May the odds be ever in your favor

I'm wearing my good luck earrings today. I'm not sure how they became my lucky earrings but it always seems like I have good days when I wear them. I don't wear them too often because I don't want to use up the good luck. It's like praying to St. Jude for every little thing: he'll get tired of answering all those little prayers, and when you really need him, he'll be ignoring you.

I got these earrings from a bad boyfriend. He was one of those boyfriends who doesn't treat you right but you stay with him to prove that he is actually a good boyfriend to everyone who's telling you that you should break up with him. He worked nights and was always tired and was still in love with his last girlfriend. He acted like seeing me was doing me a favor, and, looking back, I'm not sure why I was with him as long as I was, because I can't even say I was really in love with him. I probably was vain enough to think that I would eventually break the spell his last girlfriend had over him and then he'd be wonderful. No spell was ever broken and I finally had enough.

They're probably my favorite earrings of all time, and it's not just the luck thing. They're what are called "threader" earrings, which you can find pretty easily now, but when he gave them to me, I had never seen earrings like that before. They're gold and delicate and easy-to-lose. I remember being so surprised when he gave me these, as he was not good at the gift-giving. He was the kind of guy who'd forget your birthday or buy you something that should be useful to you ("You said you needed new spark plugs!") Maybe it's one of the reasons I love these earrings: they remind me that unexpected things can happen.

I don't think of him when I wear these earrings. When I put on those earrings, I am hoping for something, and they remind me that life is full of possibilities. Maybe it's not the earrings that are good luck; maybe I am bringing luck to the day.

The house on the hill

Let's pretend: you need a place to live. You're not sure exactly where to live or the type of place you want, so you talk to a few realtors. These realtors show you these lovely, huge house, full of rooms you may never use. You never thought you'd ever live like this! It's all so beautiful! Of course, it's way more than you need, but, hey, you only live once!

As you've never gotten a place before, you're not even sure how much you can afford. But every single realtor sits down with you, "crunches the numbers," and assures you can can afford these amazing places. On one hand, it doesn't seem right: they're quoting numbers like $10,000 a month and you only earn $35,000 a year, but they pull out spreadsheets, tell you about grants, low-interest repayment plans, all sorts of ways to get money for this house. They explain to you that living in a place like this will make *you* more valuable, and this amazing house will pay for itself. Now, imagine you're 18 and being told all this. Would you believe it?

Isn't this how college is sold to kids these days? College is not cheap. We all know this. But an 18-year-old looking for a place to spend those next four years might not see all the money:
A breakdown of costs
They see your their place on their own, professors that seem to know everything, parties, big-time sports. It's all very exciting. They don't see the potential debt they may be graduating with:
Lots of stats on college debt
(I won't even talk about how much it might cost if they go to graduate school, but additional education seems to be required more and more these days.)

I would never suggest that kids shouldn't go to college. I am a firm believer in education taking you to that next level. I've got my degrees, and I needed to get them to be where I am today. But I think it needs to be done smarter. Should you be sending your 18-year-old who scraped by in high school and isn't sure of his major in to a private college using loans that he'll have to pay back after he graduates? Maybe that's not the best place for him to try to grow up. There are a lot of kids who might benefit from taking a year or so off and work for a while. See what a dollar buys these days, see how limited their opportunities might be. Colleges should embrace the kids that come back, although I'm not sure if this is the case.

Another part of this mess is the decision of major. I get the argument that college is not a placement service, but there is something to be said about giving someone all the facts before making a decision. There's nothing wrong with warning a kid who's paying $40K a year for college that, given the average salary of a person in her chosen profession, it'll take her roughly 20 years to pay back her college loans. I would also say that a decision about how this 18-year-old will pay back any college debt isn't stomping on someone's dream, but, rather, a practical decision.

There are a lot of ways to get an education. I am saying that the model of sending every 18-year-old who gets in to an expensive college without direction is probably not the best choice. While four years away in college may be a wonderful experience, paying off that debt for so many years to come may offset some of that.

