Home again, home again

Yep, I'm back. Not that I was all that anxious to come back, but bills needed paying, chores doing. The usual responsibilities. So here I am.

I've actually been home for over a week and it's taken me awhile to surf around to all my usual haunts and post the odd comment here and there. It's nice to come back to familiar names and personalities, but I did need to get away for a bit.

Too much of the same thing tends to make me irritable. Not sure exactly why. For as long as I can remember, I've felt this way. I dislike (not quite hate) monotonous routine. I guess I need the stimulation of meeting each new day with some degree of enthusiasm -- the feeling that things may or may not happen in any given order; that things I never expected to happen might happen; that there will be new ideas and challenges to be faced.

Some routine is okay and necessary to get through mundane chores. But if I had to do the same thing day after day by rote, I might go insane.

In my teens, I had a summer job working in a cannery. It was on an assembly line sorting green beans. Great, huge buckets of beans would get dumped onto one end of a conveyor belt. We, the sorters, stood on each side of the belt as the beans moved along. Our job was to pick out all the twigs, leaves and 'non-bean' stuff, and the rotten, discoloured or under-sized ones and discard them into buckets next to our feet. The beans that got to the end of the belt were supposed be ready and 'perfect' for canning. If they weren't, a supervisor would come yell at us (because the machinery was so loud it was the only way to be heard), take the unacceptable beans and dump them back onto the conveyor belt for re-sorting.

The laziest girls (there were no guys) or those suffering late-night blues or hangovers always wanted to stand at the front of the line where the beans were first dumped because there was less pressure to catch the bad ones. They would just flatten the pile, shuffle through the beans and pick up the odd twig or leaf and let the rest go on down the line. The pressure to catch all the bad stuff increased the nearer you were to the end of the belt.

I began the summer trying different positions along the belt. I soon realized that I preferred working near the end rather than the beginning. Yes, there was greater pressure to catch the last of those demon bad beans, but at least it kept me awake!

At the front end of the belt, the monotonous drone of the machinery, warmth and humidity and unrelenting boredom of it all made my eyes glaze over and I'd catch myself almost falling asleep on my feet. I tried various tricks to keep awake: singing to myself, imagining animal shapes in the beans, counting the rotten ones (bad idea), stomping my feet. Nothing really worked until I started standing near the end of the line. I made it a personal challenge to never let any bad beans get through to be rejected by the supervisor. It forced me to stay awake. It was the only thing that kept me going.

I can think of nothing I've ever done since, that is as mind-numbingly boring as watching piles and piles of smelly beans go by in an unending vomitous green stream for eight and a half hours straight (less two 10-minute coffee breaks and half hour lunch). I might consider slitting my throat if I ever got stuck on that type of assembly line again.

I know some people take comfort in their routines. Maybe it gives them a sense of control in a world that is largely uncontrollable.

I have an in-law like this. She relishes and wallows in her daily routine. She can't tolerate having her morning routine altered. She MUST have her xx minutes to bathe and do makeup; she MUST have xx minutes to eat (the same) breakfast; she MUST read her morning newspaper over coffee; and she WON'T be rushed. The rest of her day follows similar set patterns. Any deviation from her routine sends her into a nervous frenzy. I'm not kidding. An unexpected dinner invitation will be firstly met with refusal, followed by - if she's talked into it and there's enough lead-in time – a mad scurrying to re-do makeup, find the right clothes and shoes, touch-up her hair and be ready and waiting an hour in advance.

She hates travelling for exactly the same reasons that I love travelling: She doesn't like the unknown or unexpected, doesn't adjust well 'on-the-fly'; doesn't like speaking to strangers, doesn't like to try 'strange' food, and worries about getting lost. Not me. I like the challenge of learning about a new place, meeting and speaking to people and trying the local food.

