There's a scene in Meet the Robinsons where Wilbur is explaining his father's difficulty in inventing the time machine. He goes through all the prototypes and eventually points at a frowny face picture and a picture of a toilet. (It doesn't translate as well in print, but I couldn't find a YouTube video of the scene.) That particular scene has moved forefront in my mind as I stare down a sewing disaster.
Every year my gifted students have an end of the year party and choose a particular theme. This year's class was particularly clever in that they decided all the juniors would be a particular Greek god or goddess and all the freshmen and sophomores would come in simple togas as the plebeians they are. Because of the role I play in my students' lives, they assigned me Gaia or Mother Earth the original goddess. She and Father Time begot even the mighty Titans. I readily jumped on board and about a week ago had a fabulous idea. I used to sew in college and thought it would be great if I could put together a simple olive green dress and buy a copper/bronze fabric to wrap around as a toga. Then I could wear the green dress again and again. It would be significantly cheaper than finding a costume and far more useful. Well, college has been many moons ago and I don't have my own sewing machine. That's when idea number two popped into my head: I'll use my grandmother's machine and bond with her while I sew! It was brilliantly devised! I would have an awesome handmade costume and quality time with Grandma.
As I mentioned before, I have sewn before. I might not understand every single direction in a pattern, but I sure know how to cut and pin and put together. If I had simply asked my grandmother for her machine and brought it home, I probably would have had a few bumps but a relatively decent dress when all was said and done. Instead, I probably shoved my grandma a few feet closer to her grave. Of course it was unintentional. How was I supposed to know she would take over the whole project to save me any frustration from what she deemed was a bad pattern and awful choice in fabric?
There were the more hilarious moments when she described one of her thimbles as a condom for a little bitty petey. And one evening my mother even came over and we had a few good laughs between the three of us, but four days into this dress adventure and I was still sans dress. With my event tomorrow, this evening I had to fight every urge to grab the pieces of fabric and the thread and needle and finish putting it together by hand. As my grandma struggled to get everything just right, I could see the finished product in my mind and ways to put all the pieces together in an acceptable way. Yet out of love and respect for my grandmother I controlled all those impulses because I didn't want to hurt her feelings or make her think she was causing me anxiety over an unfinished product.
Since my life has been in the crapper anyway as of late, I came home determinedly miserable but stable. Then my mom called to check in on the progress, and of course I started to lose it. Mom understood how frustrated both parties were, not at each other, but at the blasted dress. She offered to call Grandma and see if she could help finish up the dress tonight. Two hours later my mother called me back and asked me to meet them at JC Penney.
Apparently, my mother made the executive decision to simply buy me a suitable dress to match the toga wrap. Her choice saved the sanity of my grandmother and me. I gladly met them and fell immediately in love with the dress she had chosen for me (this is saying a lot because my entire life we have gone 'round and 'round about her taste versus mine). The icing on the cake is that she also purchased me jewelry to match!
I'm a little put out about the time and material lost in this endeavor, BUT I am still getting my grandma's kick ass sewing machine out of the deal and will probably start taking sewing classes for something new to do.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Passing the Furry, Red Torch
It has taken me 20 years to come to terms with the death of my childhood hero: Jim Henson. The foundations of my imagination were created in large part by Fraggle Rock, Sesame Street, Muppet Movies, Labyrinth, etc. The first book I ever learned to "read" was The Monster at the End of this Book: Starring Lovable, Furry, Old Grover! In 1990 all of this came to a crashing halt. When I was 10 and he passed, I was convinced no one would ever be able to affect the world the way he had. There's a quote of his, "My hope still is to leave the world a little bit better for my having been there," and I will defend to the death that that is exactly what he did.
So by the mid 90s I was disgusted at the replacement of Kermit the Frog's stardom on Sesame Street with Elmo. Part of the anger stemmed from the Disney purchase of the Muppets and then not really doing anything big with them (like they have with the Princess line). It turns out a majority of my frustration, I now realize, was built on the fact that I couldn't understand how all these children could possibly move on and embrace a Jim Henson-less world when I couldn't. Their Sesame Street would never have a Muppet Newsflash. They wouldn't get to stay up late during the summer to watch The Storyteller. They would never understand the appeal of David Bowie as a super cool antagonist. I was very hurt and very angry. Who was the perfect target for my animosity? Elmo of course (if you don't believe me just read my post where I dub him as probably the worst thing to happen to Sesame Street).
Why the change of heart now? Simple- Being Elmo: A Puppeteer's Journey. This was one of the films during the Dallas International Film Festival a few weeks ago. Even though I wasn't the world's largest Elmo fan, it would talk about Jim Henson in some aspect, so my husband and I bought tickets and went. Talk about a life changing movie! I am aware that many people collaborate and cooperate to keep shows like Sesame Street on air for 40+ years, but the person who mended my heart was Kevin Clash. Through his story I realized that a person can truly leave a legacy behind. Kevin Clash grabbed the Muppet/Sesame torch and has run full speed with it. Everything about him is admirable. Everyone should see this movie. One would have to be soulless not to be moved by it. I felt ashamed at my scathing attacks on Elmo. What Clash achieves through his red, furry friend changes lives just like the Muppets did for me. Later that week I finished a 3 page, hand written letter to Mr. Clash thanking him for reminding me of the goodness in the world. I even read his biography My Life as a Furry Red Monster: What Being Elmo Has Taught Me About Life, Love and Laughing Out Loud As expected, I loved it.
Does this mean I'll be donning Elmo gear from here on out? Probably not:). What it does mean is that I have a new respect for both the Muppet I called "obnoxiously red" and for the man behind him.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
The Soundtrack of My Life
There are times when I truly enjoy a nice, long drive (long equaling 30-60 minutes) when I can put on the music I want to listen to and rock out if necessary. I had such a drive this past Saturday on my way to get my hair cut. The music of choice: Linkin Park.
Many people are surprised when they discover what an avid fan I am of this particular group. I bought Hybrid Theory in 2000 and haven't looked back:). Even though Meteora gets the most play, there's just something about how they can scream at me one minute and actually sing pretty darn well another. I sort of see them as a catharsis for many of the things I tend to feel or want to say. Reflecting on my adoration for them, I also began to think how I define life through music. People, places, emotional states all have their own song in my head. (I even have one that I will change the radio station from when it begins to play because it makes me think of an ex-boyfriend.)
What really had me thinking on Saturday morning's particular drive was what people would be able to learn about me simply by listening to the two songs that I feel define me the most: "I Enjoy Being a Girl" from the musical Flower Drum Song and "Numb" by Linkin Park. I also realized how long it took me to getting to a place in my life where I could find two songs to properly define me.
"I Enjoy Being a Girl" Flower Drum Song:
(This version is from the film and slightly modified.)
I'm a girl, and by me that's only great!
I am proud that my silhouette is curvy,
That I walk with a sweet and girlish gait
With my hips kind of swivelly and swervy.
I adore being dressed in something frilly
When my date comes to get me at my place.
Out I go with my Joe or John or Billy,
Like a filly who is ready for the race!
When I have a brand new hairdo
With my eyelashes all in curl,
I float as the clouds on air do,
I enjoy being a girl!
When men say I'm cute and funny
And my teeth aren't teeth, but pearl,
I just lap it up like honey
I enjoy being a girl!
I flip when a fellow sends me flowers,
I drool over dresses made of lace,
I talk on the telephone for hours
With a pound and a half of cream upon my face!
I'm strictly a female female
And my future I hope will be
In the home of a brave and free male
Who'll enjoy being a guy having a girl... like... me.
When men say I'm sweet as candy
As around in a dance we whirl,
It goes to my head like brandy,
I enjoy being a girl!
When someone with eyes that smolder
Says he loves ev'ry silken curl
That falls on my iv'ry shoulder,
I enjoy being a girl!
When I hear the compliment'ry whistle
That greets my bikini by the sea,
I turn and I glower and I bristle,
But I happy to know the whistle's meant for me!
I'm strictly a female female
And my future I hope will be
In the home of a brave and free male
Who'll enjoy being a guy having a girl... like... me.
This is pretty straightforward. I like dressing up and putting on make-up. I like buying cute shoes regardless of the damage they may do to my feet later. I've always liked having boys get me nice things (I forewarned my husband and he hasn't disappointed yet). Pink is my favorite color, and I am convinced I was a Disney princess in another life. However, I do love knowing that having a Prince Charming is nice but not necessary for me to be successful. I can be a girly-girl and still kick ass as a woman.
"Numb" by Linkin Park:
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there
Become so tired, so much more aware
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
Can't you see that you're smothering me,
Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control?
'Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you.
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you.
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take.
[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,
Become so tired, so much more aware
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you.
And I know
I may end up failing too.
But I know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you.
[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,
Become so tired, so much more aware.
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you.
[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there.
(I'm tired of being what you want me to be)
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there.
(I'm tired of being what you want me to be)
Perhaps a bit more telling? Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you just how good I am at playing the game of life (metaphorically-although I'm pretty good at the actual board Game of Life). I know how to be diplomatic enough to keep peace, stay out of trouble, and maintain the right connections. That also means that I have my own secrets, insecurities, and frustrations that are not always allowed out to play. Therefore, this particular song fits my life much more often than people realize especially since the person/situation to which this song is addressed shifts so much for me.
Now my mission is to come up with a legitimate soundtrack for my life. I want to include songs that make me think of friends, family, and significant events. Perhaps when they finally make a movie of my life (Natalie Portman as me, Amanda Bynes as my sister, and Seth Meyers as my husband), this soundtrack can be what they play!
Many people are surprised when they discover what an avid fan I am of this particular group. I bought Hybrid Theory in 2000 and haven't looked back:). Even though Meteora gets the most play, there's just something about how they can scream at me one minute and actually sing pretty darn well another. I sort of see them as a catharsis for many of the things I tend to feel or want to say. Reflecting on my adoration for them, I also began to think how I define life through music. People, places, emotional states all have their own song in my head. (I even have one that I will change the radio station from when it begins to play because it makes me think of an ex-boyfriend.)
What really had me thinking on Saturday morning's particular drive was what people would be able to learn about me simply by listening to the two songs that I feel define me the most: "I Enjoy Being a Girl" from the musical Flower Drum Song and "Numb" by Linkin Park. I also realized how long it took me to getting to a place in my life where I could find two songs to properly define me.
"I Enjoy Being a Girl" Flower Drum Song:
(This version is from the film and slightly modified.)
I'm a girl, and by me that's only great!
I am proud that my silhouette is curvy,
That I walk with a sweet and girlish gait
With my hips kind of swivelly and swervy.
I adore being dressed in something frilly
When my date comes to get me at my place.
Out I go with my Joe or John or Billy,
Like a filly who is ready for the race!
When I have a brand new hairdo
With my eyelashes all in curl,
I float as the clouds on air do,
I enjoy being a girl!
When men say I'm cute and funny
And my teeth aren't teeth, but pearl,
I just lap it up like honey
I enjoy being a girl!
I flip when a fellow sends me flowers,
I drool over dresses made of lace,
I talk on the telephone for hours
With a pound and a half of cream upon my face!
I'm strictly a female female
And my future I hope will be
In the home of a brave and free male
Who'll enjoy being a guy having a girl... like... me.
When men say I'm sweet as candy
As around in a dance we whirl,
It goes to my head like brandy,
I enjoy being a girl!
When someone with eyes that smolder
Says he loves ev'ry silken curl
That falls on my iv'ry shoulder,
I enjoy being a girl!
When I hear the compliment'ry whistle
That greets my bikini by the sea,
I turn and I glower and I bristle,
But I happy to know the whistle's meant for me!
I'm strictly a female female
And my future I hope will be
In the home of a brave and free male
Who'll enjoy being a guy having a girl... like... me.
This is pretty straightforward. I like dressing up and putting on make-up. I like buying cute shoes regardless of the damage they may do to my feet later. I've always liked having boys get me nice things (I forewarned my husband and he hasn't disappointed yet). Pink is my favorite color, and I am convinced I was a Disney princess in another life. However, I do love knowing that having a Prince Charming is nice but not necessary for me to be successful. I can be a girly-girl and still kick ass as a woman.
"Numb" by Linkin Park:
I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless, lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there
Become so tired, so much more aware
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you
Can't you see that you're smothering me,
Holding too tightly, afraid to lose control?
'Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you.
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you.
(Caught in the undertow, just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take.
[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,
Become so tired, so much more aware
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you.
And I know
I may end up failing too.
But I know
You were just like me with someone disappointed in you.
[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there,
Become so tired, so much more aware.
I'm becoming this, all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you.
[Chorus:]
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there.
(I'm tired of being what you want me to be)
I've become so numb, I can't feel you there.
(I'm tired of being what you want me to be)
Perhaps a bit more telling? Ask anyone who knows me and they'll tell you just how good I am at playing the game of life (metaphorically-although I'm pretty good at the actual board Game of Life). I know how to be diplomatic enough to keep peace, stay out of trouble, and maintain the right connections. That also means that I have my own secrets, insecurities, and frustrations that are not always allowed out to play. Therefore, this particular song fits my life much more often than people realize especially since the person/situation to which this song is addressed shifts so much for me.
Now my mission is to come up with a legitimate soundtrack for my life. I want to include songs that make me think of friends, family, and significant events. Perhaps when they finally make a movie of my life (Natalie Portman as me, Amanda Bynes as my sister, and Seth Meyers as my husband), this soundtrack can be what they play!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
I'm a Legend!
Okay, okay maybe not really a legend, but I just discovered that I was an integral part in creating a service sorority on the Stephen F. Austin State University campus. No really.
So here's the story as I remember it:
While at SFA I had a friend named Lindsey and I would often drive her home when I would go home for a visit. On one of these visits to the DFW area we started wondering what would happen if we started a sorority. We didn't mean that we would start a chapter of an existing one. We didn't want to have to answer to the Greek council because, I'll be honest, there were very few social sorority gals we were impressed with especially on a campus already known for its social activities. Plus we didn't want to have to dedicate every waking hour and every single penny to our sorority. It would be something girls could be a part of without extra pressure to participate. The more we talked about it, the more we seriously thought we just might be able to begin a service sorority that would actually take hold and become big at SFA.
After throwing around mascot and color ideas (because that's the most important part of establishing any type of club), we landed on Gamma Kappa Omega because it sounded cool and three of the letters were in GECKO. Name for the sorority-check. Mascot-check. Colors...we were going to go with red and black when considering a ladybug as the mascot, but that didn't really define who we wanted to be as a service sorority. I don't quite remember how, but we eventually landed on lime green and aquamarine/turquoise/blue (trust me-it looks good together). As soon as we returned to SFA, after our enlightening weekend, we filled out the necessary paperwork and started looking for recruits.
We had a small group of gal pals that eagerly joined up and became the first set of officers/members. Even though we wanted to be dedicated to serving the community, we still adopted a few social traditions and made them our own. Of course this meant we had big and little sis activities once we convinced a few more girls to sign-up.
So what happened? I definitely don't mention my sisterhood status to anyone. Here's that story:
A co-founder turned out to be a little unbalanced and things between the two of us did not end well (I'm not the only one she abused-I believe she left a barbie hanging by its neck in the closet of a girl who had her dorm room after her-all she did to me was say unforgivable things about other people behind their backs then tell them I said it which ostracized me in a very special kind of way). So GKO started to be the one time I actually had to deal with her. Then I got a little nervous when our "service" sorority started to have a few more social events than it probably should. Therefore, it was becoming what I felt was a "wannabe" Greek sorority. Even though a couple of other officers picked up things and really set it on the right track by steering things back to volunteering and building a sisterhood through that, I had already started to separate myself from the organization because of my unpleasant experiences (my little sis kind of slacked off on the gifts thing-petty I know but I really worked hard on everything I got her). I kind of felt like an outsider since everyone else lived off campus, my little sis wasn't really into it, and Co-founder Crazy had soured the experience a bit. To top it all off, the original zest of founding something great started to fizzle and I figured it wouldn't last because those of us who started the group were just a bunch of friends who liked to volunteer and hang out. Once we all graduated I couldn't imagine anyone picking up where we left off.
BOY WAS I WRONG
A few weeks ago my friend, and co-founder (not the crazy one), sent me an e-mail regarding a GKO reunion. That's correct. A reunion for all the members since the organization's inception in 2000. This service sorority has been going strong for 11 years! They have a website and feel free to notice my name listed first as a founder under "Our History." My friend did attend the reunion. I did not. Since my affiliation with the Geckos waned, I didn't feel right showing up to a reunion. It turns out that my friend was like a celebrity since she is a founding officer. Apparently part of a pledge's job is to memorize the complete history of the organization and who all the founding members are. That means I too am a "celebrity." Had I gone, it seems my uninvolvement would be a forgivable offense.
After looking at what the Geckos have been up to, I'm quite proud to have been a co-founder of Gamma Kappa Omega. These girls are really making a difference while continuing to build a strong sisterhood. So I decided I'm going to be proud of my sorority status. I'm going to pull out my shirts and the next time we have a college shirt day, I will wear one. I've already e-mailed the current officers and told them I want to be involved somehow. We'll see how it goes.
So here's the story as I remember it:
While at SFA I had a friend named Lindsey and I would often drive her home when I would go home for a visit. On one of these visits to the DFW area we started wondering what would happen if we started a sorority. We didn't mean that we would start a chapter of an existing one. We didn't want to have to answer to the Greek council because, I'll be honest, there were very few social sorority gals we were impressed with especially on a campus already known for its social activities. Plus we didn't want to have to dedicate every waking hour and every single penny to our sorority. It would be something girls could be a part of without extra pressure to participate. The more we talked about it, the more we seriously thought we just might be able to begin a service sorority that would actually take hold and become big at SFA.
After throwing around mascot and color ideas (because that's the most important part of establishing any type of club), we landed on Gamma Kappa Omega because it sounded cool and three of the letters were in GECKO. Name for the sorority-check. Mascot-check. Colors...we were going to go with red and black when considering a ladybug as the mascot, but that didn't really define who we wanted to be as a service sorority. I don't quite remember how, but we eventually landed on lime green and aquamarine/turquoise/blue (trust me-it looks good together). As soon as we returned to SFA, after our enlightening weekend, we filled out the necessary paperwork and started looking for recruits.
We had a small group of gal pals that eagerly joined up and became the first set of officers/members. Even though we wanted to be dedicated to serving the community, we still adopted a few social traditions and made them our own. Of course this meant we had big and little sis activities once we convinced a few more girls to sign-up.
So what happened? I definitely don't mention my sisterhood status to anyone. Here's that story:
A co-founder turned out to be a little unbalanced and things between the two of us did not end well (I'm not the only one she abused-I believe she left a barbie hanging by its neck in the closet of a girl who had her dorm room after her-all she did to me was say unforgivable things about other people behind their backs then tell them I said it which ostracized me in a very special kind of way). So GKO started to be the one time I actually had to deal with her. Then I got a little nervous when our "service" sorority started to have a few more social events than it probably should. Therefore, it was becoming what I felt was a "wannabe" Greek sorority. Even though a couple of other officers picked up things and really set it on the right track by steering things back to volunteering and building a sisterhood through that, I had already started to separate myself from the organization because of my unpleasant experiences (my little sis kind of slacked off on the gifts thing-petty I know but I really worked hard on everything I got her). I kind of felt like an outsider since everyone else lived off campus, my little sis wasn't really into it, and Co-founder Crazy had soured the experience a bit. To top it all off, the original zest of founding something great started to fizzle and I figured it wouldn't last because those of us who started the group were just a bunch of friends who liked to volunteer and hang out. Once we all graduated I couldn't imagine anyone picking up where we left off.
BOY WAS I WRONG
A few weeks ago my friend, and co-founder (not the crazy one), sent me an e-mail regarding a GKO reunion. That's correct. A reunion for all the members since the organization's inception in 2000. This service sorority has been going strong for 11 years! They have a website and feel free to notice my name listed first as a founder under "Our History." My friend did attend the reunion. I did not. Since my affiliation with the Geckos waned, I didn't feel right showing up to a reunion. It turns out that my friend was like a celebrity since she is a founding officer. Apparently part of a pledge's job is to memorize the complete history of the organization and who all the founding members are. That means I too am a "celebrity." Had I gone, it seems my uninvolvement would be a forgivable offense.
After looking at what the Geckos have been up to, I'm quite proud to have been a co-founder of Gamma Kappa Omega. These girls are really making a difference while continuing to build a strong sisterhood. So I decided I'm going to be proud of my sorority status. I'm going to pull out my shirts and the next time we have a college shirt day, I will wear one. I've already e-mailed the current officers and told them I want to be involved somehow. We'll see how it goes.
Sunday, January 09, 2011
I love the 80s!
The title of this post is a gross understatement about how I truly feel regarding the years 1980-1989. Being born in 1980 makes me actually a child of the 90s because I didn't experience the 80s during my formative (a.k.a. adolescent) years. I didn't get to parade around in the glorious fashions of the day because I was occupied with other things like learning to walk and speak and going to kindergarten. So I spent a lot of my teen years longing to belong to the decade of big hair, synthesized music, and bitchin' teen movies. Of course, the 80s weren't popular when I was in high school; the 70s were the decade to love. (That's okay. I don't really believe loving the 70s would have improved my status much anyway.)
Wouldn't you know, it's 2011 and for the past few years the 80s seem to have come back in fashion! If that seems hard to believe, just look at the current trends among the youth. I believe leg warmers and colored tights are huge again. I've seen Mohawks make a comeback, and am I the only one rediscovering the melodious sounds of British pop/punk bands?
Let me paint a better picture of my obsession: I own all the movies John Hughes made reflecting teen angst. I fell in love with John Cusack because of The Journey of Natty Gann and decided I must marry him after Say Anything. (And yes, I still adore him to this day.) I wanted to be on Dance TV because of Sarah Jessica Parker and Helen Hunt. The Fraggles kept me company along with Labyrinth (kick ass soundtrack by David Bowie) and The Dark Crystal furthering my adoration of Jim Henson as well as the 80s. In college when I had to create a decorative bulletin board for the residents on my floor, instead of doing a Valentine's Day themed one, I made a Molly Ringwald bullentin board since her birthday is the 18th of February. A dear friend of mine recorded all of VH1's I Love the 80s on VHS so I could watch them anytime I wanted. I searched radio stations to find the ones who highlighted one hit wonders from the 80s. The Karate Kid I and II got so much play in my VCR, that they were among the first DVDs I owned. However, I guess it wasn't enough to have The Golden Girls playing every evening "forcing" me to research any references made in their jokes that I didn't understand so my knowledge of the 80s could expand.
In 2003 I met a man I was convinced was only 6 years older than me (seriously, ask my friends if my husband acts or looks his age). It was only after falling head over heels for him did I discover he was in fact 11 years older than me. One might think this gap in our age would be too great to bridge. Not true. He was an actual child of the 80s! He graduated high school in 1988! He lived the decade I studied so vehemently! In the end I married my very own 80s commodity (I sort of let the whole "marrying John Cusack" thing go by this point). One of the great things about my husband is that he'll sit next to me while watching shows that regularly reference or discuss the 80s and answer me when I ask, "Did you do that?" or "Did you have one of those?" or "What event are they taking about?" Since he is a genius, I think he enjoys being able to share his wealth of 80s facts and experiences with me.
Therefore, when TBS debuted a show, Glory Daze, that follows four freshmen (a jock, a Young Republican, a proud Jew desperately seeking female company, and a clean-cut Catholic school boy) as they enter college in 1986, I had to be there for the pilot episode. As expected, I love it! The music is superb, all the characters are charming, and the episodes have great names like "Hungry Like Teen Wolf" and "Shamrock You Like a Hurricane." And of course my husband is always next to me when we watch ready to answer any questions I have or comment on memories the show brings up. It's good to know that the decade I adore will live on for decades more (and even if it doesn't perhaps the flux capacitor will finally exist to send me back to a place where girls just want to have fun).
Wouldn't you know, it's 2011 and for the past few years the 80s seem to have come back in fashion! If that seems hard to believe, just look at the current trends among the youth. I believe leg warmers and colored tights are huge again. I've seen Mohawks make a comeback, and am I the only one rediscovering the melodious sounds of British pop/punk bands?
