Gem the reporter got a new job. And her replacement, Rory, started work with a chair that doesn't quite work. Something that Gem had been living with for a while, we have to suppose. So, Samantha, the newsroom fixer lady, tries to "fix it" by giving her Mim's chair, since Mim wouldn't be in for a few days and then requested a new chair for Rory in the meantime. Well, IT, in charge of getting the new chair, was out sick for a while and didn't get the request. So when Mim is about to come back to work, Samantha finds a stray chair and puts it at Mim's desk, hoping that she would never know and the problem would be solved.
Wrong.
Mim comes to work and sits down in her chair and soon finds that it doesn't quite work. "My chair is broken!" Mim says. Well, Samantha, sheepishly, and in my opinion stupidly, starts with ... "Funny story ... " Well, Mim did not find the story funny at all. "I want my chair! She stole my chair!" she announced as she ran into the editors office. Editor says, "So take back your chair." And she rushes over to reclaim her property. Luckily, Rory was not at her desk. That could have been an ugly scene indeed.
Once again, Mim has her rightful chair and Rory is without. Mim is terribly sorry for all the ruckus and feels badly that she got so upset but Editor just wants her to work. "Just work" he says.
Samantha still needs to find a new chair for Rory. She realizes that Dick won't be in for a few days and hopes that IT will be back in time to replace Dick's chair. A day or two later, no IT, no new chair, and Dick is on his way in to work. Samantha and Editor prepare for a scene. Editor offers his chair, but alas, he is held up at work and Samantha won't meet her chair change-out deadline. Dick is due any minute. So, since Ivy is out for a few days, Samantha borrows Ivy's chair and hopes Dick will be none the wiser.
Enter Dick.
Dick sits down and starts working and is surprised that his chair isn't working right. Samantha starts, "Funny story ..." I cry out to her,"No! Don't do it!" But it is too late. Dick is furious. "Where is my chair?" he cries. "I want MY chair!" So, Samantha is standing there, unsure what to do. "Well," she starts, "I suppose Derby won't be in for a few days ..." I stand there, incredulous. I can't believe my ears. This has to be stopped. This musical chair debacle of deception, anger and despair needs to be stopped! "Wait," I cry! "I am about to leave for the weekend. Dick, after the weekend you won't be in until Wednesday, right? Take my chair. We sit next to each other, I know mine works, it only makes sense." Blank stares from the crowd. "Hopefully," I continue, "IT and Editor will be able to replace it by Wednesday." A sigh of relief from everyone but Dick. "Do you have germs?" He asks, seriously.
I defuse the situation by saying that I had just that day sanitized my chair (which I had) and Dick finally concedes. Fast forward and it is now that ominous day of Wednesday and Dick does, in fact, have a brand new shiny chair. IT came back and replaced the chair and HOPEFULLY everyone will be happy.
One can only hope this is the end of this harrowing tale.
The end.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Under the influence
My days recently have been punctuated with discussion of the homeless, of how we are feeding ourselves cheaply and killing our world, by articles about the bees disappearing and dying, of pictures of melting ice caps and oil stained creatures, of artists who manage to see beauty in broken factory towns. All of this makes me feel deeply reflective, grateful and causes an amount of introspection that inspires huge change. Inspiration, when brought upon at the right moment, can move generations and change lives. There is a shift in the wind, I hope.
Our country is teetering on the brink of so many advances in social welfare. Health care being obvious, and on the minds of many. Gay marriage is about to come to the forefront again as a new proposition heats up in Maine. And this leaves me nervous and anxious.
Often, as a liberal, people view me as moral-less, socialist, elitist. But as a liberal I see my compass of humanity pointing strongly in the direction of right (Left as it may be). Compassion for those who are less fortunate, art and science playing key roles for humanity, equality and prosperity for every human being and creature.
We have to take care of number one. That is true. But who is number one? No person is an island, no person is any stronger than the weakest link in their chain and please do not be mistaken, we are ALL connected. We are all part of the same chain, the same fabric, the same pattern of life. Our differences of education, skin, continent, sexuality and health divide us, but aren't they only distractions? If our family is unhealthy, it taxes us. If our street is run down, it taxes us. If our town loses jobs, it taxes us. If our state is intolerant, it taxes us. If our country is not responsible, it taxes us. If our continent has no resources, it taxes us. If our seas become polluted and dry, it taxes us. If our world dies, it is beyond taxing. It is the end of us.
Two things, you can count on. Death and taxes. We have to remember, in the world of consumption, that money is not the only thing that can be taxed. Humanity is tired. Humanity needs a nap, a break from itself, a corner to think and reflect. We ignore the children with AIDS, the men who are broken, the women who sell themselves, the animals who die and anyone who is pained is too heartbreaking. We are heartbroken, so we turn our backs. We push it off on our neighbors, our governments and we retreat to the sanctity of our own well-being. Because we are so concerned with number one.
The population of the world is in the millions, the billions and all those numbers break down to 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 ...
Our country is teetering on the brink of so many advances in social welfare. Health care being obvious, and on the minds of many. Gay marriage is about to come to the forefront again as a new proposition heats up in Maine. And this leaves me nervous and anxious.
Often, as a liberal, people view me as moral-less, socialist, elitist. But as a liberal I see my compass of humanity pointing strongly in the direction of right (Left as it may be). Compassion for those who are less fortunate, art and science playing key roles for humanity, equality and prosperity for every human being and creature.
We have to take care of number one. That is true. But who is number one? No person is an island, no person is any stronger than the weakest link in their chain and please do not be mistaken, we are ALL connected. We are all part of the same chain, the same fabric, the same pattern of life. Our differences of education, skin, continent, sexuality and health divide us, but aren't they only distractions? If our family is unhealthy, it taxes us. If our street is run down, it taxes us. If our town loses jobs, it taxes us. If our state is intolerant, it taxes us. If our country is not responsible, it taxes us. If our continent has no resources, it taxes us. If our seas become polluted and dry, it taxes us. If our world dies, it is beyond taxing. It is the end of us.
Two things, you can count on. Death and taxes. We have to remember, in the world of consumption, that money is not the only thing that can be taxed. Humanity is tired. Humanity needs a nap, a break from itself, a corner to think and reflect. We ignore the children with AIDS, the men who are broken, the women who sell themselves, the animals who die and anyone who is pained is too heartbreaking. We are heartbroken, so we turn our backs. We push it off on our neighbors, our governments and we retreat to the sanctity of our own well-being. Because we are so concerned with number one.
The population of the world is in the millions, the billions and all those numbers break down to 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + 1 ...
Monday, August 24, 2009
Advertising that just doesn't make sense.
I sometimes joke that my career is to manufacture and design trash. Newsprint, by nature, usually has a one day shelf-life. I say it jokingly when jovial, and cry it when drinking tequila; and such is life.
I am proud to say, however, that I still take pride in my work. Tomorrows trash as it may be. And as is the case with every career choice, there is a bottom of the barrel for design and I have been lucky enough not to have reached it (as yet). This barrel bottom that I speak of is, in my opinion, banner and pop up ad design. This un-clicked web trash is so disposable it doesn't even make it to print. I HATE these ads. They are usually horribly designed and more than not, are part of a scam. Lose weight, get a degree, buy real estate ... your bank account will be robbed at a mere click.
What spurred this diatribe on internet advertising is this ad:
Let's critique, shall we?
Life insurance. Already not something I am going to buy from a web ad. That's the kind of thing that I want a piece of paper and a friendly face behind. I won't even go into the typography of the thing, or how the layout is so horrendous that you would have to actually pay me money to make me read the whole thing. In fact, where the words life insurance not larger and a different color, I wouldn't have any idea what the ad was for. Why wouldn't I know? Because the picture MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE WHATSOEVER!!!! What the hell does a girl with really tightly pulled back hair and bad makeup, kissing a fake frog wearing a plastic crown that doesn't even fit his head have to do with LIFE INSURANCE?
I would claim to be speechless, except I just wrote a paragraph about how ridiculous it is. Why? Because it is ridiculous. And doesn't mean anything. I understand that Burger King does inappropriate commercials where girls are smacking their asses and trying to have sex with Spongebob Square Pants (or something) and that is supposed to sell hamburgers and that is what we call advertising these days but ... this life insurance ad crosses the line of suspended disbelief and verges on, nay, succeeds in; insulting my intelligence.
What the heck was this designer thinking? I understand how hard it is to come up with these ideas over and over again and that metaphors for life insurance are in short supply but come on!
And on top of that, it's fugly.
The end.
I am proud to say, however, that I still take pride in my work. Tomorrows trash as it may be. And as is the case with every career choice, there is a bottom of the barrel for design and I have been lucky enough not to have reached it (as yet). This barrel bottom that I speak of is, in my opinion, banner and pop up ad design. This un-clicked web trash is so disposable it doesn't even make it to print. I HATE these ads. They are usually horribly designed and more than not, are part of a scam. Lose weight, get a degree, buy real estate ... your bank account will be robbed at a mere click.
What spurred this diatribe on internet advertising is this ad:
Let's critique, shall we?
Life insurance. Already not something I am going to buy from a web ad. That's the kind of thing that I want a piece of paper and a friendly face behind. I won't even go into the typography of the thing, or how the layout is so horrendous that you would have to actually pay me money to make me read the whole thing. In fact, where the words life insurance not larger and a different color, I wouldn't have any idea what the ad was for. Why wouldn't I know? Because the picture MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE WHATSOEVER!!!! What the hell does a girl with really tightly pulled back hair and bad makeup, kissing a fake frog wearing a plastic crown that doesn't even fit his head have to do with LIFE INSURANCE?
I would claim to be speechless, except I just wrote a paragraph about how ridiculous it is. Why? Because it is ridiculous. And doesn't mean anything. I understand that Burger King does inappropriate commercials where girls are smacking their asses and trying to have sex with Spongebob Square Pants (or something) and that is supposed to sell hamburgers and that is what we call advertising these days but ... this life insurance ad crosses the line of suspended disbelief and verges on, nay, succeeds in; insulting my intelligence.
What the heck was this designer thinking? I understand how hard it is to come up with these ideas over and over again and that metaphors for life insurance are in short supply but come on!
And on top of that, it's fugly.
The end.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The unpredictability of the future, my sanity, and many many metaphors
Mine and Cris' life are in a place of flux. Things are constantly on the cusp of happening and we are fully aware that change is coming. What we are unaware of, is how large that change will be, when it will come, in what form and if it will truly allow us to exhale as completely as we hope. I realize I am speaking in code, however, at this point of hanging on there isn't much to say. Nothing has happened, and yet, things are in constant motion. It's too soon to tell. There are lights and a tunnel and the blazing and extinguishing of lights are so fast and frequent that they seem to be a candle flickering on a windy day in the tunnel. Maybe there is a train. It is a tunnel after all. Do you see what is happening? This is me losing my mind.
Because here is the thing: I am all for seeing where life takes me and unpredictability and spontaneity, except when life becomes Jell-o and you get suspended in the process of life. Hanging out, waiting for someone else to jiggle the plate. Metaphors are what happen when you have nothing to say.
There are so many conflicting emotions! I want things for Cris, I want things for myself, I want things for us as a couple and for our future and mostly, I just want the waiting for something good to happen to be over. I want there to be at least one set direction. There is a cross roads. There are like 12 signs, pointing in different directions and we are on a merry go round in the middle and wherever it stops, we have to follow that path and make the most out of it. And THAT is both frustrating and exciting.
Are you exhausted yet? Yeah, well, such has been our lives for the past ... 8 or 9 weeks. I have lost count. Crazy people in institutions lose count too. I realize, with all this whining that I am doing, that there are many many people in the same, similar, or worse boats than we are. There are so many people in these boats that the lake is damn crowded and folks are hitting each other over the head and fighting over the few fish that come to the surface.
I keep myself going by dreaming of all the possible outcomes. I dream about what would happen if this happened and what if that happened and today, today I just want to bake a cake and make it pretty and drink good coffee and read a book and be at peace. But, I am tired and there is much work to be done and slowly but surely, this week will drag on too. And slowly but surely, by the end of the week one or two more possibilities will become clearer in the murky water or disappear completely. And we will come to terms with the disappointment of lost opportunity and we will get excited over a new possible future. And we will soldier on until we finally catch the fish of our destiny. And there will be a feast.
Pretty sure I need to get some sleep. I am only this philosophical when I am sleepy. I could get a phd in philosophy so long as I get no more than 4 hours of sleep a night. That is a law of physics. Which I could never get a phd in because I barely passed high school physics. I am just going to hit publish post now and be done with it.
Because here is the thing: I am all for seeing where life takes me and unpredictability and spontaneity, except when life becomes Jell-o and you get suspended in the process of life. Hanging out, waiting for someone else to jiggle the plate. Metaphors are what happen when you have nothing to say.
There are so many conflicting emotions! I want things for Cris, I want things for myself, I want things for us as a couple and for our future and mostly, I just want the waiting for something good to happen to be over. I want there to be at least one set direction. There is a cross roads. There are like 12 signs, pointing in different directions and we are on a merry go round in the middle and wherever it stops, we have to follow that path and make the most out of it. And THAT is both frustrating and exciting.
Are you exhausted yet? Yeah, well, such has been our lives for the past ... 8 or 9 weeks. I have lost count. Crazy people in institutions lose count too. I realize, with all this whining that I am doing, that there are many many people in the same, similar, or worse boats than we are. There are so many people in these boats that the lake is damn crowded and folks are hitting each other over the head and fighting over the few fish that come to the surface.
I keep myself going by dreaming of all the possible outcomes. I dream about what would happen if this happened and what if that happened and today, today I just want to bake a cake and make it pretty and drink good coffee and read a book and be at peace. But, I am tired and there is much work to be done and slowly but surely, this week will drag on too. And slowly but surely, by the end of the week one or two more possibilities will become clearer in the murky water or disappear completely. And we will come to terms with the disappointment of lost opportunity and we will get excited over a new possible future. And we will soldier on until we finally catch the fish of our destiny. And there will be a feast.
Pretty sure I need to get some sleep. I am only this philosophical when I am sleepy. I could get a phd in philosophy so long as I get no more than 4 hours of sleep a night. That is a law of physics. Which I could never get a phd in because I barely passed high school physics. I am just going to hit publish post now and be done with it.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Shark Week tragedies
I have always had a passing interest in Shark Week. Basically, I watch it when I catch it. However, for my girlfriend Cris, it almost rivals the Super Bowl (ok, maybe I won't go that far. A playoff game maybe ... ). Therefore, I have been watching Shark Week all week long. yay.
Last night we were watching this show about shark attack survivors. It interested me enough that I was paying attention and we listened to several stories: the father, the thirteen year old girl, the young college student, the fisherman. There was only one that made Cris yell, "your stupid" and one that made Cris cry. Which stories you ask? Well, the one that was really the guys own stupidity was the spear fisherman. Honestly, you are hunting the same prey that the sharks eat and releasing their blood in the water. He was asking for it practically.
Which one made her cry you ask? Which one was so terrible, so horrendous and unthinkable that she cried? Oh, that was the one about the DOG. Yes. A dog. A small terrier. It was swimming under a dock, and it was attacked. The thing that I found incredible was the owner jumping in the water. THE SHARK INFESTED WATER and saving the dog. And before you cry too, yes, the dog lived.
This is not even close to being a new thing nor do I pretend to think that it is only Cris that falls prey to it (no pun intended). Why is it that people freak the frack out when they think that a dog or a cat is getting hurt but they don't give a rats ass about the three people that just died? What the hell is wrong with you people? Yep, I am lumping everyone else in the world into this category and I know what you are all thinking ... that I am heartless and horrible. You all are judging me because I don't watch the kitty cam in my free time at work. Well ... I just don't get it. And I certainly don't get why a dog getting attacked by a shark is more saddening than a kid. Jeez.
I am not NOT REPEAT: NOT SAYING that it isn't sad that the dog got bit by a shark. And, I think it is GREAT that he survived. He was cute. I just don't understand why a dog receives more empathy than a person. Please, feel free to enlighten me.
Last night we were watching this show about shark attack survivors. It interested me enough that I was paying attention and we listened to several stories: the father, the thirteen year old girl, the young college student, the fisherman. There was only one that made Cris yell, "your stupid" and one that made Cris cry. Which stories you ask? Well, the one that was really the guys own stupidity was the spear fisherman. Honestly, you are hunting the same prey that the sharks eat and releasing their blood in the water. He was asking for it practically.
Which one made her cry you ask? Which one was so terrible, so horrendous and unthinkable that she cried? Oh, that was the one about the DOG. Yes. A dog. A small terrier. It was swimming under a dock, and it was attacked. The thing that I found incredible was the owner jumping in the water. THE SHARK INFESTED WATER and saving the dog. And before you cry too, yes, the dog lived.
