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by Richard Timothy | Feb 23, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Pratchett Perspective, Public Service Announcement
It’s hard to believe that it’s already been three weeks since that crusty eyed morning where I decided to check my messages right after waking up and found a message from one of my readers (thanks Erin) with Terry Pratchett in the subject line and a link entitled Terry Pratchett: my case for a euthanasia tribunal.
As I read the piece I started thinking about it, the big “it”… the “what is it all about” kind of “it”. I mean I know that the situation is sad for both groups of people, the first group being the adoring fans, and the second group, still adoring fans mind you, but family and friends that know him as not just the author, but the person as well. Having personally witnessed what Alzheimer’s does to a family member, there is certain amount of laughter associated with the heartache. My mother said that when it got really bad you had to laugh to keep from crying.
I laughed because it was funny that my grandpa had forgotten what words he considered were bad and kept trying to teach them to my grandma. There is something magically endearing about a little old man trying to teach his wife (she had had a stroke) how to say “oh hell.” He would even encourage her. “Come on Nora, say damn it. Daaammn it.”
When I got to the end of the Pratchett piece I had to ask myself, if it was possible to find a smirk in all of that. Was this even the type of thing that deserved my style of commentary? After thinking about it for a good… however long it take to eat a bowl of cereal, I opted to go with my gut feeling. And, in the words of the always eloquent Foul Ole Ron, let me just say, “bugrit.”
I think as fans, when we first learned of Pratchett’s condition, we took in the full scope of what that all meant. The loss of Terry would be enviable. It was almost as if we started morning the loss of a great man who is still here with us. On a plus note, I still have a number of books to get through still before I even finish the all of the Discworld books for the first time. So, at least I have that going for me. Not to mention, I’m sure he’s still writing more Discworld stories for our eager minds to consume so that we can regurgitate laughter and joy all over anyone who might be in the same room with us as we read it work.
On thought is that it… well, it does help one prepare a bit. I mean sure personal expiration is the only guarantee we have in life, but there’s a kind of appreciation I have in knowing that it’s on its way, as opposed to the opposite end of the spectrum as with Adams unexpected end. No “so long”, no “fish”… it was just a headline that no one was really sure was real or not from the first few times of reading it. Terry’s announcement, I think, has helped prepare us, well, helped me prepare for “it.” His “it”, not my “it”. My “it” at this point is the type of “it” that would result in me exclaiming a loud “she” before the “it”.
I’m not sure why, but Rincewind has always reminded me of Pratchett, the man, not the author. I’m not sure why either. I don’t know the man at all. I mean I know what he looks likes, but I’d probably not recognize him if I bumped into him on the street. Not unless someone else was there to point it out for me. When it comes to Terry Pratchett, I know the man is an author. Oh, and because of an interview I read in the past year, I know that he loves playing Oblivion. He’s English… I’m clear on my facts in that regard, but I’m not sure about much more. Things like, when his birthday is. Who he thinks would win in a fight between an Alien or a Predator, or what he did before he did what he does now.
I’m not a very good fan am I? Maybe it’s just that I’m not a traditional stalker type fan. Ahh the stalker fan… so I had this friend whose name sounded like the name of a type of dog, but for her sake was spelled differently. She was a huge Dean Koontz fan. I mean huge. So one day, she just so happened to find herself at a Koontz book signing, which was a result of some her getting two days off from work, finding a sitter for her child for that time, getting a plane ticket to California, booking a hotel room close to the book store he was going to be at, and getting to the book store by 3AM so that she would be one of the first in line to meet him.
Out of all the things she could have said to him… the conversation broke down something like this, “I am one of your biggest fans.”
“Really?”
“I celebrate your birthday.”
“My birthday. What do you mean?”
“Yes. Every year. I bake you a cake and everything.”
Dean then writes down some notes and says, “That gives me an idea. Would you be ok with me using some of that in the book I’m currently working on?”
It was the phone call I got after this had happened where she told me about the above conversation, and then screamed in a bouncy, overly excited tone, “I’m going to be in a Dean Koontz book!” I tried telling her that this was not really a compliment. She failed to see how it could be anything other than one.