Let me paint a better picture of my obsession: I own all the movies John Hughes made reflecting teen angst. I fell in love with John Cusack because of The Journey of Natty Gann and decided I must marry him after Say Anything. (And yes, I still adore him to this day.) I wanted to be on Dance TV because of Sarah Jessica Parker and Helen Hunt. The Fraggles kept me company along with Labyrinth (kick ass soundtrack by David Bowie) and The Dark Crystal furthering my adoration of Jim Henson as well as the 80s. In college when I had to create a decorative bulletin board for the residents on my floor, instead of doing a Valentine's Day themed one, I made a Molly Ringwald bullentin board since her birthday is the 18th of February. A dear friend of mine recorded all of VH1's I Love the 80s on VHS so I could watch them anytime I wanted. I searched radio stations to find the ones who highlighted one hit wonders from the 80s. The Karate Kid I and II got so much play in my VCR, that they were among the first DVDs I owned. However, I guess it wasn't enough to have The Golden Girls playing every evening "forcing" me to research any references made in their jokes that I didn't understand so my knowledge of the 80s could expand.
In 2003 I met a man I was convinced was only 6 years older than me (seriously, ask my friends if my husband acts or looks his age). It was only after falling head over heels for him did I discover he was in fact 11 years older than me. One might think this gap in our age would be too great to bridge. Not true. He was an actual child of the 80s! He graduated high school in 1988! He lived the decade I studied so vehemently! In the end I married my very own 80s commodity (I sort of let the whole "marrying John Cusack" thing go by this point). One of the great things about my husband is that he'll sit next to me while watching shows that regularly reference or discuss the 80s and answer me when I ask, "Did you do that?" or "Did you have one of those?" or "What event are they taking about?" Since he is a genius, I think he enjoys being able to share his wealth of 80s facts and experiences with me.
Therefore, when TBS debuted a show, Glory Daze, that follows four freshmen (a jock, a Young Republican, a proud Jew desperately seeking female company, and a clean-cut Catholic school boy) as they enter college in 1986, I had to be there for the pilot episode. As expected, I love it! The music is superb, all the characters are charming, and the episodes have great names like "Hungry Like Teen Wolf" and "Shamrock You Like a Hurricane." And of course my husband is always next to me when we watch ready to answer any questions I have or comment on memories the show brings up. It's good to know that the decade I adore will live on for decades more (and even if it doesn't perhaps the flux capacitor will finally exist to send me back to a place where girls just want to have fun).
Friday, December 31, 2010
3 Decades and Counting
I turned 30 this year. I'm incredibly proud of this fact. This means I've survived 3 decades of life! Every year is one more gift from God to see what I can make of it. It seems sort of dignified to say I'm 30. I'm officially a grown-up. All those years as a child deciding what my life would be like, and here I am. Now I didn't become a famous movie star (or have a famous movie star fall in love with me-that was the much more common fantasy), and I have yet to pen the next great American novel, but I have a career where I actually make a difference. I have friends that make me laugh. I have a child who loves me. I have a roof over my head. I have a crazy family that I could never do without. It seems to me that things are going pretty well. Perhaps that's why I've always loathed the term, "those were the best years of my life" when referring to high school or college. Shouldn't every year be the best year of your life? You exist! That's a pretty good start. I also become very frustrated with people who want to live in the past by behaving inappropriately for their ages. What's so terrible about your life right now that you constantly remark on/act out ways to escape it? (No wonder society seems to be crashing and burning! So many people want to remain adolescent. Why? I already quake at the thought of some of my teenage students running the world some day.)
After 30 years, I like who I am. I hated me in high school. Started to like me in college, and finally decided to embrace fabulous me in my mid-20's when I realized I could like the color pink, sparkly things, flowers, dresses, make-up, jewelry and still be a pretty assertive gal. It's all about my confidence in the end, and even though I'm not quite as bold as I'd like to be someday, I think I'm getting there.
I also insist on seeing the good in people. I truly believe there is good in everybody. Someone would really have to be a pretty big slime to convince me s/he doesn't contain a descent core. The downside to being so sickeningly optimistic about humankind is that when I'm proven otherwise it's a really hard blow. Fortunately, I am not proven wrong very often. Besides finding the good in everyone also allows me to love with my whole heart (the only way to love in my mind). I believe these are the things people like about me who choose to be around me. I enjoy knowing that God is using me to be a beacon of light, love, and hope.
It's with this mindset that I embark on 2011. I'm going to make year 31 count just like the previous 30. I'm going to stand strong in my convictions. I'm not going to agree with something that goes against my beliefs because "it's more common than you think." That's the ridiculous adult equivalent to "everyone's doing it." I'm also not going to allow anyone to care for me with any less zest or fervor than I show him/her or deserve. People who cannot love me for who I am with their whole hearts don't need to be in my life. I give a lot as a friend and am worth a lot as a person. I will continue to learn about my faith and relationship with God. I will continue to give 100% in my life (of course I'll distribute it amongst the different facets accordingly because I've tried the 100% to each facet of my life and that nearly killed me). I am determined.
After 30 years, I like who I am. I hated me in high school. Started to like me in college, and finally decided to embrace fabulous me in my mid-20's when I realized I could like the color pink, sparkly things, flowers, dresses, make-up, jewelry and still be a pretty assertive gal. It's all about my confidence in the end, and even though I'm not quite as bold as I'd like to be someday, I think I'm getting there.
I also insist on seeing the good in people. I truly believe there is good in everybody. Someone would really have to be a pretty big slime to convince me s/he doesn't contain a descent core. The downside to being so sickeningly optimistic about humankind is that when I'm proven otherwise it's a really hard blow. Fortunately, I am not proven wrong very often. Besides finding the good in everyone also allows me to love with my whole heart (the only way to love in my mind). I believe these are the things people like about me who choose to be around me. I enjoy knowing that God is using me to be a beacon of light, love, and hope.
It's with this mindset that I embark on 2011. I'm going to make year 31 count just like the previous 30. I'm going to stand strong in my convictions. I'm not going to agree with something that goes against my beliefs because "it's more common than you think." That's the ridiculous adult equivalent to "everyone's doing it." I'm also not going to allow anyone to care for me with any less zest or fervor than I show him/her or deserve. People who cannot love me for who I am with their whole hearts don't need to be in my life. I give a lot as a friend and am worth a lot as a person. I will continue to learn about my faith and relationship with God. I will continue to give 100% in my life (of course I'll distribute it amongst the different facets accordingly because I've tried the 100% to each facet of my life and that nearly killed me). I am determined.
"When, in the early morning, you are reluctant to get up, have this thought in mind: 'I rise to do a man's work. Am I still resentful as I go to do the task for which I was born and for the sake of which I was brought into the world? Was I made to warm myself under the blankets?'...You do not love yourself. If you did, you would certainly love your own nature and its purpose....Display then those virtues which are entirely within your power: sincerity, dignity, endurance of pain, indifference to pleasure, contentment, self-sufficiency, kindliness, freedom, simplicity, common sense, and magnanimity." -Marcus Aurelius
Sunday, December 19, 2010
An Elmo Adventure (a.k.a The Reason I'm on BP meds)
Exactly one year ago I purchased a stuffed "Classic Collectible Grover" by Fisher Price for Will for Christmas. I was determined that my child would not only love Sesame Street (and all things Jim Henson), but he would also adore Grover. Much to my dismay, the Muppet Monster that has stolen my child's heart is not the intended "Broba" but rather "Melmo" (Elmo for those who don't speak 20 month old.)
As previously stated in another post, I wasn't a huge fan of Elmo (he's sort of grown on me). Something about him always kind of rubbed me the wrong way. Then of course there was that ridiculous "Tickle Me Elmo" crazy of the mid-90s (it seems so long ago doesn't it?). Therefore, I had promised myself not to allow my son's excitement over Elmo dominate my Christmas shopping this year. Naturally that means I got him two Elmo books, an Elmo movie, an Elmo plate/bowl/fork/spoon set, an Elmo toothbrush/toothpaste set, and planned on getting him the Elmo version of the Grover stuffed toy. Note that I used "planned" in that sentence.
See, a few months ago I contemplated getting the "Classic Collectible Elmo" during a routine stop at Babies R Us. However, I was still in denial about my child's preference of red monsters to blue ones. I passed and figured I could always get it later. I even told my mom not to get it when she saw it because, if he was going to get one, I wanted to be the one to see my son's face light up when handed his very own "Melmo". Well "later" occurred to me a week or so ago since Christmas is now seven days away. Surely, I reasoned with myself, no one wants the plain-ole-don't-do-anything-Elmo so there will be plenty to choose from.
That poor logic sent me on an Elmo hunt earlier this evening. Of course I started at Babies R Us since that is where I knew they had them before. It was great because there were maybe a total of 10 people in the whole store so no Christmas crowds. There was Grover and Cookie Monster and Ernie but no Elmo. Wait, let me rephrase: There was no "Classic Collectible Elmo." If I had wanted my Elmo to play the guitar, they had him. If I had wanted my Elmo to do the hokey-pokey, they had him. If I had wanted my Elmo to chatter, they had him. And of course if I had wanted my Elmo to tickle himself into oblivion, they had him. I believe they even sold just Elmo hands (no really-gloves that your kid wears that make his hands look like furry, red monster hands-my husband assures me that emo kids buy them to wear to raves). After a very nice employee looked in the back and double checked the stock, he shared the sad news that they were out. The light at the end of the tunnel was that the Toys R Us down the street appeared to have some.
Now I had to really consider my option here. It is one week before Christmas, and the Toys R Us I would be going to is so filthy and run down it actually gives me the creeps (this is really sad considering it is the beloved Toys R Us of my youth). There's no question that I love my son enough to face a Christmas nightmare. The question was whether or not I wanted to face said nightmare for an Elmo toy. After a deep breath and reminder to myself how blessed I am to have a healthy, happy child; I figured giving him an Elmo was totally worth it. Then I stepped into Toys R Us.
As expected, my hands went immediately into my pockets, and I sucked in my breath. I hoped that if I made myself skinny enough I wouldn't actually have to touch anything or anyone on my way to the Elmo aisle. I even did a few pirouettes around the children running amok (why weren't they at home asleep?) and sidestepped down aisles to keep away from bumping into "things." It was a complete madhouse and the further back I went into the store the more my vision blurred and temperature rose. Both being sure signs my BP was shooting up. Then there it was: an aisle with an ungodly amount of "Tickle Me Elmos." Clearly, there's no shortage this year. Unfortunately, there was no "Classic Collectible Elmos" either. I grabbed an Ernie (so I could point to the picture of what I wanted on the back of the box-I didn't want to leave anything to chance) and decided to find someone who worked there to see if they had any in the back or at another store. Silly me.
It ended with me deciding that all employees during the Christmas season should be required to wear light-up hats that say "I work here" and have arrows pointing down to the wearer's head. My acute case of claustrophobia also kicked in the closer I got to the exit as the lines formed one big blob of people. I prayed to God to make sure I got back out of the store without having a stroke. If He could help make that happen, I would head straight home.
What about Elmo? Well, I gave up on the "Classic Collectible" version since it seems no store within a 40 mile radius of my house sells them. I did find on Amazon a company named Gund who apparently makes them as well. I order both an Elmo and an Abby Cadaby (my husband's not thrilled at the thought of my son getting an Abby but Will likes her too and if I bought both I got free shipping). Since I'm the one who screwed this all up in the first place, I did go with the free shipping at my husband's request (instead of the pricey one day) even though the earliest they would get here is the 23rd of December.
I shudder to think what Christmas shopping will be like when my child is actually old enough to make requests.
As previously stated in another post, I wasn't a huge fan of Elmo (he's sort of grown on me). Something about him always kind of rubbed me the wrong way. Then of course there was that ridiculous "Tickle Me Elmo" crazy of the mid-90s (it seems so long ago doesn't it?). Therefore, I had promised myself not to allow my son's excitement over Elmo dominate my Christmas shopping this year. Naturally that means I got him two Elmo books, an Elmo movie, an Elmo plate/bowl/fork/spoon set, an Elmo toothbrush/toothpaste set, and planned on getting him the Elmo version of the Grover stuffed toy. Note that I used "planned" in that sentence.
