The yawning generation gap

I remember as a kid, and especially a teenager, being really, really into music. I still am, but it was something most vital to me back then. An escape, a place to speak emotions and thoughts I didn't have the words or maturity to say. It spoke to my soul.

And I remember my grandmother or mother or some adult making a comment about the music that mattered to me, and thinking, "they just don't get it."

I recall swearing to myself, SWEARING that I wouldn't let there be that generation gap as I got older.

And I've fought it. Hard. I listen to current music. I do my best to stay up to date, so I'm at least conversant.

Yesterday, I was listening to my iPod on the way home from work, and the shuffle landed on a Rihanna song.

I like Rihanna. I like her a lot, actually. I think she's not only stunningly beautiful, but she's talented.

The song that came on is entitled "Unfaithful."

In the song, the story goes that the woman is with a guy, and that it's more than love, he is "The reason that the sky is blue."

But gosh darn it all, she just can't seem to stay true to him.

She cries out, "And I know that he knows I'm unfaithful/And it kills him inside/To know that I am happy with some other guy/I can see him dying."

She then wraps up the chorus with, "I don't wanna be.../A murderer."

Ok, ok, this is all very emotional. Her cheating is "killing" him. He's "dying inside" and she is the "murderer" for doing this to him.

And this is when the yawning chasm that is the generational gap became oh so apparent and the years of my experience in this thing called life kicked in.

I found myself, listening closely to the words, and then *yelling* at my stereo:

"THEN LEAVE HIM! IF THERE IS NO WAY YOU WON'T CHEAT AND IT PAINS YOU TO SEE HIM 'DYING INSIDE' THEN BE A GROWN UP AND WALK AWAY!!!"

Ahem.

Yeah.

Sure, I know that, "He's a nice guy but I just can't be true to him and so I did the mature thing and broke up with him so I could go sow my wild oats, knocking boots with everything that walks so that one day I can be a sad, bitter old hag wondering whatever happened to my life and why I never found a nice guy," doesn’t really make for fun, emo deep pop songs.

And I'm fairly certain that the young twentysomethings that work for me would roll their eyes and think, "she just doesn't get it."

I think I just grew a new gray hair.

"Hey you kids, get off my lawn!!!"

That which is taboo

Yup, I'm in love again. Painful, lustful, forbidden love with a steely, powerful object.

My new employer is a lot behind the times when it comes to IT expertise, but they are hip as hip can be with the portable crowd.

When I started work, I was asked "Would you like a PC or a Mac?"

Why, the answer was simple. Mac, please!

In fact, that was one of the go-no go requirements of changing jobs. Having used nothing but a Mac for the past twelve years, I would say I was reluctant to slip back to the Windows based environment.

So, my previous employer provided Macs, but they were refurb and a step or two behind the technology curve.

Not so with fascinating new employer.

No, I got to work and was greeted with a sleek, sexy, top of the line MacBook Pro. The 15-inch variety, 2.53GHz. Four beefy GB of memory. A roomy 300GB hard drive.

Yum!

It has this utterly awe inspiring, new crystal clear glass screen, the cool backlit black keys, and the glass trackpad with NO button. Nope, it's all in one. You can scroll on that bad boy, click anywhere and whoa does it work nice.

The unibody design is light and compact and feels solid and well built.

This thing beats the crap out of my last work machine, an old style MacBook pro, that poor dented aluminum thing.

Then yesterday, I had occasion to work from home, and as I sat on the couch, caressing the keys of this hot young MacBook Pro, I looked at my VERY old, personally owned 17" PowerBook (it dates back to, I believe, 2004) and then at my new work speedster and yes...I fell in love.

I mentioned later to The Good Man that I was in love, and that I may have to save our pennies (a LOT of pennies) to buy one of these. This might ensure that my writing projects are no longer in peril of going to the great bit bucket in the sky when my PowerBook fails...and it will. Soon.

He couldn't hear me. He was too busy caressing his own brand new MacBook Air (well, new to us...he bought it refurb on a smoking good deal).

The family that computes together (on the same platform) stays together.

We'll call this: Still life with Macsexy Beast. Taken with my company provided 3G iPhone.

_________________________________

Oh, a small bit of irony. My beautiful, glorious MacBook Pro machine......well my IT organization got a hold of it first to set it up. They also turned it over and used an old fashioned electric engraver to scratch the company name and identifying information into the unibody metal case in a shaky script.

