tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55692722011-04-21T17:43:36.415-05:00DEAR friends, reproach me not for what I do, Nor counsel me, nor pity me; nor say That I am wearing half my life away For bubble-work that only fools pursue...Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comBlogger361100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1130170813278872152005-10-24T11:19:00.000-05:002005-10-24T11:22:50.596-05:00

How do people feel about this woman being nominated to the Supreme Court? Literally everyone – even the typical political bedfellows, the ones who shamelessly and indiscriminately shack up together on the issues – has a dissenting opinion.People are mad that the press is making Miers’ faith is an issue in order to snow her. Others are mad that Bush made Mier’s faith an issue to begin with, in

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1128964239779558802005-10-10T12:07:00.000-05:002005-10-10T12:10:39.786-05:00

Twice now Stephen King has done it to me. Twice. In the same series.In the early 90’s I wrote the first half of a series of spoofs called “Goldringer,” placing characters from Tolkien’s “Lord of the Rings” into a James Bond setting, one chapter for each of Ian Fleming’s titles. “Agent 006 and a Half,” Frodo Baggins, on his majesty’s secret service.Instead of the infamous baccarat scenes that

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1128444662438711912005-10-04T11:50:00.000-05:002005-10-04T11:51:02.446-05:00

After lurking for a few days around copious quantities of personality message boards, I’m seeing I need to pull myself back yet one more time before I get too absorbed. With the onset of the Internet, personality testing seems to have become all the rage.Our infatuation with personality tests seems to be connected to the little pleasurable jolt we get sitting down with a fortune teller and being

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1127939939953874102005-09-28T15:38:00.000-05:002005-09-28T15:39:54.656-05:00

God, help me not to be ashamed or embarrassed of the gifts that you have given me.Help me to be thankful for the level of ability that you have provided, even when I look around and see people gifted with more than I think I have.Give me pride to use my gifts to the best of my ability, determination to not give up when my gifts seem insufficient, and courage to share them with others regardless

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1127928275126895542005-09-28T11:59:00.000-05:002005-09-28T12:29:03.850-05:00

Weird things happening all over the place:Cindy Sheehan arrested, for "demonstrating without a permit" (re: sitting on sidewalk outside White House singing hymns and refusing to move when asked). Having started sincerely, now she seems to be veering towards the left, and the government is slapping her harder across the face because of it. I have no idea where this will end up.Tom DeLay indicted

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1127494013542794922005-09-23T11:45:00.000-05:002005-09-23T11:46:53.550-05:00

Why do I don’t do the things I want to do when I actually get time to do them, while I spend the time I’m not doing them not doing anything at all (even when I have things to do) because I’m not doing what I want to be doing?[What a bewildering display of grammatical dexterity. Did anyone follow that?]To anchor it in reality: The open page (for example) calls to me when I am not writing, making

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1127145976454805102005-09-19T11:04:00.000-05:002005-09-19T11:06:16.460-05:00

Today part of an ongoing troubling situation came up and my wife sent me an emotional e-mail. As I went to type in a response, I just closed the browser and called home instead, to talk to her directly.That was weird. I know I did the right thing, that calling rather than writing was what I needed to do, but why would I even have to think about it first? Why do I always have to pass through a

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1126802245206139482005-09-15T11:11:00.000-05:002005-09-15T11:37:25.266-05:00

There is no “magic bullet,” no words booming down from the mounting thunderheads, no magical mystical blazing letters scrawled by an ethereal whorl on the nearby wall, no “you’ve just won…!” letter showing up in the mailbox that spells everything out in clear detail.Nothing at all. Nothing to set the yellow line that should be walked through this maze of oblique walls and shadows they call

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1126715706627571282005-09-14T11:33:00.000-05:002005-09-14T11:35:06.633-05:00

The business of being alive is difficult… being truly alive, doubly so. Of course by being truly alive I mean being something beyond a biological processor of oxygen and countless nutrients. At a certain age in adulthood, we bind ourselves to our work or family, fall into an efficient routine, and suddenly life is planned out for us – programmed, as it were, as if we were just machines built

