Insomnia part 2

This is a strange week. I feel an anxiety without having an actual event to think is causing it. It could be the holidays, but actually, I am pretty cool with them, even looking forward to whatever they bring. This year, it's really up in the air, because usually we go out to Ohio and my Dad is still not sure if he wants to deal with the whole family holiday crap without Mom. I'm ambivalent as well, but I would like to have my Dad out here, if not for New Years then for President's Day.

I can't believe the evil going on in Washington DC with the Bush tax credits being extended to everyone, even the super rich. I thought they were stupid when they were instituted, I thought they were stupid when we had two wars to fund, and I think their stupid now. Not rescinding at this time for the middle and lower class makes sense, since that gets put right back into the economy, but the rich? They only saved their tax savings and not put it back in to the economy, so why give it to them right now? These are individuals, not businesses, so it isn't like a lot of jobs are going to come out of them.

Republicans are evil to again deny medical coverage for first responders of 9/11. EVIL EVIL EVIL. Users and EVIL. Self serving and EVIL.

Insomia

Tonight I will try not to wake up in the middle of the night and dwell over the tax cuts for the rich/Republicans hate America debacle. It's not up to me to resolve.

I will not fantasize about telling off all the fat old white rich men in Congress.

I will not yell in my mind at people whom I think are stupid or are acting stupidly.

I will not worry about global warming, economic ruin and the impending loss of fossil fuels.

I will just go to sleep, and tomorrow, I will work on stuff I can control.

Why I don't like Indiana

Drove though Indiana twice within the past 7 days. I don't like Indiana. It creeps me out. Here is why:

1. Basketball worship. 

2. So darn flat. Makes one ready to get out of there, away from the unrelenting corn fields and plentiful pig farms.

3. The place breeds inchoately unpleasant people. Pale, taciturn boys in the college speech circuit liked to make excuses to touch me with clammy hands (hand shaking in greeting or touching my arm while passing) and never made eye contact.  Lately, I have met several women whom I would classify as borderline personalities who delight in wrecking the lives of others. All three were from Indiana. Coincidence? (Probably. But they're terrible ambassadors.)  Many nice people come from Indiana too, but they generally move away.

4. Cross the border from Ohio to Indiana, and suddenly you are assaulted with overt and rather hostile Christian billboards all the way to Illinois. Would you convert for "JESUS IS REAL." "JESUS IS WATCHING YOU" "WE ARE A CHRISTIAN NATION" over an angry looking bald eagle and "DO YOU KNOW HOW YOU ARE SPENDING ETERNITY? DO YOU?" There are several roadside crosses vying for most obnoxiously monolithic. Today, when we stopped for Skyline Chili, the restaurant was playing nothing but Christian praise songs. I'm pretty sure that isn't part of the corporate image. It's also one of the most relentlessly monotonous music archtypes one can inflict upon others. I did eat faster, and maybe that was the point.

The thing is, I am Christian, and I was offended by the heavy hammer of fundamentalists in Indiana. I don't like being pounded on the head with it. I don't want to be associated with people who think relentless propaganda is love.

5. Indiana never lets you know if a rest stop has been closed until you walk up to the restroom building. Bastards!

What's going on, what goes on...

I haven't blogged for a while because life has been happening. Also, I configured my cookie permission thingy in the computer in such a way I couldn't access Blogger for a while. It didn't really matter, I didn't feel very chatty anyway.

Back in August, my Mom passed away suddenly. It was a triple whammy of a cancerous lung tumor pushing against her heart to give her a heart attack, that broke apart and spread a clot, that caused a stroke and caused several organs to start failing. Or, the cancer had spread to her brain and caused a stroke, and the blood clots were just a bonus. Anyway, it was incredibly rapid and now she is gone.

I feel I was very fortunate that I could get into town fast enough that I was able to see her while she was still able to see me and recognize me, and we could talk a little. I could tell her I loved her, and she told me she loved me. She knew I was there.

I also feel fortunate that we were able to be friends for many, many years, since she was through menopause and I was through adolescence. We had time to bond as mothers and as friends, and I will always cherish that.

