Into the mind

Tue, 21 Mar 2006 22:20:47 GMT

Take the picture you like best from the first page of Google Images results.

1. The city and state where you grew up (no quotations marks)

I love the skyline at night.

2. The town in which you currently reside.

Betcha you don't have a lot of these in California.

3. Your name, first and last (again, no quotation marks)

Okay.

4. Your grandmother's name

I really don't know what this is.

5. Your favorite food.

It's time to head to the coast and get some fresh Mahi Mahi.

6. Your favorite drink.
yummeh.

Fri, 27 Jan 2006 17:43:55 GMT

Possibly I have spent the past two months witnessing things that I would then make a mental note to chronicle here. Possibly my mental notebook is full of fragmented thoughts that no longer make any sense. I am sure no one is interested to hear what has actually been going on, because to the naked eye my life has been so mundane that you might actually fall asleep, and since you might be at work, I will not be the downfall of productivity.

In the interest of preserving your collective livelihoods, I will leave you with this thought:

How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

Anatomy of a Southern fall Saturday

Wed, 23 Nov 2005 23:33:04 GMT

Here in the Southeastern United States, traditions are sacred. They must not be tampered with, and doing so is punishable by death, dismemberment, and excommunication.

As I have mentioned before, I live south of Nashville, within spitting distance of the Tennessee/Alabama state line. No, not literally spitting distance, but that is local vernacular for "pretty damn close."

In this region, ranked with going to your grandma's for Thanksgiving in the Traditions Not To Be Tampered With, is college football. The season is nearly over now, but that does not calm the angry hordes of fans nor does it tame the various rivalries. Living so close to the state line, as I said, means that there is a fair mixture of loyal fans from any of six major universities throughout Tennessee, Alabama, and Mississippi. Obviously, it leans less in favor of Ole Miss and Mississippi State, and more in favor of Tennessee, Alabama, Vanderbilt and Auburn, in that order. I will not express my allegiance here, as it has no relevence.

What this means is that last Saturday was one of the biggest football-watching days of the year, with the Alabama/Auburn game, and Tennessee and Vanderbilt butting heads in Knoxville. We spent much of the day in a little sports bar a couple of miles from our house. It's in this environment that you can see people at their best and worst, wrapped in the various colors and logos of their favorite team. And it's not even that it's a favorite, really, because you either are or you are not - there can be no straddling the fence when it comes to a fall Saturday in the South. Even when you are watching a game in which your school is not playing, you are cheering for the team whose winning would help your team the most.

There were tears involved when Tennessee lost to Vanderbilt for the first time ever. I think this is not only because of such a crow-eating loss, but because the Volunteers will now finish the season - at best - 5-6, which means that they are not even eligible for such distinguished bowl games as the Poulan Weedeater Bowl. The disturbing part of this upheaval is that several Tennessee players left their helmets on the field, and one even spit on a cameraman. I blame the poor sportsmanship on a poor leader, but my opinion does not matter.

The few Vanderbilt fans among us were practically orgasmic with joy. Being a medical school has it's benefits, I suppose, but a strong athletic department is not one of them, so even beating a UT team that is having a losing season is quite a triumph for these guys, and perhaps they feel that this will shut the loudmouthed orange-wearers up for a while. Unlikely, but I'm sure that's how they would like to believe.

The Alabama/Auburn game followed, and it was not much better. Many of the crimson-clad people left before halftime, even, perhaps out of embarassment. All I have heard from my Alabama friends for three years is how fantastic their quarterback is, and how they would surely have one the last three national titles if only he had stayed healthy. Well, this year he did stay healthy, but Alabama's number one defense and prodigy quarterback Brodie Croyle looked like a group of JV powderpuffs.

There was more devastation than elation in my neck of the woods this Saturday, but really, it doesn't matter who your team is, if it's a Saturday between September and December, there's just nothing else you should be doing than losing your voice and possibly a few friends over 22 kids fighting over a ball.

After all, we can all be friends again come January.

For frdelrosario...