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1126706572578665892005-09-14T09:01:00.000-05:002005-09-14T09:02:52.586-05:00

Things inform each other, nothing ever seems to originate with itself.Take intelligence and language, for example. Generally, the more words someone knows, the more “intelligent” they are; and the more intelligent they are, the more words they learn.The thing is that thoughts (not mental images per se – after all, is a picture not worth a thousand words? -- but the typical banter that happens in

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1126213625388458672005-09-08T15:52:00.000-05:002005-09-08T16:07:05.393-05:00

It's funny how people get hung up on ideas that are not mutually exclusive.For example, the Iraq War. I think a person can be supportive of American troops while still believing that this particular war was a mistake. Disagreeing with the reasons for the war does not negate one's support for responsible men and women risking their lives in order to do their jobs well.Likewise, supporting men and

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1126199038236105902005-09-08T11:55:00.000-05:002005-09-08T12:03:58.243-05:00

When people think about the Old Man (as opposed to the New Creation) in Paul's letters in the New Testament, they've been trained to picture a despicable creature, one who still has dirt on his face and holes in his clothes, who hasn't shaved, who goes about indulging in every selfish and pig-headed desire, who is little more than an animal dressed up in human clothing.But what if the Old Man

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1126118654508580232005-09-07T13:40:00.000-05:002005-09-07T13:44:14.516-05:00

Speaker Dennis Hastert has taken some flak over suggesting that perhaps it’s not worth the cost to rebuild New Orleans. Aside from the obvious hazards of its location, the price would be exorbitant: One projection to rebuild the city runs $20-100 billion.I don’t know whether New Orleans can be rebuilt.I don’t know whether it’s worth it, pragmatically speaking, to have New Orleans rebuilt.I don’t

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1126102888882210402005-09-06T09:21:00.000-05:002005-09-07T09:24:01.250-05:00

Labor Day weekend was gorgeous, three days of comfortable sun, cotton-ball clouds, and blue sky. I couldn’t imagine a better day, one that wasn’t too hot or cold, one that wasn’t too dry or wet. The sunsets were spectacular, the remains of the dying day spilling molten gold across the grass. The beauty only made New Orleans look even worse, almost horrific, brutal, savage. How can such beauty

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125681480104796962005-09-02T12:07:00.000-05:002005-09-02T12:18:00.110-05:00

One public forum contained numerous posts objecting (actually, that's very much a euphemism) to one official who noted that many affected by the catastrophe in New Orleans could share the blame for their difficulties because they had refused to evacuated the city when ordered.I can fault the guy for discussing this angle so close to the event in question, while there are still people suffering

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125680718795258672005-09-02T11:54:00.000-05:002005-09-02T12:05:55.496-05:00

A friend who I was discussing this with in e-mail said the following:One of the other things that just bites about this is the inhumanity of the authorities. People at the Superdrome discovered that there was a supply of food and water there, and broke in to prepare it and distribute it. The National Guard showed up and they were ordered out of the kitchens, at gunpoint, with the stated threat

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125679984229181342005-09-02T11:46:00.000-05:002005-09-02T11:53:04.230-05:00

A Yahoo news article examining world reactions to the New Orleans devastation quoted an anonymous South Korean woman who said, "Maybe it was punishment for what [the US] did to Iraq, which was a man-made disaster, not a natural disaster... A lot of the people I work with think this way. We spoke about it just the other day."New Orleans has a black population of 67%, with the poor suffering the

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125679531408961312005-09-02T11:37:00.000-05:002005-09-02T11:46:33.783-05:00

Wednesday night, while I was watching coverage of New Orleans, a segment ran showing a black man who was nothing less than broken, lost, dazed. The story fell haltingly, agonizingly, out of his lips – how he and his wife had tried to climb onto the roof of their home when the waters rose, how he had tried to hold onto her but she couldn’t get up to safety, how she had told him that she didn’t

