Garfield Statue

Whitney Houston

2012-02-12T09:29:00.000-05:00

Unless you were around then, you have no idea how huge Whitney Houston was in the mid-80s. Her timing was perfect: Michael Jackson had made it okay to play "black" music on "white" radio and MTV (seriously: this was a thing back then.) MTV was at the peak of its power when it came to influencing actual music and what was popular, and Whitney Houston was perfect for MTV: incredibly beautiful and an amazing voice. If you have any doubt as to whether or not she could sing, watch "American Idol." Whenever one of the girls decides that she can handle a Whitney song, it's a kiss of death, because no one can come close.

She was a hit machine. I was in college when that first album came out and way too cool for Whitney Houston, but even I wasn't immune to the charms of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody." (I found earrings that were like those ones she wears with the purple dress and those were my "party earrings.") Looking back, there were plenty of people who weren't Whitney fans, but no one ever said that girl didn't have an amazing voice.

It fell apart. We all knew it, we all saw it. The details of how or why it happened aren't important. She went from this beautiful, singing angel to the Whitney Houston we've seen for these last years. Too skinny, a little crazy, unpredictable, drug and health issues.

I saw her once at an airport, about ten years ago. She and Bobby were on my flight back from Atlanta. Bobby was wheeling her around in a wheelchair, and she was shouting to Bobby that she wanted Popeye's chicken. She was incredibly skinny. I don't know if she needed that wheelchair, but she looked almost too skinny to support herself. The person I was traveling with didn't believe it was her at first. She looked too old. Wasn't she once so beautiful? But it was definitely them, whooping it up before the plane was boarded. On one hand, they sort of had this bubble around them which kept people from coming up to talk to them, but, on the other hand, they could have waited until the last minute to be in the waiting area, but they were there early, as if they wanted to have a bit of a show. There were a few people who did go up to them, and they were very nice to them. A few years later, when they had that reality show, a friend of mine wondered how much of it was acting up for the camera, and I said that, from what I saw at the airport, that's just how they were.

It's a sad day today. I had always hoped that she'd get it together and make her triumphant comeback. Wasn't that was supposed to happen? That she would be saved and we'd have an older, wiser Whitney? Now, we'll just have to remember how amazing she once was.

Smile a little smile for me

2012-02-06T20:18:00.002-05:00

My mouth has issues. No, I'm not talking about getting in trouble for saying the wrong thing, but general healthy mouth issues. My gums are weak, at best, and, although the enamel of my teeth is strong, once there's a tiny, tiny cavity, it tends to blow up. All four of my wisdom teeth were impacted with one growing around a nerve, and I wore braces for over a decade (thankfully, not a complete set). Needless to say, I am not a huge fan of the dental profession.

I try. I try like hell. I brush with an electric toothbrush (two full cycles each time I brush) and I floss and I waterpick and I rinse and I proxabrush (and if you don't know what that is, it is because your teeth aren't the mess mine are.) I do all of this and I still get the tut-tut of the oral hygeinist wondering if I did this or that. They question if I really did all that. Did I do it right? They show me how to floss. Again. I have to assure them that as much as I dedicate myself to my dental plan, my mouth is like this. Yes, I did everything they suggested. Yes, I did floss behind my back teeth as well. We both sigh.

It's disheartening. I feel like I work so hard for nothing. I cry pretty much every time I go to the dentist. (I really do.) I am anxious for the week (weeks) before I go, and I regularly dream that all my teeth fall out.

Last week, I had dental surgery. I'm not entirely sure about all that went on there, but there was a lot of cutting and scraping and stitches and me just closing my eyes and getting through it. They assured me that it would be one day of bad, but then it wouldn't be much. They are filthy, filthy liars. Seriously: ow. I still feel like I was punched in the jaw. I'm sort of eating solid-ish foods, but I feel like I can't open my mouth all the way. I have this constant level of pain that I wish would go away. Everything I do comes with a background chorus of "myjawhurtsmyjawhurtsmyjawhurts." How loud the chorus is depends on how far into the ibuprofen cycle I've gone.

It's been a rough week. I know it'll get better, but, right now, I'm just kind of tired of it. And, no, it's probably not going to make me cry any less at the dentist.

Sailing to Philadelphia

2012-01-26T17:10:00.000-05:00

This weekend, we head to Philadelphia. I have a weird relationship with Philadelphia. I lived in the area for over 20 years, I went to school there, but I never truly felt I was a part of it. Philadelphia is a hard nut to crack. Philadelphia is that tight-knit family that you might marry into, but they'll never completely explain all the private jokes and secrets to you. You'll be part of the family, but not really.

Twenty years is a long time to live anywhere. I moved around a lot when I lived there, but I stayed close enough that when someone from out-of-twon asked where I lived, I just said, "Philadelphia." Although I was technically an adult when I moved there, in some ways, it was where I grew up. I was a kid just out of college when I arrived. I did the "adult" things when I was in Philadelphia: grad school, home ownership, marriage, divorce, mortgage, 401K, adult things.

The Philadelphia area is really beautiful. They love their history and they really try to preserve as much as they can. Everywhere you walk, there are landmarks: places Ben Franklin lived or the first something in the US. You stop to think that, wow, George Washington actually did sleep here! For a while I lived in a town that was over 300 years old (this about that for a minute), and there were streets that were just rows of lovely colonial houses. The real-deal colonial houses. If it has even a possibly that it might mean something, Philadelphia will throw a plaque on it and you cannot tear it down ever. I kind of love that.

Philadelphia has a chip on its shoulder. It's not that it wants to be New York City, but it's so close. It's like that cousin who always did everything better than you and was prettier and married that doctor. Not that there's anything wrong with you, but everyone talks about that cousin. When you live in Philadelphia, you go to New York for stuff, but you resent it. You hate their sports teams.

I can't say Philadelphia is my favorite city or that I'd want to live here again, but I'm excited to see it again. I'm getting a cheesesteak, heading to South Street, and eating too much at the Reading Terminal Market. It's gonna be great!

So don't you bring me down today

2012-01-21T08:53:00.000-05:00

I am wondering about my internal editor today. The phrase "beauty is in the eye of the beholder" wouldn't exist without our internal editor. We've all seen pictures of ourself and been surprised. "That doesn't look like me!" My internal editor has me pegged at about 25 years old; I like my editor.

I can see myself so many different ways. Sometimes I am very happy with what I see; sometimes I need to just walk away. I suppose this is why I put on make-up and have days I change my clothes five times before heading out the door. I don't know why I am so insecure about how I look. I probably care a little too much about it.

We all want to be with people who see us the way we see ourselves on our best days. But, true to my insecurity, I worry that they will stop seeing me as beautiful someday. I don't know why that's a hang-up for me. I don't worry that the people I love will stop seeing me as smart or funny, but I worry about this.

But then I have days like today, when I see so much beauty all around, and I feel the positive thoughts coming to me. I am so grateful for the people who see beauty in me. And I am so thankful for the people who bring their beauty into my life.

Just the way you are

2012-01-18T07:09:00.000-05:00

I have a lot of fine qualities, but I'm not stunning. I'm not throwing a pity party here, but the fact is there are incredibly beautiful girls out there and I am not one of them. This is not to say that I don't have my type of beauty. But I am not the girl that is noted for beauty. I have to rely on my other characteristics.

It's different for beautiful girls. I'm talking about the really beautiful ones. The top one or two percent. The ones who men stop to talk to and then buy them drinks, even though they have a whole row of drinks (and men) in front of them. The girls who can throw on a sweater and look better than I look after I try on everything in my closet and spend a half hour trying to get my make-up and hair to behave. The girls that people drift towards for aesthetic reasons.

What must it be like to not have to depend on other parts of yourself? What is it like to be the one people gravitate towards, the one picked out in a crowd? Do they worry about their beauty faltering the way I worry that I might say something stupid? Do they ever wonder what it is like for the rest of us or do they just not notice that people just go to them?

It bothers me when those beautiful girls act like they don't know it. How could they not? Was it always that easy for them? Do they not understand that the rest of us have to rely on being smart or funny or clever to get this sort of attention? Do they miss not being invisible at times?

Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe if I were a beauty, I'd worry about it fading. I'd wonder if someone cared about what I said or what I did. I wouldn't want to be the center of attention. I suppose that you always want what you don't have. But, I must admit, I'd love to try it on for a day or so.

How do you measure a year?

2012-01-14T09:10:00.000-05:00

A couple of years ago, I did a 365 photo project. Although there were some days that I felt I had nothing to shoot, I loved it. If you want to see what I did, go here:
My 365 set

I became a better photographer, I learned to look for pictures around me, I played with my camera and angles, I made friends on-line. After that year, some of us made a half-hearted attempt to try again, but it feel apart. It does take time and commitment, and we all needed a break. We still share photos on-line, but not as regularly. Now that it's been a little while longer, I'm itching to do it again.

This is a call for membership into a 365 group. Here's what it'll require: one and only one picture a day for a year. That's it. We'll post to flickr, so it'll require a flickr account (I have upgraded to pro, so I can dump loads of pictures, but if you're using it on a limited basis, it's free.) For more details about flickr, here's the FAQ:
flickr FAQ

A few other bits: anyone can join (if you have a friend you want to hook up, just contact me), no negative judgment, no penalties for missed days/weeks, any camera will do (in fact, it might be fun to see how far you can push that cell phone). I'd like to start March 1 (February is often not the inspiring month). You can truly do anything: your dog every day, what outfit you're wearing, whatever you please. I tend to do whatever catches my eye, which results in more than my share of sunrises and Murray. (I'll try to be better about that this year, at least with Murray.)

If you are interested, contact me. If I get enough to form a group, I'll set it up on flickr and get you the details. Let's have some fun and play with our cameras!

Breaking Away

2012-01-09T19:51:00.000-05:00

I have fun watching television with my parents. They're interactive but not (usually) to the point that you can't follow the show. We rate the commercials, discuss what we would have done to make it better, sell more cars or computers or get them to Target quicker. We loudly state our opinions about this contestant or when someone is acting like an idiot. We watch too much reality television but we don't care.

I grew up in a time when television changed a lot. When I was little, it was three stations; when I was in grade school, we got a few more thanks to the benefit of being close enough to Detroit and Canada to pull those stations in on a good day. Around that time, cable was starting to sneak into the landscape (26 channels! It was amazing! Although we had to manually flip from "A" to "B" to get all the stations. But 26 whole stations!)

Even harder to believe was that we didn't have the ability to record shows. Think about that. Say you miss an episode of your favorite show: you are out of luck. Maybe you could get a friend to give you a summary (no internet either -- the horror!), but otherwise you have to hope you can figure things out the next week or wait for reruns. Yeah, reruns used to have a bit of a use, back in the olden days.

Movies were even more of a challenge. When a movie you wanted to see was on tv, you had to watch it then, because who knows if or when it might appear again. Maybe because they were a bit of an event, but the movies I remember watching on tv the most were the ones I watched with my dad. Some of them he had seen before and he rewatched them with me. These were movies he felt I really needed to see. He laughed with glee at the poker scene in "The Sting"; he saw the first time I cried at a movie (when Tony dies in "West Side Story.")

We also discovered movies together. I'm not sure why we watched "Carrie" as neither of us were fans of horror movies, but I remember how we both jumped about five feet in the air when the hand reached out of the grave at the end. The one I really remember was "Breaking Away." My dad had heard it was good but I was sceptical. Cyclists in Indiana? Whatever, Dad. But, nothing else was on and it was an excuse to stay up late.

If you haven't seen it, you need to. (And I'm going to spoil it, so if you want to be surprised, stop reading now.) It's not flashy, but the story has all the standards: David-vs-Goliath, Rocky-type sports inspiration, us-vs-them, parent-just-don't-understand, haves-vs-have-not, growing-up-is-hard-to-do, stay-in-school-kids -- it's shocking how many little plots they tie together. In case you want to smile (or check out a young Dennis Quaid, shirtless), here's the trailer:
Breaking Away

When my dad and I watched it, we were completely unspoiled as to what was going to happen. We didn't know if things would work out, the twists of the plot took us by surprise. We were just excited that the cutters were allowed to race in the big race with all the college teams, and when Dave made a good show of it but got injured, we were fine. The cutters would put in a good show but not win, but they would be fine. They were all closer and better for the experience, and that was great. But then they won! The cutters won! We couldn't believe it! It was so exciting! We cheered! What a great movie!

I love technology. I love being able to record shows and watch them when I feel like it. I love being able to look up movies and know what happened, and I love being able to watch pretty much any television show or movie whenever I want. But there are times I miss the surprise of a truly undiscovered movie.

Hard to say I'm sorry

2012-01-07T09:41:00.001-05:00

Bru and I were just talking about this the other day, that sometimes the best choice is to say that you're sorry and move on. That the better thing to do is fess up, assess the damage, fix what you can, and move on. This had nothing to do with our personal lives but rather apologizing at work.

We've all been there: working on some project when something goes terribly wrong. A forgotten task, a missed deadline, a technological malfunction -- these things happen. And they might happen because someone screwed up. Unfortunately, the current environment in most workplaces is one where the best way to deal with a problem is to cover it up. Deny, deny, deny. Or, even better, see if you can blame someone else.

It's difficult to apologize at work. You are, after all, a professional. The problem is that when no one takes responsibility, the problems often start to multiply. Let's say you forgot to review a key document. You were sent the email but you got it the Friday before a long weekend and by the time you were back at work, that important task has completely slipped your mind. Fast forward to about a week or so later when the original sender sends you a gentle (or not-so-gentle) reminder that you are late with this and that it's completely holding up other people on the project.

There are many ways to handle this: pretend you never got the email; fuss and fume that you are so busy that you couldn't possibly be expected to jump when they ask; ignore the request altogether; blame the sender for not being clear on the request. Turn it into some big deal. Or you can just apologize and do what you can to fix it as soon as possible.

I know a lot of this has to do with your boss or your team. If you have a boss who likes to point fingers and find scapegoats, it's kind of hard to be the one that says, "yeah, it was totally me." However, I would like to think that if you take responsibility, then actually fix it, in the end, you'll be alright.

Sometimes just saying you're sorry lets everyone move on and take care of the problem. Isn't that a better way to go?

Resolution #2 (or is it #4)

2012-01-03T07:12:00.000-05:00

I'm not sure if I'll tell you all my resolutions, but I'll tell you about this one. (I've already shared "be playful," "lose weight," and "exercise" so I'm calling this #4.) This is an unusual one: finishing my blog posts.

It started when I was trying to determine how many posts I have here. The dashboard claims I have 343 posts, but if you go to the "Edit Posts" tab, there's a number that are still in "draft" status, so some of those don't actually count. These are ideas that I started but let go, at least for a while. Sometimes I start but the mood isn't there, sometimes I just get pulled away and then return, only to have the idea not speak to me. Some of these posts are almost there, but most are just a sentence or two, waiting for the rest of the words.

This nicely combines another resolution (the "more writing" resolution) and my love for crossing things off a list. Plus, it has the bonus of being a ready-to-go idea on those days when I'm at the computer thinking, "I'd love to write today, but I have no ideas."Of course, now there means there's no excuse.

I'm not sure how many of these unfinished posts are waiting for the final tweak, but I'm hoping they'll inspire me to post here more often.

New year, similar resolutions

2012-01-02T09:22:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year, time to change everything, then go back to our old habits. ("No, no, this year will be different!") I know people who are anti-resolution for that very reason, but I'm still a sucker for sitting down and making that list.

I like making resolutions because it is a time to reflect, then dream a bit. Aren't resolutions simply dreams for ourselves? For me, resolutions represent what I hope I am really capable of doing. I don't resolve to write three novels by 2013 (spoiler: not gonna happen), but I can resolve to be more attentive to my writing.

If you've been employed by a big corporation, you know that when you set your goals, you can't just vague it up, but you need to have them measurable and achievable. Right now, I have the vague notions of resolutions in my head but I haven't added the specifics. Do I make it easy so that I can actually achieve my goals or do I make it difficult so that I have to really reach? For example, as always, diet and exercise are on the list. But how strict should the diet be? How much exercise should I commit myself to do? I know, it's not really a test or a contest, but, then again, I'm kind of nuts, so setting goals I can cross off my list might be a good thing for me.

Today, I plan. I head to the grocery store and pick up vegetables instead of cookies. I schedule writing time for the next week or so. I make a list of blog topics and clean my closet. Let's see if I'm still working on all of this by February.

Come out and play!

2011-12-31T09:29:00.000-05:00

"You're not playful," he says. "I'm playful!" I insist, but then I think about it some more. He is right; I am not playful. And I believe this is not a good thing.

This isn't to say that I'm joyless and gloomy all the time. I do seek out joy and I have moments of happiness that are so true, they make me cry. But this is not the same as play.

Why am I not playful? I have been thinking about this. A part of play is about trust. You have to trust the ones you are playing with, and you have to trust yourself to let go. I am a control freak and I realize that this part of play is difficult for me. I am afraid of being laughed at or embarrassing myself. My discomfort at embarrasment is so deep that I can barely watch a movie or television show where I know a character is about to be embarrassed. The times I have been embarrassed at my own behavior, I relive in my head, trying to figure out a way that I could fix it or explain it away.

I wonder if I can work on this. Maybe learning to play would help me in other places: letting go as a writer, that sort of thing. Can this be my first resolution for 2012, to be better at play?

Looking back, looking forward

2011-12-30T16:37:00.000-05:00

I wish I could say that 2011 was this incredible year, full of joy and wonder. However, this was not the case. I would say that 2011 was a challenging year. It's a year that I will remember for a very long time, although not always fondly.

This was a year of great loss on a personal level. One thing you can say about a major loss is that all other issues become background. I never think it's right to rank things like love or pain or sadness, but sometimes things happen that do make other events pale in comparison.

Going through this year, with all its ups and downs, I feel like I've grown in my ability to handle things. I'm no zen-like center of calm, but I'm not quite as touchy as I was. That's not to say that I don't have times I breakdown or lose my temper, but I think (I hope) that it's not as often or over just little things. I feel like I can look at how I am reacting to a situation and I can figure out where my reaction is coming from. (I will admit that some of this self-actualization comes after I've freaked out a bit and calmed down. I'm still working over here!)

I hope this coming year has less drama and (dare I say it?) is a bit more boring. But, even more than that, I hope that I keep figuring myself out and I keep working on being a better version of me.

Happy New Year!

She sells cells from her cells: Thoughts about HeLa

2011-12-05T06:43:00.000-05:00

I have just finished "The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks." My mom gave it to me for my birthday, thinking that a good story about biology would appeal to me (she was right.) In the final analysis, I would recommend the book, but I can't say that I agree with all of it.

The book is about Henrietta Lacks, who was poor, black, uneducated, and living in the Baltimore area. When she discovers she has cervical cancer, she is treated at Johns Hopkins which treated charity cases. It should be noted that this was in the late 1940s, before HIPAA laws, detailed informed consent forms, integration, etc. Her situation was unusual in that this was a research hospital and there was a researcher looking to develop cell lines for tissue culture. Because of this situation, they took her removed tumor and used it to develop a cell line. However, the actual treatment she received and the fact that doctors didn't ask for permission to do study on discarded tissue was not usual, class or race aside. The bit of cancer that was removed from Henrietta Lacks lead to the development of the HeLa cell line which has been extremely important in biological research. Truly, these cells were game changers. However, despite the success of HeLa cells, the Lacks family has not fared so well.

The issue I had with the book was the implied controversy. "The HeLa cells made millions but the Lacks are poor! No one knew who Henrietta Lacks was! They invaded her privacy! Despite all the research, she still died from her cancer!" The author plays with timelines, shifts the story around. I suppose it could be just clever writing, but I also think it's an attempt to make controversy when none is there. Putting two facts next to each other doesn't make them related. This is bad reporting and, frankly, just stirring stuff up. (For example: I walked to work this morning and there were free donuts in the pantry. Both things are true, but they aren't related. My walking to work did not result in free donuts. Although that would be kind of awesome.) This book loves to group some pretty awful low-points in medical ethics (such as the Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment) with what happened here, which is nowhere near each other. Henrietta Lacks was treated to the standard of the time, but she died of her cancer anyway. This is sad, but no medical ethics were compromised here.

It bothers me that the book so badly wants to make members of the scientific community the bad guys. Research is hard. It's frustrating. Sometimes you have a theory that should work, but, for some unseen reason, it just won't happen in the lab. Sometimes you have years when you work your tail off and all you have to show for it all is a big hunk of nothing. Working in a lab takes skill and determination and some smarts and (as much as we hate to admit it) luck. The group that developed the HeLa cells into a cell culture line demonstrated this. And, even though it took all of that, they gave away a lot of HeLa cells for free. They were extremely generous. The author found one scientist who felt that the Lacks family should have profited from these cells (I'm guessing that other scientists did not share this view) and she makes a big fuss over this. It would have been nice to have the other side of the argument presented.

It should be pointed out that it is illegal to sell body parts, something the author buries towards the end of the book, almost as an afterward. In fact, if Henrietta Lacks was in a clinical study where they took her tissue for further research, the amount of money she would have gotten would have been minimal (and the same for all people who had tumors taken from them, whether or not a cell line lived.)

It sucks that the Lacks family has health issues and no insurance. But it sucks that anyone in the US is in that situation. It sucks that their mom got cancer when they were really young and then they were raised by people who abused them. I agree that the forward march of science shouldn't trample someone's rights, but, as interesting as this story is, this was not the case of greedy scientists stealing body parts from a poor, black woman.

Astro

2011-11-20T09:17:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I watch the "X Factor." I know a lot of people diss it because it's too much like "American Idol" but I don't have a problem with that. They've taken a lot of a good things about "AI" (auditions, Simon) and added some stuff to make it interesting (older and younger singers, who really have been the story. Honestly, if they got rid of the "AI" types, I'd like the show even more.) I have a couple of issues with the show. One of them is that they rush the results shows which have been the most interesting thing thus far. This week was no exception.

For those who don't watch, one of the acts on the show is a 15-year-old kid who raps. Rap isn't my thing, but I do admire the now-renamed Astro. He has attitude which can put people off, but I think that a certain percentage of it is an act. He uses "sir" and "thank you" too often for it to not be part of what he truly is.

The thing I admire about him is that he's clearly one hard-working kid. I'd guess that he's not the most popular kid in school, mostly because he doesn't have time for teenage nonsense. He writes his own lyrics, and you can tell that he's constantly working. Now that he's living with other contestants, I would bet that he gets along with the acts that are up to his standard and he avoids the ones he thinks are lazy or just lucky.

But he is young. And because he is young, he doesn't always handle things like an adult. We've all been there: we work so hard on something, then someone else comes into the situation for about two minutes and gets us much credit as you. Or worse, even more. Somehow you have worked your tail off and this other person who did almost nothing is the star and you're forgotten. How did that even happen? This happened to Astro on Thursday. After being told how amazing he was and that he was a fan favorite, he somehow ended up in the bottom two, in a situation that he had to beg for his spot. Let me point out again that he is young. He's 15. No, he didn't handle it well, but most of us get told of our disappointments in relative privacy: your boss calls you in and explains that promotion is going to the guy you trained or that project you've been working long hours on is cancelled. Astro was told on a stage in front of a crowd. No doubt he was embarrassed, shocked, all those things. When we find these things out, we can run to our office, the bathroom, etc, and just kind of get over it privately. Astro didn't get that choice.

Yes, it's part of the show he signed up for. But at 15, you think you'll handle ups and downs much better than you really will. In fact, many of them have never really been given any negative criticism in their lives. They're too young to have been rejected for jobs or talent shows. Maybe these kids are too young for the show. But they have made the show more interesting. I wouldn't never want to see a real breakdown on television, but I know that Astro is a strong kid. I hope he realizes that he needs to show some remorse for his behavior. I think that his behavior was justified in the sense that he was hurt, but it did come off "bratty" and he needs to get his audience back.

It will be interesting to see how he handles these next weeks. It'll also be interesting to see how the other contestants more forward. I hope they start giving more time for the judges to discuss the results and reactions to the final results. I'd rather hear the judges debate which acts are worthy are moving forward than another performance by an already-established pop star.

