WHAT IN THE WORLD - good stuff to know

Back in 1820 we had about 1 billion people here on this globe. Today that is approximately how many personal friends Mark Zuckerberg has on Facebook. 92 years later (this coming July), we’ll go beyond 7 billion. That’s a lot of bodies and that was fast; just some stuff I didn’t know and now you do.

The following is some odd sox info about where we live. For the most we fiddle about, exist and survive on this planet, not really knowing where and what, when and why. We take way too much stuff for granted and some with a tad of ignorance. So we might appear oblivious, but we also know that is not true. We are busy with a lot of stuff in our daily lives and that’s one of the reasons we forget Greenland is the largest island on earth and that it spans 2 million square miles of snow-balls and ice-cubes. We also forget that Greenland is melting, and I’m not sure if I like that, but it’s a good thing to know anyway; don’t you think? Running out of ice-cubes is serious business, so we should be worried.

Other stimulating “what in the world” stuff to know: We have 238 nations with China feeding the most at 1,3 billion, USA with a grand mix of 313 million, Germany with 81,3 million, the UK 63 million, Sweden with 9,1 million and Hans Christian Andersen’s Denmark weighs in at 5,5 million - just to name a few. Another interesting fact is that this blog has now readers from over 40 of those 238 nations and counting. To me that is such an awesome statistic, so thank you.

The smallest country is located in the South Pacific Ocean, east of Australia. It’s the Pitcairn Islands. They listed the peak of their population at 233 in 1937. Today that number is 48, with only one phone, but 17 party-lines (bring out the balloons). Total land-mass is slightly bigger than our living-room at 50 square miles and Pitcairn Islands is a leftover speck of the British Empire and has a zero growth rate (birth-control at its best).

The world is about 4,55 billion years old, so why am I whining about my upcoming 66. birthday? The highest point is Mount Everest at 8,598 meters or 5.4 miles. Greatest ocean depth is 10,924 meters or 7 miles and called the Mariana Trench located in the Pacific Ocean.

Did you know that 95 countries are islands with no borders to other nations? See, we don’t know stuff like this, but in a perverse kind of way, isn’t it fascinating? I mean we live here, but how much do we really know about where we live? Not a heck of a lot – so I’m here to fill you in; service at its best.

Though known as The Magic Kingdom, Disneyland is not represented in the United Nations – where’s the fairness in that? When did the UN become anti-rodents? Racism at its lowest level.

We live around 1,500 potentially active volcanoes, where 500 (nice even numbers) have erupted in historical time; that would be from the day I was born, but a bit longer. Approximately 500 million brave (silly?) people live within these volcanoes' striking distance; I can only assume they have at least two Lava Lamps each.

12% of the world’s population speaks Mandarin Chinese. 4.85% hablar Española or something close. Only 4.83% have English as their main tongue, and I found only six individuals who still speak Pig-Latin (a language that has nothing to do with communication between swine). Foul language is not even on the list – and I checked several *&^%$# times.

33.35% are Christians, Catholics, etc., 22.43% Muslims, 13.78% are Hindu and .21% is of the Jewish faith – just to name a few. Can we assume that the rest are atheists and Buddhists and that Hara Krishna finally got tired of the airport thing or ran out of tambourines?

Worldwide 252 babies are born every minute – that’s a lot and a bit scary, when compared to only 107 deaths every minute. Seems like one has to slow down and the other has to speed up. I mean, aren’t we running out of room soon?

Not including transvestites and cross-dressers, there are more women than men, and I’m fine with that. It really surprised me that the median age worldwide is 28.4. Life expectancy is 69.73 years for women and 65.59 for men. So with that in mind, this might be the last blog-post from me as I am only minutes away from the end of my expected lifespan. It has been nice, it really has - stupid stat.

I really don’t know why Jytte Knudsen turned my advances down six times before she finally agreed to be my girl-friend. Then I found out that she was only after my lunch money, so I ended it 3 days later, sad and financially broke. Very confusing and devastating; something a 7 year old shouldn’t have to go through. Yeah, I know, not a world thing, but still weighing heavy on my mind, even after all these years. But I feel much better now.

We have a known oil-reserve of about 1,468 trillion barrels of crude. We use about 85 million barrels daily, so you figure it out yourself. 1,2 billion land-line phones are in use, and some of them are always busy. Cell or mobile phones, as some calls them, are reaching 5.4 billion and Internet users are up around 2.1 billion.

See, this is all really cool stuff to bring up in any decent bar. You tell me if this is not the most original pick-up line: “Did you know that worldwide we have 43,983 airports? And even more fascinating: Atlanta, USA, is the busiest airport ever, with over 89 million passengers sifting through annually – hey where are you going? I got a bunch of other fascinating stuff to tell you – hey, stop, don’t leave so soon!”

Besides that we have approximately 64 million miles of roadway (for the fans of metric, that’s about 100 million kilometers, which is also a long way), there are so much about the world we live in that we do not pay attention to. But after a few hours with the nose on the monitor and checking out CIA’s World Factbook on-line, it’s amazing how refreshing that really is; “perspective” comes to mind.

