I figure if Mother Theresa can bare her true soul about not having faith, then so can I here.
Does anyone actually read this blog?
It says 0 on my site meter, since August 19th. That number sort of signifies what I am feeling at the moment.
Over two years ago, I met a really interesting writer. We met via a writing board on mediabistro.com. She had recently moved to Atlanta from Philly, and she didn't know many people here, etc. She liked my whacked out sense of humor, and I hers.
She sent me the e-bay listing for the Virgin Mary on Toast, and I knew I had found a kindred spirit. We met, once, after many false starts, and I really, really loved hanging out with her. We laughed a lot, over Sushi.
Well, this writer was feeling rather insecure, as well, about her own writing. She was working on a book about a bordello in Chicago, at the turn of the century. That piqued my interest. Her literary agent kept putting her off, concerning the book, which lead to much angst for my erstwhile writing comrade.
So much so, that she sent me two sample chapters to read, to get my opinion. That's always a tricky thing with me, because what if it is truly crappola? How do you tell someone it's crap? I have a knack for spotting true talent. I have always been able to do so.
I'll listen to a singer or a band, way before they make it big, and I'll know that they will be the next best thing. Or, in the case of David Sedaris, I knew he was going to be big, right when he first started out. I sent him a letter to his address in NYC, and I still have the postcard he sent back to me, from he and his partner's place in France. It was hilarious.
Anyway, back to the Chicago bordello story.
I anticipated the chapters, and when I received them, I began to read, fully expecting it to be not-so-good.
It was quite the opposite. I was completely hooked, after two chapters. The prose crackled, which is hard to do, sometimes, when you are writing non-fiction. To me, only Doris Kearns Goodwin, David McCullough and David Hallberstam(R.I.P.), have truly been able to make historical non-fiction exciting.
So, I wrote back to my new writer 'pal' and told her that I knew that the book would be published and that she had nothing to worry about at all.
We planned to get together over and over, however, I would wait to hear from her on the day we were meeting for lunch, and she never called or emailed.
I would take the lead in emailing to find out what happened, and I would get an apology email about 'something coming up,' etc. I can deal with that excuse a couple of times, but after that, I have no patience with that sort of stuff.
So, the last time it happened--getting stood up--I just decided that I'm too old for games like that. I let it go, and went on with life.
Finally, she emailed me, with her apology, and begging me to let her have another chance. I decided not to do that, as at that point I felt like Charlie Brown and she was Lucy, holding the football in place.
I told her that I thought she was a fantastic writer, that her novel would be published, but I can't get into the whole, "Let's have lunch....oops, I'm going to stand you up," stuff. She wrote back, saying something about how she has issues, etc. We all do.
Her book did get published, and it is now on the NY Times Best Seller list. I wondered if I should even email her, but I felt good that I had spotted the talent and that the book was as good as I thought it would be.
She told me I was a funny writer, etc., but it's interesting that she's written for publications that I wish would even let me write classified ads.
So, a few months back, I received my Oxford American magazine, and this issue was devoted to up-and-coming southern writers. Lo and behold, there's a brief story on a friend from my high school. Natasha Trethewey was (and still is) a gorgeous, gorgeous girl, who embodied that rare combo of inner and outer beauty.
As well, she was so damn smart. We worked on the school newspaper together, and I would make her laugh a lot. It was always fun to see her laugh really hard.
I was a year ahead of her, and when I went to college, I heard disturbing news that her mother's husband--Natasha's stepfather--murdered her mother. She was 19, I believe.
Anyway, Natasha is a respected poet, who has written about slavery, New Orleans, Katrina, etc. To top it off, she won the 2007 Pulitzer for Poetry.
How do I keep getting together with, or knowing such writers, but yet I can't seem to write worth a damn?
Sounds a bit selfish, I know, but I'm going to be 42 in November, and all I can seem to get published are second-rate articles, for second-rate trade journals, etc.
I can't even get Creative Loafing--every Journalism student, who graduates, writes for CL right out of college--to even respond to my queries.
I worked a research job at The Atlanta Business Chronicle, around Thanksgiving/Christmas last year, talked to the managing editor about writing for them. She was completely for it. Then, suddenly, I never heard back from her and when I inquired, she said she wasn't interested.
So, I thought I'd start blogging, just to give myself an outlet, but I don't even think these posts are even compelling enough to keep anyone reading.
Don't get me wrong. I am so happy for both of these writers. It's just that I'm approaching middle-age, and I've struggled and looked for any open door, when it comes to my writing, and it just doesn't happen for me.
That either means I completely suck as a writer, or that my lot in this life is to be a mediocre hack.
It's painful for me--no matter how selfish and vain it sounds--to watch all of this and know that no matter how hard I try, I'm just not a good writer.
It doesn't take talent to write about a petroleum and convenience store expo, which I am headed to today, in Macon. Any monkey can do it
Speaking of monkeys...
Right now I really feel the after-effects of the monkey eating my five dollars, so long ago.
Both of the writers I have written about here will be at the Decatur Book Festival this weekend. I haven't decided if I am going to go or not. On one hand, I want to cheer them on and give Natasha a big hug, but on the other hand, I have this feeling that I'm going to shatter into tiny little pieces after seeing them.
Maybe it's time to just realize that I'm meant to stay in the shadows of others. Maybe I'm the Willie Loman of writers, period.
What was the great line that his wife angrily says in his defense? "Attention MUST be paid."
Even better--I feel like John Kennedy Toole right now. In many ways, my life has mirrored his. If you don't know who he is, look him up.
He was a brilliant and funny writer, who won a Pulitzer only after he shot and killed himself. He shot and killed himself, because an editor told him that his book wasn't any good, etc. He died thinking he was just a hack.
Irony, irony, irony.
Not that I would even consider suicide, however I understand the feelings. Oddly enough, the character I most identify with is Miles from the film, "Sideways."
I think the screenwriter sums it what I feel like, in this scene. It's brilliant, and I yelled out "YES" in the theatre when this scene was shown:
Miles Raymond: Well, the world doesn't give a shit what I have to say. I'm not necessary. Had. I'm so insignificant I can't even kill myself.
Jack: Miles, what the hell is that supposed to mean?
Miles Raymond: Come on, man. You know. Hemingway, Sexton, Plath, Woolf. You can't kill yourself before you're even published.
Jack: What about the guy who wrote Confederacy of Dunces? He killed himself before he was published. Look how famous he is.
Miles Raymond: Thanks.
Jack: Just don't give up, alright? You're gonna make it.
Miles Raymond: Half my life is over and I have nothing to show for it. Nothing. I'am thumbprint on the window of a skyscraper. I'm a smudge of excrement on a tissue surging out to sea with a million tons of raw sewage.
Jack: See? Right there. Just what you just said. That is beautiful. 'A smudge of excrement... surging out to sea.'
Miles Raymond: Yeah.
Jack: I could never write that.
Miles Raymond: Neither could I, actually. I think it's Bukowsky.
Classic.
Well, I'm off to Macon for my exciting assignment!!!
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Pain is Pain is Pain
I haven’t written in a while, because I’ve been working on never-ending deadlines and re-writes.
For all of my writing efforts alone, I feel I should get an honorary Pulitzer, but writing about government mandates for convenience stores, and/or new guidelines for credit card processors isn’t exciting stuff. However, it does pay the bills.
Recently, I posted about my best friend in high school and her first boyfriend. Her first boyfriend was in a terrible car accident and lost two of his children in the wreck.
As well, the other driver lost children in their car, too. You can read my post about it down below.
Well, after I posted, I received quite a few responses, all sending out good vibes and prayers for Joe, and all involved.
And then I received a very different comment, for my approval.
I wasn’t really prepared for it, I guess, but in retrospect, I’m glad I received it, as it made me think about pain, true pain, and the ramifications and facets of that state of being that most of us spend our lives running from.
It was from the ex-brother-in-law of Joe, who happens to be named Joe. I couldn’t have asked for a more Bergman-esque scenario, right?
He was very upset with me, because he felt I white washed the actual situation, got my facts wrong (which I did) concerning the accident, but more than anything else he wanted to let me know that the “Joe” that I knew so many years ago, was not the angelic, grieving father that he feels that I portrayed him with my post.
Honestly, I didn’t think I did that at all. I haven’t see Joe G in over 25 + years, to be quite honest, but the wreck was horrible for all involved, period, so I wanted to get the word out for prayer.
But I didn’t see it from the other Joe’s standpoint. From where he sits, the pain and anger is overwhelming, and, to him, the anger is for good reason.
At first, I emailed and told him that I wasn’t going to post his angry words about Joe G., because I didn’t think this blog was the place to do so. I don’t really know any of the folks involved; period, and I couldn’t understand his anger at someone who was simply posting what she was told by someone else. No matter what, Joe G is the father of those children that died, and he was injured himself.
I corresponded with the other Joe via email and tried to explain that to him, while respecting his own anger and pain—both are so valid, period.
But I just received another email from him, the other day, and as I read his words, I realized that, in many ways, so many people seem to be rallying around Joe G., and some have forgotten that a mother lost her two children, too.
And here was her brother gallantly stepping up for her, and letting me know that she exists and she hurts, too, on so many levels. I can only tell you that I wish I had a brother like him, as my two brothers wouldn’t know if I left the face of the earth, nor would they care too much, I think.
With that said, I’m still not going to post the exact words here—for legal liability reasons—but I do believe in writing something. I hold no bias in this situation, but this stands to remind me how much pain can be inflicted by one human to another, and how many layers there are to pain and suffering.
So, I am going to ask that all those who came here and posted for Joe, also remember the children’s mother, Carolyn, in a big way, along with Joe M’s family. It’s seems their journey with pain started way before the accident.
Joe M.? I hope you are reading this, and thank you for teaching me about listening and hearing someone else.
First of all, I got my facts wrong.
The other driver was a 21 year-old-male, who was not related to the woman and children killed in their car.
Apparently, from what Joe M said, Joe G was not returning from Disney World, as I had been told by my old friend, but he had sent the kids over to his sister’s home, so he could work that day.
He was late meeting his ex-wife to drop off the kids, and thus how the timing happened for the accident.
Joe M wrote and told me that the divorce happened over two years ago, and, let’s just say it has not been a pleasant experience for both sides, but from Joe M’s experience, his sister has been through a living hell before the accident and after. I believe him.
Joe M wanted me to know that. I do know that now, but what I really got from his words was that this terrible accident has added yet another layer of pain for Carolyn, Joe M., and the rest of their family.
It also reminds me that divorce is such an ugly thing, period. My parents divorced, rather acrimoniously as well, when I was 30. I can tell you that it hurt me just as much as it would have hurt me if I had been a kid when it happened.
I’m reminded of two verses from the Bible, which really rang out to me as I contemplated this post. Trust me, this usually does not happen with me. I am not one to quote Bible scripture, because I grew up in the Southern Baptist church, where the bible was used as a ramrod, but since I’ve heard from Joe M., I have felt very compelled to ask God what can I do about this situation. It’s really horrible from every angle, period.
As I meditated on it, these two verses came to mind and would not leave my mind, until I wrote them down. So, for what it is worth, here they are.
Matthew 5:45: (Amplified Bible) To show that you are the children of your Father Who is in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the wicked and on the good, and makes the rain fall upon the upright and the wrongdoers [alike].
The other is:
Luke 12: 52-53:For from now on in one house there will be five divided [among themselves], three against two and two against three.
They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law.
I will leave it to those who read this post, to interpret the verses as they see fit. Right now, pain is palpable and real on both sides of this terrible accident, period. The way pain manifests itself, whether in messy child custody visit issues, or insensitive and petty actions at the funeral of innocent children, nobody is immune to grief, anger and pain.
It’s what we do with those emotions that truly matter, for we will not understand things like the painful divorce, the accident and it’s aftermath, until we can ask God, face-to-face.
Joe M did say that Joe and Carolyn's surviving son, David, is back in school and healing. I thought I would pass that on.
