Jun 9, 2009
The long, slow road to friendship in the desert
This is video of my feelings on friendship, rather a long drought of friendship where I live, or at least a sparseness of friendship.
Jun 4, 2009
Health Goals with assistance from a Health Coach
I met with a Mayo Health Clinic Health coach today and came up with some goals.
I meet with the health coach again on the 18th and then after I return from vacation on July 14th.
He is going to send me some info that will help on food info.
I think this is realy good. Also the Mayo Clinic EmbodyHealth Portal that I have access to has a lot of really good info on related to Fitness, Excercise and Stress.
Hopefully I will be able to work my goals while I am on vacation. I will give it a good shot!
- Exercise 2 times a week for 20 minutes over the next couple weeks.
- Use my iPhone app, Lose It, to record the food I eat.
- Eat at least 1 fruit and 1 vegetable serving a day (it's a start!).
I meet with the health coach again on the 18th and then after I return from vacation on July 14th.
He is going to send me some info that will help on food info.
I think this is realy good. Also the Mayo Clinic EmbodyHealth Portal that I have access to has a lot of really good info on related to Fitness, Excercise and Stress.
Hopefully I will be able to work my goals while I am on vacation. I will give it a good shot!
May 14, 2009
Elegy For Mike
Mike was a kid I used to know,
He came to Young Life pretty regularly
I gave him rides,
I hung out with him, Jason and Alex at times.
My wife tells me
his funeral Service notice
is posted on Facebook,
would have been only about 30 years old.
His parents must be heartbroken.
What happened in the past dozen years?
So much living, lived.
Did life unravel on him?
Choice were made, or not made.
Was it an accident,
or was it careless living?
I don’t know.
Now I’m writing a poem about,
a blond haired kid from Saratoga,
a kid whose parents loved him,
who I had some laughs with,
gave some rides to,
had some ice cream with,
drank coffee with in downtown,
just a small slice of life really.
He always seemed a little troubled,
but real and honest
in conversation.
He had called my friend,
at high and low points,
over the past couple years,
filling him in on life.
His life cut short,
is there anything
we could have done?
Maybe,
maybe not.
Regrets may remain,
but the grave does not care
and his parents’ hearts are broken,
with no more memories of Mike to be made.
May 12, 2009
"We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless." ~Paul Bowles
He came to Young Life pretty regularly
I gave him rides,
I hung out with him, Jason and Alex at times.
My wife tells me
his funeral Service notice
is posted on Facebook,
would have been only about 30 years old.
His parents must be heartbroken.
What happened in the past dozen years?
So much living, lived.
Did life unravel on him?
Choice were made, or not made.
Was it an accident,
or was it careless living?
I don’t know.
Now I’m writing a poem about,
a blond haired kid from Saratoga,
a kid whose parents loved him,
who I had some laughs with,
gave some rides to,
had some ice cream with,
drank coffee with in downtown,
just a small slice of life really.
He always seemed a little troubled,
but real and honest
in conversation.
He had called my friend,
at high and low points,
over the past couple years,
filling him in on life.
His life cut short,
is there anything
we could have done?
Maybe,
maybe not.
Regrets may remain,
but the grave does not care
and his parents’ hearts are broken,
with no more memories of Mike to be made.
May 12, 2009
"We get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet everything happens only a certain number of times, and a very small number, really. How many more times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being that you can't even conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more. Perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless." ~Paul Bowles
May 1, 2009
Can’t We Discuss It?
NOUN:
1. Consideration of a subject by a group; an earnest conversation.
2. A formal discourse on a topic; an exposition.
I am a Democrat.
I am a Republican.
I am a Libertarian.
I am a Christian.
I am an Agnostic.
I am a Communist.
I am a Fill-In-The-Blank
Affiliation trumps citizenship.
We are Balkanized,
Fragmented,
Breaking apart,
Instead of coming together.
The tectonic plates collide
No other view
than yours
Is heard,
Words spewed out,
Partisanship trumps citizenship.
But, I am an American.
Care is not there.
Debate over
The person’s feelings,
All that matters is
YOUR point
YOU
HAVE
TO
MAKE.
You’re Right
they’re wrong.
You Win
They lose
But, we’re all Americans.
Can’t be there be discussion?
“But so-and-so is ruining our country.”
Not true.
We’re Stronger than that.
Check back in 4 to 8 years,
the country will still be standing.
But will we find understanding?
Will we hear one another?
Will we listen to anything?
Or will our blathering voices,
spouting out OUR OPINIONS
So Loud,
SO VERY LOUD,
Matter more?
Will the other person’s Voice,
opinions,
concerns,
be drowned out?
We are AMERICANS,
Can’t we embrace this common ground?