In a way, it's odd because I was extremely shy as a child. I used to spend hours, if not days, alone in my room with just my books and imagination. I hardly said a word or answered any questions (unless directly asked) in school. It's been an evolution for me to go from meek and mild child to an outgoing adult. I think I'm still introverted, but in a more outward way, if that makes sense. I guess It shows that people can and do change.

Per usual, I've ended up in a place I didn't expect. Although, it is my first attempt at posting after my hiatus, right?

I'll end this post by keeping my still warm vacation thoughts alive.

I brought some sunsets home with me. Some of you may have seen them already, but here they are for non THH'rs. I hope you enjoy them:

My bags are packed, I'm ready to go

I sometimes stress over the fact I'm not disciplined enough to post a daily blog, but I've come to terms with it -- sort of – by putting it in the, 'Oh well, there are more important things to worry about' category. So, here's my official statement that I’m not going to feel guilty about it anymore.

Summer's almost over. Maybe not officially by the calendar, but it always seems like the end of summer when the school year looms just the other side of Labour Day. School supplies have taken over the front half of my local Shoppers Drug Mart and sales flyers about 'back to school' clothes arrive in my mailbox daily. There's a damp nip to the early morning and the sun has taken on that oblique-not-quite-hot-enough angle.

I'm a summer person and usually sorry to see the end of summer. But this year, I'm extending it by going off for a few weeks to warmer climes. I'm going to read, write, snorkel, eat properly, get enough exercise, and watch the evening sunset.

I'll think about the war in Iraq and the situation in Lebanon; ponder the AIDS crisis and the debate here in Vancouver about continued funding for the Downtown Safe Injection Site. Maybe I'll get a better perspective on things. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'll come back rejuvenated and energized. Perhaps that's all I can really hope for.

I have my see-through Ziploc (so the security people don't have to touch things) bags with non-liquid, non-gel, non-aerosol toiletry items in my carry-on; along with my unlocked (so the same security won't have to cut the locks in case of suspicious items) suitcases. I've remembered to take the electric fob for my car locks off my keychain, removed all sharp, over-2.5cm objects from my purse, and reminded myself not to utter the word bomb (Tom or other approximation) within a thousand metres of security guards, policemen or other uniformed individuals. I have prescription medication in their original containers with full name that matches the one on my passport. I have my son's digital camera because my old film one won't make it through the half dozen x-ray screenings. I have my brand new MP3 player loaded with music, two novels from my TBR pile, and a crossword puzzle book.

As I said, I'm ready to go.

Mental housekeeping

While catching up on Ronni Bennett's, Time Goes By, I was caught by her following comment:

When, years ago, I first ran across E.M. Forster’s line, “How do I know what I think until I see what I say,” it was an instance of "I’ve always known that, why didn’t I know that "before." I write to figure out what I think about things and it is astonishing how many times I start a blog post and wind up in an entirely different place at the end than I thought I intended. Writing is a joy for me because it organizes my thoughts, forces me toward clarity and often leads to discovering what I didn’t know before.

It's precisely how I feel about blogging. It's not so much that I haven't previously had the thoughts before I set out blogging about them. It's just that when I write them down, it helps me explore, clarify and crystallize some of the muddy areas that have been swooshing and swirling around in my head. Occasionally, I even get a eureka moment.

I don't know how other people's thought processes work, but I know that mine are far from linear and logical. I'm more of a stream of consciousness -- with multiple rivulets bounding in and out around rocks, picking up leaves and branches that fall in, sometimes picking up detritus from the riverbed with the occasional splash of a boulder thrown in from someone standing on the banks -- kind of thinker. I'm heading in the same general direction, but lots can and does happen before I get to the mouth of the river.

For me, writing things down acts like mental housekeeping. It forces me to think out loud about things I believe in and care about; sort out where, when and how I came to those beliefs, and see if the reasoning behind them is still valid. It's a process I don't mind sharing.

