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Las Vegas, Nevada, United States
"No, really!"

My Favorite Bit of Paper Cup Philosophy

The Way I See It #76

The irony of commitment is that it's deeply liberating - in work, in play, in love. The act frees you from the tyranny of your internal critic, from the fear that likes to dress itself up and parade around as rational hesitation. To commit is to remove your head as the barrier to your life.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

This Isn't a Performance Review, Is It?

If the reader has visited here often, s/he knows I like words. Oh, I fairly consume the morsels, savoring the flavor, masticating them to a new consistency, sieving them through filters of dictionary, thesaurus, synonym, antonym and used-in-a-sentence. I love to take on new (to me) lexeme as my own small badges of personality and I love - love - to engage in wordplay, using phrases that don't seem the right ones to illustrate a point, or taking terms somewhat out of context to infer new meaning. A lot of paper and virtual images cross my desk, some of which please me and some not. I am pretty quick, glancing, digesting, concluding, filing for storage or recycling. My workplace is still new to me in some ways. I don't know all the tricks like "Oh, unplug the laser printer at night or it goes poltergeist." or "That coffeemaker on the left spews water like a pump." "No fooling," thought I as I mopped myself off. So one of the office machines suffered a contretemps and began to regurgitate hundreds of pages of stuff. I clicked on "Cancel", I hit the "End" key, I powered the rascal down by turning it off . . . to no avail. That apparatus was fully intent upon sending forth its spawn and all I could do was clear the output tray for a long time.

I am not one to dawdle. Though I can easily over-agitate, I seek some balance between catatonic and manic. I try to keep busy enough in the head to make life interesting and fun and quirky and droll. As the pages flew, some words and themes began to grab my attention. Originally, I'd deemed this output to be unknowable (by me) computer bullshit - you know - UCBS. But could it possibly be subliminal stimuli, an evaluation of my worth after two weeks of sterling performance? There were some 100,000 words that said absolutely nothing. I was sure of it. But then . . there seemed a suggestion that I am not stacked (true), that I am offensive and commanded to flush. A fairly harsh assessment, likely not deserved. Intentionally null? Oh, I don't think so. I didn't set out purposely to be that. Then came the comment that I needed to clean up my features (which it seemed I was able to begin and end) and was intentionally blank! The coup de grace, however, was that I have no installed memory. What the . . ? David walked by. He takes the temperature of a room by looking at my face. He says he never has to ask me how things are going and we must never enter me in a poker game. "What's wrong?" "Oh, nothing. Just a funky machine. It's been a couple of weeks now, David. Am I doing OK enough?" Big grins all around. All right, I can go back to my work now.

So, I love me some Mike. Mr. Mickey Man has introduced me to more new (to me) music than anyone else I can think of. And he pays attention to what the other music lover enjoys. If I'm not mistaken, his e-mail said nothing. Simply a link. Oh! Oh, my! New. New Lu.

The imagery, tempo and tone put me in mind of her 2003 tune, Ventura, which is important music to me.
Look, folks, I get it. You like her or you don't like her. That's OK. It takes all kinds to make a world. What I love among so many other things: she puts her age/generation right out there: " . .I'm 57 but I could be 7 years old . ."

Something bad happened to me this week. Another human being behaved really badly and sent terribly disturbing bad thoughts careening in my direction through the mist. I didn't deserve bad treatment, though I got it. I was supported by women friends, fellow AAs and I got through without drinking.

More, more to tell. I have a writing deadline of 9-11. For on THE 9-11 ('01 ~ it's been nearly 10 years) my tiny, personal world changed. And I'm trying to tiptoe up to writing about it. I am both compelled and hesitant. A terrible dilemma.

And, p.s.: some of the photos of Lucinda show an eroded chick a la Grace Slick in her dotage. Other, carefully artistic Lu - man! Could I be as glorious as that?

Signing off, a jumbly Leslie Morgan . . appreciated today (by others who expressed themselves in different ways) sufficiently to make me willing to try on tomorrow as another day . . .


  1. Intentionally null? Change two letters and you'll have a Pink Floyd song!

  2. @ Kirk ~ Oh, very good! I appreciate your brain, Kirk. Your take on things is always at least slightly different from anyone else I can think of. Maybe tomorrow I'll buzz around there humming Pink Floyd. Or singing outright. I do that. Invited or not.

  3. Hey, Les - I'm stretching myself too thin lately but wanted to pop by and say hi.

    I'll be back to play the tunes anon - got a few other things buzzing in my brain today - as I'm apt to get creative crushes and disappear down a path of music indulgance.

  4. Don't appreciate my brain too much. I think it may have short-circuited when I left that comment. Even though it's a song I've know for 30 years, for some reason yesterday I thought "Comfortably Numb" was "Intentionally Numb". Can't explain it, but if Pink Floyd ever get back together, maybe they can use that title as a sequal.

  5. @ Rachel ~ And I'm so glad you did pop by! Remember, you're talking to the stretched-too-thin girl. I understand completely.

    The tunes are simply meant as an "oh, this is wonderful to me" treat. No pressure. I wonder what it is about some of us that, if we listen to a song, for example, we're GONE. Drowning in music for some extended period of time. Can't do anything by halves.

  6. @ Kirk ~ Official. I've inhaled too much printer ink. I actually understood which song you meant, even though you'd mangled it. I understood your mangle! I wonder what that says about either of us. Star-crossed friends? Planets aligned just so? I still appreciate your brain, Kirk. I speak its language, apparently.

  7. kirk and les-the brain is a marvelous thing. it makes connections among things that are not immediately obvious, and yet other brains get it, immediately! sometimes you just gotta love being human.

  8. @ Rraine ~ Well, you're playing my song. That's what I call "connecting with others" and I use the phrase frequently. David and I do this almost 100% of the time, from our first meeting. I've also made the immediate and continuing connect with a handful of folks in the rooms of A.A. and with some bloggers. I DO love being a human being. I live for the connect electricity. Thanks for commenting as you did ~ I think we just made a connection.

  9. I didn't get it until Kirk explained. Comfortably Numb is my normal state of mind. Thanks for the plug. Yeah sometimes I remember stuff and sometimes I don't. You fit in in the I remember You category. the UCBS is comparable to the million monkeys typing Romeo and Juliet. The universe is weird. I love it. Love you too, my friend.

    wv - saggi - make of that what you will.

  10. @ Mike ~ Hey, I love you right back. I'm glad you remember me. Get a tattoo to remind you, if needed.

    Saggi, indeed. An old chick could get a little prickly about that, Sir.

  11. Les - love the look of your blog. I'll never get caught up on all the posts that I've missed since last February, but I hope to stay in touch. The smoke has cleared and I'm beginning to see through the mist of sh*% to less hectic times. I'm so sorry I missed your BIRTHDAY. You sound, look, seem GREAT.

  12. @ Kass ~ Now, THERE is a comment I was so pleased to publish! It is so good to have you back on. I know you've been through the wars and I hope your emergence means most of the battles have been won.

    No worries about the birthday. It was a nice one and just about as quiet as I hoped it would be. I don't usually trumpet my own anniversary of birth.

    Last night I nearly fell off of my chair at AA. A woman had introduced herself and one of the men thought he didn't catch her name. "Is it Nikki?" he asked. I swear to god she said this: "Yes, but the K is silent." I practically whiplashed myself.

    And lastly. I think it is fair to say I AM great in most ways. It took close to a year. It will take work for a lifetime. It won't look like it ever looked before. And I'm good with all of that.