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Recently I was sitting in a conference and the speaker was telling us that "success" is now being defined by women much differently than it was in the previous generation. I think this is where I want to focus these comments, however haphazardly, right now. It would be fine for me to comment on other postmodern changes but the only one that I'm really living is the current day, current year so I'll keep my comments in my blog on that topic. If you want to know about postmodern art, check out some great literary and art sites. If you want to know about postmodernism and religion, I got some swell references for you.

This is more about me sorting through some things and putting them to "paper" and making some sense of things...probably not a lot of answers here for most of you reading. Sorry.

I am in a generation that was a daughter of the feminist movement. And while we're being honest let's understand -- women and men inhabit different cultures. I don' t think this is a bad thing ..it is just a "thing" that has to be figured in whenever we talk about cultural changes. Men and Women see the world differently. I'm not going to go into the "why" or the "how" but they just do.

We were taught growing up that yes, we could do anything we wanted to do. We were told this by our mothers who, in the age of of Aquarius, who were out there finding themselves and living in Woodstock and fawning over the Beatles. They truly did want a different life than what their parents had given them. They meant well, really.

And so we were handed this world that many of us grew up in that was the world of the "un-parents". Parents really weren't into parenting that much...they were busy having their own crisis, having their own divorces, having their own lives. They were forging new ground in a lot of ways, burning bras and that sort of thing. It takes a lot of work to throw off cultural shifts of any kind. So of course, this produces kids with this obsessive "thing" about being a parent and how to parent and all that stuff. Books and tapes and support groups, oh my god.


We inherit this world with all this promise. We go to school, many of us pursing advanced degrees which is exactly what the mothers who raised us wanted us to do. Hey, if you can't live through your kids, then what's the point really, right?

And so we disdained the kitchen, and the having kids and all those things that heretofore were just "given" in a woman's life for more "important" things like the U.N. or being a lawyer or something that would give our life MEANING.

But what someone forgot to figure into the picture is that those positions don't hold meaning in and of themselves. Having three degrees in some advanced science field doesn't give a life meaning.

And so the eternal question begins to arise again -- as our parents asked themselves "why doesn't having a family in the suburbs give my life meaning?" our generation began to ask ourselves "why doesn't having advanced degrees and Prada bags and great hip friends give my life meaning?"

It's an eternal question that has to be answered by each generation as they find their way.

Let me hasten to add here that I don't have the answer. Sorry.

I know that, being a child of fundamentalist religion, I should quote book, scripture and verse. I can do that, but it doesn't mean that I have found the "meaning" of life. What I have found through that practice is a hard edge, an unforgiving edge that cuts both me and you. And while there may be some meaning to that, it hurts like hell and leaves one pretty cold and lonely.

I know that, being a child of the feminist movement, I should empower the other women of the world and unite together and share the sisterhood. And cry. Don't forget, there is a lot of crying going on with the "empowered sisterhood" thing. What I have found with that practice is that, despite the crying and the sisterhood slogans, there is a lot of back biting that again, hurts like hell and leaves me cold. And not much empowered either.

I know that being a child of the Cold War, I should have definite political views about those in other countries and understand my world view and write my congressman and vote! Don't forget to Vote. Because we know that changes the world, right? But what I learned through that approach is that the man I vote for may not be the same man in the Oval Office and maybe I changed the world in ways I hadn't bargained for.

So those of us -- female -- in the postmodern age have a lot of questions. We no longer define success as how many initials go behind our last name. We don't hang onto the name of our spouse or significant other or partner by any means. And if means that we have to miss the kids school play t make a few more bucks, we'd just as soon eat peanut butter and jelly for three nights until payday. We were told that we could have it all and we found out that we didn't really want it all.

We just wanted something that matters. To us and to the people we love.

And so, as I watch the trends in my industry begin to change even more I know the "why's" of how things are changing. I know that they are. I know that they must. I know that I am changing too, but I'm not sure into what or into whom.

And that is the question of transformation. We are all being transformed by something. Cultural ideology, societal trends, relationships. So if I'm being transformed into something, I just want that person to become something that matters. Something that has value on a deep and abiding level.

I am no longer a "religious" person having just left the community of believers that were foundational in my thinking for almost 40 years. It's been a difficult transition but a necessary one.

I still believe that there is a God, I just don't think that I know Him all that well. And what's more, I'm not sure He knows me. And that's where I'm trying to focus right now.

"New Dawn" and Ellen. 

This is another GREAT shot that Ellen took. Dan is the funniest man I know..he always can make me laugh.  

There once was a cat that loved Dan 

Ellen took this shot of our pond, although it is hidden behind lots of color. Great shot, I think! 

Ellen in the garden. 

Mexico bound

I made my travel arrangements for Mexico today, traveling with a friend/collegue to Mexico in July. I've also started exploring new relationships in the spanish-speaking community within my own city. I am struck, again, at how limiting my own culture is and how much I have to learn.

I was invited to a party tomorrow night with some of my new friends. Kind of strange, since I don't really "party". I'm not really a "fun" person so partying doesn't come up much. And, since the party starts at 9 PM that also makes it tough. 9 PM is prime reading/writing time for me, which is probably why I'm not much of a party goer.

