I finally figured it out. I can’t seem to catch a break in anything. Since I’ve moved here, it’s been pretty much bad all over. When I seem to be at my lowest point, something inevitably takes me lower. I can’t find a good job, I’m getting divorced, I have no money or prospects. But today, I know why.
In my company inbox this morning, I got a smartly designed powerpoint that explained to me that a Chinese proverb from the Netherlands sent by a South American Missionary could change my life (yeah, I don’t know). The proverbs advised that I could buy a lot of things, a house, a bed, or sex, but I couldn’t buy a home, sleep, or love. There were more examples, but these were the best.
The multi-national powerpoint then advised me that if I sent it on to 20 people, then I would be rich! Forget the fact that money can’t buy everything, as stated in the prior section of the power point, I could be Rich! If that weren’t incentive enough, there was a dire warning. If you don’t forward, then you will have bad luck. You’ll lose your job and your kids will get sick, but don’t worry, you can still redeem yourself by sending on 20 copies, and then you’ll be rich with healthy kids.
That was the moment I realized. I delete every one of those kinds of chains without a thought, except for perhaps cursing the person who sent me the crap in the first place. If I had just forwarded one on, I would be rich and successful and thin and probably the happiest person in the world. What a fool I’ve been.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
I worship my elders.
I've been meaning to write about something I feel very passionate about, so I may get a little emotional.
I dreamed the other night that I was at a cafe with my family and there was a little commotion in the corner. An elderly woman was obviously in physical distress, and no one would call emergency. No one did anything, and it made me angry, so I took care of her, made her comfortable and called the paramedics. No one was doing anything but sitting around, so after the paramedics came to get the lady, I yelled, "You're all motherfuckers, and you all need to leave now!!" And my aunt came out to confront me, and I pushed her away. I was calling everyone a motherfucker.
I woke up, went to work and called the Senior Food Bank to volunteer. They couldn't take me because of my work hours, but referred me to some other agencies for seniors. I haven't felt so good and right about something in a long time.
When I was flying to San Francisco the in-flight movie was Young at Heart, which I've been wanting to see for a while. I think I was the only one on the plane sobbing. Here's a clip from the movie that's beautiful:
Here's the thing, it gets me really angry to think about how society treats/thinks of the gray panthers. And the truth is, they've enriched my life in ways that not one of the ass holes my age could ever accomplish. I wasted my younger years drinking with dipshits, and searching out relationships with worthless males, instead of spending my time with people who matter.
Seniors have made us who we are...we would literally not be here today if it weren't for them, for their sacrifices and innovations. They're rich with stories, and listening to them is learning from them.
In fact, my job is based on the histories of these people. I work with photographs from pre-statehood to the 1960s. I don't know what the fuck I'm looking at if I don't have someone who remembers to tell me. They tell me, I tell the researcher, who puts the information together and gives us a glimpse into who we were. All the stories come together to define us, past and present come together right here.
The old timers have the stories of what my city was like before it was destroyed by Urban Renewal. Valuing seniors is valuing our culture and our history. Where we came from is a big part of who we are now.
And if I ever hear anyone say something bad about the gray panthers, I'll knock their teeth out of their fucking skulls.
I'll leave you with one final video:
I dreamed the other night that I was at a cafe with my family and there was a little commotion in the corner. An elderly woman was obviously in physical distress, and no one would call emergency. No one did anything, and it made me angry, so I took care of her, made her comfortable and called the paramedics. No one was doing anything but sitting around, so after the paramedics came to get the lady, I yelled, "You're all motherfuckers, and you all need to leave now!!" And my aunt came out to confront me, and I pushed her away. I was calling everyone a motherfucker.
I woke up, went to work and called the Senior Food Bank to volunteer. They couldn't take me because of my work hours, but referred me to some other agencies for seniors. I haven't felt so good and right about something in a long time.
When I was flying to San Francisco the in-flight movie was Young at Heart, which I've been wanting to see for a while. I think I was the only one on the plane sobbing. Here's a clip from the movie that's beautiful:
Here's the thing, it gets me really angry to think about how society treats/thinks of the gray panthers. And the truth is, they've enriched my life in ways that not one of the ass holes my age could ever accomplish. I wasted my younger years drinking with dipshits, and searching out relationships with worthless males, instead of spending my time with people who matter.
Seniors have made us who we are...we would literally not be here today if it weren't for them, for their sacrifices and innovations. They're rich with stories, and listening to them is learning from them.
In fact, my job is based on the histories of these people. I work with photographs from pre-statehood to the 1960s. I don't know what the fuck I'm looking at if I don't have someone who remembers to tell me. They tell me, I tell the researcher, who puts the information together and gives us a glimpse into who we were. All the stories come together to define us, past and present come together right here.
