TALKS ARE DEADLOCKED

TALKS ARE DEADLOCKED




The clock is ticking.  All sights are set on temporary.  Talking about it won’t change a thing, but sometimes between friends and family, communication and the sound of music is comforting.  I remember Robin Williams made me laugh.  I remember Bogart and Bacall.  Thought life could be like that, and did not prepare me for marriage with a regular voice.  Thought Becall’s voice was sexy, and that nothing would change that.  But change came.  Even my most sexiest mate could not save me from the drastic affects of aging.  So its old news, as I read the morning paper, that people come and go. 



Old news and am spending less time reading the paper delivered in the rain by an inspiring paper-boy, who gets up at 4 A.M to make sure you have your paper at first light, with first cup of coffee and before you are out the door to go to work.  Disturbing the century old pattern of sitting at the table, or in the subway or on the rail down from Connecticut reading, while  headed for the city.  Those days are gone.  There are no jobs.  And if we are fortunate, we work at home.  No commute.  To have this all unfold in real time brings forth revelation. 



Times have changed.  We do our best to get by, raise our family, and have a quality of life we want to expand on, for the sake of our children.  Having said that, Robin Williams and he made me laugh.  And its my nature, to stare down danger and be a storm chaser, so laughing is not what you get, when you think of me.  Think:  The Long Game. 




So Talks Are Dead-locked, is not a  political topic.  More so, its about the passing of things I loved.  The great ones and with innocent eyes, I sat on the lap of greatness, and took it all in.  I have never spent a lot of time, trying to reconcile differences.  Am aware that movies and Hollywood are for the young.  Those who still have their looks and on-screen sex appeal.  Over time, we have seen so many variations on the Come-Here-Look.  Then comes Lauren Becall and the voice.  And just when we needed more, Bogart shows to give us adventure and suspense.   Then comes Robin Williams and Mrs. Doubtfire. 



Comes the cultural wars, and women out and about, in the workplace.  Sharing and Caring at home, but in the workplace, is something that is disturbing;  competition and do-what-ever-is-required:  Hillary-style.   And over time, I did find that disturbing.  Not sure talking ever settled the chaos of the gender battles.  So I tried to stay out of it.  Strong silent type, with The Long Game.



Stay on topic.  Madonna and she was the first to remind me, dancing on a stage in scanty attire is not the same as love and affection in the bedroom.  Talks are dead and locked away.  Conversation after making love, is different than what  you see on television and in Hollywood movies.  But these things come and go.  Women now join men on the commuter train.  Jostling and a quickie.  No time for conversation.  And is where the idea of talk being in the land of the dead, and not
Live-in-the- Present-Moment etched itself in mind. 



And I miss that.  Sitting at the table.  Newspaper in hand.  Pretty lady in makeup, before the sun comes us, serving coffee.  And one thing leads to another, as we are young and always in the mood.  Have not had our first child yet.  Back to bed.  Late for work.  The results are surprising.  He calls his boss.  Uses man code to explain the situation.  Long Game and I will be a few hours late, but will work into the night.  That big deal will happen. "Count on me."  And over the years, we grow old together.


Lauren and Bogey.  Robin Williams makes me laugh.  Sure the truth of the matter is disturbing.  Is why we don’t really talk about it.  Why we say:  "Talks are deadlocked."  Is why we  learn to cordon off our emotions, and keep our distance concerning most things.  But at the end of the day, it all speaks for itself.  Things play out.  The great ones come and go. 





 
And in the middle of something, we remember.  He was great.  I enjoyed his long game.  "Now when was that?  1950’s.  1980’s.  2001."  Miss and Mister. Will not really talk about it and reveal our most intimate feelings and times together.  Will  leave it as the morning headlines declare to me.  Talks are Deadlocked.  And will leave it to my imagination, the real behind the scenes details, when they turned the lights down, turned up the music, and lit the candles.  No sequel.  Quite the original.  My man .  The Long Game. 



Back in the day, when Lauren and Bogey and Robin Williams inspired me.  Back in the day, before the talks were deadlocked."  And the women walked out.  Joined the work-force.  And became part of the cultural wars. Then came the politicals, and its true.  We don’t talk much any more.

 You and I.

