Julie R. Neidlinger: Lone Prairie Blog

Today's Mail: Rhetorical question #3.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

Q. Is progress necessary and inevitable, or is it the result of people exercising their freedom?

A. The question is problematic.

Progress isn't necessary, but it is inevitable because it is merely part of the continuing cycle of things breaking down and reverting from order to chaos. Progress is deceptively chaotic, and not a bringer of order as it may appear.

People exercising their freedom has little to do with progress and more to do with chaos. Progress is less the result of the exercise of freedom, but is, instead, the harbinger of it. Freedom ends up chaotic because, as people continue to stretch the definition and naturally "progress" in what they believe it means to be free, boundaries are seen as something to be thrown off as limitations instead of retained as something that acts as a strut and provides structure and longevity.

To me, the better question would be: Is progress inevitable if people are pursuing freedom? To which I would answer: yes.

The end result will be chaos. Progress and freedom do not bring order, as they are about unshackling.

::See previous post.::

Labels: clippings, reader input, series, today's mail

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

Today's Mail: Rhetorical question #2.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

Q. Is all philosophy a response to the question of death?

A. No.

All philosophy is a response to the question of life.

::See previous post.::

Labels: clippings, reader input, series, today's mail

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

Misconception #4: Written as it is.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

::Start here.::

You must remember, above all things, that I'm aware of the audience.

I don't show the audience the grubby gears and mechanics of the backstage area, hidden behind the backdrops. I might provide you with an act or two (or three) of drama and melancholy, but that's still in front of the set.

So you don't really know.

You can't really say I'm not afraid. You can't really say I've got it made. You can't really say much, except a discussion on the play I'm letting you see.

There is a reader who has, gradually, become kind of like an encouraging mentor. I recently let this reader know, every so briefly, that I was afraid I wouldn't have what it takes to finish the flying lessons.

"I have the utmost confidence in you," was the reply.

And so I jumped back on stage and started up again, with another joke.

It's this idea -- that you see the whole production -- that leads to all the other misconceptions about fear and talent and self-deprecation.

Look, do you really want to read a daily blog from some Sad Sack? No. I know that. I don't want to read "poor me" every day, either. So I write as I write because there are people in the audience.

This journal entry/blog post, for example, details a moment that wasn't funny at the time. It was, in fact, during a period of stress and fear and self-doubt over not having a place to live. I could certainly written some melodramatic Victorian prose about my plight, but geez -- who wants to read that?

And more importantly, who wants to write that?Dwell in the dirt too long, and all you do is get dirty.

I'm part of the audience. I need to be able to laugh and not always chronicle the mess backstage. I write for my own benefit as much as yours.

Labels: essay, personal, series, writing

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

Misconception #3: You are so talented, that's why.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

::Start here. Go here next.::

"You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to
walk away, and know when to run. You never count your money
when you're sittin' at the table; There'll be time enough for countin'
when the dealin's done."
-- Kenny Rogers "The Gambler"*

I was told in a comment on a blog post that, essentially, I don't appreciate what I have been given:

Neither would someone without a great deal of talent and smarts. Your self-deprecation is sometimes too much for me. It's like someone complaining about going to Yale because they couldn't get into Harvard. You give a bad name to those of us who really do have have something to complain about, those of us who lack your intelligence and abilities.

I was taken aback; I am very aware of how blessed I am, and the last thing I want to do is make someone feel negatively about themselves. I am merely trying to cope with my own fears and issues. Part of me wants to remind people that sometimes what I write about myself is actually about me, and not about you, the reader. I'm not trying to project. I'm only trying to tell.

But...

Do I have nothing to complain about? Or maybe, do you really have something to complain about? Is my life cherry because I've been handed what seems to you to be the mother lode of luck and talent and all good things stem from that alone? Was there no work of my own involved over the years? No grace from God? Surely there's a Shylock moment here, in which I would say if you cut me, I bleed just like you: red, messy, all over the place.

You know how far talent will get you? Just past the supposedly "untalented" people until they start putting in the work you're not. Sooner or later, every child prodigy gets lapped. Remember that.

Consider that talent and smarts can actually be a negative thing in the hands of a slacker, since it means things come easily and when something requires work, the person who has been coasting and rewarded for little effort suddenly can't make the grade. You have no idea the years of work I've put into my music and drawing and writing and all the things that seem to just be handed to me.

Play the hand you're dealt.

The game's not over.

Quit worrying about everyone else's hand, and play the one you have. You can still win with it, because every hand's a winner, and every hand's a loser. Play it out to the end, with all you've got, and quit your bitchin'.

The one who folds early is agreeing to be a victim, beaten by the game.

And Kenny Rogers, despite his strange facelift and foray into marketing BBQ meat products in recent years, was a lyrical genius.

* As I repeatedly have said..."The Gambler" is a great source for life instruction.

Labels: essay, personal, series

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

Misconception #2: Self-deprecation.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

::Start here. Go here next.::

"There's no crying in baseball."
-- Tom Hanks' character in A League of Their Own

There's no use crying.

I could sit around and cry about things that bother me. Sometimes I do. But usually, I try to find a way to laugh at myself. Or, at least, hold on until time turns the corner and something finally becomes funny.

Self-deprecation is tricky.

I get raked over by readers periodically for what they say is excessive negativity towards myself. They may be correct, but dang if Dorothy Parker wasn't witty.

If I can't laugh at it, if I can't use my own life material as the punch line, then I got nuttin'. I could make fun of others, but that's just mean. So, I make fun of myself and, in the process, find a way to smile about something that wasn't so funny earlier. Self-deprecation is an important plank in the boat I'm using to get through the wild river of life.

A couple of things happen with self-deprecation: mainly, that you're stronger than you thought, and that you get to know yourself really well because humor has a way of cutting through the crap and shedding light. Turn that on yourself and ouch. It's all there.

It takes a lot to laugh at yourself. Stop being so serious. It isn't that bad.

You can't cry all the time.

Labels: essay, personal, series

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

Misconception #1: The misunderstood friend.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 0 comments link this post

::In response to a recent comment which led me to think I ought to address a couple of misconceptions. The next post is here.::

"Fear is a friend who's misunderstood..."
-- John Mayer, "Heart of Life"

A comment on a post over at the flying blog* made reference to my claim of being a fearful person, and that it seemed like I was lying to say that I was fearful in view of the choices and activities in my life.

Fear is either going to own you or spur you. Fear is a useful tool, a great friend, as long as it is not the one running the show. As over-used as the phrase is, it's true: Without fear, there is no courage.

If you don't have fear, there's a certain hollowness and shallowness to life. Fear both heightens drive and appreciation of life.

I am afraid of many things. You wouldn't believe what I write in journals that no one sees but me. I have lots of fears. Some are nearly crippling.

I'm afraid of failure, in particular, which is why I know I keep trying new things so that I can keep experiencing the initial failures that we all go through when learning something new; it is important that I continually do this. Otherwise, the fear of failure wins, and I just settle in with a life of mediocrity.

Do not think a person to be without fear just because they aren't afraid to face them. To make that assumption is, in a sense, is unfair; it makes it seem as if everything is easy and natural and lucky, which it is not. Nearly everything I've done (Karate, Nicaragua, etc.) has been in response to something I know is giving me problems, that scares me, that I need to face or be owned by.

It is never good policy to think that people who seem brave, or seem happy, or seem to have less problems, actually are those things. Some just refuse to bring their crap to work or drag it around everywhere they go, and work very hard to beat it down into submission. I frequently fall into pits of despair and know how easy it is to stay there versus fighting to get back out. I understand that.

But.

Everyone has hurts. Everyone has problems. Everyone knows pain, knows rejection, knows fear. We all face that in different ways. Don't judge by what you see outside. There's generally much battle going on inside all of us.

This was the second time, in the past month or so, that someone made the assumption that I was carefree and without troubles. My mother, who got to watch me burst into tears and bawl uncontrollably about that, just three weeks ago, could tell you otherwise.

No one escapes fear, and no one escapes hurt. No one.

* I have since deleted the thread; I really need to stress that while I welcome comments, they must be applicable to the post, and that the comments section not be used as a way to communicate with me directly. I did not mind what the person had to say, but it had very little to do with the post and I believed it inappropriate for the post for inevitable future readers who would not come with the background understanding brought by the reader.

Labels: essay, series

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

Today's Mail: Rhetorical question #1.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

Q. Is emotion the opposite of reason?

A. Can there be more than one opposite of a thing? If so, would reason be that opposite?

Or, would the better question be, can emotion and reason co-exist? Or, perhaps, is emotion reasonable? Is reason reasonable?

I'm going to work with a definition of reason as being a rational motive for belief, action, or understanding.

Would only irrational emotion, then, be in opposition? Or is all emotion irrational?

Cutting through the B.S., I would say no, it is not the opposite of reason. I am only basing that on personal self-preservation from an understanding of myself and a desire to avoid being thought of as wholly unreasonable.

It's a great question to consume time and coffee by.

--------------------------------What is this?---------------------------------------------

This is not a PostSecret knock-off. I don't want your secrets. I want your rhetoricals.

This postcard arrived in my mail today, and I thought it was pretty darn cool.

(Never mind that I love the Bunny Suicide stuff; there's something about those deranged bunnies who want to die that really makes my day.)

I got to thinking how it would be wonderful to get more random postcards with such rhetorical questions, comments, artist trading cards, first lines of a novel, schematics for an invention that would never work -- whatever it is you do -- in the mail.

(Nothing pervy, of course. If that's what you do, get some help.)

So, if you send something (postcard, reasonable length letter, card, collage -- whatever) I'll put it up in the category of "today's mail" and see what we get. You can be completely anonymous. I'll make sure your name and any identifiers stays off of the stuff I put online. And oh, you won't get your stuff back. I keep it. And I'll treasure it, I will. But you won't get it back.

Labels: clippings, reader input, series, today's mail

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

The Confessional Booth: Confession #4.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 3 comments link this post

I narrowly missed hitting the ditch after narrowly missing hitting a pheasant.

The truck driver who flipped me off as he passed me, however, pushed all my buttons dead on.

Oh gainful middle finger
From which doth many
Emphatic responses
Flow.

Labels: my life, poetry, series

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

The Confessional Booth: Confession #3.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 7 comments link this post

I severely over-exfoliated my face last night as I cleaned up before going to bed. Both microdermabrasion and micro-beads.

Wow.

Essentially, in an effort to improve my skin, I removed it.

It's quite an improvement.

Labels: my life, series

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

The Confessional Booth: Confession #2.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 7 comments link this post

Today for lunch I made myself an omelet with cheese and some leftover chicken.

I believe I may have broken several religious laws.

You know, cooking the unborn young with its possible mother, and then smothering it in mozzarella cheese and eating it while watching a "Psyche" episode off of Tivo.

It's the cheese that worries me.

Labels: series

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

The Confessional Booth: Confession #1.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 5 comments link this post

I like leg warmers.

I wear them around the house. I think they look cool whilst keeping my calves warm. I'm wearing some now. It's because it's chilly and I'm wearing shorts and I don't want to wear long pants because my knees want to be free.

So Jane Fonda. So Flashdance.

I don't care.

Labels: my life, series

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

My co-workers hate me, part 2.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 6 comments link this post

::Previous post here. And no, there is no real hate at my place of work. 'Tis in jest.::

I had my relatively new co-worker get out green tape and mark the floor where I determined my department area began.

I'm big into boundaries.

"Boundaries begat freedom!" I might say in a moment of Biblical bliss.

Bless her, she began standing right behind the line, toes up to the edge. "This is just like in darts!"

Oh, the barbed verbal darts we threw.

"I'm working here!" I said during one spell of conversation. The tape line did not come with sound barriers.

"I'd use the word 'work' lightly," she replied. I snickered.

"Well, who's standing at the edge of the tape line talking, and who's moving the mouse and doing various job-related activities?"

"Ha. A monkey could do that."

"And I think a monkey probably is involved, somewhere inside my computer, rubbing sticks and rocks together to generate power for this ancient computer system." I gave it a "gentle" pat.

"Don't hit it!" she said.

"Trust me, it won't negatively affect its peformance..."

I have a 11 x 5 floor-tile sized department. We call it the "old department" what with the old computer and all. The area of my department -- 55 tiles -- is one less than her 8 X 7 section of floor.

Obviously, we are both petty.

"I count 56," I said.

"Can't be." I pointed it via my excellent math and geometry skills, reiterating the difference between 55 and 56.

"Well, I have newer equipment and need more space," she said, laughing.

"It is I who needs a larger department," I said, in response to suggestions that my deparment floor size was bigger despite the tile calculations. "I have an ENIAC computer here."

Actually, it's probably top-of-the-line Windows 3.1.

No.

All this, while music from KC and the Sunshine Band played.

"Is this KC and the Sunshine Band?" I grumbled under my breath. Yesterday I'd suffered through country music.

"Wow, that's showing your age."

"This may be the 'old department'," I said, "but which of us is older?"

Roaring silence.

But I see, in her stack of rental movies to return after work, is the DVD "He Was A Quiet Man." Perhaps I'd best back off...

Labels: friends, humor, series, work

Like this post? Subscribe to the feed. Help support this site. Facebook | Stumble It! | Del.icio.us | DiggIt! | Technorati | Blinklist | Furl | reddit | Newsvine

My co-workers hate me.

written by Julie R. Neidlinger 2 comments link this post

"Dr. Crusher," I hollered at Bev as I walked in and happily punched in on the wrong side of my time card, "Next week I'll be warm. And you won't be."

All women named Beverly are Dr. Crusher, in my book.

Later, I wandered over to the emboridery department.

"Next week I'll be sitting in 95-degree heat. You won't be," I said, the love of Jesus radiating off of me.

There were a few under-breath responses.

Just to drive my point home, I wrote on a piece of note paper, in large black marker: 95 degrees. I slid it across the work counter. "Have a look at that!" I said. "Looky here!"

I had the note thrown back at me with -50 degrees written across it.

I'm sure they are all looking for a wholesale supplier of tar and feathers right now.

But no matter.

My inbox is filling with fellow Nicaragua team members saying things, with multiple exclamation points, about how excited they are.

I just want to spread that joy where I work. Is that so wrong?

Labels: nicaragua, series, work