Forever Wandering

Ode to Vintage Pyrex

2012-02-07T04:46:00.009Z

I'm not domestic. I'm not one of those women who gets a little thrill over cute oven mitts or who relishes buying new dish sets and cookware. At least, I thought I wasn't.

Lo, a Pinterest poster's charming image of vintage Pyrex dishes, stacked neatly with their cheerful pinks, blues and golds, glossy and shining, had me scouring etsy for vintage Pyrex finds. Looking through those finds, it made me a little sad, or, maybe sad isn't the word. Melancholy? It made me feel a little nostalgic, a little homesick, for something I'd never really experienced myself.

Looking through the good, solid American cookware of the 1950s and 60s, I saw things we'd never even think to use nowadays: butter dishes, gravy boats, ornate serving pitchers for coffee. The art of serving guests has almost completely deteriorated, and these items, once useful tools, are now antique relics, destined for a shelf somewhere, at which younger generations can marvel.

Yes, I know, we must press on and let progress and technology guide the ship. We women don't have time for gravy making or for setting a proper table and making sure that everything matches, and that napkins are folded just so and all of the spots are gone from the silverware (the GOOD silverware). As a modern, professional woman, I'm glad that I am where I am. The last thing I'd want to be would be enslaved in a kitchen, chopping and boiling away. Gravy boats had to drop anchor for my professional happiness and success. Still, I can't help but feel a lump in my throat for that simplicity we traded in...But, then again, maybe that's just 'cause I never learned to make decent mashed potatoes.

Cycling Back To Reclaim Old Victory!

2012-01-29T00:20:00.008Z

I'm about to harvest my hard-earned tax money for the year, which couldn't have come at a more opportune moment. Today's the day I bought my very first bike, ever. That's right, EVER. And now begins our story...

It sounds like this "poor me" sort of story, entitled, "My Parents Never Bought Me A Bike" (booh-hoo), but, really, I didn't exactly feel like I was missing out on anything at the time. This was 1985 and my parents, both very entrepreneurial hairdressers, were busy, developing their fantastic new invention, the world's first computer imaging software for the hair styling industry.

The software itself worked like this: A hairstyling client's face was lined up in its proper place using appropriate cross-hair markers and a video camera, and captured onto a computer screen. Then, the stylist could choose from a list of hairstyles which he or she wanted to try on the client. the style would appear over the client's own image and the stylist could adjust the size, color and length using a pen mouse. It was all pretty advanced for the 80s. I liked that they let me play with it when I was left at the salon all day. I always made my hair pink with big mall bangs. I liked Jem, a lot.

I was always very good at entertaining myself. Back in those days, when daycare options were sparse for folks like us, and when my parents were traveling with the imaging system, I depended a lot of my own imagination and books to carry me through the recreational hours. We lived in St. Louis suburbia, in a subdivision with no children my age (mostly babies or very small children), and nowhere for kids to go anyway (the nearest stores were a 20-min walk away). So, relegated to the back yard and to the few sleepovers or playdates that I did have, the option of "going bike riding" never came up.

As for my parents, I don't know if they were so busy at the time, that teaching me to ride wasn't an upfront and center consideration, or whether because I never asked for one, they never even bothered. I asked my mother one day why I never got a bike and my sister did, and she said, "I don't know. I guess maybe you never expressed interest."

That answer alone didn't hold up as a solid reason for me. Sure, there are some skills, like learning ballet or skiing, that should not be forced on a child, but bike riding is almost like learning to type nowadays. You can get along fine without it, but it's pretty difficult when everyone else around you knows how. If you can coax a child into learning to type, you can coax a child into learning how to ride a bike. My guess is, the parents were busy and didn't have time to waste coaxing. So, they never bought me a bike, and they never taught me to ride.

Years went by. My sister got a bike when she was 7 or so, maybe 8 even. It was her birthday and she'd asked for it. That was fine with me, as long as it didn't cross over to my territory. I guarded my turf like an alpha canine: I get horseback riding, art, books, dogs and the color blue, and you can have stuff I don't care about, like ballet, gymnastics, ice skating and pink. The laws were never verbally outlined, but strictly enforced when broken. So, the bike fell into her territory by default. I had no need for a bike, so I thought.

My French uncle and aunt and cousin came to visit that summer. They were the ones who taught my sister to ride her bike. I stayed inside with a book while they begged and pleaded with me to "move a little, it's good for you." Horn-headed as I am, I allowed their pleas to drive me further into my shell, and I covered myself in my fantasy world, where it was more fun and bike riding people didn't exist.

After they'd left and the summer days dragged on (I don't remember the last time a summer day dragged on for me as an adult), I found myself observing my sister and her little friend, weebling around the subdivision on their bikes through my bedroom window. Something sour started to develop, which spread into a delicate flavor combination of longing, jealousy and fear.

Her bike was too small for me when I pulled it out. It was a kid's mountain bike, forest green, with nice, fat tires. If I could just find out if I could balance on it, I thought. I sat on it at the top of our driveway, which slanted down ever-so-slightly. Down and down and down I repeated coasting until I thought, I'm going to coast around the block. Shaky, I went, coasting down the big hills. I was too afraid to put my feet on the pedals. When I did, the bike would wobble to the side and I'd panic. I could feel I was getting the hang of the balance, I was almost there, until...the neighbor saw me.

Poor woman. I don't mean to blame her for my inability to ride a bike. All she said as she drove by was, "You're almost there!"

And I was mortified. Here I was, 12 years old, and I didn't know how to ride a bike and my little sister did. The shame of hiding such a secret from peers was bad enough, but now, even my neighbors knew. I put up the bike and never tried again.

On through teens and 20s the years marched on. I accomplished a lot to be proud of in that time. I lived abroad, I studied in London to receive my MA in International Journalism, I traveled, I tried new things, I picked up many skills, but, still, I'd see them, what seemed to be everyone else gliding along on two wheels, and I'd feel that sourness again and again. The freedom of movement, the elegant limbs, the ease of the pedal strokes, all struck me with indescribable awe. Someday I'll find a way to learn, I'd tell myself.

At any time, I suppose, I could have bought myself a bike and I could have gone to a parking lot and piddled about until I learned, but, mostly, it was about the shame. It'd been my deepest, darkest secret for so long, the shame had grown into my skin. Only my closest friends knew. I'd observed typical 90s sitcom episodes, like "Friends" where Phoebe learns to ride a bike, or "Frasier", where Niles is the cycling newbie, and, in both instances, the adult non-cyclists were treated like ridiculous fodder for an episode of jokes. But it was almost like, "Yeah, but we know in REAL life no adults exist who don't know how to ride a bike. That's just absurd!" The horrific embarrassment ignited by pop culture grew a forest fire that kept my little secret inside for many more years.

By the time I hit 30, I'd sweated out most of the fear of trying new things, challenging myself in new ways, both in my professional life and personal life. Now that I was living on my own in Southern California, where there was lots to do and the weather was mostly almost always awesome, I set myself a goal of having more adventures and learning new skills. It was time to explore, get bold and find out what I was made of.

Ironically as part of that whole adventure, I found myself meeting a great guy who happened to be an active cyclist. He competed in a race not long after we first started dating. It took me a while to muster up the courage to tell him my secret. How on Earth could I tell a person SO passionate about biking that I'd never learned how to ride?

One day, when I somehow eeked out the bold streak to tell him. He was surprised, but very supportive. "I'll take you to a parking lot, we'll take it slow," he'd assured me.

As much as I appreciated his chivalrous and kind response to my dilemma, the thought of falling headfirst into a concrete parking island in front of him was anything but sexy. Sure, maybe it was my shame taking hold at this point, but I wanted to see what other options were available.

Much to my surprise, "How to Ride a Bike" courses were popping up all over the country. REI offered a "How to Ride a Bike" course right in my area! I looked for the next one and I was shocked to see that it had filled up.

"They say it's their most popular class," my boyfriend had mentioned after a trip to REI one day.

I admit, I didn't sign up right away to the next available one. The holidays got in the way and there were lots of things to distract me, not to mention financial issues, that kept me a little bit distanced from my goal. Luckily, my boyfriend, who never forgets anything I tell him (amazing, especially for the male species), sent me an email while I was spending Christmas with my folks, detailing the next "How to Ride a Bike" course on January 22, 2012. Within a few clicks, I was committed to finally attempt to conquer a lifelong source of embarrassment and limitations.

The date came galloping up, and, I'll admit, that morning my stomach felt a little jittery. Some of it was excitement, some of it was definitely laced with fear. Either way, no matter how difficult a feat this was going to be, I wss going to master it.

The instructor was from Ecuador, one of those very handsome, rugged types with a thick accent. He stood on the other side of a line of bikes, while his co-instructor, a thinner all-American white guy, adjusted and checked each one. One-by-one the students arrived and looked around at each other. All ages, sizes and colors we were, but each of us ported that same timid look, like, "Are we really going to do this?"

As our instructor had us go around and talk about our reasons for taking the class, I realized that I wasn't the only one who had carried this secret around forever. Each person in the class had been burdened by the same shame as I had been, some for even longer than I had. We all seemed excited when the instructor said, "95 percent of the students who take this class learn how to ride a bike by the end of the class." Our shame would end that day.

First exercise: Coasting. We were instructed to get a good start by forcefully pushing with our legs to gain some momentum, then we focused on our balance while we would glide along with our feet lifted off of the ground. The first coast felt wobbly and scary, but as I continued down the hill over and over, I felt something begin to click as my glides got more graceful, less wobbly and less scary.

"Come over here, I'm going to put your pedals on," our instructor said, motioning to me after about 20-30 minutes of gliding practice.

He showed me how to push off and start pedaling, the part where, long ago, I'd never gotten past. I was nervous. The first start, I didn't get enough momentum and ended up wobbling over to one side before I put my feet flat on the ground. the second time, I lifted my feet up and found the pedals. Before I knew it, I was balanced and pedaling. Balanced and pedaling! I was riding a bike!

As the first hour wore on, I was gliding around the parking lot, practicing smooth turns and picking up speed fearlessly. I couldn't believe it! It was me, ME, the person who had for so long carried this weight in my heart. As I floated effortlessly around the parking lot, I felt a new surge of freedom, like a gust of wind under the wings of a falcon.

Horn-headed as I am, I had to find a bike right away because I was hooked. Needless to say, it was hard to keep myself from being distracted at work, while so much excitement was bubbling inside of me. I clawed my way through my responsibilities, just so I could see the weekend again.

Early this morning, my boyfriend and I headed to the bike shop. The sales guy who helped us had an accent too and a pleasant countenance. He guided me through the zillions of bike choices (I'll admit, I know nothing and he could have sold me a pogo stick and I wouldn't have known the diff), and I agreed that I would try out three of them.

I was still nervous about trying them. I wobbled around on the first bike and had major trouble steering at first. Not that I'd expected perfection, but I hadn't expected to have been such an unattractive, ungraceful spectacle in front of two guys (as well as other passers by). The second bike I tried felt much easier and I careened smoothly around the try-out area. Okay, so I got my mojo back a little bit, and I didn't end up in the bushes or face-planted in the concrete. I saved face in many ways, I guess you could say.

Ultimately I chose bike #2, a Trek 7100 women's hybrid bike in a sparkly light blue color. I got a helmet to match. It's SOOOOOOO cool! My first bike. It's here on my turf and I'm ready for the next step.

P.S. Pic of me + bike (named, "Victoria") coming soon!

A Whale of an Unanswered Question

2012-01-10T15:48:00.007Z

So, here we are, 2012, and the first question that pops to mind is: Why are we still unable to draw whales?
Now, before you think that this question is coming out of left field, I purchased a whale watching tour on discount via Zozi.com, an adventure deals site for people like me who don't spend all of Fall and Winter watching football or chasing dust bunnies back under the rug. So, my place is a mess and I don't know who's going to win the Superbowl, but I am going to Newport Beach next weekend to scan the waters to catch a glimpse of a fin or a spout or some giant monster out there in the deep. However, as I was thinking about whales, it occurred to me, our iconic image of a whale is that of a creature with a big, somewhat spherical body and a smaller tail behind. That iconic image looks nothing like a real whale.
Exhibit A: One of our most beloved 21st century icons, the Twitter "Fail Whale"

This poor fellow, albeit cute, is not a whale. Or, more accurately, if he were dropped into the midst of a pod (look it up) of whales, they probably would reject him as some kind of a mutant. Yet, if we posted up his picture on the wall of any preschool and asked the kids, "What is this?" They'd all shout, "It's a whale!"
Now, put up an image of your average humpback:

and you'd be met with probably a small sea of confused faces.

Why do we draw whales so oddly? No other animals appear so distorted in their iconic images: a dog looks like a dog, a fish looks like a fish, a cat looks like a cat. Sure, they're cartoonish and not 100 percent accurate, but the severity of the whale warp is just way too profound for comfort.

Maybe said whale shape comes from times when people couldn't go underwater to observe these creatures. They look as though they have big hump shapes while swimming, so, in fact, that whale shape may have been a hodgepodge of the shapes that they could see. Either way, now that we know what whales REALLY look like, can we start drawing them the right way?

Shamu says, "Yes!"

Thought of the Morning 37

2011-07-11T15:42:00.002+01:00

This morning I saw a woman walking down the street, digging into a giant gas station "single serving" bag of cheese puffs for breakfast. My first instinct was the usual adult disgust: "Ugh, how could she eat those for breakfast? She's ruining her health!"

But then, there was that ever-so-tiny voice of the 10-year-old me, the me who couldn't wait for the day she could grow up and do whatever she wanted, that's said, "Awesome!"

Thought of the Morning 35

2011-06-23T18:08:00.003+01:00

Now this blog's on Tumblr and people are forced to read this crap. Ha ha ha. The joke's on you. http://sollyd.tumblr.com/

Thought of the Morning 36

2011-06-23T11:00:00.001+01:00

So many people in big cities, like LA, claim to be writers. To be a writer, I think, a real one, is being your craft. Even when you’re not actually writing because daily life crap mangles your time, you’re experiencing every moment immersed in this sort of romanticized way in your mind; as though it’s being written on a page for “post-humous” interpretation.

Thought of the Morning 34

2011-06-21T15:19:00.003+01:00

Listening to the song bumpin' at 7 a.m. outside my window, I'm struck with the vivid realization that I can't stand Jay-Z's voice and lazy intonation when he raps.

I do feel guilty on so many levels that I dig this "oldie":

P.S. He DOES deliver this rap gem: "I been spendin' hundreds since they had small faces." --just gets better with age. Nice one, Jay.

Rec'd Rec For You!

2011-06-16T20:26:00.004+01:00

Been listening the heck out of this album by El Ten Eleven, "It's Still Like a Secret". I downloaded and forgot about it, my hyper life and obsession with rock-tronica fusions taking a frontrow. But *facepalm* THIS is good. Their best yet.

Vibe: Experimental rock instrumental/soundtrack. Not rocked OUT, it's rocked UP. Playfully heart-lifting, just what you want to hear when you're contemplating the beauty of the world from a lengthy stretch of desert freeway--or you're stuck in traffic and want a soundtrack that makes you want to do so. If you haven't yet downloaded them, you have incentive, as it's only $8 on this site (http://elteneleven.bandcamp.com/album/its-still-like-a-secret).

(And they jam live, so catch them on tour before it ends): http://www.elteneleven.com/secret/shows/

Obituary

2011-06-13T14:03:00.000+01:00

R.I.P. "ThaRevRob" Northrup-- turntablist, father, friend to many, and someone you don't easily forget. Damnit. I'm regretting not seeing you the last time you were here. But maybe it was better that way, to continue missing you the same way, not having seen you in ages. Either way, it was too soon, buddy.

This is a reminder to reach out to your friends, just to say, "Hey, how are ya?" Time is watery, it pulls the sand from under our feet.

Thought of the Morning 33

2011-06-03T17:28:00.003+01:00

A Paris Hilton App? REALLY?!?!? I think that my smartphone just plummeted a few I.Q. points. :p DISGUSSTTTT

Thought of the Morning 32

2011-05-31T20:11:00.004+01:00

I get the best phrases from my gays. From now on, I'm going to respond to everything, good or bad, with a deadpan, "That's cute."

Back to Life, Back to Reality

2011-05-30T04:49:00.004+01:00

Fatigue. It's a python that slowly coils itself around your frantically beating heart and squeeze, squeeze, squeezes (brief homage to Suzanne Somers) the last pathetic drops of your brain's vital essence, the juice that keeps you from doing dumb stuff like dropping your keys five times while trying to open your door, or missing the turn to your own street on the way home from work. The thing is, you don't REALLY realize the extent of the damage until you escape fatigue's cold clutches. Only then do you realize that your half-functioning brain (if that) even functions at full capacity. After weeks of 6-minus hours of sleep per night, after a full weekend of NOTHING but rest, rest, rest, am I feeling like a human being. Begone, foul zombie of the night of no return! I'm whole again, and I am thankful.

People in this country wear fatigue like a badge of honor. You tell someone that you've only slept 6 hours the previous night, and that person feels obligated to one-up your sleep deprivation by claiming to only have slept 5. Wayyy to go, buddy. You're even more of a zombie than I am. Let's see who can be the MOST sleep deprived so that we can all function like idiots. Good god, no wonder people are sniffling and sneezing every five minutes in this country! If anything kills us all, it will be lack of sleep.

The way I see it, there are two kinds of workers in the world: One is the so-called "workaholic", who, through a clearly learned sense of misplaced workplace ethics clocks in and does not clock out until "the job is done." This is the guy or gal who's always at the office, slaving away at his or her desk, freaking out over the heaps and heaps of work that has to be done.

Worker two is the "work is just a job" worker. This worker places his or her own personal well-being over the importance of the job getting done, and will not compromise his or her own life for work. These people seem to be the happier bunch, overall, and are generally more productive than the first worker, who usually, in spite of his or her best intentions, actually lowers his or her productivity level by burning out too quickly.

Admittedly, because I work for a start-up and because there are certain things that have ridden on my back recently, I've been more of a Worker #1. Yuck. Adjusting to growing pains, however, I will soon switch over to being mostly Worker #2, mostly because, um, I want to have a life, and because I want to actually get back into writing projects and running, which, with being Worker #1, is practically impossible because of the aforementioned fatigue.

So, goal #1 is simple: sleep more, work less. And the rest snaps right into place as it should. No more zombie. Braiiinnnsss, I need Braiiinnnsss!