 

LET'S TALK

LET’S TALK

Good Day all.  Am trying to get my head around this topic for today.  Haven’t been writing blogs daily, so am needing to work my way into this as if its the daily routine, when it is not.  Over the years have cut back on blogging time, as well as time at the computer screen.  3 hours a day at the screen, and that includes a 3 hour movie at bed time, so it is taking more effort to organize myself, stay to the self-rules I have given myself, and mostly I am finding out that I am rusty at doing this blog routine.  Sat down to do a blog, because something is not quite right, and usually I would just put my foot down, say:  "Not right."  Then wander off and if you catch up to me and my general pattern of poor communication about the important things we should be talking about, but never quite find the time to do, well then, I ask,  " will talking face to face take care of all this? Let’s Talk About It."   Is that the situation that will fix everything, not sure.

Second thoughts are ruining me.  Things have changed drastically, mostly due to technology and smart phones.  I wander off after saying, "Not right."  You leave me a message, and it distills down to the basics.  "What’s your problem.  Pick up.  We can talk about it."  But of course, the new methodology comes with problems all its own.  So I disconnect.  See or hear your message, but wait until we are together to address the general state of things.  And that works for me, but not for you.  Your main complaint:  "Let’s Talk, now!!!!  Pick up your phone."  And he sends a text.  "Busy now.  Can it wait?"  And things go from bad to worse.  Or at least that is my general impression, and giving me second thoughts about all of this and the modern world that is making it impossible to just sit down have tea or a beer and talk about our day.  Second thoughts are ruining me.

Finally I sit down, blog and it all comes out.  I  get it.  Now I know what’s really bothering me.  It seems I have been waiting ever since February to get back to all-things-football.  Been waiting to talk to you about my favorite subject, which is actually an ever-flowing jabber-walk centered around all things sports.  Baseball.  Football.  Hockey.  And so much more.  He is a man.  Doesn’t really talk about things related to the relationship and matters of the heart.  Sports make him happy, so he buys you a ticket and says, "Join me at the game.  Then at intermission, we can talk."  

Starting to have control problems.  My computer is acting up.  Has to do with the Caps and is automatically printing in capital letters, which makes this look like I am shouting.  Hard to have a conversation, when the other keeps interrupting and says, "Stop Shouting."  Control problems.  "My man has issues."  Am thinking, this is old news.  Men are difficult, even on a good day.  Computers are the same.  Puts me in a foul mood.  Having second thoughts about all this.

 


Preseason has just started.  Already its getting on my nerves.  25 penalties were called in the Seahawks vs. Denver preseason game on Thursday night.  Delays, both from the officials and from a Lightening Strike Alert that delayed the game for 45 minutes.  Game was played in Denver.  But both Colorado and Washington are legalized marijuana states, so 45 minutes is enough time to find a place and light up.  Of course, everywhere I go these days, there is a moral and physical ban on smoking.  So everybody is annoyed at everybody.  People try to run me down in the crosswalk, and I ask or shout, depending on my keyboard problem:  "What Your Problem?  You’re killing me here."  

So officials are trying to stop the boys from playing rough.  Call penalties.  Throw a flag.  Say:  "Let’s Talk."  And of course in all of this, I see a problem.  My team, Seattle Seahawks just won the 2013 Super Bowl by playing rough, holding and shoving and just being down-right nasty.  And now, somebody in officiating costume is making it almost impossible to finish a game in under 4 hours.  So maybe that is the solution to the problem.  Don’t like what I am hearing or seeing.  Takes too long to communicate your message.  Fans wander off.  Boy-friend or significant-other too.  Seems like we need more action and less talk.  But seems with modern communications and replay and smart phones, the common refrain happens to be.  "Let’s Talk."  

Not that this is going to ruin me.  Second Thoughts ruin me.  And I just know.  When the regular season begins, we all get happy again.  She knows he is a football and sports guy.  Knows he doesn’t talk all that much, but makes the checkbook and credit cards available.  That’s his deal.  "Going to the game.  Why don’t you go shopping."  And for this couple, which includes me.  It makes them happy.    And that’s my message for today.  "Let’s Talk.", doesn’t really work just now.  Football and preseason.  "Gotta go."  He says.  "Game is starting."

ON THE SUBJECT OF

ON THE SUBJECT OF

Am having one of those days when I am confined to my own head, a mini-prison in the utopia of all mankind.  Looking for a release point and a generous settlement in terms we can all agree with.  More Time.  More Money.   More Everything on my terms.  Has inspired me to write a blog.  Had a conversation, with others and then in solitary confinement, a talk with myself.  Over the course of a lifetime, what made you most content?  Content being my word for Happiness on a Scale of 1 to 10, do you have a 10 scale moment of what made you happy in the life you are living?  