And that is just about the world around us. Not to make you uncomfortable, but how well do we know our own bodies? Do you know how they function, what some of all those thousands of organs are called, what they do and how we should take good care of them? If fairly normal, we really don’t know and isn’t that weird in a giggling kind of way? Maybe someday I’ll blog stuff I don’t know about the body; not my body, of course - somebody else’s body. Any volunteers? Raise your hand, either one of them – or both if you can...

See you next Monday, if I beat that "life-expectancy" - thing.

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KNOW THY NEIGHBORS – love is optional

How well do you know thy neighbors? Are you on first-name basis? Are you sure those are their real names? When you hold a glass against the wall, do you hear abnormal things going on next door? Are you using the night-vision camcorder when darkness sets in, just in case? Do they grow stuff in the living room that you will not let your children smoke? You see, maybe you really don't know thy neighbors as well as you think you do; scary thought, huh?

Moses wobbled down from the mountain hacking away on the tablets, and this whole neighbor bit got eternalized in the process. (In that deep Moses voice): thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's. That's what it says. Essentially Moses wanted you to know that it's a no-no to make-out with the neighbor’s wife and especially not covet, meaning desire, thy neighbor’s ass. I sincerely hope he was referring to a certain brand of horse; but even then, that is still an extremely disturbing image.

Of course Moses thought of all people around us to be our neighbors and I think that is nice. Though he made up some basic rules, he trusted we would all get along and I think overall that we do. But it is also peculiar how we in many cases can live in close proximity of each other without really connecting and communicating; not getting to know thy neighbor. Sure we go HI and GREAT DAY and borrow all kinds of tools and equipment that we don’t return for years. We borrow a few eggs here and there, a bit of milk and a few ounces of that stuff they grow in the living room; and then we return the favors and all is grand – or is it?

A neighbor dude who lived across from us pretty much kept to himself. We never acknowledged each other in passing, because he didn’t respond to some of my initial: “we-just-moved-in” greetings some 20 years ago; yes, 20 years of two-way ignoring. I have absolutely no idea what his name was (he moved last year), what he did legally or illegally – no clue. And that is a sad statement because I’m outgoing and friendly to the point of being annoying (but in such a charming way). So instead, I let my imagination run wild; he went from being a secret agent, sex-offender, drug dealer (though he didn’t look the part and drove a VW – diesel), to the casual cross-dresser; all based on assumptions - and then he moved.

We had another neighbor on the west-side of our house; she moved a while back. We always chatted across the fence, so-to-speak and she came over with one of her daughters for dinner ONCE in 18 years. I had a drink at her house ONCE in 18 years. But we loved each other and still do, and we do have a lot of fun the few times we run into each other. Isn’t that weird in a sad kind of good way?

We simply adore our neighbor on the east-side of our house. We have been friends since we moved in. Love her dearly and can always count on her helping out, as she can count on us. We don’t overload each other by “stopping by” often, but once in a while its dinner, some bottles of wine, good food and really great times – and then nothing for months; but that’s also okay, it really is. In case you are wondering, I do believe she is using her real name. But perhaps I should Google her (instead of keep goggling her from behind closed curtains – I really gotta stop doing that).

In the perfect world (there’s an idea) we should socialize more with the people on the street where we live, interact with the kids and pets; get together with the other tenants in the apartment complex, etc. I truly believe that is where it all starts, that thing about accepting and respecting diversities and coexist more harmoniously. Many people tell me that’s how they do things where they live, that they actually co-mingle with people in the neighborhood - and isn’t that awesome?

And then there are neighbors who had a spat in the past and do not talk, greet or borrow stuff from each other for years on end. When we consider how simple it is to make up (not make-out, because Moses will come after you and smack you over the head with one of the tablets), it’s sad that we can’t act like mature adults, as the fumes of spat add daily stress where no stress is warranted. Don’t you agree?

My wife and I are fairly private people. We don’t have loads of friends (remember from a previous post, I have 14 Facebook friends and I only know 4 of them) and our life is full as is and very pleasant. But I wouldn’t mind a Fourth of July get-together of our street’s neighbors; just assemble for a few moments, some good BBQ ribs, some cold beer and lively chats. But I also realize it will never happen, because I’m not doing a thing about it either – and that is kind of sad.

I think we should at least know our neighbors beyond HI and GREAT DAY. I’m not asking you to love thy neighbor, just get to know them if you don’t know them already. Some you’ll like and some you won’t, but that’s just the chance we take trying – I think it’s certainly worth it. I will make an effort – I really will.

There are some good stuff on those tablets Moses brought down the mountain side. But that thing about thy neighbor’s ass still bothers me. As ass is literally etched in stone, I’m sure Mo has been teased a bunch about that one through the years. Next time he will no doubt be more careful in his choice of words and perhaps check with Webster’s Dictionary before he starts hammering away; he’ll find that donkey or small horse with long ears, might work better. But whatever the ass is called, that picture is still very disturbing - don’t you agree?