The first month after she passed, I just hermited myself. I cried almost every day. Unloading the dishwasher made me sad, because that is when I would call her. I didn't really feel like auditioning, I didn't feel like going out. I didn't socialize. After about a month, I felt ready to face the world, and since then, I have been functioning pretty well. However, it doesn't take much for me to get choked up at a moment's notice, and it's always unexpected.

All it takes is someone talking about their mom, or a song or a poem, a smell, or seeing something in a store or a show that she would like, to start a little breakdown.

A couple weeks ago, Peggy, my voice teacher, and I were going through the songs of Phantom of the Opera, since I have been asked to sing it whenever I go back to Columbus at the karaoke my brother and I frequent. She started playing the song, "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" and one phrase into it, I started sobbing so hard I thought my eyes would fall out. It totally took me by surprise, but Peggy understood. She's 75, and has lost a lot of people out of her life. She knows how it goes.

Last week, I had a speech student start working on performing a poem called "The Smell of Oranges" by J.J. Jonas, which is about the son of a fruit seller. Because my student is just 15 years old, he really didn't get at first that it was a love and remembrance poem of the father, whom the son loved dearly. He just saw the grousing about the father from the point of view of an adolescent remembrance part of the poem. The student didn't understand the adult perspective. When the father died, the son then craved the scent of oranges that reminded him of his father's hands. The student asked how he should interpret that section. I read it for him, and of course, tears sprung into my eyes reading the last passage. It was kind of embarrassing, but I was able to talk to him about how things that annoyed you become cherished, and the kind of longing and nostalgia this creates. (He totally got it, and came in First at the tournament this weekend with his newly informed poetry interpretation. It is a lovely poem, you should look it up.)

My Dad is mourning in all the normal ways one mourns for a wife and friend of 50 years. He seems to be progressing very well, all things considered. I now call him just about every day, even if nothing is going on. My Dad and I have always been close, and closer in personality and likes than my Mom and I were, so it's great to have a reason to be in contact more often anyway. I am hoping he will come spend some time here with me for a while, but he isn't ready to go traveling yet. There's a cocooning stage to mourning, and the house with her and all her stuff is a nice and cozy place. He has moments of restlessness, but he isn't ready to head out just yet. No need to rush things, they will happen when they happen. Also, he may get a sweet consulting job back where he has worked before, and getting back to that routine would be financially gratifying, so he can't miss out on that. Tomorrow he turns 75, but doesn't act, move or look like it. I hope I do that well!

Since my Mom's passing, I feel more vulnerable, but I also feel more in touch with what's important. At first a lot of things irritated me very easily, but now I have a slower approach to getting upset, especially at other people. Perhaps because my own heart is so heavy, I find myself being much more empathetic and slower to become impatient. This is a good thing.

Some days, I miss my Mom more than others. Some days, I feel her just behind me, or I feel her soft, warm cheek on mine. I feel like in some way, she is with me, and I like that.

So, that's what's been going on, and now, I am back to this blog, with a heavier heart, but new understanding of...well, something or other. We'll find out together. I'll write again soon.

Toy Story 3--the Story of Letting Go

Last weekend, my 14-year-old and I went to see Toy Story 3.

By the end both my son and I were in tears, and we had a hard time keeping ourselves together until we got home and could sob a little in peace. It struck both of us in a tender spot.

In the story, Andy, the boy, is getting ready to go off to college, and his mom is fussing at him to decide what he is going to throw away, donate, or put in the attic. He still has a toy box of his favorite toys, but he hasn't played with them for years. He reluctantly puts most of his faithful toys into a garbage bag to take up to the attic, but through a series of events, they nearly get thrown away and then end up getting donated to a nightmare of a daycare center. The toys escape, and try to make their way back to Andy. The journey is harrowing, exciting, intense and even has a moment where it seems that the toys are truly facing a horrifying end together.

Woody the Cowboy, Andy's favorite toy, keeps faith throughout that Andy loves his toys. In the end, Woody's faith in Andy is justified very sweetly, and all ends well.