 

Is my way of getting to the point of this story or essay or blog.  On The Subject Of:  Contentment.  Share your 10 scale moment with those who will read this.



Was having a conversation with a friend.  It was said, "Happy that I have a friend like you?"  Comes with the affirmation that Stoney was a good person to talk to when having a bad day.  Like what might Stoney do that made me feel better, that others just didn’t do?  In this case, it is important to know:  Stoney is an electronic figment of my imagination.  I think he is real, but how would I know.  He doesn’t exchange pictures, nor semen.  More like Stoney is a word-man.  Writes blogs when he is in the mood.  Not sure what he does for a living, or for a hobby.  Seems he likes sports, but don’t most men.  So that is not distinguishing.  The point is, to stay on subject:  And the topic for today:   On The Subject Of Contentment.  What makes you happy?



He decides that it is more important to hear what others have to say about:  Work Place Contentment.  Like is there such a thing.  Comes down to just filling time.  He is retired now.  Has time to ponder such things like, What Makes You Happy?  And likes blogs because they reach a huge cross-cultural population of readers and responders.  Global and Local.  Universal reach in the sense you have no one good and final answer.  Work Place Contentment and wondering if there is such a thing, opens the door to a spontaneous conversation about those things that make you both happy and discontented, perhaps at the same time. 



As for Stoney, he has had a lot of years to put this inquiry in perspective.  Over time, those around him have changed their minds.  Changed their jobs.  Got divorces or just moved on when their spouse didn’t come home after 30 years of marriage.  And so it goes.  Work Place Contentment.  My best work is my family, and making dreams come true.




It is in my mind that I will not let others decide for me, where my happiest moments in life will be.  Will not let others spoil my day.  Not at work, where competition threatens the very idea of workplace harmony.  Over time I have seen workplace change.  Business thrives, invites good people and good energy, and then over time change forces these things to dissipate.  Time to find a new place to spend your day.  Make money, or maybe not.  Work because we have to, or because we want to. 



And that leads me to rethink the path I have taken.  For me it was always family first.  Take care of my family.  So I was attracted to enterprises that were the best at what they did.  Sears-Roebuck where the family shops.  Boeing, where they made airplanes and sold them to the world.  Can name more places that were labor stops for me, but then again, it comes down that each of us is different.  Where I worked has nothing to do with you.  Where you work is an individual achievement and can be different on any given day.  Seeing a large array of choices, do we go to work because it makes us happy.  And is this a forever thing? 



Is where I choose to end this conversation.  From conflict and competition to work place contentment over the long run, and I wonder:  Is there such a thing:  This thing I keep calling:  Work Place Contentment.  ??? 

Brown Bag Day

Brown Bag Day

A lot has changed since I was a boy of the 1950’s.  All of this comes to me as an environmental thought that keeps getting recycled.  Not sure if I want to go into this at anything but a surface level.  It is a little unsettling that the earth has spawned so many people, and in the years that I have been alive, every corner I stand on has unique problems all its own.  Of course I am looking for a common place to start, then realize this will be posted on the internet, which has global reach.  Local and Global encourages me to write and post, with certain limitations at the conscious level warning me to accept with graciousness, all comments that attach themselves to this blog in the coming days and perhaps beyond the years I actually have left on this planet.  Mention that, because I have no idea what the average lifespan  of a blog posted in July of 2014 might be.  Complications multiply and there are so many things about writing about private matters and posting them in cyberspace that has me still learning about the pro and con of doing all this.  For today’s amusement I have decided to not over-think things.  Will start with a brown bag.



Woke up late.  Went about things as if I didn’t have a care in the world.  Relaxed and displaced from the very things that most people deal with each day.  Did not seem to be weighted down by the presence and psychic energy of others.  Stayed in, then found the courage to go out.  Out of my personal space and onto public streets.  Took in some air, and didn’t choke.  Didn’t become anxious due to others and the urban density that surrounds me.  Had no storefront or lunchroom anxiety.  Stayed out as long as it pleased me, no time limits imposed.  No sense that I needed shelter and should scurry back to my quarters for safety’s sake.  





