Ripped . . . or at Least Torn

Yes, I know.  I know that my electronic devices are spying on me.  I know that they have been for years.  They watch my every movement, my actions, and reactions.  They know my “likes” and “dislikes”.  They know my habits.  They even know my moods.  However, I was I use my cell phone, computer, and even my digital girls—Alexa and Siri.  The technological world knows me better than I know myself.

Or so it thinks it does.

 

Using advanced algorithms beyond my elementary understanding of mathematics, the data is compiled and analyzed to give suggestions about everything in my life.  Musical suggestions for my listening pleasure.  Movies and series for my entertainment.  Shopping advertisements.  Spirts blurbs.  If I have ever shown an interest, it magically appears through advertisements on the Internet pages I am perusing.  Why?  Because it knows me.

 

I will admit it is pretty darn amazing at what it does and does know about me.  It knows that I am over the age of sixty.  With that knowledge it bombards me with advertisements it thinks are relevant to me and the lifestyle it believes I should be living.  I suppose I should be thankful that someone or something cares about me.  It is better than nothing.  But frankly . . . it needs to butt out.

 

This tirade is brought to you by the apparent sense that this technology thinks that I am far from being the ideal Adonis a person in his mid-sixties should be.  As I was reading the new source on my computer I was inundated with a slew of advertisements for losing weight, shoring up my hairstyle, creating the perfect wardrobe, and creating a rock-hard body of impressive muscle.  That last one is what set off this rant.  It specifically challenged me to get “ripped” after the age of sixty.

 

I had to laugh.

 

“Ripped” can mean a lot of things.  It can mean when cloth or fabric gets torn.  If that’s what is meant . . . well, I’m a klutz and ripping things comes quite naturally to me.  “Ripped” can mean get lectured or chewed out when making a mistake.  It has been a while, but I have been “ripped” numerous times throughout my life.  At work.  The last time was when doing a video conference with a group from the office hoping to get a grant.  I wore my tee shirt that said, “Eww, people!”  My boss informed me that it was inappropriate especially when attempting to get funding from people.  I got ripped for that one.

 

Another way that “ripped” is used is to mean being under the influence of alcohol or drugs.  It has been a while since I have been “ripped” in that manner.  Which is probably for the best since I tend to do and say dumb things that end up with clothing being “ripped” and me ending up being “ripped” by significant others. So, in my mind, where does technology get off suggesting that I—in my mid-sixties—need to get “ripped”?  I have been there and done that.

 

Of course, that is not what they mean by “ripped”.  What they mean by the word is to have a “strong, well-developed muscles that can be seen through the skin.”  It means having low body fat, so the muscles stick out for everyone to see in awe.  High muscle definition.  Low fat.  “Ripped”.

 

I had to laugh once I got over the sting of being insulted.  Apparently, they do not know me as well as they think they do.  I have a better than average chance of tearing the bottom out of my pants . . . of screwing up and being yelled at . . . or tying on a good one—all forms of being “ripped”—than I do of ever having the well-defined muscular body of someone like the Rock.

 

Let’s get some things straight.  At my age—mid-sixties, remember—I stopped at the line of dieting and exercising to become this century’s Jack LaLanne.  Don’t know who he is?  I am not going to cross the line.  I like to eat.  Exercise is hard and is work.  In my mid-sixties, nearly completely retired, I do not want hard and work in my vocabulary or life.  To be “ripped” in the muscular sense is to do both.  Trust me, I know.  You can’t have your cake and eat it too.  Not if you want to be “ripped”.  I like cake.

 

Second of all, I have never been “ripped” in the muscular sense since the day I was born. I wasn’t “ripped” in high school or college.  Believe it or not, I looked more like a poster boy for one of those third world countries during a famine.  Skinny is an apt term.  Despite years of running, I was never “ripped”.  Being “ripped” then was never my dream.  Then or now.  It wasn’t my destiny.  Never had the desire.  In my mid-sixties . . . why start now.

 

But technology is a persistent advocate of what it believes I should do and be.  I appreciate the tenacity of its pursuit and persistence of me and my body.  It attempts to soothe my anxiety over body image and age.  It proclaims that it is easy to become “ripped”, promising me only minutes in the day to become the spitting image of Hercules.  Plus, it won’t cost me a cent.  I can use what is in the house.  To prove its point, it shares all sorts of “ripping” activities I can do using a chair in the comfort of home.

 

Chairs are made for sitting.  They are not some sort of exercise equipment found in a gym.  If they were, why aren’t gyms filled with chairs instead of all those weights and exercise machines?  My favorite chair is my recliner.  It serves all my needs.  I can exercise my mind by reading.  I can exercise my soul by looking out the window and viewing all the avian activity.  It provides rest after a long day and gives me some of the best naps when I kick back and put my legs up.  It fills my heart as pups and grandchildren hop in my lap for some cuddling and story time.  That’s the purpose of a chair.  To feed the soul, not make a “ripped” body.