The theme underneath it all was the difficulty of moving on, outgrowing a stage in life and moving on to the next; of leaving behind childish things, of changing relationships and honoring the past by passing on the things that are cherished instead of putting them away to be forgotten.

Both my son and I are in the process of these changes in our own lives. He still loves kid stuff, but is drawn towards teen and grown up interests. He is a very sentimental person. Even when he was 4, he had me take pictures of him with all his favorite toys "so my kids will know what I played with when I was their age." He still has his tattered baby blanket he has had since he was born under his pillow at night. We have a fair number of toys that have been boxed in the basement, too precious to give away, still visited when younger friends come over with guilty pleasure. When Andy gives the beloved toys to his 3 year old neighbor and enjoys playing with them with her one more time before wistfully leaving home for college, it just broke my son up.

I have heard from other friends that they have had similar reactions to this movie. Even those of us who have been adults for quite some time feel the visceral tug of love and longing for our own toys and childhood pastimes we have long put away. Things such as these can still resonate with as much love and comfort in memory as we put into them in the first place.

For me, well...I'm approaching the first year where I don't have a child in my house anymore--I will have 2 teenagers. And soon, within a decade, we will be on our own again. As much as enjoy the boys as they are now, a part of me wishes so much that I could have their younger selves running around too, because I have cherished their childhoods deeply, and loved every step of the way. When Andy's mom looked around his empty room before he left for college and wept, I cried too, because that day is coming sooner than I want it to.

Pixar did it again, crafting a story that resonates deeply with both adults and children in profound ways. I give it an A++ and recommend it for everyone.

Oil Spill Sorrow, Anger and Despair

Well, I have decided that sending the corporate offices of BP, Halliburton and TransOcean all the dead fish and wildlife they are creating is a satisfying fantasy. In my mind, I will also send a few thousand tons of dead oily baby animals to the U.S. energy regulatory commission that thought getting excessive gifts from the oil company employees was part of their job description, and actually doing any regulation oversight of those companies was optional.

I will not advocate actually doing that though, because it wouldn't be the executives and middle management that would have to clean that up, either.

They would probably get some of the long-term unemployed or poor illegals to do it for $10/hr, and those folks would suffer from all the ill health effects that the fishermen in the Gulf are being asked to take on without safety equipment.

So, being practical, I switch my karmic fantasy payback position to be that all decision makers from all the guilty parties--oil companies, contractors and regulators--be mandated to spend one week a month for as long as clean up lasts in the thick of the clean up, with no better safety equipment than the least of the clean up workers presently. I would still like them to do their jobs for the rest of the time (when they aren't hospitalized with burned out lungs and skin rashes) and maybe they will actually do them better.

I despair that BP will actually get the hole plugged--ever. I despair that Halliburton will keep getting government contracts and working with oil companies, never getting the consequences they deserve for shoddy, second rate work that has killed our troops and caused one of the links in this catastrophe. I despair that the broken congress will dither away, stuck in their puerile mindset that petty politics and snarkiness is the reason their constituents put them in office.

But mostly, I despair for the ocean and its creatures big and small. The Gulf is ruined. The kill off will likely nearly be complete. As it stands now, the currents are taking the oil out to open ocean, and may contaminate the Atlantic all the way up to Northern Europe. Then, there is hurricane season. Oy vey.

I also despair, because when it comes right down to it, we are all guilty of killing the Gulf (and potentially, a good part of the Atlantic). Stupid gas guzzling consumers that we are, we also should be getting our karmic come-uppance as well. We will. And that is no fantasy.

Put some compassionate motivation into BP, Halliburton and Ilk

The news from the Gulf just gets worse and worse. For some reason, BP is in charge of who gets to look at just how bad it is. They shouldn't have any rights in this way, but I guess that is how it goes when big corporations practically own part of the government. BP, Haliburton,TransOcean et al don't even have the grace to look like they really even care in their press conferences, as they lie blithely about what kind of environmental degradation they have imposed upon the Gulf, and now it looks like Florida, and likely all the way out to the Atlantic.