This is not even close to being a new thing nor do I pretend to think that it is only Cris that falls prey to it (no pun intended). Why is it that people freak the frack out when they think that a dog or a cat is getting hurt but they don't give a rats ass about the three people that just died? What the hell is wrong with you people? Yep, I am lumping everyone else in the world into this category and I know what you are all thinking ... that I am heartless and horrible. You all are judging me because I don't watch the kitty cam in my free time at work. Well ... I just don't get it. And I certainly don't get why a dog getting attacked by a shark is more saddening than a kid. Jeez.
I am not NOT REPEAT: NOT SAYING that it isn't sad that the dog got bit by a shark. And, I think it is GREAT that he survived. He was cute. I just don't understand why a dog receives more empathy than a person. Please, feel free to enlighten me.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Wait wait wait
I think this one will actually be funny. That earlier blog post was just practice.
I am doing an article for the magazine about green products for the home. Sigh. I know, you don't have to tell me. Anywho, as I am looking at all of these products available, I am struck by two things.
1. People stretch the word "sustainable" pretty thin.
2. People buy stupid shit.
I LOVE the fact that you can buy "sustainable musical Instruments" and even more than that, I ADORE that you can buy them in a "family pack" OR "paint your own" (non-toxic, of course). Below is the product info for the Musical Instrument Family Pack:
The Musical Instruments Family Pack features authentic, rich-sounding instruments handcrafted by village artisans in Peru and Bali who wish to share their native musical traditions.
Collected by a unique fair trade company that helps engender a sustainable local economy in communities around the world.
Family Pack includes: 5 Instruments - Gourd Scraper w/ Rasp, Goat Hoof Shaker, Double Bell w/ Striker, Frame Drum, Large Coconut Claves; plus The Road to Jamtown Activity Guide, Simple Rhythm™ Cards & Jamtown Travel Bag.
Assembled in USA.
Goat Hoof Shaker?!?!? WTF. I also enjoy that it is "handcrafted by village artisans in Peru and Bali" and also "assembled in USA". And probably my favorite thing about this is the frequent use of the word "Jamtown" which both makes me giggle and also makes me think of strawberry jam.
Something in me just thinks that charging $68 for a "100% recycled Rubber Clock" that is made of scrap metal and an old tire is a little like spitting on me and telling me it's raining.
The really really sad part is that I am about to perpetuate all of this crap by writing a nice fluffy magazine piece about how you don't ACTUALLY have to do anything differently to save the environment, when, we all know it is really a crock of consumerist shit. Ahhhhhh, the world feels right again. Let's all go drive a hummer, because as long as we buy soy candles, the Earth will be just fine!
I am doing an article for the magazine about green products for the home. Sigh. I know, you don't have to tell me. Anywho, as I am looking at all of these products available, I am struck by two things.
1. People stretch the word "sustainable" pretty thin.
2. People buy stupid shit.
I LOVE the fact that you can buy "sustainable musical Instruments" and even more than that, I ADORE that you can buy them in a "family pack" OR "paint your own" (non-toxic, of course). Below is the product info for the Musical Instrument Family Pack:
The Musical Instruments Family Pack features authentic, rich-sounding instruments handcrafted by village artisans in Peru and Bali who wish to share their native musical traditions.
Collected by a unique fair trade company that helps engender a sustainable local economy in communities around the world.
Family Pack includes: 5 Instruments - Gourd Scraper w/ Rasp, Goat Hoof Shaker, Double Bell w/ Striker, Frame Drum, Large Coconut Claves; plus The Road to Jamtown Activity Guide, Simple Rhythm™ Cards & Jamtown Travel Bag.
Assembled in USA.
Goat Hoof Shaker?!?!? WTF. I also enjoy that it is "handcrafted by village artisans in Peru and Bali" and also "assembled in USA". And probably my favorite thing about this is the frequent use of the word "Jamtown" which both makes me giggle and also makes me think of strawberry jam.
Something in me just thinks that charging $68 for a "100% recycled Rubber Clock" that is made of scrap metal and an old tire is a little like spitting on me and telling me it's raining.
The really really sad part is that I am about to perpetuate all of this crap by writing a nice fluffy magazine piece about how you don't ACTUALLY have to do anything differently to save the environment, when, we all know it is really a crock of consumerist shit. Ahhhhhh, the world feels right again. Let's all go drive a hummer, because as long as we buy soy candles, the Earth will be just fine!
For the love
OMG, I desperately need to put some funny up in here because this place is getting depressing. So ... movies. What a nice un-offensive topic!
This has been a great summer for movies. Unfortunately I haven't really seen any of them, but I have wanted to see almost everything that has hit the theater. I have a free movie ticket burning a whole in my pocket to go see Harry Potter, something I have to see more out of obligation to my obsession than any real want. After all, I already know what is going to happen. Why can't I just let these things go? (Uh, I am letting Twilight go, however, that is one unhealthy obsession that I have cut out of my life. There should be some sort of Twilight's Anonymous meeting to help people with that shit. Seriously.)
Cris and I are trying to take advantage of the dollar theater in Knoxville. Of course by dollar theater, I mean the $2 theater. The theater that up until last week let you get a combo and for $4 you could get a medium drink and popcorn AND YOUR MOVIE TICKET. Hot damn that is a good deal. And then they ripped my heart out and took that deal away. So, on Sunday, Cris and I went and saw "Ghosts of Girlfriends Past" which I would never have paid to see in a normal theater. I have to say though, for a romantic comedy and, even worse, a Charles Dickens romantic comedy adaptation at that, it was half-way decent. Cute, even. I think being a relationship is making me soft. Matthew McConaughey, you stole my pride.
What happened to the days when I was a borderline movie buff? When I saw everything worth seeing in the theater and everything else on dvd. I guess part of it is just growing up and part of it is lack of funds and part of it is that I am no longer a blockbuster employee. Dude, I saw EVERYTHING when I was a blockbuster employee. Still, I can't believe I am not seeing at least the action films .. Transformers, Terminator, Public Enemies .. in the theater ... with the big screen and the loud speakers and the darkness and the yummy popcorn! Oh my youth, where have you gone?
We did go see The Hangover on Friday (again, we had tickets) and it was really really funny. We needed something light-hearted and it really delivered. I haven't seen a comedy that good in years. I would recommend it to anyone. Except don't watch the pictures at the end of the credits. They cross a line that no lesbian wants to witness.
We also splurged on Friday and got a combo at the concession stand. Why is it that "concession" has become code for "rip-off"? I could write a manifesto on how ridiculous it is that two drinks and a popcorn where nearly $20 but this is supposed to be light-hearted. ;)
The truth, my friends, is that there are many a-changes afoot in my life and we are just sort of waiting to hear on the job front for Cris and it is consuming my thoughts. Consuming them to the point that trying to think of entertaining blog posts is beyond my reach. But I love the outlet that this blog allows me. It lets me feel like people care ... LET ME KEEP MY ILLUSIONS!
Movies help us escape from the crazy in life. Hence me watching .... 4. Yes, four movies this weekend. Passing time with suspended disbelief seemed just the thing to do. Welcome back, my favorite past time. I missed you!
This has been a great summer for movies. Unfortunately I haven't really seen any of them, but I have wanted to see almost everything that has hit the theater. I have a free movie ticket burning a whole in my pocket to go see Harry Potter, something I have to see more out of obligation to my obsession than any real want. After all, I already know what is going to happen. Why can't I just let these things go? (Uh, I am letting Twilight go, however, that is one unhealthy obsession that I have cut out of my life. There should be some sort of Twilight's Anonymous meeting to help people with that shit. Seriously.)
Cris and I are trying to take advantage of the dollar theater in Knoxville. Of course by dollar theater, I mean the $2 theater. The theater that up until last week let you get a combo and for $4 you could get a medium drink and popcorn AND YOUR MOVIE TICKET. Hot damn that is a good deal. And then they ripped my heart out and took that deal away. So, on Sunday, Cris and I went and saw "Ghosts of Girlfriends Past" which I would never have paid to see in a normal theater. I have to say though, for a romantic comedy and, even worse, a Charles Dickens romantic comedy adaptation at that, it was half-way decent. Cute, even. I think being a relationship is making me soft. Matthew McConaughey, you stole my pride.
What happened to the days when I was a borderline movie buff? When I saw everything worth seeing in the theater and everything else on dvd. I guess part of it is just growing up and part of it is lack of funds and part of it is that I am no longer a blockbuster employee. Dude, I saw EVERYTHING when I was a blockbuster employee. Still, I can't believe I am not seeing at least the action films .. Transformers, Terminator, Public Enemies .. in the theater ... with the big screen and the loud speakers and the darkness and the yummy popcorn! Oh my youth, where have you gone?
We did go see The Hangover on Friday (again, we had tickets) and it was really really funny. We needed something light-hearted and it really delivered. I haven't seen a comedy that good in years. I would recommend it to anyone. Except don't watch the pictures at the end of the credits. They cross a line that no lesbian wants to witness.
We also splurged on Friday and got a combo at the concession stand. Why is it that "concession" has become code for "rip-off"? I could write a manifesto on how ridiculous it is that two drinks and a popcorn where nearly $20 but this is supposed to be light-hearted. ;)
The truth, my friends, is that there are many a-changes afoot in my life and we are just sort of waiting to hear on the job front for Cris and it is consuming my thoughts. Consuming them to the point that trying to think of entertaining blog posts is beyond my reach. But I love the outlet that this blog allows me. It lets me feel like people care ... LET ME KEEP MY ILLUSIONS!
Movies help us escape from the crazy in life. Hence me watching .... 4. Yes, four movies this weekend. Passing time with suspended disbelief seemed just the thing to do. Welcome back, my favorite past time. I missed you!
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Not a piece of meat
I have thought long and hard about this post. It is a reaction to my friend Rachel's post on her blog, Called to Grow. You can read it here: Trophy Wife Tuesday. I hope for this to be an intelligent, not emotional, reaction to Rachel's blog (I think I fail there towards the end). And I hope she doesn't take this personally.
At first, I thought her post was a joke. Mostly, because, the Rachel I know is a head strong, independent woman. But after I finished it, I realized she was serious and I got seriously concerned. The term "trophy wife" is usually, in my experience, a derogatory term. Rachel sites Websters definition, well, I site Urbandictionary.com: 1. A young, attractive woman married to an older, more powerful man.
2. a woman who marries for money and sits at home all day looking pretty
3. A typically educated girl who marries rich and is a home maker or who's roll is to stay home and look pretty, play tennis, do charity etc. Lots of girls now a days go through college then take this roll because they are the perfect girl for a certain person and would rather spend their time at home and let their husband bring home the bread. They are the girly girls.
I site Urbandictionary.com because it is a Wiki, and while it may not be an "authority" like Websters, it does site the common knowledge of the masses. And those three definitions are what common knowledge says about trophy wives. And in my eyes, they are not favorable.
In my own opinion, a trophy wife lowers a woman's rights and status to little more than a piece of meat to be traded. In those two words, multitudes are said, including that a woman's fate is not her own for deciding, but that she is at the mercy of a man to see her as worthy and bring her up to his world of money and luxury (assuming that a woman can't achieve that on her own), it also says that a woman can be discarded just as quickly as she ages and loses the beauty that brought her to her status.
Rachel also consulted askmen.com, reading an article called Fine Living: How to find a trophy wife. She claims that this article has "some meat to it". Well, I disagree. Just because it says that a woman should be college educated, doesn't make it ok that they also say:
"Forced intimacy: You may have doubts about her intentions when the only names she calls out during sex are those of dead presidents. "
"Capital depletion: Outrageous spending binges are par for the course, so when you blow up over the monthly statements, expect a singular defense: trophy wife entitlement."
"Ask yourself what you expect from such a union, what roles you expect her to fulfill, and be ready to negotiate. Imagine the time and energy you intend to devote to sealing the prenup; it’s common sense to apply equal planning to the marriage itself."
These three quotes show that a trophy wife is nothing more than a sexual slave, status symbol and someone who needs to be babysat and not trusted.
And then, Rachel lists a long list of scripture that shows the virtues of a trophy wife. Well, I am going to list a few examples of my own from the bible that speak to the role of woman and their rights:
Genesis 3:16
Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.
Colossians 3:18
Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit in the Lord.
1 Timothy 2:11-15
Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence. For Adam was first formed, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression. Notwithstanding she shall be saved in childbearing.
So, these are my examples of why I disagree with Rachel that being a trophy wife is something you should strive for. But, I want to try to express it in my own words.
My thoughts are, if you want to improve yourself, that is AWESOME. We should all try to be the best versions of ourselves that we can. However, we (man or woman) should have the self-confidence to do that for ourselves, not for our husband or wife. No one should attach their self worth to how good of a husband they can catch. Because, if you love yourself and have a sense of self worth than you won't attract someone who will treat you badly, or who doesn't want the best for themselves as well. When both people in the relationship are happy with themselves, it makes for a lovely match. No one should have to improve themselves in order to be equal to another. You are perfect the way you are. You are the light of the world ... oh wait, I am starting to sound like Jesus. Crazy me. I can tell I am getting petty, so I will leave you with a link to more awesome biblical quotes that will teach all of us women what are place is in life and exactly how men should treat us.
Why women and the bible don't mix
At first, I thought her post was a joke. Mostly, because, the Rachel I know is a head strong, independent woman. But after I finished it, I realized she was serious and I got seriously concerned. The term "trophy wife" is usually, in my experience, a derogatory term. Rachel sites Websters definition, well, I site Urbandictionary.com: 1. A young, attractive woman married to an older, more powerful man.
2. a woman who marries for money and sits at home all day looking pretty
3. A typically educated girl who marries rich and is a home maker or who's roll is to stay home and look pretty, play tennis, do charity etc. Lots of girls now a days go through college then take this roll because they are the perfect girl for a certain person and would rather spend their time at home and let their husband bring home the bread. They are the girly girls.
I site Urbandictionary.com because it is a Wiki, and while it may not be an "authority" like Websters, it does site the common knowledge of the masses. And those three definitions are what common knowledge says about trophy wives. And in my eyes, they are not favorable.
In my own opinion, a trophy wife lowers a woman's rights and status to little more than a piece of meat to be traded. In those two words, multitudes are said, including that a woman's fate is not her own for deciding, but that she is at the mercy of a man to see her as worthy and bring her up to his world of money and luxury (assuming that a woman can't achieve that on her own), it also says that a woman can be discarded just as quickly as she ages and loses the beauty that brought her to her status.
Rachel also consulted askmen.com, reading an article called Fine Living: How to find a trophy wife. She claims that this article has "some meat to it". Well, I disagree. Just because it says that a woman should be college educated, doesn't make it ok that they also say:
"Forced intimacy: You may have doubts about her intentions when the only names she calls out during sex are those of dead presidents. "
"Capital depletion: Outrageous spending binges are par for the course, so when you blow up over the monthly statements, expect a singular defense: trophy wife entitlement."
"Ask yourself what you expect from such a union, what roles you expect her to fulfill, and be ready to negotiate. Imagine the time and energy you intend to devote to sealing the prenup; it’s common sense to apply equal planning to the marriage itself."
These three quotes show that a trophy wife is nothing more than a sexual slave, status symbol and someone who needs to be babysat and not trusted.
And then, Rachel lists a long list of scripture that shows the virtues of a trophy wife. Well, I am going to list a few examples of my own from the bible that speak to the role of woman and their rights:
Genesis 3:16
Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children; and thy desire shall be to thy husband, and he shall rule over thee.
Colossians 3:18
Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as it is fit in the Lord.
1 Timothy 2:11-15
Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence. For Adam was first formed, then Eve. And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression. Notwithstanding she shall be saved in childbearing.
So, these are my examples of why I disagree with Rachel that being a trophy wife is something you should strive for. But, I want to try to express it in my own words.
My thoughts are, if you want to improve yourself, that is AWESOME. We should all try to be the best versions of ourselves that we can. However, we (man or woman) should have the self-confidence to do that for ourselves, not for our husband or wife. No one should attach their self worth to how good of a husband they can catch. Because, if you love yourself and have a sense of self worth than you won't attract someone who will treat you badly, or who doesn't want the best for themselves as well. When both people in the relationship are happy with themselves, it makes for a lovely match. No one should have to improve themselves in order to be equal to another. You are perfect the way you are. You are the light of the world ... oh wait, I am starting to sound like Jesus. Crazy me. I can tell I am getting petty, so I will leave you with a link to more awesome biblical quotes that will teach all of us women what are place is in life and exactly how men should treat us.