February 27, 2009
Written because of my frustration with the inability of being able to discuss any politics with out people crushing people’s feelings and only caring about their own opinions, both from the left and the right. This is especially true of this type of discussion that happens online, on Facebook, Etc.
NaPoWriMo # 30
Written Out
Late night sessions have been a lot of fun.
Now this month’s scibblings are done.
My lines now will be somewhat brief,
They are written with some sense of relief,
Mixed with some feelings of loss,
Later I will have to put on some gloss
On all these poems I have penned,
and now this month has come to an end.
But I will not have my writing suspend.
April 30, 2009
Late night sessions have been a lot of fun.
Now this month’s scibblings are done.
My lines now will be somewhat brief,
They are written with some sense of relief,
Mixed with some feelings of loss,
Later I will have to put on some gloss
On all these poems I have penned,
and now this month has come to an end.
But I will not have my writing suspend.
April 30, 2009
Apr 30, 2009
NaPoWriMo # 29
My Archeology Site
Simple things are not so
More behind the veil of the past.
Could explain the fissures.
More than can be spoken,
Still hidden,
Must remain buried,
For now.
Like an archeologist I’m at the dig site
Coal and diamonds are there.
Fear holds me back,
From my memories
I don’t think I can lift up the pick,
It must happen another day
Based on the prompt from Read Write Poem, "I Don't Think I can"
http://readwritepoem.org/2009/04/29/napowrimo-29-i-dont-think-i-can/
April 29, 2009
Simple things are not so
More behind the veil of the past.
Could explain the fissures.
More than can be spoken,
Still hidden,
Must remain buried,
For now.
Like an archeologist I’m at the dig site
Coal and diamonds are there.
Fear holds me back,
From my memories
I don’t think I can lift up the pick,
It must happen another day
Based on the prompt from Read Write Poem, "I Don't Think I can"
http://readwritepoem.org/2009/04/29/napowrimo-29-i-dont-think-i-can/
April 29, 2009
Apr 28, 2009
NaPoWriMo # 28
Mars, God of War
As Mars read the Scarlet Letter
he recalled,
"Though your sins be as scarlet,
they shall be white as snow."
He was red-faced.
White was such a weak color.
He roared, ready to go to war.
What would the Roman God of Mars Do?
I think he might pick up a book,
Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles,
for some insights
Maybe if Mars were feeling fiery,
he’d pull out FAHRENHEIT 451.
Get some of the “Fire” men to help him
fight his war with him.
But Guy Montag wouldn’t be much help.
So Mars would need to enlist Shakespeare
“Waving our red weapons o’er our heads”
Mars liked that sentiment,
and called on Shakespearean actors.
But those people were a waste
all they did after quoting that line
was to start reading all of Shakespeare’s Sonnets,
starting with One and continuing on through.
Mars got impatient
and killed them all.
He then tried to enlist some soldiers,
He chose the soldiers that fought in the Red Badge of Courage.
They too were disappointing,
far too old,
modern weapons confused them.
Mars let them join
Civil War Reenactments in Virginia,
too frail to kill,
Vulcan would laugh at him,
His heart on his sleeve.
He thought, maybe some “Red-Blooded Americans”
might have what he needed.
So he looked up a guy named Bruce,
Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.
Bruce called up old buddies of from Jersey,
some welders, dockworkers, and
other blue-collar guys from the Jersey shore.
The Boss asked Mars what wanted them to play.
Mars was flabbergasted!
Play? What did he mean?
He’d heard the Boss could wield a mean axe.
After realizing the “Axe” was a guitar,
Mars resigned from red-hot anger
and asked Bruce and his E Street Band
to soothe him and play a song.
The Boss began to play with his Jerseys boys,
over 100 guitars pounding out
a raucous, rollicking song
for Mars, God of War.
This poem is based on a promtp form Read Write Poem on "seeing red"
http://readwritepoem.org/2009/04/28/napowrimo-28-seeing-red/
April 28, 2009
As Mars read the Scarlet Letter
he recalled,
"Though your sins be as scarlet,
they shall be white as snow."
He was red-faced.
White was such a weak color.
He roared, ready to go to war.
What would the Roman God of Mars Do?
I think he might pick up a book,
Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles,
for some insights
Maybe if Mars were feeling fiery,
he’d pull out FAHRENHEIT 451.
Get some of the “Fire” men to help him
fight his war with him.
But Guy Montag wouldn’t be much help.
So Mars would need to enlist Shakespeare
“Waving our red weapons o’er our heads”
Mars liked that sentiment,
and called on Shakespearean actors.
But those people were a waste
all they did after quoting that line
was to start reading all of Shakespeare’s Sonnets,
starting with One and continuing on through.
Mars got impatient
and killed them all.
He then tried to enlist some soldiers,
He chose the soldiers that fought in the Red Badge of Courage.
They too were disappointing,
far too old,
modern weapons confused them.
