the rest of this blog. What these people don't get, the things they're missing out on are all of the millions of ways that the entire world is being offered to us, literally in the palm of our hand. There are many people who are put-off by the intensity of this information stream. I recently read an article by Peter John Lindberg in Travel and Leisure magazine, called "How Social Media is Changing Travel." It was very entertaining, I suggest you give it a look. In that article, Lindberg talks about the way technology is altering our vacations, saying (among other things) that it's robbing us of our serendipitous mistakes and spontaneity. I can see what he's trying to say, but think about all of the things that we're gaining. I, for one, missed my carefree and spontaneous years. I didn't travel at all during that time. Now, I'm a single mother of two young boys and I can't afford to be careless with my life or even with my time.

Take a look, for example, at the road trip I took with my boys (then 4 & 5) last summer. I would have been OUT OF MY MIND to attempt such a thing alone without the confidence of a constant connection. What if I had broken down on a deserted road? What if there were an emergency back home? What if Jack had an allergic reaction in the Painted Desert? That experience, the one that caused my boys to take interest in geography and helped us bond as a renegade group of explorers, would never have happened without my extra layer of protection in the form of an LG Versa.

Imagine if I had not had that phone. What would we have done when the van was overrun by ants and we needed to find a garden store that carried child-safe pesticide? Drive around LA for hours looking for a Home Depot while the ants climbed our legs? I don't think so! We looked it up on the phone and had Verizon's GPS take us right there. Problem fixed. Vacation saved.

What about my trip to China, in October '08? I was able to blog my experiences so that I didn't have to call multiple people (at $1.99/minute) to relay the same story over and over. I was also able to take advantage of Skype to see my children who I was over 5,000 miles away from for longer than I had ever been away from them before. Would I have gone on that trip if I didn't think I could be contacted in an instant if there was a problem with my babies? No way.

I use Dropbox to synchronize folders between home, work and school. I use Picasa to share photos of the boys with their grandparents. Google Calendar helps me keep several itineraries straight so I can share appointments with my mother and boyfriend. I watch TV on Hulu to save the $29.99 for cable and get my movies instantly online with Netflix. I keep up with friends via Facebook, sharing and learning things that I would have otherwise been unable to share due to lack of time. I tweet on Twitter (Twitter is a noun, not a verb) and...I blog.

Long story made a little shorter? The only reason I've been able to succeed on this chaotic, exciting path to improvement all by myself is because I'm never alone. Now, I challenge you to choose one application/technology that you've been avoiding and embrace it for a week. Then, let me know what you did and how it treated you!

Feeling Wiley

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Fri, 15 Jan 2010 18:07:00 +0000

It's been over a week now. I dutifully kept a food journal and discovered some shocking things. For some reason, I had assumed that my diet didn't contain enough protein. Whenever I have been faced with rather equal food options, I generally choose the one with more protein. I drink protein water, eat things fortified with soy protein...all to discover after three days of journaling that I'm ODing on PROTEIN!

The average adult requires somewhere around 50 grams of protein. I was getting close to one hundred! Along with many of those sources come saturated fat...of which my intake was also about double what is recommended. Seeing that pattern early on, I decided to do something that I claimed I wasn't going to start right away. I changed my diet. I started opting for the foods with less saturated fat. I skipped the Track Town pizza and did the salad bar instead. I reduced my intake of everything that I considered junk. What do you suppose happened? If you knew me my first time through, you can probably guess.

I call it "The Acme Effect." I'm pretty sure the term has appeared in my blogs before, but let me elaborate anyway. Ya know how Wiley Coyote can be walking happily along off the edge of a cliff, but then as soon as he looks down...GAME OVER! He falls and makes a dusty thud on the ground below. Failure. I've experienced that phenomenon in many things over the years, but none as noticeably as in my weight. The harder I try to reign myself in, the more I gain. It's very discouraging. In fact, during the first week of my weight loss attempt, I GAINED 5 pounds. Yes, I probably put on a bit of muscle with my workouts, etc., but WTF??

A strange twist to this tale. I stayed at my sister's house Thursday night and weighed myself on her scale...which had me in at three pounds less than I was when I started journaling. Could it be that my scale has an issue? Is her scale nine pounds low? More to come when I get back to my house and I can investigate further!

Rude Awakening - The 4 year old and the earthquake

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Wed, 13 Jan 2010 16:43:00 +0000

My four year old likes to watch the news. He spent more time watching coverage of the last election than I did. Unfortunately, the news is laden with things that he's not quite ready for, so I try to curtail his exposure to CNN.

Last night, however, I forgot to switch the tv from NBC to OPB before I went to bed, so this morning when Jack woke up to watch cartoons, he got a brain full of something a little to intense for a preschooler. Snuggled soundly in my bed, I heard Jackson run in to the room he shares with his brother and scream at a still-sleeping James, "Bro, guess what?? Bad news! Bad News! There was a Haiti Quake and people are trapped!!!"

My eyes popped open. Instantly, I knew what had happened. My baby was being bombarded by the same images that I had seen last night. Things far too frightening for his sensitive heart. I went and got him, brought him back out into the living room and switched the tv to cartoons, then, I asked him to talk to me about the Haiti Quake.

"What did you see?" I asked.
'There was a Haiti Quake and people are trapped." He responded.
"What does that mean?"
"It means there was an earthquake in Haiti and people are trapped in the quake."

It was true. He seemed to have a pretty firm grasp of what he had seen, so the best I could do was damage control. I told him that we had sent some troops over to help and that he didn't have to worry about it, because it would be okay. I chose my words carefully and yes, I know that it won't be okay for everyone in Haiti, but it will be okay for Jackson and that's all he needs to know right now.

Later, on our way to school, Jack brought up the quake again. I asked him, this time, what he understood was going to happen now. This is what he said:

"GI Joe is going to go to Haiti and throw the earthquake to the North Pole. Then, Santa Claus is going to take the quake to Hawaii where the Hawaiians are going to toss it into the ocean."

It was then that I realized it was time to drop it. Nothing I could say could *possibly* be better than that!