We Are...Penn State

2011-11-12T08:39:00.000-05:00

I will admit to having Penn State issues. I lived in the Philadelphia area for over 20 years and Penn State was everywhere. There's some nutty statistic like 1 out of every 4 adults in Pennsylvania who went to college, went to Penn State for at least part of that time. (I have no idea if it's true but, honestly, it felt like it.) It didn't help that my university was constantly confused with Penn State (the bookstore even sold "Penn, not Penn State" t-shirts), so I would have to gently correct relatives who asked me where I was going to school.

When it came to college football, it was the only game in town. Who else is there? Temple? They don't even have their own stadium! So, every Saturday, it was "JoePa!" and "We are! Penn State!" and big navy blue flags. It didn't matter what their record was, they were Number One. They acted like they invented football and JoePa was perfecting it. Having grown up in the Midwest, I yawned.

As much as I enjoy the fall of Penn State football, I can't say that I'd ever want it to happen this horribly. There's a lot that's very upsetting about what's going on (and what went on) at Penn State. I'm not going to pretend I know everything but I have read the 23-page report from the grand jury. If you haven't read it, you can get to it here, but, be prepared: it's tough to read.
PSU Grand Jury Report

Obviously, a horrible thing went on and there was some degree of cover-up. How much did certain people know or how much should they have done will be debated for quite a while. The thing that upsets me the most is the power of football at Penn State. How did it get to this? How does an "academic" institution allow this to even become the story it has blown up to be?

Let's think about it: thousands of "students" rallied in the streets to support a guy (JoePa) who involved in a situation (and, yes, he was involved) that allowed numerous children to be sexually abused for years. This guy is in charge of an extra-curricular activity -- that's it! But students felt the need to take to the streets in protest! I have to wonder what would happen if the situation was slightly different, say, the head of the physics department covered up a drug-smuggling ring and got fired. Would the student newspaper even write an outraged editorial? I don't see tipped news vans or upset students being interviewed on tv. How did we let football become so important that this has become something that changes all of Penn State? How did a coaching staff get so much power and influence at a supposed academic institution?

(I would like to say that I am very pleased that other students organized a candlelight vigil for victims of abuse.)

I need to understand how JoePa is above responsibility but not above punishment. There were terrible things happening in his "house." He made a choice when he did the minimum. By doing the very minimum, he sent a message. He knows this. He picked a member of his staff over the welfare of children.

I am sure we will be hearing about this (and other terrible things in other college programs) for years to come. But maybe the question we should be asking ourselves is why are we putting so much importance on a bunch of college kids banging their heads together on a Saturday afternoon? Maybe if it wasn't worth millions to so many universities, there wouldn't be a need for presidents to cover-up for coaches. Maybe we need to rethink about what should be important on a college campus.

You didn't stop to make me feel better

2011-11-06T08:16:00.000-05:00

I send letters in the mail. Actual letters. My grandfather was a mailman. I get excited when I see pretty new stamps. ("Ooh, Kate Smith!") But I know I am not typical, and the US Postal Service is in trouble. They are out of money and need to make some drastic changes. And as much as I love getting a letter in the mail, I would not be upset if there were was a little less USPS.

Let's think about the Post Office a bit. On one hand, they do weird consumer-friendly stuff: they work on Saturdays, they not only bring things right to your door, they'll pick stuff up as well. That's pretty cool, right? But on the other hand, actual service at a post office is usually less than stellar. It's usually slow and the hours are limited. Mailing packages at the holidays is always a chore. When you send something, unless you pay a premium for an upgrade, you're not exactly sure when it will arrive. Maybe three days? Maybe a week? And if you try their tracking system, it's vague at best. (I generally get the "no information" message until about a day or so after the package arrives.)

Most of the fuss that the USPS will have to cut is Saturday delivery and, honestly, is that really a big deal? Now before you go all Netflix and "what about my meds?" on me, don't we already plan around having no delivery on Sundays? If this cutting of one day a week of delivery would save the USPS, shouldn't we all figure out a way to get by? (Although I might argue that perhaps we should cut a mid-week day to not have a gap of two days.)

Personally, I think we all could get used to every-other-day delivery. Keep the six days of service but do half a route one day, half the next. Let's force companies to cut the junk mail. (I am getting junk mail for people who moved from this house over five years ago!) If you pay bills on-line, don't send a statement. Catalogs must be limited to four times a year (I still think that's way more than anyone needs, but I'm allowing for seasonal changes), and if they person hasn't ordered for the company for over a year, the company needs to stop sending them. (I am sure there's a family in Hatboro who can't figure out why they keep getting cross-stitch catalogs.) I throw away a substantial stack of paper every week, most of which I don't bother to even open. If my mailperson is carrying this to everyone, we're paying someone a lot of money to deliver trash to our doorsteps.

I hate to say this, but the USPS is out of date. It's a service that we don't need as much in this modern age. We pay our bills on-line, email our friends, order from a website. That's not a bad thing. The world changes. We don't send telegrams anymore and it's alright. But I do want a postal service, so let's figure out a way that let's us still get a letter now and again. Without all the junk mail.

Neglect

2011-11-02T06:59:00.000-04:00

I'm not sure why exactly I haven't been posting to this space. I have been writing, just not here, and (in my mind) and just not enough. I haven't been taking as many pictures, either, and I'm trying to decide if these two things are related.

I want to do everything. I want to write for hours and just type long, detailed stories or blog post that (at this point, in my head) would dazzle you with their brilliance. I want to take a long walk without direction and shoot amazing photographs. Of course, this mood usually hits in the middle of the workday or in the middle of the night as a vague dream I barely remember the next day.

I have excuses: this summer was incredibly stressful (seriously, just too much), work is at the crazy point of the year, the house needs cleaning. All true. But when I do have time for writing, I find that I am not able to actually put the words down. The ideas are there, but they just seem to be hanging out with me, like someone you meet at a bar who acts like they want to talk to you, but just answers in monosyllables, expecting you to guess their story.

It's been especially bothersome the past couple of days. NaNoWriMo started and although I have no intention on participating (it's always November which is always a crazy month for me anyway), I am reading about it, hearing people get excited, and I'm sitting here with a word count of zero. Tomorrow is another day, so I'll try to be ready for that.

I know that it'll all kick in soon, and you'll be back to getting a few posts a week, and I'll be uploading pictures again. I know that the crazy of the summer is still affecting me, but that is getting better. Until then, please be patient. I will be back.

You will never love me

2011-10-09T08:14:00.001-04:00

I have had an iTunes library for about ten years. I had a G3 back in the day (Flower Power -- I kid you not, but we're not going there today.) iTunes was a different animal then -- you had pretty limited disc space and you had to type in all the track information (which is why I have songs like "You don't brinh me flowerd" on my ipod.) Do you remember the crazy graphics that came up when you played a song on iTunes? It was a simpler time.

Every time I transfer my library, it clears the playlist. I'm also not sure if it counts the plays on my ipods, but whatever the case, I have a lot of songs that have had zero plays on this computer. So, today, I am on shuffle and only listening to the songs that I haven't listened to, according to the computer. I have my list sorted by number of plays and I feel weirdly happy every time I "promote" one of these songs to the "1+" part of the playlist.

The truth is that I *have* listened to most of these songs. However, when I got this computer, everything was reset to zero. I'm also not sure how the count is affected by the ipods that get plugged into the system. (Yes, ipods. There are four that share this system. This modern world is complicated.) If the plays on the ipods are counting, I am assuming anything with zero plays, I haven't listened to in a year and a half. It surprises me what's on that list. Right now Sam and Dave are crooning "When Something is Wrong with my Baby" and I find it hard to believe that it's been so long since I've listened to this. This is unacceptable behavior.

I have over 9000 songs in my library. A lot of these zero songs are from free downloads, so I excuse myself from those. Others are songs I used to listen to more often, so I figure they had their day in the sun. I'm sure I'll rediscover them again, and overplay them. I justify it all and say that maybe those zero plays are at zero for a reason. But then I hear Jill Sobule sadly sing, "You will never love me," and I know I have to keep listening to those songs I sometimes forget.

Upgrade, downgrade

2011-09-23T06:52:00.000-04:00

I am aware that is all very "you damn kids, get off my lawn" but I have to say something. Why must there be constant "upgrades" to things like Facebook?

Facebook seems to have an almost pathological need to "upgrade" every few months or so. They change lay-out or notifications or list management or any sort of nonsense that just seems to mess things up and almost always affects your privacy settings. "We have now listed your friends by middle initial! And we made it all public! If you would like to have your privacy back, please troll through these twenty menus and click a bunch of boxes!"

The funny thing about this post is that I started writing this a few days ago, before the big roll-out of the "new" Facebook. Now that there are even more changes, I suppose you can guess how thrilled I am. I probably will get used to them or figure out a way around them. But this doesn't mean I have to like the change. The new changes make me feel old and stupid. This is not what I want from something that is supposed to be a sort of entertainment.

Do you know about the subscribe button? They've started something with "subscribing" to people's updates. These are people I've already declared to be my friends, and now I have to subscribe to them? (Now it's quite possible that I don't fully understand the subscribe function, but isn't that another issue? Facebook shouldn't be hard to do.) If you don't subscribe to "all" updates, Facebook will decide what the "important" stories are (they have an algorithm!) Of course, what happened to me was that I missed the announcement of a friend's engagement (apparently, not important), although I did see that he went to the high school football game that week (Facebook says: important!)

I know I'm complaining about something that's free. I know that most of us will shake our fists and do nothing but complain about it for a few days. And that's what Zuckerberg is betting on. Maybe he's right, but what he's forgetting about is the group of people who will shift away, spend a little less time on Facebook, then realize they don't really miss it. They'll find some other way to stay in touch. They probably won't take the time to delete their account (I have an old MySpace account kicking around but that doesn't mean I use it.) Technically, they're still "on" Facebook, so Zuck can still claim his gazillion "users."

I'm sure I'll stay on Facebook. I'll be checking in, maybe doing the occasional status update or uploading some pictures. But I also know I'm going to be working a bit harder to figure out Google+.

Ten years ago

2011-09-11T11:01:00.001-04:00

We're all thinking about where we were ten years ago. My life has changed so much. Sometimes I wonder if it's just because it's been ten years or did September 11th trigger these changes.

We were on vacation, the former Mr. Higgy-Piggie, his parents, and me. We were down in Ocean City, planning to come home that Wednesday. At the time I wasn't working. I had decided to stop teaching in June, and I was going to get cracking on the job hunt just as soon as we got back from this vacation. I wasn't actually sure what I wanted to do, but I knew I didn't want to be teaching.

I swear this is true: the night before I didn't sleep. I had this weird feeling of doom that kept me up that night. I occasionally get these waves of worry, but this was one of the worst. I couldn't sleep that entire night and there was no good reason why. I'm not saying that I predicted anything or somehow knew, but that feeling of doom was there.

Like everyone else, I remember that it was a beautiful day. Perfect blue sky. We were all up to take our morning walk. We watched The Weather Channel and turned off the television at about 9. We must have just missed the breaking news.

We took a walk separate from his parents. It was a long walk, about an hour and a half. Ocean City is pretty quiet that time of year; the season is over and the kids are back in school. We were almost back to the apartment when this woman came up to us. She was a bit crazed. She was just going on and on, "They're crashing planes into buildings and bombs are going off and there are explosions!" What do you even say to this? We just nodded and quietly walked away. I joked, "I wonder if the president was Harrison Ford in that movie she saw."

We were all back in the apartment by then. Normally the television is an absolute no-no, but something about that woman got to me. Maybe I was still on edge from my restless sleep, but I asked if we could just check the news. I know that his parents thought I was being spoiled and demanding, but we turned to CNN. At that point the towers had already crumbled and the Pentagon had a hole in it. There was rumor of a crash in Pennsylvania and they were trying to determine how many other planes were missing. I just watched and watched, trying to take it all in. How could the Towers collapse? It didn't even make sense. So much had happened and it was all hitting at once.

I remember watching the coverage for hours, being pulled into it. At one point I talked to my mom for a bit, told her I was alright. I went back to watching, having a weird sense of relief as time went on that there weren't any more plane crashes. We watched and watched, no one really saying anything. We were trapped in this sticky bucket of news. Finally, TFMHP's father pointed out that they had to go to the grocery store or we'd have nothing for dinner, so his parents left. They came back about five minutes later -- the car wouldn't start.

We spent the afternoon dealing with finding a mechanic, getting a new battery, all those things that take longer than they should. It was good that something pulled us away from the coverage and back into normal life. We packed up to be ready to leave the next day. It's funny. I have vivid memories of earlier in the day, but after the television came on, it just blends together. I don't remember anyone's reaction, I don't remember what, if anything, we did to comfort each other. I'm sure we drove home that next day but I don't remember anything about it. I'm sure I was relieved to be home, but the details are gone.

The days after, all I remember is watching way too much CNN coverage. I remember being obsessed by the number of people that were missing, hoping it would go down, crying over every one of the interviews with loved ones who had made fliers. At the time we lived in a suburb of Philadelphia, and I felt like the points of the attacks were surrounding me. Every time I heard planes overhead, I wondered. Sirens in the night woke me up, panicked. I wasn't working, so all I did was watch and cry. I wondered if I knew anyone who died in the attacks, but it didn't turn out to be the case. But I just kept watching; I was trapped in the hours of news.

I felt very alone those days. Not having a job or a routine had left me floating, and I realized I was floating nowhere. Maybe that was part of my crying: thinking about if had I died suddenly, what would I leave behind? Sometimes I wonder if that was the beginning of me changing. Or do we all change in ten years? There have been a lot of changes these ten years. I'm no longer with Mr. HP, and I've moved to a new city.

After I finally turned off the television, things did start to change. It wasn't overnight and maybe it just was time for me to move forward. I lost weight, went to the gym. I started a career that on most days, I really do love. I tried to seek out my life, not just let it come to me. This took months, so I'm not going to say that September 11th triggered drastic change in my life. But it was one more reason to pick the life I want, that I need. Because it could be over, just like that.

Rachel Zoe can feed the baby, grease the car, and powder her face at the same time

2011-09-06T19:14:00.003-04:00

Every now and again, I watch "The Rachel Zoe Project." I don't watch it for the fashion or her weird phrases; I watch it because I am oddly fascinated by her marriage.

For those who don't know her, Rachel Zoe is a Hollywood stylist. She certainly touches on a lot of stuff I hate about Hollywood: obsession with image, kind of crazy, sort of bitchy, self-centered. I'd never want to actually hang out with her, but she's interesting to watch. She has fabulous assistants and she's married to Rodger Berman, an investment banker. He's mostly background on the show. His primary contribution is to say how much he doesn't understand Rachel. His wife. Just sayin'. For more about the show, go here: http://www.televisionwithoutpity.com/telefile/2011/09/the-rachel-zoe-project-the-sho.php

Disclaimer: a lot of what I say about them is based on what I have seen on the show. I'm no fool: I know that these shows are edited and that story lines are pulled out of hundreds of hours of footage, so I know that reality tv does not equal reality. But there are some things that do come through, no matter the editing.

The past season has been about "Should Rachel have a baby?" She is, after all, a lady of a certain age (which may or may not be the one she tells you), Rodger seems to want one, she can afford it. But here's the thing, as crazy and annoying as she might seem, she loves what she does for a living. She loves the shit out of it. This is a woman who's heart is singing when she starts dressing someone. She needs her client to be wearing that dress with that belt (no, not that one; that one!) and those earrings and, no, they can't wear those shoes, and who messed with that hemline!? She's nuts and she may not sleep for three days before an event, but then she watches the people she dressed on the red carpet and she purrs with joy. There is no doubt she is doing what she loves. So it stands to reason that she's a bit obessed with her work.

This season everyone is telling her she should have a baby. I get that some of the conflict is manufactured for the show, but there are way too many "Oh, Rachel, a baby will complete you" conversations. I would argue that someone like Rachel Zoe does not need a baby. She's basically complete. She may not be what you want her to be, but she's got a complete life. The conversation should not be "she might think she has an amazing life but she doesn't because she doesn't have a baby"; the conversation should be about how she loves her life and having a baby might add a new dimension of awesomeness.

This is not to say that she doesn't want a baby or that she won't be a good parent. I suspect that she does want a kid (I can't imagine her doing something she doesn't really want to do), but she's pretty open with her anxieties about the whole thing. And what doesn't help is someone implying that the center of your life is the wrong choice. Maybe that's the anxiety some parents might have: they've made certain choices in their lives and they are happy. Now that they're considering a big choice in their life, everyone is telling them that their past choices were insignificant. Don't discount the other choices in someone's life. It all comes together to make a complete person.

"(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

2011-09-03T08:28:00.000-04:00

The above quote is from Sylvia Plath. I am reading her journals, the ones edited by Ted Hughes. I am hardly an expert on Sylvia Plath and/or her complicated relationship with Ted Hughes (both before and after her death) but I do have opinions on journal writing.

Ted Hughes writes that this is her autobiography, to which I have to point out that a journal is not an autobiography. Certainly for me, I use my journal to let out emotion. It's intentionally unedited and without direction. It is written for me, with the idea the I will be the only person who reads it.

I've read a handful of famous journals and, while interesting, they tend to get boring and self-indulgent. This is not a swipe at the writer, because part of writing is editing. I'm not sure how much input (if at all) the journal writer had on the final product. One of the few journals that actually works is "The Diary of a Young Girl" by Anne Frank but that was famously edited by the author (and her father) for publication. While she was in hiding, she heard an exiled member of the Dutch government announcing that after the war, he hoped to gather eye-witness accounts of the suffering of the Dutch people. Anne started editing after she heard this.

I love the idea of reading a journal and the raw words. But I also know that the original intention was not necessarily for public consumption. I suppose if you keep a journal, you should probably trust who takes care of it in the end.

Breaking the streak

2011-08-30T06:54:00.000-04:00

It's been a pretty rough month. It's actually been more than a month, but let's just say this past August isn't going to be the one I look back upon fondly.

Despite all logic, I do believe in luck and karma, that the universe somehow evens things out. But luck comes in streaks and can be good or bad. And who knows how long the universe is going to wait to give you good stuff. (Of course, we all push away that thought when the universe is being good to us.)

The universe will do what it will, but I still want to push it in certain directions. Right now, I am trying break this bad streak. Unfortunately, I'm not really sure how to go about this. New good luck charms? Change in routine? The problem is that I don't want to change it up too much. It could always be worse, so I'm afraid that any change could be in the wrong direction. Nonetheless, I am looking for new lucky pennies, anything that might help.

In the end, I will land on my feet, so don't worry. I just am hoping September makes up for the end of this summer.

Poor Old Johnny Ray

2011-08-27T10:49:00.000-04:00

There is a hurricane a-coming, so they say. We're far enough inland that, officially, we are under a tropic storm warning, which means we've all run to the grocery store to get milk, bread, toilet paper, and booze. It's a weird state to be in, right now. We've all basically prepared, but if feels like we should be doing something: stock-piling internet or bagging up some extra cable, but, of course, that's just silly.

I went for a walk this morning and it was more active than most Saturday mornings: people getting in the walks with the dogs, a little bit of exercise, whatever you would normally be doing on a lazy Saturday needed to get done while the storms were still off in the distance. We're all sending our good wishes to those who might be in the path, making phone calls while the system us functioning.

Here's hoping that everyone stays safe, damage is minimal, and in a few days we're all laughing about how we overreacted.

Believing by the non-believer

2011-08-10T21:42:00.000-04:00

I want to believe.

I don't know what will happen when I die, or what happens to anyone. I want to believe that spirits are with us, angels, helping us along. I want to believe that there's a heaven where Nana and Papa are playing poker with everyone, and Nana has beautiful teeth and Papa has long, flowing hair. I want to believe that even though I can't imagine it, how it could work, where it might be, that something wonderful happens to us after we pass on.

But the scientist kicks in, too often. How can you be an angel and in heaven? Are you like Santa Claus or something, only visiting once in a while? I'm an eight-year-old, asking Big Questions, all with no answers. Why do I have to figure it out at all? Because: scientist. I need to explain it; I need to rationalize it. But here's the thing: one day I will know the answer. And that freaks me out.

Because I can't explain what will happen, I say I don't believe. Because my head can't wrap itself around something that can't be proven, I say that I don't believe that anything happens when you die. I know, it's called faith because you have to believe but the logical part of me prevents me from having that faith. There's nothing there, because I can't imagine what could be there.

But, here's the thing: I still pray when I have times I need to be stronger. I still ask for help from above, an above I say I don't believe in. I still imagine that Nana can see me now. And this comforts me.

(for Richard, who inspires belief)

I'm good; thanks. Really.

2011-08-06T13:22:00.000-04:00

You would not believe the month or so I've had. (This is my attempt to explain why I haven't been writing here, so be forgiving.) I'm not going to tell you everything, and it's not all over, but this month has involved multiple travels, family stuff, mold, expensive and unexpected home repairs, a major deadline at work, a wedding (not mine), and, of course, a summer cold. To give you an idea of how crazy I've been, I got called for jury duty and I'm actually thinking, "oh thank God I'm gonna have a day where all I need to do is sit around and wait!"

The details behind everything are too much (and too boring to anyone but me) to go into, but let me just say that you do not want mold in your house because it's super expensive to deal with, but at the same time, it's just a house and there are more important things out there. I'll get through all of this and it's all a part of life.

I don't know if it's a good thing that everything is happening at once or if it's just going to make me insane. I wonder if about three months from now, it just all gonna hit me one day at the grocery store and I'll be breaking down in the bread aisle. ("Clean up in Aisle Four.") For now, I'm hanging in there with the occasional burst of emotion. I've been too busy to do much more than that.

I do have to check some of my reactions. Someone at work was panicking about a detail in a document that I was involved with ("Sometimes this report is called 'XXX' and sometimes it's called 'YYY'! What are we going to do?!") and the thought in my head is: "stop by when you have a real problem." But it is my job and important on a certain level, so I don't say what's in my head and thank her for pointing out this issue.

This all said, I am always touched as to how caring other people can be. Sometimes I cry because I am amazed that they're reaching out to me. I am thankful for every person who just asks if I'm doing okay. I am more okay because they asked.

I know this is going all over the place, but I wanted to give folks an update. Everything will work out; I know it will.

A sixth sense

2011-07-23T10:46:00.002-04:00

When you have the same driver for that hour-long trip to the airport, you learn a few things about her. This driver tells us she sees spirits. They come to her and give her messages. I am skeptical, but I don't want to insult her, so I just smile. She explains further: "Haven't you ever seen something move out of the corner of your eye? Haven't you thought you heard someone there, only to not see anything? Those are spirits coming to you." She tells me that when the cat suddenly runs out of the room, it's because he's seen a spirit.

I believe that she believes, but I don't believe that she actually sees these spirits. I'm too much of a scientist, too much of a cynic perhaps. On this drive to the airport, she tells me that there is a blond, older woman with us. She asks if there was a relative of mine that was blond. I say, yes, Nana was a blond. She tells me that she's talking about cookies she's made just for me.

I want to believe. I really do. I would love for Nana to visit, to be the one offering me cookies. But I can't. Nana wouldn't be offering me cookies, she'd be buying me a drink and wanting to dish. She'd want to go outside with me so she could grab a smoke. She'd want to see pictures of Andrea's kids and hear all about these past few years. She'd touch my hair and comment about how long it is. She would be smiling. I miss my Nana so much and I'd love for her to be there, so I pretend. But she wasn't there on that ride to the airport.

Later, when we are talking about the drive, he tells me I need to let go of the scientist. I need to believe at least a little bit. I need to welcome the angels. Maybe Nana wasn't there right then, but I need to be ready when she does come. I promise I will try.