Have a grand week and check back next Monday – please.

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LEGO – pastel bricks helping with equality

Mia, Emma, Andrea, Stephanie and Olivia have arrived in Stephanie’s cool convertible. After coffee at the City Park Café, they are off to the Butterfly Beauty Shop. They are new citizens of Heartlake City and they are here to stay. But why the heck did it take them some 78 years to get there?

My take on Lego is bias to some extent (being Danish), but I'm not looking at it blindly. As a toy it has the full scale of what toys should be: creative, imaginative in scope, educational, endless in possibilities and last but not least FUN. The way Lego has sustained its popularity and why hundreds of copy-cats have failed, underline the consistent development of newness to the product and the constant level of high quality.

And then somebody is getting bend out of shape about this new addition to Lego that now caters to girls; meet Mia, Emma, Andrea, Stephanie and Olivia - and they are so cute and pretty – really. I'm a bit miffed why somebody would complain about positive progress; especially since it has taken such a long time to materialize.

From the first Lego brick popped out of the Danish factory in 1932 (factory still owned by the same family and has over 10,000 employees / 3rd largest educational toy manufacture in the world, by the way) it has been very popular. For any product of any kind to sustain time and constantly grow in popularity year after year is not an easy task. Most business’ rely on past year’s success to carry any future possibilities of profit - but not Lego. As effective merchants, Danes are in the top three worldwide - just so you know; so to me it’s not a miracle that they have done so well with much more to come.

When we look back on the first 70+ years of this "toy"-line, educational or not, who has it been catering to? Boys. Who has played with the cars, the space-ships, the forts, the pirates and so forth? Boys. Have girls been involved? To some extent, but it has dominantly been a "boy-toy". Did anybody ever complain about that? So now somebody feels it should stay that way? In hindsight (and I'm very good at that), why did it take Lego this long to figure it out, considering the huge market called "girls"?

As if nobody has noticed, the two major genders here on this globe-thing are rather different. We dress differently, we talk, walk, think and function differently and for the most we play with different toys. If you hold up blue and pink, boys will take blue (okay some boys will opt for pink, but that's another story) and girls will for the most choose pink - and there is nothing wrong with that at all, no matter how "influenced" by society and parents in all their shapes and forms. Is that really news to anybody out there?

Lego has been catering to the male oriented market and it has worked big time. Luckily they finally saw the pink light at the end of the tunnel and girls can now whole-heartily participate. The full meaning of a universal/unigender educational toy has materialized - just as it should have many years ago - seriously.

When we look at the overall "toy" market, educational or not, how many brands and ideas cater to both genders? Not a heck of a lot. But will some liberals or conservatives scream HOLY TUNA at Mattel when they come out with a Barbie line catering to boys? Barbie is a designated girl-toy, that’s why – it’s that gender thing again. Bringing Ken and other male figures to life is not going to change the minds and taste in play-toys for many boys, is it? It was solely to give Barbie somebody to play with and get married to… But it was still girls playing with dolls – for the most, boys still stay out of that, instead comforting themselves with action-figures. Lego is different now; they finally caught on.

Back in the bra-burning days, which I fully embraced by supplying gallons of lighter-fluid to speed up the process, women wanted equality. On so many levels I fully support that ongoing effort, but there are certain things I cannot understand are still forcefully being stuffed down our collective throats. My point is that by nature we cannot be equal on all levels. When we try to bend Mother Nature, she'll get pissed, since certain gender issues cannot bend because when we try, they will break and nobody would like that to happen. Don’t get me wrong, I like equality for all on all levels possible, and Lego has finally stepped to the plate and helped us along a little bit with that. If that is by bringing us pastel colored bricks and beauty shops, I’m there to cheer (6 new colors, only pastels; no pink, can you believe that?)

To me this is not all about Lego and a few people not agreeing with their new product-line. It’s about the togetherness of the genders we need so much more of. When our boys and girls can play together with the same toys early on, they will learn to understand each other much better and be better prepared to coexist in the future. They will learn to acknowledge and respect our wonderful differences and great sameness which we are all about and will more so understand, accept and respect nature’s awesome diversities that will never go away; and we should all embrace that - really.

I know it’s a slow process, but we are on the right track and I am so convinced we will get there; we have come very far already and we keep picking up speed. Lego have now done their share and hoorah for that – finally.

Now go get that old box of Legos out of the closet and built a castle or something and why not invite the girls over. I hear that Mia, Emma, Andrea, Stephanie and Olivia are great at parties; perhaps Stephanie will even let you ride in her convertible - I mean, how cool would that be?

Till next Monday – have fun, brick by brick.

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PLASTIC SURGERY- should I get one?

