Monthly Archives: January 2014

Day 376: It’s A Raggy Post

Posted on January 11, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Here’s the main reason I chose the title of today’s post:

“It’s a Raggy Waltz,” by Dave Brubeck, has been playing in my mind a lot, lately.

Here’s the original version of that tune (with just the album cover as a visual), which I listened to, when I was a kid:

(thanks to MasterXelpud)

Here’s Dave Brubeck playing that tune (not with his usual crew) in some 60’s British movie which I’ve never seen (according to the YouTube comments):

(thanks to Jane8948)

So why has that tune been playing in my head?

How the hell should I know, people? My mind is very mysterious and complex (as I’m sure yours is, too). But it IS fun to guess. So I’ll ask myself that same question, again:

So why has that tune been playing in my head?

Hmmmm. I’ve got nothing for “why,” at this point. However, I shall now free-associate about the title, and perhaps the “why” may appear, in some way. And if it doesn’t, so what?

When I was a kid, I liked listening to Dave Brubeck, especially the albums “Time Out” and “Time Further Out.”

I liked playing “Take Five” and “It’s a Raggy Waltz” on the piano.

Even though my family didn’t eat any ham when I was growing up, I was quite the ham when I was a little kid. That is, I loved singing, dancing, and telling jokes. (By the bye, I still love doing those things.)

And, also, I loved acting.

When I was in nursery school, I played the baby bear in the Big Annual Production of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” This was quite a coup, because I was the ONLY child in the younger class who had a part in the play. This amazing triumph may have been the result of type casting (I looked the part). I prefer this explanation: it had to do with my talent.

When I was in junior high school, I eagerly joined the drama club. Early that year, there was a contest: to write and put on a skit. Because of Writing Rule # 1 — “Write What You Know” — I, with my friend Laura, put together a collection of jokes about Being in the Hospital, which we then performed, in front of everybody else in the club. My memory is:

I stole most of the jokes in that skit (but not all of them).
Laura and I won the contest.

Aha! Now I know why “It’s a Raggy Waltz” has been going through my head! I believe it was triggered by my use of the word “braggy” in some previous posts (here and here). Yes, indeed, that Dave Brubeck tune has been playing on my internal radio station, since I coined the word “braggy,” a few days ago. (Yes, “braggy” sounding like “raggy” is enough — in my mind — to trigger that sort of thing.)

And … this has been a braggy post so far, too.

At this point in the post, though, I’d like to turn my attention to the other side of “braggy.”

If “braggy” is the word I use about things I’m proud of — successes — what word might I use to describe … failures?

This is an especially challenging question, since I invite myself (and others) to let go of the concepts of failure and success, since we continually re-evaluate what success and failure mean, as we move along the paths of our lives. Also, I believe those concepts don’t really help (especially the concept of “failure”).

Nevertheless, I shall return to this question: if I use the word “braggy” about “successes”, what word should I use for “failures”?

This reminds me of the Miller Analogies Tests I had to take, to get into Film School AND Social Work School. Okay! Cue the Miller Analogies Test, for this post:

Success:Braggy :: Failure:

(a) Are you kidding? We have to take a Miller Analogies Test, just to read this friggin’ post?

(b) “Braggy” itself is a made-up word! How dare you make us guess another one of your made-up words?

(c) Oh, all right, I’ll take a guess for your stoopid test, just to get this over with.

(d) Shamey.

While all those answers are legitimate, I would say the answer is “d”.

Where was I, before the phoney-baloney Miller Analogies Test?

Oh yes. I would like to turn my attention to something that felt like a failure, when it happened, no matter what language I use to characterize it.

Here are the facts:

After my braggy moment in the Junior High Drama Club, I tried out for the class play that year (I think it was “Alice in Wonderland”). My memory is that I didn’t get a part. I’m not sure about the accuracy of that — I may have gotten a teensy-eensy part — but I do know I was very disappointed. It felt like a failure. Also, around that time — age 13, people! — I was getting more self-conscious and self-critical. I began to think of myself as “bad” at certain things, including acting.

I didn’t try out for any more plays, throughout junior high and high school.

However, my last year in high school, the drama club put on an old-time, spoofy melodrama, called “Love Rides the Rails.” And I did participate in that play, in a different way.

I became the piano player for “Love Rides the Rails”, which also involved arranging all the music for the show.* I got to plan and play all the music, which included chase music, romantic music, villain music, and so on. I stole pretty much everything, from the silent movie musical vocabulary**, but it still felt I was creating AND performing. That was so much fun: to arrange the music, to play for the rehearsals, and to watch the actors create and build the play.