Full Body Scan

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 06:24:00 +0000

Okay, so I'm not the only one who's petrified about being digitally stripped like this in front of airport security personnel. It's bad enough that I get poked fun at about one in every five times I fly. I've had a security man look at my ID, look at me (both with bright magenta hair) and say, "I'm not sure if this is you...do you have any other distinguishing marks?" I've had another make his wand beep artificially over my breasts and then laugh when he saw my expression, saying "I'm just playin'." Some people just don't handle themselves well and people like that don't have any place looking beneath my clothes.

I'll agree that I'm not exactly an exhibitionist. I've been called prude and borderline frigid, but you don't have to be prudent to feel violated having your hidden shapes projected on a screen to people that you don't have any relationship with.

That said, I'm actually comfortable with the new rules for the new generation of scanners setting to be deployed in the airports. First of all, they've done away with the photo-real pictures and are instead creating characterized images for display. To the right is a sample of the new style.

Along the same lines, they have disabled the ability for the machines to capture, save or send these images. That means that there's a constant and real-time visual, but as soon as you're gone, so is the picture. I'm okay with that. It's a lot better than having to go through a tactile search by security looking for hidden weapons. We already have to take off our shoes because of a resourceful bomber, I'm not willing to take off my panties before I'm allowed to get on a plane.

Look. If having this multi-million dollar equipment in every airport will deter people from bringing their tweezers and nail-clippers on the airplanes, then by all means, fire them up! I'd hate to be the target of an extremist plucker.

One Step at a Time

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 02:55:00 +0000

2009 was a crazy year. I submerged myself in so many projects and came out the other side feeling more satisfied and enriched than at any other time in my life. I started my Master's program, reignited my interest in painting and fell in love.

One failing that I had, however, was breaking my downward weight trend twice this year...once over Spring Break and again between Thanksgiving and New Year's. For the first time since I took my life back, my weight has started rising again. This would merely be a minor inconvenience except for two things. The first is that I'm horribly afraid of gaining back what I lost over the last four years and the second is that I still have about 35 pounds to go.

That said, I feel like I can safely claim that this isn't just a normal, run of the mill weight-loss resolution. This is simply getting back on track in 2010. Now that I've got all of the explanation out of the way, I'm going to tell you how I plan to do it.

What follows isn't exactly a secret. It's not a magic cure-all, because I don't believe that anything works for everyone. What I can tell you, is that it worked for me (to lose more pounds than I care to tell you right now.) My method? I call it "One Step at a Time."

Cold Turkey doesn't work for me...the meat is fine, it's the method that causes me trouble. Whenever I look ahead at all of the things I'm supposed to give-up, I crack. I have to take everything very easy and get used to it. That may sound odd, considering that when it comes to my actual life, I tend to dive-in head first. In this case, when trying to take off some extra poundage, slow and steady wins the race.

First? Pay attention to the time. I find that my body processes food a lot better when I eat progressively less throughout the day. That means a large breakfast, medium lunch, small dinner.

Second? Knock out the caffeine. Caffeine can stress out an already overtaxed body and cause cortisol build-up which is famous for encouraging the production of fat.

Third? The thing that is simultaneously most important and most annoying is keeping a food journal. Whether or not I keep track of the calories, fat, protein and fiber in everything I eat (which I should) it's very important to know just how much I'm eating so that it doesn't add up on me without even realizing it. I also know that I'm a lot less likely to grab a handful of chocolate chips (omnomnom) if I know I'll have to go to my food journal to write them down.

There are several other things that I'll get around to adding to my regimen once I've re-adapted to the three things above. Exercise, vegetables, reduced dairy, and more water are all things that my body reacts very well to. I'll give more detail on these as I incorporate them.

A final thought on the issue: I know myself well enough to know that I can't deprive myself of anything. The more I tell myself that I can't have it, the more I want it. That means that no food will be off limits. Burgers (as always) will be ordered without cheese or mayo. If I want a Blizzard, I'll order one and throw away as much as I need to and I won't feel guilty. I'll continue to have Ben & Jerry's...I'll just eat a little less of it. That's going to be the secret to my success. One step at a time.

Shades of Grey or Gray

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 01:28:00 +0000

Most of the time, to most people, situations seem awfully black and white. The thing is, if you take a step back and look at the big picture, you'll find many various shades of grey that you were overlooking.

Before I continue, I feel like I should explain my use of "grey" over "gray." When I was younger and wanted to live in a castle somewhere in Europe, I adopted the English spelling for many words. "colour" got me kicked out of my fourth grade spelling bee. I try my hardest not to add that extra 'u' in words anymore, but I still prefer "grey" over "gray". To me, "grey" represents a mixture of black and white, while "gray" evokes feelings of gloom. Maybe it's odd, but that's just my personal preference.

However you spell it, I'm constantly amazed by how many people refuse to see the shades of grey in life's circumstances. My friends seem to be dominated by a "I'm right, they're wrong" mentality. What good does that really do? What can we learn from those situations? In my mind, all it does is breed hostility and allow bitterness to fester over a situation gone awry. It's much easier on an ego to see both sides and understand that there are many ways for any situation to go. For one to expect that every conflict will end in their favour...um...favor...is pure hubris. What's the harm in looking at the opposing side? Maybe, just maybe you'll start to see some flaws in your own logic that can help you build a stronger argument next time.

I used to want to be a lawyer. When I was young, I thought my communication skills and quick wit would help me get my point across to any audience and allow me to defend the downtrodden. I soon realized that as a lawyer I would be forced to defend people that were neither entirely right nor entirely wrong. I would, in effect, have to choose a side knowing full well that I didn't believe it was the only legitimate point of view. That was the end of that aspiration. To this day, I can't really defend something that I don't completely believe (so if you get in an argument with me and I'm fervently holding my ground, you may want to give your position a second thought.)

Because my extreme empathy is rare, it can make people who aren't used to it pretty cranky. When someone's pouring their heart out about how upset it made them that they were cut off by a woman on the freeway, the last thing they want to hear is that she had been trying to get to her exit, but you were driving the exact speed as the car right beside you, leaving her no opportunity to shuffle appropriately. Run on sentences aside, enlightenment like that is generally unwelcome. I try to curb my urges to paint other people's scenes in grey. Even so, that's most likely what's going through my head as I nod in support. So now you know that just because I'm not arguing with you, doesn't mean that I agree with what you're saying. I believe that life is extremely grey and that's wonderful.

Lucky Me.