“One word: plastics.” That was yet another career advice Benjamin Braddock received from a well-meaning adult in the 1967 movie “The Graduate”. Was this a “new product” with a huge future potential? Yes and no; the fact is, that plastic is not that new when we look at the true meaning of the word. But Benjamin could care less at the time, as he was busy being seduced by Mrs. Robinson – at least he had his priorities straight – (only kidding…)

Plastic, an adjective from around 1632, meaning “capable of being molded or modeled”, and we all go: “yeah, of course…” But we are still a bit surprised because we transmit that word to so many daily applications, not truly knowing what it really means; but now you do and you are welcome…

The surgical use of plastic, at the time consisting of synthetic or semi-synthetic organic solids that could be molded, was more or less initiated and performed by Alexander Parkes in London, 1862. Bigheaded Parkes named the product Parkesine, but luckily it evolved to plastic - I like plastic surgery, not Parkesine Surgery; doesn’t sound right. And in super-markets they would ask if you want your groceries bagged in Paper or Parkesine? Nah, doesn’t do it for me – but thanks for asking.

In the USA alone, millions of plastic surgeries are performed annually; Europe is the second biggest market. The vast majority of these surgeries are necessary to correct and/or restore form and functionality, but we easily forget these very important procedures. To most of us plastic surgery is spelled cosmetic improvement (well, improvement in most cases…) and there are about 60,000 in the mix of doctors, specialists, surgeons, etc. to help you out.

The world of cosmetic surgery is wild and crazy. We have Breast augmentation meaning boob-job; liposuction that will relieve you of excess fat really fast; rhinoplasty or nose-jobs; blepharoplasty is eyelid adjustments, abdominoplasty are for tummy tucks and a whole bunch of other tongue twisting names.

To be green and ecological, how about breast implants made from recycled plastic milk-containers. Imagine the irony when breast-feeding, huh? The use of whoopee cushions in buttock implants? Entertainment at its best. And the plastic jokes: After the boob-job she asked the surgeon if her scars would show. He calmly answered: “Only if you remove your clothes…” etc. You see, we do have a tendency to make fun, giggle and point fingers concerning all this “plastic surgery” stuff because we don’t know any better; we haven’t bothered. But for many it’s a rather serious situation beyond just trying to enhance appearance by aiming for that “perfect” look, whatever that is.

Body Dysmorphic Disorder is a type of mental illness dealing with an extreme obsession of one’s body image. I’m not stating that everybody who gets under the knife suffers from this, but it is unfortunately common to some degree or another. Now, you tell me where I fit in concerning this Body Dysmorphic Disorder.

I’m seriously not looking to get a boob-job or that whoopee cushion implant (however tempting), but I have contemplated having the several layers of Turkey-Chins removed (self-made word; feel free to use it), as they are flapping in the wind even when it’s not windy. At times, when I’m standing in front of the mirror, I pull these layers of excess chin-skin back, and it does improve my looks. I am not searching for “younger”, as I have no interest in that (been there – done that), just a nicer look and mostly for myself – really; and how lame is that again?

Back in life as it really is, I recognize that those thousands of Turkey-Chin dollars can be used for something more exciting – like a new roof, food or a trip to Australia. I’m actually okay with the way I look, and though I can certainly see where adjustments would make me look more pleasing, I’m fine the way I am. So instead of going under the knife, I exercise 4-5 times weekly, walk the dog twice daily, bike and try to eat healthy (lots of ice cream is an important food group, isn’t it? If not, it should be). Maybe it doesn’t make me look any better, but it surely makes me feel great; I can rest my case and will keep my face.

But I do respect people who want to enhance their looks by the way of cosmetic surgery. If a new set of boobs will make them happier, more self-confident without any side-effects, that be emotionally, mentally or physically, I’m all for it; but what a big decision it is to cut or not to cut. There must be tough moments of doubt and indecision. As an innocent bystander I wonder what else might be going on, why this dramatic move as any surgery is, correctional as well as cosmetically; the first being a necessity, the second not - in most cases.

We are consistently bombarded with images of perfection; the perfect body, the whitest teeth, correct muscle tone and the list is long. We are told what is beautiful and handsome through TV (TeleVision, not TransVestites), movies, magazines, etc. So we mold what we conceive to be perfection and compare that with what we see in the mirror and then we, to some extent, apply what can be applied without the plastic, because we all want to look our best – we really do.

As long as we remember where this extreme image perfection comes from, we can more clearly see our bigger picture, and then hopefully giggle a bit in the process; and maybe we will opt for cosmetic surgery to make us real happy; the options are there - it’s deciding “yes” or “no” that's the tough one.

I like looking at people everywhere. As far as I know, it’s not related to any form of perversion; it’s basic human curiosity. So if you can do it without drooling excessively, you will not be arrested. I think all people are great looking, because when we really look, we see that we all have some superb sides, that being a smile, laughter, or the way we walk, talk or simply how we overall project ourselves; don’t you agree?

