You know when people put things off until the very last minute and then say ~ always with a touch of braggadocio, or at least smugness, it seems to me ~ oh, I'm best under pressure. Of course you know it. Who knows, you may even be one of those people. If truth be told, I used to be one of those people. Or, at least I used to be one of those people who said it.
And I can perform under pressure. I can, indeed, make the shot when I have to. Quite well. In fact, I learned a long time ago it is really hard to tell the difference between the work I deliver when I've had all the time in the world and the work I deliver when I've been down to the wire and had to do it rightnowrightnowrightnow. As a college student, this wasn't necessarily a good thing.
This week, I got swamped at work. It was entirely my fault. BIL was in town last week and I had had the foresight to front load that week, so I had the days here was in town completely off. Five days, no work. YAY!
Then Monday, we spent the day catching up on stuff: cleaning, laundry, dishes, groceries. All those things you must deal with after you didn't do a damn thing but enjoy your company for 4 days. Then Tuesday, about 4:00 pm, I realized something ~
I hadn't written a single word all week. So I forced myself to write an article. Wednesday, about 1:00, a migraine decided I should nap the rest of the afternoon. Who am I to argue with a migraine? By 7, I was better physically, but an emotional wreck. Forced myself to write another article.
As of about 20 minutes ago, I just turned in today's 2 articles. It's taken almost all week, but I am back on track with my work for this week. Finally. Wow, do I feel better.
Can I work under pressure? Of course. Can you tell it by the quality of my work? Nope. Not even I can, and I'm looking for it. But am I at my best? You know...
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Thursday, October 16, 2014
Friday, October 10, 2014
Ironing
I like to iron. That may be an overstatement. I like wearing clothes that wrinkle and I like wearing them not wrinkled. But I also find the instant gratification of ironing nice. So, I iron.
Officially, I learned to iron the 7th or 8th grade, when I took home ec. But a woman named Gail taught me how to iron in real life. You know, when you don't have 3 different size ironing boards with 4 different pegs to make sure each collar and cuff and sleeve and leg is pressed just so. Instead you've got one ironing board (if you're lucky and aren't stretched out on the floor), one iron, and 15 minutes to get out the door.
Since Gail's tutelage, I have gotten good at ironing and yes, I suppose, I do enjoy it. And the other day, we were at the family's and I needed to iron my linen pants. The Hatchling was doing her homework. I was set up with the iron. She was amazed.
What was I doing? Why was I doing it? Was it difficult? Why didn't her mom iron? I answered them all as simply as I could (ironing, because my pants were wrinkled, not really but it did take practice, because her mom doesn't wear clothes that wrinkle as badly). It was a little surprising that I was the one she was seeing do this because her mom is way more domestic than I can ever dream of being. But, at the same time, ironing isn't her thing.
To say I taught the Hatchling how to iron is a huge overstatement. But I did talk her through what I was doing, and why I was doing it. And I passed along a little bit of information that maybe she'll use and remember in 30 years, the same way I remember that day at Gail's house.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Officially, I learned to iron the 7th or 8th grade, when I took home ec. But a woman named Gail taught me how to iron in real life. You know, when you don't have 3 different size ironing boards with 4 different pegs to make sure each collar and cuff and sleeve and leg is pressed just so. Instead you've got one ironing board (if you're lucky and aren't stretched out on the floor), one iron, and 15 minutes to get out the door.
Since Gail's tutelage, I have gotten good at ironing and yes, I suppose, I do enjoy it. And the other day, we were at the family's and I needed to iron my linen pants. The Hatchling was doing her homework. I was set up with the iron. She was amazed.
What was I doing? Why was I doing it? Was it difficult? Why didn't her mom iron? I answered them all as simply as I could (ironing, because my pants were wrinkled, not really but it did take practice, because her mom doesn't wear clothes that wrinkle as badly). It was a little surprising that I was the one she was seeing do this because her mom is way more domestic than I can ever dream of being. But, at the same time, ironing isn't her thing.
To say I taught the Hatchling how to iron is a huge overstatement. But I did talk her through what I was doing, and why I was doing it. And I passed along a little bit of information that maybe she'll use and remember in 30 years, the same way I remember that day at Gail's house.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Monday, October 06, 2014
Dear Fellow White People - Screaming Liberal Post # 9
My fellow white people ~ Do you know that protests in Ferguson are even still going on????? Because they are!!! And you should know this!!! Or have you moved on to the next thing that "has to do with me (read: white people)"??????? Ferguson does have to do with you! You should fucking care!!!
My fellow white people ~ You know what you shouldn't do? You shouldn't be killing black people!!!!! What The Fuck Are You Doing????? Are You Fucking Kidding Me????? Stop Shooting Black People!!!! Stop excusing it when other white people do!!!! Why does anyone even need to tell you this??????