Peace be with you, Carolyn and Joe M. and your family as you begin to heal and move on. Thank you to everyone who posted prayers and good wishes, previously.Sunday, August 19, 2007
Song for the week: Quality of Mercy
Quality Of Mercy - Michelle Shocked
All you hypocrites and liars
In the temple seeking gain
All you senators and lawyers
With your motives to explain
All you victims and heroes
Your petitions to complain
All you murderers and martyrs
On the fields where you lay slain
On the just and unjust alike it doth rain
And the quality of mercy is not strained
Vengeance and revenge are just two words for pain
And the quality of mercy is not strained
Did not I crucify my Lord
Did not I bind Him in chains
Did not I three times betray Him
Three times deny His name
Did not I cast the first stone
And then justify the blame
Did not He die for my sins
But never would I do the same
I've been three times a sinner and two times a saint
And the quality of mercy is not strained
Love, if it's love, is changing but unchanged
And the quality of mercy is not strained
Now, listen to the song
All you hypocrites and liars
In the temple seeking gain
All you senators and lawyers
With your motives to explain
All you victims and heroes
Your petitions to complain
All you murderers and martyrs
On the fields where you lay slain
On the just and unjust alike it doth rain
And the quality of mercy is not strained
Vengeance and revenge are just two words for pain
And the quality of mercy is not strained
Did not I crucify my Lord
Did not I bind Him in chains
Did not I three times betray Him
Three times deny His name
Did not I cast the first stone
And then justify the blame
Did not He die for my sins
But never would I do the same
I've been three times a sinner and two times a saint
And the quality of mercy is not strained
Love, if it's love, is changing but unchanged
And the quality of mercy is not strained
Now, listen to the song
Monday, July 23, 2007
Walk it Out...
This is so great.
You've got Fosse, Gwen Verdon dancing to Fosse, with "Walk It Out" in the background. I love it.
You've got Fosse, Gwen Verdon dancing to Fosse, with "Walk It Out" in the background. I love it.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Positive energy, prayers, smoke signals, whatever
At the end of last week, I received an email from one of my best friends from church, when I was growing up.
The news was stunning.
Her first boyfriend, Joe Gargiulo, became a good friend to me at the time, as we were all going to the same church.
When Joe and Kathi broke up, I didn't see much of Joe anymore. At any rate, Kathi and I barely keep in touch, as we have such different lives. It almost seems like a whole other life that I lived then. She's been married for years, with two kids who are almost adults, but sometimes it feels like just yesterday that we were wearing our mother's wigs, teasing them into beehives, putting on lots of makeup, stuffing our bras, and, looking like a more grotesque version of Tammy Faye Bakker in her heyday, simply to go and play Putt Putt, like we looked normal.
The looks we would get were priceless, let me tell you.
Anyway, we keep in touch at Christmas, etc. But I was not prepared for the news she sent to me.
Last weekend, there was a terrible wreck on I-85, near Atlanta. I remember hearing about it on the news. A Chevy Impala, carrying two kids and two adults, crossed the median and slammed into a van, head on.
It was Joe's van that got slammed head on. There was nothing he could have done to prevent the accident, according to the police.
Two of his children were immediately killed upon impact, even though they were wearing seat belts. His other son was injured, as was Joe. Two children in the other car were killed, too. I just read an article, which I will link here, which lists the driver's name, the children's names, as well.
Kathi told me that Joe was in the midst of a very painful divorce, and he was driving his children back to their mother's house, after taking the kids to Walt Disney World.
According to Kathi, Joe had been very, very depressed over the break-up. The two children were buried on Saturday, but Joe could not attend, as he is in ICU.
I cannot imagine what he and his estranged wife are going to go through. As well, what will the surviving son feel and go through in the coming weeks, months, years. Even more tragic, is the fact that driver of the offending auto was a 21-year-old girl.
It reminds me of the verse from the Bible, 'On the just and unjust, alike it doth rain, and the quality of mercy is not strained.'
I normally would not do this on my blog, but I am going to ask anyone reading this post to put down what you are doing, and just send a prayer or a good vibe to Joe and his family. As well, prayers for the Stephens family, and for the girl driving. Their pain is just beginning.
Whatever, or whoever you believe in, please send positive energy Joe's way, and to the Stephens family.
I'll keep you posted on Joe's progress. I am not sure he'll even remember me, but I plan on going to see him, when he is able, and to let him know that he can talk to me anytime.
As I was going to the bank this morning---I got my first 2,000 dollar check for my writing--I was listening to Bridge Over Troubled Water on an Elvis CD that I have. It really made me think about Joe.
These are the times when I have no idea why God allows these things to happen. The only way I can even rationalize it is that God gives us all free will, so that means everyone has it. Some people use it for good, some for evil, some make mistakes--they think the young girl driving fell asleep at the wheel--and God could come down and stop anything, but God doesn't do that.
He lets us choose our behaviors, and the outcome is determined by the chosen behavior, but He's always there no matter what.
That's why you won't find me saying to Joe, "It was God's will...." because I don't believe it was God's will. I believe it was a series of events, a chain of mistakes, that led to the accident. I have to believe that, because if I don't, then I cannot fathom a God that would purposely take away the lives of children in such a manner.
If there is anyone out there in blog-land, reading this post, who has lost children in a car accident, etc. please post and let me know what to say and what not to say to Joe, whenever I get the chance.
Thanks to everyone who will read this.
Here's the Article I found from Connecticut, where the two Stephens children resided
The news was stunning.
Her first boyfriend, Joe Gargiulo, became a good friend to me at the time, as we were all going to the same church.
When Joe and Kathi broke up, I didn't see much of Joe anymore. At any rate, Kathi and I barely keep in touch, as we have such different lives. It almost seems like a whole other life that I lived then. She's been married for years, with two kids who are almost adults, but sometimes it feels like just yesterday that we were wearing our mother's wigs, teasing them into beehives, putting on lots of makeup, stuffing our bras, and, looking like a more grotesque version of Tammy Faye Bakker in her heyday, simply to go and play Putt Putt, like we looked normal.
The looks we would get were priceless, let me tell you.
Anyway, we keep in touch at Christmas, etc. But I was not prepared for the news she sent to me.
Last weekend, there was a terrible wreck on I-85, near Atlanta. I remember hearing about it on the news. A Chevy Impala, carrying two kids and two adults, crossed the median and slammed into a van, head on.
It was Joe's van that got slammed head on. There was nothing he could have done to prevent the accident, according to the police.
Two of his children were immediately killed upon impact, even though they were wearing seat belts. His other son was injured, as was Joe. Two children in the other car were killed, too. I just read an article, which I will link here, which lists the driver's name, the children's names, as well.
Kathi told me that Joe was in the midst of a very painful divorce, and he was driving his children back to their mother's house, after taking the kids to Walt Disney World.
According to Kathi, Joe had been very, very depressed over the break-up. The two children were buried on Saturday, but Joe could not attend, as he is in ICU.
I cannot imagine what he and his estranged wife are going to go through. As well, what will the surviving son feel and go through in the coming weeks, months, years. Even more tragic, is the fact that driver of the offending auto was a 21-year-old girl.
It reminds me of the verse from the Bible, 'On the just and unjust, alike it doth rain, and the quality of mercy is not strained.'
I normally would not do this on my blog, but I am going to ask anyone reading this post to put down what you are doing, and just send a prayer or a good vibe to Joe and his family. As well, prayers for the Stephens family, and for the girl driving. Their pain is just beginning.
Whatever, or whoever you believe in, please send positive energy Joe's way, and to the Stephens family.
I'll keep you posted on Joe's progress. I am not sure he'll even remember me, but I plan on going to see him, when he is able, and to let him know that he can talk to me anytime.
As I was going to the bank this morning---I got my first 2,000 dollar check for my writing--I was listening to Bridge Over Troubled Water on an Elvis CD that I have. It really made me think about Joe.
These are the times when I have no idea why God allows these things to happen. The only way I can even rationalize it is that God gives us all free will, so that means everyone has it. Some people use it for good, some for evil, some make mistakes--they think the young girl driving fell asleep at the wheel--and God could come down and stop anything, but God doesn't do that.
He lets us choose our behaviors, and the outcome is determined by the chosen behavior, but He's always there no matter what.
That's why you won't find me saying to Joe, "It was God's will...." because I don't believe it was God's will. I believe it was a series of events, a chain of mistakes, that led to the accident. I have to believe that, because if I don't, then I cannot fathom a God that would purposely take away the lives of children in such a manner.
If there is anyone out there in blog-land, reading this post, who has lost children in a car accident, etc. please post and let me know what to say and what not to say to Joe, whenever I get the chance.
Thanks to everyone who will read this.
Here's the Article I found from Connecticut, where the two Stephens children resided
I've Grown Accustomed to her Blog
I don't know what has come over me, or who has come over me, as I feel that I am in sort of trance-like state.
Ever since 'she' ragged about my partner, in a very condescending and nasty way, on her blog, I have felt compelled to read her blog almost every day. Is this part of my anxiety disorder??
It first started as a way to give back the same caustic medicine she doles out to anyone that doesn't jibe with her rigid religious beliefs.
In the beginning, I referred to her as 'it' or Bigmoose, as it seemed a fitting retort to her name calling. Even though I really detested her narrow thinking, I was like a moth to her snide flame.
But as I read her long odes to Chesterton, or when she intimated that I might be like Cotton on the show, "King of the Hill," I started to wonder what she might look like. Actually, the Cotton thing was pretty funny. Oddly, I do picture her looking like a cross between Joann Worley and Peggy Hill
I started to wonder what happened to this woman, with such a high IQ, and how she ended up staying at home with her three children. No, there is nothing wrong with raising one's children as a profession, as it is one of the noblest and thankless professions. It's just that I sense that there is so much more to this woman that simply being a homemaker.
Rarely do I agree with her theories, postulates, or thinking patterns in general, but she is a fine writer.
As well, her knowledge of silent films is phenomenal. I really did not like this woman, after seeing for myself how she skewers anyone who isn't just like her in beliefs--mainly religious--and I left some posts, using the same tactics that she uses in her own posting.
However, when you put a mirror up to someone, they either get that their behavior is irrational and hurtful, or they run crying to their comrades, "Look how MEAN the liberal is to me!!" She engaged in the latter, and I was chastised as 'vile' by simply pointing out the obvious about her daily routines.
I was told that I made fun of her autistic children. I did not make fun of them at all, nor would I ever do that. I did point out her fondness in speaking about her children defecating on the floor, as well as pondering why one would try for a third child, if the first two had Autism. As well, I just gave her a dose of her own medicine, as she routinely picks apart those liberals that seem to so rankle her, for just being liberal.
Was it too harsh? I don't know, but I publicly apologize (her group of witch hunters always love it when a liberal apologizes, so they can pick it apart and decide whether it's a real apology or not).
Why would I continue to return to her blog? I have no idea. I know she reads my comments, and she allows me to post them, but she refuses to respond. As well, I'm sure the email chain letter has gone out, which tells others not to respond to me as well. I think it's funny. Actually, I think she's probably a very nice person, somewhere underneath the fear and sarcasm.
But, as I read her odd posts, there is just something that keeps me coming back. Maybe it's the fact that she must really hate it that we have so much in common. We really do. Well, I am not in love with the same dead author--she is in love with G.K. Chesterton--but we actually like the same TV shows, books, etc.
It's an odd attraction and fondness I now have for her, sort of like watching a train wreck happen right in front of you. You have to look, even if you might not want to, deep down in your soul.
I must say that I agree with Dr. Alice--Alice, please post a comment, as I see you have been visiting my blog as of late--I think 'she' is a better linguist than I am.
So, I must write this song for her, borrowing from Lerner and Loewe's "My Fair Lady" show stopper, "I've Grown Accustomed to her Face"
Of course, it's all tongue in cheek.
So, this is for that multi-talented Catholic Curmudgeon, who is 16 times the writer I am:
I've Grown Accustomed to her Blog
Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!
I've grown accustomed to her blog.
She almost makes my stomach churn.
I've grown accustomed to the anti ECUSA tune
that she whistles night and noon.
Her smiles, her frowns,
How Chesterton brings her up when she's down
Are second nature to me now;
Like trapping gas in and then, just letting it out.
I was serenely independent and content before we met;
Surely I could always be that way again-
And yet
I've grown accustomed to her screeds;
Accustomed to her sarcasm;
Accustomed to her blog.
[Spoken]
Become a anti-US Anglican CATHOLIC?
What an infantile idea. What a heartless,
wicked, brainless thing to do. But she'll regret, she'll
regret it. It's doomed before they even take the vow!
[Sung]
I can see her now, Mrs. Anti TEC
In a wretched little flat above a store.
I can see her now, not a penny in the till,
And a bill collector beating at the door.
She'll try to teach the things I taught her,
And end up picking up poop instead.
Begging for her bread and water,
While her husband has his breakfast in bed.