So when people are seeking cosmetic enhancement for no medical reasons, I am still a bit confused. Sure it’s nice to look (near) perfect, but if that perfection comes with risks of imperfections in mental or emotional side-effects, that is a very high price to pay.

We make fun, giggle and point fingers because we lack information about what is emotionally invested in deciding the use of plastic surgery as a tool to enhance appearance; but we really shouldn’t. Being more respectful would be nicer, as it is a tough choice to make for the persons who want to go down that road. They certainly have my respect.

The Turkey-Chins will stay in place and no doubt grow bigger as I grow older, and I will probably never do anything about it. But I must admit that the whoopee cushion butt implants sounds fun (get it?) and therefor rather tempting – I’ll think about it and let you know…

 Until next Monday: be good

(I wonder if Benjamin ended up as a plastic surgeon – does anybody know?)

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SINGING – but do we really have to?

I get goose bumps when I listen to Mirella Frenti and Pavarotti sing “O Soaver Fanciulla” from Puccini’s La Boheme; when Mariah Carey belts out “Hero”; more bumps to Whitney Houston’s magical rendition of “I Will Always Love You”; teary eyes from John Lennon’s “Imagine”; dancing feet while Tony Bennett & Lady Gaga swing “The Lady is a Tramp”. Their voices are so controlled and full of soul; and these are just a few of extraordinary singers and songs. Of course I get real happy goose bumps when my wife is singing; but that’s for other reasons.

Singing is based on musical sounds we create with our voices; okay, some can obviously do it much better than others. We use tonality and in some cases rhythm. The deal is that if you can speak you can sing, though the quality of either can of course be questioned in some cases; especially the singing bit.

When you are in the shower doing your rendition of Madonna’s “Like a Virgin”, you are using parts of your body you don’t even know you have. Using parts other than fingers (snapping) and toes (tapping), you are engaging your lungs, your larynx where you keep your vocal cords, to reed and vibrate; your chest and head cavities (sounds nasty that way, huh?) your tongue, teeth and luscious lips to get those consonants and vowels out in the correct order, mixed with other non-defined noises or “sounds”, if you are really good at it. So you see, singing is not that simple – really.

There are a lot of things going on while you are making the shower-stall vibrate to the tune of The Hills Are Alive from The Sound of Music pretending to be Julie Andrews racing down the mountain. Of course you can also do it the easy way by singing with your mouth closed, which of course is called humming; and in most cases, I fully support that.

I was pushed into an audition for the Danish Radio’s Boys Choir when I was around 11. My older brother had been singing with them for a few years till his voice broke (and out you go). I can’t remember if I really wanted to do that singing thing, but when I saw the hundreds of boys waiting in line to be auditioned and only 8 were going to be picked, I felt assured I was not going to be one of the chosen; I was terribly wrong.

I have never fancied myself a good singer, not even mediocre. One thing we were constantly told to do was articulating, as in open mouth wide and high and clearly sing every word – kind of acting up a bit much, as well as I thought it looked stupid. But I became the best articulator around, no contest. I articulated, but I didn’t sing, because I didn’t think I was any good at it. Sure, during solos I couldn’t just stand there articulating, but those were the only times I actually sang – for the most.

One time at practice the director who was always in a crappy mood told us that we did not sing very well by screaming: “YOU MUST ARTICULATE. YOU ARE NOT ARTICULATING”, and then he pointed at me, hiding in the back row as usual. “PETER IS THE ONLY ONE WHO ARTICULATES; AND HE IS VERY GOOD AT IT.” I thought that was so cool, until he asked me to step up in front of everybody and sing the first 16 bars of the piece we were practicing – which I had mimed and had therefor not picked up the melody from. I didn’t know the song, so I articulated as if possessed by the Devil and nearly broke my face in the process; I was pretty much doomed – I sang a lot more after that, with continued perfect articulation.

My wife sings at times; she is not big on articulation, but doesn’t have to be. She is not the greatest singer around and she knows it, but she forges ahead anyway and to me, that makes her the best singer ever – giving me goose bumps and all. You see, I know she is utterly happy when she sings. And that’s what we do when we are happy; we break out in song, just like Julie Andrews on the mountainside in Austria. When somebody tells us Fluffy was flattened by an eighteen wheeler, singing is not something we rush into, is it? But we should rush into song, as it has a calming and relaxing effect on us; unfortunately in this case, Fluffy couldn't care less, of course.

Do we really have to sing? Yes we do. I think that overall we enjoy singing – it seriously makes us feel better, no matter how bad or good we are at it. Just so you know, I do not do “Like a Virgin” in the shower, so get that image out of your mind - at once. I depend on the old Pat Boone song “Love Letters in the Sand”. If you are really nice and can suppress any form of giggling during this performance, I will sing it for you; so listen up and watch me articulate:

On a day like today

We passed the time away

Writing love letters in the sand

(Now where the heck did I put that soap-on-a-rope?)

