Okay, so clearly I'm having some trouble with blogging consistency. I'm a busy gal, juggling many roles and careers, it seems. Not the least of which is seeing my book to completion, so you all will have some lengthier Ilene Angel writing to amuse yourselves with and hold in your hands, in addition to the virtual relationship we've been maintaining for a year and a half now.
So I was sitting in the local diner that my father frequents on a daily basis, looking at the ads on the paper place mat, when I noticed an ad for Overeaters Anonymous. Just then an obese man wearing shorts with his butt crack showing waddled by. Is it just me or does anyone else find irony like this in their everyday lives? I switched my fries to a vegetable order and decided that life is indeed equal parts comedy and tragedy.
That brings me to my flip flops. Yes, I'm all about the segue. I found a pair of the most comfortable flip flops ever. They're made by Clarks. Now in the great flip flop discussion that most people could care less about, I land of the side of those of us who partake in the odd little sandal wearing. So I went on line to see if I could find a second pair, yes, I was looking for a back up pair of flip flops. I landed on Amazon.com, which is not an uncommon occurrence for me. Lo and behold, they had them in my size.
As good marketing skills would advise, Amazon has a habit of suggesting other items you might like based on your past purchases. So there I sat, reading "Customers who purchased this item also bought..." and there it was: two other pairs of flip flops and a Karl Rove memoir. This disturbed me.
I did a double take...right before wondering what my shoe tastes had to do with Karl Rove. Mr. Rove, or Satan's brother, as I affectionately refer to hm on occasion, is not one of my favorite people. But according to Amazon, at least one other person wearing my flip flops has purchased Rove's book.
I am about to leave for Florida, and as I walk the oil covered beaches of the Gulf, I will be looking for someone, someone very specific. Maybe she'll be nestled under an umbrella with sunglasses on. Maybe she'll be sporting a bikini. Lord knows I won't be. Whoever she is, she will be wearing Clark's flip flops like mine and holding a Karl Rove book. That's how I'll know my fellow shopper.
Maybe I'll stop and ask her how she likes the book...or the shoes, or Obama. Maybe I'll just keep on walking. It is, after all, a vacation.
Wherever your summer plans take you, thanks for stopping by and spending a couple of minutes with me.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
In Search of...solutions and diversions
I received an email last night that contained a link to a YouTube video by a man who says he knows a solution for safely cleaning up the oil spill. It seemed plausible to me, although at one in the morning after surviving an evening of CMT Music Fest and a delicous glass of cheap Port, many things seem plausible to me.
The solution on the video was unleashing some particular microbes that eat oil and then die, leaving the ocean clean and safe for its natural inhabitants. Part of me thinks this sounds too good to be true, but then again, all we've got so far is putting a cap on the gusher, which has neither worked nor addressed the issue of clean up. So maybe it's not so crazy. Anyway, I'm putting it out there, in case any of you readers have thoughts on it or the ability to follow up on its veracity. Here's the link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VfypUzx1tI&feature=player_embedded#
So now to the other topic of the day - diversions. I am having a hard time finding an actual one these days, one that will take my mind off the pending doom caused by the oil spill and the greed in general that has brought us to the tipping point economically, environmentally, and every other which way. Most people can amuse themselves with sporting events like the World Cup, which according to ABC News, more than a billion people worldwide will be watching. I will not be one of them.
The mass hysteria of team sporting events has always been somewhat of an enigma to me. When I see people get genuinely riled up about this team or that player, I find myself wondering, "Will that player pay your mortgage this month?" Or most recently, "Will the winning soccer team go scoop up some oil?" Because otherwise, I truly don't care.
So how do I take a mental break from the stresses of our current world? Clearly I won't be watching soccer. Maybe a movie. Let's see, oh for goodness sake The Karate Kid? Really? I believe that falls under the category of "don't mess with perfection." I don't want to watch a remake of it and spoil my perfect memories of Ralph Macchio. Then there's The A-Team. Again, really? How about Robin Hood? Is there anything that's not a remake?? Or a sequel? We've got Shrek Forever After, Sex in the City 2, Iron Man 2...oh, come on!!!
The solution on the video was unleashing some particular microbes that eat oil and then die, leaving the ocean clean and safe for its natural inhabitants. Part of me thinks this sounds too good to be true, but then again, all we've got so far is putting a cap on the gusher, which has neither worked nor addressed the issue of clean up. So maybe it's not so crazy. Anyway, I'm putting it out there, in case any of you readers have thoughts on it or the ability to follow up on its veracity. Here's the link:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8VfypUzx1tI&feature=player_embedded#
So now to the other topic of the day - diversions. I am having a hard time finding an actual one these days, one that will take my mind off the pending doom caused by the oil spill and the greed in general that has brought us to the tipping point economically, environmentally, and every other which way. Most people can amuse themselves with sporting events like the World Cup, which according to ABC News, more than a billion people worldwide will be watching. I will not be one of them.
The mass hysteria of team sporting events has always been somewhat of an enigma to me. When I see people get genuinely riled up about this team or that player, I find myself wondering, "Will that player pay your mortgage this month?" Or most recently, "Will the winning soccer team go scoop up some oil?" Because otherwise, I truly don't care.
