Afraid to feel emotion, I grasp for meaning with each out-stretched finger, as I make my way through this dark time. Can I give in without giving up?
These are the repercussions of not dealing with life on life's terms. It comes from years of living with a diseased perspective on life. Not valuing friendships, focusing on men who only focused on their selves, second guessing myself and being wasteful with my time. Not pushing myself and taking it easy had become the definition of my life.
I joined a gym for something to do. Exercise is important. And though it takes effort, even then I find myself staying on the comfortable side of pain. The fear of dependence has become my new excuse for not making a greater effort with friendships, connections with the world around me. What will I do when I'm truly alone? Is it better to not set myself up by needing anyone? They'll leave eventually. They always do. We all have to go eventually.
These thoughts cling to the lining of my days. Conversations, when reading, or watching TV, remind me of how much time I waste. I'm inclined to believe that I'm not fitting in because I am tired of trying. I'm less and less comfortable in my own skin, and I begin to accept that my expectations are out of sync with the rest of the world.
Moments of clarity bring stillness to the voice that urges me to push myself yet another day. To push myself is only upon the demand of others. I listen to the stillness of that one small voice that tells me that my lack of involvement and my acceptance of isolation is where I am in this journey. It doesn't define who I am or what I am will be. It is merely a stage. A time that is different from what I've known before.
My fear is that it could define what happens next. That nothing comes from nothing. Inertia breeds more inertia. Complacency is not always comfortable. Am I slothful? Am I lazy? Is this depression? Is it a problem with confidence? Self-esteem? Is this an identity crisis?
These times are to be learned from. To be cherished just as they are. I can make myself unhappy by comparing myself to the person I used to be or the person I wish I was. I have lost my ideal of worthiness and struggle to find merit in my life. I've never been that good in filling in the blanks.
I've become a reality TV junkie and I'm not proud of it. Reality TV offers little in intellectual stimulation. Sometimes I feel a bit guilty as I shirk my domestic responsibilities; I tell myself (lie to myself) that watching these reality episodes can teach me something. (I'm learning about life by watching the behavior of wannabe actors posing as regular folk?) The truth is, I think I watch these shows as a means of avoiding living my own life.
I don't know whether my "check-out" time is a rebellious, undisciplined inner child demanding I waste my time, or if it's just laziness. Maybe those could be considered the same thing.
I do have some advice for those who gravitate toward things that sidetrack them from important things. Treat reality TV as an all you can eat buffet binge. Stuff yourself, then practice (work out) living your own REAL life to work off the effects of the binging. By doing that, I've found that I have less guilt about using reality TV as a recess from my ordinary, somewhat boring life. It's a balancing act.
As a middle-ager, I've been liberated, in the sense, of knowing the difference between things that don't matter in life, and about the things that really do.
I can sniff out superficiality more easily, and count that a blessing.
My mortality has begun to cross my mind more often. And although, I know that science has shown great promise in extending our lives, the technology for extending my life will most likely be a bit late. The greed of money and power for controlling those decisions regarding my life extension will most likely be considered not necessary when compared with the attention given the younger set.
I'm middle-aged and unemployed, by choice.
I no longer saw myself in the role as a music teacher. It was quite a shock to have to admit that. I had seen myself as a music teacher since I was fourteen, and stayed with the process by obtaining my Bachelors of Music Education. I lived happily in that world of little people for a quarter of a century. That is, until I wasn't happy at all. Over the last few years, I had begun to hate getting up for that job.
I'd been pulled in a new direction, visual art/videography.
I'm not even sure I would be considered good, if my work was seen by a professional videographer. All I know is that I become lost in the practice of creating moving images, all packaged together, like digital pages from a personal diary.
I like working with the music and love playing with special effects. It's challenging and I want to learn how to be better at it.
Since I can't afford school, at the moment, (and, let's face it, I'm 55) I've decided to make life my classroom.
And to my teachers, I will say, "Teach me, critique me, and then hire me afterwards".
I've discovered that I have to flex my muscles in order to flex my brain.
I've also found that it's more difficult for me to stay as informed with what's going on in the world, or my country, for that matter.
