Being a news junkie in this era when news is available 24 hours a day is surprisingly difficult. Let me rephrase that. Being a news junkie with a brain in these times is difficult.

The problem lies in the fact that the news outlets have to make money. To make money, they have to sell advertising. To sell advertising they have to convince the advertisers that someone is watching. This means they have to get good ratings. Ratings equals advertisers equals money.

In order to get good ratings, the news companies have to keep big stories in front of people. This creates a new problem because on some days, there are not any big stories. But this does not mean they cannot fight for those ratings that they still need.

So when the big news does not exist, they create it. So we are back to my problem of being a news junkie with a brain. I want news, but I want news that is actually news, not some over-hyped, over-used and over-analyzed story that the cable hosts are delivering as though it is humans stepping foot on Mars.

The current over-cooked story is that of whether Caroline Kennedy is qualified to be a United States Senator. CNN's Roland Martin correctly stated the actual, constitutional requirements to be a US Senator. You, know, silly, unimportant things like minimum age and citizenship of the state you wish to represent, and...and...wait, there has to be more than that, right. Well, um, no. That's it.

But yet pundits abound with opinions about whether she is "qualified." Also most political pundits have a tone in their writing that states they hold the object of their piece in total, disgusted contempt.

After a while, this type of venom is hard to digest. But since I am a news junkie, I have to get my fix. However because the reporting quality is so bad, I switch the channel or look for another news site or blog to read.

Once in awhile I will find someone with sanity--usually not the interviewer but rather an interviewee--who states what I have thought all along. In the case of Ms. Kennedy, one analyst correctly stated that all of the media's opinions really do not matter in this issue. In this instance, the vacant senate seat will be chosen by the governor of New York, not by election. And it was quickly stated that the governor probably did not care about the press' opinions on the issue.

So once again, this is much ado about nothing. After this is settled, the press will move on to the next big story, whether real or contrived, and news junkies like me will watch until we turn away in disgust, knowing that we are a pawn in the 24-hour-a-day news game.

Passion for the leader

Though I have always held a strong distaste for politicians and the political process in this country, I watched with guarded hope (positive pessimism?) that this presidential election would be different. Though it began like all others--it ended very differently.

I was pleasantly surprised to learn that Americans finally had had enough of the staus quo. Finally, enough people were hurting in one way or another that more of the masses decided to speak with a vote than in recent years.

I have also been amazed at the reaction both within this country and from around the globe. For years I have seen the passion of the population in the developing world after an election. The raw emotion that is exuded by the citizens only because a new leader was chosen was always mystifying to me. I could not grasp how anyone could feel so strongly about a leader of a country.

It's occurred to me now that is exactly how so many Americans feel.

Maybe I have never seen this before because we have not had anyone to feel that good about. Oh, sure, there have been some elected officials that I thought were better than others. But for the most part, the top leaders in our country have always been priveledged white men.

And now, in a country in which only 140 years ago, blacks were not citizens, (and by some statutes, were not even fully human) we now have a black man as the next leader. But it is more than just the color of his skin or his background that excites me.

I think Barack Obama understands the common person. He is not from a wealthy family. He did not have accolades handed to him just because of a birthright. Obama worked for everything he has accomplished.

More than that, he has worked to better the community around him. And I firmly believe he will work to better our country.

The medicine

On goes the daily, sometimes hourly reminders to myself that I take some medicine every day. I often watch someone on TV or see a person in a store that is around my age. Many times I think, why can't I be more like that person? That person lives his life without having to take a drug just to get through the day.

Whenever I utter or think such a blanket statement, the sentiments of my contrary friend who is always the voice of reason come into my head.

"How do you know that person is not on some kind of drug to get through his day? Maybe he is masking it, just like you. The casual observer would not know that you have to take medicine to get through the day."

And that is the truth. My medicines are minor in comparison to many, many others.

I have a physical impairment. But, it is not terminal. Nor is it yet restricting my life. I am so much more fortunate than the person living with a terminal illness. Or even the person who takes drugs all day and still never feels normal.

So on it goes.

Soul Provider

I was making some mix CDs for a friend today. I was going through stacks of my own mix CDs looking for the right combination of songs that he would like.

On three separate CDs, I found Michael Bolton's "Soul Provider." I liked that song, but I did not know I had put it on three different compilations.

That song always makes me smile. It reminds me of my first job as a program director at a small town radio station in Iowa. It was 1989. I had been unemployed for about 3 months, and am not proud to say, living on handouts from my parents. I had moved to Iowa from Texas to take the job.

"Soul Provider" was a big hit on the radio at the time. And since I was in radio and we played that song, I heard it several times every day.

