<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066</id><updated>2012-02-16T07:16:30.305-05:00</updated><category term='Trotsky'/><category term='passion'/><category term='best apology'/><category term='date from Hell'/><category term='swordfish'/><category term='killer geraniums'/><category term='Love'/><category term='Poetry'/><category term='Communication'/><category term='bad dates'/><category term='heartbreak'/><category term='Stuff'/><category term='Devo'/><category term='Clothes'/><title type='text'>Lil's Book of Questions</title><subtitle type='html'>This blog will deal with the questions that come up in books, art, conversations, teaching, thinking, being.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>65</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-379066787205620398</id><published>2012-02-14T12:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-14T12:43:03.926-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Can Our Dreams Tell Us?  Part II</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;Yesterday, on his birthday, Robin told me&amp;nbsp;this dream:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="background-color: white; color: blue; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We were in the shed, cleaning it...organizing things, or looking for something.&amp;nbsp; A glass carafe from a coffeemaker was sitting in a cardboard box with some papers and garbage.&amp;nbsp; It caught my eye.&amp;nbsp; As I was thinking about bringing it into the house, it exploded."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;I asked Robin to go back into his dream,&amp;nbsp;become the carafe, and&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;finish these sentences:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;Never refer to me as...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;I need...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;I want...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;As the carafe, he said,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;Never refer to me as an unused coffee pot.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;I&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;need grounds!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;I want someone to clean this mess up.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;and, "What are you thinking?" I asked the&amp;nbsp;now-shattered, former&amp;nbsp;coffee pot.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;"Life sucks," he said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;The message of the&amp;nbsp;dream was clear:&amp;nbsp; We need grounds, a reason, a purpose.&amp;nbsp; And, I guess, nobody's going to clean the mess up, except us, and that sucks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;(See September 7, 2011 for What Do Dreams Tell Us? Part I.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-379066787205620398?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/379066787205620398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2012/02/what-can-our-dreams-tell-us-part-ii.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/379066787205620398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/379066787205620398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2012/02/what-can-our-dreams-tell-us-part-ii.html' title='What Can Our Dreams Tell Us?  Part II'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-2539164038997230266</id><published>2012-02-10T22:28:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-15T14:54:39.384-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Moody?  What Are Moods?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;I am playing an email game of questions with someone totally different from me in age and lifestyle (I have a home, he is couchsurfing).&amp;nbsp; He&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;asked me recently, &lt;em&gt;"W&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;hen you're in a bad mood or a funk and recognize it, what are some ways that you react?"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;That's a good question.&amp;nbsp; And a complicated topic.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I'm mostly aware of my moods - at least I think I am.&amp;nbsp; If I'm moody, I figure it is 100% caused by various internal chemical processes that cause moods.&amp;nbsp; The body is quite delicate, the mind, heart, and emotions quite irrational responding to internal homeostasis, salts, hormones, whoknowswhat of which we are mostly unaware.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Circumstances change daily, some days are better than others, some interactions are better than others better than others.&amp;nbsp; One day basking in the sun, the next stumbling in a cold Canadian grey day.&amp;nbsp; All&amp;nbsp;the while, there is a me that is&amp;nbsp;pretty emotionally consistent.&amp;nbsp; I'm not going to let one thing or another affect the consistent me.&amp;nbsp; At least not for the moment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Sometime a year or more ago, I was saying to a friend of mine that I'm not interested in anything except my own projects -- and I wasn't even very interested in them.&amp;nbsp; She said, "It sounds like you're depressed."&amp;nbsp; -- which was unusual for me, but she was right and I think it was completely&amp;nbsp;caused by hormonal readjustments, withdrawing of estrogen etc ... biochemical changes.&amp;nbsp; I'm not sure I'm 100% over it.&amp;nbsp; Alcohol doesn't particularly agree with me, and I don't like marijuana.&amp;nbsp; I like consciousness.&amp;nbsp; I love to stay up until I can't stay up anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;My solution to ups and downs and moods is gratefulness.&amp;nbsp; As Leonard Cohen says, "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Even though it all went wrong/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I stand before the Lord of Song/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;It's all a miracle.&amp;nbsp; One can still love life, even if one's life&amp;nbsp;is imperfect -&amp;nbsp;personal life, the events, the losses, the madness, inhumanity, and selfishness around us - one can still love life.&amp;nbsp; Moods float on the surface of the ocean but other things occupy the ocean's vastness and depths.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;What do you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-2539164038997230266?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/2539164038997230266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2012/02/are-you-moody-what-are-moods.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2539164038997230266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2539164038997230266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2012/02/are-you-moody-what-are-moods.html' title='Are You Moody?  What Are Moods?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-2677364392030563611</id><published>2012-01-11T16:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T16:55:52.444-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Can Poetry Change Lives?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Yes, of course poetry changes lives - or maybe puts into words the changes that we are experiencing.&amp;nbsp; Or both.&amp;nbsp; Here's a poem I first read as I was turning 20 in 1972.&amp;nbsp; It's worth revisiting at any age:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Revolutionary Letter #1&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; by Diane di Prima&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I have just realized that the stakes are myself&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;I have no other&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;ransom money, nothing to break or barter but my life&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;my spirit measured out, in bits, spread over&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;the roulette table, I recoup what I can&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;nothing else to shove under the nose of the maître de jeu&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;nothing to thrust out the window, no white flag&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;this flesh all I have to offer, to make the play with&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;this immediate head, what it comes up with, my move&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;as we slither over this go board, stepping always&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #8e7cc3; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"&gt;(we hope) between the lines&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;This is the first poem in the book, &lt;em&gt;Revolutionary Letters&lt;/em&gt;, by Diane di Prima, published in the Pocket Poets series by Lawrence Ferlinghetti's City Lights Books.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Di Prima’s letters deal with what to do if attacked by teargas and how to dress for a demonstration. Letter #9, for example, begins, "a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;dvocating/the overthrow of government is a crime/overthrowing it is something else/altogether."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Letter #1 sets the tone for the letters that follow. It begins with a sudden realization that "the stakes are myself." All we have is our selves, our bodies, our lives. If this is all I have, the poem tells me, I had better be careful how I play and what I risk.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;In the last few lines of the poem, we are taken from the spinning roulette wheel to a GO board, and it is "my move."&amp;nbsp; GO is a meditative game where you win by slowly and patiently surrounding the opponent.&amp;nbsp; Each player places a stone on a point where the lines intersect, gradually enclosing territory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;In the GO board of the poem, however, we move stealthily, "stepping always (we hope) between the lines."&amp;nbsp; In other words, we may be on a GO board where all moves are made ON the lines – but we will live by our own rules, looking always from different perspectives, and slithering -- unobtrusively, smoothly, gliding and sliding -- across the landscape of our lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-2677364392030563611?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/2677364392030563611/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2012/01/can-poetry-change-lives_11.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2677364392030563611'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2677364392030563611'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2012/01/can-poetry-change-lives_11.html' title='Can Poetry Change Lives?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-4999804082220977100</id><published>2012-01-01T23:15:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T11:00:01.375-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Is There a Quarter-Life Crisis?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: blue; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Here are some signs that you might be experiencing a quarter-life crisis:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;A love relationship doesn't solve the problem of having to also have&amp;nbsp;a life.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Your parents want you to pay rent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Whatever you studied in any school didn't seem to include what you really need to know.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;You begin to wonder if &lt;em&gt;anyone&lt;/em&gt; knows it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;The spirtual paths or mentors that you investigate only sustain you for a while.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;You discover that following your dreams is harder than you first thought it would be, especially if you also want to be independent, make your own rules, and eat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;You do not believe that you've contributed in any way to your problems.&amp;nbsp; You've done everything you were supposed to do:&amp;nbsp; grew up, went to school, graduated college, and looked for a job.&amp;nbsp; Since you haven't contributed to your problems, you do not believe your own actions will solve them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue; font-family: Trebuchet MS; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Is the quarter-life crisis different from the mid-life crisis?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;﻿Yes, the quarter-life crisis involves fighting with everyone who has helped you, up until you find a place where you can more or less function, a "club," let's say, where you belong.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;At mid-life, you might begin to feel that the job, spouse, or religion that took you in during your quarter-life crisis spoke to only one part of you.&amp;nbsp; The secret or hidden life that you've suppressed so that you will fit in, now needs expression.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;The quarter-life crisis involves finding your place in the world.&amp;nbsp; The mid-life crisis involves expressing your most authentic self.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Soon:&amp;nbsp; What is the three-quarter life crisis and how is it different?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;(Thank you to Stephen Strauss for introducing me to the phrase "quarter-life crisis.")&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-4999804082220977100?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/4999804082220977100/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2012/01/is-there-quarter-life-crisis.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4999804082220977100'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4999804082220977100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2012/01/is-there-quarter-life-crisis.html' title='Is There a Quarter-Life Crisis?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-8010305787779896104</id><published>2011-12-28T16:08:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2012-02-07T18:02:57.828-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What Does Heaven Look Like?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I was waiting in the checkout line in our local supermarket, a neighbourhood No Frills, just before xmas.&amp;nbsp; The neighbourhood is a colourful combination of gentrified Victorian homes and city housing projects.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;The supermarket was packed and the lineups were long.&amp;nbsp; A pair of men were conversing in Spanish when one of them said to me in English, "Is this the end of the line?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I nodded and said, "Now how would you say 'end of the line' in Spanish?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Al final de la línea," he said, "the end of the line."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; That's just like in French, said the woman in line ahead of me.&amp;nbsp; "La fin de la ligne."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Конец строки," said a boy falling in behind the two men.&amp;nbsp; "Russian," he added.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; A&amp;nbsp;woman with groceries and two children in her shopping cart joined the line &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;saying,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"ي نهاية السطر&amp;nbsp; -- the end of the line,&amp;nbsp;Arabic."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Lots of different languages," I said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "That's what heaven will be like," said the woman ahead of me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-8010305787779896104?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/8010305787779896104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/12/what-does-heaven-look-like.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8010305787779896104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8010305787779896104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/12/what-does-heaven-look-like.html' title='What Does Heaven Look Like?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-6712548007543348537</id><published>2011-12-06T21:15:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T21:21:44.350-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Are Stories Necessary?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;The stories that move us, touch us, and change us are necessary.&amp;nbsp; It may not even be character, plot, or setting that&amp;nbsp;makes a story&amp;nbsp;necessary, but the telling of it, the shape of the narrative, the voice of the teller, the way an idea or feeling&amp;nbsp;from a story starts to dwell in the reader&amp;nbsp;inspiring more ideas and feelings.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Stories give shape and detail to memory.&amp;nbsp; And, when we lose our memories, we still need stories, maybe more than ever.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;In the&amp;nbsp;early stages of her&amp;nbsp;dementia, my mother-in-law became obsessed with her watch.&amp;nbsp; When we visited, she'd hold her watch up and peer at it from different angles.&amp;nbsp; Then she'd&amp;nbsp;shake it, insist it was broken, and ask the time.&amp;nbsp; I'd tell her the time.&amp;nbsp; She'd be quiet for 30 seconds and then begin to look at her watch again&amp;nbsp;and fret over it and demand to know the time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"What time is it?&amp;nbsp; It's broken?&amp;nbsp; Do you see the time?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;1:15.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;1:18.&amp;nbsp; 1:20...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;My husband and her caregiver were frustrated and impatient.&amp;nbsp; They wanted to distract her, to take the watch away, to do something else, but it only agitated her more, so we sat.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;1:22.&amp;nbsp; 1:23.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;1:26.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"What time is it?&amp;nbsp; It's broken?&amp;nbsp; Do you see the time?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;1:31&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"Oh," she said.&amp;nbsp; "Now's the hard part."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"What do you mean?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"It has to climb up the other side."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;As her life became increasingly reduced - she still needed stories.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;She saw&amp;nbsp;in the youth of the hour, the early minutes, the big hand skipped easily down the right side of the watch face. &amp;nbsp;Life was good.&amp;nbsp; But then came the climb up through the 6, 7, and 8 of the hour, as if they were the later decades of life, the hard part. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I understood her story - an ancient one.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;The wheel of fortune turns.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Stories are necessary.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-6712548007543348537?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/6712548007543348537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/12/are-stories-necessary.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/6712548007543348537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/6712548007543348537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/12/are-stories-necessary.html' title='Are Stories Necessary?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-3631191563464213964</id><published>2011-12-05T16:12:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-12-06T12:12:14.602-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Do I Have More to Say To Some People Than To Others?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Have you noticed how with some people you can talk and talk?&amp;nbsp; They talk, you talk, they add something, you seque onto another topic.&amp;nbsp; You laugh,&amp;nbsp;they laugh, and with them you are funnier, smarter, deeper, and more interesting.&amp;nbsp; In fact they build on your joke and reincorporate it into other jokes until it's unrecognizable to anyone else as a joke -- but the two of you can't stop laughing.&amp;nbsp; Life is good.&amp;nbsp; The time is up and you are still talking and hope&amp;nbsp;to see each other again soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Then there are others.