In a year, or so, when she get sick of talking about the gays
And the blossom in her cheek has turned to chalk.
She'll come home, and lo, he'll have upped and run away
With a hockey-playing bimbo from Quebec.
Poor Mrs. Anti-TEC. How simply frightful!
How humiliating! How delightful!
How poignant it'll be on that inevitable night
When she hammers on my door in tears and rags.
Miserable and lonely, repentant and contrite.
Will I take her in or hurl her to the walls?
Give her kindness or the treatment she deserves?
Will I take her back or throw the baggage out?
But I'm a most forgiving person;
The sort who never could, ever would,
Take a position and staunchly never budge.
A most forgiving person.
But, I shall never take her back,
If she were even crawling on her knees.
Let her promise to atone;
Let her shiver, let her moan;
I'll slam the door and let the hell-cat freeze!
[Sung]
But I'm so used to hear her say
"CHESTERTON" ev'ry day.
Her joys, her woes,
Her highs, her lows,
Are second nature to me now;
Like keeping gas out and breathing in.
I'm very grateful she's a bigot
And so easy to forget;
Rather like a habit
One can always break-
And yet,
I've grown accustomed to the trace
Of something in the air;
Accustomed to her blog.
Ever since 'she' ragged about my partner, in a very condescending and nasty way, on her blog, I have felt compelled to read her blog almost every day. Is this part of my anxiety disorder??
It first started as a way to give back the same caustic medicine she doles out to anyone that doesn't jibe with her rigid religious beliefs.
In the beginning, I referred to her as 'it' or Bigmoose, as it seemed a fitting retort to her name calling. Even though I really detested her narrow thinking, I was like a moth to her snide flame.
But as I read her long odes to Chesterton, or when she intimated that I might be like Cotton on the show, "King of the Hill," I started to wonder what she might look like. Actually, the Cotton thing was pretty funny. Oddly, I do picture her looking like a cross between Joann Worley and Peggy Hill
I started to wonder what happened to this woman, with such a high IQ, and how she ended up staying at home with her three children. No, there is nothing wrong with raising one's children as a profession, as it is one of the noblest and thankless professions. It's just that I sense that there is so much more to this woman that simply being a homemaker.
Rarely do I agree with her theories, postulates, or thinking patterns in general, but she is a fine writer.
As well, her knowledge of silent films is phenomenal. I really did not like this woman, after seeing for myself how she skewers anyone who isn't just like her in beliefs--mainly religious--and I left some posts, using the same tactics that she uses in her own posting.
However, when you put a mirror up to someone, they either get that their behavior is irrational and hurtful, or they run crying to their comrades, "Look how MEAN the liberal is to me!!" She engaged in the latter, and I was chastised as 'vile' by simply pointing out the obvious about her daily routines.
I was told that I made fun of her autistic children. I did not make fun of them at all, nor would I ever do that. I did point out her fondness in speaking about her children defecating on the floor, as well as pondering why one would try for a third child, if the first two had Autism. As well, I just gave her a dose of her own medicine, as she routinely picks apart those liberals that seem to so rankle her, for just being liberal.
Was it too harsh? I don't know, but I publicly apologize (her group of witch hunters always love it when a liberal apologizes, so they can pick it apart and decide whether it's a real apology or not).
Why would I continue to return to her blog? I have no idea. I know she reads my comments, and she allows me to post them, but she refuses to respond. As well, I'm sure the email chain letter has gone out, which tells others not to respond to me as well. I think it's funny. Actually, I think she's probably a very nice person, somewhere underneath the fear and sarcasm.
But, as I read her odd posts, there is just something that keeps me coming back. Maybe it's the fact that she must really hate it that we have so much in common. We really do. Well, I am not in love with the same dead author--she is in love with G.K. Chesterton--but we actually like the same TV shows, books, etc.
It's an odd attraction and fondness I now have for her, sort of like watching a train wreck happen right in front of you. You have to look, even if you might not want to, deep down in your soul.
I must say that I agree with Dr. Alice--Alice, please post a comment, as I see you have been visiting my blog as of late--I think 'she' is a better linguist than I am.
So, I must write this song for her, borrowing from Lerner and Loewe's "My Fair Lady" show stopper, "I've Grown Accustomed to her Face"
Of course, it's all tongue in cheek.
So, this is for that multi-talented Catholic Curmudgeon, who is 16 times the writer I am:
I've Grown Accustomed to her Blog
Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!
I've grown accustomed to her blog.
She almost makes my stomach churn.
I've grown accustomed to the anti ECUSA tune
that she whistles night and noon.
Her smiles, her frowns,
How Chesterton brings her up when she's down
Are second nature to me now;
Like trapping gas in and then, just letting it out.
I was serenely independent and content before we met;
Surely I could always be that way again-
And yet
I've grown accustomed to her screeds;
Accustomed to her sarcasm;
Accustomed to her blog.
[Spoken]
Become a anti-US Anglican CATHOLIC?
What an infantile idea. What a heartless,
wicked, brainless thing to do. But she'll regret, she'll
regret it. It's doomed before they even take the vow!
[Sung]
I can see her now, Mrs. Anti TEC
In a wretched little flat above a store.
I can see her now, not a penny in the till,
And a bill collector beating at the door.
She'll try to teach the things I taught her,
And end up picking up poop instead.
Begging for her bread and water,
While her husband has his breakfast in bed.
In a year, or so, when she get sick of talking about the gays
And the blossom in her cheek has turned to chalk.
She'll come home, and lo, he'll have upped and run away
With a hockey-playing bimbo from Quebec.
Poor Mrs. Anti-TEC. How simply frightful!
How humiliating! How delightful!
How poignant it'll be on that inevitable night
When she hammers on my door in tears and rags.
Miserable and lonely, repentant and contrite.
Will I take her in or hurl her to the walls?
Give her kindness or the treatment she deserves?
Will I take her back or throw the baggage out?
But I'm a most forgiving person;
The sort who never could, ever would,
Take a position and staunchly never budge.
A most forgiving person.
But, I shall never take her back,
If she were even crawling on her knees.
Let her promise to atone;
Let her shiver, let her moan;
I'll slam the door and let the hell-cat freeze!
[Sung]
But I'm so used to hear her say
"CHESTERTON" ev'ry day.
Her joys, her woes,
Her highs, her lows,
Are second nature to me now;
Like keeping gas out and breathing in.
I'm very grateful she's a bigot
And so easy to forget;
Rather like a habit
One can always break-
And yet,
I've grown accustomed to the trace
Of something in the air;
Accustomed to her blog.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Sometimes, Life is Good
Yes, for the few folks still bothering to come here, can you believe that I would be saying that?
Better living through chemistry is what I say.
Well, partly chemistry, partly listening to what God is trying to say. I'm not good at the "listening" thing at times, just ask Suzer!
As I posted previously, I had a major panic attack at the last on site job I took--mostly out of fear--and quit.
After dealing with debilitating anxiety levels for years, I finally took the advice of my doctor and tried a little pill called Lexapro.
I'm only taking a small amount, every night, but according to Suzer, it's made a difference. At times, I feel it wouldn't matter, because I still freak out about time. I have to get to a venue at least thirty minutes before any show, or I start getting nervous.
Susan is quite different. She is happy to get to a venue maybe 5 or 10 minutes beforehand. Can you see the 'wacky fun' that ensues with those two thought patterns?
She says the difference is that before I started taking Lexapro, I would argue with her at why my anxiety was legitimate, and that my thinking patterns were perfectly okay. Now, when she says, "honey, don't worry about it. I really think it's going to be okay," I actually say, "okay, you are right," and instead of obsessing over whatever the cause for worry was for maybe like 8 hours, I now have it down to about 1-2.
See? Progress!
Add to a new chemical makeup inside my pointed little head, is reaching out and listening to God.
Donna is my neighbor. When I first moved in with Susan, she was one of the first persons I met here. I don't know how, exactly, we started talking, but we did. I think I made a copy of a cd for her, and we started talking about music.
She knew so many of the artists--mainly 50's and 60's folk, blues, rock n' roll artists--that I enjoyed, that it was really fun to speak with her.
Then, she started telling me about how she knew Pete Seeger, that Pete Seeger wrote music to her lyrics. She spoke as if it was all no big deal, but my mouth dropped, when she brought out a cadre of letters written to her, from Pete.
As well, she started telling me how she dated Mac Davis, how she saw Brooke Benton, Otis Redding, Ike and Tina Turner, perform, live, in the Atlanta area, way back when. It's when she opined about the Rev. Gary Davis and Ernie Marrs that I perked up. I had heard about both, briefly, but she actually KNEW them.
Every time she would mention someone, I would say, YES, I LOVE THEM TOO!! Well, after I had quit the job from hell, I sort of retreated. Yes, my brief "Howard Hughes" existence. Only Susan would not allow my toenails to curl like old Howard's toenails.
I had decided that I needed to start walking every morning, as it would benefit my physical health and my emotional health. I went down to give Donna a cd I had made for her, and she didn't look well.
I asked her how she was doing, and she confided in me that she was feeling very depressed. At that moment, I knew that I was supposed to be there and I was supposed to listen and offer support.
That's what I did, and it turned out we had a lot in common concerning our families of origin, abuse, etc. I was able to tell her about my panic attack, and how I just didn't think I could ever work in a corporate setting again.
It turns out that Donna felt the same way, and that's why she works from home. So, we both decided to start walking together in the morning, and we've been doing so for the past couple of months or so.
I've learned a lot about her and from her in the brief time we have been walking, and it's good to know that I'm not alone in what I deal with, at times. She has done so many interesting things in her life, and she's so funny. I hope she will take my advice and write a book.
We have started a "Hermits Day Out," as of today. We are going to try and go out to lunch, or do something fun, once a week, since we both work out of our homes.
I consider it a blessing that I met and got to know Donna when I did. I needed her and she needed me, also.
Oh yeah, I guess I should write that a former freelance client of mine contacted me about an on-going writing project for his company.
He asked me to give him a price on a retainer fee, so I calculated one for him and with great trepidation, sent it to him. He didn't balk at all. It's a good amount of money per month. I am truly grateful, as it allows me to continue being my own boss, plus he pays on time!!!
The other blessing is that Susan and I finally found a church that we both feel comfortable with, and we both feel at home.
It's a small Methodist congregation in downtown Atlanta. They are the only reconciling church in Georgia and, I believe, in Atlanta. Since the first time we visited, over a month ago, we felt so welcomed by everyone there.
The pastor is low key, and says what she believes, period. No pretense, no politics, just the truth. It's such a diverse congregation, and one of the elders took us out to eat lunch last week, after the service.
She is 73, black, and very outspoken.
She was one of the very first people we met there, and I just instantly liked her. As we found out at lunch, she has had such an interesting life as well. Engineering degree from U. of Iowa, was in the Army, etc.
But what I really appreciated from her was her honesty about how she struggled, internally, after the church decided to become a reconciling church.
She blatantly told us both that she really had a problem with it at first. It really bothered her, but she said she prayed fervently about it, and she said, "God told me not to worry about it, and to go about the business of doing His will."
I appreciated her candor, and I told her I totally understood her feelings. She said what helped to change her was the fact that she had been married to a white man, and she and her husband had a business near Morehouse College for years. She explained that many of the students there were customers.
In the early 1990's, after the first Rodney King verdict, Atlanta went insane. I was working at Turner Broadcasting at the time, and after the verdict was read, riots broke out all over the country, and Atlanta was no exception.
Turner's great wisdom was to keep us locked inside the CNN premises as long as possible, which would have been fine, but then they decided to let us go right at the height of the rioting, right outside of the building.
I remember riding in the car with my boss, as I had taken our rapid transit to work, and being stuck in this long line of traffic trying to get out of downtown. All we heard was breaking glass, cussing, screaming, and people being beaten.
Thank God my boss had an old ,beat up Toyota, as I think the gang that passed us by took a look at the car and figured they would do us a favor by catching it on fire, so it wasn't something they wanted to do.
I make light of it, but it was scary.
Well, it turns out that the lady we had lunch with got caught in that maelstrom too. She said the students that had been repeat customers in their business, looted it and beat up her husband, because he was white, and because they were angry.
She said that is what God pointed out to her, concerning her feelings about being part of a reconciling church.
I really appreciated her candor. She said that she never invites new people out to lunch, really, but that she was drawn to us for some reason. I really enjoyed the lunch and fellowship.
We've joined the little choir--a choir that sounds fantastic to be so small--and it's just good to be in a place where we can all worship together, and the emphasis is not on our sexual orientation.