How it is, sometimes (most of the time)

2011-07-06T20:26:00.000-04:00

I have anxiety. Nothing fancy, nothing that I can't control (well, most days and with varying degrees of success), but it there. If you want to know more, read this:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/04/magazine/04anxiety-t.html?pagewanted=all

Reading this article was a kind of relief because it explained a lot about me to me. I always knew I had stuff in my head, but this put it together. It also pointed out to me that not everyone is thinking like me, not everyone's head goes a million different ways when faced with, well, anything. When you have anxiety, it's easy to forget that not everyone else feels the same way.

It's hard to describe what goes on in my head, but it's constant. I try to anticipate every possible outcome, so that I am prepared. What if we're late, what if we're early, what if I spill my coffee? A surprise is no good. Here's the worst part: if something goes wrong that I didn't anticipate, my first reaction is to be kicking myself for not anticipating this problem. There's a vanity in anxiety, that somehow that just by seeing the potential for a problem, I can solve it all. I have a friend who is constantly reminding me that I'm not that powerful but my anxiety tells me that I might be.

Here's an example of how my anxiety works: the bag I carry to work. My bag (and it is a bag; a mere purse cannot contain all I need) has pens (many, many, because one may run out and then another, so I better have ten) and notebooks and cough drops and safety pins and gum and a deck of cards and my phone and an ipod and a Kindle and so much more. Someone once told me that I am the person they most want to be trapped in an elevator with because I would have snacks and a bottle of water and band-aids and a sewing kit and, most likely, games. The crazy thing is not that I carry all of that, but if there is occasion when I don't have something (say, a paper clip), I find that I start beating myself up over that. ("How could I forget paper clips?! How could I be so careless?") (I have since put a few paper clips in my bag.) This is not to say that I'm organized. Hardly. I have a kind of organization but I am always misplacing stuff. when you carry the world in your bag, you might misplace a few things.

Anxiety is not fear. I often need to remind myself of this. That if I can control my anxiety, I can do anything. The anxiety won't go away but it can be managed. I rode a zipline -- it can't be all that bad. I know I'm no fun when I get anxious, but I'm trying to be better.

Chicago Public Art

2011-06-25T22:03:00.000-04:00

The streets of Chicago told me a story.

Swag

2011-06-20T20:54:00.000-04:00

I'm away at a conference which means one thing: swag! I know that's wrong: conferences are about learning and networking and blah, blah, which, sure, we'll all try to do those things, but we all get the swag.

When I was in graduate school, the only conference I attended was the Annual Crown Gall Conference (yeah, it's a thing!) No surprisingly, it was a conference without swag. Until I joined the pharmaceutical industry, I had no sense of the potential for swag. When I joined pharma (about eight years ago), it was after the hey-day of pharma giveaways, but you could still get things. Pens (my god, the pens!), pads of paper, little flashlights, toys, all with the company's name stamped on them. The first conference you go to, you take everything. It's free! How could you turn it down? And you find yourself with about 25 pounds of cheap pens and post-it notes.

The next conference you try to limit yourself. You won't take the crappy pens. You won't take the stuff you think you won't use. You still end up with a yo-yo that lights up or another ten notebooks. How many tote bags does anyone need?

A couple of years ago, the pharmaceutical industry pulled the plug on swag. Those days are behind us. No more pens, no more pads of paper with the name of a drug engraved on the side. Last year, I went to my first pharma conference after these rules were passed. The reps weren't entirely sure what to do with themselves. They gave away a lot of food. It just wasn't the same.

This conference is near pharma but not actually pharma, so the swag is here. Each company tries so hard to make their swag stand out. It's not just pens and paper and bags, but stuffed monkeys and paper fans and tea and lots of things that light up. There are plenty of raffles (mostly ipads, but some Kindles and fancy earphones and, sadly, one company has a Shuffle.) A couple of raffles are just for cash. I guess that gets to the point.

I feel bad for the companies with the bad swag. I saw at least a couple of places that were trying to give away calculators. Does anyone need a calculator? One company tried to give me this foam penguin. I wanted to be nice, but I'll just throw it away, so I just told her no. I saw lots of purse hooks: does anyone use these?

I am in my hotel room, looking at my stuff (flash drives!) and trying to figure out what's worth taking home. That puzzle ball seemed so interesting when that rep was talking to me. Now I just have regrets.

Zip-a-dee-doo-dah!

2011-06-12T15:02:00.000-04:00

I am not a risk-taker. I have back-ups to my back-ups, and then Plans C, D, and E. I like my feet on the ground, and I get nervous walking across rickety bridges. I don't ride roller coasters, and no one will ever accuse me of being outdoorsy. But, for some reason, I wanted to ride a zip-line. Friday I got my chance: a work outing at Go Ape! (For more details, go here: http://www.goape.com/)

I suppose I could have wimped out but I wouldn't let myself. I could do this! It's got to be safe, right? Of course, the first thing they have you do is sign the waiver, which makes it clear that, yes, this is a risky activity, oh, and you could die, but let's have some fun! Seriously, what am I signing here?

A few things you need to know about me: I'm not in great shape. I'm in office-worker-who-walks-regularly-but-not-too-much-more-than-that shape. I've never had upper body strength. (Remember the kid in grade school who couldn't do a single pull-up or climb the rope at all? I'm that kid.) I'm also not the best in the heat, and it was upper-80s and humid. And I hate ladders. They move! That is not cool with me.

I have to give huge props to the way they have everything set up. You start out with about 15 minutes of instruction. Then they put on your harness, they teach you how to use all the equipment, and you literally walk through your first set of cables to get comfortable with everything. If you mix up the order of your hooks and pulley (as I did the first time), it's better to do it with your feet on the ground. Then they take you to a bite-sized version of a course with a rope ladder, a tightrope about four feet off the ground, and a short zip-line. Everything is set up in a way that helps you build your confidence.

The course is divided into sections: each section has a series of ladders and bridge-like crossings, which take you higher and higher. All end with a zip-line down to the ground and two of them have a "Tarzan swing" into a cargo net. I started out fine; it was more work than I expected, but I was doing it. I was crossing up high, one step at a time. As high as it was, I was okay with it.

Then I got to the Tarzan swing, which was actually thrilling, into the cargo net, which was not good at all. I was in the net and simply could not climb out. The cargo net had a lot of give, which made it really difficult to climb. I just couldn't do it. I tried and tried and just could not get anywhere. At this point, the adrenaline kicked in which did nothing for me but make me shake. Here I am pretty high in the air, and I genuinely feel like I have nowhere to go. (My work group was so great through this whole thing. Totally supportive and just so very nice.) I tried to regroup by just hanging from the harness for a while (and, seriously, how bad must I have been to just hang in the air from a harness?) I tried again, but all I had in my arms and legs were jelly. Eventually, they rescued me by sending up a pulley which allowed them to help me to the platform.

Even though I was on the platform and "safe", I was overheated and shaky, but I was still way in the air. I had to complete that leg of the course. I had more ladders and bridges. I had to do it. One step at a time. The funny thing was, by the time I got to the zip-line, which was the end of that leg, I was actually relieved. Yay! It's the ground! Who cares how high I am? I needed to get back to earth.

Going down a zip-line is the exact opposite of what I am 99% of the time. You have to just step off and trust. You have to just let go. When you land, you have to not care if you get a back full of wood chips or if you look graceful. You just have to dig your heels in and fall to the ground.

As we headed for the next leg, I thought about walking the rest of the course. But the next leg didn't have a Tarzan swing (and therefore, no cargo net), so I decided I could do it. This was probably a bit unwise. I was overheated at this point. As I went through the course (which went higher and higher), I got shakier and hotter. I tried to take breaks (but, seriously: I was 40 feet in the air), and at one point, yeah, I got sick (sorry to all the critters below.) Everyone tried to be reassuring, telling me I could do it, but, truly, it was more about being overheated. It did, however, pull me into this zen-ish place. At one of the highest points in the course, the crossing was a series of swinging platforms, and if I wouldn't have been so physically spent, it would have scared the crap out of me. Instead, I was just determined to concentrate on walking from one to the other, willing them to swing as little as possible.

When I got to that final zip-line, I was so happy! All I had to do was slide. At first I was just going to go, but then I took a moment. At this point I knew it would be a mistake to push myself further, so this would be the last one. I needed to take it in. It was a nice long one; long enough that you could actually process what was happening. It was great. It was everything I hoped and even more.

Overall, it was more physically demanding than I expected. It's not like I thought there would be an elevator up to the treetops, but this required some muscle. I faced some fears and did some things I never thought I'd do. And, I really want to do it again!

Making a change

2011-06-07T07:11:00.000-04:00

I am planning on moving the blog soon. Details will be coming, so keep your eye on this space. The reasons behind this have to do with a few things: annoyance with Blogger (the server that hosts this blog), my need to edit, just wanting a change.

Most of you are probably unaware of this, but Blogger was down for quite a while for a few days mid-May (around Friday the 13th which explains my missing posts from that time). Here's the thing: I know that there needs to be occasional maintenance, and computer issues happen and all that. And I know that I get the services of Blogger for the low, low price of free. But it's crossed from the occasional annoyance to the unacceptable.

Blogger's always been a bit sensitive. It freezes up on a semi-regular basis, losing my edits. If I pay attention, I can usually notice it in time to cut and paste into another place, and I won't lose what I've been working on. But when I miss that window, it incredibly annoying and much cussing occurs. The obvious work-around for this is to write in another program (such as Word), then cut-and-paste it into Blogger. Except that touchy Blogger always makes this behave oddly. If you look back on this blog with a critical eye to things like font size and spacing, you'll notice the occasional weird one. This is from when I cut-and-paste from Word and, try as I might, I can never quite fix it. And I'm insane enough to have things like that bother me.

The thing that pisses me off the most is that it's not like Blogger is some small bog-hosting site. It's Google! Shut downs of more that a couple of hours are completely unacceptable. If it gets to that point, they should have sent out an email. We all have to have an email address to register our blogs; they can reach us. Especially when it acts fine in one window (where you compose), then won't publish and that work is gone! I hate redoing a post; it feels fake, like reposing a picture you missed.

At this point, I'm still living here, but trying to decide how and when to switch. Don't worry; I won't let you miss it.

Stepping backwards

2011-05-29T15:49:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, I watched "Terms of Endearment", one of those movies that I always seem to catch the last half hour or so (spoiler: Shirley MacLaine freaks out about Emma's pain every time, but she dies of cancer anyway. No, I don't cry every time, you do! It's allergies!!) This time I watched because I caught the beginning. The movie is almost 30 years old, and, inevitably, there are some parts that feel dated (although I'm always surprised as to how well it does hold up). In fact, when I think about it, we were more progressive then compared to now.

Just a quick reminder of characters: Emma is married to Flap, a struggling academic. Aurora is her insanely-close mother who does not approve of the marriage for both valid and selfish reasons. Emma is a stay-at-home mom, following her husband's career to various posts around the country, away from Aurora. It's not clear why Emma is a stay-at-home mom: they clearly need the money and, despite her best efforts, Emma is not the greatest mom. She shouts, she threatens to hit the kids, she and Flap fight often and loudly in front of them. (I'm not saying that Emma didn't deserve to shout: Flap cheats and lies and seems to be without direction.) I have to say that it's refreshing to watch a movie that doesn't idolize Saint Mom.

How was it that there seemed to be more choice and acceptance back then? Why does it feel that we've stepped backwards? When Emma visits NYC with a childhood friend, she is asked when she's going back to work after the birth of her third child, and it's actually met with disapproval that she has no plans to do so. This isn't a statement about being a stay-at-home mom or a working mom and which one is better. Emma just sort of owns her choice. There is no right or wrong way, just the way that feels right for her.

The movie is just more open to choice or non-traditional families than current movies are. Aurora wants Emma to leave Flap, even though her kids are fairly young. At one point, she actually encourages Emma to get an abortion when Emma thinks she "might" be pregnant again, asking her how else will she be able to get on with her life. Emma probably should have left Flap, and, in her way, does at the end, when she has her mother raise the children rather than him. She even considers having her single friend raise her daughter but decides against it, not because her friend is without a man, but because she wants to keep her kids together.

It's sad to me that we're in more boxes now, that there are more, not less, labels and expectations. How did we let this happen?

Blocked

2011-05-28T14:33:00.000-04:00

There are days that I simply can't write. I look at the blank scene and nothing good can come of it. A few days ago, I had one of those days: the intention and the time to write were there, but there was nothing. Actually, that's not accurate. There was nothing worth writing. I often find that the days I can't write are the days with the most thoughts. There are so many bouncing around that I can't focus. They swarm but nothing actually lands.

What do you do on these days? Is it better to push, perhaps to only add to the frustration, but perhaps to break through? Or is it better to view this as a sign that today isn't the day for the words? I suppose if I were simply writing for myself, I'd probably just push myself to write something. But when it comes to posting something, I don't really want to put just anything out there. Yes, I care about you, dear reader.

There are times I'm walking and these amazing ideas come to me. I start composing in my head. I know I should take the time to write myself a note or two, but the ideas are just rolling and it's so easy, and I can't believe that I won't remember it all for later. It's obviously brilliant and it's fitting all together so nicely as I walk. However, later, I am in front of the computer and: nothing. Sometimes I can't even remember what the topic was in the first place.

I am getting better about notes to myself. I still have a ways to go until I'm as clever on the page as I am in my head, but I keep at it. And so, dear reader, bear with the occasional post that seems forced into the world.

Ode to Toy

2011-05-27T07:33:00.000-04:00

After much resistance and some budget justifications, I finally got a smart phone. An iphone, to be specific. I thought I would be one of those people who get one, played with a few things, then I'd just treat it like a phone that lets me read my email when I'm in line at the grocery store. But truly, I've fallen in love.

I'm still in that "I'll download this even though it seems kind useless because it's free!" stage. Do I need the golf clap sound effect or the Lego camera? Of course not, but they're fun! (I did draw a line at the fart piano, so it's not like I'm out of control. I have standards!) I try to clean up on a regular basis, so it's not like I have pages and pages of apps I never see.

With so much available for free, I find I suddenly turn into the cheapest person in the world when it comes to getting new apps. "Ninety-nine cents for the upgrade!? Outrageous!" I say, drinking my $2 coffee. Unfortunately, in some cases, it does seem you get what you paid for, and a lot of the free apps are useless or difficult to use. I now read more reviews instead of just downloading something because of a cute name and icon.

I tend to grab multiple versions of the same types of apps: list-making apps, travel-planning, diet and exercise, the search for the app that will solve it all. For as many of these that are out there, I haven't found one that really works for me so I'll keep at that. I've been surprisingly frustrated at the map functions. It seems like they take forever to download and then they're not very helpful. I'm not much of a game player, so I keep that page pretty clean.

The photo apps are the most fun. I still take most of my pictures with my camera, but I have a handful of apps that let me play with my pictures: I can doodle on them or turn them into black and white with a pop of color. I have a panorama camera and a bunch of special effects that make pictures look like ink drawings or cartoons. I have an app that lets me take videos that look like silent movies, including an old-timey soundtrack. I blow kisses into the camera, pretending to be Lillian Gish.

My iphone brings me joy. It allows a certain level of silliness, which pleases me to no end. And I can't begin to tell you have much I love the photo app that puts Obama in my pictures.

Rapture, be pure

2011-05-25T06:54:00.000-04:00

So, we all missed another rapture. Yeah, we all were so cool, laughing at it, making the jokes, all of that. We shook our heads at the folks who sold their houses, quit their jobs, got in a camper, and drove to the middle of nowhere. Why would they believe all of this? Who could believe that idiot and his predictions?

Here's the thing: whenever one of these religious crazies gets serious about the apocalypse talk, there's a part of me that gets nervous. Of course, I know that these end-of-the-world guys are either delusional or grabbing for attention, but I can't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, one of these guys are serious. It's possible I've seen too many movies with that one scientist insisting that the signs are all there and everyone laughs at him, but, sure enough, here comes the asteroid or aliens or whatever is destroying us all this summer.

You might think that because I'm a scientist I wouldn't believe these things, but it's because I'm a scientist, I will take in all theories. There are a hundred stories of that person with a crazy theory that turns out to be true. You have to keep an open mind. The problem with an open mind is that nagging doubt you get when you actually dismiss something.

Do you ever watch horse racing? If you want to take big chances and win some serious cash, bet on a superfecta (the first four places, in order.) There are times long shots come in and you see these huge pay-outs. The superfecta for this year's Kentucky Derby was close to $50,000 (for a $1 bet!) What does this have to do with the apocalypse? At the Kentucky Derby, the betters who could look at all the factors: the horses, jockeys, post positions, track conditions, all of that, and pull it together figured it out. Maybe some day, there will be someone who actually does see those signs of the apocalypse and will announce that the end of days is coming.

No, I didn't really believe the world would end this weekend, no more than I believe it'll end next year. But do me a favor: don't talk about it too much in front of me because it really does kind of freak me out.

Taking what they're givin'

2011-05-20T10:07:00.000-04:00

As often happens, The New York Times picked up on my blog post and had this interesting article on the job market and recent college graduates:
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/19/business/economy/19grads.html?_r=1&src=rechp

There are some interesting points here, including that college graduates are pushing out non-graduates for lower-level jobs (which, in its sad way, actually speaks to the value of higher education, although it's a bit wrong to thing, "Yay! I'm more likely to get that job at McDonald's now that I have that engineering degree!") I don't like the idea of assessing the value of something based on the group that had it for the shortest period of time. They touch on this point later in the article, that a college education (and beyond) should help you in the long run, but it's buried pretty far down there.

I hate the idea of college being viewed as simply a job-training program. This isn't the deal when you sign up. If that's what we want out of our colleges, then the whole system needs a big change: contracts between students and employers when they enter, promises of specific coursework, GPA's, all that. I dont' think we want to go there just yet.

The point that needs to be made is that the real reason college grads aren't getting jobs easily is because no one is getting a job easily these days. Times are tough and it's gonna take a bit more work to get something going. This doesn't take away from the "value" of the degree. It's not like there's a better alternative out there.

Sometimes you have to take a step back to move forward. Here's my story: after graduate school, after I had worked a few years in academia and decided it wasn't what I wanted to do, I started the job hunt. Admittedly, the only plan I had was "not academia" and my timing wasn't the best, so I was out of work longer than I had hoped. I finally got an interview for a temp job at a non-profit where they said they'd love to have me but could only pay $14/hour. I pointed out that it was more than I was currently making, and we had a deal.

Fast forward a few months (shortly after the temp job ended) to a job interview at a big pharma. Turns out, the guy interviewing me had worked at the same non-profit years earlier. I ended up landing that job (with a very nice boost in salary). He told me later that one of the main reasons he hired me was because, if I was willing to work at the non-profit, I would work super-hard now that I was getting a decent salary.

Sometimes you have to take that not-so-great job to get the good one. If I had taken my snapshot of "Is grad school worth it?" when I was at the non-profit, the answer would have been, no way. But less than a year later, the answer would have completely changed. Whether or not college is worth it (if it's only about the job-getting) needs to be examined down the road: once the economy changes, over a lifetime.

Why did/should you go to college?

2011-05-18T07:03:00.001-04:00

With it being college graduation season coupled with an iffy economic status, there have been a lot of "Is college worth the price?" sort of articles in the news lately. There are some good points. A college education has gotten very expensive and there's more and more data out there that what you get with a diploma is a hunk of "not much."

There is an obvious concern about the mountain of debt one gets handed along with a diploma that may or may not translate into a decent job. College costs are crazy-high these days. The average cost for a public, in-state institution is $7605 for tuition and fees. That translates to over $30,000 for in-state, 4-year college education -- and this isn't including food and housing and all that. If you want to hit the private college scene, well, that number will just hurt your soul.

The question is: is it worth it? You may have heard the statistic suggesting that a college graduate earns, over their lifetime, approximately a million dollars more than a high-school-only type. There are plenty of errors with this argument, as shown here:
http://www.forbes.com/forbes/2009/0202/060.html

That said, there is a question of getting your foot in the door. If you're applying for a position, how many resumes go in the "no" pile just because you don't have certain letters after your name? And, more importantly, what is your level of control over the type of job you can get? You may be able to get that entry-level position, but you may be passed over for those manager-type positions.

A bigger question is: what is the purpose of a college education? If it's simply to get a certain type of job or earn a specific salary then you do need to crunch the numbers as to the worth of a college education. Personally, I think that college is more than a job-prep program. I am still enough of a romantic to think that there is an intellectual value in a college education, that there is something valuable about an environment dedicated to learning. In this economy with these costs, the decision for higher education has to come from a love of the experience of going to college.

Back when I was working at a university (oh so many years ago), I used to advise my students about whether or not they should go to graduate school. I told them that if it was simply a next step then they should probably not go. But if they just really loved biology, the they should go. For a lot of people, going to graduate school would have little impact on the financial level. (On a personal note, I left a $35K/year job to go to graduate school and, after I finished, I was earning $33K to teach at the college level.) College now falls into this bucket. Is this a required piece of the puzzle of your life?

This is a complicated and expensive thing. I think we've reached the point where a kid shouldn't go to college just because it's the next step. I hate saying this because I think education is truly a big deal. But I don't know how much of an education kids are getting these days, at a very high cost.

Give me the news

2011-05-17T17:39:00.000-04:00

Today I have a doctor's appointment. Just a check-up and that's all the specifics you need. This is not where you get the details of my anatomical in's and out's. But I am anxious about it. Not for any specific reason, but just the general anxiety of going to the doctor. Because, in my mind, it's either status quo, which is a neutral outcome, or bad news. The doctor just doesn't come in with this news: "hey, that extra 10 (or more) pounds you're carrying? Let me do this painless procedure that will not only get rid of it but convert it to GOLD. Yeah, it sucks for those skinny bitches that don't have that extra to convert!"

The fact is I have general anxiety. I overthink everything. It shouldn't be a shock that I have this nervousness about going to the doctor. I try to talk myself out of it (believe me, I argue), but there's still a jumping in the pit of my stomach. Yes, I understand that if there's an issue (don't say that; knock on wood!) it's best to know sooner rather than later. But that doesn't mean I really want to know. Ignorance is bliss and all of that.

I'm sure there's nothing wrong here. It truly is just an annual check-up. I think my body is just keeping watch: if we act like it could be something, then it won't be. Anxiety is not about logic. Nor is it your friend. But it's always there for you.

Dear Kitty, Take two

2011-05-17T10:14:00.000-04:00

Blogger restored the post! How about that! Here's the "Dear Kitty" post in its complete version.
I started regularly writing in a diary about a year and a half ago. I use a large, red Moleskine calendar. I write exactly one page a day. No more, no less. I paste in fortunes from cookies, flower petals, lottery tickets, notes from the Universe. I've kept diaries before, with varies degrees of loyalty and production. Th elongest stretch was for a couple of years when I was in grad school. This current set-up works for me. I get a page a day, and I just go.

I write in the morning. I want the complete day behind me before I write about it. I try to not edit myself when I write in my journal. Not that I go completely free-form. I do write complete sentences and try to have a bit of a narrative. But I try to let my thoughts just flow. Sometimes it surprises me what ends up on the page. I'll be upset or bothered about one thing and, as I write, it morphs into another thing. I'm not writing a story; I'm just releasing. It's a chance to open my head up, to not care about the exact way I'm presenting it all. Sometimes I solve problems. Sometimes I ask more questions.
This diary is for me and no one else. I haven't reread older entries, nor do I plan to, at least not for a while. Maybe I need a five-year rule or something before I go back. Maybe ten. For now, it's where I cleanse, where I let go. I wonder what should become of these books. I wouldn't want it to be read wrong. I sometimes just vent or write things I wouldn't say out loud.
I write my hopes; I write some of my dreams (some dreams are too big to leave me just yet.) Every day, a letter to myself, pushing me forward.

About a girl, part 2

2011-05-16T14:29:00.000-04:00

Do you still talk to your best friend from high school? Unfortunately, I do not. And this makes me sad. I'm still in touch with a number of people from high school, but the person I would have said was my best friend in high school, I have not talked to since college.

Did something happen to cause this? Yes. When people ask, I give the short answer: she stole my boyfriend. Which is true, but that's not the real reason we don't talk. It's an easy answer, and people nod and kind of laugh at it. But, truly, I am not heartbroken over the loss of this guy (but, oh yeah, it hurt at the time.)