&amp;nbsp; And you want to get closer, but they talk, you talk, and then maybe there's nothing more to say.&amp;nbsp; You laugh, they laugh, and then there's nothing more to laugh at.&amp;nbsp; The joke doesn't grow into a private joke.&amp;nbsp; Everyone gets it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;There are many reasons for this phenomenon -- shared history, the intelligence of the speakers,&amp;nbsp;your respective knowledge and interests, their&amp;nbsp;love for&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;you, &lt;/em&gt;your love for them, sufficient time for conversation and giggling,&amp;nbsp;and a motivation to &lt;em&gt;be in&lt;/em&gt; the conversation.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;And yet with some people all those things might exist and the conversation still seems to falter and stumble into the weather, dinner, health, concrete problems with and without&amp;nbsp;solutions.&amp;nbsp; What's with that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I've come to believe that the quality of each party's listening is the determining factor in whether we have more or less&amp;nbsp;to say to one another.&amp;nbsp; Can this magical listening be taught?&amp;nbsp; Is it&amp;nbsp;a question of&amp;nbsp;different minds organizing themselves differently or is&amp;nbsp;it an&amp;nbsp;inate&amp;nbsp;capacity of some minds -- to ask the next question, to care about the answer?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-3631191563464213964?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/3631191563464213964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/12/why-do-i-have-more-to-say-to-some.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3631191563464213964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3631191563464213964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/12/why-do-i-have-more-to-say-to-some.html' title='Why Do I Have More to Say To Some People Than To Others?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-7395393191663047839</id><published>2011-10-17T18:22:00.020-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T09:09:59.798-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Things Seemed Fine.  What Happened?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Post-traumatic stress (PTS) is real.&amp;nbsp; I know that.&amp;nbsp; A reader asked me to expand on my&amp;nbsp;recent post (Is Hockey Necessary?) where I mention panic attacks and PTS.&amp;nbsp; So I shall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not an expert, but here is how I see it:&amp;nbsp; When you are dealing with a crisis, you don't have much chance to breathe.&amp;nbsp; If you are dealing with an ongoing crisis, you may be out of breath for a while.&amp;nbsp; In my case, I freed myself from a stressful and abusive situation with an emotionally unstable partner.&amp;nbsp; Partners like these are easy to find, but hard to lose.&amp;nbsp; They're the sidewalk gum of romance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I began to breathe the air of freedom, it was exhilarating.&amp;nbsp; Life was difficult and I had a lot to learn, but I was eager to learn.&amp;nbsp; I could relax.&amp;nbsp; I knew I was starting my life over and it was wonderful.&amp;nbsp; Then the panic attacks started.&amp;nbsp; All the stress I had&amp;nbsp;repressed for five years was seeping to the surface without asking permission.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before this time, I had occasionally experienced panic attacks while driving over long, high bridges.&amp;nbsp; Bridge phobia is not unusual, but I began to have panic attacks driving anywhere.&amp;nbsp; City driving was mostly okay; highway driving was unpredictable.&amp;nbsp; The symptoms would happen unexpectedly and included breathlessness, nausea, shaking, fast heartbeat, inability to speak or think clearly, detachment from reality,&amp;nbsp;and maybe voices or hallucinations.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;At one time I&amp;nbsp;believed I had recovered sufficiently to drive several family members home to Hamilton&amp;nbsp;from an event in Toronto.&amp;nbsp; A heavy rainstorm began and so did my panic attack.&amp;nbsp; I started driving very slowly hoping to make it to the next exit.&amp;nbsp; My mother kept saying, "What's going on?&amp;nbsp; What's the matter?"&amp;nbsp; Me:&amp;nbsp; "Nothing, I'm fine," as I went slower ... and ... slower and finally pulled onto the shoulder unable to drive any further.&amp;nbsp; My mother was the only other driver in the car, and she had &lt;em&gt;just had cataract surgery&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp; She said &lt;em&gt;she&lt;/em&gt; would drive, and&amp;nbsp;we changed seats.&amp;nbsp; She&amp;nbsp;turned at&amp;nbsp;the next exit,&amp;nbsp;seeing badly out of one eye, and we took a&amp;nbsp;back road to Hamilton.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;She kept asking, "Do you want to take over now?"&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I'm still listening to the &lt;em&gt;other&lt;/em&gt; voices, but I manage to say,&amp;nbsp;"No!!&amp;nbsp;You're doing great."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;That's how bad it can be.&amp;nbsp; There's was no way I could get back behind the wheel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;A few years later,&amp;nbsp;a friend with NLP training,&amp;nbsp;taught me how to stop the panic attacks.&amp;nbsp; I learned to focus on a&amp;nbsp;memory of personal empowerment as soon as&amp;nbsp;the panic attack began.&amp;nbsp; I was able to cure myself.&amp;nbsp; I also learned to avoid bad relationships (see July 28&amp;nbsp;blog).&amp;nbsp; All that happened 20 years ago.&amp;nbsp; I've been building bridges for a long while now, and even crossing them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-7395393191663047839?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/7395393191663047839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/10/things-seemed-fine-what-happened.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/7395393191663047839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/7395393191663047839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/10/things-seemed-fine-what-happened.html' title='Things Seemed Fine.  What Happened?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-1068871549621924121</id><published>2011-10-12T18:43:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-12-23T09:09:07.136-05:00</updated><title type='text'>What's Your Flag?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I was on my bike and stopped at a light when&amp;nbsp;another cyclist behind me said,&amp;nbsp;"What's your flag?"&amp;nbsp; During the last World Cup, I put a flag on the back of my bike to celebrate Africa's participation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I said, "Cameroon."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Oh," said the cyclist as he took off ahead of me.&amp;nbsp; "I love those coconut cookies."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img class="rg_hi" data-height="172" data-width="259" height="172px" id="rg_hi" src="http://t0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSwedH5YXKSiztHdigtgzjBaOL7Po2TajJkVhbJn-VJ2zYyeLTn7A" style="height: 172px; width: 259px;" width="259px" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; This got me thinking about nation states.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;No world problem (the environment, terrorism, infectious diseases, computer crime) can be solved by national governments.&amp;nbsp; Here are the questions from a WorldCitizen website:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Does the nation-state still play a significant role in global relations?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Has it lost its power and influence in a globalized society?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Is it an out-dated concept that needs to be replaced?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Posters answer, yes, yes, and yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;and ask,&amp;nbsp;how do we get from where we are to where we need to be?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt; &lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I have a feeling that the Occupy Wall Street Movement - that by October 15 will involve at least 650&amp;nbsp;locations - is related to a global need to work together towards more fairness.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Read their one demand:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://wilderside.wordpress.com/2011/09/22/occupy-wall-street-finally-releases-their-one-demand/"&gt;http://wilderside.wordpress.com/2011/09/22/occupy-wall-street-finally-releases-their-one-demand/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://map.15october.net/"&gt;http://map.15october.net/&lt;/a&gt;&amp;nbsp;This is the map of all locations that will be occupied on October 15.&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I applaud their demands and their list of grievances.&amp;nbsp; They seem to be modelling themselves after the women who met in Seneca Falls, New York, in 1848 with a list of demands and a list of grievances.&amp;nbsp; It took 150 years, but most of the demands of early feminists have now&amp;nbsp;been met by&amp;nbsp;western democracies.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-1068871549621924121?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/1068871549621924121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/10/whats-your-flag.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/1068871549621924121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/1068871549621924121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/10/whats-your-flag.html' title='What&apos;s Your Flag?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-3699089488998624769</id><published>2011-10-03T20:11:00.018-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-12T16:27:17.482-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is Hockey Necessary?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;A few years back I was teaching conflict management skills to&amp;nbsp;a class of apprentice plumbers.&amp;nbsp; Mike, one of the students started shaking his head, his eyes wild.&amp;nbsp; He put his head down on his desk briefly, then stood up and ran from the class.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Later,&amp;nbsp;I saw him sitting in his van in the parking lot.&amp;nbsp; He apologized for leaving and explained that he'd&amp;nbsp;had a panic attack in the middle of class.&amp;nbsp; He couldn't leave the campus yet, he said.&amp;nbsp; He was still feeling shaky.&amp;nbsp; He was worried it might be affecting his work.&amp;nbsp; He was seeing a doctor for it, taking pills - but he was still getting two or three panic attacks every week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;"I used to play hockey after work four or five nights a week," he said.&amp;nbsp; "After my wife had our first baby, I cut it down to twice a week.&amp;nbsp; After we had our second baby, I stopped playing hockey altogether.&amp;nbsp; That was&amp;nbsp;four months ago.&amp;nbsp; Then the panic attacks started."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I knew about panic attacks.&amp;nbsp; I'd had several years of them when my post-traumatic stress kicked in, but this didn't sound&amp;nbsp;trauma-related.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;"Sounds like maybe you should play hockey."&amp;nbsp;I said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-3699089488998624769?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/3699089488998624769/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/10/is-hockey-necessary.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3699089488998624769'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3699089488998624769'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/10/is-hockey-necessary.html' title='Is Hockey Necessary?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-2293672504943732748</id><published>2011-10-03T00:03:00.015-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T00:58:04.254-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Should I Believe, Part 2</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;My friend Colin continues to add to his "What I Believe" list.&amp;nbsp; There&amp;nbsp;are at least 92 items on it.&amp;nbsp; Here is one of my favourites:&amp;nbsp; "It is not the water’s fault for failing to mix with the oil, nor is it the oil’s fault for failing to mix with the water. They just don’t mix."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I recently opened one of my notebooks from the 1990s and, in the back under the heading Lessons Learned, I found some of my beliefs, including&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Sometimes the antidote is to stop taking the poison.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Since people often marry their lovers, be careful who you sleep with.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Expect&lt;/span&gt; from people approximately what they can deliver (but treat them the way you want them to behave).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Avoid arguments during meals - it's bad for digestion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;At the bottom of the list was this one:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"Think about what you throw on in the morning - you might end up wearing it all day."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I don't remember what led to me&amp;nbsp;learning that lesson -- but it sounds&amp;nbsp;bad.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-2293672504943732748?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/2293672504943732748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/10/what-should-i-believe-part-2.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2293672504943732748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2293672504943732748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/10/what-should-i-believe-part-2.html' title='What Should I Believe, Part 2'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-4528596658871080916</id><published>2011-09-28T17:54:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T17:54:45.564-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You an Open Book?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I asked this question to a friend at lunch recently -- not a close friend, but a longstanding and deeply admired one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"An open book?&amp;nbsp; Absolutely not," he said.&amp;nbsp; "Closed up and held shut with an elastic band."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I already knew the answer, but I wanted to open the question, pry around the edges of the lid, see what would happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;He made some excuses, like life is so long and full and he's so old -- but you can have a very full book and leave it open.&amp;nbsp; Being an open book doesn't mean that you need to say much - you will, however, reveal if someone asks.&amp;nbsp; He must have sensed my interest in knowing more because, just before leaving, he said cryptically, "Some of it has been published in other formats."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Am I an open book?&amp;nbsp; I think mostly.&amp;nbsp; But no one reads much anymore.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Are you an open book?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-4528596658871080916?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/4528596658871080916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/are-you-open-book.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4528596658871080916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4528596658871080916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/are-you-open-book.html' title='Are You an Open Book?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-3589670774508861348</id><published>2011-09-27T11:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-03T22:08:04.685-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Have You Had Any Good Dates?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I recently wrote about my last worst date (September 20).&amp;nbsp; People have been writing and asking, "Have you had any good dates?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Indeed I have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Long before the internet, I answered his print ad which began, "Available, Bearded, Charismatic, Dynamic, Energetic" and continued alphabetically all the way to zed.&amp;nbsp; For the letter "p" he said, "Professorish,"&amp;nbsp;which made him sound employed.&amp;nbsp; His ad also said, "Children welcome," and I had one of those.&amp;nbsp; If nothing else, the ad told me he had a big vocabulary.&amp;nbsp; As for all the other self-descriptions, I would soon find out if he was lying or merely hallucinating. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I suggested the Sultan's Tent in Toronto where I knew we would sit close together on low cushions.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;A week later, there he was at the entrance to the Sultan's Tent - bearded, as promised,&amp;nbsp;and enthusiastic.&amp;nbsp; We made our way in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;We sat at low, candle-lit tables, chatting, and watching the belly dancer who approached our table continuously trying to distract my date and make him dance with her.&amp;nbsp; Luckily, he was focussed on me and our tableful of&amp;nbsp;Middle-Eastern appetizers.&amp;nbsp; I had dated another professor who was Buddhist and vegan.&amp;nbsp; I was always hungry around him&amp;nbsp; This&amp;nbsp;one would not leave me hungry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Just before the end of our meal, an attractive, fully-clothed woman came over to our table and said, "I want to speak to my professor."&amp;nbsp; We looked twice and realized it was the belly dancer.&amp;nbsp; She&amp;nbsp;was a computer science student and had been in a class taught by my date.&amp;nbsp; It seemed he really &lt;em&gt;was &lt;/em&gt;a professor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-3589670774508861348?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/3589670774508861348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/have-you-had-any-good-dates.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3589670774508861348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3589670774508861348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/have-you-had-any-good-dates.html' title='Have You Had Any Good Dates?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-8714346648980982358</id><published>2011-09-26T11:00:00.062-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-26T22:02:16.072-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='killer geraniums'/><title type='text'>Are Plants Safe?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;There are no stupid questions, they say.&amp;nbsp; I try to remember this, since I am asked many questions.&amp;nbsp; I know that the question gives me information about the mind and life experience of the asker.&amp;nbsp; For example, a seemingly bright&amp;nbsp;engineering student once asked me, "Why do Jews boycott Christmas?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(I explained that in Judaism there are holidays for non-human birthdays, such as Tu B'Shevat, the birthday of the trees, and Rosh Hashanah, the birthday of creation, but that the religion doesn't normally commemorate human birthdays.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a tenant some years ago, a medical student at McMaster University.&amp;nbsp; She had an undergraduate degree - probably in the sciences, probably in biology.&amp;nbsp; It was late fall and I told her I'd be moving some of the flowering outdoor plants into the house.&amp;nbsp; She asked, "Is it safe?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At first I thought this was a very stupid question.&amp;nbsp; Was she so disconnected from nature that she imagined houseplants might kill us?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Yet, she probably DID have a science degree and&amp;nbsp;would soon be a doctor - and there was that time a few years back when&amp;nbsp;trees were taking out celebrity skiers.&amp;nbsp; She might have feared the mutant killer geraniums, or merely figured that plants had&amp;nbsp;a reason to be angry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-8714346648980982358?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/8714346648980982358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/are-plants-safe.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8714346648980982358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8714346648980982358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/are-plants-safe.html' title='Are Plants Safe?