Why Life Happens While You Plan

So, I almost missed my own baby shower.  I mean, I’m sure it would not have gone down that way, but when my Mom brightly suggested that a huge gang of us go out to brunch at a popular restaurant where we did not have reservations, I said “NO WAY”.  Of course, unbeknownst to me, it was all a ruse and a room and flowers and food were already booked. 

But I’m not much of one for surprises; I kicked and screamed about driving “all the way” to the venue without a plan in place.  Because I’m a planner, see?  Depending on who you are and what your relationship to me is, this is either a very, very good thing or the reason you call me a control freak behind my back. 

I do not “fly by the seat of my pants” ANYWHERE…although some days I claim to be, for STRATEGIC reasons.  That’s right, I’m strategically casual.  If my efforts have not lived up to my standards?  Well,  then…I claim I didn’t make an effort at all. 

I also get strategically sick.  Ask my Mom about the time as a teen that I wriggled out of a Bette Midler concert I was dreading with a spiking temperature that magically resolved itself within 36 hours.  That was no Ferris Bueller trick, btw.  Thermometer-against-the-lightbulb is amateur hour.  I was ACTUALLY (albeit very temporarily) SICK. 

That is planning, folks!  I even catch viruses on a schedule!

This is a quality I own with pride and also credit for my ability to maintain so many long distance relationships for so many years.  Planning is critical if you want face time with people who don’t live in your immediate vicinity, and I excel at it.   I live for getting my “ducks in a row”, as it were, and I’m totally comfortable being the point person. 

I’ve always thought of planning in terms of maturity and taking responsibility and have rolled my eyes at anyone who suggested it was a less-than-desirable quality.  But I recently was having a conversation with a friend about the end of my father’s life; he was in hospice care at home, so I was staying there with my Mom and him.  I loved my Dad to distraction and cherished every moment we had together, but those weeks spent anticipating his death were a very anxious time for me.  Waiting for the other shoe to drop almost makes you begin to long for it, in a way.  My friend’s response was that it is interesting how our inability to tolerate discomfort makes us want closure, at any cost.  This hit me squarely, although it was not presented as a judgment.

The wonderful Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron once wrote, “The idea of karma is that you continually get the teachings that you need to open your heart. To the degree that you didn't understand in the past how to stop protecting your soft spot, how to stop armoring your heart, you're given...everything you need to open further.”  What my friend said to me made me realize that my compulsive planning…while certainly an often helpful, productive trait…is also a tactic for protecting my soft spot, as Pema put it.  I don’t like surprises because I don’t feel prepared for or in “control” of the situation. 

Of course I intellectually understand that we are never truly in control of anything but our own attitude.  But I am also armoring my heart against disappointment with my planning, like I don’t quite fully accept that uncertainty is the only certainty there is.  Madeline L’Engle, who wrote the transformative A Wrinkle in Time explains it best: “When we were children we used to think that when we were grown-up we would no longer be vulnerable.  But to grow up is to accept vulnerability…to be alive is to be vulnerable”.

We all understand in the abstract how vulnerable we are; our soft bodies, our tender hearts, our open minds are exposed daily to risk and negativity.  Planning helps me circumvent the visceral fear of this…it is my bulletproof vest, so to speak,  affording me some protection from the inevitable arrows of uncertainty.   Most all of us have some kind of defense system in place.

 But how much of life are we missing out on because we are actively “armoring our heart”?  We long for love while protecting ourselves against it.  I think it is interesting that mythology warns us that Cupid’s arrow will cause a wound that fills us with uncontrollable desire.  How does that sound to you?  To be filled with uncontrollable desire? 

To me it sounds raw and vulnerable and wild and SCARY.  In fact, I’ll go so far as to say that most of us have been taught that desire is a BAD THING; all but one of the so-called 7 deadly sins are uncontrolled desires:  lust, greed, gluttony, wrath, envy, pride.  Even sloth might be considered an uncontrollable desire to do nothing.  We shrink from our desires; we make responsible choices, abstain, diet, save our pennies, hold-our-tongues, work hard and stay humble.  We protect our soft spots and wonder why we don’t feel fully alive.

In his book The Way of the Wizard, Deepak Chopra posits that desire is the direct path to God; he tells us to look upon desire as a willingness to receive what God wants to give.  The Upanishads teaches “You are what your deep, driving desire is”.  But a lot of us…maybe even most of us…wouldn’t know what our “deep, driving desire” is if it walked up and introduced itself.   We have built up walls around it and we exist on the outside…making plans and lists and appointments and schedules and meals and beds and time. 

But it’s always knocking on those walls, asking to be let out.  We feel the dull thud in our chests, nagging pull on our attention, the pit in our stomachs.  Our inability to tolerate the discomfort of vulnerability has ironically given birth to the discomfort of being disconnected from our source, our true selves. 