No, I’m much more of a lighthearted, “Thanks Terry” kind of fan. Sure it would be groovy to meet him, but if I don’t, it’s ok. As for my Terry aka Rincewind perspective, it’s just how I see it. He’s always seemed to me to be a bit of a reluctant hero. That is until the capital “A word” became a chapter in his life. And like those moments when Rincewind becomes fed up enough that running stops becoming the first choice of action. A choice was made to face it head on, which seems exactly what he’s doing now.
He a vocal Alzheimer’s awareness poster child and his donations, as well as his open dialogue towards assisted death, is that Rincewindian stand. Granted, it might not end all that well for him, but as he goes through his journey it is going to help an entire world of people whether he expected it to or not. It’s the type of thing a knight might do, though it’s probably best not to tell him that.
I could romanticize about the literary nobility and juxtapose it with reminiscent alter ego characters that may or may not exist. In the long run I don’t think it’s going to be all that useful. Perhaps it’s just a bunch of fluff in the imagination of a life I don’t know. What I can say is this, if there is one thing I’ve learned from Pratchett’s work, it’s the fascination of life, his fascination with life. Even Death is fascinated by the human experience called life.
As he said in the closing of his Richard Dimbleby lecture, “If I knew that I could die, I would live.” I think the world has a bit of Pratchett left in it. I like to think that part of life is about giving. We have volumes of gifted wit and wisdom from that man. I’ve gotten a few emails from readers who talked about how Terry’s books had gotten them through the harder times of their life. Giving them some comfort, hope, and even more so, giving them laughter when they didn’t think they had any left in them.
In some future day, when the headlines yell that Death has finally come for the old knight, I expect that before shaking hands he’ll wait for Terry to finish his brandy as they both listen to Thomas Tallis play on Terry’s iPod. Then after the official game for his soul is played. Then, regardless who wins, they’ll head to the desert, because it’s his choice.
I really don’t see an end though. As Pratchett has continually suggested, that’s the thing about belief. It keeps giving life to those you believe in, long after the headlines tell you they’re gone.
Any thoughts you’d like to share?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Death, Terry Pratchett, Foul Ole Ron, and happy phone call.
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by Richard Timothy | Feb 16, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement, Reviewed and Recommended
The thing about Seth Godin is that you either know who he is or you don’t… which can be said about anyone really. I guess the difference is that people that know who Seth is are more apt to respond by going, “Ohh.” This is the elongated “oh” that carries with is the suggestion that the listener is both impressed and interested in what you have to say about it. As opposed to the short sounding “oh” which I believed is usually equated to, ambivalence, disinterest, and a general unspoken desire that the talker change the subject to a topic that they are can either exchange dialogue in or that is more about them specifically so they can take over the conversation.
I get there are some of you that gave me that “oh” when I mentioned Seth’s name. Now had I said I had lunch with Brad Pitt, there would be an entirely different group of people sitting up and paying attention. I suppose at some point in the luncheon I’d have to succumb to the inevitable eye candy factor of the experience and respond to all my friends that lunch with Brad was “just dreamy”. Would I have listened to what he had to say… no bloody clue, but my initial guy feeling tells me no, probably not.
Lunch with set Seth on the other hand was different that how I would imagine an imaginary lunch with Brad. I will start off by saying that Seth is an adorable little man. He’s kind of like a much younger version of that cute old man in the Pixar short Geri’s Game. He also reminds me of that little friendly good natured scientist in movies that is always trying to help save the world. Sure he’s a little quirky and oddly amusing, but once he starts talking everyone else stops talking and listens to what he has to say, because it’s going to be something important that could help the situation and others.
The lunch was really just a luncheon, with a boxed lunch consisting of pasta salad, and green, green apple (rather sour I thought), a bottle of water, a chicken pesto sandwich, and two chocolate chip cookies. I ate the cookies first. Life makes a bit more sense that way.
