Things I Miss Friday - Electric Youth

The other day at work, I walked past a young woman in the ladies' room and was overcome by a strongly familiar but not immediately recognizable scent.  As I continued walking, I searched the recesses of my brain's olfactory memory boxes and suddenly it dawned on me: Electric Youth!

I swear to you, I believe she was wearing this perfume.  I have to believe that because why else would my brain dredge up this scent memory?  It's not like I've thought about this perfume recently - although, however, I have been humming the song since the day I smelled it.

These days, everyone has a perfume: Britney Spears, Beyonce, Shania Twain, P. Diddy (Sean John), Celine Dion, Jennifer Lopez.  But how many of theirs are based on hit pop songs?  I did a quick check and I can find none.  They're the equivalent of a movie written specifically to make someone into a star.  These aren't inspired perfumes, oh no.  They stand on their own without a song to back them up.

Electric youth, feel the power You see the energy comin' up, coming on strong The future only belongs to the future itself And the future is electric youth It's true you can't fight it, live by it The next generation, it's electric

The future only belongs to the future itself.  Whoa.  Deep... and very pretty smelling. The perfume did remind me of youth.  It smelled sweet and earnest, not like it was trying too hard or trying to be sexy at all.  It said, "Hey, boy, I hope you notice me" not "I'm half naked, wanna come home with me?" like most tween-intended products seem to say these days.  It made me wish that I had saved some of mine, but how could I have known that something like this would seem so precious and fleeting later on.

Leave it and love yourself

Pouch test bonus: I lost 4.4lbs last week, yay! This puts me 1/3 of the way toward my first short term goal: to lose the approximately 15 lbs I've put on since autumn.  Nine pounds to go and then I'll set a new short term goal.  I totally believe it's helpful and great to celebrate small milestones along the way.

So what now?  Well, I'm continuing with a modified version of the plan.  I think I'm going to keep eating mainly light soups on Mondays and Tuesdays as a way to get me on track for the week.  For today I've made Hungry Girl's V10 soup (like V8 but way more veggies and lighter).  I'm already feeling a bit of snack anxiety (as in I don't have something to snack on, some crunchy little things to nibble throughout the day) but I know that that's one of my major problems and something I'm going to constantly battle, and if some super veggie soup is what's going to get me through today, then that's it.  I did put a 100 calorie pack of almonds in my bag, though, in case I'm not full enough from the soup and get lightheaded and can't concentrate at work.

The (my) relationship with food is so complicated that I just purely hate it (the relationship) sometimes.  There's an interesting article in The Daily Beast today about Disinhibited-Eating Disorder, which they describe as:

As a group, disinhibited eaters are people who are unusually tied into the world around them and, when it comes to food, are more vulnerable to the everyday temptations of the high-fat, high-calorie goodies that surround us than those lucky folks to whom a full table is just a full table . . . For these people, more than other folks, learning how to deal with our toxic food environment makes a world of difference. And by this, I mean learning how to comfortably control it rather than engage in futile battles of willpower with it. If you’re someone who tends to eat just because there is food for the taking, even if you’re not the least bit hungry, read on.

Seriously?  This is SO normal for me that I had to read it several times because I was looking for the part that stood out as the problem.  Obviously I know what the problem is, but what I mean is that it's like reading the definition for schizophrenia and going, "Oh, hearing voices - yeah, that's a big sign of bad things going on."  I read this and went, "Oh.  Right.  Um, that's just daily life." Their solution: surround yourself with a personal microenvironment that decreases opportunities for disinhibition and creates a hunger-free, more-satisfied metabolism. This is exactly what I'm trying to do.  Of course, we all have to live in the real world and work to control ourselves when out in the buffet that is that real world, but a huge part of my life is home and work - two places I do have some (although not total) control over. They go on to suggest six rules for helping keep control (I highly suggest reading the article).

As I mentioned before, my good friend My Right To Dream recently underwent gastric sleeve surgery, a type of weight loss surgery (a bit different from the gastric bypass I had) and she's having a hard time with the first week of recovery, which is significantly physically painful sometimes.  As she talks about it, I remember those times - but when asked before, I couldn't recall much of it because the mental workings of breaking up and reuniting with food was so much bigger for me.  Going into the surgery, I had no idea that I had eating issues.  I feel dumb about that now, but I just really didn't know. I don't need to be a size 10 (though a 12 would be nice).  I don't need compliments on how I look or what a good job I'm doing losing weight (from people who just see any diet as a good thing because they've been conditioned - I do appreciate the comments from the people who know how hard and what a complicated process it is).  I don't want to turn heads.  I'm not a fan of attention, really.  I just want to be happy with me.

Last night I watched the first four episodes of My So-Called Life with Delightfully Sweet.  The show was my first "Things I Miss Friday" item and I can barely describe just how influential it was and still is on me.  For me, that show is magical and I would give anything to have that same team create a new show today.  The closing voice-over of the fourth episode (which I also quoted in that first Things I Miss Friday) speaks to me today just as much as it did when I was 19:

Sometimes it seems like we're all living in some kind of prison. And the crime is how much we hate ourselves. It's good to get really dressed up once in a while. And admit the truth: that when you really look closely? People are so strange and so complicated that they're actually... beautiful. Possibly even me.

