My head is a little fuzzy right now, both from fatigue and the $7 beer I had at Brewer's Art this evening at our monthly book club. I know, me Ms. Cheapo, splurged on a something I couldn't get change from a $5 on. And wouldn't you assume that it would've tasted alot better than it did? I really wanted something cherry-flavored (since we read Chekhov's plays, including "The Cherry Orchard" and we usually like to either eat, drink, or be somewhere with a connection to what we read), and thought about a Sam Adams Cherry Wheat beer.
I know what you are thinking: gross, right? On the contrary, it's very nice. Light and sweet, it reminds me of a cherry-Coke, except it will give you a buzz. And surprisingly, for a place with all these beers from around the world, they did NOT carry it. Yeah, I can hear all you cultural people saying how I should embrace the flavors of the world. Well, unless they are gonna taste better for a better price, I'll stick with good ol' Sam (I can't help it, I'm American).
Anyway, like I mentioned, we met for our monthly (sometimes over) book club meeting. My friends Erica, Lauren, and I formed it almost two years ago as a way to catch up on reading we missed back in school, and yet always still wanted to read. From then on, we've switched back and forth between a classic novel to something modern. This month was the classic words of the playwright, Anton Chekhov.
Unfortunately, old habits die hard, and sometimes I have to admit I tend to get lazy and forgetful, neglecting our assigned reading until it's almost too late; this was one of those times. I usually order the book through the inter library loan system at our library so I didn't have to actually buy it (cuz God forbid I PAY for a book...as I mentioned before, I am a bit on the 'frugal' side), AND they can ship it right to the library in my town (oh yeah, I'm lazy too). But once again, I dropped the ball and just read what I could on Sparknotes (what, that counts!) in time for the meeting today.
After spending a good ten minutes in trying to parallel park (why is it that it looks SOO easy just to swing in and park head-in but then when you try to straighten out you look like a moron moving your car backwards and forwards? I swear the people in the gym facing me must've thought I was some sort of obsessive compulsive who couldn't let the car swing in and out less than 12 times otherwise the moon would collapse) Erica came out to see what was taking me so long. She finally suggested I just move to the space up a little further, which has, as she said, "Enough room for 3 cars" a.k.a. "No possible way you'd have to actually parallel park".
*NOTE: Quick side note- I'm getting extremely irritated right now b/c my freaking fingers are NOT hitting the correct keys at all. You are reading this actually ALOT quicker than I am typing it, which is bothering me. For God's sake, I'm ON a computer ALL DAY. Wtf fingers, I'm gonna give YOU the finger. Anyway, now back to the blog in progress...
We find out the original restaurant we want to go to is either not in business anymore, or has really odd hours, so instead we walk over to the Brewer's Art, one of those yuppie-hipster restaurants. When we are joined by our last member, Krysten, and all food and drinks are ordered, we settle in to discuss the book.
As is customary for these meetings, we usually spend anywhere from 20 to 45 min talking about the details of the book (sometimes, if it was particularly interesting we might gab about it for an hour, but that seems to rarely happen). Tonight we talked about the book for about 25 minutes and then, as usual, the conversation began to extend into other areas: our jobs, school, living situations, family, etc.
Somehow we got on the subject of radio, and NPR in particular. I mentioned how I'd like to start listening to that, and to my surprise, Erica and Krysten nodded knowingly. They began listing the specific shows that were either enjoyable or annoying to them, even knowing the exact show schedule for weekday and weekend programming. I suddenly felt like the guy who realized that putting something over your head kept you clear of the rain and who goes to tell others about it, only to find they have been doing it for years.
But as I listened to them discussing which hosts did what and what kind of shows they liked best, I had a sudden flashback to being in my parent's car when I was a preteen. Since they were driving they had control of the radio, and given the choice they ALWAYS opted for talk radio. I used to snidely remark at how boring and old they were to actually enjoy listening to talk radio. And yet, here I am, actually saying the words, "I'm getting sick of my music. I think I'd like to hear the show about horticulture."
I know people are probably getting sick of me constantly using aging as a theme or topic, but I think it's the curse of being human to be forever aware of getting older. And I guess because when I was a teenager I tended to not think about it because for the most part year after year stayed (mostly) the same. But now, I can't help but see and hear the changes I am making. Somehow it happened, right under my nose and I didn't even feel it. Somehow, somewhere along the line, I became an adult.
**Update**THE LIVING YEAR: Day 7 (1 Week)
Well, it's been an official week since I gave up television. Not too much else to report. I finished one book already (and kinda sifted through a crappy magazine). I think I'll keep a running tally on how many books and magazines I go through this year, just to see how much reading one can possibly do. Erica made a good suggestion as to possibly picking up additional hobbies to help pass the time and reduce my urge for television. Listening to NPR will help (allowing me to hear talking but actually learning something from it as well), and I am going to try writing some ideas I've had tossed around in my head for years (maybe I'll add them here from time to time just to get other people's opinions on them.)
The hobbies idea is good, but other than oil painting and knitting, I can't seem to think of any other good hobbies, so I'm waiting to take suggestions. Remember, with your help, we can keep ONE girl from burning her brain out by watching television.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
The Living Year: Day 6
tv tv tv tv tv tv tv tv....
Ok, so it's not THAT bad yet, but I think I'm finally hitting the point of television withdrawal. I hear the shows in my head still- Chandler's quips, Seinfeld's smarm, Rose's naivety. And when I'm not thinking about that I am thinking about EVERYTHING. I can not believe how much talking in my head I have done in the past 6 days, and I can't even tell if I always did that or if it's just because my mind is no longer shut off with the tv on.
Seriously, my mind will not stop going and going, and it's not even for any deep introspection really. It's as if my mind has become it's own dramatist, recalling detail after detail of the actions surrounding me. For example in my mind I would be saying: 'Kris reaches into the refrigerator and grasps that last can of Diet Coke. She winces as the tab tugs hard on her nail, causing it to bend backwards.' 'Joe meanders into the kitchen, singing in a high-pitched mocking tone of some song as he looks for a snack.' 'As Kris peers out the window near her cubicle she notices the blackening clouds approaching and waits hopefully for the spark of lightning.'