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125507275949954042005-08-31T11:53:00.000-05:002005-08-31T11:55:20.916-05:00

Inhibition’s devastating.There’s something to be said about self-control and thoughtfulness, about risk management and sensitivity, about checking and balancing the inner id, but it’s far too easy to drift (or, in my case, plummet) to the other extreme.I’ve made a habit of “editing” myself with the ardor of the professional TV censor, to the point that I barely live at all.One thought: “Can’t say

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125421054134155782005-08-30T11:52:00.000-05:002005-08-30T11:57:34.143-05:00

The BTK story can’t help but explore the (im)possibility of redemption. I had followed the case for a number of years, since the oddest thing was simply that BTK had stopped communications with the police and seemingly vanished, despite being someone who behaviorally would be extremely unlikely to stop killing on his own. Then came the resurfacing of BTK, after so many years, and his own audacity

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125323472525356332005-08-29T08:49:00.000-05:002005-08-29T10:30:04.153-05:00

The seasonal marker has not yet passed, but for all intents and purposes, summer is over: The kids start school again today.Two of them seem excited about the prospects. The third, while showing some anticipation, is also in the process of grieving to the point of tears, for what lies ahead still does not quite compare to what must be left behind. The summer is over, and ultimately failed to live

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125328346165330432005-08-28T22:11:00.000-05:002005-08-29T10:12:26.173-05:00

Today my cousin Rachel got married.It’s funny how sometimes no matter how hard I try, trying to talk to people is usually like trying to do open-heart surgery blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back (it’s not only a dismal failure but leaves behind an undeniable bloody mess)… but there is that small handful of people who, when we see each other, no matter how much or little time has passed

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125075494310961802005-08-26T11:42:00.000-05:002005-08-26T12:04:31.756-05:00

It's pretty much BAU (business as usual) for all nuance to be dropped in a sound-bite media industry.Take the recent faux pas by Pat Robertson in referring to overseas dictator Chavez. The buzz was that Robertson suggested we should assassinate Chavez simply as a matter of policy. I'm no fan of Robertson (and I'll leave it go at that), but what the media is insinuating about his comments isn't

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1124989655222715262005-08-25T12:04:00.000-05:002005-08-25T12:11:04.200-05:00

In Texas, Cindy Sheehan still sits outside of Bush’s ranch, demanding answers for her son’s death in Iraq. Outside Texas, public conversation about the validity of the Iraq “war” continues to polarize.The story itself aside, I find myself fascinated by the media’s role in creating this conflict. Going to ABCNews.com today, I was greeted by the following banner headline:Military Mom Takes Pro-War

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125069829626607872005-08-22T14:23:00.000-05:002005-08-26T10:23:49.626-05:00

I lost a whole year of my life. I want to kick myself again and again for being such a fool. My zip disk crashed, for no apparent reason, after I had planned to perform a periodic backup. I blew it off for an extra week and suddenly found that I had missed my window of opportunity. When I popped in the disk, it clunked and clicked, and I think it even chewed up the drive(s) themselves because

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1125069096504771272005-08-21T10:10:00.000-05:002005-08-26T10:13:25.476-05:00

On our way home from vacation in the Laurel Highlands area of Pennsylvania, we stopped in at Shanksville to view the temporary memorial for Flight 93. We usually don’t get over there, and I’ve wanted to go for a long time – it’s taken almost four years. We got there in the evening, just in time to see about 100+ bikers and a television crew filling the small parking lot. (It was like attending a

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1121792622661905352005-07-19T11:50:00.000-05:002005-08-26T10:14:24.813-05:00

Why has this story even become an issue? It seems yet just one more excuse for people to jockey for political position. From reading all the coverage, some things seem very clear to me:Rove possibly outed Plume as part of undermining public resistance to the Iraq war. This should be investigated, since it is a serious offense.Journalists should have the privilege to go to jail as part of their

