Concentration.............

I finally finished an article that I bookmarked a few days ago.  I just couldn’t finish it, interrupted by one thing and another, always something.  Anyway, it’s this swell article by Tamim Ansary titled “Concentration is the Key”.  Looking at the way I manage my day – I manage my day?  Hell, my day manages ME.  Looking at this has given me an epiphany as to how I spend my time and how well (badly) I concentrate.

I’m back now – had to disrupt a to-the-death dog fight downstairs.  Where was I?  Yes.  Concentration.  This guy wrote a piece I found on the MSN web.  I’ll quote some stuff here and I hope to God (or, hope to Bill) that the Microsoft attorneys don’t descend on me like the hounds from hell they must be.   Tamim writes:

Anecdotes about famous achievers of history suggest that one thing they shared was a phenomenal ability to get fully immersed in … something.

Michelangelo spent two years on his back, two feet from the ceiling, painting the Sistine Chapel. I myself would have spent most of that time idly wondering whether to have pizza that night or soup.

In fact, according to the stories, only the pope could break the great artist's concentration. He kept coming in to ask, "How's it going?" Finally Michelangelo "accidentally" dropped a hammer that landed too close for comfort, and the pope stayed away after that.

 

This gives me an idea.  Tomorrow I may get one of those performer’s throwing knives and throw it against the wall, impaling it a couple inches into the drywall, close to the person who has arrived in my space to chat about some fucking inane TV show they watched last night, and did I see it?

I’m back.  God-DAMN the sales calls I get.  Where was I?  Yes.  The article on concentration.  Tamim goes on to talk about brain waves of people who have learned to concentrate compared to those of untrained people.  Seems these folks who have learned to concentrate are only temporarily interrupted when a loud and obnoxious noise occurs, like, say an atom bomb.  Other untrained folks drop what they’re doing (or maybe in the case of an atom bomb, watch their hands disintegrate) and stay interrupted for a longer period of time.  This explains the ‘nuclear shadows’ found in Hiroshima of the silhouettes of two men playing chess.

 

I’m back now.  Thought about food, then before I knew it I was at the market buying dinner and having a double tall no-whip, non fat, extra hot, double doo, scoobie doo, whoop-de-doo lafuckingtay at Starbucks.  Boy it was good.  Where was I?  Yes.  Concentration. 

Tamim says towards the last of the article that:

Adults with normal powers of concentration can strengthen those powers with simple exercises such as the following:

• Count backward from 100 slowly and steadily.
• Count backward from 100 by threes.
• Simply look at an object for a set period -- say, 15 minutes.
• Building on the previous exercise, remove the object and picture it for that same period.

And if the buzz of distracting thoughts grows intolerable, stop what you're doing, make a list of everything on your mind at that moment, choose one thing to focus on, and then schedule a time to deal with all the rest. Giving your anxieties appointments, I find, tends to make them stop petitioning for attention now.

 

In short, I stand with those Zen masters who, when asked how they achieved enlightenment, answered, "When I walk, I just walk. When I eat, I just eat."

 

Insert – a long silence. 

 

I’m looking at some random stuff on my desk now.  Some bills.  It’s been fifteen minutes.  They’re still there.  So, as Tamim suggests, I threw them away.  Now I’m just imagining them.  This is actually working.  They are slowly starting to fade from my memory.  I’ve saved some stamps, feel better, and have more money than I thought I had.  This concentration thing might just be what I’ve needed.

 

 

Tamim Ansary writes on culture and society for Encarta. He is the author of the critically acclaimed memoir "West of Kabul, East of New York," as well as dozens of nonfiction books for children.

Askit speaks.....

Well Hullo. My name is Askit. I've got sum stuf to say and I finally figgured out his computer. It took me a long time but i did.