Here's what happened. I met a guy and we started going out. Guy had a group of friends, I had a group of friends (including former best friend [FBF]), we all started hanging out. We went out that summer between high school and college; Guy was attending same local college as me and friends, it was going to be such a great summer! But then in early August, with no warning, Guy dumps me. I did not see that coming. And, wow, it really hurt. It wasn't until months later that I found Guy had dumped me to be with FBF.

Look, I understand hormones. I get that sometimes attractions wander. These are forgivable. But once it happened, once Guy chose FBF, they should have told me. Tell me the truth! It would have sucked, but I needed them to come clean. At least then I'd get why Guy dumped me. And, FBF, don't hang out with me for months while you're dating Guy on the side and not tell me. Because that's what cuts my heart out. That she couldn't tell me. That I would ask her if she met someone, now that we were at college, and she'd tell me, nope, no one there. I had to find out by accident.

I thought we were close. I thought we were best friends since the eight grade. I thought we could talk. I thought we didn't hurt each other. And the thing that really hurts isn't that FBF hooked up with Guy or even that they kept it a secret, but that, once I found out, FBF never ever said she was sorry. Not once. She just avoided me, disappeared from my life. Even Guy took the time to write a letter trying to explain (I wrote back something like nine pages of hurt and anger, but, really, it was less him than her.) (And nine pages -- what was wrong with me?!)

Why don't I talk to my best friend from high school? Because she thought so little of me that she couldn't take the time to say, "I'm sorry." Because I was that easy to set aside. Because she could break my heart and not care.

(A shout-out to Tracy, who inspired this post.)

Dear Kitty,

2011-05-15T17:11:00.000-04:00

A few days ago, I wrote a post about the journal I keep. Alas, Blogger had its issues (those details coming soon), and it is gone, nothing put electrons in the atmosphere. I'm really bummed about this, as I thought it was a pretty good post. That said, I'm not up to rewriting it. There's something about that that just feels artificial to me.

At any rate, here's what I had started with. Let's be experimental: you can fill in the rest...

I started regularly writing in a diary about a year and a half ago. I use a large, red Moleskine calendar. I write exactly one page a day. No more, no less. I paste in fortunes from cookies, flower petals, lottery tickets, notes from the Universe. I've kept diaries before, with varies degrees of loyalty and production.

My personal work-life balance

2011-05-14T08:40:00.000-04:00

As much as I may grumble about it, personally, I feel I have a pretty good work-life balance (WLB). Yeah, I'd love more vacation time, but, really, who wouldn't? That said, I have to work to get it. There will always be a pressure to do more: from work, from home, from your own ideas of personal growth. You have to (to a point) go after the balance on your own.

In a previous job, not so long ago, I was issued a Blackberry. At the time, I thought it was a good thing. I thought that I had hit a certain status. I didn't have any direct reports, but I liked the idea that I was important enough that I could be reached if they absolutely needed me. (I know, ego is an amazing thing.) The truth was, it messed with my own WLB. Was I at the Air and Space Museum on a Saturday checking my email? Yes, I was that jerk. The Blackberry kind of obsessed me. "I'm just checking!" became a regular statement.

Yes, I know that was on me, but if it's there, I'll check. That's my head. When I took this new job, I was offered a Blackberry and I refused it. As long as I don't have direct reports, I can think of no medical writing emergency. Whatever goes down can wait until I come into work the next morning. I have learned to say "no" every so often. I have to allow myself to ask for flexibility.

I think that some people get away from WLB because of ego. There is a feeling that if they don't do it themselves -- and quickly -- somehow the company will crumble around them. That's not to say it's not important to hit deadlines, etc. But when your coworkers can compare which teeth have been broken off due to grinding while sleeping (true story, by the way), maybe it's time to take a hard look at what you're doing to achieve balance. The company will somehow be able to push on if you don't respond to that email at midnight.

There are people out there who do want work to be the center of their lives. I get that. But if you need better balance, you have to work to get it. It's not always handed to you. It's scary to tell your boss that you need more time. Sometimes your boss will say no. You might even have to change jobs. But if it's what you need, you have to try.

Work policies

2011-05-11T07:35:00.000-04:00

Hey, look! It's Part Two of my Work-Life Balance rant!

When committee such as this WLB group are formed, it's always an odd thing. The group was formed because some upper-management type has decided, based on this survey, that this is An Issue! Of course, upper management type doesn't actually have the time to be on a silly committee like this, so he appoints a leader gathers a few minions (I am a minion). You now have a group of about 10 people, all wanting different outcomes.

I would like to state for the record that this group has some really smart folks on board. There have been some spot-on statements and observations. The problem is that we don't actually have any power. We don't set policies and most of us aren't even managers. And our policies: oh my! One of the first tasks we did as a group was evaluate the WLB policies and they are a piece of work.

The first question is: What, exactly, is a WLB policy? My company has decided that WLB policies primarily deal with time off (okay) and gym memberships (not so much). HR gathered all the WLB policies and sent them out to the group. There is a total of 14. I found that two of them were no longer applicable (one was about a bonus day off we got last year and one was for a Sprint discount that expired. In 2008.) There were three about specific gym memberships, and the rest were about things like sick time, paternity leave, etc.

The HR rep shows up to these meetings and assures us that there is flexibility within the policies. Really? The sick leave policy is so specific, it reads almost like a joke. If you are sick, you need to call in and talk to your supervisor within 30 minutes of the start of the day (no, that's not exactly defined. The start of your day or your supervisor's? It's not clear, but it is 30 minutes, dammit!) No, you can't email and you can't leave a message. No, you can't have someone else call for you. This is spelled out very clearly in the policy. Technically, if you email your boss that you've been throwing up all night and won't be in, not only are you breaking the policy, but if your boss accepts this, s/he is also ignoring policy. And HR sort of stating that they can be flexible at some small group meeting doesn't exactly erase this.

Another thing: how is a gym membership WLB? It's a health benefit, sure. But the issue I have is that it is a membership to a specific gym. I applaud any company to acknowledges that people want to do more than work. But shouldn't they be funding everyone's hobbies? If you are demanding that people get in shape, then they should be paying for at-home exercise equipment, new tennis shoes, Weight Watcher's membership, any of that. It's not like they keep track of your visits to the gym. Not only that, you have to join certain gyms. If you have a gym a block away from you and it isn't in our policy, too bad. You have to pay for it on your own. So much for flexibility.

I suppose the good news is that there is so far to go here, it should be easy. I just hope that we're allowed to do something. That this committee isn't just for show.

Work-Life Balance

2011-05-10T18:14:00.000-04:00

This will be the first in a series of posts, just as a warning to those of you expecting the usual stuff about "American Idol."

I have recently joined/been recruited to be part of a work-life balance (WLB) group. Here's what happened: they did some surveys at my place of work and the one thing that came back is that our WLB is not good. I don't think my place of work is that unusual in that most of us think we're overworked and want more time for our lives. And, as all typical corporate-type places like to do, they formed committees, and I got to be a part of one.

The first thing that's obvious about WLB is that everyone has different needs and wants. This makes companies crazy because what they want most of all is for us to all want the exact same thing. They want the easy fix. "Free soup on Tuesday!" "Yay!" The good news is that when you boil it down, most workers want more time off, a better working environment, more flexibility, and less work. The bad news is that companies don't really want to give that to them.

Being on this committee has gotten me to think about what I want. How would I get more balance? How much time off is reasonable; how much time off is crossing into slacker territory? Free coffee is nice, but should I get snotty if it's not Starbucks? What kind of perks help my WLB and which ones are just kind of nice?

If you ran a company, what would you do to give your employees WLB? Should this even be a question? Maybe it's better for a company to just lay down the law and say "suck it" to their employees. As long as people are still looking for jobs, maybe that's the better strategy.

Mother, may I?

2011-05-09T11:40:00.000-04:00

Let's pretend you meet someone: maybe at a party, maybe at work. Let's say you start talking about this and that, and you find out they didn't go to college. Would you start saying things like "Why wouldn't you go to college? You seem smart enough?" Would you wonder about their financial situation or if they could cut it. Perhaps you might think some of these things, but you wouldn't say them out loud. You wouldn't be that rude. If later in the conversation, they commented on something, you wouldn't dismiss them with a "oh, you've never been to college; you wouldn't understand." And yet, people feel they can act this way towards people who haven't been parents.

For some reason, plenty of folks think that commenting on someone's status as a parent is fair game. I take that back: commenting about the fact that someone isn't a a parent is fair game. You'd never say to someone, "You're a parent? Good Lord, that must be some sort of train wreck!" And the assumption seems to be that everyone who chooses to be a parent must be amazing at it, and, frankly, I can't think of anything that everyone is good at.

The decision to be (or not be) a parent is a biggie. There's a lot of factors that go into it. Sometimes these factors are out of your control. I had a friend (yes, really; this is not me, so no sympathetic, off-to-the-side emails are needed) who was trying to have a child for years: lots of IVF and other treatments. It was really tough for her and she was pretty private about it. And yet, I saw coworkers go up to her and just flat out ask her when she was going to start having kids. "Oh, you'd be such a great mother!" And, unless she wanted to tell them about the pain she was going through (emotional and physical), she had to just fake smile and sort of shrug off the question.

There are hundreds of reasons someone might choose to not be a parent, many of them private. Maybe you can't afford it, maybe your partner has a secret drinking problem, maybe you think you might not be good at it. Maybe, like my friend, you are trying but not succeeding. Maybe it's just not your thing. Whatever the reason, it's most likely not something you want to talk about over the water cooler at work in front of semi-strangers. And saying things like, "I don't know what people like you do on Mother's Day" probably isn't helping.

I know that you're just making conversation or being friendly. You don't mean anything nasty by asking these questions. But before you comment on someone's status as a parent, ask yourself if you have a couple of decisions you've made in your life where you'd like to keep the reasons behind that choice private.

Sunrise

2011-05-08T08:41:00.000-04:00

This morning when I woke up, the room was filled with orange light. Yesterday, it was a lovely shade of pink. And I thought about how much I love the sunrise.

I am an early girl, one of the dreaded morning people. I feel in the groove at about 7:30 a.m. and I'm crashing by 4-ish. I'm the perky girl at the coffee machine, already trying to have an actual conversation. (Dear world: sorry about that.) Because I like mornings, I do end up seeing the sunrise more often than not.

I'm like a little kid, running out to see it. Even though I've seen so many, I am still awed by the beauty of a sunrise. Yes, a sunset can be lovely, but there is something about the start of the day. A new day making its way into the world. Maybe it's a cliche, but when I see a sunrise, I think of all the potential magic that could happen that day.

I am such a dork, that sometimes when I look at the sunrise, I actually say, "Wow!" Out loud. I will just stop in my tracks and look at the sky. Isn't it amazing to live in a world where something so beautiful can happen every day? Yeah, I know: wow!

Working with my hands

2011-05-07T19:34:00.000-04:00

Today I put together five bookcases. It was nothing too difficult; these were bookcases from Ikea, meant to be built fairly easily. I had to pound nails and move heavy boards around and screw things together. I'm sore and I'm sure my back will be screaming tomorrow, but I kind of love doing things like this. I don't often have days where I'm just physically working.

I've put together a bunch of things over these years. I almost always have at least one screw-up. It's usually a board put in the wrong way: I pull the whole thing together and there's a strip of pressboard showing. It's usually no big deal and wouldn't be worth the time to take apart and fix.

These bookcases don't have any obvious problems. Well, the first one I put together had a shelf with the wrong side exposed; luckily it was fairly easy to fix. One of the reasons I finished all the bookcases today is that I was feeling the pattern of putting them together: after the first one, the rest went together a bit easier.

A physical day means not so many deep thoughts. But it feels good to see what you did all day.

A love letter

2011-05-06T19:17:00.000-04:00

Dear S,

I know we've been together for a while and I don't appreciate you the way I should. In fact, just yesterday, I forgot you completely. But somehow, my body knew. I could feel it; I just didn't feel right about myself. My stomach was upset, I had no energy. And yet, I dismissed that it was you. I blamed other things, I made excuses. But it was you all along.

Oh, Synthroid, you amaze me. So little, so subtle, but you change me completely. Yesterday I forgot to take you and I was tired and cranky (well, moreso than usual) and my tummy hurt. And then I remembered my forgotten friend. One small dose and within the hour, I was a new person. My head was clearer, my stomach was settled, I actually had some energy.

I know I shouldn't be writing a letter to a drug. It seems somehow trivial or dependent. And yet, I simply can't help it.

I promise to be true. I will stay loyal. Thank you for making me feel complete again. Synthroid, we are made to be together.

Love always,

The inevitable American Idol posting

2011-05-05T15:55:00.000-04:00

Can we please set aside the idea that the kids on "American Idol" actually chose their songs? I've mentioned this earlier, but last night's show sort of proved it. There is no way they picked their own songs.

Let's talk about Haley's choice of "You and I" by Lady Gaga. You know it -- oh, wait, it's unreleased! How could anyone know it? And why would Haley ever pick it? If I'm looking to reach out to America and get votes, I'm not going to find a song that no one knows. And how does she even know that song unless it was handed to her by the producers? Was it just kicking around Haley's ipod? I don't have an issue with Iovine handing her a song, but let's not blame Haley for song choice, J-Lo.

The other piece of evidence is Jacob's choice of "Love Hurts." Did you see the exchange?
Iovine: You should totally do "Love Hurts"!
Lusk: I am not a heavy-metal guy.
Iovine: No, no, like Gram Parsons!
Sheryl Crow sings very pretty.
Lusk: Okee-dokee, although that's absolutely nothing like the way I sing.

Lusk obviously had no interest in the song, but it was given to him anyway. Sure, he messed it up, but I wonder how he would have done if he had a song he actually liked.

Personally, I don't have a problem with the producers picking songs, especially for the less-seasoned contestants. I get the feeling that Scotty and Lauren might have run out of their own choices around Week 3. ("No, Lauren, you can't do another Miley song.") They're young, and they need direction. But come clean. In fact, it might be interesting to explain why a particular song was picked and how they want to see these kids develop as artists. Let's not pretend some 16-year-old found some deep cut on an Elton John album that was recorded about 20 years before he was born.

The next book

2011-05-04T11:54:00.001-04:00

I am between books and ready to pick the next one. It shouldn't be that difficult. But I am overwhelmed at all the possiblities. There is so much out there, too many choices. In this lovely piece by Linda Holmes, you can't help but realize that you're never going to come close to reading all the books you want to read (go here for details: Too many books!) And do I want to waste my time on a book that is just "meh"?

The wonderful, terrible thing about books is that you can't know until you read it. You can listen to critics, read reviews, look at best-of lists, but until you pick it up and read it, you just can't know. There are some books that grab me and sweep me away with their beauty. I don't want them to end but I can't help but read them as fast as I can to see what comes next. These books inspire and intimidate me. I'd love to write something that touches another person so deeply, but I fear that I don't have that talent or ability quite yet. Books like this are never a waste of time. I want every book to be like this. Unfortunately, this is often not the case.

I read "Catch-22" with all these hopes of greatness: after all, it's on all these "Best Books Ev-ah!" lists. I couldn't hate that book more than I do. I hated it so much that when I finished, I was afraid that I no longer liked reading. I though that, like eating too much dessert of some kind, it was too much, that I was finally sick of it. Sure, I had been reading stacks of books since I was six or so, but this was it. I had hit the wall. I kept thinking it might get better. Surely there was something that made it a great novel. But I never found it.

I usually gut books out until the end. I try to have a 100-page rule, but if I get that far, I can often see the halfway point, and then it should be downhill, so I'll make it to the end. I find myself resenting that book even more ("The Finkler Question": I'm looking at you, but that's for another post). But I want them all to have a level of beauty and/or plot and/or interesting characters. I want them all to be worth the time.

I look at my shelves of unread books. Which one do I choose? Which one will make my heart sing?

The Future!

2011-05-03T09:08:00.002-04:00

The other day, I was talking to a friend and we mentioned a song as part of the conversation. After the call, I went to my desk and sent her a picture of that song playing on my ipod. Ha, ha, right? (I am hilarious!) But then I realized, this was The Future! In that short bit of time, I did a bunch of stuff that would have been unthinkable when I was in high school.

The friend I was chatting with was in New Jersey. Long distance! Precious, expensive long distance! Surely you weren't going to be calling long distance just to chat about Paul Simon. Then I went to my desk, not home to sort through a stack of albums or cds, and on this box about the size of a cigarette pack, I could pull up a song (out of over 8000! 8000 songs in this one little box! Holy cow!) Then I took my phone (not much bigger than that box of songs over there) and took a picture of the song playing! This would have blown my high school mind on a few levels:
* That music box is actually telling me what song is playing. From what album and by which artist! I don't have to listen for a while, trying to name that tune. How does it know?
* The phone has no cord. And isn't the size and weight of a brick.
* There is a camera in the phone. A camera mixed with a phone! What kind of craziness is this?

Let's talk about picture taking for a minute. Remember when you had to have film? And it was so expensive! You saved those 24 shots on that roll of film for really important stuff. And you had to use up the whole roll before you dropped it off to get developed (another expense) and wait at least a few days (overnight film development? Who am I? Rockefeller?!) Then you'd get the pictures back, hoping that you got a decent shot. Then, if you wanted to send a picture, you either had to give up the one print you have or pay for a print to be made (another expense and wait). Then you have to send it in the mail to the lucky recipient (who has, no doubt, forgotten that earlier conversation), who would look at the picture and wonder what you were wasting film on. At least postage was cheaper.

Do you realize how almost magical it is to snap a picture with a phone and send it to someone else's phone? To have thousands of songs at your fingertips? To be able to call your friend in New Jersey and not worry about how much it'll cost? It's not the future I imagined as a kid, but it's pretty incredible. And, frankly, I'd rather have the ability to carry around thousands of songs or call a friend where ever she may be, than have a jet pack.

You can try to hold the breeze

2011-05-02T10:57:00.000-04:00

I slept through the president telling us that bin Ladnn was killed, having gone to bed before the press conference announcement interrupted my viewing of ~~"The Apprentice"~~ documentaries about very intelligent things. I woke to news of a man's death and celebrations of this killing.

I am not saying that he wasn't evil and that he didn't do a lot of really bad things. No, I don't know of an acceptable alternative punishment. And I do hope that there is a sense of some closure for all of his victims and people affected by his attacks. I just find something distasteful about celebrating anyone's death.

I understand feelings of relief or revenge-completed. But celebrating a death, to me, is crossing a line, no matter who the death is. It takes away from our humanity a bit. There's just something gross about choosing to celebrate the end of anyone's existence. It starts to let you draw a circle around the deaths you can celebrate. Did they kill 100 people? Did they kill 10? Did they cut you off in traffic? Were they just kind of annoying? I know that's an extreme, but I don't want to start making those judgments.

I applaud that it's been done. I hope that, as a nation, we can start moving forward and start fixing other things that are broken. But I will not celebrate that someone has died, no matter the person.

Math problems

2011-05-01T08:04:00.000-04:00

Today I cleaned my closet. I may have a few pairs of shoes. And by "may", I mean I do and by "a few", I mean more than 50. It's a little embarrassing. If you know me, you know I'm not exactly fashion-forward. I hate the mall and I'm a big fan of comfort. As I try to decide if I should keep the plaid heels or pink slides, I wonder: how did I end up with so damn many shoes?

It's simple math. I have been roughly the same shoe size for over 25 years. Let's say at a minimum, I buy five pairs a year (two pairs for each season and an impulse pair), that's at least 125 pairs. And, let's be honest, ladies, five pairs is definitely the low end. Even when I'm trying to be good, I just need that next pair.

The thing is, there are so many kinds of shoes to have. Heels, flats, casual shoes, boots, sneakers. And they come in different colors! And different styles! I probably have about 20 pairs of shoes that are black: flats, boots, pointy, kitten heels, sweater boots (yeah, there is such a thing), wintery casual things, sandals, pumps...well, you get the idea. And that's just black shoes. Do I need red boots? No, of course not. But I've got some. And red heels and sneakers and flats...

I love that I've stayed the same size for so many years. The downside is that unless they wear out or are terribly uncomfortable or unfashionable, there's no reason to get rid of them, until I run out of space. Do I wear the brown slides with the animal print very often? Not really. But why would I get rid of them? they're surprisingly comfortable and if I need brown, fun shoes (it happens), I'm good to go. They might need a bit of dusting, but I'm ready to roll.

And then there's the pairs that have been barely worn that I tell myself that I could make work. I know if I could stand a day or two in those shoes, they might loosen up, and they would be in the rotation. I also have the shoes that are supposedly made for walking or comfort that I'm sort of afraid to wear on any serious walk because they feel a little "rubby" and I've had those blisters before. But if I could get past that rub and fix it...

Most boys don't get it. They have it easy: one pair of work-ish/casual shoes, one pair of sneakers, and a pair of dress shoes in the closet for the three times a year they might have to wear a suit. There are times I'm jealous of that. Then I pull out my floral flats and giggle in delight.

Today the closet is cleaner and I have gotten rid of a few pairs (the pink slides didn't make the cut this time), but most of them, I couldn't bear to let free. I swear, the red patent-leather flats would be amazing if I could just loosen the back a bit.

May Day!

2011-04-30T15:30:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I like to give myself little challenges. I have decided to post every day in May. It'll be good for me to get into the habit again. These might not be the deepest posts but my goal is to give you something to read everyday. At least a couple of paragraphs.

So watch this space in May. And bring your friends!

Oh, Pia: American Idol, Part 3

2011-04-09T09:58:00.003-04:00

The results show has lead to the dismissal of Pia and weren't we all so shocked? Outrage! Unfair! J-Lo weeping openly! How could this happen? Oh, please, if it wasn't for Lusk lecturing America, how was anyone surprised? (I really did think he was going home, even though he is one of the better performers.)

Despite the hollering and cussing, the judges have no one to blame but themselves, and not because they've already used their save for the year. Everybody is not awesome every week. I know that two of the judges are new, so maybe they need to explain to J-Lo and Steven that every week, someone is going to go home. And if all you give us is, "Baby, you know I love you and, once again, you were amazing," or "Be-bop-a-lu-la, I'm shaking a tree!" we're going to vote for our already established favorites and Casey (because we don't want that to happen again.) I'm not saying you have to tear these kids apart or pit them against each other, but Randy hasn't even used the word "pitchy" in weeks and I just find that hard to believe. Start judging!

Pia may have been one of the best singers this year, but she wasn't the best performer. She was pretty but forgettable. Another one of those female belters which "American Idol" usually loves, but she went away from her strength this week. I believe that if Pia had sung either song she sang the night of the elimination ("I Love Rock n' Roll" or "I'll Stand by You"), she would have made it through. I love "River Deep, Mountain Wide," but it wasn't Pia. Pia needs to belt. it. out. Before she sang a note this week, I said, "Pia's in trouble."

I always wonder how much control the kids have in their song choice. This week was the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. That's a gazillion possibilities! And these were the songs they picked? I imagine song choice often goes like this:
Producers: You can pick any song from the whole catalog of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!
AI Kid: Wow! Look at all these choices! I'd like to sing "XXXX"!
Producers: Hold on there! We made you a list of three songs.
AI Kid: Um, okay. I pick that one.
Producers: Not that one.
AI Kid: That one?
Producers: Good choice!
(Later that week the judges will tell the kid he made a poor song choice. The kid will have to smile anyway.)

I'll bet the producers thought it would be a good week for Pia to "mix it up." That was not the right thing. Pia wasn't established enough to have an off week. And I don't know what she did to Gwen Stefani to make her dress her the way she did. It was not pretty. Let's sum up: a kind of boring girl best known for Whitney-type ballads performs an up-tempo, wall of sound number dressed like a train wreck and trying to work the stage (even Jennifer made a point of telling her she needs to learn how to move.) And why were we surprised she didn't make it through?

