Knowing my enemy, and knowing my enemy is so like myself.

"Tribes thrive in adversity. Their poverty is their strength." Steven Pressfield

http://blog.stevenpressfield.com/

In my experience with fighting forces, and the peoplel who comprise their numbers I've realized this many times but never expressed it aloud. Enemy mine is a reflection of thousands of years of tribalism distilled into several different iterations, and playing out now for our consideration all over the world.

America on politics

The issues that need to be addressed are scattered widely. Forget the politics. Americans can't even be bothered to be decent to each other anonymously. How sick is that?
Without resorting to attacks on character, creed, or conscience, even family, it would seem there's nothing to say. The very substance of intelligent debate is lost. It seems we've taken cues from politics, forfeiting credibility for social acceptance. This sort of thing would have been ignored into silence ten years ago. What's going on when people hate from all sides, just to fit in?

To forum of Huffington Post upon reading several pages.

I've been reading comment streams on news forums.

Rough-shod attempts to destroy opposing opinion and eloquent pronouncements of omipotent comprehension in disdain of lesser minds incapable of grasping the lofty concepts of (position of choice here _____) abound.
Unacceptable.
I relish intelligent, rational, and intuitive discussion. Passionate, yet focussed, and tactful argument has often been the inspiration for positive change in my life, but where has the tact gone?
I had hoped empathy and understanding would result from the exchange of ideas between dissimilar viewpoints but fear the invective preceding the epiphany may amount to hatred. Some alarming language in forum from Americans, about Americans moved me to comment.
I don't want to come off sanctimonious, so at the risk of being burned both figuratively and in effigy for syntax and/or grammatical errors I'm sure I've made I thought someone should call to our collective attention that we've become horribly self-destructive just now, and now may not be the best time for that. : )

From one Huffington Post article's Comments Section on the Tea Party Protestors Drown Out CNN Reporter:

Sub-human, idiots, slobbering, mindless, maoist, southern hick, ignorant, Lilly White Teabagger. I could go on.

I think many a thesis, documentary, and study will be done on how badly we behaved and how terribly we denegrated our fellow citizens over the travesty that is our socio-political system.
One question for everyone though. Why the hell are we fighting EACHOTHER?
None of what is happening in politics right now actually applies to governance and we all know it. We're all mad as hell about it, but that doesn't mean we should drink the divisive cool-aid (misspelled for trademark purposes) and execute a suicide of the Republic. The sum of its parts should be the execution of our collective will, not the will of a collection of representatives who've figured out how to completely cripple the system.
Smoke, mirrors, and no small amount of distraction from reality bear no resemblance to governance. Without some galvanizing event to unite people against corruption, tyranny, and rampant neglect, we have no power to change things. It is our civic duty to inform ourselves of how the process works to effect our desires legally. If the process breaks, we have to fix it.

Please take a moment to consider whom you are trying to impress when you deprecate your countrymen. Whom are you attempting to persuade? Persuasion doesn't require the flourish so evident in these posts, and is more effective without chumming the water with the corpses of felled opponents. Why play to a chorus of agreement? Which is more difficult and admirable?
Introduce innovative solutions and improve the world around you as you can. Rants and polemnic diatribe only remind us all that we've not yet mastered our flaws. They render brilliant minds ineffectual and allow the simplest criminals to manipulate our lives. In the heat of the moment, our behavior mirrors the problem we've allowed to perpetuate at our Capitol, and that does not bode well for any of us...

Mornings

Sneaking around in the early morning still. Dark and cold outside, and the floor chilly on MY feet, and I hear the pitter-patter of Lola's. She's supposed to be asleep, but somehow hears me every time.
It's labor day. We wanted to sleep-in but something woke me. Now Lola's smiling at me over Frosted Mini-wheats and echoing my half-hearted chide "You woke up too early!" It's way too cute for 7 o'clock in the morning but what would I rather be waking up to? Angelic little smile full of mischief, and tiny voice to match.
She's making quick work of the Minnie-wheats, so I could be in trouble shortly.
Every time she takes a bite her hair falls into her eyes and I push it back stubbornly. Every time she smiles at me. In spite of being tired and cold, this is the best thing that could possibly have happened to me.
Everything is quiet and Lola and I are chatting. (She's 2.)
She's noticed her chapstick, so the obligatory primping occurs and I wonder at her facsination with all things cosmetic at such an early age. She's been our girlie-girl ever since she was tiny (she still is.) She's been enthralled by makeup, dress-up, and SHOES since birth as far as we can tell. (laughing)
Apparently we've made enough of a stir to bother the old mutt, Austin. I can hear him through the ceiling, moving from one side of the master bed to the other, and flopping back down on the floor. Over the last year or so he's developed the old man's grunt/groan habit. While hilarious, it makes me wonder if he's really uncomfortable, or mimicking me; maybe commenting on my frequent loud protests to movement. Every so often (more often now than not I'm afraid) we're treated to a barrage of grunts, groans, moans, and sighs that would make any rest-home proud.
He trundles and trudges about like some comic old fart, but he's so polite and good-natured that he wags his tail and smiles the whole time.

