I heard about this informational site on the P.R.I. syndicated radio program Tech Nation.
Did you ever wonder how toxic that floor cleaner really is for you or your family?
Is a Cheez-It that bad for your health? How about the health of the planet? What was its carbon-footprint before it ended up munched? Which is the most environmentally friendly water bottle, so we can avoid a lifetime of trashed plastic bottles?
Find out all you wanted to know about the environmental, biological, and social impacts of the products we use at GoodGuide.com. It's a powerful resource that's getting better and more comprehensive all the time. Use it to get the economy rolling again, in an environmentally conscious way.
21.5.09
An Inherited Taste
I love pepper because of my mom. I love salt because of my dad. She always used to say that pepper makes it better and "You just have to add pepper!" He always added the salt silently, practically sneaking it underneath her nose so as to avoid confrontation, another trait I've inherited, incidentally. He did too many shakes until the plate looked snowed upon at times. Still, the taste popped then and I'm always seeking that effect to this day. She had Mrs. Dash, but that was a relatively poor substitute for the Earth's most abundant flavor enhancer, not to mention, as my dad was fond of pointing out, salt is a necessay mineral for the functioning of the human system. The spicy justifications abound!
Accounting for taste is near impossible, however some of mine do seem to have distinct origins. I'm very fond of the calming wave following a good bout of chile-induced fervor. Somehow the endorphin release after a deep burn is something I've grown accustomed to and something I crave, even in the wrong culinary contexts. No, there's no habanero dice going on the lemon-merengue pie, although the peaceful resolution tailing after the heat would still be welcome.
More to the point, this need for fire surely originated in the very vivid childhood memories I have of my Grandpa Tank downing entire jalapeno peppers in one gulp at the table of a favorite Tex-Mex restaurant. He seemed to be wholly unaffected, essentially immune to the capsacin in the pepper, that chemical that yields the pseudo-pain and subsequent endorphin response in the brain. The trick had to be in the method of swallowing the peppers whole; without chewing them up, the tongue never actually came in contact with characteristically volatile checmical compound in the wonder fruit itself. All in all, it was a dandy of a stunt that stuck with me along with my love of hot peppers!
I wonder if this would be condsidered a MEEM? Is this the right context for such inheritance of culturally and socially influenced traits? Maybe an expert will weigh in and help out here.
Accounting for taste is near impossible, however some of mine do seem to have distinct origins. I'm very fond of the calming wave following a good bout of chile-induced fervor. Somehow the endorphin release after a deep burn is something I've grown accustomed to and something I crave, even in the wrong culinary contexts. No, there's no habanero dice going on the lemon-merengue pie, although the peaceful resolution tailing after the heat would still be welcome.
More to the point, this need for fire surely originated in the very vivid childhood memories I have of my Grandpa Tank downing entire jalapeno peppers in one gulp at the table of a favorite Tex-Mex restaurant. He seemed to be wholly unaffected, essentially immune to the capsacin in the pepper, that chemical that yields the pseudo-pain and subsequent endorphin response in the brain. The trick had to be in the method of swallowing the peppers whole; without chewing them up, the tongue never actually came in contact with characteristically volatile checmical compound in the wonder fruit itself. All in all, it was a dandy of a stunt that stuck with me along with my love of hot peppers!
I wonder if this would be condsidered a MEEM? Is this the right context for such inheritance of culturally and socially influenced traits? Maybe an expert will weigh in and help out here.
The New Name ...Same Game
After a recent thawing of this individual forum, I've decided to throw in another new title for the blog. Representing the temporal-emotional landscape has been my trend with these Latin phrases and so I continue that pattern with this next installation:
'esse quam videri' - to be, rather than to seem
Writing these blog posts before seemed a cathartic process for venting and observing and I assume that direction will remain. However, I'm going to commit to writing from a perspective of a writer, not simply a thinker or observer, so as to grow in some way. Too long I've discounted my own unique talents as inconsequential in my self-deprecating attempts to convey my thoughts.