If I do watch television, it's usually to watch a reality TV show.
And there I sit, watching other people live their lives. I'm just watching.
I look back too often upon those things I wish I had done differently. And I've spent too much time in trying to have a mate in life. It's just not going to happen. And I'm finally fine with that. I've accepted it. My fifties gave me that.
But with the accumulation of years, I had found myself becoming reticent.
I had begun to feel as though I had given up on getting back into the stream of life. I guess that's what 'burn out' feels like.
But, perhaps by saying goodbye and really meaning it to a relationship that meant something deeply to me at one time, was what catapulted me into action in 2008.
I have finally decided to stop living in the vapor trails of a romance that ended two years ago.
This year is my year of "undoing" broken promises. It's my year to show myself what I'm made of. I've sat on the sidelines far too long and I'm behind. I'll not listen to negative input from myself or others, but especially myself.
This is my year of action. This year is for me to practice saying YES, to life.
This is the first trailer for a new documentary by photojournalist and Emmy award winner Scott Kesterson, and edited by my brother, David Leeson, winner of two Emmy Awards, two Pulitzers and two Robert F. Kennedy awards.
The documentary will be completed in October and released before the end of the year.
For more information about the documentary, go to At War
Even though the hottest month is over, it's 'vapor-less' tail of heat is several weeks long in this part of the U.S. (West Texas) I don't know about you but weather in the upper nineties is enough to make me fat from popsicles and irritable beyond self-recognition.
Some in the U.S. will soon be enjoying cooler days - in West Texas our cooler days don't appear until October or November. They can't get here fast enough for me.
A friend that lives in Austin, where it is much more humid, feels the same about cooler weather as I do and sent me this wonderful piece from the NYTimes about two weeks ago.
By SHALOM AUSLANDER Published: August 20, 2007 THE main thing is not to rush. If my pace accelerates past “Leisurely Stroll,” I’m done for. So I give myself time. I allow 30 minutes for a 10-minute walk. I head out at 5 o’clock for a 7 o’clock meeting 10 blocks away. Men hurry past. Women tut as they shoulder by. “It’s called a sidewalk,” mutters an old lady with a cane.
“Easy,” I tell myself, “It’s not a race.” I meander. I saunter. I mosey. And just when the day is ending and I think I’ve made it — one day without being covered in sweat, one day without coming home drenched — they switch my train from Track 6 to Track 11.
“Anyone sitting here?” I ask the unluckiest passenger on the train, pointing to the empty seat beside her. She looks at my shirt — at the dark patches under my arm, at the other one forming on my chest, at the streams of salt water sheeting down my forehead and stinging my eyes — and she smiles kindly.
“Yes,” she says. “Yes, there is.”
I sweat. I am a sweater. I sweat in T-shirts, I sweat in shorts, I sweat in the shower. It is not a certain dampness. It is not a masculine bit of moist. Sweat spurts out the top of my head like I’m a lawn sprinkler. I sit down on the curb at lunchtime and a little girl leaps over my head.
When I was young, the first thing my teachers told me about hell was that it was hot; after that, the punishments seemed redundant. “Yes, yes, hung by my tongue, eyes gouged out, boiled alive. How hot is hot, exactly? How about fans, do they have any fans?”
Summertime, when the living’s theoretically easy, is three long months of hell. The cold is easy — there’s no limit to the clothing you can put on. You can layer yourself so thick that your arms stick out and you can’t bend your legs at the knees. But heat — once you’re naked, there’s nowhere left to go.
So I plan ahead. By Memorial Day, I am usually rummaging the stores, preparing for the looming meltdown, hoping for salvation in linen pants and moisture-wicking shirts. I keep hoping that some sort of full-body sweatband will be the must-have this season, but the shop windows fill, as they always do, with easily-stained white shirts, off-white shirts, tan shirts. I stand in the men’s department and seethe.
In this season of blue skies and white beaches, I wear black. Black holds more heat than white but it shows damp patches less, the universe’s twisted sartorial/thermodynamic joke. I dress like an undertaker on Casual Friday: black T-shirt, black khakis and a pocket full of paper towels that will not suffice when the levee of my hairline eventually breaks.