Mars let them join
Civil War Reenactments in Virginia,
too frail to kill,
Vulcan would laugh at him,
His heart on his sleeve.
He thought, maybe some “Red-Blooded Americans”
might have what he needed.
So he looked up a guy named Bruce,
Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band.
Bruce called up old buddies of from Jersey,
some welders, dockworkers, and
other blue-collar guys from the Jersey shore.
The Boss asked Mars what wanted them to play.
Mars was flabbergasted!
Play? What did he mean?
He’d heard the Boss could wield a mean axe.
After realizing the “Axe” was a guitar,
Mars resigned from red-hot anger
and asked Bruce and his E Street Band
to soothe him and play a song.
The Boss began to play with his Jerseys boys,
over 100 guitars pounding out
a raucous, rollicking song
for Mars, God of War.
This poem is based on a promtp form Read Write Poem on "seeing red"
http://readwritepoem.org/2009/04/28/napowrimo-28-seeing-red/
April 28, 2009
NaPoWriMo # 27
Beware of Homosapiens
Forget about the dog in that house,
there are people in there.
There’s a man with sharp words,
There’s a woman with biting sarcasm.
Another is rabid with unpredictability,
as he walks through his daily routine.
Insensitivity is on that one like fleas,
irritating all who are exposed.
It’s a always a smorgasbord of surprises,
like a beef stew on Sunday,
or Jambalaya on Fat Tuesday,
when people are involved,
part of the adventure of being alive,
our dark sides shine through,
even in the midst of our noblest moments.
Redemption can come,
moments after purgatorial wanderings.
Personality, character, soul are as
important as the water and chemical compounds,
that hold us together.
Is life is like a box of chocolates?
We are not black and white, cut and dried,
but like snowflakes,
beautiful, delicate, and intricate,
but melting so easily.
We are more complex than a DNA double helix.
The wondrous, beautiful disasters,
are very close,
within us all.
April 27, 2009
Forget about the dog in that house,
there are people in there.
There’s a man with sharp words,
There’s a woman with biting sarcasm.
Another is rabid with unpredictability,
as he walks through his daily routine.
Insensitivity is on that one like fleas,
irritating all who are exposed.
It’s a always a smorgasbord of surprises,
like a beef stew on Sunday,
or Jambalaya on Fat Tuesday,
when people are involved,
part of the adventure of being alive,
our dark sides shine through,
even in the midst of our noblest moments.
Redemption can come,
moments after purgatorial wanderings.
Personality, character, soul are as
important as the water and chemical compounds,
that hold us together.
Is life is like a box of chocolates?
We are not black and white, cut and dried,
but like snowflakes,
beautiful, delicate, and intricate,
but melting so easily.
We are more complex than a DNA double helix.
The wondrous, beautiful disasters,
are very close,
within us all.
April 27, 2009
Apr 26, 2009
NaPoWriMo # 26
In My Town
I pass them daily
Target, Starbucks, Jamba Julice,
Suburban living.
April 26, 2009
I pass them daily
Target, Starbucks, Jamba Julice,
Suburban living.
April 26, 2009
NaPoWriMo # 25
Life of a Former Childhood Day Dreamer
Why do we always think the grass is greener?
When we get to the new yard it’s full of weeds.
Our cup of tea makes it easier to be an explorer.
We think that they have a nice demeanor,
But seeing what we want, we see their deeds
Why do we always think the grass is greener?
Instead we end up with a misdemeanor,
this time we weren’t someone who reads.
Our cup of tea makes it easier to be an explorer.
A new city is not the same as buying a coffeemaker,
we hope what we are brewing up succeeds.
Why do we always think the grass is greener?
I need to be more introspective and less of a runner.
Problems follow us where we go, more than one concedes.
Our cup of tea makes it easier to be an explorer.
But life’s too short, I need to be an adventurer,
Get out my compass, coffee, map and stead.
Why do we always think the grass is greener?
Our cup of tea makes it easier to be an explorer.
April 26, 2009
Why do we always think the grass is greener?
When we get to the new yard it’s full of weeds.
Our cup of tea makes it easier to be an explorer.
We think that they have a nice demeanor,
But seeing what we want, we see their deeds
Why do we always think the grass is greener?
Instead we end up with a misdemeanor,
this time we weren’t someone who reads.
Our cup of tea makes it easier to be an explorer.
A new city is not the same as buying a coffeemaker,
we hope what we are brewing up succeeds.
Why do we always think the grass is greener?
I need to be more introspective and less of a runner.
Problems follow us where we go, more than one concedes.
Our cup of tea makes it easier to be an explorer.
But life’s too short, I need to be an adventurer,
Get out my compass, coffee, map and stead.
Why do we always think the grass is greener?
Our cup of tea makes it easier to be an explorer.
April 26, 2009
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