Into the future, I'll endeavor to express myself more freely, to disregard the nagging doubt inside, and to ignore the self-judgement that comes so naturally. The results, at least, will be a true representation of my thinking rather than a watered-down, softened version of what are sometimes my more revealing, impassioned cogitations on this life.
'esse quam videri' - to be, rather than to seem
Writing these blog posts before seemed a cathartic process for venting and observing and I assume that direction will remain. However, I'm going to commit to writing from a perspective of a writer, not simply a thinker or observer, so as to grow in some way. Too long I've discounted my own unique talents as inconsequential in my self-deprecating attempts to convey my thoughts.
Into the future, I'll endeavor to express myself more freely, to disregard the nagging doubt inside, and to ignore the self-judgement that comes so naturally. The results, at least, will be a true representation of my thinking rather than a watered-down, softened version of what are sometimes my more revealing, impassioned cogitations on this life.
20.5.09
Unthawing with a Rant!
It seems there's hardly a better way to break the silence here than with a true tirade on the state of the state, be it justified or not. Today, my main beef is with those folks who insist on pulling onto the road without considering those behind them who they might be forcing into evasive maneuvers.
The worst of this kind of irresponsible piloting has to be the four lane divided highway. The unobservant fools in question seem oblivious to traffic upstream and simply wheel a multi-ton vehicle out into the masses with little or no regard for how that action might affect the traffic flow at large. Driving along in the right lane, I and other drivers are forced, sometimes rather abruptly, to adjust our routes to these absent-minded people. Often times, when no egress is available due to heavy volume, a driver must decrease speed severely to accomodate this oblivious behavior of pulling out into traffic without regard to surroundings.
I don't mind slowing down a little, but the worst instances are when the driver depends on the attentiveness of approaching vehicles and expects those drivers to react appropriately. The whole "Drive Defensively" campaign was meant to increase awareness and eradicate this kind of assumptive positioning, the type of taking for granted that gets people killed.
To aggravate responsible travelers further, these people who bank on the good judgement of others many times neglect to sense the urgency of the action they've just commited. If the person is driving a Mercedes SUV or a BMW or every a decent American made sedan, the logical expectation is that the driver would want to show the world how much power is under the hood by accelerating in a way that is proportionate to the traffic situation.
SPEED UP! And do it fast or you will be rear-ended!
Maybe that would be the best thing for these people, to help dislodge whatever it is that is stuck so far up their asses that they can't even concentrate on the road, which is really the only task at hand or so it should be. What is it up in there? Is it a cell phone? Maybe it's a greasy french fry? Are they mid-text and thinking of which abbreviation to punch in thumb-wise? LOL + FU!
"I pity the fools." - Mr. T
The worst of this kind of irresponsible piloting has to be the four lane divided highway. The unobservant fools in question seem oblivious to traffic upstream and simply wheel a multi-ton vehicle out into the masses with little or no regard for how that action might affect the traffic flow at large. Driving along in the right lane, I and other drivers are forced, sometimes rather abruptly, to adjust our routes to these absent-minded people. Often times, when no egress is available due to heavy volume, a driver must decrease speed severely to accomodate this oblivious behavior of pulling out into traffic without regard to surroundings.
I don't mind slowing down a little, but the worst instances are when the driver depends on the attentiveness of approaching vehicles and expects those drivers to react appropriately. The whole "Drive Defensively" campaign was meant to increase awareness and eradicate this kind of assumptive positioning, the type of taking for granted that gets people killed.
To aggravate responsible travelers further, these people who bank on the good judgement of others many times neglect to sense the urgency of the action they've just commited. If the person is driving a Mercedes SUV or a BMW or every a decent American made sedan, the logical expectation is that the driver would want to show the world how much power is under the hood by accelerating in a way that is proportionate to the traffic situation.
SPEED UP! And do it fast or you will be rear-ended!
Maybe that would be the best thing for these people, to help dislodge whatever it is that is stuck so far up their asses that they can't even concentrate on the road, which is really the only task at hand or so it should be. What is it up in there? Is it a cell phone? Maybe it's a greasy french fry? Are they mid-text and thinking of which abbreviation to punch in thumb-wise? LOL + FU!
