announcing "how to build an e-book" (aka book comments 27)

Heads up, friends, fellow bloggers, lurkers, various, and sundry! Somebody has written something just for you, and I'm here today to share that good news with you. Sha-ZAM!

There's a lot of advice out there on the Internet these days (I suppose you've noticed), especially concerning writing, selling said writing, and marketing said writing. Specifically, folks are telling other folks to Blog! Collect posts into an e-Book! Sell the e-Book and watch the dough come rolling in, no pun intended!

*ahem* Sorry. I got a bit carried away there for a second.

But that's 'cause there's an exciting new product available...a product telling you HOW to put together an e-Book and get it out there to a reading public. See, there's a lot of advice being flung about with cyberspace abandon--and yet very little practical help to get you on that glorious e-Book path to satisfying accomplishment.

And that's where my friend Aaron enters the picture. Aaron is this hard-working, hugely brilliant guy who has bent his considerable writing talents toward offering the exact kind of help all you wannabe e-Bookers need. His most recent creation, "How to Build an e-Book" gives you a step-by-step process from start to finish. In this, his own e-Book, Aaron answers your questions, details your e-Booking process, and even soothes your doubts about your own ability to do this thing. "How to Build an e-Book" is exactly what it promises to be, and more.

I'm not just talking out of loyalty to a good friendship. I've read Aaron's book--and though I never had interest in writing an e-Book of my own, the fun process he outlines and the challenge he presents convince me it would be worth my while to try this myself! Plus, reading Aaron's work is just a great time in general, because he's a skilled wordsmith with a great sense of humor and a quirky personality that shows through in every line of his writing.

Details and purchasing info are here. What's way cool is that Aaron is offering a launch-week discount code, SYLLABLES, which is good for 25% off any purchases! The code expires on Sunday night (May 9th), so git it while the gittin's 25% off!

If you're still wondering if this might be for you, I recommend Aaron's blog post, in which he describes the genesis of his project and what "How to Build an e-Book" can do for you.

Happy reading!

can we go back to handwriting letters and sending them through snailmail?

The following thoughts were inspired by this, which I discovered by way of my new friend Carlos, whom I met through my former-acquaintance-turned-friend Aaron.

And that there, my dearies, is what we call 'networking.' But that's not what I'm writing about in this blopgost. What I'm writing about is communication overload.

How much is too much? How many is too many? Every day, most of us receive at least one electronic message--be it email, text message, or something relating to Facebook--that requires some sort of written follow-up. Some sort of written response. And some of us take an inordinate amount of time to make that necessary (I'm not saying 'required') response.

Why? Why is it so hard to hit 'reply' and type something? Why do we take so long to answer? One message per day isn't a lot, right?

What about 365 messages per year?

Some of you--and here I'm talking to my fellow old folks--will recall the days before email. No, really, such days did exist. They're dim and foggy in my memory, but I swear they really happened. In those days, the riotous heydays of my youth, I received about...oh, let's take a guess on the high side...20 hand- or type-written letters per year that required a hand- or type-written reply. Add to that various greeting cards for holidays and birthday, etc etc, and that number goes up to maybe 50. Maybe. Per year.

So, flash forward (and no, I'm not making a TV reference) to today. If I get one response-required message per day, I'm no longer at 50 per year, I'm at 365.

But I don't get one response-required message per day.

I get an average of 5.

That's 1825 messages per year. And each one requires a response. If I spend only half an hour answering each one, I will spend 38 twenty-four-hour days (24! Count dem! 24 hours! Ah-ah-ah-ah-ahhhhhhh!) out of every year doing nothing but answer messages. That's more than one month per year.

In the inbox of the email account Ed and I use jointly, there are currently 7576 emails. Of these, 667 are unread. I have no idea how many are unanswered. Most times, I feel like closing that account completely and starting from scratch. Except I know that eventually, the new account will look exactly the same, and I'll end up exactly where I am now with all this, which is:

frustrated
overwhelmed
angry with myself
and disappointed in myself, because I know some of those unanswered messages came from people who are disappointed in me for not answering.

I also have this continual, grand plan to answer all the comments I've received on this blog. Haven't been able to get that done, either--and every time I think about it, I feel a painful twinge in the center of my brain.

That twinge is one part irritation and three parts guilt.

At what point is it too much?

