Alexandra Bogdanovic's Blog: That's life..., page 3

Judge not

Here's an interesting question. If, as the saying goes, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, should you judge someone by what's on his or her bookshelf?
Think about it.
What does your reading list, or home library say about you? Certainly it reflects your interests. Obviously it reflects your taste in literature. Depending on what's on it, it could also provide some insight into your level of education, political leanings and religious beliefs -- not that any of that is anyone's business, or anything.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying you should hide your reading list, or do background checks before granting anyone access to your e-reader. There is no vast conspiracy afoot -- that I'm aware of anyhow.
This is really just a stream of consciousness about an idea that recently crossed my mind. I mean, hell, there's a label, classification and category for everyone and everything these days. If you watch CNN, you're a liberal. If you watch FOX News, you're a conservative. If you read the New York Times, you're a liberal. If you read the Washington Times.... well, you get the picture.
Personally, I read for fun. I read to relax. And I read in order to learn something new...
With that in mind, here's what's on my reading list:
- Bones to Ashes by Kathy Reichs
- Nipped in the Bud, Not in the Butt: How to Use Mediation to Resolve Conflicts over Animals by Debra Vey Voda-Hamilton
- The Unperfect Society: Beyond the New Class by Milovan Djilas
Make of it what you will...
Until next time, "That's life..."

The greatest lie ever told

Judging from the lack of views last week's post got, a lot of you don't care about my view of presidential politics or the media attention it generates.
Here's a news flash for you: that's your loss.
My purpose in writing these blogs isn't to solicit support or agreement. I honestly couldn't care less whether or not you agree with what I think, I just want you to THINK! As I've said on many occasions, the paucity of critical, independent thought in the United States of America these days is staggering.
That being stated, if I can get even one person to stop and consider another point of view, or to question their own point of view, I have done my job. That was my philosophy as a journalist and as an author. It will be my philosophy until I take my last breath.
Now that I've gotten that off my chest, let's move on to this week's topic. It's something I've been thinking a lot about in light of the book based on my father's life I am now writing and in the wake of the Pope's visit. Yes, I've been thinking about the biggest lie ever told: that all men are created equal.
While it is fundamentally true that all of us have certain needs -- the need for food, shelter, love and companionship -- any similarity or "equality" begins and ends right there.
We are born into different cultures, and different socioeconomic strata. From the beginning we learn different languages. We learn to follow different religious and political ideologies. We are raised with different aspirations. We excel in different academic, creative and athletic pursuits. As a result, we celebrate different achievements.
And yet, from the time we first come together as children, we are encouraged, if not forced, to believe that we are all the same. We are taught to behave accordingly. As we grow up, were are told that our similarities should unite us, and if we would just embrace them, everyone would get along and the world would be a much better place.
The problem is that -- for the reasons I mentioned above -- this idea is fundamentally and fatally flawed. If there is any hope for humanity, it will rest in our ability to change that line of thinking. Instead of celebrating our "similarity" and "equality" we must learn to recognize, understand and respect each other's differences. We must celebrate individuality and individualism.
I, for one, am a truly unique human being. And I am damn proud of it.
Until next time, "That's life..."

I'm over it

I love the world. It's the people I hate.
Okay - that's a little harsh -- even for me. I don't really hate anyone. I just hate stupidity and hypocrisy -- which basically means I have zero tolerance for presidential politics or anyone who participates in it on either side of the aisle.
What astounds me even more than the people who choose to participate in presidential politics -- or who aspire to participate in it -- is their cheerleaders. These are the zealots -- the people who latch on to a candidate and hang on for dear life. To them, their candidate's word is gospel. Their candidate is beyond criticism or reproach.
What is not as astounding but infinitely more annoying is the media coverage some presidential hopefuls attract. The candidates on the left sling mud at the candidates on the right, who happily reciprocate. When they're not hurling personal insults at each other, they're hurling them at challengers from the same side of the aisle. The mainstream media eats it up.
To say the coverage is aimed at the lowest common denominator is an understatement. To say it is lacking is hardly a stretch.
Personally, I don't need any more "entertainment." I couldn't care less about a media circus. I am not siding with, making excuses or apologizing for the "establishment," but I am holding out for an honest, objective assessment of these candidates. I want that assessment from someone who doesn't bring any personal biases to the table. I want it from someone who realizes how important it is to ensure that U.S. voters are fully and properly informed before they cast their ballots. I want it from someone who realizes what's really at stake.
Yes, that's what I'm holding out for, but I won't hold my breath.
Until next time, "That's life..."

