I don't think I really believe that. But it's kind of hard not to, seeing as how everywhere you turn, society is telling humanity (yes, they are two different entitites) that to be over a certain age is to be, well, defunct.
My 30th birthday is in several months. It's a bit of an understatement to say that my life doesn't look how I thought it would at 30. I'm coming around to where it actually looks quite a bit better, but...there will always be that "but." We grow up thinking we control our destinies. Call it a Supreme Being, call it fate, call it whatever - we don't control jack crap. I think that's what turning 30 is all about - finally realizing that to some extent, life is not so much about driving the car but about being along for the ride.
That's a tough pill to swallow, pardon the overused cliche. It's especially hard for the "me" generation, of which I am arguably a member (depends on who is doing the birth year lumping. I'm either generation Y or generation "me." Either works. Generation "Y Me.")
With so much internal reckoning going on, it's hard to be on the precipice of not really mattering any more. Nielson ratings are primarily measured for the benefit of advertisers. When we hear about a #1 new show, it's not necessarily that it's the best show - it's that the highest number of 18-34 year olds tuned in. Since when did we pass of the torch of taste-making to 18-34 year olds? This age group is responsible for popularizing miniskirts (which look good on almost no one), the Beatles (purely a statistical accident), flappers (lampshade, anyone?), piercings (WHY?!), and gangsta rap (it's just weird when white suburban males blast that from their parents' cars).
I had "The X-Factor" on the other night. In all fairness, I was watching it onDemand and they x-ed out the fast-forward-through-commercials option, so the show lasted all of 15 minutes on my television. I watched it long enough to see that the acts were divided into 4 categories - Boys, Girls, Group acts, and Over 30.
OVER 30?!?! What is with this? Soon we'll be so stuck in our desperate attempt to stave off aging that we'll be assigning our likes and dislikes to those who haven't even hit puberty yet.
There's a part of me that really, REALLY wants someone over 30 to win "The X-Factor" and stick it to a society that is ready to write people off before their lives have even really begun. But I won't be tuning in to see, because even though I'm still in the coveted age bracket of 18-34, I don't really like the show. It's not about growth - it's about rewarding what's already there. And if there has to be a separate category for those over 30, then it's obvious what the judges are looking for is "Not much."
Monday, September 26, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Scrapbooking - The Red Baron
H2H contest this week was 3 different colors of cardstock.
I've got a black cardstock base, cranberry red, with a new england ivy strip on the side. The card is pretty basic in order to let the hand painted Red Baron stay center stage. (Snoopy is painted in coordinating cranberry and ivy watercolor.) There are little Woodstocks watermarked on the green strip in New England Ivy. I played with a shimmer spray that's not CTMH (Shhh!). I like the effect, once I figured out how to aim the nozzle. At least the floor of my craft room now has a pretty sparkle to it. Yaaaaay glitter!
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Two-and-a-half times better.
My social sphere is incredibly small. I count my television amongst my closest confidants. So, when something happens on a television show that makes me proud, I must blog about it as if it were my best friend having a baby. Even though my best buds are definitely past baby-having age. And even though I secretly think babies are kind of stupid.
I watched the premier of "Two and a Half Men" last night. Being interested in writing, I was _(sorry, blank word attack)_ in how the writers would deal with the monstrous issue of Charlie Sheen's departure. How do you write the main character out of a show and still maintain the elements of the concept that make viewers tune in each week?
The writers could have gone in many different directions, and they chose to go in a direction I honestly was not expecting: Niceness.
I can hear you thinking, "Katie, there were 7.25 jokes about large penises. How is it that you find the show to be 'nicer'?"
The main concept of the show was the dichotomy between Alan - broke, means well, always comes out the loser, compared with Charlie - rich, out for himself, always comes out the winner. "Rich", "Out for oneself", and "always comes out the winner" don't lend themselves to an inherently likeable character. Jalepenos. People don't like them by themselves, but mix them with something bland, like Alan Harper's tomato, and you've got a fiesta.
