My stepdad had a stamp and coin collection, my mother filled her shelves with English-style teapots, one of my sisters collects adorable frog figurines, the other has a wide assortment of Harry Potter t-shirts, my husband collects Hilton honors points (which I really love and benefit from), and as for me, I collect interesting human experiences.
It was no surprise that I gravitated to Mass Communications with an emphasis in Cultural Studies as my major of choice in college. Cultural Studies is a field which combines political economy, communication, sociology, social theory, literary theory, media studies, film/video studies, cultural anthropology, philosophy, and art history/criticism to study cultural phenomena in various societies. Basically, Cultural Studies helps explain why we do things the way we do, and how it fits into our society. Hence, my lifelong interest in collecting human experiences.
Some of my experiences have included sitting through a Mary Kay cosmetics sales and recruiting meeting, which seemed to put a lot of emphasis on socializing strictly for the purpose of selling makeup to supposedly "new friends", participating in a Native American sweat near Vancouver, British Columbia, where I sat around a very hot fire in a traditional tee-pee discussing my innermost thoughts to a group of strangers, while sweating like a pig. The upside came at the end of the two-hour sweat when I stepped out of the tee-pee and was doused by the tribal medicine carrier with a large bucket of cold water.
I've been a card-carrying member of both major political parties, and have attended their meetings. On the local and state level, both parties have good ideas and stand for something, unfortunately, as they start rising up to the national level the goodness evaporates and the void is filled by power hunger and monied lobbyists. I have encountered lesser known political parties during coffee with an ardent LaRouche Youth Movement activist, email correspondence with the head of the Democratic Socialists of America, and a shopping trip to the Revolutionary Communist bookstore in Seattle. Just as an FYI, the Communist bookstore doesn't take credit cards or checks.
After Rachael was born, I worried that submitting to a suburban "normal" lifestyle would lead to the end of my bizarre collection. After all, my belief was that you don't find anything interesting in the suburbs. Fortunately, I've discovered that one doesn't have to stop enjoying the peculiar just because the fates have chosen to put you in a life situation that June Cleaver would envy.
Since submitting to the suburb mom life, I have attended an Orthodox Jewish bris (ritual circumcision), which was an interesting pairing of an uncomfortable surgical procedure and fantastic buffet. I was a guest at a traditional Hindi housewarming celebration, which seemed a little uncomfortable at first, because both the man and woman of the house greeted us wearing silk sashes decorated with swastikas. Fortunately, my friend caught the look of concern in my eye and took the time to explain that Hitler totally jacked a beautiful, peaceful symbol of Indian culture and turned it into something evil. It's nice to know that Hindus hate him, too.
I have encountered a homophobic waitress at a Mongolian grill, hung out with two fabulous drag queens in hot pink, beehive wigs, met a famous Olympian at an enormous estate in Beverly Hills, and traveled to the much raved about Hamptons (for the record, I still don't see what's so great about that place).
Despite becoming a minivan-driving, soccer mom, I have no intention of ridding my life of my collection of interesting human experiences. In fact, I strive on a regular basis to continue collecting. The world is filled with bizarre humans, peculiar fringe groups, and situations that a truly normal person would find uncomfortable. I'll dive in with both feet, welcoming anything, except a Mac user group, because next to Scientologists, people who are militant Mac users make up the largest, nutjob cult in America, hands down.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Two Year Drought
Since I can remember, I've had this negative voice in the back of my head. If this voice had a human embodiment, it would look something like Faye Dunaway circa 'Mommy Dearest' without the extreme physical violence. She is pacing around an elegant, but claustrophobic room filled with gaudy, velvet-covered furniture and 1920s style lamps, smoking a cigarette in a long holder. Her voice is raspy, bitter, and constantly critical.
My Madame Negative usually only comes out in force when I'm looking at myself in a mirror or shopping for clothes. I go out determined to buy something to nice to wear. I have money in my pocket, and prep myself with positive reinforcements, yet come back with gifts for my husband and daughter, because Madame Negative reared her ugly voice and pointed out every physical inadequacy I have.
Fortunately, having lived with Madame Negative's criticism of my body since the age of 12, I've learned to turn her down. Perhaps in turning her down, I empowered her to regroup in a more damaging and vicious way.
There are two things in this world that I know how to do; one is produce non-profit auctions and the other is write. The auctions became an expertise gained after several years of practice, but writing was always second nature. I've never had to work at writing. I could whip out a flowing beautiful paper in no time flat. I used to fake rough drafts in school, because I never needed them. Writing was the one thing I could do well, and without effort.