Why women and the bible don't mix
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Politics and religion
I try to avoid both of these subjects in my blog. Mostly because I have lots of friends with views that oppose my own and I would like to keep them as friends. Also, I don't like being serious because it is boring. But sometimes I read an article, or a subject gets under my skin just enough that I really need to rant about it. So, if you don't want to hear about health care and abortion, stop reading now.
The article that started this brain riot is here: Abortion is latest controversy in health overhaul
Now, the article basically discusses how abortion opponents are mad because there is no clear language in the health care bill that explicitly denies abortion. Which has to be the stupidest f-ing thing I have heard this week. FIRST OF ALL, abortion is a legal medical procedure that is performed in this country. Let's just make that clear. And if an abortion is NECESSARY, even a late term one ... no. ESPECIALLY a late term abortion, then it should be covered under whatever health care a person has. However, before you start freaking out too much and calling me a baby killer ... hear me out.
One thing that I do not think should be covered under the national health care system is optional or unnecessary procedures and medications. I don't want to pay for your viagra or your nose job. Unless your nose became deformed in a terrible accident. Then maybe. There are just so many gray lines. My point is this: should the women who use abortion as birth control get their abortions covered by the government? No, absolutely not. But should mothers who's pregnancies become toxic to their bodies be able to get an abortion? Yes. Or when the child is going to be born with severe mental and physical abnormalities? Yes. Or when a 13 year old is raped by her father or uncle and becomes pregnant? Without a doubt. And just like there shouldn't be language in our constitution that defines marriage as between a man and a woman, there shouldn't be language in a health care bill that prohibits a legal procedure.
Let me reinforce that CURRENTLY, ABORTION IS NOT MENTIONED IN THE BILL. It is anti-abortion lobbyists and activists that are trying to get it specifically excluded. The potential rights infringement that this could cause would be nothing short of illegal based on previously ruled upon abortion laws that are in place in this country. I am tired of conservatives trying to create laws of exclusion in this country. That isn't what America is about. It is supposed to be a country of inclusion. Somewhere along the way we have forgotten that.
The article that started this brain riot is here: Abortion is latest controversy in health overhaul
Now, the article basically discusses how abortion opponents are mad because there is no clear language in the health care bill that explicitly denies abortion. Which has to be the stupidest f-ing thing I have heard this week. FIRST OF ALL, abortion is a legal medical procedure that is performed in this country. Let's just make that clear. And if an abortion is NECESSARY, even a late term one ... no. ESPECIALLY a late term abortion, then it should be covered under whatever health care a person has. However, before you start freaking out too much and calling me a baby killer ... hear me out.
One thing that I do not think should be covered under the national health care system is optional or unnecessary procedures and medications. I don't want to pay for your viagra or your nose job. Unless your nose became deformed in a terrible accident. Then maybe. There are just so many gray lines. My point is this: should the women who use abortion as birth control get their abortions covered by the government? No, absolutely not. But should mothers who's pregnancies become toxic to their bodies be able to get an abortion? Yes. Or when the child is going to be born with severe mental and physical abnormalities? Yes. Or when a 13 year old is raped by her father or uncle and becomes pregnant? Without a doubt. And just like there shouldn't be language in our constitution that defines marriage as between a man and a woman, there shouldn't be language in a health care bill that prohibits a legal procedure.
Let me reinforce that CURRENTLY, ABORTION IS NOT MENTIONED IN THE BILL. It is anti-abortion lobbyists and activists that are trying to get it specifically excluded. The potential rights infringement that this could cause would be nothing short of illegal based on previously ruled upon abortion laws that are in place in this country. I am tired of conservatives trying to create laws of exclusion in this country. That isn't what America is about. It is supposed to be a country of inclusion. Somewhere along the way we have forgotten that.
Monday, July 6, 2009
My. worst. nightmare.
Literally. I used to have this re-occurring nightmare as a child that we lived in this huge tank of water... shudder. I was stumbling around the internet today when I saw a list (I do love a list) of 12 cool swimming pools. So I look. And number three ... ohhhhhhhhhh I'm going to be sick.
Head between my knees. Ohhhhhhhhh, I'm so nauseous. ... Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
So, I have a fear of open water. Or closed water. Large bodies of water. And especially ones that I imagine to have huge man-eating creatures like those that are OBVIOUSLY lurking in this ones nooks and crannies. Upon seeing this picture I was immediately swept wind tunnel style complete with whooshing noise and blackout to this re-occurring nightmare I used to have as a child.
The details are sketchy, but, I do remember there being a huge huge huge tank of water. I lived in it, with my family, and there was a beach that we could go up to after we crawled on this ledge thing. But it was always messy (meaning we had to clean it) and I was always accidentally starting to drown. And there were whales and sharks in it and we had to try to keep them out. And there were also people that tried to chase us. But mostly, I just remember it being VAST. And that vastness, along with the presence of water and the possibility of creature is what gives me panic attacks in pools, even as an adult. It isn't that I actually think anything is going to happen to me it is that I imagine that it will. Having a powerful imagination can be your worst enemy at times like this.
It may not sound all that scary but as I am sitting here at my desk, years and years later, trying not to be sick, with a slight head ache, clammy hands and a sour stomach, I promise you that it was. And this damned pool that ONLY CRAZY PEOPLE WOULD GO NEAR, MUCH LESS BUILD, is that nightmare come to life. The realization of my worst nightmare. Thank you world, I hate you.
The other 11 not-nearly-as-scary pools.
Head between my knees. Ohhhhhhhhh, I'm so nauseous. ... Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.
So, I have a fear of open water. Or closed water. Large bodies of water. And especially ones that I imagine to have huge man-eating creatures like those that are OBVIOUSLY lurking in this ones nooks and crannies. Upon seeing this picture I was immediately swept wind tunnel style complete with whooshing noise and blackout to this re-occurring nightmare I used to have as a child.
The details are sketchy, but, I do remember there being a huge huge huge tank of water. I lived in it, with my family, and there was a beach that we could go up to after we crawled on this ledge thing. But it was always messy (meaning we had to clean it) and I was always accidentally starting to drown. And there were whales and sharks in it and we had to try to keep them out. And there were also people that tried to chase us. But mostly, I just remember it being VAST. And that vastness, along with the presence of water and the possibility of creature is what gives me panic attacks in pools, even as an adult. It isn't that I actually think anything is going to happen to me it is that I imagine that it will. Having a powerful imagination can be your worst enemy at times like this.
It may not sound all that scary but as I am sitting here at my desk, years and years later, trying not to be sick, with a slight head ache, clammy hands and a sour stomach, I promise you that it was. And this damned pool that ONLY CRAZY PEOPLE WOULD GO NEAR, MUCH LESS BUILD, is that nightmare come to life. The realization of my worst nightmare. Thank you world, I hate you.
The other 11 not-nearly-as-scary pools.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
The politics of running
My fingers are all aflutter because I don't even know where to start. Ok, Ok, ok. So, Sarah Palin was interviewed in Runner's World this month. I heard a blurb about it on the news the other day and my co-worker Joel just brought it to my attention again. So, of course, I immediately dug in to read it.
First of all, they obviously directly quoted her throughout and did not attempt to correct her horrid grammar and incomplete/run-on sentences. Which I THOROUGHLY enjoy. In fact, I spent most of the article trying to figure out if they were making fun of her, or if she is just such a caricature of herself that she comes across as comedic. Regardless, I can't read her answers without hearing her voice in my head. Which makes me want to stick pointy objects into my ears to ... OH GOD MAKE IT STOP.
Because the article is a straight up question/answer it is a bit mind-numbing to read so I have taken the liberty of picking out some of the gems for you.
When did you start running?
I grew up in a running family. My parents caught the running craze in the mid '70s and we grew up doing family runs. I've been running now easy for 35 years. What does that mean?!? By the way, this is the opening question.
Sounds like your skills were more suited to basketball?
Well, I appreciated the fact that in running I needed guts more than anything. I could do fine just being really determined. I was thankful that I didn't need a whole lot of skills to run. You didn't answer the question. Let's ask it again, in a different way:
And running was your first athletic activity, even before basketball?
Yes. My parents instilled in us that fitness and running were going to be a part of our lives growing up. My siblings and I are all still very active. A lot of days I look forward to getting out to run and think and plan.
If you go a day or a week without running, what do you learn about yourself?
I feel so crappy if I go more than a few days without running. I have to run. No matter how rotten I feel before or during a run, it's always worth it to me afterwards. Sweat is my sanity. Someone should put that on a t-shirt. Gold. Gold I tell you! She then goes on, several paragraphs later to re-iterate with this:
I wish it were every day. I don't like to go more than a few days without running, but yeah. BTW, Sarah, "but yeah" is not an appropriate way to end a sentence.
Also, this entire paragraph here is just awesome. Every word of it:
"But the most precious experience I've had running was a few summers ago when I was training for a marathon and my son Track—and I named him Track for running—would drive out in front of me and plant water bottles along the route. I felt so spoiled, like the queen of the running world to have a kid who was all cool with his pickup truck, dropping off water for me on my long runs. And he'd put a note on the bottles, saying, "Love you, Mom" and "Run hard, Mom." It was just the most precious summer of my life to have that and then to cap it off with an all-time marathon best [3:59:36]. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the whole world."
Then she goes on to start talking about "her rock" and how it helps her dig deep, but she never explains what the hell the rock is, or what it looks like, or where it sits. Is it a real rock? Like a good luck pebble? Maybe it is a boulder she runs past? Maybe it is a figurative rock ... who knows. The mystery of the rock.
Some of my favorite random phrases: "and they live by duct tape covering every exposed portion of skin", "one time I walked into a mama black bear and her cubs in a tree", "—and I named him Track for running—", "When I run, I'm totally incognito because I'm not wearing the trough full of makeup.", "we'd be out there at events or up there on stage just sweatin' like pigs, and I loved it.", "I always wrap it up with a couple of mellow Amy Grant songs."
The amazing thing about her, is that people still actually like her. She is SUCH a joke to me that I just can't imagine how people take her seriously. And for my republican friends, it is not because of her political beliefs. It is because she is a hypocritical, poorly spoken, ego inflated princess who puts back the women's movement about 50 years. To her credit, she only brings up God once, but does talk about the "great state of Alaska" and "the beauty of this 49th state" a lot. But the comments below the article are mostly ... super nice. I am going to wrap this up with two more gems:
Is there anything else the world should know about you as a runner?
The only other thing I'd like to add is I've been very fortunate to be a recipient of all the efforts people put into Title IX all those years ago where girls got equal opportunity to participate in sports and extracurricular activities because sports growing up were my world. I'm so thankful for Title IX allowing equal access to these opportunities, and I'm a huge proponent of girls being able to realize what they're made of by participating in sports, and whatever I can do there I'm going to be doing. Spoken like a true politician!
And I leave you with this:
yowza.
You can read the full article, in case you too feel the need to want to scratch out your eyes and stick pointy things in your ears to ... OH GOD MAKE IT STOP.
HERE: runners world article
First of all, they obviously directly quoted her throughout and did not attempt to correct her horrid grammar and incomplete/run-on sentences. Which I THOROUGHLY enjoy. In fact, I spent most of the article trying to figure out if they were making fun of her, or if she is just such a caricature of herself that she comes across as comedic. Regardless, I can't read her answers without hearing her voice in my head. Which makes me want to stick pointy objects into my ears to ... OH GOD MAKE IT STOP.
Because the article is a straight up question/answer it is a bit mind-numbing to read so I have taken the liberty of picking out some of the gems for you.
When did you start running?
I grew up in a running family. My parents caught the running craze in the mid '70s and we grew up doing family runs. I've been running now easy for 35 years. What does that mean?!? By the way, this is the opening question.
Sounds like your skills were more suited to basketball?
Well, I appreciated the fact that in running I needed guts more than anything. I could do fine just being really determined. I was thankful that I didn't need a whole lot of skills to run. You didn't answer the question. Let's ask it again, in a different way:
And running was your first athletic activity, even before basketball?
Yes. My parents instilled in us that fitness and running were going to be a part of our lives growing up. My siblings and I are all still very active. A lot of days I look forward to getting out to run and think and plan.
If you go a day or a week without running, what do you learn about yourself?
I feel so crappy if I go more than a few days without running. I have to run. No matter how rotten I feel before or during a run, it's always worth it to me afterwards. Sweat is my sanity. Someone should put that on a t-shirt. Gold. Gold I tell you! She then goes on, several paragraphs later to re-iterate with this:
I wish it were every day. I don't like to go more than a few days without running, but yeah. BTW, Sarah, "but yeah" is not an appropriate way to end a sentence.
Also, this entire paragraph here is just awesome. Every word of it:
"But the most precious experience I've had running was a few summers ago when I was training for a marathon and my son Track—and I named him Track for running—would drive out in front of me and plant water bottles along the route. I felt so spoiled, like the queen of the running world to have a kid who was all cool with his pickup truck, dropping off water for me on my long runs. And he'd put a note on the bottles, saying, "Love you, Mom" and "Run hard, Mom." It was just the most precious summer of my life to have that and then to cap it off with an all-time marathon best [3:59:36]. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the whole world."
Then she goes on to start talking about "her rock" and how it helps her dig deep, but she never explains what the hell the rock is, or what it looks like, or where it sits. Is it a real rock? Like a good luck pebble? Maybe it is a boulder she runs past? Maybe it is a figurative rock ... who knows. The mystery of the rock.
Some of my favorite random phrases: "and they live by duct tape covering every exposed portion of skin", "one time I walked into a mama black bear and her cubs in a tree", "—and I named him Track for running—", "When I run, I'm totally incognito because I'm not wearing the trough full of makeup.", "we'd be out there at events or up there on stage just sweatin' like pigs, and I loved it.", "I always wrap it up with a couple of mellow Amy Grant songs."
The amazing thing about her, is that people still actually like her. She is SUCH a joke to me that I just can't imagine how people take her seriously. And for my republican friends, it is not because of her political beliefs. It is because she is a hypocritical, poorly spoken, ego inflated princess who puts back the women's movement about 50 years. To her credit, she only brings up God once, but does talk about the "great state of Alaska" and "the beauty of this 49th state" a lot. But the comments below the article are mostly ... super nice. I am going to wrap this up with two more gems:
Is there anything else the world should know about you as a runner?
The only other thing I'd like to add is I've been very fortunate to be a recipient of all the efforts people put into Title IX all those years ago where girls got equal opportunity to participate in sports and extracurricular activities because sports growing up were my world. I'm so thankful for Title IX allowing equal access to these opportunities, and I'm a huge proponent of girls being able to realize what they're made of by participating in sports, and whatever I can do there I'm going to be doing. Spoken like a true politician!
And I leave you with this:
yowza.You can read the full article, in case you too feel the need to want to scratch out your eyes and stick pointy things in your ears to ... OH GOD MAKE IT STOP.
HERE: runners world article
Friday, June 26, 2009
Hit it. Just hit it.
So, the title is a cheap shot. I don't care. I know that people will remember yesterday as the day that Michael Jackson died and completely overshadowed Farrah Fawcett's death (for real, cocktail parties world-wide will echo with the sentiments of "Michaels death was a tragedy but it was such a shame that Farrah didn't get a proper goodbye ..."). I was over Michael dying before he was dead (heartless, I know. It is sad. I KNOW.). I work in a newsroom. People were a flurry.
So, as a distraction for myself and anyone else out there who is cold hearted enough to admit that, although tragic, he wasn't exactly JFK, I am going to talk about something else. I have this lump, on my wrist, that has been there for about two years now. When I first saw it, I COMPLETELY FREAKED OUT. I thought I had cancer or something. But, then, my Mom "calmed me down" with the following conversation:
Me: Look at my wrist, I am a freak. I am going to die.
Mom: I don't see anything.
Me: Look. LOOK!
Mom: Oh, that's just a cyst.
Me: So I don't have cancer?
Mom: No. You have been playing too many video games.
Me: Oh. I want it to go away!
Mom: Hit it with a big book.
Me: Blank stare.
In about 2.5 I went from believing I had cancer to my Mom telling me to heal it by "hitting it with a big book, you know, like your art history book". The thought of breaking this cyst up under my skin and having cyst bits floating around my body makes me want to throw up in my mouth. So, I just left it and proceeded to show it off to anyone who would look. Most people tried to convince me it was my bone.
And that is how I have been living for two years. Then, a few weeks ago, I was playing pool volleyball and my wrist snapped back and it hurt. I don't have evidence that it was the cyst that caused the hurt, except that it was the cyst that was hurting. And it didn't stop hurting for two weeks. I wore a freaking wrist brace for goodness sake. Cris tried to get me to talk to the doctor about it but I was so worked up about my shins and they told me that it was a different doctor (of course) so ...
