heathervescent

Mist in the Night

It's a Northwest day. We don't have many of these in Los Angeles. They are nice. Misting all night, maybe a light pitter patter. The sidewalks show their many shades of grey. The sky reflects these like a mirror. 

Moisture makes the pavement absorb what light filters through the mist. I zip through Hollywood traffic to the Valley, returning back via Laurel Canyon. As I'm driving home through these iconic hills, I watch my speed. It's new asphalt, black and gleaming and just aches for dancing up the gears. But I know the cops watch this, so I keep it purring softly. I glide through the turns, pairs of white lights snaking down the other side. 

I crest the top and we coast into the valley, mist rising out of the darkness. 

I can't help but think, this is the city I love. These dark, misty nights, streets black with moisture, my hand on the stick, safe in the grid.

Climate Change = Good?!

This is a quick blog post following up my tweet here. 

It might seem like a radical perspective, but what I'm really doing is challenging our traditional view. Before I turn the view upside down, what do I understand that traditional view to be?

• Global warming is BAD (for humans, the environment, life)
• That we (humans) caused it.
• There's a sense of guilt (the elephant in the room) around the topic of global warming and climate change.
• There's a sense of urgency, as if we don't do something immediately, all is lost.
• There's this (stupid red herring) argument about whether climate change is actually happening, whether scientists evidence is valid. 
• Values and beliefs are drug into this debate as well - it's science vs religion in the boxing ring.
• Global warming will kill the earth

For the record, I am comfortable with the scientific evidence showing a warming earth; but I really don't care.

Why?

Because I take a very long term view. (Longer than the Long Now Foundation.)

We see this problem only from a human/known life/so called earth/global view. 

I think it's a little audacious to think us puny humans are going to do something so dramatic as to KILL THE EARTH?!?! Now, what global warming may do is make the environment inhabitable for human and other current life as we know it.  (Past science shows our climate has not always been hospitable for the kind of life that exists today.)

But in the scheme of the universe - a universal timescale - maybe we puny humans are a mere blip. Who really cares whether we live or die? (Except us.) I don't have the kind of preciousness or urgency around this topic.

I don't have much love for the human species, even being part of it, so I frankly don't care whether we live or die.  When I bubble this thinking up to life in general, I take a stronger interest. I would be seriously bummed if all life went away, ceased to exist - but that's going to happen at some point anyway, so why cry about a certain possibility? (OK, you're right, it's not a certain possibility.) The bummer for me about all life as we know it ceasing - is that then life has to start over from scratch again to do whatever it's unfolding itself to do. But life has a lot of time to develop itself, so what do I know as a puny human blip.

In my mind, the only reason global warming is a potential problem is that it might wipe out all life. 

But I don't actually think that is a real possibility. 

It's because life is resilient. Sure, the environment might shift so that lots of living things die. Bummer for those things. But life will continue on, in some form. It will evolve. Who knows to what?! Maybe something more awesome-better-creative-cool-new.

So now that you know where I stand, I'll share my flipped view of global warming. 

I was reading/watching this article/video, sent to the WFSF (World Futures Studies Federation) listserv. It's going on and on about the very real problems of permafrost melting, glaciers melting and how this is a reinforcing feedback loop to increase warming. I totally get it. It's a big problem if you want the world to stay the same. 

Watching this, fresh in my mind is a presentation/paper I wrote about BIG PROBLEMS FACING HUMANITY. The usual suspects: global warming, resource limits. 

And all I could think watching that video was - AWESOME - more fresh water (solve your fresh water problem - lots of fresh pure melting ice caps!) and more land mass (manifest destiny Antarctica!). I could see, that rather than cold, white caps, verdant green fields of farms and towns. It's not that far-fetched! Forget about Mars, Antarctica is right here.

Hell, we might even find something crazy and mindboggling in the melting ice! Things revealed that we might never know if we hadn't turned on the global hairdryer. Where are the scientists and entrepreneurs to catch this fresh water melt off before it goes into the ocean? Opportunities!

Now, as I said in the first sentence, I know this is a radical perspective. I don't actually think anyone would back it up. And I'm not saying that we should stop doing anything to reduce our impact on the climate. But I am asking us to challenge our usual thinking.

We look at this situation as if we (humans) are separate from climate. We're two sides of the same coin. The (previous) climate contributed to the creation of us, just as we changed the climate. 

I'm saying, shake up your thinking! Get out of your usual paradigms of thinking.

Cool Night

I've spent the day cooking. The house smells like simmering black bean chili. Spicy. Warm. The dog is sticking close to me, giving me his doggy eyes. None for you tonight little beggar. 