Three years ago I began writing a book. For me, writing a book was a way to fill an unwritten expectation. In the 5th grade, at age 11, I had pledged to my class and my teacher, Mr. Gerhauser that I would write a book someday. My mother had always pleaded with me to write a book. I wrote 200 pages of a story about a very green entertainment journalist that enters into a toxic relationship with a rock star, and then it happened; Madame Negative read those 200 pages and told me that the story was cliche, and unreadable. She asked me how I could be a fan of George Orwell and Margaret Atwood and churn out such garbage. I abandoned my book.
For a short time I regrouped by writing essays, and blogging, but after doing draft upon draft of an article for a feminist magazine, I realized that for the first time in my life I was suffering severely from writer's block. This happened two years ago. I tried everything to break it, but the lack of confidence and the element of doubt haunted me in everything I wrote.
Despite my writer's block, everyone encouraged me to soldier on. My stepfather, on his deathbed, pleaded with me to continue writing the book. An old friend from high school, after hearing my dilemma, told me to basically 'get over it, stop wasting endless hours on computer games, and finish the damned book'. She now regularly brings it up, so I won't have any excuses.
I finally regained my confidence this week. A work-related project required that I write a tribute to a doctor we were honoring at our event. I was also asked to write a detailed script of the entire program. Since there was no one else to do it, I sat down at my computer and spent two days hammering out, what was to be, an amazing tribute and a detailed, spotless program script. Once again, I found a way to turn Madame Negative's voice down.
I don't know how long it will be before I revisit my book, but I think I've figured out a way to re-tool it. I've thought about making the characters a bit older, and far more interesting by making them equals. I can't say for sure how the book will turn out, but at least I'm writing again.
For those who have followed this blog, many apologies for the absence, especially in the past two years that had a monied and powerful American administration leaving office in shame, the election of the first black president (it's about time), and watching American society virtually collapse. Have no fear, I will address all of it with the candor and whit I thought I had lost to the angry, old crone and her death rattle voice.
My Madame Negative usually only comes out in force when I'm looking at myself in a mirror or shopping for clothes. I go out determined to buy something to nice to wear. I have money in my pocket, and prep myself with positive reinforcements, yet come back with gifts for my husband and daughter, because Madame Negative reared her ugly voice and pointed out every physical inadequacy I have.
Fortunately, having lived with Madame Negative's criticism of my body since the age of 12, I've learned to turn her down. Perhaps in turning her down, I empowered her to regroup in a more damaging and vicious way.
There are two things in this world that I know how to do; one is produce non-profit auctions and the other is write. The auctions became an expertise gained after several years of practice, but writing was always second nature. I've never had to work at writing. I could whip out a flowing beautiful paper in no time flat. I used to fake rough drafts in school, because I never needed them. Writing was the one thing I could do well, and without effort.
Three years ago I began writing a book. For me, writing a book was a way to fill an unwritten expectation. In the 5th grade, at age 11, I had pledged to my class and my teacher, Mr. Gerhauser that I would write a book someday. My mother had always pleaded with me to write a book. I wrote 200 pages of a story about a very green entertainment journalist that enters into a toxic relationship with a rock star, and then it happened; Madame Negative read those 200 pages and told me that the story was cliche, and unreadable. She asked me how I could be a fan of George Orwell and Margaret Atwood and churn out such garbage. I abandoned my book.
For a short time I regrouped by writing essays, and blogging, but after doing draft upon draft of an article for a feminist magazine, I realized that for the first time in my life I was suffering severely from writer's block. This happened two years ago. I tried everything to break it, but the lack of confidence and the element of doubt haunted me in everything I wrote.
Despite my writer's block, everyone encouraged me to soldier on. My stepfather, on his deathbed, pleaded with me to continue writing the book. An old friend from high school, after hearing my dilemma, told me to basically 'get over it, stop wasting endless hours on computer games, and finish the damned book'. She now regularly brings it up, so I won't have any excuses.
I finally regained my confidence this week. A work-related project required that I write a tribute to a doctor we were honoring at our event. I was also asked to write a detailed script of the entire program. Since there was no one else to do it, I sat down at my computer and spent two days hammering out, what was to be, an amazing tribute and a detailed, spotless program script. Once again, I found a way to turn Madame Negative's voice down.
I don't know how long it will be before I revisit my book, but I think I've figured out a way to re-tool it. I've thought about making the characters a bit older, and far more interesting by making them equals. I can't say for sure how the book will turn out, but at least I'm writing again.
For those who have followed this blog, many apologies for the absence, especially in the past two years that had a monied and powerful American administration leaving office in shame, the election of the first black president (it's about time), and watching American society virtually collapse. Have no fear, I will address all of it with the candor and whit I thought I had lost to the angry, old crone and her death rattle voice.
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Torture For Torture's Sake
I never thought I'd see a time in my country when reasonable people would be asking if it was okay to torture. When torture is mentioned, most people think the worst like pulling fingernails out with pliers or hooking electrodes up to testicles. In the U.S. we have been able, up to this point, to hold our heads high and proclaim to the rest of the barbaric world that we don't torture. However, in light of recent discoveries, we did torture, and now are in the midst of deciding whether to continue torturing, which is something I find deeply disturbing.
Torture doesn't work. It is just that simple. While the thought of getting one of those al Qaeda bastards under water and having him cry for his mommy might bring a smile to many people's faces, the info that guy will spew while believing he is drowning is totally useless. Over 60 years of research has proven that when human beings are in imminent fear of losing their lives or facing severe pain, they will say anything to make it stop. In other words, torture doesn't work.
Torture also becomes a slippery slope. It's kind of like an abusive relationship. The guy doesn't start out punching you in the face, instead he starts by slowly telling you what you can and can't do to see if he can get away with it. You begin justifying it in your mind, kind of like the people in this country are doing with waterboarding; 'sure they think they are drowning, but they really aren't, it's just like that bad pool experience you had in the 7th grade'.
Next thing you know the abusive boyfriend slaps you, and you're going to leave, but he begs you to stay, and you justify with the typical 'he really didn't mean to do it.' Like we are doing right now with not prosecuting the people who okayed the torture and are evaluating torture techniques to figure out if they are really torture.
Finally, the abusive boyfriend is beating the shit out of you on a nightly basis, and you feel pathetic and stupid for staying, but will still look at your black eye, swollen lip, and mess of a nose, and say 'he loves me, I know he does'. This is the point where waterboarding gives way to testicle electrodes and pliers to the fingernails, or that magical moment where every country operates like a South American junta or Iran. In other words, human beings can justify anything if they are given enough time to think about it, so torture becomes a slippery slope.
The fact is right now people in my country are acting like children. We know torture is wrong, and it's bad, but we want to do it, so we are trying to use logic and morality to justify our desires to string someone up by their neck, strip them naked, and beat them with an electrical cord, but in the end, there is no justifying that behavior.
During the Bush years, it was anything goes, but now that reason and sanity have returned, we have to grow up and realize that letting banking institutions sell crap loans to working people is wrong, allowing politicians to be bought by wealthy corporations to act in the corporate interest is wrong, invading and occupying another country that poses no real threat to us just to gain oil interests is wrong, and using torture to aid that war for oil is very wrong.
We are the United States and we don't torture, because we are better than that. End of story.
Torture doesn't work. It is just that simple. While the thought of getting one of those al Qaeda bastards under water and having him cry for his mommy might bring a smile to many people's faces, the info that guy will spew while believing he is drowning is totally useless. Over 60 years of research has proven that when human beings are in imminent fear of losing their lives or facing severe pain, they will say anything to make it stop. In other words, torture doesn't work.
Torture also becomes a slippery slope. It's kind of like an abusive relationship. The guy doesn't start out punching you in the face, instead he starts by slowly telling you what you can and can't do to see if he can get away with it. You begin justifying it in your mind, kind of like the people in this country are doing with waterboarding; 'sure they think they are drowning, but they really aren't, it's just like that bad pool experience you had in the 7th grade'.
Next thing you know the abusive boyfriend slaps you, and you're going to leave, but he begs you to stay, and you justify with the typical 'he really didn't mean to do it.' Like we are doing right now with not prosecuting the people who okayed the torture and are evaluating torture techniques to figure out if they are really torture.
Finally, the abusive boyfriend is beating the shit out of you on a nightly basis, and you feel pathetic and stupid for staying, but will still look at your black eye, swollen lip, and mess of a nose, and say 'he loves me, I know he does'. This is the point where waterboarding gives way to testicle electrodes and pliers to the fingernails, or that magical moment where every country operates like a South American junta or Iran. In other words, human beings can justify anything if they are given enough time to think about it, so torture becomes a slippery slope.
The fact is right now people in my country are acting like children. We know torture is wrong, and it's bad, but we want to do it, so we are trying to use logic and morality to justify our desires to string someone up by their neck, strip them naked, and beat them with an electrical cord, but in the end, there is no justifying that behavior.
During the Bush years, it was anything goes, but now that reason and sanity have returned, we have to grow up and realize that letting banking institutions sell crap loans to working people is wrong, allowing politicians to be bought by wealthy corporations to act in the corporate interest is wrong, invading and occupying another country that poses no real threat to us just to gain oil interests is wrong, and using torture to aid that war for oil is very wrong.