I wonder what it is about those memories that give me a good feeling. I certainly did not want to take that job.
Sure, it was exactly the type of job I wanted, but it was in the wrong place. It would mean moving away from my friends and everything I knew as familiar. I had lived in Iowa before, but not for about 9 years.

Plus I have never been the type to boldly strike out into the unknown. And that is exactly what I was doing. With other jobs that I had started, I had something familiar to go back to at the end of the day. At the end of my work day there, I would find my way back to an unfamiliar apartment in an unfamiliar town.

But the strain of all these things are not the memories I have. When I hear that song, I have only good memories.
They are memories of good feelings. Things were "right" in my world. Things were "correct." Instead of trepidation of the unknown and remorse for the things left behind, I remember the anticipation of starting the career I had always wanted. It was my first step in that direction and I was positive that only good things were to come.

I stayed there for a year. About 13 months after I was hired, I was laid off, replaced due to new management. The job itself was not the ideal position that I thought it would be. I struggled constantly as the job was not a good fit for me. There were many times that I had no clue of what I was supposed to do and was in situations that I did not know how to handle. I was so incompetent in many aspects of the job. My memories are vivid of the times I wanted to just hide because I was so helpless to understand what the correct action to take was.

But as I write this and try to understand why I liked that year, the positive memories are strong. Even though I felt overworked and underpaid, I had the chance to go to Chicago once each month to see my friend who was in seminary there. The mere fact that I could go to the big city once every 4 weeks was great. And my friend and I built memories in that year that we still cherish. So that year brought us much closer than we were previously.

I was also free. I spent my time exploring the local area and taking pictures. I volunteered for several shows at a nearby community theatre. Though I was never a wild single and definitely not a partier, I relished the time that I had to do as I wished.

Maybe the song is life's way of allowing me to hang on to the good experiences from that year and to let the unfortunate circumstances go.

Little Blue Icon--The Muse

The muse has been calling me. The muse can take any form she chooses. Lately she takes the form of the little blue icon at the bottom of the computer screen. Notepad. That's her, all right.

The notepad icon chases my dreams.

Most nights it doesn't even wait for sleep. It invades my thoughts as my head finds the pillow.
Why notepad? Notepad is simple. She knows she's being unpretentious. She has no fancy fonts to distract me. None of the latest programming in software can get in my way of what she wants me to do. She is blue. That could be a ploy too. But mostly she is just simple.

She also thinks that if she is simple the rest will appear simple too. The words will simply come out. The words that rattle around all day can easily be committed. There is no chance that something is going to be lost due to lack of memory.

The muse is using every tool she has available.

She knows what I want. She knows what stands in the way. She calls me. She continues to call.
She is smug. The blue icon is open. The fingers are typing.

She knows she won.

The new illness--taking pain medicine

I am still taking the precription pain killers daily. You know, just being on a prescription pain medicine is itself an ailment in today's society.

Everyone has an opinon of what is best for me "You should not have to take that strong medicine--you're going to become addicted." "I know someone who takes it daily and it is not good--your doctor should do something." Here's one of my favorites. "I used to take pain medicine, but I decided I did not want to be a drug addict so I just stopped."

It's interesting how everyone out there has an opinon of what is best for me, but they're not me. However that does not change the mental struggle I go through daily. Am I taking too much? Why am I taking it? Would I have as much pain if I did not have a stressful job?

Here's the tape that I tend to replay again and again: I don't want to be a drug addict. I should just be tough enough to handle the pain. Pain, what pain? The pain is all in your head. You're taking this medicine to feel good, not because you need it. Besides, if you stopped taking the medicine, you could enjoy beer again.

My doctor is not concerned--she just wants to see me regularly. She continues to renew the prescription. She told me frankly that, due to my back problems, I may be on this for life unless I want to have the back surgery. And she is okay with that.

We have a friend who had the major back surgery (he was much worse off than me) and though
he had it, and went through 6 weeks recovery and then physical therapy on top of that, he
tells me he still has pain and he will wear a back brace for the rest of his life. Plus he is younger than me.

And I just saw a report on local news of a woman who had the surgery twice and still had
pain. So I think the surgery does not always work.

It is interesting what a stigma this medicine has become in today's society. There are many afflictions that many people live with everyday. And they take some form of medicine because of an affliction. But they're not ostercized. They are doing what they have to do to have a good quality of life with their health problems. So why can't I?

Maybe a lot of people have chosen this medicine to be the evil one because it has a side effect that causes a mild euphoria. And it is abused.

I know my pain. My pain is real. Was some of the pain caused by the medicine? Maybe. Could removing the medicine remove that new pain? Possibly. Meanwhile it is my decision. And it is my decision to stay away from any discussions of this subject with people who do not live with the pain.