Showing posts with label Irish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Irish. Show all posts

Monday, November 12, 2018

Writing Yourself Back Into Sanity

Gun control. Hang on, hang on! Give this just a moment. Let's use that as an example, as well as address it, just for the moment.

I'm a writer. I write myself into impossible situations in fiction, or my characters anyway. Then I write my (their) way out of it so at first, my reader thinks my character is lost. Then, not lost, but in a fun way. Hopefully.

When I build into those situations both as the author and character God, I try to write cleverly. Whenever I can't, when I'm just as lost as my character (happens all the time, that's the fun of it!), I first have to realize, I'm lost. I consider all the rational, logical, even illogical ways out of the situation or scene, or picadillo. Once I find I have no solution, it's like there's a click, and I realize where I am. Stuck.

That's when it occurs to me to look 180 degrees about in order to see where to go. It's jarring at times. It's counter-intuitive. It's at times humorous. Or feels insane. But then, I ruminate about how to make whatever it is that rises to the surface, to work. Not forcing it, but jostling it about in my mind as mental attachments are formed and then, solutions begin to spark into life. Exercise at times aides that along. Also, removing oneself from the problem. Rest, entertainment (but be careful, that can also be a trap).

So often, that realignment to 180 degrees, becomes the actual and best solution. At times, the only solution.

I first discovered that in my life. With heavy contrast comes obvious elements previously unseen in the situation. Counter-intuitive, like I said. It's not always intuitive. So you have to break out of that mindset you are locked into.

That's what I've meant about conservatives and Republicans of late. They seem to have difficulty with situations that require counter-intuitive solutions or, ways of viewing things. They can'/t see the forest for the trees you might say, so much of the time.

I've shared this 180-degree concept with people over my lifetime and they've been surprised at first how often it works to their benefit in giving them insights or perhaps, outsights. It's a technique for thinking out of the box. Or realizing there was never a box to begin with. Now that's thinking outside of the box.

When I look at guns, the gun situation in this country, gun control, mass shootings, where we are at now...the obvious solution, for a child...is arming everything and everyone. It is an ill-informed, juvenile consideration,.

It is where the, "Only a good guy with a gun can stop a bad guy with a gun" solution comes from. But it sounds like the solution of a five-year-old. Or, the NRA, or the Republican party. Of conservative gun owners and those who cannot see clearly any other solution. Because it's not obvious. It's lost among all the other chatter in the situation.

It's low contrast, obscured because of a reverent almost religious attachment to the US Constitution. Which is not a God. And once you consider the destructive dynamics of a God consideration, outside the blanket goodness attributed by theists to deity worship, one begins to see what is truly there.

Welcome to my world!

Remember a long time ago? Further up the page here when I mentioned getting out of tough creative solutions to fictional problems? Yes, those were the good old times, weren't they? The good old days of a moment ago. Before all this insanity in the world was boxing us about the head and brain, mind and morality. Yet, we really must continue on....

So, to summarize, IF you turn about 180 degrees you can frequently clearly see potential solutions.

And in this case, that is...the reform of gun control laws. Or going further in turning up the contrast levels, a rethinking of the 2nd Amendment of the US Constitution. I know, I know, all that and the rest.

If you cannot see that, well...that's how the NRA and the extreme conservative Republican party and how so disingenuously they ard the travesty in the oval office, Donald Trump, have all continued to trick and con us all. To subvert reality to their own ends and not ours.

The solution isn't usually all that hard. It's just hard for some to see. But once it's been seen, you really cannot unsee it. That's the problem with atheists, you see. I went through that myself. I was raised strict Catholic. Old school, old country, old Slovak Catholic. Then I came to understand I was only half that. The other half was Irish by way of my father's family. I realized I was more Irish Catholic. That broke with the old strict traditional Slovak Catholic I had been all my young life. This was about the beginning of high school for me.

There were some other issues that helped me along, which aren't relevant here today about this. But you get the picture. I started looking around. In reading science fiction all my life, brilliants thinkers had given me a methodology to see when you are blinded by your reality and not THE reality. After a decade or so of theistic and philosophical, then college and studies in anthropology, sociology, and a degree in psychology, it all became clear.

Then I had to shake off the remaining vestiges of a lifetime of fear invoked by religious dogma and finally one day, after being a devoted theist, an adamant agnostic, a staunch atheist, I found the reality that wasn't in that box built by humanity and found one that was always there in form, a part, and parcel of the universe itself.