The old timers have the stories of what my city was like before it was destroyed by Urban Renewal. Valuing seniors is valuing our culture and our history. Where we came from is a big part of who we are now.
And if I ever hear anyone say something bad about the gray panthers, I'll knock their teeth out of their fucking skulls.
I'll leave you with one final video:
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
I only live in the bubble
(c)
(d)
(a)
(b)
(d)
One reason why I've stayed in this community, neighborhood hopping in the same great big central OKC bubble, is the art scene. We've got galleries in the Paseo, at the Fairgrounds and downtown, with really nice art openings. And I've seen some really cool stuff that gets the inspiration pumping. The only problem with attending art openings is running into art-loving ex-boyfriends because the community's pretty small.
I keep an eye on upcoming events by subscribing to the Oklahoma Visual Arts Coalition online newsletter, and write down on my calendar all the events that look interesting (and for me, don't cost to get in...because I'm poor). Go here to visit the OVAC web site, and browse the work by local artists here.
My ultimate local favorites are Paul Mays (a), Ruth Ann Borum (b), Tunde Darvay (c), and Sarah Hearn (d). These are my own personal favorites, but I'll cover some more popular favorites and galleries where they show in another blog.
I think Oklahoma has a great art community that can be even more great if we could just reach out further into the communities and get people in Midwest City, Yukon, Moore, etc. as excited about art as we are here in "the bubble." If there's one thing I believe in, it's that art is for everyone...everyone can create, and creation is a very human act. I mean...look at me, I'm a blue collar poor kid living amongst crackheads and prostitutes and I'm involved in the art scene!
(d)
(a)
(b)
(d)
One reason why I've stayed in this community, neighborhood hopping in the same great big central OKC bubble, is the art scene. We've got galleries in the Paseo, at the Fairgrounds and downtown, with really nice art openings. And I've seen some really cool stuff that gets the inspiration pumping. The only problem with attending art openings is running into art-loving ex-boyfriends because the community's pretty small.
I keep an eye on upcoming events by subscribing to the Oklahoma Visual Arts Coalition online newsletter, and write down on my calendar all the events that look interesting (and for me, don't cost to get in...because I'm poor). Go here to visit the OVAC web site, and browse the work by local artists here.
My ultimate local favorites are Paul Mays (a), Ruth Ann Borum (b), Tunde Darvay (c), and Sarah Hearn (d). These are my own personal favorites, but I'll cover some more popular favorites and galleries where they show in another blog.
I think Oklahoma has a great art community that can be even more great if we could just reach out further into the communities and get people in Midwest City, Yukon, Moore, etc. as excited about art as we are here in "the bubble." If there's one thing I believe in, it's that art is for everyone...everyone can create, and creation is a very human act. I mean...look at me, I'm a blue collar poor kid living amongst crackheads and prostitutes and I'm involved in the art scene!
Shuffle, Part Two
I went to Wikipedia for the main character’s name in Shuffle, and so much was explained. The author has listed it as “your typical harem romance.” I had no idea that such a thing existed, but sign me up. Just make sure I’m the harem master, not just a member. I also discovered that it is based on a Japanese “dating simulator.” This makes sense. The whole plot of the show is him being pursued by women, being the passive party while they take him underwear shopping, pick out special underwear to wear on dates, parade around in swimsuits, and get naked whenever possible.
For those of you who haven’t played such a simulator, it is just that. With the major exception that you play the role of the boy, and you are actively seeking some love (if you know what I mean). There is usually a cast of women for your choosing: a teacher, an innocent, a tease, a bookworm, sporty spice, someone with cat ears. There are several women for your choosing, some more difficult to “date” and others that are easy (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). There are obstacles to your wooing—so many hours in a day, a limit to the number of days, you have to keep your grades up. But your main goal is to get laid. I mean, “date.” As you successfully woo your lady friends, you are rewarded with manga style drawings of what base you made it to, leading up to the moment when you actually get a girl into bed, when you get a drawing of what that looks like. Kind of like Leisure Suit Larry, but you have to study.
So it’s an anime based on a computer “dating simulator” in which the horny teen has been recast as the virtuous prince. He just can’t help it if the women follow him around. By the way, if you’re interested in playing a simulator, there are some free “dating simulators” available for download, and some of the translations into English are intentionally hilarious. Bonus entertainment value.
For those of you who haven’t played such a simulator, it is just that. With the major exception that you play the role of the boy, and you are actively seeking some love (if you know what I mean). There is usually a cast of women for your choosing: a teacher, an innocent, a tease, a bookworm, sporty spice, someone with cat ears. There are several women for your choosing, some more difficult to “date” and others that are easy (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). There are obstacles to your wooing—so many hours in a day, a limit to the number of days, you have to keep your grades up. But your main goal is to get laid. I mean, “date.” As you successfully woo your lady friends, you are rewarded with manga style drawings of what base you made it to, leading up to the moment when you actually get a girl into bed, when you get a drawing of what that looks like. Kind of like Leisure Suit Larry, but you have to study.
So it’s an anime based on a computer “dating simulator” in which the horny teen has been recast as the virtuous prince. He just can’t help it if the women follow him around. By the way, if you’re interested in playing a simulator, there are some free “dating simulators” available for download, and some of the translations into English are intentionally hilarious. Bonus entertainment value.
Shuffle!
I can’t help but to join in on conversations with geeks at night school about anime. They get very excited about their anime, and compare which anime you watch to what they are watching. The men usually throw out the same names: Naruto, Dragonball Z, and Inuyasha. I’ve not really gotten into those. I’ve gotten into in-depth discussions regarding the different series that we usually share (Death Note, Bleach) and been given more spoilers than I care to think about.
But one guy, who was a little bit special, gave me a recommendation for one I’d never even heard of. Shuffle. It’s on Hulu, so I thought I’d check it out. I put it on my listing of tv shows, and the kids fired it up one weekend. There was the warning that it was for mature audiences only, but I don’t generally worry too much about that, because I figured there were a few bad words or one of those weird moments like when Sailor Moon transforms, and everyone feels a little uncomfortable.
Turns out it’s for a little more. Here’s the premise of the anime. Young man (Rin Tsuchimi) is an orphan, he lives with a young woman who lost her family in the same accident. She lives to serve him. One day at school, two new students come in. They are both beautiful girls; one is the princess of the gods, the other is the princess of the demons. They are best friends, and somehow came to know the young man from when they were kids, and they want to marry him. With their dads in tow, they are wooing him. He also has a best friend who is in love with him, but she keeps it secret, despite her blatant overtures.
Whether it’s because I’m western, or because I’m a woman, I find the whole thing rather disgusting. He shows very little interest in any of these women, and while he’s a thoughtful person, respecting their feelings and treating them as human beings, the fact that the whole story revolves around all these girls with a slightly different look and slightly different personality going to the mats for this guy is too much for me. There are other fish in the sea, ladies.
Eventually we got bored with the whole enterprise, and gave up around episode seven.
But one guy, who was a little bit special, gave me a recommendation for one I’d never even heard of. Shuffle. It’s on Hulu, so I thought I’d check it out. I put it on my listing of tv shows, and the kids fired it up one weekend. There was the warning that it was for mature audiences only, but I don’t generally worry too much about that, because I figured there were a few bad words or one of those weird moments like when Sailor Moon transforms, and everyone feels a little uncomfortable.
Turns out it’s for a little more. Here’s the premise of the anime. Young man (Rin Tsuchimi) is an orphan, he lives with a young woman who lost her family in the same accident. She lives to serve him. One day at school, two new students come in. They are both beautiful girls; one is the princess of the gods, the other is the princess of the demons. They are best friends, and somehow came to know the young man from when they were kids, and they want to marry him. With their dads in tow, they are wooing him. He also has a best friend who is in love with him, but she keeps it secret, despite her blatant overtures.
Whether it’s because I’m western, or because I’m a woman, I find the whole thing rather disgusting. He shows very little interest in any of these women, and while he’s a thoughtful person, respecting their feelings and treating them as human beings, the fact that the whole story revolves around all these girls with a slightly different look and slightly different personality going to the mats for this guy is too much for me. There are other fish in the sea, ladies.
Eventually we got bored with the whole enterprise, and gave up around episode seven.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Sounds like . . .
OK, I was thinking about the blog, and thinking that my sad little birthday post might have ruined the party. Like when you see a movie, and there’s a house party, and everybody’s dancing, and people are swinging from the chandeliers and talking loudly and what not, and then that one guy (you know the guy) says something highly inappropriate and you hear the sound of the arm of a record player being ripped across the record, and everybody stops and stares at the offending person. And then you have dead silence as everybody judges.
But then I thought, hey, I bet these young whippersnappers these days aren’t even familiar with that noise. I’ve had vinyl all my life, even though I don’t really use it that much. I know the sound, though. That sound that means eighties movies and faux pas. It’s a universal signifier for the social difficulty. Or at least, it used to be. I hear it in commercials still. (I think it’s Twix commericials, right before they implore you to “chew it over with a Twix”) Do the young ‘uns know what that sound is? Are there enough DJ’s still scratching to keep it alive? Will it continue to be an influence until our generation passes and then quickly fade away like the sound at the party?
