Flip Flop Flap
What am I missing here? The Republicans keep bashing Kerry because he "flip flops." Oh dear. That's dangerous. What we really need is someone who forms an opinion and never lets go of that opinion even when the facts prove that the opinion is wrong. Yes, we can't have someone in office whose mind is open to change, who re-evaluates a situation based upon new evidence, can we? That would be suicidal.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Down with Reality! (TV)
Recently I spent a great deal of time watching NBC’s coverage of the Olympics. It was the most time I’d spent watching network television since the last Olympics. Frankly, I hate the quality of American television, and the ads I saw in-between sports did nothing to alter my opinion.
Whatever happened to scripts? What happened to good writing, actors who get hired for their talent rather than their hair, and plots? What’s so wrong with a good plot?
And what exactly is the appeal of so-called “reality TV?” Tell me, whose reality involves being given a million dollars to live in a mansion with 50 supermodels? My reality isn’t like that.
Real reality TV would be extremely boring. One hour of watching someone grocery shop. A house full of a family doing homework and cooking dinner. That’s reality. Reality has nothing to do with eating maggots, getting engaged to a total stranger, or working for Donald Trump.
When I watch TV, I want to either be entertained or informed. Preferably both. And I see no entertainment value in reality TV. I wouldn’t want to meet these people, so why would I waste an hour of my life watching them on television? And why would I go out of my way to see obnoxious self-absorbed losers when there are so many that I can actually interact with in real life?
I want comedy that makes me laugh because the scripts and the situations are funny, not something that is billed as a comedy simply because it has a laugh-track and a lot of jokes about obnoxious kids. And I want dramas that believe there’s more to life than car-chases and emergency room scenes. I never want to hear the word “stat” again.
I have a brain. I like to use it. I presume others are also quite fond of their brains, and yet American television seems to feel otherwise. Oh sure, there are pockets of intelligent entertainment, thank god for cable, but mainstream television, frankly, sucks.
Personally, I think it’s all part of the downward spiral of American culture. Fat selfish people raising fat selfish children on a steady diet of McDonalds, SUVs, and television programs that teach people that you will be rewarded for lying and backstabbing. Wonderful. Great lessons for our kids, don’t you think.
In an era when the word “hero” has come to mean someone who gets paid $15 million to play basketball it’s no wonder that so much of our entertainment seems to be about money, sudden fame, and the rewards that come from being selfish.
Recently I spent a great deal of time watching NBC’s coverage of the Olympics. It was the most time I’d spent watching network television since the last Olympics. Frankly, I hate the quality of American television, and the ads I saw in-between sports did nothing to alter my opinion.
Whatever happened to scripts? What happened to good writing, actors who get hired for their talent rather than their hair, and plots? What’s so wrong with a good plot?
And what exactly is the appeal of so-called “reality TV?” Tell me, whose reality involves being given a million dollars to live in a mansion with 50 supermodels? My reality isn’t like that.
Real reality TV would be extremely boring. One hour of watching someone grocery shop. A house full of a family doing homework and cooking dinner. That’s reality. Reality has nothing to do with eating maggots, getting engaged to a total stranger, or working for Donald Trump.
When I watch TV, I want to either be entertained or informed. Preferably both. And I see no entertainment value in reality TV. I wouldn’t want to meet these people, so why would I waste an hour of my life watching them on television? And why would I go out of my way to see obnoxious self-absorbed losers when there are so many that I can actually interact with in real life?
I want comedy that makes me laugh because the scripts and the situations are funny, not something that is billed as a comedy simply because it has a laugh-track and a lot of jokes about obnoxious kids. And I want dramas that believe there’s more to life than car-chases and emergency room scenes. I never want to hear the word “stat” again.
I have a brain. I like to use it. I presume others are also quite fond of their brains, and yet American television seems to feel otherwise. Oh sure, there are pockets of intelligent entertainment, thank god for cable, but mainstream television, frankly, sucks.
Personally, I think it’s all part of the downward spiral of American culture. Fat selfish people raising fat selfish children on a steady diet of McDonalds, SUVs, and television programs that teach people that you will be rewarded for lying and backstabbing. Wonderful. Great lessons for our kids, don’t you think.