I'm so tired of communications-inspired guilt that I'm just tired.

I know 100% for sugar-torting certain I'm not alone in this. How do *you* handle the odious monster guilt blob masquerading as your inbox?

this wasn't supposed to be my first blopgost of the year

...but it's just kinda happening, because I had this thought, and I wanted to record it.

In public.

Sheesh.

I am sick and tired of not saying what I really think.
I am sick and tired of not saying what I really feel.
I am sick and tired of not saying what I really believe.

I am tired of worrying about what other people will think of me.
Oh, I talk a great game of not caring, not letting others' opinions determine the course of my actions, blah de blah blah blah.

But really, in my secret heart, I want you all to like me.
I hate being the recipient of criticism, disapproval, and--o, the horror--rejection.

If I speak the truth about something, and someone responds by chastising me, my heartrate shoots through the roof, and my desire to make it all okay again shoots through the stratosphere.

This is not a healthy reaction on my part.
I have boundary problems.

And I'm sick and tired of it.

I don't want to be the gutless one.
I don't want to cower when a stronger personality tells me I Have No Right To Say _____________.
I don't want to be afraid anymore.

In the religious denomination I grew up in, I was taught to keep my mouth shut about _____________--because expressing my rock-the-boat opinions might lead another person to trip over something and get hurt.

But what if that something isn't even really there?
What about the other person learning to take responsibility for looking at where they're putting their feet?
What if the thing they need most, in order to learn to walk better, is someone (like me?) who will holler at the top of their (my?) voice about the discrepancies and the dis-integrity?

I've been told that a lot of people in this world look up to me.
If that's true, I don't really know why they do that. I'm a continual screw-up--didn't you know?

And one of the ways in which I screw up is by keeping my mouth shut out of cowardice.

Yes, there is a time and a place for expressing my thoughts/feelings/beliefs about certain things. I need to choose wisely ( --> discern) when and in whose company to verbalize these things.

But if I'm staying quiet simply because I ***fear*** others' reactions...then that right there, O Friends and Neighbors, is Screwing Up In Grand Fashion.

So.

Maybe this was the right blopgost to start the New Year with, after all.

excerpt from an email

He asked: What is the most important thing in your life? What drives you, or what is your motivation?

I replied:

The most important thing for me is probably communion. And by that I don't mean what goes on in church buildings on Sundays. ;o) I'm talking about communion: sharing my thoughts with someone--the other person sharing their thoughts with me--in a way that is transparent, vulnerable, honest, gritty. It's inextricably interwoven with genuine emotion, empathy, understanding. The kind of meeting-of-the-minds-and-hearts that happens after you've been talking for hours and hours and it's four o'clock in the morning, you're so tired you're delirious and yet each of your senses is sharpened, hyper-aware, perfectly attuned to the other person's wavelength. Four in the morning is the ideal time, but communion can happen anytime, anyplace, as long as both people are laying things out The Way They Really Are. You get to the point where fewer and fewer words are necessary...until just looking each other in the eye suffices for communicating a universe, a googolplex of thoughts.

This can happen with other humans. This can also happen with God.

As for my motivation.....I guess it's to become the kind of human capable of that level of communion--sustained.

If I could reach this goal....everything else would fall into place.

thinking more cultural thoughts....and others

Last week, we got to hang out with various old friends who were visiting Oklahoma for various reasons. Two of these friends were Randy and Bri, who work with the church in Dresden and were here on furlough. I think being around them is probably part of the reason I've had Germany specifics on the brain for the last few days.

Anyway, one of the specifics this morning is Joe, our Iraqi friend from the Turkish place in downtown Chemnitz. And what I'm thinking is that I'm sad we never got to have him and his wife over for dinner. I would have loved to find out more about his culture than what he was able to communicate to us over the busy lunch counter at Kervansaray. I wish we could have learned more about each other's cultures and discovered more common ground. I wish I could ask him how he feels about Americans now and whether or not he still likes us. I wonder if he has been able to go home to visit Kirkuk. I wonder if his daughter knows her grandmother yet. I wonder if his mother and sister are still alive.

How do you brighten the corner where you are--in the midst of a war? Forget all the political claptrap, forget the justifications and reasons and excuses on both sides. The definition of war is humans killing each other. The definition of war is humans snuffing out lights instead of making them shine brighter. The definition of war is humans destroying opportunities for sympathy, compassion, and mutual understanding.