And when my awesomest neighbors, Noah and Sabrina, saw my wrist brace one Saturday on our way to a hiking (excuse me, not-hiking, long story (it was totally hiking)) trip they asked me what was up. And so I told them and while Sabrina was freaking out just like I WANT people to react, Noah is all "Oh, it's a Bible cyst." Excuse me what? Now Jesus did this to me!?! He explained that "You hit it with a King James Bible and it goes away". So, Mom and Noah are for hitting it with either an art history book or a Bible (there is some irony in there somewhere ... ) and everyone else, in the world, I hope, is for NOT.
I told Noah I at least would like a doctor to hit it with a Bible. More irony. So ... I don't really have a way of summing this up, mostly because the cyst still lives. So, I am installing a poll! You decide. What should be the fate of my cyst? (if you look to the right, in that column, there is a poll! Right above my followers.)
So, as a distraction for myself and anyone else out there who is cold hearted enough to admit that, although tragic, he wasn't exactly JFK, I am going to talk about something else. I have this lump, on my wrist, that has been there for about two years now. When I first saw it, I COMPLETELY FREAKED OUT. I thought I had cancer or something. But, then, my Mom "calmed me down" with the following conversation:
Me: Look at my wrist, I am a freak. I am going to die.
Mom: I don't see anything.
Me: Look. LOOK!
Mom: Oh, that's just a cyst.
Me: So I don't have cancer?
Mom: No. You have been playing too many video games.
Me: Oh. I want it to go away!
Mom: Hit it with a big book.
Me: Blank stare.
In about 2.5 I went from believing I had cancer to my Mom telling me to heal it by "hitting it with a big book, you know, like your art history book". The thought of breaking this cyst up under my skin and having cyst bits floating around my body makes me want to throw up in my mouth. So, I just left it and proceeded to show it off to anyone who would look. Most people tried to convince me it was my bone.
And that is how I have been living for two years. Then, a few weeks ago, I was playing pool volleyball and my wrist snapped back and it hurt. I don't have evidence that it was the cyst that caused the hurt, except that it was the cyst that was hurting. And it didn't stop hurting for two weeks. I wore a freaking wrist brace for goodness sake. Cris tried to get me to talk to the doctor about it but I was so worked up about my shins and they told me that it was a different doctor (of course) so ...
And when my awesomest neighbors, Noah and Sabrina, saw my wrist brace one Saturday on our way to a hiking (excuse me, not-hiking, long story (it was totally hiking)) trip they asked me what was up. And so I told them and while Sabrina was freaking out just like I WANT people to react, Noah is all "Oh, it's a Bible cyst." Excuse me what? Now Jesus did this to me!?! He explained that "You hit it with a King James Bible and it goes away". So, Mom and Noah are for hitting it with either an art history book or a Bible (there is some irony in there somewhere ... ) and everyone else, in the world, I hope, is for NOT.
I told Noah I at least would like a doctor to hit it with a Bible. More irony. So ... I don't really have a way of summing this up, mostly because the cyst still lives. So, I am installing a poll! You decide. What should be the fate of my cyst? (if you look to the right, in that column, there is a poll! Right above my followers.)
Monday, June 22, 2009
My doctor's office is not unlike Ikea.
So, if you read my running blog anjasmith.blountblogs.com you will notice a new post that is called A long six weeks. It is about how I am a dumb ass and have horribly healed stress fractures that are making my life miserable. Except that is my 'professional' blog so I have to be more diplomatic than that. Anyway, the real story here lies in the doctor and office whom I went to see. Oh man, there is so much to say ...
1. His name is Dr. Scott. (Dr. Scott!) If you don't get why this is funny, we might need to rethink our friendship. (Rocky Horror Picture Show) (Also, I don't mean that about our friendship. Cris didn't get it, so I don't think I can justify not being your friend for that. If only this were a perfect world.)
2. I walk in this ginormous building that is so over the top Swedish design fad with frosted walls that don't serve a purpose and cherry wood with no grain because it isn't real and random curves on surfaces and everything else is a straight line ... it was stupid.
3. There are actual ques for each of the fifty doctors (that is an exaggeration, but it is a lot, like 12 maybe.). Almost like an airport check in. True story: I didn't know which doctor was mine. They were SUPER upset about it. Like I had ruined their impenetrable system of efficiency with my single question. Too bad they don't have an information kiosk. Or a Starbucks.
4. Then they call my name. And four other people. And they herd us. Literally. No one at this point had been friendly. So they herd us past the airport hanger full of appointment setters and the long hallway of chairs for this service, or that service and there are all these "hubs". Dude. It was so weird. After trekking past a mountain goat and several Sherpas, I get to my room.
5. The nurse is the only one that gets brownie points because she called me "buff". Note: I am not buff. I am also at a sports medicine doctor. Aren't like, 90% of his patients athletes?
6. They then herd me to one of the "service centers" where I get my x-rays. The lady is the first to say my name correctly and then tells me she is going to have to take six pictures of my legs because they are so long. Why are these people treating me like a freak? I am at a sports medicine doctor! Tall and buff should be normal! After, I am told to wait outside the room to be herded back to my other room because surely I am too stupid to make the three turns to get back to that room. Actually, good point. Where is my Sherpa? I could get lost.
7. Then, Dr. Scott! comes in (btw, at first I thought my doctor was this very tiny rude man who upon looking back kind of reminds me of a munchkin at the gates of Oz. This whole experience is very Ozian.) Anyway, the real Dr. Scott! is a caricature. If only I had been any one of my single lady friends who is hoping to land a good looking doctor because he is very aware of what a good catch he is and probably would have told you. He lays the charm on super thick and he was all super tall and good looking with bright blue eyes, a three thousand dollar suit and a class ring bigger than my fist. Seriously, it was like a joke. I think he was sad that his voodoo wasn't effecting me. Apparently he is used to having to literally catch the ladies as they swoon.
8. Blah blah blah, stop running, come look at your crazy shin on the x-ray! Look, it bends the wrong way! You can't run! Come back in six weeks and we will figure out a game plan. Oh Dr. Scott! how I hate you for the news you give me.
9. I am then herded to the "payment center" and given detailed instructions on how to exit the building. The entire thing, x-rays included took under and hour. The waiting room could hold like 300 people. This place was bigger than a hospital. And more stylish. It kind of disgusted me.
Also, all of this happened before I had coffee. I really wish there had been a Starbucks ...
P.S. Sorry this post was so long. I realize you have things to do with your lives. Promise :D
1. His name is Dr. Scott. (Dr. Scott!) If you don't get why this is funny, we might need to rethink our friendship. (Rocky Horror Picture Show) (Also, I don't mean that about our friendship. Cris didn't get it, so I don't think I can justify not being your friend for that. If only this were a perfect world.)
2. I walk in this ginormous building that is so over the top Swedish design fad with frosted walls that don't serve a purpose and cherry wood with no grain because it isn't real and random curves on surfaces and everything else is a straight line ... it was stupid.
3. There are actual ques for each of the fifty doctors (that is an exaggeration, but it is a lot, like 12 maybe.). Almost like an airport check in. True story: I didn't know which doctor was mine. They were SUPER upset about it. Like I had ruined their impenetrable system of efficiency with my single question. Too bad they don't have an information kiosk. Or a Starbucks.
4. Then they call my name. And four other people. And they herd us. Literally. No one at this point had been friendly. So they herd us past the airport hanger full of appointment setters and the long hallway of chairs for this service, or that service and there are all these "hubs". Dude. It was so weird. After trekking past a mountain goat and several Sherpas, I get to my room.
5. The nurse is the only one that gets brownie points because she called me "buff". Note: I am not buff. I am also at a sports medicine doctor. Aren't like, 90% of his patients athletes?
6. They then herd me to one of the "service centers" where I get my x-rays. The lady is the first to say my name correctly and then tells me she is going to have to take six pictures of my legs because they are so long. Why are these people treating me like a freak? I am at a sports medicine doctor! Tall and buff should be normal! After, I am told to wait outside the room to be herded back to my other room because surely I am too stupid to make the three turns to get back to that room. Actually, good point. Where is my Sherpa? I could get lost.
7. Then, Dr. Scott! comes in (btw, at first I thought my doctor was this very tiny rude man who upon looking back kind of reminds me of a munchkin at the gates of Oz. This whole experience is very Ozian.) Anyway, the real Dr. Scott! is a caricature. If only I had been any one of my single lady friends who is hoping to land a good looking doctor because he is very aware of what a good catch he is and probably would have told you. He lays the charm on super thick and he was all super tall and good looking with bright blue eyes, a three thousand dollar suit and a class ring bigger than my fist. Seriously, it was like a joke. I think he was sad that his voodoo wasn't effecting me. Apparently he is used to having to literally catch the ladies as they swoon.
8. Blah blah blah, stop running, come look at your crazy shin on the x-ray! Look, it bends the wrong way! You can't run! Come back in six weeks and we will figure out a game plan. Oh Dr. Scott! how I hate you for the news you give me.
9. I am then herded to the "payment center" and given detailed instructions on how to exit the building. The entire thing, x-rays included took under and hour. The waiting room could hold like 300 people. This place was bigger than a hospital. And more stylish. It kind of disgusted me.
Also, all of this happened before I had coffee. I really wish there had been a Starbucks ...
P.S. Sorry this post was so long. I realize you have things to do with your lives. Promise :D
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Begone!
Note to all of you flying helicopters over Helen, Georgia: They don't like it. Not really sure why but it was made very clear by a sign we saw driving into Helen. It was hanging from a tree. Thirty feet off the ground. On the side of a state highway. From a string. I have re-created the sign for you. Enjoy.
There was something written on the back of the sign. We couldn't read it, but I am willing to bet it wasn't nice.
There was something written on the back of the sign. We couldn't read it, but I am willing to bet it wasn't nice.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Hitler's Law
I have to ask Amanda for forgiveness, because I am stealing her thunder here a little. Right after Dr. Tiller was shot, she wrote a column about, like abortion or not, his murder being morally wrong. Simple and straightforward, right? No. Like any issue she brings up, whether it be shaving or gay marriage, she got mail. Of course. Because people are idiots.
So, she reads this one letter to me. I will re-enact it to the best of my memories ability.
Dear Amanda,
Your column was awesome, however I have an issue. You said that Dr. Tiller was killed out of hatred. You don't know that. That guy might have been trying to protect those children. It was just like self-defense.
If some guy was trying to kill my kids, I would kill him. So it's just like that.
Killing babies is soooo gruesome. I am going to give you a detailed account of how it is done only I am going to tell you the way Dr. Tiller DIDN'T kill babies, but the other way, that no one likes to do.
Also, if this was WW2 and you could kill Hitler to save all the Jews, you would wouldn't you?
The end.
Enter Hitler's Law. It reads as follows. If you bring up Hitler in a debate, you lose. That's it. Hitler = You just got served.
It's like this: What Hitler did was unparalleled by anyone in the written history of the world, with the exception of some biblical mofo's maybe. So to compare it to WHATEVER ISSUE WE ARE DEBATING is absolutely WRONG AND NOT ACCEPTABLE.
So, do some research, be a little creative in your comparisons. Don't bring up Hitler. It just makes you a chump.
So, she reads this one letter to me. I will re-enact it to the best of my memories ability.
Dear Amanda,
Your column was awesome, however I have an issue. You said that Dr. Tiller was killed out of hatred. You don't know that. That guy might have been trying to protect those children. It was just like self-defense.
If some guy was trying to kill my kids, I would kill him. So it's just like that.
Killing babies is soooo gruesome. I am going to give you a detailed account of how it is done only I am going to tell you the way Dr. Tiller DIDN'T kill babies, but the other way, that no one likes to do.
Also, if this was WW2 and you could kill Hitler to save all the Jews, you would wouldn't you?
The end.
Enter Hitler's Law. It reads as follows. If you bring up Hitler in a debate, you lose. That's it. Hitler = You just got served.
It's like this: What Hitler did was unparalleled by anyone in the written history of the world, with the exception of some biblical mofo's maybe. So to compare it to WHATEVER ISSUE WE ARE DEBATING is absolutely WRONG AND NOT ACCEPTABLE.
So, do some research, be a little creative in your comparisons. Don't bring up Hitler. It just makes you a chump.
Friday, June 5, 2009
You think you know someone ...
You think you know someone, you think you are going to build a life with them. You think that they are loving and caring and sweet and practically perfect in every way. And then you find out that they are a ruthless killer. I can't explain to you exactly how this feels. But, I will try to sum it up. I am hurt. I feel lied to. I feel pained that someone I trusted with my entire being could be a killer.
It's true. I know what you must be thinking, Cris wouldn't hurt a fly. OH HOW WE HAVE ALL BEEN DECEIVED. I will set the scene for you.
We were on vacation at the cabin. The entire group was sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows, making s'mores, sharing the moonlight. And then Cris takes a fiery stick and with menace in her face and hate in her eyes she sought out the poor slug, running for his life from the fire and DUG THE FIERY STICK INTO ITS BODY. Her squeals of delight were probably the most disturbing part of the entire episode.
I sat there, trembling. My whole world was crashing down around me. What is next? Boiling kittens?!? She isn't the person that I thought she was. I won't ever forget the terror. I sleep with one eye open now. The image of that fiery, pointed stick coming at me ... it haunts me. I hope that we can move on and try to forget that terrible night ever happened. But, when the trust is broken, there is no turning back.
Oh, also, vacation was super fun :D More posts soon. Including: the most ridiculous thing I saw in Northern Georgia.
It's true. I know what you must be thinking, Cris wouldn't hurt a fly. OH HOW WE HAVE ALL BEEN DECEIVED. I will set the scene for you.
We were on vacation at the cabin. The entire group was sitting around a campfire roasting marshmallows, making s'mores, sharing the moonlight. And then Cris takes a fiery stick and with menace in her face and hate in her eyes she sought out the poor slug, running for his life from the fire and DUG THE FIERY STICK INTO ITS BODY. Her squeals of delight were probably the most disturbing part of the entire episode.
I sat there, trembling. My whole world was crashing down around me. What is next? Boiling kittens?!? She isn't the person that I thought she was. I won't ever forget the terror. I sleep with one eye open now. The image of that fiery, pointed stick coming at me ... it haunts me. I hope that we can move on and try to forget that terrible night ever happened. But, when the trust is broken, there is no turning back.
Oh, also, vacation was super fun :D More posts soon. Including: the most ridiculous thing I saw in Northern Georgia.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
House Gymnastics?
I don't usually use this blog to talk about fitness stuff, but, desperate times guys, desperate times. I am soooo uninspired to stay in shape at the moment. It is horrible. I have stopped going to the gym (can't really afford the gym) and my running attempts have been fairly pathetic ... the problem is getting motivated to do stuff. I am fine once I get going. It's just the getting my butt out of bed.
Yes, I have gained a tiny bit of weight. Yes, I remember how hard I worked to get it off. Yes, I am royally pissed that some of my summer clothes don't fit. Yes, I am trying to do something about it.
So, today, whilst at work, I am also browsing some internet fitness bloggy blogs. For some reason reading about stuff really gets me going. So, here I am, cruising along for stuff to inspire me, when I find this:
http://www.housegymnastics.com
And while I am incredibly tempted to try some of these I realize a few things:
1A. I am not an eighteen year old boy.
1B. I can't do any of that, I am fairly sure.
1C. Our house would break.
So, probably no house gymnastics for me. I do LOVE though, that they do exhibitions and shows. For serious. It's on their site. With appearance dates and everything. Who the hell are these kids?
I guess you have to give them props for making something out of appsofreakinglootly nothing. Who wants to put money on them being drunk when this started? I will give them this ... they follow through.
They should totally organize a house gymnastics Olympics! I would go. To watch. And drink. Because you know those kids have a kegorator.
P.S. I am pretty sure I am going to try one or all of these. I will totally post some pics if/when I do.
P.P.S. For some reason, it is not letting me set the link up as a link. Grrrr. Stupid blogger. I am sure it is user error. Just cut and paste into your browser you lazies.
Yes, I have gained a tiny bit of weight. Yes, I remember how hard I worked to get it off. Yes, I am royally pissed that some of my summer clothes don't fit. Yes, I am trying to do something about it.
So, today, whilst at work, I am also browsing some internet fitness bloggy blogs. For some reason reading about stuff really gets me going. So, here I am, cruising along for stuff to inspire me, when I find this:
http://www.housegymnastics.com
And while I am incredibly tempted to try some of these I realize a few things:
1A. I am not an eighteen year old boy.
1B. I can't do any of that, I am fairly sure.
1C. Our house would break.
So, probably no house gymnastics for me. I do LOVE though, that they do exhibitions and shows. For serious. It's on their site. With appearance dates and everything. Who the hell are these kids?
I guess you have to give them props for making something out of appsofreakinglootly nothing. Who wants to put money on them being drunk when this started? I will give them this ... they follow through.
