I've been on this whole self-promotion thing for this blog on Facebook all week--I know you know this. Thanks to all of you who have 'liked' the page, and even if you rolled your eyes when you received the suggestion, I still greatly appreciate the click. I may have a large ego and sense of self, but I'm pretty quiet when it comes to promoting, well, me. I'd rather someone stumble upon my greatness on their own and acknowledge me, rather than obnoxiously throw myself out there. But alas, I have given in, again as you know, and brought along my own version of a flash mob in hoodies to bombard your FB pages. So as pathetic as it may be, it was a new thing for me to do, so THANK YOU! Here are a few other things that I usually find obnoxious:
1.) Teen and Tween girls in a public loo: Look, I know that you're invincible and that you have all sorts of opinions about the girl at the table next to you, and you have to look perfect, etc. But when I walk through the door to, oh wait, use the facility because I have the bladder the size of a 2 year old when I've been drinking, do not give me that tired "What's she doing in here?" look. Really, no one else cares about Susie, or Bobby, or how terrible your parents are in a public restroom.
2.) Piggy Backers at Stop Signs: We all have places to be and we all run late, but dammit, wait your turn! Just because the guy in front of you went, it's not a traffic light, it's a little more civilized and everyone goes one at a time. Which leads me to, yes moron, it is a stop sign and you must STOP. Not roll through it or tap your breaks for a nano second, a full fledged stop.
3.) Bicyclists Who Want to Act Like Cars in Traffic, But Don't Abide by Driving Rules: Seriously, I really don't want to hit you, but when it is my turn to go at a stop sign and you come barreling through without looking, stopping, or even acknowledging that you're not the only one on the road, it just may happen. Also, as a pedestrian, don't ring your little bell at me to tell me to move--either get off of the sidewalk or abide by traffic rules when I'm crossing the street...because yes, it is all about me.
4.) People Who Invade My Personal Space in Lines at the Market or Convenience Stores: All I ask is for a 2 foot box around me. That's all. Stay out of it. Don't hover over my shoulder because you're in a hurry or because the person behind you is invading your space--I don't care, just stay the hell out of mine. When I'm at the pin pad sliding my credit or debit card, the last thing I need is your stinky ass closer to my face than my freckles. I've been known to threaten to fart on people or shoo them back when they haven't taken the hint of my elbow sticking out a foot off of my hip. True story, my friends.
Happy Friday, Everyone!
Friday, August 19, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
A Voice
First and foremost today: A Huge, Happy 33rd Anniversary to my Dad and Step-Mom! They are not only 2 great parents, they are two of the greatest people I know and are still thoroughly, if not sickly at times, in love. Congrats and here's to 33 more! Much love to the both of you.
Second: I just finished Mark Doty's "Dog Years: A Memoir" yesterday afternoon and highly recommend it to all dog lovers & humanists out there with the caveat of: be prepared to cry...several times. Doty's amazing choice of language creates detailed descriptions of dog's beings and heart wrenching moments of loss--both human and canine. I was on campus the day after we lost Bentley and ran into a former professor, who not only loves dogs as much as I do, but had met the great Beages. He, of course, asked me how he was doing & unbeknownst to him it hadn't even been 24 hours since we said good-bye. I felt worse for him than me at that moment, but he suggested, after some distance from the event, to read Doty's work and some of his poems. I ordered the book that night and let it sit in my stack of 'to read' books.
I tried to start it a month ago and got about 20 pages in before I closed it up and let it sit on my nightstand. As I had gone through my stack of 'to reads,' it was time and I tried again a few nights ago. Doty is a fantastic author and human and precisely captures all things dog--both from the dog and human perspectives. I finished the last 60 pages yesterday, lying in bed with the cat next to me. I cried, more like sobbed uncontrollably for 15 minutes, at the end of the novel. Graycie, the cat, extended her paw and touched my arm and then reached up and touched my nose. She's always had an innate ability to comfort during times of tears, and whether it was because she was genuinely concerned about me, or to sound incredibly insane, it's because she misses him as much as me, or even both, I was never so grateful for that cat and her 'ownership paw,' as my husband and I have named it.