So how do I take a mental break from the stresses of our current world? Clearly I won't be watching soccer. Maybe a movie. Let's see, oh for goodness sake The Karate Kid? Really? I believe that falls under the category of "don't mess with perfection." I don't want to watch a remake of it and spoil my perfect memories of Ralph Macchio. Then there's The A-Team. Again, really? How about Robin Hood? Is there anything that's not a remake?? Or a sequel? We've got Shrek Forever After, Sex in the City 2, Iron Man 2...oh, come on!!!
Maybe I'll go for a nice bike ride. Oh wait, I don't own a bicycle. Darn. Well, I'm determined to find something fun to do that will give me a short mental break from the trials of the real world.
Suggestions anyone???? Thanks for stopping by...and enjoy the soccer, you team sports fans.
Monday, June 7, 2010
In Search of...a book, a website, and the fortitude to make them both happen
You may have noticed that I haven't blogged in quite a while, and been thinking to yourself, what has Ilene been up to? I've missed her pearls of wisdom and dry wit. (Or possibly, the thought never crossed your mind and you were happy that I wasn't ranting about how bad American Idol was this season.) Well, I'm back and ready to catch you up...on both my wit and my whereabouts.
If Blanche Dubois "always relied on the kindness of strangers," I have been relying heavily on the kindness of friends. In the immortal words of one of them, "Ilene, if you can't afford to pay people to do things for you, then you have to learn how to do things for yourself." And that's how I came to design my own website...with the help of said friend, Sue Fabisch. (Fortunately, the do-it-yourself mentality has not yet spread to plumbing and electrical wiring, but there's really no telling.)
So now I have a brand new website to invite you to visit. It is: http://www.ileneangel.com/ and I'm very proud of it. It took more hours and painstaking work than I care to think about, learning curve for the technologically challenged and all that.
And remember how when I started this blog, it was in the hopes that it would help me get a book deal for my memoir by amassing legions of loyal readers? Well, after much deliberation and reading an article in the New York Times about the merits of self-publishing, I finally decided to do it. I mean, why deny you, my lovely readers, the chance to read my book any longer? And so, again, came my reliance on friends - for cover photos, layout and graphics, editing, you name it. When you do something yourself, heck, you never really are "doing it yourself." Like raising children, it takes a village.
Okay, so while I've quoted both Tennessee Williams and Hillary Clinton in one blog, I might as well dip my toe into politics. Oh, where to start...
I'm going to start with something that makes me happy - our newest Supreme Court nominee, Elena Kagan. Yes, a single, Jewish broad from New York on the bench makes me happy. And having attended Princeton, Oxford, and Harvard ain't too shabby either. So I say "Yay, sister." And while I'm at it, since Obama appears to be sinking in the squandered opportunities of the mandate with which he was elected, I'm thinking, at least at this moment, that his Supreme Court nominees might end up being his greatest legacy. But it's too soon to tell.
Have I waited long enough to talk about healthcare reform? Yes, the legislation passed. And for an in depth look at what that really means for you and me, you'll have to wait until I attend a day long meeting next week about what it really does mean. However, here's what I know for sure: my premiums are still too monumentally high, and my coverage isn't any better. Strike one. I have, however, met with two of Tennessee's state senators since we last gathered here.
It started, as most healthcare activities do for me in Nashville, with a call from the Tennessee Healthcare Campaign, asking me to go with one of them to meet with some senators the next day. I being one to never pass up an opportunity like that, decided to say yes. Why not? So off I went the next day to Legislative Plaza, (where I started having PTSD about the 2000 presidential election, but that's a horse of another color entirely). Anyway, I met up with the THC person and asked what it was we were supposed to be requesting that these senators do in our meetings. Among other things, it was to keep daycare centers open for the mentally ill so they don't wind up back on the streets, in jail, or in mental hospitals, all of which cost the taxpayers a lot more money.
The first senator we met with was in his eighties and the spitting image of Boss Hogg from The Dukes of Hazzard. He was hard of hearing, completely uninterested in what we had to say (which he couldn't hear most of anyway), and every time he would lean back in his chair and close his eyes to formulate a sentence, I was sure he was on his last breath. Our useless meeting lasted ten minutes, during which time he told us he wouldn't vote for anything that cost money. I thought he was a Republican when I left, which it turns out, was not the case.
The second meeting went only slightly better. This senator was in his seventies and regaled us with tales of his impoverished youth. He also gave us a nifty lapel pin and a blue book about Tennessee, two items I'll treasure forever - if I could only remember where I put them.
Switching gears to pop culture, I can only say that thank God that Gilligan's-Island-run-amok show called Lost is finally over. (All outraged readers, please send your emails elsewhere. I hated the show.) And yes, American Idol totally jumped the shark. The most moving part of the whole season was the farewell to Simon on the final night, who, let's face it, we'll all be watching when his new show comes out next season. And speaking of Simon, here's wishing him marital bliss.