Relativity (A Theory, so I Hypothesize)

2011-05-08T21:31:00.002+01:00

Back in 1981 in Los Angeles, an artist was booed off stage for his flamboyant mannerisms and funky style. Last night, an entire coliseum of people waved their hands and roared in response to this same artist, whose worldwide fame is now so mind-blowing, that he can quietly announce an impromptu show, any time, anywhere in the world and it will be sold out within the first few hours.

Seeing Prince perform his gleaming carousel of hits (along with original protegee, Sheila E.) at the L.A. Forum in Inglewood was inspiring. I watched his face as he stood, soaking up the unrivaled cacophony of audience screams, and caught a glimpse of genuine appreciation, or so it seemed. Even though, no doubt, he's been performing for screaming fans for many years, to be here, in Los Angeles, and receive the overwhelming swell of love and admiration from tens of thousands of people, I wondered if, every time, he thought, "I can't believe this is for me."

Maybe that's just me injecting a bit of myself into the mix. I can relate to Prince in a way, being a bit different from the rest, a stand-out creative in a buttoned-up world. His lifelong perseverance in doing what he loved to do reminds me to keep writing, no matter what.

I'm just getting my fingers warmed up to jam out some great stuff. ;)

Put a Little Love in Your Heart

2011-04-10T01:57:00.005+01:00

Empathy is learned. Not like sympathy, which can be taught in school or via social activity, empathy is something that somewhere along the line either we gather or we don't. In fact, if you followed empathy to its source, you'd find somewhere down the line a repeated pattern of behavior wherein a person is unable to turn away from his or her fellow man or woman. He or she sees a bit of himself or herself in that person in need of a helping hand, or a small sliver of humanity. Empathy may be the most valuable thing we have as human beings.

Not to knock sympathy, I mean, of course we all need sympathy, but it's not the same. A sympathetic person can toss a few bucks into a tin cup and be on their way. I have family members like that, who think that tossing a few bucks to help a charity every now and again makes them a good person. And, sure, all things considered, the money probably means a lot to the organizations that it helps, but, in total, the giver understands very little of the meaning of the gift.

It's this disconnect that has elected officials blind and deaf to the plight of the people, no matter how many rise against injustices. Whether you're for or against current health care reform, look after our people. Listen to them, hear their words. Health care reform has become so politicized, it would be funny, except that we're playing with people's lives. And, keep in mind, that health care debates would not be such an issue, had our economy not tanked in the very first place. Now we're still bleeding out, and sick people unable to pay for health insurance is one of the unfortunate consequences. Whomever you want to blame, chicken or egg, is nothing compared to this all-you-can-eat buffet of political warfare we have going on. Empathy, folks! Get it together!

Anyway, I'm feeling those little bumpy freeway truck thingys that are telling me that I'm off the main road. Lack of empathy distances people, while empathy brings together those who would never have met. Empathy has gotten me through tough times myself, so I understand its power. The cool thing about empathy is that it's not work. Sympathetic people feel as though, if they volunteer to do something, that they are lifting the weight of the world in one powerful swoop from the backs of unfortunates for just a short time, and oi vay, is that exhausting! Empathy is more like the Nike slogan, you don't think about it, it just flows out naturally, and you can do so much with it without even thinking about it. Just one person, just one simple gift, can mean the world to another human being (or animal, or whatever).

I don't know if non-empathic people can learn empathy later in life, but I guess that anything's possible. Empathy education? I'd put my money in that tin cup.

I Can't Stand The Rain

2011-03-27T21:56:00.005+01:00

Hello world. I'm hungover today. You know you've overdone it the night before when you wake up and your head hurts so bad that you would not be surprised to see the other half of your skull on the pillow still. Advil was required this morning. Oh yes, indeed.

Personal news: I bought a new car! a 2011 Hyundai Elantra. It looks exactly like this:

California has been too wet recently. I mean, yes, it's lovely to see grass lush and plants prospering, but I'm tired of being soggy. As someone who needs to walk a dog several times a day, I am tired of hopping puddles and carrying my dog over huge lakes in the middle of the road because she cannot get though them without soaking her body.

I did break down and get "The Beags" a rain coat. I'm really not the type of doggie parent who believes in dressing up a pooch on a regular basis, however, after the last rain, when Sheila became undeniably drenched and spent the subsequent couple of hours shivering (she hates the blow drier, so we can't do that), I felt like enough of a horrible person that I broke down and bought a cheap little $10 raincoat on Amazon.com. It arrived this week and we used it for the first time this morning. We both felt a little bit stupid, but it worked.

I have no doubt that Coachella will have the same instances of downpour this year that it usually does. April showers, no doubt. I still am debating on whether or not I want to try to find tickets online.

Why did I leave London again?

Thought of the Morning 31

2011-03-25T09:00:00.002Z

Unlike green clover leaves, letters strung together in clusters of four do not bring good fortune to anyone.

Thought of the Morning 30

2011-03-23T14:37:00.001Z

Absence makes the heart grow fonder. I'm very fond of sleep today. ZzzzzZzzz

Digital Dating: Going out on dat-a(s)?

2011-03-22T04:12:00.003Z

So, in recent months, I finally broke down and decided to give the old online dating thing a shot. I mean, "everyone's doing it" (and no, if everyone jumped off of a bridge, I would not be flinging my body on top of the rest of them). It's not because I'm even particularly lonely, but I feel as though I'm good and solid and whole, and ready to have someone else in my life, even as a casual, see you every once in a while thing. However, dating, even online, is not as easy as it looks.

I joined up on OkCupid!, you know, that free online dating site that everyone's joining, because 1) It's free, and 2) it's the first non-pay site that actually kind of behaves like the pay sites. What I liked best about this site was that you could rate people's profiles 1-5 stars and, if that person rated you the same, you'd get a message saying that it was a mutual match. That way, no harm done, you could secretly and slyly find out whether someone you dug, dug you as well.

After the past several months of getting mutual like messages, and follow-ups from eager men fresh on the scent of the chase, and having a few interesting phone calls, a date or two here or there, or an endless volley of emails that led to a dead-end, where conversations dropped like lead weights into a boundless ocean, I became increasingly aware that maybe the free and boundless nature of online dating offered too much choice.

Case in point, I was talking to a guy who seemed absolutely enamored with me. Every letter, he'd go on about how attractive he found me. We had many, many things in common. I mean, so many things, it was almost uncanny. We chattered on back and forth for about 5 or 6 rounds of emails when I decided to round up an email casually offering my phone number to invite him to take our conversation to the next *gasp* level. He replied enthusiastically and offered his number as well, and said that he didn't know WHEN he would call, but that he'd stored my number. I replied back casually, but I knew that, after the number exchange, there were only two choices: A phone call or drop the conversation altogether. What did he do? You're right if you guessed that I haven't heard a squeak from him since.

On the one hand, I guess it's better to know right off the bat if a guy is a coward or emotionally immature, or even if he's "just not that into you." However, I mean to say that, with the advent of Internet dating, people are able to peruse online profiles of potential mates at will. For many men, who, biologically have more of an inclination to be visually attracted to a mate, the variety could be mind-blowing, and, therefore, making a decision on one woman could prove nearly impossible. To further elucidate on this idea, say I need a new raincoat. I could go to the store and find a raincoat, and likely will settle on one I find that fits well and is the right style and price. However, if I go online, I may wind up with several choices, making the final purchase incredibly difficult to decide on, with such a vast selection at my fingertips.

Of course, it's not all black-and-white as that, but I think that the detached browsing functionality of sites makes the whole dating process a bit more difficult. I find myself falling victim to that "plenty of fish in the sea" mentality also. Yes, there are plenty of fish in the sea, but you shouldn't look a good guppy in the mouth...er...you know what I mean.

A Break in the Clouds

2011-03-21T03:41:00.007Z

This blog's a personal one. Although I have many issues on the dinner table at the moment, which I am more than happy to dig into at some point soon, I should update the people who actually care about my actual life. They're out there, I think. At least, I'm pretty sure that they are. Humor me if I'm wrong.

Bunches of items on the proverbial plate at the moment. Life in general is getting exponentially better.

Career life: I've hit a major milestone at work, gaining us 10,000 Facebook followers in 3 months--yayy! Also, I got a company credit card, which kind of means that an employer both likes you and trusts you, both of which are good signs of a great working rapport ahead. Seriously, when things start to go right, the mornings open up and seem a little bit brighter.

Health life: I've started cutting out carbs from my diet and have started to see some changes, finally. Actually, I began the diet over three weeks ago and then realized that I really wasn't seeing much weight change. The great Google gods told me that, *gasp* I needed to cut out the caffeine as well. Cutting out caffeine is like slicing off a finger for me. But, it's either do that or be fat forever. So, out went the coffee, beginning Thursday. It's now Sunday and I haven't died or landed face-first into my keyboard, so I think I can handle this. Plus, with my workout schedule getting more intense, I FINALLY feel like I could get fit again. The strength is slowly returning. I seriously owe it all to Pilates Platinum, my pilates gym, where I've been taking pilates and spinning classes once or twice a week since mid-January. This is the first week where I haven't felt like a giant, wheezing heffalump among the thin, steel-limbed long-timers. One less wheeze, one more notch on the belt for me.

Speaking of wheezing, I've also given up that occasional smokey treat (cigarettes, people, come on). I think that sometimes it's almost worse for you if you are an occasional or "social" smoker. At that point, you don't classify yourself as a smoker, and you think, "I am not addicted, I can quit whenever I want." Or you have that thought in your head, "I really like smoking, I'll quit some day, but not now. Later, I will." If not now, a wise person once said, then when? That's why I put my foot down and squashed that butt. I nipped the butt right in the bud, you could say!

Music life: Rec'd recs for you:
Mellow days: The Decemberists "The King is Dead." Very much the best Decemberists album yet. I don't know how a band so great keeps getting better, but whatever they're on, they need to keep taking it. This album makes me not want to be human. Or at least I want to find the source of where this album came from and take a big, long drink. Get this one. Forreal

Fun times: Ed Banger "Let the Children Techno" Great, weird, experimental tracks on this new electro bundle of joy from the lovely French Ed Banger Records. They've released decent compilations before, but this one's exceptional. A must-have for any party. Get down with your bad self (available in April).

Home life: Finally, the apartment's starting to come together. Slowly, organization is happening. My energy level is up and shelves are being hung. Oh yes. Except a plastic screw thing broke off in the wall. Not sure how I'm going to manage to get it out. Note to self: plaster and plastic are not friends.

So, that's it for now. Should be enough, unless you're craving more. Then, I'd say, you're too obsessed with my life and should probably find one of your own. Ta! :)

The Beauty of a Beat

2011-03-03T06:33:00.004Z

Could music be the one thing that brings peace to the Middle East?

The concept sounds a little, well, frankly, a little "hippie," but, maybe we haven't given those guitar-strumming flower children enough credit. In the immortal words of Madonna, "Music makes the people come together," even if it is for just two fleeting minutes at a time.

A YouTube sensation in the Arab world, the hip-hop dance remix of an incensed speech by Libyan dictator, Muammar Gaddafi thrown over Pitbull & T-Pain's "Hey Baby", "Zenga Zenga Song" has accomplished the nearly impossible. It has brought an ever-so-slight breeze of humanity through the strangled air of the Israeli-Arab socio-political relationship. The track, of course, appreciated by both Arab and Israeli folk alike, was crafted and remixed by Israeli, Noy Alooshe.

In an interview for public radio, Alooshe admitted that he received death threats at first, after Arab fans of the video found out that he was an Israeli, but eventually, they came around and admitted to him that, although they did not like HIM, they appreciated his music.

And, oh that rhythm did never sound sweeter...

One Tax Over The Line, Sweet Jesus

2011-02-28T01:12:00.004Z

Oh, California! I love living here, with all of the palm trees, mountains, beaches, celebrities, big city living, weirdos galore--I mean, where else can you go and see a medical marijuana dispensary and a botox clinic side-by-side? Not many places, I assure you.

But, funny enough, the Federal government allows doctors to inject botulism into the faces of patients, but does not allow those same doctors to prescribe medical marijuana. However, here, in California, the Feds have given up chasing down growers and sellers in the medical community, and like a parent whose child has drawn on the walls for the 500 time this month, sigh, roll their eyes and let the "delinquents" be.

Now there's actually a chance that perhaps California can paint a picture that the Fed actually likes regarding the growth and sale of marijuana. If there's any smell more powerful to the Feds than the overwhelming waves of pot smoke, it's money. Yep, there's a proposal on the table to add state tax for the growers of medical mary jane here in CA, meaning that taxation of CA's largest crop would demonstrate its ability to bring in mega revenues and help the state drag its way out of debt. If that happens, I guarantee that other states AND the Feds will take notice of the benefits of legalizing marijuana for medical, and even eventually recreational use.

As far as recreation goes, there's a sin tax for alcohol and cigarettes. Think about how much money would be earned by a tax on pot! Plus, think of all of the spin-off revenue that would be taxable as well: pipes, commercial pot brownies, pot beverages, fuzzy neon posters, munchies...okay, I'm only half serious there, but still it would probably be a great boost for the economy. If we're so worried about creating jobs, we really should think about the possibilities here.

I fully understand the arguments against legalization in general--the kids getting bombarded by ads, the fears of a sudden burst of weed-crazed activity by otherwise rational adults, the bleak slide down the spiral to heavy drug abuse, but, honestly, I think those arguments are a bit silly. Here, we could have a HOME GROWN crop of good ol' fashioned American ganja, put our farmers to work, as well as many of our impoverished folks living on a sliver of a dime. People who go overboard on pot might go overboard--but what's the worst that could happen? They pass out? Eat too much? Lose motivation in the workplace and get fired? I reiterate the idea that has been part of the age-old bolster for pot advocacy, which is: far less death occurs as a result of too much marijuana smoke versus alcoholism. Not only is alcohol legal but people can drink as much as they want, whenever they want, and some people go overboard (I believe they're called "alcoholics" and some people don't. Children's brains regularly absorb materials advocating the coolness of alcohol and cigarettes, and, likely, if they're going to experiment with those things, they will, regardless of availability. Since when is it the government's responsibility to instill a moral compass in each and every human being? It's up to parents to tell them what's up.

While I'm in no way a NORML member, nor a pot-head, I do think that there is a lot of merit in getting this vote through. Those who truly advocate pot legalization in this country should be vying for this vote to pass here in California as well.

My Rainy Day 2 Cents

2011-02-20T03:56:00.004Z

Rain's pummeling the L.A. West side at the moment. I hear the low steady rumble of the downpour swell and recede on the flatness of roof tops and the rolling roar of a thousand car roof timpani, intermixed with a few light pings of droplets hitting odd objects left on the street, and the occasional sliding swish of tires carving out paths through puddles. Rain like this is quite exotic in these here parts. Great time for my heat to quit working. The air is wet AND cold. A whole lotta blech, I say.

It's one of those nights where going out doesn't seem like such a fantastic idea, kind of like how being snowed in was back in St. Louis. It's winter, we often forget here because most days are bright and t-shirty, where breaking a sweat in one's car in January is not unheard of. People actually get sick of sunshine if they've been accustomed to it every day. I haven't hit that point yet. Sunshine and moderate temps are a beautiful thing.

Still, this skyburst's rather relaxing, and the tiny rumble of thunder reminded me of lying quietly in bed as a kid in the Midwest, while the rain washed everything and made the next day fresh for everyone. I remember how bright those colors were against the slate blue cloudy backdrop--the leaves, flowers, trees and grass. We don't get that sort of "pop" here, that electric look to the foliage, even after rain. No neon green sprouts or shocking pink or purple blooms. Everything here after a rain just kind of looks soggy like, "Thank you for the water, but we really don't need it that much." Sure things grow better after the rain, but the vitality just isn't there. Too much smog, perhaps?

Even the rain here is "SO L.A." I suppose. But it's nice to have, every once in a while.

Lost People, Not Dogs

2011-02-19T18:20:00.003Z

Well, "The Beags" and I just finished one of our lengthy weekend excursions. We scuttle about 5-6 miles in one morning, which is a good amount of mileage for both of us. I'm aiming to do that at least a couple of times a week, which will be good for both the pup and for me.

As we embarked (no "bark" related pun intended) on our little promenade, I noticed a few handwritten flyers tacked up on trees and telephone line posts (what are those things officially called anyway?) that read "Lost Dog: Miniature Doberman Pinscher" in big, swooping, wobbly text. My first thought was to judge: "Well, if people followed the rules and kept their dogs on leashes in urban areas," I thought. "then they wouldn't be crying now." Many of the people in my neighborhood must not be big Googlers or readers of City Ordinances or even the "Dos and Don'ts of Pet Ownership" manuals that litter pet shops, veterinary offices and the like--so many of them do things like let dogs off of the leash or allow animals to defecate anywhere without cleaning it up.

I tried to imagine the scenario during which this dog lost his home. No doubt, the owners took the poor little thing outside, sans leash, and it saw something: a squirrel, a cat, perhaps, or maybe another dog. Its fierce instincts overtook its devotion to its family and it shot off like a greased bullet, leaving a family of crying, obese children behind. A sad, but all-too-common scene in America today: ignorance and greed resulting in sadness and confusion. I felt really sorry for that little dog.

As I was lost in my daydream, a car slowed alongside us and a middle-aged man called out, "Excuse me, Miss?" Oh boy, I thought. What's it going to be now? Is he going to ask me for directions? Hit on me? I just wanted to be in my head and to walk this morning, uninterrupted.

"I don't know if I talked to you before," he started out. "But I lost my dog around here and I've been trying to find her. You may have noticed the flyers that I've posted."

"Yeah, I have," I motioned my head toward the next post, where one of his flyers was plastered.

"Well, she was hit by a car, and she just took off running. I've looked everywhere. She wasn't hurt because she ran off," he explained.

I couldn't help but rage inside of my head. Well, if you'd kept your dog on a leash like you're supposed to, she wouldn't have run out into the street, I thought. And I also knew that the dog could have experienced internal injuries after being hit by a car, but was in such shock at the time, that she took off yelping. Not good.

"I know that a lot of people in this neighborhood are allowed to have dogs," he continued. "So, I've been looking for people walking dogs that look like mine. I'll call her name when I see them on the street."

So, he thinks someone stole his dog, eh?

"I'll keep an eye out," I told him. But, honestly, if I see someone else walking your dog ON A LEASH, I'll probably smile at them and walk on by.