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Mon, 16 Nov 2009 19:27:00 +0000

How many discussions have I had about luck versus skill? Though rhetorical, that question was intended to get you thinking about the relationship between the two attributes. If you could actually answer it, I'd be seriously creeped out right now. In any case, I hope you've had a little chance to form a slapdash opinion on luck and skill. Does luck exist? Is good-fortune due entirely to skill? Is it a mix of the two?

Let's take a look at luck for a moment. Could it be that the definition of luck is actually different for different people? Sure, there are events that one can influence with their actions, but what about things like the flip of a coin or roll of the dice? Please travel with me as I leave this world of logic and transcend momentarily into a cosmic fog of voodoo and mysticism.

Seriously? You were really going to follow me there? Well in that case, what I'm actually going to say should seem pretty mild. What if luck is a manifestation of karma? What if we truly do make our own luck, just with our daily choices? I had the great privileged of knowing one of the unluckiest guys from my highschool. He once had a truck fall on him while he was just sitting at a stoplight. It was really good for me to see the way the world treated him, especially because he treated the world the same way. Whenever there was a decision to be made, he didn't. Instead, he let karma determine his fate. Without having put any positive energy out into the universe, all he collected was stagnation and disorganization. That bad luck spilled over into just about everything he touched from his work life to his family life. Frustrated and discontent, he never attempted to change the direction that his life was going. He only sat in his misery and complained about his raw deal.

I saw an interview several months ago where some distinguished host was talking to an author who believed that luck was the defining factor in anyone's success. I wish I could remember where I saw it, or knew any other details, but if I come across it I'll add a comment below. In any case, the television host became irate. He was insulted by the prospect that there could be some aspect of his life that he had not *earned* through his hard work and risk. He emphasized over and over again how he had gotten where he was because of the risks that he took and that luck had nothing to do with it. You could see just how cranky this idea made him if I actually had a video link here.

I would like to propose that luck is actually a necessary portion of risk, or else a risk wouldn't be a risk at all. If you know before hand that something is going to turn out in your favor, that's not a risk, it's just an option. Risk has the inherent problem that the outcome could go either way. There are things we can do in advance to make situations less risky, but if you're going to proudly display your willingness to take risks, you cannot deny your dependence on luck.

Ah, but once I take a risk, can't I help push the outcome into my favor? Why yes, yes you can, and that's called making your own luck. Certainly if you're up for a job and you take the risk to apply for it, you can encourage the employer to consider you more seriously by properly preparing your materials and sending follow up emails. What you don't know, is what kinds of luck other people have on their side. Perhaps another applicant went to the same high school as the hiring manager. Perhaps another has the same rare maiden name as his mother.

There's no doubt that if you flip a coin 50 times it will have a fairly uniform outcome of heads vs. tails, but who knows when you're flipping a coin for something very important JUST ONCE if maybe karma has a hand in choosing how it falls.

How Rude!

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 04:43:00 +0000

"How Rude" is not just a phrase from Full House. The act of being rude has suddenly become very intriguing to me. Why is it that people can be so cosmically drawn to someone who is quite rude, but annoyed by someone who's chronically polite? How often is rude behavior genuinely incondsiderate as opposed to a benign act that is incorrectly perceived? Is it better to be rude and honest than polite and misleading? The answers to all of these questions are eluding me.

There are dozens of examples of things that are perceived as proper in one culture that are considered "rude" in others: looking someone in the eyes, greeting someone you don't know, burping during a meal, giving the thumbs-up, taking your shoes off...is it the act or the intention behind the action that causes such an uproar? Surely something impolite is more easily forgiven if the offense was accidental. Perhaps it's the motivation behind the action that prompts such a negative response.

Sometimes it's the lack of concern for others that inspires rude behavior: someone who cuts in line because they didn't realize that others were waiting or somebody that finishes the last helping of pie without asking if anyone else was looking forward to it. Have you ever gone on and on over the phone about your horrible day, then realized after you hung up that you didn't even ask how the other person's day had gone? How many of these fauxpas can we rack up before we realize that we're just inconsiderate people?

Maybe we're meant to be rude in general. Being overly polite to someone you aren't close to can give them the impression that you feel more deeply than you do. Maybe the point is to be considerate to those who deserve your consideration and disregard what anyone else thinks. If that's the case, what about the Golden Rule? I want to be done unto a certain way, so I do unto others appropriately. That doesn't make me false. In fact, I *want* to treat people with respect and consideration. I can't understand how there are people out there who don't, but it appears that they actually outnumber the rest of us. Anybody have any words of wisdom for me on this?

It's not the Destination...

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 05:55:00 +0000

They say that it's not the destination that's important so much as the journey. I'm not exactly sure who "they" are, but I'm positive that I ought to be included in the group, as it's a view that I've absorbed as part of my nature since "becoming Kiki" almost 2 years ago. Recently, a couple of related questions have been pinching me in the back of my psyche, like: What if the journey truly does suck and the destination is worth giving pause for a decade or two? Can you ever really appreciate a journey while you're in the middle of it if you're destination is worthwhile enough to keep you traveling? Is there actually a destination, or is every stop just a scenic pullout in life's grand route?

I've been fantasizing recently about winning the lottery...about a lot of other things too, but the lottery is something I'm actually willing to write about. I wonder what I'd change if money was no issue. I think about how I'd approach life if I had more time to "journey" and less concern about "destination". I was surprised to figure out that my journey is not as much about the money in my pocket as it is about the avoidance of couldashouldawoulda. I don't want to look back at my life and feel like I could have been so much more if only I would have _____ . My journey right now is about taking every path simultaneously and seeing everything I can see, so that *I know* I lived willingly and on purpose. I want my children to know that I was the pilot of my own life and that wherever I end up I got there deliberately. At the same time, I want them to grow up believing that they can steer their own lives in any direction, regardless of where they were when they took the wheel.

Journey? Destination? Who cares? Experiences are experiences no matter where you have them.

Feelin' the Need for Speed!

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 20:35:00 +0000

As a teenager, during one of my first driving lessons, my instructor took me on the freeway and brought me back via a residential area. He said that the idea was to see how well I acclimated to the change in speeds. I was able to keep my car going as slow as was legally allowed, but my insides were screaming for me to go faster. To this day, by body tries to dictate my speed based on my driving situation and I have to force my brain to take over. Thank goodness for cruise control.

