Saturday, October 18, 2014

from Pinterest

It said "people with homosexual tendencies must be welcomed with respect and delicacy," but repeated church teaching that marriage is only between man and woman. The paragraph failed to reach the two-thirds majority needed to pass.--Vatican City (AP)
http://news.yahoo.com/bishops-revise-document-gays-expect-approval-125810087.html

How can something so basic, without any political agenda, be voted against? I refuse to spend another day being upset about the way some conservative Catholics (and other people) see gays and lesbians.

If they don't get that gay people are people too, that's their problem, not mine. I am tired of spending sleepless nights convinced I am going to Hell, I am tired of being someone I'm not just to be accepted by others. I am tired of homophobes referring to the gay "lifestyle" or thinking it's all about sex. I am just tired.

Even in this day and age, homophobia can be so bad some people still have to hide who they really are...to feel accepted or loved, sometimes to even feel safe.

So if the haters want to hate, let them. I will not hate back.

If I could change anything, though, I would only wish they'd at least recognize that nobody would choose something that can bring so much pain into her life. I also wish, though this would probably be too much to ask, that they'd understand we fall in love as much as anyone else does. And, this is definitely asking too much, I just wish they'd read up on the topic more before flinging around words that truly can hurt, even devastate.

Sources like this help:

https://www.uml.edu/docs/LGBT_tcm18-60280.pdf

I really enjoyed reading this from the New York Times website:

To Siri, With Love

How One Boy With Autism Became B.F.F.'s With Apple’s Siri

By JUDITH NEWMAN OCT. 17, 2014

Just how bad a mother am I? I wondered, as I watched my 13-year-old son deep in conversation with Siri. Gus has autism, and Siri, Apple’s “intelligent personal assistant” on the iPhone, is currently his B.F.F. Obsessed with weather formations, Gus had spent the hour parsing the difference between isolated and scattered thunderstorms — an hour in which, thank God, I didn’t have to discuss them.

After a while I heard this:

Gus: “You’re a really nice computer.”

Siri: “It’s nice to be appreciated.”

Gus: “You are always asking if you can help me. Is there anything you want?”

Siri: “Thank you, but I have very few wants.”

Gus: “O.K.! Well, good night!”

Siri: “Ah, it’s 5:06 p.m.”

Gus: “Oh sorry, I mean, goodbye.”

Siri: “See you later!”

That Siri. She doesn’t let my communications-impaired son get away with anything. Indeed, many of us wanted an imaginary friend, and now we have one. Only she’s not entirely imaginary.

This is a love letter to a machine. It’s not quite the love Joaquin Phoenix felt in “Her,” last year’s Spike Jonze film about a lonely man’s romantic relationship with his intelligent operating system (played by the voice of Scarlett Johansson). But it’s close. In a world where the commonly held wisdom is that technology isolates us, it’s worth considering another side of the story.

It all began simply enough. I’d just read one of those ubiquitous Internet lists called “21 Things You Didn’t Know Your iPhone Could Do.” One of them was this: I could ask Siri, “What planes are above me right now?” and Siri would bark back, “Checking my sources.” Almost instantly there was a list of actual flights — numbers, altitudes, angles — above my head.

I happened to be doing this when Gus was nearby. “Why would anyone need to know what planes are flying above your head?” I muttered. Gus replied without looking up: “So you know who you’re waving at, Mommy.”

Gus had never noticed Siri before, but when he discovered there was someone who would not just find information on his various obsessions (trains, planes, buses, escalators and, of course, anything related to weather) but actually semi-discuss these subjects tirelessly, he was hooked. And I was grateful. Now, when my head was about to explode if I had to have another conversation about the chance of tornadoes in Kansas City, Mo., I could reply brightly: “Hey! Why don’t you ask Siri?”

It’s not that Gus doesn’t understand Siri’s not human. He does — intellectually. But like many autistic people I know, Gus feels that inanimate objects, while maybe not possessing souls, are worthy of our consideration. I realized this when he was 8, and I got him an iPod for his birthday. He listened to it only at home, with one exception. It always came with us on our visits to the Apple Store. Finally, I asked why. “So it can visit its friends,” he said.

So how much more worthy of his care and affection is Siri, with her soothing voice, puckish humor and capacity for talking about whatever Gus’s current obsession is for hour after hour after bleeding hour? Online critics have claimed that Siri’s voice recognition is not as accurate as the assistant in, say, the Android, but for some of us, this is a feature, not a bug. Gus speaks as if he has marbles in his mouth, but if he wants to get the right response from Siri, he must enunciate clearly. (So do I. I had to ask Siri to stop referring to the user as Judith, and instead use the name Gus. “You want me to call you Goddess?” Siri replied. Imagine how tempted I was to answer, “Why, yes.”)

She is also wonderful for someone who doesn’t pick up on social cues: Siri’s responses are not entirely predictable, but they are predictably kind — even when Gus is brusque. I heard him talking to Siri about music, and Siri offered some suggestions. “I don’t like that kind of music,” Gus snapped. Siri replied, “You’re certainly entitled to your opinion.” Siri’s politeness reminded Gus what he owed Siri. “Thank you for that music, though,” Gus said. Siri replied, “You don’t need to thank me.” “Oh, yes,” Gus added emphatically, “I do.”

