Age is not always a factor

So, this morning, in preparation for day number two of The Week of Getting Things Done, I headed down the street to my favorite local breakfast spot, Mozart's. This trip was very necessary, for a couple of reasons. First, I was hungry, and my fridge looked like this:

As you can see, the main contents were beer, pop, dog food, and leftover carryout containers, all of which contained stuff that should have been thrown out days ago, because I am a wasteful person. (Or, more kindly, because it's difficult to eat leftovers when your microwave doesn't work. Plus, leftover sushi isn't really a good idea anyway, is it?)

So, besides being hungry, I was facing the first task on my list, which, for obvious reasons, was to go to the grocery store, and as we all know, you should never go to the grocery store hungry. A quick stop at Mozart's on the way was definitely in order. 

So I get there, sit down, place my order, get some coffee. The place is almost deserted, with only about three other customers. Perfect. I get out my book and start to read while waiting for my food.

Then, THEY come in. A woman and her son, who looks to be about five. 

Crap.

Please understand, I'm not against the idea of bringing children to restaurants--SOME restaurants. If I had been in Denny's or Bob Evans, I would have had no right to cringe, flinch, or start up my internal bitchy dialogue. But Mozart's is NOT a place for children. The tables and chairs are wrought iron and set close together, like a sidewalk cafe but indoors. There are small, breakable knickknacks around. The food is fancy, and they serve alcohol. Classical music plays in the background. (See: the name of the restaurant.) If I was a kid, I would wrinkle my nose in disgust at this place. Being who I am, of course (older, with a discerning palette, inclined to read through a meal, not adverse to the occasional glass of wine with brunch), it's heaven . . . as long as there are no kids around. 

But wait, I thought. This place is also a pastry shop. Maybe they're just getting something to go. That would be all right. I watched them as the mother asked her son if he wanted a cookie or something. Good sign. There ensued a discussion about what gingerbread was, and would he instead like a gingerbread man? Yes, he would. The mother hands him the gingerbread man and then--oh no--tells him to go sit down. Where? How about there? Here? No, that table, the one by the Christmas tree.

The one RIGHT BY ME. 

Keep in mind, the place is deserted and has about 20 tables. And she instructs her son to sit at the ONE that is literally two feet away from me. 

My internal bitchy muttering turns to internal bitchy fuming. Of course, I can no longer concentrate on my book. 

So the kid sits down, and . . . nothing. He sits quietly in his chair with his gingerbread man and his glass of water and starts silently munching on the cookie--rather thoughtfully, I might add. He takes a quiet sip of water. I'm watching him, and he looks at me, and then he gives me a huge, adorable, and very sweet grin, and continues to quietly eat his cookie. 

And I feel like an asshole. A selfish, presumptuous asshole with no holiday spirit. Here I am assuming this kid is going to be a total brat like many kids in restaurants are wont to do, while he just wants to sit quietly by the Christmas tree and eat his holiday cookie.

His mother is still at the counter, talking about something with one of the servers. The kid doesn't make a peep.

Hmm, I think. OK. I smile back at the kid and pick up my book again. This is no problem. 

But then, a couple of minutes later, the mother returns, with coffee that is unfortunately in a real mug rather than a takeout cup. And THAT'S when it all goes south. Because this woman will not leave this sweet, quiet kid alone. Immediately, she starts grilling him, something about a loose tooth. Wouldn't he like it if the tooth came out? Weren't all the other kids at school losing their teeth, and didn't he want to be like them? Didn't he want to be a big boy? Didn't he want the tooth fairy to come? What would he buy with the money the tooth fairy left? Wouldn't he like to have blah blah blah?

The irony of this particular conversation was that it was, in fact, like pulling teeth to try to get this kid to talk. But the mother was relentless.

Keep in mind that she was sitting, literally, close enough for me to reach out and touch her if I'd wanted. (Within strangling distance, that is.) She was, in fact, physically touching my coat, which was hanging on the back of the chair across from me, with her sleeve for most of the time. Never once did she glance at me or give any indication that it occurred to her that her loud drilling of her son so close to me might be the slightest bit rude or irritating. 

At one point, she actually tried to explain to the kid what reverse psychology was, and suggested he might try using it on his brother. 

Luckily, they didn't stay very long. The kid finished his cookie, and they got up to leave. He looked up at me one last time and smiled again, and I might be mistaken, but I thought I saw a slight hint of apology in his grin. And I thought, you know what? This kid is going to turn out OK in spite of her. And my irritation just kind of dissolved as I grinned back at the kid and picked up my book once again. 

And that's when the Grinch's tiny heart grew three sizes . . . just kidding. But I did feel pretty cheerful for the rest of my brunch. And I did make it to the grocery store afterward, so that's something else off my list. Although it is rather disheartening that after throwing away the carryout containers and spending $90 at the grocery, my fridge now looks like this:

Not much difference, huh? Sigh. Baby steps, people.

[Note to burb: I am SO proud of myself! I couldn't get the second fridge pic to show up in the right spot, so I taught myself how to edit the HTML code and moved it that way. And it didn't take me all day, either. I think I'm finally getting the hang of this shit!]

Buckling Down

So, I'm off work this week for the holiday, and for once, I'm not traveling anywhere. There are many reasons for this. For one thing, even though I'm not going to physically go into the office, I should really do some work at some point, and doing work work at someone else's house just never seems to pan out. Then there's the question of what to do with my pets . . . trying to find someone to take care of them at this time of year can be a challenge. And then, of course, there's the fact that it's like negative 20 friggin' degrees outside, not exactly pleasant traveling weather. So, in lieu of traveling, I instead developed an ambitious plan of getting a bunch of stuff done around the house. You know, a bunch of stuff I've been putting off for . . . oh, about three years, since I moved in here. My plan, in fact, is eerily similar to this guy's. Only, I was bound and determined (and still am, in fact) NOT to wind up like him, although the description of his Monday and my Sunday are almost identical (except that I was reading The Prisoner of Azkaban, and for the first time--thanks, burb!). 

And so far, so good. True, I didn't get much done over the weekend, unless you count managing to NOT shoot myself in the head after an excruciatingly boring date. Yesterday, though was a different story, in which I managed the following:

*Doing almost all of my holiday shopping. (Notice I said "doing," not "finishing." Yes, I am a last-minute shopper, and I don't apologize for it. I simply refuse to start stressing and planning for this one day a month ahead of time--there's just too much else going on in life.)

*Figuring out how to reload my iPod with playlists I select myself instead of just letting the iPod chose a selection for me (which I used to do and which really gives the iPod way too much power, don't you think?).

*Mopping all of the hardwood floor downstairs, including moving all of the furniture and washing all of the baseboards.

Pretty impressive, huh? And, more significant than what I actually accomplished, I feel I have momentum . . . I've got a whole new list of things to do today, and I have a great deal of confidence that I will actually do them rather than simply plopping down on the couch with a book and/or a stack of Netflix. I'm feeling good.