Things I Miss Friday - King of Pop edition

Today's "Things I Miss Friday" is both easy and difficult.  Easy because the subject is almost a given, but difficult because it's a controversial given. Kendra from Pop Trash Radio put it this way: "The Michael Jackson I loved died a long time ago in my opinion.  This still makes me somewhat sad."  I believe there are a lot of people that feel that way today, and I am one of them. 

His life and significance are a bit difficult to parse, but so far I see people falling in three camps: 1) those who can only make pedophile jokes today; 2) those who only talk about his great achievements in music; and 3) those who recognize his achievements but also recognize his personal difficulties.  #1 and #2 are laypeople.  I've only seen #3 in newscasters so far.  I believe the #3 is really the only way to go.

How do we give credit to an alleged pedophile for anything he accomplished?  I have always firmly believed that people who commit such heinous crimes are genetically programmed for that sort of behavior.  However, I read something yesterday that I think is an even better description: genetics loads the gun but environment pulls the trigger.  What would have become of this boy genius had there been someone in his life with some knowledge about the special needs and concerns of child stars and the dangers of celebrity?  The abuse of Jackson's childhood is fairly well-documented and not really disputed.  That already creates a particular type of sensitive and possibly troubled child.  Put that child in a fishbowl and continue to have him work in an industry where both your employers and fans fawn over you and it's a recipe for destruction.

I'm not sure we'll see anything quite like Jackson's level of fame for a long time to come.  We are already a much more jaded society and would scrutinize someone similar so much earlier.  For all of his own personal failures and destructive problems, we must hold ourselves partly accountable.  As I stated recently with the Jon & Kate phenomenon, we love to lift people up and then watch with joy as they crumble and fall, all the while still partaking of whatever entertainment it is they provide us (for Jackson, the music).  If genetics loads the gun, then fame and the public's habit of lifting up and tearing down bought the gun, the ammunition, taught him how to shoot, and then pulled the trigger.

This level of fame will also be hard to reach again because Jackson was a rare talent; I don't believe that can be denied.  To Gen Y or the Millenials, it may be hard to believe, but MTV used to be kind of revolutionary.  They had a sort of punk rock attitude when they started and were very much giving the finger to the traditional music industry and cable programming.  They were navigating only semi-charted waters.  However, they didn't play videos by black artists.  It's such an odd feeling for me to think how in my lifetime this was even possible - how segregated the music industry still was during my childhood. However, Michael Jackson changed that.  His music was so good and so broad in its influence that MTV had no choice but to show him.  To do otherwise would have been the equivalent of making people sit in the back of the bus.  With millions of Americans of every race and background buying Jackson's albums, it only made sense that they show his videos.

And then, we can't ignore those videos.  I can't imagine what the world of music videos would look like if it weren't for Michael Jackson.  Maybe the Gen Y/Millennial folks have no idea, but he truly was a visionary.  As the footage rolled on every cable news network yesterday, my brain kept flashing with even more videos (because, of course, the news mainly showed clips of the Jackson 5 and "Thriller").  If you really want to see how amazing he was, watch those early Jackson 5 clips.  He is the standout and nearly mesmerizing to watch. But what about "Smooth Criminal", "Bad", "The Way You Make Me Feel", "Rock With You", "Beat It", "Dirty Diana", "Black or White", and a hundred more.  Who doesn't recognize the lit sidewalk in "Billie Jean"?  Who hasn't seen (and tried) the Moonwalk?  (And that was before the internet - imagine today what would have happened with that moment.)  What about "Scream", with his sister Janet - when they had to actually show some people they weren't the same person.  What about Say Say Say, with Paul McCartney?  How sad that they had that terrible falling out (I'm wondering if Sir Paul will release a statement.)  What about "Man in the Mirror" and "Leave Me Alone, which let us in to a bit of his troubles.  Do you remember "Remember the Time" with Eddie Murphy as an Egyptian king and Iman as his queen?  Because of his extreme amounts of money, he could afford the best special effects available, often before the ordinary public had any idea something like that existed.  I think videos like "Black or White" and "Remember the Time" out-do the late 90s/early 00s Star Wars films.

And then there's "We Are The World."  Sure, there have been other similar projects, but that one stands out - I think everyone owned a "USA for Africa" t-shirt.  I vividly remember standing on stage for one of my fifth grade school recitals and singing that song and how the audience of parents and teachers joined in at the chorus.  Who could pull together that array of celebrities and musicians today without it turning into a horrendous ego-fest AND accomplish a beautiful piece of music that also worked to bring a world problem to light?  I am at a loss to think of anyone who could achieve that today.

People will be tempted to look at him as a divided human being: in one part, an extraordinary artist who has made lasting contributions to the world of music, art, and charity.  And the other part, a troubled and possibly sick human being who allegedly molested young boys and was an all-around weirdo: a pet chimp, a home amusement park, an obsession with Peter Pan, the skin lightening, the plastic surgery.  However, I insist we must work to recognize that this is all the same human being and that this is all intertwined. Artists are often troubled people. 