Time out, for a very early memory:

Since I was very young, I always loved watching actors create plays, My first memory of that is my friend Debbie Popkin’s mother, Nancy, creating plays for a local children’s theater.*** Watching that process backstage and watching the plays themselves, was …. magical.

For “Love Rides the Rails”, it became even more fun when I was given a partner, to help play the music. His name was Richard Pollack, he was a Junior (so I didn’t know him before we got to play together), and he played a string instrument (my memory is that it was a mandolin****).

Here’s a photo, of Richard and me, during a performance night:

This is what I want to point out to you, about that picture:

It was taken by one of my parents, probably my father.
You can see Richard’s musical instrument, which I still think was a mandolin.
Richard is tipping BOTH of our hats, since I’m using both my hands to play piano, in that moment.
I can recognize some of my classmates, in that photo.
People in that photo look very happy.

Before I end this post, I need to ask one final question:

What in the Wide Wide World does all of this have to do with the title and the topic of this post?

Just this: For the intermission of “Love Rides the Rails”, when I was in High School, I played a song that was really fun, and which I really loved to play.

“It’s a Raggy Waltz.”

Thanks to musicians everywhere (to whom I always like to give credit), to Morland Cary (who wrote “Love Rides the Rails“)*****, to people from my high school (including my friend Harry, who was a great villain in that play), to my friend Debbie’s mother Nancy, and to you — of course! — for visiting today.

* My official title, for the play, was “Musical Coordinator at piano” (which I just found in my high school yearbook).

** I’ve searched YouTube for specific examples of that music I stole, but no luck yet. Actually, this post includes some of the romantic music I stole.

*** I can’t remember the exact name of that theater group, but it had the words “light” or “lantern” in it. I remember that because (1) somebody held up a lantern at some point during the introduction of the play and (2) those plays brightened up my childhood, for sure.

**** The high school yearbook doesn’t help my memory, here, because it just lists him as “musician.”

***** Yes, I really linked to the complete script of “Love Rides the Rails” there. And here, too.

Categories: inspiration, Nostalgia, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: "It's a Raggy Waltz", "Love Rides the Rails", celebrating triumphs, Dave Brubeck, letting go of the concept of failure, love of theater, Magic Lantern Playhouse, Miller Analogies Test, Morland Cary, Nancy Popkin, self-consciousness in adolescence, shame about failure | 32 Comments

Day 375: Direct Communication

Posted on January 10, 2014 by Ann Koplow

I am having lots of thoughts, right now, about the topic of “Direct Communication.” The challenge (as usual) is translating those thoughts into a blog post that’s coherent and enjoyable (enough), today.

Allow me to start out with a short trip down memory lane — that is, a return to yesterday’s blog post, called “We’re doing the best we can.”

In that post, there was (at least) one thing I communicated indirectly. Because direct communication is very important to me, I will be more direct about this, right now:

I wanted you to notice my cool umbrella, in yesterday’s post.

Here’s a photo of this umbrella, which I have been enjoying for many years:

I have been considering featuring that umbrella in a blog post for many months, because it always cheers me up.

Yesterday, I was hoping that somebody would notice that umbrella (which appeared in two, very similar photos). However, nobody commented on it.

Here’s one of the photos from yesterday, which included the umbrella.

I don’t want to indulge in the human cognitive distortion of mind-reading, but hey! Why should I be any different from anybody else? Here are my guesses as to why nobody noticed that umbrella in yesterday’s photos:

The umbrella is being upstaged by Fenway Park.
Those aren’t great photos of the umbrella. Maybe the umbrella isn’t even recognizable there, but hey! YOU TRY taking a good picture when it’s freezing, the light sucks, you don’t want to be late for work, and you’re trying to capture a favorite ballpark and umbrella, while balancing an iPhone, your mittens, AND that friggin’ umbrella! **

Ahem.

Please forgive the somewhat hostile tone of #2, above, which is most likely due to the cognitive distortion of Mind Reading (see here for the complete list of those common judgmental ways of thinking) and perhaps other things, too.**

What was the topic of today’s blog post, again? Oh, yes, direct communication.

At this point, I wanted to look at what’s been getting in the way of my direct communication about my umbrella:

Sometimes, being coy can be fun.
Saying, “Look how great this is!” can feel uncomfortable, especially if it’s about something of yours.

Also, when I’ve considered being more direct about that umbrella, before — that is, featuring it more prominently in its own blog post — these things have gotten in the way of that:

Hassles, discomfort, and absent-mindedness (I write my blog posts in the morning and my umbrella lives in my car).
Superstition (it’s bad luck to open an umbrella inside).