If the goal of human existence is to cross the bridge which spans the breach between humanity and God--and I believe this is the goal--then those who have seen the bridge need to be able to tell others about it.
We cannot tell others about the bridge unless we first learn a way to communicate with them.
Humans cannot communicate with one another unless they find common reference points.
This means sharing thoughts, feelings, experiences, cultures, personal background, collective history, language, habits, traditions, taboos, hopes, fears, dreams.
We all have a responsibility to share these things with each other. Not because we're American or German or Iraqi or French or British or Finnish or Chinese or Venezuelan or whatever. But because we're all human.

I wish Ed and I could have exchanged all of that with Joe. He gave us a small taste of his culture--both literally and figuratively! ;o) --and we gave him a small taste of ours. It wasn't nearly enough. But in our brief conversations across the lunch counter at Kervansaray, Joe brightened his corner of my world. I hope I succeeded in doing the same for him.

As always, I don't have the answers to any of these dilemmas. I don't even have a personal answer to the question of whether war is fundamentally right or wrong. I'm just thinking out loud and letting the world overhear.

good grief, people. free your minds, wouldja?!?

This morning, I read two articles in "Newsweek" that annoyed the poo out of me.

The first concerned white supremacy beliefs in the USA. Apparently, the popularity of white supremacist groups has started going up since Obama was elected. Perfect. The article was complete with pictures of good ol' home folks with swastikas on their T-shirts. Their new party line, it seems, is "preach love of white, not hate of black, don't come on radical, be quiet and subtle, or you'll scare people off before you can get them to come around to the right way of thinking." "Right way," meaning: deportation of all immigrants and incarcerated non-whites. Ad infinitum ad nauseam.

There are a lot of names I'd like to apply to people who think this way. But instead of using those names, I'll just say this: I grew up visiting concentration camps in Germany. You wear a swastika and come within twenty feet of me, and I am deaf to you before the first word exits your white supremacist mouth.

Ugh. Utterly revolting.

The other annoyance was in an article about new apps (read: applications) for cell phones, specifically apps of the Bible. The author was presenting differing viewpoints. Apparently, there are people out there who disapprove of having the Bible on a hand-held electronic device, because having the Bible accessible this way "takes away from the sacredness of scripture." Or somesuch.

Huh? Am I understanding them right? They're saying it's a bad thing to have access to the Bible no matter where you are?

That's almost the dumbest thing I've read all day. (For the dumbest, see the second and third paragraphs of this post.) Do you really think God cares in what medium his Word appears? When you carry the Bible in book form, there is absolutely nothing sacred about the paper, ink, leather, plastic, and glue with which that book is put together. There is not one iota of holiness inherent in a printed copy of the Bible--or a audio copy, or an electronic copy, or a copy written in the sky with airplane vapor trails. The medium doesn't matter.

I would even venture to say that the words themselves don't matter. A word is merely a symbol we use to convey an idea or a set of ideas. House, Haus, and maison are different symbols that convey the same idea. Same goes for cat, Katze, and gato. Same for ichthys, Fisch, and pesce. Symbols for ideas/concepts/specific meanings.

When it comes to sacredness and holiness of the Bible, all that signifies are the concepts behind the symbols. Aletheia, Wahrheit, truth. Symbols which, in themselves, are not sacred. Heaven, Himmel, ouranos. The sacredness belongs solely to the concept, the reality, behind the symbols.

It matters not what form those symbols take. Whether printed or electronic, the symbols convey concepts that have unlimited power to work on the human heart and change it. Consuming those symbols--and, through them, the bedrock reality concepts--through an electronic medium doesn't dilute their effect in the least.

Come on, people. Have a little faith!

le fou, i'm afraid i've been thinking...

...but not about wacky old men.

Well, maybe I have. But I don't want to embarrass them by mentioning any names.

Anyway, another thing I've been thinking about (and at this point, I could use the word "pondering," which invites reminiscing on Pinky and the Brain) is the fact that I am not the prolific blogger I once was.

I've now been blogging for 4 & 1/2 years, and it's been an interesting experience. A predominantly positive experience. A good enough experience that I have kept up with it, posting at least once per month for 54 months, minus October and November 2004, when I inexplicably and temporarily lost interest, and October 2006, when Ed's dad had three heart attacks and we were in the States for a month.