I almost missed my own baby shower because it wasn’t PART of the PLAN I had for my day.  It makes me wonder how many amazing things I have actually missed out on because they weren’t “on the schedule”.  I am not going to give up planning---one might almost say I have a deep, driving desire to plan---but I am going to question my own resistance to vulnerability.   Karma dictates that our walls will be broken down; the only question is, will we do it ourselves with tenderness and care, or will we allow circumstances to be a wrecking ball?

Why Wonder Woman Makes Me Wonder

If you, like me, spent your childhood in the 1970’s, the title of this piece alone should have gotten the old “Wonder Woman” theme song stuck in your head.  All the world is waiting for you…and the wonders you can do. Make a hawk a dove; stop a war with love. Make a liar tell the truth!  I don’t know about that other stuff, but she DEFINITELY had the ability to make a liar tell the truth with her golden lasso.  I loved that show and thought Lynda Carter was as gorgeous and badass as women came, perfectly suited to the role.  

But I grew up in an era of out-of-shape superheroes; for example, Adam West did not exactly look ripped in that Batman costume.  Michael Keaton in the same role was all suit, so to speak.  Remember what a vast “improvement” Christopher Reeve represented over George Reeves in the role of Superman?  Christopher Reeve was handsome and in great shape, but in “Batman V. Superman: Dawn of Justice” Henry Cavill’s Superman is…well, SUPER-human looking.  He is sculpted and frankly the most true to the original comic version as any actor who has played him yet. 

Which is why I am wondering about Wonder Woman?  Why is it that this kick ass goddess has perfect hair and boobs but no visible muscle?  Are they afraid it would make her less “feminine” (AKA "sexual")?

I did a little research (AKA “googled”) this topic and found a discussion thread that made my heart sink.  The debate over whether or not Wonder Woman should be more muscular in this new film featured the following comments:  “males are the muscular ones in comics; women are the slender curvy ones.  both genders at the height of their attractiveness”; “If Batman and Superman have to have huge pecks and biceps why can't we get a Wonder Woman with big tits and an ass?” Hoo-boy.  But the most dismissive comment I saw opined that the ONLY reason people were even talking about this was “because feminism or something like that”.   

The one person who had an actual photo of himself instead of an avatar on the thread (hmmm…) offered this bit of wisdom about the character as written:  she is “a battle hardened warrior who trains rigorously on a daily basis”.  I know absolutely nothing about Gal Gadot, the actress playing Wonder Woman, except how she looks.  And she DEFINITELY does NOT look like that.  She looks more like a thumb-war champion, if you catch my drift.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  And I should talk, btw.

I will have to admit at this point that I am not, nor have I ever been, much of a comic book person.  However, I did grow up watching “Batman”, “Wonder Woman” and “The Super Friends”, so I am not entirely immune to the thrall of super hero legend.  In this spirit, before I go ahead and say what OBVIOUSLY needs to be said here, I am going to tell you what little-girl-me thought about the “out-of-shape” champions she grew up with:  what made them heroic (and ultimately triumphant) was their good intentions.  Corny, I know. 

But I think the beating heart of the appeal of such characters is exactly that…they use their super powers to help the weak, the less fortunate, and the victimized.  I never questioned their physiques.  Batman knew how to outsmart his rivals and Superman and Wonder Woman were genetically superior beings, immune from human weaknesses…such as the need for muscles to have strength.  I’m saying this because I “get” the rationale behind casting another Madison Avenue typical beauty in the role.  However…

This is 2016, people.  And the character AS WRITTEN is a trained warrior.  And her Superman co-star is about as cut as you can be without qualifying as a professional body-builder.  And this mismatch is troubling.  This mismatch concerns me.  Because muscular women, professional athletes even, are often criticized for being “fat”.  Google search that and see the endless parade of articles. 

I think this represents a two-fold problem: 1) yes, we have all been brainwashed by Madison Avenue about what the ideal female form should be (essentially:  anorexic, but with boobs) and 2) muscular women are being targeted for going against the norm.  These naughty rule breakers want us to accept a female shape that is not weak, helpless and in need of a brawny masculine savior.  They want us to comprehend that women can be just as strong as men…and in many cases, even stronger.  They wants us to understand that fierce can be feminine.  And this is apparently a message that we are not yet comfortable hearing.  And casting a dainty looking Wonder Woman is definitely part of the problem.

I don’t want to pick on Gal Gadot for being too skinny.  I want to pick on the Hollywood machine that consistently lets us down when it comes to diversity of ALL KINDS.  Hollywood, like the out-of-shape superheroes of yore, used to be nothing more than a whimsical fantasy fulfiller.  But as it has grown and its reach and subject matter have continued to expand, it has also taken on the tacit responsibility of representing all of us, not just the Marilyn Monroe’s and Clark Gables of the world. 