Who's calling during dinner?

As you may have heard, there's an election coming. Welcome annoying political ads, welcome phone calls convincing you to vote a certain way. Even better, most of these calls are done by a machine, who can't tell it's leaving a long, rambling speech on another machine.

Last election, I was "lucky" enough to live in a swing county in a swing state, so I got the robo-calls. Lots and lots of robo-calls. Every day, there were multiple calls to sort through just in case a real person called and left a message I needed. Then all evening, they called. I suppose I felt slightly less guilty hanging up on a real person rather than a machine, but only slightly. I just wanted it to be over.

I suppose as annoying as they are, these calls have a purpose. Sure, they want you to vote for whatever candidate they are selling. (I do wonder if they accomplish their goal with these non-ending calls. By the election, I was so tired of all the candidates, I almost didn't have the energy to actually vote.) The other purpose was to get money for whatever candidate or party they were trying to push on me. "Hi, I've just completely interrupted your evening? Can you give me some money or we can afford to do this more?" I have to wonder, does this work?

I maintain they're doing it all wrong. Here's how you get me on your good side and get money from me: offer to stop calling me. You heard me: I will pay money to not get any more calls. Just imagine it. If you support a certain candidate, they'll put you on a list and not call you. No robo-calls, no interrupted dinners, no email. For more money, they could widen the net: no calls from the party associated with the candidate. Now, that's something I'd pay for: silence from a candidate. The problem is that if you could afford it, you'd probably pay for both sides. Of course, then you'd have to actually decide on a candidate based on issues rather than advertising. Wouldn't that make the election interesting?

American Idol: Make Number One More Better

Every year it sucks me in. I say that I'm only going to watch part of an episode, and I end up watching the whole season. I'm not sure why, but I think it's mostly because it's easy and predictable. You know what you're getting when you watch "American Idol." This isn't a bad thing. It's comforting, in its way.

It's still the number one show on television (ratings-wise), but the ratings are slipping. There are lots of people complaining that they get the same type of winner, year after year, but I don't think that's the problem. Sure, it's a bit boring, but winning "American Idol" guarantees nothing, so give the tweet girls what they want. However, I'd like to offer a few suggestions for improvement.

Let me start out by saying that I don't think it should change much. It's never going to be that powerhouse it once was but that's alright. Except for the random slip by Steven Tyler, it's safe, fun, family-viewing. And although I've stated otherwise, I've decided that the simple format of the person with the lowest number of votes goes home is the way to go. Other shows have tried other ways, but one of the charms of "American Idol" is that the audience really does pick the winner. "The Voice" was on its way to winning the ratings war, but they screwed up by making the judges too powerful and the system too complicated to understand. I say leave "American Idol" as it is; the one judges' save is enough.

So, if the voting should stay the same, what should be changed?

First, and most important: fire Randy. Yo, dog, I'm just not feeling it, dude. He says his ridiculous little phrases, drops a few names, but adds nothing. I don't get why they keep him, and I doubt that anyone is watching the show for his pearls of wisdom. When the contestants do a musical tribute to your lack of originality, it's time to go.

Why isn't Jimmy Iovine a judge? Wouldn't he be the perfect replacement for Randy? He actually knows music, he has a relationship with the other judges and the contestants (even if he can't get Jennifer's name right), and he always has good insights into the performances. Make this happen! Also, I miss the occasional guest judge. Guest judges add a different perspective. After a few weeks, you know what the regulars think of the various contestants. It's nice when someone new gives their opinion of what's going on in the competition.

I'd like a little more behind the scenes. I like knowing which contestants are friends, which ones compete against each other. It certainly makes the elimination shows more interesting. When Colton got voted out, watching Phillip's reaction was part of the drama. I love watching the process of picking the songs. Some contestants come in with terrible choices and Jimmy guides them to a better fit, and sometimes Jimmy doesn't agree but they show him that it is the right choice. Don't turn it into "The Real World" or anything like that, but the personalities are part of why we watch. This is why everyone loves Hollywood week.