Sure, I've never blogged multiple times per day, so I guess I'm not prolific at all, compared with some people. But I'm not comparing myself with some people, I'm comaring myself with me, and me says that I've blopgosted consistently for 4.5 years now, and that makes me prolific. So there.

However, I don't blog nearly as much as I used to, and I think that's a direct result of my novel-writing. I'll let you in on a little secret: I am not witty. You know those people who come up with the perfect puns and terrific turns-of-phrase on the spot, so much so that others tell them, "Hey, you should be writing this stuff down!"? I'm not one of those people. I have only so much brain power to go around. So when I stumble upon one of those literary gems that sparkle in the dark recesses of my brain's Spare Oom, my first thought is not "blog this."

Actually and unfortunately, my first thought usually is, "How can I turn this into a Facebook status update?" But then I take that impulse and beat it into submission so that I might use that sparkly gem not for the evils of FB-status-updating...

...but for the good of The Story.

When you're a writer and you're writing (which is what you should be doing, if you are a writer), everything is for the good of The Story. Snatches of overheard conversation are for the good of The Story. Every weird dream is for the good of The Story. Every attractive fellow human who has an asymmetrical facial feature is for the good of The Story. Every interesting way of saying something is for the good of The Story.

I think that's why I haven't been blogging as much. I've been pouring all my creative energy into The Story--which, of course, is exactly where it should go!--and letting the blog catch whatever happens to be left, which generally isn't much. I'm not bemoaning or bewailing or becomplaining. Just stating facts--and getting out the thoughts that aren't related to wacky old men.

Another pondering has been what will happen to the blog once I start publishing books. Not that I expect to be overrun by rabid fans scouring the intarwebz for snippets of info about me. However, I do keep in mind that there is enough personal information on this blog that someone could find me if they really wanted to--and connect my name on a book with all the personal info on this blog. So, writer that I am, as I ponder this, I begin having visions of stalkers, and weirdos showing up at my door at 11pm, and identity theft, and manic car chases down I-35, and is there Another Story in here somewhere?

Seriously, I could really scare myself with all these potentialities if I carried on. It wouldn't take much. Not much at all.

*sigh*

Anyway, I'm having thoughts about encryptions and passworded blogs and high-tech security and other fun what-ifs. I guess if I had to, I could delete the blog. All I would lose would be the comments; I back up everything else. But I wouldn't want to lose the comments. I like the comments. I adore the comments. If I were the obsessive type, I would print out the comments and wallpaper my bathroom with them.

Comments?

;o)

typing woes

My computer does a weird thing when I write comments on people's Facebook pages: As I type, the words take a loooooooong time to appear on the screen, and they appear one slow letter at a time. So, as I'm typing away, I can't see what I'm actually writing until the computer catches up to my fingers. This has some odd results, including the following tidbit:

themv lnbt uIdknwhow to g bolengtkin ovunerbindincy argeale...

I don't even know what I was trying to say!

courtney thought in facebook status updates all day today

Courtney is glad she was able to talk the Rack Room Shoes store manager into letting her exchange the non-fitting Converse All-Stars for a larger-sized pair, even though she had already worn the non-fitting pair outside.

Courtney wishes the wind would decide on a direction and stick with it.

Courtney does not enjoy running against a headwind.

Courtney does realize that running against a headwind will help her stamina improve, but that doesn't mean she has to like it.

Courtney runs in Nikes, not in Converse. Converses. Conversely, her next pair of running shoes will probably be New Balance....s.

Courtney is a little confused.

Courtney hopes that Ed isn't getting the flu. :o/

Courtney might get to see her Aunt Karen tomorrow--for the first time in...four years? five years?

Courtney had the same bagger at Crest today who, a few months ago, didn't want to let her put groceries directly into the cart instead of into bags, thereby eliciting a severe culture shock reaction.

Courtney had no problems with this bagger today, and she was glad to discover that she is over the cart-no-bags incident. ;o)

Courtney sure does enjoy driving her car. Thanks, J. ;o)

Courtney is having fun blogging like this.

Courtney wonders if, in addition to speaking of herself in third person, she should adopt the royal "we."

Courtney dresses for less at Ross.