A universal indictment

On Friday morning, I stood on a bluff overlooking Long Island Sound and watched a dedication ceremony for a 9/11 memorial.
A lone bag piper played Amazing Grace. The haunting notes of Taps echoed across the water. Family members read the names of the fallen. Bells tolled. Tears fell.
I was sad. And angry. I will always be angry about the terrorist attacks on my country on September 11, 2001.
What infuriates me more than anything is when politicians talk about that day. In sanctimonious and self-serving speeches, they tell us we must never forget what happened that day -- as if anyone could.
What disgusts me more than anything is that some people already have. According to news accounts, a group of American students surveyed admitted to having little to no idea why we were attacked that day.
What scares me more than anything is that in spite of the tragic loss of so many lives that day and in the years that followed, so many people still seem to take everything we have for granted.
Some of you may view this as an indictment of a specific politician or political party, but trust me, it isn't. If anything, it is a universal indictment.
It is an indictment of all leaders who fail to recognize the ongoing threats to everything we hold so dear.
It is an indictment of those that discourage critical, independent thinking.
It is an indictment of those who see no need to question authority.
It is an indictment of the students who are too ignorant, intimidated or afraid to question what they are taught.
It is an indictment of those in the media that report only one side of a story.
It is an indictment of educators, those in pop culture and those in the media who work to advance a specific agenda.
It is an indictment of the "polite police" who discourage frank discussion in the name of political correctness.
It is an indictment I am uniquely qualified to make. I am a first-generation American whose father fled prosecution and persecution of an oppressive regime.
As I write a book based on my father's life, I am more convinced than ever that freedom is the single most important gift anyone can have.
I am not alone.
In his essay on the Secret of Kosovo published in Landmarks in Serbian Culture and History in 1983, Marko S. Markovic wrote: "If there is no peace without freedom, there is no freedom without truth."
Bozidar Knezevic, the world-renowned Serbian Philosopher of history, also wrote: "Only in liberty does one learn to love and respect liberty as a vital necessity: only in freedom can one learn to use freedom, just as one can breathe only in the air. It is only free men and nations that know how to respect the liberty of others. As long as there are captive peoples, the free will be in danger."
Until next time, "That's life..."

Choices

As a wise man once told me, we all have choices. And as I continue to write a book based on my father's life, I can't help but wonder about his choices.
He wasn't the only one who was forced to flee his country as a political refugee. Why did he hang on to the past when his friends decided to move on? Why did he fail when they succeeded? Why did he blame others for his misfortune instead of taking control of his own life? Why did he choose to be a victim instead of a survivor?
On one hand, these are questions only he can answer. On the other hand, they are universal questions. After all, we all have challenges in life.
Some of us will face catastrophic illness or injury. Some will face the loss of a loved one. Some will be brutalized or violated by criminals.
It is an unpleasant truth -- one that is easier to avoid. Or deny.
But the bottom line is that how we meet these challenges is what ultimately shapes and defines us. Each of us can choose to be a victim -- or a survivor.
Personally, I am a survivor. Are you?
Until next time, "That's life..."

In all honesty

It happens to every author. Somewhere in the writing process you hit a bump in the road.
For me, writing my second book is especially challenging because my dad died a long time ago. A lot of his friends -- people who knew what happened to him in the former Yugoslavia -- have passed away as well. So, as I mentioned last week, I am left with my imagination... and a few family legends.
I've done a lot of research in order to try and fill in the blanks. I've been to Belgrade. And with my mother's help I have found some of my father's personal effects. At some point soon I will start to go through some more.
In the meantime, as I also mentioned last week, I started my rough draft. Writing as much as time allows, I've written approximately 6,000 words or 14 single-spaced pages (give or take a few words or a page or two).
With the creative process well underway, I plan on continuing my research as it continues. That includes reading as much about Serbia as I can get my hands on.
I just finished the first book on the stack -- a novel called The Mole Men by Negovan Rajic. Born in Belgrade in 1923, the author was just one year younger than my father. The book -- a fantasy -- was about a man who faced government persecution after learning a closely-guarded secret and then trying to share the truth.
In a photocopied excerpt from Contemporary Authors, Volume 130 tucked inside our copy of the novel, Rajic said:
"The materials for my fiction come from my life experiences and the personal stories friends tell me. My stories come as a revolt against the official picture of history as presented by totalitarian powers, who often distorted facts. I believe in the power of the word to transmit human experiences and perceptions. I stand for freedom as the point of departure for any kind of progress, both material and spiritual."
The book is disturbing, provocative and intriguing. It is a must-read for anyone and everyone who takes freedom for granted.
I told my mother as much when she asked me if it was interesting.
"It was written by a friend of your father's," she said.
The plot thickens.
Until next time, "That's life..."