They should totally organize a house gymnastics Olympics! I would go. To watch. And drink. Because you know those kids have a kegorator.
P.S. I am pretty sure I am going to try one or all of these. I will totally post some pics if/when I do.
P.P.S. For some reason, it is not letting me set the link up as a link. Grrrr. Stupid blogger. I am sure it is user error. Just cut and paste into your browser you lazies.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Why do you rip my heart out Hollywood?
They are remaking Footloose.
WHY!?!?!?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE FIRST ONE? Kevin Bacon is alive and well people! The music: still very relevant. The dancing: I whip out those moves in dance-offs to this day. The fashion: ruffles are back big time. So what gives?
Also, Zac Efron was supposed to be in it. I actually like Zac Efron. He's a cutey and his acting isn't horrendous and I would hate him a lot were it not for Hairspray, which stole my heart. But then he dropped the project. I wonder why? OH PROBABLY BECAUSE HE REALIZED HE HAD A SOUL AND THAT YOU SHOULDN'T REMAKE FOOTLOOSE!!!!
So now there is this random star from CW who looks vaguely like Zac Efron and I am here to say: that movie is going to blow. (link to his IMDB page if you don't believe me that he is a Zac rip off: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2003700/)
My heart aches and now I am going to go dance it off ... excuse me please.
This just in: both Hayden Panettiere and Miley Cyrus are both rumored to want in. Dear God this is SO NOT GETTING BETTER!
And it just keeps getting worse because apparently it is a remake of the Broadway musical. Which .. was supposed to have sucked. So it is a musical. Now I am just sobbing uncontrollably.
WHY!?!?!?
WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE FIRST ONE? Kevin Bacon is alive and well people! The music: still very relevant. The dancing: I whip out those moves in dance-offs to this day. The fashion: ruffles are back big time. So what gives?
Also, Zac Efron was supposed to be in it. I actually like Zac Efron. He's a cutey and his acting isn't horrendous and I would hate him a lot were it not for Hairspray, which stole my heart. But then he dropped the project. I wonder why? OH PROBABLY BECAUSE HE REALIZED HE HAD A SOUL AND THAT YOU SHOULDN'T REMAKE FOOTLOOSE!!!!
So now there is this random star from CW who looks vaguely like Zac Efron and I am here to say: that movie is going to blow. (link to his IMDB page if you don't believe me that he is a Zac rip off: http://www.imdb.com/name/nm2003700/)
My heart aches and now I am going to go dance it off ... excuse me please.
This just in: both Hayden Panettiere and Miley Cyrus are both rumored to want in. Dear God this is SO NOT GETTING BETTER!
And it just keeps getting worse because apparently it is a remake of the Broadway musical. Which .. was supposed to have sucked. So it is a musical. Now I am just sobbing uncontrollably.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Poor dead beaver
I can't seem to focus. It's been a little over a week. Maybe it is stress, maybe it is Mom having been ill, maybe it is allergies. Could be anything. Whatever the cause, I have been trying to think of blog posts to put up and everything either seems too depressing or I get distracted. It seemed REALLY important that my next blog post be hilarious. But I realized that my humor lately is quite dark. I am not sure that has changed, however I am going to blog anyway. I have to jump in with both feet. Go ahead, the water is fine :)
One idea that I have been obsessed with for a while is this dead beaver on the side of the road. There are maybe six different roads I can take at the very end of my otherwise monotonous drive to work and I like to change them up. Add a little spice to my routine. But my favorite road winds down into downtown Maryville and puts you out at the base of the park. It is a beautiful view. When the weather and the sun is just right, it can be breathtaking. One day, about a week and a half ago, on the side of this road, was a Beaver that had become roadkill.
I was in a strange mood that day and I said out loud to myself, "Poor dead beaver". You don't see Beavers, alive or dead, very often these days. (Strangely enough, Cris and I saw a live beaver just a few days later) The beaver was lying on it's side. Facing away from traffic, with his head near the road. He was largely intact, from what I could tell. It looked to be an instant and painless death. I felt sad for the beaver, but went on with my day.
The next day, I happened to take the same route. The traffic was backed up at the light and it was faster. Nothing more, nothing less. And there was the beaver! His position had changed slightly, he was bloating up from being in the sun and it looked like animals were starting to get to his body. The beaver was being humiliated. Again I said, "Poor dead beaver".
Now the NEXT day I went back down that road on purpose. This was turning into my little science experiment, watching the decay of this poor dead creature on the side of the road. So when I turned the corner and the beaver was missing, I was sad for a moment. No dead beaver! What I did notice, however, was the mysterious ... stain left by the beaver. And now I have this obsession. Because the stain is still there. Beaver stain. I look FORWARD to it. How sick is that? I drive down that road every day, craning my neck to see the beaver stain. And I say it outloud. "Beaver stain" I am sure there is some Fruedianism in there somewhere or maybe a lesson to learn from the beaver. I do wonder where it went sometimes, did the city come and scoop him up with a shovel? Did a bigger animal drag him off as a snack? I won't ever know.
I am watching to see how long the stain lingers. It is on pavement, so surely it will fade. That is my new expirement. To follow the course of the stain. Poor dead beaver.
One idea that I have been obsessed with for a while is this dead beaver on the side of the road. There are maybe six different roads I can take at the very end of my otherwise monotonous drive to work and I like to change them up. Add a little spice to my routine. But my favorite road winds down into downtown Maryville and puts you out at the base of the park. It is a beautiful view. When the weather and the sun is just right, it can be breathtaking. One day, about a week and a half ago, on the side of this road, was a Beaver that had become roadkill.
I was in a strange mood that day and I said out loud to myself, "Poor dead beaver". You don't see Beavers, alive or dead, very often these days. (Strangely enough, Cris and I saw a live beaver just a few days later) The beaver was lying on it's side. Facing away from traffic, with his head near the road. He was largely intact, from what I could tell. It looked to be an instant and painless death. I felt sad for the beaver, but went on with my day.
The next day, I happened to take the same route. The traffic was backed up at the light and it was faster. Nothing more, nothing less. And there was the beaver! His position had changed slightly, he was bloating up from being in the sun and it looked like animals were starting to get to his body. The beaver was being humiliated. Again I said, "Poor dead beaver".
Now the NEXT day I went back down that road on purpose. This was turning into my little science experiment, watching the decay of this poor dead creature on the side of the road. So when I turned the corner and the beaver was missing, I was sad for a moment. No dead beaver! What I did notice, however, was the mysterious ... stain left by the beaver. And now I have this obsession. Because the stain is still there. Beaver stain. I look FORWARD to it. How sick is that? I drive down that road every day, craning my neck to see the beaver stain. And I say it outloud. "Beaver stain" I am sure there is some Fruedianism in there somewhere or maybe a lesson to learn from the beaver. I do wonder where it went sometimes, did the city come and scoop him up with a shovel? Did a bigger animal drag him off as a snack? I won't ever know.
I am watching to see how long the stain lingers. It is on pavement, so surely it will fade. That is my new expirement. To follow the course of the stain. Poor dead beaver.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Token this, token that
I would not say I get "annoyed" with people when they call a non-WASP character in a movie a "token" something but ... I don't get it.
Token black guy, token fat guy, token gay guy ... first off, it's always the guy. Maybe not, token ugly chick, token hot chick, token cheerleader ... are these characters "token" or are they diversity? Maybe they are token when they are a caricature or a stereo-type? Because that doesn't seem to be it. It just seems like if there is a cast of people and there is one black guy he is the "token" black guy. Like, they had to add some minority so people wouldn't come after them or something.
The rambling, confused, less pointed than usual consistency of this post should tell you that I am not trying to make a point. I honestly don't get it and would love for someone to explain it to me. I suppose I could google it. After all, that is what I tell people to do when they ask me a stupid ass question.
BRB *************
LOOK! Google did not fail! There is a wikipedia article about it! Never mind that it was flagged by about three "this may be complete bullshit" tags.
Read on reader:
Tokenism refers to a policy or practice of limited inclusion of members of a minority group, usually creating a false appearance of inclusive practices, intentional or not. Typical examples in real life and fiction include purposely including a member of a minority race (such as a black character in a mainly white cast, or vice versa) into a group. Classically, token characters have some reduced capacity compared to the other characters and may have bland or inoffensive personalities so as to not be accused of stereotyping negative traits. Alternatively, their differences may be overemphasized or made "exotic" and glamorous.
So ... whatev. I don't buy it. Embrace the tokenism.
Token black guy, token fat guy, token gay guy ... first off, it's always the guy. Maybe not, token ugly chick, token hot chick, token cheerleader ... are these characters "token" or are they diversity? Maybe they are token when they are a caricature or a stereo-type? Because that doesn't seem to be it. It just seems like if there is a cast of people and there is one black guy he is the "token" black guy. Like, they had to add some minority so people wouldn't come after them or something.
The rambling, confused, less pointed than usual consistency of this post should tell you that I am not trying to make a point. I honestly don't get it and would love for someone to explain it to me. I suppose I could google it. After all, that is what I tell people to do when they ask me a stupid ass question.
BRB *************
LOOK! Google did not fail! There is a wikipedia article about it! Never mind that it was flagged by about three "this may be complete bullshit" tags.
Read on reader:
Tokenism refers to a policy or practice of limited inclusion of members of a minority group, usually creating a false appearance of inclusive practices, intentional or not. Typical examples in real life and fiction include purposely including a member of a minority race (such as a black character in a mainly white cast, or vice versa) into a group. Classically, token characters have some reduced capacity compared to the other characters and may have bland or inoffensive personalities so as to not be accused of stereotyping negative traits. Alternatively, their differences may be overemphasized or made "exotic" and glamorous.
So ... whatev. I don't buy it. Embrace the tokenism.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
I'm sorry, you do what again?
As most of you know, Cris (my gf) is looking for a job. Of course, being the awesome gf that I am, I help her look. It is NOT a good time to be looking for a job, just in case you have been living under a rock and have no idea. However, I have noticed one career area that seems to be thriving and there are, in fact, plenty of openings. Social or new media managers. For those of you that aren't sure exactly what that means, let me spell it out for you. THEY GET PAID TO PLAY ON FACEBOOK AND TWITTER ALL DAY!
Now, before anyone starts making pointed jokes (har har har, isn't that what you do all day Anja?) - No. I get paid to do design work and I am really good at multi tasking and I have a lot of widgits that allow me to have a strong online presence while still getting all my work done (otherwise known as: I am the shit.). These people actually do this as a job description! Let me share with you a portion of an average posting for this position:
1. Create a facebook, twitter and myspace page for your company.
2. Friend your customers and target audience.
3. Communicate both special deals as well as company 'personality' on these pages. Be fun! Be young! Be hip!
4. See little to no effect because your target audience is actually younger, smarter and DEFINTELY hipper than you or your overpaid social or new madia manager.
I realize that I am plugging my gf and her career here but I honestly think that a balance between regular old advertising (albiet maybe in a different place than the past) and community relations projects are the best way to build a brand. Because you don't actually have to SELL anything if you build a strong enough brand. Your customers will come to you. Need an example? Try Nike, Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Apple ... hell, even McDonalds! The list goes on and YES these things can happen on a smaller, more local scale. If you need help with that ... I know a great PR lady who is available for hire ;)
Now, before anyone starts making pointed jokes (har har har, isn't that what you do all day Anja?) - No. I get paid to do design work and I am really good at multi tasking and I have a lot of widgits that allow me to have a strong online presence while still getting all my work done (otherwise known as: I am the shit.). These people actually do this as a job description! Let me share with you a portion of an average posting for this position:
- Develop and execute a digital marketing plan delivering marketing programs that drive revenue including email campaigns, and blogger outreach. (I.E. set up a facebook and twitter page)
- Keep abreast of emerging internet trends and investigate, recommend and implement new technologies and programs to improve e-marketing program effectiveness. (I.E. Join Beta's)
- Analyze competitors’ online presence and digital marketing strategy, including website structure and content. (I.E. send friends requests to our competitors)
- Work with the marketing team to develop audience-specific messaging, plan targeted communications and identify content additions and design modifications to the Web/Blog/Social Media sites. (I.E. Fuck around all day on twitter with the guys in marketing )
1. Create a facebook, twitter and myspace page for your company.
2. Friend your customers and target audience.
3. Communicate both special deals as well as company 'personality' on these pages. Be fun! Be young! Be hip!
4. See little to no effect because your target audience is actually younger, smarter and DEFINTELY hipper than you or your overpaid social or new madia manager.
I realize that I am plugging my gf and her career here but I honestly think that a balance between regular old advertising (albiet maybe in a different place than the past) and community relations projects are the best way to build a brand. Because you don't actually have to SELL anything if you build a strong enough brand. Your customers will come to you. Need an example? Try Nike, Pepsi, Coca-Cola, Apple ... hell, even McDonalds! The list goes on and YES these things can happen on a smaller, more local scale. If you need help with that ... I know a great PR lady who is available for hire ;)
Monday, May 11, 2009
How did I wind up with this bleeding heart?
I feel the need to preface this post with: I love my father and he is my hero. That said:
I spent this weekend at my parents for Mother's Day (mommy shout out!) and had a really nice time. I got to chill out a little and for once, did not over schedule myself. Saturday night was spent with just a few friends and my parents, talking about old times and face transplants. Good stuff! Surprisingly, this post is NOT about the face transplant part of that conversation. Didn't see that coming did you?
As long as I can remember, my Dad has been mortifying me with inappropriate jokes. I *think* it is how he shows his love ... by making racist, homophobic (yes, he knows he has a gay daughter, more on that later) and anti-liberal jokes. He honestly does not mean them*. He just knows that they bother me. But, what I don't understand, is how I got to be that way. Because, the thing is, this has been going on since I was very young. Logically, the credit should go to my mother for instilling such a strong moral compass in me and probably a little to my father for his actions speaking louder than his crude words.
He shared some of his comedic gold with us Saturday night and it brought up more than a few memories that I am mortified and shocked to share with you. I think I am going to compile them into a list of top 5 most inappropriate moments with my father (that I can think of off the top of my head, right at this moment).
5. I learned to shoot a gun sometime around the age of ten.**
4. He has been trying to convince me for at least 10 years that it honestly is not fair that African-Americans get to use "the N word".
3. One of his pet names for me as a kid was "water head baby".
2. My strongest memories of my father from my middle school years are of us staying up late and watching Howard Stern together.
1. The following dialogue occurred between us less than a year ago:
Dad to me: Hey, where can I buy gay pride stickers?
Me: I am not answering that.
Dad: Why? (laughing hysterically)
Me: Because I don't trust you. What do you want them for?
Dad: I want a "Proud to be a gay plumber sticker" to put on the back of a guy at works truck. As a joke.
Me: That is offensive.
Dad: Why?!?
Me: Because!
Dad: But it's funny. He will be so upset!
Me: That is why it is offensive.
Dad: What do you mean? ....
It kept going. For about 20 minutes I tried to explain to him why it is offensive. I trust my audience does not need the same explanation.
* I think.
** In both of my parents defense, we had guns in the house and we merely learned to shoot them for safety reasons. I only put this on the list because I am so adamantly against guns now. BTW, Gun control is the number one reason my father is a republican. Which, along with watching Fox News, I also think he only does to annoy me.
I spent this weekend at my parents for Mother's Day (mommy shout out!) and had a really nice time. I got to chill out a little and for once, did not over schedule myself. Saturday night was spent with just a few friends and my parents, talking about old times and face transplants. Good stuff! Surprisingly, this post is NOT about the face transplant part of that conversation. Didn't see that coming did you?
As long as I can remember, my Dad has been mortifying me with inappropriate jokes. I *think* it is how he shows his love ... by making racist, homophobic (yes, he knows he has a gay daughter, more on that later) and anti-liberal jokes. He honestly does not mean them*. He just knows that they bother me. But, what I don't understand, is how I got to be that way. Because, the thing is, this has been going on since I was very young. Logically, the credit should go to my mother for instilling such a strong moral compass in me and probably a little to my father for his actions speaking louder than his crude words.
He shared some of his comedic gold with us Saturday night and it brought up more than a few memories that I am mortified and shocked to share with you. I think I am going to compile them into a list of top 5 most inappropriate moments with my father (that I can think of off the top of my head, right at this moment).
5. I learned to shoot a gun sometime around the age of ten.**
4. He has been trying to convince me for at least 10 years that it honestly is not fair that African-Americans get to use "the N word".
3. One of his pet names for me as a kid was "water head baby".
2. My strongest memories of my father from my middle school years are of us staying up late and watching Howard Stern together.
1. The following dialogue occurred between us less than a year ago:
Dad to me: Hey, where can I buy gay pride stickers?
Me: I am not answering that.
Dad: Why? (laughing hysterically)
Me: Because I don't trust you. What do you want them for?