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-5697723088934184536</id><published>2011-09-24T09:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T09:32:50.541-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heartbreak'/><title type='text'>What Is Your Heartbreak Recovery Time?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Long ago, in a province far away, I had a big passion for a philosophy teaching assistant, Charles Z,&amp;nbsp;at Simon Fraser University where I was an undergrad.&amp;nbsp; He was Jewish, from NYC, and only slightly older than me, someone I thought I could actually introduce to my mother.&amp;nbsp; My relationship with Chuck lasted one month.&amp;nbsp; Then he dropped me&amp;nbsp;to date&amp;nbsp;one of his students.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;It seemed that the lights didn't come on in my life again for 12 months, so I&amp;nbsp;deduced that, for a first major&amp;nbsp;heartbreak, there's a 1:12 ratio for length of relationship to&amp;nbsp;recovery time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;As one becomes more experienced in heartbreak, the ratio may be inverted.&amp;nbsp; For example,&amp;nbsp;after&amp;nbsp;a mature&amp;nbsp;12-year relationship, it might take only one year to recover.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Of course,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;if your heart is broken daily during most of those 12 years, then the recovery is immediate (except for the post-traumatic stress).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;How long was your first recovery?&amp;nbsp; Did you ever recover?&amp;nbsp; Is there any correlation at all between&amp;nbsp;relationship length and first&amp;nbsp;heartbreak?&amp;nbsp; What do you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-5697723088934184536?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/5697723088934184536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-is-your-heartbreak-recovery-time.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5697723088934184536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5697723088934184536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-is-your-heartbreak-recovery-time.html' title='What Is Your Heartbreak Recovery Time?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-4180323675588445788</id><published>2011-09-22T10:15:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T23:07:39.632-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='passion'/><title type='text'>Have You Had One Big Passion?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;My friend, Sergio, teaches drama in Brazil.&amp;nbsp; He sent me this quote:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: blue; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;“I shall have poetry in my life. And adventure. And love, love, love, above all. Love as there has never been in a play. Unbiddable, ungovernable, like a riot in the heart and nothing to be done, come ruin or rapture."&lt;br /&gt;— Tom Stoppard&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;How scary and challenging is that -- especially for those of us who have learned to love selectively and self-protectively?&amp;nbsp; I figure if you've had at least one big, crazy, wrong-headed passion in your life (that doesn't end in broken glass or broken bones) then you can say it's been a good run.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: small;"&gt;I'd even say that "crazy" and "wrong-headed" are not a requirement for the Tom Stoppard love effort - but when you've had at least one "riot in the heart," it helps you appreciate the many&amp;nbsp;other ways of experiencing affection.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-size: small;"&gt;What about you?&amp;nbsp; Has it been a good run?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-4180323675588445788?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/4180323675588445788/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/have-you-had-one-big-passion.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4180323675588445788'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4180323675588445788'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/have-you-had-one-big-passion.html' title='Have You Had One Big Passion?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-177966843896093260</id><published>2011-09-20T22:55:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T13:44:01.492-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bad dates'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='date from Hell'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='swordfish'/><title type='text'>What Happened on Your Last Bad Date?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;It's been about 20 years, and I think I'm finally over my last bad date.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Our first date was interesting enough for him to call me a few days later and invite me to his apartment for dinner.&amp;nbsp; He was going to cook.&amp;nbsp; I met him through an ad he placed in &lt;em&gt;The Globe and Mail&lt;/em&gt;, "National Personals" column -- yes, that's how we found discord before eHarmony.&amp;nbsp; His parents were from Scandinavia and Brooklyn, he was named for a Norse God, and he worked on Bay Street.&amp;nbsp; He had recently experienced the end of a long relationship and did not want to rush &lt;em&gt;anything&lt;/em&gt; with &lt;em&gt;anyone&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp; I assumed that&amp;nbsp;he placed the ad because he wanted something with someone, and he seemed enthusiastic about getting together again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I&amp;nbsp;went up to his 15th-story Toronto&amp;nbsp;apartment and he greeted me&amp;nbsp;cautiously.&amp;nbsp; I recall the&amp;nbsp;small&amp;nbsp;kitchen with an opening to the living room/dining room.&amp;nbsp; He didn't want me in the kitchen while he cooked, so after chatting briefly, I settled on the sofa.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;The window in the living room looked south&amp;nbsp;over the city, the CN Tower in the distance.&amp;nbsp; The sofa was surrounded by overflowing&amp;nbsp;bookshelves.&amp;nbsp; A&amp;nbsp;racing bike was in one corner with other sports gear.&amp;nbsp; On the living room wall, opposite the kitchen were two doors, one to the bathroom and one to his bedroom, both closed.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;While &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I wanted more intimacy, it seemed he now&amp;nbsp;wanted less.&amp;nbsp; He wanted to concentrate on his swordfish.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I was cold, so I&amp;nbsp;looked around for a blanket.&amp;nbsp; Not seeing one, I opened the door to his room and grabbed one from his bed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;A few minutes later, he noticed I was reading on the sofa under a blanket.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "Where'd you get that?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;"From the bedroom."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "You went into my bedroom?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "I was cold.&amp;nbsp; I couldn't find a blanket."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "You went into my bedroom!!&amp;nbsp; You're not f**king&amp;nbsp;allowed in my bedroom!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;After that exchange, I couldn't get to the elevator fast enough.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I&amp;nbsp;never tasted the swordfish, and eschewed that unkind cut of fish for the&amp;nbsp;next 20 years.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;-- u&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;ntil a couple of weeks ago when my current husband, ignored my anti-swordfish stance and&amp;nbsp;grilled some swordfish steaks.&amp;nbsp; They were delicious.&amp;nbsp; I was finally over my last worst date.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-177966843896093260?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/177966843896093260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-happened-on-your-last-bad-date.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/177966843896093260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/177966843896093260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-happened-on-your-last-bad-date.html' title='What Happened on Your Last Bad Date?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-1763882242927565443</id><published>2011-09-18T18:38:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T18:38:26.309-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Devo'/><title type='text'>Is the Universe Indifferent?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Is the universe indifferent, or does it participate benevolently or malevolently in our lives?&amp;nbsp; I've asked this question already in a variety of ways (see July 29, August 11, August 30 posts).&amp;nbsp; I've encountered many people who received messages from the universe that changed their lives.&amp;nbsp; My mother, for example.&amp;nbsp; After ten years of widowhood, my mother received a proposal of marriage from Berko Devor.&amp;nbsp; She&amp;nbsp;was deeply conflicted about&amp;nbsp;remarrying&amp;nbsp;and what that would mean to her life.&amp;nbsp; Walking home from the synagogue one Shabbat morning, she was turning the question of&amp;nbsp;marriage over and over in her head.&amp;nbsp; She looked up and saw D E V O spray painted in giant letters on a wall.&amp;nbsp; DEVO must stand for Devor.&amp;nbsp; Clearly it was a message from God.&amp;nbsp; They were married soon after and had a wonderful relationship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Was it a coincidence that the month my mother was wondering about marriage, the punk-rock band, Devo,&amp;nbsp;released their album &lt;em&gt;Freedom of Choice?&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp; - or an intervention?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-1763882242927565443?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/1763882242927565443/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/is-universe-indifferent.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/1763882242927565443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/1763882242927565443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/is-universe-indifferent.html' title='Is the Universe Indifferent?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-4887318934495729737</id><published>2011-09-16T14:00:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T14:00:18.671-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How Can I Stop a Train Wreck?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-0"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I've been asked this numerous times by friends and relatives concerned about their loved ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-0"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;My friend, R., in Halifax told me that he spent his summers during university working on the cross-Canada train.&amp;nbsp; One&amp;nbsp;year there was a bad train crash.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Keeping his mind clear and focussed, he rushed to the front where the collision had occurred,&amp;nbsp;got people to safety, and even&amp;nbsp;rescued their luggage.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I was in a train crash a few years back.&amp;nbsp; Buses were sent from Toronto to rescue us, but workcrews had to first build a wooden pathway across a wetlands to the highway.&amp;nbsp; I sat in the passenger car for hours singing train songs to the fearful travellers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-0"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Sometimes we&amp;nbsp;can see a train wreck&amp;nbsp;about to happen.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We know there's a large obstacle ahead, or the bridge&amp;nbsp;has collapsed.&amp;nbsp; Maybe there's an oncoming train.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We don't know exactly when it will happen, but it will, and it will be sad.&amp;nbsp; There they are, on the journey of a lifetime, left lying by the side of the tracks.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Mostly,&amp;nbsp;we can't stop a train wreck - only the train can do that -&amp;nbsp;but if they let us, we might be able to get them to safety and store their luggage, or hold their hand and sing to them,&amp;nbsp;until they hop on their next train.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-4887318934495729737?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/4887318934495729737/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/how-can-i-stop-train-wreck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4887318934495729737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4887318934495729737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/how-can-i-stop-train-wreck.html' title='How Can I Stop a Train Wreck?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-8839940014724947171</id><published>2011-09-12T09:55:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T09:55:05.481-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Do You Remember from Your Schooldays?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;We certainly learn a great deal in our 15-20 years of schooling, but how many specific moments do we remember?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Back in the late 80s, just this time of year, I was getting ready to teach the first class of the semester to&amp;nbsp;40 electrical engineering students at Mohawk College in Hamilton, Ontario.&amp;nbsp; I was watching my&amp;nbsp;round, red kitchen wall clock -- but one of the hands had slipped and it was later than I thought.&amp;nbsp; By the time I showed up for class, the students had left.&amp;nbsp; This was not going to help build a relationship of trust.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I held my first class with them&amp;nbsp;two days later.&amp;nbsp; I apologized for my earlier absence and promised it wouldn't happen again.&amp;nbsp; I then pulled out the old clock and a hammer, and&amp;nbsp;smashed the clock into tiny pieces in front of them.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Many years later, I ran into one of my former students.&amp;nbsp; He said, "Hey, I know you.&amp;nbsp; You're the teacher that smashed the clock."&amp;nbsp; Then, "Yeah, that's about all I remember from my college days."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;What do you remember?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-8839940014724947171?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/8839940014724947171/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-do-you-remember-from-your.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8839940014724947171'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8839940014724947171'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-do-you-remember-from-your.html' title='What Do You Remember from Your Schooldays?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-5656276610820953081</id><published>2011-09-10T14:52:00.028-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-10T15:01:22.280-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is It OK to Be Wrong?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-0"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"No persons are more frequently wrong, than those who will not admit they are wrong."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-0"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;This quote by François de La Rochefoucauld showed up in my quote-of-the-day email from goodreads.com.&amp;nbsp; It reminded me of the stress I endured living with someone who could not admit he was wrong -- and how everything changed when he finally learned to say, "You were right and I was wrong."&amp;nbsp; He says it all the time now.&amp;nbsp; So do I.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-0"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;When you say,&amp;nbsp;"You were right and I was wrong," the conflict is over.&amp;nbsp; If you don't say it, the conflict -- which might have been trivial -- stays alive taking up precious mental real estate.&amp;nbsp; So if it is obvious that you were wrong, learn to say the seven magic words.&amp;nbsp; Need a lesson?&amp;nbsp; Here is a nine-second video of a man admitting he was wrong:&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53W4hI-_vBQ"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53W4hI-_vBQ&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Having ended one conflict, we can move on to the new disagreements that are waiting for us just beyond the next cup of coffee.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-5656276610820953081?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/5656276610820953081/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/is-it-ok-to-be-wrong.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5656276610820953081'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5656276610820953081'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/is-it-ok-to-be-wrong.html' title='Is It OK to Be Wrong?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-4734318062676670177</id><published>2011-09-08T19:24:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T20:51:51.508-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Should I Lend My Boyfriend Money?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Women often ask me, "Should I lend my boyfriend money?"&amp;nbsp; (I think men might also&amp;nbsp;puzzle about loans to lovers.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Shakespeare, via Polonius said "no":&amp;nbsp; "Neither a borrower nor a lender be/For loan oft loses both itself and friend/And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry"&amp;nbsp;(Hamlet, I, iii, 75-77).&amp;nbsp; Polonius is saying&amp;nbsp;if you lend money you will lose both the&amp;nbsp;money and the friend and if you have to borrow money, you are not being thrifty.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Loni Anderson in &lt;em&gt;WKRP in Cincinnati&lt;/em&gt; said "no."&amp;nbsp; When Dr. Johnny Fever asks her for a loan, she says, "I never lend money to a man.&amp;nbsp; It makes me lose respect for him."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;My girlfriend V.F. said, "yes."&amp;nbsp; Her&amp;nbsp;friend, a boy named for a blind underground rodent,&amp;nbsp;paid her back.&amp;nbsp; I imagine she'd lend money again.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;My mother said, "absolutely not."&amp;nbsp; She lent money to a male friend for laser eye&amp;nbsp;surgery.&amp;nbsp; The surgery was unsuccessful and, when he paid her back, his cheque bounced.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I tend to agree with Polonius.&amp;nbsp; When I am capable and motivated to lend money to someone in need, I don't&amp;nbsp;expect it back.&amp;nbsp; If I needed it back, I probably would not lend it in the first place.&amp;nbsp; I suppose that every relationship is a deal (See September 2 blog), even our relationship to money.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-4734318062676670177?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/4734318062676670177/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/should-i-lend-my-boyfriend-money.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4734318062676670177'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4734318062676670177'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/should-i-lend-my-boyfriend-money.html' title='Should I Lend My Boyfriend Money?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-9011130574926175989</id><published>2011-09-07T09:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T01:44:17.433-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Can Dreams Tell Us?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #274e13; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;From the time I was 18 till I was about 28, I had a recurring nightmare in which my teeth were falling out.&amp;nbsp; The nightmare would take a variety of forms:&amp;nbsp; often I'd be&amp;nbsp;frantically calling a dentist but be unable to get through, sometimes it would be one tooth, sometimes many.&amp;nbsp; I mentioned this to my dentist and he said, not helpfully,&amp;nbsp;"All my patients have that dream."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Dream dictionaries were equally unhelpful:&amp;nbsp; fear of death, fear of change, fear of embarrassment.&amp;nbsp; None of that felt right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Discussing dreams with&amp;nbsp;a biofeedback therapist, I was&amp;nbsp;told to focus on an object in my dream - "as everything in the dream is a part of you."