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1121707275532022092005-07-18T12:20:00.000-05:002005-07-18T12:21:15.540-05:00

A man without a purpose for his life wanders. A man who believes he has a purpose but does not know how to pursue it procrastinates.Perhaps not every man. But at least me.Wasn’t it supposed to be easier? Find something you love to do, then simply do it, and eventually do it well enough to live off of?I no longer believe it to be as simple for most people. There are the fortunate few who strike it

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1110307222981817862005-03-08T12:58:00.000-05:002005-08-26T10:29:59.706-05:00

Has the world gone completely mad?I suppose that's a comment that could precede the description of any number of travesties, but in this case I'm referring to the bewildering criticism of Jada Pinkett Smith by Harvard's Bisexual Gay Lesbian Transgender, and Supporters Alliance (BGLTSA), accusing her (of all things) of assuming a "heteronormative" stance because she inadvertently encouraged women

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1059155586210936312003-07-25T12:53:00.000-05:002003-07-25T12:53:06.086-05:00

If I give and expect something in return, then I am not giving -- I am bartering. If I give without care of what is returned to me, then I am truly giving. When personal expectations are tangible, they are easy to recognize and avoid. It’s the subtle ways that confound me – the times when I am bartering for praise, acceptance, self-worth, or validation that turn my gift from a gracious

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1059155495970744362003-07-25T12:51:00.001-05:002003-07-25T12:52:17.956-05:00

On the spiritual journey, nothing is more dangerous than blessings. Getting good things tempts us to put down roots and stop walking, in an attempt to make the good feelings of the moment last forever. The gift in the sparkly wrapping paper, rather than the actual Gift Giver, absorbs our attention. The thrill of deep experiences demands that we savor the gift again and again, slowly losing our

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1059155471275811932003-07-25T12:51:00.000-05:002003-07-25T12:52:02.360-05:00

“Sure, go ahead and toss me into the drink, I don’t care.” That was Guy talking. Guy is a middle-aged Jewish guy spared from baldness only by a tenacious scalp of wispy black peach fuzz. And with his slight but noticeable paunch, round nose, spectacles and biker boots, he rather resembles the fastest oversized elf on two wheels. Guy lived much of his earlier life in South Africa, after which he

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1059155443673330312003-07-25T12:50:00.001-05:002003-07-25T12:50:43.596-05:00

There is a suit that hangs in back of your closet. The clothes that you picture yourself wearing when you periodically dare to picture yourself. And when wearing your suit, you are Smarter than your test scores show. Wiser than your actions. More capable than your list of accomplishments. Funnier than your jokes. More gregarious than your friends would want to admit. More perceptive than that

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1059155413594284142003-07-25T12:50:00.000-05:002003-07-25T12:50:13.513-05:00

Pride is a funny thing and can appear in many guises. Everyone recognizes the nefarious version, the sort that twiddles its mustache and flares its cape, or perhaps blares its own horn in order to be heard above the other host of quacking brass. But there are more dangerous forms of pride, the subtle types, the ones that grow like weeds among flowers, or rust eating at the underneath of your car

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1059155270016616552003-07-25T12:47:00.001-05:002003-07-25T12:47:49.930-05:00

I used to think that knowledge was power. That, if people’s perceptions were widened or their understanding deepened in some way, then life itself would change, that society would improve, that the world had a chance to reach a better place. It’s an easy thing for a scientist or an artist – someone who traffics in ideas – to believe. But I no longer believe that. Knowledge is potential, yes, but

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5569272.post-1059155228006174352003-07-25T12:47:00.000-05:002003-07-25T12:47:07.923-05:00

Getting older seems, to me, to be the process of learning to let go. Whether I like it or not, there are boundaries upon my life that are not of my own choosing, and aging is one of those boundaries. There are white hairs amid the few brown that remain, there are pains in my body that I did not use to have, my energy is no longer drawn from a bottomless pool. When I hike, I can no longer skip

Fortunatohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15002716464034516360noreply@blogger.com