… ya don’t.

I’ve been deadlining the past couple of weeks and have about a week and a half to go. The work is going well, but doing a number of small projects at once crowds my brain. I’m also going gangbusters on house projects in my spare time. (Ah, spring! It brings out the constructive insanity in a body.)

All that’s to the good, and life is dandy fine. Don’t get me wrong.

But the last few days have also brought a steady stream of itty-bitty time-wasters and irritations. Not one is of the slightest importance by itself, but you know how it goes. After a few days of having the cat wake you up at 3:00 a.m., losing your Internet service repeatedly, having a dog vomit on your shoes just when you’ve almost gotten that idea you’ve been struggling with, answering too many phone calls, and trying to replace a defective (yes, you warned me) car part for something less than the cost of the federal debt … well, today I feel like a) crying, b) kicking a dog (any old dog), or c) taking up chemical abuse.

I’ll do none of the above, of course. But I figured I owed you an explanation for my lack of brilliance and productivity.

There. Having gotten that out of my system, I’ll probably think of something just devastatingly witty and insightful for tomorrow.

Uh … but don’t count on it, okay?

It’s times like these that I wish I had a wife … a nice “helpmeet” to prepare healthy meals, take care of the pesky details, and ensure that the world is kept away while I capital-C Create. Or a gloriously efficient and nearly silent assistant who could just Handle It All. Not that I’m comparing myself favorably to the greats (what nerve), but I’m very darned sure that Michelangelo couldn’t have been Michelangelo and Shakespeare wouldn’t have been able to write Shakespeare if they had to wait for the Internet repairman, cook their own meals, or worry that the library lost the book they absolutely knew they had already returned.

Heck, forget the greats. Even the mediocres need mental space to create. I’m pretty sure Thomas Kinkade couldn’t have painted all that glurge and John Grisham couldn’t have written all those potboilers if they didn’t have somebody else taking care of life’s little necessities for them.

Share or Bookmark

Saturday I learned that one of my dearest friends has inoperable pancreatic cancer. Even in this day of improving cancer treatments, the odds on that particular type are … well, better than the odds of winning MegaMillions, but worse than almost every other type of cancer.

On the good side, she’s got a partner who loves her and is capable of taking care of her. She’s also got one of the world’s great daughters, who flew thousands of miles to be here as soon as she heard.

But all things considered, that’s not much of a good side.

It occurs to me that among the many, many hells of having cancer is being forced to deal with friends who are well-meaning but don’t know whether to give you space or smother you with love, offers of help, casseroles, egregious advice on alternative therapies, and weeping.

—–

Saturday I was angry-numb. Sunday, too. No Easter rebirth in these parts. Angry about J’s cancer. Angry at feeling unable to help. Then angry at myself for being so self-centered when my friend, and not my own feelings, should be the focus.

Sunday evening I did something I never do — drowned my sorrows in not one but two hefty bloody Marys. (I’m usually stupid enough after one drink.) Then I called another friend of mine (and J’s), a medical person who has a talent for bringing calm and good sense to bad situations.

It helped.

—–

The weather, usually bleak this time of year, decided to be obscenely cheerful. So I went outside, took a claw hammer, and began ripping tatty old fiberboard shingles off the walls to uncover the cool 106-year-old tongue-and-groove wood beneath.

That helped, too.

(Oh yeah, and for you who recall my earlier posts on the topic of siding, it also helped that the junky shingles getting flung into a heap at the fenceline appear to be something cardboardish and not, I am blessedly assured, asbestos.)

Doesn’t look very impressive now, but you just wait until I’ve painted the walls and trimmed the windows and corners with cedar. Meantime, it may look like heck, but deconstruction is doing my mood a world of good.