See, a few months ago I contemplated getting the "Classic Collectible Elmo" during a routine stop at Babies R Us. However, I was still in denial about my child's preference of red monsters to blue ones. I passed and figured I could always get it later. I even told my mom not to get it when she saw it because, if he was going to get one, I wanted to be the one to see my son's face light up when handed his very own "Melmo". Well "later" occurred to me a week or so ago since Christmas is now seven days away. Surely, I reasoned with myself, no one wants the plain-ole-don't-do-anything-Elmo so there will be plenty to choose from.
That poor logic sent me on an Elmo hunt earlier this evening. Of course I started at Babies R Us since that is where I knew they had them before. It was great because there were maybe a total of 10 people in the whole store so no Christmas crowds. There was Grover and Cookie Monster and Ernie but no Elmo. Wait, let me rephrase: There was no "Classic Collectible Elmo." If I had wanted my Elmo to play the guitar, they had him. If I had wanted my Elmo to do the hokey-pokey, they had him. If I had wanted my Elmo to chatter, they had him. And of course if I had wanted my Elmo to tickle himself into oblivion, they had him. I believe they even sold just Elmo hands (no really-gloves that your kid wears that make his hands look like furry, red monster hands-my husband assures me that emo kids buy them to wear to raves). After a very nice employee looked in the back and double checked the stock, he shared the sad news that they were out. The light at the end of the tunnel was that the Toys R Us down the street appeared to have some.
Now I had to really consider my option here. It is one week before Christmas, and the Toys R Us I would be going to is so filthy and run down it actually gives me the creeps (this is really sad considering it is the beloved Toys R Us of my youth). There's no question that I love my son enough to face a Christmas nightmare. The question was whether or not I wanted to face said nightmare for an Elmo toy. After a deep breath and reminder to myself how blessed I am to have a healthy, happy child; I figured giving him an Elmo was totally worth it. Then I stepped into Toys R Us.
As expected, my hands went immediately into my pockets, and I sucked in my breath. I hoped that if I made myself skinny enough I wouldn't actually have to touch anything or anyone on my way to the Elmo aisle. I even did a few pirouettes around the children running amok (why weren't they at home asleep?) and sidestepped down aisles to keep away from bumping into "things." It was a complete madhouse and the further back I went into the store the more my vision blurred and temperature rose. Both being sure signs my BP was shooting up. Then there it was: an aisle with an ungodly amount of "Tickle Me Elmos." Clearly, there's no shortage this year. Unfortunately, there was no "Classic Collectible Elmos" either. I grabbed an Ernie (so I could point to the picture of what I wanted on the back of the box-I didn't want to leave anything to chance) and decided to find someone who worked there to see if they had any in the back or at another store. Silly me.
It ended with me deciding that all employees during the Christmas season should be required to wear light-up hats that say "I work here" and have arrows pointing down to the wearer's head. My acute case of claustrophobia also kicked in the closer I got to the exit as the lines formed one big blob of people. I prayed to God to make sure I got back out of the store without having a stroke. If He could help make that happen, I would head straight home.
What about Elmo? Well, I gave up on the "Classic Collectible" version since it seems no store within a 40 mile radius of my house sells them. I did find on Amazon a company named Gund who apparently makes them as well. I order both an Elmo and an Abby Cadaby (my husband's not thrilled at the thought of my son getting an Abby but Will likes her too and if I bought both I got free shipping). Since I'm the one who screwed this all up in the first place, I did go with the free shipping at my husband's request (instead of the pricey one day) even though the earliest they would get here is the 23rd of December.
I shudder to think what Christmas shopping will be like when my child is actually old enough to make requests.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Life's Too Short and I'm Ready to be Famous
I turned 30 a few weeks ago and expected a few things to change in my life: getting up in the morning is a little more difficult than it used to be (mostly because I'm up late reading books-how did I pull all- nighters in college?), periodically I spot a gray/white hair on my head, eating "spicy" foods has to be spaced out due to indigestion, and my need to "tsk tsk" at my students' silly ideas about life has increased greatly. However, I'm alive and am part of a beautiful family. (Of course this is a miracle itself considering the life-threatening birth of my son.) Right when I think that I've got time to continue enjoying the aging process, something truly shocking happens: a young lady I grew up with recently committed suicide. That's the second person my age that has passed away within the past few months. I'm not old! People my age aren't supposed to die!
Aside from the harassment my husband will receive until he schedules a meeting with the lady who filed our wills so we may update them, I am planning to speak with the priests at my church regarding arrangements in case I'm taken suddenly and no one knows what to do. There was a time I would have found that incredibly morbid, but now I find it necessary! I've even toyed around with the idea of making a ton of videos for my son for birthdays, graduations, just because, etc. in case I'm not around to see him grow. Then he would have something to remember me by. I don't like thinking these things, but life's so fragile that it almost seems silly for me not to think these things.
All of this also pushes to the forefront of my mind my desire to publish a novel. I don't need it on a best seller list or to even be a movie (although my husband would disagree-he definitely would want to see it become a movie $$$). I just want to walk into a bookstore and see my name on the cover of a book on the shelf. So I have to wonder why I haven't been inspired enough to take care of this. Perhaps it is because I believed there would always be time to get it done eventually. I mean, didn't Rowling take 9 years to get Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone written? Now I'm starting to wonder just how much time I really have. After all, tomorrow isn't guaranteed.
I suppose I would write a young adult novel since that's the audience I'm most familiar with. And, let's be honest, I love some young adult literature. I have often wondered why I like to spend so much time reading novels written for people whose brains aren't fully developed and still have a lot to learn about life. I think it is because life IS so much simpler for them. There's a good guy; there's a bad guy, and there's always a romantic interest. Maybe I also like being taken back to a teenagehood that wasn't mine. Not that mine was miserable, but I definitely didn't get to do what teens in novels get away with regularly. I mean, they never seem to have to report to any adults. Plus young adult novels make really great movies! Seriously, watch this trailer:
Aside from the harassment my husband will receive until he schedules a meeting with the lady who filed our wills so we may update them, I am planning to speak with the priests at my church regarding arrangements in case I'm taken suddenly and no one knows what to do. There was a time I would have found that incredibly morbid, but now I find it necessary! I've even toyed around with the idea of making a ton of videos for my son for birthdays, graduations, just because, etc. in case I'm not around to see him grow. Then he would have something to remember me by. I don't like thinking these things, but life's so fragile that it almost seems silly for me not to think these things.
All of this also pushes to the forefront of my mind my desire to publish a novel. I don't need it on a best seller list or to even be a movie (although my husband would disagree-he definitely would want to see it become a movie $$$). I just want to walk into a bookstore and see my name on the cover of a book on the shelf. So I have to wonder why I haven't been inspired enough to take care of this. Perhaps it is because I believed there would always be time to get it done eventually. I mean, didn't Rowling take 9 years to get Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone written? Now I'm starting to wonder just how much time I really have. After all, tomorrow isn't guaranteed.
I suppose I would write a young adult novel since that's the audience I'm most familiar with. And, let's be honest, I love some young adult literature. I have often wondered why I like to spend so much time reading novels written for people whose brains aren't fully developed and still have a lot to learn about life. I think it is because life IS so much simpler for them. There's a good guy; there's a bad guy, and there's always a romantic interest. Maybe I also like being taken back to a teenagehood that wasn't mine. Not that mine was miserable, but I definitely didn't get to do what teens in novels get away with regularly. I mean, they never seem to have to report to any adults. Plus young adult novels make really great movies! Seriously, watch this trailer:
(The movie is actually coming out in March not July! Woo Hoo!)
Okay, so that's what I'm going to do! I'm going to write a young adult novel. I'm going to get it published! And because I love my husband so much, I'm going to drive a hard bargain to get it made into a movie!
Wish me luck.
Sunday, September 26, 2010
Losing Doesn't Make My Kid a LOSER
Dear Children's Programing:
Please stop teaching my child it is okay to lose. It's not okay. When people compete there are winners and there are losers. They are not even close to the same thing, and it's definitely not okay to be one of the losers. Before you start thinking dastardly things about me as a mother...
I am a part of the "trophy kid generation" meaning I know what it feels like to see everyone get a trophy or medal or ribbon for simply participating (a.k.a showing up and converting oxygen to carbon dioxide). I bust my ass to overachieve. It drives me crazy that someone who does absolutely nothing other than exist may receive the exact same reward/acknowledgment that I worked so hard for. Fortunately, I am a self-motivated person; therefore, I know deep down that I'm better for working smarter and being more creative. The problem arises when kids who aren't self-motivated and need external inspiration to keep excelling see this. The message those children receive is, "It's okay to settle and be mediocre. You're not going to get recognized any more for your work than the kid who does nothing." So that's what those children who are truly talented or work hard begin to do: embrace mediocrity. The message the kids who did nothing receive is, "No effort required to be special." Then we end up with a bunch of lazy kids who feel entitled to things.
This is why competition is so important: win or lose. There are invaluable lessons to be learned from both.
1. Win: Not only does the kid feel fantastic for reaping the benefits of all his/her hard work, s/he might actually find a passion or talent that can be developed into something further like a career. This is also an excellent opportunity to teach a child how to win with class. I would love my child to win but not to be a jerk about it.
2. Lose: If the activity is something s/he loves to do but isn't that great at, then as a parent, it is my job to discuss where we want to go from here. The kid needs to figure out what went wrong and then decide if s/he wants to work hard to improve and perhaps win later, or if it is a matter of limitations. I think more parents need to discuss limitations with their children. Sometimes we are not designed to be a superstar athlete or famous rock/movie star. I also blame parents for forcing their children into activities that the children may not be suited for. My husband would love for our son to be a football star (or "booball" as my son started saying today); however, my husband and I are tiny people and not very athletic. If my son is not a great success on the football field, we should talk about his options maybe not including football. That doesn't make him a loser, but that does allow him to pursue other avenues where he may "win." Of course if he loves playing football, practices hard, understands that he might never be a starter for the Pittsburgh Steelers, AND is okay with that because he just loves the game and wants to keep playing; then so be it. However, he will be under no delusion that he should be handed a trophy just for trying.
None of this means I believe we shouldn't recognize children for individual talents. I don't mind giving a set of children "trophies" that are different and individualized. That's a great way for kids who aren't usually noticed or rewarded to end up in the spotlight. For example, I can give a quiet child an award for her talent in art while her loquacious counterpart receives one for his charisma. See, both children are highlighted without creating an underachiever or lazy winner.
Thank you Children's Television for trying to do what's best for my child, but I think you're actually doing more harm than good. Perhaps your programing should encourage children to find their strengths and how to talk to their parents about them. Maybe you could even teach parents how to allow their children to be their own people?
Sincerely,
Me
Please stop teaching my child it is okay to lose. It's not okay. When people compete there are winners and there are losers. They are not even close to the same thing, and it's definitely not okay to be one of the losers. Before you start thinking dastardly things about me as a mother...
I am a part of the "trophy kid generation" meaning I know what it feels like to see everyone get a trophy or medal or ribbon for simply participating (a.k.a showing up and converting oxygen to carbon dioxide). I bust my ass to overachieve. It drives me crazy that someone who does absolutely nothing other than exist may receive the exact same reward/acknowledgment that I worked so hard for. Fortunately, I am a self-motivated person; therefore, I know deep down that I'm better for working smarter and being more creative. The problem arises when kids who aren't self-motivated and need external inspiration to keep excelling see this. The message those children receive is, "It's okay to settle and be mediocre. You're not going to get recognized any more for your work than the kid who does nothing." So that's what those children who are truly talented or work hard begin to do: embrace mediocrity. The message the kids who did nothing receive is, "No effort required to be special." Then we end up with a bunch of lazy kids who feel entitled to things.
This is why competition is so important: win or lose. There are invaluable lessons to be learned from both.
1. Win: Not only does the kid feel fantastic for reaping the benefits of all his/her hard work, s/he might actually find a passion or talent that can be developed into something further like a career. This is also an excellent opportunity to teach a child how to win with class. I would love my child to win but not to be a jerk about it.