As summer arrives, I am gleefully looking forward to reading more. After all, my summer TV watching is confined to a couple of U.S. marshals, a Hamptons doctor, and a guy who can tell when people are lying. I don't really care if America does have talent or who thinks they can dance. I need a break from fake reality for a while.
That brings me to the book I'm reading now about the Secret Service. Is there any president who wasn't a philanderer? Well, Nixon wasn't, but he was a cold, cold man. Granted I'm only on page 40, but so far Obama's only sin is a cigarette. I say let the leader of the free world have a smoke if he wants to. The world is clearly ending anyway.
To wrap up on that happy note, you know how else beside the oil spill I know the world is truly ending? I agreed with Liz Cheney and George Will about Israel's actions in Gaza when they were talking about it on This Week yesterday. The fact that I could agree with those two on anything, let alone Israel, is a sure sign of the end of times.
Well, that's it for today, folks. It feels great to be back. Thank for stopping by, and please tell your friends.
If Blanche Dubois "always relied on the kindness of strangers," I have been relying heavily on the kindness of friends. In the immortal words of one of them, "Ilene, if you can't afford to pay people to do things for you, then you have to learn how to do things for yourself." And that's how I came to design my own website...with the help of said friend, Sue Fabisch. (Fortunately, the do-it-yourself mentality has not yet spread to plumbing and electrical wiring, but there's really no telling.)
So now I have a brand new website to invite you to visit. It is: http://www.ileneangel.com/ and I'm very proud of it. It took more hours and painstaking work than I care to think about, learning curve for the technologically challenged and all that.
And remember how when I started this blog, it was in the hopes that it would help me get a book deal for my memoir by amassing legions of loyal readers? Well, after much deliberation and reading an article in the New York Times about the merits of self-publishing, I finally decided to do it. I mean, why deny you, my lovely readers, the chance to read my book any longer? And so, again, came my reliance on friends - for cover photos, layout and graphics, editing, you name it. When you do something yourself, heck, you never really are "doing it yourself." Like raising children, it takes a village.
Okay, so while I've quoted both Tennessee Williams and Hillary Clinton in one blog, I might as well dip my toe into politics. Oh, where to start...
I'm going to start with something that makes me happy - our newest Supreme Court nominee, Elena Kagan. Yes, a single, Jewish broad from New York on the bench makes me happy. And having attended Princeton, Oxford, and Harvard ain't too shabby either. So I say "Yay, sister." And while I'm at it, since Obama appears to be sinking in the squandered opportunities of the mandate with which he was elected, I'm thinking, at least at this moment, that his Supreme Court nominees might end up being his greatest legacy. But it's too soon to tell.
Have I waited long enough to talk about healthcare reform? Yes, the legislation passed. And for an in depth look at what that really means for you and me, you'll have to wait until I attend a day long meeting next week about what it really does mean. However, here's what I know for sure: my premiums are still too monumentally high, and my coverage isn't any better. Strike one. I have, however, met with two of Tennessee's state senators since we last gathered here.
It started, as most healthcare activities do for me in Nashville, with a call from the Tennessee Healthcare Campaign, asking me to go with one of them to meet with some senators the next day. I being one to never pass up an opportunity like that, decided to say yes. Why not? So off I went the next day to Legislative Plaza, (where I started having PTSD about the 2000 presidential election, but that's a horse of another color entirely). Anyway, I met up with the THC person and asked what it was we were supposed to be requesting that these senators do in our meetings. Among other things, it was to keep daycare centers open for the mentally ill so they don't wind up back on the streets, in jail, or in mental hospitals, all of which cost the taxpayers a lot more money.
The first senator we met with was in his eighties and the spitting image of Boss Hogg from The Dukes of Hazzard. He was hard of hearing, completely uninterested in what we had to say (which he couldn't hear most of anyway), and every time he would lean back in his chair and close his eyes to formulate a sentence, I was sure he was on his last breath. Our useless meeting lasted ten minutes, during which time he told us he wouldn't vote for anything that cost money. I thought he was a Republican when I left, which it turns out, was not the case.
The second meeting went only slightly better. This senator was in his seventies and regaled us with tales of his impoverished youth. He also gave us a nifty lapel pin and a blue book about Tennessee, two items I'll treasure forever - if I could only remember where I put them.
Switching gears to pop culture, I can only say that thank God that Gilligan's-Island-run-amok show called Lost is finally over. (All outraged readers, please send your emails elsewhere. I hated the show.) And yes, American Idol totally jumped the shark. The most moving part of the whole season was the farewell to Simon on the final night, who, let's face it, we'll all be watching when his new show comes out next season. And speaking of Simon, here's wishing him marital bliss.
As summer arrives, I am gleefully looking forward to reading more. After all, my summer TV watching is confined to a couple of U.S. marshals, a Hamptons doctor, and a guy who can tell when people are lying. I don't really care if America does have talent or who thinks they can dance. I need a break from fake reality for a while.
That brings me to the book I'm reading now about the Secret Service. Is there any president who wasn't a philanderer? Well, Nixon wasn't, but he was a cold, cold man. Granted I'm only on page 40, but so far Obama's only sin is a cigarette. I say let the leader of the free world have a smoke if he wants to. The world is clearly ending anyway.