Weekend Bliss (with a few crazies mixed in)

2011-02-05T21:07:00.005Z

Weekends have become TRULY relaxing AND motivating for me. Not only do I actually try to get things done (whereas before I was too depressed to even sweep the floors some days), I get in some great sightseeing and exercise on my morning long walks with Sheila B. (B for "Beagle").

Having a dog is like having a child in a lot of ways, I've discovered. Gone are your luxurious mornings, where you get to sleep til 9 or 10. Nope, the Beags has to pee BY 7 a.m. If not, she will politely pester you until you groan and tumble begrudgingly out of bed. This morning, she jumped off the bed and then back on, and crawled onto my side, using my hip as her fainting couch. It was darn cute, as annoying as it was.

We headed out the door by 7:20, me with my sweats on and a hat to hide my morning coif, and Sheila's tags jingling as she enthusiastically clicked down the sidewalk. We established this routine last week and it was going well, our long Saturday walk in the chilly January air. Neighbors were pulling junk out of their garages for impromptu sales out on the front lawn. Early sales hawks were already clawing through the merch, or at least peering down at it with interest.

Every time we encounter a person or dog on these walks, Sheila strains in her harness to get as close to them as possible. Sometimes, to avoid my pulling, she'll stand up on her hind legs and walk on those to get some slack. ANYTHING to make new friends. While I'm thrilled that my dog is friendly to both dogs and humans, she has no idea that there could possibly be someone on this earth who thinks that she's not the most amazing dog around. I'm kinda with her though on some fronts. Someone who doesn't like dogs? Quel horreur!

Anyway, she's getting better. She's learning not to pull so much, and not to race across the street (which she also liked to do, out of the blue--which is probably why she lost those teeth in the first place--vet thinks she was hit by a car :( ). Most of the time, once she's gotten the initial burst of smelling EVERYTHING within range (a Beagle trait), she clicks gently alongside of me and we both trot briskly along in unison.

We usually make our route through a popular shopping district, where we have to cross a major road. Some haggard looking Latina was standing by the side of the road, looking down at Sheila right before we crossed. As we crossed, she screamed at me, "Pick her UP! Pick her UP! People's is crazy! Oh my GOD, pick her up!" She ran along side me, yelling at me as we crossed the street, Sheila and I in perfect unison, the dog pinned neatly at my side the entire time.

"Next time I see you doing this, I'm gonna report you!" She yelled.

I ignored her this whole time, thinking, Is this woman insane? Or, was there some doggie walking safety etiquette that I was unaware of? I mean, it'd be one thing if I'd let the dog run out in front of me, but she was walking next to me, in unison, while we crossed. This lady's logic seemed unfounded. Would the dog be any safer if I'd picked her up? Probably not much. I mean, if a car was going to strike us, it would knock both of us for a loop. Whether I was holding my dog or not seemed trivial, unless it was a small roll forward, or tap that could possibly hurt Sheila, but not me. Anyway, I'd never heard of such a thing, or seen it. I'd seen people carrying tiny dogs, like chihuahuas or shitzus (because they were used to being carried anyway and couldn't keep up with their owners on foot) across busy intersections, but never a Beagle, however small.

I'de never heard of such a thing.

And that agitated me. I've never EVER been called a bad pet owner by ANYONE in my entire life! Anyone who knows me knows that I'm extremely conscientious of my pet's needs. I read articles, I give my dog supplements. Not everyone does that. I take my dog to work, for Pete's sake! I know that I shouldn't let one crazy, ignorant person get to me, but still.

I had to walk off all of that negative energy. Instead of stopping at Starbucks, which was about 1/2 mile from my house en route home, we trotted all the way to Coffee Bean (which I do like better, anyway) 2 miles away, and we had a sugar-free vanilla latte break before taking the 2 or so mile route back home. It was such a good walk that I decided that we'd do it at least once a week, if not 2x. Plus, it's really worth it to get my favorite coffee chain coffee, instead of settling for one I like less. I think we did about 8 miles, total. The Beags still had energy to spare when we got home!

I find that I have more energy too. And my mood is changing. I feel happier, friendlier, more social. Could it be that the depressive cloud is lifting? I want to move my body all the time, or do something productive with my brain. Dog ownership could possibly be the best thing that's happened to me since I got to Los Angeles.

Woof and Woof!

Now, at 30, I'm finally reponsible :)

2011-02-05T18:32:00.004Z

Not to seem hyperbolic, but dog ownership has completely changed my life--for the better, actually. Not just dog ownership, but this dog in particular. Her name is Sheila, and she is, in one word, AMAZING.

I say she's amazing not just because of her great personality and cute quirks (I'll get into those later), but also because of the things that she's taught me in such a short time (two full weeks).

But, let's jump all over the place (because I may have adult ADD) and rewind to two weeks ago, to when I got her from Beagles & Buddies. First of all, I had been referred to B & B through another adoption agency, when I inquired about a Beagle/Pug mix (I guess you'd call it a "puggle", but it really looked more Beagley than Puggy) that they had. Someone had already filled out the paperwork on the adorable little thing, and so that left me out of luck for that adoption prospect. However, the lady from the adoption agency told me about her friend who volunteered at another place, Beagles & Buddies, where they were currently being overrun with pooches that needed homes, and were reaching out to their affiliates to help them out.

Several conversations with several adoption people later, I set up a Saturday to drive out to El Monte to participate in the shelter's open house. I arrived, a list of dogs from the website in hand, as a guide to try to sort out the ones that might be suitable for me out of the pack of adoptable pups. The woman at the main counter gave me a look that was neither here nor there and wryly quipped, "Let me guess, you're here to buy a new car, right?"

After discussing my options, she pointed me in the direction of the kennels, where I found my way alone through a couple of gates to a long line of cage runs. The noise of barking dogs was deafening, and heartbreaking to me, thinking, "How could a dog be nothing but insurmountably stressed to be here? I mean, yes, the rescue was saving them from an even worse fate, and hopefully most of them wouldn't be there long, but I couldn't help but feel my heart ripping apart a little bit. Walking down the line, I saw many friendly doggie faces, wagging, yipping, yelping, whining. I knelt down by the cages and dozens of noses poked through the wires to catch my scent.

I decided to play with one dog, Bitsy, who was a very dark colored beagle, with a very sweet expression. She was a little bit larger than what I was looking for, although still on the smaller side of medium. Taking her out into the yard, however, she seemed interested in everything and everyone besides me. It was like going on a date where everything seems perfect, but you just don't "click" with the person. One of the volunteers mentioned to me that they had a dog that she thought would be just perfect for me.

"Sheila," she'd said. "She's small and super quiet. Honestly, she's too good of a dog to have ended up where she did. The only thing about her is that she doesn't have any teeth on one side, so her tongue just hangs out."

A broken dog, I thought. I'd pictured my dog, the dog in my mind's eye to be beautiful, perfect, one that I and everyone in the world would think, "Wow, that is the cutest, most wonderful dog on this planet." I'd been raised with purebred dogs all my life (don't hate on my parents, they had their reasons--although now, as an adult and seeing all of the great animals out there for adoption, I am NOT in any way an advocate of dog breeding), dogs that were always beautiful. The thought of having an imperfect dog never crossed my mind. Still, I thought it'd be worth checking her out. Keep an open mind, I thought to myself. You never know.

Sheila was carried out to me in the yard, while a pack of hyper young Beagles romped about. She was small, puppy sized, and her tongue hung clownishly from the right side of her muzzle. Her unusually golden eyes observed me with a welcoming gaze as I stroked her silky beagle head and gossamer ears. Well, she WAS sweet.

"Are you sure she doesn't have any issues? Any problems with other dogs, anything?" I asked the volunteer.

"Nope, she's PERFECT!" the volunteer said, giving little Sheila a squeeze.

The volunteer plopped Sheila down on the bench next to me. Sheila looked at me expectantly. I patted my lap and she crawled right over. A good 15 minutes passed while we sat together, observing the goings on around us, as I massaged her little Beagle back. Was she the one? It seemed as though the rest of the world didn't matter when this dog was on my lap in that moment. But...this was not a decision to be taken lightly, I thought. Could I love an imperfect looking dog?

It seems shallow, it seems dumb. But I knew that there were going to be comments, questions, stares, all of the time. Could I deal with that?

Finally, after much deliberation and the gentle persuasion of the volunteers, I decided to take the little angel, tongue and all, who had decidedly curled up in a dog bed and gone to sleep, away from all of the hubbub, while I made my choice. Broken, or not broken, everyone deserves some TLC.

As soon as I opened my car door, Sheila hopped right in. I had some trouble dislodging her from my lap before we took off, but I finally settled her into the seat next to me, and we took off toward a new life.

Two weeks later, I have to agree. The tongue has become extraordinarily cute, a great conversation starter, and this dog is nothing but perfect in every sense of the word.

Follow Sheila's blog also (we're starting it this week)!

I'm getting a dog! EEEEE!!!

2011-01-21T05:13:00.002Z

After a year of yearning for a canine companion, I finally have the money AND ability to have a dog. Both my boss and my landlord have given me the green light to bring a pooch on board (whooeeyayyyyy). I'm going this Saturday to Beagles and Buddies, a local rescue shelter, where I will be looking at a few pups. One of which is an adorable puggle (I hate that this is a "designer" dog, but the name "puggle" is the kind of cute that makes your eyes go all googley and your lips smootch, even if you don't want them to). Anyway, I'm fully aware that a lot of the time, the dog that you set out to get may not ultimately be the dog you bring home, so I'm TRYING to keep an open mind. Either way, this is going to be an amazing adventure, and I am sososoSOOO excited!

The Places You'll Go (and what you'll leave behind)

2011-01-05T05:18:00.002Z

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."--Dr. Seuss

I started out with this quote in my head this morning, out of nowhere, and I used it as my Facebook status. People added the usual "likes" and two cents worth of comments, and, well that's always lovely and welcome. But, as much as we want to believe that stuff is true, as much as we try to, in a sense, put people out of our minds and put ourselves and our personal desires, feelings and individuality above all else in some sort of whipped up recipe for self esteem, it all seems a bit...idealistic, doesn't it? As much as Truffala Trees and Sneetches, and Yertle the Turtles, it is. I don't mean to knock the great Seuss, but I do mean to question this very quote in particular.

The past year has been a big journey for me, but recently I've noticed friends sort of drifting away, and those who claimed once to know me and enjoy my company, seem to treat me as though I'm some sort of foreigner, a stranger, if you will. Suddenly it feels as though I'm the one whose thoughts, actions, ideas and intentions are uninteresting, invalid, and I end up feeling much like a rose whose scent is whipped away by a sudden gust of wind in the wrong direction of the smeller's nose.

Maybe it's my fault. I mean, mostly, maybe it is. I've turned into one of those types who is absorbed in her career, or her outside activities, one who is often outside of the fun her friends are getting into and only catching up every third or fourth weekend, where I used to make an appearance at least once weekly. I can't deny that I've been busy. I'm thirty--that happens, at some point, right?

And then there's my quiet-ness. I mean, not that I'm shy and quiet, but volume-wise, I just don't compete with others in that way. Most of them are boisterous, riotous, laugh-o-matics whose quick-witted and volume-heavy quips carry conversations. In these situations, my words tend to suck back into the blackness of my own skull, to bounce around in there and make merry with my other thoughts, mostly because I cannot get a word in edgewise anyway, and, if I do, the moment for my words to shine has already passed.

But...wait! Reading this over just now, I think that I sound rather pathetic. Darn it, Seuss! Maybe you WERE right, after all. I mean, why should I blame MYSELF for not being the loudest of the bunch or not outshining everyone. Real friendship isn't so hard as all of this blather. REAL friendships aren't glittering showgirls singing and can-canning on a stage. Real friendships stem from those hearts you can confide in, those people who, when you need them, will drop everything on a dime to come to your aide. Real friendships aren't your "good time gal"--but they always guarantee you a good time, no matter what you do, even if it's sitting in the middle of nowhere, wrapped in complete silence together. Real friendships may not burn the brightest, but they burn the longest over time.

Real friends appreciate you for who you are. Those who mind who you are don't matter. Those who matter don't mind.

The 80s and Killer Cereals

2011-01-02T21:17:00.007Z

Sometimes I miss the 80s so much it hurts. Commercialism and consumerism were ridiculous back then. Anything and everything that could be made was made, and people were buying, like whoah.

Everything about the 80s gleamed of fantasy, hopes, dreams, the belief that you could be whatever you wanted to be, no matter what the odds, and that all you had to do was reach for the stars, stand out from the crowd, and be yourself. I can't think of a better time to be a child. I take comfort today in knowing that, no matter how different we are, no matter how scattered our backgrounds and upbringing, everyone in my age group has this sort of collective memory and universal understanding of the culture of the 80s-born child. We all share a memory bank filled with a wealth of iconic figures, sayings, and overall spirit that embodied the era that put the "art" in "artificial flavoring."
Admit it, even now, as you're sitting there, reading this from your iPad, in your eco-friendly, fair trade cotton shirt and jeans, there's a little twinge of sentimentality for those Reaganomical years, where ethics and nutrition took a back seat to the almighty dollar, and the main question on every retailer's mind was, "How can we make this glow in the dark?"
Speaking of glow in the dark, how can we forget the explosive franchises that developed from some of our favorite 80s movies and video games. I still remember watching the "Ghostbusters" cartoon series on Saturday morning, whilst crunching gleefully on Ghostbusters cereal, with its fruity oat bits and marshmallow "Slimer" ghosts--and, remember the jingle for that one? In cast you don't:

(sung to the original "Ghostbusters" theme tune)

There's a new cereal in the neighborhood
with O's and ghosts
(Tastes real good... Ghostbusters!)
Marshmallow ghosts... fruit flavored O's
Ghostbusters taste great with milk and juice and toast
(a nutritious breakfast with the ghost... Ghostbusters!)
What you gonna crunch? (Ghostbusters!)

Wow--just thinking about what was transformed into cereal in an era of such extreme glut makes me feel an odd mixture of delight and disgust that is non-transferable to any other era. I mean, think about the other ones that we saw broadcast during our Saturday morning toon time (a ritual that is now, I think, forever lost among modern day kids, who are more likely to be surfing the web before their parents wake up on Sat mornings than sitting in front of the flat screen with a bowl of breakfast cereal): Smurfberry Crunch (and don't forget Smurf MAGIC Berries), Nintendo Cereal, Pac Man Cereal (Christian Bale debuted his career on the commercial), Superman Cereal (he teamed up with the Cap'n), Bozo The Clown Cereal, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Cereal, C-3PO Cereal (amazing commercial btw), Urkel-O's (the most annoying cereal ever created?), E.T. Cereal (chocolate & peanut butter, but hey, it's all part of a balanced breakfast, moms), Nerds Cereal (a sugary candy turned cereal--sounds REAL nutritious, moms & dads), Donkey Kong Cereal, Batman Cereal, Dino Pebbles Cereal, Spiderman Cereal, Cabbage Patch Kids Cereal, Rainbow Brite Cereal, Bill & Ted's Excellent Cereal, Strawberry Shortcake Cereal, Hot Wheels Cereal, G.I. Joe Cereal, Gremlins Cereal (but they didn't multiply in milk--bummer), Morning Funnies Cereal, Barbie Cereal, Swedish Chef Cereal (Croonchy Stars --yes, even HE had a cereal in the 80s) and, oh yes, Mr. T Cereal:

Sure, in the end it's all a bunch of corn syrup and dreams that get soggy in milk. Name one cereal out of that bunch that's still alive and kickin. Now, we have everything at our fingertips that we could possibly want, except those. I mean, sure maybe you can buy a box of old, stale cereal on Ebay, but you can't put a price on the memories that we all entertain, enjoy and share.

It's 2011 and I'm feeling a little nostalgic today. So sue me. Lucky Charms anyone?

A Recipe for a Great Year?

2011-01-01T17:48:00.002Z

Happy New Year! I give you...eggs!

Eggs are probably one of the best hangover killing foods, but sometimes you want something a little different, not so conventional. 2011 is going to be an unconventional year, so here's something I like to do with my eggy wheggies:

Ingredients:

2 eggs

1/2 shallot diced or 1/4 cup onion (I like red & green)

1 cup spinach

1/2 cup cooked lentils (you can cook these ahead of time or snag them precooked--I like Trader Joe's precooked beans)

1 TBSP nut butter (any will do, whatever you like)

2 TBSP white wine vinegar (you can also use rice wine or apple cider vin if you have those)

Olive oil to cook with (usually 2-3 TBSP)

Heat up the oil over medium heat and toss in the shallots & spinach until the shallots are tender and the spinach is wilted. Throw in the lentils and mix well. Spoon in the nut butter and the vinegar, and stir well until the nut butter melts. Beat eggs together in a separate bowl and then throw them into the mix. Stir until everything is well-mixed and the eggs are fully cooked (obviously, because raw eggs are gross and potentially dangerous).

Throw the mixture in a bowl, salt & pepper to taste. Eat it. Feel like a superhero. You're welcome.

Tis a Gift to Be Simple: An Adventure Story

2010-12-27T03:04:00.006Z

I've gotta say, Ocean 2010 was a rough ride. The waves rose to breath-stealing highs only to toss my little dingy into cavernous underbellies that looked more grim than the devil's palm. Overall, at the end of it, I drag a rusty pirate sword across sea salted leather to make yet another notch in the belt of experience, but not only that, I think that I can use this notch as a hold, as I grapple on to new and better heights.

It hasn't been easy here in this town, struggling to survive, wrestling the economic python as it coiled around my fragile bones and squeezed with all its might. Thankfully I had my sharp wits and the aid of near and dear friends and family, without whose helping hands I'd've been mangled and swallowed up, for sure. Really, I don't even know how to say thank you. I only hope that I can one day be the heroine in your lives who, when you're trembling between the open jaws of life's uncertainties, swoops down to dump you gently onto the downy meadows of good, solid human kindness.

It's been rough. It's been tumultuous. It's been wonderful. I haven't felt more alive, really. Life can be complicated, but all we really need are its bare essentials to survive: Love and more love.

That's my holiday reflection. Thanks to everyone and all and I hope that I can be a better friend, coworker, student, daughter, and sister in 2011.

Thought of the Morning 29

2010-12-24T03:40:00.000Z

McDonalds gift certificates are a great way to say, "I love you, but I don't want to be with you forever."

Eet Teks Ze Baguette

2010-11-23T02:46:00.003Z

First--Let me say that my lack of communication at this point is not due to willful inactivity. My computer is in the shop and I am slowly dying inside without being able to blog at all. Hopefully it'll be back tomorrow. Really hopefully.