It seems as if everything I am doing or noticing is being recorded for a book or play. And I think the reason is because I've reverted back to reading as much as I can, which is making me think constantly in terms of prose. It means I'm either going nuts or I simply can not exist without some sort of story going on (or maybe both).
I did get close last night to reaching for the remote though. You would think that my ingrained daily routine of turning the television on would be cause me to break, but actually, that's not my desperate hour. The time when it is really going to be tough is as night, as I learned while trying to sleep.
Now, I don't feel ashamed to admit that I am 26 years old and still afraid of the dark. Ever since I was a kid I could remember being freaked out by total darkness, so much that I'd sometimes force my eyes open just so I could stay on constant watch, should someone (or something...?) try to sneak up on me. It wasn't enough having my sister sleeping in the bed across the room, knowing I wasn't alone. For some reason I still always believed whatever was coming was coming for me, and my sister would be no help.
My parents tried to help me find solutions. It wasn't enough just trying to remind me that there was no one there, all it would take would be a creak in the house or the wind howling and my eyes would pop back open. So they gave me a radio to listen to. Unfortunately, the radio kept my sister awake so my parents gave me headphones instead. While that did work for some time I found that either I'd have to often change the station (this was during the time all that Ace of Base, Real McCoy techno-crap was popular- not exactly lullabies) or be subjected to the top hits of Spanish radio.
Finally, since we had a tv in the room, my parents showed me how to operate the sleep timer on it. This is yet another piece to my television addiction puzzle. From then on, I relied heavily on this method. It allowed me the company of the light and sound until I fell asleep and then the tv would go off, no longer disturbing my sister. I used to do this ever since, until now.
Last night started off fine. I had been reading and that (combined with our wonderful day at the Great Grapes Wine Fest with our buddies Heather and Dylan-my 6th FOLLOWER!) was enough to make me tired. Joe settled in next to me and I clicked the lamp off. As I was trying to get comfortable I kept tossing and turning, kicking one leg here, pushing my arm there, trying to find both the warm and cool spots on the mattress. The longer it seemed to take me to fall asleep, the more aware I became of the darkness in the room. Now granted, I have been sleeping in this same bedroom for the past two years AND my boyfriend was right beside me. Yet I still couldn't help being keenly aware of the darkness and shadows around me. And that's when I realized; it's not just the dark that freaks me out, but its the empty sound. When it's too quiet, all I keep expecting is a loud noise. I try to not focus on anything, let the sounds all blend together, yet the more I try to mute everything it seems the louder the smallest sounds become.
I was trying like hell to turn my mind (which also enjoys fucking with me at nighttime) and ears off, racing to be asleep before my fears set in. And then I heard it. A distinctly odd sound. My eyes shot open again. It freaked me out so much I almost considered tapping Joe to wake him. And then I felt for the remote. I almost had it completely in my grip when I let it drop back to the carpet. No, I'm not going out, not yet, not now.
And then I pulled out my ace in the hole, my lucky sleeping charm: Peter Pan. Allow me to explain....You ever see the cartoon Disney version of Peter Pan, and in particular, the scene when he has Tinker Bell sprinkle the kids with fairy dust and they fly to Neverland? When I was a kid, that scene was my mantra. I used to visualize that scene over and over again, until it chased my fear away. I guess I liked its' message: think happy thoughts and you
ll get to fly. I even used to go so far as to leave my slippers and robe by my bed JUST IN CASE the story was true and Peter Pan ever stopped by (afterall I wanted to be prepared).
So there I was, all 26 years of me, visualizing that scene for the umpteenth time, and honestly, that's the last thing I remembered before I finally passed out. Not only did I manage to salvage a few hours of sleep, but I managed to avoid breaking my oath.
But I can tell you, it's gonna get difficult. I can only imagine my urge right now the size of a pea, sitting right in the pit of my stomach. I believe that as the days pass, this little pea is gonna start to grow. I just have to get through this withdrawal, and get to the other side. Wish me luck another day!
Ok, so it's not THAT bad yet, but I think I'm finally hitting the point of television withdrawal. I hear the shows in my head still- Chandler's quips, Seinfeld's smarm, Rose's naivety. And when I'm not thinking about that I am thinking about EVERYTHING. I can not believe how much talking in my head I have done in the past 6 days, and I can't even tell if I always did that or if it's just because my mind is no longer shut off with the tv on.
Seriously, my mind will not stop going and going, and it's not even for any deep introspection really. It's as if my mind has become it's own dramatist, recalling detail after detail of the actions surrounding me. For example in my mind I would be saying: 'Kris reaches into the refrigerator and grasps that last can of Diet Coke. She winces as the tab tugs hard on her nail, causing it to bend backwards.' 'Joe meanders into the kitchen, singing in a high-pitched mocking tone of some song as he looks for a snack.' 'As Kris peers out the window near her cubicle she notices the blackening clouds approaching and waits hopefully for the spark of lightning.'
It seems as if everything I am doing or noticing is being recorded for a book or play. And I think the reason is because I've reverted back to reading as much as I can, which is making me think constantly in terms of prose. It means I'm either going nuts or I simply can not exist without some sort of story going on (or maybe both).
I did get close last night to reaching for the remote though. You would think that my ingrained daily routine of turning the television on would be cause me to break, but actually, that's not my desperate hour. The time when it is really going to be tough is as night, as I learned while trying to sleep.
Now, I don't feel ashamed to admit that I am 26 years old and still afraid of the dark. Ever since I was a kid I could remember being freaked out by total darkness, so much that I'd sometimes force my eyes open just so I could stay on constant watch, should someone (or something...?) try to sneak up on me. It wasn't enough having my sister sleeping in the bed across the room, knowing I wasn't alone. For some reason I still always believed whatever was coming was coming for me, and my sister would be no help.