To wrap up on that happy note, you know how else beside the oil spill I know the world is truly ending? I agreed with Liz Cheney and George Will about Israel's actions in Gaza when they were talking about it on This Week yesterday. The fact that I could agree with those two on anything, let alone Israel, is a sure sign of the end of times.
Well, that's it for today, folks. It feels great to be back. Thank for stopping by, and please tell your friends.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
In Search of...an Oscar blog
I would like to win an Oscar. To tell you the truth, up until about two days ago when Jay Leno started knocking on people's doors and asking them, I thought everyone wanted to win an Oscar. But most people were like "Who me? I could never!" which surprised me because, like I said, I've always wanted to win one.
The Oscars are a big deal in my family, second only to Christmas...well, if we celebrated Christmas. We love the movies. Who doesn't? As a matter of fact, my brother works in post production on most of what you see in theatres, so we have many discussions throughout the year.
You may be thinking that I wanted to win my Oscar for acting, but that is not the case...though I do seem to have the ability to cry willy nilly, and that could win me one in a pinch. While I don't remember what year I first became conscious of watching the show, I can tell you when I knew for certain I wanted that bad boy, and what I knew I was going to win it for.
It was 1973 when I went to the movies and '74 when the awards were presented. I was only eight as I sat mesmerized and weepy-eyed in a movie that was way beyond my years, but hey, it had Barbra Streisand in it, and you can't deny a Jewish girl from New York her Barbra Streisand. Yes, there was Katie and Hubbell, too beautiful for words standing in front of The Plaza, but there was another character in that movie too - the music. And as the strings swelled and the theme played throughout it, as we heard that glorious voice sing that haunting melody, with each word capturing the emotion of the images on the screen, I knew with great certainty that that was my calling. I wanted to win my Oscar for Best Original Song in a motion picture.
I thought about scoring movies too, but beyond sweeping melodies I don't like to fool with arrangements. Besides, I like words. No, the song, that was the thing. And it wasn't like it is now where the song is played as the credits are rolling and everyone's vacating the theatre. Back then the song was part of the movie, and that is what thrilled me.
Growing up in the seventies gave me plenty of opportunity to make sure this was not a passing fancy. I watched Goldie Hawn drive down the California coast in Foul Play as I listened to Barry Manilow sing "Ready to Take a Chance Again," and Seals & Crofts offer up "My Fair Share" in a Robby Benson movie called One on One. The clincher of all was Didi Conn lip synching "You Light Up My Life" in the movie of the same name. That one really hit home because it was about an insecure woman becoming a hit singer/songwriter. And I didn't care that even as a child I had to suspend a lot of belief to buy into the idea that Kasey Cisyk's voice was coming out of Didi Conn. (And just for you trivia buffs out there, it was Kasey Cisyk, not Debby Boone that sang it in the movie, but no record label would release the song at the time with a jingle singer. So when the movie finally got picked up for theatrical release, Joe Brooks, the songwriter, had Debby Boone record it where it stayed at #1 for ten weeks. I personally feel bad for Kasey Cisyk, but such is show business.)
Back to my Oscar win. I envision them calling my name, and me approaching the stage looking stunning in my black or purple gown (I can't decide). And I climb the stairs proudly, kiss the presenters, and at long last hold the golden statue in my hands. I will be prepared, not like all those people who are stupid enough not to be when they know they are nominated. As a matter of fact, I've been preparing for years. I remember to thank the academy first (and not God because God doesn't have a vote in the academy, so He can wait), and then whomever was responsible for getting my song into the movie. After that it's up for grabs (so you might all want to be nice to me if you want quality air time). Maybe I don't thank a laundry list. Maybe I talk about the value of dreams. I've had a lot of variations on my vision of this moment over the years.
But tonight I will be watching at home. In honor of the auspicious occasion I will be dressed in sweats without holes in them. I might even break out my favorite Saturday Night Fever shirt. (John Travolta was nominated for that movie, so at least there's an Oscar connection.) I will undoubtedly be bejeweled. I'll rethink my own speech as I watch others give theirs. There are not supposed to be many surprises this year, but I'm hoping for one - Best Actress. While Sandra Bullock and Meryl Streep are two of my absolute favorites, I want Gabourey Sidibe to win for Precious. I want an upset. I want us all to remember that anything is possible and that some dreams are worth keeping alive.
As for songs, I cast my personal vote for the Jeff Bridges movie Crazy Heart because it's about the music business, and I think it's the best song. While I appreciate Randy Newman, it all sounds like the theme from Monk to me. The French song that was nominated was sort of nondescript, and the song from Nine was good, but "The Weary Kind" gets my vote hands down.
I'm off to the gym now, then wardrobe and makeup. I'll put the finishing touches on my acceptance speech in the limo. Can't wait to taste what Wolfgang Puck has whipped up for the Governor's Ball.
I'd like to thank the academy...and all of you for stopping by. Happy Oscar Day!!!