I'm going thru life right now as a dog. I think ima greyhund. I was a prince in africa (i do remembet thut) and i was adbud..adub..adbuct...kidnapped by an evil geinie who turned me into a greyhund and tok parta my branis. goddam fruity l'ilfella with a pointy haed and a halowein costum. He almost got away with my panama hat but i hid it in the yard. I been tryin to git my branis back but its hard goin. I'm livin with a fella who seems to understan but he ain't got much mor branis than i do. boyim glad i finally figgurd out this computer. now i can git my story out there an see if i can git back to my princedom in africa. soif yu recgniz..recniz...rekog....if you think you know me let meno. I sleep alot in this place where the falla lives. I dont know where it is. there is some sky and clouds and som plants outsid. i havtago now but illrite mor.

Some of my edits on this 'Handbook'

HANDBOOK 2009:
Health:
1. Drink plenty of water.
For God’s sake, don’t do this on Flomax.
2. Eat breakfast like a king, lunch like a prince and dinner like a beggar.
Ate breakfast at Burger King, lunch was more like a pauper – out of work, so begged for dinner. They felt sorry for me and took me to burger King
3. Eat more foods that grow on trees and plants and eat less food that is manufactured in plants.
I looked everywhere and found absolutely nothing I want to eat on a tree. Sat under a tree and ate the other half of my Burger King.
4. Live with the 3 E's -- Energy, Enthusiasm, and Empathy.
Ran out of energy, Got kinda depressed about it – Then I just didn’t give a shit.
5. Make time for prayer.
“Why me, God”? ………..Took only 2 seconds.
6. Play more games.
The guy I beat to the next stoplight got really pissed when I cut him off to beat him. This didn’t make me feel any better.
7. Read more books than you did in 2008.
Reading made me think about things which got me depressed – ended up in the loop on number 4 above.
8. Sit in silence for at least 10 minutes each day.
After I cleaned the bathroom (ref. #1) my wife and I drove to Bellevue. So I did this one.
9. Sleep for 7 hours.
Slept 6, than caught another one through the sermon.
10. Take a 10-30 minutes walk every day. And while you walk, smile.
Tried this. We live next to a school. I caught up on some reading (no. 7 above) waiting for my attorney down at the police station.

Personality:
11. Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
I don’t have a life.
12. Don't have negative thoughts or things you cannot control. Instead invest your energy in the positive present moment.
I AM putting energy into this at the moment, although I’m positively sure I can’t get this format to change the way I want.
13. Don’t overdo. Keep your limits.
I’ve tried this and have been successful (see #11 above).
14. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
That’s why you’re still reading down this inane list.
15. Don't waste your precious energy on gossip.
I heard that was true today from Bill. Later, Jim told me over the phone that if Bill spent more time in his yard instead of down at Starbucks (well, you know who is there at starbucks in the afternoon – she is a flake) anyway, well, maybe it’s true. Ask Jeff.
16. Dream more while you are awake.
Tried this and damn near ran over a guy begging for dinner over at Burger King.
17. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
Boy! How I WISH I had come up with this one!
18.. Forget issues of the past. Don't remind your partner with his/her mistakes of the past. That will ruin your present happiness.
So true, but I have to remind whoever wrote this that there is a long gap between the word present and happiness above. C’mon! Learn to type!
19. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone. Don't hate others.
I hate whoever came up with THIS lame advice.
20. Make peace with your past so it won't spoil the present.
Every living minute of the hell my life has become is due to SOME idiot causing me grief. What the hell kind of present is that?
21. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.
That’s right. And now I have to be in charge of THAT too…as if I already don’t have to fix everyone else’s mistakes.
22. Realize that life is a school and you are here to learn. Problems are simply part of the curriculum that appear and fade away like algebra class but the lessons you learn will last a lifetime.
Hey pal – learn on THIS! Problems will last a lifetime. It’s the curriculum that fades away.
23. Smile and laugh more.
Tried this back when I was taking that fucking walk around the school yard awhile back. Had to hire an Attorney to bail me out of jail.
24. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
I don’t win ANY arguments. That is precisely why #8 prevails.