As the solstice approaches, my mood darkens like the collar of a red button-down. I stare at the men on the subway in three-piece suits, each one dry as a bone. Something’s going on. Someone’s not telling me something.
I try to figure it out. Is it something I’m eating? Something I’m drinking? Am I drinking too much — or not enough? I drop caffeine. I eat less salt. I eat more salt. Last summer I thought it was my weight. I lost 10 pounds and seemed to sweat twice as much as I did before. Maybe if I gain 20 pounds I’ll stop sweating completely? Maybe if I gain 100 I’ll just drop dead, giving my washing machine a much-needed break?
The globe turns. The globe warms. July arrives. I look to science: Aisle 4, Anti-Perspirants. I’m a rabid anti-perspirant. I want the perspirants rounded up. I want them killed. I find Dry. I find Extra Dry. I find Cool Wave. I find Extra Dry Cool Wave Extreme.
I end up choosing one from the bottom shelf — that’s where they keep the good stuff: hair gel that sets like concrete, Advil 6000 for Fast Relief of Sudden Dismemberment and a roll-on deodorant so strong you’re supposed to put it on at night so it has time to alter your gene structure. I put it on that night, and sweated twice as much out of the top of my head the following day as I had the day before.
August. Misery now. I spend my time trying to figure out a way to earn a living without leaving the pool. I watch reports of global warming with evil glee: Soon you will know how I feel. Soon you will all know.
I try to take my mind off the thousands of small leaks my body has sprung by sitting still in the dark and watching movies; for me, “March of the Penguins” was an 85-minute, sub-zero happy ending. I replay the storm scenes. Look at all that ice! Look at all that snow!
And then, finally, Aug. 1 turns to Aug. 10, and Aug. 10 turns to Aug. 20, and I realize that the march of this urban penguin will soon be over. Soon it will be September and then fall and with fall will come a return to normality, a return to dryness, maybe even a white shirt now and again.
And one day, as the ice forms on the Hudson and the snow whips across Broadway, I’ll be sitting on the train and a woman will appear, a woman in earmuffs and mittens, a woman covered in so many layers that her arms stick out and she can’t bend her legs at the knee.
“Anyone sitting there?” she will ask, trying to point to the empty seat beside me.
“Yes,” I will smile kindly. “Yes, there is.”
Shalom Auslander is the author of the forthcoming “Foreskin’s Lament: A Memoir.”
Regarding Flight 93 and the conspiracy theories that erupted from 9-11-01:
Cockpit recordings indicate the passengers on United Airlines Flight 93 teamed up to attack their hijackers, forcing down the plane near Shanksville, in southwestern Pennsylvania.
However, conspiracy theorists assert Flight 93 was destroyed by a heat-seeking missile from an F-16 or a mysterious white plane.
Some theorists add far-fetched elaborations: No terrorists were aboard, or the passengers were drugged. The wildest is the "bumble planes" theory, which holds that passengers from Flights 11, 175 and 77 were loaded onto Flight 93 so the U.S. government could kill them.
The White Jet
Claim: At least six eyewitnesses say they saw a small white jet flying low over the crash area almost immediately after Flight 93 went down. BlogD.com theorizes that the aircraft was downed by "either a missile fired from an Air Force jet, or via an electronic assault made by a U.S. Customs airplane reported to have been seen near the site minutes after Flight 93 crashed."
WorldNetDaily.com weighs in: "Witnesses to this low-flying jet ... told their story to journalists. Shortly thereafter, the FBI began to attack the witnesses with perhaps the most inane disinformation ever — alleging the witnesses actually observed a private jet at 34,000 ft. The FBI says the jet was asked to come down to 5000 ft. and try to find the crash site. This would require about 20 minutes to descend."
FACT: There WAS such a jet in the vicinity — It was a Dassault Falcon 20, a business jet owned by the VF Corp. of Greensboro, N.C., which is an apparel company that markets Wrangler jeans and other brands.
The VF plane was flying into Johnstown-Cambria airport, 20 miles north of Shanksville.