In an era when the word “hero” has come to mean someone who gets paid $15 million to play basketball it’s no wonder that so much of our entertainment seems to be about money, sudden fame, and the rewards that come from being selfish.
Monday, August 30, 2004
And so I rear my head once more...
I've been silent for far too long, I know, but I'm back. I needed to be isolated for a bit, figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Ever get that way? Like a sick animal that just wants to curl up in a cave by himself. That was me, broke and freaking out about it, trying to get the taste of that awful place out of my soul and wondering what the heck to do next.
So, on to today's thought...
I am a fashion conscientious objector (as opposed to victim), and as such, I’m proud to say that I just don’t get it. I simply do not understand how women can pay thousands of dollars for the privilege of torturing themselves with uncomfortable articles of clothing and footwear that will be out of style in a year. I fail to see the attraction of it all. And, personally, I just cannot believe that I will be mesmerizingly more attractive to the opposite sex if I wear shoes that I cannot walk in, jeans that I cannot breathe in, and sweaters that cost more than a month’s salary.
Nor do I understand the creative rationale behind fashion ads. Why do photographers insist on putting models into situations where the clothing they wear cost more than the entire building? Are derelict warehouses that conjure up the remembered scent of old urine and fresh vomit the natural landscape for hand-tooled Italian leather boots and English cashmere sweaters?
Do $300 dollar bathing suits get shown to better advantage against a graffiti-littered brick alleyway as opposed to, oh say, a beach perhaps?
Don’t they realize that the kinds of individuals who typically haunt these decrepit locales are highly unlikely to have platinum American Express cards – and the kinds of individuals who can easily drop $1000 on a blouse or a pair of shoes rarely find themselves surrounded by rusted chain-link fences, weed-spattered parking lots, and broken concrete?
Perhaps that’s what the “victim” in the phrase “fashion victim” means. Someone who, if they appeared wearing that clothing in that setting, would become a victim. A statistic. A “hey, I’m wearing more on my ass that you own in your whole life, so why not come over and rob me” kind of victim.
It just doesn’t make sense. Oh sure, a few marketeers actually put their models in the appropriate setting. Perfectly air-brushed androids posed majestically against one Hampton or another. Lounging languidly on a yacht. Sipping something frosty on a sun-dappled terrace in the south of someplace.
But all too frequently fashion ads resemble nothing more than crime scene photos, minus the chalk outline. Looking variously bored or miserable, anorexic mutant babes lean poutily against a scarred brick wall. Strong-jawed men, like show dogs, slouch into a chair with ripped upholstery in a tawdry motel room with an acid neon glow. Pseudo lesbian melodramas enacted with a freaky tableau vivant flair in empty and cracked swimming pools.
Like the hidden morality in 17th century Dutch still-life paintings, this emphasis on so-called beauty in the midst of decay seems to serve as a twisted commentary on life. But whereas the Dutch saw the presence of a rotting peach as a reminder of the fleetingness of beauty and the importance of a moral life – here the condemned warehouse seems to say “hey, life is short so you might as well blow an obscene amount of money on killer boots.”
In addition, it adds a touch of class to poverty that further removes the conspicuously conspicuous consumer from the homeless, the hopeless, and the just plain poor. After all, how bad can it be to live in a deserted garage if it’s good enough for Ralph Lauren? And how easy to walk by some hairy, cart-pushing bum when he’s walking past a building that could, at any moment, be filled with well-built, oiled-up young studs in $50 boxer shorts?
Nope, I just don’t get it. And I’m damned glad about that.
I've been silent for far too long, I know, but I'm back. I needed to be isolated for a bit, figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Ever get that way? Like a sick animal that just wants to curl up in a cave by himself. That was me, broke and freaking out about it, trying to get the taste of that awful place out of my soul and wondering what the heck to do next.
So, on to today's thought...
I am a fashion conscientious objector (as opposed to victim), and as such, I’m proud to say that I just don’t get it. I simply do not understand how women can pay thousands of dollars for the privilege of torturing themselves with uncomfortable articles of clothing and footwear that will be out of style in a year. I fail to see the attraction of it all. And, personally, I just cannot believe that I will be mesmerizingly more attractive to the opposite sex if I wear shoes that I cannot walk in, jeans that I cannot breathe in, and sweaters that cost more than a month’s salary.