Two things about this:
1.) That cat has been with me longer than the Beages was, longer than my husband, longer than my horse. As cranky and demanding as she is in her old age, she's still a best friend and she still gives more than asks.
2.) I've had an incredibly terrible time without the Beages. Between still trying to break habits of 15 years and the plain fact that I simply miss him, not just having a dog, but him and all of his unconditional, pleasing, non-judgmental ways and I have attempted to continue to package it up somewhere deep inside of me. I cried for 2 weeks after we lost him and at times, have choked up when running into people who hadn't heard and having to reiterate the story, and when I drove to the vet's office to pick up his ashes, but that's it. I tell my husband when I wake up, with my arm over the side of the bed scratching air, where Bentley used to lay next to me, but I think it hurts him as much as me. So, I've put my sadness in a small corner of my gut and continued on. Until yesterday. I hate to cry, I really do. For some unknown, never impressed upon me reason, I see it as a sign of weakness, even when I'm alone. The gooey nose, burning red eyes, not being able to breathe is annoying and brings attention to me--really, not a fan of that. But Mark Doty's writing opened the door to the fact that I'm not alone in how much my dog was not only a part of my life, but of me. And that's ok, I'm not crazy for that, in fact, I may just be a better human being for it. More importantly, for me, I feel a little less weighed down after that cry yesterday afternoon and that in all of it's counterintuitive qualities to me, is a great thing.
So on a final thought, Literature truly is one of Life's greatest gifts. It entertains us, teaches us, and at times when desperately needed, gives a voice to what our own language cannot convey...kind of like a dog.
Second: I just finished Mark Doty's "Dog Years: A Memoir" yesterday afternoon and highly recommend it to all dog lovers & humanists out there with the caveat of: be prepared to cry...several times. Doty's amazing choice of language creates detailed descriptions of dog's beings and heart wrenching moments of loss--both human and canine. I was on campus the day after we lost Bentley and ran into a former professor, who not only loves dogs as much as I do, but had met the great Beages. He, of course, asked me how he was doing & unbeknownst to him it hadn't even been 24 hours since we said good-bye. I felt worse for him than me at that moment, but he suggested, after some distance from the event, to read Doty's work and some of his poems. I ordered the book that night and let it sit in my stack of 'to read' books.
I tried to start it a month ago and got about 20 pages in before I closed it up and let it sit on my nightstand. As I had gone through my stack of 'to reads,' it was time and I tried again a few nights ago. Doty is a fantastic author and human and precisely captures all things dog--both from the dog and human perspectives. I finished the last 60 pages yesterday, lying in bed with the cat next to me. I cried, more like sobbed uncontrollably for 15 minutes, at the end of the novel. Graycie, the cat, extended her paw and touched my arm and then reached up and touched my nose. She's always had an innate ability to comfort during times of tears, and whether it was because she was genuinely concerned about me, or to sound incredibly insane, it's because she misses him as much as me, or even both, I was never so grateful for that cat and her 'ownership paw,' as my husband and I have named it.
Two things about this:
1.) That cat has been with me longer than the Beages was, longer than my husband, longer than my horse. As cranky and demanding as she is in her old age, she's still a best friend and she still gives more than asks.
