Savoring the unusual


Reading John’s blog is a little like eating a square of Godiva almond toffee chocolate. It’s delicious and even though it’s just a little bit, the thought crosses your mind that maybe, just maybe, it really isn’t good for you.

And if HE can find himself – hell, so can I!

[especially considering that my formative years were as normal as his were completely wacked out!] —> IF it’s true.

Keeping promises


This week flew by. The holiday is a blur of inactivity. The rain usurped my motivation.


I have lists of things “to do.” I was supposed to clean….supposed to do laundry…..supposed to work out…… supposed to do some home repairs.


Instead I sat on my couch and read and thought about cycles and breaking promises.

Every five years, I take notice and realize that “Gee, I’ve been here before.” Instead of growing and moving in a linear direction (which I optimistically perceive to be a ladder where I climb from down here to up there), I find that I’m actually moving in a circle.

Imagine if you will, a clock. I start off at 6:00, moving in a counterclockwise direction. Things start off well enough…. I make some decisions, radically change some aspects of my life that just aren’t working for me, and progress quite smoothly. Opportunities present themselves and I’ll pause to smile and laugh and hope that this time I’ve got it right.


And for about a year and half I’m on top of the world…. literally – I reach that 12:00 spot. And then *something*….

I’ll reach that peak and go on cruise control. It’ll take about a year before I realize – oops, I hit cruise control at the moment of my descent, only accelerating my decline. Instead of moving on up the food chain, I find myself back where I started.

I’ll sit at a desk, scribble in a journal/type in a blog, and wonder “Hey – I was movin’ on up, how did I get here AGAIN?” and why do I keep breaking the promises I make to myself.

I had an epiphany over the weekend – the promises stay the same. Each time. Read an entry I wrote back in 1988, you can be sure to find something similar in 1993, then again in 1998, and now in 2003 I find myself making the same promises or *goals*.

Scary thought that this is the first time I consciously noticed my quirky five-year schedule….. and I managed to sit still long enough to see the common denominator. Now all I have to do is fix this… fix me.


Easier said than done.

Sharing the homo genus with a furry cousin

One thing DNA sequencing has illustrated is that every organism on earth evolved from the same primordial soup. The genetic blueprints of many animals are astoundingly similar to our own because all species are related.

Scientists have also stated that humans share 99% of their genes with mice and dolphins. Yet Morris Goodman hasn’t recommended adding these animal friends to the homo genus.

Human beings and chimpanzees may share 99.4% of the same DNA but these species differ significantly in appearance, behavior and ability. These are the critical differences that differentiate humans from the animal kingdom. Chimps need to stay where they belong.

As for the “far-reaching implications” mentioned by the Herald News Staff…. Why wouldn’t we continue to cage our furry cousins? Humans cage their brethren. Perhaps a visit to the Old Colony Correctional Center in Bridgewater will serve as a friendly reminder. According to the U.S. Bureau of Justice Statistics, over 2 million inmates were held in federal or state prisons or local jails in June of 2002.

As for medical testing, humans have to participate in clinical trials of experimental drugs prior to approval by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA). Each successive phase of testing involves a larger number of human subjects. And even after the FDA has granted a New Drug Approval (NDA), pharmaceutical companies conduct studies on people. Humans are subject to plenty of testing by the medical community. It’s only fair that animals serve as the first line of defense.

The religious community doesn’t hold a monopoly on the belief that the “soul,” or the ability to reason, separates man from animal. Animals do not weigh decisions based on future consequences or any code of morality. Animals cannot develop language to communicate or a culture to celebrate. Animals do not practice religion or recognize the possibility of a “higher power.” Animals do not have the ability to conceptualize.

And while man needs to curb the current rate of consumption, humans must learn to take care of their own before jumping on a bandwagon to clean-up “jungles and wild places.”

If the current state of global sustainability is any indication, the chimpanzees may prefer to do without our assistance.

Dining with strangers

I travel a lot with work and stumbled on this great article in the Washington Post. Elissa Leibowitz offers dining alternatives when visiting other cities.

and

Another rant on languages

As AP reporter Ted Anthony so eloquently put it, “the dominant language of commerce, the internet, science and the skies, nearly a quarter of the human population uses what is fast becoming the world’s first global language = English. Turn on the news almost anywhere on Earth and many stories are reported in English.”

I’m not contesting the emergence of the English language on the global scene – but do find it interesting that Americans tend to overestimate the number of people who speak English.


In 1998, Humphrey Taylor conducted a Harris Poll that concluded that, “On average, adult Americans believe that just over half (52%) of the whole world’s population speak English. The real number, according to The National Foreign Language Center in Washington DC, is probably closer to 20% at the most.”

And whereas people have lost interest in real live languages, it’s interesting to see an urban myth, like that of the Klingon Interpreter, grow to such proportions.