I made the decision to cheer the fuck up today. Enough of the doom and gloom and anger and frustration and going over the unfairness of it all in my mind. Hey - I don't live in those realities anymore. That's the past, biotches. Let it go. Never have to interact with those people again, so quit going back.

It got pretty bad. (I'm sure it will get bad again.) It didn't help that I got the triple, 1-2-3 punch. All while shifting my stability to a new paradigm. I wanted to finish my commitment, then disengage to heal the massive trauma I had sustained. Only that was when the biggest blow was delivered. Yeah, it took the heathervescent down. Down into some really dark places. It's a miracle I'm here. In some realities, I am no longer experiencing time/space. I had completed all I was to do. But that is not this one. Blood remains flowing in my veins.

You know what world, don't make me go through that fucking shit again - at least not without an army behind me. OK? Got it? I'll do a lot of crappy work, and I'll persevere, but don't put me in a situation were so called allies stab me in the fucking back and sabotage my work, ok. And while I'm dictating to you the future I will no longer tolerate - no bullshit politics either. I know you're eating their souls for dinner, but you know, I'd really prefer to not interact with them. Life is too short to weigh myself down. We got a lot to do here and I'm not the one staying home watching Roku looking for a comfortable life. Strengths Finder remember. I'm here to kick ass. Not play political games and live a comfortable life.

But enough about that. I was really writing to you, to tell you of the sight in the sky.

Mr Dog and I went out for the evening walk. It's winter in Los Angeles. Cool. Means I have to wear a jacket. The air is moist - cool like the marine layer. Overcast sky, just a few clouds twinkling through. 

The full moon rises through the illuminated slate grey sky. I love a full misty Los Angeles Moon. Silhouetted Palm Trees. A slight breeze. Twinkling. I made out a moving grey image in the sky. A slight flashing. It was the blimp. It floated like a gentle beast in the air. Grey on grey illuminated by misted moonlight. Helicopters flashed their red and white lights; complimenting the stars that poked through the night clouds. 

There are others walking at night. I am one of them. One of many living in this city of dreams. Breathing in this air. Walking these streets. I need no validation to be here. This is my city. We feed each other. We are one exploring this reality, what could be and what will never become.

On these misty nights, I am reminded of the veil of this city. It you are loyal or even if you are lucky, you will see through the veil, the ocean mist, the overcast moonlit night - and you will see dreams. And if you are skilled, you can pull that dream possibility back with you, as you walk along the street with your dog, and you can make it real.

Flowers for Grandma

Flowers for Grandma shows an emerging concept called Intentcasting, spearheaded by Doc Searls. Lots of information on his site at Harvard. The idea is a paradigm reverse that enables shoppers to request fulfillment. Retailers respond to the request. As shown in the video, a 5 second request results in 12 responses. 

Watch.

 

There are a few things I'd like to draw attention to. While the main focus of the short is on Intentcasting, several other concepts are braided into this design future. 

• Transparent screens: This is more and more becoming a reality. h/t to Sam, my technical advisor for these product designs.
• System Currencies: The intentcasting application (Syncbidz) uses it's own currency.
• Computer as Transaction device: I used the same SecureCoin from Fly Me to the Moon, integrated into the hardware. It's no secret the SecureCoin is based off Bitcoin, backed by a central transaction infrastructure.
• Voice recognition: The voice recognition was inspired with Windows Live Mobile - an application the predated Siri by at least 2 years. The APIs for voice activated commands exists.
• Seamless sharing: While merely touched upon, specific pieces of data can be share with pre-authorized devices. It's an invisible example of the internet of things + digital asset grid control management with real time changing data.
• Beautiful mobile connective hardware: In both, Fly Me and Flowers, the physical objects that interact with the technology infrastructure must be beautiful from a traditional aesthetic. That smart bracelet is also pure silver. From a personal perspective, I'm not interested in using a bluetooth device until it looks like a beautiful piece of jewelry. I am not interested in looking from Star Trek. 
• Video Cards: This idea came from a conversation with my Technical Advisor, Sam. As video cameras and screens become more flexible and disposable, it's going to be easier than ever to send a video card. 
• Finally, and in my mind, most importantly, this shows a future with the customer/individual in control of their data. The world of the digital data transfer (which is shown in Slices of Life) is hidden and we see only the user experience. It's a positive, delightful, happy experience. There is no fear about who is using or mis-using personal data. 

The technology to make this vision real already exists.