Ah, the second shift has awakened. Sort of. I can hear Emily puttering around, and I've called to her a couple of times. (No reply.) I even poured her bowl of cereal, which will begin to disintegrate shortly, but I know her routine well enough. I'll have to go looking for her so off I go.
As I top the stairs, I see her wrapped in her favorite blanket and crouched at the foot of our door. She is unhappy with the ambient temperature (sans pajama pants, she's cold) and she's decided I'd better do something about it.
I mention pants and cereal and she's down the stairs. I fumble loudly and clumsily through the closet only to find I'm looking in the wrong place and woefully un-stealthy. The pull-up bar crashes to the floor (almost taking my head with it,) and Beth sits upright in bed to stare at me incredulously.

Mumbled apologies and a hasty retreat.

Emily's found her bowl of cereal and is chowing Minnie-wheats at an impressive rate for anyone so small. She's smiling hugely at me. These are the moments, but I am still wanting to be back in my nice warm bed and I MAY still be able to salvage some sleep, so after tucking Lola into bed with a book I high-tail it. Then I realize I've left Emily alone at the table. "She's four you worthless bum! What the heck is wrong with you?" (Damned conscience!)

I realize I couldn't ask for more as mornings go, so I rush back down to sit with her. Why had I gone upstairs again? Oh yea, because I'm getting lazier every minute!
Beth has joined us with a jaunty smile of her own and soon Lola is back and we're a big happy (sleepy) family sitting at the kitchen table. What a perfect morning!

Psuedonyms and blogs

I've decided I like blogs, and I like psuedonyms. Two reasons readily spring to mind here, one being the fact that writing a blog seems an order of magnitude less intimidating than writing a book, or committing to journaling daily in a notebook for some strange reason, and two, well, I like the anonymity coupled with what could easily become wide exposure.

I find the entire affair liberating with a sense of vain satisfaction. On the one hand I get to write whatever comes to mind in a very free form, creatively attractive way, and nobody has anything to say about it whatever, and on the other hand I can post it, and open the blog to the world to see if anyone gives a piss in the wind at all.

the distilled dichotomy of my being in text!

Rain. Wind. Lightning...and a Full Moon.

There are things I like. I will go well out of my way for the chance to do the things i love dearly, and then there's the beach.

Last night wasn't what anyone i've known would call a beautiful night, but to me it was one of the most perfect i can remember.

the sky was a mottled gray-blue brightened and darkened with lighning that never quite broke through the cloud cover. people were scarce, and they moved with urgency from one doorway to another half-crouched as if posture would somehow keep them dry.

It was comical to watch so many people who drove here to swim now so worried about getting wet.

as the storm gathered more tightly together I found a spot by the inlet and stepped out with a smile on my face wondering why people don't enjoy these things I love to do. mostly wondering why not.

the sand feels a certain way when raindrops have been pelting it. almost fluffy. something about that feeling sticks in my mind and makes my hair stand on end when I think about it. I ditched the keys by a set of trash cans and ran North, the rain just a touch cooler than the air and thunder crackling all around. the waves washed noisily over my feet and legs, and I ran in awe of everything around me. the rain was pelting and the wind was driving it at me as hard as it could, but the sand and the ocean were warm. it was amazing.

There are times when I can't rid myself of a single sentence from the day and there are blessed, sacred times when there isn't a single thought in my head. My senses were overcome with input from every direction and it was a welcome oblivion.

The wind picked up and gusts and downdrafts blinded me. every few seconds I'd wipe my face to peer out from under my arm, but I couldn't keep my eyes open or focus for more than a second or two. i stopped on an empty stretch and sat down hard in the sand closing my eyes and wishing I could see everything.