As often as I use it in my car, I'm horribly opposed to living my life on cruise control. It's true that I want to move much more quickly in my life than is socially tolerable (sometimes even logistically possible) but I don't believe that I need to maintain a safe speed just because traffic around me is congested. I crave change, I feed off of it and if that change can happen quickly, all the better!

I'm a person who tends to believe that if you have to wait before you act (stop, fill out forms, wait for approval, check your oil) you're less likely to take any of the huge and daring risks that make for extraordinary bedtime stories. Sure, you can think before you act, but you can also continue thinking *while* you act. Maybe I should have taken that left at Albuquerque, but guess what, I can get the same place by taking a right at Cheyenne. Life's full of circles and figure eights, so if you miss an exit because you were going a little too fast, take the next one and enjoy the scenery on your way back! If you get there and find that it's not all that you hoped for, head somewhere else. Life gets a million miles per gallon. Take advantage of that. I guess what I'm trying to say is you don't always have to stop to think. You can think as you go.

Philosophy

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 08:59:00 +0000

When you spend a lot of time in the car with Confucius and Socrates, you're bound to contemplate some heavy topics...especially when you're fielding questions like "Mom, how many days until you die?" and "Are dinosaurs aliens?"

Sometimes, even when you think you know the right answer, it's not entirely clear whether you should pass the knowledge on. How early should a child become aware that their mom won't be with them forever? When one child asks "Who made the bugs?" and the other responds "The bug-makers." is there any need to get involved? The only answer more specific that I could come up with was "The bugs mommies." But then I would find myself in a "Who made the bugs mommies?" circle and end up having to explain why 'turtles all the way down' pertains to insects.

I used to be a big fan of raising my kids honestly, not hiding the uncomfortable truths and letting them grow up submersed in the world. As I've gotten to know them more, I'm starting to think that's a bad idea. Their imaginations play a huge roll in the way they develop. What are the advantages of popping that magical bubble earlier, rather than later? If you tell them something can't be done are you sparing them the wasted time of trying or preventing the possibility that they could find a way to do it?

Pay it Backward?

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 05:47:00 +0000

Paying for my frappuccino yesterday, I decided to get the coffee of the woman behind me as well. She was a middle-aged working-class type, and seemed extremely over-particular and irritated as I could hear her order, even above my music. For some reason, I thought that a little caffeinated surprise would make life somehow easier today. When I asked the barrista to add it to my tab, she started glowing. "I think that's so great!" she said. "The universe is going to bring this back on you, big time, you know?" "That's not why I'm doing it." I responded, smiling and driving away.

Well, not only did the universe seem unimpressed by my minor token, it seemed to want to punish me intensely. I had what I can only describe as the worst day of my life so far. Too much about my day involves other people, which prohibits weaving my tale into a moving and memorable saga fit for the big-screen. I can, however, share the little bit that sent me into the frenzy which caused me to make the call that sent me into a panic.

Those of you who follow my blogs will know that I've had an impossible time trying to find daycare for my peanut-allergic son. Last month, I was finally able to find a daycare, but they bus to a different school than we are assigned, so I had to ask for a transfer. I was told yesterday that the transfer didn't go through and we were sent back to square one. After that, a chain reaction of minor tragedies on top of horrible possibilities began to mushroom into the threat of my worst fears coming to light. After a couple of moments of terror, I took a step back, looked at the present situation and pulled myself back into action. A couple of hours later, I had an interview with a principal at a nut-free school and was back on track. Still not certain what the outcome will be, but I am on a track. That alone is comforting.

Sunken in the thickness of a misty cloud of fear, I reached for my most reliable vices to pull me through. Very first, was my peeps. My mother, my special gal, my special man and my boys. Together, they reminded me in constant flow that I was cared for and that everything would be alright. Although none of them has that magic crystal ball that shows us living happily decades from now, each was very convincing in lending their support.

Secondly, was a big glass of grape juice. Though I'll be the first to admit that it's not a typical mind-altering substance, there's just something about its purplesque sweetness that empowers me.

Lastly is my megalomaniacal need to have my life under my own control. I think this is the source of my never-ending motivation, as well as the reason that I don't reach for drugs or alcohol in my most desperate times. The worse my life has been pulled into confusion, the more intensely focused I become on setting it right again. My ninja-sharp skills in improvizing have been tested wildly over the last year, causing me to zig and zag irratically in order to keep my end-goals in sight. To others, it may seem as if I'm vascillating, but the truth is that sometimes the less-direct path is the one that makes you most certain that you are where you want to be.

In any case, it's late in the evening now and I feel as if I've pulled out of the frightening fog. I'm ready for bed and willing to wake up and start a brand new day tomorrow. I will not, however, be stopping for coffee.

Not-Quite-Baseball

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 23:58:00 +0000

It's really difficult to play traditional baseball with three people, especially when two of those people are under the age of six. Our family, however, is unsurpassed in the art of adapting. For example, we spent our afternoon in my parent's backyard playing Not-Quite-Baseball.

The casual onlooker would no doubt recognize our equipment...a traditional child's bat and ball. The player's rolls, on the other hand, may seem more foreign. In our game, there's a pitcher, a batter and a finish sayer. While you can probably guess what the first two do, I'll explain the third. The finish sayer imparts words of wisdom on the other two players after every hit and before every pitch. These can be suggestions or rules, such as: "Don't throw the ball too high or my puppy will sting you." and "Don't cut down trees, only hit the ball."

After a ball is hit, the roll of the pitcher is much more hands-on. The pitcher is responsible for retreiving the ball and chasing the batter around the bases. If a pitch doesn't result in a hit, then the *batter* picks up the ball and chases the *pitcher* with it! The running bases thing has also been modified. With only one batter, and a tremendous chance that each hit only gains one base, we have to have the batter bring the bat with them and hit from the base that they're on at any given time. This makes it extremely convenient to have the pitcher's mound in the middle.

You should try playing this for a while. You'll never look at baseball the same way again!

Snorkel Rice

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 17:52:00 +0000

When I first heard the term Snorkel Rice, I wasn't sure if it was agriculture or an insult! Seriously, who among us hasn't called someone a huge rotting pile of snorkel rice? Just me? Okay, moving on.