Now back to our show. Everyone around me is getting sick. I live in Southern California, where the weather is mostly nice and people spend enough time out of doors for germ spreading not to be as much of an issue as it is in the winter in other areas--HOWEVER--because I'm in a metropolis with business and tourist commuters lighting on our town just long enough to infect us with their wordly illnesses, people everywhere in this town are hacking and sneezing. Tis the season, oh yes. And that is why I'm SO glad to be French.

You see, we Frenchies are not scared of bacteria, or germs, or mold of many different kinds. My grandparents, who lived in the Loire Valley for most of their lives, would find a bit of fuzz on the top of jams, bread or fromage, and promptly scrape it off and go to town. Okay, yes, that's a little gross, but did they get sick very often? Not much. And I doubt that it was from the penicillin-like properties of the spores that sprouted from their cupboard-housed delicacies.

Yes, one of the stereotypes about the French is that they smell bad, that they don't keep up with their hygeine as often as they should. While anyone who has been on the Metro in Paris for any length of time can attest to some truth to that stereotype, what they can't deny is the French constitution. There's no question that they are one of the top 5 healthiest countries in the world. Maybe some of that could be attributed to the lack of obsessive hand-washing, anti-bacterial gels and wipes everywhere, and the pseudo security that Americans have about being "clean."

Maybe I'm jumping the gun here, and perhaps my wild swings from one outrageous conclusion to the next could be construed as...well, just cultural pride, but, so far, I've shown no sign of a sniffle...and I can't say the same for many of those around me. Coincidence? J'en pense que non.

Rocking Out

2010-11-16T17:13:00.003Z

I just wanted to infect your brain with this song. You can thank me at 5 p.m., when you're in your car and you find yourself singing it, not knowing from whence it came.

Paranoia and Politics: Two Ps in a Pod

2010-11-01T04:36:00.002Z

They're not campaign advertisements, they're psycho-storms, hypnotic cyclones of doubt, descending on the flat, calm plains of underinformed, undecided, or unconvinced voters in an attempt to shake enough of us, to make enough of us believe the worst, and, sometimes, the downright ridiculous.

If we can suspend reality enough to believe that the Dems are going to send sick and elderly people to death panels, or that the Repubs are going to turn back the clock for gays, women and other minority groups, we are right in the thick of the harsh political paranoia that engenders U.S. politics right now.

These days, it's chic to look over your shoulder, and not just within standard "politics as usual." Anti-establishment groups, such as the Zeitgeist Movement, have decided that the money and power hungry leaders in this country have cooked up one brilliantly executed scheme after another to gain mastery and complete control of the people of the world. Globalization is part of this elaborate plan, as well as were the 9-11 attacks. The whole argument, the movie (there are two) are well-thought-out and very convincing. But, I also note that some of the craziest people in the world can be very convincing (think cult leaders: Jones, Manson, etc). If you are willing to be led, and just suspicious enough of what's going on around you, you can suspend your own reality enough to believe that the boogie man is in the shadows, waiting.

So, when you go to the polls (or not), make sure that you close the curtain tightly behind you. You never know who's watching...

Thought of the Morning 28

2010-10-09T17:33:00.003+01:00

I wonder what Dr. Spock would say about naughty brain children...

Retrobilia: MySpace Blog 2007 "Garden Variety Gurus"

2010-10-09T17:08:00.002+01:00

Solange aka Supergirl's MySpace Blog blog.myspace.com/sollychan
April 16, 2007 - Monday
Garden Variety Gurus
Current mood: annoyed
Category: Life
Over the past fifty or so years, self help books for women have been more than successful in this
country. From "Women Who Love Too Much" to "He's Just Not That Into You," to "How to Be a Bitch with Style," these miniature gospel go flying from the shelves into the eager hands of every type of woman imaginable. Although, perhaps these so-called gurus that write these books feel a certain sense of purpose in helping these women, I cannot help but think that they are simply capitalizing on one immensely common thread that reoccurs in the psyche of almost every female being alive on this continent.
These women all have self esteem issues. Why? Why not?! Hell, our society breeds it into us. I don't know one woman alive that does not have an ounce of self doubt. And no matter what a woman's friends/relatives/significant others say to her, she somehow holds onto these negative tapes deep in the back of her mind. Somehow our society tells women that they don't ever measure up. They're never pretty enough, smart enough, strong enough, powerful enough. Everytime a woman does anything she gets pegged into a stereotype. If she doesn't live up to the stereotype, well, sorry for her.
In matters of the love and dating world, it's a mess. Women constantly seek validation from members of the opposite sex, then turn around and read books about how they shouldn't do so. They teeter feebly on a borrowed sense of self esteem, only to have it thrashed to shreds by the next unforseen blow. And, let's face it, most of these dating gurus are men who now live in mansions furnished by the self doubt of women everywhere. The sound of self esteem goes, "cha-ching."
Take, "He's Just Not That Into You" for example. Yes, Greg Berandt does make some valid points for straight women. I agree that a woman should not wait by the phone for a guy to call, that she needs to have her own life and that the right guy will follow suit. What I don't agree with are the groundrules he sets for the dynamics of a male-female heterosexual relationship. He thinks that women should take any sign of hesitation on the part of the male as a sign of disinterest. Therefore, a woman should immediately write the guy off. He claims that men want to be the pursuers and women the prey. I think that he's full of it on that end.
While, yes, I agree that if a guy really is interested after meeting a woman, he will call, I don't think that if he doesn't call within a few days that it means he's not interested. Dating is a big game where seemingly nobody wins in the beginning. We're always trying to pretend like we're "not that into" the other person because we don't want to come on too strong or appear TOO needy, which could either shift the dynamics of the relationship or scare the other person off altogether. Of the guys I know, many take a more laid back approach to dating. Some of them won't call a girl until a week or so later. Meanwhile, they were probably totally unaware that the girl was on pins and needles hoping that he would get back to her but not wanting to call him because she didn't want to appear too needy.
Grey's book, "Men are From Mars, Women are from Venus," probably the most famous relationship help book to date, says that men are "emotional camels" who can go for days without any sort of emotional reassurance. I can say that, while some men may be very much like that hooved desert animal when it comes to women, others do like to reconnect emotionally quite often. I've known both kinds. One wasn't less interested than the other, they just were raised differently and had a different chemical composition.
I am thinking of writing a self help book called, "Who Needs a Man?" I'm a little young to write it now. Maybe when I'm 40 I'll do it. Straight women such as myself need to know how to find their worth without worrying about the dating game. They certainly do not need a male dating guru to tell them what to do.
We all have emotions. We all have needs. Instead of playing games and stuffing down the real you to seem more appealing to Mr. X, why don't we embrace who we are? What is SO bad about telling a guy, "Hey, I like you. If you like me too you should call me." and leaving it at that?
So many women, including myself, have agonized over a guy at one point or another, playing a guessing game as to whether or not he was "that into me." It's dumb. We sell pieces of ourselves in trying to find happiness. Happiness is realizing who you are, then if you can find a person in this world who is worthy of everything you are, fabulous.
In the meantime, girls, you can always improve upon perfection. Try to learn a new skill/hobby once a year. It will add to your self esteem, I promise!

Thought of the Morning 26

2010-10-04T15:37:00.003+01:00

My parents just sent me my old Nintendo Entertainment System. Guess who's playing Zelda tonight!

Thought of the Morning 27

2010-10-04T09:00:00.001+01:00

Being proactive while you are swamped is like trying to rescue a village from a wildfire spreading down the mountainside and not having time to actually figure out how to put out the fire.

Places

2010-10-03T17:40:00.003+01:00

Laundromat:

The inescapable odor of fabric softener, mingled with baked B.O. and mildew greets you at the door. Couples perform the same ritual every week, loading, unloading, folding, softly discussing bills, family business. An old man squints to read the partially rubbed off instructions on one of the machines. He looks up for the attendant, a mental wave for help. She is cleaning the floor. She sighs and sharply shoves his quarters into the machine. The machine switches on and the clothes swirl and foam. On the other side, the rhythm of clicks and soft thunks as the clothes dry soothe the baby in his bouncey seat on the folding table, while his mother's hands smoothe the fabric of his father's old work shirt. Toyless on the grey tiled floors, children shriek, scamper, laugh and play.

Thought of the Morning 25

2010-10-03T11:00:00.002+01:00

"Sunday morning" and "traffic jam" are two phrases rarely heard together in the same sentence, except when you live in Los Angeles. Oi...

Thought of the Morning 24

2010-10-02T09:00:00.000+01:00

Three months and not even one month's worth of Thought of the Morning.

#24 and MOST IMPORTANT Thought of the Morning: I need to think more in the morning.

Thought of the Morning 23

2010-09-28T08:00:00.000+01:00

Community is created by external action that sparks internal interaction.

Thought of the Morning 22

2010-09-23T15:31:00.003+01:00

I hate it when technology make jokes obscelete. Like, I've been hanging onto the whole "your face and my butt" comeback for the past couple of decades, waiting for the right moment for an unsuspecting victim to inquire about finding a match. Of course, now, I've waited so long that I just want to say it to anyone. Knowing me, I'll probably blurt it to the wrong person:

"I'm sorry Mr. President, it wasn't directed at you. I've just always wanted to say that to someone. Hey, you know when we shook hands earlier? Yeah, can we go back to that?"

Or at the wrong time,

"What? Uncle Lenny was a jokester. He'd want us to laugh right now! Besides, those candles have lead in them..."

Anyway, some jokes stand the test of time. My favorite one-liner is from "The Patsy" (the original 1928 silent version):

"I'm going to hit her so hard, she's going to starve to death bouncing!"

I'll leave you to think about that one for a minute...

Buttermilk and Me

2010-09-19T18:19:00.004+01:00

A friend once asked me, "What is it about girls and horses?" I've thought about that question far longer than I should ever have. I still don't really know what it is about girls and horses, why we tend to be drawn to them at an early age and why we in particular delight at the prancing hooves, the flowing manes, the flying flags of tails held high in an exhilerating romp across a pasture. It's so natural, so intuitive to me, that I don't even think about the fact that anyone could be anything but intoxicated by the sheer majesty of these animals.

I spent most of my childhood dreaming about horses. My storage boxes from days gone by are piled with hundreds, thousands of horsey drawings, stories, journal entries--not to mention the boxes and boxes of My Little Ponies, Barbie horses, Fashion Star Fillies (you'd forgotten those, right?), and Breyer collectibles. I was, not to mince words, obsessed. No two ways about it. Every dime I earned from Christmas, birthdays, babysitting or miscellaneous chores around the house went into my "horse fund," a little box that held all of my hopes and dreams. While other kids were squandering their cash on candy and toys, I was squirreling it away, passing the time drawing, reading, writing, imagining what life would be like if I only had a horse. I don't think anything on this earth could have replaced the feeling that I had as a child dreaming about horses.

By 15, I'd saved up just enough money to acquire something on the cheap end of the scale. My first horse, Ahab, was a spitfire, but, in spite of his tendancies to jump out of his skin at the slightest hint of movement or noise, he saved me from the majority of the pitfalls of adolescence. On his back, I escaped the feelings of being awkward, different, creative. He didn't care if I was pretty or ugly or had the right clothes. We had an understanding and we loved each other, even when he was being "Winnie the Pill."

Since Ahab, I owned a couple of horses throughout my life, but moving around and changing lifestyles made consistent horse ownership difficult. After moving to London and giving up my third horse, a rescued racehorse named Enchanted Moment (Emmy), I decided to wait on horse ownership until I had a more stable, steady job and knew where I wanted to live for the next five years. After that, I went without really riding for about three years, which was the longest stretch of time that I went without being in the saddle. I'd look through old photos whimsically, or my ears would perk at the sound of clopping hooves. Riding is like some toxins: you can never quite get it out of your blood once it's there. I'd resolved that I'd start riding again someday, but I never really knew when that would be, and life had taken a very ungraceful fall. Through bad relationships, economic downslides, and waylaying of my career goals due to industries faltering, my confidence was badly shaken and I didn't know when I'd ever recover. I began that slow spiral into deep depression: binge eating, falling out of exercise routines, really doing much of nothing except what was absolutely vital to survive. Finally, moving to yet another new city, Los Angeles, I stumbled upon Nathalie, Yves, Saddlerock and Buttermilk.

Nathalie is a distant relative. We have the same last name, which is as rare in France as it is in the U.S. She moved to the states some 15 years ago. And, she, like me, is obsessed with horses--I guess it runs in teh family. she introduced me to her trainer, Yves, who, unlike most horse trainers on the planet, actually loves horses. Other than my own father, he's probably the kindest man I've ever met. Every Saturday I meet them at Saddlerock.

There's nothing like this place to me. It is a piece of heaven on this earth, a physical manifestation of all of the dreams that I've ever had as a child and beyond. Horses, llamas, camels, zebras, donkeys, longhorn cattle, emus, and buffalo graze over acres of echoing land through the canyons of sun-christened Malibu. Thousands of wine grapes thread over the hills in neat little rows in the distance, while, on the property avocados, blackberries, pomegranates and other delectable fruits populate the trees. Sculptures, foot bridges and fountains decorate the landscape, and the air above the smog here is ripe for breathing.

Saddlerock is where I met Buttermilk. His first owner had given him away to the barn owners because she claimed that he was dangerous. After a couple of years, more or less, out to pasture, he'd seen little human kindness or compassion of any sort, and had gotten quite tubby to boot. Yves wasn't sure about him, given his huge golden and white splotched body and sluggish movement, if he'd really turn out to be a good horse for me, but he said that he would try the little guy.

"Buttermilk? Butterball is more like it!" Nathalie had quipped.

When I first entered Buttermilk's sunbaked pasture, he seemed unsure of me. His pink, semi-sunburnt nose wrinkled a little bit, and he looked at me quizzically (he has one brown eye and one blue eye) but he wasn't upset with me. He followed me through the property, looking around nervously at the shadows in the trees, as I led him 1/4 mile or so to where I would be tacking him up.

The first couple of rides were barely thirty minutes long. His out of shape body lagged and his breath quickened. within a few circles at the trot. My second ride with him was completely in two-point (standing up in the stirrups--think power squats for 20-30 mins at a time) to alleviate any strain on his weak back. My out-of-shape body was sore for a week after that.

My third lesson, he bucked me off. It was kind of my fault. Yves had wanted me to rev him up to get him to canter, and he did not like the slightly too hard wield of the crop. He started crowhopping and then let out a colossal bronc move. I landed on my hip, hard and could barely walk for a couple of days afterward. I was back on the next week.

Slowly he's getting better. As I rode him underneath the trees yesterday, as he looked around with anxiety at the possible boogie men in the shadows, I rolled my seat back a bit more, hugged my legs reassuringly around his belly a bit more, and he let out a HUGE sigh. His muscles decontracted, his head lowered, and his ears flicked back to catch my signals to him. In that moment, I knew that we were okay. That everything, somehow, was going to be okay.

Last week, Yves sent me a message: "I think that if we totally retrain him from scratch, we're going to have a good boy here."

I think that we're going to have more than that up ahead.

Thought of the Morning 21

2010-09-05T10:29:00.002+01:00

I've finally come up with my 3 people that I would like to have dinner with, living or dead:

Douglas Adams
Dolly Parton
George Carlin

These things take a lot of thought. This trifecta came as a sort of ephiphany. Does the Nobel Peace Prize Committee have an opening?

Thought of the Morning 20

2010-09-02T05:40:00.003+01:00

My advice: Anger is like a racehorse. You've got to hold it back until you really need it. Then, whip the living daylights out of it.

Thought of the Morning 19

2010-08-29T11:30:00.000+01:00

Okay, perhaps this isn't MY thought, exactly, but I was thinking of this quote this morning: "Maybe this world is another planet's Hell."--Aldous Huxley

P.S. A little trivia: Aldous Huxley's niece was my computer teacher in grade school.

What You REALLY Want

2010-08-24T04:52:00.004+01:00

I remember it was my fifth birthday and every kid in my grade had one of those Glo Worm dolls. Remember those? They were pretty much giant larvae dressed in hats whose faces glowed when you squeezed them. Ahh, the 80s! Anyway, my friend had one that had butterfly wings, and of course, I wanted one just like it.
I guess that I talked this one up quite a bit to my parents because, on my birthday, they announced that we were going to the toy store to get me my precious glowing monstrosity. As we entered the warehouse-turned children's wonderland, my tiny eyes drew in the colors, sights and sounds in which only a child's senses could take immeasurable delight. Up and down the aisles of dolls, stuffed animals, figurines and playsets we marched until we came upon the display of Glo Worm toys. The thing was a GIGANTIC pyramid, stacked to the ceiling with podlike boxes of plastic doll-like larvae, none of which seemed to resemble my precious butterfly model.
"Oh no, I don't think they have the one you want," my mother said, disappointment pulling down her face and frame as she approached.
My little lip must have quivered a bit, because she and my father both decided to embark on a treasure hunt. They began to burrow through the huge display of boxes as I, drawn forward and onward by the ever-appealing visual displays, explored the other toys.
And so they dug and they dug...pulling out green glow worms, blue ones, purple ones. None of these were "The One." My mother was a trooper. She had not lost the inner knowledge of the kind of delight that comes with being a child, with having your heart set on that one special toy. She searched with a fervor, as if she were searching for those same special childhood feelings that she once experienced. Suddenly, she struck them. Amid a pile of boxes scattered all over the floor, she found what she'd been looking for. Waving the box over her head containing the butterfly doll, she yelped. I don't even remember what it was that she said, but I remember the shrillness of it, the way it echoed throughout the store and caused other shoppers to turn around and look at this crazy lady wading through boxes of the most ridiculous looking toys on the face of the planet.
My mother approached me with sheer, maddened glee on her face, searching for her match in my eyes. I, on the other hand, was holding another toy that I'd found the next aisle over.
"I found it, Honey!" my mother said, thrusting the ridiculous butterfly toward me.
My little lip must've quivered.
"You've found something else?" she said, disappointment pulling down her face and shoulders as she spoke.

I don't remember the toys that I got instead of the Glo Worm, but I do remember crying on the way home because of that look of disappointment on my mother's face. I remember the way she yelped and how that would haunt me to this day.

All in all it was an insignificant decision. My mother forgave me and has probably forgotten this incident. Still, I remember. And I think, after all, I did get what I really wanted. And I still have it. :)

Thought of the Morning 18

2010-08-20T15:54:00.004+01:00

Words are like bacteria: under the right conditions, they can cure or destroy a nation.

