Blog
© Carol J. Hinkley Thompson January 2006
April 24, 2006
Why do I use the "If" font for the word "blog?" Good question—it leaves a lot to the imagination—anyone may interpret it as they wish, because its not been used on other sites except the one I requested it from—I was given the font by Pablo Prieto, who used it for Chomsky's web site. Thanks, Pablo.
Right now, I haven't much to blog about, unless its political, and being politically correct is a most difficult achievement these days. There is a new book out though, by a Dr. Goggin (PhD), the "Psychoanalysis of the Third Reich" and that is scary. Give it a whirl, and see what I mean.
Politically, I think I'd have to say that we need the sixties back, and fast. If you are writing to Congress, or your State electorate, or even the President (who never answers a letter), you may notice what I notice first—they don't know how to write, much less explain the subjects they're writing about, for example, a recent letter I had from my Senator (Hutchinson) referred to a time when the Baby-Boomers would begin to retire, as many years down the road. Hello? Where has she been? This is 2006. Maybe we're not on the same page as to the age of the baby boomers, and maybe she meant the SPF (Single Parent Families or the MWCs, married without children). Hutchinson also seemed to believe that very soon few employees would be working, so no contributions to Social Security would be made, and that the "Trust Fund" was only earning an amount far above what any of us is earning. I wonder where its invested?
Well, we will let that rest while I satisfy my caring feline, by going to bed. Let me know if you have more information than I do—I have a scans of her letters if anyone's interested.
February 6, 2006--Daytime
Who am I? I guess a rather creative, determined, *dis-organized individual, not much different from the rest of humanity—in fact, I believe I am not unique at all, which is something I've always attributed to my ability to work with people, on teams, in groups, or one to one. Have no fear, there are some individuals I cannot get along with, but a lot of that is my own choice, or their behaviour, and I give us a wide berth, but time and age is kind, giving space between people, or an occurrence pops up that forces one to shed possessions no longer important. As we age, a glorious wisdom takes over us. At least for me, I have a different set of values than I did thirty years ago, in fact, the values are now more similar to those of my twenties. What luck, eh? Just some thoughts.
*I have actually been a very well-organized person most of my life, then a driver hit my car on a highway, and since then I must be very organized to remain dis-organized.
April 24, 2006
"Who do you owe your creativity and enjoyment of life to the most?" Whew—I detest using exclamation marks in writing, but that question almost called for one. My first impulse was to answer, "myself," but one is never a whole person by oneself, in my humble opinion. That question had to settle a bit longer until I could come back here and try to do it justice, like three days. From my earliest days, I have felt what one may describe as creative. Part of the reason for that recognition is due to the fact that I observed others very closely, and many times had to distract myself with loftier thoughts. Taking all of that, and the fact that I knew I was the apple of my grandparents eyes, a young aunt, and my godparents, I always remember feeling that I was special to the people I loved the most, and those I trusted the most. Lastly, I cannot help but enjoy life, and the experiences it has presented to me. Most of the latter have been beyond the wildest imaginations, and that isn't all positive, but for some reason my psyche bore a sense of humor when I was born, and most of the time I couldn't get around it. Believe me, I've ridden the ruts and holes in the highway of life, from birth on.
There are very many special people in my life from my viewpoint. Additionally, a host of people I've always wanted to meet and speak to are among my "friends." When I get in a jam I grab a notebook or go to my computer, and imagine a ballroom filled with these people, and I jot down what they may say about me as I enter the room, or answers to questions I pose to them—mind you, they are not all the people most of us would want to meet, but I would love to have them at a dinner party. Many are real individuals whom I met accidentally, sought out, or met purely because I truly believe that life provides us with a circuitous milieu in which we may reach out and find someone important to us at that moment, or vice-versa, and then we go on without them until a later time, again, when we need each other.
There are those special people I grew up with, and still communication with often, sometimes daily. Now, that's a diamond in the rough—to have precious friends who still admire and respect each other from childhood, or high school, share memories of "the old neighborhood," "that old park," and argue about who did what, when, and totally disagree when it comes to politics, but know deep without ourselves that we were liked backed then, and we're still very much liked, if not more, in the present. That is life, a gift—the present.
Lastly, all of my life has given me great fodder for my writing, which is exactly what I intend to do until I can no longer speak—I'll probably figure something else out by then, too. Thanks for asking me. It gave me food for thought and reminded me to go back and keep inputting recollections into the timeline of my life. My cat is driving me nuts. I must stop now or he will never let me live it down—I try to take very good care of myself before anything else—that makes it easier on those who care about me, too.
Last review 04/24/2006