A quick surf through the internet reveals the Elvish Linguistic Fellowship (E.L.F.) – “an international organization devoted to the scholarly study of the invented languages of J.R.R. Tolkein.


Tolkein was a linguist. I wonder how he would have reacted to today’s headlines.

Mass extinction: half of world’s 6,000 languages in danger of disappearing by 2010

Some people may argue that extinction is a part of the natural order. That if future dialogues are destined to occur in one of only 5 languages, then so be it. It’s survival of the fittest.

Linguists estimate that eventually all communication will be expressed in English, Chinese, Spanish, French or Arabic. Globalization has accelerated the rate of language extinction, while increasing the influence of the English language.

While only 350 million people (out of 6 billion worldwide) claim English as their first language, millions more use English as a second language and another billion are being taught the language. There’s no stopping this phenomenon.

English is the language of computers and commerce.


So what’s with the sudden onslaught of articles (here and here) crying out in alarm at the steady decline in the number of spoken languages? What’s the problem?


According to the Worldwatch Institute, half of all languages accounted for are spoken by fewer than 2500 people. Languages need at least 100,000 speakers in order to pass from one generation to the next, claims the United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO).

When a language disappears, an invaluable resource is lost to linguists and anthropologists. It becomes impossible to trace a group’s cultural history or movements from one region to another because the stories passed through oral tradition die with the last speaker. Since language diversity often exists in locations of biological diversity, scientists lose valuable knowledge pertaining to the plants and animals native to the area.

I was blessed with the opportunity of growing up in a bilingual household. After I enrolled in American public schools, my teachers gently persuaded my parents to stop speaking their native language (Portuguese) at home and focus on English. “So as not to confuse her…..”


The Portuguese language is the cornerstone of my culture. There are words that cannot be translated into English… words like “saudade.” I lost much of my vocabulary and have struggled to improve upon what I still remember. And I know that if I forget the language and stories and songs, then a unique part of that culture will be lost. A different version might be passed on in a new language, but the original footprint will disappear.

But I’m fortunate. There are 5 million people who speak Portuguese around the globe. I can’t imagine what it would be like to know I was one of the last to speak Maori or Eyak or Navajo.

How many people do you know who can speak a second language?

Disturbing Realizations

Over the past few months, my dearest friends have up and moved away. In the 8 years I’ve lived in the District, I’ve hosted many going away parties for people only to welcome them back a few years later. But never a best friend….

Disturbing Realization #1 – My social life revolved around the whims of three darling, but lackadaisical barflies.

It was a sad, sad day when I absorbed the fact that my *partner in crime* was gone. After work rant sessions weren’t the same without her. I was Norm without Cliff, peanut butter without jelly. The diatribes of those left behind weren’t entertaining anymore. And although they are appreciated, they are not loved and lack a certain curiosity…

My hand trembled as I held my cell phone, scrolling through names and numbers of Washingtonians I hadn’t spoken to in months, if not years.

Disturbing Realization #2 – The day you turn 25, time accelerates by a rate of 50%. Once you pass the 30-year threshold, that rate increases to 75%.

If you’re inclined to have brunch with Jack and Jill, make plans TODAY! Before you know it – 18 months will have past since your last get together, making future contact more than a little awkward.

Disturbing Realization #3 – I am a fickle person.

A vague recollection – a few years ago I found myself exhausted, poor, and bored.

It all started off with *poor* – the excuses… I’d blow off friends and beg off plans because I found I couldn’t afford to go out for drinks every night, or to the theater four times a month, or continue hosting dinner parties, or whatever.

And so my schedule slowed down, allowing me to catch up on sleep and *me time* and concentrate on my career. I focused on photography and writing. I fretted over the quality of my relationships instead of the quantity.

Disturbing Realization #4 – You can never have too many friends.

So I learned too late that I had been blessed with diverse and interesting relationships. And I voluntarily let these individuals fade into the back story of who I am.

While I was searching for links, I stumbled onto some of my old friends online. Reading about their lives, I felt like I was intruding (which is ridiculous because the info is on the world wide web for all to read). And a melancholy washed over me as I learned of all that I had missed and was missing.

Because I was supremely lazy.

Disturbing Realization #5 – You’ve got to play nice if you want kids to share the sandbox with you.

Not that I regret the years I spent with J, K and P. I was privileged to connect with these people – individuals who truly see me as I am. How many people take off their masks, peal back the bravado and allow you to know them? How many people have you shown yourself to?

And in truth, I’ve been spoiled – having spent so much time in a realm where you call a spade a spade – and am having difficulty with the steps to the dance of social niceties.

So – how much of a faux pas is it to call someone (a lot of someones) you haven’t seen in two years to catch up over coffee or brunch or lunch?