Until next Monday - tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la

(I know you are counting the la’s, but they are all there…)

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COMPLIMENTS – if you dare anymore

She looked radiant and beautiful; her full smile and energetic walk made everybody look. He was in a good mood – life was grand. As they passed each other he smiled at her, and then made a huge mistake; one he would regret for the rest of his life – and perhaps longer.

“You look fantastic this morning,” he said cheerfully and honest - immediately her face spelled horror. Moments after, he was forcefully nailed to the sidewalk by six sweaty SWAT members, cuffed, mug-shut, fingerprinted and thrown to the floor in dark solitary confinement.

“What did I do? Why am I here?” His screams echoed off the dungeon’s walls. The grimy, hairy and perspiring guard spat out:

“You gave that innocent woman a compliment; you sleazy, demented pervert”.

Back in the good old days she would have smiled at him and said “Thank you…” and felt even better about herself the rest of the day. So where did we screw up? Why can’t we more freely give compliments without creating suspicion of vile thoughts and intentions? What happened to those good old days?

I’m a compliment giver; have been all my life. When I see somebody, male or female whom I appreciate, that being looks, what they wear, say, how they carry themselves, etc. I often make a positive comment, also known as the now dreaded compliment. These comments have for the most been met with smiles and thank yous. But it has gotten harder to give a compliment today without creating suspicion concerning intend. Don’t you think that’s sad?

I’m starting to get this grandfather look, so women feel safe when I compliment them (obviously they don’t know what’s behind the facade – giggle, giggle), but some are still very cautious and defensive. A while back I complimented a young woman at the fitness club for her energetic floor exercises and the encouraging energy. She looked at me with disturbed eyes and couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Didn’t even say thank you or scream: Dirty old perverted man alert. Since then, she has successfully avoided me; and we used to be on good morning terms.  I know I’m good at phrasing compliments, so I don’t know why she reacted that way and that is really sad because I meant well. Just for clarification: I didn’t walk up to her and say: “Hey Toots, great stuff on the floor – your place or my car?” I had been kind, polite and adorably grandfather like.

I’m an overall nice guy (ask my Mother), do not look like a drooling sleazebagish sexual predator; I look rather safe. But I am afraid that looks don’t count anymore, as we are constantly being warned about those immoral wolves-in-sheep’s-clothing. Yeah, I even had mothers pull their children away from my compliments, like the next thing I was going to do was stick them in my van and race away (and I don’t even have a van – go figure).

So I’m a rebel without a clue and an obvious death wish, as I continue to do the compliment bit. I like making people smile and compliments do that. Okay, not if you approach a woman with: “nice set of tits, toots”, as there are so many other great things we can see in each other, things we as fellow human beings should have the right to acknowledge out loud – and make somebody feel good about themselves in the process – doesn’t that sound right to you? By the way, your hair looks great that way, it really does…  (you left your Web-Cam on; just so you know).

I find that pregnant women look absolutely fabulous, I really do. No, stop the perverted sniggering; it has nothing to do with that. They simply look so woman-like. Some years back, I saw a highly pregnant woman who looked like she was going to break her water right in front of me. She seemed tired of herself and her bloated condition. I smiled my comfy smile and said: “You look so radiant”; just four simple words. She immediately broke into tears, smiled at me and said: “That’s what I needed to hear all day…” As simple as it was, as powerful it was. But today we have to be very careful about how, who and where we do that compliment thing - unfortunately.

As I spread compliments equally, I have found that men react different than women; they appreciate the compliment, but with a ton of surprise and a bit of suspicion in the thank you, Dude. Women tend to be more flattered. Either way, compliments create good moments with a lot of positive reactions.

I like being complimented, but I’m not even close to be as good at receiving as I am at giving. Once I was sitting waiting for a flight departure, when an older woman (older, meaning older than I), approached me and semi nervously asked: “Are you an actor?” I looked up and smiled that charming smile of mine: “No I’m not; but it’s a common mistake as many think I’m George Clooney – want my autograph anyway?” I did not know older women could give the finger like that, rheumatoid arthritis and all – good job.

I believe we all need to be reminded when we shine and not just from looking at ourselves in a mirror. When my wife compliments me, I feel thankful and good. When somebody tells you that the dress you are wearing looks fabulous (except if it’s the husband wearing that new Halston of yours), it pumps a bit of happy into you. When we are having a shitty day and somebody is asking for that great smile we normally flash around, the day gets less shitty. So I cannot see why we must be so suspicious concerning the intent when we give and receive compliments, especially because somebody saw something in us, something positive, and then took the time (dare-devils?) to tell us. What's wrong with that? Nothing what-so-ever. Don't you agree?

Don’t be afraid to give out compliments, as it is a positive and good thing for both the one giving and the one receiving. At times I forget to do it, but other times I make an effort to give out at least three compliments that day or hold the door open for somebody, or smile more, you know, nice stuff like that. Oh, by the way, I do like your smile – it surely lights up the room – you are welcome, you really are.