Dad: I want a "Proud to be a gay plumber sticker" to put on the back of a guy at works truck. As a joke.
Me: That is offensive.
Dad: Why?!?
Me: Because!
Dad: But it's funny. He will be so upset!
Me: That is why it is offensive.
Dad: What do you mean? ....
It kept going. For about 20 minutes I tried to explain to him why it is offensive. I trust my audience does not need the same explanation.
* I think.
** In both of my parents defense, we had guns in the house and we merely learned to shoot them for safety reasons. I only put this on the list because I am so adamantly against guns now. BTW, Gun control is the number one reason my father is a republican. Which, along with watching Fox News, I also think he only does to annoy me.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
I am funniest when I speak to myself
I am pretty sure I have written a post before on how I talk to myself in the car. In fact I know I have because I just checked my archives and I did in a post called
Talking heads and why I am a villain. you should read it. I didn't, but I am sure I was HILARIOUS. Regardless (Irregardless ... you know who you are) the reason I bring this up is that a friend of mine and I have decided we want to do an amateur stand up. I know I am funny. And she is funny. So why not? I have always secretly wanted to do stand up so I figure I should give it a shot. That way I don't end up in my 60's with some ridiculous bucket list that I have no hope of completing without an intervention from Jack Nicholson (sorry if I got some of that detail wrong, I never did see the movie).
This is all related because, sometimes, when I am talking to myself in the car, I start saying things and I think to myself, 'that would be good stand up!' (I realize that I just took this to a whole new level of crazy). But, I have a terrible memory for things that aren't dramatic so I just forget them. Enter the voice recorder. I need to get a voice recorder and start recording myself while I am in the car. Aside from the proof that I am an absolute loon, I think that the world would gain quite a bit of insight and hilarity from the result.
So, if anyone gets the inkling, or an extra 30 bux is burning a hole in your pocket, you should wander on over to amazon and buy me one. Look! I even put in a button to my wishlist! And look! They have refurbished ones starting at $24.99! What!?! That is a crazy good deal!
Note: Whomever buys me the recorder will be guaranteed unrestricted, unedited access to the resulting dialogue. Think of it as a science experiment/reality audio. This could be good stuff.
Talking heads and why I am a villain. you should read it. I didn't, but I am sure I was HILARIOUS. Regardless (Irregardless ... you know who you are) the reason I bring this up is that a friend of mine and I have decided we want to do an amateur stand up. I know I am funny. And she is funny. So why not? I have always secretly wanted to do stand up so I figure I should give it a shot. That way I don't end up in my 60's with some ridiculous bucket list that I have no hope of completing without an intervention from Jack Nicholson (sorry if I got some of that detail wrong, I never did see the movie).
This is all related because, sometimes, when I am talking to myself in the car, I start saying things and I think to myself, 'that would be good stand up!' (I realize that I just took this to a whole new level of crazy). But, I have a terrible memory for things that aren't dramatic so I just forget them. Enter the voice recorder. I need to get a voice recorder and start recording myself while I am in the car. Aside from the proof that I am an absolute loon, I think that the world would gain quite a bit of insight and hilarity from the result.
So, if anyone gets the inkling, or an extra 30 bux is burning a hole in your pocket, you should wander on over to amazon and buy me one. Look! I even put in a button to my wishlist! And look! They have refurbished ones starting at $24.99! What!?! That is a crazy good deal!
Note: Whomever buys me the recorder will be guaranteed unrestricted, unedited access to the resulting dialogue. Think of it as a science experiment/reality audio. This could be good stuff.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Prioritizing life
News flash: life is hard. I know, I wanted to jump off of a bridge too when I heard about it. But, don't panic, because in the way that I have of being eternally optimistic (and simultaneously a jerk) I have come up with a patent pending three step program for dealing with life. In general. I know, the topic is a bit broad but I never said I was humble.
Step 1: Decide what is important to you. It sounds simple but it is actually really hard. We have a lot vying for our attention, especially as adults. For some people, the path through life is easier because they just follow the standard model. Childhood, teenage shenanigans, graduation, college, job. But, then there are those who don't follow that model. Because those people (myself included) have made life harder than necessary, I am not going to address them right now. I am going to address those folks that followed, somewhat, the model and everyone else can figure out how to tweak it.
Once you get to the job part, there is a serious drop off in structure of life. Some would argue that there is then marriage, a child, a house, etc. But this is where I think you need to figure out that first sentence before you get into all of that. Are you a career person? A family person? Both? Is your fitness more important than your career? Equally? More than your spouse? I realize that none of these questions is fair to ask. But really, all of our priorities as adults go back to our goals. Unless you are brain dead, you have goals. Even if you aren't conscious of them. And I also realize that the answers are all nuances of the number one. Because, everything has to come first. Everything has to be important. But, go ahead, allow yourself a moment to break that number one spot up into all of the things you have to accomplish ... and focus accordingly.
Step 2: Live in the moment. Now, this is actually EASIER than it sounds once you get the hang of it. And I don't just mean that you need to learn to enjoy where you are in life rather than being all "the grass is greener". I mean that, but I also mean that you need make your choices in the moment and in regard to step 1. Confused yet? Good. Let me give you an example: Say that your 1.1, 1.2 and 1.3 are Family, job and health. But, at the moment you are being offered crack. Ok, well, that happens. But here is how you deal with that. You say, in this moment, do I need to do this? How is going to affect my priorities and goals? Is it worth the consequences? I happen to think that there is never a moment in life where smoking crack is a good idea. In fact, I often wonder how someone takes that first step. Because, it seems like you would literally feel the wind in your hair from that slippery slope you are heading down. I guess that is part of the high, I am not sure. So, lets do another example. Say your goal is to lose weight. Ok, well, somehow you ended up at the drive thru of a Wendy's. Crap. Well, live in the moment. Don't think about how you will make up for it later or how you ate well earlier so it is ok ... no, think about the decision you are making in that moment and whether it is good or not. Can you do better? Can you get the grilled chicken instead of the hamburger? How is your choice affecting your goals? Just practice, it gets easier.
Step 3: Decide that you are worth the work. Because life is hard, as we have discussed. And if you have no sense of self worth, it is easy to make poor decisions. Because, you don't care enough not to. Achieving any goal, whether it be a fancy degree, running a marathon, losing 50 pounds or getting married ... all of those consist of making very small decisions all day long and following the path of your priorities.
See how I pulled all of that together? Good. You got it. Now go do it. You should be feeling somewhat inspired right now. Choose a goal or a priority and actualize it. Right now.
Go.
No, I am serious.
Leave.
Navigate away.
In fact, why are you still at your computer?
Step 1: Decide what is important to you. It sounds simple but it is actually really hard. We have a lot vying for our attention, especially as adults. For some people, the path through life is easier because they just follow the standard model. Childhood, teenage shenanigans, graduation, college, job. But, then there are those who don't follow that model. Because those people (myself included) have made life harder than necessary, I am not going to address them right now. I am going to address those folks that followed, somewhat, the model and everyone else can figure out how to tweak it.
Once you get to the job part, there is a serious drop off in structure of life. Some would argue that there is then marriage, a child, a house, etc. But this is where I think you need to figure out that first sentence before you get into all of that. Are you a career person? A family person? Both? Is your fitness more important than your career? Equally? More than your spouse? I realize that none of these questions is fair to ask. But really, all of our priorities as adults go back to our goals. Unless you are brain dead, you have goals. Even if you aren't conscious of them. And I also realize that the answers are all nuances of the number one. Because, everything has to come first. Everything has to be important. But, go ahead, allow yourself a moment to break that number one spot up into all of the things you have to accomplish ... and focus accordingly.
Step 2: Live in the moment. Now, this is actually EASIER than it sounds once you get the hang of it. And I don't just mean that you need to learn to enjoy where you are in life rather than being all "the grass is greener". I mean that, but I also mean that you need make your choices in the moment and in regard to step 1. Confused yet? Good. Let me give you an example: Say that your 1.1, 1.2 and 1.3 are Family, job and health. But, at the moment you are being offered crack. Ok, well, that happens. But here is how you deal with that. You say, in this moment, do I need to do this? How is going to affect my priorities and goals? Is it worth the consequences? I happen to think that there is never a moment in life where smoking crack is a good idea. In fact, I often wonder how someone takes that first step. Because, it seems like you would literally feel the wind in your hair from that slippery slope you are heading down. I guess that is part of the high, I am not sure. So, lets do another example. Say your goal is to lose weight. Ok, well, somehow you ended up at the drive thru of a Wendy's. Crap. Well, live in the moment. Don't think about how you will make up for it later or how you ate well earlier so it is ok ... no, think about the decision you are making in that moment and whether it is good or not. Can you do better? Can you get the grilled chicken instead of the hamburger? How is your choice affecting your goals? Just practice, it gets easier.
Step 3: Decide that you are worth the work. Because life is hard, as we have discussed. And if you have no sense of self worth, it is easy to make poor decisions. Because, you don't care enough not to. Achieving any goal, whether it be a fancy degree, running a marathon, losing 50 pounds or getting married ... all of those consist of making very small decisions all day long and following the path of your priorities.
See how I pulled all of that together? Good. You got it. Now go do it. You should be feeling somewhat inspired right now. Choose a goal or a priority and actualize it. Right now.
Go.
No, I am serious.
Leave.
Navigate away.
In fact, why are you still at your computer?
Friday, May 1, 2009
Ode for Ben
My friend Ben. Ahhhhhhhh, where do I start. We are each others muses. That is all I can say. It is like we are soul mates, only, we don't like each other like that and also we really don't spend much time together at all. We sort of get along best when crafting things. We are totally the same. Only, we are really pretty different. But anyway, enough about how Ben and I are perfect friends. The point is that he does not read my blog, which we need to correct.
While this fact does make him somewhat less shiny in my eyes, I still love him and just want to show him the way. The way to my blog. And what better way than through narcissism? Therefore, this blog is for you Ben. And here is your song:
That familiar feeling
in the pit of his stomach
was gnawing, and crawling
and fighting for recognition
Satiating the need
find hope in the cold
warming to the sensation
filling the empty flesh
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
no rest
no respite
no where to run or hide
tracking like a panther
his hunger makes it unbearable
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
How dare they
Where are they
stealing they
eating they
Hide
run
no where to run
no where to hide
he is going to find you
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
Well, ok, so that was my first attempt at song official song writing, but, I have to brag about myself for a minute: I make up songs on the fly on a regular basis. I am kind of like a rapper only more lyrical and less rap like. I sing them to my girlfriend all the time and sometimes on peoples voicemails. It is like, a hobby of mine. But, I am hoping that through the magic that Ben works on his computer and with his keyboard that this is going to be my first commercial hit. I mean, that new judge on American Idol is a song writer and was moderatly famous in the 80's (who wasn't). So, I think that I could possibly follow in her footsteps.
If nothing else, I just really hope that Ben will come around and be the supportive friend that we both pretend we are. Ben, I think that this is really a fresh start for us. I think we can be better muses, if we allow ourselves to be.
I am going to call and leave you a creepy voicemail, any day now, and ... I hope that the hope of that keeps you going.
While this fact does make him somewhat less shiny in my eyes, I still love him and just want to show him the way. The way to my blog. And what better way than through narcissism? Therefore, this blog is for you Ben. And here is your song:
That familiar feeling
in the pit of his stomach
was gnawing, and crawling
and fighting for recognition
Satiating the need
find hope in the cold
warming to the sensation
filling the empty flesh
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
no rest
no respite
no where to run or hide
tracking like a panther
his hunger makes it unbearable
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
How dare they
Where are they
stealing they
eating they
Hide
run
no where to run
no where to hide
he is going to find you
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
Someone stole his cheese sandwich!
Well, ok, so that was my first attempt at song official song writing, but, I have to brag about myself for a minute: I make up songs on the fly on a regular basis. I am kind of like a rapper only more lyrical and less rap like. I sing them to my girlfriend all the time and sometimes on peoples voicemails. It is like, a hobby of mine. But, I am hoping that through the magic that Ben works on his computer and with his keyboard that this is going to be my first commercial hit. I mean, that new judge on American Idol is a song writer and was moderatly famous in the 80's (who wasn't). So, I think that I could possibly follow in her footsteps.
If nothing else, I just really hope that Ben will come around and be the supportive friend that we both pretend we are. Ben, I think that this is really a fresh start for us. I think we can be better muses, if we allow ourselves to be.
I am going to call and leave you a creepy voicemail, any day now, and ... I hope that the hope of that keeps you going.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
A summation of why this weekend (actually just the race) blew.
This is coming a bit late, and most of the world has heard the totality of this story but, because I don't ever want to have to repeat it again, I will let it live on in infamy in the infinity of the internet. (I totally DARE you to say that 5 times fast.)
As I recapped in my work blog post A Lesson in Pride (http://anjasmith.blountblogs.com/) I attempted my third long distance race this past weekend and failed miserably. I dropped out at mile 6. I give all of my excuses on the other blog so I will spare you those, instead, this blog post is going to be about how the cop who picked me up was a jerk. Below is a transcript of the events as they would replay in a dramatic re-enactment:
Setting the scene: I am running, moving at a 4 mile per hour pace, cop car literally riding my ass and just passing mile 6.
Race guy on a bike rides up to me from ahead and says: Are you ok?
Me: I don't know.
Race Guy: You don't look so good.
Me: I don't feel very well.
Race Guy: You need to get into the car (meaning the cop car riding my ass).
Me: (crying) I just don't feel well at all!
I walk back to the cop SUV and go around to the passenger door which the cop opens from the inside. I get in and here the cop talking to bike guy through the window.
Cop: Well where do you want me to take her?
Race guy: Back to the beginning? (with confusion)
Cop: What? That's like seven miles away. (seriously cop? Are you going to follow the race route? It is like two miles away in reality.)
Race guy: Well I will stay with the end until you get back.
Cop: Ok.
Cop then radios in for a backup person to go follow the race route until he gets back. He is driving on the wrong side of the road. And hasn't spoken to me once, let alone seen if I am in any kind of questionable medical condition. We get to the intersection at the end of that road.
Cop: Where do you want me to take you?
Me: If I can borrow a cell phone I can call a ride and you can leave me here.
Cop hands me his cell phone. Never actually looks at me.
I call my parents house, no answer. I miraculously remember my girlfriends cell phone number and she of course, freaks out and I try to tell her where to pick me up. Problem is we are in bumfuck. I lived in Greer for a year and I had no clue where we were. So I say to cop ...
Me: Where is the nearest intersection?
Cop gives the intersection we are at. Blah blah blah blah. So unhelpful.
Me: Is there a landmark nearby I can give her? She isn't from around here ...
Cop: Um. No.
Just then Cris says something about passing Mutt's.
Me: Can you take me to Mutt's?
Cop: Yes.
I tell Cris to meet me at Mutt's and hang up because he is reaching for his phone just as I hear her say she can't actually get to the Mutt's parking lot because of race traffic. Terrific.
We get to the Mutt's parking log. Cop curses that he can't open the door from where he is and gets out to open the door and once I get out promptly drives away. Still hasn't asked me if I am ok ...
So then I start walking in the direction that is most likely where Cris is coming from. Because she can't get to the Mutt's parking lot. About a quarter of a mile down the road I see her sitting in traffic and get in and cry some more.
Way to protect and serve jerk cop. This is why, even though I am not a trouble maker I hate cops. Because they are usually jerks. No offense to my cop friends. :D
I won't ever not prepare for a race again. There were other factors but that was the worst of them. I am already planning my next full marathon, and I will train correctly this time. I know I have it in me! Geez. Other than that the weekend was great!
As I recapped in my work blog post A Lesson in Pride (http://anjasmith.blountblogs.com/) I attempted my third long distance race this past weekend and failed miserably. I dropped out at mile 6. I give all of my excuses on the other blog so I will spare you those, instead, this blog post is going to be about how the cop who picked me up was a jerk. Below is a transcript of the events as they would replay in a dramatic re-enactment:
Setting the scene: I am running, moving at a 4 mile per hour pace, cop car literally riding my ass and just passing mile 6.
Race guy on a bike rides up to me from ahead and says: Are you ok?
Me: I don't know.
Race Guy: You don't look so good.
Me: I don't feel very well.
Race Guy: You need to get into the car (meaning the cop car riding my ass).
Me: (crying) I just don't feel well at all!
I walk back to the cop SUV and go around to the passenger door which the cop opens from the inside. I get in and here the cop talking to bike guy through the window.
Cop: Well where do you want me to take her?
Race guy: Back to the beginning? (with confusion)
Cop: What? That's like seven miles away. (seriously cop? Are you going to follow the race route? It is like two miles away in reality.)
Race guy: Well I will stay with the end until you get back.
Cop: Ok.
