This is a public service announcement hopefully aimed at people none of us knows. But JUST in case...
If
you're videotaping yourself doing all sorts of crazy and/or dangerous
stunts, in the hopes that you'll be recruited as a stunt person, STOP
NOW. REAL stunt people will take one look at your video and run the
other way. The FIRST, LAST, AND EVER-PRESENT thought any truly
professional stuntperson knows is SAFETY. Safety precautions are taken
at every step, and the professional stunt person is trusting his or her
life to those folks who SAFELY set up their stunt. SAFELY.
If you
and your dumb friends can't even think to wear HELMETS, never MIND set
up anything else even remotely safe, except for the pre-programmed 911
call, they will NEVER go anywhere NEAR you. They will probably write
down your name, to make
sure you never work in this town. EVER.
Fuckwits.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
(No) Pressure
I've seen a few episodes of "Toddlers and Tiaras." I thought I knew what to expect, but it's even worse than I thought it could be. I don't understand how all the moms can say their child is the most beautiful . How can you tell? They're under four feet of make-up, for god's sake! I don't understand how the moms can defend all the exploitation, make-up, and just plain pressure by saying their child "loves it." Give the kid a chicken nugget and she'll say she loves that. I say "she" because that's all I've seen. If there are boys, I hope they're not buried under all that make-up, too.
I'd say watching it is like watching a car crash, in the way you can't look away. But it's so far removed from what I believe a little girl can be and do that I'm too horrified to watch the aftermath.
Now I'm watching "Dance Moms." I didn't expect to like this. I expected to really dislike this screaming mimi dance instructor who takes a lot of crap out on these kids. I can't say I like the way Abby runs her studio, but she makes it clear that this is how she runs it. It's her studio. It's her way.
The behavior of the moms of Abby's girls are the ones I question. Why do they allow their daughters to be yelled at in such a way? The moms KNOW she's going to do it, and they get angry when she does. They yell at Abby for yelling at their girls.
Then, they yell at each other. Does their daughter need to be better than all the other girls? Who's at the top of the list? Who's at the bottom of the list? Why is their child at the bottom, when so and so's child is at the top again? This can't be fun for them. Yet they keep their daughters at the studio. Is it a status thing? Is it "It's more expensive so it must be better"? Maybe I could appreciate that the girls have all become very close, and they would be unhappy if they had to leave. However, is being yelled at and 'compared to' worth it? If the girls were older, I'd say only they can answer the question. However, they're ages 7-12. The moms are the ones to answer that question. The moms need to do better.
My daughter has taken dance classes for 12 years and she LOVES it. Leslie, the owner and instructor, focuses on dancing as being fun. She wants the kids to enjoy themselves above all else. She encourages all the kids all the way, and at least one of her dancers has gone on to big things. (I forget the specifics but a big show was mentioned.) The kids want to do better because they WANT to do better. No one is yelling at them because they suck this week. No one is comparing my daughter to anyone else, either favorably or unfavorably. She compares my daughter to herself. She's made dramatic improvements over the years, and even from the start of this year (the year runs late Sept to mid-June). Most of all, SHE knows she's improved.
She loves it.
That's good enough for me.
I love her.
NO pressure.
I'd say watching it is like watching a car crash, in the way you can't look away. But it's so far removed from what I believe a little girl can be and do that I'm too horrified to watch the aftermath.
Now I'm watching "Dance Moms." I didn't expect to like this. I expected to really dislike this screaming mimi dance instructor who takes a lot of crap out on these kids. I can't say I like the way Abby runs her studio, but she makes it clear that this is how she runs it. It's her studio. It's her way.
The behavior of the moms of Abby's girls are the ones I question. Why do they allow their daughters to be yelled at in such a way? The moms KNOW she's going to do it, and they get angry when she does. They yell at Abby for yelling at their girls.
Then, they yell at each other. Does their daughter need to be better than all the other girls? Who's at the top of the list? Who's at the bottom of the list? Why is their child at the bottom, when so and so's child is at the top again? This can't be fun for them. Yet they keep their daughters at the studio. Is it a status thing? Is it "It's more expensive so it must be better"? Maybe I could appreciate that the girls have all become very close, and they would be unhappy if they had to leave. However, is being yelled at and 'compared to' worth it? If the girls were older, I'd say only they can answer the question. However, they're ages 7-12. The moms are the ones to answer that question. The moms need to do better.