The biggest change "American Idol" needs to make is to update the song catalog. Through these many years, "American Idol" has made roughly a gagillion dollars. Please, use a fraction of this to pay for songs that have been released during these kids' lifetimes. Other shows seem to be able to do this. Why does Idol cling to standards? Why is Hollie singing a song from 1945 in the finale? I seriously doubt that when Joshua found out he was going to get an opportunity to sing with his idol, he wanted to sing a song that was written 22 years before he was born.

At least now they allow the contestants to admit they hadn't heard of the song when it was assigned to them. But how do we get a sense of what kind of a singer they'll be if they don't get to actually pick songs they know. I don't mind having the various theme weeks, but we need more songs that these kids genuinely love. If I'm placing bets, I'm thinking that the girl voice-powerhouses would rather sing Adele than Whitney. And if they fall on their faces, at least they did it singing a song they love.

It's not much, but a little update would be nice. And, truly, get rid of Randy.

Face the face

Can we talk? Well, according to Sherry Turkle in The New York Times, we cannot. Here's the full article. There are points that are valid: there's nothing I hate more than someone checking their phone while you're talking to them (and, yes, of course, I've done that as well because we've all become that gross.) I also agree that there is something wonderful about a conversation between people. However, she showed how people can't converse by quoting a 16-year-old boy who states that he'd "like to learn how to have a conversation." When were 16-year-old boys ever able to have a conversation, especially one with a 50-something college professor?

There's something very cranky, "you kids get off my lawn!" about this article. She complains about the "young people" at work who wear headphones instead of chatting with the senior partners at work. I have to wonder if she asked any of the "young people" why they wear headphones? In my case, I work as a writer in a noisy office space (because, despite her statements about the lack of conversation in the modern workplace, there are loads of conversations happening at my work.) Because I am not a senior partner (or equivalent), I have a shared office space. I need those headphones to get my job done. This doesn't prevent me from chatting with my coworkers, but it does allow me to control hearing every social update.

I am tired of the narrow definition of communication so many people cling to. Turkle is one of the many who insists that a conversation is "sitting in the same room talking." (It's unclear what she feels about talks on the phone, but I'm guessing she's anti-that as well.) I'm not saying that conversations like this aren't a good thing, but it's terribly narrow. I communicate with people in so many ways: email, twitter, facebook, blogging, text messages, phone calls, flickr. In fact, one of the reasons I do all of this is because some people in my life are more reachable these ways. I need and want all of these ways to have the people in my life communicate with me.

This lack of acceptance of other forms of communication feels like intolerance to me. I'm not saying somone has to do all the forms I do (because, clearly, I have a problem), but if you are only reachable by one form of communication, you have cut me off, not the other way around. These other ways of communicating show different sides of a person. I have gotten to know people through facebook, their blogs, twitter; I am in a flickr group with two of my aunts, and I'm seeing their lives in a new way.

Turkle writes about "sips" of conversation as if it's a bad thing. Sometimes a sip is exactly what you would want. Sometimes chugging isn't the way to get to know a person. Some people need to ease into your life. She also makes the assumption that verbal communication is better than written. There is something wonderful about the written word that isn't captured in long, rambling conversations.

The art of conversation is changing, but it has always been changing. I am sure that when the telephone was invented, people decried the lost art of letter-writing. Perhaps instead of all the hand-wringing, we should be celebrating that we have so many ways to communicate with one another.

Dear Headhunter (Part 2),

How wonderful to hear from you again! Truly. I know that I asked you to not call me at work, but when you called me yesterday during business hours, you were just showing me how determined you are! You didn't let the fact I didn't give you my number the last time deter you. Good for you! Once again, you went through the switchboard at work. Because if I'm looking for a new position, my goal would be to make it as difficult as possible for you to reach me.