Of course, it maybe doesn't bode so well that I've already wasted 45 minutes this morning tracking down that Onion article. . . . 

The Wedding Band Situation

No, this is not about what I should do with my wedding band, or more importantly, my engagement ring, both of which have been sitting uselessly in a drawer since my split with S. Although, come to think of it, this is an issue I've struggled with. What to do with them? The wedding band I'm not so concerned about--it's a tiny thing, not worth much. The engagement ring isn't worth a whole lot either, relatively speaking, but it does have a diamond in it, and it does have some worth--it seems a shame to just leave it sitting in a drawer. But what are my options? I tried taking it back to the place where we bought it from--of course, they weren't interested in buying it back. Some people have suggested I should have the diamond made into something else, a necklace or something, and I have considered this . . . but something about that rubs me the wrong way. I'm not a superstitious or even very spiritual person, but taking an engagement ring diamond and repurposing it just screams of bad karma to me. I could try selling it on eBay . . . but in reality, that sounds like something I would be too lazy to actually follow through on. And the karma thing comes into play there again--I mean, who buys an engagement ring on eBay? That just seems so . . . wrong.

Anyway, as I mentioned, that's not what this is about. This is about current wedding bands, and about people, specifically men, either wearing or not wearing them. And what inspired this particular topic? Well, let me tell ya. . . .

A few weeks ago, I took a trip to Houston, and I had a layover in Charlotte, NC. I was on my way to a wedding/family reunion-type deal, by the way, but that's not relevant to the story. The story is this.

While sitting in the boarding lounge in Columbus, I noticed this certain guy. That's not unusual--I'm a big people-watcher, and airports are, of course, prime venues for this particular activity. (Also, EVERYONE is a people-watcher at airports, right?) Anyway, I watch a lot of people, in a general sense, but when I see a decent-looking or good-looking guy, I tend to hone in. Come on, it's natural. So I'm sitting in the boarding lounge, and I notice this decent-looking guy. He's sitting right across from me, reading. I'm reading myself, but every now and then I look up, check out what he's up to. Every now and then, we make eye contact, and he sort of smiles, looks back down. This goes on for a while, until it can't be categorized as anything other than silent flirting. And I can tell you one thing for certain--this guy was NOT wearing a wedding ring.

You have to believe me on this. This is something many single women tend to notice immediately, whether we're interested in a guy or not--checking out the ring finger is almost an involuntary action, an impulse you don't even think about. This guy? No ring. Also, no visible tan lines around where a ring might have been. We notice these things as well.

So, fast-forward to the Charlotte airport. I get off the plane, wander around the terminal. Stop in to a snack shop. Find my gate. Sit in the lounge, start reading again. Look up, and there's Mr. Decent-Looking, sitting across from me again. (Coincidence, by the way? Stalking me? I have no idea.) And guess what? Suddenly, he's wearing a ring.

So, the wife lives in Houston, I guess. He takes the ring off often enough to have a tan going on underneath it. He didn't feel the need to put it back on until the last leg of his flight.

Seriously? I know I'm overly sensitive right now, still experiencing fallout from the RWBF situation, but I've felt recently that I just want to go live on a women's-only island for several months. Men suck.

(Apologies to my many decent male friends. I'm not talking about you guys.)

What is it they say is the first thing to go?

So, we all sometimes forget to get things at the store, yes? This happens to me all the time. It's guaranteed to happen if all I have to go on is one of those infamous "lists in my head." Maybe I only need a few things, and I run over the list of these very few things in my head as I'm stopping at the store on my way home from work. I might repeat the items several times, until they become a chant. I will keep repeating them as I enter the store. Doesn't matter. By the time I navigate my way through the after-work-crowd-thronged aisles, one or more of those items will have dropped off of my mental list.

Things generally work out better if I have a written-down list, which I usually do these days. I will even sometimes try to arrange things on the list in the order in which they can be found in the store, although that's setting the bar pretty high as far as grocery store listmaking goes. Still, even with a list, things can go awry. The most common problem is that I fail to put a key item or two on the list in the first place. And then sometimes, my eyes will just . . . sort of skip over an item or two. Then I'll be in line at the checkout, scan over my list once more, and realize I forgot something . . . and at that point, it's usually, like, fuck it, I'll get it next time.

The point of all of this is that I rarely leave a store with everything I actually need. But yesterday, I reached a whole new level of forgetfulness. This was no amateur stunt of forgetting the bread or the milk or the dog food. No, this was a varsity move, at a level of ineptitude that not just anyone can reach.

I forgot to get a microwave.

The thing is, procurement of a microwave was the whole point of going to the store (which was, naturally, Target) in the first place. In fact, it was the whole point of leaving my house at all on a day I would have rather spent reading and/or watching "House"* reruns. My ancient, tired microwave, a cast-off from a helpful friend after my divorce, finally emitted its last feeble waves a few weeks ago. And it's been a 5-star pain in the ass, going without this useful household appliance. So, I set out yesterday, into the bleak, freezing rain, with this specific mission in mind.

It just so happens, though, that the Target I go to is located very near my own personal church, Barnes & Noble. So, I stopped in there first, and spent a couple pleasant hours browsing, reading, and of course, buying a few books. Then I headed over to Target, list in hand. For you see, as long as I was going to Target anyway, I was going to pick up a few other items--laundry detergent, lint brushes, cat litter . . . the usual Target fare.

The one thing I didn't actually put on the list? "Microwave."

Yeah, I didn't think it was necessary to put the actual reason for my entire shopping trip on my list, but apparently, I was wrong. I was so preoccupied, in fact, thinking about the books I'd bought, what I was going to do the rest of the day, various and sundry other life issues, etc. etc., that I didn't even think about the microwave until I was driving home. At which point, I had one of those moments--a moment of shock followed by a flash of recognition, understanding, and empathy for old people who forget where they live, their grandchildren's names, what year it is, etc. I briefly considered turning around and going back to Target.

And then I thought, fuck it, I'll get it next time.

(*House = the new Law & Order)

Something to sink your teeth into. . . .

[Days 5, 6, 7--Pop Culture. This isn't working very well, is it? Maybe two to three entries a week would be a more realistic goal.]

So, I’m not usually one to jump on the adolescent/young-adult literature series bandwagon. I missed the whole Lord of the Rings phenomenon completely, until the movies came out, at which point I drove my better-informed coworkers nuts with plot-related questions and things I didn’t understand, like:

*Why do so many of the characters have two names? Aren’t the names themselves difficult enough without everyone having two?
*On that note, what’s up with Sauron/Saruman? Why give two different evil characters such similar sounding names?
*Still on that note, why do many of the boy Hobbits have girly names? (e.g., Merry, Pippin)
*Speaking of Hobbits, what’s up with the huge hairy feet? Is that necessary? It’s pretty gross.
*Why does that big evil tower look like a giant vagina?