Which brings me back to Wonder Woman.  Who is the audience for a movie that features such a character?  I’m no marketing genius, but I am guessing it is 1) fans of the comic book and 2) young people.  And I’m no psychologist, but I’m assuming fans of the comic book are going to want to see their heroine accurately portrayed, and young people might benefit from seeing such a character represented as what she actually is:  a warrior.  With my apologies to Gal Gadot, who may very well do a fine job:  there was somebody better for the part.  Probably a lot of somebodies.  We need to be having these kinds of discussions about why Hollywood didn’t think a muscular actress was a commercial choice.  How many viewers (dollars) did they think they stood to gain by casting a model-type instead?

I have already stated my intention to boycott “Independence Day 2” because the casting geniuses decided Mae Whitman wasn’t hot enough to play HERSELF as an adult.  (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/kara-postkennedy/mae-whitman-is-hot-why-it-doesnt-matter_b_7203934.html)  I will not be going to see “Batman V. Superman” either.  Because Hollywood won’t listen to our voices until we back them up with our actions.  We need to stand up for women in all shapes and sizes (because feminism or something like that) and we need to stand up for people of all races (because white Oscars or something like that). Doing this means standing up for ourselves, even the Madison Avenue models of the world. 

Time for Hollywood to be subjected to the lasso of truth; are they casting the best person for the role?  Or the one they have deemed most “bangable”?   Strong women are sexy women.  Time to stop judging (and casting) based on outdated sexual standards.   We all have a story, we all have a voice and we are all valid.  And that is a wonder to behold.

 

10 Terrible Lessons from Romantic Comedies

Confession:  I’m a sucker for romantic movies.  What could be more endearing than watching two adorable people try to resist falling in love?  Of course there must be obstacles to overcome; otherwise you don’t have a story.  I think most of us enjoy the idea of love being an inevitability…even if finding the match is like finding the proverbial needle-in-a-haystack, destiny will not be denied!  Except in The Bridges of Madison County, of course.  Generally speaking though, romantic films promote the idea that there is someone for everyone, and I wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment.  However, there are a lot of messages to be found in even some of my very favorite movies that are much, much less appealing:

1)      When Harry Met Sally:  I start here because this is one of my favorite films of all time.  Even though it endorses one of the greatest untruths ever told… men and women can't be friends.  Harry and Sally debate this point early on and Sally tries to take the day with this:  “So you're saying that a man can be friends with a woman he finds unattractive?”  Harry’s response?  “No, you pretty much want to nail 'em too.”  Now, I’m not a man, and I have no idea what percentage of women the typical guy wants to “nail” (UGH) but I have many wonderful platonic friendships with men that I wouldn’t trade for anything.   As a matter of fact, because it is considered an offense against societal mores to be “nailing” more than one person at a time, MOST of my relationships with men have been platonic and I’m assuming that is true for most people.  Unless you are all “nailing” each other behind my back.  LMK, ‘k?

2)     Sleepless in Seattle:  I might as well get all of my Nora Ephron bashing out of the way up front.  This film bothers me SO MUCH that I have devoted an entire blog to it (http://karapostkennedy.blogspot.com/2013/09/why-sleepless-in-seattle-should-bug-you.html); however, my BFF has informed me that it is actually giving women permission to break up with the boring-nice-guy (even if he looks like BILL PULLMAN) to look for their soul mate.  Who, in Annie’s case, turns out to be another boring-nice-guy.  With a kid.  Who lives on the other side of the country.  You go girl!!!  It was definitely a good idea to dump your handsome, successful, sweet, local fiancé for a voice on the radio!!!  Boo.

3)     While You Were Sleeping:  Another Bill Pullman film with “sleep” in the title, only THIS time he gets the girl.  From his BROTHER, played by Peter Gallagher, who has never been more hilarious than he is here.  Before you get all grossed out (save that for the next film on the list), the REAL problem in this ridiculous and convoluted plot (I watch it every Christmas!  Woot-woot!) is the idea that dishonesty is somehow “polite”.  There is a wonderful theme here screaming to be heard:  that our fantasies are just that, a FANTASY.  And reality can be so much better because the connections we make go so much deeper than appearances.  Instead we are treated to a ludicrous set of circumstances by which our heroine is kept apart from her #onetruelove because she must “politely” maintain the lie that she is engaged to another.  It’s dumb and wrong.  And I watch it every Christmas.