As it turns out, snorkel rice is a genetically modified plant that has been bred to grow almost instantly when flooded by water. The plant contains a gene that instructs it to shoot its chutes above the flood, allowing it to survive the tortures of the Asian and African rainy seasons. The submerged plants can grow nearly 10 inches a day! Experts are very excited about the ramifications of this creation, believing it can go a long way toward ending worldwide famine.

Even as I reeled in the wonder of having a plant grow so quickly that you could actually *see* it, I began to wonder about the effects of this gene on the consumers. Is it possible that eating the rice from these magic plants could have unforeseen effects on the general population? Will teenagers be sprouting inches in their morning shower? That's a hyperbolic example, but I think I got my point across. If there's a gene in our food that causes some extreme reaction, how will that affect those who eat it, especially when it's a dietary staple?

This also leads me to ask some other questions. Does self-stretching rice have any advantage over permanently taller rice? Is there a point that the rice ends up getting too tall and causing issues? Lastly, how can we extend this feature to other items? I'd really like to see a hundred-foot Sweetpea.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/8208411.stm
http://www.nature.com/nature/journal/v460/n7258/edsumm/e090820-14.html

Writer's block

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 05:22:00 +0000

Even as I sit about to write tonight, I doubt that the words are going to see the light of a monitor other than mine. No fewer than 3 of my previous blogs sit in my index, yet unpublished. Perhaps what I'm experiencing is less of a writer's block and more of an emotional barricade. The words are written, the stories flowing, I just can't seem to share them.

This behavior reminds me of my high school days when I'd write things on paper and crumple and toss them away without ever showing them to anyone. Why has this insecurity returned? Why is it that I'm no longer able to share the literary fingerprints of my soul? My last unpublished blog gives me a clue. It's title? Overexposure. I've recently gone against my protective grain and exposed myself to the innermost core. Nothing bad came of it. Nothing was pierced, nothing shattered. Even so, I still feel wide open and raw. Maybe it's a negative thing for the fans of my writing, but to me, it's very positive. The wall that I had built over a decade of daily heartbreak has been carefully dismantled. My bitterness and lack of belief in coupledom is fading. Where I once described myself as "jaded in love," I now feel...well...I feel. And for now, that's a step in the right direction.

* Image courtesy of http://www.calvininnes.com/images/writersblock-innes.jpg

Was there life before Google?

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Sat, 25 Jul 2009 23:46:00 +0000

Ah, the "Double O Oracle". I resisted it. I swear I did. Just like with Myspace, Facebook and Twitter, my obstinance turned into lust once I experienced it for myself. It started with a simple search on a computer with limited resources and suddenly I saw the beauty of their design.

Next, I became drawn to AdWords while I was trying to run my own design business. I appreciated the ability to have thousands of free impressions of my business name in search results, even if no one ever clicked further. When I came back to school, a friend introduced me to Gmail and I now check all of my 6 or 7 email addresses from one online interface, which allows me to see all of my messages - past and present - from any computer that has an internet connection. That was life-changing. As far as tools for entrepreneurs go, that one was priceless...followed closely by Google Calendar, which I use to do everything from planning my week to synchronizing weekends with the boys for my ex-husband.

As if that wasn't enough reason to owe my sanity to Google, they then came out with Google Docs! I can write papers and spreadsheets, or do homework online and have it all safely saved for me the next time I want to look at it, even if it's from another computer with a different operating system! Google Reader allows me to follow my favorite blogs and RSS feeds (if you need a blog to test it out with, I'm volunteering http://geekgroupies.com/GeekBlog/groupie.html) and now Google Voice. I just hooked myself up with a number for my latest venture. Whew! And the miracle here? 'Sall free. That's right. I haven't paid a red cent for any of the services with the exception of getting clicks on AdSense, which is the backbone of Google's game plan. They let the *advertisers* pay for leading the general public to their virtual doorstep.

There are those who feel that Google is evil. They feel invaded and used. If this is how you feel, by all means, avoid their many excellent and time-saving products. I, for one, don't see a problem with letting a company earn a profit when they have a business model that is both creative and useful.

Guided by a Pinlight

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 07:15:00 +0000

When I was younger, I felt like I could see forever into the future. I always knew what my next step should be. Somewhere in my twenties, that all-knowing lantern which had shed light into eternity dimmed to something less powerful than what I now have hooked to my keychain. Eventually, I began to feel like I was groping my way through a cave with a pinlight. I barely have enough insight to make my next step, let alone try to predict what I should do farther down the road.

At first, I saw the disappearance of my certainty as a sign of doom. I felt lost and confused. After a while, I began to think of it as a novelty - allowing me to make decisions spontaneously, based on where I am rather than where I thought I should be. This became an important element in letting fate shape my future. Recently, I said to my mom something like: "The thing about planning everything, is that everything goes as planned. When you leave something up to chance, you get serindipity." I've started to believe that if you want to have lucky breaks, you need to be able to see outside of your best-laid plans and allow something to go wrong...or atleast differently than expected.

Unfettered fate is a beautiful and wonderful thing, bringing you moments and opportunities that you may have passed up if you had kept it in your own hands. Left to the universe's devices, I feel like I'm being guided into my proper place, instead of feeling like a square peg in the round hole that I had previously selected for myself.

If you still have your lantern, by all means, use it! If, however, your path is no longer illuminated (or perhaps never was) don't be discouraged. Just shine your pinlight beneath your chin. You may not know where you're going, but you'll look scary as hell to anyone trying to stand in your way!

Of Moths and Men

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 05:55:00 +0000

My 4 year old is allergic to almost everything. Included in that horrible overstatement, are cats and dogs. This is a cruel truth, because he is more enamoured with furry friends than almost any other child I've ever met. He wants to nurture them. In his room, he maintains a zoo of stuffed animals, each one his favorite.

He was in the bath last night when I heard him wail about a bug. Taking one of his drinking cups, he scooped the bug from the bath and held the cup high. I proposed that he discard the water, and the bug, in the toilet. "But I want to keep it as a pet!" He said, his eyes glistening in the incandescent lights of the bathroom. "Honey," I prodded. "That's a dead moth. Moths are made to fly in the air. They don't do well in water." I said, with slight sympathy. "They do if they're dead!" He rebutted and again held the cup in the air, as if he thought his logic had persuaded me. I smiled at him, took the cup and flushed the bug down the toilet.