"I pity the fools." - Mr. T
27.9.08
Friggin' freezing in here, y'all. Period.
Sorry to the very few who have lain eyes here, but you'll have to pause for a stretch before you'll have the pleasure of squandering any more time perusing this glommed together ball of blog. Here it goes into hibernation...for the time being.
9.9.08
Vocab. Hyped
It's clear and unanimous; the most overused word of the year has got to be...panacea. This term has been bandied about in practically every media forum around, especially in recent months as most discussions in the public forum eventually lead to futile arguments over energy policy. Here is an offering of alternatives to that frankly played-out, antiquated, and progressively stale term so popularized today:
What's the best remedy for our energy ills?
Judging by the cost of that ear, do you still think corn ethanol is the cure-all for our oil addiction?
Do you know of a good medicament for herpes?
Why not offer up a catholicon to save us from a fatal, collective third-degree burn?
Does "Drill, baby, drill!" sound like the magic bullet for the global warming dilemma?
The GOP naively suggests a nepenthe to soothe the pain of our fossil-fueled woes.
Clean coal technologies and offshore drilling merely represent a nostrum to our energy crisis.
A certain few of these options could be the panacea to the problem of the word panacea's frequency in the media as of late. Although, it would be only slightly less surprising for armageddon to ensue than it would be for the talking heads to consult a thesaurus once in a harvest moon.
What's the best remedy for our energy ills?
Judging by the cost of that ear, do you still think corn ethanol is the cure-all for our oil addiction?
Do you know of a good medicament for herpes?
Why not offer up a catholicon to save us from a fatal, collective third-degree burn?
Does "Drill, baby, drill!" sound like the magic bullet for the global warming dilemma?
The GOP naively suggests a nepenthe to soothe the pain of our fossil-fueled woes.
Clean coal technologies and offshore drilling merely represent a nostrum to our energy crisis.
A certain few of these options could be the panacea to the problem of the word panacea's frequency in the media as of late. Although, it would be only slightly less surprising for armageddon to ensue than it would be for the talking heads to consult a thesaurus once in a harvest moon.
8.9.08
Another Title Rotation...
Still more titles for this blog have come and gone. In case you missed them, they're summarized here for your Latin learning pleasure.
"nolens volens" - this one is the Latin root of the common phrase 'willy nilly', stemming from the Old English phrase 'wil-he, nil-he' meaning 'will he or will he not'. I liked the sound of it and it fit my then state of apathetic indecision.
"talis qualis" - the continuation of the rhyming latin is purely coincindental, however nicely it rings! I like this one for its simplicity; it means only 'as such' or 'just as it is', which for me stands to describe the content I've gathered here. There's no pretense and I'm not speaking as an authority...so this is it.
"respice, adspice, prospice" - no, nothing to do with spices here. It means 'to look back, look to the present, and to the future'. Maybe the reader should read old posts and look forward to new ones. Also, it's a cue for me to be more contemplative and conscious of this life's path. Possibly, I just need to get some Mexican food soon!
More name changes to come...
"nolens volens" - this one is the Latin root of the common phrase 'willy nilly', stemming from the Old English phrase 'wil-he, nil-he' meaning 'will he or will he not'. I liked the sound of it and it fit my then state of apathetic indecision.
"talis qualis" - the continuation of the rhyming latin is purely coincindental, however nicely it rings! I like this one for its simplicity; it means only 'as such' or 'just as it is', which for me stands to describe the content I've gathered here. There's no pretense and I'm not speaking as an authority...so this is it.
"respice, adspice, prospice" - no, nothing to do with spices here. It means 'to look back, look to the present, and to the future'. Maybe the reader should read old posts and look forward to new ones. Also, it's a cue for me to be more contemplative and conscious of this life's path. Possibly, I just need to get some Mexican food soon!
More name changes to come...
Musical Titles...