The Oscars are a big deal in my family, second only to Christmas...well, if we celebrated Christmas. We love the movies. Who doesn't? As a matter of fact, my brother works in post production on most of what you see in theatres, so we have many discussions throughout the year.
You may be thinking that I wanted to win my Oscar for acting, but that is not the case...though I do seem to have the ability to cry willy nilly, and that could win me one in a pinch. While I don't remember what year I first became conscious of watching the show, I can tell you when I knew for certain I wanted that bad boy, and what I knew I was going to win it for.
It was 1973 when I went to the movies and '74 when the awards were presented. I was only eight as I sat mesmerized and weepy-eyed in a movie that was way beyond my years, but hey, it had Barbra Streisand in it, and you can't deny a Jewish girl from New York her Barbra Streisand. Yes, there was Katie and Hubbell, too beautiful for words standing in front of The Plaza, but there was another character in that movie too - the music. And as the strings swelled and the theme played throughout it, as we heard that glorious voice sing that haunting melody, with each word capturing the emotion of the images on the screen, I knew with great certainty that that was my calling. I wanted to win my Oscar for Best Original Song in a motion picture.
I thought about scoring movies too, but beyond sweeping melodies I don't like to fool with arrangements. Besides, I like words. No, the song, that was the thing. And it wasn't like it is now where the song is played as the credits are rolling and everyone's vacating the theatre. Back then the song was part of the movie, and that is what thrilled me.
Growing up in the seventies gave me plenty of opportunity to make sure this was not a passing fancy. I watched Goldie Hawn drive down the California coast in Foul Play as I listened to Barry Manilow sing "Ready to Take a Chance Again," and Seals & Crofts offer up "My Fair Share" in a Robby Benson movie called One on One. The clincher of all was Didi Conn lip synching "You Light Up My Life" in the movie of the same name. That one really hit home because it was about an insecure woman becoming a hit singer/songwriter. And I didn't care that even as a child I had to suspend a lot of belief to buy into the idea that Kasey Cisyk's voice was coming out of Didi Conn. (And just for you trivia buffs out there, it was Kasey Cisyk, not Debby Boone that sang it in the movie, but no record label would release the song at the time with a jingle singer. So when the movie finally got picked up for theatrical release, Joe Brooks, the songwriter, had Debby Boone record it where it stayed at #1 for ten weeks. I personally feel bad for Kasey Cisyk, but such is show business.)
Back to my Oscar win. I envision them calling my name, and me approaching the stage looking stunning in my black or purple gown (I can't decide). And I climb the stairs proudly, kiss the presenters, and at long last hold the golden statue in my hands. I will be prepared, not like all those people who are stupid enough not to be when they know they are nominated. As a matter of fact, I've been preparing for years. I remember to thank the academy first (and not God because God doesn't have a vote in the academy, so He can wait), and then whomever was responsible for getting my song into the movie. After that it's up for grabs (so you might all want to be nice to me if you want quality air time). Maybe I don't thank a laundry list. Maybe I talk about the value of dreams. I've had a lot of variations on my vision of this moment over the years.
But tonight I will be watching at home. In honor of the auspicious occasion I will be dressed in sweats without holes in them. I might even break out my favorite Saturday Night Fever shirt. (John Travolta was nominated for that movie, so at least there's an Oscar connection.) I will undoubtedly be bejeweled. I'll rethink my own speech as I watch others give theirs. There are not supposed to be many surprises this year, but I'm hoping for one - Best Actress. While Sandra Bullock and Meryl Streep are two of my absolute favorites, I want Gabourey Sidibe to win for Precious. I want an upset. I want us all to remember that anything is possible and that some dreams are worth keeping alive.
As for songs, I cast my personal vote for the Jeff Bridges movie Crazy Heart because it's about the music business, and I think it's the best song. While I appreciate Randy Newman, it all sounds like the theme from Monk to me. The French song that was nominated was sort of nondescript, and the song from Nine was good, but "The Weary Kind" gets my vote hands down.
I'm off to the gym now, then wardrobe and makeup. I'll put the finishing touches on my acceptance speech in the limo. Can't wait to taste what Wolfgang Puck has whipped up for the Governor's Ball.
I'd like to thank the academy...and all of you for stopping by. Happy Oscar Day!!!
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
In Search of...a good night's sleep
I've lost track of the last time I slept through the night. No, I do not have a child waking me, or even those panic attacks that have been known to stir me from a sound sleep for no apparent reason. No, this time I'm stymied. I wake up, look at my clock, mutter, "Oh no," toss around for a while, and finally get up, knowing that sleep is not a gift I'm likely to receive again this night.
I haven't wasted the extra time. I've been organizing my tax receipts, reading, watching movies, you name it. I actually wouldn't mind this extra time when the rest of the world is quiet, and it feels like it's just me and God, but by 11a.m. I feel spent, and I actually have work to do. Plus, it makes me not want to exercise, not that I ever really want to exercise.
I've tried drinking Chamomile tea at night because I heard that relaxes you. I stopped all late night munchies. I've stopped watching violent things on television before bed, anything that might help. But alas, when 3:30-4:30 rolls around, I am awake. It's a vicious cycle that is starting to seem like it can never be broken.