My fellow white people ~ We know what happened! Stop pretending like we don't. The fact that the grand jury has been given until next year to decide whether or not to indict is nauseating. We have eye-fucking-witnesses. We know what fucking happened. Two young black men were walking down the street and now one of them is dead because a white cop shot him. There could be no threat that made this an option.
My fellow white people ~ Stop Getting Your Fucking Information From Other White People! Yes! Including me! Why does my outrage, or my version, or my words, carry more weight? Other white people are telling you about the looters in Missouri. They aren't telling you about the vastly more numerous peaceful protesters who are being met with tear gas and riot gear. Read. Listen. Learn. From people who aren't filtering it through your own damn filters. My voice shouldn't matter more than Jamelle Bouie, Heben Nigatu (or brilliantly and must-readly here), Monica Roberts, or Denny Upkins' voices do. Read The Root, occasionally. At the very least, click on Huffington Post Black Voices. Do your own searching, and find your own sources.
My fellow white people ~ Get Over Yourselves. For once in your lives, consider someone else "the norm" or "most important." Let go of any sense of superiority based on flesh tone. We, after all, are the ones killing black children as they walk down the street, ask for help, and go home from the store. What's so fucking superior about that?
My fellow white people ~ Don't You DARE ask me why I'm still writing about this/angry about this/making you think about this "after all this time." Don't fucking dare.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
My fellow white people ~ You know what you shouldn't do? You shouldn't be killing black people!!!!! What The Fuck Are You Doing????? Are You Fucking Kidding Me????? Stop Shooting Black People!!!! Stop excusing it when other white people do!!!! Why does anyone even need to tell you this??????
My fellow white people ~ We know what happened! Stop pretending like we don't. The fact that the grand jury has been given until next year to decide whether or not to indict is nauseating. We have eye-fucking-witnesses. We know what fucking happened. Two young black men were walking down the street and now one of them is dead because a white cop shot him. There could be no threat that made this an option.
My fellow white people ~ Stop Getting Your Fucking Information From Other White People! Yes! Including me! Why does my outrage, or my version, or my words, carry more weight? Other white people are telling you about the looters in Missouri. They aren't telling you about the vastly more numerous peaceful protesters who are being met with tear gas and riot gear. Read. Listen. Learn. From people who aren't filtering it through your own damn filters. My voice shouldn't matter more than Jamelle Bouie, Heben Nigatu (or brilliantly and must-readly here), Monica Roberts, or Denny Upkins' voices do. Read The Root, occasionally. At the very least, click on Huffington Post Black Voices. Do your own searching, and find your own sources.
My fellow white people ~ Get Over Yourselves. For once in your lives, consider someone else "the norm" or "most important." Let go of any sense of superiority based on flesh tone. We, after all, are the ones killing black children as they walk down the street, ask for help, and go home from the store. What's so fucking superior about that?
My fellow white people ~ Don't You DARE ask me why I'm still writing about this/angry about this/making you think about this "after all this time." Don't fucking dare.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Thursday, October 02, 2014
Meeting Friends
A weird thing happens in this day and age ~ one can become real, vital, genuine friends with people one has never met. Through blogging, and through email. But also through text message and the ubiquitous phone that instead of being stuck on our wall, where we may or may not be for months at a time, is in our pocket at all times.
When we drove into Lori's driveway, I said to Lithus "these people already consider you their friend; you don't have to feel like you're meeting them for the first time." My statement completely disregarded the fact that I, too, was technically meeting them for the first time.
The shoe was on the other foot last night. We went over to another friend's house, this time one of Lithus' friends. He and the man in the couple have been colleagues for years, became friends about 5 years ago, and have grown into confidants thanks to text messages and being able to stay in touch, even when they are hundreds, or sometimes, thousands of miles away from their homes. As we drove into their driveway, I realized, these people already know me. They consider me a friend. They care about me. They've seen me through everything they've seen Lithus through, and vice versa.
For every time this day and age can break our hearts, there are a dozen other times it heals them. It's nice to meet my friends.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
When we drove into Lori's driveway, I said to Lithus "these people already consider you their friend; you don't have to feel like you're meeting them for the first time." My statement completely disregarded the fact that I, too, was technically meeting them for the first time.
The shoe was on the other foot last night. We went over to another friend's house, this time one of Lithus' friends. He and the man in the couple have been colleagues for years, became friends about 5 years ago, and have grown into confidants thanks to text messages and being able to stay in touch, even when they are hundreds, or sometimes, thousands of miles away from their homes. As we drove into their driveway, I realized, these people already know me. They consider me a friend. They care about me. They've seen me through everything they've seen Lithus through, and vice versa.
