18 Million and One Cracks?

If I might opine a bit about the events of the past week: what a great convention! Loved Michelle Obama's speech, appreciated Hillary Clinton's speech, was pleasantly surprised by Bill Clinton's speech, and was totally inspired by The Man himself. Most of the other speeches were what I expected. As Jon Stewart put it yesterday, the "Alabaster Chorus" of old white guys (Kennedy, Warner, Biden, Kerry, Dean, Gore, et al) offered us the right pitch so that things stayed in tune. Of course, the commen-haters remarked on how low on substance the convention was, a perception that was only bolstered by the open-air music festival vibe that preceeded Obama's speech last night. Well, UNITY Fest aside, I was impressed and was all fired up when I went to bed.

This morning, I was still on my mile high when word leaked that John McCain might defy conventional wisdom to select an unknown female candidate for VP. I got excited--was this really going to be a challenge? Without HRC, were the Dems about to be hit by a page from their own "I'm Every Woman" playbook? Who knew that there might be a woman on McCain's radar? Had we totally underestimated the GOP as anything other than an elite Gentleman's Club or Senior PGA Tour?

So, I spent all morning scouring the news sites for the final word that McCain had, for once, made a bold move. Confirmation came and I eagerly tuned in to watch the announcement on CNN. After he droned on about his wisdom and judgment, he introduced...

Sarah Palin, a first term governor of Alaska. She's a young mother and has a couple of years of executive experience in a solid GOP state. She's pro-life, pro-guns and probably will christen the spot where the first oil drill will break ground in the Alaskan National Wildlife Refuge. She is a former beauty queen and small business owner. She embodies everything that the GOP represents in terms of family values and patriotism. In a word, she is perfect!

But she is as exciting as vanilla pudding. After watching her on stage and hearing her speak for five minutes, I wondered why I expected more from her or the GOP. She couldn't have been more predictable. With Cindy McCain as the rich, glamorous wife, Sarah Palin is the nerdy little sister. Maybe that is a sign of progress.

Not really. In the clubhouse that is Presidential politics, a female candidate will have to hold her own and then some. There will be the inevitable comparisons to the other candidates' wives. Her wardrobe choices will be endlessly scrutinized (skirts only, lest she be associated with HRC's Sisterhood of the Traveling Pantsuits). Her children will be compared to the other candidates' children and grandchildren for cuteness. She will be patronized by inane questions when she's forced to appear on Dr. Phil. She'll have to submit a cookie recipe to Woman's Day magazine. She'll be patron saint of the Mommy Wars--unlike the wives, she'll actually have a job in a McCain Administration.

I was willing to endure all of that until I heard her speak. Her remarks confirmed my worst fears--that she is merely the female version of every other bland man passed over for the job. Sarah Palin is no maverick, which is too bad. I was actually looking forward to the VP debate between her and Biden...I imagined her delivering a memorable self-deprecating zinger in response to some unfortunate Bidenist mistatement. But because she is a good Republican, Sarah Palin will not be speaking much for herself. The GOP is big on message control, so no one is allowed to stray too far off the talking points, not even the President.

Furthermore, it is ironic that the first woman in line to potentially serve as Madam President won't get there on the momentum of her own ideas. This was an arranged political marriage--a shotgun wedding of convenience. She might have been the perfect choice for Vice President, but shouldn't the job have been offered to someone who actually wanted to be President some day? I can't claim to know her ambitions, but surely she didn't aspire to be John McCain's work wife for the next four years!

So I'll be watching next week to see if this May-December political coupling has a chance, who gives the bride away, and what she'll be wearing.

Grumbles and Groans

So today I was in line at the CVS and it was taking forever. There were two people in front of me, including a woman who apparently was the reason for the hold up. While she shifted back and forth impatiently waiting for the cashier to return to the counter, I decided to flip through this month's Ebony (which has Michelle Obama on the cover, btw).

So anywho, about 15 minutes passed before the cashier returned and the woman at the front of the line got loud. REALLY LOUD. Now I and every other customer in the CVS knows that she was waiting for pre-natal vitamins that were not ready.

Now, I don't know why she had to broadcast her disgust all over the CVS. While it is perfectly understandable to be frustrated at seemingly indifferent customer service, I am assuming that no one was really all that interested in standing in line for an additional five minutes while she berated the cashier.

On Saturday, the woman in front of me at the Macy's kept changing her mind about the clothes she selected. Now every few feet, there is a price scanner, so she could have found out the cost of everything before she got on line. She seemed utterly unfazed that she was holding things up--and all for less than five items.

I don't have any substantial conclusion. I just wish that those geeks at MIT would hurry up and make some of the technology from Star Trek available so that I can minimize contact with annoying, self-absorbed people.