Again, the need for clarification arises as the name of this blog continues to change. I realize, admittedly, that the constant moniker juggling probably makes it tough for searchers to find the site by name, although the url remains the same. No matter - the changes are meant to keep my approach fresh, even as my gripes may become stale. To begin the next round:
'sol omnia regit' - this is meant to remind me and the curious reader that the sun rules over us all. Life continues even in the face of struggle and suffering. The world breathes even if its lungs sting and wither. Even this blog whimpers and drags itself on...fortunately vel non ;)
Swimming at the Airport...
This Labor Day, I spent some precious moments immersed in the immense reservoir that is Lake Lanier. While submerged, I enjoyed the company of the previously introduced canine, Tallulah, who becomes more at ease in the water with every visit, provided sticks and tennis balls abound. The only drawback during this lovely, if brief, excursion into Lanier's shallow bathwater was, well, the rest of the world.
From our vantage point on an island (these days more a drought-borne peninsula), Tallulah and I floated, treaded, and dog-paddled for a short while until it seemed we were totally surrounded by humanity, each being executing his or her willful right to relaxation. The irony of the scene was that very relaxation that all sought simultaneously was what was keeping me and countless others from achieving any real serenity. Mindfulness surely would have served me well at that moment but for my inexperience with 'wet zazen', or zazen of any sort.
The people seemed to come from almost all directions by water. First, the mosquito-like buzz-bys of personal watercraft, the Sea-doo jetski, made their aural assaults. The crafts' operators, ranging from middle-aged and pot-bellied to pre-pubescent and thoughtless, were clearly oblivious of others in the lake or on its shores. Even hugging the cracked and dried shoreline, Tallulah and I were whipped by the jetskis' roiling wakes, testing my patience for Southern boaters, rattling the doggy's fragile aqua-confidence.
The auditory barrage continued throughout our swim, at times rising to a multi-octave cacophony of inboard cigarette boat rumblings, pontoon boat whirrs, and partybarges zooming sluggishly on the now turbulent lake. Skiers and wakeboarders sliced through the green water and red clay murk, led by Mastercrafts and rust buckets alike. Any calm, any inclining of peace was engulfed on all sides by an obnoxious echoing of wakes, the fumes of the carbon-burning-maniacs, the day off, drunken hollers of all who dedicated themselves to recreation on that holiday. Bobbing there, keeping on the surface to stay visible, I felt like a duck might, one who'd found its way to a cooling puddle centered in a vast empty concrete field, threatened with every webbed kick by the aluminum giants taking flight all around.
Regardless of class, race, creed, or social standing, those on the lake that day must have at least noticed the extent to which our 'good times' were affecting the environment around us. So, by the end of the weekend, the lake and all its struggling native creatures had the chance to drink in the rainbow oil slicks and litter strewn all about, gifts from its patrons on that very free day in the heart of a very free land. It is fitting though that a man-made, fingery "lake" such as Lanier should be so ecologically tortured by the very same folks who drink it up, feed their lawns, and wash their clothes and bodies with it daily. Even in times of scarcity, it is remote to think that we might cherish the natural elements. Instead, we manipulate the Earth's forms, turn valleys into lakebeds, and proceed to rape the rains of better years with machines made for the pleasure of men who behave more like parasites.
Still, with all the distractions, the dip was a cooling one and I can now say that the time spent was well-spent. Tallulah would agree that the trip was worthwhile, hot as it was that day, although she'd prefer a more placid scenario in which to master her paddling technique.
From our vantage point on an island (these days more a drought-borne peninsula), Tallulah and I floated, treaded, and dog-paddled for a short while until it seemed we were totally surrounded by humanity, each being executing his or her willful right to relaxation. The irony of the scene was that very relaxation that all sought simultaneously was what was keeping me and countless others from achieving any real serenity. Mindfulness surely would have served me well at that moment but for my inexperience with 'wet zazen', or zazen of any sort.