One scientist found that 20% of poets commit suicide, compared to 4% of other professions, and poets have nowhere near the fame Jackson did.  He was troubled because he was great and because his greatness thrust him into a life and lifestyle that was more than he could manage.  I find it utterly disturbing that he was preparing for a huge tour when, clearly, he had to have been significantly troubled and in poor health.  Shame on his handlers. I have yet to see that side of this mentioned; I hope someone picks up on it and starts asking questions.  Anna Nicole Smith's handlers are being held accountable for their role in her death; his should be, as well.

But that brings me back to us - the video-watching, album/MP3-buying, tabloid magazine reading public.  We are complicit as well.  Nothing grabs our attention more than when a side show takes the main stage. Well now, Mr. Jackson has left the building and it's time for us to find a new show.  Let's try not to destroy the next one, but instead let's work to treasure our artists; we can lift up their work while keeping the person grounded.  We're in this together.  We are the world. I do not believe in an afterlife, but I do believe that there is peace to be had today, both for the people who were troubled by Jackson (the boys, their families, his handlers) and for Jackson himself. I think it's worth taking some time to reflect on all of this.  But I hope it's also possible to take some time to just enjoy some of Jackson's work on the YouTube Michael Jackson channel.  Remember the time.

I'm pretty sure there will be a memorial service for Jackson.  I think what they should try to do is reunite everyone from "We Are the World" and have them sing that in tribute.  It's sad to think how most of them outlived him, but it would remember the best of his life and the best of his work and would be an amazing show of support.  I can dream.

Edited to add: If you want to read similar, much more concise thoughts on this from a far better writer, check out Andrew Sullivan's post on The Daily Dish.  He's got it right.

Things I Miss Friday

Inspired by my previous post on my current love for podcasts, I got to thinking about my first foray into choosing my own radio programming: the light purple AM/FM radio my parents bought for me when I was ten.  It didn't have a tape deck, so I just listened to the radio (Top 40, of course). I tried to find a picture of this radio, but I can't.  It probably cost $15 at Shoprite or something. 

I have one picture in which you can see half the radio, but I can't post it because then you'll also see: *my mid-80s permed hair *my mid-80s plastic glasses *my bright red bedroom *my Bop and Tiger Beat posters *my red corduroy pants So, no.  I have terrible nightmares of someone taking that picture and forwarding it all over the intarwebs so that I become a worldwide laughingstock.  No thanks.  When I write a book about myself or my family, I promise to put it in the middle section with all the pictures.

For now, I'm thinking about my little purple radio and when I started learning what kind of music I liked and how that whole time is when you really start forging your own identity.  So what if my identity was built on Madonna and Wham?  I <3 80s music.

This is so how I feel about people with bluetooth headsets.

This site - Lunchbreath's Flickr Photostream - was highlighted on The Huffington Post yesterday.  It is chock full of awesome illustrations, but this was a "Oh, yes, this" moment on the first page I looked at:

I have a theory that the people who walk around with those blinking blue earsets have a secret desire to be Jem:

Remember Jem?  She was truly outrageous - truly, truly, truly outrageous.  Oh, and the music's contagious, outrageous.  Remember her special earrings?  They helped her computer, Synergy, to transform her from her regular music executive daily life into Jem, the superstar. But I'm sorry person walking around with the bluetooth headset; you are no Jem.

Things I Miss Friday - play with your food edition

I miss having puzzles and games on my food.

I haven't found any "grown-up" (i.e. not sugar-laden) oatmeal packets with trivia questions on them.  As it is, I need to just buy some plain oats instead of the flavored oatmeal, so there goes the trivia entirely, but it got me thinking.

When I was little, I read all...the...time.  Every morning I'd read my cereal box, the milk container - whatever was around.  Same went for lunch time.  There was a short period of time where my siblings and I ate lunch at school (a rariety in my hometown - 99% of kids go home or out to lunch).  The school system doesn't have any cafeterias that serve food (just large rooms with tables that they call the cafeteria) so it was always a brown bag situation.

Now, what could be more boring than a brown bag lunch, right?  Ah, but that is where you'd be wrong.  Once my brother started school (so all three of us were in school), my mom went back to work nights and my dad worked during the day, so we always had a parent available.  What this meant, though, was that it was our dad that made our lunches at night for the next schoolday - and he was having none of that boring brown bag stuff.

My dad would make our lunches after we went to bed so what would be both in and on the bag would be a surprise.  That's right - on the bag.  What was on our brown lunch bag?  Word games!  He would take a black marker and draw word finds and crossword puzzles and word scrambles for us; the difficulty would change depending on whose lunch it was.  For my brother (since he was only five or six), he might have a 3-letter by 3-letter grid and have to find the word "dog" - which would be right across the top (one of the cutest things I ever remember from my childhood).

