All those who roll their eyes at anal word people, read no further.
OK, for those of you who are left, I offer the following snippet from the chorus of a song by an unnamed American Idol winner: "... but there were lessons learned."
My middle daughter, who at 10 is enamored with this bubble-gum stuff, plays this song (and the rest of the CD) over and over again and sings along. And I wince.
Now I know I shouldn't expect too much from this genre of music, but bureaucratic cliches and passive voice in one song?
It’s almost too much to bear.
I know they were trying to rhyme with such inspirational gems as "some pages turned" and "some bridges burned," but someone should have killed this song before it made it past the first edit. And if that wasn't possible, they should have at least given it to Weird Al and added some additional corporate jargon to make it even more absurd.
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Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Being Ms. Right
What is it about some women that seems to inspire devotion in men? Why is it that others, despite being intelligent, beautiful, talented, caring and successful, find continuously that their partners simply aren't willing to put up the slightest effort.
I have been rolling this one around in my head for a while, prompted by friends' comments over the years. And I suppose it ought to be more like a question than a statement, because this is far from an instruction manual.
I recall a conversation with a woman whose relative told her something to the effect of, "If he loves you, then he'll wait for you." Her response, born of a good number of years' experience: "No, that's just not true. Not for me."
Another woman I know speaks of relationships that have ended as if they are completely her fault. She says that perhaps if she had been a better girlfriend that he would have been willing to give more, that he would have been willing to try harder.
And then I look at my own experiences. Despite being married for eight years, I am under no illusions that my former husband was devoted to me in the slightest. Had I gotten sick or needed some extra effort to get through a rough time, he would have been gone in a flash. And to some degree, that's been the case with every relationship in my life.
Now lest my readers think I'm some sort of man-hating whack job, I can assure you I am not. And the central theme in this rambling stream of consciousness, or perhaps unconciousness, is that it must not be by sheer coincidence that some women seem to be Ms. Right and others are just Ms. Right Now. If the woman in the common denominator, it stands to reason it must be something she is or is not doing.
So what is it? How is it that you can take a group of women of various ages, professions, intelligence, physical beauty and personality and some will find that men with love them with passion and devotion. These men are smitten and they truly would do almost anything for these women they love. Others will find only lukewarm, at best, versions of the same qualities.
With no obvious common traits among the men or the women in each group, what is it?
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I have been rolling this one around in my head for a while, prompted by friends' comments over the years. And I suppose it ought to be more like a question than a statement, because this is far from an instruction manual.
I recall a conversation with a woman whose relative told her something to the effect of, "If he loves you, then he'll wait for you." Her response, born of a good number of years' experience: "No, that's just not true. Not for me."
Another woman I know speaks of relationships that have ended as if they are completely her fault. She says that perhaps if she had been a better girlfriend that he would have been willing to give more, that he would have been willing to try harder.
And then I look at my own experiences. Despite being married for eight years, I am under no illusions that my former husband was devoted to me in the slightest. Had I gotten sick or needed some extra effort to get through a rough time, he would have been gone in a flash. And to some degree, that's been the case with every relationship in my life.
Now lest my readers think I'm some sort of man-hating whack job, I can assure you I am not. And the central theme in this rambling stream of consciousness, or perhaps unconciousness, is that it must not be by sheer coincidence that some women seem to be Ms. Right and others are just Ms. Right Now. If the woman in the common denominator, it stands to reason it must be something she is or is not doing.
So what is it? How is it that you can take a group of women of various ages, professions, intelligence, physical beauty and personality and some will find that men with love them with passion and devotion. These men are smitten and they truly would do almost anything for these women they love. Others will find only lukewarm, at best, versions of the same qualities.
With no obvious common traits among the men or the women in each group, what is it?
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Sunday, June 25, 2006
Summer of wandering men
It's the oddest thing: Every male friend I have is tooling around the lower 48 this summer. One's in his truck. One's on a bike. And one's taking the scenic route to D.C. with his wife and a big dog in an Audi.
Go figure. Must be something in the water.
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Go figure. Must be something in the water.