We are the United States and we don't torture, because we are better than that. End of story.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Are My Concert Going Days Over?
I love live music. From my first concert, which was Def Leppard at the BSU Pavilion, 20 years ago I loved the entire live experience. I spent two years working in live music where I took part promoting nearly 250 shows per year. I reveled in the energy of the performers and the crowds, and purely enjoyed the sound of the music in its more spontaneous, less studio produced form, which is why it pains me to say that I haven't been to a show in nearly two years.
I could blame the grueling job that consumed my life until I left it in October. I could blame the lack of a concert going buddy, but I'm sure if I asked around I could find at least one person in my social circle who might take in a show with me. I could also blame the fact that I'm 36 now, and I have a kid and another on the way, but a live music fan never stops loving the experience. No, the reason I haven't been to a show in two years is simple, it's Ticketmaster.
Ticketmaster is one of the entities that has ruined the live music experience. They hold a 98% monopoly on concert and event ticket sales in the United States. During the early '90s, the grunge band, Pearl Jam took on Ticketmaster and called them out for their practices. Unfortunately, Pearl Jam paved the way for another company or companies to come in and compete with Ticketmaster, but no one picked up that ball.
Back then people were just annoyed by the Ticketmaster surcharges little did we all know that under Ticketmaster's reign the issue ten years later wouldn't be the fees, it would be access. I didn't even think about the issue of access, mostly due to the fact that a lot of the shows I had been to around that time were smaller bands brought in by independent promoters, but upon waiting for tickets to go on sale to the, then new, musical "Wicked" I realized that Ticketmaster's brave new world was disastrous for live music lovers.
I had heard a rumor that "Wicked" was coming to the Paramount Theatre in Seattle in September 2006. I began checking Ticketmaster's website religiously at the beginning of 2006. I signed up for their weekly emails, and visited their site twice a week for nine months. I'll never forget the day that I went to the Ticketmaster site and found out all of the performances for "Wicked" were sold out. There wasn't one newspaper ad, no notice on their site, no radio ads, no mention anywhere, but between the Monday on-sale and Wednesday when I checked back every performance for the six week run was gone.
However, there were plenty of tickets to be had for extremely inflated prices from online ticket brokers. It occurred to me then that Ticketmaster had created a brilliant business. They would lock up every venue and promoter in the country, have an on-sale, and straight out of the gate sell all their tickets that included their inflated service fees to online ticket brokers. By doing this, they sell out the show immediately, therefore they can reduce the staff that they used to need to employ to continue selling tickets up until the date of the performance. They could basically collect a quick buck if they didn't mind screwing the concert going public, and obviously they didn't.
Metallica went on sale this morning, just eight hours earlier, for a show at the Honda Center in December. The Honda Center is huge and holds at least 10,000-15,000 people. The only seats left on Ticketmaster are in the nose bleed 400-level, but upon Googling 'Metallica - Honda Center - Tickets' I found several online brokers willing to sell me a mediocre-at-best seat for double the face value.
I ended up getting to see "Wicked" when my very persistent husband went to the theatre box office and demanded to speak with a manager. They sold him great seats, one behind the other, way to the left, but at least we saw it. I can't say the same for the upcoming Metallica show. I've got a good job, so money isn't the issue anymore, it's the fact that Ticketmaster is selling to scalpers. Scalpers who have a website and "legitimate" business offices, and call themselves "brokers", but are still just the same shady, piece of shit scalpers who used to stand outside of the arena and gouge you for double. Until that practice ends, I, like several of my fellow live music fans, will either find a way to get comp tickets or enjoy the music, as much as possible, from my satellite radio.
I could blame the grueling job that consumed my life until I left it in October. I could blame the lack of a concert going buddy, but I'm sure if I asked around I could find at least one person in my social circle who might take in a show with me. I could also blame the fact that I'm 36 now, and I have a kid and another on the way, but a live music fan never stops loving the experience. No, the reason I haven't been to a show in two years is simple, it's Ticketmaster.
Ticketmaster is one of the entities that has ruined the live music experience. They hold a 98% monopoly on concert and event ticket sales in the United States. During the early '90s, the grunge band, Pearl Jam took on Ticketmaster and called them out for their practices. Unfortunately, Pearl Jam paved the way for another company or companies to come in and compete with Ticketmaster, but no one picked up that ball.