2. Lose: If the activity is something s/he loves to do but isn't that great at, then as a parent, it is my job to discuss where we want to go from here. The kid needs to figure out what went wrong and then decide if s/he wants to work hard to improve and perhaps win later, or if it is a matter of limitations. I think more parents need to discuss limitations with their children. Sometimes we are not designed to be a superstar athlete or famous rock/movie star. I also blame parents for forcing their children into activities that the children may not be suited for. My husband would love for our son to be a football star (or "booball" as my son started saying today); however, my husband and I are tiny people and not very athletic. If my son is not a great success on the football field, we should talk about his options maybe not including football. That doesn't make him a loser, but that does allow him to pursue other avenues where he may "win." Of course if he loves playing football, practices hard, understands that he might never be a starter for the Pittsburgh Steelers, AND is okay with that because he just loves the game and wants to keep playing; then so be it. However, he will be under no delusion that he should be handed a trophy just for trying.
None of this means I believe we shouldn't recognize children for individual talents. I don't mind giving a set of children "trophies" that are different and individualized. That's a great way for kids who aren't usually noticed or rewarded to end up in the spotlight. For example, I can give a quiet child an award for her talent in art while her loquacious counterpart receives one for his charisma. See, both children are highlighted without creating an underachiever or lazy winner.
Thank you Children's Television for trying to do what's best for my child, but I think you're actually doing more harm than good. Perhaps your programing should encourage children to find their strengths and how to talk to their parents about them. Maybe you could even teach parents how to allow their children to be their own people?
Sincerely,
Me
Friday, September 17, 2010
What Makes a School Great
What Makes a School Great
By clicking on the link above, you will see a cover story from a current issue of Time magazine. As an educator, who happens to adore her job, I always grab anything that is going to "reflect" the educational system in the United States. Usually I'm disappointed because people making policy or writing books or creating films or telling me how to do my job have never stepped foot into a real classroom to teach. This is why I stopped seeing teaching movies because they are all the same: idealistic white person who wants to change the world lands in the ghetto/barrio and sees that kids have rougher lives than trying to learn how to diagram a sentence. Not that I don't believe these type of children deserve quality teachers, but there is a large number of average kids who also deserve great teachers. Now, I'm not opposed to anyone who wants to make sure the focus of education is truly on the children; however, it's usually the same people who have no idea who my children are.
That brings us to Waiting for "Superman." It comes out in theaters soon, and I am debating seeing this film. All I know so far is what Time has written and what the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) President has to say about it because I am a member of AFT. Actually, her letter about the movie was the first I heard about it. Read her letter here by clicking on "Where we Stand: Saving our Schools: 'Superman' or Real Solutions" on the webpage (it's a PDF file). This is the same AFT President painted as the antagonist in the Time article. This is another site that AFT has created regarding this movie.
One thing I always teach my students is to consider the source when looking into a solid argument. Unfortunately, like many of my students, I see a lot of gray area; therefore, black and white arguments are very difficult for me (as Obi-Wan would say, "Only a Sith deals in absolutes.") I also encourage my students to see/hear/read whatever they are going to judge so they know what it is that they agree or disagree with. So I guess if I'm going to set an example, I need to see Waiting for "Superman." I suppose my hesitation hovers around how angry this movie might make me. Perhaps I also fear enough parents and policy makers will see this movie and stop trying to build up the public school system (I think another post should be dedicated to my stance on private and charter schools). Teaching in the public school system, even though I love it, is hard enough without making more enemies.
I want to encourage anyone who reads this to look at the articles I've included (maybe even see the movie) and make the best decisions to support both the teacher and the student.
By clicking on the link above, you will see a cover story from a current issue of Time magazine. As an educator, who happens to adore her job, I always grab anything that is going to "reflect" the educational system in the United States. Usually I'm disappointed because people making policy or writing books or creating films or telling me how to do my job have never stepped foot into a real classroom to teach. This is why I stopped seeing teaching movies because they are all the same: idealistic white person who wants to change the world lands in the ghetto/barrio and sees that kids have rougher lives than trying to learn how to diagram a sentence. Not that I don't believe these type of children deserve quality teachers, but there is a large number of average kids who also deserve great teachers. Now, I'm not opposed to anyone who wants to make sure the focus of education is truly on the children; however, it's usually the same people who have no idea who my children are.
That brings us to Waiting for "Superman." It comes out in theaters soon, and I am debating seeing this film. All I know so far is what Time has written and what the American Federation of Teachers (AFT) President has to say about it because I am a member of AFT. Actually, her letter about the movie was the first I heard about it. Read her letter here by clicking on "Where we Stand: Saving our Schools: 'Superman' or Real Solutions" on the webpage (it's a PDF file). This is the same AFT President painted as the antagonist in the Time article. This is another site that AFT has created regarding this movie.
One thing I always teach my students is to consider the source when looking into a solid argument. Unfortunately, like many of my students, I see a lot of gray area; therefore, black and white arguments are very difficult for me (as Obi-Wan would say, "Only a Sith deals in absolutes.") I also encourage my students to see/hear/read whatever they are going to judge so they know what it is that they agree or disagree with. So I guess if I'm going to set an example, I need to see Waiting for "Superman." I suppose my hesitation hovers around how angry this movie might make me. Perhaps I also fear enough parents and policy makers will see this movie and stop trying to build up the public school system (I think another post should be dedicated to my stance on private and charter schools). Teaching in the public school system, even though I love it, is hard enough without making more enemies.
I want to encourage anyone who reads this to look at the articles I've included (maybe even see the movie) and make the best decisions to support both the teacher and the student.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Cancer Sucks
I really don't know where to start this post. It's 2:22 in the morning, and I can't sleep. I want to cry, but I don't want to wake my husband up. Over 15 hours ago I was informed that a sweet and young friend of mine passed away from cancer. Really, I don't deserve her friendship because she left a couple of years ago for a different teaching position in another district, and I never bothered to say hello or check-in once I knew she was sick. What makes me feel even more wretched is the fact that I attended both high school and college with her, worked with her for years at North, was a guest at her wedding, and wrote one of her recommendations for the new position she applied for when leaving North. (I told you-I'm a crappy friend.)
Of course her death reminds me how short life really is (she wasn't even 30), and my own mortality plagues my mind constantly. I want to say that I'll be more appreciative of the friends I have and the life I live. Instead I feel selfish and undeserving. She leaves behind a husband, and all I can do is pray that God doesn't take mine. She wanted to have children, and having Will isn't enough for me. I greedily want more.
I teach my students a saying, "Fair is what is right for you, and it is never equal." But right now all I want to scream is, "It's not fair!" What is the world supposed to do with one less kind, compassionate, smart, and beautiful person? I don't believe she was capable of harming a hair on a head. With so much indifference and cruelty in life, won't this knock everything out of balance? Yes, I believe she made that much of a difference.
I screwed up and never told her that when she was alive. Even now this post is supposed to make me feel better. And this is why I have to believe there is more after death. I need to know that life is not simply the years we're allotted here. Brandi has to be happy in Heaven because that's what she deserves.
Of course her death reminds me how short life really is (she wasn't even 30), and my own mortality plagues my mind constantly. I want to say that I'll be more appreciative of the friends I have and the life I live. Instead I feel selfish and undeserving. She leaves behind a husband, and all I can do is pray that God doesn't take mine. She wanted to have children, and having Will isn't enough for me. I greedily want more.
I teach my students a saying, "Fair is what is right for you, and it is never equal." But right now all I want to scream is, "It's not fair!" What is the world supposed to do with one less kind, compassionate, smart, and beautiful person? I don't believe she was capable of harming a hair on a head. With so much indifference and cruelty in life, won't this knock everything out of balance? Yes, I believe she made that much of a difference.
I screwed up and never told her that when she was alive. Even now this post is supposed to make me feel better. And this is why I have to believe there is more after death. I need to know that life is not simply the years we're allotted here. Brandi has to be happy in Heaven because that's what she deserves.
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise
It's 7:45 A.M. on a Sunday. I'm running on about four hours of sleep. My head is slightly unfocused and my mouth a bit dry. I'm definitely hungry but too tired to eat (clearly not too tired to write). None of this would seem unusual if I were in my early to mid-twenties recovering from a night of good, healthy debauchery. Instead, I'm 29 dangling my toe off the precipice to 30, am happily married with an adorable son, and will be doing the responsible thing of preparing to go to church in a couple of hours. So where did I go wrong?
I wouldn't say I went "wrong" really. Perhaps I just realize why girls have slumber parties when they are conquering adolescence instead of adulthood. Last night I held an actual slumber party for four sets of sisters who all grew up together. An impromptu night out about four months ago sparked the idea. A few of us were having margaritas with our moms (yeah, I know), and it occurred to me how awesome having all nine of us back together for one night would be! We all share a childhood that would be riotous to recollect, and it would be doubly entertaining to gush about where we are now.
This all culminated into a night of laughter, memories, movies, friendship bracelets (no, you read that correctly), food, and drinks! Without a care in the world, I shoveled pizza, chicken nuggets, cookies, and rum and Cokes into my system. (Something which my reflux is maniacally punishing me for this morning.) In good spirits, no pun intended, I eagerly went to work on friendship bracelets! I had a list of all the people who would receive the fruits of my labor. It was going to be sweet. After hours of measuring, cutting, and undoing; all I have to show for my efforts are two bracelets with about an inch completed. (Apparently hand/eye coordination diminishes with age.) I think I managed to pay attention to two of the four movies we watched before I had to throw in the towel and come to bed. Seeing that is was 3:15 in the morning, I impressed even myself at my stamina. (However, the grown-up inside was kicking me because I wasn't in bed sooner since my son started waking up at 7 for breakfast.)
Do I feel a little old? Yes, but mostly because my mommy isn't currently in my kitchen making pancakes for when all of us wake up and are ready to have breakfast (one of my favorite memories). We'll all probably nibble off of the pizza and chicken nugget remains before everyone goes back to her adult life. Would I change anything about last night? NO! Maybe we are grown-up with responsibilities that never would have crossed our minds at 13. Maybe we gush about our pets and jobs instead of how we're going to marry 'NSync (go ahead and laugh-you know you want to). Maybe we even decided that tie-dying t-shirts would have been a better craft than friendship bracelets (okay, I decided that). But we also still manage to lift each other up and make each other laugh. I firmly believe that in life I need that:).
So even though my body will probably enjoy punishing me for the rest of the day for the junk food abuse it suffered last night, I have collected new memories for the next time we all decide to slumber party-hardy. (Then again, if we wait another 10-12 years, it will probably be a better idea to have a couple of drinks, go home and head directly to bed. Just ask our moms 'cause that's what they did last night.)
I wouldn't say I went "wrong" really. Perhaps I just realize why girls have slumber parties when they are conquering adolescence instead of adulthood. Last night I held an actual slumber party for four sets of sisters who all grew up together. An impromptu night out about four months ago sparked the idea. A few of us were having margaritas with our moms (yeah, I know), and it occurred to me how awesome having all nine of us back together for one night would be! We all share a childhood that would be riotous to recollect, and it would be doubly entertaining to gush about where we are now.
This all culminated into a night of laughter, memories, movies, friendship bracelets (no, you read that correctly), food, and drinks! Without a care in the world, I shoveled pizza, chicken nuggets, cookies, and rum and Cokes into my system. (Something which my reflux is maniacally punishing me for this morning.) In good spirits, no pun intended, I eagerly went to work on friendship bracelets! I had a list of all the people who would receive the fruits of my labor. It was going to be sweet. After hours of measuring, cutting, and undoing; all I have to show for my efforts are two bracelets with about an inch completed. (Apparently hand/eye coordination diminishes with age.) I think I managed to pay attention to two of the four movies we watched before I had to throw in the towel and come to bed. Seeing that is was 3:15 in the morning, I impressed even myself at my stamina. (However, the grown-up inside was kicking me because I wasn't in bed sooner since my son started waking up at 7 for breakfast.)
Do I feel a little old? Yes, but mostly because my mommy isn't currently in my kitchen making pancakes for when all of us wake up and are ready to have breakfast (one of my favorite memories). We'll all probably nibble off of the pizza and chicken nugget remains before everyone goes back to her adult life. Would I change anything about last night? NO! Maybe we are grown-up with responsibilities that never would have crossed our minds at 13. Maybe we gush about our pets and jobs instead of how we're going to marry 'NSync (go ahead and laugh-you know you want to). Maybe we even decided that tie-dying t-shirts would have been a better craft than friendship bracelets (okay, I decided that). But we also still manage to lift each other up and make each other laugh. I firmly believe that in life I need that:).