If they get to keep their cap of $75 million in damages, I think there will be one hell of a citizen backlash. If the government allows that to be the case, it will be a definite that our government no longer for the people, but for the corporations and for corporations only.

Or maybe if we can't get around the cap, we should make it legal to go karmic!

Since none of these corporate entities are really interested in accepting responsibility for the mess (see all the ridiculous fingerpointing for which Obama rightly called them out), I think that we should actually give them a little more immediacy to their predicament. I mean, if we can't make them pay the money to really fix things, let's give them some extremely bad karma.

As people clean up from this major catastrophe, collect all the dead, oil-covered animals that they find, and ship them unrefrigerated to the corporate offices and employees' homes of each of the companies responsible. Don't stop until the leak is stopped and they not only admit, but are properly horrified how much harm they have done with their negligence. Don't stop until they seriously make an effort to clean up their mess using their formidable reserves of corporate cash.

They may not give a rat's ass about the suffering of animals and people who are far away, but I imagine even the most narcissistic bastard may start to feel some "compassionate motivation" beyond corporate bottom line if they have a few thousand oily dead fish and birds in every corner of their buildings and homes.

I would also like to make it a rule that until the end of time, any press conference,interview or public appearance of any of the above's corporate leaders should end with all of them getting slapped across the face with an oily dead fish and dropped in a vat of sludge.

The Dangers of Gardening

This is a very treacherous time of year for me.

I have finally started being able to run about 10-15 miles a week without noticing it on my repairing back, and do some weight lifting regularly. I can touch my toes, and bicycle without fear. I am normal sized again, and feel okay in shorts.

But it's gardening time--what racked me up in the first place for all of last summer.

So far, I have been able to slowly get my flowers and veggies in the ground in small increments. Weeds are being removed by either my sons' strong young hands and backs or myself on hands and knees and not bent over. Still--the garden was a jungle from my not being able to weed last year. My sons cannot always differentiate from plant friend or foe, so the delicate stuff is up to me.

My back is pinging, and so it is all going very slowly.

The garden is ambitious. So far I have mustard, romaine and mesclun lettuces, spinach, mache, onions, breadseed poppies, 6 varieties of peppers, beat-spinach greens, kohlrabi and 4 tomato plants planted. I have 12 tomato plants to go, and will also fit in basil, amaranth, cucamelons, lemon cucumbers and about 12 marigold plants to guard the tomato plants from tomato horn worm. Perennials to maintain are grapes, asparagus, chives, and gold raspberries. Sprouting and growing indiscriminately is salsify, also known as oyster plant.

The problem with coming back and almost being healed from a debilitating back injury is how easy it can be to re-injure yourself with a bad lift or bend.

The garden is shaping up. It is beautiful. It is dangerous. It is calling to me.

Sedition= Sarah Palin, Glenn Beck, Fox News, GOP Leadership

If anyone gets physically harmed because the blatantly violent rhetoric of any of the above, they should be brought up on sedition charges, sentenced, and sent to prison with all the other terrorists.

The blood will be on their hands, and no amount of winking and bleating about lame stream media will wash it away. Gun sites are for taking aim to kill, Sarah. No one here votes with their guns, so please don't pretend, Sarah, that it was just a colorful way to say take back the vote.

These people are not so stupid to think they control the crazies. Sadly, I think it will just be a matter of time before someone commits acts of violence against others feeling they have the above's tacit blessing.

Burlesque Surprise!

Last night we went out for my "free party" at The Spot in Chicago. The party deal basically that birthday person gets free drinks for a two hour time period, and any of guests get discounted drinks throughout the night. Wednesday is also karaoke night, so it seemed like a good fit.

However, I did not have a lot of friends that could wrestle up the energy to make it out on a Wednesday night. Out of about 70 invites through an events page on Facebook, only 15 thought they might attend, and only 5 of them made it.

The poor turnout could be me, it could be the midweek, or maybe, just maybe, it also could be The Spot. If it doesn't have a reputation for being a tad tacky, I am going to give it one, at least this time.