 

I smile as I write this.  It will probably tick off technology when it reads my blog.  It will probably ramp up its game in learning who I really am.  I don’t know why it thinks it can understand me so easily and quickly when my wife hasn’t been able to in over forty years of marriage.  I guess I “ripped” technology a good one.  I’m as “ripped” as I’m ever going to be.  You’d be hard pressed to find the musculature of a Rock one this body I call mine.  The Rock—no!  Closer to the popping fresh Pillsbury Doughboy.  Yet, somewhere under that plumb physique is a “ripped” me dying to get out—NOT!!  I’m happy just the way I am.  Torn, but not quite “ripped”.

Hooking Up, Dropping Out . . . Sort of

Years ago, when personal computers were coming on the scene, I was one of those who dragged his feet about jumping into the technological waters.  My children would probably tell you that we were one of the last people in the world to get a home computer—from Gateway, no less.  Back then I did not think that computers for personal use would become something that would be affordable to most people . . . that it was price prohibitive.  Looking back now I can see that I truly missed the boat on that one . . . just like I missed the boat on buying Apple stock when it came on the market (Who wants to invest in fruit?  Especially apples!). 

I never thought—way back then—that life would become so connected to technology, especially computers and the Internet.  Yet, here I am . . . working on my laptop . . . using the Internet to post a blog, answer mail, listen to music, watch movies, and chat with people from all over the world.  I am fully connected . . . fully hooked up . . . whether it is my laptop, iPad, or my smartphone.  I have stepped into the 21^st century with my 20^th century mind and body.

Sitting at that original Gateway computer many, many years ago, I never imagined myself being this “hooked up” to technology.  How “hooked up” to technology am I?  Well, let’s see: I have five separate email accounts and each serves a specific purpose; I have a personal Facebook page (primarily to post my pictures on, to lament when the University of Nebraska football plays poorly), and to keep up with family and friends; I have three Facebook pages—Joliet Christian Church (the church I serve), Koinonia-Community/Common Unity (a page for those serving United Church of Christ or Christian Church-Disciples of Christ congregations in northern Wyoming or Montana), and Montana Regional Education Service Area III (a professional development page for educators in Montana); I have a personal blog—Big Old Goofy World; two Twitter accounts –one personal and one for MRESA3; one Mail Chimp account which I use for mass mailing (listserv); there is also Skype and Face-to-Face; LinkedIn; and probably a million other little things that supposedly keep me connected.  I have two laptops, an iPad2, a mini iPad, one desktop (at work), and an Apple phone.  Seems pretty hooked up to me.

Never did I ever imagine that I would be this “hooked up” or connected to the world of technology.  I always wanted to be a writer and now I am a media mogul.  Now when I write I post those writings on my blog website for the whole world to see.  Also, I have discovered that Facebook, Twitter, and other social media sites can be used as places for micro-blogging.  For the Koinonia and Montana Regional Education Service Area III Facebook pages I place short sentences or “hooks” to link people to other interesting and useful information—a mini-blog of sorts.  With Mail Chimp I put out a weekly newsletter that connects the congregation not only to my information, but also to other sites they might be interested in.  Now whether anyone really cares about what I write or not, at least it is out there floating in cyberspace for anyone who cares to read it.  I’d say that I am pretty “hooked up”.

Being an introvert I must admit that all of this technology and the Internet has been a great addition to my private little kingdom.  As many of you know, introverts like being by themselves . . . lots of alone time.  Introverts also do not like their “space” being intruded upon or invaded.  Technology and the Internet have opened up whole new worlds for me as an introvert.  I can be connected to the outside world from the privacy of my own little kingdom.  Suddenly I have the best of both worlds!  I can “hook up” and still “drop out”!

Yeah, yeah . . . I know . . . you are going to tell me that technology and the Internet has the power to intrude and invade my little kingdom of privacy.  That is probably true . . . but I have learned the secret.  Actually, it is not that much of a secret.  I think that every one of us was told the same thing when we started using technology and the Internet:  If you don’t like something, turn it off.  Turn it off!  Oh, how simple.  If someone invades or intrudes on any of my Facebook pages that I do not wish to have on them, I simply turn them off—I block them.  If someone sends me an email that was not invited . . . I delete it or block the sender.  My phone constantly vibrating or beeping?  Turn it off!  I think that is the nice thing about this “hooking up” stuff that I like . . . I can control it from the privacy of my private little kingdom.  I can be as “hooked up” or “unplugged” as I chose to be.  I can still drop out.