For every time this day and age can break our hearts, there are a dozen other times it heals them. It's nice to meet my friends.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
I'm Working On It
Given the last post, I know I owe you a post on the wedding. It was WONDERFUL. Lori is breathtaking. I will write on it. But the pictures haven't gone from my phone to my computer yet. She hasn't even seen them yet. Plus, I want to write about it. Not just sketch it out. Which takes time and thought and energy. So I'm working on it.
Instead, we'll break the seal and get back to blogging with some blathering.
It's Christmas list time here at Casa de Pobble. Also, my birthday is Friday, so Lithus has asked for suggestions from me. Here's the thing ~ I have a thing about linens. I adore linens. Bed sheets. Bath sheets. Table cloths. Napkins. Kitchen towels. Bed sheets.
And! Both of my kids and their respective partners, have moved into new homes. My Heart and the Listener have gotten engaged, so they have made a serious commitment to building a home together. The Grasshopper is becoming a teenager, and his tastes are changing. The Hatchling is becoming a tween and her tastes are changing.
WE SHOULD GET EVERYONE LINENS FOR CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!
Luckily, Lithus keeps me reigned in. Apparently, not everyone goes apoplectic over new linens under their tree or as a birthday present. I don't get it, but, yeah...linens are frequently considered mundane. Who knew?
Those are 800 thread count Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Instead, we'll break the seal and get back to blogging with some blathering.
It's Christmas list time here at Casa de Pobble. Also, my birthday is Friday, so Lithus has asked for suggestions from me. Here's the thing ~ I have a thing about linens. I adore linens. Bed sheets. Bath sheets. Table cloths. Napkins. Kitchen towels. Bed sheets.
And! Both of my kids and their respective partners, have moved into new homes. My Heart and the Listener have gotten engaged, so they have made a serious commitment to building a home together. The Grasshopper is becoming a teenager, and his tastes are changing. The Hatchling is becoming a tween and her tastes are changing.
WE SHOULD GET EVERYONE LINENS FOR CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!
Luckily, Lithus keeps me reigned in. Apparently, not everyone goes apoplectic over new linens under their tree or as a birthday present. I don't get it, but, yeah...linens are frequently considered mundane. Who knew?
Those are 800 thread count Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
She's Getting MARRIED!!!!
Guess where I am off to today? Nope, not a trip for Lithus' work. Not travel to see my family out west, or his family in Canada. Not even over to New England.
I am going to see Lori get married. Lori. My friend. Is getting married.
Here's the other part ~ we have never met. Not once. So, okay, lots of bloggers don't meet for a long time. It's part of the thing we do. Well....no. Or yes, that's how it happens, but it's more than that.
Somewhere along the line, this woman became one of the dearest friends I have. I tell her everything, from the sublime to the ridiculous. The inappropriate and obscene and the erudite and wise. We've seen each other through more than I can list here, and some of it's not mine to list, anyway.
But by this afternoon, I will be at her house. With my friend. Because she's getting married. And I'm luckily enough to be invited. Words can't do it justice. Not really.
Those are can't stop squeeing Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
I am going to see Lori get married. Lori. My friend. Is getting married.
Here's the other part ~ we have never met. Not once. So, okay, lots of bloggers don't meet for a long time. It's part of the thing we do. Well....no. Or yes, that's how it happens, but it's more than that.
Somewhere along the line, this woman became one of the dearest friends I have. I tell her everything, from the sublime to the ridiculous. The inappropriate and obscene and the erudite and wise. We've seen each other through more than I can list here, and some of it's not mine to list, anyway.
But by this afternoon, I will be at her house. With my friend. Because she's getting married. And I'm luckily enough to be invited. Words can't do it justice. Not really.
Those are can't stop squeeing Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Wednesday, September 17, 2014
Lovely Words
As a writer, I love words. It's helpful in my chosen profession. And I love the subtle differences a simple word choice can make.
Did you fall...or were you pushed?
Did you crash...or did you stumble?
Are you broken...or are you bent?
I've got some friends who are going through some stuff right now. Maybe you do, too, because it seems we are all always going through stuff, or know someone who is. Regardless, we should all make sure we are choosing our words, and picking the ones that actually define the situation.
Because bent may feel broken, but it's not the same.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you a Starbucks mocha latte.
Did you fall...or were you pushed?
Did you crash...or did you stumble?
Are you broken...or are you bent?
I've got some friends who are going through some stuff right now. Maybe you do, too, because it seems we are all always going through stuff, or know someone who is. Regardless, we should all make sure we are choosing our words, and picking the ones that actually define the situation.