That is when one has to act.

That has been nearly impossible.

But times are now a changing yet again and those who are conning us are on the way out. Demographics are changing starting to fit a reality we have lived for some time now. We just have to open our eyes, our minds, and take in what is there and where we are headed. We can get in front of that train and get run over, or we can help it along and gain the love and respect of all those feeling abused because we refuse to see them or...to respect them. In ways they know, they deserve.

We will all one day, our descendants will one day, all look back at now and marvel at how really damned stupid we were and for so very long.

Really, it just takes courage.

And being honest about what is and what isn't, If only or even for a moment as we study it, we can see what is there without us in the picture. Then put us back in and see how we truly fit into what is and what has been. And what we haven't been able to see. For whatever reason.

Whatever it takes. And if that is looking about oneself 180 degrees, or counter-intuitively, so be it. Or if you have another way, one THAT WORKS, great! Use it. But do...use it!

Because we have to stop not seeing what is there and start seeing what others can clearly see while we refuse or simply cannot see it. Or see it all.

Especially when the solutions were there, staring us all right in the face.

Monday, January 29, 2018

Our Terrorist Cell

I'm sitting here in the evening, it's raining outside in Bremerton, Washington. I'm watching Netflix, a show called, Peaky Blinders. Great show. About 19th century England. Gangs. Reminiscent of  The Wind in That Shakes the Barley, Perhaps, especially because of actor Cillian Murphy and his being Irish and all, being born in County Cork (I rather liked visiting Cork). and all that.

It's no secret I'm rather partial to the Irish. Being half myself, all on my dad's side of the family. Having had a rather, albeit confused, understanding as a youth of my ethnic responsibilities and well... I do understand enjoying a good conspiracy. Especially for a good reason and all. A good... guerilla fight against greater odds, can be inspiring. Even, addicting. Especially to the disaffected and those who have little control over their lives, or who simply feel that way.

Early in high school I had learned about the troubles from a documentary. I'd long known I was half Irish, that my dad was Irish. I grew up with my mother, after they divorced when I was three. She always celebrated St. Patrick's Day. I remember a banner of cut out, green, "Erin Go Bragh" (or, Éirinn go Brách, Meaning "Ireland forever" in Gaelic) every year hanging in the house.

I hardly ever saw my dad after that and never did after I was sixteen, until he died in 1988. I doubt he ever had a thought himself about Ireland. But I did. I even tried to talk friends, fellow students in tenth grade into going with me to Ireland to fight in the Troubles. Well, it didn't happen. I had no money to get there. I doubt they'd have even wanted me. But that, is a story for another time. Or not.

Anyway, that's how I was at that time. I even wrote a screenplay about what I was like back then. The Teenage Bodyguard, is about a situation I got myself into just after graduating high school. Over the course of a week in 1974, I protected a murder witness from the local mafia.

Great story and a screenplay that is being liked every time it's seen or evaluated. "So why isn't it on the screen already somewhere", one reviewer asked in their review from BlueCat screenplay contest. Another from The Blacklist coverage said it was "a viable project that should be pursued". And so I am.

I kept finding myself in interesting situation back then. I don't know why. Mainly, because people kept asking me to act as a bodyguard for them. First was that frightened woman who asked me to protect her for a week when I was eighteen from some murderers she had worked with at Tacoma's first topless bar, The Tiki, run by the Carbone crime family.

A year later at nineteen, my own mother asked me to be my little brother's bodyguard in Manhattan. She was afraid if he got roughed up during a robbery, he could die inbeing so thin and fragile with liver cancer at the time. There had also been a rash of apartment break ins at that time. So I slept in our small studio apartment on the floor, with my .357 magnum next to me just in case someone tried to break in at 2AM or something.

I had also protected a variety of others off and on over the years. Gamblers wit cash coming to town, a big construction magnate's horse farm at the end of a road where I lived for a while, and so on.

My point being, I do get it. This whole, desire to go to battle, take on great odds, test yourself and live the life of excitement and adventure. it's kind of dumb for most, but I get the attraction.