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Saturday, June 24, 2006
Litmus test
A friend's astute observation on the nature of the relationships/friendships between men and women and how to tell the difference:
"If either of you started dating someone, what would happen to the friendship?"
Answer: "It would likely change drastically or cease."
"Then you aren't simply friends."
Give that man a prize. Seems awful simple, no?
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"If either of you started dating someone, what would happen to the friendship?"
Answer: "It would likely change drastically or cease."
"Then you aren't simply friends."
Give that man a prize. Seems awful simple, no?
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God and basketball
This from an article in a Texas paper about a high school basketball player and said player's reasons for playing for a particular team in college. I'll paraphrase, but the player said that a big plus was that the coaches are members of the same religious denomination she is, Church of Christ.
OK, now, explain to me again why it matters what religion a basketball coach is. Wait, I know, God will be on their side.
These kinds of statements really irk the heck out of me, for a number of reasons.
First, though this player doesn't come out and say it, the inference is that not only are those
who go to the Church of Christ somehow more desireable, but those who do not are somehow just not quite as good. We can't have any Lutheran or Catholic basketball coaches. And Hindu? Oh hell no.
Second, I find it incredibly sad that a young person just venturing out on his or her own would be so closed-minded as to list among the primary appealing traits they find in other people, "They are exactly like me." How about going off to college and experiencing new things, learning new things and, perhaps, broadening your horizons.
And finally, it's pretty telling to me that this young person actually felt comfortable saying this to a reporter for publication. It's a testament to how tolerant our society is of bigotry by Christians in relation to other religions. I wonder, if we changed "Church of Christ" to some other class/characteristic of people, how much such a statement would be tolerated.
How about these:
"It's a big plus that the coaches are white like me."
"A deciding factor was the fact that the coaches were Muslim, as I am."
"I'm heterosexual, and I chose to play for this team because the coaches are heterosexual too."
"Since I am a man, it was really important to me that I have a male coach."
Nope. Can't see anybody without a wish for lots of nasty phone calls saying anything like that publicly. But say, "These guys are best because they're Christians like me," and it's all apple pie and waving flags.
Wonder how long before we end up with a state religion.
Perhaps we're already there.
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OK, now, explain to me again why it matters what religion a basketball coach is. Wait, I know, God will be on their side.
These kinds of statements really irk the heck out of me, for a number of reasons.
First, though this player doesn't come out and say it, the inference is that not only are those
who go to the Church of Christ somehow more desireable, but those who do not are somehow just not quite as good. We can't have any Lutheran or Catholic basketball coaches. And Hindu? Oh hell no.
Second, I find it incredibly sad that a young person just venturing out on his or her own would be so closed-minded as to list among the primary appealing traits they find in other people, "They are exactly like me." How about going off to college and experiencing new things, learning new things and, perhaps, broadening your horizons.
And finally, it's pretty telling to me that this young person actually felt comfortable saying this to a reporter for publication. It's a testament to how tolerant our society is of bigotry by Christians in relation to other religions. I wonder, if we changed "Church of Christ" to some other class/characteristic of people, how much such a statement would be tolerated.
How about these:
"It's a big plus that the coaches are white like me."
"A deciding factor was the fact that the coaches were Muslim, as I am."
"I'm heterosexual, and I chose to play for this team because the coaches are heterosexual too."
"Since I am a man, it was really important to me that I have a male coach."
Nope. Can't see anybody without a wish for lots of nasty phone calls saying anything like that publicly. But say, "These guys are best because they're Christians like me," and it's all apple pie and waving flags.
Wonder how long before we end up with a state religion.
Perhaps we're already there.
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Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Family
My great uncle, whom I had never met prior to last weekend, is up visiting my grandparents and all the relatives throughout the state. His wife of 25 years accompanied him. Both seem very sweet people and I'm glad I got a chance to meet both of them.
I was struck this weekend by the value of what I have in my large extended family. I and the kids spent a couple of days out at my aunt and uncle's farm with my grandparents, cousins, aforementioned great uncle and his wife, cousin's significant others, my uncle's nephew and a large assortment of animals, including a couple of geriatric dogs, a handful of cats, horses, ducks, etc.
If it sounds a bit chaotic, it was. It always is. Still, as the evening wound down and my great uncle got out a guitar and everyone sang old songs around the fire pit, it was easy to feel calm in surroundings that aren't dependent on location, but on the faces and voices that have been the context of my life and my children's lives since we were born.
Likely the greatest gift my parents gave me, and one I hope I am giving my children as well, is the knowledge that no matter the places life takes me, family is the one thing I can always count on. It is not simply where I'm from; it's who I am.
I can think of little else more comforting than knowing that as certainty. And I wonder how some people in this world live without it.
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I was struck this weekend by the value of what I have in my large extended family. I and the kids spent a couple of days out at my aunt and uncle's farm with my grandparents, cousins, aforementioned great uncle and his wife, cousin's significant others, my uncle's nephew and a large assortment of animals, including a couple of geriatric dogs, a handful of cats, horses, ducks, etc.
If it sounds a bit chaotic, it was. It always is. Still, as the evening wound down and my great uncle got out a guitar and everyone sang old songs around the fire pit, it was easy to feel calm in surroundings that aren't dependent on location, but on the faces and voices that have been the context of my life and my children's lives since we were born.
Likely the greatest gift my parents gave me, and one I hope I am giving my children as well, is the knowledge that no matter the places life takes me, family is the one thing I can always count on. It is not simply where I'm from; it's who I am.
I can think of little else more comforting than knowing that as certainty. And I wonder how some people in this world live without it.
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Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Summer sucks
There. I said it. It's probably the first and, I hope, the last summer I will ever say that, but there you have it. I'm sad. I want to cry a lot. And the problem won't rectify itself until the fall. So, hence, summer is bad. Fall is good. My intellect has waned. I need to blow my nose.
That's as profound as is gets this evening.
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That's as profound as is gets this evening.
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Sunday, June 04, 2006
Powerful smut
Sometimes, when my sister and I get to rambling, you just don't know what we'll come up with. In this case, it's a new word. *drum roll*
Omniporno (n.)- Pornography that, due to supernatural characteristics, is everywhere, always.
Yay! Omniporno! Yay!
I gotta go to bed. Sheesh!
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Omniporno (n.)- Pornography that, due to supernatural characteristics, is everywhere, always.
Yay! Omniporno! Yay!
I gotta go to bed. Sheesh!
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Damn hearts...
This sad-but-true observation from a friend: "The heart knows little of dead ends."
Wonder if there's a way to teach one's heart to recognize such things. Probably not. Sometime in the last five or 10 years, as I watched the people around me and as I experienced single life again, I realized that we really don't get to choose who we fall in love with. And that, friends, is a very scary prospect.
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Wonder if there's a way to teach one's heart to recognize such things. Probably not. Sometime in the last five or 10 years, as I watched the people around me and as I experienced single life again, I realized that we really don't get to choose who we fall in love with. And that, friends, is a very scary prospect.
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Saturday, June 03, 2006
Rugged Alaska woman
Yep. That's me. You see, certain people who know me scoff at such assertions, probably because I cry during every sappy movie ever made, but I think my most recent activities make it official. If I had a digital camera I would actually take a picture of said activities, namely the 5-foot-high pile of birch logs in my front yard. I even have my very own bright-yellow splitting maul and neon green chainsaw with a VERY rugged 14-inch bar. I'll probably look like Arnold's twin sister after I split and cut all of it, sans membership in the Republican party. Even several cords of wood can't send me there.
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Tuesday, May 30, 2006
Resistance is ...
I think I'm having a bit of a "me vs. all the rest of you" kind of week. Doesn't bode well for my attitude or my ability to play well with others, which is kind of unfortunate given that I have at least one board meeting this week.
The thing is, I am just a bit weary of people telling me "no" or arguing with me or pushing or just being generally obstinate. I'm sensitive to the controlling aspects of my personality and try to keep them as toned down as possible. But really, would it kill my kids to just do what I tell them the first time? Hell, I'd even take the second. And is there any reason why it must take an hour for them to get ready for bed and 20 minutes for a certain child to brush her hair in the morning and hence make me very late for work?
Speaking of work, I swear I'm likely to come unglued if one more Ph.D. tries to tell me that it's absolutely essential for all sentences to include no less than 30 seven-syllable words. C'mon people.
And if all of that's not bad enough, one of my few respites from resistance, who happens to be going on a summer-long vacation, actually asks me why it is I want to be sure to see him right before he leaves. How about, "I want to." Is that good enough? Or shall I create a Powerpoint presentation with the complete rationale of how I'll miss seeing him for two flippin' months.
Resistance is everywhere. It's driving me batty. Someone needs to give me an affirmative answer to something, and fast, otherwise my eyebrows may soon knit together in the middle of my forehead. And in the wise words of another dear friend of mine, "That just ain't sexy."
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The thing is, I am just a bit weary of people telling me "no" or arguing with me or pushing or just being generally obstinate. I'm sensitive to the controlling aspects of my personality and try to keep them as toned down as possible. But really, would it kill my kids to just do what I tell them the first time? Hell, I'd even take the second. And is there any reason why it must take an hour for them to get ready for bed and 20 minutes for a certain child to brush her hair in the morning and hence make me very late for work?
Speaking of work, I swear I'm likely to come unglued if one more Ph.D. tries to tell me that it's absolutely essential for all sentences to include no less than 30 seven-syllable words. C'mon people.
And if all of that's not bad enough, one of my few respites from resistance, who happens to be going on a summer-long vacation, actually asks me why it is I want to be sure to see him right before he leaves. How about, "I want to." Is that good enough? Or shall I create a Powerpoint presentation with the complete rationale of how I'll miss seeing him for two flippin' months.
Resistance is everywhere. It's driving me batty. Someone needs to give me an affirmative answer to something, and fast, otherwise my eyebrows may soon knit together in the middle of my forehead. And in the wise words of another dear friend of mine, "That just ain't sexy."
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Poetic crusades
The journalism haiku from SPJ national has inspired me. So, in honor of my favorite crusades:
Random capitals
The bane of my existence
Self-important types
General public
Why, when one word would suffice?
Die redundancies
Passive voice must cease
No cake will be had by all
Subject, verb, object
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Random capitals
The bane of my existence
Self-important types
General public
Why, when one word would suffice?
Die redundancies
Passive voice must cease
No cake will be had by all
Subject, verb, object
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Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Becoming a man
No, no, not me. My son. At 12 he now has his first girlfriend. And it appears that at least a little of my "be nice to girls" dogma has stuck. I mentioned to him that I had gotten a call from a 13-year-old who was interested in babysitting over the summer.
I said, "That seems like a bad idea, the more likely scenario would be that you two would flirt all summer."
"Mom," he replied with some exasperation, "I can't do that. That would be cheating on my girlfriend."
*grin*
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I said, "That seems like a bad idea, the more likely scenario would be that you two would flirt all summer."
"Mom," he replied with some exasperation, "I can't do that. That would be cheating on my girlfriend."
*grin*
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What a girl wants
This from a friend who is beginning a job in government in Alaska. We had been talking about the benefits, primarily retirement and health care benefits. It's great that we can count on such things in our golden years, that is, unless the legislature decides to change that too...
"It's a false sense of security, that's all I really want."
What's even scarier is the people who don't realize that's all it is. And don't even get me started on the people who know what it means and still vote for these yahoos. At some point we'll discuss the biggest myth in Alaska, namely that a 401k-style retirement plan is good for public employees. Not tonight though. Not enough time to rant.
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"It's a false sense of security, that's all I really want."
What's even scarier is the people who don't realize that's all it is. And don't even get me started on the people who know what it means and still vote for these yahoos. At some point we'll discuss the biggest myth in Alaska, namely that a 401k-style retirement plan is good for public employees. Not tonight though. Not enough time to rant.
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Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Seeking serenity
It'll be green tomorrow.
As I glanced at the trees during my evening walk, I could see just a tinge of life peeking from the tips of the buds. My guess is that they'll burst forth once the sun warms things up a bit.