And so it was that I was into a leisurely morning that seemed to be free of the shackles of self-imposed everything, allowing me to enjoy the moment without actually having to think about my next step and where all of this was taking me.  A little background on the motivation for writing this blog.  Having a good day, and decided I should count my blessings, expand my base and with resources secured, share a little time with you.  Of course,  local and global could influence how we share this moment, but like I mentioned, not over thinking any of this.  Will peace/piece it all together, working with the materials at hand.  In this case I just reached down to pick up some littler on the street.  Found it to be a brown bag, which easily found its way into a trash container 20 feet away.  But out of hand, did not mean out of mind.  Carried the thought with me, and when I sat down to drink some water, take a little weight off my feet, and glance at this computer, I realized something.  Brown bag means one thing to me.  To you, a brown bag may not be something you see or deal with.  This idea put me in a special state of mind.  Now I find myself writing a blog, which I reserved for once a month status.  Had all but shut down.  Don’t get excited.  Don’t write.  Stay to yourself.  Become self-contained.  Blogging can become a nasty habit.  Just last month I was thinking like that.  Was not sure why I had given so many years to the blogging habit.  So made a decision.  Once a month.  But here I am.  Broke into a new circle of awareness.  Decided that if I had something to say, I should write.  Inspired by a brown bag.  I will continue on.



Came back from a leisurely walk.  Washed my hands.  Spontaneous action.  Brown bag pickup, and now I needed to limit the contamination from picking things up on a city street.  " Wash your hands."  Back in my safe space.  Still clean and friendly, in a self-questioning way.  " What I have I done?  Will people still love me?"  For a moment, I was on the edge of an anxiety state, unspoken panic attack.  Unrehearsed and unleashed.  Fear of rejection and perhaps banishment.  But then I looked around.  Took a deep breath.  Nothing had followed me home.  Home alone with time on my hands, and my hands were clean.  Did nothing that would change my state of existence and jeopardize the ways things are for me at the local level.  It was just a brown bag, and it found its way into my day and was on the path I walked.  No harm done.  And for that I am grateful.



Came home.  Walking through the lobby, decided to check my mail.  Found a key in my post box, and that doesn’t happen every day.  With curiosity I added to the moment a genuine excitement.  Its been years since I have had an unsolicited package delivered to me.  Turns out it was delivered using The United States Post Office’s expensive $15 priority mailing box.  No hint of who the sender might be.  Huge box.  Had no clue what might be in it.  No sense of who sent it to me.  What to do.  Open it and then like with the brown bag, wash my hands immediately?  Wasn’t sure.  But was by myself and had to make a decision.  Was having a good day, so did not want some global effect of danger being everywhere ruin the day I was having.  Opened the bag.  


  
And to my benefit it was Seattle Seahawks NFL Season tickets.  Huge box.  Small item.  Made me think that somebody had a moment of grandeur at my expense.  Tickets to allow me into 10 football games.  Probably added $25 of expense to the activity of getting into a public stadium for a football game.  But then I decided, don’t over think any of this.  Seattle had just won The Super Bowl in 2014.  Extension of the 2013 season, and now its big time presence and exposure.  To me its just a way to get into the game.  But now I realize, huge box.  Flat tickets that could have fit into an envelope and with a $1 delivery rate, reach me in time for the first preseason game, and I would have been happy.   Local and Global.  Small event becomes gigantic, and I am not sure why winning A Super Bowl in February of 2014 should bring on such pomp and ceremony.  But for me it was all the same.



Picked up a brown bag.  Instantly washed my hands.   Opened a huge box with season tickets in it.  Instantly washed my hands.  And will have several months to decide what it is going to be like for the rest of this year.  Last year they banned the nap-sack and book bag.  Had to carry all your stuff in a clear plastic sack the size of a gallon Zip Lock Bag.  See-Thru.  Exposed as if the contents were a clear and present threat.  And so it occurs to me, Super Bowl Champions of the NFL in 2014.  Will that be a problem?  And is when I decided to sit down with my bad self and write this blog.  1950’s state of mind.  Small boy with his dad going to a football game.  And now before I can do anything, I have to take certain precautions.  Wash my hands.  Sanitize my surroundings.  And I tell myself.  " 2014.  Brown Bag Day.  Season’s Tickets Arrived.  Be happy."

HAD ENOUGH YET?

Had Enough Yet?

It has been many moons since I sat down to blog.  Part of an open plan to enjoy the summer weather and opportunity.  Down-Under it is winter, and so will put off going there for now.  And won’t be going to The West Bank, down by the river, anytime soon.  Is partially why there has been so much silence on my part.  Worlds apart.  Giving up on Microsoft and technology, as it has become so invasive.  Not sure what is true, when I say, "Not doing much of this and that anymore."  Am human so have an opportunity to change my mind.  For now, I am weaning myself from all things that do not directly benefit quality of life in the present moment.  Saying that brings me down.  Down to the days of summer, in silence on a park bench, watching others run around, dehydrate and become exhausted.  Not sure my theme for today will be:  How Exhausting Life Has Become.  Rather, I will concentrate on the need to exceed one’s highest expectations and calling.  Been to the  Graffiti Wall.  Great effort and colorful sprawl, which moves me to a place across the river, where rockets and missiles are looking for me, but as we say in the Shooting Gallery: 

"I miss you."