Nor do I understand the creative rationale behind fashion ads. Why do photographers insist on putting models into situations where the clothing they wear cost more than the entire building? Are derelict warehouses that conjure up the remembered scent of old urine and fresh vomit the natural landscape for hand-tooled Italian leather boots and English cashmere sweaters?
Do $300 dollar bathing suits get shown to better advantage against a graffiti-littered brick alleyway as opposed to, oh say, a beach perhaps?
Don’t they realize that the kinds of individuals who typically haunt these decrepit locales are highly unlikely to have platinum American Express cards – and the kinds of individuals who can easily drop $1000 on a blouse or a pair of shoes rarely find themselves surrounded by rusted chain-link fences, weed-spattered parking lots, and broken concrete?
Perhaps that’s what the “victim” in the phrase “fashion victim” means. Someone who, if they appeared wearing that clothing in that setting, would become a victim. A statistic. A “hey, I’m wearing more on my ass that you own in your whole life, so why not come over and rob me” kind of victim.
It just doesn’t make sense. Oh sure, a few marketeers actually put their models in the appropriate setting. Perfectly air-brushed androids posed majestically against one Hampton or another. Lounging languidly on a yacht. Sipping something frosty on a sun-dappled terrace in the south of someplace.
But all too frequently fashion ads resemble nothing more than crime scene photos, minus the chalk outline. Looking variously bored or miserable, anorexic mutant babes lean poutily against a scarred brick wall. Strong-jawed men, like show dogs, slouch into a chair with ripped upholstery in a tawdry motel room with an acid neon glow. Pseudo lesbian melodramas enacted with a freaky tableau vivant flair in empty and cracked swimming pools.
Like the hidden morality in 17th century Dutch still-life paintings, this emphasis on so-called beauty in the midst of decay seems to serve as a twisted commentary on life. But whereas the Dutch saw the presence of a rotting peach as a reminder of the fleetingness of beauty and the importance of a moral life – here the condemned warehouse seems to say “hey, life is short so you might as well blow an obscene amount of money on killer boots.”
In addition, it adds a touch of class to poverty that further removes the conspicuously conspicuous consumer from the homeless, the hopeless, and the just plain poor. After all, how bad can it be to live in a deserted garage if it’s good enough for Ralph Lauren? And how easy to walk by some hairy, cart-pushing bum when he’s walking past a building that could, at any moment, be filled with well-built, oiled-up young studs in $50 boxer shorts?
Nope, I just don’t get it. And I’m damned glad about that.
Wednesday, May 12, 2004
Onwards
Well my deep and abiding loathing of "Soul-Sucking Software," finally reached the breaking point and I have quit. And no, I have nothing else lined up. Scared? You bet I am. Happy? Beyond words. I am so glad to be getting out of this megapocalyptic hell and back into the real world. And I cannot wait to see where I end up.
Wherever I end up, though, it will be due in no small part to the love, support, and help of my beloved husband. He is amazing. He's dragged me kicking and screaming through creating a resume and applying for a job. He's reminded me that I've made the right call...and tells me he's proud of me for choosing principles over paychecks. And he loves me. How in the world did I get so lucky?
Wednesday, January 07, 2004
Music Hath Charms
But not when you're in a musically ambivalent mood. Do I want to listen to Chopin or Louis Armstrong? Garth Brooks or Khadja Nin? Salsa, Celtic, Afro-pop, or Japanese pop? Usually I love having a large music collection....today it's driving me crazy because I can't settle on one thing. Music is the one thing that helps me stay sane at work (well, music and my team), but today I'm in a state of confusion anyway, so it's carrying over into my musical choices. In the past hour I've listened to Henri Dikongue (from Cameroon by way of Switzerland), Caetano Veloso (too smooth for my busy mind), Dwight Yokam (nothing like a little shit-kicker music to jump start the brain), and Mozart. And so far....nothing is working.
But not when you're in a musically ambivalent mood. Do I want to listen to Chopin or Louis Armstrong? Garth Brooks or Khadja Nin? Salsa, Celtic, Afro-pop, or Japanese pop? Usually I love having a large music collection....today it's driving me crazy because I can't settle on one thing. Music is the one thing that helps me stay sane at work (well, music and my team), but today I'm in a state of confusion anyway, so it's carrying over into my musical choices. In the past hour I've listened to Henri Dikongue (from Cameroon by way of Switzerland), Caetano Veloso (too smooth for my busy mind), Dwight Yokam (nothing like a little shit-kicker music to jump start the brain), and Mozart. And so far....nothing is working.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
A New Year...
...has begun, and I'm still unsure of what I want to be when I grow up. I just know it's not what I am now. I still want to save the world, but I don't know how. And oh my have I become used to having disposible income. I love being able to take vacations, to buy CDs, to go out to lunch with my friends...and I'm just selfish enough to want to keep that. I'm a bad person, sometimes, but aren't we all?
So, do you make New Year's resolutions? I've decided my mantra this year is going to be "Lighten the fuck up." I had all these serious thoughts about changing my world, my attitude, my life...and realized that most of them can be accomplished by not being so serious. I need more "water off a duck's back," and less "focus on the details." We'll see if I can carry this through. So...what do you want to do with your year?
...has begun, and I'm still unsure of what I want to be when I grow up. I just know it's not what I am now. I still want to save the world, but I don't know how. And oh my have I become used to having disposible income. I love being able to take vacations, to buy CDs, to go out to lunch with my friends...and I'm just selfish enough to want to keep that. I'm a bad person, sometimes, but aren't we all?
So, do you make New Year's resolutions? I've decided my mantra this year is going to be "Lighten the fuck up." I had all these serious thoughts about changing my world, my attitude, my life...and realized that most of them can be accomplished by not being so serious. I need more "water off a duck's back," and less "focus on the details." We'll see if I can carry this through. So...what do you want to do with your year?
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
World AIDS Day
Yesterday, December 1, was World AIDS Day. I wore the red ribbon in honor of my friends, and missed them dreadfully. 41 million people around the world are living (and dying) with AIDS. Only 1 million of them are receiving any sort of treatment for this still always-fatal disease. And yet, even in 2003, there are those who persevere in thinking of this as the "gay disease," and look upon AIDS support as a "political statement." Someone actually found my ribbon offensive. Personally, I find the fact that my best friend, Steve Sutherland died at the age of 31 to be infinately more offensive. Until there's a cure, I promise not to give up the fight.
Yesterday, December 1, was World AIDS Day. I wore the red ribbon in honor of my friends, and missed them dreadfully. 41 million people around the world are living (and dying) with AIDS. Only 1 million of them are receiving any sort of treatment for this still always-fatal disease. And yet, even in 2003, there are those who persevere in thinking of this as the "gay disease," and look upon AIDS support as a "political statement." Someone actually found my ribbon offensive. Personally, I find the fact that my best friend, Steve Sutherland died at the age of 31 to be infinately more offensive. Until there's a cure, I promise not to give up the fight.
Monday, November 03, 2003
Rain
It rained last night. The first good, strong rain of the season. Fall has fallen. Last week it was warm bordering on hot. Today I pulled a favorite old sweater out of the bottom drawer and have once again found the joy of wrapping cold hands around a mug of hot tea. It's gray and dreary out, but I welcome this change.
Those who say California has no seasons are wrong. We do. Not, perhaps, as dramatic as the fall colors of New England followed by the deep white snows of winter. But we have our cool fall nights, our rainy winter days, the first, hesitant sunshine of spring, and the glorious heat of summer. I must confess, however, that I do occasionally get fed up with people who move to California, triple the price of houses in my home town, and then complain about how much they miss "real" seasons. If you miss "real" seasons so much, go back to the blizzard and let me buy a damn house!
Oh dear, that gentle musing on the weather turned rather bitchy, didn't it? Well, them's the breaks, folks.
It rained last night. The first good, strong rain of the season. Fall has fallen. Last week it was warm bordering on hot. Today I pulled a favorite old sweater out of the bottom drawer and have once again found the joy of wrapping cold hands around a mug of hot tea. It's gray and dreary out, but I welcome this change.
Those who say California has no seasons are wrong. We do. Not, perhaps, as dramatic as the fall colors of New England followed by the deep white snows of winter. But we have our cool fall nights, our rainy winter days, the first, hesitant sunshine of spring, and the glorious heat of summer. I must confess, however, that I do occasionally get fed up with people who move to California, triple the price of houses in my home town, and then complain about how much they miss "real" seasons. If you miss "real" seasons so much, go back to the blizzard and let me buy a damn house!