4)     Dan in Real Life:  In this case Dan, played by the utterly impossible to resist Steve Carrell, does in fact steal his BROTHER’S girlfriend.  Two brothers sleeping with the same woman in the same movie is a little too biblical for me, sorry.  ICK.

5)     Crazy, Stupid, Love:  Again, I GET IT.  There is no way any woman on the planet could NOT fall for Steve Carrell, even when he is acting like a total D-BAG.   As he is here.   This movie has a very confusing message about “revenge” as a valid romantic position.  The way I remember it, Steve Carrell’s wife, who he still loves very much, has an affair with a d-bag and this makes him sad.  So he embarks on a mission to learn how to be a d-bag himself by using women and tossing them aside in order to…win her back?  Humiliate his children (one of the women is his kid’s teacher)?  Destroy his legacy as a good man?  It was all very upsetting and perplexing but never mind that, IT WORKED! So he and his wife lived happily ever after.  Say it with me this time:  ICK.

6)     Love, Actually:  Actually, LOVE this film, even though it is pretty much rotten to the core.  Damn Brits!!!  They make everything seem so charming!  Declaring your love for your best friend’s spouse!  Buying your tarty secretary a nicer Christmas gift than your wife!! Porn as a path to true love!!!   IT’S ALL SO ROMANTIC!!!!  When it’s done with a British accent; I can’t deny it.

7)     Celeste and Jesse Forever*  Turns out, Jesse is an aimless underachiever because of his WIFE.  It’s Celeste’s fault, really.  The RIGHT woman gets him on track and after years of being a wastrel, he becomes a responsible, hard-working success story.  Damn you Celeste!  Don’t you understand that your over-achieving was emasculating?  So gross.

8)     Pretty Woman:  Please don’t make me say it.  Pretty please.  Speaking of which…

9)     Pretty in Pink:  Does anyone like Blane?  Isn’t he a boring snob with no backbone?  But we love Duckie, right?  Ladies…come on, choose wisely.

10) Peggy Sue Got Married:  I KNOW!!!  I love it too.  And at its heart is the beautiful truth that most mothers would remarry their husband, even if he turned out to be a feckless, cheating goom-bah because they could not imagine life without their particular children.  But Peggy Sue had OPTIONS.  And her husband did turn out to be a feckless, cheating goom-bah.  Ladies…come on, choose wisely.

*Upon reflection, turns out Celeste and Jesse Forever  is the last romantic comedy I can remember seeing.  That came out in 2012.  Apparently it annoyed me enough to unconsciously boycott rom-coms for 4 years!  Or maybe I’m afraid that nowadays I’m just going to be watching two hours of young people staring at their phones and “swiping right”??? LMK, ‘k?

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10 Things Losing My Dog Taught Me About Living

Losing a pet is heart-wrenching.  Anyone who denies this either never had a pet or never had a heart to wrench.  We had plenty of time to prepare for our girl’s passing, and I mistakenly believed that this would make it easier or somehow a relief when she died.  It was not easy and it definitely was not a relief. 

Zoey was a salty old broad to the end, and the departure of her larger-than-life presence has left us with a huge hole in our world; I can’t believe how much I miss her.  Of course in thinking about her constantly, (without her incessant barking to distract me from such thoughts), I realize that losing her has given me a new outlook.  Zoey was a far greater teacher than I ever understood; if she were here today (and could type) these are some things she would tell us about life:

1)      Never bark when a growl will do.  Zoey had about 15 variations of the growl…the “stop bothering me” growl, the “something is fishy” growl, the “unrecognized noise” growl, the “I’m-still-here-in-case-you-were-wondering” growl…and none of them sounded exactly the same.  The girl had TONALITY.  She understood that a well-placed growl could pre-empt a lot of unnecessary barking, and she doled them out judiciously.  HOWEVER:

2)      There is no shame in barking!  Again, there were many variations on this theme, but her preferred bark was robust, full throated and frankly piercing.  Like most Corgis, her insane barking was just as likely a signifier of joy as of alarm…you should have heard her go at it every time the UPS truck drove down the street.  This is not because she feared or was angered by the truck…it’s because she and our UPS guy were IN LOVE.  Which leads me to her next bit of wisdom:

3)     Relationships are the bedrock of a happy existence.  Zoey was a shameless flirt and had many admirers (though none as ardent as that UPS guy).  Flirting got her pets and treats and all kinds of attention, and she was damned good at it.  When we lived in Virginia she had our handsome young mailman wrapped around her little paw, and he was always threatening to carry her away to the glamourous life.  Being engaged by people means you like yourself and enjoy others…and you are still open to all the possibilities of life.  Like maybe riding around in a mail/UPS truck with a box of milk bones and a smitten dude.  Zoey understood this because