I believe, when the tip of the engraver touched the silky nickel aluminum blend unibody, somewhere in Infinite Loop, Steve Jobs shuddered.

Who engraves stuff anymore? My *dad* used to do that!?!!?!?

It never gets old

This weekend, The Good Man and I met some friends up in Sausalito for fun and merriment.

Getting to Sausalito means traversing the beautiful Golden Gate Bridge.

I believe this year makes twelve years for me living here in the Bay Area and driving across that big orange bridge is still as exciting as it was the first time I ever did it.

I have about a zillion photos I've taken of the Golden Gate Bridge, because no matter how many times I see it, I always find something more interesting I need to try to capture.

Then sometimes, like yesterday, I decide to come out from behind the camera and just watch as we drive by. The art deco uprights are still so endlessly fascinating to me, the way the light plays off of them, the subtle texturing. The stout cables that hold it all in place still look like dental floss in perspective of all the iron and steel and concrete that make up the bridge.

I wondered, as we drove across, if the men who finished the bridge back in 1937 could ever fathom what it this bridge would become. Could they have ever imagined the magnitude of traffic that rolls over it every day?

And how freaking cool that something built 72 years ago still stands tall and proud and virtually unrevised (but for some retrofitting and upgrading) since then.

I got to thinking, was there anything from my life in New Mexico that could even come close to this? Something that in driving by with some frequency, I still have the sense of awe and wonder every time I see it?

The closest I got was not a man made item. First thought in my head was Tijeras Canyon. Similar in that it is a roadway to transport people from one side of a great geological obstacle to another.

It still fills me with awe at the beauty and wonder at the too fast development growing in that gap between the Sandias and the Manzanos.

I tried to think if there was something like this, something man made and yet so enduring. Of course, the Indian ruins are far older than the Golden Gate, but not something that one drives by with frequency, as they tend to be back in the hills.

I suppose the most awe inspiring bit of human engineering and transportation in New Mexico is the Sandia Peak Tramway.

I don't know, to my New Mexico friends, do you have any ideas? I'm sure I'm forgetting something...

Photo by Karen Fayeth

Found it!

New job. New company. New Year.

Learning curve. I'm on it. The steep part.

Ow.

Well that's one way to go about it

An Albuquerque man was arrested after he allegedly tried to bite his fiance's engagement ring off her finger this week.

I'm assuming she didn't actually end the argument with "bite me." But then again, maybe she did.

Source: ABQjournal

Just one little thing...

Last night, after coming home late, and looking for something to accompany my dinner of hot soup, I watched some throwaway episode of some throwaway show in syndication.

The premise of the episode was that just one little thing can change the outcome of your whole day. It was a riff on the Butterfly Effect complete with a CG butterfly.

I actually thought it was a clever bit of television writing, and it was highly satisfying, along with my chicken soup.

This morning, I had occasion to revisit this bit of chaos theory as I made my way into work.

I left the house a skosh later than I'd wanted to, and when I fired up the Jeep, the gas indicator began making noises at me. I had to stop for gas, making me run even later.

The closest gas station is located on a road out of town that I don't usually take, because along that road there are three schools. The parents dropping off their kids always backs up traffic, so I avoid it.

But that wasn't the worst of it. In addition to running later than usual, and running into school traffic by taking a road I normally don't take, it turns out there was a traffic light blinking at the most critical intersection (right before the highway entrance). So traffic on that road was backed up for about five miles.

And because I sat for an hour on a road that should normally take ten minutes to traverse, I got to work much later than usual, meaning I had a hard time finding a parking spot. The one I did find was a tight squeeze by a wall in the parking garage, and so I dinged my own door on the way out.

It also means the work cafeteria was out of orange juice by the time I got there.

And my staff gave me an arched eyebrow when I did finally roll into my office.

All this really bodes for a great day, right? Ugh.

So as I sit here at my desk drinking coffee instead of OJ, I got to thinking about how just one little thing had ruined my whole good day.

At first I blamed the traffic light. That damn light! If not for the flapping butterfly wing of that stupid busted stoplight I would have made it to work on time!

But that's not really true, is it?

It's that I rolled out of the house late. Had I had my you-know-what together and left earlier, there would have been less traffic.

But that's also not really true, is it? Because even leaving late, I would have taken a different road and been fine...if I had a full tank of gas.

The crux of this whole thing was my empty gas tank.

See, last night when I was driving home, my near empty gas tank was already beeping at me. I could have stopped for gas on the route home, but feeling lazy and tired, I chose not to.