Because bent may feel broken, but it's not the same.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you a Starbucks mocha latte.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Heart Update
So, a few posts back, I slipped in there the fact that my heart wasn't working as well as we'd thought. Premature Ventricular Contractions. Normal in a normal heart ~ but mine's not normal. Blah blah blah. And my doctor's PA ordered a stress test and said we'd probably be looking at beta blockers.
For the rest of my life.
Lithus and I immediately said sure, if that's what it takes. Anything. But the more we researched it and thought about it and talked about, the less I liked beta blockers. If I had to take them, fine. But I decided I was walking into yesterday's appointment saying "how do we keep me off meds?"
He looked at everything, read everything and proceeded to give me the prognosis: "There is absolutely nothing here that concerns me in the least. You may have a few more PVCs than I do, but not enough to care about. We keep you off meds by not giving them to you."
Then he said two things that very well may prove to be life changing.
Thing the first ~ I said "well, you know I've always been quirky." To which he replied, "actually, no, you're perfectly normal." Said no doctor to the Pobble EVER before. I am perfectly normal.
Thing the second ~ "You are attuned and sensitive to your heart because you had a really serious heart condition all this time, so you feel these things. But you don't have a heart condition any longer. You can stop paying so close attention. You're okay now."
Holy. Shit.
Perfectly normal. Okay now.
I hugged him
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
For the rest of my life.
Lithus and I immediately said sure, if that's what it takes. Anything. But the more we researched it and thought about it and talked about, the less I liked beta blockers. If I had to take them, fine. But I decided I was walking into yesterday's appointment saying "how do we keep me off meds?"
He looked at everything, read everything and proceeded to give me the prognosis: "There is absolutely nothing here that concerns me in the least. You may have a few more PVCs than I do, but not enough to care about. We keep you off meds by not giving them to you."
Then he said two things that very well may prove to be life changing.
Thing the first ~ I said "well, you know I've always been quirky." To which he replied, "actually, no, you're perfectly normal." Said no doctor to the Pobble EVER before. I am perfectly normal.
Thing the second ~ "You are attuned and sensitive to your heart because you had a really serious heart condition all this time, so you feel these things. But you don't have a heart condition any longer. You can stop paying so close attention. You're okay now."
Holy. Shit.
Perfectly normal. Okay now.
I hugged him
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Tuesday, September 09, 2014
Validation!
Because I like to keep an eye on what's happening in human services, just in case, I still get my idealist.org job postings. The other day, this showed up in my inbox ~
Seeking an Outreach Specialist to plan, conduct, and manage various outreach, education, marketing and public relations activities on behalf of the organization. Duties include: assist in the planning and production of fair housing events; coordinate external communication on behalf of the organization through mediums including the Center's blog, mass emails, and social media platforms; produce and distribute accessible educational materials; assist in providing educational trainings; and represent the organization at various events.
There's more that, but I won't bore you with a full job description. It's a full-time job. 40 hours per week. Knowing human services, more than 40. Let me tell you ~ I would have gotten this job. I would have kicked ass at this job.
So, what's the big deal? I am now, officially and formally ~ not because I think it's true, but because it has been proven ~ making more as a part-time writer than I would be going back to full-time human services.
Those are tickled pink Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Seeking an Outreach Specialist to plan, conduct, and manage various outreach, education, marketing and public relations activities on behalf of the organization. Duties include: assist in the planning and production of fair housing events; coordinate external communication on behalf of the organization through mediums including the Center's blog, mass emails, and social media platforms; produce and distribute accessible educational materials; assist in providing educational trainings; and represent the organization at various events.
There's more that, but I won't bore you with a full job description. It's a full-time job. 40 hours per week. Knowing human services, more than 40. Let me tell you ~ I would have gotten this job. I would have kicked ass at this job.
So, what's the big deal? I am now, officially and formally ~ not because I think it's true, but because it has been proven ~ making more as a part-time writer than I would be going back to full-time human services.
Those are tickled pink Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Monday, September 08, 2014
Love or Hate
I have never been a terribly competitive person. You hear people say that the best way to motivate them is to tell them they can't do something. That's not me. If I'm told I can't do something by someone who doesn't matter ~ in other words, the vast majority of people I interact with ~ it has no impact on me whatsoever. If I'm told I can't do something by someone who does matter, my response is, more often than not, to try it one more time, just to make sure, then shrug and go find something I can do.
It is far more motivating to me to know in my own soul that I can do something, even if it's going to take a lot of hard work and effort. Or to have one of those handful of people who matter believe in me. The whole reverse psychology thing has never been a big motivator for me.
A while ago, I heard a couple sportscasters talking about a team's co-captains and the announcers said what a great balance the two women made because co-captain #1 hated to lose and co-captain #2 loved to win, and how a really great team needed both of those influences.