Off and running

I guess it's time to update my LinkedIn profile. For the past couple of years, it indicated that I've been "laying the groundwork" for my second book. Now I'm actually writing it.
I'm writing it even though I never really "finished" my research. I'm writing it even though my trip to Europe in 2013 left me with more questions than answers. I'm writing it even though I haven't even started going through my father's personal effects yet.
Yes, I'm flying by the seat of my pants on this one. I'm relying on memory, imagination, and the research I've done so far. Mostly I'm relying on my imagination, though.
I'm putting pen to paper... or more accurately, fingers to the keyboard, and letting my imagination take me where it will. I'm having a blast.
Some say it's better to pre-plan, outline, pre-plot and so forth. I've tried that technique, believe me. But it just doesn't work for me. The more structure I try to put in place, the more it just kills the creativity.
Perhaps that is because for me, free writing isn't all that different than a technique I learned as a reporter called bloc writing. Using that method, you simply write all of the facts you've gathered first. Then you fill in the rest of the story with quotes from the people you've interviewed, and then you write the first sentence or lede. If nothing else, it saves a lot of time -- and it sure beats staring at a blinking cursor for an hour or two.
At any rate, since I started writing my first draft a week or so ago I've come up with about half-a-dozen working titles. The page count stands at 10 and the word count stands at roughly 4,000. Before you pass judgment on that, keep in mind, I have not been writing every day. I've also been looking for a new day job.
Anyhow, now that you're in the loop, stay tuned for more updates. It's going to be a wild and crazy ride.
Until next time,"That's life..."

Take me as I am

Rumor has it I don't play well with others. At least, in certain social circles.
For the record, that's not true. The truth is that I've got a big personality. And some people just can't handle that.
If they're waiting for an apology, I would advise them not to hold their breaths. They're going to be waiting for a while.
The truth is, there is no need to apologize.
Don't misunderstand me. I'm not perfect. And when I do something wrong, I'll own it. Trust me. I'm a huge fan of accountability -- and I'm willing to be held accountable for my actions -- when need be.
I'm also a pretty friggin awesome human being. I am:
Real
Loyal
Funny
Determined
Resilient
Courageous
Talented
Confident
Sensitive
Compassionate
Empathetic
Creative
Good
Intelligent
Open-minded
Caring
Brash
Arrogant
Outspoken
Mercurial
Opinionated
Quick-tempered
Moody
I will never be:
Fake

I am me. Take me as I am.
Until next time, "That's life..."

Waste not, want not

I've got to be honest. I had no idea what I was going to write about this week. Until just now.
I just remembered a comment someone made on another social media site. The person who made it did so in the midst of a rather heated conversation about the use of books (that an interior decorator had purchased by the yard to style a beautiful set of built-in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves). The comment that sparked my anger was something completely idiotic like: "I don't understand why some people keep the books they do. Once you've read it, you've read it."
Of course I couldn't let that go. And of course it warranted a snarffy response. Of course I delivered one.
I said, in no uncertain terms, that the comment was a deep, profound, insightful testament to the stupidity and wastefulness of a throw-away society. Or something like that.
I added that I certainly don't keep every book I read. But those that I do keep are well-read. And every time I re-read them, I find something new on every page.
How about you? Do you keep all of the books you buy or just some of them? What are your criteria for keeping books? What are your criteria for giving them away?
What do you do once you decide you no longer want them? Do donate them, trade them in at a local book swap, or relegate them to the recycling bin?
Let me know... It might make some interesting fodder for future blog.
But it's late so I'd better sign off for now.
Until next time, "That's life..."

All good things...

It seems to happen once every couple of years.
For some reason or another, I decide I'm done. I'm through. I'm no longer going to promote my memoir.
This time I mean it.
After a year of incredibly hard work, I finally earned my paralegal certificate from Pace University on July 16, 2015. And with that newly minted certificate in hand, I decided it's time to get a day job that actually pays the bills.
Since I'll be busy distributing my resume, I can no longer promote my memoir.
I have also decided that if I actually land the lucrative day job with a nice, regular schedule that I've been dreaming of, I'll actually have time to start writing my second book.
But I'll no longer be able to promote my memoir.
I have also decided that if (and when) I get my dream job and start writing my second book, I'll have to make time for a healthy social life.
But I'll no longer be able to promote my memoir.
I have also decided that if I have a dream job and time to write my second book and a healthy social life I might as well start dating again. Yes, you heard it hear first. I'm actually thinking about dating again....
But if I do, I definitely won't have time to keep promoting my memoir...
So by now I am sure you've gotten the picture. I will no longer be actively promoting my memoir. There will be no more ads on goodreads once the current ads expire. There will be no more contests, no more interviews, no more radio appearances.
By now some of you are no doubt applauding and others have been brought to tears. (Of course I'll never know whether they are tears of joy or tears of sadness... that's entirely up to you).
In any case, there's no need to cry. I'm not going anywhere. I will continue blogging here on goodreads because I enjoy it and I will maintain a social media presence elsewhere for the same reason.
To those of you have been along for the ride since the beginning and to those of you who jumped on the bandwagon along the way, I thank you for your support. And I hope you'll stick around.
Until next time, "That's life..."