Society:
25. Call your family often.
After you call them often, then what? Call them a cab?
26. Each day give something good to others.
I just have nothing to say.
27. Forgive everyone for everything.
This one is for the French.
28. Spend time with people over the age of 70 & under the age of 6.
I don’t remember if I did this when I was a kid. Maybe when I hit 70 I’ll try to spend some time with folks.
29. Try to make at least three people smile each day.
I do. The dick over at the IRS, My baker, and my priest – I think that’s actually a smirk. Does that count?
30. What other people think of you is none of your business.
The hell it ain’t.
31. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.
My job didn’t take care of me when I was well. And, I have to wait until I’m firkin 70 to spend time with people.


Life:
32. Do the right thing!
Eat some frikin oatmeal and then Kick Wilfred Brimley in the ass as he’s getting his goddam drug supply out of the mailbox!
33. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
My wife absolutely REFUSED to leave.
34. GOD heals everything.
This is beyond even that.
35.. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
Yeah, Bill told me to cheer up – things could get worse. So I cheered up – and by God, they DID.
36. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
No.
37. The best is yet to come.
I think this death thing is over rated.
38. When you awake alive in the morning, thank GOD for it.
That I woke up? Listen, if you feel the way I do when you wake up, God help you.
39. Your Inner most is always happy. So, be happy.
Now WHO the HELL thought of THAT??

Writin'

I have started to write again tonight and it feels good. Reading too. I've been catching up on Vonnegut. What an inspired writer. And I have some snippets of time to myself this week in Chicago. A luxury. I'm becoming a night person. Or is that, early morning person. If left to these wiles I would soon be going to bed when my friends ar arising. Most of my friends get up at 4AM. Ok, 4AM...5AM, what's the difference? EARLY. too damn early for me. I have these fantasies of working unfettered. Working until 2, 3, 4AM. going to bed and getting up at 10. How decadent.

Why is this? why is it decadent? I was raised in the Puritan Drudge of the Midwest. Everyone there 'works', by god. Works sun-up to sun-down. Works the LAND. Works them CROPS. Works BUILDIN' STUFF. THAT'S what you do, son. THAT'S bein' a man and workin'. Ain't no son-o-mine gonna be a goddam writer and filanderer or whatever. Not one of them sissies who just thinks and shit like that. That ain't workin'. that's bein a dependent. that's bein' on the dole. On the welfare. Sittin sleepin' while decdent folk are workin'.

Well, fuck a duck. it's nigh past 1 AM and I'm still sittin' here a writin'. Now, most folks who read this would agree that, yup, that boy's a filanderer for sure. No account. On the dole for sure. Ain't been raised proper and such. All I know is that I'm just laying out words. Layin' 'em out like they's jelly on toast. They come from inside. And I'm a writin'. Don't like it then I s'pose you don't have to read it. Aww, but you do, don't ya. Night to ya.
John

Who wins? the dog you feed the most

It’s quiet down here tonight. Quiet in my basement. Our house in Chicago has a basement. It’s so quiet I don’t feel like yelling. It’s quiet because I turned off the TV upstairs. I got sucked into it this evening and before I knew it I was watching Extreme Cage Fighting. I got bored with Letterman and Leno. Larry King was interviewing Sharon Stone, Hannity was promoting conservatism, and CNN was recapping for the 1,000th time the rescue from the pirates.

It was the cage fighting that did it. I was comatose with my watching, a state that is intended by the media. I was just there with open mouth as the shit was being shoveled in. The cage fighting started my blood pumping again, however. I realized that, with some training and a very mean attitude, I too could kick someone’s brains in, knock them to the ground and beat them senseless, beat them senseless, beat them, beat them, beat them. Until the referee finally pulled me off (after a prescribed amount of time of course – this is what America wants to see a senseless beating, live.) America? Is this who we’ve become? Geezus, I know lots of people who don’t want to see this. Or – do they? Do I really know them?