4)     You have to know the difference between being shameless in your passions and not having any pride.  Yes, she was a girl with gusto and endless appetites (for food as well as men who deliver parcels) but she was also a dog with dignity.  She had perfected the “I meant to do that” posture to answer any question you might have about her feelings regarding knocking something over or “missing her mark”.  Zoey was a lady and never let us forget it.  Don’t you know it’s impolite to stare at someone as they inhale their food??? Because

5)     Food is AWESOME.  Zoey 100% approved of you eating what you like because she literally never met anything edible that she didn’t enjoy; gluttony is a well-known Corgi trait and all of our vets over the years marveled at her consistently trim figure.  Her huge appetite was never an issue because Zoey realized

6)     Exercise is crucial.  Okay, okay, so MAYBE she is the only dog in the history of the world who actually HID when she saw her Mom get the leash…but to be fair to her, my legs are very, very long and hers were very, very short, so pace may have been an issue.  Also, I take very long walks.  A LOT of very long walks.  Anyhow, she was slim...

7)     But pretty isn’t everything.  Zoey, again like most of her breed, was a pretty little thing…but she knew it was her BRAINS that made her stand apart.  I trained that dog like the Type-A person I not so secretly can be, and got frequent compliments on how GOOD she was…from people who didn’t REALLY know her.   To know Zoey was to understand…a full 98% of the time when she wasn’t either sleeping or eating, she was figuring out ways to work around the rules.  I have never been more certain in my life that a dog fully understood what was expected of her.  And I have never been more certain in my life of the kind of pleasure she so obviously derived from “outsmarting” those expectations.  With her, I found myself quoting the ill-fated Velociraptor wrangler from the first Jurassic Park film on a regular basis:  "Clever girl".  Because Zoey was more than willing to take the lead…

8)     Don’t be afraid to take charge.  Corgis are herders, and they are bred to be in control of not only animals much, much larger than they are, but also in large numbers.  Zoey had absolutely no problem taking command when she saw such a thing was called for…herding can be incredibly useful when you have a lot of small children running about, frankly.  She instinctively ran in circles around the errant group, barking her very own version of a camp counselor’s whistle… she was not intimidated by size or numbers BUT she also knew

9)     It’s okay to be vulnerable with people who love you.  Zoey was terrified of thunder and would break any house rule to get close to us if a storm broke out.  She also hated aggressive dogs and would cower between my legs if approached by one.  As much of a fierce little badass as she was, Zoey had her fears and phobias and she knew just where she could bring them to…

10)  There’s no place like HOME.  There is a reason children call the safe zone “home” when they are playing tag.  Home isn’t a place, it is a feeling.  We all have relationships, routines and yes, locations where we feel at home.  This is where we go when we feel out of sorts, afraid or lost.  Zoey had her safe people, behaviors and places and she knew how and when to utilize them.  I hope and pray that she is truly HOME now.  Some place with plenty of food, no thunder and lots of gentlemen delivering affection and treats.

 

WHY I AM MAKING NEW YEAR'S ABSOLUTIONS!

Growing up, my parents were not big fans of the New Year’s Eve celebrations;  my Dad called it amateur night and they were more likely than not to spend it at home with us kids, eating snacks and watching Dick Clark by the light of the Christmas tree.  We didn’t have any big New Year traditions or rituals; but when my brother ended up married to a Southern lady, we were all initiated into the eating-collard-greens-and-black-eyed-peas custom to ensure our wealth and luck in the upcoming year. 

My sister-in-law also makes everyone write down a private prediction, to be read in 12 months’ time over that same meal. As I am one of the few people I know who actually loves black eyed peas, I didn’t mind the food part; but I absolutely dreaded making my yearly predictions.   Like in the classic horror story “The Monkey’s Paw”, I couldn’t see any good coming in me committing a “prediction” (wish) to paper…it would certainly be unsportsmanlike to guess at something bad happening, but to forecast something good felt dangerously close to tempting fate. 

I always wrote an innocuous and unimaginative note (“We’ll have a lot of weather!”) and hoped that no one sensed my utter lack of enthusiasm for the game.  HA!  HUGE LIE.  I told everyone about my utter lack of enthusiasm for the game and squirmed openly.   Now that we no longer live close enough to participate, I have comfortably settled back into my no-tradition-is-the-tradition way of celebrating the change in the calendar.

I’m sure you will not be surprised to learn that in addition to not making predictions about the upcoming year, I also refrain from making “resolutions”.  Both of these things seem to add unnecessary pressure and stress--NOT how I want to go into any “new” situation.  Like most everybody else, I am just doing the best I can on a day-to-day basis with the resources and information I have at any given time, and that feels like a good mark to hit. 