The Jig is Up

OK, so I was watching Project Runway (one of the best shows on TV, ever) and this week, they eliminated another talented designer. I don't remember her name, but she get the auf wedersen while that loony hack Blaine remained to sew something more tragic next week. And this morning, I tuned in to see the very end of that P. Diddly "Apprentice" show, and again, the loud-mouthed self-proclaimed Poprah (pop-Oprah, get it?) got to stay, while the mild-mannered whats-his-name got escorted from the building.

I know...the a$$holes who stay make for great television. Those who leave are forgetable, which is why they get kicked off. That predictable format works well on shows about finding love for rich nobodies, washed up hype men, reality show losers, and one-hit wonders. The fine print disclaimer that runs along the bottom of the screen after elimination pretty much admits that a good number of the "contestants" are there to keep us watching. But it isn't supposed to be that obvious.

In the past, it took a while to catch on to the scheme. On Season Two of PR, Santino clearly scraped the bottom of the bad taste barrel weeks earlier, but he still made it to Fashion Week. Of course, the winner that season was the forgetable Chloe, so it all makes sense in hindsight. Ditto for the phenomenon that is Omarosa--the mere mention of her name can give a show weeks of steam (which probably explains why Trump brought her back for the has-been celebrity version last fall). And as odd as it is to admit this, Dustin Diamond--perhaps the most pathetic child star loser since Danny Bonduce and Gary Coleman--single-handedly made Celebrity Fit Club worth watching again.

So conflict-casting clearly works. But it is a cheap ploy that eventually reveals the shortcomings of the show, not the actual "contestants". Once the roller coaster gets back to the gate, people get off the ride. Only kids stand in line to ride again and again. When shows have to resort to gimmicks to keep people watching, it is a sign that their ride is almost over.

PR is only in its fifth season, Diddy's show just started, and already they are pulling tricks? If they had asked me, I would have told the geniuses at Bravo that by replicating their best show, they've polluted the airways with flawed clones--Shear Genius and Top Design both suck. Top Chef is the notably exception, but its success only proves that instead of being a unique show, PR was just a template. As for Diddy, well, originality was never his thing, so it is no surprise that he would helm an Apprentice knock-off with another Angry Black Woman (ABW) at the center (more on that conflict casting device a little later). Poprah could end up duking it out on Celebrity Death Match with Omarosa.

Oh well, I guess I will just enjoy the ride...

OK, So I'm Going to Try This Again

I just logged in for the first time in nearly a year. I am surprised that the blog hasn't been overrun by spammers.

I don't even know where to begin. I could pick up where I left off last September, but that would be boring. To make a long story short, whatever I was afflicted with last fall went away and although I am not exactly the glowing picture of health, I am surely not death warmed over either. Also, in case you were wondering, I am still broke and under-employed.

And that is about all there is to report.

I'm back because I miss writing. I've gone months without writing anything of significance. Sure, online lectures qualify as significant writing, but the only people who read those are my students (barely).

I stopped writing when I became frustrated that my blog was just one more voice out there in a crowded room full of shaky soapboxes. I determined that writing for an audience of one was akin to the age-old philosophical question about that tree in the forest...

In truth, I was afraid that I would eventually be discovered. How could I justify my musings and rants to a potential employer? It could cost me a job, I reasoned, so I quit to avoid succeeding at something that I actually enjoyed...

Yup, I am a coward.

Right now, I am having the hardest time even writing this re-re-introduction. There are tons of ideas going through my head, but there is also the dread that I am setting myself up again for another emotional implosion. What makes me so sure that I will be able to withstand the pressure this time?

Years ago, someone told me that my worst enemy was my own self-doubt. She was right. At times, it is utterly debilitating. What is my problem? I can write as well as, if not better than some of these folks. So what am I waiting for?

I am still trying to answer that question, so that is one of the reasons why I returned. I need to find my voice again, and see this endeavor through to wherever it may go. Anything is better than wondering "what if".

So, I guess that means I am writing. Again :)

Ciao!

OK, So I Lied...Again

I have not kept up with my blog. I said that I would come back, posted an entire message about coming back. Thought many times about what I would write about when I came back. And it took me three months to actually come back.

My life is a mess. I am seeing a doctor every six to eight weeks. These are not always related ailments, there is typically something new that sends me to a different office where someone tells me that this could be a big deal (and it then somehow it isn't). But I've had a succession of illnesses this year and I feel like an 80 year old woman. Today something else erupted and so I need to make another appointment for yet another doctor (mind you, I have a referral that I need to follow up on for another ailment I developed in August).

Yessiree, I am a walking disaster. I have new responsibilities on my little job, yet I won't get paid for them until March 2008, by which time, I might be dead or unable to enjoy my largess. That book that I was supposed to be finishing this year is still in the pending stages. I wrote something over the weekend, and I know that when I sit down to re-read any of it, I will hate it. So I will be exactly where I started--unfinished chapters that make no sense because I have yet to string them together.

