Maudlin, Some More

So while I did pull out of my funk a bit the other day, I am still rather bummed out and emotional, due in part, Im sure, to not medicating my sadness with my mom's Christmas cookies. That is good, I suppose. I actually lost weight this past week no easy feat at Christmastime. But anyway, in honor of my continuing weepiness and also lack of iPod, let me present to you:




Lyrics That Make Me Burst Into Tears
(If the song itself hasn't gotten me already)


Next door, theres an old man who lived to his nineties
And one day passed away in his sleep
And his wife, she stayed for a couple of days
And passed away

~ "The Luckiest" (Ben Folds)


It would feel so good to be
In your arms
Where all my journeys end

~ "The Promise" (Tracy Chapman)


I've always wanted for you what you've wanted for yourself
And yet I wanted to save us high water or hell
And I kept on ignoring the ambivalence you felt
And in the meantime I lost myself

~ "That Particular Time" (Alanis Morrisette)


I still find pieces of your presence here

~ "I Just Dont Think Ill Ever Get Over You" (Colin Hay)


Well, maybe there's a god above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you

~ "Hallelujah" (Jeff Buckley)


You, I thought I knew you
You, I cannot judge
You, I thought you knew me

~ "Nightswimming" (REM)


It's just that we stayed too long
In the same old sickly skin
I'm pulled down by the undertow
I never thought I could feel so low
Oh darkness, I feel like letting go

~ "Full of Grace" (Sarah Mclachlan)


You cannot understand yet
What it means to be old
~ "River, Run" (Suddenly, Tammy!)


Days may not be fair, always
That's when I'll be there, always
Not for just an hour
Not for just a day
And not for just a year
But always

~ "Always" (Patsy Cline)

©2005

The Winter Of My Discontent (With Television Commercials)

So has waxing a guy's chest become the new way to get him laid? And if so, why? What is this about? First, I see it in "The 40-Year-Old Virgin," now in the commercials for "Beauty and the Geek." I don't understand this at all. Is making a man look prepubescent supposed to be attractive? I don't have a chest hair fetish or anything, and it's nice when a guy takes care of himself, but I hate when guys get rid of their chest hair. I'm really not pleased with the whole metro thing. Again, clean and neat is good, but the idea that guys should be ashamed of things that come with their testosterone in order to be sexy is as irritating to me as the idea that women should be ashamed of their curves.

Anyway. I'm also annoyed by "Cheaper by the Dozen 2." Why? Well, SPOILER WARNING!
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The father DIES in the book Cheaper by the Dozen. It is one of my favorite books, so I was annoyed enough that Steve Martin survived the movie remake. But now -- a sequel? That is just creepy.

Finally, I am ambivalent about Kate Winslet's shilling for American Express. On the one hand, it's a pretty cool commercial. And I've spent enough time with musicians annoyingly whining about selling out that I'm hesitant to complain about these things. Plus, I'd of course give anything to be in a commercial, myself. But...it's Kate Winslet! She's one of the coolest, loveliest, most talented women out there. I'm just confused about this particular choice.

In summation: Men, please keep your chest hair. Everyone, read Cheaper by the Dozen. And Kate Winslet, I love you. Call me!



THE END

©2005

Things That Are Helping Me Feel Better Today

1. The sweet responses I got to my sadness blog yesterday.

2. Jeff Buckley's "Grace." You know how sometimes there are CDs you have, and maybe you love a couple of the songs, and you totally respect the artist(s), but you just never really can get into listening to the whole album at once? But then one day, you are in a particular mood or situation, and you put on the CD, and it is just perfect and all of a sudden it just all comes together? I love that.

3. Babz's arrival at work.

4. Babz's gift of chocolate-covered pretzels and a board game, which was unexpected and sweet (literally and figuratively!).

5. Chris's suggestion to watch "Battle Royale" to get out my aggressions and the evolving idea to have a Christmas movie marathon complete with lights, cocoa (if I had any), candles, and ultra-violent movies.

6. My coffee.

7. Shannon's telling me I was beautiful, always nice to hear, but especially on a week that I've shown up looking like a dirtbag every single day.