The Word is Good

2010-08-20T15:39:00.004+01:00

Just when I think that the American public no longer cares much for words, what, with articles, books, press releases shrinking in size to fit on handy dandy portable devices, some loon like Dr. Laura Schlesinger pops out the "N word" a bunch of times and we're hot on debate. As thrilled as I am that this cult-er-ifficly heeded coo-coo is off the air, I do think that the can of worms has been un-corked and I'm ready to start fishin.
My ears perked the other day when I heard Anderson Cooper (of all of the men that you had to make gay, lord, why?) speaking to DL Hugely and Rev. Al Sharpton about the implications of said age-old "N-word" and its impact on black people across the nation. DL Hugely was of the mindset that, words, when used in jest, lose power over the people that use them in that way. However, Al Sharpton said that using a destructive, derogatory word in any context does not lessen its derogatory nature. "If I take your fist and hit myself with it, does it lessen the power of the punch?"
It's all a philosophical debate, when boiled down, as to the power of words within a society. Yes, we have freedom of speech, but only up until the point that it offends a large group of people. And, yes, when words are spoken in jest, it softens the blow to the public. However, as Michael Richards found, comedy does not heal all, and, as in art, there are some creations that do not go over well at all.
Freedom of spech is a funny thing in this country. Say what you want, but, also, be prepared for others to say what THEY think as well. As a writer, you just know this. When will everyone else learn?

Thought of the Morning 17

2010-08-18T09:40:00.002+01:00

Ever thought of getting a tattoo of your very favorite joke? Then you could tell everyone, "The joke's on me!"

Wahh wahh wahh....

I'll take my rotten fruit now. Thanks!

Thought of the Morning 16

2010-08-15T11:10:00.000+01:00

Life may not be fair, but, almost always, it is funny.

(Like, "Haha" funny, not weird funny. Well, actually...it's also weird.)

Thought of the Morning 15

2010-08-13T19:33:00.002+01:00

What's obnoxious to me lately? People who say, "I put it to you..." when presenting an idea or thought. People who say this can be nothing but pretentious. Seriously, does "I put it to you" ever come to mind when YOU are addressing someone? Such as, "I put it to you: perhaps we should empty the garbage today rather than tomorrow?" Didn't think so.

When people say those words, I find myself compelled to say something obnoxious and vulgar afterward, such as, "Oh yeah? I put it to YOUR MOM!" But I'm not that crazy in real life.

Note: "Your Mom" jokes don't go over very well if you are female. Although, the thought finds itself entertaining.

Mom Wisdom

2010-08-09T03:45:00.004+01:00

My mother's a very wise woman, who always has the perfect bit of advice to give for any situation.

Yesterday, she said this:

"No matter what you go through, no matter what people say to you, just remember that they can't take YOU away from you."

I will remember this to my dying day. Thank you, Mom. I <3 you!

P.S. Planning a ceremony or life-changing event? Visit Ellen Deschatres's celebrant website: http://www.standonceremony.net/

Thought of the Morning 14

2010-08-04T15:13:00.005+01:00

His and Hers Fitness:

When men talk about the gym, it's always an inflated "big fish" story: "Yep, today I did about 100 pushups, 500 situps, and benched 250." or, "Yeah, I spend 2 hours a day in the gym." These words are usually spoken with a lot of puffed chests and twitched fibres.

When women talk about the gym, it's riddled with guilt: "Yeah, I have GOT to get motivated to get back into a routine," or "I only went four days last week." These statements are typically made over lunch or after eating something "bad."

Just an observation. I went to the gym yesterday and I'm going today. Just for the record.

Retrobilia

2010-07-29T04:51:00.003+01:00

From Facebook, earlier this year:

For my own amusement

Saturday, February 20, 2010 at 5:24pm

So, LaBrea and 3rd's Trader Joe's employees were suddenly effervescent with cheerful conversation, which led me to conclude that either spring was blooming in their pants, or someone received a stern lecture from corporate. At any rate, virtual rays of sunshine and rose petals floated from the lips of each cashier yesterday as they dragged each customer's purchases over the scanner.
"These are brand new," the strapping TJ employee with a tamped-down mohawk enthusiastically noted as he waved my pre-cooked, vacuum-sealed black-eyed peas over the scan spot. "They're great!"

"Uh, yeah," I stiltedly replied, searching my cerebral faculties for something interesting to say about beans. "You don't have to deal with the can." Heh. Weak, I thought.

It was then that I was secretly violently annoyed. Why does this guy care about what I'm buying? Why is it his business? What if I were buying nothing but tampons and toilet paper? What kind of conversation would we be having then?

And suddenly I was uncomfortable, talking about beans and all. Then he asked me about my plans for the weekend. "Well, for starters, I'm going to eat beans," I almost said. But, I didn't and gave some vague "I am not sure yet," sort of answer. Looking into his vacant face, I could tell that he could care less about what I was doing OR eating, that weekend. So, why the ridiculous pleasantries? How about less lip flapping, more speed? Put my beans in a bag and get me out of this place, for crying out loud! There's a line forming from the front of the store to the back! If neither of us cares, let's get on with it, shall we?

I grabbed the bagged beans, and dusted off the sunshine and rose petals. It was a dreary, cloudy day in L.A. I stepped outside and the parking lot was filled with people talking to themselves--but, really, that's not unusual. It's hard to tell in L.A. whether an individual is a bonafied nutter, or whether he or she is simply having a conversation with someone who is not present, typically via some sort of cyborg-like earpiece attached to a smarter-than-thou smart phone. At any rate, both the so-called "sane" and the societal rejects are constantly chattering. And that, my friends, is how affluence and insanity join hands and come together.

Just another day in paradise, at least as I see it.

Thought of the Morning 13

2010-07-25T18:01:00.003+01:00

I should invent some sort of ridiculously strong cocktail and call it "The Polygraph." I bet it'd go over big in Vegas.

Thought of the Morning 12

2010-07-25T00:42:00.003+01:00

I prefer not to say that I've LOST something. Rather, I'd prefer to think that I'm just hiding things from myself; making a game of it.
Perhaps, in other aspects of life, we could be more playful, like, "I'm not writing a report for my boss, I'm finding new words for Scrabble." or "This isn't an awkward first date, it's 20 Questions."

Life could be a lot more fun, don't you think?

Thought of the Morning 11

2010-07-23T15:28:00.004+01:00

From a REAL personal ad: "I'm a follower of the Law of Attraction (it REALLY works)!"
User joined in 2007.
My thought: Your REALLY is really more of a "REALLY?!?!" Try not being crazy. It REALLY works.

Thought of the Morning 10

2010-07-18T20:31:00.004+01:00

Am I not cool because I don't own a fedora in Los Angeles? Everywhere I go, I see fedora, fedora, fedora. In fact, probably never since bellbottoms has there been such a style cliche. Like the bellbottom, however, the fedora is a universally flattering, versatile fashion staple. Still, any given night out in Hollywood's most trendy spots lends itself to an almost farcical situation where people wear them with everything, like it's the THING to do. I've seen fedoras paired with everything from track suits to ballgowns. Next time you're out somewhere, count the fedoras. We'll make a game of it. Note to travelers: Don't go out without your umbrella in London, and don't go out without your fedora in LA.
FEDORABLE!

Thought of the Morning 9

2010-07-14T15:29:00.005+01:00

I remember as a child, going into the closet with the lights off and closing the door. It was so dark in there that, no matter how my eyes strained and my pupils stretched, there were no shapes and shadows, just pure, suffocating blackness enveloping my face.

There in the pitch I would wave my hand in front of my face to see if I was still real, still there even. I felt around. My physical form had disappeared somewhere via some sort of teleportation or magic force. Shapes and time, the world and reality and logic were gone, and I felt swept away in the nothingness, floating into oblivion, like a lost astronaut drifting from the ship out into the unknown gravity of outerspace. Terror. My physical heart would thump loudly and my breath would quicken as I wildly reached out my invisible hand to touch the invisible string that would save me from non-existance.

And when the light finally came on, and there I was, amid shirts and shoes, coats and purses, I realized that what really mattered had been there all along.

Mobile Cravings--Really? Amazing!

2010-07-13T06:00:00.004+01:00

Meals on wheels have really been exploding in recent years. No longer are taco trucks only for tacos, nor are they by any means a last resort. Nowadays, walking down any given avenue around dinnertime in a large metro area will reveal the familiar intermingling scent of exhaust and grill flames, as ambulatory contempo-chic cuisines temporarily nestle against a nearby sidewalk. If you're feeling adventurous, or prefer the open air of a city block to the stagnant ambiance of an indoor restaurant, check out Mobile Cravings, a very cool blog that's been around since 2009, detailing flavoriffic mealtrucks in cities across the country. Seriously, I'm giving these guys a plug. So great of an idea that even I may have to take to the streets...

Thought of the Morning 8

2010-07-12T07:35:00.003+01:00

My thoughts on the economy: If money's at the root of all evil, then we've all got different kinds of shovels.

Thought of the Morning 7

2010-06-30T20:19:00.004+01:00

I find that, if you don't care what people think of your appearance, you get get ready very quickly. This thinking helps when you wake up an hour late and still need to get to work on time.

P.S. Never set your phone alarm to that soothing, gentle harp music, as tempting as it may seem.

P.P.S. Do not attempt the harp music especially when your office does not own a coffee maker.

Thought of the Morning 6

2010-06-29T16:01:00.002+01:00

It seems as though in big cities like Los Angeles, where bold, bright young women flock in search of a better career and better quality of life, strangely enough, gender roles of days gone by are starting to re-emerge (with a modern edge, of course). These days, it's less Dolly Levi, and more dolly house...that is, that less is more when it comes to the female personality. Outgoing, silly, fun and confident chicks are often passed up for the more demure, wallflower types, who never dare to say what they think, or to ask a guy if he'd like to grab a coffee sometime. It makes me wonder, does it all come down to biology, or are we just so attached to a stereotype that we cannot seem to let her go?

Thought of the Morning 5

2010-06-28T18:58:00.002+01:00

Hate people? Become a letter carrier for the U.S. Postal Service!

Thought of the Morning 4

2010-06-28T04:48:00.002+01:00

If you sleep in sometimes, you skip the whole morning routine altogether. That's like "Move Ahead 3 Spaces" in any given board game where the aim is to get to the finish line before your opponent. In this case, however, the finish line is not the goal. In conclusion, sleeping in is not recomended, if you want to actually live your life, that is.

P.S. Alcohol induces sleeping in. I wouldn't recommend it in massive quantities. Oi, my head...

Thought of the Morning 3

2010-06-26T17:36:00.005+01:00

Sometimes I get down on myself as a writer and think, "Gee, what I wouldn't give to be Perez Hilton right now." Then again, would I really want to be known for drawing penises on people's faces? Hmm...[loooooooonnnnngggggg pause]...Yessss?

Thought of the Morning 2

2010-06-24T16:33:00.006+01:00

As a writer and a creative, I cannot believe that there are actually people out there who don't daydream. I know that it's bad to do, most of the time, when there are other, more productive things happening: bullets whizzing by your skill, patient bleeding on the op table. But, consider a moment a world without daydreamers; maybe nothing would exist at all then, which is wayy too complex for the human brain to even fathom. Would the Earth and all of the people on it be a black hole of sorts? A vacuum? Nothing exists in a vacuum, they say. I think that I'm going to go back to my fluffy pink clouds now, knowing that, at least, something exists.

Thought O'the Mornin'

2010-06-23T16:43:00.003+01:00

Yet another morning that I splash coffee on my clothing. It's become a ritual. I might as well create my own couture of brown-splashed tie dye clothing, or stuff in which the coffee stains blend. I'll even rename myself Anna Wintour Klein so that my initials spell, "AWK". It'll be stitched on the butt of my jeans. The left butt cheek. Both of them.

That Stings (Sting? What's he got to do with it?)

2010-02-26T21:23:00.006Z

What do Men at Work and The Verve have in common? Well, for one, they both had law suits brought against their one and only big hit of their careers. Bummer. You make a song, song gets popular, and, years down the line, someone slams you for pilfering notes.
Although The Verve had originally licensed a sample of the Oldham Orchestra's cover of the Rolling Stone's song, "The Last Time" (my, this music stuff is complicated, right?), they used more than the agreed-upon amount of the song in their popular hit, "Bittersweet Symphony", and, the court agreed to nail them for it. Really, the sample is what made up half of the song's public appeal, to be fair, and, in my opinion, the orchestra deserved at least part of the credit for that song's universal success.
However, in all fairness, the group did creatively use the sample and overlaid its own lyrics, and still got completely bamboozled in a legal battle with ABKCO, the corp that owns the rights the the Stones' stuff, eventually turning over ALL song royalties, AND songwriting credits to the Stones. Boooh and hiss. Do the Stones really need to rob the rich to further stoke the unfathomable fires of their own fortunes? REALLY?
Yet, in a 1999 interview with Rolling Stone Magazine, Keith Richards called out The Verve, saying, "If the Verve can write a better song, they can keep the money."
Yeah, and if you can find your keys, you can drive home, Keith.
But, there's a lesson here, folks, in honesty. If The Verve hadn't pushed the limits with the song, they may have still made bank, or at least enough pocket money to get by. Now, what have they got? In all likelihood, not much. We haven't heard from them since 2008. You still alive, boys?
Speaking of dead, the writer of the Kookaburra song has long since passed, but that didn't stop the people who owned the rights to the song to unearth a colossal lawsuit against the 80s Australian group, The Men at Work. They waited ages (over 20 years) to roll out the mother-of-all smack downs on the group whose main claim to fame, "Down Under," utilized a flute solo that bore an uncanny resemblance to the aforementioned childhood tune.
I must say, although band member, Greg Ham, claimed that he had no intention of copying the aforementioned childhood tune, it is ridiculous, in my opinion, to believe that he did not intentionally use the riff to give the "Down Under" song a recognizable Australian feel. Now, if the boys had been up-front and PAID for the use of this little tidbit in the 80s, they and their label would not be battling a colossal suit that may well scarf most of their celebrated fortunes. Booh and booh.
Music industry lessons learned, folks. Buy now or pay later.

Another Scam!

2010-02-22T22:51:00.003Z

Booh and hiss. The latest job scam is in. I've received two such scams that seem like a genuine reply to an application, but they have one "tiny" request: Just click on "this link here" and get a "free" credit report, and then we'll set you up for an interview. Hmmm...I know better than to click on such links, and, likely this link will lead to a scam or phish site, or perhaps prompt the user to fund a subscription of some sort. Really, the amount of time that people spend on crafting these scams is obscene.

Your best defense: think about all replies logically. If a company asks you to perform some task beyond a standard questionnaire before coming in for an interview, ask questions about WHY you are being asked to do so. The first time I received a request for my credit report, I emailed back asking why this step was neccessary, and whether I could complete this step AFTER the interview instead of beforehand. Guess what! Crickets. No reply, whatsoever. No harm in questioning the motive. Very few employers request credit reports, and, if they do, it's once you've hit the final round of employment.

Check out this link for a more detailed account of this scandalous endeavor.

New Album to Check out!

2010-01-27T16:11:00.002Z

"The Flexible Entertainer" Pit er Pat

(Thrill Jockey Jan 2010)

Is it rock? No. Is it electronica? No. Is it ear candy? Yes!

Let's face it, some experimental music is just weird for the sake of being weird. It's art,and by all means should be taken as such. However, weird doesn't always make for a fantastic listening experience.
In this case, however, experimental translates to original, fresh, and, yes, fantastic, as far as listening experiences go. Chicago-born, Pit er Pat manages to bring the listener to undiscovered territory without so much as ruffling an ear hair (or causing any discomfort whatsoever to said listener). Full of mystery, sensuality, harmony and spice, "The Flexible Entertainer" makes pop music seem plain, ordinary. This album intertwines each experiment with a palatable mixture of guitar, vocals and groove-able drums. I've gotta give props to fellow Midwesterners--lately, we've been batting 1000!

Note-worthy tracks:

"The Emperor of Charms"--Fay Davis-Jeffers' nasally vocals string out over the tribal drums, lightning fast sitar-esque guitar and seductively clashing finger cymbals, conveying a dazzling flash of syncopated reverie. The track lures the listener slowly, and builds to a mad crescendo, whirling and warm. Disjointed cymbal clangs pull the track to a close.

"Godspot"--A dub-steppy, perfectly on-point, stop motion beat floats a heavy electro bass on this one. The earthy, melodic vocal seems excessive and dull at first, but then swirls into the mix of floody synth and guitar. The gossamer smoothness of a chasing harmonic vocal echo is the song's crowning glory.

"Summer Rose"--Steel drum pops and Latin-y bass set the scene for a late-60s, Paul Revere & the Raiders feel. Polka dot sway, back porch guitar, and a fantastic vocal from Davis-Jeffers that's a bit reminiscent of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs makes it easy going, and ready for a nice, tall glass of lemonade.

Check out Thrill Jockey for more info!

TV, We Belong Together

2010-01-06T01:09:00.002Z

It's happening, it's REALLY happening! All of our Sci-Fi dreams are rocketing into the near future! Our TVs will take over our living rooms---literally--in 3-D!

ESPN and Discovery networks will be launching 3-D channels in 2010, according to press releases. What does this venture mean for television consumers? For starters, it means mega buckaroonies to be made in both the television and technology industries!

3-D TV sets will run the gamut of prices, from as low as one thousand dollars, to according to an expert on LA'S KCRW station earlier today, up to $10K! These babies should be available at the higher price range very soon. Or you can just wait for the price to come down once the hype comes and goes.

Think of the movie remakes! Not to sound macabre, but we could find ourselves face to face with the holograms of Hollywood's long-dead personalities. We could be sharing Breafast at Tiffanies with Ms Hepburn, or dancing with Yul Brenner--all without leaving home!

Wow...this is some heavy news. And yet, didn't we see this coming?

Scam, Scram!

2009-11-09T01:38:00.003Z

Nothing gets me more fired up than people and companies who take advantage of others who are already suffering. With an ever-climbing unemployment rate, and no end in sight, the U.S. is bursting at the seams with job seekers. One article on CNN.com illustrated that the chances of landing a job right now are neck and neck with getting accepted into Harvard. Hmm...perhaps I should go Ivy League? Annnyyywwwayyyyyyy, even at our most miserable state of unemployment, scouring the ads day in and day out, resume tweaking, bugging contacts, showing up on doorsteps, filling out applications, etc., we are unfortunately being targeted by scammers all over the world.
Perhaps applying online to jobs, you've received an email such as this:

"He l lo So la ng e,

T h a n k yo u for your interest in the p os it i o n a t o ur firm.