You're so clever, you even called me at lunch. How nice of you to assume that if I'm too busy to leave my desk at lunch, that I would want to talk to you on top of everything else. I know I was a bit short with you, and I apologize. After all, you were simply interrupting my day at work to take care of something that is really important to you. I really should be thinking of your needs a bit more.

I will admit that I'm a touch confused as to why you are contacting me again for a position that you discussed with me less than a month ago. The exact same one we talk about at length. You acted like you didn't remember this, but certainly that can't be true. Is your record-keeping really this poor? Should I be trusting my career and livelihood to someone who is this disorganized? Surely, you wouldn't expect that! And the fact that you didn't apologize for wasting my time is more my issue than yours.

Just to remind you, we discussed, in detail, that not only am I not interested in relocating at this time, but I am not a good fit for this particular position. There were a number of reasons: geographic, wrong field, etc. Maybe I wasn't clear: just because the position is in the same state where I live, it's not a reasonable distance for me to drive. I suppose use of a map and a basic knowledge of DC traffic is too much to expect from someone who's in New York City, but I ask you to believe me on what I view to be a reasonable commute.

I did think I made it clear that this position is not a good fit for me. I have skills, but not the right ones for this position. I am not an MD. Trust me as a person who's actually working in this field, I know what's required here. The HR rep who told you otherwise is looking to fill a slot and not exactly looking out for my career. But I'm sure your determination is enough to get me a promotion years from now.

I have to say, I am curious as to how far you will ramp this up. Will you stop by my workplace in person? Will you send flowers to my home? A horse's head in my bed, perhaps? Oh, I kid, but you do realize that you're pushing really hard. When I mentioned that you were being invasive, maybe you shouldn't have been so offended.

I'm sure I'll be hearing from you again, whether I wish to or not. Until then...

One touch

There was a morning after a storm, I driving to work in New Jersey. It was a drive I did every morning, on auto-pilot, changing lanes without thinking. I was maybe half-listening to the radio, when the announcer pointed out that some live wires had come down. I looked up, and the wires above me were intact. But my mind started wandering: what if a wire came free? What if I touched that wire? What if, for one instant, I abandoned logic and instinct and reached out and grabbed a live wire?

For some reason, that scene in my head haunted me. The idea of one stupid thing changing everything. You'd like to think that you'll always do the right thing, but we know it's not true. We know that we do dumb stuff; what happens when the dumb stuff is a big deal?

I guess I've been lucky: I haven't done anything major like (obviously) touched that live wire. But I have done stupid little things that ruin a perfectly wonderful occasion. The overreaction to something so minor, it's embarrassing. ("The meal was delicious, but I noticed that the frosting on the cake was a little too sweet, so I am freaking out in the kitchen!") In fact, it's so embarrassingly stupid, you can't even believe you are acting that way over something so silly, so now you need to make it a big deal to justify it. ("Everyone knows that that frosting sets the tone, not only for the meal but for the year. It's a birthday, after all, yeah, that's it! It's important that this is perfect, so my reaction was not kooky or nutty!") Justifying the overreaction rarely works.

The reality is that you want to make that moment of crazy go away, but it's out there. People have already reacted to your outburst. In fact, you're now upset that you've gotten everyone else upset and you've behaved like a five-year-old, but everyone still thinks you're upset about the first hunk of crazy you've delivered. And you will never make it go away.

In case you are wondering, right now I am embarrassed by so much previous bad behavior. I am thinking of one thing in particular, though. One stupid bit in a sea of amazing.

I am so sorry. I can't untouch that wire. All I can do is hope it didn't cause too much damage.

Why I don't write

I love writing here and I feel guilty when I don't have time to write more often. The reasons vary but it's usually that other things crowd out time for writing here. The past couple of weeks, it's been visitors, work, house stuff, the life stuff. I have intentions, but taking the time to put the thoughts down doesn't happen.