Ryan needs to force the judges a bit. Give us a couple of minutes at the end for each judge to comment on the best of the night and who needs help. Push them into picking a bottom one or two. Someone is going home. You can't cry for all of them, J-Lo.

P.S. Can someone teach Scotty how to hold a microphone? And someone tell Haley to stop holding her head to the side? Thanks.

American Idol, Part 2

2011-04-07T07:49:00.003-04:00

Just so you know: I wrote this post once and then blogger stopped saving (it happens: I just copy it and leave the window, then paste over the old version.) Not this time: it only copied the picture, I pasted over all that lovely text, realized that it was deleted, tried to recover, but blogger had already saved. I am cranky. Also note that because of this, this post covers a couple of weeks.

Let's talk about American Idol so far. Are we liking this season? I must admit, I'm liking it better than I thought I would. I tuned in just to see how it might shake down with the new judges and I'm sticking around. You won again, Nigel Lythgoe! Curses!

I like the mix of the new judges. Truly, they could have put anyone in place of Kara and I would have been happier with the judging situation. J-Lo needs to get tougher, but she is getting there. Steven brings a certain amount of random. I could still do without Randy, but he's not trying so hard this year, which makes him better. The best thing about the judges is that they seem to actually listen to each other, nodding at each other's comments. It feels more like a conversation than a group of people waiting to jump in with their opinion, thinking, "Me next! Me next!"

I miss the meanness of Simon, but I don't miss his "you're not pretty enough to make it in the business" comments. That said, the judges need to toughen up. The singers not all amazing every week. Someone is going home. Not every one of these kids is going to have hit records: tell them what they need to know. At this point they all have fans, they have people who will tell them they were awesome, even if they just burp out "The Star Spangled Banner." Give them something they could use. Otherwise, why are you there?

I think it needs some more real criticism by the judges, but I'm afraid they'll bring in someone "mean" next year and that would be a mistake. Three judges is plenty; four judges always felt rushed to me. I think this chemistry is working, they just need to be willing to be honest with some of these kids. They have it in them. I get the feeling that J-Lo isn't all sweetness and light, and Steven just needs to allow himself to be booed a bit. He lets his ego and need to be liked get in the way. Someone should point out to him that they booed Simon all the time, but he was the one they came to see.

More than most years, I think this group has a much better sense of who they are. There's the deep voice country guy, the guy who does gospel-y stuff, the rocker guy who seems pretty sweet, the crazy woman who's gonna try to make everything reggae, the female belter who will only do ballads, etc. On one hand, this is actually a good thing for an artist, but, from an "AI" perspective, it's kind of boring. Sometimes it's fun to watch a kid develop, figure out what they are (or want to be). These kids mostly know (especially the boys), which means you could probably call about half of the songs they were going to do. I really like the one rocker-kid (James), but, of course, on Elton John night, he picked "Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting." It would have been cool to see him nail a ballad. Or make something unexpected rock out. (Note: last night he did pick a ballad -- nice!)

Scotty is the country guy. He's got a good voice but, honestly, he does the same stuff every time. Casey's the guy they saved. He's one of my favorites and I was glad they used the save on him. I truly think he got the bottom last week because people assumed he was safe. And with only 11 people (math warning), you get 12%: you're in the top, 8%: bye-bye! I think these early rounds, a lot of people vote for folks they think might be in trouble. Say I've got 3 people I like: Casey, Scotty, and that scared 16-year-old girl. Casey and Scotty do well but the kid struggles. If I were a voter, I might just throw my votes at the kid, assuming the other two will be fine.

Which brings me to my idea of saving the ones that had an obvious good night or had a bad night but are usually consistent. (Or, like on "So You Think You Can Dance", during the first half of the season, the callers pick the bottom 3, and then the judges decide who goes home.) I'd love if, during the Top 11 or less, the judges each get to save three for the night (maybe they each pick one); Top 10 - 8, save two; Top 7 and 6, save one -- Top 5 is all America! They could even use this sort of thing to help promote it when it gets dull in the middle: "The judges can only save ONE tonight -- the rest is up to you!"

There's not enough crazy going on here, and, possibly, having these types of saves might shake that up a bit. You can't help but wonder who Steven would save. And this might let the kids step outside their box for a bit. Let's say Scotty tries a funkier thing and it just doesn't happen. Can you just see J-Lo going, "oh honey, that was not you, so we're gonna have to save you this week because we need you around." I would have absolutely no problem with that. Well, except I don't really like Scotty.

I still have a lot of the same issues with "American Idol": the show's too long (I'd rather they had a Top-18 and do some double eliminations in the early weeks), it's pretty much decided by tweens so the cute guys go further than they should. But I am pleasantly surprised by this year.

Seeing the colors

2011-04-02T17:12:00.000-04:00

I watched "Please Give" today, a lovely, little movie about people and emotions and relationships and all that. It was a great movie, one of those films that you find yourself going over again and again in your head, little bits of scenes coming back to you. (Ahead is not so much a spoiler, but a bit about a scene -- you may not want to read about it if you plan to see the movie.)

The movie takes place in New York City in the fall, and everyone is talking about seeing the colors of the leaves changing. About midway through the movie, Rebecca, her grandmother, her date, and his grandmother drive out of the city to see the autumn leaves. Rebecca's grandmother is a bit, well, cranky. She's 91 and just not having fun anymore. They get to the park where they've been told there would be a wonderful view, and they look out and no one sees much of anything. The whole group is so disappointed. Rebecca's grandmother is looking off towards the park benches and just really upset at the whole thing. The rest of the group makes a slight shift from where they are standing, and they look out and: amazement! They gasp; they go on and on about the beauty. But grandma is still looking in the wrong direction, still mad at the world.

You have to remember that sometimes if you just shift a few steps, you can see something amazing. But if you just keep looking in the wrong direction, it just never gets any better.

Wondering about literature

2011-03-27T13:56:00.000-04:00

There are times I wonder about my reading ability. Obviously, I get the words and the sentences and all that, but sometimes I read a book that some would consider a classic, and I just don't get it. Not even a little bit. Which makes me wonder if maybe I just don't have the tools to fully understand certain literature.

I'm not trying to get people to come around and convince me that I am smart or educated or deep. The fact is, I'm not a trained reader. Besides a couple classes in high school and the world's greatest bookclub, I'm mostly self-taught, exploring books on my own, and while there's really nothing wrong with that, it does have limits. (After all, you wouldn't want a self-taught surgeon taking out your gall bladder.) I am trained as a scientist, and although I am sure you could pick up the latest issue of The Journal of Bacteriology and make comments, I'd like to think that I would be able to read it at a different level. We all bring different skill sets and tools to the table.

When I read these so-called classics and I just don't get them (not that this happens all the time, but it does happen), I start to wonder if it's my lack of training that is getting in the way. I'll read passages full of description and details, and instead of loving the words, I am thinking, "just spit it out, already!" Or I'll miss some symbolism. ("What do you mean that the fish represented his long-lost brother? I didn't even know he had a brother!")

A few years back, I read "Catch-22" and I can't tell you how much I hated it. In fact, as I was reading it, I started to worry. Let me explain. You know how you might love a certain food, but you don't get it as much as you would like. Say there was a certain type of cake you loved, but you only got it for special occasions. But then a bakery who specialized in that cake opened right across the street from you, so you could get it whenever you wanted. So you got that cake once a week, maybe more. Then one day, you went to get a piece and you thought to yourself, "I am really tired of that cake. In fact, I'm not sure I like it anymore." And you really never do want that cake again. What does this have to do with "Catch-22"? When I was reading "Catch-22", I hated it so much, I was actually afraid that I was tired of reading. That, after all these years, this was the breaking point: I no longer even liked reading. (Luckily, this was not the case.)

But I do wonder: what am I missing here? This novel consistently shows up on those "great books" lists, and I simply did not get it at all. Do we really need a book to tell us that war is bad and ridiculous? The characters were all so unlikable and boring. I didn't really notice any great writing or interesting turns-of-phrase. I had to push myself to finish (I kept hoping it would get better or there would be some clever thing that got me in the end, but no such luck.) There is a part of me that thinks maybe I should try again, but then my soul starts weeping.

How much training should one have to have to enjoy "great" literature? Should it need that much explaining? Should it be easy? I won't stop reading and I won't stop pushing myself, but I'm staying away from Joseph Heller.

Hosanna Heysanna Sanna Sanna Ho

2011-03-21T07:16:00.000-04:00

Do you have the album that you don't listen to for years, but when you pull out and give it a listen, you just are blown away at how awesome it is? Today I am listening to "Jesus Christ Superstar" and it is blowing. me. away.

This is not a post about criticism of "JSS" -- it's far from perfect. There are the clunkers, it's firmly in the seventies. It's a bit (a bit?!) melodramatic, but I adore it anyway. This post is not about who's the cooler Jesus (hint: not the "Godspell" one.) This is also not about what Andrew Lloyd Webber became (hint: bleh!) This is about stumbling upon things you love.

I love this album like one loves an old friend who stops by after being away for a few years. Admittedly, it's one of those friends who, after a while, you remember why it's been a few years. I'm sure I'll listen to this album for a day or two and then put it away for another couple of years. But when I listen to "JSS", I am pulled into it completely. Do I want to sing along at the top of my lungs, complete with diva poses, in the middle of this coffeehouse? Maybe. (hint: yes. Totally.)

I am listening to this on headphones and I am picking up little things I never heard listening to it on my parents' old victrola. Today I am hearing the sadness in Jesus' voice. He knows he's doomed, but he's not telling anyone. He's marching into town, pushing himself to sing "Hosanna" with a forced joy that isn't there, but he's got to keep the crowd into it. He's tired, everyone is telling him how to do his job, he's literally begging for his life. It's not a good week for the guy. You almost get the feeling that he hands himself over to Pilate to just end all this craziness. He just wants it over.

When I listen to albums I've ignored, I realize I need to dig deeper in my music collection. Tomorrow I'll pull out another album that I've forgotten about. But today, it's back to "What's the buzz..."

P.S. Dear stoned guy singing back-up -- I kind of love you!

Shut up, Phil Collins

2011-03-08T07:00:00.001-05:00

A few days ago, Phil Collins announced his retirement from music. To which I say: really? I am not here to bash Phil Collins (as I have done this previously) (although I probably will), nor to question his music choices/"artistic" direction, but I do have to wonder the purpose of this announcement, because I have a few question for Mr. Collins.

What, exactly does he mean by "retiring" from music? I get that the drumming thing is not a good idea these days, but he's probably as well known for being a singer. He is a songwriter. (Now, now, we're not here to bash his work. Please save your comments for the end.) Does this mean he won't sing or write? At all? No tribute concerts for the Queen, no reunion tours? Where is the line? How do you retire from art except not do it anymore? Does this mean no "Happy Birthday" at his kid's parties?

I call bullshit on this statement. If he's any sort of artist, it'll pull him back. If he can walk away from music completely, well, then it's just a job for him, and he needs to get over people bashing him for selling out. Because if he feels nothing grabbing him and getting him to create, even if it's just in his basement, then he did sell out. He did it for the money. There's nothing wrong with that. He made buckets of money, so he knows what we want (or what we wanted in the eighties.) But don't tell me you did it for the love of the music, then just put it on the shelf one day.

Here's another question: didn't he just release an album? (He did: late September this year.) That's less than six months ago. He was that drawn to music less than a year ago that he made a whole album and now he's done? That smells funny. Could this, just possibly, be a grab at publicity/bump in sales or even a bit of a pity party? This just feels like a "if you don't start paying attention to me, I'm taking my ball and going home!" sort of thing. Like he put it out there so that all these newspapers, radio stations, artists, whatever, would be all,"No Phil, no! We can't lose you! You're too important and super relevant with your note-by-note covers of Motown songs!" I'll bet he was a bit shocked when people actually started bashing him. (Note: I just read that this retirement is a "false alarm." I'm sure that he and his publicist are so very happy that they've gotten a few more days of media coverage.)

I really do hate what Phil Collins has become. In the eighties, sure, I was a big fan. Yeah, I always do the drum solo from "In the Air Tonight" -- I'm only human! I have a weird love of pop music. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with doing it for money. Really. If you have the magic for a few years, take what you can. But you have to understand that this run rarely lasts, so just sit on your stack of cash and enjoy yourself. Do things you love, but don't get all upset when the rest of us don't appreciate it. It's okay. But you need to accept that your career peaked over 20 years ago, and you won't be getting the spotlight as much. Just do what you love and count your blessings that you have the money to have this freedom. And, seriously, shut up!

Breaking up with Starbucks

2011-03-06T17:29:00.002-05:00

Dear Starbucks,

I know we've been seeing each other for a couple of years, but it’s official: today I’m breaking up with you. I’ve tried to be patient, I thought we could work out our issues, but, frankly, there are other fish in the sea.

There are so many little reasons. I hate to point to the physical, but the truth is that you’re a bit too old. You don’t have outlets for my computer and your set-up is so open, noise just bounces around. I can live with the coffee shop-type noises, but when you have to run the vacuum cleaner for a half hour when I was hoping to get some writing done, I get a bit cranky.

Your slow customer service just confuses me. I see five people running around behind the counter, but there’s only one person who seems to actually be taking orders and serving coffee. Perhaps that long line feeds your ego of being needed but it works my last nerve.

I’ve had it with the internet that doesn’t seem to work. And when it does, it’s so slow, it takes me back to the days of dial-up. Yes, I like reminiscing about old times as much as the next girl, but there are things I don’t mind moving past. And then to add insult to injury, you’re kicking me off after an hour? That just hurts!

I see so many other beauties around: the local coffee shop, Panera, even Dunkin Donuts. Better food, better service, a dependable internet connection. I'm a simple girl with simple needs. Why should I let you continue to hurt me? No, I will seek out a new place to squat for a few hours and nurse a cup of coffee.

I'll admit that there will most likely be moments of weakness when I come back to you or visit an attractive cousin of yours. I may try to revisit the old times, but I do want to make it clear that it really will never be the same between us. I am seeing other places and I may not come back at all.

Yes, Starbucks, it is time to move on. I will miss your overly hot coffee but we need our space.

Sadly,
Angie

Girl in the Bubble

2011-03-02T06:44:00.000-05:00

Maybe I've been lucky. Maybe I've managed to dodge bullets. But it seems as if my friends and family have managed to not have serious problems in their lives. Sure, there have been the blips along the road, but no serious addictions or depressions or anything like that.

At least none that I know about.

I suppose this shows how lucky I've been, at least that's what I always used to tell myself. As I get older, I'm beginning to believe that I don't hear these stories because people are afraid that I can't handle it or that I won't help. I hate to think that I have that barrier around me. Or that I wasn't strong enough to help you handle some of your burden.

I am seeing, more and more, how much so many people go through. I like to pretend I don't know anyone who has been raped or has serious suicidal thoughts or a secret so deep and awful they can barely say it out loud, but I know that simply can't be true. My problems tend to be of the "I really wanted the black ipod but all they had was the silver, so should I wait until they get the black ones or is the silver one really going to be alright" variety. I'm sure that's a part of it. How could I possibly understand a real problem when mine are so vanilla?

I hope that if someone comes to me, I can be strong for them. I know I can. Maybe I haven't felt what they have or gone through the fires they have, but I will be here for them. I don't want the people I care about to hold me at arms length or protect me. You can show me your flaws or your scars, and I will still love you.

I suppose this is a letter to all of those I haven't been there for. Maybe neither one of us was aware that this was happening. I am so sorry.

To my friends: I am here for you. Absolutely. Without judgment. And I am sorry if you ever felt I couldn't be.

Demanding less

2011-02-27T17:41:00.000-05:00

The other day it snowed again up north and, once again, school was closed. Apparently, most of the school systems are out of snow days, so the kids might have to go into the summer. On facebook, moms start writing in, saying they hope the governor swoops in and changes the law. In other words, they actually want their kids to have less school then what they are supposed to have.

This confuses me. Look, I get kids not loving the school year being extended, but when the parents are writing things like "If they make my kids go, I'll keep them home sick," I just don't get it. If the governor was going to cut the music program or one of the sports, I'm sure the parents would be going crazy, but the idea of keeping the mandated number of school days intact is somehow unacceptable. I actually asked some of them to explain and I got the usual "stop and smell the roses" responses. To which, I roll my eyes.

I'm not saying one day makes a difference, but kids interpret things in weird ways. You make a big fuss over a day of school (which is not an *extra* day, but the proper number of days) and the kid might start thinking that there's something acceptable about cutting corners. Or not doing what you're told. Why should they take out the garbage; mommy doesn't follow the rules either! Okay, that's a bit melodramatic and probably too far, but I think it's a bit far to ask the governor to change the law so that your kid gets to stay home an extra day.

When I was teaching, the chair of my department used to say that education was the only service where the consumer demands less. Kids want less homework, easier tests, but they're kids. I like to think that they don't really know better. I'd like to think that if we had it to do again we'd push ourselves more and appreciate the opportunities to learn. But I can see, it's probably not true. And that kind of makes me a bit sad.

You are misplacing your John Hughes love (here's why)

2011-02-21T08:41:00.000-05:00

Let me start out by saying this is not about dissing John Hughes. I was a teenager in the '80s; these movies are right up my alley. I remember seeing "Sixteen Candles" with my whole family and we all loved it. To this day, it's one of my favorite John Hughes movies (although not my favorite: I'll tell you in a bit.) There are moments in many of his movies that we all can related to or that just simply make us laugh out loud. But seeing his tribute at the Oscars, I realize I have some issues with the whole "John-Hughes-is-a-god" thing.

Most of my issues with John Hughes come out of "The Breakfast Club" and "Ferris Bueller's Day Off." I liked both of these movies when they came out, but I have big problems with both of them.

First, "Ferris Bueller." Yes, it's charming (but you have to put most of that with Matthew Broderick's performance rather than the story itself). Yes, it's funny (but, be honest, there are places in the movie that kind of drag.) It's really just an okay movie. It's got great moments but, overall: meh. Step back and really look at the movie as a whole. Don't give me a scene or a moment or a funny quote; look at the whole thing. For me, it's a pleasant little movie good for some laughs. And the 40-somethings who are still wanting to be Ferris: please stop. No, seriously. IBecause Ferris, he's a bit self-centered and spoiled. And sure he's fun for one day off on a beautiful spring day in high school, but he'd probably work your last nerve as a coworker.

And now "The Breakfast Club." Look, I know you love it. To you, this is the ultimate teen film; this was your high school. But hear me out for a few minutes. The big idea behind this movie is that we're classified in these boxes and everyone around us (especially the adults) has expectations/sterotypes based on the box we've been put in. And there's this feeling that at the end of the day, these kids learn to see past this. They are above it. And I could almost buy it. Well, except they have "The Brain" write the assigned composition for all of them. And they sell that idea by having the popular, pretty girl bat her eyes at him to do it. "The Criminal" gets "The Princess" to go out with him by convincing her it'll piss of her parents, not because he has something inside of him worth knowing. (And please don't get me started on how he abuses her throughout the film, and she is still somehow attracted to him.) Yes, "The Athlete" will date "The Headcase", but only after she converts herself to be like "The Princess." To me, that's not a very enlightened group of kids. It's not a group of kids I even really want to know.

And then there's the whole "Adults are Stoopid" storyline. This is, of course, in contrast to the enlightened teenagers. Sure, when I was a teenager, I was all "Parents just don't understand!" I get that. And the adults in this movie, as described by the kids, they really do suck. Vernon's awful, and the parents range from self-absorbed to abusive. We don't actually see much of any adult besides Vernon and the janitor (the one "cool" adult in the film), so are the teenagers any better at seeing beyond the surface than the adults are? "When you grow up, your heart dies." Do we really believe that? Do we really look at these kids and think that they are really living while adults are not? I don't see these kids having dreams or desires that they're not able to accomplish because the adults are holding them back.

I just don't like the kids in "The Breakfast Club." Brian and Allison are okay (although I kind of like her more when she's acting all crazy: stealing wallets and making up lies about her affair with her psychiatrist), but Claire and Andrew are jerks (although at least Claire is honest about being a jerk. She's given grief for it, but I always admired her for saying that, come Monday morning, she will probably be ignoring the kids that weren't in her circle.) And Bender is just an abusive asshole.

To me "The Breakfast Club" is a waste because John Hughes steps away from the thing he does the best: family dynamics. Let's go back to "Sixteen Candles." It's got all the stuff to make a great teen comedy: the geek, the good-looking guy who has a good heart as well, the pretty, shallow people, the kid with a vaguely dirty name, the "average" girl who gets the guy in the end: all good stuff. But what elevates it beyond a teen comedy is the family element of the movie. The bratty brother, the crazy grandparents, the self-centered older sister, these are the things that give the movie that added dimension. My favorite scene in "Sixteen Candles" comes near the end when Samantha's father comes to her as she is trying to sleep on the couch. He has realized that they have forgotten her birthday and he wants to apologize. But he also wants to tell her that he knows she's got a good head on her shoulders and how much he loves her. More than anything else he could have bought, this is the best gift she could get on her birthday. Even at the end, when she gets the guy, as she's walking off, she gets her dad's attention so he knows, yes, this is the guy.

Which brings me to my favorite John Hughes movie: "Uncle Buck." No, really. This is the movie that nails that family dynamic thing I love so much. John Candy is Uncle Buck who is called on to babysit for his two neices (16 and 6) and nephew (8, played by a pre-"Home Alone" Macaulay Culkin) when the parents are called away on a medical emergency. They've just moved and they know no one else, so they have to turn to Uncle Buck, despite their misgivings about him. John Candy plays that typical John Candy character: kind of a slob, kind of irresponsible, but, at the core, lovable and trying his hardest. He's not the babysitter that his sister-in-law wants, but she doesn't have any other choice.

The family is the story: a mom and a teenage daughter who are so angry at each other, they don't even remember all of the reasons, two younger siblings who are just trying to keep out of the way, a brother-in-law/uncle who knows that he's not really in anyone's favorite but he'll be trying his best, a father just trying to pull it together.

What elevates this movie above "oh-that-wacky-Uncle-Buck" is that every character has more going on then the surface. Uncle Buck may be the black sheep of the family, but he's trying to be a better guy. He's got a decent job and he's trying to decide what to do about his long-time girlfriend who is waiting for hi to grow up. Tia's not just an angry teenager but also an older sister, Maizy is the cute 6-year-old but she's struggling in school. There's a wonderful scene where the two younger kids wake up to find their parents gone and a strange, large man making something for breakfast. "He's cooking our garbage!" Macauley Caulkin gasps in horror. And Tia, instead of simply pouting and resenting her parents, resenting that they left her with this strange guy and two little kids, reaches for the cereal bowls and just starts to make them breakfast, the kind they know and want. Sure, she's pissed off but she knows how to take care of her siblings and she knows she had to be some sort of stabilizing force. Because that's how families are. We may be annoyed at each other, you might be pissing me off, but I know that you want ketchup with your eggs and you shouldn't be wearing that sweater but borrowing my red one instead.

Buck also sees things that someone in the middle of the family drama might ignore. He sees that Tia is about to make a Very Big Mistake with a boy (named Bug. No, really.) He defends Maizy's behavior at school, with this lovely little speech: "I don't think I want to know a six-year-old who isn't a dreamer, or a sillyheart. And I sure don't want to know one who takes their student career seriously. I don't have a college degree. I don't even have a job. But I know a good kid when I see one. Because they're ALL good kids, until dried-out, brain-dead skags like you drag them down and convince them they're no good. You so much as scowl at my niece, or any other kid in this school, and I hear about it, and I'm coming looking for you!"

At the end of the movie, Buck's grown up a bit. He looks at the family he's been thrown into and starts to think, "hey, maybe I should get one of these for myself." The rest of the family has learned that despite their differences and conflicts, they're a family (including Buck) and that's enough. I realize that it's not much of a plot, but it doesn't matter. You've gotten to know this family, seen it change, and that's all you need. And these characters are real, as are the relationships between them.

John Hughes was a great story-teller, but I get frustrated when people point to his high school movies as evidence of his talent because his best stuff was about families. And that's where my John Hughes love is hanging.