So even though my body will probably enjoy punishing me for the rest of the day for the junk food abuse it suffered last night, I have collected new memories for the next time we all decide to slumber party-hardy. (Then again, if we wait another 10-12 years, it will probably be a better idea to have a couple of drinks, go home and head directly to bed. Just ask our moms 'cause that's what they did last night.)
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Summer Learnin' Havin' a Blast
It's the 15th of August 2010. That means that in roughly 11 hours I will be back at work for the new school year. As I anxiously await the year ahead, I reflect on my summer and some things that I've learned:
1. Even if I finish graduate classes in June, they will hold on to that darn transcript ALL the way till August when the degree is awarded. THEN I'll receive the transcripts before I receive the degree.
2. DJ Lance Rock is kind of scary, but I CAN'T STOP WATCHING HIM!
3. It is possible to spend $30+ on chocolate (but totally worth it).
4. I'll never tan as beautifully as I did as a child.
5. A 16-month-old little boy can eat two whole plates of applesauce with only three fingers (we were practicing with a spoon but he stuck with what he knew).
6. Having any kind of surgery in the summer doesn't guarantee a better environment to recover. It just guarantees I'll feel miserable KNOWING I should have a better environment to recover because it's the summer but I don't.
7. I miss having the maid service come to clean my house:(.
8. I still don't have enough time to read for fun.
9. Agreeing to switch classrooms makes for an anxiety ridden summer.
10. Sesame Street still holds the same magic but just takes some time getting used to (as my husband put it, "They don't change anything by accident.").
I am one of those weirdos that is ecstatic to be going back to work tomorrow. I thrive on busy. I just know that getting back into my classroom and gearing up for the new year is going to, ironically, help lower my blood pressure and chase my slight summer slump away. I suppose I feel that as long as I'm going, I know I'm not dead.
1. Even if I finish graduate classes in June, they will hold on to that darn transcript ALL the way till August when the degree is awarded. THEN I'll receive the transcripts before I receive the degree.
2. DJ Lance Rock is kind of scary, but I CAN'T STOP WATCHING HIM!
3. It is possible to spend $30+ on chocolate (but totally worth it).
4. I'll never tan as beautifully as I did as a child.
5. A 16-month-old little boy can eat two whole plates of applesauce with only three fingers (we were practicing with a spoon but he stuck with what he knew).
6. Having any kind of surgery in the summer doesn't guarantee a better environment to recover. It just guarantees I'll feel miserable KNOWING I should have a better environment to recover because it's the summer but I don't.
7. I miss having the maid service come to clean my house:(.
8. I still don't have enough time to read for fun.
9. Agreeing to switch classrooms makes for an anxiety ridden summer.
10. Sesame Street still holds the same magic but just takes some time getting used to (as my husband put it, "They don't change anything by accident.").
I am one of those weirdos that is ecstatic to be going back to work tomorrow. I thrive on busy. I just know that getting back into my classroom and gearing up for the new year is going to, ironically, help lower my blood pressure and chase my slight summer slump away. I suppose I feel that as long as I'm going, I know I'm not dead.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
What's the Worst Thing to Happen to Sesame Street?
I'm finally having to wave the white flag in my war against one of the worst things to happen to Sesame Street: ELMO. Okay, perhaps that's a bit strong. Really the worst thing to happen to Sesame Street is the 21st century, but I'll go into detail about that in little bit.
Since I'll be home with my son for the next 3 weeks (it was 4 but I just finished week one), I want to make sure I'm stimulating his little synapses so he'll be super-genius baby by the time he returns to daycare. We play together for a little bit. We read classic board books (love that Monster at the End of the Book). We listen to music and dance together. I feed him nourishing meals and snacks. Then it occurred to me that one of the greatest things I could probably do for my sweet child is introduce him to the magic that is Sesame Street. I know kiddos under the age of 2 really shouldn't be subjected to television, but I figured since Sesame Street comes on at 11 o'clock (lunchtime) it would work as an educational form of entertainment while Will eats (plus it's only an hour of television). I've already immersed him into the wide world of Jim Henson with a Muppet themed nursery (my sister did a kick ass mural of Kermit on a log playing the banjo) and by purchasing a lovable, fury puppet Grover. Naturally, I was excited on Monday to watch Sesame Street for the first time in about 22/23 years with my little boy.
Here's the many reasons why my heart broke and disappointment colored my childhood memories:
1. The street is different! They have remodeled or something, and I couldn't recognize the place. Boo!
2. There's a new character, Abby Cadabby, who attends "Fairy Flying School," and we are forced to watch her COMPUTER ANIMATED adventures for about 10-15 minutes of the show! CGI? Are you kidding me? I understand that there is an actual Muppet Abby, but all the magic of what the Muppets are and how they work is completely gone! I mean, I really fell in love with Kermit and Bert and Ernie and Oscar and Big Bird and Grover and Cookie Monster, etc. They were real to me. I wanted to meet them. Then as I got older, I respected the care and ingenuity it took to make these creations come to life! Those puppeteers used their talent and dynamic energy to make everything appear seamless and natural. Does this mean I think only talentless hacks resort to CGI to make memorable stories or teach invaluable lessons? Of course not! I'm a huge supporter of 21st skills and Web 2.0 tools (HELLO-I'm BLOGGING). I just think the effect loses part of its magic.
3. The last 25 minutes of the show (keep in mind it is only an hour long) is friggin' "ELMO'S WORLD!" Seriously?! It's not bad enough that that obnoxiously red monster became Sesame Street's poster child once Kermit was sold off to Disney with the rest of the Muppet crew? (And yes, I still partially blame Michael Eisner, that greedy bastard, for the death of Jim Henson.) Everything about Elmo has irritated me from his inception. His voice. The color of his fur. The fact that the best selling Elmo toy involves tickling.
Needless to say, the Sesame Street I loved is gone. It could be that I'm no longer a child therefore even old school Sesame Street would also seem to be a little less than grand, but I don't believe that. After recovering from my first encounter with "Elmo's World" (it's like nails on a chalkboard), I pulled up some classic clips on the Sesame Street website. I had to see the show I knew and loved to find the magic lost, and I discovered I'm not a crazy as I thought! I played a couple of classics for Will on the computer. We watched "C is for Cookie" (none of that "sometimes food" bull) and a few Muppet news flashes with Kermit in his reporters get-up and of course lovable, fury ole Grover being...well...lovable and fury. My son LOVED them! He danced and clapped his hands and squealed with delight. Now if he sees my computer open he'll pull up onto my lap and say, "Bover. Bover." Really. I'm not making that up!
Knowing my son is captivated more by the "Batty Bat" with the Count and Ernie's need to unnerve Bert makes watching the current Sesame Street tolerable. I figure that as long as I can interject a good dose of "Disco Grover" when necessary, I can live with 2010's view of Sesame Street. I can even deal with Elmo. After all, it could be worse. My son could want to watch Barney (I still maintain that is Satan in a purple dinosaur suit).
Since I'll be home with my son for the next 3 weeks (it was 4 but I just finished week one), I want to make sure I'm stimulating his little synapses so he'll be super-genius baby by the time he returns to daycare. We play together for a little bit. We read classic board books (love that Monster at the End of the Book). We listen to music and dance together. I feed him nourishing meals and snacks. Then it occurred to me that one of the greatest things I could probably do for my sweet child is introduce him to the magic that is Sesame Street. I know kiddos under the age of 2 really shouldn't be subjected to television, but I figured since Sesame Street comes on at 11 o'clock (lunchtime) it would work as an educational form of entertainment while Will eats (plus it's only an hour of television). I've already immersed him into the wide world of Jim Henson with a Muppet themed nursery (my sister did a kick ass mural of Kermit on a log playing the banjo) and by purchasing a lovable, fury puppet Grover. Naturally, I was excited on Monday to watch Sesame Street for the first time in about 22/23 years with my little boy.
Here's the many reasons why my heart broke and disappointment colored my childhood memories:
1. The street is different! They have remodeled or something, and I couldn't recognize the place. Boo!
2. There's a new character, Abby Cadabby, who attends "Fairy Flying School," and we are forced to watch her COMPUTER ANIMATED adventures for about 10-15 minutes of the show! CGI? Are you kidding me? I understand that there is an actual Muppet Abby, but all the magic of what the Muppets are and how they work is completely gone! I mean, I really fell in love with Kermit and Bert and Ernie and Oscar and Big Bird and Grover and Cookie Monster, etc. They were real to me. I wanted to meet them. Then as I got older, I respected the care and ingenuity it took to make these creations come to life! Those puppeteers used their talent and dynamic energy to make everything appear seamless and natural. Does this mean I think only talentless hacks resort to CGI to make memorable stories or teach invaluable lessons? Of course not! I'm a huge supporter of 21st skills and Web 2.0 tools (HELLO-I'm BLOGGING). I just think the effect loses part of its magic.
3. The last 25 minutes of the show (keep in mind it is only an hour long) is friggin' "ELMO'S WORLD!" Seriously?! It's not bad enough that that obnoxiously red monster became Sesame Street's poster child once Kermit was sold off to Disney with the rest of the Muppet crew? (And yes, I still partially blame Michael Eisner, that greedy bastard, for the death of Jim Henson.) Everything about Elmo has irritated me from his inception. His voice. The color of his fur. The fact that the best selling Elmo toy involves tickling.
Needless to say, the Sesame Street I loved is gone. It could be that I'm no longer a child therefore even old school Sesame Street would also seem to be a little less than grand, but I don't believe that. After recovering from my first encounter with "Elmo's World" (it's like nails on a chalkboard), I pulled up some classic clips on the Sesame Street website. I had to see the show I knew and loved to find the magic lost, and I discovered I'm not a crazy as I thought! I played a couple of classics for Will on the computer. We watched "C is for Cookie" (none of that "sometimes food" bull) and a few Muppet news flashes with Kermit in his reporters get-up and of course lovable, fury ole Grover being...well...lovable and fury. My son LOVED them! He danced and clapped his hands and squealed with delight. Now if he sees my computer open he'll pull up onto my lap and say, "Bover. Bover." Really. I'm not making that up!
Knowing my son is captivated more by the "Batty Bat" with the Count and Ernie's need to unnerve Bert makes watching the current Sesame Street tolerable. I figure that as long as I can interject a good dose of "Disco Grover" when necessary, I can live with 2010's view of Sesame Street. I can even deal with Elmo. After all, it could be worse. My son could want to watch Barney (I still maintain that is Satan in a purple dinosaur suit).
Will's brand new "couch" and his "Bover."
All good, quality Old School characters.
It's also a "sleeping bag." That's cool.
And our new friends are Abby Cadabby, Zoe, and Rosita (yep, I had to look them all up because I had no idea who they were).
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Suit and 'Stache Meet Shawn and Gus
I've been volleying between liking and disliking Fox's new show The Good Guys. I really want to love it since it is filmed here in my native city: Dallas. I also relish the thought that for once Dallas might be portrayed as a real city. I will never forget the last time I was in New York and ate at a "Texan" restaurant. There were pictures of the Dallas skyline surrounded by nothing but desert and tumbleweeds. Then there were all the people asking me if I rode my horse to school. Really? Uh, I've never been on a horse let alone own one to ride to school. Does this mean I think Dallas and New York are on the same level of city? Well, not really but it is frustrating when the only image people have of my city involves the letters J and R and the word Ewing. I mean, the Ewing house is not even in Dallas city limits! But I digress...
In The Good Guys there are a couple of "characters," who I will call Suit (Colin Hanks) and 'Stache (Bradley Whitford), that are thrown together on the Dallas Police force because they are both some type of screw-up. Suit apparently incorrectly corrected someone important and 'Stache still lives in the '70s with regards to how he handles police business. Potential? Sure. Have they pulled it off? Nope. I have many theories why this is so. For example, I cannot even remember the characters' names hence referencing them as "Suit" and "'Stache." (I even had to look up 'Stache's real name because all I know him as is "that guy from The West Wing" and I didn't even watch The West Wing). If I cannot connect to the characters enough to remember their names, the creators have not made characters worth connecting to.