My daughter has taken dance classes for 12 years and she LOVES it. Leslie, the owner and instructor, focuses on dancing as being fun. She wants the kids to enjoy themselves above all else. She encourages all the kids all the way, and at least one of her dancers has gone on to big things. (I forget the specifics but a big show was mentioned.) The kids want to do better because they WANT to do better. No one is yelling at them because they suck this week. No one is comparing my daughter to anyone else, either favorably or unfavorably. She compares my daughter to herself. She's made dramatic improvements over the years, and even from the start of this year (the year runs late Sept to mid-June). Most of all, SHE knows she's improved.
She loves it.
That's good enough for me.
I love her.
NO pressure.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Who Do We Think You Are?
Several years ago, a co-worker and I debated whose death would most affect the world. (Someone we didn't like must have left this world recently for us to get into this conversation.) We got our answer the day we, along with the rest of the world, quietly cried while watching the funeral of Princess Di. We didn't doubt our answer. We didn't disagree with the world. I still don't.
Today, I disagree with the decision to fly flags at half-staff to honor Whitney Houston. It bugs me even more that Chris Christie, the governor of New Jersey has decided this for the entire state, thus basically making it "Whitney Houston Day." Is she worth it? How can she be? Did I miss the news about her time in the military? Her work in the fire department? Her bravery in the police department? (Bravery by virtue of living with Bobby Brown does not count.) (No, it doesn't.) (Said NO!)
Honoring someone of Whitney Houston's caliber is what the Grammys are for, and have been there, done that. She didn't change music. She didn't influence the way we listen to music, or even what music we listen to. She revolutionized no dance moves. On the contrary, she was in a movie with Kevin Costner. She married Bobby Brown. Those are reasons to not honor her.
Families of recovered/recovering/struggling addicts honor them as they do or do not wish. I think it sends the wrong message for a state to honor a star whose addiction seems to be such a dominant factor in her death. I do realize this goes completely against the "Elvis" scheme of things, but that's just how I roll. (I'm young; what do I know?)
Will Bill Billy (sorry, had to do it) honor all singers? Mariah Carey can hit those high notes. Will she be honored as well? Bruce Springsteen and Jon Bon Jovi are fellow Jerseys. They'll need honoring. The guy who named all of Jersey's rest stops should be honored, as well, for honoring all those who deserved to be honored on and by the roads of New Jersey. As long as Whitney lowers flags, I want to make sure other people equally as influential get due credit on their day of... departure.
This isn't really intended to disrespect Whitney, per se. It's a disgust thing, aimed at anyone who thinks a singer, by reason of their very existence, should be honored in the same fashion as are military personnel, policemen and women, and firemen and women. Musical success just doesn't come close to the same level.
It does make me wonder.... Will Tappahannock, VA honor Chris Brown post-humously? Hmmm. On second thought, let's not use him as an example.
(PS. I've been to Tappahannock. That tree will not be interested in honoring anyone any time soon.)
Today, I disagree with the decision to fly flags at half-staff to honor Whitney Houston. It bugs me even more that Chris Christie, the governor of New Jersey has decided this for the entire state, thus basically making it "Whitney Houston Day." Is she worth it? How can she be? Did I miss the news about her time in the military? Her work in the fire department? Her bravery in the police department? (Bravery by virtue of living with Bobby Brown does not count.) (No, it doesn't.) (Said NO!)
Honoring someone of Whitney Houston's caliber is what the Grammys are for, and have been there, done that. She didn't change music. She didn't influence the way we listen to music, or even what music we listen to. She revolutionized no dance moves. On the contrary, she was in a movie with Kevin Costner. She married Bobby Brown. Those are reasons to not honor her.
Families of recovered/recovering/struggling addicts honor them as they do or do not wish. I think it sends the wrong message for a state to honor a star whose addiction seems to be such a dominant factor in her death. I do realize this goes completely against the "Elvis" scheme of things, but that's just how I roll. (I'm young; what do I know?)
Will Bill Billy (sorry, had to do it) honor all singers? Mariah Carey can hit those high notes. Will she be honored as well? Bruce Springsteen and Jon Bon Jovi are fellow Jerseys. They'll need honoring. The guy who named all of Jersey's rest stops should be honored, as well, for honoring all those who deserved to be honored on and by the roads of New Jersey. As long as Whitney lowers flags, I want to make sure other people equally as influential get due credit on their day of... departure.
This isn't really intended to disrespect Whitney, per se. It's a disgust thing, aimed at anyone who thinks a singer, by reason of their very existence, should be honored in the same fashion as are military personnel, policemen and women, and firemen and women. Musical success just doesn't come close to the same level.
