Passwords...Constant Changes...Computer Confusion

Every time anyone wants to "do" anything on a computer site they must sign in and give their password.  For example, I want to add a post to my overly neglected Blog.  In order to post, I must sign in and give my password.  I want to make a comment on HuffPost, I must sign in and give my password.  I want to apply for a job on Snagajob.  I must sign in and give my password.  I understand the need to make sure the person doing all these things is really me and the only way to know that is if I create a password only I know.  And here in lies the problem.

I can never remember the damn passwords.  I write them down on a slip of paper and put it somewhere.  Then I lose the piece of paper and the password and need to re-set my password by coming up with another password I will write down somewhere and lose.  Then one day I thought why not just have ONE password for everything.  I tell this brilliant idea to my husband and he yells "NO! That is very dangerous.  Don't do that."   My lack of understanding computers and technology never ceases to amaze him.

So I made a red folder and promised myself to log and keep every site along with its password in one place next to my desk.  So how come I tried to sign in today to write a post and found myself "locked out?"  I had the password in my own messy handwriting right there in front of me, and still I got it wrong?!

Maybe it wasn't my fault.  The format for this Blogger site was changed and it no longer looks anything like the way it did when I first started putting my wonderful words out there for all the world to see. Okay, no delusions of grandeur, I think maybe 5 people read some of my posts.  I am sure after my many prolonged absences even those few dedicated readers gave up and went their merry way onto other Blogs better at posting new material on a more prodigious scale. But change is not my thing and I am easily confused. I learn something one way and I simply cannot "unlearn" it and learn a new way.
How dare they change the templates and format!  And who the hell are "they?"

I have no idea if this post will show up on my Blog.

But if it does, I need help coming up with a Name for my New Blog....

Any ideas?  Is anyone out there?  Can you hear/see me?

Walking the Dog

“You have to learn to live with your mistakes, but you certainly should not allow yourself to live in your mistakes.”

I hope I remember that one, I think to myself as my dog squats for her morning bowel movement.  I must admit, I am jealous of the little mutt.  Besides being adorable, she is regular.  I am neither.  Yet, we walk along the same path.  Her bathroom needs give my days purpose.  What else would I be doing?  Writing, reading, sleeping, eating, and on rare occasions moving my own blasted barricaded bowels. 

My mind wanders.  Her nose seeks out scents only a four-legged animal can smell.  Along the lawns, in the bushes and up the trees her nose leads her diligently and I follow using my other more reliable senses, sight and sound.  The birds, and the cars mix together, and other dogs voice their discontent from behind the windows when my pooch stops to pee on their grass.  This is the stroll.  My dog and I are walking along life, not in it, not of it, not owning it.  Just walking.  "Keep walking" I tell myself. 

Sonnets In Questions?

My 15 and 3/4 years old son is a sophomore in high school and his literature class (what we called "English" in my day) is studying Julius Caesar. Recently, one of his assignments was to write a sonnet. Of course, he was going to wait until the night before. Did I mention how old he is? I told him he could not write a quality sonnet in such a short time. Then I realized he had no concerns regarding quality. I decided to write a sonnet and share it with him. First I had to read "Sonnets for Dummies" in order to know how to write a sonnet. Then I needed to place the rhyming scheme required on the page so I would be following all the rules. It took me about 5 hours to write my sonnet. My son wrote his in 10 minutes. He would never allow me to share his work, but I thought mine came out okay and here it is.

Soulful sounds sing out from his black guitar.

His homework lays untouched beneath his bed.

Escaping notes rise to a falling star.

A sonnet slowly forming in his head

Magically music takes form in words

Parents pray he will complete it on time

Accompaniment provided by birds

The difficult thing is to work in rhyme.

The answer must be a video game.

Call of Duty starring William Shakespeare?

Associate violence with his name?

After all he’s the man who wrote King Lear!

Will the sonnet be done on time or late?

Are these questions of desire or of fate?

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions....

It all boils down to one thing:

Making the Decision.

Let me rephrase that:

MAKING THE DECISIONS!

It does not matter what it is:

Becoming Thinner aka dieting.

Getting a New Job.

Writing a Novel.

Being Nicer.

Getting in Shape.

Staying Married.

Getting Divorced.

Reading a Book.

Having an affair.