I wonder. I just wonder. And it’s so easy to feed the wrong dog. I need to stop feeding him. I need to do something different with my time. I need to find someplace to read and think and stop feeding this dog. I can do this. so can you.

Rambling...........

I just checked "the other blog" with my url (is that what it is? hell,I have no idea. 'Name',ok?). Seems that this Kristi person has still died on the front page. Please - unknown blogger- write something else for god's sake! Go check it out. My bolg is shitty for sure but this one - hoo, boy.

Anyway, nothin' to write about tonight really. Just writin'. God I should erase this and do something better. fuck it. Hey, ya know, Easter's almost here. I think I offended some folks with my less-than-religious Jesus in the rocket. I just get that way sometimes. Spurs conversation though.

I'm still recovering from my laughing fit reading about my friend who lives on a major International Airport runway approach path. not about their plight as much as the reading about it. good stuff, that.

Why in god's name can't i just go to bed like normal people?

There’s just something about the wee hours of the morning that seems to invite creativity (and us older folks know all about the ‘wee’ hours). I slip into my Edward Hopper mode and the real world dissolves and I am alone. I love that guy. Ed. My hero. I get his paintings, his work. I hear him talk through his paintings.

If this isn’t rambling I don’t know what is. Thanks for keeping me company.

Oh, the Audacity.............

It's almost Easter. Yep, that good ol day when we can eat Peeps, chocolate, hard boiled eggs and - I suppose the lucky chosen ones - get to see Jesus blast off again in his annual escape from planet Earth. Absolutely cool. I'm basically a crappy Christian. I hate people most of the time and don't want to help anyone usually. Not quite a Republican, mind you, but getting there. So, last year I wrote this little article. Called it "The Audacity of Prayer". Got published in a national magazine of sorts read by the chosen people who see Jesus in the Rocket on Easter. Man! I wish my faith was like that. I won't see Him on that day I suppose. It's hard to view from under the bus.

The Audacity of Prayer.....

I am a cradle Episcopalian. This means that I started to read and study the bible in my late 40's. Well, that's just me I guess. But I've stayed around. Episcopalians are cool. They don't try to ram belief down your throat. They care. Oh my, they care. Another reason I've stayed around. I have had company through the years with doubting Thomases. I've sat in the back of the adult classes and made jokes and fun, running in the hall with scissors and making faces. Anything I suppose to maybe get the attention or raise the ire of My God. To see if He was there.
I've always known God was there, is there, will be there. It's down deep in me. So deep I can't seem to get at it. I've been mad at God from time to time. I've sinned on purpose just to make Him mad. The fact that He has never lost His temper with me is maddening. Mad, mad. I mean, our whole church prayed and prayed and prayed for one of our dear parishioners, a mom with a husband, two sons, to get cured of her cancer. And she did get better. For a time. Then she died. Wha… Hey! C’mon, God. Just look at how hard we prayed and worked and made prayer chains until we were blue. And she died. No fair. Prayer doesn’t work, does it?
I can’t tell you the number of times I have abandoned it. Prayer. How stupid I’ve felt, getting on my knees in the privacy of my house. What if someone saw me? What would they think? God forbid. But, that’s a sort of prayer isn’t it? I’m 60 now and wondering if I will grow into Christian maturity. The older I get the more I realize how far I have to go to get to the peace that passes all understanding. I’ve packed quite a bit of study into the last 20 years I suppose. Much more than the first forty, when I was far more intelligent.
I’ve had to abandon some logic to get accustomed the idea that prayer was more about a relationship with God. A personal relationship. He sent His Son down here to help us with that. Help us to conceptualize God as a person, a friend, someone you could see and talk with, walk with, shake hands with, hug. And it has helped. I’ve had to get over the image of Jesus’ picture hanging in the Sunday school rooms across America in his rock star locks and white robe. Who thought of that? That’s ok. We’ve all grown to accept it. And it helped me in my younger years, talking to Jesus as maybe Ted Nugent riding with me in the car. Pretty cool. But Ted is old now. Jesus still looks the same. I saw him the other day in the church office. Same guy.
As I prepare for my 5th Cursillo I have had to launch into the prayer thing yet again. Jesus is still the same. And it’s amazing how much He has learned since I was 40. He has helped me get to my God place somewhere in my soul. I can never find it on my on. He always has to help me. And my prayer is all about our relationship. It’s ok. I have put away my demands and expectations and God does pretty well without my help. But it’s so very cool that He wants to hear from me before He acts on things. He doesn’t always do what I want, but he’s much older than me (though you’d never know it from his picture) and is far better at working things out. Praise be to My Friend. My Friend Jesus. My Lord and my God. (As Thomas finally said.)