Sometimes I don't write here because I honestly can't think of anything to write about. (It may be hard to believe that rants about American Idol make the cut, but there you have it. Spoiler: I may not be very deep.) Of course, if I think about it, that's not entirely true. I always have an opinion, but sometimes I'm not sure exactly how to say what's on my mind. There are thoughts, but they're flitting about, not so interested in forming a cohesive narrative. Sometimes I send emails to myself with a line or two. Sometimes those emails sit in my inbox for years.

Often I am writing, just not for this blog. I actually make my living as a writer. I also do some writing on my own, keep a diary, write the usual emails to folks, etc, which means that there are times I just really don't want to write another word. Sometimes the creative outlet goes elsewhere, like when I end up taking pictures rather than writing. Sometimes I get tired of my own thoughts.

I am trying to grow comfortable with the fact that writing here is a sometimes thing. There may be a time when I write a bit more regularly but, right now, I hope you're alright with the occasional rant about "Glee."

Take a sad song and make it better: Another American Idol post

Let's talk about Heejun Han for a bit. If you're not watching, he's the slightly kooky Asian guy on "American Idol." He started out as a fan favorite, but now he's getting a lot of negative stuff thrown his way, which is completely unfair.

At the beginning of this season, Idol used his humor and "fish out of water" act to "sell" him. His audition featured him blowing his nose and gently teasing Ryan and the judges, acting like he wasn't sure exactly what all this "American Idol" stuff was all about. During Hollywood week, he could be counted on to make dry, witty comments about what was happening all around him. Throughout the process, he's the guy who's been a step above it all, observing the crazy and shaking his head. And, until recently, the show seemed to turn to him for a break in the action or a bit of humor. But the show counted on Heejun eventually playing by their rules and it didn't really happen.

The past couple of weeks, things have started to turn which has more to do with Idol taking itself too seriously rather than Heejun not taking it seriously. Heejun was never going to be a traditional, pretty boy pop star. He clearly has no interest in playing that game. He's a guy who likes to sing and, if it turns into anything, that's a bonus. He doesn't need the judges or Jimmy Iovine to give him his sense of self-worth. He is singing to the kids he works with and to the people he loves. If he grabs other fans, it's a bonus.

The thing is Heejun is an adult. He's got a real job that makes him happy and has a family who clearly supports him. Heejun is happy with his life, no matter what happens. He's not one of those starry-eyed 16-year-olds who think that a singing career is about fancy clothes and cheering audiences. If this ends tomorrow, he'll go home and back to his life and look back on all of this and smile. I can't imagine he'll have a second of regret or "gosh, if only..." thoughts.

Heejun got a lot of heat about last week’s performance. If you didn't see it, he started out all serious, but switch to singing "My Life". He was dancing around and, while not the strongest vocal performance of the evening, it at least kept me awake. There was a lot of chatter about Heejun being disrespectful, but I disagree. He was sending a message, but it wasn't a negative message. He sang it: "I don't need you to worry for me 'cause I'm alright..." Unfortunately for Heejun, the Idol Powers That Be don't like a kid who isn't going to kiss up to them, so there was a lot of frowning and tut-tutting. 

I hope this doesn't change him, but I'm afraid it might. What Idol doesn't need is a(nother) boring kid who's just so excited to be here, but that's what Idol is demanding. Idol would rather having Tommy Hilfiger "style" the contestants into his idea of a "star" (by the way: good call taking Erika, who was already one of the least-recognizable singers, and making her completely unrecognizable.) Heejun pokes the Idol machine and they don't like it. Unfortunately, Idol will make sure Heejun toes the line, and then they will wonder why they are losing viewers. 