If I owned a restaurant I’d call it Dessert First. The whole idea would be to have people start their meal with dessert. I know when I go out to eat there is always too much food. Then, by the time I get to desert, I’m too full and am taking leftovers home with me. If you do dessert first, your dessert sales greatly exceed the common dessert sales of an average restaurant. You also fill up the customer with sweet yummy goodness, putting them in an ultimately better mood while they wait for their food. They will also get full sooner, so you can cut back the portions. The customers will eat less at the restaurant, finishing their meal sooner, and still have leftovers to take home and finish for lunch the next day. It’s a brilliant idea, and I’d go there at least once a week just to help support myself.
The lunch with Seth turned out to be a fundraiser luncheon to help assist Haiti. This meant that I was sharing my luncheon with Seth with 700 other people. Lunch was at 11 AM and Seth was presenting from noon to one, and most of the people there were not all that interested in the box lunch being offering in the first place. They were very interested in listening to Seth present though. Having read Seth’s blog from time to time over the past four to five months, I knew a little what he was about, but I’d never read any of his books. Nor did I fully realize how big of a deal he actually was in the field that he is currently fielding. Meaning, firstly, I was one of the few there who was looking forward to my little lunch, and then secondly, I was a touch curious about what this man had to say.
Half way though the presentation, I discovered I was bothered that the people who had put the event together wasted an entire hour for lunch, thus limiting our time with Seth to only an hour. I would have opted to take my lunch with me and eat it on the drive back to work as opposed to before hand. Or just give me a cookie. I’d have been happy to call it lunch if it would have resulted in getting a bit more of his presentation, which was about his newest book in his arsenal of published work. It’s called Linchpin: Are You Indispensable? How to Drive Your Career and Create a Remarkable Future. I’ll be getting myself a copy soon.
One of the things that stuck with me the most was his dialogue on art and how we are all artists. He talked about how being an artist is more than being a painter, sculptor, actor, or poet. Art is about creation. It’s about something that’s personal to the creator and something they are passionate about. For my wife, her conference is her art. For me, my art is my writing. Some artists are computer programmers. Just look at all of the apps available on the iPhone. You have over a hundred thousand artists displayed in the app store alone. I have met a massage therapist who is an amazing artist. Artists are everywhere and they are everyone. The goal is to share your art with the people that want the art you have to share.
Seth also said that art has to be original and ultimately yours, adding, “Marcel Duchamp was an artist when he pioneered Dadaism and installed a urinal in the museum. The second person to install a urinal in a museum was a plumber.”
He said we are all geniuses, and I’m inclined to agree. We all have genius in us and it’s different for everyone. Math is my anti-genius. I mean I know a number when I see one, at least I thought I did, then I learned about imaginary numbers and realized my imagination appreciates everyone and everything more if I simply tell the numbers to bugger off and use my genius for writing a piece about the manner in which I’d like imaginary numbers to buggering off and having the readers smile amusingly at that.
All in all, I dug the event, even if it seemed a little rushed and a bit too short. Also, if any of you are entrepreneurs, or have your own business, I recommend checking out two different blogs. One is Seth Godin and the other is a chap named Chris Brogan (who I’ve yet to see live, but who I’ve gotten a lot of useful information from). Both are brilliant and we worth visiting daily if you can, but at least once a week. Some days their information really won’t apply, and other days, it’s pure gold.
There was another little bit of dialogue that I found smirkingly thought provoking, so let’s talk about that tomorrow in Lunch with Seth Part 2… The ADD Version.
Have any of you see Seth live or read his books? What did you think?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Seth Godin, Geri’s game,
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by Richard Timothy | Feb 9, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
It has been a weekend of revelations, or at the very least a weekend of notable observations. One of the main ones being, wine does not a detoxifier make. Ok, so what happened was, on Saturday I went and got a massage on a Migun massage bed, which was groovy, happy, and relaxing. Not to mention that it helped release a number of toxins in my body. The problem being, one of the orders you are given at the end of your massage is to ingest copious amounts of water to help flush all of the new released toxins from your body. Not that this was a problem, the situation that occurred is that the evening encompassed this months wine party, which is essentially an anti-detox gathering.
So as a note to self, which I think you might find useful, using wine in an attempt to keep hydrated and to assist in flushing out the toxins released from a massage is one of those “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” But trust me, it’s not… well eventually it’s not. Throughout the evening though it did felt like a pretty good idea.