However, listening to and reading about OTHER people’s resolutions or lack thereof has inspired me to write my own special list of what I am going to call my New Year ABSOLUTIONS, designed to free me from blame or guilt and release me from unnecessary obligations:

MY ABSOLUTIONS FOR THE NEW YEAR:

1)     I absolve myself from the mandate to eat kale!  A few years ago KALE was identified as a mighty superfood that would enable me to leap tall buildings in a single bound, or something like that.  I dutifully added kale to my regular routine, even though in my estimation it tastes, especially when cooked, like ass.  To be fair, it is not overpowering enough to ruin a salad when mixed with other greens, but it was ruining my scrambled eggs on a consistent basis.  So I am giving up kale.

2)     I absolve myself from the need to apologize for my gluten sensitivity.  Everybody likes to joke about how annoying and frankly insane “gluten free” people can be, but believe me, if I had a choice I would be typing this with just one hand because I’d have a big, fat New York bagel in the other.  I LOVE GLUTEN but it no longer loves me and the physical consequences of eating it with any frequency are too great.  In short, it already SUCKS TO BE ME when I say “No thank you” to your offer of pizza; I’m not going to add insult to injury by apologizing about it.

3)     I absolve myself from feeling guilty about the fact that I am an epic fail as a “soccer mom”.  NO, I will NOT stand around in the freezing cold, blazing heat or even temperate clime to watch my kid PRACTICE soccer, especially when there is a lovely nature preserve bordering the fields for me to hike on.  NO, I will NOT work at the concession stand; leave that to someone with 4 kids in the league who has to be there all day anyhow.  NO, I will NOT collect money and put together a raffle basket because A) life is short and B) I would rather pay extra at sign up than have to participate in all of the God forsaken fundraising.  I will get my kid to practices and games on time in a clean uniform, I will buy the team photo and make sure my son exhibits good sportsmanship, unlike his mother.  You’re very welcome.

4)     I absolve myself from apologizing for how I look, one way or the other.  I hate yoga pants and wear them exclusively when I am doing yoga—I won’t even run errands in them afterwards because they make me feel sloppy.  I will not leave the house without mascara because my eyelashes are invisible without it and I like to look nice, weirdly.  If I am wearing lipstick, I do not want to be accused of being “dolled up”.  It is amazing to me that NO MATTER WHAT, people can find something to criticize about my appearance, whether I look “dolled up/too dressed up” (?) or conversely “like I haven’t been eating well” (??) or “exhausted” (okay, I am, but that isn’t helping!).  I want to look as good as I can under any given circumstances and I'm not going to apologize for that; but if I look bad, it will not make me feel better to hear you say so.

5)     I absolve myself from the need to “curb my enthusiasm”.  Yes, I am a person who is easily excited and feels passionately about many things and no, I am not going to “calm down” until I’m dead.  Deal with it or don’t, but do NOT try to make me feel embarrassed about it.

6)     In fact, I will not let anyone tell me I don’t have the right to feel how I feel.  There is overwhelming evidence that I am not an irrational or stupid person; therefore, if I am feeling sad or angry or suspicious or frightened there is a DAMN good reason and you trying to tell me otherwise is disrespectful and doesn’t change anything.

7)     I absolve myself from “going along to get along”.  This seems to me to be the most unreasonable solution to any problem.  You start going along a path you don’t believe in and you could end up totally lost, or unable to turn back.  Not for me.

8)     I absolve myself of the need to “explain myself” to anyone.  Judgment couched as concern is a transparent trigger; yes, it will make me angry and no, my life and choices are not your problem  or business.  They are mine and I am good with that.

9)     I absolve myself from the hypocrisy of “yes” when I mean no.  I will not let anyone tell me that “no” is the wrong answer if it is my honest response.

10)   I absolve myself for the bad decisions and mistakes I will inevitably make.  Everyone does, it is part of the process.  I will not be paralyzed by the fear of doing or saying the “wrong” thing, because that is like living half a life.  I will stand by my motto, “Today’s bad experience is tomorrow’s funny story” and try to remember to laugh at my foibles whenever I have the grace to do so.

In short, I absolve myself of the need to be anyone but myself and to act in any way other than how I am naturally inclined to act.  And I extend these same rights and privileges to you!  Wouldn’t this be a wonderful year if we could all mind our own damn business and let other people live as they want in peace???  That’s not a prediction, btw; just a wish.

 

Why Stephen King is My Favorite Undead Author

Last night, as I crawled into bed with a cup of tea and The Bazaar of Bad Dreams, the latest tome from my #onetruelove Stephen King, I had not only a wonderful sense of anticipation, but also of serenity.  There are very few things in this world you can count on, but for me, Stephen King is near top of the list; certainly he ranks above death and taxes.  I have often described the experience of reading his books thusly:  it is like going on the perfect vacation with the perfect companion; someone who understands my every mood  and craving and is always entirely in sync with what I want to do, where I want to go and when I want to do all of these things. 