We were sent to the upstairs room for our get together. I had about 7 of the 15 maybes back out via text message in the two hours prior, so I was a little concerned that Dan and I were the party. The Spot did not seem to care, and they did honor the free drinks for 2 hours. Since I'm not a huge drinker, I don't think it was a strain for them.

Then we were told that karaoke would be held off until after a special free tech rehearsal for their new burlesque show.

Say what?!!?

Oh, yes! A stripper burlesque girlie show, with the Flamin' Dames. Surprise!

Just what I never expected for my birthday!

We were already there, so what the hell. Two male friends showed up just in time for the show, and it was a profoundly surreal experience.

The motif was apparently science fiction geekdom. It started with Wonderwoman dancing a little, and then ripping her top off. It was emceed by a fat guy dressed as Jango Fett from Star Wars, and a long haired redneck guy with no discernible reason for being there. They cracked jokes with such obscure references to comics, fantasy and sci fi throughout that no one in the audience knew what they were talking about (not even ME!).

Then girls came out dressed as ninjas, danced a little, and ripped their tops off.

More obscure jokes, then girls dressed as X-Men danced a little, and then ripped their tops off.

Jokes, Assassins danced, then ripped their tops off.

Jokes, Robots danced, then ripped their tops off.

And it went on and on, for almost an HOUR, all permutations of stock sci fi characters, dancing, then ripping their tops off. It was a precocious 11 year old's wet dream.


Not being a tit woman, I was bored very quickly. Even the finale, danced to the Disco Star Wars Theme, failed to get me excited, and I love Star Wars. I had to quickly reassure my male friends that this really was not something of which I had prior knowledge. It was awkward for the whole table, but then we started making fun of the situation, and that provided much needed entertainment value.

It was wrong on so many levels. It was sprung on us unawares. The choreography was really predictable---dance dance dance aaaaaaaand boobs. The costumes unintentionally gave the dancing what little suspense it should have had by using real bras with hooks in the back.

This made the choreography actually more like, dance dance dance(nervous look, struggle struggle struggle) aaaaaaaand boobs (with pasties).

The "comics" emceeing the show really needed better material, actual characters, and some sort of awareness of the audience.

But mostly, burlesque is such a passe art form. Unless it is revamped, made into something new, with vibrant choreography and scintillating humor, it just isn't worth putting an audience through it.


However, this show was just amusing enough to keep me from walking out, especially since it was free, and karaoke was afterwards.

More friends showed up later on once the karaoke started, we had a great story to tell them, and a fairly decent time was had by all.

What is NOT NEWS

This past weekend, Tiger Wood's confessional/apology/news conference was the freaking LEAD STORY for THREE DAYS on almost all news on TV, Radio and newspapers/internet news. After it was the lead story, hours and hours of news time were dedicated to hashing out "what it meant" and "was it enough."

What it wasn't was NEWS!!!!!!! I'm tired of feeling the contempt of the media trotting out this tripe as the LEAD story and endlessly navel grazing over it and then "by the way" reporting substantial events that effect us globally, nationally or even personally. There are a lot of really important events going on with long term ramifications, and I resent being presented with "something shiny."

It makes me wonder what is being glossed over when stuff like this gets sensationalized. Remember in 2008 when a study done by the Center for Public Integrity and its affiliated group, the Fund for Independence in Journalism found that Bush and his aides had lied 935 times to get us into the Iraq War? Pretty damning of both the Bush Administration and to the media for not even investigating the administration's claims, quite solid grounds for impeaching and/or starting war crime proceedings.

Don't remember it? Sort of glossed over because HEATH LEDGER died, and that needed weeks and days and hours of press coverage as the lead story. Short attention span theatre, and we all move on...nothing to see here...

Maybe it's just market driven. Maybe it's that the average consumer of news media is actually guilty of tuning into this tripe because the real problems of the world are too complex and frightening. A famous person dying or being a douchebag is easier to watch than NATO repeatedly blowing up enormous numbers of civilians in Afghanistan, the Iranian nuclear threat, environmental crisis, the poor world economy and our broken hyper-partisan government holding party far more dear than the good of the people they are supposed to serve. And more.