According to David Newell, VF's director of aviation and travel, the FAA's Cleveland Center contacted copilot Yates Gladwell when the Falcon was at an altitude "in the neighborhood of 3000 to 4000 ft." — not 34,000 ft. "They were already in a descent going into Johnstown," Newell adds. "The FAA asked them to investigate and they did.
They got down within 1500 ft. of the ground when they circled. They saw a hole in the ground with smoke coming out of it. They pinpointed the location and then continued on." Reached by PM, Gladwell confirmed this account but, concerned about ongoing harassment by conspiracy theorists, asked not to be quoted directly.
View this eyewitness account - she states the plane was seen BEFORE the crash happened.
Roving Engine
Claim: One of Flight 93's engines was found "at a considerable distance from the crash site," according to Lyle Szupinka, a state police officer on the scene who was quoted in the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review. Offering no evidence, a posting on Rense.com claimed: "The main body of the engine ... was found miles away from the main wreckage site with damage comparable to that which a heat-seeking missile would do to an airliner."
FACT: Experts on the scene tell PM that a fan from one of the engines was recovered in a catchment basin, downhill from the crash site. Jeff Reinbold, the National Park Service representative responsible for the Flight 93 National Memorial, confirms the direction and distance from the crash site to the basin: just over 300 yards south, which means the fan landed in the direction the jet was traveling.
"It's not unusual for an engine to move or tumble across the ground," says Michael K. Hynes, an airline accident expert who investigated the crash of TWA Flight 800 out of New York City in 1996. "When you have very high velocities, 500 mph or more," Hynes says, "you are talking about 700 to 800 ft. per second. For something to hit the ground with that kind of energy, it would only take a few seconds to bounce up and travel 300 yards."
Numerous crash analysts contacted by PM concur.
Indian Lake
Claim: "Residents and workers at businesses outside Shanksville, Somerset County, reported discovering clothing, books, papers and what appeared to be human remains," states a Pittsburgh Post-Gazette article dated Sept. 13, 2001. "Others reported what appeared to be crash debris floating in Indian Lake, nearly 6 miles from the immediate crash scene." Commenting on reports that Indian Lake residents collected debris, Think AndAsk.com speculates: "On Sept. 10, 2001, a strong cold front pushed through the area, and behind it — winds blew northerly. Since Flight 93 crashed west-southwest of Indian Lake, it was impossible for debris to fly perpendicular to wind direction. ... The FBI lied." And the significance of widespread debris? Theorists claim the plane was breaking up before it crashed.
TheForbiddenKnowledge.com states bluntly: "Without a doubt, Flight 93 was shot down."
FACT: Wallace Miller, Somerset County coroner, tells Popular Mechanics, no body parts were found in Indian Lake. Human remains were confined to a 70-acre area directly surrounding the crash site. Paper and tiny scraps of sheet metal, however, did land in the lake. "Very light debris will fly into the air, because of the concussion," says former National Transportation Safety Board investigator Matthew McCormick. Indian Lake is less than 1.5 miles southeast of the impact crater — not 6 miles — easily within range of debris blasted skyward by the heat of the explosion from the crash. And the wind that day was northwesterly, at 9 to 12 mph, which means it was blowing from the northwest — toward Indian Lake.
F-16 Pilot
Claim: In February 2004, retired Army Col. Donn de Grand-Pre said on "The Alex Jones Show," a radio talk show broadcast on 42 stations: "It [Flight 93] was taken out by the North Dakota Air Guard. I know the pilot who fired those two missiles to take down 93." LetsRoll911.org, citing de Grand-Pre, identifies the pilot: "Major Rick Gibney fired two Sidewinder missiles at the aircraft and destroyed it in mid-flight at precisely 0958."
FACT: Saying he was reluctant to fuel debate by responding to unsubstantiated charges, Gibney (a lieutenant colonel, not a major) declined to comment. According to Air National Guard spokesman Master Sgt. David Somdahl, Gibney flew an F-16 that morning--but nowhere near Shanksville. He took off from Fargo, N.D., and flew to Bozeman, Mont., to pick up Ed Jacoby Jr., the director of the New York State Emergency Management Office. Gibney then flew Jacoby from Montana to Albany, N.Y., so Jacoby could coordinate 17,000 rescue workers engaged in the state's response to 9/11.