As I watch this great show (Peaky Blinders), and sip some red wine (yes, there's Guinness in the fridge, but it's wine tonight, forgive me St. Guinness), I understand the feeling that there is no downtown here to go to, to meet locally with other frustrated or angry conspirators in some shady bar, to have talks, to sneak to covert meetings, to talk about how the government is abusing us unfairly and unjustly. How our enemies really have to go. At all costs. Or any. All of that. Not unlike our Founding Fathers did in local Freemason lodges, mostly held at or above local public (drinking) houses (pubs?).

I do get all of that. I understand that feeling. That focus. The mystery. The excitement. The addictive fear. The call to a cause greater than oneself. The ability to be something, right now, immediately. To evoke change when nothing else is happening in one's life. To achieve something now with power when no one else will give you that kind of responsibility or command over other human beings. Even to the point of taking their lives. Even if they are innocent.

I get all that.Well, not so much the taking of innocent lives. I really don't get that. Especially when they are your own. But I get it for a young testosterone filled young man, or woman. Or for one whose family and loved ones are indeed being abused if not murdered by the state as others in other countries have had to suffer through. I get that. I really do.

I doubt it's much different for terrorists in other countries, even in our own country in how some can misguidedly perceive our own reality in America as deserving of terrorism..The home of their ancestry. Maybe. But then, not a lot of Native Americans are terrorists. Some who are not even of that abused ancestry but who understand, empathize, with them. Who feel compassion for their seemingly just cause. Like non Muslims who go to fight with them.

I get all that.

The trouble is... it's nonsense. Mostly. For the most part. 99% of it anyway.

Those are the rumblings of a young man high on testosterone so much of the time. Give them a call to arms... oh my God. They will be there!

But there is another side. There will be those they harm. The innocent. Those they blind themselves about but who do matter, and greatly so. They become blinded by the fog of war and idealism. But not of conscience. And so innocents die. For no good reason.

Not until their hacked minds, hacked by disingenuous ones who put not themselves into danger but those of a younger cohort. Where justice turns into criminal actions and heroes become terrorists. There is brainwashing going on. Media is part of the problem. those manipulating it are more so. Be they Russian hackers joyriding or actually paid by Putin. Or Islamic terrorist leaders or simply... Facebook.

I'm glad I lived through those cold war years. I'm also glad I didn't have to grow up in Belfast or an Ireland under British rule where my ancestors were so abused and genocide wasn't a ridiculous word to banter about. When some Irish tried to eat grass due to starvation during the potato famine, where the dead and emaciated were found in fields with mouths stained green.

My terrorist cell is based in words, not guns, in political actions, not bombs.

 It is civilized, not barbaric. I'll kill no innocents. My terrorist cell, does not exist. Because I do not believe in terrorizing human beings. Or anyone. Or anything. It's a bully behavior, that of an immature mind, or mindset.

There is a time for violence. To be sure. But it is far less often than many would like to admit.

And that includes our American born terrorists. Those Christian misguided fools who have killed too many in our country already and should never again. And then there is simply mental illness, and social illness.

Do Act. But at some point we have to see as a race of intelligent beings that death simply isn't always the answer. While in some countries it may be necessary, at certain times, in ours it simply is not.

We have a disease in this country. It is conservatism. It is binary thinking. It is in authoritarian attitudes, having them, or adoring them. It is poor priorities. It is extremists. It is the far right politically motivated. It is the ignorant, the poorly educated, the incorrectly educated, those who believe in alternate facts, alternate realities, alternate morality, alternator mental health.

We need instead to seek out our best nature in life, not our worst.

We need to bring down our worst, and simply refuse to be a part of it.


#terrorism #peace #isis #racism

Friday, March 17, 2017

Happy St. Patrick's Day 2017!

Let me say first, that today, I will not for the first time in many years, be in Seattle celebrating St. Pattrick's day like I have so many times and as I did with my son in 2010, for his first time. I originally posted this blog in 2011 when I again celebrated the day with my son at the Fado Irish Pub.

Now it is 2017. So many changes. A questionable human being has been elected as President (Donald J. Trump). We are now living in Bremerton,m WA after I sold my house of sixteen years, last year and then on 9/11 retired from many years in IT work. All so I could concentrate on my writings and filmmaking.

Tomorrow, I have an event I will be attending of creatives in Port Orchard. A gathering of filmmakers, writers, artists, photographers and creatives. My daughter (a musician, artists and photographer) and her boyfriend )an artist himself) will be going with me. Director and friend Kelly Hughes is throwing the event, our second after our successful first event last month. Everyone wanted another so this one should be bigger. I have bought a lot of camera equipment to restart my old LGN Production company I started in 1993.