Back then people were just annoyed by the Ticketmaster surcharges little did we all know that under Ticketmaster's reign the issue ten years later wouldn't be the fees, it would be access. I didn't even think about the issue of access, mostly due to the fact that a lot of the shows I had been to around that time were smaller bands brought in by independent promoters, but upon waiting for tickets to go on sale to the, then new, musical "Wicked" I realized that Ticketmaster's brave new world was disastrous for live music lovers.
I had heard a rumor that "Wicked" was coming to the Paramount Theatre in Seattle in September 2006. I began checking Ticketmaster's website religiously at the beginning of 2006. I signed up for their weekly emails, and visited their site twice a week for nine months. I'll never forget the day that I went to the Ticketmaster site and found out all of the performances for "Wicked" were sold out. There wasn't one newspaper ad, no notice on their site, no radio ads, no mention anywhere, but between the Monday on-sale and Wednesday when I checked back every performance for the six week run was gone.
However, there were plenty of tickets to be had for extremely inflated prices from online ticket brokers. It occurred to me then that Ticketmaster had created a brilliant business. They would lock up every venue and promoter in the country, have an on-sale, and straight out of the gate sell all their tickets that included their inflated service fees to online ticket brokers. By doing this, they sell out the show immediately, therefore they can reduce the staff that they used to need to employ to continue selling tickets up until the date of the performance. They could basically collect a quick buck if they didn't mind screwing the concert going public, and obviously they didn't.
Metallica went on sale this morning, just eight hours earlier, for a show at the Honda Center in December. The Honda Center is huge and holds at least 10,000-15,000 people. The only seats left on Ticketmaster are in the nose bleed 400-level, but upon Googling 'Metallica - Honda Center - Tickets' I found several online brokers willing to sell me a mediocre-at-best seat for double the face value.
I ended up getting to see "Wicked" when my very persistent husband went to the theatre box office and demanded to speak with a manager. They sold him great seats, one behind the other, way to the left, but at least we saw it. I can't say the same for the upcoming Metallica show. I've got a good job, so money isn't the issue anymore, it's the fact that Ticketmaster is selling to scalpers. Scalpers who have a website and "legitimate" business offices, and call themselves "brokers", but are still just the same shady, piece of shit scalpers who used to stand outside of the arena and gouge you for double. Until that practice ends, I, like several of my fellow live music fans, will either find a way to get comp tickets or enjoy the music, as much as possible, from my satellite radio.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
How We Got From There to Here
I've spent weeks listening to the corporate media talking heads blaming everything short of pets on this financial chaos that has taken over my country and extended its dour situation to the rest of the world. The conservatives blame liberal spending, the liberals blame conservative protection programs that favor the rich, but they're all wrong. This landslide to financial ruin began 30 years ago.
My stepfather, the consummate capitalist, is fond of the '80s. He was a Reganite, and believed that capitalism was the best way to run an economy. He hated regulation, paying taxes, and anything that held businessmen back from making money. His favorite quote was from the movie, "Wall Street" in which capitalist hero Gordon Gekko recites the mantra, 'Greed is good.'
This is the point where my country lost its way, and how we got to our current state. Prior to the 1980s, the U.S. had been a community-oriented society. Neighborhoods were safer, people were into spending time with their families, and national priorities were set more towards people rather than industry. Things weren't perfect; there was inequality amongst the sexes and racism to deal with. For the most part, however, no matter the place you live or the economic class you were in, you could find a community.
All of that changed in the 1980s. With the Gekko mantra, and Reganomics in place, we moved from a society of community to a society of self. We no longer cared about getting to know our neighbor, our new goal was to out-do them. If they had a 2,000 square foot house, ours needed to be 2,500 square feet. If they had a sedan, we needed an SUV. If they vacationed in Mexico, we had to take a holiday in Spain. If they had big, we needed to have bigger and better.
The problem with our new self-centered focus in terms of finances was that wages have been relatively stagnant over the years, so in order to afford our new, keeping up with the Joneses lifestyle, we began charging our faux success. To hell with volunteering on the weekends, we were in Valley Girl mode at the mall. Clothing and accessories labels became a new religion, and our tithe was millions upon millions to Visa, Mastercard, and American Express.
This new self-centered society generated consequences such as a rise in crime, drug use, and broken families. 30 years of having to accommodate an increasing prison population, fighting the losing War on Drugs, and providing emergency safety nets for broken families led to the nearly bankrupt state of counties, states and municipalities.
30 years, that is how long our self-centered focused society has lasted. Now, time's up. We are in economic ruin brought on by intense, selfish greed. A greed that comes from negating the value of community in favor of materialism.
We now have to finance our own rescue, but it comes at a tremendous cost. We are no longer able to focus on the self, and are forced to go back to the days where we were in it altogether. This re-focus has tremendous opposition. Capitalists have enjoyed 30 years of huge profits and they won't go down easily. They circulate the word "socialism" through their media outlets claiming that giving people healthcare and financial relief will take us from the freedom we've enjoyed to a Hitler-like fascism. Socialism is the boogie man that the wealthy and powerful have always used to keep the working and middle class voting against their own best interests.
Fortunately, a lot of people aren't buying the mainstream, corporate media's doom scenario. The citizens of this country have looked at other first-world countries, and we realize on some level that we've been jipped. While media outlets constantly show us the Canadian healthcare program's shortfalls, we can't help noticing that several European countries, and some of the second-world countries have gotten it really right.
We could let this situation pull us down, but we are Americans, and we have the type of grit that was earned by a melting pot of survivors and staunch individualists that left their homelands to make a life in this country. We have been side-tracked for 30 years by greed and materialism, but we are back on track now, focused on creating an America based on community where we all take care of each other, because we are, once again, all in this together.
My stepfather, the consummate capitalist, is fond of the '80s. He was a Reganite, and believed that capitalism was the best way to run an economy. He hated regulation, paying taxes, and anything that held businessmen back from making money. His favorite quote was from the movie, "Wall Street" in which capitalist hero Gordon Gekko recites the mantra, 'Greed is good.'
This is the point where my country lost its way, and how we got to our current state. Prior to the 1980s, the U.S. had been a community-oriented society. Neighborhoods were safer, people were into spending time with their families, and national priorities were set more towards people rather than industry. Things weren't perfect; there was inequality amongst the sexes and racism to deal with. For the most part, however, no matter the place you live or the economic class you were in, you could find a community.
All of that changed in the 1980s. With the Gekko mantra, and Reganomics in place, we moved from a society of community to a society of self. We no longer cared about getting to know our neighbor, our new goal was to out-do them. If they had a 2,000 square foot house, ours needed to be 2,500 square feet. If they had a sedan, we needed an SUV. If they vacationed in Mexico, we had to take a holiday in Spain. If they had big, we needed to have bigger and better.
The problem with our new self-centered focus in terms of finances was that wages have been relatively stagnant over the years, so in order to afford our new, keeping up with the Joneses lifestyle, we began charging our faux success. To hell with volunteering on the weekends, we were in Valley Girl mode at the mall. Clothing and accessories labels became a new religion, and our tithe was millions upon millions to Visa, Mastercard, and American Express.
This new self-centered society generated consequences such as a rise in crime, drug use, and broken families. 30 years of having to accommodate an increasing prison population, fighting the losing War on Drugs, and providing emergency safety nets for broken families led to the nearly bankrupt state of counties, states and municipalities.
30 years, that is how long our self-centered focused society has lasted. Now, time's up. We are in economic ruin brought on by intense, selfish greed. A greed that comes from negating the value of community in favor of materialism.
We now have to finance our own rescue, but it comes at a tremendous cost. We are no longer able to focus on the self, and are forced to go back to the days where we were in it altogether. This re-focus has tremendous opposition. Capitalists have enjoyed 30 years of huge profits and they won't go down easily. They circulate the word "socialism" through their media outlets claiming that giving people healthcare and financial relief will take us from the freedom we've enjoyed to a Hitler-like fascism. Socialism is the boogie man that the wealthy and powerful have always used to keep the working and middle class voting against their own best interests.
Fortunately, a lot of people aren't buying the mainstream, corporate media's doom scenario. The citizens of this country have looked at other first-world countries, and we realize on some level that we've been jipped. While media outlets constantly show us the Canadian healthcare program's shortfalls, we can't help noticing that several European countries, and some of the second-world countries have gotten it really right.
We could let this situation pull us down, but we are Americans, and we have the type of grit that was earned by a melting pot of survivors and staunch individualists that left their homelands to make a life in this country. We have been side-tracked for 30 years by greed and materialism, but we are back on track now, focused on creating an America based on community where we all take care of each other, because we are, once again, all in this together.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Casualties of Bride Wars
If I went to Hollywood and made a movie about two uneducated black thugs living in a ghetto where every woman in the film was a pregnant teenager addicted to crack, and all they did each day was sit on their porch, listen to rap, shoot guns at passersby while eating watermelon and fried chicken my ass would be nailed to a cross on the cover of Ebony magazine.
However, Hollywood can shit out something as pathetic and degrading as Bride Wars, and entertainment media can't get enough of it. This movie is meant to show women at their worst while doing something that is supposedly strictly female centric (i.e. the wedding). Every negative female stereotype is on display in this film.