Share or Bookmark

• Your hilarious dog story of the day, courtesy of naturegirl. (Which probably would have ended up much less hilarious had American cops been the ones doing the window smashing.)
• And so I don’t neglect you cat people, here. It’s not funny or even particularly dramatic. Just cuuuuuuuuute.
• Not so cute: The U.S. standard of living has fallen more than 50 percent. Depending on how you look at it.
• I hope I don’t ever have to do that. Especially when I’m 80.
• A big hurtful, annoying EFF-U to Arizona, spoken as only Ken from Popehat can speak write.
• Two for the movie buffs: six common arguments people make about movies that are always wrong; and seven ridiculously out-of-date things movies always show. (Yeah; why do they still keep dressing nuns that way?)
  
  Share or Bookmark
  

• Legally blind and a successful photographer.
• Now here’s a growing profession for you: consultants who coach white-collar criminals on how to get along in prison.
• The sagebrush rebellion rises again.
• Brothels. They’re now legal in Ontario, Canada. And for some pretty good reasons.
• “When we were making V we thought the mask might be popular at parties.”

And yet another intriguing trailer for Silver Circle. The coins are real; you can buy them from the movie’s store and Ron Paul was photographed last month using one to make a point.

Share or Bookmark

Have you seen the wonderful animated feature Bolt?

It’s about a dog who has no idea he isn’t the superdog he plays on TV. He dearly loves his girl Penny who stars in the show with him. But because he views himself as her sole protection against ever-threatening evil, he’s forever tense, forever on guard. Never, but ever, does he relax, play, and just enjoy life.

Only when fate leaves him lost on the streets (far from Penny and without his special-effects superpowers) does he learn to be himself, love life — and become a real hero.

Yeah, it’s just a movie and Bolt is just a cartoon dog. But recent blog comments and email exchanges with a reader make me think some of us could learn from him.

Why do we choose — and it is a choice — to be so freaking grim? Why do so many of us feel that if we’re not at some psychological watch-post 24 hours a day we’re somehow failing in our duty to Penny freedom?

Yes, our freedom is imperiled. Every person reading this is well aware of that. We could all list hundreds of threats to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And of course, if we actually cherish freedom, we’ll be doing something(s) to keep it.

But if we actually cherish freedom, we’ll also enjoy what we have of it. And what we have of life. And we’ll balance the “fighting” side of our lives with the “living” side.

Right now. Not in some imaginary future when all the politicians and bureaucrats have gotten out of our way and the handful of remaining laws (if any) are to our personal satisfaction.

But NOW. Because if we can’t embrace our freedom now, when can we?

—–

Saturday the New York Times had a wonderful commentary, “The Brain on Love.” I hope everybody will read it — even those of you who balk at registration.

While the piece focuses on personal relationships, family and romantic, the underlying truth of it is way bigger.

Scientists now know that the brain not only re-programs itself constantly, but physically changes in response to information and emotions we “feed” it. Years ago, the Mankato Nun Study revealed that old ladies who had lively minds and set themselves new challenges went right on functioning, even when autopsies eventually showed they had Alzheimers. Their brains were actually growing around the damage. Their Alzheimer-afflicted counterparts who didn’t “grow their brains” showed more effects of the disease. It was big psychological and physiological news.

Today we know much more — including the fact that our emotions shape our brain, which in turn shapes our emotions.

In other words, if we keep ourselves bundled up in anxiety and watchfulness, anxiety and watchfulness is what we reinforce. It’s what we program — and build — our brains to do. And you know what? If we’re like that, we’d just continue being like that even if freedom dropped on us from outer space.

On the other hand, even if we have a negative tendency born or programmed into us by our past, we have the power not only to change it, but in doing so, to reinforce and “grow” the new positive.

Thousands of activists have discovered that their best, most effective activism comes only after they’re forced to be idle for a while (e.g. they’re sent to jail or prison). Millions of creative people have had the experience of getting the Big Great Idea only after they stop beating their brains on something and take a walk or go to sleep or play with the dog. They change the pattern, begin the rebuild. By turning away.

Enjoying life is not a sin. Blowing off the responsibilities of freedom now and then is not a crime. Ignoring the news is not a dereliction of duty. Failing to duck and cover every time some Internet ranter screams that the sky is falling is not irresponsible or foolish.

Very, very much to the contrary, loving life, keeping a balanced perspective, and enjoying what we have is a means of cherishing freedom, understanding freedom — and building our brains to be better “freedom machines.”