And so on. They say that you don’t really have to have read the books to understand the movies, but with stuff like this, it really couldn’t hurt, could it? Same thing with the Harry Potter series. I did in fact read the first one, but then I lost interest, despite assurances from everyone that the books got more intricate and interesting as they went along. I did, however, see a few of the movies—but not all of them, and not necessarily in order. (I don’t really remember.) And while I could pretty much figure out what was going on, some of the plot intricacies were lost on me.

However, I did recently get sucked into the newest craze—the Twilight series. In fact, just last night I finished the third humongous book. And I gotta say—maybe I’ve been missing out by eschewing such adolescent/young-adult fare before.

Not that I’m comparing Stephenie Meyer, the Twilight author, to Tolkien or even Rowling. Frankly, the Twilight series is not very well written. Most of the characters are rather flat and stereotypical, and the dialogue is often forced and fakey-sounding. The whole series drags out way too long. I can’t stand the main character—her neediness, her whininess, the way she completely defines herself by one or another male character, her tiresome self-martyrdom. It’s too tame, too watered-down, and the actions of most of the characters are not at all believable, even for a vampire story. It didn’t help, at all, when I learned that Meyer is a Mormon . . . although it did pretty much explain the complete lack of sex or even any serious fooling around amongst raging-hormone-infested teenagers in a small town where there is virtually nothing else to do.

Regardless, I CANNOT put these books down.

I really don’t get it. I don’t know why I’m so sucked in. I guess maybe Meyer is better at subtle plot development than I’m consciously aware of—I absolutely have to know what happens next, even if, in my opinion, it should have happened around 324 pages previously. (Seriously, how many times have I just stopped reading, put the book down, and barked out, “Just bite her already, dammit!”? I don’t know, I’ve lost track.) Meyer has certainly mastered the Dickensian art of dragging out a story long enough to bleed (no pun intended!) as much money out of the helplessly addicted reader as possible, so I'll give her props for that.

Case in point—I know for a fact that sometime over the upcoming long weekend (like, tomorrow, probably!) I will go out and buy the fourth book, in hardcover no less. Because I must. Because I can’t wait.

But hey, at least I’m reading for relaxation, instead of watching endless Law & Order reruns. That’s still an improvement, yes?

(As a side note, another prop I'll give Meyers is that she does manage to effectively weave references to Romeo and Juliet and Wuthering Heights into the plot, which may actually induce some teenagers to read a classic now and then. And there's no doubt that a lot of teenagers are reading this series. In my experience, teenagers do not want to read most literary, allegorical, preachy young-adult novels--if you don't believe me, try getting a class of 9th graders to read Lord of the Flies or Catcher in the Rye. But they eat this stuff up . . . and at least they're reading. Just like me!)

No Filter

Days 3,4--General Stuff (and cheating by combining two days, but this is a lengthy one)

So, a few weeks ago I went out with this guy, J. It was an online meet--I haven't given up on online dating, just haven't dived back in with much enthusiasm. But, he was a good writer, seemed interesting, and had attractive pics, so I thought I'd give it a shot.

On a scale of 1 to 10, I'd give the date a 4.

It's hard to say what I didn't like about him . . . I can't quite put my finger on it. He just came off as a little fake, and he had strange, annoying speech patterns and ways of phrasing things. Like, he had this habit of asking me questions and tagging my name on the end with too much emphasis, as in, "What do you think of THAT, Heather?" in this sing-song, teasing voice. Yeah, pretty grating. So much so, in fact, that about 20 minutes into the date, I slid into No-Filter Mode.

No-Filter Mode is when I just say whatever's on my mind, disregarding polite social norms and such. It's something I've found myself doing more and more lately, especially on dates. I think it's the result of going on so many annoying ones and getting tired of just sitting through and tolerating them, waiting for it to be over so I can go home. I'm not very good at "sitting through and tolerating," as anyone who's ever been in a meeting with me at work knows very well. If things get too ridiculous, I tend to speak up and try to put an end to it or guide things in a different direction. 

So, on the date with J., after about three or four Heather questions, I had to say something. Basically, I told him he really needed to stop saying my name in that tone of voice all the time, that it was very annoying and I just couldn't take it. He just kind of stared at me, blinked. I could see distinct emotions crossing over his face--first annoyance mixed with a little disbelief, gradually morphing into curiosity. He asked me what I meant, and I explained what he was doing, providing a couple of examples, and tried to convey how annoying it was. I realized as I was talking that he was not really conscious of this thing he was doing, and he was very surprised that it annoyed me so much. Refreshingly, he stopped doing it, and we moved on . . . had a couple of drinks and a not-completely-awful conversation before ending the date. 

So, he's not someone I'm interested in, but the whole thing did get me thinking about how I've been acting when going out with new people lately. Basically, I am not on my best behavior, the way you're supposed to be at first . . . I think I'm just tired of it. It's always the same story--you go out with someone, and both of you try very hard, at first, to impress each other. The first date is kind of like an interview. Then, one of two things happens. Either you just don't click and don't go out again, or you continue to see each other while staying on your best behavior, at least for the first few dates. Gradually, of course, the facade slips away, and you start being your true selves with each other . . . and who knows how you'll each feel about the other person at that point? This, I think, is why so many single people tend to have strings of "relationships" that only last a few weeks or so--once they start being themselves with the other person, things fall apart. And frankly, I just don't have the time or energy for that anymore. Why not just put it out there right away? It's better than waiting to see if my (many) flaws, quirks, and idiosyncrasies are going to drive someone away . . . and vice versa, of course. 

It's been interesting, to say the least, to see people's reactions to No-Filter Mode. In general, though, I think it's appreciated. I've had a few guys actually thank me for being straightforward and telling them what they're doing wrong--pointing out, for example, that they might want to ask the woman they're out with a few questions now and then, instead of just talking about themselves the whole time. That they might want to consider actually listening, instead of just waiting to talk (and that most women can tell the difference). That it might be a good idea to actually have a plan for a date, rather than just showing up at someone's door and saying, "I don't care where we go, whatever you want to do is fine." Granted, when I come right out and say these things within the first 30 minutes of meeting someone, it generally kills any romantic possibilities for the future . . . but that would have been the case regardless, whether I spoke up or just sat there tolerating it for hours. At least when I speak up, the conversation is interesting, and I'm actually a part of it. And it can be a learning experience all around.

Regarding J., I am facing somewhat of a dilemma. I don't really want to see him again, but I did leave my fall jacket in his car. He e-mailed me that he'd like to return it . . . and take me out again while he's at it. 

Guess he doesn't mind No-Filter Mode so much. 