Courtney has all the squares and rectangles of fabric cut out for the curtain she's sewing.

Courtney also wants to continue her afghan-crochet project, but she has to buy more yarn first.

Courtney hasn't bought a new canvas yet. *sadness*

Courtney has been working on finishing the first draft of a new book while her mom reads the second draft of the other book.

Courtney loves writing.

Courtney is going to bed now.

my to-do list

So, this past week, I FINISHED THE SECOND DRAFT OF MY NOVEL.

Let's have a moment of ponderous silence during which to ponder my ponderous accomplishment.

.

.

.

.

.


There, now, don't we all feel better? I thought so. ;o)

YAY AND HUZZAH, I FINISHED THE SECOND DRAFT OF MY NOVEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Pop the corks and furl the bumbershoots! Switch your flip! Bring out your dead!

*ahem*

In case you can't tell, I'm rather excited.

Now that the 2nd draft is done, there comes a time of rest from noveling. I need to take a few steps back from the story before I start working on the 3rd draft in a month or so. Until then, I have a few projects in mind, many of which I have been putting off for just such a break-from-noveling occasion. They are as follows, and in random order:

* re-organize my closet and give away excess clothing, of which there exists too much
* organize all digital pictures from the last 15 months. uffda.
* and post a kabloollion pictures to Facebook
* finish the first draft of my 2008 NaNoWriMo novel (I did my requisite 50k, but the story itself is incomplete [and yes, I do realize that this would defeat the purpose of taking a break from noveling--but it *is* a different story, after all!].).
* get my book comment blogging up-to-date (I've got at least 10 books to do, probably more)
* buy some canvas and do some painting (which I haven't since August)
* find out how to go about volunteering at the Ronald McDonald House
* clean and re-organize my desk so that it actually fosters creativity instead of quashing it. uffda.
* spend my gift card
* write some people (and I mean the real kind, not fictional)
* update my journal
* answer blog comments
* blog about the writing life
* blog about "resonance"
* fix the problems with my Facebook Notes
* clean out my car (and give Jennifer her stuff)
* re-organize some of the kitchen cabinets and get rid of never-used implements
* get back into regular exercise

*** spend regular time with God--because I have been putting him off. I admit it.

I'll strikethrough each project as I finish it--except for the last two, because they need to be ongoing. :o) I'm sure there are other things I need to get done, or would like to (for instance, investigate the nature of the clattering-about my neighbor does in his kitchen at 11 o'clock every night), but these are the only ones I could think of right now. So, here's my list, and I'll be checking it way more than twice, and there you have it, and now I'm going to bed!

transitional ruminations

I feel as though I'm overdue in penning some words about the cultural transition that Ed and I have been going through. To begin, I'd like to grace you with a top ten list that illustrates one of the frustrations that goes along with transitioning, namely, the fact that people often don't know what to say to us. (Please note that I am not angry over these utterances, but frustrated.)

Top Ten Things NOT To Say To Cultural Transitioners And Why
(in random order, though I have a particular dislike for #s 5 and 7)

1. How was your trip?
It wasn't a trip. It wasn't a vacation. It was my life. Please to be noticing the difference, thank you. ;o)

2. We've been praying for you to come back.
I think I know what you mean when you say that, and you might think that's a lovely sentiment. But when you say that, what I hear is that you've been praying for me to be separated from people and places I love. That's neither helpful nor encouraging.

3. You've got a lot of time on your hands now! You could (fill in blank with an activity or a job for which I have expressed no interest).
I didn't come back here with no plan of what I want to do with my life. This was not a spontaneous, frivolous decision. Much thought and prayer and planning went into it. Please don't assume I'm sitting around, bored, with nothing to do, just waiting for you to come rescue me with ideas that would make *you* happy.

4. Oh, you were in XLand? I was in XLand back in the '70s....XLanders are so (fill in the blank with a prejudice you developed while you were over there for two years 30 years ago).
Please don't assume your experiences were my experiences. Also, please refrain from telling me, based on your few months' experience, what the people of my homeland are like. Not to be snotty, but I do believe I know them better than you do.

5. Adjusting? Oh, give it a couple of months, you'll be fine.
I see. And the last time you went through cross-cultural reentry was...? Oh, you've never left your home state? Ah.