What else did I want to tell you about direct communication, this morning?

Just this: I’ve been thinking about something my son told me, after he had his teeth cleaned for this first time by my new dental hygienist. (I wrote about my first visit to her, here.)

My son told me some very positive, flattering things she said to him, about me.

Now, this dental hygienist, named Michel, is a very direct person, I think. That’s one of the things I really like about her. However, I was surprised by what she said to my son, about me. As a matter of fact, some things were SO positive, that I’ve been holding on to them, as gifts, to help me feel more confident and secure, and to help me replace old, negative (and very common) types of self-judgmental thinking.***

So I wonder why she told my son these positive things, instead of telling me?

I will tell you this: Despite Michel’s directness (which I’ve observed in other ways), she did a similar thing about praise, regarding my son. That is, the next time I saw her, she raved about how wonderful HE was. But she didn’t tell him.

I think there are lots of reasons why people don’t communicate directly, including their positive thoughts about other people.

I might wish other people would be more direct, more often, because I think that helps.

However, I believe that everybody — including Michel — is doing the best that they can.****

And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is something else I wanted to communicate directly, in yesterday’s blog post.

Thanks to all who are doing their best at communicating directly AND to my wonderful readers, whom I probably don’t praise enough (which would include you, y’know).

_________________

* I found this photo through Google Images, which informs me you can find this umbrella many places, these days, like here.

** Regular readers of this blog might have considered another Usual Suspect: hunger.

*** Hey! I’ve now linked to the same page three times in the same blog post! A new personal record!

**** Which does NOT mean that people can’t improve, grow, mature, evolve, and get better in many ways.

Categories: humor, inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: blue sky umbrella, cognitive distortions, direct communication, mind reading, obstacles to direct communication, praise | 28 Comments

Day 374: We’re doing the best we can

Posted on January 9, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Yesterday, I wrote about giving somebody a prescription that said: “Rx: Check Engine Light = Guilt.”

If that doesn’t make sense to you, read yesterday’s post, people!

If that still doesn’t make sense, leave me a comment and tell me to get my writing act together, people!

Or, since my readers seem to be kind, considerate, and eager to understand my sometimes unclear or otherwise imperfect writing …. just let me know if anything doesn’t make sense to you, and I shall do my best to clarify.

When I gave that Engine Light Prescription to that person, she mentioned the first prescription I ever gave her, which was this:

Rx: You’re doing the best you can.

She told me that prescription has helped, and that she’s posted it somewhere when she can easily see it.

That surprised me, momentarily. And I don’t know why it surprised me, actually. Over the course of many years, several people have said they find that prescription useful.

As with any prescription, some people have also told me that it doesn’t work for them. And that’s fine. Other prescriptions are available, in that case, that would work better.

Speaking for myself, though, I find that prescription very useful. When I tell myself that I’m doing the best I can in any particular moment, I find that:

Motivating
Reassuring
Calming, and ….
Loving.

To continue my braggy * ways from yesterday’s post, I also recently come up with a brand new prescription! Here it is:

Rx: Replace the word “wrong” with the word “human.”

I’m realizing, right now, that perhaps many of my prescriptions are related. I think that one, above, is related to “You’re doing the best you can.” What do you think?

Before I end this post, I’d like to show you some photos I’ve taken recently, hoping they fit today’s topic.

Before I show you these photos, I want to let you know that — when I was snapping them (sometimes hastily) — I was always doing my best to take care of myself and others.** Also, I am presenting these photos in the order they were taken, and I have not changed these photos in any way***.

Okay! I didn’t explain any of those images, but if you have any questions, just let me know. If they don’t make sense, I will do my best to clarify.

The remaining question is: did these photos fit the topic? I think they did, but I would like to say this:

It’s more difficult for me to do my best during the winter months, when the world seems cold and less colorful. It will help me do the best I can today if I post this photo — a blast from bloggings past****:

*****

Ahhhhhhhh! Time to get ready for work.

Thanks to all those who do their best, humans everywhere, and — especially — to you, for visiting today.

___________________

* While some people kindly pointed out yesterday that my post didn’t seem braggy to me, which I greatly appreciated, today I am using “braggy” proudly. Yes, I am proud to brag. It’s fun and otherwise highly recommended. Try it!

** For example, some of those photos were taken when I was in my car. Each time, I was at a full stop and not inconveniencing anybody else.