Until next Monday – keep complimenting…

PS. Remember, just smiling at somebody is a compliment – and that we are all good at. It’s how we acknowledge and show appreciation for people we pass during the day; it’s the nice to see you greeting – and we do care, don’t we?

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DATING – a world of anxieties

He says: “Yeah, we went on this date. She’s a hot chick; a body that won’t quit and she can really kiss… if you know what I mean.” His male friends are in awe: “Way to go, dude”. And then they do that fist thing.

She says: “It was such a romantic evening. He’s so cute, in an awkward kind of way; so sensitive and shy. But he didn’t even try to kiss me goodnight; it would have been fine if he had”. Her girl-friends are sighing: “Oh that is soooo sweet” and then they group-hug.

YES they talk about the same date, but obviously see the experience a bit differently; lessons in confusion and anxieties, fantasy versus life as it really is. I don’t think anybody has ever said dating was easy.

We are not fully ourselves on dates, at least in the beginning. We spruce ourselves up beyond recognition before we are heading out; we wrack our brains concerning how we can make our dates like us. What clothes to wear? Cologne? “God, what can I talk with her about?” and the list of stress and nervous expectations is very long. Fortunately, in spite of that, we still go on dates, otherwise the human species would die out. But do you know what a date really is?

Clinically, dating is a form of courtship, a social activity between two individuals, aiming at possible suitability as partners in a more intimate future relationship leading to a spousal situation and procreation (children, two-car garage, grandchildren, pets, 401K’s, golden years and death). Besides the silly things, that’s what dating is technically about; something we tend to forget. But we can relax a bit as dating today is approached a lot lighter than it was 2-300 years ago.

I truly embrace this evolution of dating, as many families in the past were more controlling (still are in many countries) with respect to matching and molding their youngsters into certain family, financial or business agreements. Today’s women have reached equalities far beyond hundreds of years ago, so the playing-field of dating has leveled out; parity doing great work. Though this step forward has made it easier to connect, it still doesn’t make the emotional part of dating much easier, but it sure helps.

Dating would be a piece of cake, if it wasn’t for anxieties, angst, stress, confusion, misreading’s, assumptions, insecurities, timidities, the sweating in real weird places, expectations and other minor details. Sounds familiar? But of course, dating can also be euphorically fantastic; let’s not forget that.

Today’s dating is when two individuals come to an agreement of getting together on a specific date and time. For the most, dates take place in public, the mall, at the movies, at a party or a restaurant. It can also be an outdoor activity, like going to the beach, hiking, picnic, etc. Pretty much being out in public as an agreed upon pair, is considered a date. You didn’t know that, did you? Getting a date is a different story.

When we get a bit older, we tend to be okay asking somebody out for a cup of coffee, a drink or something like that. We are cautiously trying to figure out a little bit of where she or he is with respect to possibly agreeing to a trial get-together, as that is what it is, that first date. We want to explore the possibilities of compatibility with this person and that is much easier face-to-face.

As younger people acknowledge this new attraction for girls or boys around them, dating is popping up like an evil uncle. Peer pressure also shows its ugly head, but more so it’s all those new and scary emotions they have to deal with; not an easy task at all. It’s all new and very confusing.

We have a frustrating time contemplating if somebody we like likes us back. Not just young people go through that, but they do more so, compared with seasoned adults. Getting the courage together and make speech capabilities function properly, approaching that other person is one of the hardest things we are faced with entering the world of dating; that first: “I was wondering...?”

My Mother always told me: “It’s not going to kill you,” as if that would help. My mode of operation was founded on definite rejection and failure, which is not a healthy way to approach anything; so I was of course rejected again and again. My self-esteem plummeted and I finally stopped asking anybody for a date – end of story.

But then one day in school, a girl I really liked, asked me if I would go with her to one of the school dances. Normally all of us just showed up, but for some reason she wanted to “go” with me. I was totally confused, as I didn’t know if she was making fun of me or if she was serious; she was serious. She became my first girlfriend – and I was only 34… Nah, just kidding; I was 13. We parted ways after a great year together as a couple. During that time my self-confidence soared and I felt good about myself. Asking girls out on dates after that was a piece of cake – not quite, but doesn’t it make me sound cool?

Early on I also acknowledged by being myself, that not everybody found me so utterly adorable. Just because I fancied somebody, didn’t mean they fancied me back. That was the harder lesson to learn (because even back then, I was actually quite adorable, in that nerdy kind of way).

Staying within who you are is the best way to approach asking anybody on a date. If you are compatible on the first date, other dates will follow. If you are not yourself on the first date, you will be found out. Honesty and respect will take you far; much farther than immature efforts in trying to impress anyone with somebody you are not.

One last note: limit your talking - expand your listening. We learn much more about other people by listening and asking questions, than by talking – it is really that simple. We like people who are listening to us. When we listen to somebody and ask appropriate questions, it shows that we are interested and that we care – and not just in dating-situations, but also in life as it really is. Dating has many anxieties, but when we are ourselves, dating is also exciting and fun – it really is (as far as I remember)…

See you next Monday

LOGIC of the WEEK

The Southern Mississippi Church of God hired the new guard on the spot. He had a Bible-Belt in karate.