My son and I had a great deal of fun on St. Patrick's Day in 2010 and duplicated the effort in 2011. Perhaps today we will stop by the High Fidelity Lounge up the street from home here for some lunch and drinks. But sadly the event tomorrow is curbing my celebratory activities today so I won't be trashed for tomorrow evening.

Someone said today on Facebook to me that: "St Patrick was a murderous son of a bitch anyway. Like most of the canonized Roman Catholic scumbags, Mother Teresa included."

My response was: "May be the case, I don't really care. I'm not celebrating him anyway. I'm fine with changing the name but good luck on that one. Besides, Celtic Heritage day just doesn't have the same ring. For that matter I'm anti religion. I still like Christmas, and St. Patrick's Day celebrations. It's just fun. I agree, it's good to know reality and what things are based in. But again, I'm definitely not celebrating St. Patrick, but the day of reveling in my Irish side of my heritage and the fun loving and positive aspects and nature of the Irish."

Anyway from here down it is my blog from 2011 (yes, I forgot to write a blog for today for this year).

I'm not much of one for parades, but there's no end to them during this week. There is even one Saturday here in Bremerton.

Flag of Ireland

There are some good links on this blog today for things Irish and St. Patty's Day oriented. I'm not saying anything about the bars I'm mentioning, I only go to those two (and a shout out to the Owl and Thistle) as I take a ferry over from Bainbridge Island and you walk along a path straight to Owl & Thistle or Fado, and then it's a straight shot to the left on 1st Avenue to Pike Place Market and Kell's. That way no car is involved. I can actually take a bus if I wish to and from the ferry and home. Then you can even hit the bar at the ferry terminal, Commuter Comforts, run by some of my favorite people.

Regarding those who are suffering around the world, they have my most powerful and earnest excessively positive thoughts to them all. May they all be soon dancing and happy once again and their troubles be put far behind them and never to find their address in the dark of night or light of day!

But on one day a year, no matter how bad things are, it's good to take the time to celebrate and forget about your woes and the world's troubles. A tradition that was once in Ireland, far more important perhaps, than it is now; albeit now is not so great either. Where we had the "Great Troubles" before, we now, in Ireland, have the "Financial Troubles" which is troubling, but after all, no one is kneecapping you over your credit rating, or blowing your friends up at the local pub.

March 17th, is St. Patrick's Day. It is a high holy day of drunks, Irish and party goers the world over. They say on St. Patty's day, everyone (who wants to be) is Irish. It's a grand day of sharing community and inebriation. Always have your toast "Sláinte!" ready at hand as its commonly used as a drinking toast in Ireland (and Scotland and the Isle of Man), literally translating as "health". And here health to ya!
Saint Patrick (c. 387–461)

It's also a special day for Catholics. But they have their blog, I have mine. I have celebrated St. Patty's day all my life. As far back as I can remember. My mother, when I was younger than five, had a cut out streamer hanging from one side of our ceiling in our living room, to the other, saying: "Erin Go Bragh!" Meaning, allegiance to Ireland or typically, "Ireland Forever". It is probable that the English version was taken from what was a "dative" context, such as Go bhfanad in Éirinn go brách ("May I stay in Ireland for ever") or Go bhfillead go hÉirinn go brách ("May go back to Ireland for ever").
This was funny because, she is Czech, but I think she was just a "party girl" and liked celebrating a day that was all about, well, celebrating. Her husband at that time, wasn't my dad, who was Irish, but her current husband, who was always proud of saying he was English. We never got along. Of course now, for some reason, he claims Irishness. I've no idea why. He claims he never made a big deal out of being English, nor did he ever decry Irishness. But he did.

Odd to say, my mother has done that too. In telling her once I stepped over my brother's prostrate form, on the living room rug, watching TV, she made me step back over him because, "if you step over someone, it means they may die." She denies ever saying that now. Strange enough, a few years after that, he died.

Back to St. Patty's day.

And now, our Wikipedia moment:

"Saint Patrick's Day (Irish: Lá Fhéile Pádraig) is a religious holiday celebrated internationally on 17 March. It is named after Saint Patrick (c. AD 387–461), the most commonly recognized of the patron saints of Ireland. It originated as a Catholic holiday and became an official feast day in the early 17th century. It has gradually become more of a secular celebration of Irish culture.