Mon, 14 Nov 2005 22:11:04 GMT

Sudoku calendar.

Found it while Christmas shopping.

Addictions

Fri, 28 Oct 2005 15:17:46 GMT

I have what you might call an addictive personality. Many times my addictions are minor and don't cost me anything but wasted hours spent on the computer playing a simulation game - the Sims, SimCity, RollerCoaster Tycoon, etc. - or perhaps nursing a sore thumb from playing Super Mario Brothers on the GameBoy. Sometimes it's books that I read and reread until my husband accuses me of ignoring him. He verbally expressed dread at the release of Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, as well as every time I come home from an afternoon at Barnes and Noble.

Sometimes it has potential to be more serious, however.

I am not sure anyone has ever referred to Tennessee, Mississippi, and Alabama as the Tri-State area, but perhaps I will be a trend-setter. Living south of Nashville puts me in fairly close proximity to all three states, and so I am roughly 3 hours from Tunica, a gambling community south of Memphis in Mississippi. I keep myself mostly to the slots, as I know what would happen if I tried to play, say, blackjack. I'd be there all night and we'd have to take a second mortgage on the house. The only way to keep my love of gambling under wraps is to take a certain amount of money and just decide to spend no more than that. Period. Gambling could put me in the poor house, if I let it, because from the very first time I dropped a quarter in that slot, I was hooked.

Alcoholism has never been an addiction possibility for me. I just don't like it enough to drink it all the time, and the way I feel when too drunk and the next morning is enough to deter me from getting too drunk more than once in a blue moon. I have never experimented with drugs stronger than marijuana, either, because I recognize my tendency towards habit. I've seen too many friends go under with heavy narcotics, and it's just not something to toy with.

Another addiction I once struggled with was smoking. I had my first cigarette at the age of 12, began smoking as often as I could get them at age 16, and regularly once I was 17 and found somewhere I could buy them without being carded. I quit, for the most part, at 25, after eight years of a pack a day. These days, my husband and I keep one another in check. It's something we both enjoy, but neither of us want nicotene to rule our lives, so we limit it to having a couple when we are drinking, and also after sex, because some things just shouldn't be tampered with.

There are an increasing number of cities and states who are placing restrictions on it, however. I know that California, New York City, and Florida have all gone no-smoking-indoors. Huntsville, Alabama, which is an hour and half south of Nashville has put a law into effect that resteraunts must choose to be smoking or non-smoking, and if they choose smoking, no one under the age of 19 is allowed in. People complain that they do not want their children around second-hand smoke, but the hypocrisy of this is that they will take their children to dinner, have a few cocktails, and get in the car and drive their children home. When will the legislation come that alcohol is only served at bars? When will it come that someone passes a law saying that unless you can prove you have a designated driver, you absolutely can NOT leave a bar or a restaurant that serves alcohol and get behind the wheel of a car?

The idea that cigarettes and second-hand smoke are more dangerous than alcohol is absurd. Yes, there is always the risk of lung cancer, but what about alcohol poisoning, chirrosis of the liver, and drunk driving?

Don't get me wrong, I am not defending smoking. There are many health risks to be taken into account, and even I do not want to be sitting at a restaurant eating a steak while the guy at the next table is chain smoking and polluting my enjoyment, but I still believe that a bar should be a bar, and as long as I'm reserving the right to poison my liver, I ought to have the right to poison my lungs, as well.

There is such a thing as too much government control, after all.

Airline

Wed, 12 Oct 2005 15:19:16 GMT

Have you seen this show, Airline? Southwest Airlines had the brilliant idea to hire camera crews to follow their employees and customers around. If you've ever flown any airline from any airport, it's odds-on that you've had trouble in some form, and that's what this show is all about.

I've always held the opinion that overbooking a flight should be a crime punishable by thumbnail screwing. Standby passengers, at least, *know* there's a good chance they won't get on the plane, but overbooking results in people being bumped off a flight they paid full price for. Stand back and let the fireworks begin, but these episodes are not so much entertaining as sickening.