Another reason this show is lacking involves the "relationship" between Suit and one of the Assistant DAs, who has the WORST fake Texan accent. I refuse to learn her name because I don't care if she and Suit hook up or not. The story goes something like Suit and ADA used to date, have broken up, and she's moved on. However, they still have some type of attraction to each other. Not buyin' it! First of all, why would the writers tell me all this in the very first episode? Why not let me see the chemistry the two have, wonder why they haven't gotten together, and then BAM surprise me with their past?! Then at least they could build some type of "relationship" throughout the series. Secondly, there is NO chemistry between Suit and ADA. I don't feel it and can't believe it.
One of the biggest hindrances to the show is the missing partner connection between Suit and 'Stache. Sometimes it's almost there but mostly it's not. I blame the writers since Suit and 'Stache seemed to be strong actors. It feels like there should be witty dialog between Suit and 'Stache that they can play and improvise with. It could build a stronger connection between them and lead to a more memorable set of characters. There has only been one episode so far where I felt they actually had the kind of partnership to make the show worth watching (and the link for the full episode has expired so I can't even embed it). It is the episode with the pimp Gemini. I believe it is called "The Broken Door Theory."
Although it may be too late to correct some of these errors, I know that the last problem I mention can easily be fixed if the writers took a good look at Psych. Now, I know I've praised the glory of Shawn and Gus in previous posts (mostly to express anger at the blatant ripoff the Mentalist is of Psych). Perhaps they work so well because the show's been on for five seasons, maybe it's because the show's writer has a degree in English therefore truly appreciating the written word and how to create meaningful dialog with great allusions, or it could simply be that James Roday and Dule Hill have a true camaraderie that shines through to the audience. Take the following clip:
Notice how Shawn asks Gus to repeat everything in his Jamaican accent AND HE DOES IT! He doesn't ask why, he doesn't get frustrated, he just does it! Gus also maintains the seriousness of the news he's relating and they make their way from the football field to the crime scene. Psych is full of humorous things like this mostly within clever dialog. Maybe that's why I love the show since wordplay is one of my favorite past times! Watch these videos to see the greatness of Psych:
The final link takes you to the actual Psych page because it wouldn't just let me embed the video. Enjoy!
Best of Psych
So creators of The Good Guys, if you can manage to wrangle the same magic between Suit and 'Stache that exists between Shawn and Gus, I might just remember the characters and love your show.
In The Good Guys there are a couple of "characters," who I will call Suit (Colin Hanks) and 'Stache (Bradley Whitford), that are thrown together on the Dallas Police force because they are both some type of screw-up. Suit apparently incorrectly corrected someone important and 'Stache still lives in the '70s with regards to how he handles police business. Potential? Sure. Have they pulled it off? Nope. I have many theories why this is so. For example, I cannot even remember the characters' names hence referencing them as "Suit" and "'Stache." (I even had to look up 'Stache's real name because all I know him as is "that guy from The West Wing" and I didn't even watch The West Wing). If I cannot connect to the characters enough to remember their names, the creators have not made characters worth connecting to.
Another reason this show is lacking involves the "relationship" between Suit and one of the Assistant DAs, who has the WORST fake Texan accent. I refuse to learn her name because I don't care if she and Suit hook up or not. The story goes something like Suit and ADA used to date, have broken up, and she's moved on. However, they still have some type of attraction to each other. Not buyin' it! First of all, why would the writers tell me all this in the very first episode? Why not let me see the chemistry the two have, wonder why they haven't gotten together, and then BAM surprise me with their past?! Then at least they could build some type of "relationship" throughout the series. Secondly, there is NO chemistry between Suit and ADA. I don't feel it and can't believe it.
One of the biggest hindrances to the show is the missing partner connection between Suit and 'Stache. Sometimes it's almost there but mostly it's not. I blame the writers since Suit and 'Stache seemed to be strong actors. It feels like there should be witty dialog between Suit and 'Stache that they can play and improvise with. It could build a stronger connection between them and lead to a more memorable set of characters. There has only been one episode so far where I felt they actually had the kind of partnership to make the show worth watching (and the link for the full episode has expired so I can't even embed it). It is the episode with the pimp Gemini. I believe it is called "The Broken Door Theory."
Although it may be too late to correct some of these errors, I know that the last problem I mention can easily be fixed if the writers took a good look at Psych. Now, I know I've praised the glory of Shawn and Gus in previous posts (mostly to express anger at the blatant ripoff the Mentalist is of Psych). Perhaps they work so well because the show's been on for five seasons, maybe it's because the show's writer has a degree in English therefore truly appreciating the written word and how to create meaningful dialog with great allusions, or it could simply be that James Roday and Dule Hill have a true camaraderie that shines through to the audience. Take the following clip:
Notice how Shawn asks Gus to repeat everything in his Jamaican accent AND HE DOES IT! He doesn't ask why, he doesn't get frustrated, he just does it! Gus also maintains the seriousness of the news he's relating and they make their way from the football field to the crime scene. Psych is full of humorous things like this mostly within clever dialog. Maybe that's why I love the show since wordplay is one of my favorite past times! Watch these videos to see the greatness of Psych:
The final link takes you to the actual Psych page because it wouldn't just let me embed the video. Enjoy!
Best of Psych
So creators of The Good Guys, if you can manage to wrangle the same magic between Suit and 'Stache that exists between Shawn and Gus, I might just remember the characters and love your show.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Yea, Plates.
My wonderful husband took me on a date night this evening to see Beauty and the Beast: The Musical. It was actually a perfect surprise because he knows how much I adore the original movie. That particular Disney film changed my life! Up to that point most of the Disney princesses had simply been content to allow Prince Charming (or Prince Philip or Prince Whomever) to save the day and sweep them away to happily ever afters. (It wasn't until the late 80s when young girls were introduced to Ariel, the red-headed firecracker who insisted on defying her father's wishes and then gettin' hitched at the tender age of 16.) Still, even though I enjoyed them all, I could not really relate to any of the princesses. I didn't like to see myself as completely helpless, and I definitely had no desire to disobey my parents. Then She came along!
Belle was so incredibly different from any princess I had ever seen or read about! She was a brunette with brown eyes...just like me! She dreamed of far away adventures where magical things would happen to her...just like me! SHE LOVED TO READ BOOKS...wait for it...JUST LIKE ME! She was perfect! Belle didn't fall for the town hunk. She saw right through his arrogance and wanted more out of life than sitting at home and waiting on an ungrateful louse of a husband. However, she did have a kind heart and the patience to get past the Beast's surly demeanor to see that inside he was quite a catch. I love Belle even to this day! I never get tired of watching my movie (although "Human Again" did not need to be added in the "Platinum Edition"-it's a stupid song). I would gladly name my daughter, should I ever be blessed with one, Belle! (Of course I probably wouldn't because I would hate for people to think I'm using a derivative of "Bella" from the Twilight Series-YUCK!) Even when my husband and I went to Disney World I insisted we have our picture taken with Belle! See:
All of this is why I was ecstatic about seeing the musical version of the "tale as old as time." Much to my dismay, my fanaticism for Beauty and the Beast caused the musical version to fall a little short in my opinion. The costumes and sets were exquisite in their colors and designs. Yet, the live action lacked something magical the movie contained. (My husband thinks it's because "Belle" phoned it in for the entire second act.)
Oddly enough, I was cheering Gaston on for Belle's hand! Oh my! The musical's idea of Gaston definitely had him more than narcissistic, but at the same time he seemed rather lovable and humorous. This is clearly a far cry from the jackass Gaston is meant to be in the movie. Not to mention he had all the best musical numbers on stage! The Beast, unfortunately, was a wimp! It irks me that they would destroy my Beast in such a way. All his numbers were pathetic and overly sentimental. He wasn't man enough (no pun intended) for Belle. Thus, I was actually upset when Gaston died. I liked him. Plus, they couldn't really pull off the iconic ball gown or the Beast's transformation back to man. As I put it to my husband on the way home, "it just works better in cartoon form" (yes he laughed heartily at this and told me I should put that on a t-shirt). And of course my favorite scene from the movie could not quite be replicated on stage:
By no means was this the worst stage musical I have ever seen. (I think Footloose wins that award.) It just is the type of show a person takes his 4 to 10-year-old daughters to because the entire performance is really geared for a younger audience. It was adorable to see all the little girls in their "ball gowns" they dressed up in for the show. But in the end I suppose my husband put it the best way right after "Be Our Guest" when he flatly said, "Yea, plates." Indeed my love, "Yea, plates."
Belle was so incredibly different from any princess I had ever seen or read about! She was a brunette with brown eyes...just like me! She dreamed of far away adventures where magical things would happen to her...just like me! SHE LOVED TO READ BOOKS...wait for it...JUST LIKE ME! She was perfect! Belle didn't fall for the town hunk. She saw right through his arrogance and wanted more out of life than sitting at home and waiting on an ungrateful louse of a husband. However, she did have a kind heart and the patience to get past the Beast's surly demeanor to see that inside he was quite a catch. I love Belle even to this day! I never get tired of watching my movie (although "Human Again" did not need to be added in the "Platinum Edition"-it's a stupid song). I would gladly name my daughter, should I ever be blessed with one, Belle! (Of course I probably wouldn't because I would hate for people to think I'm using a derivative of "Bella" from the Twilight Series-YUCK!) Even when my husband and I went to Disney World I insisted we have our picture taken with Belle! See:
All of this is why I was ecstatic about seeing the musical version of the "tale as old as time." Much to my dismay, my fanaticism for Beauty and the Beast caused the musical version to fall a little short in my opinion. The costumes and sets were exquisite in their colors and designs. Yet, the live action lacked something magical the movie contained. (My husband thinks it's because "Belle" phoned it in for the entire second act.)
Oddly enough, I was cheering Gaston on for Belle's hand! Oh my! The musical's idea of Gaston definitely had him more than narcissistic, but at the same time he seemed rather lovable and humorous. This is clearly a far cry from the jackass Gaston is meant to be in the movie. Not to mention he had all the best musical numbers on stage! The Beast, unfortunately, was a wimp! It irks me that they would destroy my Beast in such a way. All his numbers were pathetic and overly sentimental. He wasn't man enough (no pun intended) for Belle. Thus, I was actually upset when Gaston died. I liked him. Plus, they couldn't really pull off the iconic ball gown or the Beast's transformation back to man. As I put it to my husband on the way home, "it just works better in cartoon form" (yes he laughed heartily at this and told me I should put that on a t-shirt). And of course my favorite scene from the movie could not quite be replicated on stage:
By no means was this the worst stage musical I have ever seen. (I think Footloose wins that award.) It just is the type of show a person takes his 4 to 10-year-old daughters to because the entire performance is really geared for a younger audience. It was adorable to see all the little girls in their "ball gowns" they dressed up in for the show. But in the end I suppose my husband put it the best way right after "Be Our Guest" when he flatly said, "Yea, plates." Indeed my love, "Yea, plates."
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Target Treasures
I did it. I actually lost the best pair of sunglasses I've ever owned. They were perfect! Durable black plastic frames. The lenses oval and just the right size so I didn't look like a bug. The tint a nice, dark shade so I didn't have to squint even with them on in the Texas sun. Finally, a delicate set of rhinestones on each side with just enough sparkle to say, "Why yes I'm a Princess, but don't worry because I've got it under control." Those precious pair of shades are now in the hands of some other fortunate person because they disappeared somewhere between Lovefield and Harlingen when I was out of town last weekend. I know. I know. Why would I let such a splendid pair of sunglasses out of my sight in order for them to go missing? I'm incredibly right brained (that means scatterbrained). This meant I needed to add sunglasses to my Target list when I went today.
Aside from new sunglasses, the purpose of my Target trip only had a few objectives: get the $5 DVD copy of Sense and Sensibility, get Will a toddler pillow for the TODDLER ROOM during nap time (still having a hard time adjusting to this), and get Will a backpack since diaper bags are for the infant room:(. I did find my DVD quickly and headed to the Back-to-School section. Then the great dilemma was whether Will would get the Buzz and Woody backpack or the plain gray/green one. Both were $10 so that didn't make a difference. Then it occurred to me that even though the bag would belong to Will, Chris or I would be carrying it. I don't believe either of us relished the thought of walking around with Buzz and Woody on our backs. The toddler pillow, however, does have a friendly picture of Buzz and Woody. (What's with all the Toy Story stuff you may wonder. Well, it was either Toy Story or Hello Kitty or Disney Princesses or Tinkerbell or Dora the Explorer-starting to see the problem?) Now all I had to find were sunglasses.