It wasn't always so. Introspection is a large part of my psyche and I was an extremely shy person for much of my life. Even though openness and discussion has always been a part of my household and how I've raised my sons, the outward sharing with complete strangers is relatively new. I think open discussion is crucial in developing concerned, thinking individuals that are willing to question the status quo, change what needs to be changed, or revel in the fact that some institutions and ideas are worthy of keeping.

It wasn't the easiest way to raise children. I marvel at parents who can answer, "Because I said so" in response to their children's questions. My way was much more tedious. When the boys were very young, I wished I could press an off switch to the umpteen millionth "why" question. In the adolescent years, every statement or request seemed to end up in protracted debate.

But something really wonderful happened along the way. Those debates became well-reasoned discussions – sometimes heated, sometimes rancorous – but nonetheless interesting and intelligent. Now, as adults, they are passionate, always questioning, and ready, willing and able to hold up their end of a discussion or debate.

(For an example of what I mean, you can read D's blog, A Transient in Spaceship Earth. A few of you already know that it's my son's blog, but maybe that's something else I'm ready to share. He hasn't posted in over a year because of school commitments, but I'm hoping he'll get back to it soon. We don't always see eye to eye on everything, but agree more than we disagree, and can at least understand the other's point of view.)

Would it have been easier to raise "yes, ma'am, no ma'am" kids who think exactly like I do? Probably. In retrospect, would I have done it differently? No.

Time for a change?

My blog has become more and more like me. Some may think I have an identity crisis – but really, I don't. This is me, in all my messy, cluttered (gory) glory. I looked back at my original opening blog and realize I still don't have a specific direction, but it's been fun exploring the possibilities. What I can say for certain is that all my blogs are reflective of my eclectic, scattered tastes and passions and blogging has allowed me to express them in a way I never thought possible.

Lately, I've been reluctant to post certain things. Silly, I know, but true nonetheless. I realize that different readers come back expecting more of the same whatever it was that prompted them to bookmark me in the first place. I fear that when they come back and see that I've followed one of my philosophical musings with a political rant or writing exercise, they may be a bit bewildered. Perhaps my fears are unjustified and I'm giving myself way more credit than I deserve when it comes to making any impact at all on my readers. (You see, I'm calling you "my readers". How self-involved is that?)

Anyways, I've been thinking of splitting off and categorizing individual blogs. For example, a section for political, environmental, and activism blogs; a section for idle ramblings about what's going on in my life; a section for philosophical, "meaning of life" blogs; a section for writing that doesn't end up on First Drafts; etc. I figure people could just go straight to what they're interested in rather than wade through stuff of little or no interest.

I guess I'm just thinking out loud and hoping that maybe someone else will have an opinion on this. Should I just leave everything in a hodgepodge and post whatever comes into my head – or should I attempt to be more organized and place blogs into separate categories?


p.s. I'd almost forgotten that I posted definitions regarding my site name. I think they still apply and are open for your interpretation:

pomegranate:
A globular fruit with many seeds and juicy red pulp in a tough brownish-red rind.
tiger:
An endangered large feline having a tawny coat with black stripes. A fierce or audacious person.

Age is just an illusion

Age is a state of mind, so I’m told. I feel like I'm anything from thirty-something to been-around-forever. Mostly, I don't think about my age until my body doesn't work the way it used to or some young thing looks at me blankly when I mention something that, to me, happened only yesterday.

My mind says I’m a smooth-skinned, long-legged babe
Turning heads when stars align.
Vibrant, fun and full of life.
Sometimes silly, giddy, weird.

Blank stares tell me otherwise.
Invisible to all except fellow invisibles
And those who love me now or
Knew me when-then.

Amazing how well grey hair
Works as an invisibility cloak.

Just because

I need to



remind myself


why it's


worthwhile


to


stay positive.

Sunday musings in July

Well, it's been a mighty interesting couple of weeks. I've vacillated between anger and depression so many times that I feared a self-inflicted case of whiplash.

Not long after I posted my blogs about idealism and the World Peace Forum, the relative calm in the Middle East literally exploded. The irony wasn't lost on me.