8. Glittery snowflakes.

9. Remembering that I have off on Monday.

10. The fact that even though bad days happen, and my life is far from perfect, that I am much happier than I was a year ago, and I think a better person as well. And of course, as Shannon so rightfully pointed out, I am very blessed. In fact, I'm going to share the glass-half-full list she made in response to my sadness entry:



1. It's Christmas time and you have a warm place to rest your head.
2. Even though it's so expensive and times are hard, you have family to buy presents for.
3. You have friends who looooove you!
4. You knew your grandparents growing up as a child.
5. You're not in a terrible marriage
6. You have a job -- even if the holiday party sucked!
7. You have to work 2 jobs, but some people would kill just to have one.
8. You're beautiful!!!
9. You get to have pets in your apartment.
10. You have a TV and candy canes and potatoes!


Thanks, Shannon! Thanks, guys! I hope and pray that your holidays are wonderful!!!

©2005

Possible Reasons For Being Sad Today

1. Getting three hours sleep.

2. Getting three hours sleep on floor with lights on and without velvety blanket so wouldn't oversleep.

3. Getting three hours sleep disrupted by cats running around chasing bell of mysterious origin.

4. Not showering.

5. Drinking three pints of Red Bull last night.

6. Eating only potato for dinner.

7. Thinking about Willow.

8. Listening to "I Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You" even though it makes me cry at desk.

9. Having no more hot chocolate in apartment.

10. Thinking about grandmother.

11. Knowing I have to quit smoking.

12. Failing at telekinesis again.

13. Finding out tonight's "O.C." is a repeat.

14. Finding out tonights "O.C." is a repeat featuring Lindsey.

15. Eating candy cane that tastes like Enerjet.

16. Fighting with possessed Microsoft Outlook.

17. Feeling work holiday luncheon more closely resembled work holiday screw you.

18. Not winning iPod at raffle.

19. Hearing "I'll Be Home For Christmas" in pizza place bathroom, thinking of grandfather and also sad drunk driving PSA on 1010 WINS.

20. Realizing am mawkish mess.

21. Wishing I had someone to go home to besides cats.



You know, there are very few times in my life when I find myself sitting around thinking, "I wish I was married," but today, I mean I'm happy. You know? I like my life. I like my friends. I like my stuff. My time, my space, my TV...But every now and then, just for a moment, I wish I had a partner, someone to pick up the slack. Someone to wait for the cable guy, make me coffee in the morning, meet the stupid sink before it gets sent back to Canada.
~ Lorelai

©2005

A Christmas Tragedy: Dissed By Santa

My mother used to work at Equitable in Manhattan. In 1982, when I was seven, the company planned a Christmas party, and all of the employees' kids were invited. I loved my mothers office, and the city at Christmastime, so I was very stoked for the big day. When I got there, my excitement increased tenfold, because there was a huge room filled with wrapped presents that Santa had brought for the kids!

Now mind you, I loved Santa tremendously, and was his avid apologist. Just a year earlier, I would debate his existence every morning before school started. It started when my friend Jeffrey told me there was no way Santa existed. I was having none of it. Both of us were pretty smart for our age, and neither was satisfied with leaving things at "No he's not real/yes he is." No, we took things to a rather remarkably intellectual level for six year olds. Every morning, we'd arrive early, sit on our desks, and discuss the pros and cons of putting faith in an invisible man who brought you presents. These science versus faith debates attracted the attention of other children seeking to better understand the world, and by the end of December, almost the entire class was gathering around and participating in the "Santa Claus: Immortal Saint or Parental Scam?" forum. The teacher never put a stop to it; I think mainly because she was rendered speechless by the courtlike atmosphere in her first-grade classroom. We were quite official, because this was a very serious matter at hand! In the end, I liked to believe that I had won some converts for my boy Santa.

Imagine then, my complete and utter distress when the last present at the Equitable party was distributed and I had received nothing. Every child around me had a gift except for me. Surely there had been a mistake. "Ask your boss if there would be presents somewhere else, Mommy," I implored my mother, whose current panic I attributed to Santa's major blunder. After all, she knew that he and I were tight. "I dont think so, Judith," she said. "It must have gotten lost."