&amp;nbsp; She said to get into a deep relaxation state and go back into the dream.&amp;nbsp; Become the object, then ask yourself, as the object, "What do you&amp;nbsp;need?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;A few weeks after this discussion, I had the nightmare again.&amp;nbsp; The following day, I went back into the dream and became my tooth, experiencing the world from the tooth's point of view.&amp;nbsp; I asked my toothy self, "What do you need?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;My tooth said, "I need to have deeper roots."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #274e13; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I never had that nightmare again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-9011130574926175989?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/9011130574926175989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-can-dreams-tell-us.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/9011130574926175989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/9011130574926175989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-can-dreams-tell-us.html' title='What Can Dreams Tell Us?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-7311441515472860291</id><published>2011-09-06T20:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-06T20:22:57.133-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Do You Feel Held Back by Something in Your Past?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;Today, I heard this story from my friend J.J.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;J.J.&amp;nbsp;was feeling&amp;nbsp;stuck,&amp;nbsp;blocked,&amp;nbsp;stagnating - like she couldn't grow or move forward in her life.&amp;nbsp; She knew she had to connect with her mother somehow -- but her mother had been dead for several years.&amp;nbsp; While they had become close in the months before her death, J.J.&amp;nbsp;and her mother had had a stormy relationship.&amp;nbsp; That past relationship had J.J. in its grip.&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;She decided to write.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;Her&amp;nbsp;journal entry took the form of a letter to her mother.&amp;nbsp; One of their issues had been&amp;nbsp; J.J.'s relationship with her father as an adult -- many years &lt;/span&gt;after her parents' marriage ended.&amp;nbsp; During J.J.'s childhood, her father had been violent and dangerous, but later in life he had changed, sought help, and became supportive and loving.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;J.J.'s&amp;nbsp;mother could never forgive her husband&amp;nbsp;for his actions towards her and the children.&amp;nbsp; She was hurt at J.J.'s reconciliation with him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;As a result, J.J. couldn't freely love her father without feeling like she was betraying&amp;nbsp;her mother.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;She wrote and wrote, travelling the roads of anger, fear, sadness, and frustration arriving, finally, at forgiveness.&amp;nbsp; Not of her mother or father, but of herself.&amp;nbsp; She was unable to accept her mother's feelings while she lived.&amp;nbsp; Now she needed to forgive herself for not having been able to to that.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;This search and rescue operation of writing released her from regret.&amp;nbsp; It was time to move forward.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;How powerful is that?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;"You can let go of the past, but the past won't let go of you." - says Tom Cruise's character in the film,&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Comic Sans MS';"&gt;Magnolia&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp; But as I've discussed here before ("Are We Doomed?" August 1), the past will release&amp;nbsp;us when we accept it and understand its message.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-7311441515472860291?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/7311441515472860291/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/do-you-feel-held-back-by-something-in.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/7311441515472860291'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/7311441515472860291'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/do-you-feel-held-back-by-something-in.html' title='Do You Feel Held Back by Something in Your Past?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-5666091238518179614</id><published>2011-09-05T15:58:00.020-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T19:53:55.093-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Are You Full of Restless Longing?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Restless longing seems to come up often in my conversations - probably because I've been asking people, "Are you full of restless longing?"&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;One friend says he wants to travel&amp;nbsp;more and more every year.&amp;nbsp; I said, "Are you full of restless longing?"&amp;nbsp; He replied,&amp;nbsp;"Yes, at my back I always hear/&lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-1"&gt;Time's wingèd chariot hurrying near."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;My sister said we have &lt;em&gt;less&lt;/em&gt; restless longing as we get older.&amp;nbsp; But those irritating bucket list books&amp;nbsp;full of things to do before you die suggest more.&amp;nbsp; &lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-1"&gt;I wonder if restless longing is a gender thing, with the Y-gene carrying more restless longing than the&amp;nbsp;X&amp;nbsp;- but probably not.&amp;nbsp; Restless longing is a state of dissatisfaction.&amp;nbsp; It's nice to feel more satisfied and peaceful, but restless longing keeps us from becoming complacent and smug.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-1" style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;There's even a colour called "restless longing".&amp;nbsp; It's a fresh, bright green - suggesting a touch of envy.&amp;nbsp; You can see it here:&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Helvetica Neue&amp;quot;, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.colourlovers.com/color/BAF7BF/restless_longing"&gt;http://www.colourlovers.com/color/BAF7BF/restless_longing&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-1" style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Mostly, I figure longing is just lounging without "u" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="goog_qs-tidbit-1" style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I move up and down the continuum between restless longing and contentment.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Sometimes I lean more towards Andrew Marvell:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span lang="EN" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: 'Times New Roman'; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;"&gt;"Let us roll all our strength and all&lt;br /&gt;Our sweetness up into one ball,&lt;br /&gt;And tear our pleasures with rough strife&lt;br /&gt;Through the iron gates of life:"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;But not often enough.&amp;nbsp; Maybe I am full of restless longing.&amp;nbsp; Are you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-5666091238518179614?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/5666091238518179614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/are-you-full-of-restless-longing.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5666091238518179614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5666091238518179614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/are-you-full-of-restless-longing.html' title='Are You Full of Restless Longing?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-1190632582216440642</id><published>2011-09-04T01:08:00.009-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-25T21:51:55.344-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='passion'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Trotsky'/><title type='text'>Is There Any Passion in Your Life?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: &amp;quot;Helvetica Neue&amp;quot;, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Can a question change your life?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;"&gt;A question changed mine.&amp;nbsp; I used to be involved in community radio.&amp;nbsp; After a show one night in the 1980s, the guests - a gang of artists - and the producers and hosts of the show went for a drink in the student pub.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;"&gt;One of the artists sat next to me, looked me squarely in the eyes, and asked me this question:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;"Is there any passion in your life?"&amp;nbsp; I believe he meant outside of radio.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;"&gt;He had&amp;nbsp;tapped into my carefully concealed &lt;em&gt;Restless Longing&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp; My life changed at that moment.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;It&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;"&gt; started with a question.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;"&gt;I've heard this from others - that the right question&amp;nbsp;at the right time has changed lives.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;"&gt;Warsaw, 1898:&amp;nbsp; My grandfather, a teenager,&amp;nbsp;was considered a genius in his studies of Torah and Talmud.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;He met a man who engaged him in conversation.&amp;nbsp; The man&amp;nbsp;asked him this question:&amp;nbsp; "Can you prove the existence of God?"&amp;nbsp; This question led him to give up the religious life and become engaged&amp;nbsp;with the secular world.&amp;nbsp; He&amp;nbsp;traveled to Berlin where he lived and studied&amp;nbsp;with a philosopher.&amp;nbsp; He participated in the 1905 Russian Revolution, was sent to Siberia, escaped, travelled&amp;nbsp;to England and Africa, and eventually&amp;nbsp;joined Trotsky&amp;nbsp;in Zurich shortly before the 1917 Russian Revolution.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;"&gt;It started with a question.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-1190632582216440642?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/1190632582216440642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/is-there-any-passion-in-your-life.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/1190632582216440642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/1190632582216440642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/is-there-any-passion-in-your-life.html' title='Is There Any Passion in Your Life?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-1217735646022291148</id><published>2011-09-03T09:10:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T15:57:59.229-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>Why Should We Read Poetry?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;There's a million reasons to read poetry.&amp;nbsp; Here's just one by Tom Wayman.&amp;nbsp; This poem makes me laugh, even though it's sad.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;OFFICIAL ERRATA&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: #cc0000; font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; by Tom Wayman&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Where it says &lt;em&gt;welfare &lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;read &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;suffering&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial; font-size: medium;"&gt;"The seasonally-adjusted rate of suffering&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial; font-size: medium;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;fell one per cent last month."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;Where it says &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;defense &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;read &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;suffering&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial; font-size: medium;"&gt;"The Department of Suffering confirmed Friday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial; font-size: medium;"&gt;the shipment of $1 billion in new tanks and helicopters&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial; font-size: medium;"&gt;to friendly governments in Latin America." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;Where it says &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;productivity &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;read &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;suffering&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;"Canadian industry must increase the suffering of its &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;employees &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;at least 12 per cent this year."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;Where it says &lt;em&gt;co-operation&lt;/em&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;read&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;suffering&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial; font-size: medium;"&gt;"The administration requires the suffering of every citizen to see us through these difficult times."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;Where it says &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;efficiency &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;read &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;suffering&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;Where it says &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;management &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;read&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;suffering &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;Where it says &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;suffering &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: medium;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;read&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial,Arial;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;defeat &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;Tom Wayman&amp;nbsp;is the writer of the wonderful poem, "Did I Miss Anything?"&amp;nbsp; - a poem read by teachers to their students at the beginning of every year.&amp;nbsp; It's available all over the web.&amp;nbsp; He&amp;nbsp;g&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: inherit;"&gt;ave me permission to post this poem which was first printed in a 1989 collection,&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;In a Small House on the Outskirts of Heaven&lt;/em&gt; (Harbour), and is reprinted in a book of&amp;nbsp;new and selected poems, called &lt;em&gt;I'll Be Right Back, &lt;/em&gt;Ontario Review Press (1997).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note:&amp;nbsp; regardless of my feelings about optimism (see previous posts), I can occasionally appreciate a bit of ironic&amp;nbsp;bitterness.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-1217735646022291148?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/1217735646022291148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/why-should-we-read-poetry-part-one.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/1217735646022291148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/1217735646022291148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/why-should-we-read-poetry-part-one.html' title='Why Should We Read Poetry?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-4579060293170712341</id><published>2011-09-02T11:23:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T11:29:09.383-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Is Our Deal?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I teach a workshop called Communicating Nondefensively.&amp;nbsp; During the workshop, participants identify a statement that made them feel defensive.&amp;nbsp; It's a corporate workshop, so people usually use examples from their bosses, clients, or co-workers; but they might also quote their friends or parents.&amp;nbsp; At a recent workshop, one young woman said that this statement from her mother makes her feel defensive.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: red; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;"When are you going to get a real job?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;She was doing an unpaid internship with a nonprofit company.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I asked her if she had a "deal" with her mother - an agreement in which her mother supports her during this phase of her career.&amp;nbsp; She said she did.&amp;nbsp; I asked her whether the deal had been articulated.&amp;nbsp; Were they both subscribing to the same deal?&amp;nbsp; She wasn't sure.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;My aunt told me this:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;"Every relationship is a deal.&amp;nbsp; The problem is you don't always know what the deal is.&amp;nbsp; I was once in the hospital getting surgery and my husband told me he had to fly to South America for his work.&amp;nbsp; That's when I understood our deal."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-4579060293170712341?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/4579060293170712341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-is-our-deal.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4579060293170712341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4579060293170712341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-is-our-deal.html' title='What Is Our Deal?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-2160517926587817227</id><published>2011-09-01T21:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T16:27:46.191-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Did You Sign Up For?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;One of my best friends Liam, is in a long-term relationship with his lover Paul, his lover's wife, and their adult daughter.&amp;nbsp; Midway through&amp;nbsp;Liam and Paul's&amp;nbsp;relationship, their daughter developed MS, with&amp;nbsp;progressively worsening symptoms.&amp;nbsp; The whole family together cares for her and for&amp;nbsp;one another in their home.&amp;nbsp; As various family members travel for work, Liam might be home alone for a week&amp;nbsp;providing personal care to their daughter&amp;nbsp;as required.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Someone said to&amp;nbsp;Liam sympathetically, "This isn't what you signed up for."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;He replied, "I choose my family very carefully.&amp;nbsp; There are no givens.&amp;nbsp; When you sign up, you take what comes your way."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;What will you sign up for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;What will&amp;nbsp;keep you from signing off?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-2160517926587817227?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/2160517926587817227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-did-you-sign-up-for.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2160517926587817227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2160517926587817227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/09/what-did-you-sign-up-for.html' title='What Did You Sign Up For?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-2638646689586914076</id><published>2011-08-31T22:26:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T00:23:07.177-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What is Optimism?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I had an argument yesterday about this question.&amp;nbsp; My friend equated optimism with idiocy.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;To him, optimism was synonymous with Pollyanna-ism:&amp;nbsp; "A belittling and often insulting term for believing in a good world where everything works out for the best all the time" (&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;http://www.urbandictionary.com/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;).&amp;nbsp; I see his point, but that's not what optimism means to me.&amp;nbsp; Perhaps both optimism and pessimism have active and passive forms:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Passive optimist&lt;/u&gt;:&amp;nbsp; You don't have to do anything because generosity and kindness will somehow triumph.