I started a number of posts to address the current middle east situation, all of which ended up in my discard/reconsider folder because they made me sound like a ranting lunatic. In effect, they were the equivalent of a hair-ripping, teeth-gnashing, primal scream.

Something along the lines of, "Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!!!!"

Just an excerpt from one of the non-published posts:

"I'm sick of the political rhetoric. I'm sick of the ineffective UN. I'm sick of apologists for all sides. I'm sick of any ideology, political system, country, or religion that uses violence and killing of innocent civilians as a means to achieve their goals. I'm mad as hell!"

You get my drift.

As far as the depression; I was ready to retreat to a cabin on a mountaintop somewhere – anywhere – to live out my life in peaceful solitude while the powers-that-be blow up the world. Obviously, I decided against this tactic -– though it is tempting. The optimistic part of me won out and I'm going to 'stay the course' (she says sarcastically). Surely, saner minds will prevail and end this mess.

I won't go into detail about my political leanings, but anyone who knows me, even moderately well, knows that I'm a peace-loving, anti-war, small "l" liberal going back to the '60s. Back in those days, I'd have been what some people called a pinko, left-wing, hippie, peacenik. I didn't care then and I don't care now if that's how I'm perceived because my attitude towards war and violence is as strong, if not stronger, now, than in my youth.

When I'm older, I'll probably be one of those "grannies against war" that you see demonstrating on the news every so often – usually as a "cute" addendum to regular news coverage. It's time people took them seriously. Who else has seen more in terms of the devastation and human suffering caused by wars?

I believe in the saying, "Violence begets more violence". It becomes a never-ending cycle of getting the other guy before he strikes first; paying back the other guy for striking first; teaching the other side a lesson; the other side responding with another "lesson"; and on and on it goes. There must be another way.

I think I'll just end this blog with some Bob Dylan song lyrics:

How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky
How many years must one man have
Before he can hear people cry
How many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind.

(For you, StillILearn)

One word . . .

This is a writing prompt from Diana at First Drafts. I think it started out as a meme. It's a bit trickier than it first appears, especially for those of us who suffer from "too-many-words-itis". The challenge is to use only one word to respond to the question/statement. Give it a try and share it with us.

Here are mine.

· Yourself: thoughtful
· Your partner: kind
· Your hair: silver
· Your Mother: unknown
· Your Father: unfulfilled
· Your Favourite Item: cherished
· Your dream last night: curious
· Your Favourite Drink: wine
· Your Dream Home: cozy
· The Room You Are In: cluttered
· Your fear: uselessness
· Where you Want to be in Ten Years? alive
· Who you hung out with last night: family
· What You're Not: simple
· Your Best Friends: understanding
· One of Your Wish List Items: peace
· Your Gender: resilient
· The Last Thing You Did: write
· What You Are Wearing: comfortable
· Your favourite weather: balmy
· Your Favourite Book?: emotional
· Last thing you ate?: salad
· Your Life: convoluted
· Your mood: hopeful
· The last person you talked to on the phone: annoying
· Who are you thinking about right now?: Jason

Idealism, activism - who needs it?

In the last couple of weeks, you may have noticed that I've posted links to the World Urban Forum and the World Peace Forum in Vancouver. I like to keep in touch with these things in my effort to stay informed and view the world in more of a global sense.

It's too easy to get caught up with the mundanities of our personal lives and forget about the bigger picture. There's nothing wrong in being engaged with our immediate surroundings -- it's a necessity. But I think we need to strike a balance between what's going on here and what's going on out there in the broader world.

I know some people roll their eyes when they read or hear about peace conferences, rallies or anything that smacks of activism and idealism. It seems "activism" and "idealism" has fallen into disfavour. Not exactly bad words, but viewed similarly to feminism – seen as unnecessary, irrelevant, a purview of the radical fringe these days.

