Amending the #GoldenRule: Treating People #InKind #Manners

I spent my life (up to this point) living by The Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. This is a nice thought. Unfortunately, humans are base creatures and when one treats them with civility and respect (which is how I wish to be treated), many of them view it as an invitation to take advantage. You treat people well, but in response they consistently behave as assholes, abusers, users and idiots (and sometimes as all of the above), which, of course, leads to your life being of out whack.

Now that I'm older and wiser, I have amended The Golden Rule to instead treat people in kind, to treat people as their actual behavior warrants. This means that if you act like an asshole, I will treat you as an asshole. Imbeciles are given no quarter. If you're an idiot, expect me to cut you no slack, etc., etc.. This little tweak has made my life much more peaceful and equitable. You should try it.

Two Months #Free #Audible Membership -- Two Free #Audiobooks

Although I'm not good with audiobooks, I'm trying to get better... as I genuinely like the idea of listening to a book (specifically, having Alexa read an audiobook to me) while working on other things. I'm having to retrain my brain, which expects books to be self-read. I've started slowly, listening to free audio shorts that I've found online. And I've reached a point where I can generally make it through a few audio snippets at a time without losing focus. (I actually enjoy the New York Times Audio Digest, but then again, I'm an information junkie and it's not a book, so this may not count.)

Recently, one of the group deal sites (I believe 'twas Groupon) put up a totally free offer: a voucher granting Two Months Free Audible Membership which includes a free audiobook purchase credit each month. And while I have no idea what to use said credits to purchase, I thought this would make a good opportunity to expand my digital library of audiobooks (without risk) and provide more fodder for my "learning to listen to stories told" experiment.

It's odd really, when one thinks about it, because I love radio. I can listen to music, news and even talk radio all day, without issue, but try a true audiobook and my mind wanders. I'm certain it's only psychosomatic and once I replace my negative childhood associations of "being read to" with enough positive experiences, all will be well. We'll see, however, as the brain is a quirky organ. Tiny steps...

#Music in the Air! #BluetoothSpeakers #InternetRadio #Victrolas #Gramophones #MusicApps #RadioApps #StreamingMedia #Bluetooth

Am really loving my home stereo setup. I decided to have a main central stereo located in my entertainment center with satellite Bluetooth speakers and soundbars placed around the open floor plan. I also have smaller stereo systems in other rooms like my office and my workshop. As it's all networked, I can synchronize play across systems and speakers or have a different sound style for each area. I can control playback with a Smart Assistant, tablet, smartphone, laptop, or remote control, and can access my cloud music libraries, music and radio apps, locally stored media and play internet and broadcast radio, plus physical discs. It's pretty rad! I'm still building it out. Certainly, I'll add more wireless speakers and I'm leaning toward a turntable for vinyl.

SIDE NOTE: By the way, this is merely my audio setup on the new-fangled side. Opposite, I have desperately desired a Victrola or other big "belled" antique Gramophone, since I was 5 years old. My mother had one that I can still picture as clear as day. I didn't care that it was perhaps valuable, I simply thought its big gleaming horn was beautiful.

In what seems to be a fairly common occurrence in poor rural areas, where people were often not well educated, were desperate, yet were trusting of their neighbors and displayed hospitality to strangers, a dishonest itinerant junk antiques dealer swindled ME out of it, thinking nothing of telling a bald-faced lie to a small child --- and I have never forgotten it! It takes a despicable person to take advantage of anyone as he did; however, it takes a no account bastard to take advantage of a five-year-old little girl who has been taught to respect the words of her elders.

The theft of my mother's Victrola (which is exactly what the stranger's deceit amounted to) marked the loss of my childhood innocence. Afterward, I became withdrawn. I became wary of anyone who professed anything without showing me proof. I became skeptical of human motives. I began to distrust people. It was a dear and precious lesson to "give" a 5-year-old. My mother, bless her, was furious on my behalf when she returned from a neighbor's, not even caring that I had "given away" her prized Victrola, but only concerned that some stranger (and a grown man, at that) had taken advantage of her baby girl. Of course, by then, the lying scoundrel was long gone.

I made a promise to myself that I would acquire a replacement for it one day, so its something for which I keep out an eye. It will require the perfect specimen. I am fascinated with early record players (and cylinder players) as a result, and recognize that this is likely another personal library collection in the making.

A Blog #Retrospective & Hope for the New Year #2017!

I did it! Whew! I made a pledge (to myself) to post new content daily for the month of December, so as to end the year with a bang. I enjoy writing, but had gotten out of the habit over the years. As a result, I'm a bit rusty. Coming up with a new post each day proved more difficult than I imagined. Writer's Block was ever right around the corner, beckoning.

I do not desire to create a "chitchat" blog, posting merely for the sake of posting, engaging in small talk. I'd rather make one quality post a month than go there. (Though obviously I hope to generate quality content more frequently than monthly.) In the new year, I hope to find a good balance, but I've no idea what that will be.

I probably won't post daily. I will post when I feel I have something worthwhile to impart. Castle Modern is a relatively young blog and I'm still sussing things out, determining my comfort zone, establishing my boundaries. An intensely private individual, I'm not a natural sharer, but I can talk about geeky stuff all day. I enjoy helping others. I love sharing knowledge and learning new things.

This blog project (and any other creative outlets that I develop under the Castle Modern brand) is an ongoing journey that will hopefully help to fulfill my dreams of creating a sustainable estate, my Castle Modern, and pursuing my idea of the good life. It's my hope to become healthier, wealthier, and wiser --- to launch my startup company, to make a home and to care for my family. To do better.

Stick around. It's the online equivalent of a barn raising, a gathering of helpful souls united by common purpose. Here's to a bright future household and sharing the knowledge of how it came about.

In the meantime, Happy New Year's! Hello 2017!

Adult Story Time? Being Read to vs. #Reading. #Audiobooks #SmartAssistants #DigitalLibrary

I am an inveterate reader. I was lucky enough to obtain a public library card at a young age and I made extensive use of it. As I have mentioned previously, I grew up materially poor (in poverty) but educationally enriched. Obviously, periodically lacking basic necessities like food, water and shelter made an impact on me. Poor childhood health care made an impact. But excepting daily sustenance requirements, the only thing I have sought my entire life is Knowledge.

To be honest, I didn't realize I was "poor" until I went to school and first encountered "rich kids". Prior to enrolling in kindergarten, I'd assumed with the naivety of childhood that being "working poor" was the standard, as it was all I'd known beforehand. I can't say I was much impressed with "the other side." Not being materialistic, the lack of having random things didn't matter to me, but "ownership" certainly seemed to be the end all and be all for many of my neighbors. (Don't get me wrong, I enjoy creature comforts and like having my toys, but at the end of the day it's just stuff and will never outweigh what truly matters.)

The other children with whom I went to school would often ask me silly questions. How'd I get so smart? (DNA and curiosity leads me to read.) Did my parents pay me for getting good grades? (As if.) Did I go home and read the encyclopedia for fun? (Sometimes.) Learning is fun. Not school, but the ability to learn. School is an often unpleasant institution. The majority of my learning occurred away from school immersed in books, often at the local library. Being self-taught also made me an oddity, as I would often know more about a subject than the person who was supposed to teach it to us in school. I'm not boasting, my expertise on specific subjects often resulted in my teachers turning over a class to me. For instance, I taught a mini-course on Greek Mythology in high school.

I guess it was difficult for other schoolchildren (not to mention the teachers and administrators) to understand me. According to what had been ingrained in them by a segregated, conservative, and patriarchal society, I was an anomaly or perhaps worse, an aberration --- a female child "from the other side of the tracks" who effortlessly outperformed everyone else by leaps & bounds. If since birth, you've been given to believe that you're special, that you're superior to others and that certain privileges are your God-given right (think Divine Right of Kings), then I suppose meeting someone like me is a rude awakening. Welcome to the real world, lad.

I did not apologize then, and I do not apologize now for being myself. My very existence does not require justification, regardless of what others were told. The very thought of which is ludicrous. And so went school. I ate the fruits of the Tree of Knowledge while surrounded by Philistines (Education is indeed a great leveler. It is not a perfect pill nor a magic wand, for our world is no meritocracy, though I wish it were, but Education is a boost that can make things more equitable.) In league with Descartes, I embodied Cogito ergo sum (I think, therefore, I am).

I might have been born and raised in a small (and often small-minded) town, but I knew that the world was not flat. No, the world was pregnant with wonder, for I had read it. The existence of books and the Knowledge contained within their pages sustained me, kept me sane. Trapped in a society that could not give me succor, I chose to inhabit a world of my own creation inside my head. Reading became such an integral part of my personal development, I could not imagine my "self" without it. This is still true today.

As a result, it is difficult for me to accept being read to. As a wee child, attending story time in school or at the local library meant that I would fidget. Impatient, my mind would wander. I wanted to hold the book myself, to turn its pages, to see the words. Where was the excitement in having someone else tell you a story when I could very well read it for myself? This mentality has carried over into my adulthood.

In spite of the popularity of audiobooks, I can feel no warmth toward them. The voice inside my head is a much better narrator than those people speaking various books aloud. I have tried to adjust my abhorrence of audiobooks through logic mentally chiding myself with statements like "Think of the multitasking advantage, listening to an audiobook means your hands are free to do other things." It hasn't exactly worked. I usually give up on listening to an audiobook within 10 minutes.

The only audiobooks I have ever been able to get through is the Harry Potter series, and I believe this is for two reasons: 1) I already knew and loved the stories before I attempted to listen to them and 2) Jim Dale's (the narrator of the American editions) retelling of them is very similar to the narrator inside my own head. Thus, I am able to suspend my knee-jerk reactions at having a story read to me. (I know this second part is true because I could not, in turn, cotton to the British editions of Harry Potter audiobooks. You'd think the British editions would be more authentic, considering it's Harry Potter, but I prefer the way Dale does them.)

I'm trying to embrace audiobooks more than I have in the past. Audiobooks will never supplant books in my heart, and I wouldn't wish them to do so, but I hope to use them as a supplement for times when I have other things going. Ever the geek, I do like the idea of asking a Smart Assistant like Alexa to read to me while I tinker in my lab or experiment in my kitchen. But this will take some doing. Right now it feels like ripping a part of myself away, giving up the privilege of reading in order to be read to. It flies in the face of my mile-wide independent streak. I keep repeating that doing this will allow me to be augmented in other ways. But so far I'm not buying it.

#Grammar Wrongs < An Author's Voice

Dear Grammarians,

I am a practitioner of the Language Arts in its definition as the art of language. I study language/s with relish. I'm a fan of Greek and Latin, Old Norse and Old English and these are merely the opening act. My vocabulary is writ large and multilingual, rife with dialects or cultural contradictions, accents and shorthand. Language is a Grand Old Party, preferably of the Lincoln vintage. (Sixteen is sweet for a number of reasons. Pun intended or at the very least intimated.)

I am well educated. This is said as a statement of fact, not as a boast, though I am an unapologetic snob in many regards. I became both a fledgling etymologist (and a budding entomologist, because I dig bugs (sometimes literally) and appreciated the tandem symbology) around the age of two. I was, to put it mildly, a precocious child. Words were my first Great Love. I am enamoured still. Agape mou (not meant in the biblical manner). Fuck Words! Oops.

To save you bother, know that Strunk & White are dear friends, but their ministrations are relegated to an electronic book these days. Have I mentioned that I am also also a techie (and Monty Python fan)? I know Grammar. Hi, Grammar! I often choose to ply or ignore completely its rules. Alas, poor Grammar! I do so intentionally... because I can. This amuses me. I'm laughing as I write this. My smile is wry. My humor chiefly British. (See the perhaps fabricated er, exaggerated "History of the State of Georgia, former 13th Colony". I'm the author. It's a work in progress, but I digress.)

Make no mistake; however, I am an American. I am "big on" personal liberty (and its kissing cousin personal accountability). By the way, I adore parenthetical phrases and hyphenated clauses --- and overuse them. And I occasionally start sentences with "and" or "but", use Apostrophe mercilessly and dangle participles as I choose. (In case you possess sensitive ears, I will state upfront at the getgo that I believe curse words are the pepper of language. I happen to like pepper in my cooking and my speech.) Odd to you, these predilections are my right as an Author. I believe language should be fun and exciting instead of being plainly utilitarian. Loosen up.

Please also note that I often employ vernacular, colloquialisms and turns of phrase which may offend your sense of what is right and proper. Sorry not sorry. Do not feel the need to "correct" me. Stay your red pen. I am woe to call anyone a "Nazi", a terrible term for a reason, but if the shoe fits wear it, Cinderella. I know Grammar. Bye, Grammar! I am no student Hell bent on proving to some teacher that I can memorize and regurgitate a set of arbitrary rules. This is not school. I have never enjoyed being spoon fed. I am an adult who strategically throws verbal tantrums. Take a deep breath, if need be. Deal with it.

I am an Author. Toying with language and grammar is the very foundation of my Voice. I've been at it a lifetime. For me, the Wonder of Language is in its active usage and we all know this alters over time. Words fall out of favor or return to fashion upon the whims of Man. In spite of this, nay, because of this, I always march to the beat of my own drum, which may or may not be in step with current conventions. For I am a true Southern Rebel. Also, a real American Revolutionary. Don't Tread on Me. Quote me.

Caveat Emptor! (Boy howdy son, was that fun to write!)

Signed,

--- The "Sybilant" Southerner, the Snake in your grammatical Garden of Eden.

P.S. Go ahead, bite the Apple. Knowledge is Power.

#Photography Fools and Public Pictures

I hate having my picture taken. It is anathema to me. I cringe on the inside. I sometimes can't help but flinch on the outside. My mother did not like having her picture taken, her mother did not like having her picture taken either. It is apparently hereditary.

I am thankful for the few photographs I have of my mother and my maternal grandmother. I will sometimes consent to being photographed --- mostly at the behest of friends and family who complain that they "have no pictures of me.." But neither of these things change the basic truth that I hate being photographed.

I will say that I have no issue with photography as an art form and appreciate its merits. I love the history of photography, the history of the development of the camera and the magic of early photographs. (I happen to collect daguerreotypes and large format prints.) 

Being that kind of geek, I eagerly took a course at uni to learn how to develop my own photographs. Except for the fact that I'm seriously allergic to the chemicals used to develop photos --- as I unfortunately found out during the aforementioned course --- I could see having my own darkroom in my home.

Living in an Age where cameras are ubiquitous and where (most) people seem to assume everything needs to be photographed relentlessly and posted onto social media has upon occasion proved a source of consternation. It throws people when you say "please don't take my picture". They think it's some vanity or affectation. It's neither. "How could you NOT want to be photographed?" they inquire.

Sad to say, our society is such that some people ignore my request. While I well understand there is not a legal expectation of privacy when in public, there is (or should be) a certain amount of respect for your fellowman. But humans can be animals! I stand my ground and draw a line at aggressive photogs. I've unfortunately encountered a few. Though tempted, I haven't punched anyone... yet.

I'm asocial. I don't like attention. I always seem to attract it, however. Regardless, I don't think I will ever be comfortable with being photographed. However, I've tried to become more open to taking pictures (of things) from a professional standpoint. Pictures can be helpful, I know, but it's not natural to me. I didn't own a camera, until I took that photography course.

Nowadays every gadget comes with multiple cameras. (Most of which I've covered with black electrical tape.) I accept that cameras are everywhere. I do not have to like it. This has nothing to do with how I look or being "wanted by the police" which are apparently the top two reasons for a person not desiring to be photographed. Ha!

If you've wondered why most of this blog is text, know that I mentally debate if a picture is necessary with every post I make. I'm trying to be more objective, but words were my first love. I'm a shaky novice with a camera.

I hope to become more proficient, to develop an eye. I hope to strike a balance on this blog where images become a graceful and welcome addition. (I created accounts on the major social media platforms, many of which are reliant on photographs, both to encourage my fledgling skills and protect brand identity.) It's a work in progress adjusting my frame of view. Bear with me.