If you're interested in the inspiration for this short, it's from my real life. I really send my grandmother flowers each month. Because that's the kind of world I want to live in.

--

Updates: Rob's Hummingbird comment reminded me to share the shooting story behind it's cameo. It was a Sunday morning about a year ago, and we were shooting at the house. There were these two hummingbirds that would not leave us along. Over and over they would zip around the crew. One was particularly bold. He dive bombed up several times. We kept rolling, something wrong with each take (a shifting overcast Los Angeles sky). Finally, the lighting was perfect and we rolled. It was during this take, Mr Bold Hummingbird zipped into the frame and paused right in front of the camera for more than a split second. I was watching from the porch and my heart almost jumped out of my chest. 

There's also an inside joke for a certain Internet Identity community. ;)

Granny Punk

Granny Punk is a style term I use to describe my living style.

When I think about the term Granny Punk, I think of my grandmother. She's the Granny part, what I bring is the punk part. Taking her style, mixing it with my modern edgy things equals my most comfortable style.

Classic glasses, tea sets, silver ware. Home cooked food. Bakery items. Home-Made.  Time to prepare. Comfort. Traditionally Edgy. Black lace, white doilies. Classic glamor. Champagne. The good life. It's not giving a fuck. Loving my mish-mash of style. My Clockwork Orange print alongside grandma's antique carved table and my classic purple velvet sofa. Cocktail glasses from the 20s, 50s, 70s. A cut glass candy dish. A bouquet of roses. A nice cheese plate. Comfort and style. No girdle required. You don't have to worry about looking young and skinny with no wrinkles. You've lived through life - and it hasn't always been easy - but you survived and you have stories and knick knacks and that batik from Africa along with the horse from India. So come on into granny's house, except this granny is under 40 and her children don't speak english and wear fur.

Desert Winds

My city lights twinkled like the universe below me. I grabbed my bag from the overhead compartment. The smell of the city, of Los Angeles' moist cool jetfuel tinged air curled into my nostrils and my lips curled into a smile of pleasure. The sound of fine shoes echo through LAX's underground tunnel to baggage claim.

The wind whipping the palm trees on my street. Rustling the palm fronds. Clear night like the blackness of the desert. The wind swirls around me as I walk Mr Dog in this misplaced desert night blowing through this city. I think, smiling, if you can't go to the desert, the desert comes to you. I am thankful for these strong, cold, clear Santa Ana winds. 

At night, I bundle from their chill, remembering times around a sole flickering campfire. During the day, I strip down to t-shirts and hike the heat warmed creosote chaparral. Sweet dust desolation. 

I think of empty Mountain Ranges. Full fat moons rising in a pink sky. Black and white lunar surfaces of rock. Hot black cracked pavement. These memories evoked by these swirling winds of the desert. Penetrating my heart, finding the pain, drying it's wet bloody crying to dust, blowing from my heart to join with dust in these Santa Monica Mountains, the San Gabriels and beyond.

Possible, Plausible, Probable

These are three terms that are used often by futurists. I recently reviewed a lovely paper by Ruud van der Helm, that looked at the difference between these three terms. 

Enjoy.

Towards a clarification of terms from heathervescent

Breakfast in Bed

As I've mentioned, Mom was a flight attendant. That meant she was gone from home a lot, but home a lot too. One of my favorite things to do was to make her breakfast in bed. On a Saturday morning, my brother and I would get up early and Mom would still be sleeping. (She might have gotten home late at night or maybe at 6am that morning.)

I'd enlist my brother in the kitchen to help. Mom had this great wicker bed table and I would lay a full First Class breakfast for her complete with linens, multiple pieces of silverware for the courses and a fresh rose from the garden. The menu was usually some melon, scrambled cheese eggs (a family favorite), maybe a piece of bacon or sausage, some toast or a fresh scratch baked biscuit. (I was quite a cook back then - as I am now.)

We'd open the curtains. I might have gotten my brother to take the tray into mom and we'd jump into bed with her with our own plates. I always made too much food for her. In retrospect she was probably pretty jetlagged.  But who can complain when your two blonde kids come in with a full breakfast tray. We were happy to see her.

Chad and I found that wicker breakfast tray in her garage a few weeks ago. I pulled it down and talked about it. He didn't want it, so that's one thing that's coming back to LA with me. 

It's a bittersweet memory for me. It's one of the things I did for my mom, because I wanted her to have that experience. Partly I wanted her to give her that experience, because that was the experience I myself wanted to have. It's going to be a bittersweet memory, because if I want that tray filled with breakfast again. I will probably have to do it. Instead of the experience of receiving it.