Jacoby confirms the day's events. "I was in Big Sky for an emergency managers meeting. Someone called to say an F-16 was landing in Bozeman. From there we flew to Albany." Jacoby is outraged by the claim that Gibney shot down Flight 93. "I summarily dismiss that because Lt. Col. Gibney was with me at that time.
It disgusts me to see this because the public is being misled. More than anything else it disgusts me because it brings up fears. It brings up hopes — it brings up all sorts of feelings, not only to the victims' families but to all the individuals throughout the country, and the world for that matter. I get angry at the misinformation out there."
I will say this much - I'll bet Alex Jones is totally enjoying his popularity and perhaps even the wealth he has gotten from his involvement of perpetuating the troubling questions that have spawn from the extremely complicated, complex events of that catastrophic day on 9-11-01
Also - in my research, I have read about Larry Silverstein as being involved in the "pulling" of Building 7. (the only three buildings that he owned the real estate for were the three buildings that collapsed like neat little pancakes) That he had some involvement for a completely selfish reason was simply not believable to me. I continued to seek more information.
For one thing - it's always important to consider who is providing this information and why.
This link is offered on what some would consider a propoganda site.
This causes me to question - Are the propaganda sites that supply people with information that creates fear and panic and stress and doubt in our government the real terrorists?
Could they be behind this? I'm simply asking the question as it is as legitimate and as balanced as any other in this quagmire of mis/information. I am not purporting any stand in these findings.
I'm merely considering the information that has been made available by many different sources.
Just like anything else in life - there are at least two (or multiple) sides to every story.
Let's take a look at a BBC news-anchor that reports the collapse of building seven BEFORE building seven actually collapses -
Is the clock incorrect? Could there have been a teleprompter that reported the time incorrectly? Was there a daylight savings time error made here? Was it an innocent mistake or did someone jump the gun?
I'd like to know who provided the information to the BBC news - that would be an extraordinary interview to have.
The supposed involvement of Silverstein with the elite Zionists is one that I can not prove or disprove at this point in my research as the only references to his personal involvement with Israel comes from these "so-called" free speech, "propaganda" sites.
However, his very words in which he said, "pull it" speaking of building seven is clearly heard in a nationally televised clip - which a year and a half later he said was his way of communicating to the firefighters that they should exit the building and not worry about the fires on floors two and three of the 42 floor building. He said there had already been too great a loss of life and didn't want to take any more chances with losing more lives.
I started thinking about this. Could it be that he knew the building was going to come down and decided to let firefighters know so that they wouldn't be killed? The building fell down in a precise (reportedly as one would by detonation) shortly after he requested the building be completely evacuated.
There is positive proof - that our Government DOES indeed lie to us:
A document offered at George Washington University NorthWoods offers information on a deception that our government propagated in the 60s.
Other presentations that border comical:
There are reports that are so incredulous and obvious in their presentation to CREATE doubt by any means. With that in mind - I want to state: There is NO SIDE that I intend to endorse, at this point. I will present what is and has been stated by both sides of what I am learning. Take a look at this Penn and Teller clip.
Penn and Teller's show is ridiculous because they did not choose believable people to put in their video. When something as obvious as this is presented, unworthy of merit whatsoever.
Why? If you viewed the video - you can see that they chose two "characters" (did you notice that one of them was shown as sharing his opinions in his stage act?) that would be viewed by most intelligent citizens to be credible. Penn and Teller used these men as the buffoons that they apparently are.
They did not have believable or legitimate guests, such as Professors of Engineering or any Governmental Authority, or anyone Physicists, or for that matter anyone that "looks and acts normal".
Rather they chose two people, (cartoonish characters) that are easy to disregard.
Could any intelligent, reasonable human being view Penn and Teller's video as anything but being humorous?