6. It's so good to have you back. I don't know why anyone would want to leave here in the first place.
(Okay, so nobody has said these words to me directly....but the implication is all over the place.) Well, probably because God created a whole, huge, interesting planet that I want to know about, not just a single continent.

7. I bet you're proud to be back.
I'm sorry, but I don't even know what that statement means.

8. It's good to have you back.
Why? You've never had more than two or three conversations with me. You don't know me. How could my presence possibly signify in your life one way or the other?
(Note: This truly applies only to those who haven't made an effort to get to know the returnee. If you do know me, and if you have made the effort, it is definitely heart-warming to hear you say that you're thankful for my being here!)

9. Aren't you glad to be back?
Yes. No. Maybe. Sometimes, the answer changes from one hour to the next. If you're not prepared to listen to an answer you don't really want to hear, please don't ask.

10. We're so glad to have you home.
This isn't my home. For one thing, I didn't grow up here. From that perspective, I haven't lived in my "home" for 12 years. For another, I spent the last 6 years building relationships and planting roots somewhere far removed from here. This isn't my home. This is your home. On this earth, I don't have a home. And actually, I'd like it to stay that way.

11. Unspecified.
Open to anyone who wants to share some of their own experiences of being on the receiving end of remarks of this sort, as well as dealing graciously with them. I don't always. Especially when it's stuff like #s 5 and 7. ;o)


Looking over the last 8 months (we have been here over 8 months--that is so weird), I can see a lot of lows, a lot of highs, a few plateaus, and some banged-up knees and elbows as we've tripped and fallen and sprawled flat on our faces and gotten back up again. I say "we" because Ed and I both have dealt with our share of spiritual and emotional scrapes and bruises...but really, I'm talking about my own transition here. Cross-cultural reentry is an intensely personal experience (which is what makes it so difficult to describe to anyone who has never experienced it), so each person's is different.

My lowest point so far was Earlyapril through mid-May. The bathtub incidents kind of set off the depression--but if it hadn't been the bathtub, it would've been something else. But I've had help. Help from a wonderful, loving God, who has sent wonderful, loving people into my life and placed me in loving, wonderful communion with them. I've had help through open, honest, in-depth conversation. I've had help through "The Artist's Way" (by Julia Cameron--THANK YOU, GAIL!!!), which is opening my eyes more and more to what it truly is that God created me to be. I've had help through a loving, wonderful, commiserating husband, who has actively grown with me even as he deals with his own transition issues.

I feel very blessed. I not only feel it, I *am* it, and I live it. I hesitate to say that I am learning to be content, since that is such a huge concept....but I think I am beginning to learn it. I am beginning to know why I am here, I am beginning to know what the next step could look like, and it's an unknown shape, but I'm excited about it instead of terrified. I feel as though I am unpacking my mind here, instead of merely unpacking cardboard boxes. I am beginning to travel light again, instead of schlepping around the misery of not knowing who I am. I am beginning to feel/see/hear reference points, reorient my inner compass, tune my inner self to the resonance of God's universe.

No matter what happens, I always know that eventually, I'll be at peace. Moving over here, finding myself in a low spot of sadness and depression, I knew that eventually I'd be at peace.

It's nice that at-peace is starting to happen again.

elitism tastes good sometimes

"I don't have scientific data to back me up, but I've anecdotally witnessed a direct relationship between someone's willingness to read and their level of education, success, expectations for themselves, and general, uh, interestingness they bring to the table. I guess that makes me one of those 'elitists' we keep hearing about, but with that in mind, you may understand why it's been pretty...important to me that I instill a love of reading in my kids."

--Wil Wheaton
in his blog


If this were a Commonplace Book, and my profs were leaving me Post-It Note comments in it (which they did in my real Commonplace Book back in the Dark Ages of 1997), they would tell me that my posts are "heavy on Wil Wheaton" (in 1997, it was "heavy on Elton John). Guilty as charged (on all counts, past and hypothetical present).

That admitted, I really do enjoy Wil's thoughts. I won't say that I agree with him 100% on this particular quote: It doesn't apply to everyone; personally, I know plenty of highly interesting people who aren't big readers; but I do believe that the willingness to read affects education level and expectations for self.

In some ways, it can even determine education level and expectations for self.

Reading swings my verge!

in honor of and reference to memory

Why is it so difficult to say what we really mean?

