I can't breathe. I can't move. I'm a deer caught in the headlights. I spend endless hours thinking about how to tell the people I love the things I know. I know some things. And by some things I mean true, scary, here-it-comes shit.
Remember the owls? Remember the 70s working class decor? One of my semi-useless skills is to recognize something just as it's coming into being. Kind of a bellwether, not creating the change but recognizing it early. And right now the stuff I'm bellwethering, along with an ever-growing number of other people, is that we're facing great and accelerating changes. How do I get people to see it?

It's important to know what exponential growth is in order to understand what the world looks like. We think linearly - it's how we're wired. Understanding exponential change has to be learned. And I mean HAS to be learned, one way or another we're all about to learn it. Here's an excellent explanation of exponential change and what we're looking at from Chris Martenson, who is a leading figure in the 3 Es scene (energy, economy, environment). (A lot of people are introduced to this subject through him & his online course called the Crash Course.)
Speeding up. Things are speeding up. Everyone feels it. Things are changing really quickly. Big things we once counted on now look tenuous. We will be powering down. There will be massive reductions in energy consumption because we will no longer have access to cheap energy. The weather is changing, and the one thing we're certain of is it's going to keep weirding and intensifying. Money, what it is, what it means, how it's shared is being refigured completely. We're reaching peak everything*. Losing our democracy, losing our healthcare, poisoning our water, what little of it we have left, scrubbing the ocean free of life. This shit is on and it's happening right right now. It's coming to a head and we need to be able to plan accordingly.

I've been studying this stuff for years now. And it's not because I'm addicted to pain. For a while that might have been the case and continuing to study this is to continually experience an amount of pain, but it's so much more than that. I haven been trying to see the honest picture, framed with good science and insight - listening to those who saw previous events coming, e.g., the collapse of the housing market. Facing that, really looking at it head-on has all but incapacitated me. I've a lot of confusion going on inside my heart & my head - what to do, what to do? I want to tell the people I love, show them what's up and what we need to start doing to mitigate the impact of the unavoidable changes coming at us at an accelerating rate.
I think about how to tell people. I've already been accused of freaking people out and being a Debbie Downer with what I say, and I barely say anything. Do I start with the scare then move to prepare (a silly phrase that's been knocking around my head for 2 days)? Do I make a presentation with slides? Do I set it up like a seminar and gather a bunch of people at one time or just talk with people individually?
The thought of telling the people I love so much about something so heavy hurts, makes me hesitate. But we're at the point that's not an option. I can't keep holding my breath.

*The link for peak everything is to a 25 minute video interview with Richard Heinberg, one of my heroes. It's from a series of interviews The Nation did regarding key issues of peak oil and climate change with the biggest names in the subject areas. I recommend the entire series.

Target & Tom Emmer

I'm just going to put this out there. I don't mean to engage in a debate. I work at Target as a contractor. Its commitment to diversity is incredible and it is an excellent corporate citizen. It sponsors PRIDE, it got a top rating by HRC, it got a thumbs-up from Green Peace for it's fish sustainability practices, it donates 5% of its income (note: income not profit) to education, the arts, etc. It responds to disasters faster than FEMA.
I've never worked at a corporation where it was so safe to be out. A good friend of mine is on Target's GLBT business council. The group is over 1,000 Target people, lead by a senior VP who's a lesbian. (Senior VP - that's way high up in the organization.) The council met many days ago when this first broke to figure out what to do.
They're not going to be making a lot of noise about it at this point. But an interesting outcome of this, my friend speculates, could be part of the big leap forward for gay rights. We know it's not "if", but "when" and these things can change seemingly suddenly. People reacted noisily and Steinhafel understood, hopefully.
Target is going to begin having one's orientation as an optional piece of demographic information you can fill in, like race. There is a growing movement to do this, I guess. This will allow the company to track how the community is doing, make sure there isn't any institutionalized bigotry going on. (Needless to say there are arguments to be made against the idea of such information being gathered.)
The council also included in their discussion the despicable views on immigration reform. There is a Hispanic business council also, though I haven't heard much from them. In the press the immigration piece didn't generate as much attention as the GLBT position.
The real heart of the matter is that Target shouldn't have been allowed to sink so much money into the cesspool that has become politics. The f*cking Supreme Court's ruling in Citizens United is to blame. You want real reform in this country? Campaign finance reform - public funding of campaigns. We can dream.
As for Target, I don't know. I like the idea of a 72 hour boycott. If they notice a statistically significant drop, if even for a few days, and even if there's a subsequent bump of the same amount, they will have noticed. It's a pinch, a sock in the arm. But a message that will not go unnoticed. The high standards we associate with Target made this whole thing painful. We know Walmart is bad so we're rarely shocked. Target, why did you disappoint me?
But it wasn't Target. It was one man at the top who made the decision to do this. If you're really troubled by this and want to do something, don't stop shopping at Target. Keep supporting it for all that it offers (for all the things that you can't get locally because, of course). Instead write a letter to the guy who made the decision. If he/they do it again, then stop shopping at Target.