Oh dear, that gentle musing on the weather turned rather bitchy, didn't it? Well, them's the breaks, folks.
Friday, October 31, 2003
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Why does this have a cult following?
By which I mean Babylon 5, one of the most boring things ever. My husband is a big fan and recently bought the first few seasons on DVD. Any show where, when you tell a fan that you're watching the first season, immediately burstst into "it gets better! Really!", you know you're in trouble.
Where to start? Well, first off the lead (who I call Rex Ranger) is about as wooden as they come and seems to "emote" entirely by bugging out his eyes and saying his lines through gritted teeth. There's absolutely no charisma between any of the characters and for most of the first season....nothing happens.
Apparently there are "clues" that lead to the interesting bits in seasons 2-5....but by that time I'll be so asleep that I won't wake up when the explosions begin. I finally gave up and skipped the last 3 episodes entirely. My beloved watched them and then, when I asked what happened, proceeded to tell me about more developments in 3 hours than in the entire series so far. So I sat through all the cardboard and missed the dessert? Just my luck.
As I said, apparently "it gets better! Really!" so I've promised to watch the first 2 episodes of the second season...but so far, I'm bored out of my skull. Sorry, sweetie.
By which I mean Babylon 5, one of the most boring things ever. My husband is a big fan and recently bought the first few seasons on DVD. Any show where, when you tell a fan that you're watching the first season, immediately burstst into "it gets better! Really!", you know you're in trouble.
Where to start? Well, first off the lead (who I call Rex Ranger) is about as wooden as they come and seems to "emote" entirely by bugging out his eyes and saying his lines through gritted teeth. There's absolutely no charisma between any of the characters and for most of the first season....nothing happens.
Apparently there are "clues" that lead to the interesting bits in seasons 2-5....but by that time I'll be so asleep that I won't wake up when the explosions begin. I finally gave up and skipped the last 3 episodes entirely. My beloved watched them and then, when I asked what happened, proceeded to tell me about more developments in 3 hours than in the entire series so far. So I sat through all the cardboard and missed the dessert? Just my luck.
As I said, apparently "it gets better! Really!" so I've promised to watch the first 2 episodes of the second season...but so far, I'm bored out of my skull. Sorry, sweetie.
Wednesday, October 01, 2003
Hey, I've got a brilliant idea!
Since I hate the farce that has become the California recall, and since I work for a company that likes to fire people so that they can hire cheaper labor overseas, I think we should "outsource" the position of Governor of California to India. We won't have to pay the Governor as much plus (and here's the key), Arnold won't relocate so he's not a possibilitiy any more!
Since I hate the farce that has become the California recall, and since I work for a company that likes to fire people so that they can hire cheaper labor overseas, I think we should "outsource" the position of Governor of California to India. We won't have to pay the Governor as much plus (and here's the key), Arnold won't relocate so he's not a possibilitiy any more!
Tuesday, September 09, 2003
A single voice?
A history book that I've been reading makes the excellent point that we like to think of our elected officials as "leaders," but that many of them are really followers. Most of the important social movements in US history have been started by the people -- and by people on the fringe at that. Abolitionism. Suffrage. The civil rights movement. All of these started as people pissed off enough to do something, and committed enough to make the sacrifices necessary to achieve change. So, for those of us who wish we could do more, I offer today's piece of advice: don't give up. We may feel powerless, but that might not be the case. We just need to fight against the narrow-minded, war-mongering, conservatives who want to tromp over human rights in the name of "God bless the USA."
A history book that I've been reading makes the excellent point that we like to think of our elected officials as "leaders," but that many of them are really followers. Most of the important social movements in US history have been started by the people -- and by people on the fringe at that. Abolitionism. Suffrage. The civil rights movement. All of these started as people pissed off enough to do something, and committed enough to make the sacrifices necessary to achieve change. So, for those of us who wish we could do more, I offer today's piece of advice: don't give up. We may feel powerless, but that might not be the case. We just need to fight against the narrow-minded, war-mongering, conservatives who want to tromp over human rights in the name of "God bless the USA."
Monday, September 08, 2003
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
Remember summer?