I had something called Mondor's disease in January. I woke up one morning with a soreness on my chest, which everyone said was all in my head until the cord of blood vessels emerged and pulled a fold across my boob--then people started to believe me. I am not making these ailments up to get attention, even though in the grand scheme of things, no one really cares anyway. The latest is plantar fasciitis. Same side of the body. I must be cursed. Actually, let me take a step back to admit that my neurological issues were concentrated on the other side of my body, so there is some equity here...

Yes, I am falling apart, and while it worries my parents that I refuse to see a doctor that I last saw years ago (because it isn't as if she can cure me), I figure that when I visit my fifth new doctor this year, someone should throw me a damn party. Thank God I have health insurance.

I am done complaining, because I really should count my blessings. Today I went to a Rite Aid and bought $40 of worthless crap (anti-cellulite lotions, nail polish, and an FM tuner radio), which means that in the grand scheme of things, I have nothing to be upset about. There are people who spend that much on a single prescription, and even if I did incur such an expense, I could afford it (even on my paltry salary). I really am blessed.

And of course, this is all made possible by a really delicious (and full) glass of pinot noir...

Ciao!

You Won't Believe This, But...

I decided to come back! I still believe this is a waste of time, but whatever!

I made the fateful decision to stop blogging a few days after my last post. There were several reasons, namely I worried that someone important might stumble across one of my rants and that it would have devastating consequences for my future. There were all of these stories floating around about people who lost jobs and school admissions because of blog entries, and despite the fact that I don't really have a job and am not interested in returning to school, I did not want to put any future employment or academic prospects in jeopardy.

So...I got scared and stopped cold turkey. Not that stopping was all that hard since my last few posts were sporadic due to my crazy schedule. The real issue was what to do with the blog as it existed.

Deletion was not really an option since Internet pages have a tendency to live on in faraway archives and cookie caches. And at times, I wrote some pretty good stuff, so I decided to collect all of my favorite blogs, edit them a bit, and compile a "Best Of" portfolio in case I ever wanted to look back fondly on my time on Blogger. I also thought it would be a great way to share my work with others since I never promoted my blog. I planned to print it out, get it copied to bind in some nice folders, and give those copies away to use as a fire starters during BBQ season (just kidding about the BBQ part).

Well, I selected my favorite 50 entries and got started on the editing and layout process. It was tedious because I am such a perfectionist, but this was a labor of love and it was worth the hours of effort. I even wrote a forward, sort of a farewell entry that would explain my reasons for having a blog in the first place. The final product was great (imagine me patting myself on the back).

But wouldn't you know that my printer ran out of toner the day I prepared to print my opus! Then I got all caught up with school because at the same time, I was teaching three classes (which really is a lot more work than you might imagine). And then I had a health crisis which scared me so bad that I ate myself silly. And then, because life is like that, it was just one thing after another and now it is JUNE.

I still plan to *publish* my opus. But, in these past few months, as life continued to swirl around me, I realized that no one was thinking about my silly little blog except for me. And I really missed my blog.

More than anything, I missed the regular habit of writing for myself. I write for other people all of the time--emails, exams, letters, legal documents, etc., but rarely do I write anything that has nothing to do with anything in particular. One day I could use my blog to share my pain if I was feeling blue. Or I could share my joy when things were going well. I could bitch about stuff on the news that pissed me off or I could opine on the big events of the day. Or I could use my blog to ponder the lint that had collected in my navel. Everything was fair game here in a way that real life just did not allow.

Frankly, I cannot believe that I let fear of discovery stop me from doing something that had such a positive effect. It is not as if blogs contain the worse content on the Internet. I imagine that the same people who use Internet searches to disqualify job candidates and school applicants for their written thoughts are the same hypocritical, self-righteous folks who sell personal information or watch porn. No one can track them because they know how to avoid leaving trails, but whatever. Blogging has its pitfalls, but so does walking outside on any given day. There is nothing that I can do that will not result in being found out, so why worry about the unforeseen consequences?

This morning I felt compelled to revisit this site and I am glad that I did. I cannot promise that I am back for real because I am perpetually over-scheduled and this really does chew up a chunk of time. I should be working on my midterm exam right now...but for now, I plan to come back here to muse about all things bright and beautiful, creatures great and small, wild and wonderful, stuff God made all in all.

Ciao!

New Year, New Drama

I haven't blogged in a while, and I am not sure if I will continue to blog in the future. I saw a piece on Keith Olbermann a while back that said no one reads anyone else's blog anyway...

So all of this effort is for naught. I will not be discovered. I will not garner any significant traffic or attention to my writing through this space. This was a failed experiment.

But it was useful. I am a decent writer, and with practice, I might become a better writer. No chance of my ever becoming great because I have a very short attention span and I am too much of a perfectionist. Writers are perfectionists, but authors are people who accomplish things, like publishing...

I am both unaccomplished and largely unpublished. I had a shot at being more, but I blew it because I was overwhelmed, and frightened, and burnt out, and I was getting married.

And now I am miserable. Happy New Year to me!