Title: DIRTMEISTERS, Nitty Gritty Planet Earth Written by: Geologist Steve Tomecek Illustrated by: Fred Harper Published by: National Geographic Kids, 2015 Themes/Topics: geology, the Earth, rocks, earthquakes, fossils, evolution, experiments, scientists Suitable for ages: 8-14 Opening: Dirtmeister is a nickname I picked up a long time ago because … Continue reading
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Blog: Miss Marple's Musings (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: children's books, planet Earth, Book recommendation, National geographic Kids, geology, teaching resources, Steve Tomecek, DIRTMEISTER, Add a tag
Blog: Claudsy's Blog (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Work-related, Questions to Ponder, Human hair color, Life, Health, Planet Earth, Advice, culture, Shopping, Hair, Beauty, Writing and Poetry, Aging, happiness, Barbie, Add a tag
Strike at the heart of the beast! Show no mercy!
Why do people feel compelled to do battle with all things related to aging? Hair gets colored, as if having gray hair is shameful. Young, nubile women begin getting Botox before the age of 30; begin using anti-wrinkle creams in their 20’s.
Have we come to despise these signs of having lived past our teen years?
My hair gleams with gray sprinkled throughout from years lived and loved. Hard work went into the making of those signature hairs. Why should shame be associated with them?
Small lines have taken up residence around my mouth. Are they caused by laughing too much? If so, my favorite past-time will continue to occupy me. Laugh lines are far better in my estimation than facial stress fractures.
The reasoning behind this abhorrence of aging escapes me. My entire experience here on Planet Earth was lived at the same moment—the one in which I am aware. Age has rarely meant anything to me.
At age twelve, people treated me as 19-20. When nineteen came along, people assumed I was in my mid-20’s. By the time my 30’s arrived, most of my friends were in their early 20’s. Even now, I have few real friends my own age. I know plenty of people in their 50’s and 60’s, but those whom I call true friends are of all ages, from the very young to those in their late seventies and older.
It’s always been my contention that age is only a marker for statistical purpose. The body may have tell-tale signs of wear and tear. But the me operating this body has no age, except the one I inside my head.
The question which needs to be posed to a person is: If you’re so unhappy to reach your current age that you need to reconstruct your body to hide your experience, is reconstruction likely to erase your unhappiness?
Does one’s happiness depend on the physical representation of the person inside? After all, our bodies are only the vessels, which carry us around on this planet. Is our preoccupation with conforming to culture’s definition of beauty the only path to self-satisfaction and acceptance? Must we all be life-sized, unrealistic Barbie’s and Ken’s in order to be accepted as vital, beautiful, and worthwhile? If so, aren’t we all waving a white flag; surrendering our individuality and uniqueness in favor of a cultural i
Blog: Claudsy's Blog (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: culture, Shopping, Hair, Beauty, Writing and Poetry, Aging, happiness, Barbie, Work-related, Questions to Ponder, Human hair color, Life, Health, Planet Earth, Advice, Add a tag
Strike at the heart of the beast! Show no mercy!
Why do people feel compelled to do battle with all things related to aging? Hair gets colored, as if having gray hair is shameful. Young, nubile women begin getting Botox before the age of 30; begin using anti-wrinkle creams in their 20’s.
Have we come to despise these signs of having lived past our teen years?
My hair gleams with gray sprinkled throughout from years lived and loved. Hard work went into the making of those signature hairs. Why should shame be associated with them?
Small lines have taken up residence around my mouth. Are they caused by laughing too much? If so, my favorite past-time will continue to occupy me. Laugh lines are far better in my estimation than facial stress fractures.
The reasoning behind this abhorrence of aging escapes me. My entire experience here on Planet Earth was lived at the same moment—the one in which I am aware. Age has rarely meant anything to me.
At age twelve, people treated me as 19-20. When nineteen came along, people assumed I was in my mid-20’s. By the time my 30’s arrived, most of my friends were in their early 20’s. Even now, I have few real friends my own age. I know plenty of people in their 50’s and 60’s, but those whom I call true friends are of all ages, from the very young to those in their late seventies and older.
It’s always been my contention that age is only a marker for statistical purpose. The body may have tell-tale signs of wear and tear. But the me operating this body has no age, except the one I inside my head.
The question which needs to be posed to a person is: If you’re so unhappy to reach your current age that you need to reconstruct your body to hide your experience, is reconstruction likely to erase your unhappiness?
Does one’s happiness depend on the physical representation of the person inside? After all, our bodies are only the vessels, which carry us around on this planet. Is our preoccupation with conforming to culture’s definition of beauty the only path to self-satisfaction and acceptance? Must we all be life-sized, unrealistic Barbie’s and Ken’s in order to be accepted as vital, beautiful, and worthwhile? If so, aren’t we all waving a white flag; surrendering our individuality and uniqueness in favor of a cultural i
Blog: Middle of Nowhere (Login to Add to MyJacketFlap)
JacketFlap tags: Red Flannel Elephant, brace of pheasants, Planet Earth, firewood, Add a tag
To be young Claudsy….how deep in our culture does this yearning go? When I was a kid, I was fascinated by Ponce De Leon’s search for the fountain of youth in Florida (isn’t that why the snowbirds go there?)