My parents tried to help me find solutions. It wasn't enough just trying to remind me that there was no one there, all it would take would be a creak in the house or the wind howling and my eyes would pop back open. So they gave me a radio to listen to. Unfortunately, the radio kept my sister awake so my parents gave me headphones instead. While that did work for some time I found that either I'd have to often change the station (this was during the time all that Ace of Base, Real McCoy techno-crap was popular- not exactly lullabies) or be subjected to the top hits of Spanish radio.
Finally, since we had a tv in the room, my parents showed me how to operate the sleep timer on it. This is yet another piece to my television addiction puzzle. From then on, I relied heavily on this method. It allowed me the company of the light and sound until I fell asleep and then the tv would go off, no longer disturbing my sister. I used to do this ever since, until now.
Last night started off fine. I had been reading and that (combined with our wonderful day at the Great Grapes Wine Fest with our buddies Heather and Dylan-my 6th FOLLOWER!) was enough to make me tired. Joe settled in next to me and I clicked the lamp off. As I was trying to get comfortable I kept tossing and turning, kicking one leg here, pushing my arm there, trying to find both the warm and cool spots on the mattress. The longer it seemed to take me to fall asleep, the more aware I became of the darkness in the room. Now granted, I have been sleeping in this same bedroom for the past two years AND my boyfriend was right beside me. Yet I still couldn't help being keenly aware of the darkness and shadows around me. And that's when I realized; it's not just the dark that freaks me out, but its the empty sound. When it's too quiet, all I keep expecting is a loud noise. I try to not focus on anything, let the sounds all blend together, yet the more I try to mute everything it seems the louder the smallest sounds become.
I was trying like hell to turn my mind (which also enjoys fucking with me at nighttime) and ears off, racing to be asleep before my fears set in. And then I heard it. A distinctly odd sound. My eyes shot open again. It freaked me out so much I almost considered tapping Joe to wake him. And then I felt for the remote. I almost had it completely in my grip when I let it drop back to the carpet. No, I'm not going out, not yet, not now.
And then I pulled out my ace in the hole, my lucky sleeping charm: Peter Pan. Allow me to explain....You ever see the cartoon Disney version of Peter Pan, and in particular, the scene when he has Tinker Bell sprinkle the kids with fairy dust and they fly to Neverland? When I was a kid, that scene was my mantra. I used to visualize that scene over and over again, until it chased my fear away. I guess I liked its' message: think happy thoughts and you
ll get to fly. I even used to go so far as to leave my slippers and robe by my bed JUST IN CASE the story was true and Peter Pan ever stopped by (afterall I wanted to be prepared).
So there I was, all 26 years of me, visualizing that scene for the umpteenth time, and honestly, that's the last thing I remembered before I finally passed out. Not only did I manage to salvage a few hours of sleep, but I managed to avoid breaking my oath.
But I can tell you, it's gonna get difficult. I can only imagine my urge right now the size of a pea, sitting right in the pit of my stomach. I believe that as the days pass, this little pea is gonna start to grow. I just have to get through this withdrawal, and get to the other side. Wish me luck another day!
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Crushin' on Crustacean (cont.)/ Day 1
Sorry about my abrupt ending. Joe insisted I stop typing and go right to bed (and seeing as how it was getting kinda late I felt I had no choice...but in any case, we now bring you the conclusion of "Crushin' on Crustacean")
On the Jersey shore, especially in the summertime, it is pretty common to order steamed clams (or "steamers" as they are called). I remember when I first arrived here in Baltimore and locals kept talking about "picking crabs" and "crab feasts". I figured the feast-thing out (just assuming it means eating ALOT of crab) but picking? Was it such a special thing to pick out what crabs to eat and which to leave behind? I was then schooled that it meant picking the meat out. When I finally did have the chance to engage in this Marylander tradition I immediately saw why people enjoyed it so. Not just because the crab meat is so good; it's really not even about that. It's about people coming together at a big picnic table, breaking nails (and sometimes skin) to get the precious morsels out, and all with plenty of beer and laughs. It's casual, messy, and summery--my kind of fun.
But anyway, back to the lobster: To kick off my birthday Joe suggested we check out the Reef Grille, a local place nearby that we've wanted to try for a while. When we got there we found out that the special for the night was whole lobster with two sides for $15.95. We were led to our table and as we chatted and sipped cocktails we noticed how every table around us was being delivered a cherry-red whole lobster. And sure enough the wheels in my brain began to turn. The waiter came around and asked if we were ready to order entrees. I was really curious about the lobster, but uncertain at the same time. Most of my experience with them was when they were already in pieces. How the hell did you even eat one of those things?
I asked the waiter what he suggested, a thing I'm actually starting to get into a habit of doing (chances are, if they like it--and are surrounded by it all the time--it should be good).
"Honestly, I would go for the crab cake or the lobster. The lobster is really phenomenal," he said.
"Oh, wow, and they do look really good. I'm just not sure how to go about eating one," I said, sheepishly.
"I tell you what. I'll crack it for you in the right place and make it easy for you," he said smiling.
And with that I handed him the menu and sealed my fate. We waited a little while longer and finally they brought out Joe's pasta and my big lobster. He had cracked it, but I still struggled a bit. But as I started getting my fingers in and nabbed a piece here and there, it really began reminding me of the way one picks crabs. I took a sliver of meat, dipped in the butter, and suddenly....I was in heaven. It was incredibly rich, but my GOD was it good. I was cracking every claw, sucking down piece after piece. I almost completely neglected my sides of potatoes and broccoli. I FINALLY tasted what my parents had fallen in love so many years ago.
Sure, my arteries will probably clog alot sooner than I had hoped, but it will be well worth it. It may be the first time I REALLY tasted lobster, but I don't intend on it being the last.
***UPDATE: TV CHALLENGE 2010
Well, here I am, 26 years old and 2 days less of being mentally accosted by television. As you, my wonderful readers, already know, I have sworn off t.v. for a year. And as I hoped, I AM already starting to notice different things.