After a while, it seems like I'm in a permanent haze. My tolerance is short, as is my memory of anything people tell me while I'm in this state. It's likely that I'm not thinking clearly, or maybe when you have enough sleep deprivation, you think more clearly. For instance, I'm very certain that people are crazy, life is precious though thoroughly unfair, and that we would be better served to ship Congress over to Canada instead of a case of beer for their Olympic hockey win.
It's 6a.m. now, and I'm kind of wondering about Shaun White. I've been obsessed with him lately, only because I want to know what it feels like to propel yourself high in the air, defying gravity almost, in your own world, iPod blasting, far away from it all, suspended and unfettered. I wish I could feel that way, even for just a moment. I think I'm going to imagine it now, and if I'm lucky, maybe it will bring me to another place where I can sleep a little while longer.
So if anyone has any suggestions that don't include chugging NyQuil or warm milk, let me know. Thanks for stopping by, and please tell your friends.
I haven't wasted the extra time. I've been organizing my tax receipts, reading, watching movies, you name it. I actually wouldn't mind this extra time when the rest of the world is quiet, and it feels like it's just me and God, but by 11a.m. I feel spent, and I actually have work to do. Plus, it makes me not want to exercise, not that I ever really want to exercise.
I've tried drinking Chamomile tea at night because I heard that relaxes you. I stopped all late night munchies. I've stopped watching violent things on television before bed, anything that might help. But alas, when 3:30-4:30 rolls around, I am awake. It's a vicious cycle that is starting to seem like it can never be broken.
After a while, it seems like I'm in a permanent haze. My tolerance is short, as is my memory of anything people tell me while I'm in this state. It's likely that I'm not thinking clearly, or maybe when you have enough sleep deprivation, you think more clearly. For instance, I'm very certain that people are crazy, life is precious though thoroughly unfair, and that we would be better served to ship Congress over to Canada instead of a case of beer for their Olympic hockey win.
It's 6a.m. now, and I'm kind of wondering about Shaun White. I've been obsessed with him lately, only because I want to know what it feels like to propel yourself high in the air, defying gravity almost, in your own world, iPod blasting, far away from it all, suspended and unfettered. I wish I could feel that way, even for just a moment. I think I'm going to imagine it now, and if I'm lucky, maybe it will bring me to another place where I can sleep a little while longer.
So if anyone has any suggestions that don't include chugging NyQuil or warm milk, let me know. Thanks for stopping by, and please tell your friends.
Friday, February 26, 2010
In Search of...an end of the week blog
It's the end of another week, and what a week it has been! Actually, what a couple of weeks it has been.
Let's see...Tiger Woods made an awkward public apology for, oh, what was it again...getting caught, I believe. A killer whale killed someone much to everyone's astonishment, American Idol got in full swing with a crop of stunningly underachieving and unoriginal contestants, the winter Olympics forged ahead with breathtaking performances, raucous celebrations, and all in all some great drama and real emotion. Then there was the long awaited health care summit, a blizzard, an earthquake, and a school teacher who tackled a gunman, preventing what could have been another massacre like Columbine.
For all of you who are questioning that the world is ending, let me just say this...really? How much proof do you need? Oh, and to top it all off, I agreed with Bill O'Reilly about the health care summit when he was talking about it on GMA. I agreed with Bill O'Reilly. Seriously, there's your proof right there.
I'll start with Tiger Woods and the Olympics. First off, let the Canadian women's hockey team drink and smoke whatever they want. They just won the gold medal! Let's not pretend that this "un-Olympic-like behavior" is something out of the ordinary. They weren't smoking dope or anything, were they? Oh wait, Michael Phelps did that last time around, didn't he? Hmm, anyway a little champagne and a cigar never hurt anyone.
And are we all really pretending that the snowboarders are squeaky clean? I mean, I love me my Shaun White, but I don't delude myself into thinking you can do what they do without a little herbal assistance...which brings me to Tiger Woods and everyone's obsession with this ridiculous rationale that being a role model for kids is why we're interested in the dirty details of his escapades. I was a kid once too, and I never bought a box of Wheaties because I thought that eating it would make me Bruce Jenner, nor did I know or care who Bruce was sleeping with. I ate Cap'n Crunch too. Never once thought I'd be fighting pirates. Cereal tastes good because it's packed with sugar and that's why we buy it. So enough with the "role model" nonsense.
American Idol. They have so gone beyond jumping the shark...but it does remind me a lot of Congress, and here's why. A bunch of people decide who the qualified players in the game are going to be and they choose them based on criteria like "looks good on TV," "we need one black guy and one black girl," and oh yeah, "a Hispanic guy and girl, and a little white boy to appeal to the little white girls, and a quirky girl and a rocker guy"...and then they're shocked and disappointed when they can't actually sing. Well, they didn't pick the best singers. They picked the ones who fit the stereotype. You know who didn't fit a stereotype? Adam Lambert. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think there was an Adam Lambert in the crowd this year. However, there were many way better singers than the ones they chose, and we won't get to hear them because the now disgruntled judges went with appearances and not vocals.
