Too Bad I Can't Drive and Write

When I'm driving in my car, I can think of a million topics for blogging.  I sort and edit and drill down to the meat of the subjects.  When I'm confronted with a big white screen and a row of tools, all my pithy remarks go poof.

Lately I've been pondering how much I did like how things were done in the past.  I don't want to do away with computers and smart phones and beautiful HDTV, but I miss the human touch of "the olden days."  I liked dialing "O" for operator and getting a human - not a phone tree.  I liked calling my local newspaper and the person answering had my accent and was located in my town; not the Philippines.  There was better connection with local human interaction, instead of computers and far away helpers.  There is something nice about being able to say "did it rain at your house" as a conversation starter and know that the person on the other end lives, just like you, in an area that just had thunderstorms roll through after months of drought.

The local human touch seems to have gone poof.

Bedeviled is how I feel when dealing with government employees and agencies.  I feel mired in a point of view that doesn't seem to care about my limited resources of time and money.  They can spin wheels, and ask minute questions, and re-convein meetings to read documents, while I am paying with my hard earned time and money.

My days a filled already.  How am I to carve time for these intrusive investigations?  And what is the outcome to be?  I do my paperwork truthfully and as carefully as I can.  I have no extra funds, but they seem bent on pursuing me.

As I child I read a story about Brier Rabbit and how he got stuck in a Brier patch by a tar baby.  The more he pushed and pulled to get free, the deeper he was sucked in.  While the story is little told in these days of political correctness, that is exactly how I feel.  I am Brier Rabbit and the government is the Tar Baby.  If I fight or defend myself, I will be sucked deeper and deeper until I disappear in the tar patch.

Re-start

Writing was a joy.  It was like painting with words.  Once upon a time words had color and texture.  Laying them on a page made me pause as I teased out the images I wanted to share.

Today I was driving and listening to NPR as they talked about politics in Chicago and then in Washington D.C.  Later a program came on about Sacramento political doings.  A few days ago I read a blog about Advertising and how it started with the snake in the Garden of Eden.  All this spinning of ideas and words - it all gives me a giant headache.  Words used to feel friendly.  Now I feel like they are something to be wary of.

Fine print - be ware

Trust me - be ware

News - be ware

Words from the mouth of any one over the age of 7 - be ware

How to find friendly words again?

Set the example - tell the truth

Say what you feel

Say when you don't know

Ask  and then LISTEN