For one, I am amazed at how absolutely unnecessary all that tv was. I always used to give in to the compulsion. I would come home from work, put my purse and keys down, take off my shoes, pick up the remote and turn on the t.v. For the past 2 years that was my routine, everyday. I never cared what was on, I'd always find something tolerable, but the tv was on. It gave me company, like a friend who talks and talks and talks about nothing really important but you enjoy the sound of whatever they're talking about.
Mealtimes were the same thing. Anytime I was home and I had either made something or brought home take-out, I would sit at the table and flip the tv on. I would watch while I was eating, then sit for a few minutes, and then finally settle on the couch for the next 6 hours. Sitting, laying, feet up, watching, watching, watching.
But now...it really feels like I have an opening. Not an emptiness, but as if I had a clog for so long and now its finally been cleared.
I have time. I NEVER had time. I lived and breathed by the idiot box. I would time when to hit the bathroom or the fridge perfectly between commercial breaks. It's surreal, but I'm not hating it...yet.
Anyway, I began yesterday (which, granted, was an easy day). We both came home from work and between trying to figure out where to go for dinner and what to do for my birthday, it was easy to ignore the t.v. Today really felt like the real thing.
I came home from work. Joe was still out on the film set and I knew he wouldn't be home for hours. Here we go. The important thing was just to not make it a big deal in my head. I busied myself with all the things I wanted to do tonight, simply walking by the big black elephant in the room.
I was starving so I made myself a frozen Smart Ones and sat at the table. Silence. I won't lie, it was probably the first time I really noticed that the tv wasn't on, and I started to get a little antsy. But as I ate, I flipped through a flyer from the mail, and before I knew it I was done eating. I stood up, took my plate to the sink, and went into the bedroom to start reading. It hit me as I laid down: eating doesn't take me 45 mins, it took me prob less than 10. And yet I used to sit at that table for so long. I used to think eating without the tv on would be awful, because it took so long to eat. But it doesn't take long to eat, it takes long to remove my ass from the chair. I'd sit there, a prisoner of my own laziness and habits.
Though some may disagree, the best way I can compare this experience so far is like a person quitting smoking. It's really not the actual thing you are missing, it's the habit of doing it. Like how people always have a mug of coffee or beer in one hand, their cigarette is always in their other. TV went with everything: after work, before dinner, cooking dinner, after dinner, before bed, weekends, rainy days, lazy days, sick days, days off, etc.
People I've been telling keep suggesting that I just cut back instead of cutting cold turkey. I think few people realize just how many negative things were caused by my incessant watching. It made me late, it made me lazy, it made me boring, it made me read less and write hardly ever.
I know I'll probably stumble (I'm human and we live in an entertainment obsessed culture), but if for anything I've got to try this for myself. As long as I can.
And besides, I've only got 362 more days to go....right?
On the Jersey shore, especially in the summertime, it is pretty common to order steamed clams (or "steamers" as they are called). I remember when I first arrived here in Baltimore and locals kept talking about "picking crabs" and "crab feasts". I figured the feast-thing out (just assuming it means eating ALOT of crab) but picking? Was it such a special thing to pick out what crabs to eat and which to leave behind? I was then schooled that it meant picking the meat out. When I finally did have the chance to engage in this Marylander tradition I immediately saw why people enjoyed it so. Not just because the crab meat is so good; it's really not even about that. It's about people coming together at a big picnic table, breaking nails (and sometimes skin) to get the precious morsels out, and all with plenty of beer and laughs. It's casual, messy, and summery--my kind of fun.
But anyway, back to the lobster: To kick off my birthday Joe suggested we check out the Reef Grille, a local place nearby that we've wanted to try for a while. When we got there we found out that the special for the night was whole lobster with two sides for $15.95. We were led to our table and as we chatted and sipped cocktails we noticed how every table around us was being delivered a cherry-red whole lobster. And sure enough the wheels in my brain began to turn. The waiter came around and asked if we were ready to order entrees. I was really curious about the lobster, but uncertain at the same time. Most of my experience with them was when they were already in pieces. How the hell did you even eat one of those things?
I asked the waiter what he suggested, a thing I'm actually starting to get into a habit of doing (chances are, if they like it--and are surrounded by it all the time--it should be good).
"Honestly, I would go for the crab cake or the lobster. The lobster is really phenomenal," he said.
"Oh, wow, and they do look really good. I'm just not sure how to go about eating one," I said, sheepishly.
"I tell you what. I'll crack it for you in the right place and make it easy for you," he said smiling.
And with that I handed him the menu and sealed my fate. We waited a little while longer and finally they brought out Joe's pasta and my big lobster. He had cracked it, but I still struggled a bit. But as I started getting my fingers in and nabbed a piece here and there, it really began reminding me of the way one picks crabs. I took a sliver of meat, dipped in the butter, and suddenly....I was in heaven. It was incredibly rich, but my GOD was it good. I was cracking every claw, sucking down piece after piece. I almost completely neglected my sides of potatoes and broccoli. I FINALLY tasted what my parents had fallen in love so many years ago.
Sure, my arteries will probably clog alot sooner than I had hoped, but it will be well worth it. It may be the first time I REALLY tasted lobster, but I don't intend on it being the last.
***UPDATE: TV CHALLENGE 2010
Well, here I am, 26 years old and 2 days less of being mentally accosted by television. As you, my wonderful readers, already know, I have sworn off t.v. for a year. And as I hoped, I AM already starting to notice different things.
For one, I am amazed at how absolutely unnecessary all that tv was. I always used to give in to the compulsion. I would come home from work, put my purse and keys down, take off my shoes, pick up the remote and turn on the t.v. For the past 2 years that was my routine, everyday. I never cared what was on, I'd always find something tolerable, but the tv was on. It gave me company, like a friend who talks and talks and talks about nothing really important but you enjoy the sound of whatever they're talking about.