Remember the swish/slap of the screen door shutting behind you as you ran out to play in the warm evening? Remember eating peaches, with juice rolling down your chin? Remember playing tag, hide & seek, and Mother May I late into the night? Remember sleeping with the windows open so that you lay awake and listened to the world around you? Remember running through the sprinklers, eating popcicles, and laying on your back watching the clouds? Go do it. Forget being a grown-up. Forget that it's after Labor Day and summer is somehow over. Go play. Go on...I'll wait.
Remember the swish/slap of the screen door shutting behind you as you ran out to play in the warm evening? Remember eating peaches, with juice rolling down your chin? Remember playing tag, hide & seek, and Mother May I late into the night? Remember sleeping with the windows open so that you lay awake and listened to the world around you? Remember running through the sprinklers, eating popcicles, and laying on your back watching the clouds? Go do it. Forget being a grown-up. Forget that it's after Labor Day and summer is somehow over. Go play. Go on...I'll wait.
Friday, August 08, 2003
Bureauacracy reigns!
I hate my job. Not surprising, most people these days hate their jobs. I know a lot of unemployed people at the moment, but I truly am getting tired of the "you should just be grateful you have a job" lecture. I mean yes, I am grateful that I have a job....but I'm human. If I'm not happy, I want something that would make me happy.
At the moment, most of my frustration can be traced back to a life-long hatred of bureaucracy. After years of fighting against it, I found myself reluctantly "acquired" by a company roughly the size of Poland. I have gone from having complete and total editorial and artistic control of my job, to having only some editorial and creative control of my job, to now having absolutely no editorial or creative control of my job. Apparently I am no longer required to think...which makes me believe the company would be better off hiring a happy hamster and firing my disgruntled ass.
Yeah, I keep taking the paycheck. I like to eat, and I need more of a cushion before I bail...but I hate it.
Why do companies publicly advertise that they want "creative thinkers" only to tell them that they have no authority to make a decision? Why do they like to be seen as promoting "different" when they only want the same? And why, oh why, are so many incredibly talented, experienced, and once-motivated people left to turn into dust, their skills wasted, while mega-corps drone endlessly onward in the same stodgy direction they've always gone?
I hate my job. Not surprising, most people these days hate their jobs. I know a lot of unemployed people at the moment, but I truly am getting tired of the "you should just be grateful you have a job" lecture. I mean yes, I am grateful that I have a job....but I'm human. If I'm not happy, I want something that would make me happy.
At the moment, most of my frustration can be traced back to a life-long hatred of bureaucracy. After years of fighting against it, I found myself reluctantly "acquired" by a company roughly the size of Poland. I have gone from having complete and total editorial and artistic control of my job, to having only some editorial and creative control of my job, to now having absolutely no editorial or creative control of my job. Apparently I am no longer required to think...which makes me believe the company would be better off hiring a happy hamster and firing my disgruntled ass.
Yeah, I keep taking the paycheck. I like to eat, and I need more of a cushion before I bail...but I hate it.
Why do companies publicly advertise that they want "creative thinkers" only to tell them that they have no authority to make a decision? Why do they like to be seen as promoting "different" when they only want the same? And why, oh why, are so many incredibly talented, experienced, and once-motivated people left to turn into dust, their skills wasted, while mega-corps drone endlessly onward in the same stodgy direction they've always gone?
Friday, July 11, 2003
Stream of Consciousness
If Virginia Woolf can do it, so can I. Of course, she could do it better. But then again, she committed suicide, so look where "better" got her. Why is the phrase "tortured" so often placed in front of the word "genius?" Virginia Woolf. Van Gogh. Michelangelo. Is genius worth it if the price is madness? Of course, look at all those who achieved greatness without going mad. How connected are the two? Does one write (paint, compose) because one is in pain, or is one in pain because they are artists? And who did write the book of love? Why is reality television so popular? Why don't more people turn off their TVs when nothing is on? I Love Lucy will always be a much better show than anything that Fox comes up with. Where does apathy come from, and how do you motivate people to become part of the solution? Why don't the majority of Americans realize that the rest of the world would love to be able to talk with their mouths full. It seems senseless that there are people killing themselves by eating cheese puffs and Oreos, while there are other people dying because they can't get rice, meat, or clean water. Why does Keanu Reeves have a career? Why is Danielle Steele a bestseller? Who really needs an SUV? Why aren't I doing all the work that I should be doing...
If Virginia Woolf can do it, so can I. Of course, she could do it better. But then again, she committed suicide, so look where "better" got her. Why is the phrase "tortured" so often placed in front of the word "genius?" Virginia Woolf. Van Gogh. Michelangelo. Is genius worth it if the price is madness? Of course, look at all those who achieved greatness without going mad. How connected are the two? Does one write (paint, compose) because one is in pain, or is one in pain because they are artists? And who did write the book of love? Why is reality television so popular? Why don't more people turn off their TVs when nothing is on? I Love Lucy will always be a much better show than anything that Fox comes up with. Where does apathy come from, and how do you motivate people to become part of the solution? Why don't the majority of Americans realize that the rest of the world would love to be able to talk with their mouths full. It seems senseless that there are people killing themselves by eating cheese puffs and Oreos, while there are other people dying because they can't get rice, meat, or clean water. Why does Keanu Reeves have a career? Why is Danielle Steele a bestseller? Who really needs an SUV? Why aren't I doing all the work that I should be doing...
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
Sigh...
I'm having one of those "I'm wasting my life" kind of days. One of those sad, tragic, completely demoralizing realizations that you're never going to win the Pulitizer or save the world. The kind of day when your soul longs to be working in refugee camps, or writing the great American novel...only to find that your body is dealing with computer problems, corporate politics, and terminal boredom. Sigh...
I'm having one of those "I'm wasting my life" kind of days. One of those sad, tragic, completely demoralizing realizations that you're never going to win the Pulitizer or save the world. The kind of day when your soul longs to be working in refugee camps, or writing the great American novel...only to find that your body is dealing with computer problems, corporate politics, and terminal boredom. Sigh...
Wednesday, June 04, 2003
The Best of Intentions
Go out the window with things like allergies, acquisitions, and anxiety attacks. Between feeling awful, feeling depressed, and generally feeling, I've not written in far too long. Prompted by a reminder from a friend (thank you), I hereby give you, in no particular order, things that are on my mind these days:
How good the combination of hot Latin jazz and cold margaritas is on a summer day -- why the universal standard of beauty is that freakish 1/2% of women in the world who have no hips -- how confusing it is when Hilary Clinton and Martha Stewart are both in the news. Aren't they the same person? They sure look the same. -- how I wish Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers had written more -- how extremely funny I Love Lucy really was -- the magic of Gene Kelly -- how it's possible to derive great satisfaction out of manual labor when one's job provides no satisfaction at all -- how lucky I am to have the friends that I have -- how glad I am that I don't live in Texas -- why do people watch reality shows --the irony of there being a magazine called Simple Life about how to simplify your life -- how much I love warm weather -- why people who own convertibles don't drive with the top down on days like this.
Go out the window with things like allergies, acquisitions, and anxiety attacks. Between feeling awful, feeling depressed, and generally feeling, I've not written in far too long. Prompted by a reminder from a friend (thank you), I hereby give you, in no particular order, things that are on my mind these days:
How good the combination of hot Latin jazz and cold margaritas is on a summer day -- why the universal standard of beauty is that freakish 1/2% of women in the world who have no hips -- how confusing it is when Hilary Clinton and Martha Stewart are both in the news. Aren't they the same person? They sure look the same. -- how I wish Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers had written more -- how extremely funny I Love Lucy really was -- the magic of Gene Kelly -- how it's possible to derive great satisfaction out of manual labor when one's job provides no satisfaction at all -- how lucky I am to have the friends that I have -- how glad I am that I don't live in Texas -- why do people watch reality shows --the irony of there being a magazine called Simple Life about how to simplify your life -- how much I love warm weather -- why people who own convertibles don't drive with the top down on days like this.
Thursday, April 24, 2003
Monday, April 21, 2003
The Deck Stops Here
The faces of those within the Iraqi circle of power who are currently being sought by the allies should not be used as playing cards. Doing so trivializes the war. This is a bad idea -- much in keeping with the way most of the US feels about all of this. It's not a joke, people. End of rant.
The faces of those within the Iraqi circle of power who are currently being sought by the allies should not be used as playing cards. Doing so trivializes the war. This is a bad idea -- much in keeping with the way most of the US feels about all of this. It's not a joke, people. End of rant.
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