Is this what it's come to? My child, so starved for a pet, has been forced to seek a friend in a bloated, drowned donkey of a butterfly? I tried getting him fish, but one carelessly placed Cheerio brought an army of poisoned ants to the water. By morning, the whole lot was dead. I suppose I could try a hamster or a guinea pig, but what's to say that the fate of either of those furry animals would be more favorable? Is the death of an animal a fundamental part of the process of becoming responsible for one? Can the same lesson be learned through stories, therefore sparing the life of some poor handheld mammal? For now, I'm going to try helping them learn through empathy. If that makes me a heartless mother, I'll add their therapy bills to the list of things I'm saving for.

What I learned when I stopped standing still

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Thu, 02 Jul 2009 08:30:00 +0000

It's hard to believe that less than 24 months ago, my life was over. I had two toddlers and my life was over. I drove a minivan...and my life was over. I was in a marriage where we were both miserable and my life was over. Freedom was a dream that I never knew I had, and exploration was something that only adventurous people did. I certainly wasn't one of those people. I couldn't do those things. My life was already over.

Then an epiphany. Maybe, just maybe, if I figured out what was killing me, I could fix it and learn to live. Months of soul searching and opening my eyes to the facts that had been staring me in the face led me to realize that the kids and the minivan weren't the reason that I felt pinned and alone. Misery was responsible for the death of my soul. That misery was caused by trying to nurture a marriage that was both poisoned and poisonous. So the cure was administered and all parties began to heal.

Still, I never thought I would be an explorer. Didn't ever think of traveling the country, let alone the world. Sure, there were people who did those kinds of things, but it wasn't something that I should be doing. I wasn't one of those people. I don't know what it was that made me believe that the right thing to do was set roots and keep a firm hold on the ground where I grew. Maybe it was soley the fact that I had never been told otherwise. Maybe my fears of the great-wide-open caused me to stay in my own little corner, even when the world was calling my name.

"Couldn't" turned to "shouldn't" then "wouldn't" until the opportunity to go to Beijing arose and I finally said "Why not?" Moments of guilt and doubt intervened, but friends prodded and when I listened to reason I knew that I had to go, if only to prove to myself that I could live my life on purpose. That was one week that changed my life.

I won't go into detail about the trip - not only because that story has been told - but also because it's not the content of the journey that caused my evolution, it's the fact that I took the journey at all. By the time I flew home, I knew that I *was* one of those people. I *was* someone who could and should and would explore the world around me.

Five short months later, I said "Why not?" again, and initiated a road trip that led a friend and I across more than 2,000 miles of paved and unpaved road. We saw new places, camped in all sorts of weather and geocached our way through treacherous terrain. We met a man that the world had forgot and navigated steep and winding roads that the earth had started to reclaim. The freeway brought us home without a hitch and I felt vindicated and empowered. There's a world out there to see and I don't want to see it by myself.

Who would be willing to accompany me on my quest to see the world? Who could tolerate hours in the car with me? The answer was right in front of me and illuminated by a little boy who tenderly proclaimed "Sometimes a four-year-old just needs his mommy." What better way to ensure adequate time together than forcing ourselves to buckle-up and hop from state to state? A little planning and we were off! The ease with which this road trip evolved was amazing. Everyone handled it wonderfully and with vigor. There was excitement growing with every mile and achievement every night. I was simultaneously satisfied and inspired. I've been bitten by the travel bug.

There have been moments when the image in the rearview mirror seemed far more sentimental than time spent in the first place, but it took visiting those locations to realize what I would miss when I was gone. Interests uncovered, geography discovered and friendships recovered, travel is both desirable and necessary as a catalyst to my personal growth. Hopefully, by furnishing it to my boys at such a young age, they will achieve greater heights than I.

I'm stable, I'm growing and I can honestly say that I'm alive. I'm living in a way that only I can, and embracing my unique situation. I know a whole lot more now than I did two years ago. I know who I am. I know what I want. I also know, that I don't want to live a life gathering moss. Roots are good, wings are better.

Some interesting facts about our Wild West road trip

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 21:00:00 +0000

Total Miles Traveled: 3,764
Total Days Traveling: 14
Hours in the Car: 75:30
States Explored: 7
Lowest Gas Price Paid: $2.439
Highest Gas Price Paid: $2.899
Highest Gas Price Seen: $3.359
Notable Injuries: 7
Speeding Tickets: 0
Stumbling Blocks: 4

********
Total Miles Traveled: 3,764

Wow. Whoda thunk that a single mom would have the patience to travel 3,764 miles with 4 & 5 year old boys? That's farther than driving from the westmost coast in Oregon to the eastmost coast of Maine. And by the day we were heading back to Eugene, James still wanted to turn around and do it all again!

Total Days Traveling: 14

Near the middle of the trip, it felt like we still had a lifetime to go. By the last day, I couldn't believe that it was over. What a trip!

Hours in the Car: 75:30

Yeah, nuff said.

States Explored: 7

Oregon: Love it just as much as ever, but appreciate it a little more now. The allergies are still too severe for me to believe that the boys will end up calling Oregon home forever, but it's a beautiful and bountiful place for sure.

Idaho: I didn't see a single place in Idaho that I didn't like. Boise was beautiful and well planned. They had all of the retail places that I was accustomed to, and the roads were easy to travel. The prices were fair and gas was cheap. Twin Falls was one of the lovliest places we saw on this trip. There was greenery and water, canyons and falls. Just a great place for fostering memories.

Utah: Before this trip, I thought Utah was all about Mormons and missions. If I had never left Salt Lake City, I would still probably feel that way (drove right past a missionary mall.) Fortunately, I drove along the south shore of the Great Salt Lake and got to play on the beautiful beach. I also drove out to the Salt Flats and took a picture of some of the natural whiteness that graces the ground all year long. We went rock climbing in Provo and toured the arches in Moab. I could probably have stayed in Utah for months and never been bored...as long as I didn't have a door for the missionaries to knock on.

Colorado: I only got a small peek at Colorado, but what I saw was beautiful. It was like peering through a keyhole at a large slice of destiny. You know there's so much more that you can't even fathom, but you feel really lucky to have had the chance to get even a small glimpse. Before Durango, the Denver airport was all I knew of this Cowboy laiden state. I would be lying if I said that the scenery was all that attracted me to Durango, but it was certainly enough to cause me to recommend it to others. Be sure to check out Mesa Verde if you visit.