Still lame

DAY 2--Work

Wow, this isn't working well. I'm sick and don't feel like writing--need to get better so I can go to work tomorrow. (See how I worked in the "Work" topic there?)

I am lame

DAY 1--Politics

OK, I would LOVE to write a real post tonight, a post on politics as promised, but here's the deal.

I had a really long day at work, and then I came home and cooked dinner for a friend. Said friend is, at the moment, in my kitchen doing all the dishes, because I was DETERMINED I was going to blog as promised, regardless. And here I am, and I can't concentrate, because someone is in my kitchen doing the dishes I should be doing, and shortly we are going out to shoot pool. 

Also, politics is a tough topic to start with right now, not because I'm not happy with the state of affairs (because I am!! So happy!!), but because . . . well, come on. There are SO many political bloggers out there anymore, what's left to say? For now, let's just leave it at being happy, looking forward, anticipating the future, etc. . . . for the first time in a long time.

Tomorrow night I have no plans, personal-life-wise. Longer blog entry to come. At least I logged in tonight, and am making steps towards building the habit. That is key.

The Experiment

So, first things first. 

Yes, it's been ages and ages . . . and the time lapse is not helped by the fact that I deleted the last real post I wrote. And to answer the numerous questions I've received about that--I just had to do it. At the time it was written, that post was necessary, cathartic, liberating . . . but it was also bitter, cuttingly negative, and ultimately poisonous. Its presence on here made me not want to log on to the blog, not want to see it and be reminded of everything that had happened. I also felt it was too domineering, had too much power on here, tainted everything in an unbalanced way. That post is not what my life is about, not what the blog is or should be about. So, the NP post is gone, tucked away and saved in a safe place, but not a public place, not MY public space. It's better that way. And from here on out, the blog is a RWBF/NP-free zone. It's seriously time to move on.

And in the spirit of moving on, I'm making a new commitment to the blog. (Hey, you've gotta commit to SOMETHING, right?) And in thinking about this commitment, and especially in thinking about taking it seriously, I've realized a few things about myself. Mainly, I've realized that in order to really accomplish anything, I need structure. I think that's been the problem with maintaining the blog--there are no deadlines, no tangible rewards, no carrots, no sticks. No structure. And frankly, I don't do well without that. Without some framework to build around and to tie me to something, I tend to kind of . . . drift away.

I've kicked around some different ideas about how to address this issue on here, something to finally kick my ass into gear, and I've come up with a plan. Let's face it--the loosey-goosey, write-about-whatever-whenever method that most bloggers embrace and run with just isn't working for me. So, I'm trying an experiment.

First, I'm going with a "30 posts in 30 days" plan. That is, I'm going to post something, every day, for 30 days, barring insurmountable logistical issues (e.g., traveling with no internet access, which does happen sometimes). This is mainly to get me into the habit of logging in, thinking, writing, connecting with the blog again. I'm not promising anything particularly insightful, lengthy, or clever every day, but there will be something there. 

Second, I'm assigning myself topics based on days of the week, to help me focus. Yes, I know that to some of you out there, this seems silly and unnecessarily restrictive. Remember, structure! I need it! And it's not going to happen unless it's self-imposed. So, here's what I've come up with:

Monday: Pop culture stuff (books, movies, TV, etc.)

Tuesday: Relationships/dating

Wednesday: Politics

Thursday: Work

Friday: General life stuff/day-to-day observances/pets

Saturday: Week wrap-up/freeroll*

Sunday: Freeroll

(*Freeroll is open topics--gotta leave some wiggle room here.)

So, that's the plan. Regarding the 30 days, today doesn't count--tomorrow is Day 1, Politics. Tune in. The post will be there. 

True Confessions

[NOTE: Moderate to high Dad warning.]

First, my usual disclaimer--I haven't been blogging because I've been working on some other writing. I'm not going to get into what it is, exactly, but it could be the beginning of my book, so I need some slack cut here. (In all fairness, though, no one's really been giving me shit about not blogging, so maybe slack has already been cut. . . . )

Anyhow, I felt inspired this morning . . . which is more than I can say for my mental state for most of the rest of this weekend. So, that's my first confession--laziness. I've felt incredibly lazy lately . . . not sure why, maybe it's just the advent of porch-reading season, which, you can pretty much guess from that what I spent most of yesterday doing instead of the spring cleaning I had planned for this weekend. And as long as we're on the topic of confessions, here's some completely random ones from the past couple of days.

Failure to eat well confession
What I've eaten this weekend:
*Popcorn
*Pizza
*Pop-Tart
And no, I didn't intentionally decide to only eat things that start with the letter "p"--it just worked out that way. And I should note--I almost never eat Pop-Tarts. They had them at the convenience store, individually wrapped, and I thought, "Yeah, a Pop-Tart." Blueberry, to be exact.

Listening to bad music confession Three musicians whose songs happened to come on the radio when I was driving and I did not change the station:
*John Mayer
*Kid Rock
*Joan Jett
But really, who turns the station on Joan Jett? Note that this confession will most likely cause me to lose the total respect of at least one close friend.

Things I didn't do this weekend confession
*Laundry
*Cleaning
*Getting off the couch and/or porch much

Watching bad TV confession Shows that I either actively watched or that were at least playing in the background this weekend:
*That Heath Ledger movie where he's a knight and they play David Bowie music
*Charmed
*A bad Lifetime movie about a babysitter who seduces the dad, blah blah blah

Being less-than-friendly to a certain neighbor confession
Mostly because she has a "Vote Pro-Life" bumper sticker on her car and parks in an irritating way in our common lot.

The RWBF and I have something unusual in common confession [Dad warning in effect]
We have both slept with rock stars! Well, granted, his rock star is quite a bit more famous than my rock star, but I slept with mine three times, so. . . . And who are these rock stars, you ask?
Mine: Ross Flourney of The Broken West, formerly known as The Brokedown. You can see his pic here. Obviously, I successfully pursued my crush on him! Hey, is it my fault if we kept in touch over the course of several months, and when his band came through Columbus, he no longer had a girlfriend and I was free as well? And then again a year later? Sometimes things just work out. . . .
The RWBF's: Well, a picture's worth a thousand words, right? So, here's a pic:



See the one in the middle? Yeah, that would be Belinda Carlisle of the Go-Gos. Apparently, the RWBF was working security at one of their concerts, and she just picked him out. And yes, her hair most likely really did look like that--this was 20 years ago.

Am I the only person who did not like "There Will Be Blood"? confession
Seriously, I don't get the hype around this movie. It was slow, boring, and way too long, and I didn't like or feel sympathy for any of the characters, not even the deaf kid. (When a viewer fails to feel sympathy for a deaf orphan, you know something's gone wrong with the character development of a story.) And I know Daniel Day Lewis got a lot of props for his acting in this one, but to me, it just seemed like he was trying to channel a drunken, insane Captain Jean Luc Picard. Also, the ending sucked. That whole milkshake thing? I just don't get it.