Cop then radios in for a backup person to go follow the race route until he gets back. He is driving on the wrong side of the road. And hasn't spoken to me once, let alone seen if I am in any kind of questionable medical condition. We get to the intersection at the end of that road.
Cop: Where do you want me to take you?
Me: If I can borrow a cell phone I can call a ride and you can leave me here.
Cop hands me his cell phone. Never actually looks at me.
I call my parents house, no answer. I miraculously remember my girlfriends cell phone number and she of course, freaks out and I try to tell her where to pick me up. Problem is we are in bumfuck. I lived in Greer for a year and I had no clue where we were. So I say to cop ...
Me: Where is the nearest intersection?
Cop gives the intersection we are at. Blah blah blah blah. So unhelpful.
Me: Is there a landmark nearby I can give her? She isn't from around here ...
Cop: Um. No.
Just then Cris says something about passing Mutt's.
Me: Can you take me to Mutt's?
Cop: Yes.
I tell Cris to meet me at Mutt's and hang up because he is reaching for his phone just as I hear her say she can't actually get to the Mutt's parking lot because of race traffic. Terrific.
We get to the Mutt's parking log. Cop curses that he can't open the door from where he is and gets out to open the door and once I get out promptly drives away. Still hasn't asked me if I am ok ...
So then I start walking in the direction that is most likely where Cris is coming from. Because she can't get to the Mutt's parking lot. About a quarter of a mile down the road I see her sitting in traffic and get in and cry some more.
Way to protect and serve jerk cop. This is why, even though I am not a trouble maker I hate cops. Because they are usually jerks. No offense to my cop friends. :D
I won't ever not prepare for a race again. There were other factors but that was the worst of them. I am already planning my next full marathon, and I will train correctly this time. I know I have it in me! Geez. Other than that the weekend was great!
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
I HATE YOU PUNKS!*
This post is about me being peeved. Not just the pet kind, but the occasional peeve that pops up out of no where. These "occasional peeves" always seem to stem from punks though. Christy and I have had many a conversation about punks. She says she is already like that old lady who is yelling at kids to get off her lawn. And I can't blame her. Punk kids are destroyers. Case in point: There is a sculpture show in the park behind work right now. Some punk kids vandalized one of the sculptures to the point that it is basically ruined. Someone put their heart and soul and probably a lot of money, into creating this beautiful thing for the public and some kid thought it would be awesome to tear it down. PUNKS! I HATE YOU! It just makes me so mad.
My pet peeve is drivers who don't get over until the last second when they know that a lane is ending. Especially when there is road construction or an accident on the highway and the last minute people are what are making traffic stop and start. Why should you get ahead of me just because you are a less consciousness citizen? You are taking advantage of the system! You think you deserve to get over later so you don't have to be in the slowed down lane! OH I GET SO MAD! My dad is one of those people. And he is proud of it. He gets sick joy out of upsetting me although I think it is out of love in a really perverse way. Anywise, that is my pet peeve. Please, oh readers, share with me yours.
*Punks, in this blog, are referring to kids of an unruly nature who have no regard for human decency or society. I have no problem with punk music or punk rockers. In fact I love the Sex Pistols. (So, yes, sing about chaos and wear a mohawk just don't destroy art.)
My pet peeve is drivers who don't get over until the last second when they know that a lane is ending. Especially when there is road construction or an accident on the highway and the last minute people are what are making traffic stop and start. Why should you get ahead of me just because you are a less consciousness citizen? You are taking advantage of the system! You think you deserve to get over later so you don't have to be in the slowed down lane! OH I GET SO MAD! My dad is one of those people. And he is proud of it. He gets sick joy out of upsetting me although I think it is out of love in a really perverse way. Anywise, that is my pet peeve. Please, oh readers, share with me yours.
*Punks, in this blog, are referring to kids of an unruly nature who have no regard for human decency or society. I have no problem with punk music or punk rockers. In fact I love the Sex Pistols. (So, yes, sing about chaos and wear a mohawk just don't destroy art.)
Monday, April 20, 2009
Organization. FAIL.
If you are reading this blog, you know me well enough to know that I am sooooo unorganized. I probably don't know where my sunglasses or my insurance card are off the top of my head. I have a very precarious system that is basically my memory. I have a pretty good memory so I can narrow down somethings whereabouts fairly quickly. But just because I am unorganized doesn't mean that I like it. I wish I was organized. I see how quickly some people find things and how neat their houses look and I dream of a tidier me. Sometimes this yearning pushes me to the point that I attempt it. This usually ends in ice cream and/or beer. Because I get frustrated and sad.
This weekend, I was alone. That is usually bad news. I tend to way over schedule myself for times like this because I can't stand the thought of being bored. Saturday I stayed busy, even had to cancel with some people because I wore myself out. But Sunday ... I stayed in the house all day with the intention of cleaning. It is not that I am not "good" at cleaning. When it comes to wiping surfaces, mopping, vacumming, etc. I can clean with the best of them. I just can't pick up the clutter that stands in the way of getting the real cleaning done.
Clutter is like my kryptonite. I walk into a room that has stuff lying all over it and I seize up and panic. I don't know where to start. I don't know how to start. And it is always made worse because in my life, nothing has a place. It isn't like I can just put everything in it's place. Because there isn't one. There may be an ...area. But even that is wishful thinking. And all of this stuff that doesn't have a place I am just confounded by. Because, it is not like I have super strange objects that have no logical place. I did once upon a time. I used to have boa's and swords and oversize boxing gloves. But that was high school. I have grown up and now my things are normal. Books, magazines, jewelry, shoes, etc. No matter where I put these things, it always seems ... wrong. And messy. And the mess takes over my life!
Our friend Rachel hired a professional organizer to come in and organize their house. First of all, when did that become a job? Not that I should care since I am distinctly unqualified for it. Secondly, IT IS BRILLIANT. Maybe ... just maybe, if it were organized for me I could upkeep it. But who am I kidding. I couldn't. I got past some of my fears yesterday and organized my closet. I didn't quite finish. It got the best of me. But it is a good start and I have to say it was very pleasant getting ready for work this morning, everything having a place and me knowing where that place was. But I am fearful. Because I know that lurking in the near future is the chaos. It is coming for me ...
Side note: The one area of my life that I am super organized in is my email. I can't stand for messages to sit in my in box. Nothing stays there once I have read it. It gets put into a folder or the trash. I keep emails for about a year and then purge them. I just have to figure out how to do that with the rest of my life ...
This weekend, I was alone. That is usually bad news. I tend to way over schedule myself for times like this because I can't stand the thought of being bored. Saturday I stayed busy, even had to cancel with some people because I wore myself out. But Sunday ... I stayed in the house all day with the intention of cleaning. It is not that I am not "good" at cleaning. When it comes to wiping surfaces, mopping, vacumming, etc. I can clean with the best of them. I just can't pick up the clutter that stands in the way of getting the real cleaning done.
Clutter is like my kryptonite. I walk into a room that has stuff lying all over it and I seize up and panic. I don't know where to start. I don't know how to start. And it is always made worse because in my life, nothing has a place. It isn't like I can just put everything in it's place. Because there isn't one. There may be an ...area. But even that is wishful thinking. And all of this stuff that doesn't have a place I am just confounded by. Because, it is not like I have super strange objects that have no logical place. I did once upon a time. I used to have boa's and swords and oversize boxing gloves. But that was high school. I have grown up and now my things are normal. Books, magazines, jewelry, shoes, etc. No matter where I put these things, it always seems ... wrong. And messy. And the mess takes over my life!
Our friend Rachel hired a professional organizer to come in and organize their house. First of all, when did that become a job? Not that I should care since I am distinctly unqualified for it. Secondly, IT IS BRILLIANT. Maybe ... just maybe, if it were organized for me I could upkeep it. But who am I kidding. I couldn't. I got past some of my fears yesterday and organized my closet. I didn't quite finish. It got the best of me. But it is a good start and I have to say it was very pleasant getting ready for work this morning, everything having a place and me knowing where that place was. But I am fearful. Because I know that lurking in the near future is the chaos. It is coming for me ...
Side note: The one area of my life that I am super organized in is my email. I can't stand for messages to sit in my in box. Nothing stays there once I have read it. It gets put into a folder or the trash. I keep emails for about a year and then purge them. I just have to figure out how to do that with the rest of my life ...
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
I want a tea party! Can my dolls come?
Tea parties. Really?
First off, let's discuss the historic relevance. The Boston Tea party was protesting taxation without representation. Taxation by a government thousands of miles away that had no claim on your life. That is not the same thing as your party not being in power in a democratically elected government. NOT THE SAME.
Secondly, I don't agree with the amount of tax money that is going toward the war. I would much rather that money go toward social services to enrich the lives of EVERY American, rich or poor. BUT, our tax money going toward the war is not something that is new under this administration. The only thing that has changed is the transparency of the amount that is really going overseas. The fact that we are no longer ignorant of the amount does not suddenly make it an injustice.
Thirdly, If what you are protesting is your extremely high income being taxed at a higher rate than my extremely low income, shame on you. Your secretary should not carry the burden of taxes over you. You are not PRIVILEGED to any degree higher than that which your large amounts of money will buy you. You are not a special flower or royalty or any other grand illusion that you may have just because you are wealthy. What you are is what we poor people refer to as the "haves". This is not to say you should provide for the "have nots" we are just saying, do your freaking share. Because you certainly haven't been for the past eight years. If you can't find a way to "survive" on less than $100 or 200 THOUSAND a year then I suggest you live on my salary for a year. Might change your perspective a little.
Finally, these Tea Parties are nothing more than a horse and pony show. They are not a constructive use of your time in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week. Like all of the feeble Republicans these days you are not offering a solution to any problem, you are merely whining about it. You aren't accomplishing anything more than pissing liberals like me off. There is no great impact on society here. It is a waste of your resources and brain power. Why don't you use your powers for a greater good ... like solving the problem. Then, I will personally serve you the best Early Gray I can find.
First off, let's discuss the historic relevance. The Boston Tea party was protesting taxation without representation. Taxation by a government thousands of miles away that had no claim on your life. That is not the same thing as your party not being in power in a democratically elected government. NOT THE SAME.
Secondly, I don't agree with the amount of tax money that is going toward the war. I would much rather that money go toward social services to enrich the lives of EVERY American, rich or poor. BUT, our tax money going toward the war is not something that is new under this administration. The only thing that has changed is the transparency of the amount that is really going overseas. The fact that we are no longer ignorant of the amount does not suddenly make it an injustice.
Thirdly, If what you are protesting is your extremely high income being taxed at a higher rate than my extremely low income, shame on you. Your secretary should not carry the burden of taxes over you. You are not PRIVILEGED to any degree higher than that which your large amounts of money will buy you. You are not a special flower or royalty or any other grand illusion that you may have just because you are wealthy. What you are is what we poor people refer to as the "haves". This is not to say you should provide for the "have nots" we are just saying, do your freaking share. Because you certainly haven't been for the past eight years. If you can't find a way to "survive" on less than $100 or 200 THOUSAND a year then I suggest you live on my salary for a year. Might change your perspective a little.
Finally, these Tea Parties are nothing more than a horse and pony show. They are not a constructive use of your time in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week. Like all of the feeble Republicans these days you are not offering a solution to any problem, you are merely whining about it. You aren't accomplishing anything more than pissing liberals like me off. There is no great impact on society here. It is a waste of your resources and brain power. Why don't you use your powers for a greater good ... like solving the problem. Then, I will personally serve you the best Early Gray I can find.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
OH, but the goals they will have.
I guess at some point during childhood they tell you that life will be hard. That maybe all your dreams won't come true and that things may take a while. But boy, do I NOT feel prepared for the shit storm that is adulthood. First of all, bills. Bills suck. Really badly. They are never ending and feel like throwing money away. THROWING IT AWAY. I would like to go back to childhood where earning something meant dusting your moms collectibles.
Secondly, careers. Uh, huh. Being a "career driven adult" is something that I have always striven to be. But, the problem with striving towards something and having it become part of your identity is that when you reach a certain point, you feel like you should have then reached "the goal". But then, you realize that maybe that isn't the goal you meant to have reached. So then you try for a different goal. And you realize then, that maybe that isn't the right goal either. And there is this constant cycle of striving and achieving and being unsatisfied. I think it is because we enjoy the striving more than the achieving. You really know when you are striving, there is forward movement and progress and then achieving just feels like treading water. You got to the deep end, now you have to stay afloat. Bah. How depressing is that?
At least the relationship thing is working out. For myself at least. Some of my friends aren't so lucky. And I don't even know why that is. Why is it so hard? It is dang Hollywood and the stupid Romantic Comedies. Like falling in love should be this series of mildly humorous events and then happily ever after! So not how it works. There were actually some studies I read about a few months ago that confirmed that fact. That lots of people have trouble finding love because they expect it to be like the movies. Aside from being a bit obvious and not really worthy of a study it is also a bit pathetic. Real life people. If it was like the movies, movies wouldn't be worth going to see.
I realize that all of this is a bit of a downer, but it honestly isn't meant to be. Just a reality check. Reality is a bit of a downer. As evidenced by a whole slew of 90's movies. There I go again living in the movies. Except in reality we all aren't heroine chic. Oh 90's, why did you make us think we could wear over sized flannel?
Secondly, careers. Uh, huh. Being a "career driven adult" is something that I have always striven to be. But, the problem with striving towards something and having it become part of your identity is that when you reach a certain point, you feel like you should have then reached "the goal". But then, you realize that maybe that isn't the goal you meant to have reached. So then you try for a different goal. And you realize then, that maybe that isn't the right goal either. And there is this constant cycle of striving and achieving and being unsatisfied. I think it is because we enjoy the striving more than the achieving. You really know when you are striving, there is forward movement and progress and then achieving just feels like treading water. You got to the deep end, now you have to stay afloat. Bah. How depressing is that?
At least the relationship thing is working out. For myself at least. Some of my friends aren't so lucky. And I don't even know why that is. Why is it so hard? It is dang Hollywood and the stupid Romantic Comedies. Like falling in love should be this series of mildly humorous events and then happily ever after! So not how it works. There were actually some studies I read about a few months ago that confirmed that fact. That lots of people have trouble finding love because they expect it to be like the movies. Aside from being a bit obvious and not really worthy of a study it is also a bit pathetic. Real life people. If it was like the movies, movies wouldn't be worth going to see.
I realize that all of this is a bit of a downer, but it honestly isn't meant to be. Just a reality check. Reality is a bit of a downer. As evidenced by a whole slew of 90's movies. There I go again living in the movies. Except in reality we all aren't heroine chic. Oh 90's, why did you make us think we could wear over sized flannel?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
The cat story. (For I shall have only one in my life.)
In the wake of being denied the nanny-ing job I needed some good old little kid tlc time to cheer me up. So, I offered to sit for some friends of ours kids and we had a great time. I was very responsible (note: responsible is a key word here). Drove them to gymnastics and everything. Got them to bed in a fairly timely manner. The whole nine. Yep. Ms. Responsible.
I got home a little bit after midnight, and feeling very weary I went to go dump my coffee cup from that morning and my lunch bag from that day on the kitchen counter. And then I noticed that our backdoor was open. Yikes.
I wasn't really alarmed about someone having broke in because I had walked through the living room and all of our stuff was still there ... but my second thought was, "Oh CRAP. THE CATS." The cats, Salem and Oscar, have a very good life. They get wet food often enough and treats all the time and I even brush them (!) but they still tend to try to escape, as cats do, when the door is left open.
I knew Salem was there because he was being very vocal. As per usual. But I couldn't find Oscar. So I take the treats out of the cabinet and shake them. Usually, this is enough to make him come leaping across the room in a fashion that is almost frightening. But he didn't come. So I went out on the back porch and shook the treats. Nothing. So I put on my coat and grabbed a flashlight and, treats in hand, head out to look for him. In the very cold, slightly wet, middle of the night.
I was on the phone with Cris by this point and she is very upset. After all, they are VERY MUCH her cats. But after a 45 minute excursion, checking under all the decks and all the cars in the neighborhood, still no Oscar.
My next plan of attack was to put wet food in the front and back of the house hoping the smell would lure him in. And then I waited. I couldn't go to bed because that would defeat the purpose of luring him in. So, I made my lunch and got the coffee ready, etc etc and at some point (2:30 a.m. actually) something catches my eye outside and Oscar is on the porch. Just hanging out.
So I open the door and of course, he darts away. I shake the treats, which intrigues him. But is also the point that Salem decides to run through the open door. I am officially cursing and kind of want to cry because, did I mention I had been up since 5 a.m. the day before?
Finally I got the cats inside. Both of them. And locked the door. And in case you are wondering, the door was open because I didn't lock it and it opens easily when not locked. The wind broke into our house.