Another common issue is lost luggage. I've only had this happen to me, personally, one time, in Burbank. The bag arrived on a flight two hours later and was promptly delivered to me, with no real cause for tantrums. Last night on the show, however, a young man and his girlfriend had not been able to find one of their bags: a $1500 guitar in a guitar case. They had, apparently, seen a story on CNN about luggage being stolen in the Albuquerque airport, so immediately began accusing Southwest of thieving. The bag, of course, showed up a few hours later, having only missed the transfer at his layover.

The most amusing segment last night, however, was a middle-aged black man who had spent a little too much time at the bar. The guy was a happy drunk, fortunately, but he still seemed determined to make a scene when he was told he would not be allowed to fly. The camera stayed with him while he reenacted the refusal several times for the supervisor who had been called in to deal with him. I have questioned this policy once or twice, when the passenger has clearly only had a drink or two but has come straight from the bar to get on the flight. Having done this a few times myself, I wonder how I would have felt if I had been refused boarding. If they really want to keep this problem at bay, why are there bars in airports, I think to myself, and why do they serve alcohol in-flight? Perhaps the flight attendents will say no once they think a passenger has had enough to drink, but the bartenders in the terminal bar? No, as long as people refuse to take personal responsibility for their actions, perhaps it's better just not to serve it at all.

This guy was clearly too intoxicated. The clerk offered to reschedule his flight for the following morning, but gave him a full refund when he demanded it, and wished him luck in finding another airline who would take him in his condition. As we watch him walk away, every other step is one like when you are walking up stairs and get to the top but don't realize there's not another step. He then proceeds down the wrong side of the moving sidewalk, and trips over a lady's bag. The camera follows him while he checks with every other airline and is refused, then allows him to speak his inebriated mind to millions of viewers.
"I can't fly... 'cause I'm drunk. It's the same damn thing... gonna be the same damn thing as long as George Bush is... and not just for a black man like me but ... for you and a black man like me..." and he stumbles away to sleep it off on a bench in the terminal.

This made me laugh out loud. Talk about the age of "it's someone else's fault."

I found the man with the severe peanut allergy a little easier to sympathize with. When he booked the flight, he told them that he was deathly allergic to peanut dust, and that he would need them not to be served within a five-seat radius. The booking agent told him that wouldn't be a problem, but when he got on the flight, peanuts were being served all around. He was irate with the agent at the desk after his flight, telling her that he had TOLD them he couldn't be around peanuts. The agent tried to calmly explain that, since they do not have assigned seats, there was no way for the flight attendent to know he had the allergy unless he told her at the beginning of the flight. To which he repeated that he had told the booking agent when he bought the ticket.

I understand the peanut allergy and that it can be serious and life-threatening if one is not cautious, but I would think, given that it *can* be deadly, I'd take every precaution known to man to make sure I was safe. As in, not only would I tell them when I booked the ticket, I'd tell them when I got on the plane to make doubly sure that a situation like this would not arise. Again, it's personal responsibility, which seems to fail so many of my generation, and even some of my parent's. If you're concerned, you talk to the flight attendent *before* she's served those peanuts to everyone around you. Most people, I would think, upon finding out that someone around them might keel over dead if they pop open a bag of peanuts, would either take pretzels instead, or save the nuts for later.

But then, maybe I'm setting too much store by good nature. I don't know, but I would sacrifice the enjoyment of the seven honey-roasted peanuts in that bag for another human being's life. I would appreciate a heads-up about it, though, because unless he's carrying a sign 'round his neck that lets me know he's allergic, I am not a mind-reader.

It's an interesting show.

Wife Swap

Tue, 13 Sep 2005 16:20:02 GMT

Last night at the gym, while logging some time on my favorite treadmill, I watched the television in front of me which happened to be on the show "Wife Swap." I don't know who thought up this concept, but I must admit that it has its benefits.

On this particular show, it happened to be one family from Maryland, I believe, and one from Mississippi.

