Category Archives: personal

Health, personal

If you’re happy and you know it…

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…Come tell me how you did it. Seriously. Share that stuff.

Actually, less important than the how or even the why is just the sharing part. One of the things that has become abundantly clear with the spread of media and social media is that moods, emotions, and general vibes are contagious. I’m talking bubonic plague levels. Most people reading that will scoff and take the stance of “Airy fairy hippie wants to tell us all to ‘not worry and be happy.’” Nope. That’s not what I’m saying at all, but it is incredibly short-sighted and naïve to believe that we go through life carrying around our emotional baggage all on our own and it never impacts another living being… in our incredibly social culture and ridiculously small and ever-shrinking planet. Think about it.

I just failed a happiness quiz. Like, literally, one of those stupid little click-bait pseudo-personality-test things that tells you which Disney character you are or what animal you were in your past life? Yeah, one of those. This one was telling you what percentage of you is happy. If it were a final grade for any academic class on the planet, my percentage was a failing mark. I really should not have been at all astounded by these results. Seriously, would a truly happy person even take a ridiculous quiz like that. Beyond the consideration of my willingness to test the concept, how much faith would I actually put into quiz that some kid hopped up on orange soda probably put together on those auto quiz generation sites? And… that is a pretty significant question.

In my case, I looked at the results and thought, Can that be right? Am I that miserable? I don’t really feel that unhappy? Then, of course, I took the quiz again. It wasn’t me trying to scam the results. It was more that I wanted to pay more attention to the actual questions and answers. That’s when I started to get uneasy. The problem with the quiz was that the questions looked almost valid. I recognized various entries from mindfulness training and even depression inventories. There were a few that looked like they had been derived from one of those articles about the habits of happy people, but as a whole this particular quiz didn’t feel like bunk.

So, what did I do with that information? Well, I’ll tell you. I waited, and I took it again on a different day. I actually put a note in my planner to this effect. I also took it at a different time of day. Guess what I found… the results were slightly different, but on the whole too close to be a significant difference. Does that mean that an internet social media quiz can accurately judge happiness? Nope. I don’t believe it for a second. In fact, regardless of the results of that quiz, I do not believe that I am technically an unhappy person. I believe that I have a lack of satisfaction with certain aspects of my life and I worry too much about stuff that I cannot impact through my own actions. In short, I am a control freak. (And yes, there are some of you reading this that just said, No kidding.)

What I also found is that there is an awful lot of extraneous and worthless bull-pucky rampantly displayed and forced down our collective throats by the media and by social media on a daily basis. For the most part (minus puppies and kitties), the tone of this monumental tide of information tends to have a negative flavor. That includes giving an inordinate amount of fame and attention to complete asshats What? You thought by posting, reposting and saying look at what these hateful types are doing was a disservice?!? Hate to break it to you, but all attention is good attention for terrorists and extremists. Infamy works for them just as well as adulation…. But I digress. The news reported focuses on horrible behavior of humans against each other and diatribes from various hate (or power) driven entities. People rant and rage at each other for having differing opinions and outlooks… and they blame. While the world of social media has given birth and rise to a more monstrous “me” generation than the 80’s ever thought about, people use their right to free speech to fling abuse and general negativity with excessive abundance at their fellow creatures; and while they exercise their individuality and rights to hold opinions, they also crucify right left and center entire populations of other individuals en mass for holding differing beliefs and opinions than their own. They group all people who look the same or fall into the same race, ethnicity, or culture as if they are identical and could not possibly have individuality within those groups.  People who hold similar opinions or political beliefs are suddenly not distinct from one another. Friendships are torpedoed because of the expressed opinions or behaviors of complete strangers, and everything… I mean everything is offensive.

It has been said that 2015-16 is the era of the offended, that no one has a sense of humor anymore, and that people need to learn to ignore and move along. I can agree with that to a certain extent because planned ignoring  is the best way to deal with immaturity and acting out. I personally have a strongly developed ability to just scroll on by, unfollow, or block ridiculous or inflammatory crap with which I do not agree, and guess what… I don’t have to waste my energy getting offended by it in the process. On the other hand, I also believe that we’ve somehow lost the art of just having good manners, empathy, and the ability to consider others as individuals with just as much right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness as we have. It seems that the whole world is caught in an enormous game of grossout/one-up/yo-mama with a side of “me first!”

And now, I’ve strayed so far from my original topic that I may never find my way back… um… oh, yeah… happiness. Too many people in the world think that happiness is a goal or a destination. William S. Bouroughs said, “Happiness is a byproduct of function, purpose, and conflict; those who seek happiness for itself seek victory without war.” That one works pretty well. Eleanor Roosevelt said it better (in my opinion), “Happiness is not a goal…it’s a by-product of a life well lived.”

That’s the ticket, isn’t it? When we live our own lives and stop worrying about or comparing it to what others are doing, I personally feel that it puts us in a better frame of mind to actually appreciate our present. Too many in this world talk themselves out of happiness or contentment by impatience or envy. We look out at the others around us and fail to see things that may be in our own lives. We look at circumstances and aspects of the world in which we live as if every single element is somehow impacting us personally… often when it has absolutely nothing to do with us at all. In moments of true contentment and peace, rather than just enjoying and being in that moment, we question our right to happiness. We literally talk ourselves out of the moment. We look for reasons to be sad, upset, disgusted, or outraged. Why is that? Is there something programmed within each of us that says that we are not experiencing life as a real event or with purpose unless we can find something to bitch about? Seems like a waste of a good life somehow, but I do it, too. So, I probably need to consider this the next time I’m talking myself out of enjoying a moment.

Something else that I have observed both in person and on social media is the negativity and venting vindictive spleen is not terribly helpful. Sure, the occasional extemporaneous rant can be a great release on pent up rage and swallowed disappointment. Sometimes it can be highly entertaining… but I said occasional. The more frequent or constant that the negativity is spewed forth, the more it begins to feed upon itself and become not so much a catharsis, but a spinning whirlpool of rage, hatred, or depression that sucks the spew-er in to drown in their own horrible mood and soul-sucking negativity. It often result in friends and family avoiding said individual (and/or blocking and hiding newsfeed). Misery may love company, but it tends to run off friends and family and seriously dissuade potential romantic interests.

Everyone has a bad day. To tell the truth, many have a lot of bad days that string together into larger measurements of time. However, the ones that seem to do the best with it aren’t dwelling on the negatives or comparing their own experiences with that of others. They do what I will call their “legitimate suffering” and get on about the business of living their lives. They acknowledge that the bad stuff happens. They let themselves feel the bad, and then they move through it into feeling not so bad and eventually better. Those that have more difficulty moving beyond the negative and get stuck occasionally need help figuring out why they are stuck and figuring out the best way to be unstuck. Sometimes that assistance can be from natural supports like family, friends, or faith. Sometimes it needs something more in the professional line.