The rain raked shear lines across the beach, and the waves doubled on themselves and crashed backward and sideways with the wind. I wanted to lay in the water but the lightning had drawn right over me. a few times I felt myself jump as everything went brilliant white, and my ears split with the crash. fear is a primal thing with a life and mind of its own, and it catches you between breaths sometimes, like someone grabbing you from behind.

I was exhilirated, and energized, but I was in front of the hotel strip so I got to my feet and ran back to where I'd started. this time down the boardwalk, where some unlucky cyclists were racing back to their hotel.

when I reached the jetty I lay down again wondering about all sorts of things. What was it like to live without jobs and responsibilites? would I be struck by lightning and thereby cured of my love for storms? how nice would it be to be share what I felt with someone who understood why and what I loved about nights like this?

if you've never been kissed (and kissed well) in a warm driving rain, you may not understand, it could have been a passionate moment. One of those defining moments for romance, or lust. Easily sensationalized, or stretched into forever in a memory.

Things change. I desperately wanted to be sharing that moment with my wife. So many moments i've wished that over the years. Cannes on the hillside above the city, Lisbon at dusk, London at Piccadilly Circus, Singapore in the dead of a sleepless night, Guam, watching the sunrise on deck in the harbor.

so many wasted moments.

I always wished her into the frame with me, wondering if it would have mattered. if being together would have satisfied the senses or shattered the facade.

What is it about humanity that destroys a perfect moment? Why are we unable to share them easily?

I have no answer.

Another Place and Time

You know how the past reaches out and grabs you when things remind you of the old days? the more inappropriate and counter-productive the memory, to the task at hand, the more persistent. like a really good daydream in the middle of a microeconomics lecture.

I'm not fond of these introspective fugues. they call everything I've done into question nowadays. The obvious parallels (mid-life crises,) all the associated cliche's spring to bas-relief detail but I suppose that's why colloquialism exists.

There's no escaping your own damned head. it's legendary reluctance to return to task gives way to popular expressions and new philosophies on procrastination.

Go Figure.

Layout and such

In case anyone wonders, the page layout is for ease of reading, editting and because I really dig the minimalist view. It may be a bit depressing (black page, nothing interesting going on) but it is certainly not the attitude, so much as the function driving the design.
With that I'm off to fix, reorganize, or clean something that probably should've been done several days ago. It's not that I've been lazy, but there's a lot to do and I like it to be done completely before I call it good. That and I seem to have developed a talent for taking on several related tasks at a time and forgetting to leave the house and do the stuff I really WANT to do occasionally as well. Namely take the canoe out and go fishing, drive to the coast, go to the mountains. How is it that I no longer enjoy that stuff nearly as much without the family to keep me company? I thought I'd be galavanting near and far but here I am typing away again. (HA!) What an unfortunate state of events. I should really look into that...

Wishing I could have comforted someone

Its amazing to me how many people there are in the world, living together, or at least among one another and still feeling so alone. I say amazing only because I realize the sheer impossibility of it, but the human mind can isolate itself so well as to make the world seem a very lonely place.
I should put down right now that my sister provoked this vehicle of exploration and exhibition more than anyone else, but I read something this morning by someone calling themself shatteredhope11 that made me want to reach out in some form to anyone who feels there's noone out there that understands the craziness that is our singularity as humans.
If you think about it, we're all isolated until we attempt some escape from self. I was isolated here in my home, until I chose to fire this into the ether, but the opportunity and capability for interaction and engagement were always there. I hadn't exploited the option yet.
I hope that in some way the simple act of writing it out is cathartic for that individual, and their mind is at ease now for having gotten it out. The "bottling up" effect seems to be the most universally accepted psychological error on the planet, and if nothing else, perhaps we are all much more happily adjusted now that we've got an outlet. I hope so...(laughing)

Beginnings

Strange (to me) to start something like this on a beautiful sunny day, but as this is an exercise in some parts discipline, creativity, and necessity I guess it doesn't matter when or how, as long as it is begun.
This is to find and solidify if not completely rework my editorial and compositional style without abusing myself or my audience too much. To put it simply, I expect to be the only one reading this, and that works out very nicely for me, and if someone else should read it, it will be because they went looking for something to read and found this. Not really a disclaimer, more of a warning/apology in case a reader was looking for something particularly well-written or categorically definable.
This blog's purpose is to write whatever comes to mind, archive it, and make it easy for me to combine, discard, and edit it as things occur to me. I expect it will always be a work in progress, sort of.