"It is a public holiday in the Republic of Ireland, Northern Ireland, Newfoundland and Labrador and in Montserrat. It is also widely celebrated by the Irish diaspora, especially in places such as Great Britain, Canada, the United States, Argentina, Australia, New Zealand, and Montserrat, among others."
According to legend, Saint Patrick used the shamrock, a three-leaved plant, to explain the Holy Trinity to the pre-Christian Irish people.

Wearing of the green

Originally, the color associated with Saint Patrick was blue. Over the years the colour green and its association with Saint Patrick's day grew. Green ribbons and shamrocks were worn in celebration of St Patrick's Day as early as the 17th century. He is said to have used the shamrock, a three-leaved plant, to explain the Holy Trinity to the pagan Irish, and the wearing and display of shamrocks and shamrock-inspired designs have become a ubiquitous feature of the day. In the 1798 rebellion, in hopes of making a political statement, Irish soldiers wore full green uniforms on 17 March in hopes of catching public attention. The phrase "the wearing of the green", meaning to wear a shamrock on one's clothing, derives from a song of the same name.

Now that that's all out of the way....

Normally I would probably go to Seattle's Kell's Irish Pub at Pike Place Market. Have some lunch, get a T shirt ($20 entry fee).

I do so dislike that they use plastic cups but worse, that they use cups that are not a full Pint. So you have to pay extra and get two "pints" on St. Patty's day if you want one. The up side of that is that you end up with more than a pint, but it's God awfully expensive that way.

There is a lot to enjoy however. People are there early, at the Fado this year, they are starting by opening their doors at 7:30AM. It's always fun once in a while to have a pint first thing in the morning (but please, be sensible, eat breakfast, drink a glass of water between each pint).

Now most pubs are celebrating all week long, staring the previous weekend, and ending the following one. But I just celebrate it on the Day.

I love Irish music, especially if it's live, and its always fun to have some good clean laughter, good times with interesting people, friends and loved ones, or at least strangers who treat you nicely. And St. Patty's day is all about being nice to strangers and having a pint with them.

Sláinte!

On a side note, it always helps to have a few Irish blessings under your belt for St. Patty's day. If you can belt out a few of these you will be the life of the party Here are a few I have hanging on my walls:

May the road rise to meet you.
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face.
And rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of His hand.

May those who love us love us.
And those that don't love us,
May God turn their hearts.
And if He doesn't turn their hearts,
May he turn their ankles,
So we'll know them by their limping.

Now a few quick ones good for a toast in a raucous room of rowdies:

May you live as long as you want,
And never want as long as you live.

May the saddest day of your future be no worse
Than the happiest day of your past.

May your pockets be heavy and your heart be light.
May good luck pursue you each morning and night.

May your glass be ever full.
May the roof over your head be always strong.
And may you be in heaven
half an hour before the devil knows you're dead.

Always remember to forget
The friends that proved untrue.
But never forget to remember
Those that have stuck by you.

May the enemies of Ireland never meet a friend.

May the roof above us never fall in.
And may the friends gathered below it never fall out.

Here's a toast to your enemies' enemies!

For those religious types:
May the Lord keep you in His hand
And never close His fist too tight.

May your neighbors respect you,
Trouble neglect you,
The angels protect you,
And heaven accept you.

When we drink, we get drunk.
When we get drunk, we fall asleep.
When we fall asleep, we commit no sin.
When we commit no sin, we go to heaven.
So, let's all get drunk, and go to heaven!

May your troubles be less
And your blessings be more.
And nothing but happiness
Come through your door.

May the luck of the Irish
Lead to happiest heights
And the highway you travel
Be lined with green lights.

May you be poor in misfortune,
Rich in blessings,
Slow to make enemies,
And quick to make friends.
But rich or poor,
Quick or slow,
May you know nothing but happiness
From this day forward.

May you have food and raiment,
A soft pillow for your head,
May you be forty years in heaven
Before the devil knows you're dead.

May the face of every good news
And the back of every bad news
Be forever toward us

May I see you gray and combing your grandchildren's hair

And finally....

There are only two kinds of people in the world,
The Irish, and those who wish they were.

Okay, that was just a jest for fun, maybe yet one more....

Wherever you go and whatever you do,
May the luck of the Irish be there with you.