Furthermore - for those that are pronged to accept everything that occurred in the 9/11 attack (unquestioned) and want to see only what they choose to see and NOT view anything controversial, and LOVE this Penn and Teller video because they represent your views, let me ask you this:
Are you a Christian?
It is important for people of faith to remain true to those moral guidelines that make one feel better about the way they live and interact in society. If you feel Penn and Teller are offering such valuable and important truth here, then take a look at the following video and then explain to yourself - NOT ME - how you can back their views on 9-11 and still support the men that presented you with this video.
I wouldn't be surprised that both Penn and Teller received a nice "open door" invitation to the White House after their "performance".
Okay - after viewing PUBLIC data for days and many hours in each of those days - I have decided that I will pose some questions of my own. I want to exercise my rights by stating that just because I have read opposing views does NOT mean that I have to chosen a particular "side" or viewpoint. Further more - whose word can be believed over another's? Also, what bears repeating is that if one SHOULD make a final decision based on whatever reasons are pertinent to that person, it's pointless to convince that person to consider information that conflicts with theirs.
In my experience - people will believe what they want to believe. Whatever floats their boat will be the side they group with.
The way I view that is - wow - you are LUCKY that your world is wrapped up with a tidy little bow on top. For you to say, without a doubt, that you believe one way or another must be very comfortable for you.
It doesn't matter whether we all believe the same way. What DOES matter is when we are given information and chose not to question it. Responsible and intelligent people chose to get the "recipe", to question the ingredients, and research the information in making thoughtful and logical decisions. Those are the people that will experience greater comfort and ease in defending what they believe WITHOUT the loss of respect that "sheepeople" endure.
When I make these suggestions - I think - what about those on this planet that feel I should die because of my beliefs. Some may say - Anyone that doesn't stick to their beliefs and set of personal values is just a wishy washy dullard. I could go on and on - I know you are right with me on this because if you are an inquisitive, interested human being you have had occasions in your life to weigh the information, process it, file it, disregard it, or use it and adopt it for your own purposes of categorizing or self identity.
Some pride themselves in making up their own mind about something and sticking to it - no matter what.
Some people would call you a comfort zone protector. Some might say you are close-minded. Hey! It's your life!
If what you believe is irrefutable truth for you and that makes you feel protected and comfortable and gives you a sense of well being and identity among your fellow like-minded supporters - then what's the problem?
Should there be a problem with taking a view and sticking with it no matter what?
Hmmm. I have something to offer as an example of what you might encounter by staying within a comfort zone NO MATTER WHAT- Remember that ABSOLUTE fact that Mars was a planet? Ooops.
Anyway - I understand. I truly do. Each of us learn what we need to learn when we are ready to learn it.
Life has a funny way of doing that to folks - especially close-minded zealots.
Besides - it's really difficult for some to carry on about an issue and beat the pulpit and state that something is irrefutable and then be proven wrong about it.
That "boxed in" viewpoint can get mighty stuffy especially if you find it difficult to say - I was wrong.
Is it alright for me to say goodbye, for a while? Not forever goodbye, but goodbye for long enough; long enough to not love you like I do?
Is it alright for me to love myself and think I'm great?
I was blinded by that nasty disease, jealousy.
I thought our love might out live all our shouting of whatever the hell we were heated about. I'd hoped we might focus instead on our love; those moments of laughter, the slow dips, the toast in bed.
I thought maybe you loved me more than you did.
Can I smile now that I'm no longer crying?
No. My sorrow and longings are less, but the strength of my joy has not fully returned.
My heart is still bruised, but it no longer aches.
I teach Video Technology at a Charter High School. I have a Bachelors of Music Education, and a Masters of Science in Instructional Technology and Distance Education.
I have 3 cats. I've never owned a home.
I retired from teaching music in May 2007 to begin another career. My new job is teaching video at a Charter School for 8th - 12th graders. We use Canon HF100 cameras and Sony Vegas is our editing software. VoltaicHD is our choice for conversion software. However, I prefer using TMPG for my home use.
My ideal temperature hovers between 50-60 Fahrenheit. But I can "hang with it" as low as 20.
My ideal retirement location would be near water; a great deal of deep, swift water. Ah.
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