"The Lost Language..." and "Talk to Me"

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

This Past Weekend's Movie Picks

We like Don Cheadle and I like David Leavitt, the author of the novel by the same name, which "The Lost Language of Cranes" was based on.

The David Leavitt movie focused on a troubled family, where the father was mute in a sense for most of his life, and the Don Cheadle movie was based on a true story about an ex-convict in the '60s, who found his voice as a D.J. for his prison's radio station.

Both were good movies, and neither of them light -- no matter that Cedric the Entertainer played Don Cheadle's rival. In "The Lost Language..." the son had the voice that the father never could. In "Talk to Me," Don Cheadle had the voice that most black people in America at the time couldn't risk using.

Constitutionally Unable to Keep Quiet

What would it mean to stay quiet if I felt I needed to express myself? For me, I would feel less alive. I love this blog more and more daily -- just knowing it's here as a channel for my voice a few times a week is marvelous.

While swimming today, I thought:

• If I'm not a writer, then I'm a frequent observer and reflector on my observations
  
• Swimming is the best offline self-expression for me; it's the total opposite of blogging: No one other than me hears my voice because I must think only, since I can't really speak or hear, or type(!) underwater
  
• Before leaving for India, I considered that the experience either would make me feel 10 years older or 10 years younger; in the pool today, I concluded that my body feels 10 years older, as I didn't exercise enough while we were there, but my mind feels 10 years younger.
  

Writing here now, I'm enjoying realizing that I live in three parallel universes -- one on land, one in the water and one online. Each has its virtues:

A Range of Self-expression Opportunities

On land: I can touch Pat; talk with family, friends and colleagues face-to-face; make [and mostly eat] delicious food; drive or rollerblade; write intensely in long-hand; read books, magazines and newspapers that I hold in my hands; and sleep in a wonderful bed.

In the water: I can feel all of my muscles come back to life, even the ones in my torso; I can move like I did before I was even born; and I can feel paradoxically intimate with the people swimming in and around my lane, even though we never say more than, "Good morning," to each other...unless Pat is swimming in my lane and then we smile at each other as we swim toward each other when both of us are doing the breast-stroke, and sometimes, we sneak a quick touch of the other's leg as we pass each other...like today.

Online, I can go exploring around the web and learn serendipitously; reflect and reflect and reflect; see if anyone else finds my reflections useful by checking my blog's sitemeter, which shows me visitors' geographical locations and the search-words or referring URLs that brought them to them; and connect to strangers and loved ones alike worldwide through our writing, without leaving our seats.

Show Time

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

And It Went On

Segments on "Thing...she knows who she is;" Girth & Mirth; David Leavitt; International Mr. Leather, including an interview of International Ms. Leather; a documentarian of a self-proclaimed Kentucky drag-queen; World Conference of Gay & Lesbian Jews; ACT-UP demonstrations; show promo by Linda Clifford; lesbian kiss-in at Water Tower Place; Urvashi Vaid at the Chicago Pride Parade....

Most of these were "10% Show" segments that I produced, or for which I served as the interviewer or on the crew in Chicago, 1987-89.

Earnest Hite, may his memory be blessed, was my co-anchor for many of them. Earnest, a complete mensch, died on Monday in a car crash.

Why was Earnest cut off, yet I get to go on? I'm not complaining about getting to stay, certainly, but I don't understand the purpose of taking a good person out of this world.

Today, I interrupted a meeting my manager was having with a colleague and said, "Excuse me. Just wanted to let you know that I'm going to get going before the snow and rain comes."

"Good idea," the colleague offered, "With your history with snow and rain!" (I totaled my car in an ice-storm nearly a year ago.)

"That's not funny," I said sharply. "I know you didn't mean it, but that's not funny at all."

I wish I had said, "That was incredibly emotionally unintelligent."

Why was only my car killed last winter and not me -- and then not even my car, as I learned via e-mail yesterday that it's being resurrected in a Lithuanian body-shop(!)

Ugh! The burden, the responsibility, to do something further with my life to add meaning to the world, so that I can repay society a bit for having lost Earnest too soon. Again, I don't mean to complain. God, thanks for the extra time and please help me use it wisely.

Chanukah Is Around the Corner

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

And I'm Still Watching Mosquitos Fly By

The eight-day holiday's really early this year, beginning on December 5th, and won't be on anyone's radar here. We've already been witnesses to the Hindu Festival of Lights, Diwali, but still, I'll miss our own Chanukiah in the window nightly.

I hear that it's cold where we'd be typically at this time of year, but instead, I'm whizzing past palm trees and the occasional mosquito whizzes past me.

Home is Relative

Tonight, my best friend here said that she wanted to come to our home before we leave, so that she has some sense of us in India beyond just at work, shopping or in her home.

I was surprised, and told her so, because she knows we don't even cook here -- don't have anything beyond a microwave -- and that the art on the walls and the furniture is the landlord's, and yet she says it would make her feel good to be able to think of us in our Indian home.

"I remember so well, staying with you in your home when I came to the States, the blueberry pancakes that Pat made me -- I don't have your memory for every single thing that ever happens to me, but I do remember..." and she listed lots more memories of the house and our time there, which made me miss our U.S. home.

Today, a colleague, who's been on a number of assignments told me to be ready for reverse-culture shock when I return to the United States.

I suppose I'll be talking like this a lot from now on because our departure is so relatively soon, toward the end of next month.

Leona Lewis, the Queen, The Indian Clerk and Me

Liz and I IM'ed today and she wrote that weirdly, she was thinking of me yesterday, too, as Kate and she were watching a documentary and the interviewee reminded her of me; it was on the Queen of England...and no, I didn't remind her of the Queen. She knew that I was referring to Leona Lewis as the singer whose hit reminded me of Texas tunes; Lewis is British.

Speaking of England, I woke up at 3:30 this morning and read for 90 minutes prior to falling back to sleep -- I don't remember ever doing that before; the book's good: *The Indian Clerk* by David Leavitt, one of my favorite authors.

Oh, today's Kannadian phrase was, "Have you eaten?" but I've forgotten how to say it(!)