The best part about this is that it feels like an interpretation on a burgeoning family tradition.  My father's parents came to this country from Estonia (by way of Sweden) and spoke very little English (very, very little - like almost none).  Since in those days it wasn't as easy as it would be now to get things to read in Estonian, my grandfather would make up his own things, including his own crossword puzzles.  He would design a whole crossword puzzle in Estonian and then solve it.  (I'm guessing that the fun was more in the creation than the solving.)  I didn't know about this until long after he had passed away, probably twenty years after my last brown bag lunch, and didn't put this all together until a few more years after that.

I think this all contributes to my view that every moment of one's day can be a learning opportunity, but now I think it also chimes with the idea that food/mealtime should be fun and interesting.  My family always had lively mealtimes and I feel like my lunch bag games were a way of taking that with me to school.

Now I usually eat my lunch at my desk at work, as I think most working adults do.  We should all get out and play.

Things I miss - Saturday edition

I don't know how the weather is where you are since, well, I don't know who you are or where you are.  But here in the northeast, we've been getting a lot of rain.  And what does rain bring with it?  Yes, puddles and people driving slowly - but more than that, it brings complaining - lots and lots of complaining.  Why do people hate the rain so much?  I think rain is wonderful.  It sounds great, it smells great, it's completely necessary and useful.  Sure, no one likes being wet when they get to work or home, but is that really such a problem?  WHY is rain so inconvenient and why does it inspire such hatred?  I love it, as I do a lot of things that are perceived to be dreary, which might be why my husband calls me Eeyore once in a while.

Now, I may have a couple of stuffed Eeyores... and, okay, I may have been Eeyore for Halloween sometime in my mid-20s, but I do not have a cloud following me.  But, if I DID, I would still love the rain. Which brings me to this week's things I miss (which I missed doing yesterday but will instead do today). 

Today's edition is inspired by the recent rain as well as Mother's Day. 

Did your mother make you wear these things when it rained?

1. A slicker
When was the last time you heard the word slicker?  I remember my mom using it but for the longest time now it's just been a raincoat.  And why does it seem like they were always yellow (my least favorite color)?  But these aren't the raincoats of today, made of water resistant fabric.  No, no.  These were basically plastic shaped into coat form.  If it was a particularly crazy rain storm, you'd take this off and everything outside of the slicker's cover would be wet (your hands, ends of sleeves, and pants below the knee).  But they did a good job most of the time.

     

2. Galoshes
No, not the cute patterned rainboots we all wear now (I have a powder blue pair that I love).  These went on OVER your shoes and buttoned together at the top to hold them on (see picture).  I HATED these things.  I thought they were ugly then and I think they're ugly now - kind of like a cross between Uggs and Crocs!  Why didn't we just have cute rubber shoes?  Why did we have to put ugly rubber boots over our sneakers?  They did work fairly well, except if you jumped in a puddle.  Because they were relatively low and not sealed at the top, if you jumped in a puddle, much of the water got inside and your shoes got wet anyway, totally defeating the purpose.  Not that I did this, Mom.  I'm just saying I saw it happen to other people.

 

3. Clear umbrellas
I remember these as being particularly girly and feminine.  Sometimes there would be a design (flowers or ribbons or Hello Kitty) on the umbrella, but it was always still clear enough to see through.  They were also narrower and longer than traditional umbrellas, so when you put it over your head, it went down to your shoulders.  Little girls could share one, but adults couldn't (unless it was huge).  They seem to be making a resurgence and I think I want to get one.

Rain is one of the most incredible sense memory experiences for me.  When it rains, I first think of the first college I attended, which was in the Lehigh Valley, aka the Leaky Valley because it rained so much.  I can close my eyes and smell the rain in the fall or spring and am immediately brought back to that campus. 

Next, I remember living on my own the past few years and walking Oreo in the rain, no matter how bad it was.  I remember walking to elementary school (with all of the above gear), back when my friends didn't complain about the rain.  I remember the house we lived in when I started high school; it had a screened in back porch with a sofa on it - the absolute perfect place to sit and enjoy a cool rain shower.

Oreo woke me up at 4:30am today to go out in the monsoon that was going on outside and, while I was not incredibly happy to go out at that hour, I still smiled as I got back into bed and heard the rain pounding down outside the windows in our bedroom.  So rain, rain, don't go away.  Stay again, another day.

5 Ways to Love My Body by the End of Summer

Yes, most people strive to make their bodies summer-ready.  That is not my style.  One of the best parts of losing weight previously was feeling like I blended in when I started my M.A. program.  Now that I'm starting my new Ed.M. program this fall, I want to recapture that (and so much more). 

So here is my summer plan:

1. Be fresh (in my food choices, that is).
I always laugh when my sister tells her son that he's "being fresh" because it's such an old-fashioned phrase and notion to me.  But when it comes to diet, we really could use some more old-fashioned notions.  I have not been eating as I should be based on my previous surgery, dietary restrictions, and overall health and environmental concerns.  Specifically, I am going to: cut back on carbs, increase fruits and vegetables, and avoid packaged and processed food.  I had more energy, felt better, and my skin looked better when I lived this way before.