Amidst all of the stressful things this time of year brings, and this year more so than most, the promise of green leaves rustling in a warm wind can't help but offer a little bit of hope and comfort. As I walked this evening, with a nearly full moon at my face and the sun setting at my back, the air just cool enough to feel on the tip of my nose, it was a little easier to shed some of my cares: work, the frantic pace of the end of the school year, the lack of funds in my checking account, the impending departure of a loved one.
Just walk, under the sinking light of Fairbanks' springtime sun. Feel the wind. Hear the robins converse. Breathe.
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As I glanced at the trees during my evening walk, I could see just a tinge of life peeking from the tips of the buds. My guess is that they'll burst forth once the sun warms things up a bit.
Amidst all of the stressful things this time of year brings, and this year more so than most, the promise of green leaves rustling in a warm wind can't help but offer a little bit of hope and comfort. As I walked this evening, with a nearly full moon at my face and the sun setting at my back, the air just cool enough to feel on the tip of my nose, it was a little easier to shed some of my cares: work, the frantic pace of the end of the school year, the lack of funds in my checking account, the impending departure of a loved one.
Just walk, under the sinking light of Fairbanks' springtime sun. Feel the wind. Hear the robins converse. Breathe.
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Saturday, May 06, 2006
Sometimes it ain't what it seems.
I'm out in my yard the other night, whacking away at my wiley wild rose bush and cleaning out my planter boxes, when I overhear a conversation from next door. In order to fully appreciate this conversation, it is, however, helpful to have a bit of context. You see, the conversation was coming from a group of four drunk neighborhood guys standing around a fire burning in a 55-gallon drum outside a trailer.
Aaanyway...
I'm plucking dead plants from the ground and so not minding my own business. I hear things like:
"I don't think Bush was always this way."
"I think Bush used to be a lot weaker."
"How do you think Bush compares to others? Is Bush stronger?"
And I thought, "Wow, maybe all is not lost. Maybe even people whose politics I wouldn't likely agree with are at least paying attention enough to form opinions. I mean, if they are sitting around a burning drum talking national politics, they must be at least noticing a little of what is going on. Maybe there is hope for the sheeple yet."
'Cept about 30 seconds later, I realized the limitations of the spoken word.
I was hearing "Bush."
They were saying "Busch."
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Aaanyway...
I'm plucking dead plants from the ground and so not minding my own business. I hear things like:
"I don't think Bush was always this way."
"I think Bush used to be a lot weaker."
"How do you think Bush compares to others? Is Bush stronger?"
And I thought, "Wow, maybe all is not lost. Maybe even people whose politics I wouldn't likely agree with are at least paying attention enough to form opinions. I mean, if they are sitting around a burning drum talking national politics, they must be at least noticing a little of what is going on. Maybe there is hope for the sheeple yet."
'Cept about 30 seconds later, I realized the limitations of the spoken word.
I was hearing "Bush."
They were saying "Busch."
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I think I'm obsolete...
OK, maybe I am not exactly obsolete, but my web publishing skills sure are. It'll take me a bit of time with my book and a lot of experimentation to come up with a design I really like. Actually, if I am being truthful, what I really mean is it will likely take me at least three hours of filling in random hex codes in every location in the template before I figure out how to make my links purple. Of course then I will discover that purple looks really crappy and I'll forget which place I changed a D0D0D0 to an 3F45T2. And then I will say "fuck" a lot. And then I will turn off my computer.
The version that passes muster with certain copy editors: I think I'll stick to a prefab template for now.
(HAH, I dare you to make that shorter.)
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The version that passes muster with certain copy editors: I think I'll stick to a prefab template for now.
(HAH, I dare you to make that shorter.)
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Tuesday, May 02, 2006
'Creative' use of white space
Hmm. The test post, done for the purpose of being able to preview what the heck I have created, has revealed that white space abounds on said creation. The word "sterile" comes to mind. Must remedy that.
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Test post
This is a test. And come to think of it, I wonder how many blogs start out with that exact sentence. Alas, not very hip and edgy. Not at all.
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