Mealtimes were the same thing. Anytime I was home and I had either made something or brought home take-out, I would sit at the table and flip the tv on. I would watch while I was eating, then sit for a few minutes, and then finally settle on the couch for the next 6 hours. Sitting, laying, feet up, watching, watching, watching.
But now...it really feels like I have an opening. Not an emptiness, but as if I had a clog for so long and now its finally been cleared.
I have time. I NEVER had time. I lived and breathed by the idiot box. I would time when to hit the bathroom or the fridge perfectly between commercial breaks. It's surreal, but I'm not hating it...yet.
Anyway, I began yesterday (which, granted, was an easy day). We both came home from work and between trying to figure out where to go for dinner and what to do for my birthday, it was easy to ignore the t.v. Today really felt like the real thing.
I came home from work. Joe was still out on the film set and I knew he wouldn't be home for hours. Here we go. The important thing was just to not make it a big deal in my head. I busied myself with all the things I wanted to do tonight, simply walking by the big black elephant in the room.
I was starving so I made myself a frozen Smart Ones and sat at the table. Silence. I won't lie, it was probably the first time I really noticed that the tv wasn't on, and I started to get a little antsy. But as I ate, I flipped through a flyer from the mail, and before I knew it I was done eating. I stood up, took my plate to the sink, and went into the bedroom to start reading. It hit me as I laid down: eating doesn't take me 45 mins, it took me prob less than 10. And yet I used to sit at that table for so long. I used to think eating without the tv on would be awful, because it took so long to eat. But it doesn't take long to eat, it takes long to remove my ass from the chair. I'd sit there, a prisoner of my own laziness and habits.
Though some may disagree, the best way I can compare this experience so far is like a person quitting smoking. It's really not the actual thing you are missing, it's the habit of doing it. Like how people always have a mug of coffee or beer in one hand, their cigarette is always in their other. TV went with everything: after work, before dinner, cooking dinner, after dinner, before bed, weekends, rainy days, lazy days, sick days, days off, etc.
People I've been telling keep suggesting that I just cut back instead of cutting cold turkey. I think few people realize just how many negative things were caused by my incessant watching. It made me late, it made me lazy, it made me boring, it made me read less and write hardly ever.
I know I'll probably stumble (I'm human and we live in an entertainment obsessed culture), but if for anything I've got to try this for myself. As long as I can.
And besides, I've only got 362 more days to go....right?
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Crushin' on Crustacean
The towel on my head is pulling my hair (and skull) out, so I think this might be a brief one tonite kids.
And truthishly (spoken like Gillian from "Family Guy"- this one line has been cracking me up for weeks now) I kinda have no idea what I'm gonna write about, so I'm just gonna let the thoughts flow where they will, so bear with me.
You ever eat lobster? My experiences with this horribly ugly yet wonderfully decadent crustacean are pretty limited. I remember once when I was pretty young my parents had my aunt and uncle over for dinner and they were eating some. Even back then I had always heard lobster being referred to like food of the gods--and had a price tag to match. I had walked into the kitchen and my mom asked me if I wanted to try some. Curious as to what I could be missing out on I accepted the small buttery morsel off her fork. I closed my eyes, waiting for the bright lights and mystical forces to apprehend me because I was eating something so special.
Much to my dismay, I was disappointed. There didn't seem to be anything special about it. It tasted just like cold slippery butter. I didn't hate it, but being such a connoseaur of the finer things (or as much as I could be as a preteen), I was less than impressed.
The next time I tried it was while on a family expedition to Maine in the summer. We as kids were looking forward to the new scenery, new beach, and new clothes (at the massive outlets). Our parents, on the other hand, couldn't wait to get their hands on that lobster. So again, after the adults had had their fill we were allowed to sample the leftovers. And again, I didn't get the big hooplah.
After a while I kinda gave up on lobster. I either checked it off as something I simply didn't like or just didn't have a palate for. In the meantime, I decided to try shrimp (another food that my whole family seems to go crazy for). I went from disliking shrimp--mainly due to its texture--to slowly actually craving it. It's like when you try something for the first time and you don't realize you even like it till weeks later and you can't stop thinking about it.
Once I felt my love of shrimp was well solidified, and I figured my tastes had finally evolved, I decided the next opportunity I had to try lobster, I would do so. Problem is, like I said, that opportunities are rare and expensive. So I moved onto crabs for a while.
It always interests me that even two areas like New Jersey and Maryland (which hardly seem significantly different) could have different food traditions....
well, it's my birthday...i'm out...to be continued....
And truthishly (spoken like Gillian from "Family Guy"- this one line has been cracking me up for weeks now) I kinda have no idea what I'm gonna write about, so I'm just gonna let the thoughts flow where they will, so bear with me.
You ever eat lobster? My experiences with this horribly ugly yet wonderfully decadent crustacean are pretty limited. I remember once when I was pretty young my parents had my aunt and uncle over for dinner and they were eating some. Even back then I had always heard lobster being referred to like food of the gods--and had a price tag to match. I had walked into the kitchen and my mom asked me if I wanted to try some. Curious as to what I could be missing out on I accepted the small buttery morsel off her fork. I closed my eyes, waiting for the bright lights and mystical forces to apprehend me because I was eating something so special.
Much to my dismay, I was disappointed. There didn't seem to be anything special about it. It tasted just like cold slippery butter. I didn't hate it, but being such a connoseaur of the finer things (or as much as I could be as a preteen), I was less than impressed.
The next time I tried it was while on a family expedition to Maine in the summer. We as kids were looking forward to the new scenery, new beach, and new clothes (at the massive outlets). Our parents, on the other hand, couldn't wait to get their hands on that lobster. So again, after the adults had had their fill we were allowed to sample the leftovers. And again, I didn't get the big hooplah.
After a while I kinda gave up on lobster. I either checked it off as something I simply didn't like or just didn't have a palate for. In the meantime, I decided to try shrimp (another food that my whole family seems to go crazy for). I went from disliking shrimp--mainly due to its texture--to slowly actually craving it. It's like when you try something for the first time and you don't realize you even like it till weeks later and you can't stop thinking about it.