Dear Headhunter,

I know that you think in this economy, I should be excited to get a phone call and/or email from a headhunter. I get that this position you are dangling in front of me is just fabulous and, in your mind, I am a perfect fit. It is flattering. But the truth is, I get at least one call a week from you guys, and, I don't want to be burning any bridges, but some of you are just starting to piss me off. To make both of our lives easier, I have a few tips for you:

1) Unless I tell you otherwise, do not call me at work. Ever. I hope you can understand why that's not cool with me. Even if I were looking and wanted to talk to you, I wouldn't be doing it at my current place of employment. I work in a cube. I have no privacy at work. My boss (and plenty of other coworkers) just stop by whenever they wish. A VP's office is about four steps away. I do not want to be overheard discussing other opportunities, no matter how great they might be. If you found me on-line, please, contact me that way. I will get back to you if I'm interested. And, no, I don't think you're especially clever for contacting the front desk and getting through to my direct line. In fact, I think you are probably more aggressive than I am comfortable with. You do not get bonus points.

2) If you contact me and I email back a polite response that states "thank you but at this time, I am not looking for a new position," please, believe me. I'm fine with a response that states something like "if you change your mind, keep me in mind" or "good to know, but here's a couple of current positions I'm looking to fill that I'll attach, and if you're interested, just contact me." But that's it. Don't push for the reasons or a phone call. Truly, if this position is so incredible, the description will get me to contact you. Also, can we not be coy about location and details of the position? Send me that information right away.

3) Not everyone will drop everything and move across the country for more money and/or (possibly) a better title. Take me at my word when I tell you that I am happy in my current position at this time. I really have no reason to lie to you. This isn't a personal insult to you or a diss on this position; I have my reasons. I really don't have to justify this choice to you.

4) Please, take the time to read my LinkedIn profile. I know you did the keyword search, but you should look at the whole picture. I've lived mid-Atlantic East Coast area for 25 years. I probably don't want to uproot myself and move to California to stay in a similar position. Related to this, if we do talk, please listen to me. I know what I can do and what I want to do. I also know the things that are my deal-breakers and must-haves. I'm not teasing when I say that moving further south is not in my future, so I'm not going to take that job in Texas. I also am not interested in that position where I'd be making significantly less at a lower title. I don't expect you to know everything about every position, so I may see things that you do not. Trust me when I say "no."

5) If I decide to dip my toe in the water, I expect you to be an advocate for me. I've worked hard over the years and I have skills and education and I do bring something to a company. I need you to at least try to negotiate with folks looking to hire me. For example, if they want to set up an interview in two hours and I tell you that I would like it the next day, don't call me back and say, "so, the interview is in two hours!" (This is based on a true story.) If I ask you if this position could be a work-from-home position, don't tell me how great Boston or Phoenix or wherever is. Yes, you are "selling" me to a company, but you're also selling the company to me.

And on that note, if you hear something is not so great, be honest. Some companies kind of suck. Some positions are hard to fill because management is wacky. Help a gal out. I may still be interested. It might be that I'm desperate to get out of my current position, so I'll put up with a lot. Or maybe I'd be willing to put up with it because of a bump in salary or a step up to go to other things. But if you tell me that is a fantastic company that's growing like crazy, and, when I get there, a hiring freeze kicks in, I'm a touch annoyed. At you. And I will tell my friends. It's a small world, and when you play in a particular field, it gets even smaller. Believe me, there are loads of headhunters out there. We have options.

Here's the thing: a good headhunter is awesome. I have worked with some that have been just fantastic. If you do it right, we both walk away happy. Most of this is just being polite and professional.

Thanks for listening.

Press "play"

My relationship with organizing is a weird one. I really want to be organized, but it's not my natural instinct. I go through periods of "love me: love my clutter" but then guilt overwhelms me and I go on a bit of a cleaning frenzy. (Unfortunately, I rarely have the energy to complete the task, so I rely on an old family technique called "The Bag Method." For those unfamiliar with this, it goes as follows: you put it all in a bag.) It's like I know that hanging with certain kids would be a good thing for me, but I'd rather just hang out with the stoners and laugh at their stupid jokes. I really, really would love to get my nonsense together and have some organization, but I end up watching old seasons of "America's Next Top Model."