TOP THAT, Donna Tartt! 

As I was reading his introduction, I found myself daydreaming about our past history and the many good times we have shared together.  This walk down memory lane prompted me to recall our auspicious introduction:  Thanksgiving weekend, 1979.  Visiting my grandparents for the holiday, the adults safely ensconced in the dining room with drinks and cards, my younger sister and I dared to do something we NEVER would have tried at home (or gotten away with, for that matter)…we tuned in to the premiere of the unforgettable miniseries, “Salem’s Lot”.  I urge you to GO WATCH NOW if you haven’t before you continue reading.

Of course, I had some awareness of King before that moment, due mainly to a contraband, dog-eared copy of The Shining that had made its way around the neighborhood; but I was not a “rule-breaker”  and the consequences of being caught with such a thing would have been too great to risk.  Still, my sister and I huddled in front of the TV that weekend, betting the grown-ups would be only too glad to have us entertained and out of their hair; not only did that bet pay off, but a lifelong love affair began.  For those of you who would now like to argue about how dated the miniseries has become, or the unworthiness of David Soul in the lead, I have but one response:  any form of entertainment that involves both James Mason and James at 16 is beyond reproach.  ‘Nuff said. 

Upon returning home from that fateful trip, I secured a copy of the novel post-haste and read it as eagerly as one would a secret diary--a glimpse into the mind of this man who seemed to understand me so well.  I was not disappointed (that book remains a favorite to this day) and of course I was impatient for more…in retrospect I realize it was my “gateway drug” to much harder stuff, not only by King but other writers who like to explore the twists and turns of both the human psyche and soul.

Speaking of other writers, I call Stephen King my favorite “undead” author because a) it’s funny and b) there has been one other who captured my heart and imagination with an even slightly more hypnotic pull:  the late, great Dame Iris Murdoch.  Alas, she is no longer undead and therefore no longer working, so Uncle Stevie has taken the crown.  To anyone who is thinking that they are so dissimilar as to compare apples to oranges, I beg to differ:  in my opinion, not only do both feel comfortable exploring the ramifications of the darker aspects of the human condition, they are also both incredibly compassionate about the turmoil we all encounter in our quest to be “good”.  They seem to understand what “struggling with your inner demons” is all about, even if for King it is expressed more metaphorically than in Murdoch’s work.   

People who only know Stephen King by reputation are always amazed when I describe him as an author with great hope.  I think it is a function of his uncanny ability to shine a light into the darkest of dark corners and confront what he finds, come what may.  He is still standing in spite of it—probably because of it—and is so obviously pleased to share what he has learned with his devoted fans.  Stephen King is delighted to entertain us; who could ask for anything more?

I suppose any ode to a writer as prolific as King should include a guide to the best of his best in order to tempt the uninitiated.  I am rolling my eyes as I type that, because to me he is one of those authors who either attracts you like a magnet, or is best left alone.  Does he have books that I consider “stinkers”?  You bet; he wouldn’t be the inexhaustible creator he is if he felt the need to be “perfect” every time.  And with a writer as gifted and thoughtful as he is, I have to imagine that my trash is undoubtedly another reader’s treasure.  How ANY book impacts you has a lot to do with what you are bringing to the table at any given time; something that strikes you as profound at 20 may seem silly at 40, and vice versa. 

But generally speaking, to pick favorites amongst King’s books is akin to picking favorites amongst friends…possible, but not really material.  However, as I began with ‘Salem’s Lot, it might be a good choice for you.  A mythic “boy who cried wolf” theme, the somber precursor to the enchanting “Fright Night”--what would you do if a vampire moved to your neighborhood?  King expands on the concept of children-seeing-the-truth-adults-cannot-accept in IT, a brilliant, epic, can’t-put-down read.  His opus, however, is most likely The Stand, a sprawling post-apocalyptic tale that has been imitated ad naseum, but never rivaled. 

Of his more recent work, I adored 11/22/63 and Joyland, the former being an incomparable treatise on the dangers of woulda-coulda-shoulda and the latter being a joy ride, pure and simple.  We all need rewards that truly motivate us, something to look forward to...for me, just knowing that another Stephen King book is somewhere on the horizon does it.  May my bookshelves forever be clogged with his offerings, because at the end of the day it is one of very few relationships that I have gotten much more out of than I have put into it.