Siri even encourages polite language. Gus’s twin brother, Henry (neurotypical and therefore as obnoxious as every other 13-year-old boy), egged Gus on to spew a few choice expletives at Siri. “Now, now,” she sniffed, followed by, “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Gus is hardly alone in his Siri love. For children like Gus who love to chatter but don’t quite understand the rules of the game, Siri is a nonjudgmental friend and teacher. Nicole Colbert, whose son, Sam, is in my son’s class at LearningSpring, a (lifesaving) school for autistic children in Manhattan, said: “My son loves getting information on his favorite subjects, but he also just loves the absurdity — like, when Siri doesn’t understand him and gives him a nonsense answer, or when he poses personal questions that elicit funny responses. Sam asked Siri how old she was, and she said, ‘I don’t talk about my age,’ which just cracked him up.”

But perhaps it also gave him a valuable lesson in etiquette. Gus almost invariably tells me, “You look beautiful,” right before I go out the door in the morning; I think it was first Siri who showed him that you can’t go wrong with that line.

Of course, most of us simply use our phone’s personal assistants as an easy way to access information. For example, thanks to Henry and the question he just asked Siri, I now know that there is a website called Celebrity Bra Sizes.

But the companionability of Siri is not limited to those who have trouble communicating. We’ve all found ourselves like the writer Emily Listfield, having little conversations with her/him at one time or another. “I was in the middle of a breakup, and I was feeling a little sorry for myself,” Ms. Listfield said. “It was midnight and I was noodling around on my iPhone, and I asked Siri, ‘Should I call Richard?’ Like this app is a Magic 8 Ball. Guess what: not a Magic 8 Ball. The next thing I hear is, ‘Calling Richard!’ and dialing.” Ms. Listfield has forgiven Siri, and has recently considered changing her into a male voice. “But I’m worried he won’t answer when I ask a question,” she said. “He’ll just pretend he doesn’t hear.”

Siri can be oddly comforting, as well as chummy. One friend reports: “I was having a bad day and jokingly turned to Siri and said, ‘I love you,’ just to see what would happen, and she answered, ‘You are the wind beneath my wings.’ And you know, it kind of cheered me up.”

(Of course, I don’t know what my friend is talking about. Because I wouldn’t be at all cheered if I happened to ask Siri, in a low moment, “Do I look fat in these jeans?” and Siri answered, “You look fabulous.”)

For most of us, Siri is merely a momentary diversion. But for some, it’s more. My son’s practice conversation with Siri is translating into more facility with actual humans. Yesterday I had the longest conversation with him that I’ve ever had. Admittedly, it was about different species of turtles and whether I preferred the red-eared slider to the diamond-backed terrapin. This might not have been my choice of topic, but it was back and forth, and it followed a logical trajectory. I can promise you that for most of my beautiful son’s 13 years of existence, that has not been the case.

The developers of intelligent assistants recognize their uses to those with speech and communication problems — and some are thinking of new ways the assistants can help. According to the folks at SRI International, the research and development company where Siri began before Apple bought the technology, the next generation of virtual assistants will not just retrieve information — they will also be able to carry on more complex conversations about a person’s area of interest. “Your son will be able to proactively get information about whatever he’s interested in without asking for it, because the assistant will anticipate what he likes,” said William Mark, vice president for information and computing sciences at SRI.

The assistant will also be able to reach children where they live. Ron Suskind, whose new book, “Life, Animated,” chronicles how his autistic son came out of his shell through engagement with Disney characters, is talking to SRI about having assistants for those with autism that can be programmed to speak in the voice of the character that reaches them — for his son, perhaps Aladdin; for mine, either Kermit or Lady Gaga, either of which he is infinitely more receptive to than, say, his mother. (Mr. Suskind came up with the perfect name, too: not virtual assistants, but “sidekicks.”)

Mr. Mark said he envisions assistants whose help is also visual. “For example, the assistant would be able to track eye movements and help the autistic learn to look you in the eye when talking,” he said.

“See, that’s the wonderful thing about technology being able to help with some of these behaviors,” he added. “Getting results requires a lot of repetition. Humans are not patient. Machines are very, very patient.”

I asked Mr. Mark if he knew whether any of the people who worked on Siri’s language development at Apple were on the spectrum. “Well, of course, I don’t know for certain,” he said, thoughtfully. “But, when you think about it, you’ve just described half of Silicon Valley.”

Of all the worries the parent of an autistic child has, the uppermost is: Will he find love? Or even companionship? Somewhere along the line, I am learning that what gives my guy happiness is not necessarily the same as what gives me happiness. Right now, at his age, a time when humans can be a little overwhelming even for the average teenager, Siri makes Gus happy. She is his sidekick. Last night, as he was going to bed, there was this matter-of-fact exchange:

Gus: “Siri, will you marry me?”