A little mo r e in fo rm at i o n a bo ut us:

A s a re ce nt ly founded an d r a pi d l y g r o w i ng marketing fi r m,
we ho pe to fo s te r a fun y et efficient en v ir o nm e nt fo r our new
e mp l o y e e s. U n l ik e ot h er companies, we be li e v e an ea s yg oi ng
and fr ie n d ly at mo sp h er e is fa ci li t at iv e to q u a l i ty an d actually
in c re a se s productivity.

To be co ns i d e re d, c a nd id a te s mu st possess strong
c o m m u ni c at i on/interpersonal skills, th e ab il it y t o i n te r a ct wi th
p e o p l e a t all le v e ls of th e firm, an d ex c e ll e nt or g a n iz a t io n al skills.

C an di da te s mu s t be se lf st a r te rs an d b e a bl e to undertake
re s p on s i b i l it ie s with limited supervision. They must also be ab le to
multi-task, an d have a wo r ki n g kn ow le d g e of MS Office.
Fa m i li a ri ty wi t h o t he r types of software is a pl u s.

Our policy is to gr ow an d maintain a l o n g lasting and m ut u al l y
be n ef i ci al bu s in e s s re l a ti on sh i p w it h our em pl oy ee s. In keeping
w i th th at st an d a rd, ou r firm offers a c o m pr eh en s i v e b e ne f i t s
p a ck ag e that is s ec o n d t o none. In addition, we pa y o u r
e mp l oy e e s hi gh e r t ha n any c o mp e ti to r i n th is in du st r y.

Co m p en s a t i on wi l l be f u rt h er di sc us se d du ri n g t h e in te r v ie w
pr o ce ss, af te r r e vi ew in g ca nd i da t e ap p li ca t io n s.

Pl ea se ta k e a fe w mo m en ts to fi ll ou t ou r o nl in e ap p li ca ti o n b y
cl i c k in g on t h e 'apply' link be lo w.

APPLY HERE

Th an k you,

H R S t a ff in g
E m p lo ye e Re cr ui t Portal"

Thankfully, I'm onto them, weird font and all. This supposed HR Staffing firm directs people to a legit-looking page, where unsuspecting, diligent job seekers plug in all of their personal information. BINGO BANGO, PHISHING SCAM! Hook, line, and sinker, and there you go. Whether they sell your information to companies or use it for other malicious deeds, I'm not sure, but, whatever the reason, it's not benign.
It's a shame that we have to, on top of working our fingers to nubs typing out cover letters, be watchful of these types of things, but this is the age in which we live. To other job seekers, use common sense. If, after placing an ad asking for emailed resumes, a potential employer asks you to visit a website, be suspicious. First, look up the company online via Google or another search engine. Next, look up the name of the person who contacted you in conjunction with the company, such as "'Fred Smith' 'HR Recruitment Portal'." Usually, that person's name will come up either via Linked In or a company directory. If it's a scam and someone has reported it online, it might come up as such as well. Also, if that person's email is a free email account, such as gmail, hotmail, or yahoo, and not a company email, it may well be a red flag.
Most of the time, if someone has your resume, there is no need for you to fill out more information on yourself. If it's a legitimate company, such as Time Warner, which has a huge HR department, you may have to sign up to its online job search site, but never EVER do so from a link. Type the website in directly to ensure that you are going to the proper company site.
Last, but not least, check out sites like Ripoff Report and Snopes to see whether other people have been scammed via similar means. Scams are rampant these days. Keep your eyes open and your nose sharp, folks! Good luck and happy hunting!

A Matter of Taste

2009-10-27T16:43:00.002Z

Nutrition experts talk about how portion sizes of foods have expanded with our waistlines over the years, but I find it fascinating that we haven't talked much about how our tastebuds have evolved in a relatively short time. Or maybe it's not scientific or evolution-based. Maybe it's merely money-driven. What I'm getting at is the mysterious disappearance of grape soda.
When my mom was a child in the late 1950s, she and her family would pile into the car on a Saturday night and head to the local burger joint, where she'd order a single burger (probably a Jr. size by today's inflated standards), a small fry (again, probably kiddie sized), and a grape soda. Grape soda, popularized by the now-scarce Nehi brand of soft drinks, was everywhere. The flavor, a purely artificial sugar bonanza that never really tasted like real grapes, was consumed all over television. In fact, it was Radar on the acclaimed series, "M.A.S.H."'s signature quaff at the bar.
But something happened sometime between the 1970s and 1980s to grape soda. It was as if the flavor had been snatched off of its proverbial vine and replaced...replaced by orange, in fact. By the early 1980s, when yours truly came along, the only bubbly made available to us kiddies was some version of thick syrupy orange stuff or a limon concoction. Grape sodas had been culturally banished to the ghetto (or so urban legend says), along with BBQ chips (also tasty--why?). By 1988, when R.E.M. released its sixth album, "Green," "Orange Crush" was a household name. Grape, as we knew it, was marginalized, practically gone.
Orange, however, now takes a back seat to other flavors. By the 90s, we had every flavor we could ever wish for in fizz. Biggest on the list in fast food corp fruit flavors were things like cherry limeade and grapefruit (Fresca). Jones sodas have an extensive list of flavors and are available at places like Panera Bread. Is this flavor explosion a sign of sophistication in tastebuds, greed, or too many choices in America? To quote a wise candy commercial: "The world may never know."

The Westward Expansion: Reaching the Coast

2009-10-16T16:58:00.003+01:00

Day 3: (Flagstaff, AZ to Huntington Beach, CA)

I woke up in Flagstaff to the sound of trains tooting away as they cut through the thick mountain landscape. Throwing on some clothes, I wandered to the elevator to catch an early breakfast at 7 a.m. Lo, I did not beat the other guests to the buffet. The dining area was infested with tourists, mostly German-speaking tourists, actually.
The breakfast at this Holiday Inn was a bit disappointing. The only eggs (I rarely eat eggs for breakfast, except when I'm road-tripping--then I crave them--weird) available were perfectly formed eggbeater mini-omelettes containing some sort of liquidy processed cheese. I had one for a protein boost, then went for a biscuit that was dry and crumbly. That's where Texas had put Arizona to shame. I abandoned my crumbly biscuit for a banana and then headed upstairs to digest a little bit before hitting the gym for a morning workout I desperately needed.
The fitness room was teeny, but contained functioning treadmills and a stair stepper. I alternated between machines to get a good cross training workout for my atrophying legs and booty. A half hour later, and I'd worked up a good sweat and was ready to hit the road again.
I'd discovered that the first several hours of my drive after getting a good night's sleep were always the most blissful. I was pain-free, refreshed, joyful and skimming the earth like a low-flying hawk, taking in the breathtaking scenery as I went. After about four hours of this bliss, however, and after a couple of days of it, I'd gotten sick of my iPod music, the mountains, the desert, my own thoughts even, and was ready to get there already.
A friend had called me and I was on the phone when I crossed the boarder into California. There was a checkpoint shortly thereafter. "What are they checking for?" I wondered. I stopped as the friendly guard smiled at me and asked me where I was coming from. "Missouri," I replied. She asked me if I had any plants, fruits, vegetables or animals with me and I told her that I didn't. She waved me on through. Weird state, California.
I knew that I was about to go through the Mojave, so I stopped at a lone gas station in the middle of nowhere. Gas there was astronomical. I cringed as I pressed the highest fuel rating button. A service guy came out of nowhere and leaned against the pump. "I like your car," he said. I said thanks and walked around to check the tires.
"They look a little low," the guy remarked, squinting through the glare of the desert sun to check out my wheels.
He had a gauge in his pocket, pulled it out and read it. "Yeah, you're at about 20. Pull it around and I'll fill em up for you."
I pulled up and the guy ran around the car, quick as a jackrabbit, filling up my tires. I thanked him and ambled back to the highway. I guess you pay an extra dollar a gallon for good service in California (?).
Finally, the desert gave way to civilization. The roads wound and sliced through the mountains for a good hour. However, when I hit the mother-of-all traffic jams, I practically squealed for joy--I was in L.A.! I had, of course, stumbled on Los Angeles during rush hour. Luckily, the majority of the traffic flow was coming from the opposite direction. I was close enough to my destination, and I'd come so far that a little traffic wasn't even much of an annoyance at this point.
Soon enough, I'd reached the coast. Walking along the boardwalk on the way to dinner that evening with Donna and Greg, I thought about how far I'd come. And the adventure is just beginning.

The Westward Expansion Continued

2009-10-15T15:33:00.003+01:00

Day 2: (Amarillo, TX to Flagstaff, AZ)

Happy as I was to leave Amarillo, happier still I was to see that the rain and fog had cleared away to reveal the bright blue sky. There's an uplifting feeling associated with coasting down the interstate in great weather. You feel invincible and that the horizon is wide open and drawing you into itself.
My first hour on the road I fielded phone calls from worried friends, people whom I'd had to cut short the night before on account of the bad weather. "Yes, I'm alive," I told them. "But still in Texas."
It wasn't long, however, before the brush started to change colors again. Hints of yellows and reds splattered the grayish-brown scape. Huge rocks began to poke out of the flattened earth. Before I knew it, it was "Welcome to New Mexico."
At first, the plains yawned out for miles in every direction. I could see faint rock formations in the distance. As I got closer, mountains rose up on all sides.
I stopped in Albuquerque, at a Flying J travel mart. That thing was packed to the gills with cars and RVs. From the looks of my fellow trekkers, I seemed to be one of the few travelers under 50 at this junction. There was one other guy around my age, in head-to-toe scrubby camo, who made it a point to try to flirt with me while I was contemplating what to stuff my face with. Hot.
The travel mart had two kinds of "to-go" foods: Pizza or "Chinese." I've learned as a general rule in America never to eat Chinese food made by someone who is not Chinese, so that left me with pizza. I wasn't really in the mood for pizza, but it was either that or dry travel snacks, of which I was so sick I would have eaten pretty much anything besides.
By the end of New Mexico, I was kind of getting sick of New Mexico. Luckily, the landscape again began to change. The rocks and earth became redder and redder. No wonder AZ is a red state, btw. Even the soil is red! (I am SO funny).
The rock formations of Arizona are gorgeous. I'm one of those people who automatically sees people in the shapes made by rocks. They placidly watched me as I whizzed by, their red faces beaming into the sunlight. It felt a little eerie, a little reassuring, all at once.
I decided that I would stop overnight in Flagstaff. I found a Holiday Inn Express, which had one room left open for the night, thankfully. This morning, when I headed down to breakfast, the room swarmed with people, mostly Germans, and one really loud and whiney baby.
I'm going to hit the fitness center this morning before heading back to the road, the last leg of my journey to the coast!

A Westward Expansion

2009-10-15T02:25:00.005+01:00

Friends asked me to please blog my drive from St. Louis to my new (temporary) home in Huntington Beach, CA, so forgive me for interrupting my usual commentary with this ridiculousness. I didn't want to start a new blog for this foolishness.

Day 1 (StL through Amarillo, TX)

The trip began innocently enough. The weather was 45 degrees F and cloudy as I and the loaded-down Jag embarked on our journey. Fully vetted, the Jag roared down the road as I sniffled, partly because of the cold that had attacked my sinuses over recent days, and partly because of the way my dog looked at me as I backed out of the doorway that day. "I'm crying over a dog," I chided myself, knowing how ridiculous this would sound relaying it to others. Then again, those who have seen this dog know how she has that way of looking, all adoring and innocent and trusting...ugh, it is TOO much!
MO started to mist a bit, about an hour out. By then, all signs of moisture on the inside of the vehicle had left. I was hard tacked on the open road. My wanderlust had kicked in, and I could not WAIT to get to another state!
The further West in Missouri one goes, the weirder it gets. Yes, it's on the Bible Belt, so there are a lot of Jesus billboards. One sign implored people to attend the "church of your choice" this Sunday. Who is paying for that one?
Of course, next to the church and Jesus signs, there are signs for guns and ammo warehouses. Guns, guns, guns! As far as the eye can see! Down the way from the firearms, pro-life and Jesus billboards are the ever-present "Adult Video" supercenters. Oh, Missouri, you are a conundrum!
Suddenly the rain came down in big splats, which the weighted-down vehicle handled well, until we hit mildly flooded roads outside of Springfield. Orange road sign flashed: "Road closed ahead. All traffic must exit at 64." Greeaaattt. Then, I hit what we French like to call, the "bouchon."
We crawled down the road so slowly that I was sure that the dead possum I'd seen a while back could have moved faster. Even off the highway on the exit ramp and down the main road, the pace was excruciating. The diverted highway traffic snaked through Springfield, and finally I found myself back on the highway, slightly annoyed, but no worse for the wear.
By the time that I FINALLY got out of Missouri and into Oklahoma, I was more than ready. OK isn't much better than MO, I must say. It is just as flat and there are just as many non-noteworthy cow fields there as in my home state. However, the slight change in the look of the fields, accented by red brush plants, gave the scenery a more Southwesterly feel.
Like a starving artist, I ate up the scenery, trying to figure out what I'd do with it later in sitting down and writing. Wide open plains, cattle, brush...aaaand that was it, pretty much. Not much fodder for amazing writing. Wait, they wrote an award-winning musical production about this state! However, the wavin' wheat was gone, and the winds were muggy and still on account of the rain. I guessed that I belonged to the land, so long as it would let me go after I crossed state lines.
"Don't stay too long in Texas," my friend, Robb, had said, semi-jokingly. I ended up staying the night in Amarillo, mostly because I feared that I would die if I went any further that night.
I had already decided to bypass staying in Oklahoma City because, after taking a "Stacker" pill, after feeling drowsy that afternoon (I hadn't had a full night's sleep at all Friday through Tuesday), I was still bright-eyed and full steam. However, as night's pitch black drapery fell across the landscape, the misty rain that had been drizzling all damn day created patches of pea soupey fog in the middle of Nowheresville, TX.
Images of Ed Gein and his family flashing through my head as my eyes tried to make heads or tails of the blackness, I sought the comfort of the lights of a well-lit cattle semi. I hugged the guy's tail all 200 miles to Amarillo. Trucks make great lighthouses in the fog, rain, snow and mist--especially the ones with the lights that go all the way up the sides.
About 30 miles outside of Amarillo, we encountered a flipped truck, flames shooting from its underside. The smoke added to the fog that blanketed the highway. You could smell the thing burning for miles. The driver might have been pulled from the wreck, but he was clearly injured. Ten miles or so up the road, I saw the ambulance screaming down the highway on the other side. It must be awful to be in a wreck out in the middle of nowhere, where the nearest hospital is miles and miles away. Terrible. I hoped that the guy was okay.
Once in Amarillo, I found the closest, decent-looking inn in town. My father had insisted that I try to find a hotel in favor of a motel, which I guess that this place was. Baymont Inn. It wasn't too shabby looking, inside or out.
By the time I pulled up, I had been holding my bladder for way too long. I ran inside.
"Can I help you?" The girl at the front desk looked up to ask.
"Yes-I need to book a room for the night, but first, do you have a restroom I could use?" I shot her a plaintive look as I said this.
She pointed me to the public pee spot. I looked in the mirror after I relieved myself and saw that both of my eyes were black underneath. "Ugh. I look like death. This woman probably thinks I'm some sort of drug addict," I thought as I examined my pale, makeup-less face and washed my hands.
I came back and booked the room, trying to throw out light-hearted, jovial comments, which this humorless woman was not quite receiving. She gave me my room keys and pointed me to the parking area.
I parked and lugged a few things to the outer door, which, she said, would open with my key. It did not. I looped around to the front desk again and she told me that the door was not always mechanically reliable, and to come through the inside. Yippeedee. I went through the inside corridor, found my room, and tried my key. No dice. I tried again. Red light. The third time, the door flashed green and the lock popped open. Ahh, finally! Respite! Sanctuary! Re...what was this? A neat little row of suitcases propped on the couch? A laptop on the desk? Someone's been sleeping in my bed! My heart pounded for fear that the occupant was still somehow occupying the room, perhaps hiding in a closet or something. I backed out slowly and headed back to the front desk.
"Was there someone in that room?" The woman at the front desk drawled.
"Yeeesss..." How did she know?
"I was afraid of that. I switched someone to that room just a little bit ago, but I assigned him the wrong room in the computer." She explained. "It's a good thing that he wasn't in there. I would have been in big trouble!"
She drawled her statement with such a lack of intensity, I worried if she really understood the gravity of her mistake. She should thank her lucky stars that she had goofed on good-natured (albeit drained) me. And that the guy hadn't been in there. Naked. *shudder to think*
Finally, I found my bed and a good night's rest. A hot scrambled egg and biscuit breakfast had me up and ready to scramble for the Texas border. Not before stopping at a fill station and discovering that, in Texas, both pickup trucks and mullets will never go out of style.