Most distressing is that so many people my age, who grew up with the women's movement, anti-segregation rallies and the peace marches of the sixties, would be so disdainful of the similar today. Surely, they all can't have become totally disillusioned and abandoned their ideals for a house in suburbia and an SUV. As a matter of fact, I know those people are still around. They may have gone underground (or to suburbia) for awhile, but they still have those old ideals buried somewhere inside. If we care about the world we want to leave for our children and grandchildren, now would be a good time to come out and re-activate that old idealism.

I guess what I'm saying is that the world has gotten itself into a bit of a pickle and it's time for everyone to look around and see what needs fixing and actually do something about it. Whether it's the environment, world peace, the homeless, a new community centre or just cleaning up the neighbourhood, everyone can act positively for change. Figure out what's important to you and take action.

The action doesn't have to be big or monumental. For those who don't think they can make a big difference, I like the phrase, "think globally, act locally". It's borrowed from environmentalists, but can easily apply to politics (policy-making), peace and almost any other social problem. In effect, it says you CAN make a difference at the local level. So, you can't stop all the child and women's abuse in the world, but you can support your local women's and children's shelters. So, you can't stop wars single-handedly, but you can elect and support politicians who reflect your ideals.

THAT's what activism is about – taking direct action to effect political or social change. A little idealism thrown into the mix doesn't hurt either.

So ends my lecture for the day . . .

Here's a link to a great blog about effecting change (of particular interest to Americans). TCK- the Blog

Sustainability, creativity, peace, . . .

As well as the World Peace Forum this week (June 23 – 28), Vancouver just finished hosting the UN's World Urban Forum III (June 19 – 23, 2006).

About World Urban Forum
The World Urban Forum was established by the United Nations to examine one of the most pressing issues facing the world today: rapid urbanisation and its impact on communities, cities, economies and policies. It is projected that in the next fifty years, two-thirds of humanity will be living in towns and cities.


Today, I just want to share a few quotes from a speech by John Friedmann. Friedmann is a professor at the University of British Columbia, School of Community and Regional Planning. He talks about "clusters" of assets that are necessary for the development of viable and sustainable city-regions throughout the world.

I thought what he had to say about intellectual and creative assets would be of interest to some of the regular readers here as well as those who question why we should support creative and intellectual endeavours:

The fourth cluster of a city-region’s assets are its intellectual and creative assets, which are the quality of its universities and research institutes and what the Japanese call their “living human treasures,” its artisans and artists, intellectuals and scientists, and all others, musicians and writers, poets and film makers, actors and dancers who embody a region’s creative powers. Small in number, they are nonetheless essential to a region’s future and should count among its finest treasures. The best among them are also the rarest, and to lose them is an inestimable loss to the city. Creativity must be nurtured. . . .

There is much talk today about a so-called creative class that cities should promote. My argument is different. Creativity cannot be commanded, but creative work requires public support. Market forces alone will not suffice. New ideas and artistic creations are often unpopular, and those who create tend to march to a different drummer from ordinary people. Cultural and intellectual elites, their presence insures a city’s capacity for innovation. Professional contacts extend across the globe to other cities, and from these exchanges come new ways of seeing and thinking that add to the city’s liveliness and vigor. It is these elites that are the primary source of informed critical thinking which can be crucial to charting a city’s future.

And finally,

The sustainable city is a possible dream. It means embracing the fact that cities are embedded in their environment on which their future depends. It means
engaging local citizens in the common effort by giving them a stake in the society of which they are a part. It means reaching out to other cities, other regions and strengthening emerging networks. Above all, it means trusting in your own powers to shape the future that lies ahead.

He also touched on globalization and the increasing trend of selling cities as commodities. Interesting and informative.

You can read the entire speech in pdf, here:
The Wealth of Cities: Towards an Assets-based Development of Newly Urbanizing Regions
UN-Habitat Award Lecture
John Friedmann, School of Community & Regional Planning
University of British Columbia, Canada