Well, back to Donna:
She's a fantastic graphic artist, and she's created a line of slogans/designs for T-shirts. Some of them are really funny, others are just really cool, period.
Hey, take a look and give her some business: Donna's T-shirts
make custom gifts at Zazzle
Better living through chemistry is what I say.
Well, partly chemistry, partly listening to what God is trying to say. I'm not good at the "listening" thing at times, just ask Suzer!
As I posted previously, I had a major panic attack at the last on site job I took--mostly out of fear--and quit.
After dealing with debilitating anxiety levels for years, I finally took the advice of my doctor and tried a little pill called Lexapro.
I'm only taking a small amount, every night, but according to Suzer, it's made a difference. At times, I feel it wouldn't matter, because I still freak out about time. I have to get to a venue at least thirty minutes before any show, or I start getting nervous.
Susan is quite different. She is happy to get to a venue maybe 5 or 10 minutes beforehand. Can you see the 'wacky fun' that ensues with those two thought patterns?
She says the difference is that before I started taking Lexapro, I would argue with her at why my anxiety was legitimate, and that my thinking patterns were perfectly okay. Now, when she says, "honey, don't worry about it. I really think it's going to be okay," I actually say, "okay, you are right," and instead of obsessing over whatever the cause for worry was for maybe like 8 hours, I now have it down to about 1-2.
See? Progress!
Add to a new chemical makeup inside my pointed little head, is reaching out and listening to God.
Donna is my neighbor. When I first moved in with Susan, she was one of the first persons I met here. I don't know how, exactly, we started talking, but we did. I think I made a copy of a cd for her, and we started talking about music.
She knew so many of the artists--mainly 50's and 60's folk, blues, rock n' roll artists--that I enjoyed, that it was really fun to speak with her.
Then, she started telling me about how she knew Pete Seeger, that Pete Seeger wrote music to her lyrics. She spoke as if it was all no big deal, but my mouth dropped, when she brought out a cadre of letters written to her, from Pete.
As well, she started telling me how she dated Mac Davis, how she saw Brooke Benton, Otis Redding, Ike and Tina Turner, perform, live, in the Atlanta area, way back when. It's when she opined about the Rev. Gary Davis and Ernie Marrs that I perked up. I had heard about both, briefly, but she actually KNEW them.
Every time she would mention someone, I would say, YES, I LOVE THEM TOO!! Well, after I had quit the job from hell, I sort of retreated. Yes, my brief "Howard Hughes" existence. Only Susan would not allow my toenails to curl like old Howard's toenails.
I had decided that I needed to start walking every morning, as it would benefit my physical health and my emotional health. I went down to give Donna a cd I had made for her, and she didn't look well.
I asked her how she was doing, and she confided in me that she was feeling very depressed. At that moment, I knew that I was supposed to be there and I was supposed to listen and offer support.
That's what I did, and it turned out we had a lot in common concerning our families of origin, abuse, etc. I was able to tell her about my panic attack, and how I just didn't think I could ever work in a corporate setting again.
It turns out that Donna felt the same way, and that's why she works from home. So, we both decided to start walking together in the morning, and we've been doing so for the past couple of months or so.
I've learned a lot about her and from her in the brief time we have been walking, and it's good to know that I'm not alone in what I deal with, at times. She has done so many interesting things in her life, and she's so funny. I hope she will take my advice and write a book.
We have started a "Hermits Day Out," as of today. We are going to try and go out to lunch, or do something fun, once a week, since we both work out of our homes.
I consider it a blessing that I met and got to know Donna when I did. I needed her and she needed me, also.
Oh yeah, I guess I should write that a former freelance client of mine contacted me about an on-going writing project for his company.
He asked me to give him a price on a retainer fee, so I calculated one for him and with great trepidation, sent it to him. He didn't balk at all. It's a good amount of money per month. I am truly grateful, as it allows me to continue being my own boss, plus he pays on time!!!
The other blessing is that Susan and I finally found a church that we both feel comfortable with, and we both feel at home.
It's a small Methodist congregation in downtown Atlanta. They are the only reconciling church in Georgia and, I believe, in Atlanta. Since the first time we visited, over a month ago, we felt so welcomed by everyone there.
The pastor is low key, and says what she believes, period. No pretense, no politics, just the truth. It's such a diverse congregation, and one of the elders took us out to eat lunch last week, after the service.
She is 73, black, and very outspoken.
She was one of the very first people we met there, and I just instantly liked her. As we found out at lunch, she has had such an interesting life as well. Engineering degree from U. of Iowa, was in the Army, etc.
But what I really appreciated from her was her honesty about how she struggled, internally, after the church decided to become a reconciling church.
She blatantly told us both that she really had a problem with it at first. It really bothered her, but she said she prayed fervently about it, and she said, "God told me not to worry about it, and to go about the business of doing His will."
I appreciated her candor, and I told her I totally understood her feelings. She said what helped to change her was the fact that she had been married to a white man, and she and her husband had a business near Morehouse College for years. She explained that many of the students there were customers.
In the early 1990's, after the first Rodney King verdict, Atlanta went insane. I was working at Turner Broadcasting at the time, and after the verdict was read, riots broke out all over the country, and Atlanta was no exception.
Turner's great wisdom was to keep us locked inside the CNN premises as long as possible, which would have been fine, but then they decided to let us go right at the height of the rioting, right outside of the building.
I remember riding in the car with my boss, as I had taken our rapid transit to work, and being stuck in this long line of traffic trying to get out of downtown. All we heard was breaking glass, cussing, screaming, and people being beaten.
Thank God my boss had an old ,beat up Toyota, as I think the gang that passed us by took a look at the car and figured they would do us a favor by catching it on fire, so it wasn't something they wanted to do.
I make light of it, but it was scary.
Well, it turns out that the lady we had lunch with got caught in that maelstrom too. She said the students that had been repeat customers in their business, looted it and beat up her husband, because he was white, and because they were angry.
She said that is what God pointed out to her, concerning her feelings about being part of a reconciling church.
I really appreciated her candor. She said that she never invites new people out to lunch, really, but that she was drawn to us for some reason. I really enjoyed the lunch and fellowship.
We've joined the little choir--a choir that sounds fantastic to be so small--and it's just good to be in a place where we can all worship together, and the emphasis is not on our sexual orientation.
Well, back to Donna:
She's a fantastic graphic artist, and she's created a line of slogans/designs for T-shirts. Some of them are really funny, others are just really cool, period.
Hey, take a look and give her some business: Donna's T-shirts
make custom gifts at Zazzle
Sunday, June 10, 2007
David Chase Sleeps with the Fishes!!!
All I can say is that was the worst finale I have EVER seen, and some Sopranos fans may find it a fitting way to end--or not end--the show, but I think it was a very smug snub by David Chase to those fans who have waited over a freakin' YEAR for each season.
Like everyone else, I thought my cable went out right at the end, however it seems it was a deliberate 'fade to black,' that looked as if the cameraman didn't load enough stock into the camera.
So we are left to ponder whether the mysterious dude, who went to the bathroom in the greasy spoon where the Soprano clan decided to meet, was going to come out shooting. I truly thought it was a tip-of-the-hat scene to The Godfather, when Michael goes to the bathroom to find his 'piece' and he comes out and calmly shoots Sterling Hayden right between the eyes, drops the gun and walks out.
And what up with Meadow and the re-parking? So Chase is truly a control freak, as he still wants to control the whole damn thing and leave us wondering forever whether Meadow only views her families massacre, or whether the greasy spoon blows up, or whether life just goes on for Carmella, Tony, AJ and Meadow.
What about the Russian guys that Christopher and Paulie chased, or the whole mistaken identity killing of the Ukrainian guy that looked like Phil?
I don't think this 'no ending' ending is revolutionary or some sign of Chase as an artiste. I think it is a disservice to the loyal fans of the show.
Those of us who have watched from the start are 'Made' into the Soprano clan. When someone disses a 'Made' man (or woman), retribution is an option.
Does anyone have Tony Sirico's (Paulie) number?
Speaking of other sopranos and 'Tonys'....
At least Christine Ebersole and Mary Louise Wilson won Tony Awards for their respective performances in the musical, Grey Gardens. I think Big Edie and Little Edie are looking down and very happy for the wins.
Like everyone else, I thought my cable went out right at the end, however it seems it was a deliberate 'fade to black,' that looked as if the cameraman didn't load enough stock into the camera.
So we are left to ponder whether the mysterious dude, who went to the bathroom in the greasy spoon where the Soprano clan decided to meet, was going to come out shooting. I truly thought it was a tip-of-the-hat scene to The Godfather, when Michael goes to the bathroom to find his 'piece' and he comes out and calmly shoots Sterling Hayden right between the eyes, drops the gun and walks out.
And what up with Meadow and the re-parking? So Chase is truly a control freak, as he still wants to control the whole damn thing and leave us wondering forever whether Meadow only views her families massacre, or whether the greasy spoon blows up, or whether life just goes on for Carmella, Tony, AJ and Meadow.
What about the Russian guys that Christopher and Paulie chased, or the whole mistaken identity killing of the Ukrainian guy that looked like Phil?
I don't think this 'no ending' ending is revolutionary or some sign of Chase as an artiste. I think it is a disservice to the loyal fans of the show.
Those of us who have watched from the start are 'Made' into the Soprano clan. When someone disses a 'Made' man (or woman), retribution is an option.
Does anyone have Tony Sirico's (Paulie) number?
Speaking of other sopranos and 'Tonys'....
At least Christine Ebersole and Mary Louise Wilson won Tony Awards for their respective performances in the musical, Grey Gardens. I think Big Edie and Little Edie are looking down and very happy for the wins.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Much Ado About Rosie...
Since I have been working from home in the past couple of months, I must admit I've gotten addicted to watching the first few minutes of "The View."
Actually, I've always enjoyed the comedy and commentary of Joy Behar, but the rest of the ever revolving Yentas remind me of why so many people believe the stereotype that woman cannot work together without fighting for power, etc. As well, it was a bland show, in my opinion.
Enter Rosie O'Donnell.
Most people either really like her or really loathe her. I really like her. I am not saying I always agree with everything she says, but everything about her is real, period.
Is she sometimes hot headed? Sure. Is she in your face with her bluntness? Yes. But why aren't these things lauded in the press?
What is it about an overweight woman, who speaks her mind, gets her opinion across and sails her own ship that seems to intimidate so many?
Donald Trump speaks his mind, gets his opinion across and sails his own ship. He engages in all kinds of not-so-nice behavior in his work and personal life. But he's worshiped as if every word that he utters is manna from heaven.
Rosie has been pummeled continuously since she had her show. I can recall being on AOL, years ago, and on the Gay and Lesbian boards she would be picked apart, daily, for not coming out of the closet.
Some of the nastiest comments I ever read came from her own "peeps." Many times, the word "big" or "fat" would come before any comment about her. It was awful and so hypocritical for the GLBT community to be demanding that this woman--an entertainer--come out of the closet, just because it was demanded.
I referred to them as "Lesbigay Nazis." Rosie would periodically appear on the boards to confront some of the bullies, who would always back down and try to kiss her ass afterwards. She was having none of it.
Then, she got her hair cut short and the most vile things were said about her, concerning her haircut and her weight. It's not just one time. It's all the time.
I'm not sure I could withstand what she's been able to withstand, without wanting to cry at times. What it says, to me, is that it's acceptable to speak your mind, have a strong personality and strong beliefs, be tough in business, as long as you are a skinny blond with big tits, or if you are male.
Did you ever see a fat chick on "The Apprentice?" Fat men? Sure. There were several chubby and sort of fat guys on "The Apprentice," but not one woman that was even slightly overweight.
That makes Rosie's feud with Donald Trump all the more interesting. I think it's spot on and hilarious that Rosie revealed the hypocrisy of Trump. Worse was that I expected Trump to go after her with epithets about her weight and lesbianism, etc.
It's so typical. Hey, I'm not saying that Rosie didn't really step in it by her comments about Trump, but it would be interesting if it had been Elizabeth Hasselbeck who made the comments about Trump. Somehow I don't see Trump referring to her as a "skinny bitch" or what not.
Rosie has single-handedly taken a bland and banal show and turned it into something thought provoking, just by being herself. Like I said, I've always loved Joy, but Joy was sometimes muted out. With Rosie, she's shown her fire and passion for her political beliefs and both women have done a good job of letting the public know the other side of the "Iraq" situation.
Both have done what mainstream news outlets should be doing.
But here's the best part of Rosie's time on "The View":
Her interactions with Elizabeth Hasselbeck.
What's interesting is the dynamic there. Rosie has no problem speaking her mind, with great conviction, and most of her comments are spot on. She's a middle class girl from Long Island, for God's sake!! She's going to speak her mind, no matter if you like it or not.
What I notice with Elizabeth is her youth and her attempts to come across as relevant and informed. Her body language shows someone that is easily intimidated, and someone who feels muted by the other ladies on the show. I would probably feel the same way with such strong personalities as Rosie and Joy.
Watching her reminds me of how I was when I was around 18 or 19. I parroted the views of my parents, and I dare say that I actually voted for Ronald Reagan when I voted for the first time in my life.
Every time Lizzie tries to "stand up" and voice the Conservative "View," she falls flat because instead of reading the whole book on any political topic she's discussing, she reads the "Cliffs Notes," given to her by Fox News, Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, mommy and daddy, hubby, or whomever.
It's so apparent that she is spewing rhetoric, period. And she just starts talking louder, and with this false sense of bravado, when she gets stuck by a pointed question from Long Island Rosie.
Frankly, whether I agreed with her viewpoint or not, I think I'd have to be restrained so I wouldn't just go over and start screaming "STUPID ROBOT" over and over again, until she cried. It would not take very long, either. She's that irritating.
See, if you want to throw someone in with a conservative viewpoint, to match Rosie, then call Ann Coulter. Now, that would be something to watch, because Coulter is no dummy. I can't stand her views, but she is the total opposite of Rosie, period, and she is very well informed.
The latest row with Lizzie and Rosie was so surreal. Not on Rosie's part, but on Lizzie's part. For once, Rosie was trying NOT to get into the conversation that Joy brought up. Joy was right on for bringing up all of President Dumbass' impeachable exploits, and if you care to watch the video recap of the fight, Lizzie starts getting red in the face, before Joy even finishes the list.
Once it got to the level of screaming between Lizzie and Rosie, Lizzie had no idea what in the world she was saying. Rosie's face says it all, as she looked stunned and bewildered.
Both of them totally missed Joy's point. More print space and on-air time are given to Rosie and her supposed feuds and fights, than many of the issues Joy and Rosie bring up on the show.
I'm giving it space here on my blog, but it's because culturally and socially I think the whole Rosie phenomenon is symbolic right now. This administration would rather have all eyes on Rosie and her fights with Elizabeth, than to have the media truly reporting on what is going on in Iraq, Washington, etc.
Rosie knows it too, but I could tell that she just could not allow Lizzie to keep spewing inane comments. It would be hard for me not to just get into Lizzie's face, and invade her personal space, just to watch her face turn red.
It would be different if she truly had a grasp on the issues and could coherently debate her view. She doesn't. It's evident.
Rosie NEVER said or even insinuated that she thinks our troops are terrorists. It NEVER happened, period.
I, for one, am going to miss Rosie and I am sure I will not watch The View that much after she's gone.
Like I said, I don't always agree with Rosie, but I will tell you this: I'd rather have her in my corner, as a friend, any day, over Lizzie. Rosie is the kind of person who, once you are her friend, she takes it seriously. I get that. I'm sure she's not the easiest person to get along with, at times, but aren't we all?
I recall a song that really reminds me of Elizabeth, and I'm going to write to Rosie and tell her to listen to it over and over, until her time is up on The View.
Actually, it sort of describes George Bush and politics in general.
Thank you, Rosie, for speaking up and out about the troops, 9/11, and for putting yourself out there, period.
Rock On!
Actually, I've always enjoyed the comedy and commentary of Joy Behar, but the rest of the ever revolving Yentas remind me of why so many people believe the stereotype that woman cannot work together without fighting for power, etc. As well, it was a bland show, in my opinion.
Enter Rosie O'Donnell.
Most people either really like her or really loathe her. I really like her. I am not saying I always agree with everything she says, but everything about her is real, period.
Is she sometimes hot headed? Sure. Is she in your face with her bluntness? Yes. But why aren't these things lauded in the press?
What is it about an overweight woman, who speaks her mind, gets her opinion across and sails her own ship that seems to intimidate so many?
Donald Trump speaks his mind, gets his opinion across and sails his own ship. He engages in all kinds of not-so-nice behavior in his work and personal life. But he's worshiped as if every word that he utters is manna from heaven.
Rosie has been pummeled continuously since she had her show. I can recall being on AOL, years ago, and on the Gay and Lesbian boards she would be picked apart, daily, for not coming out of the closet.
Some of the nastiest comments I ever read came from her own "peeps." Many times, the word "big" or "fat" would come before any comment about her. It was awful and so hypocritical for the GLBT community to be demanding that this woman--an entertainer--come out of the closet, just because it was demanded.
I referred to them as "Lesbigay Nazis." Rosie would periodically appear on the boards to confront some of the bullies, who would always back down and try to kiss her ass afterwards. She was having none of it.
Then, she got her hair cut short and the most vile things were said about her, concerning her haircut and her weight. It's not just one time. It's all the time.
I'm not sure I could withstand what she's been able to withstand, without wanting to cry at times. What it says, to me, is that it's acceptable to speak your mind, have a strong personality and strong beliefs, be tough in business, as long as you are a skinny blond with big tits, or if you are male.
Did you ever see a fat chick on "The Apprentice?" Fat men? Sure. There were several chubby and sort of fat guys on "The Apprentice," but not one woman that was even slightly overweight.
That makes Rosie's feud with Donald Trump all the more interesting. I think it's spot on and hilarious that Rosie revealed the hypocrisy of Trump. Worse was that I expected Trump to go after her with epithets about her weight and lesbianism, etc.
It's so typical. Hey, I'm not saying that Rosie didn't really step in it by her comments about Trump, but it would be interesting if it had been Elizabeth Hasselbeck who made the comments about Trump. Somehow I don't see Trump referring to her as a "skinny bitch" or what not.
Rosie has single-handedly taken a bland and banal show and turned it into something thought provoking, just by being herself. Like I said, I've always loved Joy, but Joy was sometimes muted out. With Rosie, she's shown her fire and passion for her political beliefs and both women have done a good job of letting the public know the other side of the "Iraq" situation.
Both have done what mainstream news outlets should be doing.
But here's the best part of Rosie's time on "The View":
Her interactions with Elizabeth Hasselbeck.
What's interesting is the dynamic there. Rosie has no problem speaking her mind, with great conviction, and most of her comments are spot on. She's a middle class girl from Long Island, for God's sake!! She's going to speak her mind, no matter if you like it or not.
What I notice with Elizabeth is her youth and her attempts to come across as relevant and informed. Her body language shows someone that is easily intimidated, and someone who feels muted by the other ladies on the show. I would probably feel the same way with such strong personalities as Rosie and Joy.
Watching her reminds me of how I was when I was around 18 or 19. I parroted the views of my parents, and I dare say that I actually voted for Ronald Reagan when I voted for the first time in my life.
Every time Lizzie tries to "stand up" and voice the Conservative "View," she falls flat because instead of reading the whole book on any political topic she's discussing, she reads the "Cliffs Notes," given to her by Fox News, Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, mommy and daddy, hubby, or whomever.
It's so apparent that she is spewing rhetoric, period. And she just starts talking louder, and with this false sense of bravado, when she gets stuck by a pointed question from Long Island Rosie.
Frankly, whether I agreed with her viewpoint or not, I think I'd have to be restrained so I wouldn't just go over and start screaming "STUPID ROBOT" over and over again, until she cried. It would not take very long, either. She's that irritating.
See, if you want to throw someone in with a conservative viewpoint, to match Rosie, then call Ann Coulter. Now, that would be something to watch, because Coulter is no dummy. I can't stand her views, but she is the total opposite of Rosie, period, and she is very well informed.
The latest row with Lizzie and Rosie was so surreal. Not on Rosie's part, but on Lizzie's part. For once, Rosie was trying NOT to get into the conversation that Joy brought up. Joy was right on for bringing up all of President Dumbass' impeachable exploits, and if you care to watch the video recap of the fight, Lizzie starts getting red in the face, before Joy even finishes the list.
Once it got to the level of screaming between Lizzie and Rosie, Lizzie had no idea what in the world she was saying. Rosie's face says it all, as she looked stunned and bewildered.
Both of them totally missed Joy's point. More print space and on-air time are given to Rosie and her supposed feuds and fights, than many of the issues Joy and Rosie bring up on the show.
I'm giving it space here on my blog, but it's because culturally and socially I think the whole Rosie phenomenon is symbolic right now. This administration would rather have all eyes on Rosie and her fights with Elizabeth, than to have the media truly reporting on what is going on in Iraq, Washington, etc.
Rosie knows it too, but I could tell that she just could not allow Lizzie to keep spewing inane comments. It would be hard for me not to just get into Lizzie's face, and invade her personal space, just to watch her face turn red.
It would be different if she truly had a grasp on the issues and could coherently debate her view. She doesn't. It's evident.
Rosie NEVER said or even insinuated that she thinks our troops are terrorists. It NEVER happened, period.
I, for one, am going to miss Rosie and I am sure I will not watch The View that much after she's gone.
Like I said, I don't always agree with Rosie, but I will tell you this: I'd rather have her in my corner, as a friend, any day, over Lizzie. Rosie is the kind of person who, once you are her friend, she takes it seriously. I get that. I'm sure she's not the easiest person to get along with, at times, but aren't we all?
I recall a song that really reminds me of Elizabeth, and I'm going to write to Rosie and tell her to listen to it over and over, until her time is up on The View.
Actually, it sort of describes George Bush and politics in general.
You Don't Know Lyrics
(Cyndi Lauper, Jan Pulsford)
You don't know where you belong
You should be more careful
As you follow blindly along ...
You just need to belong somehow.
Relying on rhetoric ...
Not well versed on topics ...
Any idea what you're talking about ?
Revisions of history
Fair well in some company
But don't shove that bullshit down my throat
You don't know where you belong ...
You should be more careful
As you follow blindly along ...
To find something to swear to ...
Till you don't know what's right from wrong
You just need to belong somehow.
Left suppresses right
Right suppresses left
So what's the left, and what's right ?
You're told what to wear,
You're told what to like
I'd be nice if you'd think for yourself sometime,
But you don't.
Now you don't know where you belong ...
You should be more careful
As you follow blindly along ...
Mix sheer hypocrisy with mediocrity
You'll play it safe every time -
So life turns up empty
And you're so dissatisfied
Who are you blaming this time ?
Don't you know ?
Thank you, Rosie, for speaking up and out about the troops, 9/11, and for putting yourself out there, period.
Rock On!
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Anyway
Hello all. Is anyone still bothering to read my blog? It's been quite a while, and, as usual, there have been so many things going on in my life, that I haven't had the courage or inclination to spill my guts here for all to see.
But maybe it's time for a little spillage, eh?
For the first time since 1994, I started having really awful anxiety/panic attacks. I really do not know why, except for the fact that I started working on site again--something I never wanted to do again, but beggars cannot be choosers.
You would think at my age that I would stop making decisions based on emotion, and that I would listen to what my gut told me about certain situations. However, when one hasn't had a new client in over a year, and the money starts to dwindle, a certain feast or famine mentality ensues.
Bluntly, I accepted a job that did not meet my salary expectations and that I had real reservations about, because I was panicking about money.
When I went on the interview, the woman I would be working for seemed very pleasant, however she and the HR person seemed very unprofessional during the interview. Other interviewees were brought up, and denigrating comments were made about them, and it looked like I would be the oldest person working there. Most are/were in their 20's. What really bugs me, although it happens quite a bit these days, is that I was immediately asked what my salary expectations were for this position.
I don't like playing my hand that early in an interview.
Needless to say, I was iffy after I left the interview. As well, I was given an application to fill out and the company wanted me to go back over eight years or more!! I have worked, primarily, as a contractor for the last 10 years, so to make me have to go back that long and see if any of my contacts/references were still around was a lot of work.
Of course, I was asked to list my salary at each job, which is something I really abhor because it's usually asked in order to low ball on salary negotiations and I just see no reason for having to cough that information up. But I dutifully did it, reservations and all.
I was offered the job, and I took it without any salary negotiation because, well, I needed the job. From the first day, I started to get that tight feeling in my chest but I attributed it to first day jitters, etc.
As the days progressed, nothing got better. This is a very modern and 'open' environment, so you have absolutely no privacy whatsoever. Any and everyone can listen to your phone conversations, or any of your conversations in general. What bothered me more was that I was given a 'test' on my first day there. No joke. It was some hour long test. It just sort of bugged me. I mean, I figured I passed the 'test' by the fact that I was hired for the position, which was nothing like I was told it would be in the interview.
Basically, what I thought was a Senior Research position, turned out to be nothing more than a glorified telemarketer. Nothing wrong with that position, but it's not what I signed on for at all. I was asked to tell 'white lies' concerning what the company did, when I called potential contacts and clients and asked for their job title, email address, etc. I didn't feel comfortable about that at all, nor did I feel comfortable being watched and listened to, when I spoke over the phone. I felt like I was in high school again.
Add to the mix, it was such an 'open' environment, that employees were allowed to bring their pets to work. I love animals, especially dogs, but I don't want to watch or hear a Golden Retriever run through the office, barking its lungs out, as I am trying to get information from a client that really doesn't want to give it up and has no real idea why I am asking he/she for that information.
I was starting to really loathe getting up in the morning, and I started to have that 'fight or flight' feeling when I went to work. Don't get me wrong; the people there seemed nice enough, but it just seemed very unprofessional to me. The lack of privacy was really hard for me, coming from working alone, independently, from my home.
Then came "Miss Awe-SUMM"...
She was the manager over the 'confirmation callers,' which I wasn't a part of, but they sat right next to me.
It's obvious that she went to some management empowerment retreat, or something, because she constantly praised the confirmation callers, even if they just showed up for work. Everything was "Awe-SUMM," as she declared, sounding like Tori Spelling from a 90210 repeat, and she would repeat that lovely phrase ad nauseam along with "You ROCK!!!"
Now, hearing that oft used euphemism once or twice is tolerable--taking anti nausea medication helps, too--but having to hear it every single day, up to 15-25 times per day is enough to drive Dr. Spock to beat a child.
The cacophony of barking dogs, "Miss Awe-SUMMM," along with having SIRIUS Satellite Music piped in, usually on the Rap or Funk channels just added to the ambiance.
It went something like this:
dogs barking
"Awe-SUMM....YOU ROCK"
"F*&K YOU MUTHA F*&KER"
I kid you not.
I will spare you the "Afterschool Special" dramatics that resulted in my panic attack, but needless to say, I could not take it anymore and I just wigged out. I just got up, sent an email to my boss, and walked out.
I felt like I had to walk out. I felt compelled, as if something really bad was going to happen, if I didn't get out of there. I felt like I was under attack in some way. This was a feeling I had not had since 1994, but it was back and worse than it had been, previously.
It felt like I was going crazy. Maybe I was. I couldn't breathe, my back was tight, and I have no idea how I drove home.
After I got home, I felt miserable. I felt like I had let my partner down, myself down, and that I was just nuts.
Since then, I have realized that this, indeed, was a huge panic/anxiety attack and that there are many folks who suffer with this malady. All I can tell you is that it really, well, is not "Awe-SUMM" at all.
I have no idea why I am spilling my guts about this here, but maybe it's cathartic. I have been really embarrassed to even discuss the fact that I deal with anxiety issues, coupled with depression at times, and I was embarrassed that I left that job because of anxiety.
It wasn't the perfect job. I didn't like it, but it was a job. In many ways, I guess it wasn't a bad decision, because soon after, Susan's grandmother died and she needed me to go with her to the funeral. We didn't make it to the funeral, as we got snowed in at Winchester, VA, but she needed me to be there for her.
As well, one of our cats--Ollie--had a cancerous tumor that was removed, today, and he will need someone here during the day. I guess I am learning that I worked for so long from home that I prefer working at home, and I just have to find a way to get more clients, so I can pay my bills.
This Easter was special to me, also, as I felt the love of Jesus upon me, and I realized that Jesus died on that cross for all of my pain and all of my sins. He already paid the price for any and everything I ever do in this life. As well, His promise is steadfast, all we have to do is accept it and not worry. It's so simple, yet it is so hard at times to do that.
My anxiety gets the best of me.
I worry that I will not find new clients.
I worry that I will have to file for bankruptcy.
I worry that my 'stuff' will push my partner away.
I worry that I'm not good enough to worship God.
I worry that I'll never reach my dreams.
I worry that those that constantly tell me that I will go to hell for being gay are actually right.
I worry about my mother, who is losing her memory.
I worry about my friends.
I worry about the troops in Iraq.
I worry about the state of religion and the church in this country.
I worry about our government.
I worry about global warming.
I worry about what kind of world will this be when my nieces and nephews grow up.
Yet, Christ paid the ultimate price, so I would no longer have to worry. I just have to have faith, period.
So, I try to have faith that I will overcome this setback and that I will continue on. With a little help from Lexapro, the anxiety is lessening, but I'm still dealing with chronic pain issues and other health issues.
If anyone reading is going through the same thing, maybe you won't feel so alone.
I'm big on singers and songwriters, and Martina McBride is a favorite. She's releasing a new song today, entitled "Anyway." After I heard the song, I was in tears. It's exactly what I needed to hear, and I think all of us need to hear it.
Anyway
Martina McBride/Brad Warren/Brett Warren (BMI)
You can spend your whole life buildin'
Somethin' from nothin'
One storm can come and blow it all away
Build it anyway
You can chase a dream
That seems so out of reach
And you know it might not ever come your way
Dream it anyway
(Chorus)
God is great, but sometimes life ain't good
When I pray it doesn't always turn out like I think it should
But I do it anyway
I do it anyway
This world's gone crazy and it's hard to believe
That tomorrow will be better than today
Believe it anyway
You can love someone with all your heart
For all the right reasons
And in a moment they can choose to walk away
Love 'em anyway
(Repeat Chorus)
You can pour your soul out singin'
A song you believe in
That tomorrow they'll forget you ever sang
Sing it anyway
Yeah sing it anyway
I sing
I dream
I love anyway
© 2006 Delemmava Music Publishing (BMI) © 2006 Bucky and Clyde Music adm by L’ile Des Auteurs Music / L’ile Des Auteurs Music (BMI). All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission.
But maybe it's time for a little spillage, eh?
For the first time since 1994, I started having really awful anxiety/panic attacks. I really do not know why, except for the fact that I started working on site again--something I never wanted to do again, but beggars cannot be choosers.
You would think at my age that I would stop making decisions based on emotion, and that I would listen to what my gut told me about certain situations. However, when one hasn't had a new client in over a year, and the money starts to dwindle, a certain feast or famine mentality ensues.
Bluntly, I accepted a job that did not meet my salary expectations and that I had real reservations about, because I was panicking about money.
When I went on the interview, the woman I would be working for seemed very pleasant, however she and the HR person seemed very unprofessional during the interview. Other interviewees were brought up, and denigrating comments were made about them, and it looked like I would be the oldest person working there. Most are/were in their 20's. What really bugs me, although it happens quite a bit these days, is that I was immediately asked what my salary expectations were for this position.
I don't like playing my hand that early in an interview.
Needless to say, I was iffy after I left the interview. As well, I was given an application to fill out and the company wanted me to go back over eight years or more!! I have worked, primarily, as a contractor for the last 10 years, so to make me have to go back that long and see if any of my contacts/references were still around was a lot of work.
Of course, I was asked to list my salary at each job, which is something I really abhor because it's usually asked in order to low ball on salary negotiations and I just see no reason for having to cough that information up. But I dutifully did it, reservations and all.
I was offered the job, and I took it without any salary negotiation because, well, I needed the job. From the first day, I started to get that tight feeling in my chest but I attributed it to first day jitters, etc.
As the days progressed, nothing got better. This is a very modern and 'open' environment, so you have absolutely no privacy whatsoever. Any and everyone can listen to your phone conversations, or any of your conversations in general. What bothered me more was that I was given a 'test' on my first day there. No joke. It was some hour long test. It just sort of bugged me. I mean, I figured I passed the 'test' by the fact that I was hired for the position, which was nothing like I was told it would be in the interview.
Basically, what I thought was a Senior Research position, turned out to be nothing more than a glorified telemarketer. Nothing wrong with that position, but it's not what I signed on for at all. I was asked to tell 'white lies' concerning what the company did, when I called potential contacts and clients and asked for their job title, email address, etc. I didn't feel comfortable about that at all, nor did I feel comfortable being watched and listened to, when I spoke over the phone. I felt like I was in high school again.
Add to the mix, it was such an 'open' environment, that employees were allowed to bring their pets to work. I love animals, especially dogs, but I don't want to watch or hear a Golden Retriever run through the office, barking its lungs out, as I am trying to get information from a client that really doesn't want to give it up and has no real idea why I am asking he/she for that information.
I was starting to really loathe getting up in the morning, and I started to have that 'fight or flight' feeling when I went to work. Don't get me wrong; the people there seemed nice enough, but it just seemed very unprofessional to me. The lack of privacy was really hard for me, coming from working alone, independently, from my home.
Then came "Miss Awe-SUMM"...
She was the manager over the 'confirmation callers,' which I wasn't a part of, but they sat right next to me.
It's obvious that she went to some management empowerment retreat, or something, because she constantly praised the confirmation callers, even if they just showed up for work. Everything was "Awe-SUMM," as she declared, sounding like Tori Spelling from a 90210 repeat, and she would repeat that lovely phrase ad nauseam along with "You ROCK!!!"
Now, hearing that oft used euphemism once or twice is tolerable--taking anti nausea medication helps, too--but having to hear it every single day, up to 15-25 times per day is enough to drive Dr. Spock to beat a child.
The cacophony of barking dogs, "Miss Awe-SUMMM," along with having SIRIUS Satellite Music piped in, usually on the Rap or Funk channels just added to the ambiance.
It went something like this:
dogs barking
"Awe-SUMM....YOU ROCK"
"F*&K YOU MUTHA F*&KER"
I kid you not.
I will spare you the "Afterschool Special" dramatics that resulted in my panic attack, but needless to say, I could not take it anymore and I just wigged out. I just got up, sent an email to my boss, and walked out.
I felt like I had to walk out. I felt compelled, as if something really bad was going to happen, if I didn't get out of there. I felt like I was under attack in some way. This was a feeling I had not had since 1994, but it was back and worse than it had been, previously.
It felt like I was going crazy. Maybe I was. I couldn't breathe, my back was tight, and I have no idea how I drove home.
After I got home, I felt miserable. I felt like I had let my partner down, myself down, and that I was just nuts.
Since then, I have realized that this, indeed, was a huge panic/anxiety attack and that there are many folks who suffer with this malady. All I can tell you is that it really, well, is not "Awe-SUMM" at all.
I have no idea why I am spilling my guts about this here, but maybe it's cathartic. I have been really embarrassed to even discuss the fact that I deal with anxiety issues, coupled with depression at times, and I was embarrassed that I left that job because of anxiety.
It wasn't the perfect job. I didn't like it, but it was a job. In many ways, I guess it wasn't a bad decision, because soon after, Susan's grandmother died and she needed me to go with her to the funeral. We didn't make it to the funeral, as we got snowed in at Winchester, VA, but she needed me to be there for her.
As well, one of our cats--Ollie--had a cancerous tumor that was removed, today, and he will need someone here during the day. I guess I am learning that I worked for so long from home that I prefer working at home, and I just have to find a way to get more clients, so I can pay my bills.
This Easter was special to me, also, as I felt the love of Jesus upon me, and I realized that Jesus died on that cross for all of my pain and all of my sins. He already paid the price for any and everything I ever do in this life. As well, His promise is steadfast, all we have to do is accept it and not worry. It's so simple, yet it is so hard at times to do that.
My anxiety gets the best of me.
I worry that I will not find new clients.
I worry that I will have to file for bankruptcy.
I worry that my 'stuff' will push my partner away.
I worry that I'm not good enough to worship God.
I worry that I'll never reach my dreams.
I worry that those that constantly tell me that I will go to hell for being gay are actually right.
I worry about my mother, who is losing her memory.
I worry about my friends.
I worry about the troops in Iraq.
I worry about the state of religion and the church in this country.
I worry about our government.
I worry about global warming.
I worry about what kind of world will this be when my nieces and nephews grow up.
Yet, Christ paid the ultimate price, so I would no longer have to worry. I just have to have faith, period.
So, I try to have faith that I will overcome this setback and that I will continue on. With a little help from Lexapro, the anxiety is lessening, but I'm still dealing with chronic pain issues and other health issues.