Everything except who you love. Let's face it some people are just totally lovable and some people are not. Some people will get on your nerves no matter what they do or say. There is nothing you can do about it. You cannot force yourself to like someone you find unlikable. The solution to that problem is to just let someone else love them. This acceptance of your own limitations as well as theirs seems to be the only viable answer. After all each one of us is THAT person for someone else. Yet, most of us manage to find individuals and groups where we are welcomed, appreciated, and loved. However, what happens if a particular "group" grows into a political party. Which I believe is what has happened in our current society. No matter what the Democrats say or do, the Republicans "cannot stand" them and visa versa. The idea of being in a work place/country where we all have to get along for the greater good is becoming more and more difficult since we cannot "decide" to just get on with it and get along.

As hard as I tried, I cannot and will not ever appreciate George W. Bush. And on the other side of the fence is a large group that will never ever appreciate Bill Clinton. So where does that leave "our company of the United States of America?" Some of us will decide to cheat (on our taxes or our spouses), some of us will decide to stick it out for the sake of the children, some of us will decide to burn off the energy created by all this animosity by exercising, or avoiding the newspapers and focusing on reality shows. A whole a bunch of decisions, some good, some bad and all because there is one thing we cannot decide to do, tolerate our diversity. I do not mean our racial or ethnic diversity. I mean our moral and emotional diversities.

Perhaps the polarization we see in our political lives is this one element of human nature magnified, and multiplied. Now it is metastatic and no one is looking for a cure. Can we, liberals and conservatives, make a joint decision to at least look for a cure?

Roberta's Reality

Once a routine becomes old it becomes useless by virtue of its age. It becomes so automatic the energy driving it naturally reduces over time and the routine that initially motivated us to engage in a a healthy new habit, begins to self destruct when it turns into a mindless activity. Suddenly, without warning we are simply going through the motions. Effectiveness is destroyed by mindlessness. This is basically how I interpreted what Roberta was trying to tell me. I hope I got it right. It was her way of explaining to me why I needed to change something I had been doing for years but was no longer helping me the way it once did.

"Stop judging something on the merit of how long it lasts and start appreciating it only as long as it is effective." Roberta said. Once it is not longer effective then change becomes necessary for survival. No wonder she is so smart in the sciences. It was beginning to make sense.

I always saw change as bad but that would mean adaptation , survival of the fittest is bogus. Who the hell am I to disqualify Darwin’s theories based on my fears.

But when it comes to reality, then suddenly Roberta and I must part ways once again. I wonder if she will ever get me to come around to her way of thinking. I call her to tell her something really sad on a weekly basis lately. Stories of women around our age, late 40's, early 50's becoming widowed or dying themselves. Cancer, aneurysms, suicide, botched surgeries, foreclosures, bankruptcy, and of course, job losses were just some causes for the tragedies I would hear about whether through numerous grapevines including other parents at one of the schools my kids attend, our temple condolence email, or by reading the local suburban newspapers or facebook.

"Do not check your email! And stop reading the Daily Herald." Roberta said in an effort to cut off my sources of sorrowful information. "That is the problem with our society today. We hear about everything. When your father died we were in fourth grade and the only people who knew were our classmates, your relatives and the neighbors on your block. Now, someone dies and we hear about it in every suburb within a 50 miles radius. " It is too much. You can't fill your days with other people's problems."*

Then Roberta tells me I should watch "The Housewives of Beverly Hills." I hate reality television. Why does she watch reality shows which she admits to being addicted to, but does not want me calling her up with "real" reality? I am so confused.

*Editor's note: There is no editor. And I am paraphrasing Roberta because I do not have a good enough memory to recall exactly how she says things. I hope she does not sue me.

Walking the Dog in the Rain

Walking the dog.

I stop in front of a 96 Forest Drive.

I linger on their lawn.

The shades are drawn.

The house is quiet.

The light rain drifts lazily down from the bleak sky.

I find myself in a staring contest with an White Pine tree,

My eyes are unblinking before its naked branches.

The bark is worn a way in certain places

Exposing the brighter beige wood laying beneath the trunk’s outer surface.

A few lonely skinny branches extend out above the sidewalk,

And tiny tears are dripping slowly from them.

It makes me sad.

I blink.

The tree does not.

It sits on Forest Drive among the lawns, houses and driveways that replaced their namesake long ago.

Watch This! It is fabulous!

http://www.ted.com/talks/view/lang///id/1042