That's when the light went on for me. I'm a love to win kind of person. Do I like losing? Of course not. But the truth is ~ it doesn't matter all that much to me. There is nothing out there that one could win or lose that I stake my sense of self, and self-worth, on. So, okay, I lost. It sucked, but I'm moving on. No need to go back a prove anything. No need to avenge anything.
Winning, on the other hand....oooooo! I love winning.
Are there exceptions to everything? Of course. There used to be certain people that, oh hell no, I don't lose to them. But they aren't in my life any longer, for what I consider to be obvious reasons. Are there times when winning doesn't make me feel good? Yep. And I have taken one for that particular team on more than one occasion.
But generally speaking, at my core, it's not that I hate to lose, but I really do love to win.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
It is far more motivating to me to know in my own soul that I can do something, even if it's going to take a lot of hard work and effort. Or to have one of those handful of people who matter believe in me. The whole reverse psychology thing has never been a big motivator for me.
A while ago, I heard a couple sportscasters talking about a team's co-captains and the announcers said what a great balance the two women made because co-captain #1 hated to lose and co-captain #2 loved to win, and how a really great team needed both of those influences.
That's when the light went on for me. I'm a love to win kind of person. Do I like losing? Of course not. But the truth is ~ it doesn't matter all that much to me. There is nothing out there that one could win or lose that I stake my sense of self, and self-worth, on. So, okay, I lost. It sucked, but I'm moving on. No need to go back a prove anything. No need to avenge anything.
Winning, on the other hand....oooooo! I love winning.
Are there exceptions to everything? Of course. There used to be certain people that, oh hell no, I don't lose to them. But they aren't in my life any longer, for what I consider to be obvious reasons. Are there times when winning doesn't make me feel good? Yep. And I have taken one for that particular team on more than one occasion.
But generally speaking, at my core, it's not that I hate to lose, but I really do love to win.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Thursday, September 04, 2014
Shopping
Earlier this summer, I realized that my summer clothes were in pretty desperate need of replacing. So, while we were in Spokane, Lithus and I went shopping. Oooo, I just love city shopping. And since it was the end of the summer, and the stores had already transitioned into fall styles, everything was on sale and I could do even more shopping.
I bought size 12, 14, 16, 16W, and 18 that all fit beautifully. I didn't buy a 12, 14, 16, or 18 because they were too small. Nor did I buy a 14, 16, or 18 because they were too big.
Is it too much to ask for me to know how many inches around my waist is and how many inches long my inseam is and be able to buy clothes sized logically?
On the flip side, now I have some really cute new summer clothes to get me through NOLA fall and how ever many more summers I wear them. So, really, as much as I would appreciate logical sizes, keep making cute clothes and let me shop for them in wonderful cities and I'll be happy.
Those are well-dressed Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
I bought size 12, 14, 16, 16W, and 18 that all fit beautifully. I didn't buy a 12, 14, 16, or 18 because they were too small. Nor did I buy a 14, 16, or 18 because they were too big.
Is it too much to ask for me to know how many inches around my waist is and how many inches long my inseam is and be able to buy clothes sized logically?
On the flip side, now I have some really cute new summer clothes to get me through NOLA fall and how ever many more summers I wear them. So, really, as much as I would appreciate logical sizes, keep making cute clothes and let me shop for them in wonderful cities and I'll be happy.
Those are well-dressed Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Saturday, August 30, 2014
Required Viewing
In case there's anyone out there who hasn't seen this yet:
Those are John Stewart's thoughts, but damn, I cosign. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Those are John Stewart's thoughts, but damn, I cosign. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
Where I've Been
First, busy. Busy, busy, busy. Friends, family, celebrations and crises.
Second, traveling. Loooove Spokane. Love it. Expect a post over on Stilettos soon. But it did mean I had all of 4 days at home. Got into town last Sunday. Leave again tomorrow.
Third, work. Work has gotten deliciously busier. More challenging in the best ways. I'm back to learning things and being science-y.
Fourth, hospitals. Lithus had a scare that took us to the ER (kidney stone - it passed and all's well). But my heart's not as fixed as we thought it was. My loop recorder is picking things up. Several appointments this past week. Echo-cardiogram. Stress test. All crammed into 4 days. Results positive enough that I get to leave town tomorrow with Lithus still. We think we know what's going on, but we will meet with my wonderful Dr. Morin when we get back in town. The best news is that it's not structural. If you want to look something up, feel free to google preventricular contractions. A perfectly normal thing in a perfectly normal heart. But mine isn't. So, we wait until next month to meet with Dr. Morin and see what happens next.
It's life. It happens. But it's busy.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Second, traveling. Loooove Spokane. Love it. Expect a post over on Stilettos soon. But it did mean I had all of 4 days at home. Got into town last Sunday. Leave again tomorrow.