I was incredibly happy the writers of the show were able to maintain that dichotomy, while turning the show in a 90-degree direction. Walden Schmidt (Ok, could've done better on naming him) is a billionaire who buys deceased Charlie's house. He's rich, but the similarities end there. He makes his entrance after a failed suicide attempt due to the ocean being too cold. Charlie would never admit to such a weakness. He'd mock him. Walden hugged Alan several times in the half-hour episode, more than I think Charlie and Alan hugged their entire time together. It is still a dirty show, and there will still be references and story lines about down-and-out Alan versus Walden's ease with everything that Alan doesn't have (money, women) but...Walden is a likeable character.
Seeing many years into the future, I predict viewers catching "Two-and-a-Half Men" in syndication. They turn it on, see Charlie Sheen, and say, "Oh. This is one of the old ones," and change the channel.
I watched the premier of "Two and a Half Men" last night. Being interested in writing, I was _(sorry, blank word attack)_ in how the writers would deal with the monstrous issue of Charlie Sheen's departure. How do you write the main character out of a show and still maintain the elements of the concept that make viewers tune in each week?
The writers could have gone in many different directions, and they chose to go in a direction I honestly was not expecting: Niceness.
I can hear you thinking, "Katie, there were 7.25 jokes about large penises. How is it that you find the show to be 'nicer'?"
The main concept of the show was the dichotomy between Alan - broke, means well, always comes out the loser, compared with Charlie - rich, out for himself, always comes out the winner. "Rich", "Out for oneself", and "always comes out the winner" don't lend themselves to an inherently likeable character. Jalepenos. People don't like them by themselves, but mix them with something bland, like Alan Harper's tomato, and you've got a fiesta.
I was incredibly happy the writers of the show were able to maintain that dichotomy, while turning the show in a 90-degree direction. Walden Schmidt (Ok, could've done better on naming him) is a billionaire who buys deceased Charlie's house. He's rich, but the similarities end there. He makes his entrance after a failed suicide attempt due to the ocean being too cold. Charlie would never admit to such a weakness. He'd mock him. Walden hugged Alan several times in the half-hour episode, more than I think Charlie and Alan hugged their entire time together. It is still a dirty show, and there will still be references and story lines about down-and-out Alan versus Walden's ease with everything that Alan doesn't have (money, women) but...Walden is a likeable character.
Seeing many years into the future, I predict viewers catching "Two-and-a-Half Men" in syndication. They turn it on, see Charlie Sheen, and say, "Oh. This is one of the old ones," and change the channel.
Monday, September 12, 2011
My Dog's Abscessed Teeth and Women's Liberation
Lying in bed the other night, I was reading when I smelled it. Wafting tendrils that, once they hit my nose, assaulted with a sharpness I couldn't ignore, kind of like that one time I rolled over and discovered a fork in my bed.
I sat up and looked around. My cat was passed out on the foot of the bed. I know cat toots are potent, but could that have been the source? He did look rather pleased with himself.
Scritch, scritch, scritch. Truman climbed up the carpeted dog slope by the bed and hopped over to me, tongue lolling out in greeting.
"Oh, GOD," I gasped, covering my nose with my T-shirt. It was officially the first time I smelled my dog before I saw him. I knew it wasn't his stomach contents turning from solid to gas.
It was his teeth.
I suffer from an irrational fear that putting my dog under anesthesia to get his teeth clean will result in him never waking up again. I'd rather have a dog with grandpa gums and still have a dog. I know this is irrational - vets wouldn't do it if it wasn't safe. People get their dog's teeth cleaned all the time with no problems. And, come ON! I've been under anesthesia about 30 times and I've woken up each time since (so far...). Clean. His. Teeth.
A teensy part of my reluctance stems not from worry about Trumie's health, but worry about my financial health. I've finally reached Real Life, where money does not grow on trees, and sometimes you have to make choices. Do I pay for this or do I restock that? I'm making ends meet, but that's without a $500 dog dentist bill. Where is that in the list in priorities? The fact that it's not number 1, is that evidence, once and for all, that I am the world's worst dog mom?
If I was a better dog mom, I'd have a job that paid me so much money I could have a live-in robotic dog nanny take care of Mr. T during the day (robotic so that he didn't bond to anyone more than he bonds to me : ). I'd have all the answers, and finally figure out why he refuses to be housebroken. I'd be a good mom and teach him poopie goes outside, rather than just calmly pick it up off my (concrete) floors and dispose of it. I would teach him to come inside NOW, rather than bribe him with half of a Beggin' Strip.