2. Drink more water.
I'm pretty good at drinking calorie-free beverages (iced tea mixes with Splenda, etc) but I think I need to decrease my caffeine intake and also continue to limit the number of chemicals going in my body.  If I'm going to drink tea, I should make it from actual tea bags. I had a plastic reusable bottle that I used regularly for the past year, but now I lost it.  However, that's a great excuse to buy a new reusable container and stop worrying about the plastic leeching into my water.  I have read that the creation of reusable aluminum bottles isn't any better for the environment (alas), but at least I won't be thinking about the chemicals leeching into the water.

3. Get on board with Jillian's 30 Day Shred.
I can't afford to join a gym and usually hate working out at home because the idea of the hubby seeing me do this just makes me want to shrivel up under the carpet (I embarrass easily).  The hubby and I are keeping the tightest of lids on the budget, but this retails for about $10 and so it has been deemed a reasonable purchase by joint decree. When I work out, I need a trainer who's a bit mean, but only because s/he cares and is passionate about his/her work... and that's Jillian.  I can't wait to go pick this up and get started on it.  Now that the hubby works a lot of nights, I can do this when I get home from work and shower before he even knows I looked like a gross mess a few hours earlier.

4. Detox to get back in touch.
No, I'm not going to be drinking some nasty lemon and maple syrup concoction.  This is not the diet version of a get-rich-quick scheme (one friend calls these "Crap Yourself Thin" diets). I will be going on the 5 Day Pouch Test.  As a gastric bypass patient, I have my stomach pouch as a dietary tool that I can either use or abuse.  As of late, I have not been kind to my poor little pouch and this pouch test will help me get back in touch with how it feels to be full and to treat my pouch gently.  It will have the added benefit of acting like a cleanse, starting to clear my system of the processed foods I've been eating. Ideally, I'd do this first but, unfortunately, life circumstances deem that I can't (too many family events in the next two weeks).  So, I will start this at the end of May and will repeat as necessary throughout June - August if I feel it's been helpful.  This will also have the added benefit of completing item #6 on my 101 in 1001 list.  If a friend of mine who also had WLS (weight loss surgery) is still willing to do this, I may even have a partner for it (which is always helpful).

5. Be present. (I.e. Treat my body like the gift that it is.)
One of the very best things about feeling healthy was feeling in tune with my body, like I was truly living in it for the first time in my life.  I knew its capabilities and limits, and how to push and extend those limits - and I did so, regularly.  I was also happy - not because I weighed under 200 lbs for the first time since I was 15, but because I felt good and because I was proud of what I accomplished and how I lived. The hubby and I bought the Wii Fit back in January but have yet to set it up and try it out!  I plan to set it up (err, well, have the hubby set it up) and then start using it regularly.  I have yet to do any yoga this year and I had hoped to do some at least once per month, so I'm quite behind - and I could use the relaxation and focus. So those are the five ways I'm going to be sure I love my body by the end of the summer.  In short, I'm going to be good to my body, treat it with respect, nourish it as it desires, and not let it languish. What do you do in order to love your body?

Things I miss Friday - MASH

No, not the TV show - the game little girls play:

As you can see, you listed the boys you liked, the careers you wanted, cities you wanted to live in, and cars you wanted to drive.  MASH stood for: mansion, apartment, shack, house - i.e. the places you might live as an adult.  The person doing the selection for you drew a squiggle in the middle until you told them to stop.  Then they counted either how many spaces were in the swirl or how many lines from top to bottom (I grew up counting the lines).  Then they went through the list counting off and crossing off until you were only left with one item in each category.

I just did one for myself and here's my future:  I'm living in a shack with Chris Pine (the new Captain Kirk - HAWT!) in Baltimore.  I drive a convertible Mini and make my living as a writer.  Now isn't that fun?  (Although how I have a Mini and a movie star as a husband but live in a shack, I don't know.  Shopping habit?)  As a little girl, imagining these aspects of your future is one of the most fun things you could do, or at least it was for me.  There was nothing like imagining what it would be like to have someone who loved me, who promised to love me for life, to have my own home and car, and a full career in a city I imagined I'd love (since I hadn't been to any foreign cities in elementary school).

I imagine that today this would be very different.  In fact, even filling this out right now was really difficult.  I could only think of a few careers I want.  I only chose celebrities as future husbands because there's no other "regular" guy I want other than my hubby.  The cars weren't really interesting to think about and the cities felt really unlikely since so much of my life is tied to north Jersey - I don't see going far.  So what would the grown-up game look like?  There might still be cars.  Other lists might be number of children or places to visit or some valuable life comforts (like winning the lottery or college loans paid off).  I don't know; I'll have to think about it a bit more.  This game told us what we thought we'd value as adult women; now that we are, is it the same?

Things I miss Friday

I've never been much of a computer geek, but when people first starting getting computers in their homes (mid-1980s), I was lucky enough to be in a program at school that taught us BASIC and LOGO (both useless now, but cool at the time).  I really enjoyed using a computer and was super excited when my dad brought home an Apple IIc+. 