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Passive pessimist&lt;/u&gt;:&amp;nbsp; You don't have to do anything because incompetence, stupidity, and selfishness will always triumph.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Active optimist&lt;/u&gt;:&amp;nbsp; You look for alternatives, other ways of seeing, explaining, and solving problems.&amp;nbsp; Choose your battles.&amp;nbsp; Tackle problems one at a time.&amp;nbsp; Even when things do not improve, your passionate actions might inspire others, and you probably have more fun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;Active pessimist&lt;/u&gt;:&amp;nbsp; Be indignant.&amp;nbsp; Complain and whine about incompetence, stupidity, and selfishness.&amp;nbsp; You can see a better way - that's why you're so frustrated.&amp;nbsp; But although you tend to see the worst in everything, sometimes, your indignation causes you to try to try to change the world (but never yourself).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Passive or active, pessimists are a pain to be around.&amp;nbsp; They don't even get along with each other.&amp;nbsp; Oh dear.&amp;nbsp; I seem to be terribly pessimistic in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;my opinion of pessimists.&amp;nbsp; Let me change that. &amp;nbsp;Maybe just as winter helps us appreciate summer, we need&amp;nbsp;the cold, dark pessimists to appreciate sunny&amp;nbsp;optimists.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-2638646689586914076?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/2638646689586914076/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-is-optimism.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2638646689586914076'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2638646689586914076'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-is-optimism.html' title='What is Optimism?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-8390590455187586612</id><published>2011-08-30T10:11:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-01T00:11:00.771-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Do I Believe What I Believe?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;W&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;hen asked to explain his success, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Arno Penzias, 1978 Nobel Prize winner for physics, said "Change starts with the individual.&amp;nbsp; So the first thing I do each morning is ask myself, 'Why do I strongly believe what I believe?'&amp;nbsp; Constantly examine your own assumptions."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; from "The Art of Powerful Questions" (see &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.theworldcafe.com/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;www.theworldcafe.com&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: x-small;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Times, &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;, serif;"&gt; toolkit)&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;We choose our beliefs (e.g. love is better than anger, hope is better than fear), but can we always&amp;nbsp;logically justify why we believe it?&amp;nbsp; Everything we believe has a source - our upbringing, education, or culture form the categories through which we process our experiences.&amp;nbsp; To even answer that question, we are subject to assumptions contained in the language of our inquiry.&amp;nbsp; Assumptions within assumptions, mirrors within mirrors.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;No wonder many people need to find some firm footing in a pre-existing belief system or they would feel like Alice falling through the rabbit hole.&amp;nbsp; Speaking of Alice, here's an easier question to consider for today:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Visualize some neglected aspect of your life as a white rabbit running away from you muttering "I'm late, I'm late."&amp;nbsp; Where would it take you if you followed it down a rabbit hole?&amp;nbsp; Neglected aspects of your life might include your passion, your courage, your creativity, your spirituality,&amp;nbsp;your desire for style or fashion, your longing for love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Did I say easier?&amp;nbsp; I'm sorry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-8390590455187586612?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/8390590455187586612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-do-i-believe-what-i-believe.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8390590455187586612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8390590455187586612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-do-i-believe-what-i-believe.html' title='Why Do I Believe What I Believe?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-2877768620659425724</id><published>2011-08-28T09:36:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-28T09:36:59.305-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Do They Apologize for Mourning?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Many people grieving Jack Layton online (especially in the first few days&amp;nbsp;on the &lt;em&gt;Globe&lt;/em&gt; and CBC websites)&amp;nbsp;began with "I didn't vote for him, but" or "I don't agree with his politics, but" and&amp;nbsp;other similar statements.&amp;nbsp; What's with the disclaimers?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I suppose there are many reasons for the need to modify&amp;nbsp;our feelings and statements by first apologizing for them.&amp;nbsp; My most generous interpretation is that those apologizing for grieving are surprised at the depth of their own feelings -- given their past non-support for Jack Layton or the NDP.&amp;nbsp; The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;disclaimers also seem defensive and self-protective (glossing over an underlying fear).&amp;nbsp; Yes, I respect the goodness of Jack -- but I don't want you to see me as a socialist.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Dear people, it is so&amp;nbsp;hard for humans to hold contrary beliefs at the same time.&amp;nbsp; Their brains hurt when they think something like this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Jack Layton was a good man, but&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Socialists are bad, but&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Jack was a socialist, therefore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Jack was bad - except that he was good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;When faced with opposites, people experience a kind of cognitive dissonence&amp;nbsp;or bad music in the brain.&amp;nbsp; The disclaimer helps them live with the two opposing thoughts -- but prevents them from examining the underlying assumptions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-2877768620659425724?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/2877768620659425724/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-do-they-apologize-for-mourning.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2877768620659425724'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2877768620659425724'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-do-they-apologize-for-mourning.html' title='Why Do They Apologize for Mourning?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-8161560085039942441</id><published>2011-08-27T09:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-28T08:49:03.216-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Is the Meaning of Life?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Being alive is a miracle, a mystery, and a gift.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I can't say I think about the meaning of life at all&amp;nbsp;anymore, yet my friend M. says that's&amp;nbsp;the question&amp;nbsp;she thinks about most&amp;nbsp;often.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I stopped wondering about the &lt;em&gt;meaning&lt;/em&gt; of life after reading these lines&amp;nbsp;from Joseph Campbell:&amp;nbsp; "I don't believe people are looking for the meaning of life as much as they are looking for the &lt;strong&gt;experience of being alive."&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;The moment I read that quote, I&amp;nbsp;decided that I would try to deepen my students experience of being alive.&amp;nbsp; I left the meaning question to others.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Joseph Campbell continues - People are looking for the experience of being alive so that "our life experiences on the purely physical plane will have resonance within our own innermost being and reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive. That's what it's all finally about."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;My favourite quote on this question, though, comes from the wonderful writer and therapist,&amp;nbsp;Rachel Naomi Remen:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"We are all here for a single purpose:&amp;nbsp; to &lt;em&gt;grow in wisdom&lt;/em&gt; and to&lt;em&gt; learn to love better&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp; We can do this through losing as well as through winning, by having and by not having, by succeeding or by failing.&amp;nbsp; All we need to do is to show up openhearted for class"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-8161560085039942441?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/8161560085039942441/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-is-meaning-of-life.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8161560085039942441'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8161560085039942441'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-is-meaning-of-life.html' title='What Is the Meaning of Life?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-3337689774919729174</id><published>2011-08-23T09:10:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T16:29:18.060-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How Can We Be Loving and Hopeful?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Jack Layton's letter to Canadians ended with these words:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Love is better than anger.&amp;nbsp; Hope is better than fear.&amp;nbsp; Optimism is better than despair.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Darwin believed that human emotions evolved via natural selection with fear and anger evolving earlier than social emotions such as love and hope.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Anger and fear can find us quite easily.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Love and hope&amp;nbsp;have to be&lt;strong&gt; &lt;/strong&gt;chosen deliberately and consciously.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;It seems, though, that after a while of&amp;nbsp;deliberately choosing love and hope, those choices&amp;nbsp;start to be made automatically.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anger and fear drive us apart.&amp;nbsp; Love and hope bring us together.&amp;nbsp; "So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic.&amp;nbsp; And we'll change the world."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-3337689774919729174?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/3337689774919729174/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-can-we-be-loving-and-hopeful.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3337689774919729174'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3337689774919729174'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-can-we-be-loving-and-hopeful.html' title='How Can We Be Loving and Hopeful?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-3649003169613045247</id><published>2011-08-20T20:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-20T20:32:17.627-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How Do You Know a Film Was Good?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Movies (and other art experiences) are often completely forgettable.&amp;nbsp; Here are two questions I ask in considering the value of a film:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Do I think about it at least once the next day?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Would I want to have dinner with any of the characters?&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;If I say "yes" to both of these questions, then it was probably worth seeing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;What are your criteria?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-3649003169613045247?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/3649003169613045247/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-do-you-know-film-was-good.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3649003169613045247'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3649003169613045247'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-do-you-know-film-was-good.html' title='How Do You Know a Film Was Good?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-7807513858600767233</id><published>2011-08-19T10:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-19T10:29:17.227-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What's the Hardest Thing You Ever Had to Let Go Of?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Back in the last century, I had to let go of a doomed relationship that had already let go of me.&amp;nbsp; To help myself in the process, I asked everyone I met:&amp;nbsp; "What is the hardest thing you ever had to let go of?"&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;"My freedom," said a new mother.&amp;nbsp; "My youth," said someone who had just turned 40.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;People told me that it was hard letting go of jobs, friends, homelands, beliefs, and resentments.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;One friend, a graphic artist, said this:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;"For years I was ready to buy a house.&amp;nbsp; I had an image of the house I wanted.&amp;nbsp; It had to be modern in some ways, but cosy and old-fashioned in other ways.&amp;nbsp; The problem was that the house of my imagination didn't exist.&amp;nbsp; I poured tens of thousands of dollars into rent instead of into a mortgage.&amp;nbsp; When I finally let go of the house in my head, I found a great place.&amp;nbsp; In the end - letting go was easy, hanging on was hard... it stopped me from growing."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Fears sit just below the surface of the difficulty of letting go.&amp;nbsp; If we bring our fears&amp;nbsp;into the light and face them, letting go might be easier.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-7807513858600767233?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/7807513858600767233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/whats-hardest-thing-you-ever-had-to-let.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/7807513858600767233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/7807513858600767233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/whats-hardest-thing-you-ever-had-to-let.html' title='What&apos;s the Hardest Thing You Ever Had to Let Go Of?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-8878727028584198958</id><published>2011-08-18T09:21:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T22:31:14.139-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is There Something BIG and IMPORTANT Going On that We Know Nothing About?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Today's question, "Do you think&amp;nbsp;there is&amp;nbsp;something big and important going on that we know nothing about?" was one of the original 13&amp;nbsp;questions that I would ask my university English students.&amp;nbsp; Their answers included, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;"I'm not that paranoid."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;"If it was important, my mother would tell me." ... and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;"The people campaigning to remove fluoridation from the water supply are being instructed by their &lt;u&gt;Martian overlords&lt;/u&gt; who control them through the fillings in their teeth."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;On the course that year was Arthur C. Clarke's &lt;em&gt;Childhood's End&amp;nbsp;&lt;/em&gt;in which humans evolve to unite with a&amp;nbsp;large cosmic cloud of consciousness (the overmind).&amp;nbsp;Timothy Leary also speculated&amp;nbsp;on this idea&amp;nbsp;suggesting that there was a&amp;nbsp;manifest destiny of the DNA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I think that there are many many things going affecting our lives every day, but since they are things we know nothing about, I cannot say more.&amp;nbsp; What do you think?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-8878727028584198958?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/8878727028584198958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/is-there-something-big-and-important.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8878727028584198958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8878727028584198958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/is-there-something-big-and-important.html' title='Is There Something BIG and IMPORTANT Going On that We Know Nothing About?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-8119425635482510987</id><published>2011-08-16T10:14:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-14T20:17:04.447-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What's the Best Birthday Present Ever?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Last year my brother asked me what I wanted for my birthday.&amp;nbsp; I told him that I'd like to meet him somewhere for coffee or whatever and for him to ask me three questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;His first question was about my spousal unit and led to a discussion of our relationship.&amp;nbsp; His second question was "What did you learn this year?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;His third question was "Where do you find peace in the heart?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;If you do not want more stuff (see July 24 blog),&amp;nbsp;then interesting&amp;nbsp;questions, close attention to the answers, and thoughtful responses can also be wonderful gifts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-8119425635482510987?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/8119425635482510987/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/whats-best-birthday-present-ever.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8119425635482510987'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8119425635482510987'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/whats-best-birthday-present-ever.html' title='What&apos;s the Best Birthday Present Ever?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-9125502519880643533</id><published>2011-08-15T15:41:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T15:41:32.151-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Am I (And I Alone) Responsible For?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I woke up this morning with this question on my mind:&amp;nbsp; What am I responsible for?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Isn't that one of the &lt;em&gt;bigger&lt;/em&gt; questions we each face in our lives?&amp;nbsp; If we ask it at all.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I immediately started reading commentary on Genesis 4:9 ("Am I my brother's keeper?"), but decided to look elsewhere for a first answer.&amp;nbsp; I'm certain of two things:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;1.&amp;nbsp; I'm responsible to do things that I say I will do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;2.&amp;nbsp; If I bring life into the world, I'm responsible for cherishing it. [Explaining the meaning of&amp;nbsp;"cherish"&amp;nbsp;would take many more&amp;nbsp;words.]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;What are my responsibilities as a citizen of a nation-state?&amp;nbsp; as a worker who is paid to do a job?&amp;nbsp; as a member&amp;nbsp;of a family?&amp;nbsp; as a breather of air&amp;nbsp;in the biosphere?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;What are my responsibilities to myself as a lifeform?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-9125502519880643533?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/9125502519880643533/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-am-i-and-i-alone-responsible-for.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/9125502519880643533'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/9125502519880643533'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-am-i-and-i-alone-responsible-for.html' title='What Am I (And I Alone) Responsible For?