On an “Oh” topic, I did finally see Avatar this weekend. I main thing I learned about this experience was that going to a movie on Super Bowl Sunday kicks ass. There was hardly anyone in the theater. Angela and I got there 5 minutes before the movie started and still we got bloody great seats. There might have been maybe only 20 other people in the entire theater. It was grand. There was even a cute old couple in front of us. The old chap did nap out for a bit. I could hear him snoring for about twenty minutes. I think it was the explosions from the missiles being fired into the bid tree that woke him up. He jumped a little when it happened to, which really set the wrong mood. This huge tree is being blown up and I’m giggling because of this little adorable old man being exploded out of his nap.
Although, I will say this, in regards to being ordered to consume mass quantities of liquid, preferably water, over a three day period, going to see a three hour movie during the second day, after spending most of the morning drinking glass after glass of water, is not the wisest of decisions. Let’s just say I got a lot of exercise during the film from all the sprints I did running up and down stairs whenever the “need” arose. So today, I’m still trying to figure out if my legs are sore from all the running or are still residuals from the massage. It’s a toss up at this point. Although I would like to direct this one comment to Hollywood… if you insist on making epically long films, put in a damn intermission. You are doing a huge disservice to the bladders of movie going public all over the world.
I guess that’s it, oh yeah, um, something about the film… well out of all the movies I’ve ever seen it was definitely one of them. No, I mean, it was fine. I dug the respect life and nature message, and the “humans quit being bastards” message was equally clear and understood. Though it didn’t alter my world or the way I look at films, or affect me say the same way I Heart Huckabees or Stranger than Fiction did, but it was quite entertaining. I don’t think I’ll see it again. At least I have no plans on seeing it again, but plans are very fickle things. I’m definitely glad I saw it in 3D on the big screen though. So, you know, thanks James for sharing your opus. I’ll even check out the sequel.
There you have it, my bemused babblings of a basic and bobbingly brilliant weekend… almost Seussian you could say.
So any of you have any notable observations this weekend?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Migun, old man sleeping, and Stranger than Fiction.
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by Richard Timothy | Feb 2, 2010 | Contemplating Complements, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
This morning was a “daaaaaamn” kind of morning. You know the kind, where you wake up with the instant realization that that you slept a bit wrong and as you sit up your neck begins unleashing a slew of profanity that would even cause the late Richard Pryor to cautiously pause and reflect that you have one pissed off neck. As you sit on the edge of your bed you attempt the simplest of side to side neck stretches and as you do so your entire world begins moving in slow motion. Then as you attempt to curse out the pain, the pain takes up all your oxygen and most of you vocal ability and all you can really muster is a very softly and slowly spoken, “daaaaaaaaaammmmmnnnnn.”
So yeah, it was an orange juice and ibuprofen breakfast. One of the things you can count on in these situations is the thought of when you last got a massage and if there is any stock or old Star Wars figurines you could sell in order to get the funds to have a traveling masseuse… sorry, massage therapist (as they prefer to be called) make a house call and squeeze, press, and pummel some of your tightened muscles into submission and relaxation.
While fondly remembering my last massage I recalled a conversation that the massage therapist and I had. To give credence to this conversation I’d like to point out a few things. You know when you were younger… or last week, or maybe twenty minutes ago while you were working out, one of the universal attributes that most people seem to equate to a higher yumminess score on the attraction scale has to do with a lovely and well sculpted gluteus maximus. I’m not even going to talk about how many times did that damn Buns of Steel tape. You might laugh, but at my peak, I cracked three different toilet seats.
There is something gravitational about an individual’s neither regions that is renowned for pulling eyes in its direction. This happen when the back region in question is departing from groups of people, random strangers, or spouses of thirty or more years. On the average, people like to check out derrieres. There’s really no polite way to say it. Also, this is not a sexist thing. It applies to men and women alike, and perhaps 99.9% of the Mammalia phylum… or mammals in general. Not to mention, people are constantly checking out their own butts. When people go shopping for new jeans what is the key purchasing point… if your hinder looks good the sale is ensured.