I guess sounds die. I had never really thought about it before. There are surely an infinite number of things that made their own unique sounds that we will never hear; sounds that are lost to antiquity. A sound seems like a stable and constant thing. There are variations in even repeated sounds, but the idea that you could lose the sound of something forever is a sad one. Languages are an obvious loss. Losing the sound of a people’s language is tragic. The loss of the sound of a musical instrument seems terrible too. Even losing the sounds produced by machinery made by man seem to be a great loss. So do your part, introduce the youth in your life to that sound.
I can see me explaining that to my kids. “ . . . and that’s when you know what you said is SO NOT COOL. You’ll hear the sound, and then everyone will stop everything and stare.”
But then I thought, hey, I bet these young whippersnappers these days aren’t even familiar with that noise. I’ve had vinyl all my life, even though I don’t really use it that much. I know the sound, though. That sound that means eighties movies and faux pas. It’s a universal signifier for the social difficulty. Or at least, it used to be. I hear it in commercials still. (I think it’s Twix commericials, right before they implore you to “chew it over with a Twix”) Do the young ‘uns know what that sound is? Are there enough DJ’s still scratching to keep it alive? Will it continue to be an influence until our generation passes and then quickly fade away like the sound at the party?
I guess sounds die. I had never really thought about it before. There are surely an infinite number of things that made their own unique sounds that we will never hear; sounds that are lost to antiquity. A sound seems like a stable and constant thing. There are variations in even repeated sounds, but the idea that you could lose the sound of something forever is a sad one. Languages are an obvious loss. Losing the sound of a people’s language is tragic. The loss of the sound of a musical instrument seems terrible too. Even losing the sounds produced by machinery made by man seem to be a great loss. So do your part, introduce the youth in your life to that sound.
I can see me explaining that to my kids. “ . . . and that’s when you know what you said is SO NOT COOL. You’ll hear the sound, and then everyone will stop everything and stare.”
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
End of Holidays
Every year at this time, I’m hit with a triple whammy: Christmas, my anniversary, and my birthday. It must have seemed like a good idea to schedule a wedding in between Christmas and my birthday at the time, but I had never really considered the poverty that I would be living in forever.
I love Christmas, and I love giving presents. I never am able to give the kids what I want to, much less anyone else. Generally, I forgo presents so they can have them. I’m sure this is the way it should be.
Sometimes we’ve managed to go out for our anniversary. It is hit or miss, but sometimes we do. Last time we went out for our anniversary, the waitress gave me the check. I was greatly disturbed by that. To me, it signaled that there was no look of romance about the date. I don’t remember any romance, but still. This year, I planned a dinner despite the impending divorce, and he went to his grandmother’s instead.
Today is my birthday. I’m thirty-one, and I still have a fixation on presents. I like them a lot. There is no money for a cake or presents. My mom always sends me a present, and for that, I’m very glad. I feel like I should be over presents, but I can’t help myself.
Then again, the highlight of my day so far has been a call from my dad to wish me a happy day. It reminded me of a birthday from a long time ago, probably when I was 10 or 11. My birthday was on a weekend, and my dad was going fishing, and because it was my birthday, I got to go too. It was very exciting, and very cold. I remember my mom telling my dad to wake me up at 6ish in the morning, because that’s when I was born. He did, too. I was sleeping in the truck, with my head asleep on dad’s shoulder. He woke me up and wished me happy birthday. I smiled and went back to sleep. If only I could go back to sleep today.
I love Christmas, and I love giving presents. I never am able to give the kids what I want to, much less anyone else. Generally, I forgo presents so they can have them. I’m sure this is the way it should be.
Sometimes we’ve managed to go out for our anniversary. It is hit or miss, but sometimes we do. Last time we went out for our anniversary, the waitress gave me the check. I was greatly disturbed by that. To me, it signaled that there was no look of romance about the date. I don’t remember any romance, but still. This year, I planned a dinner despite the impending divorce, and he went to his grandmother’s instead.
Today is my birthday. I’m thirty-one, and I still have a fixation on presents. I like them a lot. There is no money for a cake or presents. My mom always sends me a present, and for that, I’m very glad. I feel like I should be over presents, but I can’t help myself.
Then again, the highlight of my day so far has been a call from my dad to wish me a happy day. It reminded me of a birthday from a long time ago, probably when I was 10 or 11. My birthday was on a weekend, and my dad was going fishing, and because it was my birthday, I got to go too. It was very exciting, and very cold. I remember my mom telling my dad to wake me up at 6ish in the morning, because that’s when I was born. He did, too. I was sleeping in the truck, with my head asleep on dad’s shoulder. He woke me up and wished me happy birthday. I smiled and went back to sleep. If only I could go back to sleep today.
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