TORTOISE @ The Firebird StL 09-29-09

2009-10-01T02:57:00.005+01:00

As a music journalist, seeing hundreds of shows, speaking with hundreds of music celebrities, I'm always amazed that I'm still able to be impressed by musicians. It doesn't happen as much as it used to, as the "adult" critic in me has been conditioned to be jaded and skeptical by the "cool kids" in the biz. Bump that though, I can't help it: Much of the time I'm as sparkley-eyed and grinney as the 16-year-olds crowding the stage, flailing their "MINOR" hand stamps high. I'm a total dork, and I'm okay with that. Especially when it comes to a band of the caliber of Tortoise.
Maybe they're called Tortoise because they tour about as often as Giant Tortoises mate. It's been about five years since the last album release, and the fans were clearly hungry for a little turtle soup. For a Tuesday night at the Firebird in St. Louis, the turnout filled half the venue, which was more than I could say for any band or artist I'd ever seen in the place on a week night. The turnout always surprises me in this place because it is, in my opinion, one of the best rock venues in all of St. Louis. Then again, the place isn't exactly advertising itself from the road (it's about as conspicuous as an ant's ear), but anyway, I digress.
For those who haven't heard Tortoise, they are a five-member experimental group that hails from Chicago. The group uses a variety of organic instruments and also electronic toys to create its vast wealth of sounds. Each member of the group comes from some other project, and somehow they all seem to piece themselves together in a way that creates a multi-layered symbiosis. Instead of egos clashing, I guess that somehow they've learned to work with each person's individual talents in a way that, for most bands, is a veritable impossibility.
The stage at the Firebird held a wealth of instruments: Bass guitars, regular electric babies, two drum kits, a fantasy-inducing Moog synth, keyboards, an electronic marimba and a xylophone. As the band took tot he stage, the disjointed lot of instruments all came to life and each element had its turn in the spotlight.
Jeff Parker's wicked guitar fingers send melodic waves cascading like an avalanche over the opening track. His jaw clenches and a hard grin of concentration flashes in and out as his lips draw back in time with the unrelenting rhythm.
In whomps the drum kit. Not one of them, two. It comes as a pleasant surprise that Dan Bitney, not usually known for his percussion, takes up the sticks for a flashy and syncopated drum duet with John Herndon. McCombs, the bassist, takes up the keys, and that turns everything we thought about Tortoise right on its head. And that is awesome.
The dizzy rockadelic frolic is brought on by a banquet of electronics (having never seen an electronic marimba, I was quite intrigued by its light-up action). Bitney and Herndon take up that and the xylophone in another duet. Herndon at one point scratches at the xylophone with the sticks like a cave man carving bones, then flips them right-side and flows right into a gorgeously bone-melting ditty on the metal. All the while, John McIntire dabbles the keys and tosses in robotic noise and "fun" stuff like dimestore beads at a Mardi Gras parade.
Somehow with Tortoise, tacky is tasteful. That 70s cop-show, slouchy polyester vibe suddenly feels like it's en vogue; it just feels right on your skin. A guy in the crowd told me that he could "feel the music in [his] pants." If that isn't rock-tastic, I don't know what is.
I'd like to say that I was fully music-critic sharp and "with it" during this show, that my brain was actively analyzing the elements 100 percent of the time, but if I said that I would be lying. I did get a little bit lost in the music for a while. The psychedelic elements whisked my brain off to another place for a few minutes before I realized what was happening. Listening to Tortoise is like hearing interpreted into music every dream you ever had--or every dream you wish that you ever had.
John Herndon really snapped me back to reality with his incredible guttural drumming. After a good hour of drumming, I imagine anyone would be exhausted, but Herndon, sweat flowing off of his nose like a mini-waterfall, took it to the next level, hitting harder and faster. Whipping the music into a froth, he brought the backbeat to the foreground. I haven't seen dedication like that in years. Hats off, buddy.
All the rock, wonk and jazz add up to a fantastic mystery flavor. As always, Tortoise delivers a rare treat.

(Photos by Harold Coin)

Win-win or a Hideous Game?

2009-08-20T05:52:00.004+01:00

Perhaps the movie Fight Club's scene where Pitt and Norton raid the liposuction clinic's rear dumpsters for bags of human lard to be delicately repackaged into flavored body products isn't so far fetched these days. With the world growing ever larger, and the people's rear ends in proportion to the exponential explosion of the population, people are finding fairly creative ways to get rid of the excess blub.
One particularly enterprising Beverly Hills doc used patient fat, converting it into a bio-fuel for his vehicle. Innovative, ingenious even, but unfortunately too risky to be put into place. I do wonder, however: How much fat does it take to fuel one vehicle? Wow, I could totally imagine what life would be like if the world took such ideas seriously. Something like that could lead to an entire industry of couch potatos, or "fat farmers", who sit around, gorging on ice cream and bon bons for months while watching their 800 channels on a sunken divan. Then, when sufficiently "ripe," they turn a profit on the sucked-out cells for four bucks a pound, turning the lazy American stereotype into a brilliant entrepreneur. Wild.
I even came across a website for a Dutch organization that claimed to offer free liposuction to people, then converted the fat into baked goods for starving people. It at first appeared far-fetched, but the site that I investigated appeared legitimate. However, I have been unable to relocate the site, and the Dutch are known for their pranks, so I'm not quite certain that this was not just a beat-all take-em-to-the-cleaners. If not, the bioethics issues are the size of the cookies at Diddy Riese...

Patterns Are the Writing on the Wall

2009-08-13T18:14:00.003+01:00

It's funny how history repeats itself over and over. It makes me think that perhaps history and human experience is just a series of logarithmic patterns, bound to repeat sooner or later. Perhaps it is, or perhaps we, as humans, naturally gravitate toward certain highs and lows. Who knows? I always find it immensely fascinating whenever I locate a person in history who has been through almost the exact same scenario that I'm currently facing on personal scale.
Recently I came upon the bio of Gene Kelly, not very disputably one of the most talented entertainers the United States has ever seen. Sifting through the details of his early years before MGM fame and glitz, I discovered that a 17-year-old Kelly originally set out to study journalism (parallel exhibit A) at Pennsylvania State College. Because of economic conditions at the time (1929), Kelly quit his studies in order to find a more stable position to make ends meet (parallel exhibit B). In 1930, his family opened a dance studio, where he taught while eventually going back to school and earning a BA (family business parallel exhibit C). He actually enrolled in law school (consideration of a law degree parallel exhibit D), but dropped out after two months to pursue dance teaching and choreography. Finally,in 1937, he moved to New York City to pursue his dreams and expand on his natural given talents (moving to a big city parallel exhibit E).
The life of Gene Kelly not only draws personal parallels for me, but also for others facing economic and career hardships at this time. It's an inspiring history lesson for people today. So a person's career of choice is facing a slump, uncertainty, or even complete elimination from the viable marketplace; that doesn't mean that a person cannot make a go at a fabulous career. Now is the time to ramp up the creativity, perhaps, to explore our other talents and natural gifts. You never know where it could lead. You may one day be dancing in roller skates, eh, Gene?

Evil evil evil

2009-08-10T21:21:00.002+01:00

For trying to do something environmentally sound, I get burned. My resume/news show website, www.maglama.com is currently down. I decided to switch to a new hosting service that used wind energy to power its servers, and now am faced with a lengthy domain transfer that could take up to five days. Right. Just before I skipperdeedee off to find my fame and fortune in Los Angeles (or at least find someone who will take a shine to my skills). How annoying.
I am now going to try to squash everything into a file and likely create resume multimedia CDs for the event (inevitably) that I can't get the site functional in time. Plus, I will have my Maglama YouTube, the measley thing that it is at the moment, as well.
Ughughughughugh...

Scam-a-lama-ding-dong

2009-08-06T18:22:00.002+01:00

Neglecting my blog has become a bad habit that I need to overcome. I have been busy working on several video projects, articles, reviews and profiles, and have actually been pouring my heart and soul out on personal blogs in light of this depressing economic times. Frankly, I haven't had much emotional energy for this sort of commentatorship. Sure, I'll chew the fat about it over coffee with an intellectually elevated colleague or friend, but formulating ideas that I think are worth something in writing takes a lot out of a person. Besides, most of my other spare time is taken up by scouring online ads for full time work.
Speaking of online job ads, leave it to scammers to take full advantage that every other human being in this country is looking for work. Via Craigslist especially, I will apply to a position, only to receive an email shortly thereafter prompting me to follow a link to "complete my application online." Perhaps some of these sorts of human resource websites are legitimate, but somehow I doubt it. Somehow I wonder if it's all a ploy to get people's addresses, phone numbers and other such information. To me, it seems like quite a hassel to go through to get people's info, but you never know. Anything's possible in this day and age. I have yet to find any significant "buyer beware" articles online regarding this sort of thing. However, when someone I don't know directs me to an unfamiliar link and asks me to put in my information, I have every right, as a web-savvy consumer, to be wary.
It's taxing on the mind and emotions to constantly be looking over one's digitized shoulder, but nowadays, with the free-wheeling information exchange of the Internet, we have no choice. I feel increasingly pained for those individuals who lived through the era of handshakes and heartfelt promises. The Harold Hills were few and far between, and a man or woman's word was just as good as signatures and certificates. Now we practically have to require a blood test for every transaction. And, thanks to people like Bernie Madoff, our trust in friends, colleagues and business people is in even more of a shambles.
It disgusts me that scammers prey on people's emotions and seek to kick them while they are down. One recent scamming ring would call elderly folks pretending to be their grandchildren, claiming to be stranded in a foreign country needing money to get home. It's crazy what these people will do. I've heard of some shameful phishing scams in my life, but this one was probably one of the worst.
We'll never be able to avoid these scams completely. A sucker is born every minute, as they say. People will run to the broken back window and forget about the front door. Here's a good site that offers SOME hints on avoiding these crazy schemes online: http://www.fightidentitytheft.com/sucker.html.
Also, if you haven't already, check out www.snopes.com for information on chain emails, fake giveaways, and other stories that sound too surreal to be true (usually they are).

Lady Power

2009-06-08T19:07:00.003+01:00

A number of topics concerning women have arisen in the news as of late: some pleasant, some not so pleasant.

Obama's nomination of Sonia Sotomayor is a pleasant story. Not only is she the arguably first Hispanic (Justice Benjamin Cardozo in the 1930s was thought to have Hispanic blood), but she is the third woman. Although she will likely sympathize with the left point of view while serving with the court, Sotomayor is no pantywaste. As a judge, she's hard as granite and lionness aggressive. She will give the other seasoned justices a hard kick in their robed backsides. For all that's worth, methinks she is a good choice, the best of both the female perspective and upholding the law. As all of Hollywood would say, work it, Girl.

Not-so-pleasant are the number of female murderers in the news as of late. According to the Bureau of Statistics, women account for 14 % of all violent crimes. I wonder what that will be the next time that gets calculated. Among the disturbing acts are the crimes where women murder their own children or the children of neighbors, however, most disturbing are the numbers of women who attempt to steal babies from other women by cutting the babies out of the wombs of pregnant women. I cannot imagine anything more horrifying. What may be even more horrifying, perhaps, are the possibilities of women getting away with these murders and raising the children as their own. I shudder to think...

At any rate, I thought that I would weigh in here as I have been grossly neglecting my blog in favor of video production and also attempting to find a full time gig in the world. Keep the faith.

Outgrowing the economy

2009-03-11T13:33:00.003Z

Recently, I came across an article in the New York Times regarding large families living in motels, and was again struck by the thought that perhaps America needs to reexamine the dogmatic idea that bigger is better when it comes to family planning. In one case, the article mentions a couple, the husband who had worked at Target and the wife who had worked at Petco, having lost both of their jobs within months of each other. They have three children, and just added another baby to the family. Perhaps it's my upbringing, but common sense tells me that having lots of children without being able to afford to take care of them isn't a very good idea. However, thousands of low income families insist on bringing such "joy" into the world, straining government and charitable organizations that offer support for each child born superfluously outside of the family budget.

Lisa Belkin of the New York Times asked the question: How many is too many? We, as a society, have yet to determine that number. Scientists say that we should only replace ourselves in order to avoid further leeching resources from the Earth. That means, in essence, every couple should have just two children. Furthermore, considering the cost in this modern day to raise a child, most low income families cannot really afford to have more than one. Yet, somehow more keep coming.

I am not blaming all of the motel families, some of whom were legitimately well-planned from homes with decent earnings and just fell victims of circumstance, but I am saying that perhaps we need to provide better information within our educational system not only regarding the responsibility of having children, but the cost as well. In this economy, our entire way of life will have to be re-examined, and family size is just one aspect that I suspect will come under scrutiny.

Down a dangerous path: A personal note to the singer, Rihanna

2009-02-27T20:06:00.004Z

Rihanna, Rihanna, Rihanna. I don't know you, but I do know what it is like to be in a situation like yours. Once you've been abused, .seeing someone else in a similar situation is like holding a mirror up to your past Yet, when a person is in it, she or he thinks that the situationis unique in all of the world. That's part of the evil glue that holds victims there for so long. People on the outside just don't understand and they never will.

It's easy for outsiders to say, "Don't go back to him." And, really, Rihanna is lucky to have friends, family and fans who support and worship her. Still, when a person's self esteem has reached bottom, no amount of praise or common sense can dig them out of the hole they've created. Being young, she's lost in love, that immature love that drowns out the self and replaces one heart with another.

Of all of the women whom I have interviewed on the topic of domestic violence, only one left after the first time. Of course, the first time with her landed her in the hospital. Most of the time it starts with a push, slap or grab and gradually increases in intensity and force. The abuse is typically followed by apologies and often manipulative tears. The abuse victims, with their loving hearts and broken self image, wind up back again for round after round. On average, it takes five to seven tries for a person to leave an abusive partner.

So, Rihanna, while I will understand the reasons that you went back, if you decide to go, I will tell you this: It doesn't get better. Rarely are batterers rehabilitated completely. You are young, you are beautiful and you are talented. There are other men out there who will treat you the way that you deserve to be treated. I've done the research, both professionally and personally, and I can attest to everything I say.

Am I hallucinating, or is life just really strange right now?

2009-02-16T15:08:00.004Z

Between plane crashes and near misses, nuclear submarine collisions, octobabies, and politicians lying about severe corruption, this past week has been fairly strange in the news. I thought that my week was fairly eventful, talking to former President Jimmy Carter and hanging with Mayor Slay at the Arch River Roller Girls season kickoff event, but obviously it wasn't eventful enough to keep up with the times. Sometimes I have to take a wobbly step backward from my job in astonishment. I don't know what's getting weirder: our reportage of incidents or people in general.

Last week, I web browsed upon the naive face of little Alfie Patten, the underdeveloped 13-year-old teen father of a newborn. Now, a person would think that the shock of such a tragedy would end there, but as the story unraveled, we discovered that Alfie wasn't the only one experimenting with the baby's 15-year-old mother. A 16-year-old came forth to claim that he could have fathered the child. Now we have a real life Maury Pauvich DNA "Who's the babydaddy?" show. The public crunch on this stuff by the handful and the media keep popping it fresh.

I tend to wonder, however, what sort of impact a story such as Alfie Patten's has on a young teeneager. It could very well scare him or her from the prospect of experimenting with sex. However, seeing that another teen tried it, had a baby and was supported and not killed by parents, might have a different impact entirely on a developing young mind.

If there were only one media source in all the world, ethical decisions about what to print would be simple. Unfortunately, we live in a world of competition, the idea that, if we don't print something, someone else will. There is always someone out there with fewer scruples than you have. But, by letting go of most ethics, we add to the snowball effect, inciting emotions, inducing copycats and adding to the crime and corruption of others all over the world.

Words can be worse than biological warfare in ways. A word can infect a community and grow and spread into mass corruption. People like Isioma Daniel know this fact all too well. But we don't even have to start riots or mass killings to sicken the flock. A slightly sicker society is something that Nadya Suleman and little Alfie's expose writers might soon discover. But by then they'll be onto the next more sensational story.

AHHHHHHHHH!

2009-02-07T23:39:00.003Z

Because I've recently had some major problems with my racket insurance company (which I won't name because of liability reasons, but it rhymes with "Puke off the windshield"), and also because I work and play with robots all day long, I thought I'd post this, just for laughs:

2009-01-31T17:00:00.004Z

Until now, I've been reluctant to comment on this whole octuplet story. Not because I have nothing to say, but because I don't know where to begin my rant.
When will the free world start to speak up about child hoarding? We condemn people for hoarding too many animals, say that they are psychologically ill, but when it comes to children, well, people are entitled to have as many as they want? Even if, financially, a parent is able to shoulder the burden of raising 14 children, he or she cannot possibly be able to meet the psychological, developmental and emotional needs of each individual person. Isn't that automatic neglect?
As for fertility clinics, they are as unethical and unnatural on the other side of the coin as those "pro-lifers" say that abortion clinics are. If people are so intent on letting nature run its course, then they shouldn't be implanting multiple embryos into wombs.
And now, especially now, when scientists are screaming for people to quit having large families, how is having one anything but unethical and selfish? The reason for this woman's desperate fertility clinic visit in the first place? She wanted "one more girl" to complete her collection. Something is not right here. In light of everything that is sacred about life, something is not right with these people.
So now, here we are. This woman will eventually unleash her under-stimulated, undernourished children into the world and allow for them to use up natural resources and pollute the Earth, just like Echidna and her demon spawn. You know, sometimes I think that Greek mythology isn't so far off from the real world.

Hail to the Chief

2009-01-20T19:19:00.004Z

There are unexplicable times when history falls neatly into place, as if it were crafted by divine hands of some sort. Inauguration day, the day when we welcome our 44th commander of the United States into his office, fell right into step between a day honoring another great leader, and a month which again honors that leader and others who sought peace and solidarity.
As for the negative nellies who want to focus on things like Rick Warren, or the obstacles surrounding our current leader, I think they've set their scopes on the miniscule and have neglected the point. We, as Americans cannot rely on one sole person to bear the burdens of our nation. It is a movement and it takes a village to get these things accomplished. That movement, the mobilization of communities to help others in need, is the change about which Obama speaks. That change is fueled by the hope and inspiration of our President's speeches, which is why we so thirsted for someone of his caliber.
Those individuals who insist that President Obama's ideas are grandiose and simply a political chess move have yet to open their eyes and to see things as they really are. After seeing the massive ocean swells of mini flags flapping, the tears, the joy, the school gymnasium chants of "Obama! Obama!" how can a person deny that at least something the like of which we have never seen in recent years in American politics is happening in this country?
In this country we've learned not to be too optimistic. Cynicism crosses everyone's mouth because we've been scorched by too many lies and too many let-downs. But there's something about this rosey side of the blackened cloud that's appealing. Perhaps a little hope, naive or frivilous as it may seem, is the perfect prescription for our ills.

Mideast peace and mainstream media responsibility

2009-01-16T20:40:00.003Z

Every day the fighting in Gaza, headline after headline, yawns over mainstream news websites, television programs, and looms behind every radio program and podcast. Danger, red alerts, alarms sound, hate and violence are everywhere you look. If you never looked outside of your own door, you'd think that's what the world had amounted to.
Over the past month or so, I've been following people who have a different agenda: grassroots organizations, individuals and scholars who are looking for an end to the fighting. What amount of glory do these people get in the news? Not one blurb, mostly. It seems as though none of these peace-seeking missions deserves coverage, according to the press, because, it just doesn't quite get the ratings that bloodshed and violence do.
Thankfully, bloggers who care about these causes do exist , and journalists like me, who managed to get one article regarding The Mind of Peace Experiment, a revolutionary project that no one seems to know anything about, yet has received attention from heads of state and scholars from all over the world. How much attention will it take for the world to see that publicizing peace is just as important as publicizing war?

Peace in Gaza

2009-01-10T21:12:00.002Z

Over the past month, I've had the fabulous opportunity to be in a front row seat to an amazing experiment for peace in the Middle East. The article is posted here in the St. Louis Beacon, and I will continue to follow it in upcoming months.
There is hope!