So how does that compare to Congress? Well, let's see. We voted for the knuckleheads who sit there. And what exactly did we base our votes on? Looks good on TV? Great ad campaign? Was the only name that was familiar to me? Does anyone actually look into these people's backgrounds and voting records? Or better yet, do we take the time to go shake hands and ask them a question or two when they're campaigning?
You can tell a lot about a person by the way he or she interacts with you. Are they slick? Are they direct? Do they look you in the eye? Do they come across like they actually give a damn about you? Even gut instinct would be a better yardstick to go by if we actually met them face to face.
But we elect them. And now we're unhappy because as it turns out, "looks good on TV" isn't a particularly compelling argument when we can't pay our bills or afford health care. And for God's sake, John Boehner (which I like to pronounce "Boner") stop with the tan. I don't know if it's real or fake, but you look like a clown. And that image is not helped when you open your mouth. I don't even need to be in the same room with you to know that you could care less about the American people.
And John McCain, you would also be better served to speak less. And to my own senator, Lamar Alexander, you do not represent my interests. You know how I know? I tried to meet you, I tried to call you, I wrote to you, I emailed you, and what I got, other than the pretty receptionist telling me you were "unavailable" was a form letter that basically said, "Screw you. I'm doing what I want. Sorry you don't agree." Oh, not in those exact words, of course. Come to think of it, I think I saved the letter. Perhaps I should print it up here in the ol' blog so we can all share in your great concern for my interests.
So as for the summit, I could only stomach bits and pieces. But I think we can all say the President tried his best to be bi-partisan. Now he can lay that particular dream to rest. Now it's time he gives my Senator the kind of response and compassion he gave me. Pass health care anyway. And while you're at it, Mr. President, pass some other stuff too. No need to dawdle. You're wasting precious time.
Lastly, let's talk about the killer whale and heroic school teacher. I say, "Good for you, Shamu. Go get 'em. Be all that you can be." We just thinned the herd. And parents, if you don't want your children seeing the killer whale live up to its name, stop patronizing places that capture and confine wildlife. It's not fair to imprison animals for people's entertainment, even if you want to call it "educational." Making animals do tricks is not educational. It's cruel.
As for the teacher, can anyone please tell me why it is we aren't putting him on a Wheaties box? Talk about role models. That's your hero right there, not some guy who can hit a ball into a hole. Humanity wasn't ever saved by that. But tackling the gunman? Saving children's lives? Being an example of humanity at its best? That is a hero.
So as so much of the world is hurting now, let's try to rise to the call of our better angels, shall we? Let's be proud of the people who do what few of us can, whether it's an Olympic athlete who skated after losing her mother, or the teacher who taught heroism by example, or those who can summon the courage to do what's best for our country despite potential political fall out. Let's be true to our own authentic nature.
Thanks for stopping by. Please tell your friends.
Let's see...Tiger Woods made an awkward public apology for, oh, what was it again...getting caught, I believe. A killer whale killed someone much to everyone's astonishment, American Idol got in full swing with a crop of stunningly underachieving and unoriginal contestants, the winter Olympics forged ahead with breathtaking performances, raucous celebrations, and all in all some great drama and real emotion. Then there was the long awaited health care summit, a blizzard, an earthquake, and a school teacher who tackled a gunman, preventing what could have been another massacre like Columbine.
For all of you who are questioning that the world is ending, let me just say this...really? How much proof do you need? Oh, and to top it all off, I agreed with Bill O'Reilly about the health care summit when he was talking about it on GMA. I agreed with Bill O'Reilly. Seriously, there's your proof right there.
I'll start with Tiger Woods and the Olympics. First off, let the Canadian women's hockey team drink and smoke whatever they want. They just won the gold medal! Let's not pretend that this "un-Olympic-like behavior" is something out of the ordinary. They weren't smoking dope or anything, were they? Oh wait, Michael Phelps did that last time around, didn't he? Hmm, anyway a little champagne and a cigar never hurt anyone.
And are we all really pretending that the snowboarders are squeaky clean? I mean, I love me my Shaun White, but I don't delude myself into thinking you can do what they do without a little herbal assistance...which brings me to Tiger Woods and everyone's obsession with this ridiculous rationale that being a role model for kids is why we're interested in the dirty details of his escapades. I was a kid once too, and I never bought a box of Wheaties because I thought that eating it would make me Bruce Jenner, nor did I know or care who Bruce was sleeping with. I ate Cap'n Crunch too. Never once thought I'd be fighting pirates. Cereal tastes good because it's packed with sugar and that's why we buy it. So enough with the "role model" nonsense.
American Idol. They have so gone beyond jumping the shark...but it does remind me a lot of Congress, and here's why. A bunch of people decide who the qualified players in the game are going to be and they choose them based on criteria like "looks good on TV," "we need one black guy and one black girl," and oh yeah, "a Hispanic guy and girl, and a little white boy to appeal to the little white girls, and a quirky girl and a rocker guy"...and then they're shocked and disappointed when they can't actually sing. Well, they didn't pick the best singers. They picked the ones who fit the stereotype. You know who didn't fit a stereotype? Adam Lambert. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't think there was an Adam Lambert in the crowd this year. However, there were many way better singers than the ones they chose, and we won't get to hear them because the now disgruntled judges went with appearances and not vocals.
