Everyone poops, but please don't do it at work

I recently had a most unpleasant experience. It's an experience we have all undoubtedly had, but one few will talk about.

I was writing like a fiend at work, churning out words and drinking coffee; drinking coffee and churning out words, when suddenly, I had to pee. Badly. I could be so productive if it weren't for my bladder. Finally, I could deny it no longer: I had to stop the creative flow of my brain and pay attention to the flow of my bladder. I reached a good end point in a paragraph, hopped up from my desk and headed for the head.

As soon as I opened the door to the restroom, however, a stench hit my nose like a foghorn. My eyes fell on the closed door of the stall closest to me in the two-stall bathroom. A pair of shoes sat within the stall guiltily, no doubt belonging to the owner who produced the stench. For a second, I considered trekking up to the north end of the building to the other restroom, but then quickly scratched that thought. I was under tight deadlines this week. I had to be brave.

I choked back a gag and entered the stall next to the stench. I winced, hoping for the quick release of my bladder. It couldn't come fast enough - both the relief of peeing and the thought of escaping the smell.

Just then, on the tail end of my stream, the owner of the stench flushed and left the stall.

"No!" I thought to myself. "If they leave and someone else comes in, the new person will think I  created such a stench!"

I peeked through the stalls to find the source of the stench. I was shocked to see a tiny older woman dressed conservatively in a pair of khakis and brown sweater gingerly washing her hands and arranging her hair in the mirror. Invariably, it seems like those skinny bitches at work are the ones who make the most stank.

Panicked, I quickly wiped and exited the stall, washing my hands while holding my breath and making my way to the door.

Here's the deal. We all know everyone poops, but save your coworkers the agony of this situation and don't do it at work.

No one wants to experience your own personal aroma during their work day.

"But what if you really gotta go?" you're undoubtedly asking.

That's what lunch breaks are for. You smoke cigarettes during your break, and would never think of making your coworkers breathe the toxic gasses released from your Marlboro. Why would you think it's okay to make them breathe the toxic gasses released from your ass?

Poop etiquette demands to be learned!

Social media is a virus: step away

Lately, I keep thinking of Laurie Anderson, more specifically, a particular line in one of her songs.

I had grown up, an angst-filled teen of the 90's, listening to Anderson's classics "Language is a Virus" and "O Superman." You wouldn't recognize her, I'm sure (you're likely too young to know who I'm talking about, hipster). A performance artist, composer and violinist who was married to the now late, Lou Reed, Anderson hung in the camp of Brian Eno, David Bowie, Devo, Kate Bush and other eclectic, ambient musicians. Often a commentary on the overabundance of industrialized growth and the irony of "success" and society, her music had a message that fed my 20-something brain; her songs often dissects societal norms while interjecting small tokens of sarcastic humor.

In a gripping performance in 2005, she brought tears to my eyes during the encore when she performed the 1995 classic "Same Time Tomorrow." If you care to listen/watch it, click here.

I often think of the lyrics to that song now, 10 years later. It is amusing when she refers to a VCR in the beginning of the song - clearly dated. But in an eerie, thought-provoking recording, the trill of a morning dove is played repeatedly along with the beep, beep, beep of what is ostensibly a VCR or an alarm clock. And the lyrics poignantly ask tough questions, most notably,

What I really want to know is 
are things getting better or are they getting worse?

Lately, I think of these lines in reference to many things. But, more often than not, I think of them in reference to social media.

There are many who have waxed poetic about the disadvantages of social media, ironically on social media. The idea of social media is fantastic. We can "connect" to friends, family and like-minded people from across the globe. Social media has been a fantastic tool, helping so many people and organizations raise money, spread the word about important causes and news, and connecting those whose relations are far away.

But there is a darker, insidious side of social media, and it's one I have been thinking a lot about lately.

Social media allows us to only present to others the personae we want to present to the world. And, many times, that personae isn't entirely based in reality. This has happened recently with someone I know who has been outed as having fashioned an almost entirely fictitious reality in order to swindle people. Not cool.

On the flip side, social media also gives fodder to our every passing whim and thought. We all have that one friend who spouts off on Facebook about highly personal details of their life, details that probably should be kept private. And social media is often used for darker purposes: stealing identities, trolling for sex or, even worse, trolling for sex from teens, and virtual bullying. And how many stories have we seen in the media lately where lovers post photos of their murdered spouses on Facebook, or teens post angry threats of violence on their Twitter sites before committing such atrocities.

Last night, as I was flipping through my Facebook newsfeed, an ugly side of me started coming to out. Like Sigourney Weaver in the 1986 James Cameron classic Aliens, a repulsive monster started to rear its hideous head, a cynical, flippant nastiness that snorted at what it perceived as naivete and pretense.

"Oh aren't you loving life," it quipped sarcastically.

"Freaking narcissist," it scoffed. It jeered at the annoying, inspirational memes.

It rolled its eyes with contempt at your political leanings, thoughts on abortion, God, the death penalty, the weather...

Ugh. Normally, I am hopelessly optimistic and positive-minded. But not last night.
I had to put it down, step away. And lately, I have had to put it down more often than not.

If I'm being honest, life was better before I knew the intimate every thought of the people in my life, or every political/religious belief they had, or every self-righteous proclamation.

What I really want to know is 
are things getting better or are they getting worse?

Winter love affair

I am in love with winter.

Sure, the other seasons are nice. Summer is easy, with its barefoot strolls and cricket calls. Fall bombards the senses with colors and smells of burning leaves and wood stoves fired up after six months of dormancy. It's easy to love other seasons.

Winter is for quiet. Winter is for those who love solitude. Give me a cold day, the kind that keeps others indoors. It is then you'll find me among the icy shores.

Miles walking on the docks, frozen lake in the background

The best moments of my life have been outside. Nature has been where I have sought solace for as long as I can remember. But, right now, my body is in revolt. It is June, and nature's procreating like a dog in heat. Hot and horny, she is throwing her pollen into the air like so much snow, plant life fornicating wildly. I am reminded of one thing I can't stand about summer: allergies.

Some seek closeness with their Creator in a chapel. I feel closest to Him in a green cathedral

But my body is launching a full-fledged attack on the outside world. Or, rather, it is pulling out all the stops to build up a fortress against the outside world. A fortress of snot. Itchy, weepy eyes scream "keep out!" My sinuses, with their constant sneezing, shout "stay back!" We will have no plant fornication here!

Despite doses of extra strength 24 hour allergy medicine, I still sneeze. Yesterday, my 10-year-old daughter asked what happened to my eye; it was so irritated and stuffy and puffy, it looked as if I'd been socked.

It is probably not wise, then, that someone with these types of allergies live in the hay field that is the Ranch. It is so beautiful here. How can my body reject such beauty?

One of the apple trees silhouetted against a fantastic sunset at the Ranch

Others are happy for summer, I'm counting the days until fall!