 
Had Enough Yet?  And then going in the opposite direction, I say.

 "I miss you." 

 Not sure if this is a joke, shared with the young drone operator sitting out in the desert of Nevada with his sights elsewhere, and his mind on his girlfriend and The Saturday Night Special?  Not sure if I miss you, but over time I think this is true.  Once a month might work, when you are over 70 years of age, like I am.  But more frequently is nice, depending of course on the context and subject of attention.  Attention.  Stand to Attention.  Another instance of worldly involvement comes into view.  Not as bad as CNN broadcasting the bombing of Baghdad in 1991, but its out there.  Media reminds me of the details, which I have been careful to ignore all week.  But then it happens and I sit down to blog.  Unpleasant Reminders find their way into my speech and habit.  Focus on the good, forget about the violence and the killing.  Would that be realistic?  And such thoughts is why I have started to unplug and blog less.  Nothing seems to change, not really.  And at the end of the day and week and month, I ask?


 "Had Enough Yet?"



Going back in time I remember this:  "Forget About It?" 

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=forget+about+it

Have gone to the Urban Dictionary to get clarification.  Here is what they have to say.  Their words not mine, but when I read this, I do understand.  Nod and sway and duck your right hand coming at me. 



forget about it

As it is explained by Johnny Depp, who plays Donnie Brasco in the movie "Donnie Brasco"






"Forget about it" is like, if you agree with someone, you know, like "Raquel Welch is one great piece of ass, forget about it." But then, if you disagree, like "A Lincoln is better than a Cadillac? Forget about it!" you know? But then, it's also like if something's the greatest thing in the world, like minga those peppers, "forget about it." But it's also like saying "Go to hell!" too. Like, you know, like "Hey Paulie, you got a one inch pecker!" and Paulie says "Forget about it!" And then, sometimes it just means forget about it.

by Donnie Brasco March 09, 2005






 
Donnie Brassco.  2005.  Seems like a long time ago, but I do remember it like it was yesterday.  On an Oregon Beach dog sitting.  Isolated.  Technology was not what it is today, 2014, nor invasive to the degree that spying in Germany this week has been declared, "Outrageous and Appalling."  Just more fallout from The Snowden Revelations, which declares that everything is possible if you have the determination to follow through and make it happen.  Haven’t really got my head around it, what it all means.  Double Speak and Image.  By now you would think we have seen it all.  Would know what to do?  And then just do it?  But it is not as easy as it was back in the 2005 days with Donnie Brasco.




One more thing on my mind before I turn away from you, and wander into the midnight sun.  Microsoft, Bill Gates old company has just declared that it is reinventing itself.  This happens a lot.  Seems Google and Apple and Others are asserting themselves and getting all the attention.  Seems Microsoft has hired another really smart CEO who is gearing up to change the world, or should I say the world of technology as we know it.  And he is putting out the message.  




Ubiquitous computing.  Ambient Intelligence. "Do More Stuff."

 And if this is all foreign to you, as it was to me, yesterday and back in 2005 and prior, you can do as I did.  Search and Destroy.  Search and Research.  Search and then, Forget About It.  Actually, before I put a curse on CEO-man, let me say.  "……people, who are surrounded by intelligent and intuitive interfaces  will receive my full attention."  Guessing that he and I do not talk and mean the same things.  So wasn’t sure what Ambient Intelligence was really all about.  But decided not to get too upset about any of this.


 

Waited until Saturday morning to blog about it.  Seems its been a long time.  A month or so of silence.  All serving a good cause.  It is summer and winter.  Chill.  Depends on where you are, of course.  Bombs across the river, and if it is the 4th of July you can think:  Fireworks are pretty.  But then again, if it is July 12th and you are on the West Bank, then you do as I do.  Blog and pretend that the world is a safe place.  2005  Donnie Brassco.  Forget About It.  Or if not, reinvent the world and yourself, and hope by this time next year, you are celebrating a prosperous and exciting New Year.  Had Enough Yet?    Going on Vacation.  Will do a monthly blog when I get back. 

Technology permitting.