Third, work. Work has gotten deliciously busier. More challenging in the best ways. I'm back to learning things and being science-y.
Fourth, hospitals. Lithus had a scare that took us to the ER (kidney stone - it passed and all's well). But my heart's not as fixed as we thought it was. My loop recorder is picking things up. Several appointments this past week. Echo-cardiogram. Stress test. All crammed into 4 days. Results positive enough that I get to leave town tomorrow with Lithus still. We think we know what's going on, but we will meet with my wonderful Dr. Morin when we get back in town. The best news is that it's not structural. If you want to look something up, feel free to google preventricular contractions. A perfectly normal thing in a perfectly normal heart. But mine isn't. So, we wait until next month to meet with Dr. Morin and see what happens next.
It's life. It happens. But it's busy.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Sunday, August 17, 2014
Screaming Liberal Post #9
I've been quiet up until now about Ferguson, MO and the Michael Brown shooting for lots of reasons, but I'm writing about it today.
First, I highly ~ highly ~ recommend my white readers click this link by Derrick Clifton. It says a lot of what's been rolling around in my head, as I've listened to the conversations around Brown's shooting. Also? It's good for those of us who are white to make sure our only sources of information aren't. Another excellent link for white folks is here, by Kate Harding.
Now that those calm recommendations have been made...
Are You Fucking Kidding Me?????
1. I don't give a good goddamn if Michael Brown was part of a strong-arm robbery before or not. He was, at the time he was murdered, an unarmed kid walking down the street. The cop who killed him didn't know about the robbery, anyway. And even if he had that doesn't give him the right to kill Michael Brown as he walked down the fucking street.
Stop talking about it. It is fucking irrelevant. What happened before has no bearing to being gunned down, unarmed. Period.
2. Why are we talking about looters? Shut the fuck up about looters. Focusing on them detracts from the real blight in Ferguson: the attacks by police on peaceful protesters. Pretending everyone is looting, or arguing that a few bad apples ruin the whole barrel, is a distraction at best, and a derailment at worst. Police are tear gassing peaceful protesters. Why the fuck are we talking about looters?
3. Stop asking why he ran, or if he struggled, if he'd done nothing wrong. Open your goddamn eyes already. Black people, black men especially, are the targets of white America. They are being killed for carrying Skittles, wearing hoodies, playing music, and asking for help. Yet when a young black man sees a white cop, he's not supposed to be afraid???? Are you fucking kidding me? We live in a world where black parents have to talk to their children, especially their sons, about how to be arrested, about how to stay safe, and we white people want to know why he was scared and might have run? Might have struggled? How was he supposed to feel anything but threatened????
Yes, we must talk about Michael Brown's killing and what's happened in Ferguson since. But we also must make sure we're having the right conversations.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
First, I highly ~ highly ~ recommend my white readers click this link by Derrick Clifton. It says a lot of what's been rolling around in my head, as I've listened to the conversations around Brown's shooting. Also? It's good for those of us who are white to make sure our only sources of information aren't. Another excellent link for white folks is here, by Kate Harding.
Now that those calm recommendations have been made...
Are You Fucking Kidding Me?????
1. I don't give a good goddamn if Michael Brown was part of a strong-arm robbery before or not. He was, at the time he was murdered, an unarmed kid walking down the street. The cop who killed him didn't know about the robbery, anyway. And even if he had that doesn't give him the right to kill Michael Brown as he walked down the fucking street.
Stop talking about it. It is fucking irrelevant. What happened before has no bearing to being gunned down, unarmed. Period.
2. Why are we talking about looters? Shut the fuck up about looters. Focusing on them detracts from the real blight in Ferguson: the attacks by police on peaceful protesters. Pretending everyone is looting, or arguing that a few bad apples ruin the whole barrel, is a distraction at best, and a derailment at worst. Police are tear gassing peaceful protesters. Why the fuck are we talking about looters?
3. Stop asking why he ran, or if he struggled, if he'd done nothing wrong. Open your goddamn eyes already. Black people, black men especially, are the targets of white America. They are being killed for carrying Skittles, wearing hoodies, playing music, and asking for help. Yet when a young black man sees a white cop, he's not supposed to be afraid???? Are you fucking kidding me? We live in a world where black parents have to talk to their children, especially their sons, about how to be arrested, about how to stay safe, and we white people want to know why he was scared and might have run? Might have struggled? How was he supposed to feel anything but threatened????