So how does that compare to Congress? Well, let's see. We voted for the knuckleheads who sit there. And what exactly did we base our votes on? Looks good on TV? Great ad campaign? Was the only name that was familiar to me? Does anyone actually look into these people's backgrounds and voting records? Or better yet, do we take the time to go shake hands and ask them a question or two when they're campaigning?
You can tell a lot about a person by the way he or she interacts with you. Are they slick? Are they direct? Do they look you in the eye? Do they come across like they actually give a damn about you? Even gut instinct would be a better yardstick to go by if we actually met them face to face.
But we elect them. And now we're unhappy because as it turns out, "looks good on TV" isn't a particularly compelling argument when we can't pay our bills or afford health care. And for God's sake, John Boehner (which I like to pronounce "Boner") stop with the tan. I don't know if it's real or fake, but you look like a clown. And that image is not helped when you open your mouth. I don't even need to be in the same room with you to know that you could care less about the American people.
And John McCain, you would also be better served to speak less. And to my own senator, Lamar Alexander, you do not represent my interests. You know how I know? I tried to meet you, I tried to call you, I wrote to you, I emailed you, and what I got, other than the pretty receptionist telling me you were "unavailable" was a form letter that basically said, "Screw you. I'm doing what I want. Sorry you don't agree." Oh, not in those exact words, of course. Come to think of it, I think I saved the letter. Perhaps I should print it up here in the ol' blog so we can all share in your great concern for my interests.
So as for the summit, I could only stomach bits and pieces. But I think we can all say the President tried his best to be bi-partisan. Now he can lay that particular dream to rest. Now it's time he gives my Senator the kind of response and compassion he gave me. Pass health care anyway. And while you're at it, Mr. President, pass some other stuff too. No need to dawdle. You're wasting precious time.
Lastly, let's talk about the killer whale and heroic school teacher. I say, "Good for you, Shamu. Go get 'em. Be all that you can be." We just thinned the herd. And parents, if you don't want your children seeing the killer whale live up to its name, stop patronizing places that capture and confine wildlife. It's not fair to imprison animals for people's entertainment, even if you want to call it "educational." Making animals do tricks is not educational. It's cruel.
As for the teacher, can anyone please tell me why it is we aren't putting him on a Wheaties box? Talk about role models. That's your hero right there, not some guy who can hit a ball into a hole. Humanity wasn't ever saved by that. But tackling the gunman? Saving children's lives? Being an example of humanity at its best? That is a hero.
So as so much of the world is hurting now, let's try to rise to the call of our better angels, shall we? Let's be proud of the people who do what few of us can, whether it's an Olympic athlete who skated after losing her mother, or the teacher who taught heroism by example, or those who can summon the courage to do what's best for our country despite potential political fall out. Let's be true to our own authentic nature.
Thanks for stopping by. Please tell your friends.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
In Search of...a friendship blog
I've been overwhelmed lately, and not just by life. I've been overwhelmed by something a lot of us take for granted - friendship.
Yes, I receive those chain emails attempting to remind me, albeit annoyingly, that I am thought of and loved, but it is not an email that has reminded me lately. It has been phone calls, and dinners, and conversations that have quickly gotten past the superficial to the deep and complex. It's been people offering counsel, humor, homemade chili, and yes, a hug that have recently overwhelmed me. It's been a former co-worker's call just to check in and see how life has been going for me, and the barrage of so much of that in such a short span of time that I can't help but be secure in the knowledge that friendship is one thing of value that cannot be taken away from me no matter what else ever can be. We take for granted the value of such gestures, or at least I did.
So maybe this is self indulgent, or maybe it is generous, but whichever it is, I am sending this out to all my friends - past, present, and future who lift me up and make my life a beautiful journey. Thank you for being my friend. You are cherished and oh so loved.
To those of you reading this whom I do not personally know but have stopped by, I value you too...more than you know.
Yes, I receive those chain emails attempting to remind me, albeit annoyingly, that I am thought of and loved, but it is not an email that has reminded me lately. It has been phone calls, and dinners, and conversations that have quickly gotten past the superficial to the deep and complex. It's been people offering counsel, humor, homemade chili, and yes, a hug that have recently overwhelmed me. It's been a former co-worker's call just to check in and see how life has been going for me, and the barrage of so much of that in such a short span of time that I can't help but be secure in the knowledge that friendship is one thing of value that cannot be taken away from me no matter what else ever can be. We take for granted the value of such gestures, or at least I did.
So maybe this is self indulgent, or maybe it is generous, but whichever it is, I am sending this out to all my friends - past, present, and future who lift me up and make my life a beautiful journey. Thank you for being my friend. You are cherished and oh so loved.
To those of you reading this whom I do not personally know but have stopped by, I value you too...more than you know.
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