If anyone reading is going through the same thing, maybe you won't feel so alone.
I'm big on singers and songwriters, and Martina McBride is a favorite. She's releasing a new song today, entitled "Anyway." After I heard the song, I was in tears. It's exactly what I needed to hear, and I think all of us need to hear it.
Anyway
Martina McBride/Brad Warren/Brett Warren (BMI)
You can spend your whole life buildin'
Somethin' from nothin'
One storm can come and blow it all away
Build it anyway
You can chase a dream
That seems so out of reach
And you know it might not ever come your way
Dream it anyway
(Chorus)
God is great, but sometimes life ain't good
When I pray it doesn't always turn out like I think it should
But I do it anyway
I do it anyway
This world's gone crazy and it's hard to believe
That tomorrow will be better than today
Believe it anyway
You can love someone with all your heart
For all the right reasons
And in a moment they can choose to walk away
Love 'em anyway
(Repeat Chorus)
You can pour your soul out singin'
A song you believe in
That tomorrow they'll forget you ever sang
Sing it anyway
Yeah sing it anyway
I sing
I dream
I love anyway
© 2006 Delemmava Music Publishing (BMI) © 2006 Bucky and Clyde Music adm by L’ile Des Auteurs Music / L’ile Des Auteurs Music (BMI). All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
"The Doodle-Ooh-Doo-Doo-Kid" Dies at 73
While I was in NYC, a real country legend passed away. I didn't bother to watch television, or read much in NY, and most of what jammed the airwaves and print was the death of James Brown.
James Brown deserves a post, or several posts, but I want to spotlight a very underrated country performer, who epitomized the quintessential country troubadour of the 1960's. More reserved in dress than Porter Wagoner, he had the pompadour, the slick clothes and the persona of a 'Dean Martin' of the Grand Ole' Opry set.
Del Reeves.
Known as the 'king of twang,' Reeves was a really great crooner, wrote some great songs, and seemed to be having a helluva good time doing it.
He got his title of "The Doodle-Ooh-Doo-Doo Kid" based on one his first and more popular novelty songs called, "The Girl on the Billboard," It's a vocal intro--and sometimes a coda--that he used in that song and many others.
Popular with truckers, he carved a popular niche with songs directed to those guys riding the highways, with nothing but the radio--usually country music radio--as a companion. I remember him from watching his show, "Del Reeves' Country Carnival."
From my dysfunctional memories, it was sandwiched somewhere between Hee Haw and Porter and Dolly.
One of his biggest hits was a trucker song, "Lookin' 'at the World through the Windshield." But I actually like "This Must be the Bottom," as I can really relate at times, and "Nothing to Write Home About." These are classic country songs, and much better than the CRAP that passes for 'country music' these days.
I only knew a little bit about him, but I love his singing. However, I found out that he retired from recording and began producing others. He was responsible for finding and signing Billy Ray Cyrus, etc. in his later years. I'm not sure, really, if that was a good thing for the recording public or not, however the guy knew a hit when he heard one.
Oddly, he died on the same day that Hank Williams, Sr. died and Townes Van Zandt. To me, that says quite a bit.
Take a look at what I found on YouTube!!! Both, "This Must be the Bottom" and "Nothing to Write Home About." Check out his Dean Martin-esque tone and manner in "Nothing to Write Home About," and, check out the clothes!
A member of the Grand Ole' Opry since 1966, he will be missed.
James Brown deserves a post, or several posts, but I want to spotlight a very underrated country performer, who epitomized the quintessential country troubadour of the 1960's. More reserved in dress than Porter Wagoner, he had the pompadour, the slick clothes and the persona of a 'Dean Martin' of the Grand Ole' Opry set.
Del Reeves.
Known as the 'king of twang,' Reeves was a really great crooner, wrote some great songs, and seemed to be having a helluva good time doing it.
He got his title of "The Doodle-Ooh-Doo-Doo Kid" based on one his first and more popular novelty songs called, "The Girl on the Billboard," It's a vocal intro--and sometimes a coda--that he used in that song and many others.
Popular with truckers, he carved a popular niche with songs directed to those guys riding the highways, with nothing but the radio--usually country music radio--as a companion. I remember him from watching his show, "Del Reeves' Country Carnival."
From my dysfunctional memories, it was sandwiched somewhere between Hee Haw and Porter and Dolly.
One of his biggest hits was a trucker song, "Lookin' 'at the World through the Windshield." But I actually like "This Must be the Bottom," as I can really relate at times, and "Nothing to Write Home About." These are classic country songs, and much better than the CRAP that passes for 'country music' these days.
I only knew a little bit about him, but I love his singing. However, I found out that he retired from recording and began producing others. He was responsible for finding and signing Billy Ray Cyrus, etc. in his later years. I'm not sure, really, if that was a good thing for the recording public or not, however the guy knew a hit when he heard one.
Oddly, he died on the same day that Hank Williams, Sr. died and Townes Van Zandt. To me, that says quite a bit.
Take a look at what I found on YouTube!!! Both, "This Must be the Bottom" and "Nothing to Write Home About." Check out his Dean Martin-esque tone and manner in "Nothing to Write Home About," and, check out the clothes!
A member of the Grand Ole' Opry since 1966, he will be missed.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
New York City, Grey Gardens and Die Zauberflöte
I've been feeding my obsessive-compulsive need to figure out why some people are so bent on hating others, for the sake of hating out of mutual bias and fear, so I apologize for not updating this blog with anything other than trying to 'out-bully' bullies. I will write more on that, and a further explanation concerning my Mensa Genius post, etc. However, I have been remiss in not reporting about my trip to New York City.
For those who know me personally, you know I've always wanted to see NYC. Well, I finally made it.
This year, Susan and I saved our pennies and headed for NYC over the holidays. It was spectacular for me, for many reasons.
Even the cab ride from Penn Station out to Astoria was an E-ticket ride!! I closed my eyes a few times, as our driver zipped through the streets of Manhattan over the Queensborough Bridge. There is no way I could drive through Manhattan.
I was like a proverbial kid in a candy store, once we got settled in at Susan's cousin's apartment in Astoria, Queens.
Astoria is primarily Greek, however after 9/11 many Manhattan-ites lost their jobs and needed to find cheaper rents. Now, the neighborhoods have an eclectic mix of the old world and new, and both seem to live together nicely with each other.
There are no words to describe the smells in this little neighborhood just above Ditmars--the last stop on the N Train going Uptown and to the Bronx. The spices from the Gyro Lamb and Souvlaki waft through the air, from family owned 'joints' where everybody really does know your name.
I had the best Gyro platter at the family run Greek diner right across from the apartment, on our arrival. Matter of fact, I didn't have one bad meal during our entire stay. Frankie's Pizza in Astoria: Yo! Frankie! It was the BEST; Red Circle Thai Restaurant was superb. Nichellos in Manhattan, for Northern Italian cuisine at its finest--the meals were so light, yet so delicious.
But the best, for me, was Broadway Joe's Steakhouse. Not only did I have one of the best petite Filet Mignon in my life (yes, it was like 'buttah'), but I was sitting in a restaurant that's been seen in several motion pictures. Shirley Maclaine sashayed down the front stairs, in the opening of the film version of "Sweet Charity," and several television dramas and films have shot interiors in the restaurant. The food was out of this world.
When those same double doors let me off at 42nd Street, and I walked from the Subway platform out into the open air, I felt like I was at home. I cannot describe it, but I felt a creative energy that I have never felt anywhere else. Everyone seems to have the same energy, as they briskly walk by, but I had the feeling that only those living on this island know its 'secret' and I was obliged to try and find it for myself.
I was in awe over the Christmas windows at Macys, as I have heard about them but I've never seen them in person.
Don't even get me started on Time Square. The buildings bathed in Neon were definitely a conduit for the synergy that seemed to emanate down every street.
No doubt, I took the touristy pictures at Times Square, Herald Square, 42nd Street, Broadway, but I also visited a building that has a lot of meaning for me: The Brill Building.
Knowing that most of Pop music during the late 50's through the 1960's originated within the offices of that building was exciting to me, as I lined up to take my shot of its facade. We're talking Carole King, Gerry Goffin, Phil Spector producing the Ronnettes, etc., Ellie Greenwich/Jeff Barry, Barry Mann/Cynthia Weil, Neil Diamond, Neil Sedaka, Burt Bacharach/ Hal David, Doc Pomus/Mort Shuman, etc. It's an important building for anyone interested in the history of popular music. The building housed several musical publishing companies, as well.
Architectually speaking, I was also in heaven. The Public Library was magnificent inside and out. What a truly beautiful place to study, research, etc.
Grand Central Station was another gem, and I wish we had taken the time to go on a guided tour, but just watching the people go by and snapping a few good pictures sufficed.
So much to say about the musical, Grey Gardens. For anyone that remembers the Maysales Brothers' documentary on Jackie Kennedy's eccentric aunt and first cousin, Edith 'Big Edie' Bouvier Beale and "Little Edie," her daughter, then you know that mother and daughter co-dependently existed, and let their family home in New York go to ruin.
I wanted to see this musical, out of a curiosity concerning just how they were going to take that documentary and forge a musical from it.
It was brilliant.
The first act has actress Christine Ebersole playing the role of Big Edie during their heyday in the 1940s. Second act has Christine playing the role of Little Edie and Mary Louise Wilson as the aged Big Edie.
The second act will blow you away, and both Ebersole and Wilson are a perfect team. We met Ms. Ebersole after the show and she was such a delight.
If you get to NYC anytime soon, make sure you see this musical. Ebersole should be nominated and win the Tony this year.
http://www.greygardensthemusical.com/
But I'd have to say the peace de resistance was seeing Julie Taymor's production of Die Zauberflöte at The Met/Lincoln Center.
Papageno is one of my favorite opera characters, and I had heard a version of this with Maria Callas as the Queen several years ago, but nothing prepared me for the brilliance of this staged version.
One is either a huge Taymor fan or one isn't. I wasn't sure how she was going to put her stamp on Mozart, and I wondered how the whole 'puppet' thing would work, without seeming like some sort of bad parody of Taymor's other work, but it was really spectacular.
Once you've heard someone of Callas' calibre sing the Queen of the Night F note aria , it's hard to find anyone who matches that pitch. But the diva belting it out, this time--Cornelia Goetz--came pretty close. The sets were gorgeous and fit the Masonic theme quite well.
Take a look for yourselves:
PBS is showing Die Zauberflöte tonight, January 24, so check it out. You will not be sorry. I am glad we got to see it live!
Oh, so much more to discuss about New York City! I'll save it for Part II.
For those who know me personally, you know I've always wanted to see NYC. Well, I finally made it.
This year, Susan and I saved our pennies and headed for NYC over the holidays. It was spectacular for me, for many reasons.
Even the cab ride from Penn Station out to Astoria was an E-ticket ride!! I closed my eyes a few times, as our driver zipped through the streets of Manhattan over the Queensborough Bridge. There is no way I could drive through Manhattan.
I was like a proverbial kid in a candy store, once we got settled in at Susan's cousin's apartment in Astoria, Queens.
Astoria is primarily Greek, however after 9/11 many Manhattan-ites lost their jobs and needed to find cheaper rents. Now, the neighborhoods have an eclectic mix of the old world and new, and both seem to live together nicely with each other.
There are no words to describe the smells in this little neighborhood just above Ditmars--the last stop on the N Train going Uptown and to the Bronx. The spices from the Gyro Lamb and Souvlaki waft through the air, from family owned 'joints' where everybody really does know your name.
I had the best Gyro platter at the family run Greek diner right across from the apartment, on our arrival. Matter of fact, I didn't have one bad meal during our entire stay. Frankie's Pizza in Astoria: Yo! Frankie! It was the BEST; Red Circle Thai Restaurant was superb. Nichellos in Manhattan, for Northern Italian cuisine at its finest--the meals were so light, yet so delicious.
But the best, for me, was Broadway Joe's Steakhouse. Not only did I have one of the best petite Filet Mignon in my life (yes, it was like 'buttah'), but I was sitting in a restaurant that's been seen in several motion pictures. Shirley Maclaine sashayed down the front stairs, in the opening of the film version of "Sweet Charity," and several television dramas and films have shot interiors in the restaurant. The food was out of this world.