Saturday morning

2011-02-19T09:05:00.000-05:00

This morning. It is not as quiet as you would expect: the weather is changing and the wind is blowing back. Maybe the wind doesn't want the weather to go back to winter, but the spring we had the past few days, it's too early. The spring needs to go back to where it belongs: a month or two from now. But the wind blows, causing the house to creak, occasionally hard enough that the kitty and I look at the windows in alarm. "It's not coming in here?" Murray asks. I reassure him and he goes back to sleep.

I am catching up on email, facebook, the sort of thing you do on a Saturday morning. I am typing an email and I keep making the same typo, three, four times. "'of' not 'if'!" I hiss to the keyboard, as if it's his fault. He looks at me smugly. I'm sure it's thinking, "Learn how to type and stop hitting me so hard."

I drink my coffee, I flit between websites. I have three windows open -- I lack the patience to type in each site and wait for it to load. Flit, flit, write, flit. I suppose you've just learn a bit about how my mind works: it jumps around, looking for something to grab its attention, but then on to the next sparkly thing. I am trying to clean out my inbox: catching up on Writer's Almanac, placing orders before the emailed promotion codes expire (although there's always another one, isn't there?)

The sky is so blue this morning. The wind keeps setting off the light with the motion detector. There are two fat doves on my deck, cleaning each other, but the kitty doesn't have the energy to disturb them. He has his eyes on them, but he's too comfortable to go to the window and greet them.

Perfect Saturday.

Dorking out in DC

2011-02-14T09:52:00.001-05:00

When I drive to the airport (Reagan National), I pass the Washington Monument and the Jefferson Memorial. And every single time, I catch my breath and go, "Wow!" Every single time. I have to fight the impulse to stop the car and take a picture, like some crazy tourist. "Look, it's the Washington Monument, kids! Take in all that history!" You're probably cooler than me, but I love that I live in a place where stuff like this is all around.

About 20 years ago, shortly after I moved to the Philadelphia area, I went with a friend to a movie downtown. He had grown up in the Philadelphia area, and he drove. We parked on the street, and it turned out we had parked right in front of Independence Hall! Independence Hall! I started completely dorking out, and he just didn't get it. "Independence Hall!" I declared, pointing. He was still confused. I explained further. "Independence Hall!" He shrugged, so I just whispered to myself. "Independence Hall! Wow!"

I thought this excitement would go away. I thought I'd get used to seeing places that some people travel to visit, but it's never gone away. I've lived in the DC area for over 2 years (not to mention the many visits I had before I moved down), and I still want to take a picture every time I see the White House or one of the monuments. Because, you know, they change a lot. And nothing says "I will torture you with pictures" than having the same shot 371 times. ("That's the Washington Monument in, let's see, oh, yes, October 2010. Or maybe June 1998.") So, I fight that impulse, but inside, I am am swooning. Because, guys, it's the Washington Monument!

Note to readers: I've posted twice today, so please scroll down. It's a crazy day!

How to report story on NPR

2011-02-14T09:00:00.000-05:00

I used to listen to NPR all the time when I had to drive to work, but now, with walking to work and no commute in the car, I only catch it now and again. Is it me, or does every non-US-based NPR story sound the same? Maybe because I've been away, I'm noticing this more, but it's really bothering me.

Here's a the story on NPR:

Brief introduction by host of show.
Taped story begins with an introduction by feature reporter: usually a sentence about someone specifically affected by events. Pause in the talking.
Some "atmospheric" sound: gates clanking shut, people at the market, etc. (An aside: when I'm listening in the car and they have those traffic sounds with sirens, it really freaks me out. Does it occur to anyway at NPR that some of us are listening while driving and when we hear a siren, our first reaction is not "wow, that is really adding a lot to this segment on strife in India!"?)
Reporter starts discussing the actual story.
Reporter introduces someone actually affected by story.
The affected person starts talking. This person rarely speaks English. I'm not being an ugly American here. I get that not everyone speaks English. But, really, do I need to hear this guy go on for a while before the translator kicks in? And can't we just have the translator?
Reporter continues the story. Unfortunately, as so much time has been spent with "atmosphere", the story is often incomplete.
Story ends with no resolution.

I love NPR, I really do. It would be a shame if it went away or if the funding was significantly cut. And maybe it's just me. Maybe other people like when they hear horns honking and a guy going on and on in Egyptian. Maybe they feel it adds flavor. But I just wish they didn't all follow this pattern. I feel like they are spending too much time with style and not enough with the actual news. If you're reporting from the farmer's market in a small town in Africa, I can imagine the sounds and it's a pretty safe bet that anyone being interviewed is talking through a translator. Let's get to the story. And maybe then we'll have time for more information.

Bear with me here

2011-02-05T14:53:00.001-05:00

I get that advertising is supposed to get your attention and make you want to act, whether you buy a new car or try a different brand of toothpaste. And, although I never want a webpage plastered with a bunch of ads, I know they need to pay the bills, and the box on the side where yahoo puts an ad when I go to my.yahoo is just about right. Big enough that I don't miss it but, generally, not in the way or bothersome. It often taps into what I've been up to (I get the ebags ads for a few days after I've been on that site trying to find that perfect purse; I get the DC Living Social ads which always feature cupcakes and spa treatments -- smart moves.) However, the other day one popped up that just really got me upset.

I'm at my.yahoo, and up pops this picture of a bear. With a hook in its lip. A hook in its lip! It was not pretty. In fact, it turned my stomach (it didn't help I was reading over lunch). No surprise, it was an ad for an animal rights group (WSPA, to be specific.) Now this is not to say we shouldn't protect our furry friends, but this is not the way to do it. I felt assaulted. It was too far. It was "if you don't buy Girl Scout cookies, you must hate all children!" Which, no, I just don't need to see a gross-out picture of a bear with a hook when I go to check my news and email.

On a purely esthetic point of view, it just was gross. Obviously, yahoo knows a bit about me as the ads are specific on some level, so they know I am an adult, but what if I was letting my nephew use my computer for a bit? This was not appropriate for kids (I know if I had seen this image when I was 7, well, you'd be looking at a week of nightmares.) My.yahoo is my homepage, so I see it all the time. I don't want the bear!

The thing is, that ad kept popping up. I finally wrote in and said that I thought this ad was offensive and that I would never send this group (WSPA, just to remind you) a dime. (I do believe in supporting animal causes: see the bottom of this post for details.) It still pops up and I write in every time. I'm sure I'm on some "Hater of Animals" list, but, for now, this is the battle I'm fighting. No more bear!

I have to say, I'm not sure the bears are helping. I get using puppies and kittens. I actually cry over those commercials with Sarah McLachlan singing. (I know, you're wondering how this is different? In some ways it's not, but maybe I except a certain amount of assault on my senses when I watch tv, and I can always close my eyes until Sarah is done singing.) But bears? Apparently, the WSPA is known for bears (something called bear baiting? Yeah, it's a thing. Henry the Eighth was into it, so right there, you already know it's a bit off.) I'm not saying we shouldn't protect the bears, but I am saying that there's animals closer to home that need our help.

I'm not sure my point in all this. How's this: if you have a few bucks for animals, don't support WSPA but rather, support your local animal shelter. If you don't want to throw the money locally, I have it from a good source that this place does good work: http://monmouthcountyspca.org/support/donate/.

The desperation in the back of the pantry

2011-02-01T06:47:00.004-05:00

Sometimes you just want something sweet. I try to keep the sweets I have in the house to a minimum because, yes, I will eat them. Is a stack of graham crackers the healthiest dinner? No, of course, not, but sometimes it's what a body wants. I have found that only one thing will trump the sugar craving: laziness. I generally will not leave the house, even for a sugary treat, which leads to the following pattern:
Tummy: Sugar, please!
Brain: No.
Tummy: Please pleaseplease please
Brain: I said, no.
Tummy: Sugar sugar sugar sugar sugarsugar
Brain (disgusted): Fine, go get some sugar!
After a few moments of searching: Tummy (whining): No sugar in the house!
Brain harrumphs in triumph.

Then I remembered: I had some Poptarts. At least I was pretty sure I did. I'd have to check. Yes! in the back of the cupboard. It wasn't perfection: these were whole grain and not a chocolate variety, but they would do. Into the toaster and time to snack! Tummy says, I win!

The Poptart was oddly unsatisfying. Yes, I do understand that it's just a Poptart, therefore the bar is already pretty low. Even by this standard, the Poptart was not pleasing me. But at least Tummy has stopped shouting for sugar, and now Brain has the extra argument that, clearly, Tummy doesn't really know what it wants. But it still bothered me. Poptart, why did you let me down? There had to be more to this lack of snack satisfaction. Tummy couldn't stand to have Brain win so easily. Let's check the box.

I see the expiration date: "Better by Dec 04 09." No that's not a typo. 09! I didn't think they'd be near that old. For a moment I panicked: I thought that the date was later then when I had moved. Had I actually moved out-of-date Poptarts? No, I moved in August 2009; these were still good when I moved. No, they were "better." I wondered about the use of "better'? Were they really any better a year and a half ago? I doubt it. There's a reason they've lasted this long with Tummy in the house. Nonetheless, we're not going back in time to have that taste test.

I suppose the lesson in all of this is this: if you're getting Poptarts, you should always get the chocolate ones.

There's no suck in success

2011-01-29T10:13:00.000-05:00

Are you successful? Do you ever think about it? Do you even have a definition? Do you need a definition? Is it like porn, you'll know it when you see it? I've been discussing this with a friend these past few days, and it's making me ponder.

Obviously, how happy you are with your life is related to how successful you view yourself. But does happiness = success? I don't think it's that simple. There are people I would say are happy but aren't terribly successful and there are some very successful folks who probably could be happier but are choosing to go after a form of success, whether it be money or power. I can't say why I feel that way. It may have to due with my personal definition of success. We can all agree that money alone doesn't equal success but it sure as hell helps one feel more successful.

I think there is an external component to success. I think that might be the difference for me: happiness is more internal and personal, whereas success is partially a reflection from others. The good news is that you get to choose your audience. Maybe you only really care what your friends and family think, maybe you want to be the best in your chosen field, maybe you want to be world-famous! I know writers who would rather have a small, loyal audience who truly gets their work rather than write a "Twilight." This is why a pat on the back at work makes me feel successful while eating a hot fudge sundae makes me happy. Both of these things are good things and I wouldn't take one over the other, but they are different.

There is a certain amount of who-cares to this question. Should you put your life up against some unknown yardstick? Is there a list where you have to check off all those tasks? How much do you need "success" if you feel you are happy? Maybe the minute you start thinking success doesn't matter is when you actually are successful? When you give back the everlasting gobstopper, you get the keys to the whole factory.

Shut up, Ryan Murphy

2011-01-27T09:25:00.000-05:00

I suppose you've heard about the whole Kings of Leon/Glee/Ryan Murphy thing. If you haven't, the quick story is that Ryan Murphy wanted to use a Kings of Leon song on "Glee," they said no, and Ryan Murphy went off. Ryan Murphy made it all about his needs. Somehow wanting to control your art became about hating on arts education. Because apparently, watching "Glee" is the only way kids would learn about music and want to pick up an instrument or join a glee club (which may be a bit of a shock all those musicians who existed before May of 2009). And Kings of Leon are "assholes" (classy, Ryan, real classy.)

I understand why Kings of Leon aren't just handing over their songs. Isn't this the point of copyright, to give the artist some control, at least for a while? I'm not sure about the actual contract "Glee" puts out there for songs and how much control the artist has once they've signed them over, but I'm guessing that the song comes before the script is completed, before they know who's singing and in what part of the story. I'm also guessing that the amount of control an artist has is proportional to their fame; in other words, if Madonna demands that Rachel sings a certain song, they agree, but Kings of Leon don't have that sort of power. So if "Glee" decides he wants to use the song for Will to sing about his latest trip to the potty, I'm thinking Kings of Leon would just have to suck it up. And maybe they didn't want to take that risk.

Maybe Kings of Leon have a vision for their songs that does not include an arrangement with four-part harmony and a solo by Artie. Maybe the song has some special meaning and they want to hold it tight to them. Maybe they (gasp!) don't like "Glee" (I certainly have had issues with the show.) The bottom line is that Kings of Leon can do whatever they darn well please with their music and their songs. If they want to just play them in the basement with a few friends listening in, guess what, Ryan? They don't need your blessing. And it doesn't make them "assholes" or haters of music education.

(An aside to Ryan: if you're looking to reach out to that 7-year-old kid, lighten up on some of the sex in the show. I'm not a prude but, seriously, if you're going for the early-grade-school audience, a little less pep-rally masturbation might be in order.)

It's not always about how many people hear the song. Most of us can sing the State Farm jingle: it doesn't mean that it's good music. I'm also guessing that the State Farm jingle hasn't inspired a lot of kids to become musicians. Sometimes exposure does not equal inspiration. As Brian Eno once said, "the first Velvet Underground album only sold 10,000 copies, but everyone who bought it formed a band."

Kings of Leon are not telling Ryan Murphy how to run his show. They're just not letting Ryan use a song, that they created and they care about. Ryan needs to shut about about how Kings of Leon run their band. It's not for him to judge.

I gotta stop pretending who we are

2011-01-23T14:40:00.000-05:00

Last night we watched "Speak" which was an interesting movie based on the book of the same name. You can look up the details, but, briefly, it's a story of a girl who is date-raped shortly before starting high school and how she deals (or doesn't) with it. What it stirred in me actually surprised me.

Now, before you worry, nothing like date-rape happened to me. I had a fairly ordinary high school experience, no major traumas there. Last night, I dreamt about high school. I dreamt about being a freshman again. It was one of those dreams that felt so real you wake up confused for a moment, wondering whether you are in "real life" now, or did you just wake up from the real real life. In my dream, I was a freshman again, walking through the halls, watching my fellow students. Those feelings from back then, they were in that dream, as real as they were back then. The upper classmen seemed so much older than me, so mature, so together. I was still a kid, trying to figure things out. They wore their make-up with confidence, they dressed liked they knew what they were doing, not like their moms had picked their clothes. I know now that this wasn't the case, that they probably weren't as together as they looked to me, but back then, I was in awe of them. They were like rockstars to me. They were more important than celebrities. They had their friends, their cliques, their private jokes. I wondered if I'd ever be like that.

Last night, I was there again. It wasn't any specific incident or real memory, but the feel of that first year of high school, it was there, so pure and real. I felt that electric buzz of tension running through me, a constant, like a buzzing you hardly notice until it stops and you notice the quiet, the void it's left. this tension wasn't a bad thing, but it wasn't exactly pleasant. I suppose back then I thought of it as excitement, but the reality was I was afraid. I was afraid that I would be found out. I was trying to reinvent myself, I was trying to grow up, most of all, I was trying to shred what I was when I was in seventh grade, and I was afraid that someone would see the truth. That someone would pull me back.

I tell myself we all felt that way, but that can't be true. There had to be some who just knew, who were the real cool kids. The kids who had figured out who they were and where they wanted to be and just accepted it. And I got there, on some level. Yeah, I still get those moments where I'm afraid of being exposed, but don't we all? It's just no longer always there. It's just moments, and I can handle those. And I'm glad I'm awake.

This. Is. American. Idol!

2011-01-19T07:29:00.002-05:00

I don't want my "American Idol" kinder and gentler. No sir, I do not. I want it in your face. I want the judges to tell the kids that they just aren't cutting it. I don't care about the crazies who are dressed up for airtime and go on fake rants against Simon (or whatever judge they will chose this year [probably J-Lo, as Steven might actually kick your ass]), practically winking at the camera. I want the judges to go off on those kids who sing for Mom and are told by their best friend, "oh, you totally have the best voice and should go on 'American Idol' and then we'd be rich and tour Europe and maybe Brad will ask you out." They need to be told the truth. That it's not easy. That there are thousands of kids which talent out there and most of them will have to be satisfied with being the lead in their high school musical and that will be their "glory days." That it's not simply about showing up.

There is a group of kids (a much larger group than we see on tv because they're not as funny as the crazies) who just expect this fame to be handed to them. That will never happen. You have to work. You have to take lessons and sign up for that mediocre group and play that coffee house and do whatever it takes. Last season on "Project Runway" one of the contestants said to the others, "This is not a hobby." and it isn't, if you do it right. Check out every one of the winners of American Idol: they all had some sort of a music background before the show. They took lessons, they toured with smaller acts. They weren't singing in the shower and then decided one day, "hey, I could do this as a career! Thank goodness that 'American Idol' audition is next week!" They were in there already, looking for whatever break they could find.

I hope that J-Lo gives it to them. Sure, it's easy to make fun of "Jenny from the Block" but the reality is she worked it: she saved for singing and dance lessons, she was a Fly Girl, she took whatever break she could find. I want the judges to ask the kids who are clearly unprepared what they do. What lessons do they take, what bands are they in, how many gigs they had last year? The kids at home have to see it as well. They have to see that you can have dreams but you also need to work for them.

It's one of the things I like about "So You Think You Can Dance." The judges will tell the kids that they're not ready. They will grill the kids who have obviously been only dancing for fun in their basement: what lessons have you taken, how many hours do you practice? But they will also tell the kids with obvious talent that they should study more and come back the next year. And then again the next year if they're still not ready. If you watch the audition part of the show, they always show people who didn't make it one year and now this next year, they got further. It's actually quite inspiring. There will be a street dancer who only knew his style last year, coming back after a year of lessons and kicking it on a tango. Even the judges get teary-eyed.

You should have dreams. You should have goals. But no one should expect that you wake up one day with those dreams handed to you, like you just won keys to a car. You have to eat the elephant.

Golden slumbers

2011-01-16T18:56:00.000-05:00

Awards season is truly kicking off with the Golden Globes tonight. I like the Globes: you get movies and television and you get that slightly-off European sensibility and the stars get to drink. It's a good mix, pretty much guaranteed to be at least somewhat entertaining. That all said, I'm already exhausted by "Awards Season."

(A side note: it's kind of weird that we watch these, right? We certainly don't watch other industries give themselves prizes. But this is, like, news. We have parties around these shows.)

The problem with the awards season is that it just simply goes on way too long. Oscar nominations aren't even out and I'm already a bit tired of the whole thing. I can only imagine how the actual nominees feel. There's a few groups of nominees: the "of-course-they're-nominated", the group that rounds out the nominations but won't win, the surprise nominee group. Some categories are wide open, which at least makes it interesting, but a lot of the categories have the same group and the same winner. Maybe it might go back and forth between a couple of nominees, but the rest have to sit there, politely clapping and smiling, saying that it's an honor to just be nominated, but knowing that next weekend, it's another dress, another walk down that carpet, another interview that will be forgotten.

It's almost worst for the slamdunk winners. Last year, it was Mo'nique and Jeff Bridges and Christoph Waltz, having to go to every show and pretend that they weren't sure if they'd win or not. They had to be grateful and act a bit surprised and come with another speech that had to be more moving or funnier or deeper than the one they gave at the other ceremony. They had to be sure they didn't forget to thank someone and they had to wear things that wouldn't look awful when their picture was in the papers. And I'm sure there was that dreadful moment where they were just hoping that the big awards wouldn't be when that big upset occurred. "...and the Oscar goes to..." Hold your breath.

I will be watching tonight. I'll be hoping for some upsets and I'll be checking out the dresses. I'll hope for good speeches and interesting winners. But I'll be glad when the Oscars are over and the season is done.

Mop and Glower

2011-01-04T22:43:00.000-05:00

When I'm upset, I clean. To be clear, it's not the only thing I do when I'm upset, and I don't have to be upset to clean (although, looking around my house, you might think I'm the happiest person in the world.) But I have found that when I'm upset about something, cleaning up is amazing therapy.

I'm not sure how old I was when I discovered this, but I do remember cleaning my closet in my bedroom in Toledo when I got angry as a kid. When I was too frustrated/mad/full of something to do anything productive, but I had to work off some of the adrenaline or whatever I had that was burning inside of me, I could always just start emptying out my closet. It was a pretty good bet that the shoes were in a pile, unmatched; there would be clothes on the floor from poor hanging jobs; my boxes of toys and other paraphernalia, a earlier attempt at organization, had just become a jumble. No matter, I had fury to burn off -- it was all coming OUT of that closet!

It felt great, just pulling things out. No thinking, just doing. When I was most upset, I had the shoes to toss about, which were pretty resistant to any mood, and then I could go from there. I was rarely bothered by my parents during this: what parent is going to stop their kid from cleaning out their closet? This was my time to get it all out, and it seemed like I had so much in there. My closet ran a little ways off to the side behind the wall, so it was alway surprising how much stuff I pulled out. But there it all was, taking over the floorspace in my room.

It always seemed to work out: that burst of angry energy was always just about the right amount to clear that closet out. And then began the task of putting it all back. Putting everything back gave my mind something else to do about rather than ponder the great wrong that had lead to this empty closet. I had shoes to find and match up, boxes to sort, clothes that needed to be re-ironed or handed down to my sister. I had to decide if I wanted an different system of organization. I had to reread all those letters, assess all those treasures.

I can't say that having a clean closet always offset what I was feeling, but it did make me feel better, looking at my latest attempt at organization. I may have been wronged in a way that no other human being in the history of the world has ever known, but, despite it all, my closet was clean. I could face another day.

I suppose it could be worse. That said, don't judge my mood by the amount of clutter on my desk.

Saints be praised!

2010-12-31T09:28:00.004-05:00

This year's advent calendar featured saints. Every day we opened one of those little doors and got a piece of artwork that has a picture of a saint. I was surprised but there were a handful I had never heard of. Weird names that belong to no one. I wondered how that happened, how some names disappear.

I grew up Catholic, so I couldn't help but stumble upon the various saints. The local churches and private schools, most of them had saint's names: Saint Francis, Saint Ursula, Saint Pius. (Did you know there are three Saint Adalbert's? How can that be?) In junior high, I went through confirmation when I got to pick my own saint and add another name to my given name. I was given a small book with the stories behind some of the saints (a Catholic Top-10, perhaps?) and I picked Agnes, mostly because her picture was so pretty. (Don't judge me; I know people who picked their saint because their other names fit together so nicely or the saint had a name they would rather have than their given name. We were in junior high; we shouldn't have been trusted to pick saints that had any actual meaning for us.)

The saints are a wacky bunch. They hear voices, they tend to die in awful ways (I read about one that was killed by stones placed one at a time on top of her breaking her back, then, finally, crushing her to death. There's another one who carved "Jesus" into her arm) Some of them just seem to do good deeds, which is admirable, but seems to be much easier that being burnt at the stake for your beliefs.

It seems like certain saints are around more than others; you see a lot of Saint Theresa and Saint Francis. Even non-Catholics will bury a Saint Joseph to try to sell their house. You also know people with names of saints. You might not know what Saint Maraget is about, but you know that there was a Saint Margaret (in fact, there was a bunch of various Saint Margarets). There doesn't seem to be a reason as to why some saints are more popular than others. I get that Joan of Arc was a big deal, but how did Saint Anne get to be so popular? She's a saint for being Mary's mom and for being older when she became a mom, an accident of biology more than a religious devotion.

This advent calendar has saints I have never heard of: Saint Walburga, Saint Casilda, Saint Palatias. Not only have I never heard of any of these saints but I don't know anyone (or any church) with these names. It made me wonder why there are some saints that get so much and others that are forgotten. What did these saints do to fall out of favor? Why do people pick up on some names but not others? Of course, I would have a hard time giving a baby girl the name Walburga.

Poor Saint Cunegund, forgotten except on the advent calendar.

D'ya want fries with that?

2010-12-29T06:55:00.000-05:00

Oh, central PA, you make the whole fast food experience not so fast. Here we are again, doing the trip to Ohio for the holidays and making another disappointing stop for fast food.

I need to remind myself that stopping for food on the Pennsylvania turnpike is always a tactical error. The reststops on the turnpike are populated by third- or fourth-tier fast food places. Sbarro, Famiglia. I finally settled on Roy Rogers. ("They still exist?" My dad was surprised.) Roy Rogers seems to have taken the marketing strategy of doing a little bit of everything and none of it very well. You can get your hamburger, you can get your roast beef, you can get your fried chicken. You have your choice of about five different sides, mostly potato-based. It all looks a bit sad and washed out.