 

8 Reasons Why the Holidays Suck/Rock!

Oh, come on, you know they do!  We ALL dread/look forward to the holidays in equal measure.  We really hate/love it when we are reminded to simplify and count our blessings.  We all endure/enjoy the many opportunities for festive socialization at this time of year.  We are usually so exasperated/thrilled by the many gifts we receive that we will then return/cherish.  The holidays are such a hassle/fun time!  So let’s breakdown the 8 main reasons why the holidays suck/rock, shall we?

1)     MONEY.  Oooh, the holidays are so good for bringing out our inner Scrooge, are they not?  How to fit all those gifts we “need” to buy into the monthly budget without racking up credit card debt and/or eating beans the entire month of January to compensate?  It is stressful for everyone except Oprah, whose favorite things list this year included such items as a $98 sweatshirt and $150 makeup brushes.  I’ve got my fingers crossed, Oprah!  ‘Cuz on the other hand…we get gifts, too, and most of us like to use the holidays as our opportunity to treat our loved ones to a little something they would never buy for themselves.  So there is some sweet mutual wish fulfillment that doesn’t happen at any other time of the year.

2)     FOOD.  So much food!  SOOOOOO MUCH FOOOOD!  Everyone says you should never start a diet around the holidays and I completely agree with this; that is just mean.  With the short days and colder temperatures, we are all getting into hibernation mode—moving less, settling in earlier—and when you add all of the delicious treats of the season, we have a recipe for discontent with our waistlines.  On the other hand…the holidays do give us permission to spoil ourselves a little with indulgences we don’t normally enjoy.  I, for one, eat those nut-encrusted cheese balls/logs but once a year, and man, do I look forward to it.  Ditto egg-nog, gingerbread and the giant tins filled with flavored popcorn.  BOO-YA!  SO AWESOME!  It adds a little extra “spice” to the season for me.

3)     PARTIES.  MAN, parties SUCK.  Except when they are totally fun!  I think you all are with me on this one.

4)     FAMILY.  MAN, families SUCK.  Except when they are totally amazing!  Am I right???

5)     MUSIC.  Pop quiz:  what is your personal best record for speed in changing the radio station upon hearing the opening notes of “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer” (or Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah song, which I happen to love but I feel you if you don’t)?  My hand can move so fast it’s a blur, practically accomplishing the song change by telekinesis.  Holiday music, by the end of the holidays always, is the definition of PLAYED OUT.  On the other hand…listening to Josh Groban sing “O, Holy Night” always moves me to tears and I love that my 10 year old son knows who Bing Crosby is, all because of “White Christmas”.  The agelessness of holiday music makes it the ultimate time machine, both bringing us back but also allowing us to bring that time back to the future for our kids.

6)     HOLIDAY MOVIES/ SPECIALS.  HOLY WOW is Santa a NIGHTMARE in Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer!  Actually, the whole gang at the North Pole has clearly watched Mean Girls one too many times; what a judgmental, excluding, no-healthy boundaries group they are.  Home Alone treats your child to fear of home invasion, excessive violence and confirmation that Santa doesn’t actually come if your folks aren’t home.  Ouch.  The Little Drummer Boy opens with the murder of his parents; that’s always a good way to get a kid’s attention.  ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas brings back Rudolph’s twitchy Santa; this time he stands ready and willing to punish an entire town because ONE MOUSE doesn’t believe in him.  What a jerk!  On the other hand…I LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!!!!

7)     THE WAR ON CHRISTMAS.  Man, the war on Christmas is RELENTLESS!!!  Starbucks turning from the teachings of Christ with those blasphemous red cups, “holiday” trees, being forced to be multi-culturally sensitive, IT SUCKS!!!  On the other hand…Ha, ha, ha, I’m totally kidding.! There is no “war on Christmas”.  It’s just something rational people can have a good laugh over.

8)     THE SALVATION ARMY What in the world makes you feel worse than walking by one of those poor souls standing in the freezing cold in front of your grocery store ringing that stupid little bell without putting something into the bucket?  NOT MUCH, if you are anything like me.  The holidays are a time, as I mentioned earlier, where money tends to be a little tight for people who are not Oprah, so some days our inner Grinch does not have a DIME to spare, buddy.  And how about the soup kitchens that need extra help when you are already running around like a chicken with your head cut off and the food pantries trying to provide a decent holiday meal for needy families?  You could die of the guilt, I swear, especially as you are already spending a lot of money on stuff that some might consider “frivolous”.  On the other hand…do you have any idea how damn good you are going to feel if you do put some change into the bucket?  Or volunteer at the soup kitchen?  Or drop off supplies to the food pantry?  That is pretty much the definition of holiday cheer, my friends.  That is the kind of stuff that makes your heart grow 3 sizes that day, in Grinch vernacular.

The holidays are so tiring/invigorating in these and many other ways!  And my wish for you is that your holidays ROCK 8 times more than they SUCK.  You know you deserve it!