2.) I've had an incredibly terrible time without the Beages. Between still trying to break habits of 15 years and the plain fact that I simply miss him, not just having a dog, but him and all of his unconditional, pleasing, non-judgmental ways and I have attempted to continue to package it up somewhere deep inside of me. I cried for 2 weeks after we lost him and at times, have choked up when running into people who hadn't heard and having to reiterate the story, and when I drove to the vet's office to pick up his ashes, but that's it. I tell my husband when I wake up, with my arm over the side of the bed scratching air, where Bentley used to lay next to me, but I think it hurts him as much as me. So, I've put my sadness in a small corner of my gut and continued on. Until yesterday. I hate to cry, I really do. For some unknown, never impressed upon me reason, I see it as a sign of weakness, even when I'm alone. The gooey nose, burning red eyes, not being able to breathe is annoying and brings attention to me--really, not a fan of that. But Mark Doty's writing opened the door to the fact that I'm not alone in how much my dog was not only a part of my life, but of me. And that's ok, I'm not crazy for that, in fact, I may just be a better human being for it. More importantly, for me, I feel a little less weighed down after that cry yesterday afternoon and that in all of it's counterintuitive qualities to me, is a great thing.
So on a final thought, Literature truly is one of Life's greatest gifts. It entertains us, teaches us, and at times when desperately needed, gives a voice to what our own language cannot convey...kind of like a dog.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Pre-Season Blahs
This past weekend, NFL football returned to our TV's with (insert yawn here), Pre-Season games. Many friends at the hometown bar asked me if I was excited. No, no I'm not. This came as a great surprise to all them, as I am a pretty rabid football fan. But, as I explained to them, and now here for your amusement, are my reasons:
1.) It's a Joke: I don't really care to watch sub par players missing passes, receptions, & tackles. Sorry, just not interested.
2.) The NFL & I have been on Rocky Footing for 3 years now: I shocked my husband a few years ago, when I gave the NFL a probation period in which to get their shit together. It has become more about the glitz, money, endorsements, scandals, and keeping the players from getting hurt (aka in JHC terms "sissifying the game.") than actually about the game. Game. Hmmm, there's a thought. Hello dumbasses, of course you're going to get hurt--it's physical, the players are huge, it's fast, and involves tackling as a major component. No one likes to see a player get hurt, but it is a real and necessary part of the true game. Large humans tackling other large humans will result in concussions, broken bones, soft tissue injuries, etc., and guess what, they all get paid an insane amount of money to do their jobs, of which they all sign on for. So, please do me (& a shit ton of other fans) a favor, let them do their jobs.
3.) It's Still Summer: When Pre-Season Football comes on, it signals the close of summer, and that my friends, is one of the most depressing times for me. Don't get me wrong, I like the Fall, but it's not Summer with it's hot and humid days, beach trips and me, as a reptile, actually being comfortable for a minute. Summer is the time when friends get together, hang out on boats, patio time, and warm bliss hangs around for 3 months. Summer brings smiles and hope and pure joy to me, as it sends me to the beach to bask in the hot sun, put my toes in the sand & watch the waves. I am NOT ready to let that go yet, even if greedy TV people and the NFL are trying to tell me to and I will hang on with scraping finger nails until the Tuesday after Labor Day.
4.) Baseball is Still On: Though mid August and baseball is coming into it's final months (that's a whole other post,) 'the boys of summer' are in full swing and quite frankly, I still give a shit.
5.) I'm An Opinionated Pain In the Ass: I've been repeatedly told that I should be thankful that there even is a Pre-Season, due to the conflict of the Lock Out. No, not really. Again, I find Pre Season to be a joke and boring and truly, not worth my viewing time. If I ruled the NFL world, the players would still be in training camp, conditioning and honing skills to prevent injuries and lack luster performances in the first 5 weeks. But yes, that's just my opinion.
I don't rule the NFL world and honestly, to each his/her own. But no, I will not watch Pre-Season and truly, this may be my last season of seriously paying attention to the Sunday games. Moving kick off yardage, and other silly, silly new rules ruins the game for me that I grew up with. The players have better protective equipment on the field in modern time than ever before, so let them use it. Granted, penalize the 'dirty' plays, and using common sense, we all know what they are, but let the Linebackers tackle the QB, let the Corners take out a Receiver...because that IS the game. And come September, I just may tune in.
1.) It's a Joke: I don't really care to watch sub par players missing passes, receptions, & tackles. Sorry, just not interested.