Needless to say, I was inconsolable. What had I done? Why didn't Santa love me anymore? True, I hadn't exactly been a paragon of good behavior in second grade. My smart-alecky mouth and issues with authority had already earned me two notes sent home from the teacher, a trip to the principal's office, and a U in behavior on my report card. Was this why I didnt get a Smurf of my own? But surely if I was proof that he knows if youve been bad or good, then Santa would take into account our history together. No WAY did all those other kids love him as much as I did! And no way had they run the risk of mockery from other classmates by doggedly defending his very existence!

My heart was in tatters. I think I was mostly in shock at first though, because my mother didnt seem to realize that anything was wrong. "He'll probably drop it off at the house on Christmas," she assured me, thinking that all was well.

All was not well. Later on she came into my room, and I was lying on the bed, wracked with sobs.

"Judith, whats wrong!" she exclaimed.

"Santa...doesnt...lovvvvvve meeeeeeee," I managed to get out.

She looked horrified. "Oh no! Judith..."

And then it was confession time. No, she didn't tell me there was no Santa Claus. I obviously was nowhere near ready for that. Instead, she made up a really great lie about how the parents were supposed to bring in a gift for their kids, that it was in the spirit of Santa, that Santa didn't actually make the rounds until Christmas Eve, and she had forgotten about the spirit of Santa thing until she got to the party. She had no idea I would take it so hard. It was obvious that my mother felt absolutely terrible, but it wasn't until years later that I realized she was also trying not to laugh, which, you know, who can blame her?

Did it bother me that my mother forgot about my present? No. Did it strike me as fishy that Santa was referred to by name only earlier in the day, and there had been none of this "spirit of Santa" business? No. Santa loved me again; my misbehavior in class had not destroyed our relationship, and all was well with the world again.

And also, my guilt-ridden mother promised to get me a Smurf. Which was awesome.

©2005

Advertisements, Addiction, Advice

My message today is twofold.

The first fold is as follows: I've been pleasantly surprised at the number of entertaining commercials that are currently running. Offhand, I can think of two, one being that cell phone ad with the cheerleader. Why I love it so much, I can't say for sure, but it brings me endless joy. "YOU are not conceited; YOU are just honest -- awesome. And that Dunkin' Donuts commercial with the dude crazily running about. 'REINDEER!" Woot! He cracks me up, but the real capper is in the absolutely perfect double take the woman gives him in the end after she grabs him.

There was also a fantastic print ad that I saw on the train a few weeks back. However, I'd consumed a number of cocktails, and though I tried to leave myself a voicemail discussing the brilliance of said ad, I became flabbergasted by my phone (RIP) and gave up.

But you know what advertising concept I've never understood? Comparing a product to coffee. Last year The New York Times had an ad in which the paper sat beside a quite BEAUTIFUL cup o' joe. There was even whipped cream involved, if I recall correctly. The idea of the ad was that instead of having the coffee, you could have the paper.

This makes no sense to me. Does any sane person look at a paper one moment, then in the next, see a perfect, hot, steaming cup of sweet, caffeinated goodness and pick...the paper? In a perfect world, I could afford to be both informed about current events and jacked up on coffee, but until that day comes, I'm fine with getting my news from television and the internet. After all, what good is a newspaper if I'm not awake to read what's inside?

Hmmm...you see why I'd be excellent in advertising, right? All ads would be slightly manic; coffee would never be dissed, and there would be great bras for everyone! Plus, I know all about how to behave in the office, thanks to "Melrose Place." Now, if only someone would realize this, I could...well, I could afford a newspaper!

Anyway, on to fold number two -- my public service announcement. Which may not seem to fit in with the preceding paragraphs, but actually does, because a) I learned about PSAs in my television broadcasting class, right before commercials, and b) my PSA is about coffee, so there you go.

People, heed my warning. It is of the utmost importance that you do not drink the Starbucks Peppermint Mocha for more than two days in a row. I learned this the hard way in December 2002: The Month Of The Addiction.

It started out innocently enough. Philanthropically, even, as I had a toy for the Starbucks charity holiday drive. While inside, I was overtaken by the scent of coffee, cinnamon, and holiday cheer. Normally, I would have ordered a Gingerbread Latte, my Starbucks drink of choice in the wintertime. It was a rare treat, one I thoroughly enjoyed, but could take or leave.

On this day, however, the words of my former boss George echoed in my head. "THE PEPPERMINT MOCHA IS THE BEST! ITS ALL ABOUT THE PEPPERMINT MOCHA!" he would say. Sounded like a nice change of pace.