Well, that's about all I got for now. Whew! Glad I got all that off my chest. Must get back to the business of procrastinating on cleaning the house, but I'll try not to neglect the blog so much as I carry on with my other projects. Hope everyone had a good weekend!

And now, time for something completely different. . . .

Time to face reality--the remainder of the SXSW recap is a bust. I'm aborting the mission, which has become an albatross around my neck and is sabotaging my other writing. It's too bad, because I did do quite a bit of work on it, but frankly, I'm losing interest (and I suspect everyone else is as well). Too much time has gone by, and there's too much other stuff I want to write about. So, let's just move on, shall we?

There's a lot going on in my life right now. It's . . . interesting, in some good ways and some bad ways. Things with the RWBF are strange (in a bad way), and things at work are strange (in a mostly good way). But what I want to write about today is . . . politics.

Yesterday, I got a notice in the mail letting me know (rather sternly, actually) that I need to update my voter registration information if I want to vote in November. I was aware of this and had it in the back of my mind that I needed to do this, but getting the notice made me acutely aware of the fact that I haven't voted, at all, since I moved out of the house I shared with my ex-husband, which believe it or not has been two and a half years now. The most heinous offense, which some of you have chastised me for, was that I didn't vote in the recent Democratic primary. But there was a good reason for this, apart from the whole not-really-being-registered thing--frankly, I just didn't care.

My feelings about this election can be summed up in a great bumper sticker I saw the other day: Someone Else for President. Of course, I want it to be a Democrat, but between Hillary and Obama, I just don't care. There are things I like and dislike about both of them, and I'm not overly thrilled with either of them. This is so disappointing to me. You'd think, perhaps, that I'd be fired up about the possibility of having a female president for the first time . . . but does it have to be her? And I never caught Obamamania--he planted the seed of suspicion in me when, in a speech, I heard him refer to the "president of Canada." Call me overly demanding, but I expect a potential president to know that Canada has a prime minister, not a president. (I'm sorry if that sounds petty and exacting, but I'm so sick of having a president who constantly makes these silly, stupid gaffes. Actually, Bush does it so often that I'm kind of used to it, but I was just really hoping that the next president might actually be smarter than me. And you. And my neighbor who drinks beer all day and works on motorcycles and recently got his mentally-challenged girlfriend pregnant. You know?)

So anyway, I will fill out my change-of-address form, and in November, I'll vote for Hillary or Obama . . . whatever. But I won't be overly thrilled about it. And honestly, if McCain wins (proving this country's true colors yet again), it will still be better than what we've got now.

How's that for the world's most cynical win-win? Man, I'm getting old.

At last, the SXSW recap, part 1

[NOTE: In the interest of ever posting this damn thing, I'm going to put it up in segments. As I've noted to some of you, it's kind of turning into a Rolling Stone article. Here's my introduction and a recap of Day 1 (Wednesday). More to follow. . . .]

So, it may be a few weeks late, but here, finally, is my summary of what went down this year at the SXSW music festival. I'm not sure how interesting all of this is to people who've never been, but allow me to tempt you with some highlights:

*I met Frodo! Yes, I actually met Elijah Wood, and had a (very brief) conversation with him.
*I chatted with the lead singer of Vampire Weekend while he was scrounging through the remains of a greasy buffet that had been sitting out for several hours.
*I randomly met or ran into about 20 people from C'bus--kinda crazy.
*I discovered a new, unknown band that I really dig and have been listening to a lot since I got back. What band, you ask? Read on and see!

So yes, a few weeks ago I once again headed to Austin for South by Southwest. This was my third year, and the first time without my BFF and partner in crime Christine, who is taking a trip to Amsterdam in May and couldn't do both. (Hi Chris! I missed you!) Another thing that made this year quite different from previous years was that I had an "in"--a person I met there last year who has become a very good friend and whose job in the industry allows him certain privileges, which he kindly shared with me. (We also hung out quite a bit--I'll call him "S.") The thing about SXSW is, it's becoming so huge that even after dishing out $500 for a music badge, you often still can't get into some of the bigger shows--you have to have a special pass or be on the guest list. So, there were several shows I would not have been able to see, even with the badge, were it not for him--thanks so much, again, S!

Another thing that struck me about this year was how much easier it was to navigate everything, now that I'm pretty familiar with the lay of the land. Something you should know about SXSW is that the navigation of it is a skill that can only be truly honed by going there and doing it. There are so many web sites now describing the whole festival in detail, providing maps, and offering tips and tricks on what to do and where to go, but you really have to experience it to understand how everything works.

The best thing I have to say about this year: I've gotten a lot better at finding the right balance between planning and going with the flow, which is the key to getting the most enjoyment possible out of the whole thing. I've also gotten better at taking notes. And after going over them, I find that this year, there were around 12 solid bands that provided an in-some-way-transcendental experience for me. I know that that might not seem like much from a multi-day festival featuring over 1700 bands, who played from 11:00 a.m. until ??? in the morning, but believe me, that's a lot of music to feel that strongly about, considering the environment from which one has to pare it down. I wandered in and out of a lot of venues over the course of four days, and I saw many bits and pieces of bands I'd never heard of and don't remember now. Some of it was quite good, and a lot of it was truly awful, which is actually the best part of the festival for me--the adventurousness of it. Anymore, I like to spend my time about 50-50, with half the time spent at shows I'd planned to see and the other half spent either wandering around looking for new stuff or checking out stuff that had been recommended to me by others. And this year, that's pretty much what I did. It worked out well. (I did make one major logistical error, which I'll discuss later.)

Another thing that struck me this year--I think I finally have a solid appreciation of what the bands who play SXSW have to deal with. First off, going in, they have both an advantage and a disadvantage. The advantage is that it's a huge party, with the inherent party atmosphere--lots of drinking, lots of people determined to have a good time . . . and this is a great thing, especially for the lesser-known bands who may find themselves playing in front of a larger (and drunker, more appreciative) audience than they've ever had before. Conversely, they may be playing for, like, three people who aren't even all that interested. And then, for the bigger or more hyped bands, it may be the case that a lot of people have arranged their whole schedule around seeing them, and sometimes these people have waited in the same venue for several hours, or sometimes all day, to see them. Big-time pressure, and rightly so, from a fan's standpoint--after all that, it better be a damn good show! So, it can be a difficult field for the bands to navigate as well.

Anyway, on to the breakdown of What Actually Happened:

Wednesday
My first day in Austin started off slow. I wandered around in the morning, getting reacquainted with the city, or at least the part of the city that hosts most of the SXSW goings-on, that being Sixth Street and surrounds. I also took the opportunity to get a good solid brunch in my tummy, in preparation for the day's festivities. (Believe it or not, one of the most difficult things to do at SXSW is to find the time and place to eat properly. I actually ate two hot dogs over the course of four days, out of desperation and necessity . . . I DO NOT eat hot dogs. Usually.)