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-483465952552024143</id><published>2011-08-14T21:27:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-14T21:32:30.683-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Else is Disappearing?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I just read this line in the August 8, 2011, &lt;em&gt;New Yorker&lt;/em&gt;, "He prefers skinny ties, which, he maintains, are harder to find than a decent reading lamp."&amp;nbsp; (Patricia Marx, "Real Men Don't Shop").&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Yes, skinny ties are apparently disappearing, along with&amp;nbsp;thin belts.&amp;nbsp;I'm wearing one now on my flammable shorts (see July 21 blog post), but it was very hard to find.&amp;nbsp; Most irritating is the disappearance of B and 2B pencils in packs of 10.&amp;nbsp; You can get B (#1) or 2-10B pencils in the art section of your office supply store, but they don't have erasers and you are meant to use them&amp;nbsp;for drawing only.&amp;nbsp; Decent pencils have been disappearing for a while now.&amp;nbsp; I met a frustrated man in Staples the other day.&amp;nbsp; We were both hunting for pencils and he went on and on about lead falling out of pencils when he sharpens them, lousy erasers, and the effect&amp;nbsp;bad pencils are having on his golf game.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I mentioned in yesterday's blog that conversation is disappearing and apparently picnics.&amp;nbsp; You doubt me?&amp;nbsp; Then ask yourself, how many picnics have you had this year, compared to 1986, say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I know the disappearance of skinny ties is trivial compared to non-renewable resources, bees and other&amp;nbsp;species, and clean air, but maybe all these disappearing things are part of a pattern or a trend?&amp;nbsp; Oh, I've noticed trends are also disappearing.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-483465952552024143?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/483465952552024143/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-else-is-disappearing.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/483465952552024143'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/483465952552024143'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-else-is-disappearing.html' title='What Else is Disappearing?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-5355246221408363356</id><published>2011-08-13T10:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T23:55:03.965-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Should I Leave the House?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Yes, you never know what might happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I was coaxed to leave the house yesterday and go hear The Sultans of String - a charming three-person band playing music from Lebanon to Cape Breton Island.&amp;nbsp; The music was delightful, but the outing&amp;nbsp;became more delightful when I began chatting with a&amp;nbsp;young man at the next table.&amp;nbsp; I asked him whether he thought music answered questions, and we got to talking&amp;nbsp;about questions in general.&amp;nbsp; He opened his notebook and showed me the entry he had made that very morning:&amp;nbsp; "What are my biggest questions right now? - or if not the biggest, then the next biggest?" and underneath, "Where is my next inspiration going to come from?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I told him I was working on this question:&amp;nbsp; "What else is disappearing?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;He said, "This is disappearing."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"What?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"Conversation."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;He said piercingly, "Would you mind if I started my own book of questions - or would that be stealing?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"Everyone should have their own questions," I replied.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-5355246221408363356?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/5355246221408363356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/should-i-leave-house.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5355246221408363356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5355246221408363356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/should-i-leave-house.html' title='Should I Leave the House?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-1435906704073465758</id><published>2011-08-12T13:16:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T09:52:18.553-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Questions Does Harry Potter Answer?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;In the April 10, &lt;em&gt;New York Times Book Review, &lt;/em&gt;a writer asked the question:&amp;nbsp; Why are vampire books and Harry Potter books so popular among young people?&amp;nbsp; The author, Dana Stevens, said that pre-teen and teenage readers are "poised between the powerless dependence of childhood and the frighteningly unmoored freedom of adult life."&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;Books in which children harness otherworldly powers to vanquish cosmic evil answer their most urgent questions.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Stevens says these questions are&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.&amp;nbsp; What is my destiny?&lt;br /&gt;2.&amp;nbsp; How can I know the extent, and limit, of my powers?&lt;br /&gt;3.&amp;nbsp; Do the moral choices I make really matter?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I recall asking a version of those questions when I was younger.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Some of us try to develop our powers and create our&amp;nbsp;destiny.&amp;nbsp; Others let destiny decide for them (or think they do).&amp;nbsp; We make large and small moral decisions every day.&amp;nbsp; They always matter.&amp;nbsp; Those decisions determine our character and set up the circumstances that lead to our next decision.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Another review in the same issue of the NYTBR said that books for children 3-7 asked these questions:&amp;nbsp; "Is there anything good about being small?"&amp;nbsp; and "Will I ever be as good as the big kids?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;My question:&amp;nbsp; What's with book reviewers saying that books ask (and answer) questions?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;My answer:&amp;nbsp; Questions are everywhere, like math, physics, and love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-1435906704073465758?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/1435906704073465758/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-questions-does-harry-potter-answer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/1435906704073465758'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/1435906704073465758'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-questions-does-harry-potter-answer.html' title='What Questions Does Harry Potter Answer?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-7945240466818911392</id><published>2011-08-11T10:43:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-11T16:13:45.800-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Should I Believe?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;In Doug Coupland's book &lt;em&gt;Generation A&lt;/em&gt; (2009), one&amp;nbsp;of the&amp;nbsp;characters gets a phone call:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Father:&amp;nbsp; "It's time we had a talk."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;Zo&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;ë:&amp;nbsp; "What is it, Father?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Father:&amp;nbsp; "It's simple, really.&amp;nbsp; You need to know that your mother and I don't believe in anything."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;and later he says, "Ideology is for people who don't trust their own experiences and perceptions of the world"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;(pp. 165-166).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;This is reminiscent of a line from &lt;em&gt;Marat/Sade,&amp;nbsp;&lt;/em&gt;by Peter Weiss.&lt;em&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/em&gt;In the play, the infamous&amp;nbsp;Marquis de Sade says, "The only truth we can point to is the ever changing truth of our own experience."&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;In other words, truth is a moment-to-moment negotiation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;The trouble with experiences and perceptions being equated with "truth" is that perceptions are often immediately interpreted and the&lt;em&gt; interpretation&lt;/em&gt; is remembered and believed, rather than the direct experience&amp;nbsp; -- brain research shows that even when a part of the brain is poked to elicit a&amp;nbsp;feeling, the research subject creates a non-poking cause for the feeling (See &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2002/12/17/health/behavior-mind-fills-the-need-to-explain.html"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"&gt;http://www.nytimes.com/2002/12/17/health/behavior-mind-fills-the-need-to-explain.html&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #134f5c; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In his song "God," John Lennon discounts all the things people normally believe in including magic, the Bible, Jesus, Gita, Elvis, and the Beatles.&amp;nbsp; He says, "I just believe in me, Yoko and me."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But what should we believe in?&amp;nbsp; More on this soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-7945240466818911392?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/7945240466818911392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-should-i-believe.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/7945240466818911392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/7945240466818911392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-should-i-believe.html' title='What Should I Believe?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-371691260197128813</id><published>2011-08-09T11:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T12:58:55.511-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Shy. What Do I Say Next?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Most people see conversation as the search for overlap in the Venn Diagram of&amp;nbsp;their realities.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"How are you?"&amp;nbsp; "What do you do?"&amp;nbsp; "What are you studying?"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;and then, for many people -- the&amp;nbsp;awkward silence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Here's what to do:&amp;nbsp; Listen carefully to the answer&amp;nbsp;to your first question, and then follow up with a related question.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;- What program are you in? [first question]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;- Computer Science&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;- How did you get interested in that? [second question]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;- My dad was an engineer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;- Really?&amp;nbsp; So you were forced to learn math before you could walk?&amp;nbsp; What was it like growing up in a family like that? [deeper question]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;It sounds easy, but it's not.&amp;nbsp; In my classes, students introduce one another to the class as a public speaking exercise.&amp;nbsp; Each student has a chance to ask another student a question&amp;nbsp;based on the information in the introduction.&amp;nbsp; They are told in advance which one of them&amp;nbsp;will ask the next question.&amp;nbsp; Every class there are several who cannot come up with any question at all.&amp;nbsp; They may be shy or nervous.&amp;nbsp; Maybe they weren't listening.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;A&amp;nbsp;conversation depends on getting&amp;nbsp;to the first question and then the second.&amp;nbsp; A conversation involves being open-hearted and genuinely interested in the other person.&amp;nbsp; Conversations with new people do not have to start with "What do you do?" or "Come here often?"&amp;nbsp; Try something else.&amp;nbsp; Here's some suggestions:&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.lilblume.ca/questions/"&gt;http://www.lilblume.ca/questions/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-371691260197128813?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/371691260197128813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/im-shy-what-do-i-say-next.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/371691260197128813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/371691260197128813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/im-shy-what-do-i-say-next.html' title='I&apos;m Shy. What Do I Say Next?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-6017717609475954042</id><published>2011-08-07T11:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T11:17:47.500-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Does It Get Any Easier?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Shruti; font-size: 18pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: Shruti; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;Almost 30 years ago, on the stairwell of McMaster University, one of my engineering students - his lip quivering - asked me, "Does it get any easier?"&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Shruti; font-size: 18pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: Shruti; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Shruti; font-size: 18pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: Shruti; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Shruti; font-size: 18pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: Shruti; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;I replied, "No John, it just gets weirder."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Shruti; font-size: 18pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: Shruti; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Shruti; font-size: 18pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-font-family: Shruti; mso-hansi-font-family: 'Times New Roman';"&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy; font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;This question is still asked by students. The answer is mostly the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-6017717609475954042?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/6017717609475954042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/does-it-get-any-easier.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/6017717609475954042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/6017717609475954042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/does-it-get-any-easier.html' title='Does It Get Any Easier?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-3220607723310358385</id><published>2011-08-06T11:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T11:01:56.609-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How Can I Comfort a Troubled Friend?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I had been going through some stressful times.&amp;nbsp; A friend of mine said via email,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt; "Let me know if you want to talk.&amp;nbsp; I'm here to listen."&amp;nbsp; That phrase rubbed me the wrong way.&amp;nbsp; I didn't mention it because I know my friend only meant goodness and was troubled for me and wanted to show support.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;As you know from my previous blog on "Complaining, Venting, and Whining" (July 21), I do not find those behaviours useful.&amp;nbsp; The comment,&amp;nbsp;"I'm here to listen" -- which I repeat, was said with a big, open heart -- must have made me feel like a whiner.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I mentioned this today to my houseguest.&amp;nbsp; She told me of a time when her offer of support to a friend was taken as an offense.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"Should I have just said, 'How can I support you?'" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Maybe - maybe not.&amp;nbsp; "How can I support you?"&amp;nbsp;is probably a better response than giving advice or &lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;clichéd responses&lt;/span&gt; like "This too shall pass" or worse, "I know how you feel."&amp;nbsp; The problem with advice and "I know how you feel" is that, without realizing it, you are &amp;nbsp;barraging the friend with your reality.&amp;nbsp; They need you to put yourself aside for a moment and somehow "be"&amp;nbsp;with them.&amp;nbsp; It's a tough thing to do and takes practice.&amp;nbsp; (I have a cheat sheet of possible things to say.&amp;nbsp; I'll post it on my website.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Troubled people are troubled.&amp;nbsp; Sometimes it doesn't matter what we say, but usually an expression recognizing their difficulty without trying to fix it will keep you connected to the other person.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-3220607723310358385?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/3220607723310358385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-can-i-comfort-troubled-friend.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3220607723310358385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3220607723310358385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-can-i-comfort-troubled-friend.html' title='How Can I Comfort a Troubled Friend?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-6932729921357100655</id><published>2011-08-04T22:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T11:13:25.421-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='best apology'/><title type='text'>How Many Times Do I Have to Apologize?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Only &lt;u&gt;once&lt;/u&gt; if you do it right.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Too often an apology sounds like this:&amp;nbsp; "I'm sorry for yelling at you -- but you pissed me off."&amp;nbsp; (Translation:&amp;nbsp; It's your fault.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Or, "I'm sorry - OK?"&amp;nbsp; (Translation:&amp;nbsp; I'm sorry you're mad.&amp;nbsp; Get over it)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Or, "I said I was sorry.&amp;nbsp; How many times do I have to apologize?" (Translation:&amp;nbsp; It's &lt;em&gt;your&lt;/em&gt; fault that you're still mad.&amp;nbsp; Get over it.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Have you ever been genuinely sorry? &amp;nbsp;Maybe &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;you did something foolish or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;you weren’t sufficiently careful or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;you spoke inappropriately or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;you accidentally broke something that belonged to someone else.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;After making excuses and blaming everyone else,&amp;nbsp;you thought about it and you realized that you were wrong.&amp;nbsp; Maybe the other person contributed in some way...but that doesn't diminish your contribution.&amp;nbsp; When you finally&amp;nbsp;apologized, the other person said, "That’s not enough" or "I don’t believe you." What now?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Here are the parts of a good apology:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;1.&amp;nbsp;&lt;strong&gt; Apologize for the specific thing&lt;/strong&gt;.&amp;nbsp; "I'm sorry for being an asshole in the car when you were giving me directions and I took the wrong turn and I thought you were blaming me but you were just trying to explain how we could find the right street."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;2.&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;Acknowledge the effect on the other person&lt;/strong&gt;:&amp;nbsp; "When I behaved like that, you must have felt completely misunderstood, falsely accused, and disconnected from me."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;3.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Recognize the consequences:&amp;nbsp; "&lt;/strong&gt;I get so frustrated when I get lost that you probably are anxious about driving with me in a new city."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;4(a)&amp;nbsp; &lt;strong&gt;Ask what you can do to build trust:&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;nbsp; "Is there anything I can do to show you I'm really sorry about blowing up."