I got home a little bit after midnight, and feeling very weary I went to go dump my coffee cup from that morning and my lunch bag from that day on the kitchen counter. And then I noticed that our backdoor was open. Yikes.
I wasn't really alarmed about someone having broke in because I had walked through the living room and all of our stuff was still there ... but my second thought was, "Oh CRAP. THE CATS." The cats, Salem and Oscar, have a very good life. They get wet food often enough and treats all the time and I even brush them (!) but they still tend to try to escape, as cats do, when the door is left open.
I knew Salem was there because he was being very vocal. As per usual. But I couldn't find Oscar. So I take the treats out of the cabinet and shake them. Usually, this is enough to make him come leaping across the room in a fashion that is almost frightening. But he didn't come. So I went out on the back porch and shook the treats. Nothing. So I put on my coat and grabbed a flashlight and, treats in hand, head out to look for him. In the very cold, slightly wet, middle of the night.
I was on the phone with Cris by this point and she is very upset. After all, they are VERY MUCH her cats. But after a 45 minute excursion, checking under all the decks and all the cars in the neighborhood, still no Oscar.
My next plan of attack was to put wet food in the front and back of the house hoping the smell would lure him in. And then I waited. I couldn't go to bed because that would defeat the purpose of luring him in. So, I made my lunch and got the coffee ready, etc etc and at some point (2:30 a.m. actually) something catches my eye outside and Oscar is on the porch. Just hanging out.
So I open the door and of course, he darts away. I shake the treats, which intrigues him. But is also the point that Salem decides to run through the open door. I am officially cursing and kind of want to cry because, did I mention I had been up since 5 a.m. the day before?
Finally I got the cats inside. Both of them. And locked the door. And in case you are wondering, the door was open because I didn't lock it and it opens easily when not locked. The wind broke into our house.
Monday, April 6, 2009
The people my mother warned me about
Disclaimer: This is one of those posts that are going to make people feel sorry for me. That isn't my goal. I talk about this stuff because I think it is important for people to understand how this kind of ignorance/hate effects the people it is directed at. It is only through that understanding that any real change can be made.
When I came out to my mother, I remember her saying that she was sad because "this is going to make your life harder." And I remember thinking that was a crazy thing to say. After all, I like being gay, I have no inner turmoil. I am lucky enough to not have a religion that bans me to hell for it and my family accepts me. And on a day to day basis, my life is not harder. I am in a committed, monogamous, and blissfully happy relationship with very little squabbling. I would say I have it pretty darn good, not HARDER.
Meanwhile, I am living my happy little life and money is a little bit tight. So, I come up with a brilliant plan to nanny part time for the woman that I do freelance for occasionally. I have been at her house while she is trying to work and her kids are begging her for things every few moments and thought to myself, 'How does she work like this?'. So like any good entrepreneur, I saw a need and thought I could fill it.
Now, way back when, the very first time I met with her I was very nervous and wanted very badly to have the means to move to Knoxville. So when the subject of my significant other came up I let it go when she referred to Cris as 'he'. I immediately regretted the decision but what was done was done and after all, it isn't her business. We are working together professionally and I had no reason to go into my private life. But it always bugged me that I felt like I was lying to her. I never used pronouns. Always referring to Cris as Cris, but I knew I was being dishonest.
So when the time came that I was going to be around her for several hours at a time, watching her kids and being in her home, I felt it best to come clean. I could tell that she is conservative, so I knew it was a gamble, but I felt strongly that she should know.
The meeting and the coming out when WAY better than I thought. We talked for an hour about things like education, discipline, instilling morality and allergies. I was psyched. She ended the interview with wanting ME to think about it to make sure I really wanted to do it.
So, I sent her an email Friday saying that I was really excited about it and that I could start Wednesday, blah blah blah.
And then.
I get an email this morning saying that her and her husband are just not comfortable with it and thanks so much anyway.
I tried really hard to not let it bother me. I did. But ... what the hell? What does me being gay have to do with how well I care for your child? I have been babysitting since I was 12 and those kids are teenagers now and not one of THEM are gay! Do they think I am going to brain wash their kids or worse ... molest them?!? What exactly is going through their minds? I just don't understand. I knew this kind of ignorance existed but I really didn't think it was prevalent in today's society. I guess that is MY ignorance.
I am just so ... sad ... about it. I was really looking forward to it. But, there you go. Mom was right. Today, it made my life harder. It hit me personally and professionally and it is hard. I just have one thought about this. You don't learn to be gay, it isn't something that is taught. But ignorance and hate ARE TAUGHT. I only hope that those kids are lucky enough to find their own way and make their own decisions instead of being caught up in the cycle that their parent's obviously are.
When I came out to my mother, I remember her saying that she was sad because "this is going to make your life harder." And I remember thinking that was a crazy thing to say. After all, I like being gay, I have no inner turmoil. I am lucky enough to not have a religion that bans me to hell for it and my family accepts me. And on a day to day basis, my life is not harder. I am in a committed, monogamous, and blissfully happy relationship with very little squabbling. I would say I have it pretty darn good, not HARDER.
Meanwhile, I am living my happy little life and money is a little bit tight. So, I come up with a brilliant plan to nanny part time for the woman that I do freelance for occasionally. I have been at her house while she is trying to work and her kids are begging her for things every few moments and thought to myself, 'How does she work like this?'. So like any good entrepreneur, I saw a need and thought I could fill it.
Now, way back when, the very first time I met with her I was very nervous and wanted very badly to have the means to move to Knoxville. So when the subject of my significant other came up I let it go when she referred to Cris as 'he'. I immediately regretted the decision but what was done was done and after all, it isn't her business. We are working together professionally and I had no reason to go into my private life. But it always bugged me that I felt like I was lying to her. I never used pronouns. Always referring to Cris as Cris, but I knew I was being dishonest.
So when the time came that I was going to be around her for several hours at a time, watching her kids and being in her home, I felt it best to come clean. I could tell that she is conservative, so I knew it was a gamble, but I felt strongly that she should know.
The meeting and the coming out when WAY better than I thought. We talked for an hour about things like education, discipline, instilling morality and allergies. I was psyched. She ended the interview with wanting ME to think about it to make sure I really wanted to do it.
So, I sent her an email Friday saying that I was really excited about it and that I could start Wednesday, blah blah blah.
And then.
I get an email this morning saying that her and her husband are just not comfortable with it and thanks so much anyway.
I tried really hard to not let it bother me. I did. But ... what the hell? What does me being gay have to do with how well I care for your child? I have been babysitting since I was 12 and those kids are teenagers now and not one of THEM are gay! Do they think I am going to brain wash their kids or worse ... molest them?!? What exactly is going through their minds? I just don't understand. I knew this kind of ignorance existed but I really didn't think it was prevalent in today's society. I guess that is MY ignorance.
I am just so ... sad ... about it. I was really looking forward to it. But, there you go. Mom was right. Today, it made my life harder. It hit me personally and professionally and it is hard. I just have one thought about this. You don't learn to be gay, it isn't something that is taught. But ignorance and hate ARE TAUGHT. I only hope that those kids are lucky enough to find their own way and make their own decisions instead of being caught up in the cycle that their parent's obviously are.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Stop lying to me Chick-Fil-A
So this morning, Chick Fil A brought us a free lunch! Okay, so we are guinea pigs for some new menu items but, still, a VERY nice thing for us poor newsroom workers. I do however, have a complaint. They brought us two new "healthy" breakfast menu items. A smoothie and a parfait.
Don't get me wrong, they were both REALLY GOOD. Fresh strawberries, granola, the whole nine. But healthy, they are not. Both of these items had sooo much sugar in them that they could easier be called dessert items than a healthy breakfast alternative. I suppose if you trying to decide between a milkshake or a smoothie, the smoothie would be healthier. Or if you are worried about saturated fats from a breakfast sandwich, the yogurt parfait might be a better alternative. I just find it misleading to call an item, laden with high calorie sugar, a healthy food item. This is why America is fat.
We have been tricked by marketing into thinking that items are healthy when they aren't. One of my favorite examples of this is Cris (sorry honey) and her Dark Chocolate Raisinets. They have healthy labels all over the front the of them. Touting things like anti-oxidents and 30% less fat ... and oohhhh aren't they shiny? And compared to a Snickers bar, they are better. But HEALTHY and GOOD FOR YOU ... no.
So this is the thing. Stop eating fast food. Period. Nothing sold there is good for you. If you are put in the situation where you need to eat fast food ... well, first I say rewind. Can you pack a meal? Because that would be better. But say you can't pack a meal. There are definitely better choices out there than a Big Mac and Fries (not too many, but going with the grilled chicken is a good start). But you shouldn't be eating out, particularly at fast food places, if you are trying to watch your weight. It just isn't going to work. I just wish they would stop lying to people to make them think otherwise.
Don't get me wrong, they were both REALLY GOOD. Fresh strawberries, granola, the whole nine. But healthy, they are not. Both of these items had sooo much sugar in them that they could easier be called dessert items than a healthy breakfast alternative. I suppose if you trying to decide between a milkshake or a smoothie, the smoothie would be healthier. Or if you are worried about saturated fats from a breakfast sandwich, the yogurt parfait might be a better alternative. I just find it misleading to call an item, laden with high calorie sugar, a healthy food item. This is why America is fat.
We have been tricked by marketing into thinking that items are healthy when they aren't. One of my favorite examples of this is Cris (sorry honey) and her Dark Chocolate Raisinets. They have healthy labels all over the front the of them. Touting things like anti-oxidents and 30% less fat ... and oohhhh aren't they shiny? And compared to a Snickers bar, they are better. But HEALTHY and GOOD FOR YOU ... no.
So this is the thing. Stop eating fast food. Period. Nothing sold there is good for you. If you are put in the situation where you need to eat fast food ... well, first I say rewind. Can you pack a meal? Because that would be better. But say you can't pack a meal. There are definitely better choices out there than a Big Mac and Fries (not too many, but going with the grilled chicken is a good start). But you shouldn't be eating out, particularly at fast food places, if you are trying to watch your weight. It just isn't going to work. I just wish they would stop lying to people to make them think otherwise.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
You can't buy this kind of advertising ...
Twitter is taking over the world. I thought facebook was bad. But seriously, the world, celebrities especially are OBSESSED. My google reader newsfeed just now literally had seven different posts that contained some version of the word Twitter.
Yes, I am on Twitter. I have been for a long time. I am not even really sure why because very few of my friends are and none of them are active (despite my best attempts). But, now that it is taking over the world, it is more of a newsfeed than anything else because all the news outlets use it to post headlines. Including the humble little Daily Times.
But, I am becoming convinced that this obsession is less of an obsession and more of product placement. It just can't be a coincidence that not only do all of these television shows use twitter, but mention it on air about 30 times a show. Ellen talks about it constantly, as does MSNBC. I realize that I am being a little conspiracy theory here, but I honestly think that it can't all be for real.
I have been a member of twitter since I heard them talk about it on a geek podcast a few years ago. I thought it was a little strange and stalker-esque of course, but, still I thought I would give it a try. And maybe it is just that it has worked it's way up to proclivity, but I doubt it. And mostly for this reason. There aren't nearly as many real person users on twitter as there are people using it for advertising .. more or less.
Here is how a little used website became an obsession for me. Friendbar. A little firefox plug in that allows me to view facebook and twitter updates at the top of my browser in a constant stream. And I can update my status and my Twitter at the same time just by clicking and typing. In fact, I rarely, if ever, actually visit either site. So, both have become a sort of news crawl at the top of my screen. Not unlike the crawl at the bottom of CNN, only clickable! And this is where it becomes straight up advertising. As MSNBC puts up breaking news, I click on it, and it takes me to the story. Yep. They get an individual click on their website by posting headlines on Twitter. And unless you have been living under a rock, you know that news is facing a bit of a dilemma monetarily these days and is moving to an ad driven system. How do you sell ads on your website? Individual clicks.
Conspiracy. All driven by advertising dollars. I can't wait until we start hearing about how the headline "Shaq tweets at half-time of Suns Game" comes back as "Twit scandal: Shaq tweets made by assistant, Twitter pays premium for Shaq Tweets". Because we all know, nothing builds a brand faster than a celebrity wearing it.
Yes, I am on Twitter. I have been for a long time. I am not even really sure why because very few of my friends are and none of them are active (despite my best attempts). But, now that it is taking over the world, it is more of a newsfeed than anything else because all the news outlets use it to post headlines. Including the humble little Daily Times.
But, I am becoming convinced that this obsession is less of an obsession and more of product placement. It just can't be a coincidence that not only do all of these television shows use twitter, but mention it on air about 30 times a show. Ellen talks about it constantly, as does MSNBC. I realize that I am being a little conspiracy theory here, but I honestly think that it can't all be for real.
I have been a member of twitter since I heard them talk about it on a geek podcast a few years ago. I thought it was a little strange and stalker-esque of course, but, still I thought I would give it a try. And maybe it is just that it has worked it's way up to proclivity, but I doubt it. And mostly for this reason. There aren't nearly as many real person users on twitter as there are people using it for advertising .. more or less.
Here is how a little used website became an obsession for me. Friendbar. A little firefox plug in that allows me to view facebook and twitter updates at the top of my browser in a constant stream. And I can update my status and my Twitter at the same time just by clicking and typing. In fact, I rarely, if ever, actually visit either site. So, both have become a sort of news crawl at the top of my screen. Not unlike the crawl at the bottom of CNN, only clickable! And this is where it becomes straight up advertising. As MSNBC puts up breaking news, I click on it, and it takes me to the story. Yep. They get an individual click on their website by posting headlines on Twitter. And unless you have been living under a rock, you know that news is facing a bit of a dilemma monetarily these days and is moving to an ad driven system. How do you sell ads on your website? Individual clicks.
Conspiracy. All driven by advertising dollars. I can't wait until we start hearing about how the headline "Shaq tweets at half-time of Suns Game" comes back as "Twit scandal: Shaq tweets made by assistant, Twitter pays premium for Shaq Tweets". Because we all know, nothing builds a brand faster than a celebrity wearing it.
Monday, March 23, 2009
What happened to sh*t happens?
I have one of those bizarrely clear childhood memories of reading an article in the newspaper that claimed that "sue" was American's favorite word. At the time, I took it as a fact. As though it were a study or a measure of our speech. I realize now that the article was probably an editorial or an opinion piece and not actually a measure of what American's favorite word is. (That didn't stop me from repeating that "fact" to everyone who would listen for the next two weeks ... I became oddly obsessed with this idea.) But, I would probably agree with the point of the article if I could re-read it now. Because we love to sue people. We love to make people pay monetarily for screw ups. Our judicial system even criminally charges people for some stuff that I just ... don't get.
Because here is the thing. Sh*t happens. It does. People make mistakes. Car accidents: mistakes. Doctors misdiagnosing someone: mistake. Even bar fights gone wrong: mistakes.
Now, I am not saying if someone is drunk driving, or being horribly negligent or in any way malicious, that they shouldn't be punished for it. But there are a lot of instances where something that is a total accident ruins peoples lives because they get nailed for it in court.
I think my view on this relates back to my religious views. Stay with me here. I just don't think people should be judged on individual actions (often done in the heat of a moment, etc.) so much as their overall moral character and the arc of their life. Because, some people have hard lives which force them into situations that other people wouldn't find themselves in. So, just as I don't think that people should be judged for eternity on whether or not they are saved, or whether they covet their neighbors wife, or steal, or even kill (accidentally) I don't think that should always send a person away for life either.
I realize that our judicial system can't get into the business of whether or not people are fundamentally good or not, but the people that press charges or choose to sue can. There just seems to be a lot more of "an eye for an eye" than "turning the other cheek" these days ... that's all I am saying.
Because here is the thing. Sh*t happens. It does. People make mistakes. Car accidents: mistakes. Doctors misdiagnosing someone: mistake. Even bar fights gone wrong: mistakes.
Now, I am not saying if someone is drunk driving, or being horribly negligent or in any way malicious, that they shouldn't be punished for it. But there are a lot of instances where something that is a total accident ruins peoples lives because they get nailed for it in court.
I think my view on this relates back to my religious views. Stay with me here. I just don't think people should be judged on individual actions (often done in the heat of a moment, etc.) so much as their overall moral character and the arc of their life. Because, some people have hard lives which force them into situations that other people wouldn't find themselves in. So, just as I don't think that people should be judged for eternity on whether or not they are saved, or whether they covet their neighbors wife, or steal, or even kill (accidentally) I don't think that should always send a person away for life either.
I realize that our judicial system can't get into the business of whether or not people are fundamentally good or not, but the people that press charges or choose to sue can. There just seems to be a lot more of "an eye for an eye" than "turning the other cheek" these days ... that's all I am saying.
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