And don't f*** it up

I am hopelessly addicted to "RuPaul's Drag Race." It's crazy and out-of-control and surprisingly touching at times. It may have started as a sort of joke on "America's Next Top Model" but it's so much more.

If you haven't seen it, the premise is simple: fabulous drag queens compete to become America's next drag superstar. There are mini-challenges, runway shows, dirty puns, bitchy fights, and nasty judges. And if that was all there was to it, it would still be fun to watch. But the more you watch, the more you realize it goes deeper.

There's a community here. From the first episode of every season, there are queens who squeal in delight at seeing each other. They help each other out, even while snipping behind each other's back. It's a competition but they know that after the show, they may be working together.

I can't imagine what some of them must have to go through to be themselves. During one episode, one queen was feeling like the others were ganging up on her, and she cried, "You don't know what it's like, to be beat up and picked on!" and they all gave her a look that was, "girlfriend, please. We are men in dresses. What do you think our lives are about?"

So many of them have stories of rejection by family. They have to rely on their friends and the families they have made. The family members who have been supportive are their heroes. One had left behind her partner (also a drag queen) and was so worried about him. When he got a message from home, he cried and cried, he was so relieved that his partner was doing well. It touched me because it was so obvious how strong their bond is and how much they must rely on each other.

(Of course, pronouns are an issue here. After one of the shows, with everyone completely dolled up, one of the queens scolded another: "Be a man." Even the queens paused at that.)

Yes, it's a competition, but it's a competition about learning about yourself, finding out who you are, and loving it. There is no standard: they come in all shapes, sizes, colors, and they're all amazing. As RuPaul reminds them every week, "If you don't love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?"

Whitney Houston

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

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

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

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

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?

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

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

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)

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

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!

"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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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+.