The people seemed to come from almost all directions by water. First, the mosquito-like buzz-bys of personal watercraft, the Sea-doo jetski, made their aural assaults. The crafts' operators, ranging from middle-aged and pot-bellied to pre-pubescent and thoughtless, were clearly oblivious of others in the lake or on its shores. Even hugging the cracked and dried shoreline, Tallulah and I were whipped by the jetskis' roiling wakes, testing my patience for Southern boaters, rattling the doggy's fragile aqua-confidence.
The auditory barrage continued throughout our swim, at times rising to a multi-octave cacophony of inboard cigarette boat rumblings, pontoon boat whirrs, and partybarges zooming sluggishly on the now turbulent lake. Skiers and wakeboarders sliced through the green water and red clay murk, led by Mastercrafts and rust buckets alike. Any calm, any inclining of peace was engulfed on all sides by an obnoxious echoing of wakes, the fumes of the carbon-burning-maniacs, the day off, drunken hollers of all who dedicated themselves to recreation on that holiday. Bobbing there, keeping on the surface to stay visible, I felt like a duck might, one who'd found its way to a cooling puddle centered in a vast empty concrete field, threatened with every webbed kick by the aluminum giants taking flight all around.
Regardless of class, race, creed, or social standing, those on the lake that day must have at least noticed the extent to which our 'good times' were affecting the environment around us. So, by the end of the weekend, the lake and all its struggling native creatures had the chance to drink in the rainbow oil slicks and litter strewn all about, gifts from its patrons on that very free day in the heart of a very free land. It is fitting though that a man-made, fingery "lake" such as Lanier should be so ecologically tortured by the very same folks who drink it up, feed their lawns, and wash their clothes and bodies with it daily. Even in times of scarcity, it is remote to think that we might cherish the natural elements. Instead, we manipulate the Earth's forms, turn valleys into lakebeds, and proceed to rape the rains of better years with machines made for the pleasure of men who behave more like parasites.
Still, with all the distractions, the dip was a cooling one and I can now say that the time spent was well-spent. Tallulah would agree that the trip was worthwhile, hot as it was that day, although she'd prefer a more placid scenario in which to master her paddling technique.
The Energy Ball
Despite its overly clever name, the science behind this renewable energy technology seems remarkably promising. It would be brilliant to see these sprouting from the roofs and chimneys of every dwelling on the block. The following link provides info on this breakthrough wind turbine highlighting its electrical productivity even in low wind areas. http://www.home-energy.com/engels/ebv100.htm
28.8.08
Gray Pride...
Although I've yet to achieve a full head of silver, I am beginning to realize that my notions on aging have begun to change. This seems to be happening in conjunction with the graying behind my temples and the gradually more frequent discovery of rogue, white strands hiding in my beard.
Somehow, it has become a part of my perception of aging that going gray is something to dread. That perspective may be rooted in childhood memories of my parents faces and the locks of family friends, having watched these people I literally looked up to begin to dimly glow from their heads even after dusk. Now, I'd say if one's mop transforms itself into a shimmer-in-the-dark type of bird's nest, then so it goes. That's how you'll know you've lived through struggle or simply walked through a less-than carefree life.
Unfortunately, I've lost most of my hair already, and the little I have left is starting to tell the tale of my past without any utterance on my part. Soon the salt will begin to win its battle with the pepper and that will be it! Maybe I don't fear this transition because of my early fondness for the comedy of Steve Martin or my juvenile attraction to a friend's buxom mother who began consistently frosting her hair at the first notice of a gray.
At its heart, I think the general "dismay at gray" for most comes not from the change in our superficial identity but the indication that the rest of the physiology stands on the edge of some wicked kind of tumble, an unstoppable, end-over-end plunge into a geriatric abyss with no hope of escape except by means of death.
It might be best to look to those who we regard to have aged gracefully - Paul Newman, for me, is one. He and Helen Mirren would make a lovely elderly couple, playing shuffleboard in slow motion, feathery, flickering locks waving in the breeze. For now, I'll choose to relish the debut of each new player in the drama between darkness and light that unfolds, daily and irreversibly, on my head.