Nothing shows off my mess more than the simple question, "Can you just print this out?" My printer is my walk of shame. In all fairness, I rarely print out anything at home, so I need my printer only about once a year. But when I do need to use it, it's a disaster. I actually have a nice location for it (there is space in a bedroom closet where it is propped perfectly on an old milk crate). I get it out and I think I'm ready to go, but then I realize that I need cartridges. Well, this isn't exactly true: last time I used it, I thought I only needed black cartridges (I had a box of color ones), and I actually remembered to get them the last time I was at CostCo. 

This morning I go to set up and pop in the new black one, and when it's adjusting, it's apparent that I need a color one as well. Turns out that box I thought was holding a spare color cartridge doesn't have any; the heft of the box is due to the free photo paper that was included. Of course, it wouldn't even mattered, as I realized I have no idea where the cord that connects the computer to the printer is. (I am sure it's in that bedroom but, as that room is the recipient of The Bag Method, that's not terrifically helpful.) I'm sure it'll turn up when I'm looking for something else and I'll be all,"I needed this for something..."

The good news is that I found other two things I've been missing, so it wasn't a complete waste of time. Maybe this weekend I'll tackle a couple of the bags up there.

This Is. American Idol. (Or The Voice or X Factor)

For someone who can't sing and doesn't really listen to pop music, I watch way too many shows about discovering pop talent. I watch the "big" ones, not religiously, but enough that I can hold my own in a discussion. (Not that it ever happens, but it could and I feel better knowing I am prepared for such an event.) I'm not sure why I get pulled into these shows. In some ways, I think it's a throwback to my love for "America's Top 40" that somehow, I made that hit happen. ("I bought that single and now it's Number One in the USA! I made it happen!")

All three have their pros and cons. Right now, it seems like "The Voice" is the closest to getting it right, although they have yet to produce a star. "X Factor" tried to have variety: they had groups, younger kids, older singers, but it struggled, and the winner, another belt-y girl. But I think that Simon Cowell can make it work, so I think it will get better, although I doubt it will be the mega-hit that "American Idol" was back in the day.

The "American Idol" season is kicking off, and most would agree that it's definitely missing something. Is it age of the show? Is it the vanilla that the judges are determined to bring every week? Is it that, at this point, it's all teenage girls and dialing robots that vote? (Remember when other people used to vote? Or was that just me?) I don't know why I care, but I just want to yell, "Be better!" There are so many things that need changing: the judges need to actually judge. I'd say they need to get rid of the audience. Sometimes the performance really is awful and if the judges say something, all they get is a bunch of boos. Yeah, they should have a thicker skin than that, but no one likes boos, so it's easier just to be all positive, which is just boring.

I'm always torn about how much say the judges should have. On one hand, it seems like America is, frankly, boring, and will vote for the same types, so maybe if the judges just pick the best ones, that would help. But, on the other hand, I don't exactly trust the judges. I kind of like the "So You Think You Can Dance" model: America picks the bottom three and then the judges pick who's going home. Actually, here's what I propose: now that we're down to the top 13, each judge gets to protect one contestant a week. This might force the judges to have actual opinions. After it gets down to, say 10, they get to protect two, then one, then America is on its own.

None of these will ever be early-season "American Idol." It's too diluted: by the number of seasons and number of other shows like it. But the current crop of "American Idol" judges just aren't going to generate any excitement, so I watch when I'm in the mood. I still have fun criticizing song choice or trying to see a kid struggle with songs they have never heard before it was theme week. ("Queen? What's a 'Queen'? Why are there men singing?") It's familiar, it's fun, but it's no longer must-see tv. These days, I'm more interested in Cee-lo and his cat. That cat is a star!

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.