Can it be overdone? Of course, there are millions who live in a rosy oblivion, never seeing the scary stuff and never doing anything to preserve the good they have. Maybe they need to reprogram for the opposite traits.

But we’re not them. If you’re here reading this, you’re not them.

Too many of us are more like Bolt. If we don’t reprogram ourselves to be less grim, less reactive, and lighter in our lives, we’ll go to our graves as nervous — and unfree — wrecks.

Share or Bookmark

The movie The Hunger Games comes out this Friday. If you’ve read the books(s) you know this isn’t going to be the Twilight-style teen flick that’s being marketed.

Can’t blame Lionsgate for the marketing; they want to make money and the Katniss-Peeta-Gale triangle offers a hook to the silly-but-moneymaking Bella-Edward-Jacob triangle that no marketer could resist. At least they’ve been doing their marketing very, very well; it’s been an elegantly teasing campaign. Have you noticed that, never once during all the buildup, have they actually showed the Hunger Games part of The Hunger Games?

Marketing aside, it looks like Lionsgate has made a damnfine movie. I’ll be headed to the Big City to see it soon as I can.

But the point is that this isn’t just a good-looking or entertaining movie. This is a meme, building on other memes, and this is about freedom.

Or at least, as John Tamny notes, it’s about the horrors of big government.

If you’re old enough, you remember when movies and TV shows never, ever, but never said a bad thing about government or its agents. The Soviet government or the Nazis, yes. But the U.S. government was always the Noble Protector. Its agents never lied, never cheated, never raped, never murdered, were never more violent than absolutely required. Government was approachable, responsive, humane, and preternaturally wise.

Then there came a few movies (e.g. Serpico) that showed something like a good cop crusading against bad cops. But that, of course, supported the “only a few bad apples” meme.

The first movie I ever recall showing a U.S. government agent being just plain bad, stupid, and destructive with no caveats was — oddly enough — Ghostbusters. Remember, it’s the Environmental Protection Agency man who pulls the switch that releases mayhem on the city while the unabashedly free-market Ghostbusters try to stop him.

I remember seeing that and being happily shocked. One of the most popular movies of all time said government could be arrogant, stupid, and destructive.

Well … gone are the days when government on the screen was all-holy. Now we see plenty of bad government actors. But only recently is cinema (does that sound like a hoity-toity term? I just don’t want to keep repeating the words movie, film, and flick) beginning to go into deeper territory: government — and specifically a U.S. government — as pure, unadulterated evil in its very essence.

V for Vendetta did it. But the government was English and the movie a cult hit more than a mainstream blockbuster.

Now The Hunger Games has dared to say it straight out. The country may be called Panem (“bread”), but the place is a recognizable future America. And its government is pure, stripped-down evil. It exists for its own sake and holds power by starving, terrorizing, and murdering its own citizens — even by forcing its young to murder each other.

Here’s the best review I’ve seen so far. It’s not a political review. It’s just one that says this is a big, good, important movie and not only for teens.

I’m not going to print any spoilers here. But if you haven’t yet read the books and are curious about this very anti-government movie, just know that in book three (and presumably movie three four), the message that free people don’t submit to government gets driven home even more … shall we say, pointedly.

The real point is that this is a meme building on other memes. We hear about the latest evil executive order or spy “enhancement” and we despair. But look around. A major studio makes a major film in which a government ruling over Americans is depicted as utterly, irredeemably evil.

That counts for a lot more than whatever bad news just flickered or twittered past our eyes today. Mindset is 90 percent of the battle — and mindset is changing right before our well-entertained eyes.

Share or Bookmark

Well, while we’re having an “oldies and goldies” day, how about a re-visit to “Twelve Tips for Toppling Tyrants”?

It was the Hardyville column that directly followed “Reactive Ralphie” and is an answer to him and others who believe that a constant frenzy will lead us to freedom.

Share or Bookmark

This week seems a good time to go back and revisit Reactive Ralphie (last met in 2005).

And seek some balance. More on that later.

Share or Bookmark