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;4(b) &lt;strong&gt;Alternatively, say what you will do in the future to reduce the risk of that happening again&lt;/strong&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;"How about if you drive next time we're in a new city?"&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;After hearing your fabulous apology, the other person will likely also apologize for their contribution to the conflict.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Maybe there are extenuating circumstances and other issues -- there usually are -- but your apology is not concerned with them.&amp;nbsp; Bringing up excuses will diminish your apology.&amp;nbsp; Although if you really have to -- you can say, "There were some other things going on with me, if you're interested."&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-6932729921357100655?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/6932729921357100655/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-many-times-do-i-have-to-apologize.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/6932729921357100655'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/6932729921357100655'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-many-times-do-i-have-to-apologize.html' title='How Many Times Do I Have to Apologize?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-8899996552287148088</id><published>2011-08-03T08:49:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T23:44:28.715-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Can Parents Learn from a GPS Navigation Unit?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;You've typed a destination into your GPS and it has decided on a route for you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;For reasons unknown to the unit, you decide to deviate from its route.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;It says, "Recalculating" and then tries to convince you to go back to the original route a few times.&amp;nbsp; It will ask you to turn right, then turn right, or to make a U-turn.&amp;nbsp; Eventually it realizes what's happening and accepts the new route.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Recalculating involves giving up its version of reality and dealing with the facts on the ground.&amp;nbsp; There are many routes and you are taking a different one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;*******&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"Mom, I decided that I don't want to be a doctor.&amp;nbsp; I want to be a musician.&amp;nbsp; I can make a few dollars as a school crossing guard -- that'll give me time to&amp;nbsp;compose music during the day.&amp;nbsp; I'll practice with the band at night."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"Recalculating.&amp;nbsp; Maybe you can take biology at night school."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"The band will be practicing every night."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"Recalculating.&amp;nbsp; If you apply to med school&amp;nbsp;in the fall, you might be able to get in next year."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"We'll be on tour."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;"Recalculating.&amp;nbsp; .... Recalculating.... When can I hear you play?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-8899996552287148088?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/8899996552287148088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-can-parents-learn-from-gps.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8899996552287148088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8899996552287148088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/what-can-parents-learn-from-gps.html' title='What Can Parents Learn from a GPS Navigation Unit?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-5778862988855487541</id><published>2011-08-02T11:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T23:43:37.050-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why Don't Our Children Learn From Our Mistakes?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #073763; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;First of all, they do learn from many of our mistakes - especially if &lt;em&gt;we&lt;/em&gt; have learned from those&amp;nbsp;mistakes by the time the children arrive.&amp;nbsp; They also make many of the same mistakes we make.&amp;nbsp; It's genetic.&amp;nbsp; Mistakes are also hormonal.&amp;nbsp; Since, sometimes our precious and&amp;nbsp;beloved children are the result of our mistakes, it's counter-intuitive for them not to&amp;nbsp;make the same ones.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-5778862988855487541?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/5778862988855487541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-cant-our-children-learn-from-our.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5778862988855487541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5778862988855487541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/why-cant-our-children-learn-from-our.html' title='Why Don&apos;t Our Children Learn From Our Mistakes?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-4278869619169014980</id><published>2011-08-01T23:39:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T11:39:34.925-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Are We Doomed?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: #20124d;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Angels in America, Part Two &lt;/em&gt;begins with the oldest living Bolshevik asking three questions:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Are we doomed?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Will the past release us?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Can we change?&amp;nbsp; In time?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;In &lt;em&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;Angels&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, we see&amp;nbsp;characters who loved their partners, but not enough.&amp;nbsp; There's Louis who was unable to&amp;nbsp;handle his partner (Prior)'s AIDS.&amp;nbsp; He hoped he could escape his life and focus only on&amp;nbsp;himself.&amp;nbsp; We see Joe who tried to abandon his wingy wife&amp;nbsp;(Harper) and escape into his passionate moments with Louis.&amp;nbsp; And there's Roy&amp;nbsp;Cohn&amp;nbsp;who loved nobody and his loyalty was unapologetically &lt;em&gt;only&lt;/em&gt; to himself (and note:&amp;nbsp; it is&amp;nbsp;Roy who dies). &amp;nbsp;In the cosmological scenes, it seems that god did not love the angels enough and has abandoned them.&amp;nbsp; The angels are waiting for him or her to return.&amp;nbsp; The cosmological&amp;nbsp;scenes seem to suggest complex societal changes as god, the angels, and humanity all drift away from each other.&amp;nbsp; (An old order is dying and a new one is struggling to be born.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;In the end, &lt;em&gt;the possibility of redemption&lt;/em&gt; comes from the willingness of Prior and Harper to cut themselves off from Louis and Joe, cut themselves off from those who did not &lt;em&gt;love them enough&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Not being loved enough is one slow, sure death.... and if god&amp;nbsp;has not loved the angels enough, perhaps they too should stop waiting.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;So I believe the play's answers to the questions that begin it are&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Only when we accept it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;Maybe, some of us can.&amp;nbsp; Change.&amp;nbsp; In time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="color: #20124d; font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;hr width="30%" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;Here's a downer.&amp;nbsp; A quote from the play:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b sizcache="1" sizset="552"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000571/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #136cb2;"&gt;Harper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;: In your experience of the world. How do people change? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b sizcache="1" sizset="553"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0917848/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #136cb2;"&gt;Mormon Mother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;: Well it has something to do with God so it's not very nice. God splits the skin with a jagged thumbnail from throat to belly and then plunges a huge filthy hand in, he grabs hold of your bloody tubes and they slip to evade his grasp but he squeezes hard, he insists, he pulls and pulls till all your innards are yanked out and the pain! We can't even talk about that. And then he stuffs them back, dirty, tangled and torn. It's up to you to do the stitching. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b sizcache="1" sizset="554"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0000571/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #136cb2;"&gt;Harper&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;: And then up you get. And walk around. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b sizcache="1" sizset="555"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0917848/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #136cb2;"&gt;Mormon Mother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;: Just mangled guts pretending. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b sizcache="1" sizset="556"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0917848/"&gt;&lt;span style="color: #136cb2;"&gt;Mormon Mother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/b&gt;: That's how people change. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-4278869619169014980?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/4278869619169014980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/are-we-doomed.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4278869619169014980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4278869619169014980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/08/are-we-doomed.html' title='Are We Doomed?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-5936518541937350210</id><published>2011-07-31T23:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T05:03:19.739-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Risks Did You Take Today?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I grew up in an activist family.&amp;nbsp; My parents were engaged in human rights and&amp;nbsp;social justice issues.&amp;nbsp; In the evening, when we'd get together for dinner, my father would turn to me and my two older&amp;nbsp;siblings and ask us this question:&amp;nbsp; What did you do &lt;em&gt;today&lt;/em&gt; for the benefit of humanity?&amp;nbsp; I didn't&amp;nbsp;understand the meaning of&amp;nbsp;"benefit of humanity," but if I answered, "I helped the teacher erase the chalkboards," I'd get a nod and a smile.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Many years later, I began to wonder how my life would have been different if my father had asked us, "What risks did you take today?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I mentioned this to my older brother, and he said, "That &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; the question."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I said, "Um, no.&amp;nbsp; The question was about benefiting humanity."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; He said, "Those were the words, but the real question was, &lt;em&gt;What risks did you take today?&amp;nbsp; How did you challenge authority today?&amp;nbsp; How did you stick it to the man today&lt;/em&gt;?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I phoned my older sister in B.C. and said, "Remember when we were kids and Dad asked us what we did for the benefit of humanity.&amp;nbsp; What was he asking?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Without hesitation, she said, "What he meant was&lt;em&gt; how did you help your mother today."&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-5936518541937350210?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/5936518541937350210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/do-you-feel-you-risk-enough-in-your.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5936518541937350210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5936518541937350210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/do-you-feel-you-risk-enough-in-your.html' title='What Risks Did You Take Today?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-372518968058437467</id><published>2011-07-30T23:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T11:07:57.717-04:00</updated><title type='text'>You Make Me Feel Normal?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"My boyfriend says, 'You make me feel normal.'&amp;nbsp; What does he mean?&amp;nbsp; Should I be flattered or afraid?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I was asked this question recently.&amp;nbsp; He means this:&amp;nbsp; Most of his life, he feels uncomfortable and out of place around people.&amp;nbsp; He feels weird and different.&amp;nbsp; Your love and acceptance of him makes him feel like he's part of something, like he fits in.&amp;nbsp; He's not sure, but he&amp;nbsp;imagines "normal" people feel that way all the time.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Should you be flattered?&amp;nbsp; Yes, of course.&amp;nbsp; It's a lovely compliment.&amp;nbsp; You should also be afraid.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;I suggest you find&amp;nbsp;a romantic partner who says that you make him feel special or loved or even just good.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-372518968058437467?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/372518968058437467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/you-make-me-feel-normal.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/372518968058437467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/372518968058437467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/you-make-me-feel-normal.html' title='You Make Me Feel Normal?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-4860753519814156140</id><published>2011-07-29T09:31:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-06T10:25:35.050-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Besides Gravity, What Invisible Forces Affect Your Life?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;Back when I was an English teacher, I'd often give classes my cosmic questionnaire.&amp;nbsp; The questions introduced them to the themes that came up in poetry.&amp;nbsp; The invisible forces question also differentiated the Believers from the non-Believers.&amp;nbsp; The most common answer was "fate."&amp;nbsp; Recently, an all-night Shavuoth study session dealt with this question:&amp;nbsp; "Is the divine active in your life?"&amp;nbsp; Answers ranged from "Of course, it's obvious," to this quote from Jewish philosopher, Richard Rubenstein:&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;"We stand in a cold, silent, unfeeling cosmos unaided by any purposeful power beyond our own resources."&amp;nbsp; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Ahhh -- the cold silent, unfeeling, indifferent&amp;nbsp;cosmos.&amp;nbsp; Is that where we stand - unaided by any power beyond our own resources?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;I'd say, yes mostly, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS; font-size: small;"&gt;but I also think that our own resources are extensive, untapped, and mysterious and include resources for togetherness, cooperation, mercy, justice, and revelation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-4860753519814156140?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/4860753519814156140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/besides-gravity-what-invisible-forces.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4860753519814156140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4860753519814156140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/besides-gravity-what-invisible-forces.html' title='Besides Gravity, What Invisible Forces Affect Your Life?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-5959230251227029072</id><published>2011-07-28T08:01:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T17:51:42.041-04:00</updated><title type='text'>How Do I Screen for Psychopaths?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Dating is hard.&amp;nbsp; Women often ask me, "How do I screen for psychopaths?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I&amp;nbsp;suggest that they ask potential romantic partners two questions.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;1) What makes your life meaningful?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: navy;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Even a really skilled psychopath is unlikely to spit out "My volunteer work"-- and if he does, it can be verified with a background check&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;nbsp; And, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;2) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;What did you learn from your last relationship?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Answers like "Where to bury a body" might be a clue.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-5959230251227029072?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/5959230251227029072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/how-do-i-screen-for-psychopaths.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5959230251227029072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5959230251227029072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/how-do-i-screen-for-psychopaths.html' title='How Do I Screen for Psychopaths?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-3815179091939033652</id><published>2011-07-27T14:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T20:02:18.263-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Do Girlfriends Come with Manuals?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I have taught communication skills to&amp;nbsp;undergraduate computer science students for several years.&amp;nbsp; Every semester one of my students asks,&amp;nbsp;"Do girlfriends come with a manual?"&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;-- No, not any more.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Please see the comment below for&amp;nbsp;an explanation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-3815179091939033652?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/3815179091939033652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/do-girlfriends-come-with-manuals.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3815179091939033652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3815179091939033652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/do-girlfriends-come-with-manuals.html' title='Do Girlfriends Come with Manuals?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-8668887579349883940</id><published>2011-07-27T09:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-09-23T13:53:31.145-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Is There Such a Thing as Evil?  Is Evil Subjective or Objective?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;At a small dinner recently, I asked "Is there such a thing as evil, or is evil mostly ignorance, fear,&amp;nbsp;selfishness, and indoctrination?"&amp;nbsp; The group was split in half.&amp;nbsp; One guest said that evil is bad wiring and there's a usually a pill for it.&amp;nbsp; Another said that there absolutely were evil people.&amp;nbsp; He'd met them.&amp;nbsp; I asked if evil was just thinking&amp;nbsp;about yourself w/out considering anyone or anything else.&amp;nbsp; I wondered about those behind the BP oil&amp;nbsp;disaster in the&amp;nbsp;Gulf of Mexico&amp;nbsp;or the Bhopal gas leak.&amp;nbsp; My wise friend Suzanne said that selfishness or self-preoccupation (or capitalism) were not necessarily evil.&amp;nbsp; Evil, she said, was &lt;em&gt;wanting&lt;/em&gt; to inflict pain on others,&amp;nbsp;e.g. Saddam Hussein gassing the Kurds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Bad wiring?&amp;nbsp; Selfishness?&amp;nbsp; Fear?&amp;nbsp; Maybe it depends which side of the bullet you are on.&amp;nbsp; I am very very sad for the people of Norway this week.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Regardless of how evil is defined, I will continue to teach empathic listening.&amp;nbsp; Occasionally, it can stop an act of violence.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-8668887579349883940?