Instead, I make sure his needs are met and then move on to the next bundle of things on my to-do list. A woman's freedom to work, to be independent, and to live life as she sees fit...sometimes it's not all that liberating. Sometimes we have to make decisions for priorities, at the expense of other priorities, always juggling, and always judging ourselves.
I looked up pictures on Google of abscessed dog teeth to reassure myself that Truman's jaw isn't going to fall off before November, when the vet's office does teeth cleaning and extractions for 20% off. This might seem like an odd thing to Google, but my cookie cache is already so ridiculous - "Why do people have fingernails?", "picture of Cobb periosteal elevator," "video of colon anastomosis" - that I'm sure "abscessed dog teeth" is not too strange at all.
I looked through the pictures with a scientific detachment. 'Okay, yeah, we've got that going on...a little bit of that...oh, poor doggie...Holy Crap!' I leaned forward for a better look.
I won't go into any detail except to say, whoever let their dog's teeth get to THAT point, well...THAT's a bad dog mom.
I sat up and looked around. My cat was passed out on the foot of the bed. I know cat toots are potent, but could that have been the source? He did look rather pleased with himself.
Scritch, scritch, scritch. Truman climbed up the carpeted dog slope by the bed and hopped over to me, tongue lolling out in greeting.
"Oh, GOD," I gasped, covering my nose with my T-shirt. It was officially the first time I smelled my dog before I saw him. I knew it wasn't his stomach contents turning from solid to gas.
It was his teeth.
I suffer from an irrational fear that putting my dog under anesthesia to get his teeth clean will result in him never waking up again. I'd rather have a dog with grandpa gums and still have a dog. I know this is irrational - vets wouldn't do it if it wasn't safe. People get their dog's teeth cleaned all the time with no problems. And, come ON! I've been under anesthesia about 30 times and I've woken up each time since (so far...). Clean. His. Teeth.
A teensy part of my reluctance stems not from worry about Trumie's health, but worry about my financial health. I've finally reached Real Life, where money does not grow on trees, and sometimes you have to make choices. Do I pay for this or do I restock that? I'm making ends meet, but that's without a $500 dog dentist bill. Where is that in the list in priorities? The fact that it's not number 1, is that evidence, once and for all, that I am the world's worst dog mom?
If I was a better dog mom, I'd have a job that paid me so much money I could have a live-in robotic dog nanny take care of Mr. T during the day (robotic so that he didn't bond to anyone more than he bonds to me : ). I'd have all the answers, and finally figure out why he refuses to be housebroken. I'd be a good mom and teach him poopie goes outside, rather than just calmly pick it up off my (concrete) floors and dispose of it. I would teach him to come inside NOW, rather than bribe him with half of a Beggin' Strip.
Instead, I make sure his needs are met and then move on to the next bundle of things on my to-do list. A woman's freedom to work, to be independent, and to live life as she sees fit...sometimes it's not all that liberating. Sometimes we have to make decisions for priorities, at the expense of other priorities, always juggling, and always judging ourselves.
I looked up pictures on Google of abscessed dog teeth to reassure myself that Truman's jaw isn't going to fall off before November, when the vet's office does teeth cleaning and extractions for 20% off. This might seem like an odd thing to Google, but my cookie cache is already so ridiculous - "Why do people have fingernails?", "picture of Cobb periosteal elevator," "video of colon anastomosis" - that I'm sure "abscessed dog teeth" is not too strange at all.
I looked through the pictures with a scientific detachment. 'Okay, yeah, we've got that going on...a little bit of that...oh, poor doggie...Holy Crap!' I leaned forward for a better look.
I won't go into any detail except to say, whoever let their dog's teeth get to THAT point, well...THAT's a bad dog mom.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Scrapbooking - Favorite color combination
I'll start any scrapbooking post with "Scrapbooking - ___" so that if you happen to be reading my blog and happen to find scrapbooking to be about as interesting as watching mold grow, you can skip to a different posting that is more to your liking :)
I've been entering scrap contests lately. Not something I usually do, but it's good motivation. If the contest rules call for "use your favorite 2 colors from the Close to My Heart catalog," I mentally go through the projects I've got backlogged, pick which one would be amenable to __, and then do it, thanks to the added incentive of...I'm not quite sure why an online contest is incentive for me. I guess no one can ever have enough bragging rights. Plus, sometimes there's a small prize package of more stamps or something. Just what I need : )))) Stamps and Jell-o...there's always room.