My brother, sister, and I played with this computer every day.  They were younger, though, and spent more time playing outside than I did (which is to say I spent almost no time outside).  Instead, I spent my time inside with a daring, intelligent, career-driven woman:  Carmen.

We had a whole slew of Carmen Sandiego games: Where in the World, Where in the USA, and Where in Time (that was a particularly challenging one).  We may have had another one, but those are the ones I played incessantly.

Remember the thrill of booting up the game and hearing the typing sounds of a new case coming through?  You would start out as a gumshoe and work your way up to a full detective (now that I think about it, it wasn't far off from the whole TA-to-full professor journey, ha).  Along the way, your knowledge of geography and history was tested.  The game didn't have the boundless stores of memory that games have now, though, so repeat information was not uncommon (but, I think, a helpful learning tool - there are probably still a bunch of facts about countries' top exports stuck in my brain somewhere). 

For me, current computer/video games just don't compare.  I don't want to shoot or chase things, drive a race car, play a professional sport, or slice someone to smithereens with a large sword.  Well, okay, I'll admit that once in a while I get a kick out of all of those.  They still do not compare, though, to sitting down at the old computer desk with a cold drink and booting up a detective game.  The police siren blared in the "background" and the typing started: here was your new case and travel plans.  As you went along your travels, you met interesting characters who just sort of sidled onto the screen.  It wasn't fast - in fact, I'd call it charming - and you were only competing against your own knowledge.  If a friend played with you, you played as a team, both sharing your knowledge and working together. Some time ago, I downloaded what was supposed to be Carmen Sandiego but I never got it to work; it totally bogged down my laptop, which shouldn't be the case with circa 1988 graphics and programming, so it clearly wasn't right. 

What I wouldn't give to get a copy of the 1980s version of these three games (World, USA, Time).  I don't think that's what my husband has in mind when he wishes I would play more video games, but these would be the games that would make me the happiest.  There is talk that it's coming out for the Nintendo DS.  A new release of the game makes me nervous because I don't want them to change absolutely anything about it.  I don't want new technology helping Carmen; I still want her to get faxes and use payphones.  I tend to trust Nintendo, though; they seem to have a fair respect for the historical accuracy of games.  I hope that the game (games?) is/are released for the DS and that they're worthy of the Carmen Sandiego title.

Some assembly required

Growing up, you think that your adult life just falls together - that you get there, to this magic state that is adulthood, and you know exactly how to go about managing your life.  Because I have honest and down-to-earth parents, I understood that life threw you curve balls, but lately I've been thinking about the ways in which many people I know seem to have to work at reclaiming their lives.

I started writing poetry (bad, bad poetry) in high school.  If I remember correctly, I figured that all the cool, depressed people did it and so I wanted to, too.  I think I also really needed a creative outlet.  Even though my verse was terrible, I enjoyed putting it together.  I took poetry writing in college and eventually did a creative writing senior project that was comprised of a ten page paper and fifteen pages of poetry.  I handed that in at the end of April 2005 and haven't written a poem since.  I wanted to take poetry writing in grad school, but by the time it was offered, I really wasn't on the creative writing track anymore and the professor that taught it was so intimidating and smart that I didn't feel qualified to sign up for the course (he was my thesis adviser, though).

So most of what I feel like I know about poetry writing comes from my undergrad years, where I was fortunate enough to have some amazingly wonderful professors.  One note that often pops into my mind is that "poets need free time."  By this they meant that you can't write poetry if you don't take the time to slow down and notice what's going on around you.  But this couldn't be passive, either - you have to go out and live a life; it can't be so slow that you're just at home all the time (even Emily Dickinson had some personal interactions).

These are the two situations that I have struggled with since handing in that senior project.  I was either so busy that I felt like I never stopped running around and, when I did, I was too exhausted to keep my eyes open OR I rejected all of that so strongly that I holed up at home and did away with most human interaction and recreation.  This is why "Write 10 poems" is on my 101 list; not only do I want to write ten poems, but I want to get myself back into the balance where I can.

These days I can feel it once in a while and it is so refreshing and enlivening.  I've even had a few lines of verse pop into my head.  I haven't written anything down, though.  The machine isn't ready to produce any product yet; it's just getting warmed up.  The next two months are very busy, though - there isn't a single weekend where I don't have something to do, whether it be work or travel or some social obligation, so slowing it down is going to be difficult, especially since I also don't have fully free evenings.  I can't help but get angry sometimes that I have to work this hard to get some time for myself, that I have to push away people and activities and responsibilities just so I can gain some head-space, but it's a must.  I'm a happier person when I have that time and my brain is in a thinking, creative space, and that will make me a better friend so it does work out in the end.  This blog is actually helping quite a bit; I've found that taking the time to compose my thoughts on one idea is helping me slow down.

We may ride the see-saw as a child, but creating balance is really the work of adulthood.