Yes, we must talk about Michael Brown's killing and what's happened in Ferguson since. But we also must make sure we're having the right conversations.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
Remember this:
~ People will use your fears against you
~ People will use your words against you
~ People will change the rules to fit their game
~ People will dish it out, but won't be able to take it
~ People will blame you for their issues, and then blame you again for standing up for yourself
~ People will try to twist the truth to fit their lies
~ People will hold you to one standard, and themselves to a lower one
~ People will use tactics they have called out when they are the ones in the wrong
~ People will lash out if you call them on any of this.
You can still be right. You can still stand strong. You can still know the truth. You know this.
Remember it.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you a Starbucks mocha.
~ People will use your words against you
~ People will change the rules to fit their game
~ People will dish it out, but won't be able to take it
~ People will blame you for their issues, and then blame you again for standing up for yourself
~ People will try to twist the truth to fit their lies
~ People will hold you to one standard, and themselves to a lower one
~ People will use tactics they have called out when they are the ones in the wrong
~ People will lash out if you call them on any of this.
You can still be right. You can still stand strong. You can still know the truth. You know this.
Remember it.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you a Starbucks mocha.
Sunday, August 10, 2014
Nerdgasm
This morning, we were waking up, watching Fareed Zakaria's GPS on CNN. It's one of the few shows I can watch on CNN any longer. It was, as I expect anything that includes Zakaria, respectful and informative. And then, his next guest came on. Neil Degrasse Tyson.
Think about that for a moment.
Fareed Zakaria andNeil Degrasse Tyson. Together.
Beautiful men. Beautiful minds. Oh what a beautiful morning...
It's going to be a good day.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and a solid dose of intelligent conversation.
Think about that for a moment.
Fareed Zakaria andNeil Degrasse Tyson. Together.
Beautiful men. Beautiful minds. Oh what a beautiful morning...
It's going to be a good day.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee ~ and a solid dose of intelligent conversation.
Friday, August 08, 2014
I Do This Thing...
...that I never really considered before, but have recently been asked about. Several times. So it got me thinking about it.
If I see a potential issue or problem on the horizon, I mention it to anyone else who might be involved. I'm not creating the issue. I'm not accusing anyone of anything. I'm not making an excuse. I'm not even looking for a solution in the moment. I'm saying "I see this as a potential thing, so if it comes to fruition, let's not be blindsided by it,and if we can avoid it, lets do that!"
Too often, I found myself saying "damn, I was afraid this might happen..." and the people around me were, justifiably, upset that I hadn't said anything. Hadn't given us a chance to avoid it. So, now I do.
I've done this thing for years and years. Only in the last two months, or so, about 3, maybe 4 times, I have had the person I'm speaking to ask why I would even bring it up yet. Well...because it might happen, and it's either easily avoidable, or at least something we can kinda sorta expect. Each time, it was a different person, different gender, different situation. So, I don't know if doing this is uniquely Pobble, if it's gender based, if it's part of being a Type A planner... I don't know.
I'm intrigued that after years of no one commenting one way or another, it's been noted upon a handful of times now.
Those are (terribly uninteresting) Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
If I see a potential issue or problem on the horizon, I mention it to anyone else who might be involved. I'm not creating the issue. I'm not accusing anyone of anything. I'm not making an excuse. I'm not even looking for a solution in the moment. I'm saying "I see this as a potential thing, so if it comes to fruition, let's not be blindsided by it,and if we can avoid it, lets do that!"
Too often, I found myself saying "damn, I was afraid this might happen..." and the people around me were, justifiably, upset that I hadn't said anything. Hadn't given us a chance to avoid it. So, now I do.
I've done this thing for years and years. Only in the last two months, or so, about 3, maybe 4 times, I have had the person I'm speaking to ask why I would even bring it up yet. Well...because it might happen, and it's either easily avoidable, or at least something we can kinda sorta expect. Each time, it was a different person, different gender, different situation. So, I don't know if doing this is uniquely Pobble, if it's gender based, if it's part of being a Type A planner... I don't know.
I'm intrigued that after years of no one commenting one way or another, it's been noted upon a handful of times now.
Those are (terribly uninteresting) Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Thursday, August 07, 2014
Another Video
But also totally worth it, for completely different reasons.
'
Safety first, people!
Those are amused Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
'
Safety first, people!
Those are amused Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Wednesday, August 06, 2014
Something to Think About
...next time you grab a bag of M&Ms...
So fascinating.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
So fascinating.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Sunday, August 03, 2014
Booky Things
I snagged this from my friend, Ian. He got it from somewhere official and writery, but since I got it from him, he gets the credit here. He is, after all, official and writery himself.
The Book I Enjoyed Most In School: I can't remember being assigned a book in school that I really loved. There weren't many I hated, either (although Frankenstein was shockingly bad for a "classic"). But while I was in school, my mother gave me a book titled Chocolates for Breakfast. It made me feel like I had a secret, in a good way, and I loved it. I have never wanted to revisit it, just in case it isn't as stunning as a grown-up.