From the first sip, I knew that George's words were no joke. Heaven. Wonder. Excellence. The chocolate! The mint! The whipped cream! The caffeine that immediately found its way to my bloodstream, and pulsed on through with an unstoppable fervor that filled my whole body with warmth and joy. Good call, George, I thought as I went on with my day, blissfully unaware of the tragedy that was to follow.

How I afforded my rent, Christmas gifts, and Peppermint Mochas for the next two weeks is beyond me. Oh, right. Credit cards. And there was a crack den -- excuse me -- a Starbucks just three miles from my apartment. Every day, I was going. It didnt matter how long the line was, or what the weather was like. I did notice that I was feeling extra tired until I consumed my first Peppermint Mocha of the day, but I chalked it up to holiday stress.

Then came the breakdown.

Me: I need coffee.

The Ex: Do you want me to make some?

Me: (glaring at coffeepot and coffee on kitchen counter) No, no, no. I need outside coffee.

The Ex: Okay, Ill go to 7-11 (referring to a remarkable little store right down the road from me, where you can get coffee for the low low price of under 10 dollars.)

Me: NO! NOT 7-11! IT HAS TO BE STARBUCKS! I NEED MY PEPPERMINT MOCHA RIGHT NOW OR I CANT GO ON WITH MY DAY!

Shaking, screaming, climbing the walls...I was a junkie who needed her fix, and needed it five minutes ago. I realized I was out of control, but it didn't matter. Screw The Ex and his 7-11 coffee. I got right in my car, sped the three miles, and got what I needed.

Once I returned and the trembling had subsided, I was able to calmly and rationally realize that maybe I had a problem. That maybe life didnt have to be this way. That I could wake up in the morning or, ideally, afternoon, for less than the price of what it would cost to feed seventeen starving children a day.

It wasn't easy, but I clawed my way out of the madness. Once I came down, I crawled into bed, where I remained for three days straight. When I returned to the world, life was a little less exciting, and colors didnt seem as bright. But I was set free.

So please, learn from my story, and don't let it happen to you. Go ahead and donate toys to the needy, but fight the temptation to purchase anything involving the words "special," "holiday," or "flavor." Know your limits, and stick to them. Buy a coffeemaker; go to 7-11. Just stay away from Starbucks, lest it take you down that same harrowing road on which I traveled.

And based on the behavior of the man in their commercial, I'd steer clear of Dunkin' Donuts, too. Just to play it safe.

©2005
Peppermint Mocha of the day, but I chalked it up to holiday stress.

Then came the breakdown.

Me: I need coffee.

The Ex: Do you want me to make some?

Me: (glaring at coffeepot and coffee on kitchen counter) No, no, no. I need outside coffee.

The Ex: Okay, Ill go to 7-11 (referring to a remarkable little store right down the road from me, where you can get coffee for the low low price of under 10 dollars.)

Me: NO! NOT 7-11! IT HAS TO BE STARBUCKS! I NEED MY PEPPERMINT MOCHA RIGHT NOW OR I CANT GO ON WITH MY DAY!

Shaking, screaming, climbing the wallsI was a junkie who needed her fix, and needed it five minutes ago. I realized I was out of control, but it didnt matter. Screw The Ex and his 7-11 coffee. I got right in my car, sped the three miles, and got what I needed.

Once I returned and the trembling had subsided, I was able to calmly and rationally realize that maybe I had a problem. That maybe life didnt have to be this way. That I could wake up in the morning or, ideally, afternoon for less than the price of what it would cost to feed seventeen starving children a day.

It wasnt easy, but I clawed my way out of the madness. Once I came down, I crawled into bed, where I remained for three days straight. When I returned to the world, life was a little less exciting, and colors didnt seem as bright. But I was set free.

So please, learn from my story, and dont let it happen to you. Go ahead and donate toys to the needy, but fight the temptation to purchase anything involving the words special, holiday, or flavor. Know your limits, and stick to them. Buy a coffeemaker; go to 7-11. Just stay away from Starbucks, lest it take you down that same harrowing road on which I traveled.

And based on the behavior of the man in their commercial, Id steer clear of Dunkin Donuts, too. Just to play it safe.

©2005