Why, when we try to communicate something important to us, do we so often send a message we didn't want to send, and end up hurting the other person without wanting to?

What must we do in order to learn to ask the right questions?

What must we do in order to learn how to listen for the answers?

Honestly: Is it so difficult to stop talking, open the heart, and let the soul truly comprehend what the other person is saying?

Why is what we want to say usually so much more important to us than that which the other person needs to say?

Why do we block others from unburdening their souls?

Why do we espouse total honesty, yet we cannot accept it when others are totally honest with us?

Are our relationships truly that fragile?

Are our relationships truly that shallow?

How can we have been so misled?

Why didn't anyone tell us?

Why can't we admit that the fault is our own for not having sought and delved more deeply?

Why do we lack courage?

Where is the safe haven?

Why do we paint love a color only we can see?

one of the reasons i like living on the north american continent

Ed and I now live within easy driving distance of both sets of parents.

This means that the six of us can get together. Tonight, we did just that, as Ed's folks are in town for the weekend. I know I've mentioned before how much I am enjoying being around family...

...but have I mentioned before how much I am enjoying being around family? ;o)

It's just neat to sit in my parents' living room, look around, and see my parents and his parents, chatting together, laughing together, and getting to know each other better. They've been a part of each other's lives for ten years. I feel all cozy and pleased to think that they're finally able to spend time together, and Ed and I can be part of that and get to know our parents as they relate to each other.

My grandparents never really had that. My grandmas corresponded with each other for forty years, but the four of them never got together simply for the pleasure of getting to know one another. I'm very thankful that in this next generation, my parents and Ed's are taking a different path--and a more heart-oriented one, I believe.

Culture shock and missing Germany aside...this is nice.

my good deed for today

Once again, I would like to direct your attention here. I won't say anything further about this, because here is quite self-explanatory.

movie review: "Babel"

Scott asked me to let him know what it was I didn't like about "Babel" so that he could hear a trustworthy opinion about it before he watched it (Scott, thank you for the vote of confidence!), so I thought I'd just post a brief review here while I'm at it:

"Babel" is about four different groups of people--two Moroccan goatherd boys; a husband and wife traveling in Morocco; their children and their Mexican nanny back in California; and a deaf-mute Japanese girl in Japan (Tokyo?)--and how all of their lives intersect. Conceptually, it's a very interesting idea, because it's not till the end of the movie that the viewer finds out how they're all connected; and the viewer then realizes that these people's lives all intersected in one brief moment that occurred toward the beginning of the film. From that angle, the film was very well-made and thought-provoking, in that it brings home how we cannot view ourselves as individuals completely independent of others: Each of our actions, each of our decisions has some kind of significance because even in some small way, each of our actions/decisions affects people we've never met and might never meet, people who are continents and (in a great sense) years away.

I have a tag for this concept: "brighten the corner where you are". It's a concept I believe in very firmly and have discussed in this blog before.

Linguistically, it was also interesting: in each of the four groups, there were communication difficulties resulting either from personality differences (emotional and social barriers) or from linguistic differences (Arabic - English, Spanish - English, Sign Language - spoken Japanese). Very effective in portraying the "Babel" aspect of human relationships.

Okay, now for what makes me recommend not watching this film: a boy, approx. 12 years old, being shown masturbating; the same boy being shown spying on his approx. 14-yr-old sister as she takes off her clothes, and both of them enjoying it; and another teenage girl exposing herself multiple times to various people, then taking off all of her clothes and trying to seduce an older man (full frontal nudity).

Some might claim "oh, this is what makes the film so real, so true-to-life" etc. Well, even if that were true, those are still things that were unnecessary for advancing the plot; there are other methods that could have been used for character development and portrayal of character psychology; and I think it's exploitative to have child actors filming scenes like that.

So conceptually, the film had some very good ideas; but the execution of those ideas left something moral to be desired. The scenes with Brad Pitt and Cate Blanchett were very good, as were the ones with the CA kids and their Mexican nanny. But I could have done without some of the rest.

PLEASE......stop the madness!!!!!!!

Hidy-ho, friends and neighbors! This is yet another friendly public service announcement!