Since I'm not any type of optical-wear aficionado, I thought I would be out of luck. I finally found a pair that were identical to the ones I lost in every aspect except the rhinestones. Boo. Oh well, I suppose I'll have to find other ways to express the royal highness within. In order to cheer myself up, I thought it would be a good time to purchase some new underwear (it also happened that Hanes Her Way were on sale). It is the first time since my son was born (in April 09) that I have purchased patterned and colored underwear. That's right. I've been living in a plain white cotton underpants world for the past year. And with these new patterns and colors, let me tell you, it's liberating!
So from my top to my bottom (get it?) I would consider this Target trip very successful.
Aside from new sunglasses, the purpose of my Target trip only had a few objectives: get the $5 DVD copy of Sense and Sensibility, get Will a toddler pillow for the TODDLER ROOM during nap time (still having a hard time adjusting to this), and get Will a backpack since diaper bags are for the infant room:(. I did find my DVD quickly and headed to the Back-to-School section. Then the great dilemma was whether Will would get the Buzz and Woody backpack or the plain gray/green one. Both were $10 so that didn't make a difference. Then it occurred to me that even though the bag would belong to Will, Chris or I would be carrying it. I don't believe either of us relished the thought of walking around with Buzz and Woody on our backs. The toddler pillow, however, does have a friendly picture of Buzz and Woody. (What's with all the Toy Story stuff you may wonder. Well, it was either Toy Story or Hello Kitty or Disney Princesses or Tinkerbell or Dora the Explorer-starting to see the problem?) Now all I had to find were sunglasses.
Since I'm not any type of optical-wear aficionado, I thought I would be out of luck. I finally found a pair that were identical to the ones I lost in every aspect except the rhinestones. Boo. Oh well, I suppose I'll have to find other ways to express the royal highness within. In order to cheer myself up, I thought it would be a good time to purchase some new underwear (it also happened that Hanes Her Way were on sale). It is the first time since my son was born (in April 09) that I have purchased patterned and colored underwear. That's right. I've been living in a plain white cotton underpants world for the past year. And with these new patterns and colors, let me tell you, it's liberating!
So from my top to my bottom (get it?) I would consider this Target trip very successful.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Did I Just go on Vacation?
I actually had the chance to go to South Padre with some friends for a wedding. I've never been to South Padre, and my husband volunteered to watch my son so I could go with the girls. Although there was still some debate about where exactly we would be staying (the hotel was supposed to open in March but was STILL not "officially" opened when we got there), I decided I would thoroughly enjoy time to eat, drink, and be merry.
Well, the first disappointment came when the airplane hit a storm over Houston and caused my dear friend KHam and me to get more than slightly motion sick. We both knew that our other two companions for this trip would not be able to make it since their personal jet would not be able to fly through the rough air. Bummer. By the time we landed and got our luggage, we just wanted to get to the hotel, order some room service, and chill until we fell asleep.
Enter problemo numero dos: the Hilton Garden Inn was not officially open. I should have seen there would be trouble when the only thing in the ghost town of a hotel were the two employees at the check in counter surrounded by spirals and loose pieces of paper. That's right. No computers. The hotel did not have its computer system in yet and resorted to keeping notes on random pieces of paper. Again, I was tired, and KHam was tired. We were also trying to stay optimistic since it wasn't a weekend about us but rather our sweet friend getting married. (However, our spirits were quickly dampened by the pungent fresh paint fumes and sporadic piles of construction trash in the hallways.)
After making our way to our room (which they still charged us FULL PRICE for-trust me the Hilton company is getting a letter), we discovered that there was NO ROOM SERVICE. Yep, I paid $200/night for a hotel without room service. Now I was just starting to get ticked. So KHam and I made ourselves presentable (we changed our sweatpants to jeans) and called a cab to find something to eat. By 10 that night, we were tired, still pretty hungry (not impressed with the local cuisine), and shortly discovered we didn't have hot water (I believe tepid would be a good way to describe it). God was kind to us because Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was on television. Since our adoration for the adventures of this boy wizard is one reason we are such great friends, we watched that till we fell asleep.
With the hot water working satisfactorily by the next morning, I was starting to feel a little better about everything. The true test was going to be if the Hilton Garden Inn would be able to pull off my friend's reception. Much to my surprise, the Hilton DID manage to make the reception quite beautiful. I was happy for my friend's sake because no bride should have a crappy wedding. So in the end it turned out great for my friend. But I still maintain that I should not be charged full price for a hotel that is, in essence, "out of service."
Now, my gal pal KHam mentioned also blogging about the experience, and I'm sure it will be much more entertaining. I've also moved on passed a lot of the frustration I felt, so this post lacks a lot of the passion it would have contained had I been able to blog at the hotel.
Well, the first disappointment came when the airplane hit a storm over Houston and caused my dear friend KHam and me to get more than slightly motion sick. We both knew that our other two companions for this trip would not be able to make it since their personal jet would not be able to fly through the rough air. Bummer. By the time we landed and got our luggage, we just wanted to get to the hotel, order some room service, and chill until we fell asleep.
Enter problemo numero dos: the Hilton Garden Inn was not officially open. I should have seen there would be trouble when the only thing in the ghost town of a hotel were the two employees at the check in counter surrounded by spirals and loose pieces of paper. That's right. No computers. The hotel did not have its computer system in yet and resorted to keeping notes on random pieces of paper. Again, I was tired, and KHam was tired. We were also trying to stay optimistic since it wasn't a weekend about us but rather our sweet friend getting married. (However, our spirits were quickly dampened by the pungent fresh paint fumes and sporadic piles of construction trash in the hallways.)
After making our way to our room (which they still charged us FULL PRICE for-trust me the Hilton company is getting a letter), we discovered that there was NO ROOM SERVICE. Yep, I paid $200/night for a hotel without room service. Now I was just starting to get ticked. So KHam and I made ourselves presentable (we changed our sweatpants to jeans) and called a cab to find something to eat. By 10 that night, we were tired, still pretty hungry (not impressed with the local cuisine), and shortly discovered we didn't have hot water (I believe tepid would be a good way to describe it). God was kind to us because Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince was on television. Since our adoration for the adventures of this boy wizard is one reason we are such great friends, we watched that till we fell asleep.
With the hot water working satisfactorily by the next morning, I was starting to feel a little better about everything. The true test was going to be if the Hilton Garden Inn would be able to pull off my friend's reception. Much to my surprise, the Hilton DID manage to make the reception quite beautiful. I was happy for my friend's sake because no bride should have a crappy wedding. So in the end it turned out great for my friend. But I still maintain that I should not be charged full price for a hotel that is, in essence, "out of service."
Now, my gal pal KHam mentioned also blogging about the experience, and I'm sure it will be much more entertaining. I've also moved on passed a lot of the frustration I felt, so this post lacks a lot of the passion it would have contained had I been able to blog at the hotel.
Saturday, July 03, 2010
My Voice of Reason has a British Accent
Since I am completely done with graduate work...FOREVER, I was able to take a nap this afternoon. Of course my dreams unleashed anxieties and irritations in various unconscious adventures. I am a HUGE believer in the Collective Unconscious and dream interpretation a la Jung and Freud; therefore, dreams are worth exploring to understand what my brain is trying to tell me when I cannot get in the way. (Please don't misunderstand. I do not believe a person can simply go online and type in "clock" to see what a "dream dictionary" says it means. That is rubbish and a waste of time. It's more useful to look into historical symbolism of all aspects of a dream then apply them to my life not generalize how they would work in all lives.)
This particular dream threw me into an Austen-style cottage with my husband and son on vacation (no big surprise since I'm currently reading Sense and Sensibility). After a myriad of events (on the surface very random-in my dream making all the sense in the world), I was confused, angry, and ready to run away from everything happening. Then who should appear, Russell Brand who sat with me and rationalized a lot of what was happening to me in my life/dream. Okay, let's step back and think about this for a moment. The person my unconscious chose to dispense logic to my conscious was Russell Brand:
One more time to recap: Russell Brand is the form my OWN UNCONSCIOUS MIND chose to be a voice of reason. If you don't know who this man is or know of him but nothing about his life, please Wikipedia him at least. Then perhaps you'll see the irony in all of this.
Don't get me wrong. I am a fan of Mr. Brand. I loved Forgetting Sarah Marshall because of him. It's just I'm not a fan of his like I am of Colin Firth or Alan Rickman or James McAvoy or Orlando Bloom. So why this particular British superstar? That's what my conscious mind will be trying to decode for a while.
This particular dream threw me into an Austen-style cottage with my husband and son on vacation (no big surprise since I'm currently reading Sense and Sensibility). After a myriad of events (on the surface very random-in my dream making all the sense in the world), I was confused, angry, and ready to run away from everything happening. Then who should appear, Russell Brand who sat with me and rationalized a lot of what was happening to me in my life/dream. Okay, let's step back and think about this for a moment. The person my unconscious chose to dispense logic to my conscious was Russell Brand:
Don't get me wrong. I am a fan of Mr. Brand. I loved Forgetting Sarah Marshall because of him. It's just I'm not a fan of his like I am of Colin Firth or Alan Rickman or James McAvoy or Orlando Bloom. So why this particular British superstar? That's what my conscious mind will be trying to decode for a while.
Thursday, July 01, 2010
Beautiful as Aphrodite. Wise as Athena.
If you were to ask any of my friends who I would be if given the chance, they would all answer with an adamant "Wonder Woman!" I love everything about the idea of being an ass kickin' female superhero who gets to share Justice League status with Superman and Batman. All of this is intriguing considering I've never seen or owned a single Wonder Woman comic (something I believe I shall remedy-Hello new hobby!). The first encounter I had with this amazing Amazon was Linda Carter:
A few years ago I was passing time shopping at my fave thrift store and found a Wonder Woman belt buckle for $2.75! It was a moment that the heavens opened and a beam of light shone down upon the coveted item. The buckle became mine, and three weeks later, while my husband and I were touring the Warner Bros. lot in California, I found the same buckle for $25. I knew then that God blessed me with my thrift store treasure. My fervor for the famous heroine was renewed.
When my husband informed me this morning that Wonder Woman has been given a make-over, I went into immediate denial and then frustration. Why would anyone dare to change an American icon? (Of course I was also a bit perturbed because I have a Wonder Woman costume I've never been able to wear, and the new image makes the costume obsolete.) Then I read the article discussing the changes and why they occurred. It makes sense. I mean Wonder Woman started out like this:
and she's recently appeared on Cartoon Network like this:
Even with the changing times, Wonder Woman's image stayed relatively the same. I must admit, there is something a little degrading about expecting such a tough gal to parade around in, essentially, underwear. Sure 13-year-old boys probably don't mind, but I know that if I had a daughter, I would want my childhood heroine to embody strength while still maintaining modesty. It's important for girls to realize women can be heroic without being whore-oic (like that? Yeah word play is fun).
So after much contemplation, I have given my stamp of approval to the new image of Wonder Woman:
She's still sexy, but I would much prefer this defender of justice to even Linda Carter's interpretation. Needless to say, I eagerly await the day Warner Bros. finally gives Wonder Woman her own feature film. Until that day, I will stay a diligent devotee.
I know that my mother has pictures of me in my Wonder Woman underoos somewhere. Even though I didn't immediately begin cataloging every issue of Wonder Woman to pop out of DC, my adoration did not necessarily stop.
When my husband informed me this morning that Wonder Woman has been given a make-over, I went into immediate denial and then frustration. Why would anyone dare to change an American icon? (Of course I was also a bit perturbed because I have a Wonder Woman costume I've never been able to wear, and the new image makes the costume obsolete.) Then I read the article discussing the changes and why they occurred. It makes sense. I mean Wonder Woman started out like this:
and she's recently appeared on Cartoon Network like this:
Even with the changing times, Wonder Woman's image stayed relatively the same. I must admit, there is something a little degrading about expecting such a tough gal to parade around in, essentially, underwear. Sure 13-year-old boys probably don't mind, but I know that if I had a daughter, I would want my childhood heroine to embody strength while still maintaining modesty. It's important for girls to realize women can be heroic without being whore-oic (like that? Yeah word play is fun).
So after much contemplation, I have given my stamp of approval to the new image of Wonder Woman:
