Life Explained Explains Life.

There are moments in life where time changes. It is not fluid. Time speeds up, and slows down. Sometimes there are so many things happening at once that time seems to collapse. Great painful heaps of tasks and chores. So many things to do that nothing happens, and time coils around you threatening to squeeze the life out of your tired, tear stained body.

Summer is like that. Heat takes a toll, and leaves you gasping for breath. The lawn needs mowed but it is almost like walking on the surface of the sun. Flowers are turning to dust right before your eyes, the sadness is unbearable.

Autumn comes and brings sweet relief, a chance to pause and take stock, but the rain gutters need cleaned, so don't take too long. Make sure you know where the snow shovel is, it will soon be needed. Dethatch, and aerate the lawn, put on the last treatment, and if you have enough energy maybe even "overseed."

But, we here at Life Explained, have always felt that life is a loose reflection of reality. Not a direct copy. More of a close facsimile. It is almost there, you can almost see it, then it is gone. So, don't worry too much about the problems, they may not even exist. It might be a myth, a story, like the bogeyman to make adults behave in a productive, profitable manner.

When you are running late to work, and dribble maple syrup on your shirt, and there is an accident on the freeway, two exits before yours, and traffic is backed up for miles, and there is no hope of getting to work before all of the bagels are eaten, don't sweat it. Just put on some Dylan, or event better one of those long Dead Songs from Europe 72, tap your steering wheel keeping time to the music and smile.

We are fairly certain that life is not as harried, and stressful as people would lead you to believe. In fact, we went and made coffee between this sentence and the last. Just walked away, carefree. Sure, this post is not going to write itself, and there is other things that need attention, but coffee called, and we answered.

We just returned from getting a cup of coffee, and no problems. And it is even better for the small act of rebellion, How many things are we worried about that are just not that troublesome? We don't know, but we intend to find out.

Join us, in the Life Explained Revolution. A movement to find the truth, to find reality. . Right now, get up, walk over and get a cup of coffee, stop and chat up a co-worker, and let us know what happened. We bet it was nothing bad. If you are in the middle of surgery, please ignore this advice, even if you are the patient.

A desperate plea for help.

Today we are going to discuss commuting, in general, and early morning commuting, before rush hour, in particular, 6:00 AM to 6:30 AM commuting on a three lane freeway in Central Ohio, specifically.  This commute should be painless, for the most part.  There are three lanes, and these are divided by the speed at which the driver feels comfortable.

In the right hand lane are two types of driver.  Right Lane Driver type #1 - those who enjoy the slow life, don't mind slowing, or hurrying to allow vehicles entering from the ramp, and have plenty of time to get to work.   These drivers never have high blood pressure, and eat a lot of salads.  Right Lane Driver Type #2 - those who are about to exit.

The middle lane is for drivers who have audio books and like to spend a little time relaxing with their favorite author before beginning their day.  It would be so inconvenient to have to adjust your speed at every ramp for merging traffic, and the middle lane is slow enough to provide plenty of time to enjoy almost a whole chapter.  If traffic is heavy it might be a chapter and a half.  Their day begins with a latte, a biscotti, sensible loafers, and something fashionable, and comfortable.  Occasionally, someone will provide a short irritant into their drive by slamming across all three lanes to exit, or reach the left hand lane, but their commute is a literary picnic, and they are happy about that.

"Hey, move it, I am barely staying ahead of the ambulance!"

In the left hand lane are people trying to get off the freeway, out of their car, and into what passes for life these days.  It is for people who hate driving, and just want to get it over with quickly.  They curse at people who force the use of brakes, "#*#@*!)*( you, can't you seem I am trying to get somewhere."  A smile crosses their face as the shift lever goes into park, and they are done with the potentially lethal practice of hurtling down the highway, hoping nobody crashes into them.

It is imperative that the left lane be respected, these are people on the edge, and this traffic should go approximately 7 to 12 miles an hour faster than the middle lane.  Differences in speed are calculated using a complex formula (that is way to difficult to explain in one blog post) considering such variables as weather, light conditions, congestion, and day of the week (Mondays are faster than Wednesdays, for example).  But, traffic flow permitting the left lane drivers should always be able to pass the middle lane driver in a manner that allows a feeling of superiority, and a smug satisfaction.  Is that asking too much?

It is a good idea to know what type of driver you are, and get in your lane, and stay there.  We, here at Life Explained are developing a test, and will post it soon.  You can thank us later.

"Siri, save my Monday."

Though, a proud citizen of the 21st century (that is the right century, isn't it?) it is only reluctantly that I embrace new technology.  Yes, I loved my iPod, such a wonderful, useful device, and that love led to the purchase of my beloved iPad, what a glorious, useful, and transcendent piece of electronic equipment, (kind of a big iPod) which, in time, caused the leap off the fiscal cliff into the purchase of one of the most unique, glorious tools ever, an iPhone 5 (kind of like an iPod that makes phone calls).

This morning, however, on my drive to work, (yes, it is another story about my drive to work, sorry, but it is a very important part of my day, for one thing, I love my job, and my car, and my phone, which plays music right through my car, without being attached by wires, that still kills me!) I realized a very glaring weakness in the programming of all electronic music storage devices.  The shuffle function, sometimes, goes a little "buggy" (sorry for the techie jargon, I will try to be more careful) and plays all of the wrong songs. It spits out music that is completely inappropriate for the occasion.  It should know better than melancholy, sad, depressing music on Monday morning.  It should automatically pick something with some tempo, some back beat, something to get the foot tapping, and blood circulating.

Picking up my phone and quickly realizing that the "next" (again, sorry for all this tech stuff, please forgive me) option was useless, it was just going to pick sorrow filled, tear stained music, I started looking for a song.  I had a great one in mind.  But, I was driving almost 75 miles an hour (16 kilograms in Europe) and came very close to killing myself and the person in the Ford Fiesta next to me, sorry about that, you looked like a such nice little old lady, until you gave me the middle finger salute, and I can't read lips, but, you should be ashamed of yourself.  I had it coming, though.  Deciding that picking my own song while driving was not the best idea, I am a quick learner that way, I resigned myself to listening to "This Traveling Around," by Lyle Lovett, and try to snap myself out of it with extra coffee.

Then it hit me, Siri!  She was waiting in my phone, just aching to help me.  "Siri," I said, "how about we listen to "Supernaturally," by Nick Cave?"

Siri said, "Ok, let's listen to 'Supernaturally'" and it started playing.  Technology is great.  I love it!  And I love you, Siri.  I may leave my wife for you, she never lets me pick the song.

If my wife reads this, I am only kidding, you are still the girl in all my dreams.  And your lasagna is heavenly.

A short lived career.

Last weekend my son asked a question about the government, and a perfect opportunity for education was born.  He needs to understand the obtrusive, controlling interference that has been the overriding purpose of governments throughout history.  Sure, they provide roads, waste removal, national security, and parks and recreational opportunities, plus education, and assistance in many facets of research and development, but that is just a front, a method to cover the real purpose. The manipulation and control of the lives of it's citizenry. Who better to explain this than John Kay of Steppenwolf, (he is from Canada, the largest, and most successful, state, I think it is somewhere around Montana)?.  And what better vehicle than the lyrics from "The Ostrich"?

"You're free to speak your mind, my friend,
As long as you agree with me,
Don't criticize the Fatherland,
Or those who shape your destiny,
'Cause if you do, you'll lose your mind, your job and all the friends you knew,
We'll send out all our boys in blue,
And they'll find a way to silence you."

Oh, the nostalgia, the memories, troubadours of defiance, artists against the "establishment."  Leaping quickly to action, I had a cup of coffee and thought about some cool songs. By Wednesday evening, I had assembled a play list of anger, and disillusionment selectively going between Amazon and iTunes to fill in the gaps in my collection, judiciously using whichever was less expensive. Thursday morning it was ready, the turning of the page, the dawning of a new age.

Here is the list (you know, sometimes lists are useful and can be very cool);

All loaded and ready to roll, it was a great drive to work.  I got out in the parking lot, and thought, "I'm through toilin' for the MAN.  It is time to take a stand against tyranny, injustice, it is time to stand up and be the voice of those that can not be heard."  Fuming, angry, intolerant, life was going to start playing by my rules, answering to me.