This movie is the story of two lifelong friends whose number one dream is to have a big wedding. Funny, in this day and age most women I know have a wedding as just one of their many dreams, and the wedding is rarely their biggest dream. The best friends end up having their weddings booked on the same day, which is weird considering that they are in New York City and we are supposed to believe that there is only one capable wedding planner for 25 million people.
The childhood friends engage in a brutal catfight to sabotage each other's special day. I've been in many a friendship and out of basic respect, no matter how disappointed, I would never even consider ruining something that meant so much to my friend. Also, in any friendship or relationship in general, there is a dominant and a submissive. We are supposed to believe in this film that the friend who has been the lifelong submissive suddenly becomes the Alpha female, which is also highly unlikely.
In the end the aggressive friend who is also a successful attorney has her wedding cancelled and loses her would be husband as punishment for her warlike behavior. While the traditionally submissive friend has the perfect wedding. This is yet another example of Hollywood telling women that you can be a little catty for fun, but winning any kind of war through aggression is strictly male territory.
Most would say that this is just a romantic comedy and it shouldn't be taken seriously, but how can I not be pissed when films like this that show women at their worst are a blatant slap in the face to women everywhere. It's bad enough that Hollywood rarely has a movie that portrays women as interesting and diverse, but it has taken the romantic comedy genre down to its most superficial basic.
I'll be skipping Bride Wars, Bridezilla, and any other form of "entertainment" that depicts women as selfish, catty shrews who are out to destroy each other for a man or an idealized ceremony. I like to live in a world where women have strength, depth, and ambition that isn't punished through abandonment or an over sprayed tan.
However, Hollywood can shit out something as pathetic and degrading as Bride Wars, and entertainment media can't get enough of it. This movie is meant to show women at their worst while doing something that is supposedly strictly female centric (i.e. the wedding). Every negative female stereotype is on display in this film.
This movie is the story of two lifelong friends whose number one dream is to have a big wedding. Funny, in this day and age most women I know have a wedding as just one of their many dreams, and the wedding is rarely their biggest dream. The best friends end up having their weddings booked on the same day, which is weird considering that they are in New York City and we are supposed to believe that there is only one capable wedding planner for 25 million people.
The childhood friends engage in a brutal catfight to sabotage each other's special day. I've been in many a friendship and out of basic respect, no matter how disappointed, I would never even consider ruining something that meant so much to my friend. Also, in any friendship or relationship in general, there is a dominant and a submissive. We are supposed to believe in this film that the friend who has been the lifelong submissive suddenly becomes the Alpha female, which is also highly unlikely.
In the end the aggressive friend who is also a successful attorney has her wedding cancelled and loses her would be husband as punishment for her warlike behavior. While the traditionally submissive friend has the perfect wedding. This is yet another example of Hollywood telling women that you can be a little catty for fun, but winning any kind of war through aggression is strictly male territory.
Most would say that this is just a romantic comedy and it shouldn't be taken seriously, but how can I not be pissed when films like this that show women at their worst are a blatant slap in the face to women everywhere. It's bad enough that Hollywood rarely has a movie that portrays women as interesting and diverse, but it has taken the romantic comedy genre down to its most superficial basic.
I'll be skipping Bride Wars, Bridezilla, and any other form of "entertainment" that depicts women as selfish, catty shrews who are out to destroy each other for a man or an idealized ceremony. I like to live in a world where women have strength, depth, and ambition that isn't punished through abandonment or an over sprayed tan.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Here We Go Again!
I've been on the fence about expanding the family for quite awhile. Rachael is incredibly smart, very strong-willed, and has the energy of a gerbil on crack, so the idea of adding another child was an exhaustion I didn't want to experience.
I went back to work when Rachael was 18 months. The job was low-key and in my field. I wasn't in love with it, but I was content. We moved to California a year and a half later, and that is when I started with a company that consumed my life. I diluted myself into thinking that if I worked hard enough I could reach a point where I could put my family first again, but that never happened. The result was my near absence for 16 months, my daughter's increasing neediness, and my husband's extreme frustration at a schedule that didn't adequately reward me for all of the hours that I took away from them.
The good news is that I woke up and got my priorities straight before I lost everything that ever meant anything to me. In no time I was able to repair the damage done to my marriage, and guarantee Rachael that she would never take a backseat again. The only thing remaining from a year and a half of hell is the guilt I feel for having made a real dumbass decision, but life goes on.
I started a new job instantaneously that resembles the job I had in Seattle, less the dysfunction. I wanted to wait a bit more before we decided to have another child, once again, out of loyalty for my job, but this time Jeff was adamant. He had waited long enough, so here I am expecting our last child, because I agreed to two and only two.