Still, I accepted the invitation. I figure, what's a couple of hours? Since I don't drink (no moral grounds, just can't get a 'taste' for it at all) I am sure to learn a lot about people I might not have a chance to meet any other way.

So, I'll try to brush up on my small talk. Maybe I'll learn a few key phrases in Spanish or just try to do my best with my english. I wonder, will I be more sociable as a spanish speaking person?

Another idea that has emerged is that I could take what I'm learning by watching and observing another culture....how could I take what I'm learning (watching/observing) with me with in my OWN culture? Could I approach it with more humility? More interest? More compassion?

Worth a try. So today, as I sat in a director meeting I took notes. I studied the speaker more carefully, tried to imagine myself as some anthropologist who was studying the "sales culture" for some documentary. I watched what she did, how she said things.

In my line of work I am a black sheep, red herring or whatever..I always feel very out of place when I'm with my colleagues because they are all cuter, dress better, party better. I'm more at home with a good book or my laptop. Strolling in my garden or just sitting outside with a tall glass of sugary iced tea. A wild night for me is going to the local theater after 7 PM.

Today was no different...I arrived and immediately felt underdressed. I chaffed at not having a more "with it" hairstyle (after years of having my hair spiked, it is now curly and a bit longer). And I felt goofy dragging my Sonic Route 44 Iced Tea with me when no one else even looked hungry. (OK, they LOOKED hungry, but do they ever really EAT?)

But since I was doing a heavy cultural experiment, I started focusing more on others...and just like they tell you, it does help you feel less wierd.

A little bit, anyway.

New laptop, new life

It's keyboard is quick and fast. It has chrome all around it and it smells like a new car. It has more memory than I'll ever probably use and it's keys don't "stickkkkkk" because of coffee that was spilled on them.

Still, my new laptop isn't quite "mine" yet. I don't have all my files transferred over from my old. And my music -- MY MUSIC -- is still in the old player. It took me two years to get that music and playlists just like I wanted. Jesse Cook, Govi, David Lanz. They lulled me into morning routines and rounded out my day.

It's been a while since I've had any mechanical aversions, like I use to have about ten years ago. Then, I was on a personal mission to stay as far away from computers as possible. When I saw the "blip, blip" machines in my favorite grocery story, I lamented to my husband, "will there be anything that won't have a computer chip in it?"

Seems like a really stupid question now. Not as stupid as the guy who said that he didn't think there was much of a market for a personal computer (head of IBM), so I guess I'm in good company.

Reality is, my life on any given day has about three computers that work for it. My camera goes with me everywhere. My treo which is my phone (gotta be able to get email while driving, y'know) and of course my laptop, which is now is as necessary as pens and pencils...maybe more so.

But this huge transition from one pile of metal to another is really tough. It's like cleaning out my closet only worse...deletion is a lot harder than giving to Good Will. With one you give to others, with the other you don't exist.

Closer view of "New Dawn" a vigorous climber. This one rose plant is about 3 years old. Pictured here with barberry (deep purple) and coreopsis (yellow). Green foundation is with youpon. 

"New Dawn" makes her appearance over the arbor. Today, the buds finally opened...with the wet spring and cool weather the buds have been a little late in blooming but they are at their peak now. 

My garden in May.  

More fun times with the Traylors.  

"I wonder what NEXT year will bring me?" 

Nathan is just happy we FINALLY ordered our dinner.  

I love this shot of Dan and "his girl" Ellen. They have birthdays 2 days apart so we usually celebrate them together.  

Here's Mr. "impossible to buy for" sharing his birthday present.  

Culture Clash, Part Dos

Still reeling from my international encounter.

I'm thinking about an archeology class I took in college. I don't remember much -- the professor was one of those nerdy types who could make anything boring. Too bad for me.

If I remember correctly, there have been culture clashes for thousands of years. One culture will rise up only to be buried under another. All that's left are pot shards and baskets, maybe a few skeletons.

This has been repeated for generations. Cultures come, another one decides it is "better" and then war and demise.

And I think about how I fit into this picture. How we all do, in some way.

Are we just a culture that has dominion for a time and soon we, too, will be buried along with our cultural icons. What exactly will they find? Cell phone plates. ATM cards. DVDs.

Pictures of our celebrities. Will they scratch their heads and wonder how we gave so much reverence to those that graced the Kodak Theater. Maybe a future generation will read or more likely hear something like....

I wonder what some future society will discover when they "unearth" the memories of the Oscar's? Maybe something like this...???