I almost missed my first show, the Evangelicals, completely. (Wow, they've got some freaky looking album covers. I didn't know that until I found their MySpace page--I've only ever downloaded their MP3s.) Right off the bat, I got my venues mixed up, and so I wound up watching some other band and not realizing until about two or three songs in that it wasn't the Evagelicals. (This is a somewhat annoying feature of SXSW--the names of the bands aren't usually indicated anywhere in the venue. You have to know what the band looks like to know if you're at the right spot.) I did manage to eventually make it to the right venue . . . in time for exactly two songs, and I was so far away from the stage that I couldn't really enjoy the show. So, that was a bust.

My next endeavor was much more successful. I headed over to a day show hosted by donewaiting.com, a Columbus-based music blog run by a bunch of folks from--you guessed it!--Columbus. They hosted Joseph Arthur, and it was a great show. Not only did I get to meet a lot of people, I was standing about 15 feet away from J.A. during the whole gig, outside on a deck on a beautiful day with the sun shining down, drinking free PBRs. A proper kick-off, finally! After the show, I hooked up with some of the people I'd met and walked . . . man, I'm not even sure where we walked to, some far-away venue that I'd never been to before. They knew some guy who was doing a solo acoustic gig at this venue, but . . . he was awful. After about two songs, I claimed a prior engagement and ducked out.

Not actually having a prior engagement, I wandered around for a bit. I remember feeling extremely pleasant (and, O.K., a little buzzed) as I just kind of meandered from one venue to the next, slowly making my way back to the hotel with no real plan in mind. I know a lot of people wouldn't really enjoy this--wandering around by oneself through what is essentially the Mardi Gras of music--but I loved it. I felt very free, acutely aware of this sense of endless possibility. I like not knowing exactly what I'm going to do or what's going to happen. I didn't see any remarkable music during this particular meander, but it was very SXSWish and fun.

Eventually, I ran into a guy I'd met earlier and went for a BBQ dinner with him and his buddy. Then back to the hotel (solo again) to rest for a few minutes and change for the evening.

That evening was when I made my major logistical error, although I still contend that it wasn't really my fault. (I consider the Evangelicals mix-up a minor error.) One band I've really grown to dig over the past year or so is Okkervil River, and I was determined to see them even though they were playing at the Austin Music Hall, which requires a taxi ride to and from. Shows requiring taxi rides have to be considered carefully--is the extra travel time worth it? Will you be able to get a ride back? This can be tricky depending on where you're going and what time you're coming back--I've heard horror stories of people wandering around for hours looking for taxis or walking 10 miles back from a show at 3:00 in the morning. (I'm not stupid enough to get myself into a situation where I'm a single woman doing this! Stop worrying, Dad!) But I figured the Music Hall was safe--there would surely be plenty of taxis there on a busy night with a big show going on. So, off I went.

Just so no one freaks out, I'll let it be known right now that I had no trouble getting a taxi back. My logistical error was in going to the show in the first place. Unbeknownst to me, the Okkervil River set was only a small part of a much bigger event going on, some kind of awards show. I got in with no problem, but then I had to wait through some other crappy band, along with a bunch of speeches and promotional announcements, before Okkervil River finally came on and played . . . two songs. Yes, two songs, total. The rest of the night was a tribute to Roky Erickson, which quickly turned really campy and cheesy and annoying. So, back I went to Sixth Street, determined to somehow salvage the night.

My plan was to cap off the evening with the Lemonheads show. This would be a total nostalgia trip--they were one of my absolute favorite bands in the early '90s, and I'd never seen them live. In retrospect, I should have planned my night around making sure I saw this show . . . but it didn't work out that way. I got back to town and headed to Emo's, which in and of itself is a problem. Emo's actually has four venues, with two of them connected and the other two completely separate--hence, three different possible lines outside the shows. I thought the Lemonheads were playing at the connected venue, which was perfect--as it happens, I had a special VIP pass for Emo's that enabled me to get in the "secret alley door" of the connected venue. So, in I went, and immediately bumped into the guy I'd had dinner with earlier. (This wasn't a total coincidence--I had known he was going to be there. He'd lost his buddy at this point, although I'm not sure if that was accidental or he'd ditched his buddy on purpose because he wanted to hang out with me. At any rate, I wasn't interested in anything besides hanging out.) So, this guy (Eric, by the way) and I headed to the side of Emo's where we thought the Lemonheads were playing . . . and I had a moment of deja vu as I watched the band for a few moments and realized that this was not the Lemonheads. Bummer. Nor did we have the time wrong, unfortunately--once again, I was at the wrong venue. The Lemonheads were playing at the separate Emo's venue across the street. We went out and tried to get in, but they were at capacity, and my VIP pass didn't work at this venue. So, we stood outside and listened to a couple of songs (the venue was a tent, basically, so you could hear everything totally clearly from outside), but it just wasn't the same as being there, you know? So, back we went to the main Emo's, where my VIP pass allowed Eric and I to see the last couple songs of the Black Keys set, which was pretty cool. Thus concluded my first evening--I headed back to the hotel afterward, thoroughly exhausted.

To be continued. . . .

A good excuse, for a change

So, this is just to let everyone know that the SXSW recap will not be posted today, surprise surprise. At least I have a good excuse this time. I have a short presentation to give at work tomorrow, and prepping for it is proving more time-consuming than I thought it would. Also, out of utter necessity (involving the IRS!! Scary, huh?), I had to go through and organize some paperwork this weekend. It's always something, isn't it? And unfortunately, I still don't feel all that organized. . . . Anyway, after tomorrow, things will calm down at work, and the RWBF will be out of town most of the week, so I will post the recap soon--no excuses. Please check back in soon. (And I realize that after the long delay, this better be a hell of a recap! I'll do my best.)

RWBF Update

So, I guess it's about time for my monthly post, huh? Yes, I'm very aware of the fact that my posts have been unusually sporadic for a while now . . . but at least I haven't abandoned the blog completely. I've considered it--I've been working on some other writing, and there just doesn't seem to be time/energy for everything I'm trying to accomplish outside of work. But, the thought of giving up the blog makes me sad. I've been blogging for almost four years now (!), and it's nice to have that outlet, a place to get things off my chest and share and hopefully entertain you all a little, now and then. So, I'm just trying to get comfortable with the fact that I will never be a daily blogger or overly prolific at it, at least not for as long as I have a full-time job and a boyfriend who practically lives here. . . .

Speaking of which, I know I owe an update on the RWBF, especially after the ambiguousness of the last post about him. Well, believe it or not, we did finally have that talk, before I left for vacation . . . and it was really good. And then I left for Austin, and he must have missed me, because when I got back he was here all week, every night, for six nights in a row, until yesterday when he really had to go up north to check on his house. And he's coming back today. And we've been getting along really well, having a lot of fun the way we did at the beginning of the relationship, and not worrying about things so much.

Quite the turn-around, yes? Well, a big part of it has to do with me, actually. I had something of a revelation when we were talking before I went on vacation . . . and I realized I was "acting like a girl," for lack of a better, nonsexist description. Somewhere along the line, I started pushing the relationship along faster than it should have been going . . . why? To what end was I pushing? I have no idea. I also started expecting him to read my mind (as evidenced by the classic "What's wrong?" "Nothing" conversational exchanges we were having). I also got suspicious of all the time he spent working, although he'd given me no reason to--he still called and texted me all the time, and he IS in sales, after all; of course he has to take clients to dinner and whatnot. (This last issue particularly bothered me--I mean, it bothered me that it bothered me. I of all people should be able to understand the whole career-oriented thing . . . ! And I've never been the jealous type, so I don't know where THAT was coming from at all.) So, for once I am acknowledging myself as part of the problem here. Personal growth--yay!

By the way, I should mention that he didn't point any of this out to me--I came to these conclusions myself. This happened while we were having our talk. We were out at a restaurant, and he was sitting across from me, and I was trying to explain why I'd been unhappy--and then I saw the look on his face. It was just . . . earnest, and caring, and genuinely confused, and a little sad. There were no pretentions, no furtiveness, he just totally didn't understand what I was saying. And that's when all of the above started to occur to me. . . .

Of course, I'm not saying that everything should be put on me. There is still the issue that he's not always the best listener . . . he's a classic alpha male in almost every way, and that's definitely one of them. So, I'm being much more adamant and direct about MAKING him listen, and it seems to be working--he really is trying. (This is a technique, by the way, that I probably should have employed with my ex-husband. Conservative guys aren't the only ones who sometimes aren't the greatest listeners . . . I hate to keep rolling out the sexist stereotypes, but A LOT of guys have this problem. Trying to find a single guy who doesn't is a pretty ambitious endeavor.) And then there's the whole politics thing. We've both gotten a lot better at talking about stuff we're obviously going to disagree on, and dropping it at the right time. And sometimes, we find some common ground. The other morning, he even made fun of Bush--twice!

Communication really is the key to everything in life, isn't it?

Of course, I still can't predict (nor am I trying to) what's going to happen in the long run. For all I know, our vast differences will still prove insurmountable, eventually. But it's all about the journey anyway, and for now, the journey is fun again.

[Note: I am still working on my SXSW recap . . . hope to post that soon, before everyone totally loses interest, including me.]

Drama, drama, drama

[NOTE: This post has a moderate dad warning. I'd say orange.]

So, as many of you know, the RWBF and I have been going through a rough patch for a couple of weeks now. Actually, "rough patch" is a silly, stupid euphemism. Mainly, I've been super pissed at him off and on, interspersed with nagging annoyance at him, interspersed with missing him intensely. How's that for a recipe for disaster? Meanwhile, he's been typically oblivious . . . sometimes, I am convinced, deliberately so. Such is the stereotypical, drama-filled, completely unhealthy dynamic we've managed to establish at this, the dreaded 5-month milestone in our relationship. Yay, us.

Several times over the past few weeks, I have come THISCLOSE to breaking up with him. When I have time on my own to think, which I've had quite a bit of lately, a thousands reasons why nag at me incessantly. The whole politics thing. The fact that we have almost nothing in common. His job and his obsession with it and the overwhelming machismo that defines his industry and has irrevocably rubbed off on him. The fact that everything about me is foreign to him as well--he's never dated a liberal before, either, or a feminist, or . . . anyone remotely resembling me. My perception of his romantic life before me centers on a string of "Housewives of Orange County"-type women, except even worse--more like "Housewives of Cleveland." One of the things that first attracted me to him was his insistence that he was completely bored with the kinds of women he'd been dating and wanted to meet someone totally new and different and challenging . . . and that was me, and it WAS new and different and challenging, for both of us. For a while.

Now, though. . . .

The problem with "challenging" is that it seems to be directly correlated to the physical relationship. As long as the latter is fantastic, the former is exciting, and can be kind of a catalyst for everything. But when the initial chemistry starts to burn itself out, "challenging" can quickly become something else--annoying, frustrating, infuriating. Too much to deal with. A definite reason to break things off.

And thus have I resolved myself, a few times now. Most recently, last weekend. First, a little background--for the past three weeks or so, we really haven't seen each other very much, mostly because of his job. He's been traveling a lot, and when he's been here in town, he's had clients to entertain. (This situation in and of itself has been a point of contention, as you might suspect. I'm not going to get into all of that, though--suffice to say that it's one issue of many.) Anyway, last weekend he was going to come over on Saturday night, and we were going to talk. And I was going to bring up . . . everything, including my increasing feeling that we should just rip off the band-aid and be done with it. But then, he got here, and we hadn't seen each other in several days . . . and it was Saturday night, after all, and it seemed stupid to waste a weekend night together arguing endlessly, toward an inevitable result that neither of us was quite ready for, and . . . well, we didn't talk. I can't deny that there's a certain benefit to going a while without seeing each other, which I don't think I need to spell out.

So, here we are, a week later. I haven't seen him since he left last Sunday morning. He was in Indiana and Cleveland for most of the week, and then we got hit with the great blizzard of '08, which complicated things. Once again, I've had a week to let the creeping doubts seep in, and by last night I was once again fed up. I had one of those horrific nights when I was just obsessing, thinking about him, getting angry and upset, and totally determined to NOT call him or respond to him until I was firm in my decision to just break it off.

So this morning he texts me at 8:30. I don't respond. He texts me again at 10:00. I respond, but not in an overly friendly way. He immediately calls. I don't pick up. He leaves a message, wanting me to call. I don't call. An hour later he calls again. Again, I don't pick up. He doesn't leave a message this time.

So, can you guess what happened next? I called him, of course. Drama, drama, drama.

He's coming over tomorrow, and we've renewed our plan to talk. But of course, once again, we haven't seen each other in a week. How much faith do I have in my resolve?

I'll let you all guess.

335 days, 16 hours, 28 minutes

So, some of you might recognize what this post title refers to, but for those of you who don't, click here.

I must admit, this time around, I'm less excited about who the next president is going to be than I am about the fact that it won't be him. How glorious the day will be when there is no fear of innocently turning on NPR in the morning and hearing that man commenting on Castro stepping down from power:

"This gives the international community an opportunity to . . . um . . . establish . . . to establish institutions to . . . um . . . ."

My God, spit it out, man! And make some small effort to make your subjects and verbs agree while you're at it! Please?