New Mexico: I had been to Santa Fe before, and recommended it as a city to explore with friends and loved ones. Albuquerque, on the other hand, is a great place to go even if you're exploring alone. They have a cute little zoo, some great Route 66 culture and an adobe-clad university. One word of caution. The allergies are attrocious! Not exactly on the top of my list of places to move for my son's health.

Arizona: Didn't like Arizona. I thought it was barren and dry and even the reservations catered to tourists. The shops that sold quality artifacts were way over-priced and the vendors who sold affordable goods offered very low quality. The cities were few and far between. The Grand Canyon was beautiful though. Gas was cheap (when you could find it) and there were a lot of days that were perfect for ice cream! My favorite stop in this state was Lake Havasu City, where we saw the London Bridge. It was a cute little town and I'd like to visit it again someday.

California: What's to say about Cali? Disneyland was great, LA traffic sucked, the mountains were gorgeous. I loved driving by all of the orchards and seeing the truckloads of oranges, lemons, onions and garlic drive by us.

Lowest Gas Price Paid: $2.439

Lake Havasu City, AZ

Highest Gas Price Paid: $2.899

All fillups in Calfornia

Highest Gas Price Seen: $3.359

LA, Ca

Notable Injuries: 7

Personally, I had two injuries that had me wondering if I'd need medical attention. The first was my foot, when I slipped in Dinseyland and tweaked it all around. I did end up seeing a doctor for that one and everything was fine after some advil, an ace bandage and a bag of ice. The second was my wrist. I pinned it between two very heavy containers when I was loading the car. It was sore and bruised for a couple of days, but it's fine now.

The other five injuries belonged to Jack. The poor kid has so much trouble staying on his feet - a problem that seemed to be made worse by elevation. He fell so many times in Moab that we had to replace bandaids that were already covering his broken skin.

Speeding Tickets: 0

Which is not to say that I didn't get pulled over...'cause I did. After safely travelling 85 for weeks, it was really hard for me to slow down in California, that is, until I was pulled over for doing 83 in a 70. When I saw the officer parked as I passed, I repeated "Oh crap, please don't pull me over. Please don't pull me over." But apparently officers in the California PD don't listen to telepathic pleading. Even worse, the officer was female.

I have never been more grateful to have my boys in the car with me. The officer got to the window and asked for my license, registration and proof of insurance. Being that it was my mother's car, I couldn't find anything but the driver's license. From the back, my youngest calls "Why did you pull us over?" The officer responded "Because your mommy was driving too fast." Jack quickly asks "Are you going to put her in jail?" The officer smiled and reassured him that she didn't intend to arrest me. Meanwhile, she accepted the expired insurance card that I *was* able to find in the glove compartment and went back to her vehicle to call me in. (I didn't realize at the time that my mom's van has a whole seperate compartment with all of the necessary documents inside.)

When the officer came back, she asked me if I knew how fast I was going. I said I did. She asked if I knew the speed limit and I said that I had seen the sign just a few feet after I noticed her sitting beneath the bridge. Then, James interrupted from the back. "Mommy, we've never been pulled over by a police officer before!" Bless his heart! His intuitive little brain prompted him to say one of the best things that he possibly could have at that point. Nevermind the fact that he was in the car with me both other times that I had been pulled over...but those officers were both men and I was able to get away with a verbal warning after they verified that I wasn't a raving lunatic.

Fortunately, this officer was merciful and let me off with a verbal. She then asked me to watch my speed because I most likely wouldn't get away with a warning the next time. I'll tell ya, it made for a damn long drive doing the speed limit the rest of the way home!

Stumbling Blocks: 4

I will actually skip sharing the first thing. It's a little private and incredibly female. Suffice it to say that I had a little hurdle that took a lot of phone calls, a little time and a little money to overcome. But I did.

The next thing was dropping my phone in a puddle. It shorted out the board and Verizon wouldn't help me because I didn't pay the $8/month for insurance. Bastards. Fortunately, after everything dried out, the phone seems to be working again as normal.

Thirdly, was that I forgot the charger for my camera battery. I was able to locate a Batteries Plus in Boise that had a charger for my particular model. It even had an adapter to plug it into a lighter, so I was good to go for the rest of the trip!

The last one was a doozy! We had a little ant infestation in the car, caused by bringing an old cooler that apparently had an ant's nest in the lid. Everything was fine while we had ice in the cooler, but after leaving it in the car while we were in Disneyland, the ants woke up and took over the car! It took 4 hours, 6 ant traps and a bottle of soy bug spray that smelled like throw-up to remedy that issue.

Well, that was my trip. I hope you all had fun following along! Hopfeully there'll be more in the near future!

Why my four-year-old will be in the master's program next year.

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 19:44:00 +0000

By now, everyone has heard me say that my boys are smart. It's true, they are. While Jackson is doing a great job reading small words and doing arithmetic with Corn Pops, James is reading even complex words with tricky letter combinations and doing math mentally. So, why is it that James is headed off to kindergarten and Jackson's entering higher education? Allergies.

After weeks of struggling with daycares over Jackson's peanut allergy, I've decided to just bring him to school with me next year. Since last January, I've had the boys at a great daycare center in the Valley River area. Playdates works with Jackson's allergy and has become a nut-free facility in an effort to provide him with the best care possible. With the new school year, however, James is starting kindergarten at Malibon in the Bethel district and needs to attend a daycare close by. Finding a center that's willing to take the liability of a small boy with life threatening allergies has been a struggle. All of the places that I've called so far have declined and few have given me any idea where to turn to find what I need. A few things are certain. I need someone to watch my boys and keep them safe while I'm at school/work. I need to have Jackson in a place that's nut-free and sensitive to his conditions. I need them both to be at a place near to James' kindergarten so that he can get from school to daycare and back while I'm working. Also, it would be nice if I could find this somewhere that doesn't cost more than what I make in a month. *Sigh*

That said, I haven't found anything close to an option yet. I'm ready to throw my hands in the air and just bring Jack to school with me. I hope my professors don't notice!

*** Update***

The boys ex-teacher, Ms. Brittany, has opened her own school and has told me that she made it nut-free with Jack in mind. She said she'd love to have him, and she'd even take the boys home with her on nights that I had to work late. The catch? It's out at 50th and Fox Hollow! That's a 25 minute drive each way, according to Google.