I remember having the occasional flutter of adolescent desire and imagine the “cute girls” having that “whose got a cute butt” conversation where my name might come up at some point in the discussion. Of course nowadays, I’m just excited that I still have something that resembles a butt as opposed to piece of particle board with a crack in the middle… no one likes falling victim to flat butt syndrome.
Still, one term that is generally used in describing a tushies magnetism and discussional fine points is its firmness, nay, its tightness. That being said, there is an important clarification that needs to be made. It’s considered a positive thing to HAVE a tight ass, as opposed to BEING a tight ass. These are two very different things, with very different meanings, and I felt the clarification was noteworthy.
Likewise, and this is what I wanted to get to about the conversation I had with my last massage therapist, which also needs to be clarified. When your massage therapist tells you that you have a tight ass, this is not a compliment… do not say thank you. Trust me on this. They will never find it as amusing as you do. In fact, they will never find it amusing… ever.
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: sore neck, massage therapist, looking at butt in mirror, and working out.
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by Richard Timothy | Jan 26, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement, Something to Wine About
There is something eminently satisfying when friends are over and you’re enjoying a collective collaboration of wine and one of the wines are being a little stubborn about wanting to open up so you pull out a decanter, which is not to be confused with a decatheter (which is actually nothing, but sounds like its related to a catheter, which does give one a moment of pause). You’d be amazed at the looks people give you when you mispronounce one for the other.
I’m a great fan of the decanter. Essentially it’s the masseuse of wines. When a wine is a little to tense and just can’t relax enough to let’s its true potential come out to be shared with others, the decanter, removes the “can’t” and makes it a “can”… usually.
A few weeks ago, there was a lovely little gathering at the house, were I had an old friends, who had just moved back to town, meeting new friends, because I’m a big fan of my friends being friends with my friends. Sure it’s a bit redundant sounding, but I think it makes sense. One of the wines that gathered for the occasion was a short life wine, meaning that it was designed not to last very long. It was only a year or two old and it had already peaked within that time. A peak is when everything comes together in the wine just right so that the flavor is at its perfection point. If you wait to long though, the peak expires and the flavor of the wine begins to pass away into a vinegary death.
The wine had peaked in November, and the friends that tried it over Thanksgiving were so smitten by the taste that they grabbed a few bottles to take home with them. You would think that two months would not make much of a difference, but then we popped that little tyke open and gave it some time to breathe, the wine had already entered retirement.
Still there was hope, there was the decanter. We unsheathed this tool of spirited divinity and… seriously? Spirited divinity? I’m really getting into this aren’t I. Ok so maybe I read a little too much Rilke this weekend, but it was worth it damn it… besides, can one really read too much Rilke? Answer now or answer later, but it is worth answering. Even if you’re not a fan, it can always be said that at least it’s not Vogon poetry.
Right, so we poured the entire bottle into the decanter and gave it another 30 minutes. The wine refused to revive. In events like this, there is one key ingredient that can usually bring wine back to life, and no, it’s not lightening, no matter how many mad doctors tell you contrary. When a wine fails, I say turn it into a wine that almost always succeeds. Turn into sangria… just add fruit.
There is something incredibly dreary about seeing a near full bottle of wine being emptied into a sink, never to be heard from again. So, I took the decanter of dying wine and added two oranges, one lemon, two limes, a handful of frozen blueberries (because I found them in the fridge), and about two cups of Sprite. I’m not sure why, but it seems there is something amazingly compelling about a container of liquid that is filled with fresh fruit. Ten minutes later, the decanter was empty, except for a few orange wedges.
I’m not sure if fruit is universally the great liquid rejuvenator. I don’t think a splash of lime juice would correctly accent a twenty year old scotch. Nor do I think a tablespoon of puréed strawberries would compliment a dirty gin martini. In vodka’s case, yes, fruit always helps. In the case of beer though, it’s a bit of a hit and miss. 
An orange wedge in a pint of Blue Moon receives the type of praise that some people only reserve for masterfully performed opera. At the same time, if you were to ask for a lemon wedge to be added to your Guinness, there’s a chance that some Irishman might smack you in the face due to your flagrant sacrilege toward the perfected stout. But for wine, it’s a life saver.