2.) The NFL & I have been on Rocky Footing for 3 years now: I shocked my husband a few years ago, when I gave the NFL a probation period in which to get their shit together. It has become more about the glitz, money, endorsements, scandals, and keeping the players from getting hurt (aka in JHC terms "sissifying the game.") than actually about the game. Game. Hmmm, there's a thought. Hello dumbasses, of course you're going to get hurt--it's physical, the players are huge, it's fast, and involves tackling as a major component. No one likes to see a player get hurt, but it is a real and necessary part of the true game. Large humans tackling other large humans will result in concussions, broken bones, soft tissue injuries, etc., and guess what, they all get paid an insane amount of money to do their jobs, of which they all sign on for. So, please do me (& a shit ton of other fans) a favor, let them do their jobs.
3.) It's Still Summer: When Pre-Season Football comes on, it signals the close of summer, and that my friends, is one of the most depressing times for me. Don't get me wrong, I like the Fall, but it's not Summer with it's hot and humid days, beach trips and me, as a reptile, actually being comfortable for a minute. Summer is the time when friends get together, hang out on boats, patio time, and warm bliss hangs around for 3 months. Summer brings smiles and hope and pure joy to me, as it sends me to the beach to bask in the hot sun, put my toes in the sand & watch the waves. I am NOT ready to let that go yet, even if greedy TV people and the NFL are trying to tell me to and I will hang on with scraping finger nails until the Tuesday after Labor Day.
4.) Baseball is Still On: Though mid August and baseball is coming into it's final months (that's a whole other post,) 'the boys of summer' are in full swing and quite frankly, I still give a shit.
5.) I'm An Opinionated Pain In the Ass: I've been repeatedly told that I should be thankful that there even is a Pre-Season, due to the conflict of the Lock Out. No, not really. Again, I find Pre Season to be a joke and boring and truly, not worth my viewing time. If I ruled the NFL world, the players would still be in training camp, conditioning and honing skills to prevent injuries and lack luster performances in the first 5 weeks. But yes, that's just my opinion.
I don't rule the NFL world and honestly, to each his/her own. But no, I will not watch Pre-Season and truly, this may be my last season of seriously paying attention to the Sunday games. Moving kick off yardage, and other silly, silly new rules ruins the game for me that I grew up with. The players have better protective equipment on the field in modern time than ever before, so let them use it. Granted, penalize the 'dirty' plays, and using common sense, we all know what they are, but let the Linebackers tackle the QB, let the Corners take out a Receiver...because that IS the game. And come September, I just may tune in.
Monday, August 15, 2011
This Thing Needs a Title
Two posts in two days--I think this may be a JHC record! So, I started writing this novel while I was at the beach and I like it. Not just like it, I think I may be obsessed. And I'm feeling pretty cheesy at moments when I begin to admit that I like it that much. I've farmed it out to a few close friends and my husband for thoughts and opinions and the general consensus has been great, however, I'm still not convinced. I am obsessed with it, but is it just because it's mine and I'm too close? I've always wanted to have the ability to write for a living, which is why I probably chose to major in Literature in the first place--duh. But after reading classmates writings and continually reading outstanding classic and modern pieces, I never felt worthy enough to really & truly try. That changed last week at the beach and now I struggle with the true "goodness" of it versus the fact that I finally had the balls to do it. Either way, I'll keep writing. I'll write it for me and the characters that I've created to give them a life, however dysfunctional those lives may be. But really, immediately in line after those reasons is the truth--I want to publish a good book and make a living sitting at the beach or in my kitchen with coffee and cigarettes writing characters that I give a shit about.
