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+.

Ten years ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Breaking the streak

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

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

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

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

Poor Old Johnny Ray

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

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

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

Believing by the non-believer

I want to believe.

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

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

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

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

(for Richard, who inspires belief)

I'm good; thanks. Really.

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

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

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

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

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

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