Somehow, it has become a part of my perception of aging that going gray is something to dread. That perspective may be rooted in childhood memories of my parents faces and the locks of family friends, having watched these people I literally looked up to begin to dimly glow from their heads even after dusk. Now, I'd say if one's mop transforms itself into a shimmer-in-the-dark type of bird's nest, then so it goes. That's how you'll know you've lived through struggle or simply walked through a less-than carefree life.
Unfortunately, I've lost most of my hair already, and the little I have left is starting to tell the tale of my past without any utterance on my part. Soon the salt will begin to win its battle with the pepper and that will be it! Maybe I don't fear this transition because of my early fondness for the comedy of Steve Martin or my juvenile attraction to a friend's buxom mother who began consistently frosting her hair at the first notice of a gray.
At its heart, I think the general "dismay at gray" for most comes not from the change in our superficial identity but the indication that the rest of the physiology stands on the edge of some wicked kind of tumble, an unstoppable, end-over-end plunge into a geriatric abyss with no hope of escape except by means of death.
It might be best to look to those who we regard to have aged gracefully - Paul Newman, for me, is one. He and Helen Mirren would make a lovely elderly couple, playing shuffleboard in slow motion, feathery, flickering locks waving in the breeze. For now, I'll choose to relish the debut of each new player in the drama between darkness and light that unfolds, daily and irreversibly, on my head.
26.8.08
The Devil's Rain
Long ago, I read somewhere that when it rains in full sunshine, it's called the 'Devil's Rain'. Somehow the elements of the name seem contradictory: the sun being positive and hopeful and the rain, a typically dreary part of life. Personally, I seem to see rain as a life-giving element for our garden and the all of Earth's gardens. Too much rain, of course, leads to disaster, failed crops, disease, and misery. Not enough yields just the same.
As for today's so called 'Devil's Rain', I'd say it was exemplary. The droplets were rotund divebombers, smashing the pavement outside the building with all the force that terminal velocity could provide. The backsplashing of each crashing drop gave off its own crown-shaped ringlet of resonance, dimpling the puddles and sending tiny waves in all directions. The sun shined throughout, giving the whole shower an eerie, vibrant quality. Just as quickly as it whipped up, pushed here by the residual energy of a lingering tropical storm, it was over.
As for today's so called 'Devil's Rain', I'd say it was exemplary. The droplets were rotund divebombers, smashing the pavement outside the building with all the force that terminal velocity could provide. The backsplashing of each crashing drop gave off its own crown-shaped ringlet of resonance, dimpling the puddles and sending tiny waves in all directions. The sun shined throughout, giving the whole shower an eerie, vibrant quality. Just as quickly as it whipped up, pushed here by the residual energy of a lingering tropical storm, it was over.
24.8.08
The True Originals at Improv Everywhere...
If you've never heard of Improv Everywhere, you'll be pleasantly surprised and amused after a visit to their extensive site full of links to ingenious & creative social projects
(some would came them 'pranks'). These folks incorporate modern technology, social networking, and group dynamics to engineer some very unique and entertaining 'events' mostly in urban areas around the U.S. All of the content is better to see than to read about, clearly, so it's a must to check out their site at http://improveverywhere.com/ . Enjoy the evidence that in the masses, there is plenty of room for fun and infinite power for change.
Some of my favorite participatory works are:
Slo-Mo Home Depot
Sychronized Swimming in Washington Square Park
Cellphone Symphony
No Pants 2K6
Check these out; you'll surely smile!
(some would came them 'pranks'). These folks incorporate modern technology, social networking, and group dynamics to engineer some very unique and entertaining 'events' mostly in urban areas around the U.S. All of the content is better to see than to read about, clearly, so it's a must to check out their site at http://improveverywhere.com/ . Enjoy the evidence that in the masses, there is plenty of room for fun and infinite power for change.
Some of my favorite participatory works are:
Slo-Mo Home Depot
Sychronized Swimming in Washington Square Park
Cellphone Symphony
No Pants 2K6
Check these out; you'll surely smile!
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