I decide on the grilled chicken. If you get the "combo", you get a side and a drink. I go to order. There's at least three girls doing something behind the counter but no one is actually at a register and no one comes up to take my order. I wait. Still none of the girls come up to a register. Another person walks up in line behind me. Still no one steps to a register. I look at the guy behind me, maybe he can figure it out. He just shrugs.

Finally, a girl comes to a register. "Can I take your order?"

"I'd like the combination of the grilled chicken and mashed potatoes."

"If you want to add a drink, then you can make it a 'combo,'" she tells me, very happy to be saving me some money. I stop for a moment, wanting to explain that "combo" is actually short for "combination," then realize that it probably would just confuse her, so I nod and agree that that's what I want. She takes my money and hands me a soda cup.

I go to the soda machine which proudly declares that with a touch of a button, I could have one of four types of soda from the same spicket. Although they are different varieties of Coke (diet, sugar-filled, caffeine: yes or no), they are all brown varieties and I am suspicious. I go to the one that is dedicated to Diet Coke, knowing that all the sodas could be the exact same brown variety, but, for some reason, I am trusting this spicket a bit more.

When I get my chicken, I see that it is simply a hunk of chicken on a bun. Nothing more. There is a "Fixin's Bar" for anything else. I shake my head a bit. Roy Rogers can't even give me a bit of lettuce and some mayo. Instead they take the naked route, unwilling to commit to any toppings for your sandwich. I don't think this is the best strategy. McDonald's proudly lists what's on a Big Mac; Burger King may say that special orders won't upset them, but they have a bunch of stuff already slathered on and you have to "hold the pickles." I "fix" my chicken.

I suppose you're not tempted to dawdle with a meal like this. You eat and you get on the road. I had my book but barely read three pages. I look around and sigh. Time to get back to driving.

Do you want to know a secret?

2010-12-19T10:33:00.000-05:00

Did you ever think we'd be cheering Joe Leiberman? But the guy came through (with Susan Collins, to give full credit.) "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" is now gone, and, maybe, we'll all be a touch more tolerant.

John McCain: Shut up. Seriously, you do not get it. "...we are doing great damage." Really? Please explain. Oh, yes, that study. The one where a majority of military members and their spouses would be absolutely fine with serving alongside openly gay members. But John McCain would rather troll down to the numbers that support his opinion. That certain subgroups don't like the idea of repealing DADT. And maybe that is true, but perhaps McCain would better serve unity in the troops if he, as a war hero, would step forward and make a plea for acceptance. Maybe if he put it out there that it won't make a difference if someone is gay or not, maybe the combat troops would think, "you know, he's right."

Here's what McCain has to say about the conclusions, "I think they're mature enough to make a judgment on who they want to serve with and the impact on their battle effectiveness." You know, I wish I could take a survey about who I want to work alongside, because I'd pick "no intolerant jerks."

"A sad day in history." Oh, John McCain, grow up.

I'm so sick of words!

2010-12-17T07:24:00.000-05:00

I am editing an entry for a writing competition. At this point, the entry is mostly written, but I am approximately 100 words over (I get 3000 for the entire entry.) It is time to trim away the unnecessary words, the extra phrases that aren't helping the cause.

The "a's" and "the's" are smug; they know that although they don't really add anything, they're more or less mandatory for proper grammar. The adverbs are nervous. The adjectives are weighing themselves against each other: is the day both "sunny" and "perfect"? Maybe one of them will have to go.

There are whole sentences that think they're safe, but with one swoop, they're nothing but a memory. The surrounding sentences are shocked. They were just next to that sentence and now it's gone! Then they relax for a bit; they're safe for now. But the panic comes back: what if the entire paragraph goes? They check the word count: it's very close. It's doubtful a whole paragraph will go. But, wait, are there words being added? That can't be good.

The nouns try to be confident, but they know that the focus could shift. Those damn pronouns might take over. The verbs know they're needed to keep things going but are there too many? They eye each other; they are the most aggressive of words after all, always itching for a fight.

I am down to 36 to go. I curse the electronic submission process, as it doesn't allow me to cheat. Some of the words are getting annoyed. "You've seen us a hundred times. Just move on. You clearly want us around. Why don't you go after Page 4 for a while?" I skip to the next section and the words on that page breathe a sigh of relief.

I'm a bit sad at the thought of getting rid of any words. Words are valuable. Something made me put them to the page and now: poof! As I edit, I hope the words understand. Someday I might go back to them. Someday I might need them again.

I close my eyes for a moment, thinking of those stray words. I am dreaming that they are still there: forming their own story for later.

D'oh

2010-12-08T18:10:00.000-05:00

Don't get me wrong; I love the show, but I have to wonder: does anyone watch "The Simpsons" anymore? It's still on, right? There are new episodes coming out and I'm sure they're brilliant and funny as always, but is anyone watching them? Are there folks out there who are catching that latest episode on Sunday so they can chat about it at work on Monday?

It seems like the Simpsons have been around forever. In fact, "The Simpsons" have been on the air since 1989 as a half-hour show. Before that, they lived as shorts on "The Tracey Ullman Show" for a couple of years. Think about that for a minute. You have college graduates that have never lived in a world without Homer choking Bart.

Even before that, I was a big fan of Matt Groening's brilliant "Life in Hell" comics. The first time I caught a Simpson short, I shouted, "Matt Groening!" and, I admit, I thought I was pretty cool, being ahead of the trend there. (This does not happen often, so I have to really hold onto these moments.)

Remember when "The Simpsons" was must-see television? Maybe it still is but I'm no longer the demographic. It's not because of any quality issue, but I haven't watched "The Simpsons" in years. This makes me sort of sad, but I have the feeling I'd watch and think, "It's not as funny as it used to be."

I've been scrolling through an episode list of those first seasons when I used to watch religiously and they're all so chock-full of great stuff. Maybe "The Simpsons" is like SNL in that you watch when you're "that age" and you love those episodes/cast from that era, but then you insist that it'll never be as good as when you watched. I'm still quoting from "Treehouse of Horror III" when I figure something out ("There's your problem -- this doll's set to evil.")

I am amazed at the world that was created by The Simpsons. Is there a show that ever existed that has so many characters, so much history? You know Springfield. You know who lives there and their backstories. Crazy Cat Lady! Disco Stu! I don't know the name of the character Joe Mantegna plays on "Criminal Minds" but I do know he's Fat Tony on "The Simpsons." I love that "The Simpsons" has given us that world.

And, in case you were wondering, my favorite episode of all time: "Last Exit to Springfield."

Go to sleep

2010-11-27T08:17:00.000-05:00

When you really think about it, sleep is a very weird thing. Who thought this would be a good idea? If you believe in God, why was sleep created? Why not have Your creatures be awake for all the hours of the day and night to see as much of the world as possible? If you are an evolution fan, how was this a trait that was even selected? How is being unconscious for about a third of the day making you more likely to survive? We must have been competing against the creatures who were sleeping 12 hours a day or something. Although somehow cats made it.

I wish I could get back that sleeping time. I'm not greedy, I don't need all of it: just give me two hours back every night. I'm pretty sure I'd waste most of that time, but I'd still like the option of having that extra time to still not exercise.

There are nights that I start to overthink sleeping. I lie in bed, close my eyes, and think, okay, how do I do this again? What if I forget how to sleep? I am lying there, trying to remember, how did I fall asleep last night? What was in my head? What was not in my head? It's not like walking or eating -- you can't show someone how to sleep. You can do things that might help you sleep, but there isn't some magical formula.

There are nights where I can't even figure out what to do with my body. It's usually one of my arms. It's just in the way. I can't remember if I sleep on it or do I put my head on it or is it off to the side, and every way I move just doesn't feel right. It feels like I have this extra thing on my body. Seriously, how have I been sleeping with this all these years?

Of course, there are nights when you get that delicious chunk of sleep. When you just magically drift off and wake up eight hours later, feeling absolutely refreshed. Those are lovely nights, but also frustrating. What did I do to get that great sleep? Can I do it again? Why can't I do it again? But, alas, the next night is never as good.

I hope you are a good sleeper. I am jealous, but happy for you. No matter how you sleep, tonight, I wish you good sleep.

Never been kissed

2010-11-13T17:51:00.000-05:00

Clearly, I can't stop talking about "Glee" and how they keep getting it wrong. Take this week's episode. It could have been good. It's timely and relevant, and they dropped the ball. That's why I get so frustrated with this show. If they didn't have good ideas, if they didn't have a talented cast, if they didn't have the ability to pull together something amazing, I could just dismiss the whole thing. But they could get it right and they seem to always pick the wrong direction.

There's a bunch of things wrong with this episode, but I want to focus on the kisses. We'll start with Kurt. The minute I saw that bully pushing Kurt around, I knew they were going to have him be secretly gay with a big-ol' crush on Kurt. Why "Glee," why? Because the reality is that, more often than not, bullies are not people with secret crushes on you but, rather, simply assholes. So instead of addressing a real issue that exists today: that there are bullies out there who will physically assault you because you are different, "Glee" chooses the, "oh, I'll bet they're pulling your hair because they think you're so cute route." That's totally the right choice. That'll help all the bullied kids out there.

But there was a moment that they could have saved it. When Kurt told Blaine that the kiss from the bully was his first kiss, there was a moment that was so sad and deep and true. That was a moment you really felt for a character, where you couldn't help but look back on all those little milestones in your life. I really felt for Kurt, that his first kiss would never be a sweet, little stolen moment but rather this mix of violence and confusion and self-hatred. That his first kiss would never be something special. Which brings me to the Coach Beiste kiss. I know most of the attention has been focused on Kurt's kiss, but, frankly, I find the Coach Beiste storyline much more offensive.

Okay, I get the joke: Coach Beiste isn't a pretty, size 2-shaped lady so we can make fun of her! That is funny! Thanks "Glee" for reminding women that they need to be Hollywood-pretty in order to be kissed. That's a great message. Just remember that, girls: you can be smart and sweet and career-minded, but if you ain't pretty, you ain't getting kissed. Unless (hope and pray for this, ladies), the fabulous Mr. Shue can feel sorry for you and give you a pity kiss. (And, seriously, is there a woman Mr. Shue won't kiss?) I'm sure that's exactly what Coach Beiste had in mind for her first kiss. At least Kurt's kiss was from someone who was attracted to him.

I'm not expecting "Glee" to solve the problems of the world. But if they choose to take on issues, they should try to do a better job. This could have been an amazing episode. Let me write the second half of the episode. Kurt ends up talking to Coach Beiste about being different in high school. Maybe he thinks she's gay. She tells him that, although she's not gay, yeah, high school did suck for her, but she found she could turn to things she loved to do, a support system (which he's in the process of finding with the glee club and his new friends at the other high school), and a good family. Now she's got this great social life and she was just named "Lima's Hottest Single Gal." She tells Kurt he can come to her, give her the names of the guys on the team who are giving him grief, and she'll make them pay -- it'll be their little secret. The last scene has Coach Beiste getting picked up after school for a date with an extremely hot guy. Kurt catches her eye as the date takes her by the arm, and Coach Beiste smiles and says, "It gets better."

NaNoWriMo (beep beep-pah beep beep)

2010-11-06T09:01:00.001-04:00

It's that time of year: not the holidays, but the push to write a novel in a month. November is National Novel Writing Month (a/k/a NaNoWriMo). The idea to to knock out 50,000 words (which amounts to a short novel) in one month. Of course, that's a pretty high word count in a quick period, so it's unlikely that the novel you write will be ready-to-go on December 1. In fact, if you go to their website, they make it quite clear that what you will be write will need revision and this is just a start. The idea is to push yourself to write.

In case the task wasn't intimidating enough, a few days ago, there was a piece in Salon urging people to not do NaNoWriMo. The author of the article argued that there were enough bad books out there and that people should stop writing and start reading. (Her evidence that writers don't read was really just "I was talking to a guy at a party...") She brought up a lot of other reasons to not do it, and, needless to say, the defenders of NaNoWriMo came out in full force. Which made me start to think about why I did it and how it affected me.

You may remember that I took this on last year. As I'd written virtually no fiction in my life, I figured what better way to dip my toe in the pool than to cough up 50,000 words in a month? At the time I thought it was crazy (and it was), but it was really a good thing for me to do. When you have to generate about 2000 words a day, you can't waste time mulling over whether or not the words you are writing are "worthy." You write and write. The edit button has to be off. This freed me up to let go of any inhibitions I was having about writing fiction.

At the end of the month, I'd done it. I was sitting on over 50,000 words, a good start to a novel. But, truly, I needed to not see it anymore. I put it away and, until recently, had done very little with it, and without enthusiasm. This was fine; I had other bits of writing to take care of, and this would be there when I was ready. A couple of months ago, I was finally brave enough to seriously look at what I had written last November, and it wasn't half bad. Since then, I've done some shifts to the story, I've made a lot (a lot) of edits, although surprisingly, not as many (or as deep) as I anticipated. (Although I haven't gotten into the end-of-November writing from last year. Keep your fingers crossed that I wasn't completely insane by that time.)

The point is that without NaNoWriMo, I may have given up on the story or stopped at 10,000 words or flitted to another project. Before last November, I looked at my writing as a hobby, as something I was dabbling in. Sure, I had a blog and a few ideas for stories I might write some day, but this was just spare-time stuff. NaNoWriMo told me to keep pressing on, to not be afraid of that silly idea in my head because, if nothing else, I need the wordcount. Now, I have a book. I wrote a book! Not a long book and (at this point) not a finished book, but it's there. A book. And now I have to say, yes, I am a writer.

Autobiography

2010-10-22T19:41:00.001-04:00

My writing assignment for today a short autobiography/personal statement. The reason isn't important, but I want to sum up my story into a paragraph or so. I am not having a lot of success. This is both too long and too short. I am staring at the page, coming up with the occasional phrases here and there, most of which I delete almost as quickly as I write them.

How will I introduce myself? I start to wonder how other people approach this. When you meet someone, what do you tell them about yourself? I know it depends on where you meet them: interview, party, PTA meeting, but let's pretend you've been invited to be on "Oprah" (and for her last season! What an honor!) What is she telling the studio audience before you come onstage?

To add to the frustration of this task, I also made up cards: sort of business cards with my contact information. I figure it would be easier to have a card with my phone number, email address, blog address, that sort of thing, rather than roaming around in my bag, looking for a scrap of paper to write down the information. Some of it was easy: address, phone number, but then: title. Hmm. Title, what would you put as your title? I went back and forth with this for a bit, but decided that the best label was none at all.

Maybe I'm still sorting things out. Maybe I don't want to be labeled just yet. My story is still coming together. I am a scientist, a writer, a reader, an ex-wife, a sister, an explorer, a sleeper (late note: a snorer), a fan of low-brow television, a friend, a photographer, a stubborn pain-in-the-ass, an aunt, a dreamer, a realist. And the best thing is that there's more to come.

But I still am not sure how I should write my autobiography. A whole paragraph.

Emotionalism

2010-10-20T13:48:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking about why I write. I'm sure there's an aspect of selfishness: telling my story, my way, with my point of view. But I wonder, is my story that different from anyone else's? And that, deep down, is the question: how different is my story and, frankly, how different do I want it to be?

I realize that I want people to feel something when they read what I write. I want them to relate or, if nothing else, think about an issue or a time in their lives. But at the same time, I want to own that story. The emotions tied to these stories are mine, and I wonder if I'm giving up something by sharing a story. Am I giving away a part of my self? Even if I am, is this a bad thing?

The answer, of course, is that this is not a bad thing at all. I completely want the reader to take this part of me and pull into into themselves. At the same time, these emotions I have surrounding what I write, they are mine. The reader may have their version of emotions tied into the story, and that's alright. In fact, it's better than just "alright." If I can write something that stirs someone's emotions, I have succeeded. And I can't think of anything better than that.

In the air tonight

2010-10-08T07:21:00.001-04:00

I thought I was done with being annoyed at Phil Collins when the '90s were over. Alas, he is back, with an album that is only interesting when you are debating if it is mostly self-indulgent or mostly just lazy?

If you haven't heard about this album (which I find hard to believe -- the guy is everywhere! [Note to self: hire Phil Collins' publicist.]), it's an album of Motown covers. Now I have nothing against a good cover. In fact, a good one can bring a song to a new place. But for this very special album, Phil wanted to recreate the songs note for note, so he worked to get all the music and background to sound exactly the same as the original songs. Let's think about this for just a moment. Say you're flipping around that radio dial and "Heatwave" comes on. Is this what you're thinking: "Man, this is one great song! Well, except I'd much rather have Phil Collins singing it. That Martha Reeves -- her voice is weak. I need the nasal twang of a British drummer!"

It's karaoke, plain and simple. It's lazy and vain. If he didn't have a name (and, really, I thought he was over), there's no way he'd get away with this nonsense. In one interview, he said that this going back to older music speaks to the current state of music. Isn't he supposedly a singer/songwriter/musician type? If you don't like what's going on in music today, do something about it. You have the means to push it a bit. You don't need a big hit. But, no, you'd rather just whine and rerecord something no one needs.

And, seriously, Phil Collins, get your own pop culture. Did you know he has one of the largest collections of Alamo memorabilia? That's weird, right?

I swear, if he touches the Stax catalog...

We beseech thee!

2010-10-06T13:57:00.000-04:00

Let's address the Jesus debate here. Not the "did he exist one" -- that's for lightweights and late night talks in college. No, let's hit the hard one: who is the cooler Jesus: "Godspell" Jesus or "Jesus Christ Superstar" Jesus? I am shocked to learn that some of my friends (or, should I say, former friends) are actually saying it's Godspell Jesus! I know! They are wrong.

I am not dissing either musical (although I could). Of course "JCS" lead to the monster that is now Andrew Llyod Webber, but this happened when he was young and hungry and the world wasn't tired of his overblown nonsense. The real-life story of how they got this show into production is actually kind of cool and scrappy. They only had enough money to record the title track single, which, lucky for them, became a top-40 hit. This gave them enough money to record the entire album (fun fact: the whip songs of the 39 lashes were recorded in a bathroom), which also became a hit, which allowed funding of the actual musical.

"JCS" shaped how I viewed religion. These characters were real people. They got angry and scared and unsure of what they were doing and crazy. They made choices about what they were doing. They weren't magical or perfect, and they had to work at what they believed. I loved that Jesus was afraid to die and that Judas wasn't sure if he should sell out Jesus (spoiler: he does). As a kid, when you learn that sometimes adults don't want to do certain things, that's a big deal, but when you learn that Jesus didn't want to do what he was expected to do, well, that blew my mind a little bit.

If you're not familiar with "Godspell", then you haven't been attending folk mass. Growing up Catholic in the '70s as a child of parents who love community theater, I probably saw roughly 216 versions of "Godspell." If "JCS" was the angst-ridden, moody version of religion, "Godspell" gave us the joy of religion. "JCS" was a Production; "Godspell" was a bunch of kids jumping around in make-up and crazy outfits, getting you to sing and clap along. "JCS" is a rock opera; "Godspell" is fly-by-the-seat-of-your-(striped)-pants.

Here's an awesome thing they both have in common: Jesus doesn't rise from the dead. Both shows end after Jesus is crucified. You have to decide what happens next. You get to tell the rest of the story.

But we're not here to debate the shows; we're here to address the Jesus question. The only "JCS" Jesus I accept was the original, and that was Ian Gillan; "Godspell" Jesus is shown below, and if I have to tell you who is cooler, I can't help you.

A quick nerdy story from my past

2010-10-05T06:34:00.000-04:00

When I worked at Rohm & Haas, these were the mornings that Chol would come into our lab, look up from his coffee, smile sadly at my boss, and say, "I didn't get the call this morning either." He'd shake his head and go back to his lab.

(I also have a story where I was talking on the phone to a professor at Cornell and we were getting all excited about comparing upright freezer to coffins, and we both realized how nerdy we sounded so we quickly hung up.)

Ah, the memories of a science geek...

Oh, Glee, why can't you do it right?

2010-10-03T12:48:00.001-04:00

I want to like "Glee." I really do. I really should. I was not a cool kid. I was in band and the honors classes in high school. And just in case you didn't get the dork memo, I played bassoon. I may have even had a year I was in the show choir. I've had a serious debate with a friend over which was the cool Jesus: Jesus Christ Superstar Jesus or Godspell Jesus. I love the idea that someone wanted to do a show that features talented kids bursting into song and dance. But "Glee" misses the mark.

Before we go any further, I want to point out that I am not a loyal viewer of "Glee." I've seen about a third of the episodes, so I have a pretty good idea as to what's going on, but, no, I don't know all the details. I can't sustain watching it because of the issues I have with the show. First of all, it doesn't know what it wants to be. Are you a serious high school drama? Are you a cartoon? Are you a musical? I don't want to force anything into a box, but it feels like the show doesn't really know what to be, so sometimes there is a real reason to break into song but sometimes they have to come up with fantasy sequences and it just feels forced. Either give into the crazy of the football team breaking into "Single Ladies" or only have the performances when it makes sense.

It's even more forced when they have the "theme" weeks. The Madonna episode, the Britney episode -- just a series of stories twisted in a way to get certain songs in. Maybe everyone else thought Sue Sylvester doing "Vogue" was hilarious, but it just didn't fit with who she is on the show. And I am over just re-doing the videos. What is the point in that? I get that Heather Morris is an amazing singer and dancer, but when I watched the Britney episode, it took me a few minutes to realize that they weren't simply showing the actual videos. The sad thing is that when they take the songs and do something interesting with them, it is incredible to watch. The best thing I've seen on "Glee" was the Cheerios on stilts with Kurt and Mercedes doing "Four Minutes." Stilts! And it's also the kind of thing that a squad would actually perform at a pep rally. That shows me what "Glee" could be but instead they seem to be content with stringing redone videos together and trying to put together a storyline.

There are good characters and obviously talented actors but the show isn't using them right. Most of the characters want to be something, maybe even want a real storyline, but are forced into situations to fit songs. Would Emma, after being a virgin for so long, with all the questions she must have about her relationship with Will, really give in to sleep with him at that point in their relationship, or was it convenient to allow her to croon "Like a Virgin" because they happen to be doing the Madonna episode? There's so much back and forth: "I'm empowered! I'm not!" that seems to be tied to when they get the rights to a song rather than actual character development.

Oh "Glee," I really want to like you. But I'd rather see the original videos for now.

Whop! about to slip down

2010-09-27T07:06:00.000-04:00

Oh, New York Times, why do you love people of a certain age so much? (Hint: not anyone under 40.) Let's talk about this article: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/20/business/economy/20older.html?src=me&ref=homepage

I know the reaction to this article is supposed to be, oh that's terrible! Oh, that's so sad! What a tragedy it is to be an older America! But let's look at the numbers. The Times very helpfully points out that, horrors! 2.2 million people over the age of 55 are unemployed. They also point out that there are a total of 14.9 million total unemployed, which suddenly makes that first number a bit less significant. Do a bit math. Of all the folks that are unemployed, only 13.6% are over the age of 55. Even if you chunk up the other groups into 10-year incriments: 16-25 years old, 26-35, 36-45, and 46-55, each of these groups would average a rate of 21.6%. Which is much higher than the group which includes a wider range of ages.

Maybe that math is a bit of speculation. Let's go to some straight-forward figures. The article points out that the unemployment rate for the over-55 group is at a record (for them) 7.3%, which would be sad if you didn't realize that the overall unemployment rate is over two percent higher at 9.6%. But, wait a minute, the poverty level for this group increased to 9.4%! Of course, the article doesn't mention that the overall poverty level is 14.3%, which means that this group: still better off than most.