The family from Maryland was an overweight couple and three hyperactive, out of control and overweight boys. They set no rules for their children, ate dinner on TV trays every night, and used the diningroom table as a laundry basket. The children were rude and disrespectful at home with their parents and while in public, burping loudly at any given opportunity, and singing songs such as "You kiss my big fat butt right now."

The family from Mississippi were fit and formal. They dressed up for dinner (on the fine china) every night, as in suits, ties, and dresses. The mom held an etiquette class for pre-adolescent girls. The children worked right alongside the parents, doing chores such as washing dishes, cleaning their bedrooms, and folding their own laundry. The teenage son had a ground-floor bedroom with a door to the outside, which was padlocked so that he could not sneak out at night. The oldest daughter cleaned the children's bathroom. These children were extremely well-behaved, if a little repressed.

Now, each mother moved into the other's house, and by the end of the first week, or the "live by the house rules" portion, each had nearly gone out of her mind at the culture shock. Maryland Mom was blown away by dressing up for dinner, using the fine china, and having to wash up immediately after eating. Mississippi Mom was shocked by the out-of-control kids who, when she took them to the grocery store, actually got yelled at by the store manager for poking holes in the meat wrappers, tearing up cereal boxes, and running amok through the store.

The second portion, "live by the Mom's rules" didn't go very well for the Maryland Mom. She took the kids shopping and let them pick their own clothes, letting the 11-year-old girl buy a shirt that showed off about four inches of her midriff, which got dad all riled up. He actually put his foot down on that rule, saying that he did not think it was at all appropriate for a child to be dressing like that, to which MD Mom said "But it's sexy!" and he replied, "Exactly."

That night, she said "No more formal dinners!", smashed a piece of their china, and took them to a fast food restaurant. She insisted they eat with their hands, and, when they still did not seem to be lightening up, took the ketchup bottle and squirted ketchup on every single one of them. This, naturally, did not sit well with any of them, especially dad. She later felt guilty for doing it, and apologized. She also had the oldest son cut the lock off his door, and encouraged him to sneak out.

The second part went a lot better for the Mississippi Mom. She literally had the children flush the "kiss my butt" song down the toilet (all the while, dad is saying "They're boys! This is who they are, and if they want to sing nasty songs, I'm going to let them.") She then cleaned the house from top to bottom, had them dress up for dinner as a family around the table, taught them to keep their elbows off the table and how to "burp inside themselves."

She made the children write letters of apology to everyone they were rude to during the week, then took them to the grocery store and had them read it outloud to the manager, who was amazed and thanked them for apologizing. The youngest boy, around 6 years old, I'd guess, told the camera that he was glad she made them apologize, that he felt better because it was "the right thing to do." The last night of the swap, the Maryland family told the Mississippi Mom that they were really going to miss her. Even Dad said that the children were behaving so well, there had been a lot less fighting amongst them while she was in charge. He said that he and his wife had always wanted their children to behave like that, but never knew how to get it out of them.

I didn't see the last few minutes of the show, where the parents meet and discuss everything that happened and their suggestions to one another about how to better their household, because I got a shin splint and had to leave, but I can imagine how it went.

I think it's amazing, these two opposite ends of the spectrum. On one side, we have this family in Maryland who is spinning around out of control. The mom cries when she says that she grew up in a household where there were always a lot of harsh rules, which created a lot of tension and deprived her of a happy childhood. She says that she always told herself that when she had children, she would let them do whatever they wanted to do as long as they were happy. She wants her children to be good, but she can't bring herself to discipline them in any way or give them any responsibility. In effect, she has chosen the exact opposite approach to child rearing than her parents chose. Unfortunately, it has not worked out so well.

On the other end, you have an extremely strict household, where the children do not put a toe out of line, and are extremely (perhaps too much so) well-behaved because they have never been given any other option. The parents do not trust them to make the right decisions, so they are never given the opportunity to *make* the right decision. There is the saying that with great power comes great responsibility, which is true, but in this case, one has great responsibility without the least bit of power. If the son's door is padlocked, how will the parents ever know if they can trust him to abide by the rules and stay home after curfew?