So the flapping wing, really, was my decision not to stop and get petrol last night.

That one decision has blown my whole Wednesday morning.

And unlike the television show, I can't do a second act on this day and show what would have happened if the decisions had gone differently.

I have to, as The Good Man says, "just play through".

That there is chaos theory, Karen style.

Help a New Mexico Brotha out

Drop over to Avelino Maestas' blog and cast your vote among his beautiful photographs.

You could win a free print!

Thanks to NewMexiKen for the tip!

Conflicted emotions

The times, they certainly are a'changing.

One place this is perfectly evident is in the world of newspapers and reporting.

A number of key dailies have either gone out of business or gone to internet only publication to cut printing costs. As these papers scale back, they must also downsize their staff.

Just last week, I was referring to something that Gene Grant had written about in his column (published in the Albuquerque Journal). I'd said that I had always liked Gene's work, whether or not I always agreed with him.

I find him to be both eloquent and articulate. Something lacking in so many of today's so-called journalists.

Just two days after I had been extolling Gene's virtues, I read his last column for the ABQjournal.

Said Gene: "A small story in the historic and difficult choices newspaper owners and editors are facing. It's tough out there."

Gene and his opinion column have fallen victim to the world of the internet and the ever present blog-ready online world.

I love my blog and the forum to be able to openly express my opinions on a variety of topics, but I realize that the blogosphere has taken down talented journalists like Gene.

And I have conflicted feelings on that subject.

On the one hand, I lament the lack of real journalism with integrity and reporting "just the facts." This is, I know, an antiquated notion. Opinion has made its way into the media, as each paper has its own axe to grind. My own local rag, the San Francisco Chronicle, is one of the worst.

So although I wish for strong, precise journalism, it just doesn't exist anymore.

Then again, on the other hand, I think the rise of blogging is a good thing. No longer am I subjected to only the forced opinions of my local paper or other media outlets. I can seek out a variety of dissenting opinions, take them all in, and then make up my own mind. Knowledge is power.

I wonder if blogging wouldn't be quite the force it is if our journalistic outlets gave us the unbiased news we desire? Or perhaps it would be popular, but in a different way.

So while I'm sad to see the demise of newspapers and the downsizing of talented writers like Gene Grant, I think it was inevitable.

The newspaper world is a stodgy old industry and it's high time for that old dog to learn some new tricks.

Change or die is the motto these days. Newspapers aren't immune.

Something tells me 2009 is going to be a wild ride.

Infomercial Wow

Over the holiday break, my lazy hind-end had the opportunity to watch a LOT more television than I usually do.

And since I watch sans a TiVo or similar device, I am subjected to all manner of commercials. The retail onslaught has been hard and heavy this year.

But sometimes, there is a commercial that rises above the rest.

It began with the repeated ads for a product called ShamWow.

A very enthusiastic guy with a wireless microphone headset (mildly reminiscent of Madonna in the Vogue years, image here) and an east coast New York/New Jersey blend accent extolled the virtues of this fabulous new absorbent product.

Okay. Well, good. Very spongy.

But the commercial stood out more for the oddball guy making the pitch than for the product itself. I admit, it was, as they say in the marketing world, "sticky". I can remember the product name off the top of my head, so it's working.

Then a couple days ago, the ShamWow guy showed up in a new ad for something called a SlapChop. This product is a new and improved version of a good ol' kitchen chopper.

Same guy, same accent, but he's got a schtick working now. There he is, chopping away at a variety of items, telling us that the SlapChop is going to transform our lives.

Then he said something in the ad that caused The Good Man and I to stop all activity and look at each other.

"Did he really say that," I asked, and TGM nodded.

What my new television pal Vince Offer said was:

"You're going to love my nuts."

He then showed how the SlapChop can decimate the nut of your choice to tiny bits.

Then later he also said, "Stop having a boring tuna."

Well yeah! Who wants a boring tuna!

At first I was kind of put off by this Vince guy, but the more he shows up on my television screen (which is a LOT lately), the more I'm in this guy's corner.

A quick Wikipedia glance makes for some good reading. (you've made it when you have a Wiki about you...right?)

I found a Slate article, and below is the best quote that sums up exactly what I wanted to say:

"Vince...conveys a street-smart persona—with his headset microphone, rat-a-tat phrasing and fuhgeddaboutit confidence—that's intended to get the viewer thinking, "Hey, this guy's sharp. He knows a good deal." (It may also get us thinking, "Hey, this guy's a douche. He needs a better haircut." But that's a secondary issue.)"

Can Vince become the next Billy Mays (of OxiClean and OrangeGlo fame)?

Time will tell.

For now, let me just say this. You're gonna love his nuts.

Image from SlapChop website.

Well, crap

The real world came up and grabbed me today.

Back to work.

6:30am was extraordinarily *painful* this morning.

Oh Snap!

Richardson drops bid for commerce secretary post

Yeah...Oh Fair New Mexico...you were thisclose to having one of ours seated firmly in the cabinet of our new president.

The presidency that will certainly be historic. The one that promised change.

But instead, you sit on the sidelines, dress torn, makeup smeared, hair all a mess, not yet ready for the Miss America contest.

C'mon you crazy mixed up state! Let me take you out for a nice plate of enchiladas and a pitcher of margaritas.

You can even have the extra sopapilla.

We'll get 'em next time, tiger!

Near and Dear to my Heart

Sit back, I'm about to go on a bit of a rant, inspired by a story I read today in the SFGate.

About six or eight years ago, I was living in a small apartment in the South Bay, in a small eight unit building. The building dated back to at least the 1930's, if not earlier, and featured this breathing dragon of a wall heater as its only source to take the chill of cold rainy evenings.

I had gone home to New Mexico for Christmas, and my mom, ever the practical one, had given me a carbon monoxide alarm as a gift.

Fine. Whatever. I took it back to California with me where it sat, unused, in the box for quite a while. A year or more, if truth be told.

One day, I was cleaning up the place when I found that thing and figured, "oh well". I put in the batteries and hung it from my ceiling. Fine. Look at me. Miss Practical.

A couple months later, the damn thing started going off.

I was frustrated. Surely this was defective. Busted. Whatever.

I unscrewed it from the ceiling and moved it farther back.

And the damn thing kept going off.

Weird.

Fine. So after dealing with the piercing noise for, again, if I’m telling the truth here, several months, I finally called PG&E. I knew it would take them *forever* to fit me in, but whatever.

I told them that my carbon monoxide alarm kept going off and could I get an appointment for someone to come out check.

Anticipating at least 30 days before I got an appointment, I was surprised when, instead, the call dispatcher said, "someone will be there immediately" and further, "open all the doors and windows until someone arrives."

Uh. Ok. Much ado about nothing, right? But at least I'd get quick attention.

Good for their word, a guy showed up within about ten minutes.

He took a reading in the center of the room and said, "I'm going to cap off your gas, you have fatal levels of carbon monoxide in here."

Well blow me over.

Turns out there was a center tube of metal inside the heater that had slid down when the house settled or from age, and it left a crack about an inch wide that was venting the heater right into my apartment.

The next day, I absentmindedly told this story to a friend at work, and she started crying. One of her dearest friends had died from carbon monoxide poisoning. Her life could have been saved with the simple installation of a carbon monoxide alarm, but it was, instead, lost.

When The Good Man moved into our place, I told him this story and said I will never live in a place that does not have a working carbon monoxide alarm.

I refuse.

I was reminded about all of this today when I saw the headline in the local paper say:

Two Bay Area families survive carbon monoxide poisoning

"The mother said the family started feeling sick around midnight...When their symptoms failed to improve in the morning, they headed for the emergency room."

That woman's good thinking saved her family, her kids, her own life.

It scares the crap out of me. Apartments are required to have a smoke alarm, but not a carbon monoxide alarm. They even make dual alarms these days, both fire and carbon monoxide. Easy peasy!

So please, anyone who is reading this, don't hesitate, don't call it "some remote possibility". Don't put it off.

Get thee to a Wal-Mart or a Target or a Home Depot and BUY a carbon monoxide alarm and install it where you will spend most of your time.

Buy two, one for the living room and one for your bedroom. Just do it, okay?

Thanks. Your life matters to me.

Oh and...

The Feline would like you to know it's cold, so if you could crank up the heater then sit down and allow me to suck all the warmth from your human body, that would be great.

Oh, and more kibble in the bowl too...

MMIX

2009 has been designated as the:

International Year of Astronomy.

International Year of Natural Fibres.

International Year of Reconciliation.

and the

Year of the Ox (by the Chinese calendar)



And, to quote my friend over at Rancho de Perro:

Please, dear MMIX, try not to suck.


Source: Wikipedia