It’s all material.

June 11, 2007

I was listening to the news today, and in it, there was an update on that certain blonde heiress and her stint in jail.  You know who I mean, right?  If not, stop reading now–this post’ll bore you.

Okay, still with me?

See, the thing I was thinking when I heard this update was, “who needs to know what her current status is…in jail, no less?”–it goes to show how the news media conditions the news, makes a story where there isn’t one, indeed, makes us care about things we’d never imagine smart, sensible people (like you and me) would pay attention to.

It’s saturated, this kind of material media coverage, our lives.  People may say, “well, turn the channel; tune out.”  But I live here, in this culture, and I cannot get away from it.

Worse, in the middle of the Heiress Day 5 in Jail Update, I find myself leaning forward, interested, at attention.

So, my fellow blogger, Pretty Good on Paper, tagged me with what he calls the “dreaded” Meme of Eight. Thanks a lot. Now I have to think of random facts about myself that might be a modicum of interest to the general world.

Well, here goes (nothing):

1. I am terribly patriotic and often hum the Star Spangled Banner. I get choked up over the Pledge of Allegiance and cry over a display of fireworks. I love America.

2. I am extremely gullible. I have learned to look up and double check things, to the point that sometimes I don’t believe at first things that are true, and should be accepted on first point. Being gullible, has, in the end made me rather skeptical.

3. I am just now getting into the Sopranos. Hearing about it all these years, I couldn’t imagine an intellectual like myself (I jest, but only barely) would like an HBO series based on the mob. I’m hooked now, and it has taken over and replaced my former Law & Order addiction.

4. In college, I fell in love with none other than Woody Allen. Yes, that Woody Allen. I wrote to him, and amazingly he wrote me back. I fantasized about him pulling up to my dorm room and wisking me away in a limo. I imagined us making witty and clever conversation. Alas, he chose to take up with his almost-daughter, Soon-Yi, which broke my heart. I got over it.

5. I’m a chronic user of Q-Tips. Really. I use about 8 a day–I just like clean ears.

6. My favorite poet is Walt Whitman. My favorite poem, however, is by e.e. cummings and is:

somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

7. I do not like clowns. They are really frightening, don’t you agree?

8. I break rules in the blogosphere, because I’m too much of a goody-two-shoes to do it anywhere else. Thus, I’m not participating in the 2nd part of this meme, that is…I’m not tagging others to do it. But, if you are interested…the rules are at the bottom of this post.

So there you have it–a random like of facts for your reading pleasure.

***

The Meme of Eight Rules:

1. Each player starts with 8 random facts/habits about themselves.

2. People who are tagged write their own blog post about their 8 things and post these rules.

3. At the end choose 8 people to get tagged and list their names.

4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged and to read your blog.

Rude People.

November 9, 2006

I spoke with a very rude person on the phone today…soooo rude that I burst into angry tears after hanging up.  Why I didn’t just hang up on the person is a long story…you don’t want to know.

The thing I’ve been thinking about today is why, on the telephone, some people feel they have permission to be rude in a way I don’t imagine they’d be in person.  The autonomy, the facelessness…I suppose it allows a freedom for folks to vent, feel “assertive,” and let it all hang out.  I wonder what will happen to this phenomenon in the new millineum, when phones that show live video of the callers faces to each other are the telephonic way to reach out and touch someone.  I hope it’ll have the effect of keeping people polite.

Rude people!  Ugh.

Some serious stuff.

November 8, 2006

I’m an adult, right?  I mean, I’m married, I’ve created human beings, I can drive, vote, do all the stuff that adults do.  But I have a fascination with some childish, teenager-ish stuff.  I kind of think we all have a guilty pleasure we should have grown out of, so I’m going to fess up and admit mine.  My guilty, age-inappropriate curiosity is about…

Celebrity Divorces!

Isn’t that bizarre?  And immature?  Yes to both.  But, for whatever reasons, I’m really interested in why Britney Spears is divorcing Kevin Federline.  Why is Whitney Houston leaving Bobby?  And, who can believe that dream couple Reese Witherspoon and Ryan Phillipe are falling apart?  Who cheated???  Who has a drug problem???  WHY are they blowing apart the public marital fantasy?!!!

Ok.  So I admit that I read www.people.com and submit myself to that kind of trash.  No, I don’t buy the Enquirer, but I do love to occassionally grab a copy while I’m waiting in line at the grocery.  I don’t know Brad Pitt or Jennifer Anistorn, but I was really sorry for them that it didn’t work out.  I found myself asking, am I on Team Aniston or Team Jolie?  Am I alone here, or do you have opinions about people you’ve never met, will never meet…actually don’t want to meet? 

Okay, now that I’ve admitted my deep dark secret to the world, I’ve gotta go.  I’ve got some intellectual, serious things to do. 

Palm Panic.

October 30, 2006

Last night, I reached for my Palm Pilot to schedule a babysitting date with a friend.  It wasn’t in my purse, and no matter how many pass throughs I made in that mess of a pocketbook…it wasn’t materializing.  I’ve gone through this before, so I forced myself to think through the possibilities.  Did I leave it on the charger?  Did I leave it on the sync cord?  No to both of these.

Big deal, right?  It is, actually.  My Palm contains addresses of people I’ve not talked to in years, it contains anniversary and birthday dates, it contains information about my medical history and doctor appointments, it has notes about the milestones of my children, it holds various pin and account numbers, it is a virtual history of the last 4 years, and to lose it would be an absolute heartbreak.  The day I found out I was pregnant–it’s in there.  The time my hubby and I went to that great new restaurant–it’s in there.  The exact day and time of my mom’s passing away–it’s in there.  A computerized diary…I can’t imagine life without this particular electronic device. 

Late last night, armed with a flashlight, I searched our cars.  There, wedged down in between the seats, along with old candy wrappers and various other floatsom, was my Palm Pilot.  I felt a wave of relief. 

Say what you will about our society being too dependent on modern appliances.  My Palm and I?  True love always.

A day offline.

October 20, 2006

It’s a difficult thing, I think, to spend a day offline when you’ve not planned it.  This morning, I got up and as is my custom, checked my email.  After responding and reading, I attended to my eldest son, readying him for a day at preschool.  When I went back to continue an email I’d started…horrors! The server was down.  Don’t panic, I thought, I can get through this.  I lasted, mmmmm, about 2 hours before I called comcast to come out and fix things.  The point: I think the Internet is my new chocolate ice cream.  I’m waayyy too dependent.  I may only spend a total of 5 minutes a day here, but you know…I gotta have it.