You know, I had a reader recently ask me if there was a point to my writing. I mean for me yes, there is always a point… the point is to write it. Then there’s the hope that the person reading it is entertained enough that at some point they smile or even laugh to themselves. For the reader though, I think that sometimes there really isn’t a point, or message. I think message is more of what they meant. 
And I think sometimes there might not necessarily be a message, just an observation. But today, there is a message, and that message is:
If your wine sucks add some fruit and maybe a little sugar and make that bugger into sangria.
It might not be very poetic, but it’s pretty damn useful… and it makes me happy. If I can save just one crap wine from the disheartening pour down a drain, then my mission today has been a successful one.
And to those of you that don’t drink wine, a little wedge of lemon can always add a little pep to whatever your drinking… except coffee maybe. That hurts my brain to even think about that one. You never know though, there might be someone out there are not only has tired it, but loves it. Still, I hope I never have to have that conversation.
I guess there’s only one thing left to add… Cheers!
Do you have any “save a dying wine” formulas that have worked for you?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: decanter, wine with friends, Rainer Maria Rilke, blue moon with orange, and sangria.
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by Richard Timothy | Jan 21, 2010 | My Cutie Baby Sweetie Pie, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
I’ve been thinking about a conversation my cutie-baby-sweetie-pie-wifey-pooh and I had a few days ago. And you know, since starting this blog thing, you’d be amazed how many times a week I hear the sentence, “And no, you can’t put this in your blog.” as the closing remarks to some of our conversations. This conversation, however, was not one of them.
I guess one of the things to start out with is to explain a little about my love, my Angela. I think it would be safe to say that we would still not be married if she has not proposed. I always get mixed reactions when I tell people this. Men commonly give me a sort of “well done” nod of approval. Women on the other hand usually give me a “you romanceless lout” look, but it usually passes once they get to know me.
We actually met at work. We even shared an office for a while. And No! There was no hanky-panky at work. I’m a professional damn it… better make that a we. We’re professionals damn it! I know it’s a bit cliché to admit we had an office romance, but, well, yeah we did.
We did keep it mostly hidden. I mean our boss knew obviously. Mainly because she was the one who introduced us and had, on more than one occasion, subtly implied to me that she thought we would make a good couple and would like to see us go out… No, it wasn’t a boss to employee request, like “Get this newsletter finished and mailed out by Friday.” So, like, “Take Angela out to lunch this Wednesday and tell her how beautiful she is.” And come to think of it, it wasn’t subtle at all. It was much more of a matter of fact statement and suggestion, you know, in a wink, wink, nudge, nudge kind of way.
Once our professional relationship evolved to a private relationship I’m sure more people at work figured it out, but there wasn’t a lot anyone could say. I mean the president of the company’s wife use to be his receptionist, which is much more cliché than our situation. In clarification of his character though I will point out that he was not married at the time, making his situation much less cliché than the married boss sleeping with his secretary, so kudos to him for that.
Anyway, back to the conversation Angela and I were having. It was about self progression or development, but more than that. It was about investing in yourself. For a lot of people, college or a trade school is the big self investment. For others, buying books and reading about things that ignite a spark in them to make a change or start a business is a self investment. It doesn’t have to be a self help book, or a comprehensive comparison of world religions, but maybe for some it does. That’s the nice thing about investing in ones self. It’s all personal and very subjective to each individual.
Angela has gone to a number of trainings and seminars as part of her self investment, and they have been amazing experiences for her. I have even accompanied her to a few, and I have always gotten something out of them. Sometimes it’s just a nugget that has helped open a door inside, letting me reevaluate and adapt some knowledge of who I was to become who I am. Then sometimes it’s like walking into an old room that has not been visited in years and you walk over to the window and open the blinds. Light fills a room in your mind that has been dark and dusty for far too long. Sometime you cry, sometimes you laugh, and sometimes you just quietly sit there.
