Simple Pleasures

I was able to play piano for the first time in years last night. I’m rusty, to be sure. But muscle memory is an amazing thing. Some of the passages needed specific fingerings and I was able to hit it dead on even though five or six years have passed. I wasn’t ever a fantastic player, but adequate. Now that I have kids, I want them to have music in the house. The relationship to math is great. Fractions always seemed easier once I understood whole notes vs half notes vs quarter notes. Any advantage children can have will be needed in this world. And I know enough to teach them basics, even if I could never teach them to be masters. But if all they walk away with is a love of music, an understanding of the beauty, then truly, I’ve passed wonder onto the next generation.

Supporting Views for “Real” Censorship

Max is the dj on a local station that I regularly listen to. He regularly contributes the Scene, a local entertainment calendar with a few columns, features, etc. The article for May concurs conclusively with my views on censorship. “If things said or heard on a rock station offend you, here's an idea ... CHANGE THE FREAKING DIAL, MORON! It’s a familiar mantra, but it still holds true. Stop trying to ruin everyone else’s fun. You’re like that tattle-tale hall monitor who never got over being stuffed in a garbage can on a weekly basis. You’re no better than the dumb-ass old lady who sued McD's because the damn coffee was too hot. IT'S COFFEE YOU IDIOT!” In other words, take a stand, be responsible for your own actions and stop laying the blame on others.

Waiting for Access

More days than not, my work is on a computer. And more days than not, I sit and wait for it to process. Usually I don’t mind. I work on “personal” projects in the mean time, for instance, my writing. But today, I’m trying to archive information from Microsoft Access. I don’t know what is causing the slow running sequence, but it is pushing my limits of “what can I do while the computer works” creativity. I’ve updated as much as I care to on my PDA, I’ve visited with co-workers as much as I care to, I’ve cleaned out the miscellaneous papers and notes that roost on my desk. I’m really at a loss. It’s only a matter of time before one of my co-workers notices that I’m not doing much and started writing nasty notes about me. I really should try to be nicer to them.

Books, Words and Matter

I love to read. If I could figure out how to get paid to read, I change careers in a heart beat. To that ends, I'm starting another blog, specifically for the books I read. While I don't read as much as I did prior to husband and kids, I still average 4-5 books a month. (I don't watch much television or do as much house work as I should.) The URL is http://book-club-at-434.blogspot.com/. Give it a whirl and see if my tastes and views match yours.

The Scam Artist

Another member from the Cast of the Co-Workers, this fellow is easily recognized by his slinking appearance, generally 10-15 minutes after the start of work. He quickly rushes to his assigned seat, as everyone else is busy checking emails, voicemails, and the last crisis from yesterday. Lunch is taken a few minutes early and lasts a few minutes too long. Afterall who counts five or ten minutes here and there? Time cards do little catch the Scam Artist; the honor system is still used and no one punches a card. Special projects are carefully padded with extra time, so as to cushion their fall. Appearances must be maintained. Continuation of the great knowledge hoax perpetuates. Unwilling to jeopardize their own foibles, no one brings the Boss's attention to the hours shaving from the 40 hour work week by the Scam Artist.

The Cast of the Co-workers

Ahhh...the sun peaks over the edge of the umbrella, shining in gloriously, taunting its brilliance to those who hide from it. The tree swaying in the gentle breeze, toying its leafy branches in its tantalizing way. Cool drops from an icy drink drip onto bare skin as a straw connects with moist lips. And as I stare at the paper filled wall, the vision is broken by the Whining Office Intern. Haven't met this pleasant individual yet, eh? Give it time. Easily recognized, often suffering from last night's debauchery, revelry and shenanigans the Whining Office Intern is aghast to find out that, yet again, the world is plotting against her. Not only did she find out that her apartment lease ends in the middle of finals week -- GASP! -- now she is homeless for three months. And not only is this information shared with the landlord, Mom, Dad and fellow roommates, it is also shared with Mom (again), Dad (again), fellow roommates (again), sympathetic friends, meandering passers-by and everyone who dwells within the vicinity of the wondrous place I like to call "Cubeland." Once visited, the nuances of Cubeland reveal themselves. The smells from lunch. Personal phones calls that really ought to have remained personal. Bodily functions that are better performed in the bathroom. Business calls that should have been subjected to a course in "Political Correctness: Yes, you too can get what you want without yelling." The various faces change, but the stereotypes remain. Lingering among the living like the ghosts they should be. Will they ever truly leave? Or should I place the local diocese on speed dial?

Censorship is really value-ship

People who argue for censorship are befuddling. They want to control what is printed, said, written, etc. What they are really trying to do is push their point of view on to the reader. Instead of censoring what should be printed, said, written, etc. the time should be taken to educate. If people are educated, they will recognize for themselves what is good and worthy. And censorship will occur for themselves. Choose what they want to expose themselves to rather than having some other values doing it. In truth we need not censorship, but rather values. As to what set of values, another debate-worth point is raised. Perhaps at another time.

Hello, World

Mostly an experiment. A check to see if I have anything to say that is interesting. If I do, it will be found. It's the "Field of Dreams" experiment. And I'm curious to see how this all works. I'm proficient in Excel. Now I need a new challenge. As if making it through to the end of the day wasn't quite enough.