I know, I know, I've posted a lot of "check this out" and "do this" and "don't do that" lately. I'm sorry, but I just gotta. It's all relevant! It's all for your own good!!!!! ;o)

Anyway, today's helpful hint is, yet again, about those pesky EMAIL FORWARDS! Today, I am taking to task those who hit "forward" without checking their facts first. You know what I'm talking about. Those emails saying such-and-such a network is gonna air such-and-such a program that violates every ethical and moral principle that every sane and pure human being holds dear. The emails saying that Celebrity A has been talking trash about ______________, while Celebrities B and C just donated 10 years' worth of movie-made money to some liberal organization that supports killing infants and small fluffy dogs.

Yes, my sarcastic streak is showing.....but c'mon, guys, enough is enough! Imagine a friend comes up to you and says, "Did you hear about Person XYZ? Well, you'll never guess what he did......"

Do you believe every "fact" whispered into your ear?
Do you rush home, whip up a "fact"-sharing email and fire it away to everyone in your address book?

No. Of course you don't.
Especially not without checking to see if all these "facts" you just heard are true.

And why don't you do that?

Well, because it's called "gossip."

And that, my friends, is all a tell-all, tattletale email forward is. It's gossip. It's telling a story about someone you don't know, with facts you can't verify, all to rile other people's emotions up into a frenzy of email-forwarding busybodiness. When you forward an email like that, you're gossiping. And it isn't pretty.

Especially when other people can, upon receiving your gossip, immediately head over to sites like these to check on whether or not your gossip is true:

Hoaxbusters
Hoax Busters
Snopes.com
ScamBusters.org
Truth or Fiction? (thanks for the link, Alisha!)

Sarcasm aside, guys.....please check one of these sites before you hit "forward"! They all have search engines that pick up on key words from that email you want to send on to your friends.

You wouldn't gossip in non-Internet life. Don't be a gossip over email.

out-of-office reply

You have reached thegermanygirl.blogspot.com. I am currently unable to take your call. Please leave your name, number, and a short definition of cheese relating to the meaning of life, and I will get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you for calling!

*click!*

joggers are happy people

This is the conclusion I have come to over the last month. Recently, I took up running. Sort of. I do a fast walk from our house to the park, which takes about 8 minutes. Then, I run around the pond and back home the long way around, which takes about 15 minutes. I haven't done this during the last twelve days, simply because our schedule was so full while the campaign was underway. But for about 3 weeks, I was in a really good rhythm of running at least 5 days a week. I plan to get back into it over the next few days (provided I don't get another sinus infection, which currently seems to be coming on) and start working my body up to running longer.

'Cause yeah, I know that 15 minutes of running doesn't sound like a lot. But for a former heart patient who has never EVER been a runner in any shape or form, 15 minutes is a major breakthrough.

Anyway, about the happy joggers. I have noticed, on my morning runs, that the 'other' athletic people (I put 'other' in quotation marks because, while these people are actually what one might call 'athletic,' I am not.) always make eye contact with me as we pass each other. And not only do they make eye contact, they actually smile.

Why is this significant? Well, it's significant because these are Germans. At least, I assume that they're Germans and that it's not only we foreigners who get out early in the morning and go do something exercisey. ;o) But one thing about German culture: In general in Germany, strangers who meet each other on the street rarely make eye contact with each other, and even more rarely do they smile. This is not a right or wrong thing, and it doesn't mean that they're unfriendly. It doesn't even mean that they're unhappy, which the flippant title of this post seems to imply. Eye contact and smiling simply aren't ways that Germans connect with strangers on the street. Which is why I was surprised to find it happening with my 'fellow' intrepid exercisers on my morning runs.

And there are several that I see on a regular basis. And we even say "guten Morgen" to each other. I cannot describe how this just makes my day.

I figure that maybe worldwide, people who exercise are just happy. It's probably adrenaline, endorphins, and sweat. Who'dathunk? I never knew that working out could feel so good. Outside and in. :o)

all comments answered

Whew! I finally worked my way through and answered all the comments I've received over the last few months. For those who've expected responses and have wondered at my tardiness, I'm sorry it has taken me so long. I'm slow...but I get there eventually. ;o) Thanks for reading, and a special thank-you to those of you who comment! You make my day every time I find a new comment from you in my inbox. I admit it, I'm a sucker for communication. ;o)

As always, if I've missed answering a comment, and you notice my oversight, please notify me posthaste.

Later dudes,

C.