 

 

My Grieving Rules of Engagement

As I am dealing with my mom's death

• I may not always act at my best. But I am always trying to do my best.
• I will not accept personal or judgemental attacks on my behavior, even if I am not acting my best.
• I will not accept personal attacks on taking time to take care of myself.
• I will give myself as much time as needed to deal with the death of my mom and her estate.
• I will give you the benefit of the doubt that you are doing your best, and not judge or attack you for your behavior.
• I will protect myself when I am attacked.
• I will have compassion and empathy to the best of my ability.

I am doing the best I can, honoring my human form, my emotions, dealing with this difficult time. I ask for care, kindness and compassion. 

I refuse to go through the grieving process isolated and alone. I refuse to bottle up my emotions. I refuse to bury my sadness in work and other distractions. I refuse to pretend that I can take on and solve everything. 

I know through time, space, compassion and attention I will come through this grief recovery process with the wonderful memories of my mom, with her estate wrapped up in a teal bow and with closure for her amazing life.

Death Ramblings

(This post was written on Oct 18)

I was on Highland when I got the call from my brother. I was driving to Hollywood, to kick off the first Los Angeles Ignite at CineSpace (several years ago). I knew something was up. My brother and I weren't really talking to each other much at the time. I wondered who died. It was my Grandfather - Poppa Schlegel - the Patriarch of the Family. I pulled over to the side of the road before I answered the call.

Twenty minutes later, I was at the venue. My phone rang again. It was my Dad. I stepped into an empty closed back room and talked for 10 minutes. My Dad told me how Poppa died. We talked. And then I had to get off the phone, take a deep breath, and get up on stage and introduce the evening. And laugh and smooze and stuff. 

I did it. 

Part of me did it to see if I could do it. If I could segment the news of the passing of the family patriarch and go on with the show (called life). 

I had my moments of mourning later. I went back to my hometown, to the Church, to bury Poppa in the cemetery I spend so many teenage goth years hanging out in, a few blocks from his house.

----

I'm reminded of this. I'm reminded of Poppa's death. I've been in Portland for much of this week. My mom is dying. 

It is amazing how stripped down things get. How things boil down to their essence. My schoolwork, goes undone. I have, against all odds, produced the most amazing third film I have the honor to work on. I applaud the team I hired. I applaud what we have created together. It has been a nice distraction.

----

The veil is thin. 

I can already see her going.

I am thankful she is not in pain. I am in awe at the woman she is - the woman who is not my mother. The woman all these people know. I only knew her as my mother. But she stands as an amazing individual on her own. And I think about this. I think about this fabulous person who is my mother. Who had so many challenges in her life, and faced all of them, mostly alone, a single woman.

I'm sitting here in her guest room, finally having a view of her, as she is. Not wearing the mom glasses. Not doing the nitpicky things like telling me to stand up straight or stop biting my finger nails, but as the woman who travel around the world, who had great friends, who enchanted men all over the world and ended up being my mom in Kansas City, Missouri. 

I am honored to be her daughter.

Retro-causative grieving

Back in August, as I was preparing for my last trip to Europe, I had a premonition. I was driving around in my car, my beloved manual saab turbo and a weird thought popped into my head. I was going to get a new car. I thought, WTH, I don't need a new car. And besides I love this car. And then everywhere I looked, I saw my the same model my mom drives. And I felt, mom's going soon. I pushed the knowledge away.

As I was packing for the trip and talking with mom about it, I felt the knowledge again. That mom was going soon. Again, I pushed the knowledge away, after I briefly acknowledged it.

I didn't question it. I didn't deny it. I didn't tell anyone about it. I was dealing with enough shit in my life at the moment. Finishing up a film project I was proud of. Working through a crappy business situation, a disintegrating/bumpy romantic relationship all while keeping up a crazy travel schedule. I wanted to focus on the trip, finishing my commitments and exploring future possibilities.

Through all this, my emotional volatility increased. I chalked that up to my triple threat stress level. I couldn't stand my life. I almost ended it several times. I'd be fine one moment and the next, I'd flip out. While I am an intensely passionate individual, these emotional swings were exponential from any I previously experienced. Pretty much exactly what I am experiencing now that mom is gone.

About this time, I kept remembering this old boyfriend of mine. The last two weeks we were together, he was grieving for the loss of our relationship. I asked him about his behavior once, wondering why he was being like this now, before we broke up. (It was imminent that we were breaking up.) And he replied he was getting over it now, while we were still together, so he'd be done when we actually break up. Why did I keep remembering this?