Anyway, here's my entry to a Close to my Heart H2H contest.
The colors used are Crystal Blue with Grey Wool. (First time I typed that sentence it came out "Crystal Meth with Grey Wool." Yay for crazy word associations.) I painted the rabbit with the coordinating watercolor pencils(I forgot what the stamp set is called. It was March, or April's? stamp of the month). There's some sparkly iridescense on the rabbit, which my less-than-superior photography skills failed to pick up. But I dig the color combo, despite the nontraditional cool-cool pairing.
Contest(s) entered: H2H.
Colors used: Crystal Blue, Grey Wool.
Stamp set: SOTM. Beats the honk out of me : ) and Bohemian alphabet.
Regular blog post to follow! : )
I've been entering scrap contests lately. Not something I usually do, but it's good motivation. If the contest rules call for "use your favorite 2 colors from the Close to My Heart catalog," I mentally go through the projects I've got backlogged, pick which one would be amenable to __, and then do it, thanks to the added incentive of...I'm not quite sure why an online contest is incentive for me. I guess no one can ever have enough bragging rights. Plus, sometimes there's a small prize package of more stamps or something. Just what I need : )))) Stamps and Jell-o...there's always room.
Anyway, here's my entry to a Close to my Heart H2H contest.
The colors used are Crystal Blue with Grey Wool. (First time I typed that sentence it came out "Crystal Meth with Grey Wool." Yay for crazy word associations.) I painted the rabbit with the coordinating watercolor pencils(I forgot what the stamp set is called. It was March, or April's? stamp of the month). There's some sparkly iridescense on the rabbit, which my less-than-superior photography skills failed to pick up. But I dig the color combo, despite the nontraditional cool-cool pairing.
Contest(s) entered: H2H.
Colors used: Crystal Blue, Grey Wool.
Stamp set: SOTM. Beats the honk out of me : ) and Bohemian alphabet.
Regular blog post to follow! : )
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Well, I'll be go to heck.
I figured I should post more on my blog than just scrap projects because I am slipping quickly down a slope where I trust my creativity more than I do my words. I hadn't even seen that I had a couple of awesome comments from my cards posting! Wow. That made my day. Just when I thought I had gotten used to disappointment - in my health, in my achievements, in myself - all it took was a nice word from my dad, my friend, and a complete stranger to bring me back to the typewriter. This is not a typewriter....KEYBOARD. Regarding writing and other literary pursuits, Mark Twain said, "Use the right word, not its second cousin." I'm stuck in this intellectual state of being my own second cousin.
My phone is ringing. Is it weird that I don't answer my phone? I answer my cell phone, but my landline I use specifically for telemarketers. But that's beside the point. When are individuals in society going to get tired of it being demanded of them that they be available, ready, and willing to interact at all times? Even in the Victorian era, people had set days of the week to go calling. I don't know - I guess it's communication fatigue.
I stopped taking the newspaper. It was a decision made mostly out of financial ruin (mine, not the paper's). After growing up with it being a mainstay on our family's kitchen table, and ordering my own subscription while away at college, later to transfer the subscription to the only thing still going well in my life that I haven't flatout lost - my home - I don't miss the news! I don't. There is much to be said for being an informed participant in society. Likewise, there's much to be said for taking a step back and just Being.
My phone is ringing. Is it weird that I don't answer my phone? I answer my cell phone, but my landline I use specifically for telemarketers. But that's beside the point. When are individuals in society going to get tired of it being demanded of them that they be available, ready, and willing to interact at all times? Even in the Victorian era, people had set days of the week to go calling. I don't know - I guess it's communication fatigue.
I stopped taking the newspaper. It was a decision made mostly out of financial ruin (mine, not the paper's). After growing up with it being a mainstay on our family's kitchen table, and ordering my own subscription while away at college, later to transfer the subscription to the only thing still going well in my life that I haven't flatout lost - my home - I don't miss the news! I don't. There is much to be said for being an informed participant in society. Likewise, there's much to be said for taking a step back and just Being.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