Once I felt my love of shrimp was well solidified, and I figured my tastes had finally evolved, I decided the next opportunity I had to try lobster, I would do so. Problem is, like I said, that opportunities are rare and expensive. So I moved onto crabs for a while.
It always interests me that even two areas like New Jersey and Maryland (which hardly seem significantly different) could have different food traditions....
well, it's my birthday...i'm out...to be continued....
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Living Year
Some people quit cigarettes. Others stop drinking. As anyone who has known me for a long time knows my addiction of choice is television. I have been battling this disease for years now, and let me tell you...it is debilitating. It also shocks me that in this day and age of passing the blame and medications and group therapies, I have yet to hear of a television watching support group. Probably because there's no funding because there's no way to advertise, unless you put it on t.v...but then that defeats the whole point doesn't it?
But the time for me to turn off is nigh. And I intend to do so for....wait for it...a whole year. Yes, yes I can hear your gasps as you sit in your cubicles or on your beds reading this. Be calm, my readers, for like Frodo joining Gandalf on the lovely giant Goonies Pirate Ship (in probably the 3rd or 4th ending that Peter Jackson couldn't seem to make his mind up for), the time has come.
Why, you make ask, would I finally choose now to quit? Several reasons...
1.) I walked to my car the other night and I didn't realize till I was sitting inside and looked over at my passenger seat that I had grabbed the remote control to my t.v. I had actually walked out of the house still clutching it, like a colostomy bag. Sad.
2.) A few weeks ago while Joe's sister and her husband were visiting she asked me a specific question about a "Friends" episode. She said she was pulling out all her DVDs to figure it out, but in a matter of seconds I was able to pinpoint the episode she was talking about. Because I had seen the episode over and over and over again. (And I never was even a "Friends" fan, it was just another show to eat up time before the next one). Sadder.
3.) As a kid, while some were learning the Gettysburg address, I was able to recite, word for word, the entire Children's International commercial. You remember the one? Was about 4 or 5 minutes long with the guy holding up the little girl pleading for people to sponsor a child for less than the cost of a bagel a day? At the time I considered it quite the accomplishment. Saddest.
But maybe the final straw came when Joe became the second boyfriend of mine to tell me that I watch way too much, and so the challenge was set.
I know alot of people may say that a year seems impossible. It could be. I'm not ashamed to say I fear failure. But I figure sometimes it's good to challenge yourself, even when the odds seem insurmountable.
So here are the parameters:
A.) No television watching.
B.) Movies are allowed, so long as they are DVDs or going to an actual venue.
C.) Computers are allowed, so long as I'm not watching shows on them.
D.) Radio is allowed.
E.) Books are allowed.
There are some gray areas that I have yet to decide upon (such as watching shows on DVDs). And so any input or advice would be greatly appreciated. Also, since I myself am a bit of a gambler, I will also accept bids on how long I will ACTUALLY last. Might actually help to urge me on.
And yes, I realize avoiding television in the warmer months is a bit of a no-brainer, since there are usually lots of things going on outdoors (and most shows have gone on hiatus). The real test is going to be when I am stuck inside of hours on end in the winter. I have a feeling I'll end up looking like Mr. Burns or Homer when they get stuck in the cabin in the woods- demented and bilious.
Will I last? I dunno, honestly. I'm interested in finding out if anything changes in me: will I be on time more? Will I contribute more to a conversation than just giving a play-by-play of what happened on "Millionaire Matchmaker"? Will I be smarter?
Only one way to find out. The challenge starts on Wednesday....or Thursday, depending on what shows are on.
But the time for me to turn off is nigh. And I intend to do so for....wait for it...a whole year. Yes, yes I can hear your gasps as you sit in your cubicles or on your beds reading this. Be calm, my readers, for like Frodo joining Gandalf on the lovely giant Goonies Pirate Ship (in probably the 3rd or 4th ending that Peter Jackson couldn't seem to make his mind up for), the time has come.
Why, you make ask, would I finally choose now to quit? Several reasons...
1.) I walked to my car the other night and I didn't realize till I was sitting inside and looked over at my passenger seat that I had grabbed the remote control to my t.v. I had actually walked out of the house still clutching it, like a colostomy bag. Sad.
2.) A few weeks ago while Joe's sister and her husband were visiting she asked me a specific question about a "Friends" episode. She said she was pulling out all her DVDs to figure it out, but in a matter of seconds I was able to pinpoint the episode she was talking about. Because I had seen the episode over and over and over again. (And I never was even a "Friends" fan, it was just another show to eat up time before the next one). Sadder.
3.) As a kid, while some were learning the Gettysburg address, I was able to recite, word for word, the entire Children's International commercial. You remember the one? Was about 4 or 5 minutes long with the guy holding up the little girl pleading for people to sponsor a child for less than the cost of a bagel a day? At the time I considered it quite the accomplishment. Saddest.
But maybe the final straw came when Joe became the second boyfriend of mine to tell me that I watch way too much, and so the challenge was set.
I know alot of people may say that a year seems impossible. It could be. I'm not ashamed to say I fear failure. But I figure sometimes it's good to challenge yourself, even when the odds seem insurmountable.
So here are the parameters:
A.) No television watching.
B.) Movies are allowed, so long as they are DVDs or going to an actual venue.
C.) Computers are allowed, so long as I'm not watching shows on them.
D.) Radio is allowed.
E.) Books are allowed.
There are some gray areas that I have yet to decide upon (such as watching shows on DVDs). And so any input or advice would be greatly appreciated. Also, since I myself am a bit of a gambler, I will also accept bids on how long I will ACTUALLY last. Might actually help to urge me on.
And yes, I realize avoiding television in the warmer months is a bit of a no-brainer, since there are usually lots of things going on outdoors (and most shows have gone on hiatus). The real test is going to be when I am stuck inside of hours on end in the winter. I have a feeling I'll end up looking like Mr. Burns or Homer when they get stuck in the cabin in the woods- demented and bilious.