*** The only way I change photos is to crop them. Once or twice, I think I enhanced them for clarity.

**** Which is appropriate, since today IS Throw Back Thursday, according to some cultures.

***** This photo (also unaltered in any way) first appeared here.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: blue sky umbrella, Boston public gardens, doing the best you can, Fenway Park in winter, helpful prescriptions | 32 Comments

Day 373: Guilt (and a metaphor I made up!)

Posted on January 8, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Last year, I wrote about “The Oxygen Mask Metaphor,” which is way to remind people who focus too much on other people’s needs that their needs are important, too.

I use that metaphor a lot in therapy because … it helps.

Yesterday, I used a new metaphor, which has this advantage over the other one: I made this metaphor up. It’s mine! (Hmmm, at this point, I’m thinking: This post might turn out to be just one big brag.*)

Here’s the set-up:

Yesterday, in therapy, the topic of guilt came up (as it often does). (The topic of guilt comes up in this blog, too, like here and here.) And somebody said, “I feel guilty, all the time.”

I said, “All the time? Really? Are you feeling guilty right now?” **

She paused, thought, and replied, “Yes, I am. A little.”

We talked about how people can get stuck in emotional responses. (Something I wrote about, in another way, in yesterday’s post.) And then I came up with the metaphor:

Do you know how when the engine light in your car first comes on, your automatic first response is this: There’s something wrong with my car! I have to pay attention to this, now! And then, after you’ve owned cars for a while, you figure out that the engine light probably means nothing serious. And yet, when it lights up, it gets your attention, and it’s hard to ignore.

In case you don’t know what an engine light is — and to grab this opportunity to include an image — here are some examples:

***

I confess, I came up with that metaphor yesterday because … my engine light has been coming on lately. Yes, the friggin’ engine light comes on periodically, and my mechanic and I talk about it. At this point, we both believe it’s nothing serious.

But whenever that engine light is on, it nags at me. I feel like there’s something wrong.

When I came up with that metaphor yesterday, I brought it up tentatively … because you never know if somebody else’s experience matches your own. I mean, it’s possible this person:

Never had an engine light go on.
HAS had an engine light go on, and it DID mean something serious.
Has never owned a car.

But, lo and behold, the metaphor worked like a charm. She totally got it. And she understood my point (and I did have one): guilt, if it’s coming on all the time, might be like the engine light — automatically attention-getting and alarming, but something you might want to learn to ignore, when appropriate.

She found that metaphor so useful, she wanted to remember it, so I gave her a prescription for it. (See here, for more about that.) (Boy, this post IS turning into one big brag. *)

So how do I want to end this brag-y post, today?

Just to tell you this: When I got up this morning, I figured I would write about this topic, because — honestly, people — I’m pretty proud of that metaphor. But I didn’t really feel like writing about that, or much of anything else.

And then I asked myself this question: Do I feel guilty, about anything?

And the answer was this: “Yes, I do. A little.”

And I noticed that, and turned my attention to other things.

Voila!

Thanks to those who use and learn from metaphors, people whose engine lights have come on for any reason, and to you — naturally! — for visiting today.

* About what a cool therapist I am.

** An old friend of mine tells this story: When we were in our 20’s, she said to me, “I bite the inside of my mouth all the time.” I said, “Really? Are you biting it right now?” Apparently, my keen methods of therapeutic interrogation haven’t developed all that much.

*** I’m not giving any attributions for these images, because I don’t think anybody is going to have a sense of ownership about them. And if they do, I’ll apologize and make amends, without any you-know-what. ****

**** Guilt, if you didn’t guess.

Categories: humor, inspiration, personal growth, Uncategorized | 43 Comments

Day 372: Learning to re-approach

Posted on January 7, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Today’s blog post is inspired by ….

… a microwave oven. Not that particular microwave oven, which I found through Google Images*, but the microwave oven I just used to heat up something** my son agreed to eat this morning before he left for school.

So why did a microwave oven inspire the title of this post, today?

Because I noticed how I always approach microwave ovens, these days, without fear.

That may seem unremarkable to you, but let me explain.

I have had cardiac pacemakers since I was 10 years old. (As I’ve bragged about before in this blog, I may very well be the longest surviving person in the Wide Wide World with a pacemaker.)*** When microwave ovens first came out (in the 1970’s, I believe)*** they were considered dangerous to people with pacemakers. Indeed, I remember seeing lots of microwave ovens with warnings for people with pacemakers to STAY AWAY! “Danger! Danger Danger!” said many microwave-related signs.

Yet, I haven’t thought about that in years, and I approach microwave ovens fearlessly.

Again, that lack of fear may not seem post-worthy, because:

It’s been a long, long time since microwave ovens could possibly cause any danger to me, and
They actually weren’t all that dangerous to me to begin with, despite the hysteria of the signs.

However, I am writing about this, this morning, because of something I’ve been noticing a lot, lately: people (including me) often avoid re-approaching things that remind them of past dangers, pain, or other negative experiences.

For a lot of us, our internal warning systems can be a little “off.” They might be working too hard, as protection against future hurts.

Here are some things that I’ve witnessed people avoiding, because of past negative experiences:

Intimate relationships.
Other people, in general.
Performing.
Particular geographic locations.
Traveling, in general.

I stopped that list because I have to get ready for work.

I do want to tell you this, though: The more I notice my own fears, the more I notice that I can avoid lots of things, simply because of one experience in the past. Here’s an example of something I’ve caught myself avoiding, lately:

Smiling — after I’ve eaten and before I can check myself in a mirror — just because one person once told me, “You tend to catch food in your teeth.”

That’s embarrassing to admit, for several reasons, but there it is.

Okay, I REALLY have to wrap up this post.

Do I have an image?

Check.

Have I re-approached the title?

Not really, since the title promised the opportunity for learning how to deal with this kind of avoidance.

Here’s the deal, people: I don’t know the magical answer of how to re-approach something associated with a past negative experience (at least one that I could come up with and write about in a few seconds).

However, I can say this:

Re-approaching old negative stuff in new ways takes practice, and
I have figured out how to do that, for some things, including (a) microwave ovens and (b) smiling, which I’ve been doing more, no matter where or when.

That concludes our post for today.

Thanks to those who avoid, those who approach, and everybody in between. And, of course, thanks to you for visiting today.

* Here, in a Wikipedia entry on a term I’ve never heard, “Dialectric Heating,” which, apparently is the name for the process used by microwave ovens, which reminds me of one of my favorite words, “dialectic.” Nobody guaranteed these footnotes were going to be (a) illuminating or (b) interesting, you know.

** Left-over American Chop Suey, if you must know.

*** I didn’t want to put that particular parenthetical information in a footnote, because I know some people don’t read these.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth | Tags: avoidance, food stuck in teeth, microwave ovens and pacemakers, recovering from trauma | 29 Comments

Day 371: Something to look forward to

Posted on January 6, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Someone I know just wrote this post on Facebook: “Lunch on Wednesday? I need something to look forward to.”

Don’t we all.

Yes, I write and talk to people about being in the moment, about letting go of expectations, investments, and other future-oriented thoughts.

But studies* also show that people need to have hope about the future. When times are challenging, especially, it helps to know something good is coming up.

I’m thinking about these challenging times this morning:

Students returning to school, after a long vacation.
People returning to work, after time off.
Dealing with medical issues.
Dealing with uncertainties.

In the past, here are some things I’ve looked forward to, that have helped with challenging times:

Getting a cat.
Seeing a musical.
Going to a movie.
Going out to a restaurant.
Communicating with a friend (on the phone, through mail**, or in person).
Having time to myself, when I can sing and dance with nobody watching.

I have vivid memories of how it helped to look forward to all those things, when I was a kid.

And I’ve looked forward to those things recently, too. And, guess what? All of those wishes have come true, within the last couple of months!

So that list includes the far past, the near past, AND things I can look forward to in the near future, too.***

Knowing all that helps, this morning.

That list also reminds me of a much bigger list, hanging in my office, that people have been adding to for over a year:

Right now, I can look forward to seeing that list, very soon.

Before I end this post, I also wanted to introduce you to somebody I met over the weekend:

That’s Dorothy Oja, She works at a very cool boutique, Thirty Petals. She’s an astrologer and an artist (that calendar in front has her artwork in it). She told me, “I’d be on the computer or the phone all the time if I didn’t get out,” and eight years ago, she started working at the store after she saw a Help Wanted sign in the window. She loves working there. She’s very interested in writing and artists. She told me she was one of the first people to create an email newsletter, which she’s been writing steadily for 16 years, and she seemed delighted when I told her about my blog.

That’s something else I look forward to. Meeting kind, interesting people.

Thanks to my Facebook friend, to Dorothy Oja, to all those who are looking forward to something and to you, especially, for visiting today.

* Perhaps you thought this footnote would include some sort of citation of real data. It doesn’t.

** Yesterday, I wrote about mail-related anxieties. However, there have been many times where I’ve really looked forward to getting mail.

*** The least likely one to come true in the near future is getting another cat. Although, who knows? And, just to review, here’s the current cat tally:

+ = TWO

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: Dorothy Oja, hope, List of what helps, Looking forward, Thirty Petals, What helps | 40 Comments

Day 370: Reasons why snail mail freaks me out

Posted on January 5, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Almost 200 days ago, I wrote a post called Why I’m Anxious Today (E-mail, anybody?)

Since I wrote that post, I’ve made a change.

(cue drum roll):

I’ve performed a hyphen-ectomy on the word “e-mail.” That is, I now write it like this: “email.” This may be a small, irrelevant change to you, but that’s an example of something I like to tell people: “Every change, no matter how little, counts.”

Admittedly, that’s not a GREAT example, plus it’s a digression away from my title, today, which is NOT about email, but rather about …

(cue drum roll):

Snail Mail.

I confess: Both email (with or without the hyphen) AND snail mail make me anxious.

Today, I shall expound on the anxiety-provoking qualities of snail mail for me, these days.*

Reasons Why Snail Mail Freaks Me Out

Reason #1: There’s way too much of it.

This applies to both email and snail mail. As a matter of fact, I just checked that earlier post about email, and #1 was the exact same phrase with the exact same punctuation! What are the chances of that?

I guess the amount of snail mail which arrives and accumulates around here is REALLY** making me nervous, because I’m trying to distract you (and myself) with (1) rhetorical questions about coincidences and (2) inviting you and me to go into the past.

Okay, so back to The Here and Now …. that is, the amount of snail mail there is in my life, today.

I would take a picture of the amount of mail there is, in my immediate vicinity, as I write this post, but … I have some shame about that. So I won’t! You’ll just have to imagine how much mail there is — opened AND unopened.

Okay! Now, I assume that the amount of mail you are picturing right now has to do with … your own feelings, thoughts, and experiences about Snail Mail.

Actually, you know what? Forget your experiences. I am going to reverse myself, right now, and CONFRONT MY SHAME about the messiness of snail mail in my life. In other words, I shall take a photo, right here at Blogging Central. Hold on ….

Eeeek!

Here’s something interesting about that photo: Blogging Central has looked much neater in previous posts, like here, about a month ago:

Yes, that’s the same table, BEFORE I DECIDED TO GET MORE ORGANIZED ABOUT MAIL.

And in case anybody reading this post is thinking — regarding that first photo — “Gee, Ann. That doesn’t look like THAT much mail!” … let me show you another photo, from the Here (actually, upstairs from where I blog) and Now:

Eeeeeeeek!

Hold on, there’s more:

One more:

Okay, here’s my dilemma, at this point in my post.

I’ve started a list, about reasons why snail mail freaks me out, and I don’t want to add another entry to that list. I think this might be enough. Which leaves me with a list …. of one. But, hey! It’s my blog post! I can do what I want!

So what is my major point, in this List-of-One post, today?

What do you think?

(pause, giving you space to think about what this post means to you….)

Now, I’ll tell you what I think: I think this post is about shame regarding my organizing my external environment, including how — when I try to get better about something — it often looks and feels worse (at least for a while).

I am letting go of shame, though, in general, and as I try to get better organized about snail mail.

I’ll tell you one thing that’s helping, right now, with snail mail organization …..

Throwing more away.

(New) Rules About Throwing Mail Away

I shall throw mail away if:

It came before a certain date AND
It’s not important.

What gets in the way of that?

Judging what’s important.

That can be challenging, for lots of reasons, including the fact that so much snail mail has a strong opinion about its own importance. For example:

Guess what? I just threw those away.

Thanks to people who are organized about mail, those who are not, and … I guess that includes everybody. Wait! I also want to thank you, especially, for visiting today.

_____________________

* I say “these days”, because snail mail has changed, over the years, Including what we call it. Before email, snail mail was just “the mail” (in case you don’t remember that).

** Ka-ching! I now owe more residuals to The Culture Monk, who uses REALLY in his title, every day.***

*** At least, for now.

Categories: humor, inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: email, feeling worse before feeling better, letting go of shame, letting go of shame about messiness, organizing mail, organizing snail mail, small changes, snail mail, The Culture Monk, throwing things away | 56 Comments

Day 369: Old Familiar Faces

Posted on January 4, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Let’s start with the title of today’s post (as is my wont*): Old Familiar Faces.**

My first association with that title is this: My father singing that line to me, when I was a little kid. Right now, I can hear his voice, in my mind’s ear, singing it.

I now interrupt this reverie with some facts.

My dad used to sing me the 1938 song, “I’ll be Seeing You” sometimes, before he said “good night.” I loved hearing him sing that song.

Here are two YouTube versions of that song. The first, by Billie Holiday:

And this one, with Michael Bublé:

If you played***** either of those videos, perhaps you noticed something interesting.

If you didn’t, I’ll tell you: That line is NOT in the song.

Eeeeeek!

So, in this post, already, we’ve encountered some interesting things about memory. It’s entirely possible I mis-remembered that. However, it’s also entirely possible that my father actually DID sing me that line. Why do I think that’s a possibility? Because of something I may have inherited from him: A great memory for music, but for the words of a song? Not so much.

If I had a tape of my dad singing that song, I could listen to it now, and check to see what lyrics he sang. But I don’t have that tape, so let’s move on.

As is my wont*, I have strayed from my original intention for this post.

And what was that?

To write about my mixed feelings and thoughts, regarding my choosing a new avatar****** for my appearances here on WordPress, as of January 1, 2014. At the beginning of this year, I switched — from the camel and the pyramid (which still adorns the top of my posts here) — to a photo of the big stuffed tiger in my son’s room wearing my latest pair of glasses (you can see this post for more about that).

What are those mixed feelings and thoughts? Well, they have to do with self-disclosure.

The issue of self disclosure is a big one, isn’t it? How much should I disclose about what I look like (and other things, too)?

Last year, I had a guideline about photos of myself, here, and that guideline shifted as the year went on (not surprisingly). At first, my rule was: No photos of myself. That shifted to this: No recent photos of myself. That shifted again: no obvious, recent photos of myself.

Everything can be a slippery slope, can’t it?

And why does that even matter — to show one’s face or not? I’m not sure why it matters to other people, but I assume it does. Here at WordPress, I notice different people making different decisions about that issue, perhaps giving some thought about what face(s) they choose to reveal.

On New Year’s Eve, I asked my son, “Should my avatar for next year be a photo of myself?” Because I was considering that change and — as usual — I could see the pros and cons of the different choices.

I love asking my son’s opinion (partly because he often has one). And his opinion was this: “No.”

My son is almost 16 years old and his experience, of course, has been different from mine (a 60-year old woman’s), in many ways. I’m sure he had many good reasons for that quick decision. But he’s not here right now, so I can’t ask him. (He’s with his father, today.)

In the meantime, I still have mixed feelings. But, for now, I’m staying with my decision, this (gr)avatar:

Why? Because:

I like those new glasses.
That tiger reminds me of an old familiar face: a stuffed tiger I had when I was a little kid.
That tiger was given to my son — on his birthday, several years ago — by some old familiar face(s), my friend Ada and her family.
I’ve written, in this blog, about the importance of tigers to me (here, here, here, and here, for examples).
Some experts have written about this: if somebody does not reveal details about self (including visual details), others can learn very important things from that person about themselves, due to the phenomenon of self-projection*******
A new familiar face, here at WordPress, Russ Towne — who has a wonderful blog named “A Grateful Man” and a self-disclosing avatar — wrote this to me recently:

I love your new photo! It brought a big smile to my face.
Russ

Case closed! (For now, anyway.)

Thanks to Russ Towne, Ada, my son, my father, Irving Kahal and Sammy Fain (for creating “I’ll Be Seeing You”), Billie Holiday, Michael Bublé, tigers and experts everywhere, people who make choices every day about what to disclose about themselves, and to you — of course! — for reading today.

* The word ‘wont’ means “having a tendency to do something.” That word reminds me of an old familiar face from college — my roommate, Nancy. We used to listen to this routine from “Beyond the Fringe,” where the word ‘wont’ gets a big laugh. Now, that routine also reminds me of another familiar face: my son. Thanks to Nancy, Peter Cook, Dudley Moore, Jonathan Miller, and Alan Bennett.

** “The Old Familiar Faces” is also a poem by Charles Lamb, which — considering where I went to school — I should know more about. Nope, wait! I’m letting go of SHOULDs! Better. And now that I’ve done that, I can tell you this: it’s a wonderful poem and it’s here.

*** found here on YouTube

**** thanks to wellingtonpub

***** And if you get my posts via email, you may need to click on the title of this post, on the top of the page, to do that.

****** Called a gravatar, here at WordPress, a name I don’t like, because it reminds me of the word “grave.”

******* Called “transference,” in the psychotherapy biz.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: "Beyond the Fringe, "I'll Be Seeing You", "I'll be Seeing You" by Billie Holiday, "I'll Be Seeing You" by Michael Buble, gravatars, Irving Kahal, Jonathan Miller, memories of father, Portraits from Memory (Bertrand Russell), Russ Towne, Sammy Fain, self disclosure | 38 Comments

Day 368: Cold Hard Facts

Posted on January 3, 2014 by Ann Koplow

I know it’s cold. The cold woke me up.

How cold is it? Let me check.

Lots of interesting numbers, there. I see a repeating series, on the bottom. But that entails the future, and we never know.

The only thing we know is the now. And now, the number is 2.

It could be worse. It could be 1. I wrote about 1, I know, last year.

What else do I want to tell you, while the number is still 2? (It is; I checked.)

When the number is that low, the cold HURTS.

Yesterday, when I was waiting for a bus, the cold was hurting. The temperature wasn’t as low as now, but the hurt was still there. As I was feeling that pain, I was talking to myself, to hold off any fear: “It’s okay, even though it hurts.”

I had time to say that, several times, as I waited, surrounded by other people.

A bus came, but it wasn’t my bus. I was very glad to see it, though.

Why? Because of this:

Then, it wasn’t as cold, or hard to wait.

My bus arrived. And it was warm inside there, too.

One more check, before I end this post.

Yep. It’s still 2.

Thanks to people who can write LOVE, no matter what, and to you — of course! — for reading today.

Categories: inspiration, personal growth, photojournalism | Tags: 2 degrees, fear of cold, fear of pain, letting go of fear, love on a bus, love written in snow | 50 Comments

Day 367: Screen Shots

Posted on January 2, 2014 by Ann Koplow

Since my style can be somewhat spontaneous*, it is rare that I decide, ahead of time, what my topic or image is going to be for my daily post.

Yesterday, however, I saw something on my computer and thought, “I HAVE to take a screen shot of THAT. I’m probably going to use that in my blog tomorrow.”

My next thought was, ” Arrrrgh! I can’t remember how to take screen shots!” Next thought: “Google it!” And I did.

I don’t know, people, why I panic when I can’t remember something like that. It’s like I have ongoing amnesia about the fact that things are easily retrievable. Apparently, my brain hasn’t caught up to the realities of technology, with which I’m interacting every day.

Get with the program, Brain!

Anyway, I did manage (pretty easily) to take a screen shot of that image, which had inspired some fear, on its own. THAT fear, ladies and gentlemen, had to do with ………

(can you guess?)

(hints: I live in the Northeast United States. It’s January.)

Time’s up!

The weather.

Here’s the screen shot:

If you’re easily distracted, like me, allow me to call your attention to the weather portion of that screen shot:

I love comparing my perceptions to other people’s, so I’m curious, right now: What did you notice first about that weather report?

I’ll tell you what struck me, big time. The numbers — those wild variations in temperature in my immediate future. My thoughts: “It’s going to be THAT friggin’ freezing on Friday and then THAT warm on Monday?!??? Eeeek!! Arrrghhh! HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO REMAIN SANE AROUND HERE????”

It was at that point that I decided to capture that screen shot, to share my feelings with the blogging world. I then turned my attention to other things.

Soon after that, I picked up a phone message from my son’s father, stating that he was trying to get snow tires put on his car, and could I bring my son over to his girlfriend’s home?

On my way driving my son there, here was a thought that eventually snuck into that brain of mine:

WHY is he trying to get snow tires on New Year’s Day?

This didn’t make sense to me, for several reasons:

Most people, in these parts, don’t get snow tires put on their cars. They have year-long tires that do well enough during the snow.
On New Year’s Day, pretty much everything is closed.

When I can’t make sense of something, it can be difficult for me to remain on task, trying to solve a problem. The result of that, yesterday: Vague confusion, with some sense of dread.

I mentioned my confusion to my son. “I can’t figure out why your father is trying to get snow tires put on his car today. I’m wondering if this is something I should be concerned about.”

And then we went back to talking about other things.

When we reached our destination, I said to my son’s father’s girlfriend, “I have to ask: Why is Leon trying to get snow tires put on his car on New Year’s Day?”

And as often happens when I’m confused, somebody else has a perfectly reasonable explanation. She said, “His car is too light, and had so much trouble getting up the hill in the last snow. And, that big snow storm is coming tomorrow.”

My response: “Big snow storm?”

Hers (somewhat incredulously): “You didn’t hear about the storm?”

Just then, I realized I had missed something important. And sure enough, those scary numbers in that screen shot had distracted me from something else in that picture.

Those nice-looking clouds with snow flakes, two days in a row.

Get with the program, Brain!

Thanks to confused people everywhere, to people who have to drive in snow, and to you — of course! — for visiting today.

I am, apparently, transitioning here, from yesterday’s post to today’s.