I don't really want to pick on an individual, but I have to assume that the NYT picked the woman they focused on as "typical" of this group of unemployed individuals, so I will point out some specifics from the article. I just have a really hard time feeling sorry for her. Her house is paid off (her 3000 square feet of house. That overlooks "the sound."); there's no mention of kids or college tuition draining the pocketbook. When she was first laid off, instead of gathering together a nest egg, she went on two vacations that had to cost at least $10,000 -- a sum most of us would (or more likely need to) hold onto for those pesky bills. Sure, they have approximately $7000/year in property taxes -- less than $700 a month, which is a hell of a lot less than my mortgage. Her husband is still working. In other words, they're doing alright financially. This is not a story of a person who's going to be packing her stuff into a car and camping out there.

The article spends a certain amount of time regarding the "difficult" job search for this age group. But is it really ageism? Even by her own admission, she isn't exactly keeping up with technology. The good news is that she's only waited FOUR years to take a course to maybe help catch her up. Another woman laments that “I don’t feel like I can compete with kids who have been on computers all their lives." Really? Let's say you started working on computers in 1990, which isn't exactly an early adapter -- you should have about 20 years of experience on a computer, unless, of course, you chose to keep your skill set in the 1980's. I recently interviewed a person of a certain age who, when I asked him about the idea of electronic submission (a requirement by the FDA), he basically told me that he was pretty comfortable using Word. Should I be recommending a "hire" for someone who isn't even up to the industry standard just because he's over 60?

The article also compare the average time it takes to find a job for the 55-64 group versus 16-54. That's a pretty big range there. You've got your older group, who have certain salary expectations, experience levels, education, etc, compared to a group that includes high school students. I'd like to see how "easy" it is for that 45-54 group to roll into a new job. The other thing that isn't in that statistic is how quickly each group jumps into the job market or the expectations for a job. I'm guessing that most people in their 50's or higher aren't going after those entry-level jobs.

Unemployment sucks, as does job hunting. It is no fun to send out resumes and have month upon month of rejection or, even worse, no responses at all. But it sucks for all of us. And it sucks a lot more for the 30-something with kids and a mortgage and no vacations to Turkey -- not for the 50- or 60-something with the paid-off house and healthcare.

This is not Freedom of Speech

2010-09-10T10:51:00.000-04:00

Let's get this straight: Terry Jones is a terrorist. Oh, you're not sure? Here is the United Nation's definition of terrorism: "Criminal acts intended or calculated to provoke a state of terror in the general public, a group of persons or particular persons for political purposes are in any circumstance unjustifiable, whatever the considerations of a political, philosophical, ideological, racial, ethnic, religious or any other nature that may be invoked to justify them." This completely fits this situation. I know people who are flying tomorrow and I have to say, I'm a bit worried. Because people are nuts and overreact, and that's exactly what this jerk Terry Jones is counting on.
So, we can all agree on that the guy is a terrorist. He is using threats to get his way. And now I wonder why hasn't he been arrested? Why do we (really: The Press) keep talking to this guy? Why do we give him the power? I know that The Press is being the weapon here. That if they could have managed to ignore this guy and this act, it would have all went away. It's a story because The Press made it a story. They're also responsible.

That aside, why isn't Terry Jones in jail? He's a terrorist. He's threatening to perform a hate crime. (Don't think so? Well, here's what wiki has to say about hate crimes: "Hate crimes [also known as bias-motivated crimes] occur when a perpetrator targets a victim because of his or her perceived membership in a certain social group, usually defined by racial group, religion, sexual orientation, disability, class, ethnicity, nationality, age, gender, gender identity, or political affiliation. 'Hate crime' generally refers to criminal acts which are seen to have been motivated by hatred of one or more of the listed conditions. Incidents may involve physical assault, damage to property, bullying, harassment, verbal abuse or insults, or offensive graffiti or letters [hate mail].") He is a criminal. Criminals belong in jail.

Personally, I'd like to just erase this whole thing. Ignore him. Pretend he's one of those crazy guys on the street, shouting at your car, don't make eye contact. Just drive and maybe he'll shut up. But it's too late. We've started trying to have a conversation with him. We're pretending that he might have a point. Now we have to do something. We have a choice. We can let this guy comtinue to commit crimes and let the Muslim world watch us let him commit crimes, or we can throw him in jail. If we saw a guy kicking a dog, we wouldn't say, "oh, that's just performance art. That's just how he expresses himself." No, he'd be in jail. Not saying that someone should be blowing up an airplane over this, but I can get someone being pissed off that nothing is being done about a guy openly committing a crime.

I just am very much looking forward to September 12. And ignoring this guy.

Tears are in your eyes

2010-09-06T10:23:00.000-04:00

Today I am thinking about friends that come and go through our lives. Some of us have lives full of transitions and, try as we might, we lose contact. We want to remain close, but we have moved: to a new job, to a new location, to a new life. We want to keep the dialogue going, but there is so many other things that creep into our lives, as well as theirs, and suddenly it's been a year since you last talked to them.

Let me tell you about Vicki. Vicki and I were in the Binns lab when I was in grad school. She was a postdoc, and we just clicked. Do you have a friend who just gets you? That friend that when you're just starting the joke, she sees exactly where you're going and starts to laugh even before you're there? That was Vicki. Binns called us The Match Made in Hell. We would tell each other about our lives, our worries, everything. We both moved to Philadelphia the same summer, and, although it would be years until we actually met, we would act like we shared even that: that horrible hot summer when we weren't sure if we should move to this new place, the weather telling us that we made some sort of mistake.

We were both public university gals: I went to the University of Toledo, Vick went to Temple. I would tease her with the current ad campaign: "You could have gone anywhere, but you chose Temple!" We both hated graduate school, although she was actually finished while I was still struggling. She wouldn't wear a digital watch because there was an assay she had to run throughout grad school that required her to keep time on a digital watch. When she finally graduated, she threw the watch away and vowed to never wear another digital watch.

She had gotten married young and had two kids already. I was still single when I first met her, so her life seemed much more complex to me (and of course it was). She and Konrad were juggling the family as well as their postdocs. They worried about funding, they worried about their house, they wondered if their kids were in a good school system. She overindulged her kids but she knew it. She would laugh at herself and tell me that she'd hate her kids if they weren't hers but, God, she loved those kids. She'd do anything for them, although they'd make her nuts.

We both hated playing games: once at a lab party Binns forced us to play Pictionary. We rolled our eyes and said that we would but be prepared to go down. Hard. Because we just knew what the other person was thinking. I remember one clue. I drew a circle and a line and a half-circle over the circle. "Car," guessed Vick. I pointed to the circle. "Oh, tire!" They accused us of cheating and then let us not play anymore, which was fine by us.

We would bring in books and music for each other. We would recommend movies and tv shows. I don't remember what I gave her but she gave me Sarah Vowell and David Sedaris and "Buffy" and so many things I can't even keep track of them all. But there are times, I'm listen to a song or reflecting on a book, and I remember, oh, yes, this was one of Vicki's gifts to me.

I loved the way she'd present her data. She was a casual speaker; she presented complex data as if she were just having a conversation with you. She told you a story. When she would go to other talks, she could tell right away if the speaker knew what he was talking about. We had this sign language: we'd wave out hands slightly to indicate that the speaker was just "hand waving." The Story: that was the goal of research. Did you have a good story?

I don't remember exactly when she told me her mom had breast cancer, but she immediately got herself checked. They didn't find anything. Go deeper, check again, she insisted. And then they found the tiniest thing. It was so tiny. It was hardly anything. And this tiny, tiny thing led to years of treatment. But our lives were changing. I got married, I finished graduate school, she took the job up in Allentown. We were in touch, but it was different. But she beat it. She beat the cancer. That's what she was told.

She got me a part time job in Allentown, so we did see each other while I was teaching there. Everything was fine now. The labs looked great. She had gotten a double mastectomy. Women's clothes didn't fit her, so she was going to get implants. I offered to be a donor. We didn't talk about the cancer; she had other friends for that. She told me that she liked hanging out with me because I didn't ask "How are you?" with that tone: I just wanted to gossip.

Everything was fine. For years. At one point we both had jobs in a suburb of Philadelphia, so we'd go to lunch regularly, but that was only for a few months. I got a new job and we stopped seeing other regularly. It's a busy time, we'll be back in touch soon. The kids were in high school, I had a new job, I was moving, Konrad had exciting new research and they were thinking of moving to Boston.

I remember that phone call. We were supposed to get together for dinner -- it had been too long. But she had caught a pretty nasty cold and was calling to postpone. It was October, and I can close my eyes and can hear her, "I'm scared that it's more than a cold." I assured her it wasn't. I didn't want to believe it either. It had been way more than 5 years. Wasn't that the magic number? Dammit, that's the deal! More than 5 years and you get a pass!

But it wasn't just a cold.

The last time I saw Vicki was at a Binns lab reunion. We joked, just like old times. We talked about going to Rome. We talked about so much. We vowed that we'd stay in touch, but life kept us busy. But it was only an occasional email, and nothing much more than that. I kept promising myself that next time I'd drive up to Allentown, but I was dealing with a new job, moving, all those things.

One night I dreamt that Vicki was up for a major promotion and I needed to testify before Congress. She was in the front row, talking (joking and laughing actually) with the chairwoman as we all went on stage to talk about how awesome Vicki was, how she touched our lives. Vicki was smiling, so happy to hear all of this. It was such a sweet dream. When I woke up, I thought about it for a while, and I realized that this was a memorial. I googled and found she had died about a month ago.

I hate that my life has become one where I have these amazing, close friends for a period and then you lose touch. I hate that I didn't have one last visit.

Most of all, I hate that she's gone. Because I miss her all the time.

Her jaw aches from wanting and she's sick from chlorine

2010-08-29T12:13:00.001-04:00

My middle name is Margaret. I'll confess that when I was a kid I didn't like the name. Margaret was old-fashioned and too long for a middle name. My friends' middle names were light and delicate, names like Ann or Lynn, grace notes to their first names, not this long, 8-letter thing that turned my first two names into a sort of a chant: An-ge-la-Mar-gar-et. Not only did no one my age have that name, with the popularity of "Are You There, God? It's me, Margaret?" no one wanted that as a name. I did everything I could to hide my middle name. Although I loved the book, I didn't want to be associated with someone obsessed with getting her period.

It took me a while to appreciate Margaret as a name. I was named after my mom's favorite aunt who died young (so I never met her), but when you're seven, being named after someone doesn't mean much. You don't realize that it's an honor, an extra dab of love placed on you. But as I got older and listened to the relatives who knew Aunt Margaret talk about her so fondly, telling stories about how wonderful she was, I started thinking that it was pretty cool that I had her name.

I must admit, I didn't really start to like Margaret until I found characters named Margaret in books I loved. I find that in literature, Margarets tend to be my kind of gals: Margaret Schlegel ("Howard's End"), Margaret Hale ("North and South"), Meg Murry ("A Wrinkle in Time"), Margaret Ibbotson ("Deerbrook"), just to name a few. They're smart, sensible, no-nonsense, strong women. They're not flighty or weak. Margaret isn't the pretty sister, but she's the interesting one. Margaret gets right boy in the end, but you knew all along she'd make it work out; you just know that she's going to have a very happy life. I want to be those Margaret's. I like to pretend that we're all a part of this awesome sorority. Our mothers named us knowing that we'd be worthy of this group of women.

Now I love Margaret. I'm proud to have it as a name. Because, in the end, we Margarets will make it all work out.

Hey ladies in the place I'm callin' out to ya

2010-08-27T20:58:00.000-04:00

There's some fuss going around the internet about the New York Times book reviews: who they review (mostly white guys) and how they review them (they *love* white guys). I've got a few thoughts about this. (It should be noted that there are some really interesting pieces out there, so if this catches your attention, take a few minutes to google about.)

Women do behave differently than men. I see it in the workplace where the women will all tell you about their kids and the crazy things their husband did and how they've got to leave early because they have to pick up Little Susie from daycare, while with most of the men I work with I'm not sure who has kids and who doesn't. I understand that a lot of the childcare responsibility falls on women, and in many (most?) cases, that's the choice of the couple.

But do women behave differently because there's something different about us (nature/instinct) or are we expected to behave a certain way (nurture/social pressure)?

I'm always torn with these women vs. men arguments. On one hand, it isn't fair out there, and most (if not all) women have been treated differently (at work and otherwise) just because they're women, but on the other hand, women do sometimes bring it up themselves. A couple of us were looking at a website of this (female) corporate coach and she had a page specifically dedicated to her personal life. Would a man put information about their partner, pets, and home on their professional website? I'd say it was less likely.

Look at your facebook friends' pictures. How many women have their kids or pets or hubbies as their profile pictures compared to the men? I know that facebook is supposed to be social, that it's not a professional site, but it does speak a bit as to how women and men define themselves. Are women comfortable just being themselves or do women (perhaps overly) define themselves as wife or mother?

It is a bit of the chicken and the egg. Women often take the lead at home, which, of course, would lead to a person talking about that part of their life. But are women taking the lead in dealing with the kids and housework because they want to or because society shoves it down their throats? (If you don't think that society still views Mom as the one who takes care of the kids, just watch a handful of the back-to-school ads: see who's sending little Jimmy off to his first day of school. Spoiler: it's not Daddy. I don't know why, but this year it's just pissing me off more than usual. Really, ad agencies? You can't have ONE dad drop the kid off or take her to the bus stop or pack a lunch? Because Dads do sometimes buy the Wonder Bread in real life.)

Do the experiment: watch tv commercials for an hour. Just flip around the stations, get a good mix. You'll easily have a hundred images of women doing the housework, taking care of the kids, shopping for groceries while the men grill and work on computers and maybe try unsuccessfully to help out around the house (but thank GOD Mom can save the day!) Even if you say don't agree personally, that your man does more than his share or you're fully liberated, how can that not be a part of what's in your brain? (Even the damn Dyson commercial -- sure, the guy invented it, but they person they show actually vacuuming is a woman.)

So when the NYT doesn't review women writers as often or as gushy, it's sending a bit of a message. All those images are with us. And this may make us believe that maybe we do deserve different treatment. With the images of vacuuming and doing the wash with your heels on (it's in the current Color-Catcher commercial -- I'm not making that up. Pisses me off every time. She's all happy in her goddam HEELS to be doing her hubbie's wash with hers -- she no longer has to separate the laundry!) women may feel that we do need to apologize for something if we're busy writing books instead of doing the dishes.

Dipping in the pocket of her raincoat

2010-08-18T11:08:00.000-04:00

What do you do every day? Besides sleep, eat, brush your teeth, is there something you do that is maybe something that not everyone does? I was thinking about this the other day. I am on Day 347 of my 365 experiment. (Just to clarify, I am in a Flickr group where we take a picture a day for a year.) The year is coming to a close, and I'm not sure if I will continue forward with this.

There are things I am doing every day to push myself to reach inside. I started writing in a journal at the beginning of the year, and I do that every day. I love doing that. I think about the past day, I revisit little things that bugged me and sometimes I can actually sort them out. I have a page to fill, to analyze my day, to just vent or shout with joy. This isn't my first go-around with keeping a journal, but it's been about 15 years or so.

I have also started this other daily ritual where I list five things a day that bring me joy. I started thing because I sometimes feel that I'm a negative person and this is an attempt to help me shake this. I need to remind myself that there truly is so much to be thankful for, that I have a lot of really awesome things in my life. It's very Oprah but it actually seems to work on most days. I try to not repeat myself too often, but there are days that my only thought is "thank God for coffee!" But even if I list coffee (again) I still have to come up with four more things those days. Reflecting on the good things in my life is not a bad habit, so I'll stick with this one for a while.

I was blogging every day, but that got to be a bit much. I feel like I should be posting more than I am (I thank you for your patience), but, to be fair, I'm also doing other writing which is just more private. Maybe I should have a blog posting on my every day list, but, for now I want to be writing when the spirit moves me.

There are things I should do: exercise, eat five fruits and vegetables, drink eight glasses of water. I start to think of all these things and wonder if I really started adding all these assignments, will I have time for the unexpected parts of my life? I shouldn't fill my life with assignments. I should let things happen without a schedule. (Yes, this is the reason I won't go running or eat those green beans. It's all about the creativity.)

Until September 1, taking a photo is on my everyday list. The question is: will it remain there? Should it remain there? Do I still want that obligation or should I free myself from the camera? There is something freeing about taking a picture when I want to, not because I need to. I don't want my life to be a series of checking off the list. But is removing something the best way to get more? I have two weeks to decide.

Where mocking birds used to sing

2010-07-31T12:08:00.000-04:00

I recently went back to New Orleans, and had to make a stop at St. Louis Cemetery (#1, if you're getting specific). I love cemeteries. I can spend hours in even a small, local one. I love the peace, the history, the unknown stories that are all around. But there's something extra special about St. Louis Cemetery. It may be the way New Orleans wears religion and death, voodoo and a crucifix, like they all belong together. People leave flowers at the graves (fake, with bright, almost unnatural colors; the real thing wouldn't last very long in the New Orleans heat), and they also leave bottles of Tabasco, tubes of lip gloss, beads (of course), a pair of glasses. They leave bits of their lives, bits of the everyday. They draw the "XXX" on the side and make their wishes or give their offerings.

St. Louis is an unusual cemetery, especially for those of us used to the the tree-lined cemeteries where people are actually buried in the ground, in individual graves, clearly marked with stones or markers. St. Louis has vaults, where the bodies are placed, unembalmed, sealed away for a year as they decompose. After a year, there's nothing left but bones, bones that will mix with the other members of the vault. Some vaults are families, some are groups: workers of a certain union, the poor Spanish. St. Louis has no trees, so I find myself walking around in the bright sunlight and heat, the sounds of traffic in the distance. And yet there is still that cemetery vibe all around. People talk in hushed tones, they pause at certain places, saying silent prayers.

Some of the vaults are well-maintained, some are crumbling into piles of bricks. There are simple ones and ones with gates and statues. There are the famous, much-visited sites and there are the ones off in the corner with a few simple flowers. There is a statue of a child angel, beautiful against the cloudy sky, labeled simply with the oddly-adult name "Larry" and "1947-1949." I walk by all of them, wondering who is there, who is still here, thinking about them. I wonder who the last person was that placed their hand on the vault and whispered that they missed them.

Toward the end of my visit, a black cat crossed my path. For a moment I wondered what sort of omen this might be: is this a good thing? But as he rubbed his head against my leg, I knew that all he needed was a scratch or two behind his ears, which I happily gave him. He wasn't good luck or a bad sign; he was just a kitty, at home among the voodoo priestesses and former mayors of New Orleans.

Short a few credits

2010-07-11T08:07:00.000-04:00

Recently I had a blip on my credit rating (a credit card that we [me and the former Mr. HP] thought we had canceled was not, there were late charges, bill got sent to an address neither of us have ever had, bill was unpaid. Bill is now paid.) One little blip, easily explained, taken care of immediately. But my credit rating plummeted, and will likely remain much lower for up to ten years! No, that isn't a typo.

This sort of thing just plays on my biggest fear: if I make one little mistake, if I stop paying attention for one moment, it'll all fall apart. And after it falls apart, it'll be so hard to fix. I just hate that feeling and things like this reenforce this fear.

But it did show me how flawed the credit system truly is. When I went to fix all this, I (obviously) checked my whole record and it's nothing but a series of green checks. Years of on-time payments of mortgages, credit cards, etc, not a scratch on the record, except for this blip. But as a result of this (explainable) blip, there goes 100 points. Oh, I also got dinged for opening new accounts last year: a new mortgage and new solo credit cards. But I moved and got a divorce! No matter, says the credit agencies -- you are clearly some sort of crazy risk to us.

I understand that the agencies exist for a reason. But that number should be a guide, not the be-all and end-all. Because mistakes happen. Moving and changes in people's lives happen. People have bad times in their lives, they get back on their feet, but maybe they let a couple of things slip. It shouldn't follow them for ten years!

As a result of this blip, I decided to get a new credit card (I tend to use one card for pretty much everything) through my bank. The bank I have been with for over 15 years. The bank that I have a fairly large sum of cash in savings with. The bank where I've never had an overdraft, never had any sort of issue with. I'm a fan of this bank, really I am. But I when I applied for this card: rejection! I called and got an approval for a small-ish credit limit (a few percent of what I have in the bank with them, I'd like to point out), but it was embarrassing and annoying.

I'm lucky. When something like this happens to me, I have back-ups. I can go to other places to pay for things. But if I were struggling, if I had waited to buy my house, if I lived paycheck to paycheck, this would have been a huge issue. For me, for now, this is an annoyance.

Modern medicine falls short

2010-07-05T09:20:00.001-04:00

When I was a kid, I was terribly shy. This was not just simply a bit awkward in front of strangers. This was wishing-to-be-invisble shy. Wishing-to-disappear-into-the-floor shy. I didn't want to be called on in class; I didn't want to be noticed at all. It didn't bother me that I felt this way. I didn't want to be pulled out of my shell, I didn't want to have a spotlight. I was fine with my books and the couple of friends I had. I saw people around me that needed that attention, and that was fine by me.

As I got older, I saw some the advantages of not being shy. With my shyness, I found when I was noticed, I was almost too petrified to react, like a deer in the headlights. If I fought my shyness, maybe I could fit in a bit better. I realized that sometimes you had to put yourself out there. It was a scary thing for me. Maybe I cared too much about what other people were thinking about me. Maybe it was a sort of vanity, that people would even notice if I mispronounced a word or if I said something that didn't quite make sense.

I wonder about being shy. Is this one of those things that everyone feels now and again or is it just some of us? I look at some people and think that they've never felt shy for a moment. I see some people who always want to be noticed. I see people who are comfortable being the center of attention, who would go on stage in a minute. Me, I am always fighting that shyness on some level. There are moments that the shyness comes over me like a blanket.

True shyness is an emotion that only kids can have. A shy 4-year-old is cute in a way. As an adult, you have to interact with strangers, even if it's just to pick up the cleaning or paying for groceries; you have to give that presentation at work. I suppose as an adult (especially these days), you could craft an existence where you didn't have to interact with anyone, but then you'd be that weirdo cat lady who never leaves her house.

The fact is, these days I usually want some interaction with people. Sure, some of them get on my nerves, but that's not a shyness thing. I feel like I conquered that shyness I had. But there are times it sneaks up on me, and I just want to run away and hide for a bit. And I guess that's alright for a bit, but then I have to go back to fighting.

Through the lens

2010-07-01T10:10:00.000-04:00

As I pass Day 300 of the 365 project, I am wondering what should happen on September 1, the day I hit 365. Should I go for 730? Just to clarify, I'm in a flickr group where you take one picture and only one picture to represent each day for a year. To see what I've been up to, you can go here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/acampbeldavis/sets/72157622350477058/

It's been fun and interesting, and it's made me a bit less shy about whipping out the camera and grabbing a shot. It has taught me some things about how to use my camera (how to frame shots, super-cool filters for photographing the sky, things like that) and a tiny bit about editing my photos. I now carry my camera pretty much everywhere, just in case there's a shot. I look around wherever I go: maybe there's something interesting happening that needs to be captured. I see more sunrises and sunsets, flowers in bloom, writing on the wall, individuals in their worlds.

But I do worry that the camera sets up a barrier between me and the world. Watching the sun set through the camera is not the same as just watching it and experiencing what's around me. With a camera, I've got a limited piece of the sky. I can put on a filter that gives me some extra pinks and oranges but it's not the reality. I'm trying to get the best bit of the sky, spinning around as I look through the veiwer. What am I missing by trying to capture the world in a 4" x 6" picture?

There is a woman in the 365 group who is taking a picture a day of her baby and I wonder if she is missing out on something by waiting for her daughter to have that pose for the day. Does she get frustrated if she misses out on getting the picture when her daughter does something especially cute? Does she get annoyed if her daughter is having a cranky day and won't cooperate for the camera?

Sometimes it's best to just capture the moment in your own memory. The other day as I walked to work, a fox passed by. For a moment, I wanted to grab my camera, to get that shot, but then I decided against it. Instead, I just watched him pass. We looked at each other, nodded, and he went on his way. There was something a bit magical about that moment. I'm glad I didn't break the spell.