There must be a happy medium here. No, you don't want your children to run wild and terrorize everyone in their path, but you also don't want to keep them quite literally locked up and strip away that oh-so-delicate spirit. Children need boundaries, but not bars. They need discipline, but not fear. They need responsibility that is age-appropriate. A five-year-old is old enough to straighten up their own room. A 10-year-old is old enough to help with the dishes after a meal. A 15-year old is old enough to clean their own bathroom. They need to learn that not everything is going to be handed to them, done for them all their lives, and the more responsibility they have, they ought to have more freedom.

I think this is a common mistake, where parents get so used to doing everything for their children that they forget to prepare them for life outside the nest. If you teach them how to behave and how to look after themselves, one day, I promise, their spouses will thank you.

Children need to learn gradually how to be a grown-up, but that doesn't mean that they need to be miniature-sized versions of one.

Random

Thu, 04 Aug 2005 14:49:26 GMT

The LiveJournal random feature reminds me of riding on a train (or bus, I suppose, but I have even less experience with bus travel than I have with trains) and overhearing bits of strangers conversations.
I have ridden trains in New York, Detroit, Washington DC, Atlanta, and San Francisco, and I find that people-watching is the absolute best way to pass the time.

As an aside here, I must admit that simply sitting in a public place - the mall, the park, etc. - and watching people is not my idea of a good time. I simply do not have the patience for it, which is also why I never developed a taste for fishing.

Back to the random feature. I love clicking "random" and seeing what pops up. Of course, 50% of the time it is the boring play-by-play of someone's everyday life. These have to be the bane of LiveJournal random searching, because the journal is only of interest to the person who writes it. I think the owners of this kind of journal are the ones who write for a while, get hurt feelings when people drop them, and eventually disappear into the black hole of the internet. If you are trying desperately to find out how many times I've visited the facilities, what I've eaten, and what shoes I wore today, you are in the wrong place. So sorry to disappoint you.

Coming in around 30% of the time it is a 16-year-old drama queen who uses a lot of internet slang (d00d, u r s0 phuckd up) and spends a lot of time talking about how their parents are ruining their lives, boyz r dum, and ne1 4 69? These are entertaining in their own right, of course, like the one I found this morning. The entertainment factor comes in trying to translate. For example, I give you an actual passage from one such journal:

"but ye hmm ive bin reali sleepy recntli myb cos ystday i wke up at 5 and went2
bed at 2. n den gt wke up at 9 today! how unfair...
were havin a famili prty
thing at myn 2mwr 4 my bro-in-law 2 meet every1 will b ncye. hav a gd hlf term
all, njy ur freedom abit lnger.
mizz u's
gnna go now tres sleepi.bye xxx"

Another 20% of the time I've found, in this particular experiment, foreign language journals. I like to pretend that these are very, very interesting and profound, rather than believe that they are the same boring play-by-plays or drama-infested bitchfests, only speaking Russian or Arabic.

Every once in a while, if you are persistant with your random searching, you will find someone that draws you in, whether with intelligent humor, creative writing, or a generally entertaining life. However rarely it happens, it gives me a fresh breath of hope for humanity.

Reset

Thu, 04 Aug 2005 00:02:30 GMT

Everything must change.

There are times when Change is polite, approaches you from the front and introduces itself gently so that you are allowed to acclimate yourself slowly and without undue pain.

Then there are the times when Change plays the part of the seasoned hunter; stealing up from behind and before you know it, you are fallen flat on your face, seeing stars and wondering what the hell just happened.

I would venture to guess that the majority of mankind prefer the kinder, gentler sort of change, but it's the other sort - the one that leaves you reeling - that makes life more interesting.

I have chosen to hit the reset button, not because I wish to forget the past - on the contrary, I want to learn from it - but because, in order to learn from it, I must leave that person who lived in the past behind, and become the new, improved version of myself.

Let the new chapter begin.