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HAMLET vs. POTTER

Real fast: what’s your favorite play or story by Shakespeare or Tolstoy? Ha, I knew you had to really think about it, because if you are fairly average, as most of us average people are, you don’t even have a favorite play or story by these dudes, do you? I like so much to be right; don't you? 

Sitting on any school bench, Romeo & Juliet, Hamlet, King Lear, Othello, Macbeth and Anna Karenina are still being forcefully stuffed into our collective brains – and then we go: “what?” I understand the foundation of literature being fed to us with the ilks of Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Forrester and other heavyweights early on, but we need to be nourished with much more current stuff to read, stuff that relates to now, not to a million years ago. I mean, when was the last time you picked up Moby Dick other than to press flowers with? Neither have I; also because I don’t use books to press my flowers. (Moby Dick was originally titled Moby Richard, but they shortened it).

We should be taught (practical) reading so we can function even better within everyday life, excluding agreements by iTunes and other on-line demanding-that-we-do; nobody reads that stuff, not even the people who wrote it. We just click I accept when prompted; I mean, what’s the point? We should be able to read our way through information that will move us forward, makes us understand things better day in and day out. But we should also be encouraged to learn to read so we can explore worlds besides the daily non-fiction, by reading fiction like Playboy Magazine, text messages and restaurant menus; so why are we not taught to do that?

And then Harry Potter had to fly in on his Nimbus 2000 (that’s his broom, for those of you who do not know your Potter stuff) and the young crowd went reading-crazy; totally screwing up my negative non-reading theory. This was the biggest and most golden opportunity for any school to pick up the magic of reading and run with it. You finally had interested students of all ages, even their parents and massive possibilities of creating a love for reading; and that's what happened. 

After Potter was read and read again, the kids continued to read something else, something more, after millions of pages of the magic surrounding Harry; Hamlet would never be able to create such frenzy – not even close.

As in any subject matter taught in school, we must of course learn from a foundation, the background of and an abbreviated history. Part of the foundation must clearly explain HOW we benefit, WHAT”S in it for me, WHERE it fits in to make the big picture more interesting and real; make us understand WHY and then we will listen, read, learn and apply a lot more – and with smirky smiles, no doubt.

Shakespeare is considered the greatest writer in the English language, and I can swing with that, but that was 500 years ago. He is a good foundation, perhaps the foundation to teach English literature from. But perhaps we should turn down the volume a bit and move on?

Sounds like I pick on William (and I do); he is a good example, though some of you might not agree. But then I could turn to something else, like music. We surround ourselves with music 24/7. It’s blaring out of speakers and ear-buds, cell phones, iPods, stores and elevators – constantly. And here again I would like to see the kids being taught music history in school, going way back and then catch up with Chopin, Beethoven, Mozart and Bach, to name a few. Then ease into the birth of jazz, New Orleans, Armstrong, Ellington, Count Basie; the transition into early singers like Sinatra and the grinding rock n’ roll by somebody’s lower torso named Elvis; the establishment, music and long hair by the Beatles, on to Lady Gaga and everything in between. Learning a bit of the history and foundation will make appreciation of today’s music so much more exciting and enjoyable. So why don’t we do that? Reading and music are such big parts of our culture; neglecting either is a sin.

We took our younger son and his girlfriend to a Xmas Jazz inspired concert last December. It had great musicians (Dave Koz & Friends), it was awesome in its energy and you simply had to get up and clap those hands and swing them hips (though I didn’t, because I’m too shy). Our son and girlfriend had not really been exposed to jazz before or even had an interest in that form of music, but observing them during the concert was really cool, as they both got up and did the hand-clapping thing – I mean, that was really cool. Are they now extreme jazz-enthusiasts? I doubt it, but they had a great moment with music they had not experienced before – and they enjoyed themselves. Did I mention how cool that was?

Harry Potter did the magical thing millions of teachers and a million Hamlets would never be able to do - get the kids to read and continue to read; just so awesome, because it is so awesome to read – it really is. The worlds we can travel by the written word are unlimited and that is so utterly exciting – don’t you agree?

Until next Monday (now where the heck did I put those flowers?)…

GOOD-TO-KNOW department

Did you know that Shakespeare married Anne Hathaway when he was 18 and they had three kids? True story. You might have seen her in The Devil Wears Prada, Alice in Wonderland and The Princess Diaries. I must confess she’s still rather beautiful – even after all those years… What are you saying? Not the same Anne Hathaway? But they have the same name; so that's the mix-up? Oh, I see - never mind.  Anyway, I don't really care much for women that old, besides my Mother, of course – but then again, she’s only 92…

Anne Hathaway 

Anne Hathaway

Identical twins? Duh...

An Afterthought:

Until I read Moby Dick, I thought it was a book about venereal diseases - go figure

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