The modern society has become very polarized in many ways about the experience of things that are perhaps less than happy. People are expected to “get over it and get on with your life” or be diagnosed and get medicated for it. I am the last person on earth to advise against professional assistance when it is warranted, but in the same line it is also completely normal to feel down, sad, or angry under certain circumstances. People do not perpetually walk around on sunshine with bluebirds and rainbows all the time. Everyone has times when they don’t feel so very chipper. It is also completely natural to have varying timeframes for the normal denouement of such emotions. Not everyone handles events such as grief, pain, loss, or trauma in the same way or within the same time. It is generally up to the individual to determine when “enough is enough.” When the experience of legitimate suffering is impacting the function of life in a significantly negative way, it might be time to seek a little assistance. For some, the energy to seek that assistance has run completely out, and that is where those natural supports can help, too.

And I see that I have once again gotten distracted from my point which was about emotional contagion and how we impact ourselves and others by our very act of sharing. I was actually going for less negative and more about the impact of sharing positive experiences with others. I do not believe that the whole world needs to embrace an overly cheerful, Polyanna-like approach to everything they experience. I personally enjoy sarcasm and the occasional prolific rant when things generally disgust or displease me. However, after years of over-venting, I know that cathartic outlets work because they are a pressure valve of letting things go in a blast and be done. If the process is repeated too often or too long, the exercise loses its potency and the negativity loop feeds on itself just becoming more and more nasty and miserable over time. However, when I share something that makes me feel good or laugh, I feel even better than when I just keep it to myself. When friends do the same in sharing things with me, I like to think that they get the same benefit (and I get to see something else that may make me feel good or laugh). It’s a much more positive cycle. So, that is why I say, if you’re happy and you know it, come tell me about it.

Humor, personal

Screaming Hairy Armadillos… and other deep conversations

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screaming-hairy-dillo

I get into some of the most random conversations, on Fridays especially. I attribute it to lack of sleep and possible hangovers from Thursday evening festivities… or possibly just because all of our collective brain cells have given up after a long week of travail. Whatever the reason, some of the topics are entirely alien. In fact, I’m pretty sure that it was literally aliens one time… or possibly just Giorgio Tsoukalos’ hair.

Friday a couple of weeks ago was especially vexing to anyone that needed me to stay on a logical train of thought. I blame this on the whole Friday phenomenon and the surgery that prevented me going to the gym for my usual routines leaving my brain with way too many tabs open.

So, what could possibly be wrong with too many tabs open? Well, have you used a web browser lately? On a computer that possibly may be deficient in working memory (RAM)? or possibly processor speed? or… well, haven’t run an antivirus, spam filter, or malware clean up of the drives in a decade or so…? Now you are getting the idea. It’s the mental equivalent to searching for information on quantum computing and having every few seconds a window pop up with “NOW, CLICK TO FIND OUT HOW YOU CAN SAVE ON ELECTRONICS!” or “LATEST WOMEN’S FASHIONS THAT YOU WON’T BELIEVE!” or possibly “FIVE FOODS TO EAT TO LOSE BELLY FAT!” and of course “PORN!!!” After reading the same sentence for the fifth time, you remember something you forgot in a different room, decide to get some more coffee while you are at it, become distracted by the call of the restroom, and totally forget whatever it was you were originally going to the other room to get.

And that, my friends, is what I call Shiny Squirrels Dancing in my office… or as others better know it, Friday.

So, as usual I was having the Friday with all it’s accompanying attention deficits when the most amazing and fabulous idea came into my head about organization, focus, and channeling the energy of my mental channel surfing into something more applicable to success in a material or at least professional capacity. Whereupon, the squirrels began to dance, and off I spiraled into a world of free associations and flight of ideas involving a conga line of storm troopers and ultimately ending up with some creature called a screaming hairy armadillo. Yes, it is a real thing. Look it up. Really. Google it. While you are finding it, you may find something that is called a pink pixie armadillo (or maybe just pixie armadillo), which looks like nothing more than an ambulatory lobster tail… with eyes.

Anyhow, as you can see, at any given time, my train of thought might jump on a different track, miss the left turn at Albuquerque and end up on a different planet or at least a different topic than originally planned.

I suppose the upshot of this entire post was to note that my brain occasionally needs a day to clear out all the underlying clutter and general detritus of trivial information that flows in and out of my senses throughout the week. Fridays seem to be the unfortunate recipients of this mental housecleaning. And for that, we will thank the universe for random topics and screaming hairy armadillos.

personal

Empathy, Sympathy, and Apathy walk into a bar…

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NewYorker_YannKebbi

…It took a moment to get the feel of the place.

Three words, all with similar word origins and roots, but oh the difference. People throw words around these days with little regard of what is really going on behind them.

For most people it is those first two words that they get all tangled up. As a therapist, empathy is one of the tools of the trade, but too many in the field confuse sympathy with empathy. Too many clients expect sympathy and don’t understand when they get empathy… and vice versa. I can understand the confusion, honestly. It’s all about definitions. Empathy has one, but sympathy has two… and that second definition is just close enough to empathy to create the difficulty.

Before we drop down that rabbit hole, let’s take a look at where all these words came from…

Well, that’s simple. Greek. Pathos. The word that literally means emotion and feeling. What becomes important then is the prefix added to it. The ’em’ from empathy literally means ‘in.’ So, empathy becomes ‘in feeling.’ The ‘sym’ of sympathy actually comes from a different prefix ‘sun’ meaning ‘with.’ Sympathy is actually ‘with feeling.’ (For like two seconds I wanted to say “Once more…”) You see the difference? Maybe not… I’ll ramble on a bit further.

You see, I’ve actually been playing around with this post or the concept of it for a while. Observing various roles of the health and mental health fields, you garner a lot of information about how different people approach interactions with patients (clients, consumers, members… whatever the title for the people who need care). I’ve watched fledgling therapists, social workers, psychologists, and counselors struggle with the concept of empathy. I’ve seen nurses and doctors approach bedside manner with a sledgehammer draped in sympathetic camouflage. It is meant to convey to a patient that the provider cares about what is going on with them, but what ends up actually occurring is a sense of pity. That the provider maybe feels sorry for them… even if they really don’t.

So, why is that even a problem? Well, as I heard it said very well recently, the difference between empathy and sympathy is that empathy draws people together and sympathy distances people from each other.