Things I Miss Friday - the drinking edition

There is a bartender named Charlie at a bar named Grand Cru and he makes the best espresso martini I have ever had.  He gets the perfect sweet/dry/coffee mixture and always has a perfect pour.  The shaker is totally empty while your martini glass is filled exactly to the brim, so much so that you can't move it.  You need to go to this drink; it won't come to you.  It's that good.

I miss: Grand Cru, Charlie, and the espresso martini.  This weekend I will make time for them (I just hope Charlie's on duty).

Grand Cru
527 E Belvedere Ave
Baltimore, MD 21212

Traveling to my second city

NYC will always be my first city love... but I have had, and will have, a long affair with a second city.

1994 (Fall) - During my sophomore year of college, I become friends with someone named James.  James comes to hang out in my dorm room with several of his friends (they are all freshmen).  They are all mostly obnoxious, especially one whose name I can't remember.  He's kind of cute but he seems like an alcoholic and has a rude sense of humor.  I am not amused.

1994 (Fall) - My friend Maureen and I are in the same history class as that obnoxious freshman.  I still can't remember his first name (especially since the professor calls us all by our last names) but he sits in front of me all semester and I happily rest my feet on his chair.  He never takes a single note in class and always finishes every test and exam first and earns an A.  I take copious notes and study but can't seem to get anything but a D (I proceed to drop my history minor).

1995 (Fall) - I become better friends with Sue, who is friends with the formerly obnoxious freshman (who is now neither obnoxious nor a freshman).  It's the first weekend of school after classes start and he's having a party in his dorm room.  I desperately want to go but am too shy to go alone so I beg Sue to come with me.  She does, we have a great time, and a long history begins.  I also finally remember that his name is Mike.

1995 - 1996 - Mike and I instantly become best friends, nearly instantly inseparable.  I learn so much from him about how to enjoy life, about Judaism, about friendship, loyalty, and honesty.

1996 (February) - Mike brings a friend and I to his parents' house for a weekend.  They live outside Baltimore and we spent the whole weekend hanging out at some of Mike's favorite hometown places.  I am hooked.

1996 (summer) - I spend the 4th of July weekend with Mike; a tradition is born.

1996 (summer) - I throw my 21st birthday party in Maryland.  I gather up all my local friends and truck them down to Baltimore where we pull an all-nighter and I walk with Mike to get bagels at sunrise.  Best birthday ever.  I am not sure at this point if I can afford going back to college in a few weeks, so I cry heavily when I leave.

1997 (January) - After barely completing the fall semester, I am forced to drop out of school due to loss of financial aid (which is due to low grades).  I am heartbroken and cry every day for two months (I counted and kept track).  I go back to the college to visit Mike and Sue nearly every other weekend.  I also go to Baltimore with Mike.

1997 (summer) - I spend almost every third weekend in Baltimore.  It's my escape.  I feel like it's the only place I can exhale fully.

1998 (spring) - Mike graduates college.  Following this, I visit him in Baltimore every 4-6 weeks, like clockwork.  It truly is my home away from home and his parents are like my second parents.

1998 - 2001 - I still visit Baltimore every 4-6 weeks.  I feel like it helps keep me sane (or at least tone down the insanity).  I walk into Mike's apartment, exhale, and relax - giving myself up to the state of Maryland for 48 full hours.  I don't check email; I don't check my answering machine.  I don't care about anything but just being.

2000 - I throw my 25th birthday party at Mike's apartment.  The cops show up.  People still talk about the party, especially the part where I had to be told I probably shouldn't inform the cops that they have the wrong location because the Krispy Kreme is down the street.  (I have a huge amount of respect for cops... I just had a few too many white Russians at that point.)

2002 - 2005 - I go back to college at night and have less free time so my visits become less frequent and sometimes I have to bring work with me.  At one point the visits become so infrequent that Mike and I nearly have a falling out, but all is patched up by a day trip and dinner at our favorite Indian restaurant.

2004 - I go to France for a writing workshop instead of Baltimore for the 4th of July.  Mike is peeved (but deep down I know he understands).  It's the only time I've missed celebrating the 4th of July with him.  He is the only other person I know who is as patriotic as me and gets chills when he hears the national anthem (I also usually cry).  Our political views are quite opposite from each other, but we both have a fervent love for our country.

2005 - I turn 30 and throw myself three birthday parties, one for each decade.  The last of these is in Baltimore, on a glorious summer night where we crank the radio and dance barefoot to 80s Top 40.

2006 - I start grad school and even though I am two hours closer to Baltimore, the visits become even less frequent as nearly every weekend is spent on work or traveling back up to north Jersey for some obligation or other.

2007 - Mike gets married; I am his wife's (Tracy) maid-of-honor.

2008 - I finish grad school but still don't have the time or sometimes the money to go back to my Baltimore visitation schedule.  I get married; Mike is my man-of-honor and an indispensable part of my wedding planning.  The hubby and I drive to the Outer Banks for our honeymoon and stop in Baltimore for the night on the way home.  Mike and Tracy tell us she's pregnant before they tell anyone else (other than their parents).  My old college buddy, with whom I have done more drinking than I can fathom, is going to be a dad.  I am overjoyed and jump up and down and squeal, but am also so overwhelmed at the thought.