There are vast differences between #1 and #2. I freaked out at six weeks along, because I was as large in my second month with Baby Two as I was in my fourth month with Rachael. I was convinced that my sudden girth meant I had more than one little sprout swimming around in there. Thankfully, my sister-in-law who has been a midwife for 20 years assured me it was just a second baby, and that your body basically has something called "muscle memory". This means that the moment you get pregnant with your second child your body says, "hey I remember this" and inflates like a damn blimp.
The nice thing about my sudden expansion is that it is basically all in my stomach and boobs. I can get into my jeans and pull them up my thighs and over my butt, I just can't zip or button them.
I'm tired as hell, and usually ready to pass out by 7:00pm, which puts the kibosh on exercise. Aside from that I've had very little morning sickness just like the first time. The only other difference is my cravings. With Rachael I hungered for spicy Thai food, large amounts of chocolate, root beer and KFC original recipe chicken. I gained 70 lbs. during my Rachael pregnancy, but that's not going to happen this time.
So far, chocolate gives me heartburn, and all I want is tart. No, not the yummy, cream filled fruit tarts, caper, olives, berries, and an assload of Craisins! Root beer is too sugary, so my drink of choice is ice water-lakes and rivers of ice water-which means between the kid sitting on my bladder and the insane amount of water I'm up peeing at least five times a night. I just see it as nature's way of getting me ready for the every two hours feedings, and also very annoying.
I am excited about having a new little one to cuddle. Rachael has no trace of baby left in her, in fact she has already informed me that she will be changing all of the pee pee diapers and I can change the poopy ones (her dad made the same deal with me when she was the baby). So I guess I welcome 2009 with enthusiasm for a new president, a new place of employment, and a new little punk to unleash on the world. Here we go again!
I went back to work when Rachael was 18 months. The job was low-key and in my field. I wasn't in love with it, but I was content. We moved to California a year and a half later, and that is when I started with a company that consumed my life. I diluted myself into thinking that if I worked hard enough I could reach a point where I could put my family first again, but that never happened. The result was my near absence for 16 months, my daughter's increasing neediness, and my husband's extreme frustration at a schedule that didn't adequately reward me for all of the hours that I took away from them.
The good news is that I woke up and got my priorities straight before I lost everything that ever meant anything to me. In no time I was able to repair the damage done to my marriage, and guarantee Rachael that she would never take a backseat again. The only thing remaining from a year and a half of hell is the guilt I feel for having made a real dumbass decision, but life goes on.
I started a new job instantaneously that resembles the job I had in Seattle, less the dysfunction. I wanted to wait a bit more before we decided to have another child, once again, out of loyalty for my job, but this time Jeff was adamant. He had waited long enough, so here I am expecting our last child, because I agreed to two and only two.
There are vast differences between #1 and #2. I freaked out at six weeks along, because I was as large in my second month with Baby Two as I was in my fourth month with Rachael. I was convinced that my sudden girth meant I had more than one little sprout swimming around in there. Thankfully, my sister-in-law who has been a midwife for 20 years assured me it was just a second baby, and that your body basically has something called "muscle memory". This means that the moment you get pregnant with your second child your body says, "hey I remember this" and inflates like a damn blimp.
The nice thing about my sudden expansion is that it is basically all in my stomach and boobs. I can get into my jeans and pull them up my thighs and over my butt, I just can't zip or button them.
I'm tired as hell, and usually ready to pass out by 7:00pm, which puts the kibosh on exercise. Aside from that I've had very little morning sickness just like the first time. The only other difference is my cravings. With Rachael I hungered for spicy Thai food, large amounts of chocolate, root beer and KFC original recipe chicken. I gained 70 lbs. during my Rachael pregnancy, but that's not going to happen this time.
So far, chocolate gives me heartburn, and all I want is tart. No, not the yummy, cream filled fruit tarts, caper, olives, berries, and an assload of Craisins! Root beer is too sugary, so my drink of choice is ice water-lakes and rivers of ice water-which means between the kid sitting on my bladder and the insane amount of water I'm up peeing at least five times a night. I just see it as nature's way of getting me ready for the every two hours feedings, and also very annoying.
I am excited about having a new little one to cuddle. Rachael has no trace of baby left in her, in fact she has already informed me that she will be changing all of the pee pee diapers and I can change the poopy ones (her dad made the same deal with me when she was the baby). So I guess I welcome 2009 with enthusiasm for a new president, a new place of employment, and a new little punk to unleash on the world. Here we go again!
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