When those same double doors let me off at 42nd Street, and I walked from the Subway platform out into the open air, I felt like I was at home. I cannot describe it, but I felt a creative energy that I have never felt anywhere else. Everyone seems to have the same energy, as they briskly walk by, but I had the feeling that only those living on this island know its 'secret' and I was obliged to try and find it for myself.
I was in awe over the Christmas windows at Macys, as I have heard about them but I've never seen them in person.
Don't even get me started on Time Square. The buildings bathed in Neon were definitely a conduit for the synergy that seemed to emanate down every street.
No doubt, I took the touristy pictures at Times Square, Herald Square, 42nd Street, Broadway, but I also visited a building that has a lot of meaning for me: The Brill Building.
Knowing that most of Pop music during the late 50's through the 1960's originated within the offices of that building was exciting to me, as I lined up to take my shot of its facade. We're talking Carole King, Gerry Goffin, Phil Spector producing the Ronnettes, etc., Ellie Greenwich/Jeff Barry, Barry Mann/Cynthia Weil, Neil Diamond, Neil Sedaka, Burt Bacharach/ Hal David, Doc Pomus/Mort Shuman, etc. It's an important building for anyone interested in the history of popular music. The building housed several musical publishing companies, as well.
Architectually speaking, I was also in heaven. The Public Library was magnificent inside and out. What a truly beautiful place to study, research, etc.
Grand Central Station was another gem, and I wish we had taken the time to go on a guided tour, but just watching the people go by and snapping a few good pictures sufficed.So much to say about the musical, Grey Gardens. For anyone that remembers the Maysales Brothers' documentary on Jackie Kennedy's eccentric aunt and first cousin, Edith 'Big Edie' Bouvier Beale and "Little Edie," her daughter, then you know that mother and daughter co-dependently existed, and let their family home in New York go to ruin.
I wanted to see this musical, out of a curiosity concerning just how they were going to take that documentary and forge a musical from it.
It was brilliant.
The first act has actress Christine Ebersole playing the role of Big Edie during their heyday in the 1940s. Second act has Christine playing the role of Little Edie and Mary Louise Wilson as the aged Big Edie.
The second act will blow you away, and both Ebersole and Wilson are a perfect team. We met Ms. Ebersole after the show and she was such a delight.
If you get to NYC anytime soon, make sure you see this musical. Ebersole should be nominated and win the Tony this year.
http://www.greygardensthemusical.com/
But I'd have to say the peace de resistance was seeing Julie Taymor's production of Die Zauberflöte at The Met/Lincoln Center.
Papageno is one of my favorite opera characters, and I had heard a version of this with Maria Callas as the Queen several years ago, but nothing prepared me for the brilliance of this staged version.
One is either a huge Taymor fan or one isn't. I wasn't sure how she was going to put her stamp on Mozart, and I wondered how the whole 'puppet' thing would work, without seeming like some sort of bad parody of Taymor's other work, but it was really spectacular.
Once you've heard someone of Callas' calibre sing the Queen of the Night F note aria , it's hard to find anyone who matches that pitch. But the diva belting it out, this time--Cornelia Goetz--came pretty close. The sets were gorgeous and fit the Masonic theme quite well.
Take a look for yourselves:
PBS is showing Die Zauberflöte tonight, January 24, so check it out. You will not be sorry. I am glad we got to see it live!
Oh, so much more to discuss about New York City! I'll save it for Part II.
Friday, January 05, 2007
The Mensa Award goes to...
Dr. Alice! (hearing applause)
Oh, this is priceless. Dr. Alice forgot to put that pill under her tongue this morning, to calm her down.
Here is part of her Mensa Award-winning comment on Cuckoo for Ko-Ko Puffs' blog:
Well, to put it bluntly, it's because your partner is f***ing stupid. Want me to draw you a diagram? I'll be happy to. The owner of this blog is too polite to state it in such terms, but I, having read your partner's blog, have no such reservations. Not to mention the fact that your partner appears to be unwilling to publish any dissenting opinions (I should know, since I have tried to post such on her blog), but Dr. Mabuse is willing to do so given that she has let your posts stand.
I so pray for her husband, if she has one. Can you imagine having to listen to that mouth all day? I bet her diagram would involve fecal matter in some way.
Imagine what her patients have to deal with, also. Yes, most intelligent folks resort to cursing to get their point across, right?
Yes, she is so brilliant that she obviously thinks that some other person she currently stalks is my partner. Um, one can check IP addresses to know and distinguish one obsession from the other.
Oh, I'm going to really have to check this one out.
I have a lawyer friend that can let me know whether she's been brought up on any ethics charges as a physician.
Gee, why do I feel that might be true? When/if I get the dirt, I'll be more than happy to post it. That's one physician that I would stay away from at all costs.
She might cut off your f***ing feet if she f***ing felt like it.
I'm so impressed by her genius that I'm going to start copying her colorful vernacular:
I suspect she's a f***ing Crappy Poopie Head doctor!! (sticking tongue out)
Remember, Dr. Mabuse is 16 times (not 15, not 10, but 16) the writer I am. I triple dog dare her to say that again, Crappy Poopie Head doctor!
Okay, I promise to return to other topics. I'm just having too much fun with this.
Oh, this is priceless. Dr. Alice forgot to put that pill under her tongue this morning, to calm her down.
Here is part of her Mensa Award-winning comment on Cuckoo for Ko-Ko Puffs' blog:
Well, to put it bluntly, it's because your partner is f***ing stupid. Want me to draw you a diagram? I'll be happy to. The owner of this blog is too polite to state it in such terms, but I, having read your partner's blog, have no such reservations. Not to mention the fact that your partner appears to be unwilling to publish any dissenting opinions (I should know, since I have tried to post such on her blog), but Dr. Mabuse is willing to do so given that she has let your posts stand.
I so pray for her husband, if she has one. Can you imagine having to listen to that mouth all day? I bet her diagram would involve fecal matter in some way.
Imagine what her patients have to deal with, also. Yes, most intelligent folks resort to cursing to get their point across, right?
Yes, she is so brilliant that she obviously thinks that some other person she currently stalks is my partner. Um, one can check IP addresses to know and distinguish one obsession from the other.
Oh, I'm going to really have to check this one out.
I have a lawyer friend that can let me know whether she's been brought up on any ethics charges as a physician.
Gee, why do I feel that might be true? When/if I get the dirt, I'll be more than happy to post it. That's one physician that I would stay away from at all costs.
She might cut off your f***ing feet if she f***ing felt like it.
I'm so impressed by her genius that I'm going to start copying her colorful vernacular:
I suspect she's a f***ing Crappy Poopie Head doctor!! (sticking tongue out)
Remember, Dr. Mabuse is 16 times (not 15, not 10, but 16) the writer I am. I triple dog dare her to say that again, Crappy Poopie Head doctor!
Okay, I promise to return to other topics. I'm just having too much fun with this.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Dr. Alice in "Braxton's Lear": This is very sweet
Below is a copy of the dramatic comment left on this very blog today! I guess she's one of the four that still read it.
Well, to be honest, I haven't posted in over a month. Too much going on. However, over the holidays, I went to New York City and had a few minutes to catch up on my blog reading. I will be posting about my trip to the big, bad, LIBERAL city, but this was on my mind tonight.
Cuckoo for Ko-Ko-Puffs was at it again, so I felt the urge (sort of like the one you have, after eating too much Thai food) to relieve myself on her blog. See, she has an obsession with Anglicans, lesbians, bowel movements, Liberal Anglicans who obsess about bowel movements, etc., and now I am obsessed with her blog.
Apparently, her 'friend' was upset with me for what I posted. How sweet that Dr. Mabuse's 'special friend' would take the time to defend her honor on my very own blog!
Please check out the very, dare I say, 'passionate' defense below from a Dr. Alice:
Gee. Whiz. You blog about the evils of random vitriol tossing on the internet, yet do such a lovely job of it yourself. For what it's worth, She (who-apparently-must-not-be-named) is, at a random estimate, is at least sixteen times the writer you are. And your partner is a sucky writer too (I say this after having viewed her blog multiple times). To be more specific, if one were to logically take apart the arguments of conservative Anglicans/Episcopalians I have no doubt that one could put together at least a coherent case for doing so; but no one, least of all your partner, has been successful in this attempt. She merely resorts to the whiny "oh-my-God-I-can't-believe-he/she-is-saying-this" retort--which impresses no one. You would do her a favor, I believe, by gently conveying this to her. Peace.Out.
Isn't that cute? One is named Dr. Mabuse and the other Dr. Alice. I so sense the repressed lesbian passion in the above missive. That's just my biased, liberal, lesbian opinion.
Dr. Alice needed to defend her 'friend.' And, gee, I'm a 'sucky writer.' Wow, someone that uses such a, well, succinct vernacular telling me that I am a 'sucky writer.'
What shall I do now? Well, McDonalds is always hiring.
I asked my partner if she had any idea of what this person was blathering about and she had no idea.
But isn't it interesting that this one also admits to obsessively reading the blog of an Anglican LESBIAN! (Victorian gasp) I wonder why that is??
Oddly, Dr. Alice's blog is filled with vitriol, but see it's okay for her--and others-- to have vitriol for Liberals. That's quite okay and acceptable, and they don't consider it vitriol. It's only when you respond to them with the same ugliness that they deem you such a devil.
I truly hope they will be happy together! I guess Dr. Alice is the butch one in the hush-hush relationship. Who knows?
I just have a good mind to go to her blog and call her a "Sucky Doctor." Yeah! That'll get her. But my partner and I just hope they both come out of the closet, so we can invite them over for dinner and illicit lesbian group sex. That's what all liberal, anti-Christ lesbians do in their spare time!!!
We'll be back to regular programming momentarily. Thanks for your patience.
As the brilliant doctor said:
Peace Out!
Well, to be honest, I haven't posted in over a month. Too much going on. However, over the holidays, I went to New York City and had a few minutes to catch up on my blog reading. I will be posting about my trip to the big, bad, LIBERAL city, but this was on my mind tonight.
Cuckoo for Ko-Ko-Puffs was at it again, so I felt the urge (sort of like the one you have, after eating too much Thai food) to relieve myself on her blog. See, she has an obsession with Anglicans, lesbians, bowel movements, Liberal Anglicans who obsess about bowel movements, etc., and now I am obsessed with her blog.
Apparently, her 'friend' was upset with me for what I posted. How sweet that Dr. Mabuse's 'special friend' would take the time to defend her honor on my very own blog!
Please check out the very, dare I say, 'passionate' defense below from a Dr. Alice:
Gee. Whiz. You blog about the evils of random vitriol tossing on the internet, yet do such a lovely job of it yourself. For what it's worth, She (who-apparently-must-not-be-named) is, at a random estimate, is at least sixteen times the writer you are. And your partner is a sucky writer too (I say this after having viewed her blog multiple times). To be more specific, if one were to logically take apart the arguments of conservative Anglicans/Episcopalians I have no doubt that one could put together at least a coherent case for doing so; but no one, least of all your partner, has been successful in this attempt. She merely resorts to the whiny "oh-my-God-I-can't-believe-he/she-is-saying-this" retort--which impresses no one. You would do her a favor, I believe, by gently conveying this to her. Peace.Out.
Isn't that cute? One is named Dr. Mabuse and the other Dr. Alice. I so sense the repressed lesbian passion in the above missive. That's just my biased, liberal, lesbian opinion.
Dr. Alice needed to defend her 'friend.' And, gee, I'm a 'sucky writer.' Wow, someone that uses such a, well, succinct vernacular telling me that I am a 'sucky writer.'
What shall I do now? Well, McDonalds is always hiring.
I asked my partner if she had any idea of what this person was blathering about and she had no idea.
But isn't it interesting that this one also admits to obsessively reading the blog of an Anglican LESBIAN! (Victorian gasp) I wonder why that is??
Oddly, Dr. Alice's blog is filled with vitriol, but see it's okay for her--and others-- to have vitriol for Liberals. That's quite okay and acceptable, and they don't consider it vitriol. It's only when you respond to them with the same ugliness that they deem you such a devil.
I truly hope they will be happy together! I guess Dr. Alice is the butch one in the hush-hush relationship. Who knows?
I just have a good mind to go to her blog and call her a "Sucky Doctor." Yeah! That'll get her. But my partner and I just hope they both come out of the closet, so we can invite them over for dinner and illicit lesbian group sex. That's what all liberal, anti-Christ lesbians do in their spare time!!!
We'll be back to regular programming momentarily. Thanks for your patience.
As the brilliant doctor said:
Peace Out!
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