Actually, it's kind of weird to hear W speak these days. There's something different in his voice that's kind of pathetic. He still has that annoying defensive tone that he's always had, but now, there's also something defeatist there, something sad and resigned. He also sounds like he's just dutifully reading off a script (which he still manages to screw up somehow, frequently), blindly reciting words written by someone else, talking about stuff he doesn't really care about. In some ways, it's more disturbing to hear a president talk like that than it is to hear him adamantly and passionately espousing dangerous and very wrong policies. I mean, who would you rather have in charge--a crazy person, or a lobotomized person? It's kind of a tough call.

I also have to wonder if it's possible that W has entered a period of self-reflection, if it's starting to dawn on him what a failure and shambles his presidency has been, and if that's what's driving his new demeanor. I never would have thought him capable of self-reflection, but I guess anyone can grow. (?) Unfortunately, at this point, there's not really much for him to grow into. . . .

One thing's for sure--the RWBF and I are not going to be hashing out these issues any time soon. Recently we made a pact--for the next several months leading up to the election, he is not to say anything about Hillary, and I'm not to say anything about Bush. (And I haven't even made up my mind about who I'm going to support--I'm just tired of his endless cracks about Hillary. Obama doesn't seem to bother him so much.) Such are the little deals we have to make with each other in order to successfully navigate the landscape of our relationship. If we didn't, we would no doubt have endless repeats of "Reagan Sunday," a day a few weeks ago where we spent the morning arguing about Reagan and the afternoon not speaking to each other. It's not fun and it accomplishes nothing, so what's the point?

Another rough one . . .

O.K., trying to sneak in a quick post before the RWBF gets here. We are going on a kamikaze Valentine's date--meaning, neither of us made reservations anywhere, so we're just going out to hit the town hard and find somewhere to eat before the end of the night. That is our mission. (Yes, the RWBF was in the military. It comes out in little, funny ways.)

Anyhoo, I probably have a little bit of time, because the RWBF is always late. Hey, no one's perfect. It doesn't really bother me, because I'm not the most prompt person, either. Generally, he's not majorly late, and I've easily adapted--whatever time he gives me, I automatically tack on about 20 minutes, and it all works out fine. (We're talking about when he's coming over to my place, by the way, not when we're meeting out somewhere. Actually, that never really happens--he always comes to get me. So, never mind.) 

He's going to be here momentarily, though, so I have to keep this short. Just wanted everyone to know that they should stay tuned--I'm trying to pull myself out of my recent bout of writer's block, and the only way to do that is to write openly and frequently. So, please excuse the probable lack of polish on the next few entries as I try to write my way out of this slump.

Blast (or something) from the past

So, tonight I was cleaning out some computer files, and I came across this random document containing a blog post I started to write . . . a year ago? More? Actually, I must have written it in the last 7 months, in the time since I got the new computer, but still, it was a while back. I only vaguely remember writing this post, and I don't remember where I was going with it (as it's obviously incomplete). It's interesting for me to think about what I might have been doing when I wrote this--like, was it on a weekend or a weeknight? What was I listening to? Was I watching Law & Order while writing? (I do that sometimes.) That's one of the great things about writing--it helps you track your life.

Anyhoo, without further ado, here is the entry:

Things that irked me tonight:

1. Wilco song as a jingle. (Some car commercial, I think.)
2. Scott Baio is 45 and single.
3. Someone on the VH1 show "Charm School" has the exact same comforter as me. Yeah, they shop at Target too.
4. I have so much to do, but I can't stop watching the World Series of Pop Culture.
5. Transformers trailers. Understand, this is a Michael "King of Crap" Bay film based on a TOY. Yeah. (Slightly even more heinous than basing a movie on a video game.)
6. God, I don't want to do laundry.

So, probably not all that interesting to anyone but me, but there it is--random thoughts that were going through my head at some point about 7 months ago. I often jot down random thoughts like this, but I generally incorporate them into a blog entry or an e-mail and then delete them. This one I just let hang out there . . . and it's kind of fun to come across stuff like this at some point in the future and think back.

Yes, writers are easily amused.

Now that I've thought about it . . .

So, tonight I saw a commercial that really irked me. A man was driving down a road at night while a voiceover droned in the background. The gist of the message was something like this [actually, it's pretty much word-for-word]:

"These days, we are addicted to immediate gratification. [Dramatic pause while car swooshes around a curve.] Don't like your nose? Get a new one. [A creepy caricature of a guy with a humongous nose floats across the screen, followed by a picture of the same guy with a new, regular-sized nose.] Don't like your job? Get a new one. [Picture of someone working at some desk job.] Don't like your spouse? Get a new one. [Picture of a woman in a bridal gown. All of these pictures are superimposed over the car driving along the road.]

Then, the kicker line: "Whatever happened to commitment?" The car continues breezing along the highway, and maybe they talked about the car a little at this point, since this was apparently supposed to be a commercial for said car.

Right as the commercial ended, some words appeared on the screen: "Think About It." So I did. The first thing I thought was, "Who the fuck makes a commitment to their nose?"

O.K., first off, the text of the commercial itself makes no sense. The whole nose thing, obviously. But are they really trying to imply that switching jobs indicates a lack of commitment? So, if you really hate your job, you should stay there anyway, out of some sense of "commitment" to the company? No one should ever leave to, say, find a better job? Go back to school? Start their own business? What kind of commie commercial is this?

Then there's the whole "find a new spouse" thing. I can guarantee, right there they alienated anyone going through a divorce right now. From experience, I can tell you that even the most mutual, uncomplicated divorce is still gut-wrenchingly painful for the normal person, quickie ridiculous celebrity breakups aside. When you've split from your spouse, about the last thing on your mind is "finding a new one." Luckily (?), divorce is like childbirth (or so I'm told)--you eventually forget the intensity of the pain so that you're able to get involved in a relationship (or get pregnant) again. Still, for folks going through a divorce right now, this commercial is completely insulting and off-putting.

The big question, though, is . . . what exactly are we supposed to "think about"? It's a friggin' car commercial! The logical last line to this whole joke would have been, "Don't like your car? Get a new one! This one!" What are we supposed to be showing "commitment" to here? Apparently, not the company that makes whatever car we're currently driving, unless its the carmaker of the commercial, which, ironically, I can't even remember (nor can I remember what kind of car they were attempting to advertise, not being a "car person").

If they're trying to communicate the idea (which I have to assume they are) that their company stays committed to a certain way of making cars, they went about it totally wrong. The whole text of the commercial should have been something like, "These days, some companies are addicted to instant gratification. They cut corners. They take shortcuts. But not us. Blah blah blah." You get the idea. About the last thing anyone trying to sell a product in a consumption-based economy should do is admonish people for seeking immediate gratification--that's just stupid. And when said admonishment is dressed up as knee-jerk family values propaganda (which, I have to point out, doesn't make any sense even apart from this particular context), it's insulting as well.