Will I last? I dunno, honestly. I'm interested in finding out if anything changes in me: will I be on time more? Will I contribute more to a conversation than just giving a play-by-play of what happened on "Millionaire Matchmaker"? Will I be smarter?
Only one way to find out. The challenge starts on Wednesday....or Thursday, depending on what shows are on.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Road Rage
I freaking love road trips. I think I tend to like the trip even more than the destination (but it's a nice bonus when the place is awesome too). I love seeing the other places people live, wondering what they do for a living, where they for a vacation, etc. Usually all we need for a good road trip is good music, plenty of things to look at, and a nice ratio of talking to silence. And actually, sometimes a good fight makes the time go by fast.
I hadn't been on a road trip in a while, so when we found out we had an excuse I was pretty excited. When the day (or night I should say) came we packed up the car and stopped at our usual gas station for fuel and our road-trip necessity snacks- pizza-pretzel Combos, something chocolatey, something fruity, energy drinks for Joe and water for me. Finally, we were off.
When we started, we were good: music was as easy-going as the conversation as we passed all our landmarks. Road trips for us operate very much like any other mission- Joe is the driver, responsible for getting us there, knowing when to get gas, take break, and what music is played. My role as co-pilot is to simply keep him comfortable and awake (and occasionally pass him food or drink). We both take our jobs seriously and I have gotten remarkably good at being able to gauge when to start a conversation and when things ought to be quiet. Since we got such a late start, and Joe already mentioned he was tired before we even left the gas station, I knew that I'd have to do some talking every once in a while just to keep him from nodding off.
So when we came upon an especially boring view, I found myself bringing up simple topics to talk about (you know, the kind that require some thinking but have a small answer). But since he was showing signs of grumpitude, I figured I'd answer my own question...merely to keep the car from being silent, and therefore, easy to fall asleep.
We passed a large back-up of cars and when they were out of view I remembered a similar time when Joe and I were driving back somewhere and on the other side of the highway was such a terrible accident that the back-up damage extended for miles and miles. And then I wondered something aloud...
"I wonder what people do when their cars are all backed up like that."
"What do you mean?," Joe said abruptly.
"Well," I continued, "what do you suppose people do when they are stuck in such a terrible traffic jam for hours and hours?"
"They stay in their car," Joe said defiantly.
"No way," I said. "People can't stay in their cars for hours upon hours. What if it's cold and they know there's no chance they are gonna get their car out for a while? They can't just stay there."
"What are you talking about, hun, it's ILLEGAL to abandon your car," he said.
I should have dropped it then and there. But for some reason, I felt like he was baiting me, and honestly, I felt like taking him on. I knew it was going to be a pointless debate (or as I call it when Joe gets like that, "Mental Chess") since he wasn't going to relent his point without taking me around first.
I held my own, I think. I came up with some valid points, even trying to knock his theories out with scenarios of my own. But in the end, as we were practically yelling our sides over the other, I realized I was getting more annoyed than passionate about my point. I suddenly fell silent.
"You're just being a grouch," he said, again trying to bait me, but this time trying to make me forget what we were arguing about. Still I was silent.
"You're not allowed to be a grouch"
Silent.
"That's it, I'm dropping you off at that scary Bates' Motel looking thing in Frackville."
Silent some more. He waited a few minutes and then spoke back up.
"I just don't understand what the people trying to get by would do if you left your car," he said, trying to flush out the last of my arguments.
"You're just trying to have the last word, so I'm gonna be the adult and let you have it," I said simply. This actually led to us both trying to let the other have the last word, until we were both silent for a little while. Finally, as I continued to play my alphabet car game (something Joe hates) and spotted a letter I had been waiting for, Joe joined in helping me find other letters. Then we knew the fight was over.
Happily, as I looked at the clock, the fight had altogether eaten up almost an hour. We drove the rest of the way, with no incident. I later told Joe I think he purposely picked that fight.
"How could I have? YOU asked the question," he said. But I knew that he was glad for it. Not only did it help pass the time, but it helped chase away any fatigue he was feeling. Plus, I'm a big believer in fighting helping a relationship (not so much that you are screaming at the person everyday). Every now and then people need to sharpen their claws and doing it on each other not only opens communication, it really helps to de-stress.
As I'm typing this I am lounging on a bed at Joe's parents house in upstate NY. Sadly, we are already going to have to leave tomorrow, but it's been a nice visit. His mom and dad are awesome, and it's such a different atmosphere up here. But I am actually looking forward to the drive back. At least we'll be leaving a bit earlier, so we can see more sights, we'll be less tired...and JOE won't be such a grouch. Guess that's the nice thing about having a blog...I ALWAYS get the last word, lol.
I hadn't been on a road trip in a while, so when we found out we had an excuse I was pretty excited. When the day (or night I should say) came we packed up the car and stopped at our usual gas station for fuel and our road-trip necessity snacks- pizza-pretzel Combos, something chocolatey, something fruity, energy drinks for Joe and water for me. Finally, we were off.
When we started, we were good: music was as easy-going as the conversation as we passed all our landmarks. Road trips for us operate very much like any other mission- Joe is the driver, responsible for getting us there, knowing when to get gas, take break, and what music is played. My role as co-pilot is to simply keep him comfortable and awake (and occasionally pass him food or drink). We both take our jobs seriously and I have gotten remarkably good at being able to gauge when to start a conversation and when things ought to be quiet. Since we got such a late start, and Joe already mentioned he was tired before we even left the gas station, I knew that I'd have to do some talking every once in a while just to keep him from nodding off.
So when we came upon an especially boring view, I found myself bringing up simple topics to talk about (you know, the kind that require some thinking but have a small answer). But since he was showing signs of grumpitude, I figured I'd answer my own question...merely to keep the car from being silent, and therefore, easy to fall asleep.