A Book I Read In Secret: Flowers In The Attic. I'm the generation that read this first. We whispered about it. Read it at sleepovers. I still remember spending the night with Tina, in Austin, and the two of us reading this, hoping her mother wouldn't catch us.
The Books I've Read Over and Over: The Harry Potter series. The Autobiography of Henry VIII, by Margaret George. The Other Boleyn Girl, by Phillipa Gregory. The Father Blackie novels, by Andrew Greeley. The Three Musketeers, by Alexandre Dumas.
A Classic I'm Embarrassed to Say I've Never Read: This would be easier if it was a question about movies, because there are a bunch of those. There's one, but I'm saving it for the last question and I feel like using it here, too, would be kind of cheating so...Ah! The Seagull, by Chekov. I really, really should have read The Seagull back when I was a theatre person. Yeah...shame.
A Book I've Pretended I've Read: Crow and Cats are about to headdesk, but The Chronicles of Narnia, by CS Lewis. I've read The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, but never the full chronicle. I fell so deeply in love with the characters in Lion that, when they weren't in the others, I wasn't interested. As an adult, I've just never revisited them. I know; I'm ashamed here, too.
A Book I Consider to be Grossly Overrated: Again, I could cheat and simply repeat Frankenstein, but I won't do that. Anything by Hemingway. He's a hack. His characters are 2 dimensional caricatures; his plots are contrived. And let's not even talk about how he writes women, or people of color (happy native, anyone? Ugh.).
The Books I Wish I Had Written: The Father Blackie novels. Those are so much my style, they actually made me wish to be a writer.
My Favorite Movie Versions of Books: As much as I think they're overrated, and as sour a taste as they leave in my mouth for personal reasons, I think Peter Jackson did a damn fine job bringing the Lord of the Rings trilogy to the screen. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, but not the other 6. Oh, and 101 Dalmatians. Mind you, I did this one backwards. I saw, and adored, the animated movie as a child, then read the book by Dodie Smith.
What I Am Reading Now: Marketing compliance guides, and medical journal abstracts. My life has taken a very strange turn in the last year...
How about you?
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
The Book I Enjoyed Most In School: I can't remember being assigned a book in school that I really loved. There weren't many I hated, either (although Frankenstein was shockingly bad for a "classic"). But while I was in school, my mother gave me a book titled Chocolates for Breakfast. It made me feel like I had a secret, in a good way, and I loved it. I have never wanted to revisit it, just in case it isn't as stunning as a grown-up.
A Book I Read In Secret: Flowers In The Attic. I'm the generation that read this first. We whispered about it. Read it at sleepovers. I still remember spending the night with Tina, in Austin, and the two of us reading this, hoping her mother wouldn't catch us.
The Books I've Read Over and Over: The Harry Potter series. The Autobiography of Henry VIII, by Margaret George. The Other Boleyn Girl, by Phillipa Gregory. The Father Blackie novels, by Andrew Greeley. The Three Musketeers, by Alexandre Dumas.
A Classic I'm Embarrassed to Say I've Never Read: This would be easier if it was a question about movies, because there are a bunch of those. There's one, but I'm saving it for the last question and I feel like using it here, too, would be kind of cheating so...Ah! The Seagull, by Chekov. I really, really should have read The Seagull back when I was a theatre person. Yeah...shame.
A Book I've Pretended I've Read: Crow and Cats are about to headdesk, but The Chronicles of Narnia, by CS Lewis. I've read The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, but never the full chronicle. I fell so deeply in love with the characters in Lion that, when they weren't in the others, I wasn't interested. As an adult, I've just never revisited them. I know; I'm ashamed here, too.
A Book I Consider to be Grossly Overrated: Again, I could cheat and simply repeat Frankenstein, but I won't do that. Anything by Hemingway. He's a hack. His characters are 2 dimensional caricatures; his plots are contrived. And let's not even talk about how he writes women, or people of color (happy native, anyone? Ugh.).
The Books I Wish I Had Written: The Father Blackie novels. Those are so much my style, they actually made me wish to be a writer.
My Favorite Movie Versions of Books: As much as I think they're overrated, and as sour a taste as they leave in my mouth for personal reasons, I think Peter Jackson did a damn fine job bringing the Lord of the Rings trilogy to the screen. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, but not the other 6. Oh, and 101 Dalmatians. Mind you, I did this one backwards. I saw, and adored, the animated movie as a child, then read the book by Dodie Smith.
What I Am Reading Now: Marketing compliance guides, and medical journal abstracts. My life has taken a very strange turn in the last year...
How about you?
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
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