I know I'll never be a Woolf or Dickens or Fitzgerald--I'm not that delusional. But somewhere in between a Conroy and a Woolf would be just grand, oh, and selling a gazillion copies would be pretty damn spectacular. I think part of the reason why I avoid serious fiction writing is that it's hard. Every other thing that I have attempted in my life has come to me fairly quickly and easily and as I tell my husband, really, I'm lazy. I know that I'm a Type A on a lot of levels and I'm persistent and driven, blah, blah, blah. But truly, I've always run from things that I don't like or that challenge me to the point of really having to use my brain. And more than that, I don't like to fail. I'm not used to it and I take it personally. So as I'm on page 17 of my latest adventure, I have to ask myself, can you hack 60+ rejections like Kathryn Stockett and keep going? Well, honestly, I don't know--I've never tried before.
So I think I'll continue to write the best damn book that I'm capable of at this moment in my life and see where it takes me. At the very least, I will have tried and entertained a few friends along the way, and then I will have to reconcile everything else with myself, which will probably include several break down sobbing moments and a few or more vodka drinks. But really, this whole experience may bring me more than I bargained for, and that's patience and a continuous building of character. In the grander scheme of cliches, is that really all that bad?
I know I'll never be a Woolf or Dickens or Fitzgerald--I'm not that delusional. But somewhere in between a Conroy and a Woolf would be just grand, oh, and selling a gazillion copies would be pretty damn spectacular. I think part of the reason why I avoid serious fiction writing is that it's hard. Every other thing that I have attempted in my life has come to me fairly quickly and easily and as I tell my husband, really, I'm lazy. I know that I'm a Type A on a lot of levels and I'm persistent and driven, blah, blah, blah. But truly, I've always run from things that I don't like or that challenge me to the point of really having to use my brain. And more than that, I don't like to fail. I'm not used to it and I take it personally. So as I'm on page 17 of my latest adventure, I have to ask myself, can you hack 60+ rejections like Kathryn Stockett and keep going? Well, honestly, I don't know--I've never tried before.
So I think I'll continue to write the best damn book that I'm capable of at this moment in my life and see where it takes me. At the very least, I will have tried and entertained a few friends along the way, and then I will have to reconcile everything else with myself, which will probably include several break down sobbing moments and a few or more vodka drinks. But really, this whole experience may bring me more than I bargained for, and that's patience and a continuous building of character. In the grander scheme of cliches, is that really all that bad?
Sunday, August 14, 2011
marathons
So after being in a marriage for a good chunk of my adulthood, as well as having friends either married, in relationships, out of relationships, in between relationships, staunchly single or serial monogamists, I've observed & experienced many, many scenarios--both good and bad. Surprisingly, I actually stayed in on a Saturday night and finally watched "The Kids Are All Right." It was a fantastic movie and in my opinion, deserved all of the accolades it received, but beyond great acting from Bening and Moore, the film presented some very real moments, and I, for one, am grateful. I read an article the other day stating that more Hollywood films are nixing divorce and opting for parents to get back together. As a child of divorced parents and survivor of another maternal divorce, it does irk me that reality is not played out in Hollywood films. This isn't to say that divorce is grand, it's not. It is emotionally gut wrenching and one of the hardest, confusing, and draining moments in my life when I left my first husband. However, it does happen according to those busy statisticians who claim that 50% of first marriages end in a split and close to 60% of second marriages. So in a society where we look to films and books for not only escape & entertainment, but for moments of "wow! I can relate to that."why not present a more realistic view of marriage? I am one of the lucky ones, where my second marriage has worked out, and for once, I will not be included in a statistic. However, what I don't understand is the negative label divorce has been slapped with, especially in the modern day. Again, divorce sucks, but truly, it worked out for my parents and for me. My ex and I are better friends now than before and we have both ventured into unions with spouses we adore and choose to be with.