Fear-mongering: wrangled by yrs truly

2009-01-10T21:04:00.003Z

A Myspace friend, to my dismay, posted this bulletin:
----------------- Bulletin Message -----------------
From:
Date: Jan 8, 2009 1:59 AM

10 - Obama has gone back on his word to punish the Bush administration for war crimes.

9 - Obama has appointed former Sec. of Energy, Bill Richardson (from the Clinton Administration), as Sec. of Commerce. Richardson's tenure at the Energy Department was marred by reports of security lapses in nuclear laboratories. During one contentious hearing, Senator Robert Byrd of West Virginia told him "you would never again receive the support of the Senate of the United States for any office to which you might be appointed. " So how is rewarding ineptitude change?

8 - Obama's Vice President elect, Joe Biden, is endorsing a bill that ends net neutrality as we know it and will take away much of our freedom on the Internet, the last safe haven for people of truth and honesty to tell their stories before the dark ages are re-instated.

7 - Obama is considering with Rahm Emanuel (his Chief of Staff) a "Universal Civilian Defense Program" which is a new propaganda and public relations term for the already existing National Guard militia. In other words, he is re-instating the draft. If this sounds familiar, it should. A similar program was proposed in 2007 by former Republican Congressman and former Nixon administration Sec. of Defense, Melvin R. Laird.

6 - Obama is NOT reversing the Patriot Act, the Homeland Security Act, any of the unconstitutional changes in all the Defense Authorization Acts, and the Military Commissions Act which took away our right to Habeas Corpus, one of the MOST IMPORTANT and VITAL pieces of legislation that made this country great!

5 - Obama supported the Detroit bailout - which was completely against the majority's requests. This should come as no surprise because Obama voted FOR the Financial sector BAILOUT bill. Not much of a "change" from what we've had!

4 - Obama has now completely reversed his position on TAX breaks for the rich and now has stated, after giving it some thought, he will keep this policy he campaigned against which helped him get elected. I guess he CHANGED his mind.

3 - Obama has picked a Republican drug warrior (and recovering alcoholic), Jim Ramstad, to be his "Drug Czar". It looks like the "War on Drugs" will continue without change.

2 - Obama is keeping the current Secretary of Defense, Robert Gates (a Republican), in that position! Gates should feel right at home - with the new Chief of Staff, Rahm Emanuel who is outspoken in his SUPPORT for the war in Iraq. How is this change?

1 - Obama is slowly going back on his word about getting us out of Iraq (who had NOTHING to do with 9/11) and has publicly said that all options, including nuclear, are on the table with Iran (who also had NOTHING to do with 9/11). Obama continues packing his cabinet with the most pro-war Democrats AND Republicans that he can find.

For many who supported Obama, his level of betrayal has quickly growing - and he's not even in office yet!

As MANY Libertarians had predicted, there may be VERY LITTLE, if any, difference between Obama and Bush. So meet the new boss... same as the old boss.

To which I replied:

Friend, I'm really surprised that you posted this. First, Obama isn't even in the Presidential seat yet, so most of this stuff is pretty much grounded in speculation. Also, the majority of this is under-researched fear mongering, which I always go out of my way to de-bunk for the good of every good-intentioned human being in this country.

10. This one is STILL open, and no conclusions have been made. Congress doesn't want Obama to look into this stuff right away, because he has other issues to focus on, like rescuing the economy and foreign policy (not to mention that they want to take the heat off of themselves in all of this), and Obama has not made any declarations. Public interest groups, however, are pushing Obama to conduct investigations. Read what the Detroit Free Press has to say about it in this most recent article: http://www.freep.com/article/20081221/NEWS07/812210467

9. The Richardson incident was true. You can read about it here: http://www.acronym.org.uk/dd/dd48/48doe.htm. However, what they don't tell you is that many of the problems that Richardson had with security predicated his arrival on the job. At any rate, he's not even going to be a part of the administration, so this one is pretty much moot at this point.

8. Oh yeah, Joe Biden, going to take away our freedom in the Internet? Really? There is WAY too much money to be made on the Internet for that, and we haven't even chipped the iceberg: http://www.reuters.com/article/internetNews/idUSTRE4A20P520081103 . He's an old guy and maybe doesn't quite understand the potential of the movement and. Apple, Yahoo, Google all those bigwigs will fight this one. Here are his past positions, straight from Wired Mag: http://blog.wired.com/27bstroke6/2008/08/obama-veep-wa-1.html. His main concerns with the web are to protect children fron online predators, actually, and have little to do with hindering civil freedom. Here's another article about him: http://www.portfolio.com/views/blogs/the-tech-observer/2008/08/25/is-joe-biden-a-threat-to-the-web/?TID=wiredpartner. Besides, Obama didn't pick him for his technology smarts, he picked him because he is ace on foreign policy, has and for his stance on the war.

7. As for this one, it's Rahm Emmanuel's non-military idea from a book he co-wrote in 2006http://www.amazon.com/Plan-Big-Ideas-America/dp/1586484125. It hasn't even been drafted into a bill. There has been absolutely no discussion of this plan since 2006. The only places I've even been able to dig up any information are from extreme right wing bloggers and, again, fear-mongering web publications, like this YouTube channel:

Obama said he doesn't support the draft, and, though maybe he believes that young people need to perform mandatory community service, until I see something in writing, I'm going to take him at his word.

6. I'm just referring to B.O.'s website here: http://factcheck.barackobama.com/factcheck/2008/01/05/fact_check_obamas_consistent_p_1.php

5. Well, this is just anti-Democrat propaganda. Nobody was happy about giving a bailout to anyone, but all of the evidence provided to Congress said that, if we didn't do anything, the consequences would be catastrophic. Let's NOT forget who got us into the mess in the first place. With the car companies, it wasn't fair. They shoved their workers out into the line of fire, and then begged the government to rescue them. What could they do? It blows, it really does, but the Dems are the labour party of the US, and therefore obligated to help these people. http://washingtonindependent.com/19878/obama-again-urges-detroit-bailout-with-strings-attached

4. He has said nothing about retracting his tax hike for rich people, but I think his focus now is to get EVERYONE spending money. His economic recovery plan is very, very basically outlined, so we don't know the details yet. We wont' know, again, until he gets to office. Plus, this was a HUGE sticking point with even moderate conservatives in the election. People wanted to hang onto their money. So, uhm, dontcha think, if he wasn't going to do this, he would have said so during his campaign? It would have made it a lot easier for him, and Joe the Plumber wouldn't be going to Israel! http://money.cnn.com/2009/01/03/news/economy/obama_stimulus/index.htm?postversion=2009010306

3. This one's true. I think it was a bad pick as well.

2. I dont' know what this one's supposed to get at, really. Obama wanted a diverse cabinet. Besides, Gates is a moderate with years of experience, which is what Obama needed most.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jon-soltz/why-the-gates-pick-works_b_146671.html

1. What they don't say is that Obama inherited a friggin MESS in Iraq, caused by the Bush admin. I'm SURE the neo-cons and crazies are just waiting to pin all of the residual diarrhea from the Dubya legacy onto Obama's coattails. If he does stay there for any length of time, it will be because the place has gone to Hell in a handbasket.
http://baghdadbureau.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/01/08/predictions-for-obamas-iraq/?hp

So, that's all I have to say about this stuff. Although I was an Obama supporter, I saw the dude, looked into his eyes, shook his hand. I have no delusions. The guy is a human being who has taken on a tremendous task of saving the world after one person mucked it all up. I think that, while yes, we should keep an eye on anything that might affect our civil liberties, we shouldn't be unduly paranoid before the guy is even sworn in. It won't be perfect, there will be some crap we don't like, but unfortuntely it takes time to move from an extreme right-wing government to a more balanced one. I'd give the guy somewhat of a break.

-------------------

Honestly, I hate this kind of nutso propaganda. If you're not willing to get your facts straight, don't circulate this stuff. It's great to be aware of what's going on and to look deeper than face value, of course. But, in this age of ridiculous accusations, net spam and boogie boogie man stories, let's get real. Show me the facts, I'll face them. Until then, let's unify a little, okay?

Just my opinion, but ya know...

Palin vs Kennedy?

2008-12-30T15:36:00.003Z

I find myself sort of offended by this recent Wall Street Journal article comparing Caroline Kennedy to Sarah Palin: http://online.wsj.com/article_email/SB123060542110241631-lMyQjAxMDI4MzIwOTYyMDk1Wj.html

While I absolutely do not think that Kennedy should receive any special favors because of her family name, I think that it is absolutely ludicrous to compare this woman to the beauty queen/hunter/sportscaster/PTA mom who thought she could be President of the US of A. Come on, now! I mean, Caroline Kennedy has a law degree from Columbia. She's worked as an attorney, an author, and helped to pass legislation in New York. The woman is no slouch when it comes to activism, or even the political arena. She's grown up around it her entire life. She was the head of Obama's VP selection committee. I don't even think that a person could put the two women, Palin and Kennedy, on the same plane when it comes to intellect and background experience.
Plus, we're not talking about a heartbeat from the Presidency here. We're talking about a Senate seat. We're talking about someone who is supposed to know and understand the people of New York, and someone who wants to represent their best interests on the federal level. I don't think that her candidacy is as absurd as people are making it out to be. It's not as though she doesn't have the education and background to back herself up. I think that people are more upset about her "celebrity" status than anything else, which I can understand. I think that it would definitely be a struggle for her to prove herself in spite of her family name. A lot of people think that she doesn't have the grits to fight in Washington, so that's something that she'd have to prove as well.
On the other hand, Kennedy put herself out for scrutiny by tossing her hat into the ring. Knowing herself that she is a shy person, she should have worked to try to eliminate nervous tics and speech habits when talking informally to press. As a politician, speech and clear, concise communication skills are essential. However, I am incredibly upset that there seems to be a double standard in the media when it comes to criticizing women politicians and "filler" words. They go on and on about how "distracting" the "you knows" are--as if Obama's long, scratchy "uhhhhh"s aren't? Please!
I happen to think that "you know" isn't as distracting of a filler word as "uh" or "um." The latter aren't even words. If you sit and concentrate on "uh"s, while someone is talking, the person starts sounding like there's something mentally wrong with him or her, or that he or she is speaking some sort of strange morse code language (instead of dash-dot-dash, it's um-uhhhhh-um).
It's true, we've become too lax with our filler words. We let television and radio presenters get away with it, and now politicians. At least they're not writing it into their speeches.
It's clear nowadays that filler words are a part of our everyday vernacular, and that they do not hold a mirror to the speaker's intellect. Still, it's hard to tell the difference between the smarties and the dummies if everyone speaks the same way: "Like, you know, I may, um, sound like a, you know, valley girl, but, uh, I'm, like, really a Harvard scholar!"
I guess the best thing to do would be to give a piece of advice to Mme Kennedy and other politicians:

All work and no play makes the econ go round

2008-12-14T01:26:00.003Z

While the perhaps infinitely more well-adjusted of you are planning on ringing in the new year with various shindigs, yours truly will be thrusting sore shoulders into a well-worn collar. However, I weigh the benefits of this situation against the faults: Okay, so one night of spinning around in circles in a champagne haze lost, but a much needed wad of payola in the pocket watching other people have a grand old time.
Besides, those big checkmarks on the calendar are almost always somewhat of a let-down. Like that time you downed one too many Jell-o shots and ended up pouring your heart out to some stranger about how your ex boyfriend just didn't care about your ambitions, while he stared at your chest and swigged scotch from the bottle (was that just me that one time? Oh...). Bleh. who needs it?
Besides, we've really been too lax in our ambitions. We've been too willing to party it up, to spend, spend, spend in the past. We haven't held any regard or premonition about devil-may-care, freewheeling dumps of money. We dispensed it by the barrelful in good times, at bars and restaurants and clothiers. Now, we are facing a pinch, and so, why shouldn't we have to work to get it back?
There is a time to eat, drink, and be merry, and there is a time to diet. We've all got to trim the fat a little bit, eh? I'm not saying don't go out and have your jollies on New Year's Eve. Sure, these vendors need to make money some how, but, remember to put in some extra time at work the following week. After you recover from your hangover, of course.

Long awaited updating

2008-12-12T20:29:00.003Z

You've got every right to beat me with a wooden or metal spoon for not blogging for almost a year on this particular blogsite. If you've been holding your breath in anticipation of my next move, I hope that the paramedics arrived on time.
I've landed back in "the good ol' US of A," not because I didn't have the official right to stay in the UK (I am an EU citizen, after all), but because the terra firma of the MA degree started to roll into an avalanche under my very feet. Now, after six months of job hunting in the UK, and over two in the US, I'm coming to the realization that this is only the pre-avalanche of the avalanche to end all avalanches.
Each news item brings about another barage of B-words, such as "bailouts," "bombings," and "Blagojevich" (another trying name for us newspeople--almost as bad as Ahmadinejad). My B-word of the hour is "broke." Well, it has been the blanket statement for months here. Still, I'm doing better than some people.
If we put it into perspective, I still have more than most people in third world countries will see in their entire lives. And I have the opportunity to move up, some day, when things get better or when someone, somewhere decides to take a chance and read my blinking cover letter.
Now is the time to shoulder that dying American entrepreneurial spirit. Instead of sitting around, hands out, we now have the opportunity to make our own fortune. Yep, freelance, people. And diversify your skills. Start learning something new. I'm writing, editing books and video, and doing promotional work, such as web design or YouTube site maintenance. It's all about what you can do to help people who are doing well in your area. Make yourself useful!
At any rate, keep up the good work, and I'll keep up my end of the bargain (of which I've sorrily neglected over the past year--okay, I'm done apologizing)!

Attention Deficit Deaths?

2008-02-03T10:21:00.000Z

More children today in the United States are being diagnosed with ADHD than ever before. Neurologist Dr. Fred Baughman of the American Association of Neurologists says that recent statistics show that almost 7 million children are now diagnosed with ADHD each year. Only 500,000 children were diagnosed with the disorder in 1985. In fact, daunting, "fear tactic "reports still come out regularly to encourage parents to lug their children into the psychiatrist's office, where immediately they are diagnosed with things such as ADHD, anxiety disorders, bipolar disorder and depression, and subsequently put on medications to "help" them with their issues.

According to the FDA's website:

The U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) today proposed that makers of all antidepressant medications update the existing black box warning on their products' labeling to include warnings about increased risks of suicidal thinking and behavior, known as suicidality, in young adults ages 18 to 24 during initial treatment (generally the first one to two months).

Call me crazy, but I think those statistics are just a wee bit more frightening than little Jimmy's having a problem concentrating on his schoolwork.

Pop Music: Year 2007 review

2007-12-15T07:02:00.000Z

Solange Deschatres—A 2007 Review of Pop Music—London Lite

EMI/Capitol records is an old fart. So are most other big corporate labels. With music industry and media companies boasting technology all over the world, swaggering like Keith Richards on their last leather-clad legs; crooked, mean middle fingers poised on the pulse of the hip and now, one would think that a drastic change in the way people hear and receive music would have occurred by the year 2007. Instead, years crawl by with the same digitally re-mastered re-releases, packaged in metallic jewel cases at the nearest overpriced, corporate megastore.
Smashing Pumpkins had it right in 2000, heave-ho-ing the huge Virgin label by releasing what was supposed to be their last album via Internet mp3 files. Early 2007, the band reunited, continuing its love affair with the digital market by releasing the “Zeitgeist” EP on ITunes in the US. Aside from a few other artists, Radiohead followed suit with the 2007 Internet release of “Rainbows.”
The ITunes and digital phenomena will not be ignored. The kids are hopping on the Internet all the time and downloading as fast as their high-speed connections will allow. Most of them use software programmes like LimeWire to satiate their desire for new music. While the stone idols of media Mecca stand proudly, defiantly stomping on these so-called “delinquents,” the deftly-clicking, persistently downloading fingers will slowly pick away at the bottom line until the rock facade disintegrates into the sandy desert floor from whence it came.
The time has come for a change in tactics. The fact that record companies claim that they want to stay on the up and up with trends and technology smacks a little bit of Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz,” transported to a colorful new, world, only to realize that it’s more comfortable back home in the silvery panorama of 65mm. Media companies are hesitant to loosen a grip on physical album sales just yet, but 2007 proved yet another year for the idea of passing the baton.
The more things change, the more they wallow right where they’re at and leave a ring around the bathtub. How many artist comebacks did we witness this year? Besides Smashing Pumpkins, we had Genesis, Ace of Base, The Police, Rage Against the Machine, Joni Mitchell, The Sex Pistols, The Spice Girls, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, My Bloody Valentine, The Verve, Kriss Kross, and the one-time smash performance of Led Zeppelin. What do all of these huge comebacks mean? Is the once overflowing sea of new artists so shallow that we need to keep diving into the old bathwater?
At the risk of tossing out the New Year’s infant, 2007 made meek progress in the world of pop music. Even the brave comebacks stood as weak blips on the music radar. No one asked for a comeback. Us kids are bored. A fantasy for 2008 would be a noticeable shakeup to clear the stagnant, thick air that’s beginning to scent of cedar chests, mothballs and rehab. Somebody, smash a window, please!

Best of Album Review

2007-11-29T06:16:00.000Z

Beck

“Odelay”

DGC

1996

When the follow-up smash, “Odelay” dropped, it was clear that Beck Hanson wasn't "mellow"-ing out on his "gold" laurels. His artfully and technologically advanced rock-fi hit rocketed him from “Loser” to a pop star pimp with nothing more than a “Devil’s Haircut.”

The former California busker and poet employed his mastery of multiple instruments
and genres while romancing the industry’s newest production techniques of the time.

With help from production prodigies, the Dust Brothers(first regarded for their own techno-magical tricks on Beastie Boys' "Paul's Boutique"), “Odelay” was encrusted with electronic samples and technologic gems, crafting an album fit for the snazzy, new millennium.

The result jacked the mid-90s alternative rock scene, drawing the line for itself far beyond the popular teen angst-riddled, angry guitar solos, and blending jazz, rock, rap, folk, blues, with hi-fi-tastic tricks. “Where it’s At,” materialized a bangin’ party, with Hansen’s gritty, vo-coded words melting over obscure samples and keyboard loops. “New Pollution” married sizzling electronica with the poet’s lyrical conundrums.

Many fans would argue that Beck went on to release increasingly intellectually complex creations, but his Billboard opus cracked glass confines and allowed the popular music world's ongoing discovery and experimentation in the worlds of rock, rap, jazz and EDM.

Rumours of a re-release with additional tracks have circulated, but “Lord Only Knows” if that will become a reality.