There's this theory, called Retro-causality. Where the effects of an action are observed before the action occurs. Back in 2008, I attended a panel on the timing of conscious experience. This was the first time I heard about retrocausality and it was fascinating. And familiar. 

I've often had an uncanny ability to know just slightly what is coming next. My timing varies, sometimes it's seconds, other times months and more often than not - years. And despite my conscious attention to understand if these were just good guesses or what, I have no conclusion. However, I to support the hypothesis of retrocausality - always wondering how one might create an experiment to test it. Even myself individually. 

Despite being unconvinced of its existence from the scientific community, and myself at times; the only way I can explain my explosive emotional roller coaster the past few months, is with retro-causative grieving.

Dia de los Muertos

In honor of the Dia, I give you my alter-ego

and my first incarnation, from way back short blonde hair days

Why I lost my shit to Chase today

So Mom died a week and some change ago. She had two accounts with Chase (among many others). Many of these accounts refuse to give you any information unless you have a death certificate. In Oregon it takes about 2 weeks to get one. We got ours in 8 working days. 

I called most accounts the day or two after mom passed and notified them. Got the paperwork in motion, sent in the mail, while I waited for other things to move. Well, Chase, unlike EVERY OTHER ORGANIZATION I SPOKE WITH (and I spoke with 15+ of them) REQUIRED me to go into an ACTUAL BANK to speak to someone about mom's account. Well, I thought, there's no point talking to them until I have the Death Cert, so I waited until I had one. 

I was dreading going into a bank. I don't even remember the last time I did it. It was probably before the economic collapse. Anyway, today, after talking to the priest about mom's service and having a not so relaxing spa experience, I went in when I had a free hour before a dinner, thinking that I can at least get things started.

What ensued was that I waited to talk to a banker. Then when I told the banker what I was there for, he was not necessarily trained in all the death stuff. I had all the paperwork. We're dealing with both a trust and probate. I had statements and information about her accounts. I had information. I wanted to know my options. I wanted to know what could be done with the account.

What I got was a conversation with a middleman. Since my situation was complicated, and my dude (it wasn't his fault the company he works for has this situation) could not tell me anything about what to do himself. He had to call the legal department to find out the answer to every single question. After about an hour of this, and several calls, because every answer he gave me (telephoned from the legal team because I could not directly talk to them on the phone) caused me to ask an additional question, I was frustrated, but understood the fucked up system I had to deal with. I was about to walk out to report back to my brother and decide what we wanted to do.

Last item, I wanted to deposit a check that came to my mom into the account. It was for $207. 

Well, he said, after calling legal for like the 4th or 5th time, they couldn't do that now, because she was deceased. 

And I exploded. I'm not sure if I went full Angelino or New York Asshole, but I had it.

I was done with their fucking rules and bureaucracy.

I was trying to do the RIGHT THING - being deposit a check written out to my mom, BEFORE SHE DIED, into her account. 

But no.

They can't do that.

Instead, I have to request the check be written out to her estate.

And deposited into an estate account. (That doesn't exist yet, because I don't know big he estate is going to be filed as. And there's a snag in that, because they won't tell me how much is in her account, despite me being her daughter and beneficiary - to know at what size we have to file at for her estate.)

And guess who gets to do that legwork. 

And call the company to ask them to reissue the check?

Moi.

All because their bank can't take on the risk of the $207 check. READ THAT AGAIN. A $207 risk.

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? 

And guess which fucking ivory tower legal team can only be talked to from a telephone puppet banker in a brick and mortar archaic bank?

I was so livid, I couldn't even think who I knew at JP Morgan to complain to. 

I know, they are NEVER GOING TO HAVE MY BUSINESS. And they shouldn't have your's either.

Really Chase, you should be ashamed of yourself.

Update on Mom, Me

It's been a week and a half without Mom. She passed rather quickly. Talk about exponential change.  I wrote a blog post on her blog a week or so ago to tell her friends there. 

I haven't really felt like talking about it much. Some days I feel like I am doing ok. Then the next thing I know, I'm hit with some emotion. Sadness, weirdness, anger.  Crying. Just par for the course.

I've been distracting myself with launching my latest film. With Los Angeles Santacon. With Stanislav Lem. With School. 

I've been spending a lot of time with my brother and his family. Me and Aedyn, my nephew, are great pals. (We're building on the great Thanksgiving lego experience.) It's healing.

I miss my dog. I miss Los Angeles tree lined streets. I miss some fucking stability.