Gregg Steinhafel

Target Corporation

1000 Nicollet Mall

Minneapolis, MN 55403

Check out Target's commitment to diversity site. Skip Steinhafel's statement but look around.

When the car breaks

I can never decide if I love my car or not. Sometimes I love her to death - the excellent stereo, the smooth ride, the seat warmers - especially the seat warmers. And other times I'm ready to drive her into a lake. This winter she put me 4 Gs in the hole. Not too fond of her at that time. But then as the winter rolled on and got colder and the seat warmers continued to work, my affection grew once again.
This summer, after seeing An Inconvenient Truth and the ridiculous prices for gas, I decided that going carfree sounded pretty cool. Instead of jumping off the deep end, though, I tried for a while using only my bike or the bus. I went a whole week without using my car once and that felt pretty dang liberating. Then I slowly fell back into using it - had to drive to Eagan and that was all it took. Riding my bike in the 100 degree heat? No way. So, back in love I fell, appreciating her confort and air conditioning.
And then it started. Wub wub wub in one of the back wheels. This is the same noise that put about 400 clams on my credit card last December. Took her in and, sure enough, another $400 to get the other side done. Bearings. Evidently a weakness in Subarus. (Never buy a Subaru - trust me on this one!) Fucking hell if it didn't start making metal on metal grinding noises when I was on my way home from the shop. Brought the car back to the place tonight, had my bike in the back, locked the car, put the keys in the envelope and put the envelope into the drop box. Notice I didn't mention getting the bike out before putting the keys in the drop box. Tragedy narrowly averted, however, since I was with my sister Sheryl who helped me get my other set of keys and then retrieve the bike. Thank you, Sheryl.
Hard to love my car when she's being so sassy & greedy. But she's also my freedom, my connection with so many options. And on occasion she's my therapist and soul comfort. Up until now she's never had a name, but I think I'm getting closer to one. Although I'm not sure other people would like hearing me refer to the vehicle as "That Expensive, Poorly-made, Gas-guzzling, Money-bleeding, Fucking Car".

No one's looking

Someone found this blog. An online date asked me if I wrote a blog and I said no. But when he described it, I realized it was this one. So, evidently, I do write a blog. Well, wrote. And I'm not sure three entries necessarily counts as a blog. More like doodling on a bathroom wall. But since I was discovered, I've been wondering if I should write on here more often. I mean, anyone who used to read it when I first started doing isn't reading it anymore. Why would they when I haven't posted in a very long time? And no stranger is going to happen upon this thing? So it's kind of public and secret all at once. What the hell....

Things to note from today:
1. Fallout Art community is a bunch of Christians. Don't let the tattoos and piercings fool you - they're all Jesus all the way.
2. The movie "The Break-Up" with Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn is bad, very bad.
3. My body doesn't seem to digest corn very well.
4. The men in Nordeast look different (read: cuter) than most of the (white) men in the rest of Mpls. Less Minnesota looking and a little more Eastern European.
5. Reading in bed naked in the afternoon just after showering is a really pleasant way to spend some time.

How to Get Everything You Ever Wanted

I picked a book up from the library with an irresistible title, How to Get Everything You Ever Wanted. I mean, how could I not pick it up with that kind of promise?
As silly as the title is, it's pretty cool. I think. The subtitle is Complete Guide to Using Your Psychic Common Sense. It's written by Adrian Calabrese, Ph.D, a woman with 2 doctorates (Psychical Research & Metaphysics - oh, to get a doctorate in those!) and big hair. It's a handy 6-step guide, one less thing to deal with than Stephen Covey, better for us lazy folk.
Being lazy, I've only jumped about it a bit, opening here and there. Don't ask me what the six steps are, haven't read even the table of contents. But I found part that's totally cool and have to share it. (Printed without the author's permission, but I think the Universe doesn't count this as plagiarism.)

Here's how she suggests we put together what she calls affirmations. Some of us might call them wishes or mock-ups or manifestations. The examples are taken verbatim from the book. The components are:

1. Request: I am the owner of a new 1993 black Jeep Cherokee. I am able to afford it, I have the downpayment, I get credit easily, and payments are low and easy for me to meet.
2. Express gratitude: I thank the Universe (God/Goddess/the Source, etc.) for this Jeep, which is already mine...
3. Protect: ...and has come to me in a safe and loving way...
4. Remove limits: ... I receive this or something better, in my highest and greatest good, and that of all concerned...
5. Acknowledge: ... in accordance with divine will and the free will of all concerned...
6. Finalize: And so it is!

I don't know. This just makes sense and sounds really cool, aside from the specifics of the Jeep, of course. Creating's pretty groovy and I'm kind of into it right now. The Universe feels pretty open and responsive right now. Doesn't it? Is that just me or are other people feeling it, too? Are we on the cusp of a major shift in human perspective or am I just on my personal spiritual journey?
But even more importantly, I'd like to know if my dreams about zombies reflect anything other than my fear of zombies? I need to know these things.