2009 (t0day) - The hubby and I are heading to Baltimore to stay with Mike and Tracy for the weekend - probably the last time we will be able to stay there before the guest room becomes a nursery (Tracy is due in early July; I find it incredibly appropriate that Mike's first child is due near the 4th of July).  My views on babies have changed since my sister had TJ, but this is a whole other world.  My "other" life, my get-away, my best friend - they're all going to permanently change in a few months and I don't know what to make of this.  Everything that IS Baltimore to me is going to change.  Can we sit at J. Pauls drinking all day if the baby is with us?  Who will the baby be with if we want to go out at night?  Will we go out at night anymore?  What will remain of my Baltimore life after July?

Yes, this baby has very little to do with me and I can't wait to welcome her into the world.  Mike having a baby is almost like it will be when my brother becomes a father one day.  I tear up just thinking about it.  Outside my own family, there are few people I care about as much as I care about Mike.  He is a world to me... and it's about to change.

Baltimore has always been an adventure for me and I can track my life based on my relationship with it.  This weekend we write the last passage in one chapter and prepare for the next.

Things I miss Friday

What did I miss last Friday?  I missed posting what I miss.  I wasn't at my usual office and in and out of meetings, and then went home to get ready to have everyone over so there just wasn't any free posting time, alas.

What do I miss today?  My short hair:

{me & my godson a couple of years ago}

That isn't the shortest I've had it, but I like the picture (and it's one of the ones I'm taking with me to the hairdresser today).  After having gastric bypass, most patients experience hair loss.  My hair was (is) already thin, so losing more made it even thinner, but it was getting stronger at this point (and the dye actually helps it plump up).  I'm bringing this picture as proof that my hair can look like it has body and movement and not just lay in a straight, limp mass.

This Friday, I am fixated on my hair.  I grew it out for my wedding and could not wait to get it cut afterwards, which I did, although not without issue.  The issue?  My hairdresser went a little weird about a year or two ago and I just am not as comfortable going to him anymore.  This really is a problem because he's been doing my hair since 1997.  He knows my hair better than anyone else - what it will and will not do, how it takes color and cut, etc.  He had a nervous breakdown a year or two ago, though, and hasn't been the same since.  He was always a little off-the-wall but now it's to an extent that I don't enjoy going to get my hair done, which was always one of my happiest days.

I love the whole process - going to the salon, the color application, all the foil, the shampoo, reading under the dryer, the free coffee - just everything.  But he quit the salon and now works out of his mother's basement salon.  It's just not the same.  He's still great at hair, but the experience just isn't the same anymore.

So, I tried to find someone else to cut my hair short.  I took in a picture of a shaggy, bob-length cut.  What I got was a plain, regular bob.  I wanted something kind of choppy and with movement and instead I just got short-ish and straight.  So today I am trying yet another new hairdresser, a friend of a friend.  I'm bringing the picture above with me, along with the following two pictures of Katie Holmes from this month's Glamour:

I hope this stylist has enough technique to do this for me.  My hair is naturally quite straight, but as evidenced above, it CAN have a bit of wave and movement to it if cut properly (and if I use the right products and tools to style it, which I have at home).

So, I hope that as of tonight, I no longer miss having short hair the way I like it because I shall have it again.

I missed Things I Miss Friday

But this morning brought me smack dab in the face of something I always miss: Doing Time on Maple Drive - probably the best made-for-TV/Lifetime-ish movie EVER made.

Yes, that's Jim Carrey.  He plays an alcoholic.  The father is a former military guy who's been too strict on his family, so all the kids are screwed up.  The mother, well, I don't know her reason for being a jerk, but she is.

I have always love this movie, but it's funny how dated it looks and sounds now.  It came out in 1993 so everyone's waistbands are a bit high.  The mother's homophobia would not be written the same way now, even on Lifetime.  "I don't know why you choose this for yourself!"  "I didn't choose this, Mom, this is who I am!  And what about AIDS?  Would someone choose to be gay now?"  The line actually took me aback; I don't think being gay and AIDS are associated like that anymore, so easily.

Later the father says, "Homosexual.  There, I said it... and I didn't even feel sick or anything." "Well, Dad, I think the word 'gay' is easier."  "No, I don't like that word.  It's a perfectly good word that's been ruined."   Errr, yeah.  So very dated; it reminds me of those old B&W "marijuana is bad for you" films from the 30s.  My best guess, though, is that this was someone's first attempt to broach this topic.  1992 was the start of the Clinton era; we got through the Reagan administration with him not saying the word AIDS until nearly the end of his term and G.H.W. Bush not doing much better.  One of my very favorite 90s films, And The Band Played On, came out the following year, also on television.  I think maybe not only did filmmakers start to feel freer to make such films, but also people felt ready to explore the ideas and topics in a more public forum.

For all its dated-ness, though, I still love Doing Time on Maple Drive.  It's one of those that I kind of wish I don't ever get on DVD because it's like a special treat every time I happen to find it on TV, as odd as that probably sounds.