Technology and the Internet are two powerful tools when it comes to our lives in the 21^st century.  They enable to be connected, to communicate, and to relate to one another in ways that we never could do years ago.  In fact, studies are beginning to show that the old ways of communicating and connecting are quickly fading away as they are replaced by technology and the Internet.  Technology and the Internet are not going to disappear.  I think that they are here to stay.  Because of that all of us need to get with the program or get left behind.

I guess I will continue to sway back and forth between being “hooked up” and “dropping out”.  Kind of puts me in the land of “sort of” . . . in the meantime, I need to go check out Facebook, write another blog, and see if I’ve got any emails.

Wired . . . Sometimes

We live in a “wired” age.  By “wired” I am referring to the fact that we—as individuals—are relying more and more on technology in our daily lives.  More and more of what we have in our homes, offices, and other places where we spend time are wired into technology.  Even the cars that we drive are so technologically advanced that the majority of us cannot even fix even the simplest mechanical problems—there no longer are mechanics, there are “mechanical technicians”.  Who knew working on an automobile would require a masters or PhD! 

My job at the university could not be accomplished without technology.  Pretty much everything that I do at the university takes technology.  The majority of my communication is done through a computer—primarily email, video conferencing, and chat--and working on all the documents necessary for the job.  Behind my desk is a tangle of ten to fifteen cords linking me to technology and the world beyond my office.  At times it is daunting, but technology is the new frontier.

Same with home . . . technology rules!  All the gadgets, appliances, and toys are wired and digital.  Gone are the days of simple parts to replace a defective and non-working appliance, now circuit boards must be replaced before even beginning to see whether or not a coil on the stove needs to be replaced.  I used to be an avid reader of literature, but with the advent of the “wired” state I spend more and more time reading owner’s manuals that accompany the gadgets, appliances, and toys that populate my life.   These tome- sized documents—with all their technological terminology—fill a bookcase in the house.  I have taken to reading this right before going to bed because they are the best sleep aid I have found.

As long as technology works it is great and most of us give it little thought.  Technology almost becomes unconscious in our lives as we have become so used to it . . . as long as it is working.  That is the key . . . AS LONG AS IT IS WORKING!  Once it quits working we are shocked to realize how “wired” we really are to technology.  Our world comes crumbling down when we cannot get to our Facebook or Twitter to read the latest dribble from our hundreds of thousands so-called friends.  Our world is crushed if we cannot have that connection to the outside world through our digital phone lines and cell phones—heaven forbid if we miss a call from the Democrats or Republicans during this trash call season known as an “election year”.  We go into withdrawal if we cannot access the hundreds of channels that come with our cable or satellite dish with what seems like hundreds of opportunities to watch the same Gilligan’s Island reruns over and over again.  Heaven forbid that we take advantage of down time in our technological world to actually understand that a computer can do more than receive email, cruise the web, and be our only social link.  Who ever knew that the computer can do more than create a game of Solitaire?

Most of us pay no attention to technology and being “wired”—we give it no mind.  It is just there and life is good.  Well, life is no good right now in my little world—the technology is down, crashed, lost, not working—and it sucks!  It has been down since yesterday when it decided to take a vacation and the technological gurus have not yet been able to get it back up and running.  They haven’t even come close.  So I sit in a technological waste land, waiting (not very patiently, mind you) for some miracle of biblical portions to restore our “wired” state of being.

Now I understand that this is no big deal for most people, but we live in rural Montana.  The little town we live in is a technological waste land of epic portions—we are just far enough away from so-called civilization that it takes not hours, but days to get help—a technological no man land.  I think this is the place where all things technological go to die.  This issue makes it difficult to get help when help is needed.

For example, I wrote earlier that our cable, internet, and landline phone service is gone.  So the question becomes one of figuring out a way to call for help.  The logical solution is to use the cell phone to call for help.  Perfect for most anyone except those of us who live in this small rural Montana town.  In order to get a minute or two of reception on the cell phone I must go to the southwest corner of the bedroom, put my nose in the corner, stand on one leg, and dial with my left hand . . . even then there are no promises that a connection will be made.  What is worse is receiving calls or text messages on the cell phone in this waste land . . . we got the text message announcing the birth of our newest grandchild by text—a year after it happened!  No, I’m kidding, but at times it feels like it.

Yeppers, technology is great . . . when it works.  When it doesn’t work—watch out!  It changes everything, especially the way one sees the world around him or herself.  During this technological break in my life I have suddenly been shoved out into the world that is beyond the cubby holes when I play in the “wired” world.  I am scared . . . what is that big, bright shiny thing in the sky?  I sure do hope the technology technicians get us back online soon . . . I don’t think I can handle real reality for too long!