Triple fortune

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 01:15:00 +0000

@ dinner tonight. Makes up for the empty one earlier.

National Lampoon's...I mean...Davis Family Road Trip (Summer 2009)

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Sun, 31 May 2009 05:37:00 +0000

Well, it took a long time to nail down all the pieces, but our road trip has finally got bones!

OR -> ID -> UT -> CO -> NM -> AZ -> CA -> OR

The plan is...

Day one: Leave graduation and head to Portland to pick up the boys and make it as far as Pendleton before calling it a night.

Day two: Get ourselves to Baker City before the Motorcycle Rally ends at noon. We'll stick around for as much of that as is entertaining and then make the trek to Boise.

Day three: Hopefully we'll be up at a decent hour so that we can go to Wahooz for the day. After lunch, we'll travel down to Salt lake City.

Day four: We might go out to the Bonneville Salt flats, but more likely, we'll take our time driving through the UT landscape, possibly caching as far as Green lake if the weather is tolerable.

Day five: Through Moab and Monticello, down to see the arrows in Cortez before winding up in Durango, CO.

Day six: Make a stop in Aztec to visit the ruins, a short trip to Cuba, then end in Albuquerque for a couple of nights!

Day eight: Through Gallup, Holbrook and Flagstaff to end in Williams.

Day nine: Up to the GRAND CANYON then back down and onto Route 66 until we get to Kingman. From there, we're gonna take a little detour south to see the London Bridge.

Day ten: Back up to Hwy 40 until Barstow. We'll come down through Victorville and down into Anaheim...Shhhhh...don't tell the boys!

Day eleven: Disneyland - California Adventure!!

Day twelve: I'm sure it's gonna be almost impossible to tear the boys away after just one day at the park, but we'll make it better by spending the good portion of the day in the car, breaking somewhere around Patterson, Ca.

Day thirteen: Another long drive with very little planned until we finally wind the evening down in Medford, Or.

Day fourteen: Medford back up to Eugene or Portland...hopefully making a short trip to Wildlife Safari on the way.

That's it! That's the trip that's been widdled down from a month two almost exactly two weeks. If anyone has any additional suggestions of things that we shouldn't miss, I have about two days before I need to solidify my accommodations.

Wish us luck!

Eugene's Finest

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Thu, 21 May 2009 02:01:00 +0000

I was caching away, by Autzen Stadium, when I came across a black rag hanging from a tree. I've seen lots of discarded junk in my last few months as a geocacher, so I did little except to take note. As I headed deeper into the underbrush, I came across a notebook, full of poems and lists and plans. That sat a little more uneasily with me. A few moments later, when moving a stick to inspect the location that my GPS had settled on, I spotted a pair of women's underwear snagged on a limb. With all of the other nearby things that had raised flags in my head, I felt that I had better at least call and let the Eugene Police know about the combination.

I called the non-emergency line and the gentleman who answered was actually pretty concerned. He said he'd send out a squad car and asked me to call 911 so that he could track my location. I obliged. My phone threw itself into Emergency Mode and started buzzing away. The operator tracked me to within 20 feet ("Are you about 50 feet from the river? 20 feet east of the bike path?") An hour later, the trooper showed up. The 40-something cop sauntered over and looked at the peice of fabric that was waving in the wind. "Mmm hmm, that's a do-rag." He said. Then he had me point out the notebook. He barely took a second look before asking me to point out the woman's underwear. I led him deep into the shrubbery, covered with trees and blackberries. Arriving at the location, he pulled some gloves from his pocket and put them on. He picked up the underwear and inspected them. "I don't see any blood, " He said. "but there's definitely some wear and tear." He then placed the underwear back on the tree in almost (not really even close to) the place they had been before...as if he thought it should be perfectly reasonable that their owner would come back and say "Ah, here they are! Just where I left them."

As we headed out of the bushes, the officer stopped at the notebook, this time picking it up and turning through the pages. A few pages in, he began to read aloud. The poems were crude at best. There were lists of what this person intended to do in a given day, and poems about what he wanted to do - all piled on top of a paper instructing a mandatory drug course at LCC. The policman must have stood there for 10 minutes, reading these bits of R to X rated lyrics and poems aloud to me. After a few minutes, I took a slice* and realized that I was standing in the bushes with a policeman who was reading me poems about wanting to give it to me all night long. It had to be one of the strangest moments in the last week or two!

After he was done reading, he offered me the notebook. "Want to take this home?" "No thanks," I said. "You can keep it and share it with the missus." He responded, "Would if I had one." The officer shrugged and got back in his squad car. "Thanks for calling that in." He said, and drove off.

As I walked away, I reflected back on what had just happened. I wasn't sure that there was any reason for alarm in the first place, but something just sat uneasily with me. Apparently, he didn't have the same feeling. Ah well, it was an interesting way to spend the afternoon, anyway.

* Taking a slice is something I like to do occasionally. I will sometimes just take myself out of context and realize how cool it is that I am in a specific place at a specific time, ignoring all of the logical things that brought me there. It makes special moments infinitely more spectacular.

Example: "Wow, I'm on top of the Great Wall of China!"
"I'm in a restroom in Kirkland at 5 in the morning."
"I just climbed under barbed wire and now I'm alone in the middle of a forest."

Planetary Passion

noreply@blogger.com (Kiki) — Tue, 12 May 2009 20:33:00 +0000

The sky is lit by a hasty comet and all my dreams are riding on it, but how do you follow a shooting star...when you sit in silence, dissecting oddities as friends punctuate with celestial bodies? Could mine cause the world to pause, or even take a breath?

I'm not a sentence, I am a book and I deserve a second look. Why are casual glances so commonly exchanged? My rumbling cloud longs to throw wild lightning, fears relax while my fists are tightening, yet I know that I would still be nothing more than weather.

I don't need to control the tides, ebb the waters far and wide, but would like to see a wave and know that it was just for me. All the heavens crisp and white fade to grey most every night, though the morning promises to bring a new radiance.

I see myself and all I've done in the earth, the moon and in my sons. Their brilliance far exceeds my own. I will try to avoid regret, knowing my path has not been set - if only for the prosperity of those who depend on me.