Now, in the film, it does appear that Bening and Moore will stay together, so everyone gets their happy ending. However, the actions preceding that moment are real, and thus, I believe, sets up a very plausible reconciliation. What really got me, was Moore's monologue in the livingroom and this is where I see a full exposition of truth, "Your mom and I are in hell right now and the bottom line is marriage is hard. It’s really fuckin’ hard. It’s just two people slogging through the shit, year after year, getting older, changing — fucking marathon, okay?" ....um, well damn, she's right. Marriage is a symbol of life: the ups and downs, victories and defeats, tears of joy and sadness and well, it's fucking hard at times. I don't know about you, but that reminds me a whole lot of my 37 years on this planet. The Human Element always fucks things up--logic is immediately thrown out of the window and creates complexities that are far beyond our reasoning at times. Throw into the mixture: emotions, convictions, hormones,chromosomes, kids and everything else that forms us as humans and you have the foundation for the great possibility of stupid decisions, selfish & hurtful moments and complete misunderstandings, which is what happens in the film. I think that besides acknowledging that marriage is "really fuckin' hard," it is a "fucking marathon." I've seen 'short sprints' lead to rash decisions and marriages that ultimately should've never even happened. But, these are not mine to judge. People make decisions with the knowledge that they possess at the time, however limited or vast that knowledge is. What I love about Moore's monologue more than anything, is that she presents marriage on an equal plane--yes, her and Bening are lesbians, but (& I know that this is a news flash to some of the more limited in scope) marriage is marriage, no matter your gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity, etc. It's fucking hard and I'm grateful that the film finally offers a real portrayal of that.
Luckily, my husband and I realize that marriage is a marathon and we're "slogging through the shit" on the same page and happily, together. But for the couples out there that are unable to find that place, after true communication with themselves as individuals and a couple, counseling, or whatever avenues they attempt to explore for that last ditch effort of preserving their relationship, if that marathon is going to destroy you and/or your spouse, get out. Divorce is not the plague. Divorce does happen, a lot. I just wish that more film makers would recognize this and continue to give us some realistic moments, rather than grown up not-necessarily-real Disney endings.
Now, in the film, it does appear that Bening and Moore will stay together, so everyone gets their happy ending. However, the actions preceding that moment are real, and thus, I believe, sets up a very plausible reconciliation. What really got me, was Moore's monologue in the livingroom and this is where I see a full exposition of truth, "Your mom and I are in hell right now and the bottom line is marriage is hard. It’s really fuckin’ hard. It’s just two people slogging through the shit, year after year, getting older, changing — fucking marathon, okay?" ....um, well damn, she's right. Marriage is a symbol of life: the ups and downs, victories and defeats, tears of joy and sadness and well, it's fucking hard at times. I don't know about you, but that reminds me a whole lot of my 37 years on this planet. The Human Element always fucks things up--logic is immediately thrown out of the window and creates complexities that are far beyond our reasoning at times. Throw into the mixture: emotions, convictions, hormones,chromosomes, kids and everything else that forms us as humans and you have the foundation for the great possibility of stupid decisions, selfish & hurtful moments and complete misunderstandings, which is what happens in the film. I think that besides acknowledging that marriage is "really fuckin' hard," it is a "fucking marathon." I've seen 'short sprints' lead to rash decisions and marriages that ultimately should've never even happened. But, these are not mine to judge. People make decisions with the knowledge that they possess at the time, however limited or vast that knowledge is. What I love about Moore's monologue more than anything, is that she presents marriage on an equal plane--yes, her and Bening are lesbians, but (& I know that this is a news flash to some of the more limited in scope) marriage is marriage, no matter your gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity, etc. It's fucking hard and I'm grateful that the film finally offers a real portrayal of that.
Luckily, my husband and I realize that marriage is a marathon and we're "slogging through the shit" on the same page and happily, together. But for the couples out there that are unable to find that place, after true communication with themselves as individuals and a couple, counseling, or whatever avenues they attempt to explore for that last ditch effort of preserving their relationship, if that marathon is going to destroy you and/or your spouse, get out. Divorce is not the plague. Divorce does happen, a lot. I just wish that more film makers would recognize this and continue to give us some realistic moments, rather than grown up not-necessarily-real Disney endings.
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