To have empathy for a person, you have to actually let your guard down. You have to let your self actually feel or experience some part of what the other is feeling. You have to get into their feelings with them. “But how can I do that if I’ve never experienced what they have?” Well… that’s the trick about empathy. You don’t have to experience the exact same circumstances to recognize pain, sadness, or even joy and happiness. You can go to your own chest of emotional memories and realize that it might be something like what that other person is feeling. Why is that hard? Well, it makes us vulnerable. It creates a sense of shared experience that can almost be intimate (No, not sexual, pull your mind out of the gutter). I mean that exposing rawness of emotion to anyone and becoming vulnerable, even for a little while can be just a little scary.

So, what is wrong with sympathy? It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? We send sympathy cards, and we express our sympathy… It isn’t really that it is wrong, but when sympathy is offered, it is from the outside looking in or from the sidelines. It is me standing over here well apart from you and what you are going through and saying “I’m sorry,” but without being there with you or providing any other support. So, instead it can come across more as “Wow, sucks to be you. Glad I’m way over here.” Sympathy often accompanies the strong urge to “fix it” as well, and while there may be opportunities for solution-focused approaches, this isn’t generally what is needed immediately… and definitely not from someone who hasn’t shown an understanding for what is happening. The jump to solving a problem without understanding just feels like dismissal to someone in pain. It can feel like the equivalent of a person on a luxury yacht coming along side a person treading water trying not to drown and critiquing their technique from the boatdeck. It doesn’t really help and highlights the differences between you.

Not everyone can get to a place of empathy. It just isn’t in their wheelhouse. Most people today are so stuck in their own heads they are blind to the emotions of others around them, even those near and dear. Sometimes, sympathy is a good enough approximation if it is given with authenticity and without the “Mr. Fix-it” approach. This is where that other definition comes into the picture. Symppathy can also mean a common understanding between people. Sounds a lot like how empathy was defined. The subtle difference is the lack of emotional content. While empathy feels with the person, sympathy sorta intellectually acknowledges understanding of what they are going through. It’s subtle, but the difference is there, but again, sometimes that is all you can muster, and that is ok. Certainly it is better than apathy… and so we come to the mean girl (or douchebag) of the trio.

This one’s etymology should be pretty easy for most: “A-“, when not performing as the initial letter of the alphabet or a guest star on Sesame Street, means “not” or “without” in Greek. So, a- plus pathos is “without feeling.” Being apathetic means you don’t care. Now, I misspoke saying it is the mean girl or douchebag implying it is somehow entirely negative. That really isn’t true. You can have no strong feeling about something without that being a particularly bad thing. However, in our modern, hyperbolic, social-media (and media in general) fueled society, apathy has come to mean something very negative. It has come to represent people who would stand by and watch while others are violated. It has come to mean people who let injustice reign out of the “Meh, it doesn’t really matter to me” attitude. Or it is a symptom of depression and other mental disorders… no, literally, it is a descriptor of affect that is sometimes found on mental status exams. The word is often used when we want to illustrate someone that has “given up.” Apathy has become associated with defeat or disinterest… or worse yet a dismissal and dislike of something (or someone) to the point of “not caring” if it (they) cease to exist. That, honestly, is taking apathy to a way more active level than the word originally started out to be. But are we just giving poor apathy a bad rep? Do we really need to have heightened passions about every blessed thing and in every circumstance? Honestly, I’m not sure. I think that we’ve come too far in the evolution of vocabulary to start changing anyone’s mind about it now, but I think that we need to be more specific when we say “I don’t really have feelings one way or another,” and make sure that we don’t mean “I actually have very strong feelings about that in a negative way and I wish you would shut up about it.”

And… that pretty much covers our three friends walking into a bar. Maybe some of you (or most of you) already understood the difference. Maybe you are apathetic to the whole issue. Maybe you can empathize or at least share some sympathy for my irritation when people misuse the words. Hopefully you won’t get them confused if you run into them at that bar.

 

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Blocked in…

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For quite a number of days now, I have been getting little reminders. “You haven’t posted anything in X days…” or “Hey, we haven’t heard anything from you in a bit. Are you ok?” This is probably a testament to the fact that I had managed to post more or less weekly since the first of the year; and that there must be at least two people on the planet that read the mad ramblings of my brain. That all came to a rather screeching halt a little over two weeks ago. It was a cluster of events and emotions that ended up creating what might be called THE MOTHER OF ALL WRITERS’ BLOCKS. I literally have a half finished post that I started a couple of weeks ago, and I just felt it going nowhere and my heart just wasn’t in it.

That’s the problem with writer’s block, though. The words don’t come. Even when the words come, they don’t look right. Everything that appeared on the screen just sounded, in my head, like so much meaningless drivel. I know. You all are now saying, “So, how is this different that any of the general crappola that you type out?” Well… it just was. Nothing seemed worth the time and energy.

The problem was that I lost someone dear to me. She was too young and too vibrant for me to understand why someone like her is gone. In truth, all of this year… 2016… has seemed to be a great gaping hole of grieving and rage about loss. It seems astounding to me that the world continued to turn and people went on about their business when all I really wanted to do was stop. While people are watching the spectacle that is our political machine (honestly, it’s a circus I tell you… I may have to join my friend Tess for a big thing of popcorn), are fighting about bathrooms, and watching with feelings of impotence while more and more of civil liberty is trampled by laws that have blurred beyond recognition the original separation of church and state… I’ve been grieving and aching for a time when people seemed to be kinder and happier and able to take a joke. I have been thinking about the loss of talent and gifts of joy that we are now missing because of the people who have left this world just in a few short months. I have been avoiding writing because I was afraid the the voice screaming in my head in anger would flow out my fingertips and keyboard onto the screen in hurtful ways that would only add to the very phenomenon that was agonizing to me.

On top of it all I had surgery. Oh, nothing major, you understand, but as they say “surgery is surgery and there are always risks.” (Don’t you love it when they say things like that? They like to speak in ‘odds,’ too. Do they not know that I make it a personal goal to break curves?!? Seriously, don’t challenge me…) So, along with the demonstration of life being fleeting, I was also required to do the stuff they suggest when you have to have general anesthesia… I had to face my own mortality. That means thinking about what you want done when you are gone: Advance Directives, make sure finances are taken care of (sorta), put things where people can find them. It means talking to people you love and trust to carry out those wishes and then try to convince them that you aren’t “just being morbid” and are instead being responsible… and that you will be OK… that they shouldn’t worry. It’s just a worst case scenario. Except that for most of the people I love and trust… it wasn’t. We had just experienced that direct knowledge that tomorrow is not a guarantee. We suffered a loss that was too soon and shouldn’t have been. Suddenly, I was also a little afraid; afraid that I would somehow cause that pain to someone I loved.

As it turns out, all the responsibility stuff was, in fact, just a precaution. It was good to have it. I’ll hang on to the paperwork and file it, and update it just like I should. And I’m still here… Whether that is a good thing or a bad thing (not being morbid… believe it or not there are probably more than a few people that might wish me out of this world), I am here.

My words, it seems, are still a tad stuck. This is my attempt to get them back out. I’m one of those people who have to push through things. Not everyone is the same. Some people need time to recover. Just give them space and time, and eventually they come back out into the light. I can’t do that. I get stuck. I get stuck so hard that I have trouble finding my way back out. So, I have to push through. I have to force myself to exist in the light and ignore the shadows while they wait to reclaim me later when I least expect it. This is me pushing through. This is me sharing my process. It doesn’t have to be the same as anyone else’s process. If you actually do share this tendency, then, I’m here. I know the feeling, and eventually you push out to the other side. For now, I’m relying on positive posts from people I know and love. I drink in their non-judgmental, optimism like a man dying of thirst stumbling on an oasis. If you are one of those people with hope and optimism that you share, know that I appreciate you (and probably others do as well).

Because for now, I’m still a little blocked in, perhaps a little less than when I started, but still blocked… trying not to get stuck.

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Can a tiger change his stripes?

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Tiger at Australia Zoo.
Tiger at Australia Zoo.

…Or a leopard her spots? How about the zebra? Or possibly a giraffe?

I’ve seen this question a lot recently, and it started me pondering, as I often ponder. The question is usually rhetorical and refers to the fact that people do not change their intrinsic character, any more than any of the wild creatures aforementioned could change their coloring and markings as dictated by their genetics and evolutionary path over time. There are just certain things that we expect cannot be changed, and that question is generally meant to trigger our thoughts towards an individual and their past behaviors. What that question says to the person listening or reading is that the subject in question acted or embodied certain traits in the past and that they will continue to carry those markings for the rest of their natural life.

But is it true? This is what I’ve been thinking about since the last time I saw this question posed in a pithy internet commentary upon a particular public figure of the current events. Do events of the past always dictate the same actions in the future? Or more pointedly, can a person ever truly change?

By the assumption of the question, that answer would be decidedly, No. To a certain extent, I can actually go along with this. As a professional in the mental health community, we are always taught that the best predictor of current and future behavior is past behavior. This is one of the tenants of risk assessment. It is a bylaw of behavioral science. It tells us that a person who chose violence as their solution to any life problem will likely fall back on the same solution when presented with a problem in future. That tells us that an individual is more likely to choose the same coping mechanism for each negative experience (regardless of the adaptive or maladaptive nature of that coping mechanism).

For risk assessment, it is tried and true. It is a good way to make sure no one overlooks a potential for harm to self or others. On the other hand, for other predictive reliability, it does a disservice to any person who wants to change their circumstances. By its very nature, the assumption says that no creature can ever change. That goes against the whole idea of growth. It says that no human being can ever adapt, learn, or express themselves in new ways.

As a therapist… and a person who has made some significant efforts in my own growth… I’m calling bullshit. And I’m not even going to apologize for the language.

Not only that, but for those of a spiritual nature, and the church… that is a serious bummer. That means that no one can truly repent. I’m not going to get into that whole predestination argument again. That is just 1) not really my thing, and 2) will take way longer than I had intended in this post. However, I will say one thing about it. To truly repent (by certain definitions) the admonishment is to Go and sin no more. If the tiger cannot change its stripes, that’s just a waste of breath. If the behavior and emotion is like the tiger’s stripes, it will never change and thus, there can be no true redemption or penance because they will just do it all over again. And… we just traveled further than I intended into that religion thing. The point I was making is that if change is impossible, then why even try?

And… that is what brings me to my next key point. Physical attributes are fixed, constant… or relatively so. For all intents and purposes, physical features, like the tiger’s stripes or the leopard’s spots stay pretty close to how they started. Granted, we have a remarkable amount of science and surgery to make physical features less of a permanent fixture than perhaps ever in the history of human vanity, but for the majority of people, aside from minor fluctuations in size and tint of skin and hair (possibly eye color if we count contacts), the physical attributes stay pretty close to factory specifications. Your nose and ears are going to stay pretty much where they started. Without significant intervention, all those features are going to be defined by the code written in your DNA and combinations of the chromosomes of the contributing parental units. Most of the actual appearance of such is dictated by genetics and (without the assistance of chemistry or surgery) environmental factors.

To a certain extent, I will even grant you that some behavioral, emotional, and intellectual attributes are also founded by some genetics and environmental factors. There are factory settings in the operating system, so to speak. But that is where it stops. Human beings have a greater potential for choice and growth in their cognitive functions than they do in their physical attributes. To say otherwise is to negate the purpose of teaching, counseling, coaching, or guiding. It also demeans the efforts of the person who chooses to better themselves by the use of learning, introspection, spirituality, or counsel.

People learn from experience. They also learn from observing others. They learn from failure as well as success. And they can grow…

People can change. I fully believe that. I believe that any person who chooses to do so can grow and change and become better (or worse). Behavior, emotion, action, and knowledge are different than the physical stripes that define the external appearance. They may manifest to indicate character and personality as much as the plumage of a bird announces its purpose and message to others, but it is more changeable, and we have more choice.

Do I think that we should never be wary and aware of the past behaviors and choices of any given person? Well, no, of course I’m not saying that! It is always wise to examine the full profile and history before coming to a conclusion of what any individual will choose to do given certain circumstances.

I’m just saying that people can change. The circumstances and experiences of their past can impact and influence that change. People can choose to grow… or they can choose not to…

So, remember that the behavior of the tiger is not always defined by the stripes they’re showing…

Humor, personal

Cat Gravity and other magical thinking…

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It dawned on me, as I was having one of my days when motivation is in short supply and excuses against productivity and movement are overflowing, the mind has incredible ability to overpower any physical assets or need for assertion. No matter the desire to get done “the things,” it seems that the brain can come up with a plethora of suggestions that undermine any willpower with whispered hints of anything more pleasant than the task at hand. As if by magic, hands will of their own accord shut off alarms, and eyelids will remain firmly in place drawn over the windows of the soul to bar any of the outside world and intrusive reminders of “the things” that must be done.

While I am fully aware of the physical needs of the body for nourishment and rest, I am also sadly not a woman of means that can afford to ignore “the things” and so the occasional force and will must be utilized to push aside the wee devil upon my shoulder that says “You don’t really need to do that now… it can wait. Sure you can sleep until your second alarm. No one will know you didn’t go to the gym…” The insidious influence is even more powerful after a month long death march of quarterly analysis and audits during which travel was a constant and sleep was a distant memory. Seasonal allergies do not help either. In any case, it seems that my body and willpower need little coaxing to leave the tracks of my normal healthy routines and productive lifestyle to transform me into a slug… or a furniture tuber… whatever your choice of moniker, slovenly inactivity become way too attractive.

One of the most devious of the paralyzing agents in my life is the creature who decided to make our home his own about four years ago. The feline (dare I even call him this, because I still feel that he is not quite of this realm) appears to be a normal 10 pound gray tabby. However, looks can be deceptive. After literally letting himself into our home and staunchly refusing to depart, he has become known to most as Gray. Sometimes Gray Kitty or Gray Cat. His full name (finally revealed after a few years) is The Gray Wanderer Dragonsbane, Demonspawn of the Forge… aka The Mighty Toehunter. He has grown quite fond of social media and occasionally shares his thoughts (#TOTTH). He has also mastered the “art” of taking selfies (something I have never managed to do with any skill… see The Unfathomable Idea of the Selfie). I bring up the Gray one as an illustration because every once in while he has this astounding ability to immobilize my body and mind to the extent that I feel powerless.

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The beast rarely takes the role of the lap cat, but when he does… It has the magical ability of removing all desire to move, stand, or engage in productive activity. I’ve witnessed this phenomenon a multitude of times. The presence of the mighty master of the domain has rendered me helpless and powerless to respond to instant messages, the need to shower and get ready for various events, or even to respond to the demands of my bladder.

I can bench press the weight of a small adult, but I cannot seem to lift or otherwise remove a 10-pound demonic cat from my lap, enabling my further progress on daily tasks and responsibilities. I would be more baffled by this, but I did read, a good many years ago, a short explanation of this almost magical power of felines. It was called The Theory of Cat Gravity and it was by an artist/author named Robin Wood.

catgravitybyRobinWood

The explanation was so remarkably thorough and yet simple. It was possibly the greatest cat-physics-theoretical contemplation I had encountered since the Buttered Cat Array. The Theory of Cat Gravity states that cats convert energy into gravity and mass and transfer that same force into any particular individual on which they elect to take their rest, thereby increasing their own mass and gravitational pull of the earth upon their physical form, overriding their normal physical abilities to move and more importantly… get up. Thus, any individual who has a cat curled in their lap has a perfectly reasonable explanation for why they sat on the couch for an hour longer than they were supposed to… and that is why I was late to my appointment. My apologies.

Humor, personal

The unfathomable idea of the “selfie”…

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I hate pictures of myself. Honestly since the very first one taken (to my knowledge) that was dubbed by the entire family as “The Frog,” I have been quite aware that photogenic would never by an adjective included in the inventory of my personal traits. Without fail, I will be the one caught in mid-sneeze, awkward position, yawning, with a peculiar-looking bulge, or any of a variety of unflattering positions when a shutter (analog or digital) opens and shuts.

Therefore, I developed a habit that some find completely frustrating and annoying. If I actually notice a camera (or phone) pointed in my general direction with purpose, I would immediately adopt a facial expression much like that Milo Bloom, Bill the Cat, or any of the myriad of other characters in that cartoon strip when presented with something rather disgusting. With my features screwed up in a deliberate approximation of Quasi Modo on a bad day, I would face the lens. When the pictures came out looking horrid, no problem… I meant it to look that way.  It wasn’t a happenstance of poorly organized genetic material and my own natural unattractiveness. I had made an effort to look that bad.

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And this is what has made me feel completely at sea about the phenomenon of the “selfie.” First of all… who does that? That word. Selfie. Really? Adding an “-ie” to the end of the world making it cute? Smaller? More acceptable that you are totally taking a picture of yourself… by yourself… with your own arm… um… I’ll come back to this…

Granted, it is a modern phenomenon because we now have technology where you can actually hold the device away from your body and snap a picture so very quickly. Imagine trying this with some of the original cameras. Aside from needing the strength of Sampson, you would also have to take off the lens cap and hold the thing perfectly still for … how long? Just not feasible. And yet… they existed. These selfies of another era. Painters even did it. Some of our favorite memes have been created using the self-portrait of Joseph Ducreux, apparently in the guise of a mockingbird (seriously, how is this the guise of a bird?).

Ducreux

He wasn’t the only one, either. Many of the old masters used their own likenesses to paint images, get facial anatomy correct, couldn’t get anyone else to sit for them, pure vanity… who knows? But they did it. The first cameras not only required to person taking the photo to be at the camera itself to remove the covering lens cap, but also hold up the flash powder tray. Occasionally, it even required more than one person to accomplish a fine portrait, but the equipment did improve, become mechanized, and photographers became untethered (which may not be a word) from the camera itself. The first photographers, once they had figured out a device to do so managed to take their own portraits with the aid of remote buttons on cords. Eventually, the cameras came with timers, some analog with clockwork and then evolving to digital. The timers would allow the photographer to come around to the front of the lens and take their position before snap, the shutter opened and shut.

So, what is the point? Well… the self-portrait isn’t new. It is just called by a different name because it seems that we cannot leave language in the descriptive without giving it a nickname. Selfie instead of self-portrait. Well… in truth, not many of these could be considered a portrait. It is rather denigrating to the idea of portraiture.

There are, in my opinion, good reasons for taking a selfie. These reasons include proving you were somewhere, showing off a new hairdo, glasses, etc; or taking a remembrance photo of yourself with others when there are no convenient passersby to assist with capturing the moment. Also, in this day in age and with cameras and phones being light and easily slipped into a pocket, no one really wants to hand over their very portable technology to strangers. It just follows that with the absence of extra people to take the shot and technology capable of allowing self-portrait, selfies are the result.

And now we come to the parts to astound and confound my logic… There are people who absolutely seem to have made selfies a new career. They take pictures of themselves ever moment of every day. They take pictures of themselves in a variety of activities and in a variety of costumes. They take pictures using full length mirrors. They take pictures using something called a selfie-stick. They film video tutorials about how to take the “perfect selfie.” Like Narcissus, they appear to be enamored of their own visage to the extent that it is their primary activity of daily living. This is where I tend to veer off from the trends. I see no sense in this, other than pure and unadulterated ego. Granted there are some absolutely breath-taking individuals out there in the world, but they appear to much less advantage (in my opinion) when they also share this stance. While I do not believe in false modesty, vanity and superficial self-adoration is a huge turn-off. Why do people actually feel the need to take and share so many selfies? Is it desire for attention? Is it that they like their own appearance and want to look at it? Is it that they feel that the aesthetics of their own face is a benefit to the well-being of others…?

I don’t know. I know that I have never felt this to be the case for me. As I said, I am one of the least photogenic people on the planet. The “good” pictures of me can pretty much fit into a letter-sized envelope and wouldn’t take more than standard postage to mail. Other acceptable pictures of me are made so by the addition of other individuals who are not only dear to me but usually more pleasing to the eye.

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That being said, a further obstacle to my joining the ranks of the selfie­-stickers and self-portraiture aficionados… I suck at selfies. I do. It’s true. I’ve never mastered the proper angle or the face contortions that approximate a supermodel (or more likely Mike Myers in the Sprockets skit on SNL). Truth be told, the cat is much better at it than I am (seriously, the cat that lives here has managed to take photos of himself on my phone and they look much better than anything I’ve attempted). There is no part of me that relishes having multiple pictures of my own face on my own phone or available to the public. I recognize that there are “different strokes for different folks.” So, I suppose if that is your thing, then by all means, pucker up and tilt that head at just the right angle… but I must say, I still find it all completely unfathomable.

 

Humor, personal, Rant

Social Media trolling or screaming obscenities from the safety of a fortress…

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frenchtaunting

So, as many of the ramblings posted here have done before, this one takes inspiration from my experiences as well as conversations that crop up between friends. This particular one stems from a couple of different conversations, but the most recent went something like this:

Friend:  Yeah, I think people screwing with my plans is about the second or third most rage-inducing thing in life.
Me:  I sorta had gave up the rage factor on people messing with my plans about the time Saddam Hussein decided to vacation in Kuwait.
Friend:  Never give up your rage, without it, what ever would we do in traffic?
Me:  Same @#$% people do on social media, rage impotence from behind the shield of anonymity provided by computers and tinted windows?
Friend:  No, that’s for amateurs. The pros roll down their windows and make sure the intended target’s attention is well and truly garnered first.
Me:  Funny how so many get super brave and enormous social media balls fueling insults and threats and other bad manners. Yet, in person… they talk behind backs and generally smile and nod when confronted.
Friend:  It’s been a while since anyone threatened me on the social medias <sigh>.

From there we considered our mutual bent towards an unusual nature that is willing to embrace erudite vocabulary, intermittent swearing, and colorful metaphors without the benefit of shielding or anonymity. The friend’s observation is that most individuals are generally afraid of one or two things are likely outcomes in those situations: 1) actual conflict and 2) how it will make them look. For me, I tend to pick my battles. What I’ve discovered is that most of the battles in the virtual world aren’t worth my energy to have a truly emotional reaction. On the other hand, the traffic shyte… I still let rip with the best. It’s cathartic, and as long as my phone is on mute, I’ll remain employed and on good terms with my mother.

So, contrary to the behaviors of others, I’m least likely to stir the pot in the social media arena. I tend to avoid the hyperbolic and generally take a wide berth from flame wars and general trollery. Very unlike my behavior in person where my filters seem to be perennially blocked, and I’m likely to just let fly with whatever snark is lurking between my ears. The outcome is frequently unfortunate given any situation where observation will lead to less than complimentary commentary. The results are that my internal dialog choses to make itself externally present… fatigue often weighs into the balance towards a more likely chance of this occurrence. I haven’t decided if it is my general disapprobation of the cowardice inherent in that anonymity and safety of the keyboard diatribe and polite silence or if it is just a basic lack of self-preservation on my part. Given my father’s commentary on my usual modus operandi as “snatching defeat from the jaws of victory,” I’m going with the latter. Whatever the underlying cause, I would be the child at the side of the road pointing and saying “But he’s naked!” Honesty is not always the best policy. I’m learning, and it helps that frequently the overriding indolence will prevent my announcements as much as any prudence. It just simply isn’t worth my time or energy for the most part.

What IS it about humanity that they grow very large gonads when they feel they have the protection of invisibility or invulnerability? And why is it when these same types are confronted with their own flavor of incivility that they tend to run crying to whatever level of protector they can find pleading bullying and crying “FOUL”. Seriously, I’m astounded at the amount of nasty, hurtful, and semi-libelous (it is technically in print) bullpucky people fling at each other on the book of faces or twits. I cannot imagine most of said asshats having the actual (rather than virtual) cahones to say the same to someone’s face.

In the same way, I’ve actually observed people in traffic and on interstates having verbal and nonverbal seizures in response to our fellow travelers on the road. It’s times like these that make me rather wish for installed loudspeaker systems so that the targets of their ire can truly appreciate the creativity (or lack thereof). I would also like to install little electronic scoreboards so that we might give appropriate feedback. “Excellent use of extemporaneous verbiage. I give it a 8.7. Had to deduct points for lack of feasibility.”

What is completely dissimilar about the two different venues of diatribe is that most of our fellow journeymen (and women) on the road are unlikely to be aware or suffer any of the slings and arrows we spew forth in their general direction. Except in the most spiritual of ways, that verbal badinage of ill will hovers in a cloud around our own head and, for the parents in my readership, is occasionally reflected back from the mouths of babes who have overheard. The targets drive blissfully on in ignorance and probably dangerous levels of driving incompetence. On the other hand, the witting or unwitting target of hateful vocabulary flung upon the interwebs of social media and commentary are readily visible. Whether they know from whence the attack arises or not, that person is generally able to read, peruse, and commit to memory every ugly subject and predicate. Additionally, the verbal abuse flung from a car window is momentary, passing, and passes by as the car and the moment. That stuff on the webpage or text screen can be preserved for evah!

Now, for those of us healthy enough to realize that people flinging nasty at each other behind the mask of technology really should not make lasting impact on our self-esteem or psyches, it is possible to ignore…unfollow… block… and move on. But the old thing about sticks and stones isn’t entirely true. Our bodies tend to heal a good deal more quickly than our egos when words scar and threats scare. Lives have been ruined over what seems to be silly online commentary. Freedom of speech (or typing) is not freedom from consequences.

Personally, I do not think that censorship is the answer. I think common sense (which is not so very common) is a better solution. If you wouldn’t say it where someone could actually face or possibly reach you, then don’t say it. If you don’t want it recorded for posterity and possibly flung back in your face like a monkey defending territory, don’t put it on the internet. Seems pretty simple to me; which means that it will be ignored the whole way ‘round, my best guess. So, back to the end of that conversation at the beginning… it pretty much dissolved into the much more important topic of a team name. What do y’all think? Should we be the Slaughter Monkeys or Rioting Llamas? Decisions… decisions…

Memories, personal

A little Springtime Nostalgia…

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It happens… if you don’t like the reminiscences and voyage into the sappy, softened memory-thing, scroll on by. I’m sure you will find something more to your taste. However, I’m going to spend just a moment traveling in my own past.

This morning (it is Easter), I visited a house of Christian worship. This is something that doesn’t happen over frequently with me as an adult. However, it was a rather common occurrence of my youth. It always manages to trigger memory overloads as I see familiar faces, and, whether I want to be or not, am recognized by those same faces. As the years have gone by, there are fewer of the faces I find familiar… and fewer still who recognize me. It’s bitter sweet for me because I love fading into the back and observing without inciting riots or high pitched noises. However, it is a very lonely feeling when you realize that many of those who would recognize you are gone, and those who are still there do not recognize you due to the changes (and age) that makes you… well, unrecognizable.

It is no wonder that my mind drifts on these occasions to points in my life where (and when), like the familiar watering hole in Boston, everybody knew my name… often the full one… and proclaimed it regularly at full volume because of something or other I had done. I remember Easter Sundays of years past when after all the prerequisite ecumenical festivities, my family would gather at my great-grandmother’s home to show off our new Easter finery (which was ditched in favor of jeans and t-shirts as soon as proper oohs and ahs were performed). Afterwards, there was copious amounts of food, fun, more food, egg hunting, additional helpings of food, laughing and practical jokes…passing out from food… you get the picture.

When I talk about these family gatherings, I am not speaking of a mere constellation or a few close relatives, I’m talking about nearly hundred individuals including the children, grandchildren, and great grand children of the woman for whom I was named. Many, many dozen eggs would be boiled and dyed to accommodate the traditional family egg hunts. There were rules… to which no one really paid attention. People played dirty. The only unbreakable regulations were for the “littles.” There were always eggs “hidden” in such a way that they were clearly visible and reachable by those under the age of 10 and the height of 3 feet. Adults, teens, and adolescents who were older and taller were forbidden these finds.

Everything else… fair game. There were years that acquiring some of the deviously hidden ova meant risking life and limb. Definitely extra points for courage and sometimes a strong stomach were given. Participants ranged in age from toddler to nonagenarian. The hiding was done in teams (there were several dozen eggs, remember). The teams generally consisted of the trickier members of the clan, and their favorite trick was to hide in plain site. Sometimes, however, they were so good at this, even the hiders could not find them afterwards… leading to some interesting occurrences in the warmer months of the year.

One of my favorite memories of my great grandmother’s home was the violet carpet. There was a patch of ground that was literally so covered with the small purple flowers that you could not step without stepping on several. In my young, imaginative mind, that one area became a magical place where the fae held sway and the courts of elven royalty hosted feasts and balls.

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As an adult, I know that many people work hard to eradicate the broad-leaved interlopers that mar their golfing green-like yards. I know it’s a weed. I really do, but when I found a similarly enchanted patch of ground behind my own house, I could not bring myself to rid the yard of the hundreds of tiny purple and white faces that sprang up each year. At least each time I see them, I can revisit, however briefly a time when I wasn’t rushing around, overwhelmed with obligation, or irritable from trying to be realistic and responsible all the time. For just a moment, I can look at the violet carpet and believe in magic.

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personal, The New Cheese

On that long and lonesome highway… Tales of the roadwarrior

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SONY DSC
SONY DSC

I’m a traveler… well, I used to be. I loved to go places and do things. I liked to see different worlds and cultures. I liked to experience the new and different. As a good portion of my formative years were spent traveling not necessarily by my own choice, I suppose it was a fortuitous circumstance that my personality and temperament were entirely amicable to the idea of nomadic existence.

That all came to a rather screeching halt when, after entering adulthood, I started trying to make a career and do the responsible thing of paying bills and putting down roots. Little was I to know how the roots actually worked to prevent the traveling that had been so much a part of my life previously. To all things there is a season, I suppose, and in my case, all the adventure was spent by the age of 25. Honestly, I accepted the change in my life. I had “settled” down. Now, my traveling consisted primarily of trips to some ocean side locale within driving distance. Occasionally I would travel to other states for training or work, but for the most part, I was spending all my time traveling to and from work, gym, grocery store… you get the idea.

Something in me was jealous as I observed the travels of friends of my youth. They were still out there having adventures. Some of them were paid for that privilege. They would be jetting off to various locations every other day, it seemed. As they were regaling us of travels and airplane flights and the challenges of finding the necessities of living in remote locations, I was becoming more and more anchored to one place. I had even become a telecommuter. In other words, not only was I failing to travel to distant lands, I wasn’t traveling outside my house.

But… that all changed. Nothing so romantic and extraordinary as jet setting around the globe on international missions, but my work suddenly required me to travel… mostly driving… and filing expense reports… and… why oh why had I looked with envy upon my work-traveled friends?!?

So, as it happens, I am required every quarter to evaluate the performance of my staff… in person. Yep. That means that I have to go to where they are and ride around with them watching them interact with the people in our charge. I’m actually lucky enough to have a good group of people working for me… that are spread all over the state. This makes for some drive time on my part, not including the time riding along with them. It even requires overnight or week long stays away from home. Nothing terribly exotic, but it gets me away from the house, desk chair, and cabin fever.

And thus… I have developed some insights for life on the road, as it were. They are by no means earth-shattering, but they present a collection of advice born of personal observation and experience for traveling whether for business or pleasure.

Car Travel

Rest stops. My first and most vehement advice is from days of yore with ringing tones of adults before car trips in my childhood: “Go potty before we go.” Seriously, go before you go. You never know how convenient, or inconvenient, rest stops can be until you hit that stretch of Nomansland in the hinters that has nothing for miles. While it might be possible in emergencies to drop trow on the said of the road and let nature take its course, it is highly inadvisable to do so where there is little to no cover. Additionally, ladies, it is none to comfortable a situation to bare one’s backside on the highway (though with this in mind, consider having box of tissues or napkins in the vehicle for just such and occasion). There are devices and items created for just such emergent issues. Again, while our male companions may have no particular issue with using them, they may not be so pleasant for those of us with internal plumbing. So, with comfort and dignity in mind, take note of rest stops and other locations that provide the opportunity of biological relief. Also, when you see the signs that say “Rest Area exit 1 mile … Next in 97 miles” go now!

Join a roadside assistance program. Seriously. This can save time and money. If you have a current credit card that offers this as a perk, that works, too. These programs can be life-savers when you have anything from flat tire to “that sound that goes grrrr rrr ggg.”

Invest in a receipt or travel wallet. This is especially important for business travel when the accounts payable folk ask for the receipts on your expense report. You might even go ahead and install an expense report program (like Concur, the bane of my existence) on your phone. It can help you track as you go. I know a lot of people think, “I’ll just stick it in my pocket and deal with it later”, or “I’ll put it in the side pocket of my purse…” along with the receipts from grocery, last year’s vacation, and an old cough drop. Trust me. It’s worth the minimal expense. Get something just for keeping the travel related receipts and other documents. You will thank me later.

Use GPS. Unless you are going Jack Kerouac and you have time and money to spend on petrol, plan a route and use the tools available to follow it. GPS is generally available on most smart phones. Do yourself a favor and look into one of the navigation apps out there rather than the built in jobs in the phone. The built-ins aren’t horrible, but they sometimes get a bit eccentric in their mapping and directing. I personally like Waze. It has been very accurate and works even when the phone seems to have no signal. Additionally, it gives you updates on traffic patterns, road hazards, weather issues, and law enforcement on the road. It will give alternate directions to route around blocks and traffic jams, and above all… it is free! One of my favorite attributes of the application, next to currently having Morgan Freeman’s voice as the navigation prompter. However, you should go with what works for you. There are programs that also provide information like fuel stops, food options, and rest areas… always helpful. Many rental agencies actually include GPS either with the car or as an add on to your agreement. It can be worth the extra fee just to have the option of an external navigation leaving your phone free.

Charging cables. So, we’ve been talking about GPS and phone apps and all that happy jazz. You know what doesn’t work, dead phones or electronics. Having the app or electronic gadget isn’t so helpful if it drains the life from your battery or won’t turn on because you failed to bring an appropriate adapter or cord. Some travel centers actually have sections where you can purchase travel tools and technology. I once found the most amazing little phone charger that would act as a back up battery and charge my phone even without a cord. There are kits with multiple connectors and tools that can come in very handy if you need a little charge for your phone.

Beverages and snacks. While I’m not a huge fan of the whole road picnic, it is always good to carry some water, soda, or caffeinated beverage. Cheaper, too, if you can get them and pack them up rather than having to stop at fast food restaurants or convenience marts. Snacks of the protein and less messy variety are also a good idea. Nuts (for those not allergic), jerky, or protein bars are a good option. If you really want to have snacks or beverages that need to be kept at a cooler temperature, invest in a small cooler for the vehicle.

Safety kit. This is a big one for me. Even if you are in a rental, it is a good idea to have some basic maintenance and safety items. I’m not suggesting you go full on hazmat, but having a reflector triangle, jumper cables, first aid kit, and the like can really come in handy in unexpected circumstances. Also, keep a blanket in the car. No, this is not a suggestion that you save money by sleeping in the car. In colder weather, getting stuck until someone can get you can result in hypothermia if your car is unable to maintain power. So, a blanket is a great idea. Also, if the drive is long and the eyes are heavy, better to take that nap in the back seat than push on to the next watering hole to look for a hotel and end up running off the road.

Hands-free kit. Not only should you never text and drive, even talking on the phone or futzing with the GPS can be distracting and downright dangerous. I strongly suggest for those who do not have Bluetooth enabled vehicle that a hands-free kit and voice activation is a phenomenal idea. Otherwise, pull over before you try to do anything with your phone.

Hygiene. Seriously. Invest in nappy wipes or at least carry tissues, paper towels, something. There is no hazard so great as the coffee spilled in the lap or the soda all over the console. Additionally, for your own health and well-being, it’s a good idea to have some hand sanitizer somewhere in the vehicle. I’m not a huge fan of the stuff personally, but if you do not have the running water or soap to dissuade the flu season hijackers, a little hand sanitizer comes in handy.

Honestly, there are probably a plethora of other handy hints for road-tripping like a pro. If you know of any that I haven’t covered, by all means, comment. In the off chance that someone actually reads this thing, it might be helpful to them.

Air Travel

I’m not really going to spend a huge amount of time or characters on this section. There are a metric @#$%-ton of articles out there about the handy hints and tips for surviving your air travel. So, I will only touch on a few things that I have found handy.

Follow the TSA guidelines. Seriously. They print them. Read them. Follow them. Don’t be an ass or make inappropriate jokes about bombs. Your security check will just go much smoother.

Wear slip-on shoes. In other words, do not wear complicated footwear with laces up to your knees or a blue-billion buckles and clasps that look awesome at a rave but will officially piss off every other passenger waiting for you to come out of your shoes… or put them back on. On another point of order, wear socks… and odor eaters… just for the continued well-being and breathing of others around you.

Keep your paperwork in order. Have all travel documents together and ready. Nothing is worse than getting to customs, immigration, gate, etc. and a passenger digging through their bags saying, “I know I had it somewhere.” Seriously? Like you didn’t know you would need that stuff at this point. You knew it was coming. That is just silly.

Learn to travel light. These days, your wallet will thank you for not racking up large baggage fees. Gone are the days of multiple band boxes and steamer trunks of full wardrobe changes. Plan your itinerary and take only what you need. Not to brag too much, but I am the queen of minimalist packing. I actually flew to Dallas for a 4-day conference that required business attire and some more formal events. I managed to pack everything in one carry-on piece. Most places, even if you forget something, will have certain amenities. Invest in some of the roll bags for packing. It saves space and keeps your clothing from getting too wrinkled. Shoes, again, are the usual culprits for over-packing. They take up a lot of space and generally do not fold or crush. Do yourself a favor and plan your outfits so that you can have one or two pair of shoes at most.

Electronics. Don’t be a jerk. You know the rules. If you are absolutely positively going to go into withdrawal without your tablet or whatever, use the airplane mode. That goes for electronic readers, too.

Stay hydrated. The air on planes is remarkably dry. Getting dehydrated can negatively impact you in many levels, including opening up your immune system to nasty bugs. Oh, and immune boosters? Take ’em. You’ll thank me later. If you absolutely, positively MUST travel when you are incubating a cold, do the rest of the world a favor and wear a mask. They can be purchased at most pharmacies.

Like I said, there are a bunch of articles out there that actually cover great tips for traveling, especially by air. So, for the rest of the clan of the road warrior, if you can think of any helpful tips that you’ve found that you have never seen advised out there, please share.

Happy and safe journeys folks!