We passed a large back-up of cars and when they were out of view I remembered a similar time when Joe and I were driving back somewhere and on the other side of the highway was such a terrible accident that the back-up damage extended for miles and miles. And then I wondered something aloud...
"I wonder what people do when their cars are all backed up like that."
"What do you mean?," Joe said abruptly.
"Well," I continued, "what do you suppose people do when they are stuck in such a terrible traffic jam for hours and hours?"
"They stay in their car," Joe said defiantly.
"No way," I said. "People can't stay in their cars for hours upon hours. What if it's cold and they know there's no chance they are gonna get their car out for a while? They can't just stay there."
"What are you talking about, hun, it's ILLEGAL to abandon your car," he said.
I should have dropped it then and there. But for some reason, I felt like he was baiting me, and honestly, I felt like taking him on. I knew it was going to be a pointless debate (or as I call it when Joe gets like that, "Mental Chess") since he wasn't going to relent his point without taking me around first.
I held my own, I think. I came up with some valid points, even trying to knock his theories out with scenarios of my own. But in the end, as we were practically yelling our sides over the other, I realized I was getting more annoyed than passionate about my point. I suddenly fell silent.
"You're just being a grouch," he said, again trying to bait me, but this time trying to make me forget what we were arguing about. Still I was silent.
"You're not allowed to be a grouch"
Silent.
"That's it, I'm dropping you off at that scary Bates' Motel looking thing in Frackville."
Silent some more. He waited a few minutes and then spoke back up.
"I just don't understand what the people trying to get by would do if you left your car," he said, trying to flush out the last of my arguments.
"You're just trying to have the last word, so I'm gonna be the adult and let you have it," I said simply. This actually led to us both trying to let the other have the last word, until we were both silent for a little while. Finally, as I continued to play my alphabet car game (something Joe hates) and spotted a letter I had been waiting for, Joe joined in helping me find other letters. Then we knew the fight was over.
Happily, as I looked at the clock, the fight had altogether eaten up almost an hour. We drove the rest of the way, with no incident. I later told Joe I think he purposely picked that fight.
"How could I have? YOU asked the question," he said. But I knew that he was glad for it. Not only did it help pass the time, but it helped chase away any fatigue he was feeling. Plus, I'm a big believer in fighting helping a relationship (not so much that you are screaming at the person everyday). Every now and then people need to sharpen their claws and doing it on each other not only opens communication, it really helps to de-stress.
As I'm typing this I am lounging on a bed at Joe's parents house in upstate NY. Sadly, we are already going to have to leave tomorrow, but it's been a nice visit. His mom and dad are awesome, and it's such a different atmosphere up here. But I am actually looking forward to the drive back. At least we'll be leaving a bit earlier, so we can see more sights, we'll be less tired...and JOE won't be such a grouch. Guess that's the nice thing about having a blog...I ALWAYS get the last word, lol.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Thank You for Being a Friend, Blanche
And then there was one...As I was sadly informed by my sister a few mere moments ago, Rue McClanahan died suddenly of a stroke today. I know, I'm distraught too. But in times like these it is important to remember what made the people we loved so special.Like many of you, I was/am/shall forever be a die hard Golden Girls fan (or a GGF as we like to say in the community). I can say with little exaggeration that I have seen every episode at least 6 or 7 times (probably more in the earlier seasons, which I found to be the best quality).
All of the girls were wonderfully unique, but Blanche practically began a revolution. No, not in her bed-hopping (though she certainly opened the doors for our Grandmas to become Samanthas), it was with her huge printed tops, candy-colored jewelry, and ever-changing do. Yes, Blanche, you brought us kicking and screaming into 80s and 90s fashion. And we loved it.
So, in honor of this icon, I bring you some of the best/worst/awesome fashions from the one, the only, the incomparable...Blanche Elizabeth Devereaux.
Ok, so this is obviously from the opening credits, and is our first introduction to Mrs. Devereaux (also this is the pilot episode where Blanche agrees to marry a man who ends up being arrested for polygamy- don't worry girlfriend, you still got a beautiful brown fur and light pink nightie that looks like it came off of the Barbie for Big Girls collection to keep you warm.) Also note this unfortunate duck ass hairstyle, which Blanche thankfully only dons the first season.This look may have been recycled (oh who am I kidding, Blanche doesn't wear sloppy seconds)
but I'm fairly certain this is from the episode where Blanche goes on a date with Ted, Dorothy's ex-husband Stan's brother, but who casts her off for Dorothy. Shocked? So was Blanche, and so were we. I mean, who can resist the wiles of a woman wearing a patchwork blouse and thick dangly blue earrings that could choke a farm animal? It was totally Ted's loss.
I can't right off pinpoint which episode this one is from, but I can tell that it was during the Mullet Incident of '89, '90. She is just barely forgivable but since she's wearing a lovely shade of purple with a black undershirt, and accented chunky earrings, we'll let the hair slide. (FYI: Blanche can actually wear any color, and at times, tries to do so in one outfit...of course occasionally she'll opt for the complete one color head-to-toe option. Depends on if Mel Bushman is in town.)Don't look so disappointed, Blanche. So you missed the chance to meet Burt Reynolds and Loni
Anderson (while they were relevant) because you booked a room at a hotel where they use prostitutes and you and the girls were caught up in a bust. At least you have your health...and the chance to look like a male Flamenco-dancing drag queen. And don't mind Dorothy and Rose, they are just jealous (as always).We have lost more than a television show character. We have lost a woman who defined a trend, so much so that whenever we see something heavily sequined, elaborately flowy, or blindingly colorful, we shall always think of the woman. But besides the obvious fashion, we had a woman showing us that just because the engine's old, doesn't mean it stops running. She showed us how to be active, in more ways than one, and that as long as you have good people by your side, you'll never end up at Shady Pines alone. Blanche, thank YOU for being a friend.
p.s. Betty White, congrats! You have won "The Golden Girls Death Pact Survivor Extravaganza". You can pick up your $100 cash and gift certificate to Golden Corral at your local JCPenney's.
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