AP NEWS REPORTS... Archeologists today reported discoveries in what use to be known as "Hollywood", which has been under water for the last 600 years. The remains of this ancient city were discovered when scientists were drilling for metroil off the coast of what use to be called the state of California. "We're very excited about the potential of such a discovery", says Ronald Elwood, Professor of Historic Cities at Citadel University. "This may unlock the mysteries of many of the ancient cities of the late 21st century." Scientists are still identifying many of the artificats that littered the prestigious temple that was once called the "Kodak Theater". Scientists have believed for many years that complex worship services were conducted here yearly when many of the Gods and Goddesses of the Theater would enter the court wearing their finest robes and jewels. Peasants lined up to take what is sometimes referred to as "photographs" of these royals to be seen across many parts of the then known world. "These were some of the most beautiful people of our time, sometimes undergoing hours and hours of bodily surgery to get their forms thin. This was of course before we fully understood the dangers of this primitive art form, " says Dr. Elwood. "We know that this society was very religious about these dieties, but we're not really sure why." he continued. "We are searching for reasons that would help us understand their adulation towards these beings." Included in the discovery were communication devices, what scientists think are primitive forms of the tele-laser, which allowed members of this society to communicate through speaking into the small device. Mind reading and telepathy had not yet become the force that it is today in these societies. "These were state of the art at the time" Dr. Elwood reports, "even though they were by our standards quite difficult to use." Scientists hope that this bounty of information wil help them better understand the end of what was once considered the world's greatest society.

It is only a matter of time before we, too, are just a footnote in the history books.

So, why, I wonder do we -- do I -- seem to believe that wherever and whatever I believe or hold true is so important. And are those beliefs really worth fighting for in light of what is almost sure knowledge that what is "true" today will only be remembered on a timeline of facts for bored history students?

It appears to me that there is a certain humility that must come from what I hold to be "truth". That a certain sense of tentativeness could be called for. That before I "bury" another with my own version of culture domination that I stop and think...

"what will be left from my culture that really matters?"

Celebrating Ellen

What I remember: long, thin fingers, reaching. Chin stuck purposefully out as if to dare me to not love her.

That first year was long and hard. Crying, crying, crying from colic. I cried too. I couldn't stop her tears. I couldn't help.

Then, she emerged as if she'd been waiting to catch us off guard. She watched her brother walk and she wanted to walk, too, no matter if she was only 6 months old. So she settled on sitting up struggling to hold the Tommy Tippee cup up even though she couldn't yet hold herself up. Watching her teeter in her chair, defiant and sure, I knew that had my work cut out for me.

Videos of her reveal a playful side. Like when she was being fed by her mother, she'd turn her head. But when 2 year old brother fed her, she'd be ecstatic, joyful and she'd laugh at her parents as they tried to understand that a one year old could have such a sense of humor.

She doesn't like being late, hates coming in second, is impatient with anything less than. She is dogged in her pursuits, devoted to her family, deadly on the ball court.

She has many loves -- her cherished pet, Phoenix, who passed away this year, her family, her ball. How she loves basketball.

I've seen her go up against girls twice her size, taking the charge full on, plunging to the ground only to rise up, undaunted. I've watched her small body fly across the court, arms and legs flinging, only to arise and march with purpose to the free throw line.

She is no stranger to injuries. Even now, she is wrapping up a stint with crutches with a fractured foot which was suffered at ball practice. I'm glad her father was with her when she got the news because it hurt her to think that she'd be out of practice for almost six weeks. "It was like the doctor stabbed her!" Dan said after bringing her home.

She could be sitting in her room pouting. Or whining that life isn't fair. Instead she has kept busy learning to cook, hopping around the kitchen on one foot, hopping between the stove and the sink.

I would be foolish to stop her, though I have tried. Worried about her falling, I've insisted she sit down and let me or her dad finish preparing dinner. We seen, then, the same look that is given to other obstacles in her path -- the eyes squint, then warn, then calm. We see the unflinching sureness that says, "just try to get in my way."

She is joyfully determined and tomorrow she turns 15.

Happy Birthday, kiddo.

Ellen with her game face on. 

Why I'm not a diplomat

My plans for learning a new language are going not so good. Even after practicing daily -- even with spanish speaking people, my spanish is still not that great. I can't roll my "r's". I get confused between "es" and "estes". I ask "muoy" when I really mean "bien". I may be hopeless.

I'm wondering how I will ever be able to communicate with a new culture.

If that isn't enough discouragement, I realize that there is more than one culture clash with more than one or more ways to offend those that I want most to reach.

Because, as I recently realized, there is a big difference between english speaking
men and latino men.

And, as is my standard m.o., I learned this the hardest of ways.

Without realizing it, I recently really offended a latino man by forgetting this one simple rule: Latino men want to be in charge. When you ask them to do something, let them do it. Don't go doing it yourself. Even if it takes them three days to do what you think they can do it one day, let them do it.

I was telling my husband this and lamenting my stupidity when he turned and looked at me and said, in his own little way, "so what's different about latino men exactly?"

Not only can I not speak Spanish, I have a hard time speaking English sometimes. I stormed out the door and sat in the garden for a bit. I knew, deep in my core, he was right.

I start on a job and I obsess about it, trying to pencil in details, forgetting that the process of leading people is more important than getting my work done. I forget that other people need to be involved and in my arrogant rush to the finish line, forget that me getting it "done" doesn't mean tacos if I can't bring others with me.

I guess "stupido" is my middle name.

Today, I'm going to try to repair the damage. I'm learning several key phrases on how to say "I'm sorry, I was wrong" in both english and spanish.

I need to remember that my time is not other's people's time.
That their needs are more important than mine.
That patience in any language communicates care better than the best monologue.