I guess I can understand the need for an eye-catching lead story to draw people into the broadcast--but it is wrong to tell us that the eye-candy is actually a meal.

Is that Muscles I See?

Currently I am on Week 4 of a quest to work out 4-5 times a week, and finally I am starting to see results.

As of today's measurements and weigh in, I have lost .5 inches in waist and hips, and may or may not have lost 3 lbs. My scale has been really wacked lately, so it's hard to say. Scale o' pants says, back to pre-Christmas, but that really isn't something amazing to look at.

My arms are the first place to see the difference, as well as my back and shoulders. The Activtrax program I am using at the YMCA seems to really focus on those areas, and there's definition in the arms again. I may be able to go sleeveless with pride by the time spring rolls around. I am certainly wanting to be able to wear shorts again without shame by summer.

I am feeling stronger and more energetic, but I am also realizing that 5 days a week may not be prudent on a 40+ year old body on a constant basis, so I am going to work with 4 days a week and consider any extra days a bonus. I learned from the last time I ran a marathon that less can be more in the masters athlete, and rest days are as important as the work days. Still, I am impatient for results.

Not much else to report. All are well.

Oh, Yeah, Resolutions!

The past couple of years I have done some resolutions for the new year that didn't really have much staying power. Last year's especially--I sure didn't get in shape, thanks to hurting my back and a much too-desky desk job.

This year, though, I have decided to start on really getting things going before committing them to the blog. Today will be the finish off the second week that I have exercised 5 days out of seven for the week. The Y started with this electronic Activtrax training program that works well for my style--it acts like a trainer, but I don't feel like I am boring someone standing over me, but I am accountable to it.

I still don't trust my back to be able to run for longer than a mile and a half, but the Y has a machine where I can walk uphill at various grades (I do intervals 8.5% to 18.5% grade) that make the caloric burn comparable to running.

I feel different, more energetic and stronger, but I think it will take a full month to start seeing anything visible.

While rehearsing a sketch show for the Chicago Sketchfest, one of the players was taking pictures of the rehearsal process. Nothing like candid action shot photos to make you see what kind of weight you are packing from different angles. One shot makes me look like Jabba the Hut, and I am not exaggerating. I thought about posting it but it is truly awful. It will go on the refrigerator.

As you can see, I am the widest one there of the fems. They are fat pants, in a fat color, and a fat angle, but I cannot deny that is all there is to it.

BMI wise, I am still not overweight. However, I am not where I want to be, so that will be fixed, slowly and without re-injuring myself.

Other resolutions include:

-being more active in the theatre community
-marketing myself better for voiceover work
-finding a worthwhile job. To that end, I may be going for a masters in education. I love teaching Stay tuned.
-being better about cleaning the house
-decorating said house and painting now that I can reach up and down without spasms.
-writing more, getting published or produced.
-being less boring.

A post so I can get to bed.

PAT ROBERTSON IS AN ASSHAT!

I am tired of him and all the other moralistic, small-minded, ignorant doofuses that give this guy their money and their time day after day.

Help Haiti, give money to organizations that are not there to make self-aggrandizing abominations like Pat Robertson stroke themselves about helping the heathen brown peoples. Besides, last time Operation Blessing helped the brown peoples, it was Rwanda, where they used the donated money to send diamond mining equipment to diamond mines owned by Pat Robertson and his cronies instead of feeding and helping anyone but themselves.

Pat Robertson = evil.

Happy New Year!

Hiya, folks!

Have a Happy and prosperous 2010!

We started things out right here by staying home and avoiding drunk drivers. We made favorite and/or forbidden foods, opened Christmas presents saved to New Years Eve, and watched Doctor Who.

At midnight, the kids shot off some silly string in the patio that I got from the dollar store. Big mistake. It was made in China with who knows what chemicals that are still stinking up the patio even now. I made the kids take showers, and I washed all the clothes that they were wearing. Not being overprotective, the stuff stank that bad.

I hope that isn't the harbinger of the new year. I don't think it was. Eecch.