Sadness versus Depression

I've been kind of sad these last few days. It started on Thursday night by kindly knocking the wind from my lungs and my legs right out from under me. Those nasty little voices that say horrible little things to me, which I work so hard to ignore, decided to gang up and create a cacophony of emotional abuse. In an all-new low thanks to my aging, the voices actually started mocking me about my own death. "If you died," they taunted, "sure, people would be sad and miss you, but it wouldn't really matter in any significant way to anyone. You've got no one depending on you." WHAT?! Oh, yes. That's right. An all-new low and a brand new demon to shout from the sidelines on those hormonal, lightless or otherwise yucky days. I actually considered the impact of my own death on whether or not my life has value. The upside of this is it shows a great deal of creativity for those voices. I mean, they didn't go to the "just a secretary" place or tell me that I'm fat and/or ugly... just that I don't really matter. So I cried. And I called friends. And I got the loving support I needed. The rest of the weekend was a bit better, though my psyche seemed to have purchased a wristband for unlimited roller coaster rides. Up, down, loop-to-loop. The breaks between swings, of which there were many, gave me a little time to think about this whole sadness versus depression thing. After careful consideration, I have decided that depression, though much more serious and potentially dangerous, has it over sadness in a few key areas that shouldn't go unnoticed. First of all, depression, once past the initial stages, generates numbness. Awful numbness, but numbness nevertheless. Sometimes not feeling anything is better than feeling shitty. It can also be easier to just check out when depressed. Go to bed at 6 PM, put on that one movie you can't stop watching, drink booze, whatever it is. If you're a good depressive, you've got something that does it. Mine used to be Buffy but now that show is so strongly associated with a particular depression, that it has lost its generalizability. (If you have any suggestions for good depression check-out tools that don't involve ingesting something, please let me know.) Secondly, depression collapses one into total victim mentality. And once you're a victim, you don't have responsibility for your situation. Depression relieves you of the possibility that you can make things better. And if you can't possibly make things better, there is nothing you have to do. Easy. No work. No effort. Just be. Sadness, on the other hand, may not do this. It may merely make you painfully aware of how things can and should be changed. You aren't numb, so you still care. And you're not a victim, so you do have the power to make things happen. Pain and work. Pain and work. Not that I wish I were depressed or anything. How twisted would that be? I'm just saying, it's important to have a good perspective on things.

Maiden Voyage

OK. So people keep asking me why I don't have a blog. And I get it. I'm quite clever at times and I can string a good sentence together now and again. But what these good-meaning people don't realize is how masterbatory these things can be.
I used to journal. Well, I should say that there have been moments in my life when I have tried to journal. What a nightmare. They should be burned. Strings, endless, meaningless strings of sentences beginning with "I". Self-absorbed bunk that would embarrass even the most pathetic thirteen-year-old. My fear is this could collapse into such drivvel.
It is up to me, to be sure. But it's a matter of what drives me to the words? What kinds of things do I feel compelled to disclose.

So, here it goes. I don't want to be selfish and disappoint those folks who have requested this.

Maiden voyage. A title chosen for its triteness. Tonight's theme? The joys of singlehood.

This morning I woke up on time, amazingly enough. Not sure how that happened. At the foot of the bed on the 'other' side is a pile of clothes that continues to grow each night. I look at it and it makes me mostly sad, although part of me enjoys the fact that I can just let it be there and not worry about it getting in anyone's way. Bed - mine! All mine. Would I give up the pile for a steady body on the other half? In a heartbeat. So what is that pile? A statement of ownership? A little lemon juice in the papercut of being single? A heavy sigh of resignation? Or, and this might be the key, a visual aid of how lazy I am when I'm sleep deprived from going to bed way too late for days on end. Yes, let's call it that.

When feeding George I spilled a bunch of his food. I was in a hurry to get out the door and didn't bother cleaning it up. I justified it by saying that nibbling off the floor might be fun for him since his life is so disturbingly boring right now. God, did I actually think that to myself? Yes, in fact I did. (Sometimes I wonder if George has any idea what myriad of decisions he's involved in in my life.) Today, upon my returning from my meaningless and completely uneventful day at work (for another posting), the food was still there. George hadn't eaten any of it from what I could tell. And why would he? Sheesh - he's got a fresh bowl nicely placed at neck height. Another pile I was able to ignore because I live alone, because I'm single and because I know no one will be visiting tonight.

But so what? So what that I have piles of cat food and clothes laying around in places they shouldn't be. What's that about? Instead of framing it as pathetic, sad, a sign of my fading grasp on the things most important, why not reframe it as liberation. That's right! Piles of liberation. The cat food of liberty. The clothing pile of freedom. No one has to know. They're my piles and they are deeply intimate. They are my life right now. People all over wish they had the ability to just leave piles.

OK, just let me believe that. Let me believe that these piles represent something better than what they appear as. I need it. I need to love those piles. It's November in Minnesota. Despair is gearing up for a heady blow as the tempertures drop and the daylight fades to nearly nothing. If making positive meaning out of my domestic misfirings gives me even a tiny bit of comfort, let me have it. Please.