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/8668887579349883940/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/is-there-such-thing-as-evil-is-evil.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8668887579349883940'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8668887579349883940'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/is-there-such-thing-as-evil-is-evil.html' title='Is There Such a Thing as Evil?  Is Evil Subjective or Objective?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-7883239017080180266</id><published>2011-07-26T10:29:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T14:13:56.276-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What is a Transcendent Art Experience?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;A friend wrote me recently saying that he did not see me as an art consumer -- the kind of person who would fly to NYC to see Kevin Spacey play Richard III on Broadway.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Actually, I'd love to fly to NYC to see Kevin Spacey play RIII - I'd even take an overnight bus from Toronto.&amp;nbsp; But indeed, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I'm definitely not an art "consumer" - I'm not much of a consumer of anything.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Increasingly, the only art events I want to experience are ones that are transformative and transcendent.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Unfortunately, one usually has to show up first and fully experience an&amp;nbsp;art event will in order to be transformed by it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Transcendent art experiences for me include the Met's 2006 Live in HD performance of &lt;em&gt;The Magic Flute &lt;/em&gt;and Stratford's 2005 version of&lt;em&gt;The Tempest &lt;/em&gt;with William Hutt.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;How were those performances transcendent?&amp;nbsp; They took&amp;nbsp;me beyond myself, outside of time.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I felt a&amp;nbsp;joy and lightness in the present.&amp;nbsp; I couldn't stop smiling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I felt connected to&amp;nbsp;Shakespeare and Mozart and to all&amp;nbsp;performers&amp;nbsp;who had played in those works in the past&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;I seemed momentarily to understand truths that would still be true in the future &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style="color: purple; font-family: Comic Sans MS;"&gt;Have you had a transcendent art experience?&amp;nbsp; What was it?&amp;nbsp; What did it transcend?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-7883239017080180266?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/7883239017080180266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-is-transcendent-art-experience.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/7883239017080180266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/7883239017080180266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-is-transcendent-art-experience.html' title='What is a Transcendent Art Experience?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-8512485523260278830</id><published>2011-07-25T05:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-08-02T05:04:18.117-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Is Holding You Together?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;A friend sent me (and everyone else on her mailing list) a sweet message announcing National Girlfriends Day.&amp;nbsp; The message, which was mostly about appreciating one another, also had this disturbing line:&amp;nbsp; "I am only as strong as the coffee I drink, the hairspray I use, and the friends I have."&amp;nbsp; I began to wonder:&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Are hairspray and friends&amp;nbsp;holding me together?&amp;nbsp; I don't even use hairspray.&amp;nbsp; I thought maybe dental floss was holding me together, but the truth is my floss breaks frequently and can't even hold itself together.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I'm certain one friend of mine is held together by her faith; another by helping others and her belief in the value of her work.&amp;nbsp; Still another says that when he meditates in the morning, his days go well.&amp;nbsp; When he doesn't, his days are full of bad decisions and irrational emotions.&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I once asked a psychology professor, "How come some people can cope with hard times and others fall apart?"&amp;nbsp; She responded that it all depends on how much your mother &lt;em&gt;enjoyed&lt;/em&gt; you as an infant.&amp;nbsp; Michael Meaney's research at McGill University suggests that theory may be correct.&amp;nbsp; He has found&amp;nbsp;that individual differences in maternal care can modify an offspring's cognitive development, as well as its ability to cope with stress later in life.&amp;nbsp; (See &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.douglas.qc.ca/researcher/michael-meaney?locale=en"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;http://www.douglas.qc.ca/researcher/michael-meaney?locale=en&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Regardless of early childhood experiences beyond our control, many of us&amp;nbsp;manage to adapt; and on some days, perhaps only coffee, hairspray, and friends hold us together -- maybe just the coffee.&amp;nbsp; What is holding you together?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-8512485523260278830?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/8512485523260278830/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-is-holding-you-together.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8512485523260278830'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/8512485523260278830'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-is-holding-you-together.html' title='What Is Holding You Together?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-9114238270826804378</id><published>2011-07-25T04:48:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T04:50:06.942-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What is a Flourishing Life?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="color: black; font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;This question was suggested by Linda Hirshman's controversial book, &lt;em&gt;Get to Work&lt;/em&gt; (Viking, 2006).&amp;nbsp; She says that a flourishing life includes using one's "talents and capacities to the fullest and reaping the rewards of doing so."&amp;nbsp; She argues that child care and housework alone "are not occupations likely to produce a flourishing life."&amp;nbsp; In women and ambition workshops, I tell women that to flourish, plants need to go down into the soil to receive nourishment and also up to the sun for light.&amp;nbsp; I suggest that to flourish, women (and men) need to receive the nourishment of home, family, and community and also to reach up and out where we work and engage in the larger world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I've asked groups of women to list the components of a flourishing life, the list is long.&amp;nbsp; They include lifelong learning, challenge, and having an impact, in addition to love and family.&amp;nbsp; The challenge for all people is to create a society in which we can flourish without having to give up soil or sun.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-9114238270826804378?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/9114238270826804378/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-is-flourishing-life.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/9114238270826804378'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/9114238270826804378'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-is-flourishing-life.html' title='What is a Flourishing Life?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-687153597273360034</id><published>2011-07-24T08:50:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T19:15:45.506-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Stuff'/><title type='text'>Do We Really Need All Our Stuff?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Randy Frost, in his book, &lt;em&gt;Stuff:&amp;nbsp; Compulsive Hoarding and the Meaning of Things&lt;/em&gt;, says we hoard stuff because we are prisoners of the stories the stuff tells us about who we are.&amp;nbsp; He says you can get rid of the stuff in your life by recognizing and if necessary&amp;nbsp;honouring the stories they tell.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;January 11, 2012 &lt;em&gt;addendum&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Pinking Shears Publications recently published my book &lt;em&gt;Letters and Pictures from the Old Suitcase &lt;/em&gt;(eds. Lil Blume and Ellen Jaffe).&amp;nbsp; We asked people to look at some of the old family stuff they were saving in trunks, drawers, and old suitcases, often not even their stuff, and write the stories that their stuff told them.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;We&amp;nbsp;collected and published &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;beautiful stories about beautiful stuff.&amp;nbsp; The book&amp;nbsp;probably made people want to hold on to stuff even longer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-687153597273360034?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/687153597273360034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/do-we-really-need-all-our-stuff.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/687153597273360034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/687153597273360034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/do-we-really-need-all-our-stuff.html' title='Do We Really Need All Our Stuff?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-2721897360867766272</id><published>2011-07-23T04:30:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T15:46:47.611-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>What Do I Serve at a Dump Dinner?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;My friend said, "I want to invite my boyfriend over for dinner and break off with him.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I want him to get the hint by the second or third course.&amp;nbsp; What should I serve?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Bread:&amp;nbsp; Yesterday's&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Appetizer:&amp;nbsp; D&lt;em&gt;ump&lt;/em&gt;lings, stuffed grape &lt;em&gt;leaves&lt;/em&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Drink:&amp;nbsp; Water, glasses &lt;em&gt;half-empty&lt;/em&gt;, chilled&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Soup:&amp;nbsp; Egg &lt;em&gt;drop &lt;/em&gt;or&amp;nbsp;&lt;em&gt;split&lt;/em&gt; pea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Eggs:&amp;nbsp; &lt;em&gt;Over&lt;/em&gt; easy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Fish:&amp;nbsp; &lt;em&gt;Flounder&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;"&gt;Dessert:&amp;nbsp; &lt;em&gt;Turnovers&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-2721897360867766272?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/2721897360867766272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-do-i-serve-at-dump-dinner.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2721897360867766272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2721897360867766272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-do-i-serve-at-dump-dinner.html' title='What Do I Serve at a Dump Dinner?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-5798746210216482235</id><published>2011-07-22T09:06:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T15:38:54.653-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Poetry'/><title type='text'>What Are the Most Wrist-Slittingest Lines of Verse Ever Written?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;I'm sure there are many contenders.&amp;nbsp; My first runner-up is Macbeth's monologue from Act V, Scene V:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,&lt;br /&gt;Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,&lt;br /&gt;To the last syllable of recorded time;&lt;br /&gt;And all our yesterdays have lighted fools&lt;br /&gt;The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!&lt;br /&gt;Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,&lt;br /&gt;That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,&lt;br /&gt;And then is heard no more. It is a tale&lt;br /&gt;Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,&lt;br /&gt;Signifying nothing&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;There could be nothing more empty and hollow than the petty pace of life that will go on and on until ** the ** last ** syllable ** of ** recorded ** time.&amp;nbsp; I think Ian McKellan gets it right:&amp;nbsp; &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4e8avPkjRL4&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4e8avPkjRL4&amp;amp;feature=related&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;He says the most important word in the first line is "and" -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;But the MOST wrist-slittingest, where's-the-nearest-bridge poem ever written has to be Susan Musgrave's poem "Here It Comes - Grief's Beautiful Blow-Job" (the title taken from William Matthews).&amp;nbsp; The poem begins &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;"Last night for the first time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;you told me you loved me less"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial;"&gt;and goes from there.&amp;nbsp; The whole poem can be found in &lt;em&gt;The Embalmer's Art &lt;/em&gt;(Exile Editions, 1991).&amp;nbsp; I will post it upon request.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-5798746210216482235?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/5798746210216482235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-are-most-wrist-slittingest-lines.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5798746210216482235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/5798746210216482235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-are-most-wrist-slittingest-lines.html' title='What Are the Most Wrist-Slittingest Lines of Verse Ever Written?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-4570380765307725875</id><published>2011-07-21T11:36:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T15:35:54.864-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Communication'/><title type='text'>Can You Stop Complaining Venting and Whining?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Here is the question of the day:&amp;nbsp; Do moody, judgmental, disappointed, unhappy people have other forms of discourse besides complaining, venting, and whining?&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;The answer:&amp;nbsp; Maybe, but we never get to find out because the complaining, venting, and whining drive us away.&amp;nbsp; (I'm aware that just by asking the question I'm complaining, venting, and whining.)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Usually these people&amp;nbsp;are not aware of how&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt; boring&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt; their whining is, but should they suddenly become aware, my&amp;nbsp; advice to them is this:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;1.&amp;nbsp; Keep a personal journal and do all your compaining, venting, and whining&amp;nbsp;there.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;2.&amp;nbsp; Find one person who is willing to listen to you empathically (usually for money).&amp;nbsp; Their empathy, active listening, and value clarification should empower you to do something about your&amp;nbsp;problems.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-4570380765307725875?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/4570380765307725875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/complaining-venting-and-whining-cvw.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4570380765307725875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/4570380765307725875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/complaining-venting-and-whining-cvw.html' title='Can You Stop Complaining Venting and Whining?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-2670310038332689313</id><published>2011-07-21T11:20:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T15:34:46.407-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Clothes'/><title type='text'>What Are You Wearing?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="post-header"&gt;&lt;div class="post-header-line-1"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-3851827495995152932"&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I found my shorts in a store in Chinatown early this summer.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;The label inside says "Cherokee, size 10.&amp;nbsp; &lt;span style="color: red;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;KEEP AWAY FROM FIRE&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;I think, well duh: - I sure don't want my ass going up in flames.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;But then I wondered if the shorts were a cautionary note about the dangers of passion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;The other side of the label says 100% cotton and includes&amp;nbsp;washing instructions with a lecture:&amp;nbsp;"Think of the environment.&amp;nbsp; Wash at 30 degrees."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;and another caution: &amp;nbsp;"Due to the nature of the cloth please avoid contact with light coloured fabrics and upholstery as there may be some colour transfer."&amp;nbsp; Ew.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"&gt;This is my new favourite label, although a close second is the one on a&amp;nbsp;top I bought long ago at an army-navy surplus store on Yonge Street.&amp;nbsp; The label said, helpfully, "100% unknown fibres."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-2670310038332689313?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/2670310038332689313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-are-you-wearing.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2670310038332689313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/2670310038332689313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/what-are-you-wearing.html' title='What Are You Wearing?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5701267910813474066.post-3096331445724586770</id><published>2011-07-20T12:55:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T15:45:15.340-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Love'/><title type='text'>How Do You Know You Are Really in Love?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;Young people ask me a lot of questions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif;"&gt;"How do you know you are really in&amp;nbsp;love?" comes up often.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;The bad news is love is a vast territory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;The good news is there is a map.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;Unfortunately,&amp;nbsp;as you get older, your eyesight gets worse and you have more and more trouble seeing the map.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;It doesn't matter, though, because the map is in another language and – like driving in Europe - the map has no relation to the territory.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;Luckily, from time to time, there is a rest stop with a REALLY BIG MAP.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"&gt;&lt;span lang="EN-CA"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: &amp;quot;Trebuchet MS&amp;quot;, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;Look on the map. If it says, "You are here" then you are probably in love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5701267910813474066-3096331445724586770?l=lilblume.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/feeds/3096331445724586770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/how-do-you-know-you-are-really-in-love.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3096331445724586770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5701267910813474066/posts/default/3096331445724586770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://lilblume.blogspot.com/2011/07/how-do-you-know-you-are-really-in-love.html' title='How Do You Know You Are Really in Love?'/><author><name>Lil Blume</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12590816428802923708</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='28' src='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7TQol0Pp6yI/TiOfNrRmf5I/AAAAAAAAAAc/9xlxRehB0Tw/s220/Lil1.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