Then, daylight came and slapped me in the face, "you have a mortgage, a car payment, an HMO and a retirement plan, plus your son is headed for college. And, don't forget, the Klondike Bars in the freezer at home."  Revolution will have to wait,"  Reality said.  Curse you reality, curse your love affair with cold, hard, remorseless facts, and curse your flawless refrigerator inventory technique.

Oh well, change is difficult, and I probably don't have the stomach for insurgency, anyway.  Remember, though, good music should speak to you in powerful, wonderful ways, art should always make you dream.  Everybody should be allowed to feel like a revolutionary once in a while, but, the dishwasher still needs emptied and somebody has to make the first pot of coffee, so off I go, smiling, happy about the beautiful weather, and delighted there is only one more day until the weekend.

Tomorrow on the way to work, "Ghost Riders in the Sky" by Johnny Cash, "Cheyenne" by the Del Lords  and "My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys" by Willie Nelson,  I hope I can find some boots, a hat and a lariat, because I will be ready to ride the range.

Procrastination, the Secret to Productivity.

Often it has been said, "Procrastination is the thief of time."   Probably by some "crusty, old codger" (that quote was brought to you by Gale from Scotland, soon to be Gale from Berlin, and at one time, Gale from the US, she puts the ex in expatriate), who has no imagination, no internet access and no cable tv.  Some boring, dull, small minded work-a-holic, friendless and alone.  Really, they are to be pitied, and we here at life explained are attempting to disprove this common misconception, and welcome these poor souls into the fold.

Suppose there is a something due on Monday morning, first thing.  Let's say it is a poem, for English class, it has to be written in iambic pentameter, with a rhyming scheme ABAB, CDCD, with three verses and a couplet.  Any fool can tell you a decent poem will take about an hour, give or take, depending on how technical a poet wants to get with schemes, consistency and subject.  It is a little known fact that Coleridge wrote "Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner" in one eight hour shift, with two 15 minute breaks, and an hour for lunch, with no overtime, but he was an experienced production poet with years of training and a degree from ITT, not everybody is able to match that kind of pace.

At 8:00 on Sunday evening a poet decides to open a tasty pop/soda/cola (please choose your preferred noun, we are comfortable with any) and get started.  But, that one show (that show people at school are talking about, it sounds cool) is just starting, and it looks pretty good this week.  "Well, I will just work on the poem, during commercials," the poet reasons, poets are very reasonable people.  But, the commercials are really just little shows, who doesn't love them?

"Ok, after this show" the poet thinks.  But, there is another good show, and maybe another cold drink, and some salty snacks, and a candy bar, and, hey isn't there an ice cream sandwich in the freezer a sandwich with ice cream, what a great invention.  Dang, this show is better than the last.  Who would have figured it was the sheriff embezzling money and murdering the mayor.  That was wild.

Now it's 11:00, and our poet/hero is a little tired.  Being the pragmatic type he thinks "I will just set the alarm an hour early, get up and have some oat meal and fresh fruit, and hammer out a masterpiece."  Now, our hero is thinking, what a plan.  Poets are so pragmatic.

Of course, our hero presses the snooze button so many times the alarm clock finally gets disgusted and adjusts the radio station to some awful metal station and the volume to deafening.  When the poet finally rolls out of bed it is almost time to leave, no poem, no coffee and no oatmeal, or fruit.

Uh oh, this calls for action.  Our poet uses his tooth brush to brush his teeth and comb his hair as he is rushing down the stairs, drives frantically to the gas station and grabs a cup of coffee, and a bunless hot dog for breakfast, and writes his poem on his iPhone as he drives to school.  Technology has long been a friend of the arts, you know?

From this scientific experiment we have seen that procrastination did not steal time from our poet/hero, quite the opposite.  Due to effective time management, he figured a way to watch two shows on tv, not only did he not get up early he slept in for an extra thirty five minutes, got his poem written, (the topic was "typing while you drive, it makes you feel alive), and discovered that toothpaste offers all day hold as a hair gel, and a hot dog tastes so much better when used to stir "aerated, non-dairy creamer" and sugar into coffee.  For a net gain of two hours and 15 minutes, after allowing for inflation.

So, don't rush into things, life is too short.  Watch a little tv, and make some pop corn please, we are famished.