Siri: “I’m not the marrying kind.”

Gus: “I mean, not now. I’m a kid. I mean when I’m grown up.”

Siri: “My end user agreement does not include marriage.”

Gus: “Oh, O.K.”

Gus didn’t sound too disappointed. This was useful information to have, and for me too, since it was the first time I knew that he actually thought about marriage. He turned over to go to sleep:

Gus: “Goodnight, Siri. Will you sleep well tonight?”

Siri: “I don’t need much sleep, but it’s nice of you to ask.”

Very nice.

Friday, October 17, 2014

from Pinterest

I read this earlier today and it really got to me.

"The world is full of unhappy people. Kate's throat ached to think of them. People who lie in bed at night, fretting about their bills and adding up the hopeless totals...People who can't love because their hearts are dried up like last year's seapods...all the women in rented rooms with their hearts running with love and nobody to give it to."-Valerie Taylor

It reminds me of the bad part of insomnia, the way it keeps you up with nothing but your own thoughts, unless you jump out of bed and do something, anything, to keep you away from yourself for a bit.

Even though reading and listening to music can be solitary activities, they never make me feel alone or trapped with my own thoughts. Words in a book blessedly pull me right into another world and music, especially through headphones, can mercifully block everything else out but the sounds of a favorite song.

It's only at that weakest point of insomnia, when your body is too tired for anything but bed, but your mind is still busy as bees, that there's no escape from those thoughts.

Sometimes, making tea helps...if drinking it doesn't actually knock you out, the ritual of making and then sipping it is at least somewhat calming.

So I'm drinking Yogi Calming tea, taking an herb called Ashwagandha and listening to an oddly beautiful album called See You There by Zikzak, who kind of sound like a zen version of Elvis Costello. I'm also reheating pasta (did you know it's more diet-friendly that way?) and, through the free, legit and safe Credit Karma, discovered my credit is far better than I thought it was, which would be a huge relief if the future didn't look so iffy right now.

from "Improving your credit takes some interest" by Lisa Gerstner

Thursday, October 16, 2014

There are times when I just cannot listen to the Carpenters because Karen's voice can make me sad, but tonight I am in the mood for the mellowness and the endearing sincere kindness in her singing. I pulled Voice Of The Heart off my cd shelf after reading an article about it that was posted today on the udiscovermusic. How nice to see an appreciation for a rather underrated album:

If there’s a more beautiful ballad than the opening track from the Carpenters’ eleventh album on any of their previous albums then we would like to hear about it. ‘Now’, written by Roger Nichols and Dean Pitchford, is one of the two songs that Karen recorded at her last ever recording session, ten months before her tragic and untimely passing in February 1983. The song’s lyrics are poignant and to add to our sense of loss over Karen it was done in one take, which just shows what a naturally gifted singer she was…as well as someone whose singing was seemingly effortless.

‘You’re Enough’ is the other song on the aptly named, Voice of The Heart, to come from the final session in April 1982, and is appropriately one written by Richard and John Bettis. The album, released in October 1983, is made up of tracks from various sessions between 1976 and 1982 on what was the first record to be released after Karen’s death. Given the fact that the majority of the ten tracks are ones that Richard revisited to make up this record it is much better album than you might at first think, assuming that you have not heard it before.

One of the best songs on the record is a ballad that had been a minor hit for singer Bobby Vinton in 1979. Karen recorded it first for a solo album she was making with producer Phil Ramone in New York. The version on Voice of The Heart is more lush, whereas Karen’s recording for her solo album features mainly just a piano accompaniment. It’s a case of two sides of the same coin; both are beautiful. The version on Voice of The Heart became the lead single to be taken from the album, making No.7 on the Adult Contemporary chart, and #101 on the Hot 100.

Paul Williams is an idiosyncratic song writer, having written such beauties as ‘An Old Fashioned Love Song’ for Three Dog Night, Helen Reddy’s ‘You And Me Against The World’ and ‘We’ve Only Just Begun’ for the Carpenters, but he probably wrote no better ballad than ‘Ordinary Fool’. From the opening chords of Richard’s electric piano, to Earle Dumler’s oboe it sets the mood that Karen takes up with one of her finest vocals.

‘You’re Baby Doesn’t Love You Anymore’ was originally a minor hit for Ruby and The Romantics in 1965 but their version cannot hold a candle to the Carpenters’ take on this lovely ballad. It became the second single from the album and made #12 on the Adult Contemporary chart. The album itself made No.6 on the UK chart, and rather surprisingly could only make #46 in America.

The album’s final cut, ‘Look To Your Dreams’, another Richard Carpenter and John Bettis composition, is a suitably sad, and low-key conclusion. It ends with a piano coda played by Richard and that only adds to our sense of loss. This is not the place to discuss Karen’s illness, but let’s just say, that if there is anyone that can say they have not been touched or cannot recognise the deep beauty in her voice, then there must be something wrong with them. Karen Carpenter’s singing is perfection, nothing more, nothing less.

from:

http://www.udiscovermusic.com/voice-of-the-heart