Overtype Mode....or....how to lose a good 30 minutes.

Ha, ha on me. The Dark Blog Lord just erased my stuff! I was writing along and all of a sudden i was in "overtype mode". That's when you accidentally push a key without suspecting that the Dark Blog Lord directed the series of electrons, sparked by the unsuspecting keystroke, to type a letter OVER the letter you had typed previously, hence 'overtype'. I can smite the Dark Word Lord when I'm in that program, but there is no 'options selection' in the browser bar here. To put it in perhaps a more vernacular, you are fucked.

I had a really good rant going there, too. I'm pissed that there is another blog by the same title as this one, so I've changed the header at least, to "Yelling in The Basement". The other 'always something' blog is so lame that to spend more time on criticism is folly. Just let it go. I'm going to start writing with the Dark Word Lord as my liege and cut 'n paste in. He at least enables his minions to correct that annoying fucking overtype sht. thrit gos agnin. dmit

Yelling in my basement

Thought I'd come on down to the basement tonight and open the door up and just yell some stuff. My neighbor to the north is at his girlfriend's house as always and those to the south are getting ready to move, so no one will hear me. Just shouting into a vacant room - That's what i feel like now writing on this blog thing. I mean, WTF, really. So I'm yelling. A friend of mine recently wrote some stuff on her blog and went to send it and it disappeared. Mine hasn't pulled that trick yet. The little 'save now' blue sticker flickers now and then. I suppose it's a placebo put there to cajole the writer into a false sense of security.

Let's see, what to write that no one will read. Guess I could write about rush limbaugh. I don't capitalize people's names whom (is it who or whom?) I don't respect. same went for that bush guy. I dunno. Well, just fuck limbaugh. Guess that'll take care of that topic. I'm giggling just thinking of the people I know who actually listen to this cretin. Ha! Take THAT! Yelling in the basement. I could go on and talk about some political shit that I think I know, but that just gets you into trouble. besides, I don't know any political shit. The people who do know about it don't really know either. I haven't had my spoon-fed feces for a couple of days from the TV so I'm pretty much behind on all the shit anyway.

What else?

Oh yeah, there's that 'architect' guy here in Seattle selling "architecture 5 cents" (my typewriter doesn't have a "cents" key. My old Royal Smith Corona had one - it was cool. Sounded like what you might buy as a condom if you thought you were going to get lucky back in high school.) Well, seems this guy ain't licensed and he's going out there selling himself as an architect. Architects have this kind of club (get this - the State has bought into it) and they have set up this elaborate system of testing and reporting and schooling and more testing and learning more and more elaborate crap heaped upon crap and you go through it until you're just about ready to give it up and then you pass - and you can call yourself (among many other things) an Architect. You get a little rubber stamp with a number on it (so the attorneys can look you up in case they might want to jam a big stick up your ass) and you stamp your drawings and you're an Architect. So this fuckstick isn't really an "architect" by club standards. Now I could start talking about ethics and double standards and why do I have to follow rules and others don't. So, ladadoo.......And the horse you came in on, pal! I thought I would write a letter to the editor and whine about it but thought better of it and decided to just yell in the basement.

What else?

Guess that's about it. I'm kinda hoarse.