I’m pretty good at accepting my age; but popular culture wants me to strive to be young: “60 is the new 30.” Youth-craving expressions like that make snake oil salespeople who peddle “youth” salivate like Pavolv’s dogs!
We have a tsunami of people aging and more businesses selling anti-aging products than there are bedbugs in New York City. it is the perfect storm for capitalism and a sinking ship for the “you-can-age-gracefully” crowd.
But there is hope! Those of us with an individualistic bent, who have found our internal beauty, can live at peace with growling old. And those who exalt anti-aging celebrities, such as the legendary Joan Rivers…well they’re already in Bloomingdale’s searching for the latest product as we discuss this issue.
You’re so very right, JP. So much of our advertising dollar goes toward recreating youth, as if youth has more to offer than an illusion of time standing still. Every time I get into this question, I think about the movie “Matrix.” I have to ask myself and others how much of what we see, feel, experience in this world is a mere fantasy within the mind of a dreamer wired to someone’s mega machine.
Do we really even exist, except as someone else’s experiment in behavoral science lab?
I think we don’t want to be younger, but rather appear younger. Many times I’ve run into old people limping onto the bus in their walkers, and sometimes they’ll look at me and say: “Son, don’t get old. It’s *awful*.” I can’t argue with someone who knows.
So I’m all for trying to look younger, as long as it’s not what we build our lives around. The trick is to look it without looking like you’ve tried.
There’s certainly nothing wrong about trying to stay healthy and fit. I wish I could have the fitness I did when I was 30, and I’m working toward getting fitter.That step, though, isn’t for beauty’s sake, but so that my quality of life remains high as I continue to age.
And most of those old folks on the bus, have the problems they have because they had to work very hard to make a living, hold together families, and reach the age where you see them. Beauty for its own sake wasn’t a priority for them. A roof, food on the table, and caring for family were their priorities. For many of them, beauty was something one had or didn’t have.
I suppose what disturbs me is the knowledge that we train tiny little girls, for instance, to look and act like adults, and then as soon as they arrive at young adulthood, they’re encouraged to go back, stay as young as possible. The double message isn’t good or healthy, in my opinion. I haven’t any problem with plastic surgery for the repair of injury disfigurement and such.
But when a person’s whole life is consumed by their “look and youth,” I feel only concern for the trend that helped produce the person’s downward spiral. Do we have to body-sculpt our way to acceptance in our own culture? Is that where we’re headed in a time when so many truly important issues are on the table?
Here’s a take on aging that will hopefully make you laugh!
George Carlin Version
I want to live my next life backwards:
You start out dead and get that out of the way.
Then you wake up in a nursing home
feeling better every day.
Then you get kicked out for being too healthy.
Enjoy your retirement and collect your pension.
Then when you start work,
you get a gold watch on your first day.
You work 40 years
until you’re too young to work.
You get ready for High School: drink alcohol, party, and you’re generally promiscuous.
Then you go to primary school,
you become a kid,
you play,
and you have no responsibilities.
Then you become a baby, and then…
You spend your last 9 months
floating peacefully in luxury, in spa-like conditions
- central heating, room service on tap,
and then…
You finish off as an orgasm.
Ah, Cloud, this has always been a favorite schtick of Carlin’s. He did have perspective down pat. Thank you so much for sharing this laugh today. It’s something for all of us to enjoy. I wonder if Merlin would have approved of this rendition of his lifestyle.
I dunno, personally, I think there is something rather perverse about our obsession with looks and weight in this culture, given the harsh reality that exists for many. Seems like an evil plot to me, to keep us from noticing and caring about the things that really matter. Great post, Clauds. (I’d say more, but I gotta run… midget on the loose.)
It is a large distraction factor. That much is certain, Carrie. Comes in a package with a gift tag that says, “Look at me; not what I do.”
God this is really the wrong post for me to be commenting at the wrong time! I’ve spent today wrapped in thoughts of the finality of life, but managed to get some of it out of my system via post to my website, and now I’m concentrating on your lovely post. For me I try not to dwell on youth and beauty but as a woman (of a certain age) working in the communications field, I’m bombarded with it. My opinion is that women allow and agree with nasty, gendered and misogynistic reviews of women. Ageing wouldn’t be such a cultural concern if women weren’t the major agents of patriarchy in our society. Not enough women are saying enough already and too many women are criticising female celebrities for extra weight, wrinkles, and generally giving into a myth they think is the male desire while dismissing the fact that they are their own denigrating abusers. Oh God…there I go. Claudsy, feel free to delete this comment if you like.
Not on your life, Veronica. Since women are half of the society and society creates this problem in perception and aspirations, we help–as a gender–to contribute to its continuance.
If we were more secure in who we are as people, and stop worrying about sexual appetite and attraction all the time, much of the problem would resolve itself.
This is a complex perceptual situation, with so many sides and factors in it, that to pinpoint the ultimate determinant is nigh on to impossible. Suffice it to say that we, as a society, buy into the hype and believe that it’s accurate. Media doesn’t help any either. You know that as well or better than most.
If the money spent on cosmetics in this country each year was pooled and distributed to feed and shelter the truly needy, we’d all be better off. Just my two cents worth, too.