I think one of the things about self investment is being ok with attaching a monetary value to it. Whether it’s spending $300 to go to a writing conference or $10 for a used book on eBay, I am making that purchase because I know I am worth it. When people pay for something they are going to be more invested in it. People want to get their money’s worth, and they are much more willing to do the work required of them to make sure it’s as worthwhile as possible.
I’m pretty sure that if my college education were free I wouldn’t have completed nearly as many homework assignments as I did, and my all nighters would have consisted of a lot more libation and togas a lot less retention. But because I was paying for it my all nighters consisted of studying and writing and rewriting the same paper just to make sure it was right and that I was learning what I needed to from the class.
Self investing is not just a belief, it’s a personal knowledge. I know I am worth the 40 dollars I spent on a collection of poetry by Pablo Neruda. It opens up my heart when I read it. It gets my brain processing word painted imagery so vivid that I can almost taste the salt from the sea and feel its mist caressing the skin on my arms. It ignites my love for words and inspires me to create, and write, and share.
Honestly $40 is a very small investment based on the way it assists me not only as a writer, but as a person. Likewise, when I purchase books on writing, or on being a writer, or things that focus on writing tools that can be used to strengthen the development of my characters, all these are self investments. And if I paid for the book, you can bet your ass I’m going to read it, and mark it if as well. Some books help, some might not, but I’m willing to invest in the time and money to continue to expand myself as a writer and a person.
In Angela’s case, she is opened up by investing in herself through programs and processes and the interaction that goes along with that. Then again that is what she is all about. Inspiring others to be who they really are after the fear is removed and their true self worth looks them in the eye. She loves to assist people in facing and accepting their greatness, then with open arms give to and receive from the world. Angela is about empowering others, especially other women, so they can empower themselves, and eventually empower others as well. Everyone deserves to connect to their own greatness and share it with others. She is a living example of that.
Sure I’m biased when it comes to talking about my amazing, beautiful Angela, but I believe in her and in the message she has begun sharing with the world. She is putting together a woman’s conference at the end of February. (Yes, a woman’s conference, sorry guys.) So today I’d like to invite you to take a look at her site. Read a little about what she is doing to assist and empower women. Check out all the amazing people she is bring together to talk and present their messages of love, and hope, and healing the world one person at a time. I honestly believe her conference is something all women not only should experience, but deserve to experience.
Please go to Illuminated Woman to see what it is she’s doing.
http://illuminatedwoman.com/
Thanks for checking out.
Let me know what do you think?
Image Sources:
Illuminated Woman
and Google Images, key words: conversation, office romance, investing in yourself, and man reading.
It’s hard to believe that it’s already been three weeks since that crusty eyed morning where I decided to check my messages right after waking up and found a message from one of my readers (thanks Erin) with Terry Pratchett in the subject line and a link entitled Terry Pratchett: my case for a euthanasia tribunal.
When I got to the end of the Pratchett piece I had to ask myself, if it was possible to find a smirk in all of that. Was this even the type of thing that deserved my style of commentary? After thinking about it for a good… however long it take to eat a bowl of cereal, I opted to go with my gut feeling. And, in the words of the always eloquent Foul Ole Ron, let me just say, “bugrit.”
I’m not sure why, but Rincewind has always reminded me of Pratchett, the man, not the author. I’m not sure why either. I don’t know the man at all. I mean I know what he looks likes, but I’d probably not recognize him if I bumped into him on the street. Not unless someone else was there to point it out for me. When it comes to Terry Pratchett, I know the man is an author. Oh, and because of an interview I read in the past year, I know that he loves playing Oblivion. He’s English… I’m clear on my facts in that regard, but I’m not sure about much more. Things like, when his birthday is. Who he thinks would win in a fight between an Alien or a Predator, or what he did before he did what he does now.
“Yes. Every year. I bake you a cake and everything.”
I could romanticize about the literary nobility and juxtapose it with reminiscent alter ego characters that may or may not exist. In the long run I don’t think it’s going to be all that useful. Perhaps it’s just a bunch of fluff in the imagination of a life I don’t know. What I can say is this, if there is one thing I’ve learned from Pratchett’s work, it’s the fascination of life, his fascination with life. Even Death is fascinated by the human experience called life.