It does make me wonder.... Will Tappahannock, VA honor Chris Brown post-humously? Hmmm. On second thought, let's not use him as an example.
(PS. I've been to Tappahannock. That tree will not be interested in honoring anyone any time soon.)
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Malden Smells
I live in Malden, Massachusetts. We're not known for much, really. Our school system was third overall in the country a few years back. (That was because of K-8. The high school contributed SO much to that success that our daughter goes to the vocational technical high school in Wakefield.) We live close enough to Boston to be able to get there without a car i.e. we're T accessible. It's easy peasy to get to the airport from here. And that's about it. At least, it is to the outside world.
But Maldenites themselves (or Maldonians, which I think sounds stupid), know what we have. We have Piantedosi's and we have the New England Coffee Company. Malden smells like no other city.
First, we have the New England Coffee Company, smack dab in the heart of Malden. A gander at their official site tells me they've been here since 1966, and before that, Milk Street in Boston, which was where they began. We are now their home. And boy am I glad they are. The smell of roasting coffee beans can only be described as rich. Rich as in "cold as hell outside so I'm gonna get comfy in this nice warm blanket and curl up by the fire" rich. A comfy rich. A "oh yeah, I'm warm" rich. It permeates the senses, and makes them all feel pretty damn happy to be able to be, well, sensitive. It is, in a word (besides rich), Mmmmmmm...
Even better than the RICH smell of the roasting coffee is the aroma offered by Piantedosi's, a bakery located right outside Malden Square, established in Everett in 1916, and brought to Malden in the mid 1950's. We're not talking about your basic bakery here. We're talking high volume, conveyor belts, box it up, ship it out. But it is all baked there. Or, rather, here. Bread of all shapes and sizes. Rolls of all shapes and sizes. And oh my god, does it smell good. Never has flour, water, yeast, and butter come together in such a divine way, and, upon sacrificing themselves to the flaming gods of the ovens, given rise to such basic, yeasty, doughy, warm smells. As Venus arose from the ocean perched on her clam shell, so does the scent of baking bread arise from the place that is Piantedosi's, to warm the heart, to bring home the idea of home.
Most of the product (product? such an insignificant word for the beauty that is, once imagined, created) is packed up and shipped, both to our local grocery stores and to others with the good fortune to be blessed with its presence. But, and here's an even more beautiful feature, they also have a walk-in operation, in the warehouse. You walk in and go over to the plastic crate shelves, where the freshly packaged rolls await, and you make your selection from bulkies, dinner rolls, sandwich bread, sliced loaves, unsliced loaves..... Uh, excuse me a moment whilst I drool.
While standing here, you can look up and watch the conveyor belts rolling the freshly packaged bread along their track, to slide down to your level, be put in the afore mentioned plastic crate shelves, and rolled over for the customers behind you, because they are surely there. Come in the summer for this one, and all your barbecued hamburger roll and hot dog bun wishes will be granted.
I don't live just outside Malden Square. However, I do shop at the grocery store there. I pick up the T there. I go to the post office there. And I smell the roasting coffee there. I smell the bread baking there. Breathe in..... Breathe out. Breathe in.... Breathe out. Oh, sweet lord of the dough, take me now.
http://www.newenglandcoffee.com
http://www.piantedosi.com
But Maldenites themselves (or Maldonians, which I think sounds stupid), know what we have. We have Piantedosi's and we have the New England Coffee Company. Malden smells like no other city.
First, we have the New England Coffee Company, smack dab in the heart of Malden. A gander at their official site tells me they've been here since 1966, and before that, Milk Street in Boston, which was where they began. We are now their home. And boy am I glad they are. The smell of roasting coffee beans can only be described as rich. Rich as in "cold as hell outside so I'm gonna get comfy in this nice warm blanket and curl up by the fire" rich. A comfy rich. A "oh yeah, I'm warm" rich. It permeates the senses, and makes them all feel pretty damn happy to be able to be, well, sensitive. It is, in a word (besides rich), Mmmmmmm...
Even better than the RICH smell of the roasting coffee is the aroma offered by Piantedosi's, a bakery located right outside Malden Square, established in Everett in 1916, and brought to Malden in the mid 1950's. We're not talking about your basic bakery here. We're talking high volume, conveyor belts, box it up, ship it out. But it is all baked there. Or, rather, here. Bread of all shapes and sizes. Rolls of all shapes and sizes. And oh my god, does it smell good. Never has flour, water, yeast, and butter come together in such a divine way, and, upon sacrificing themselves to the flaming gods of the ovens, given rise to such basic, yeasty, doughy, warm smells. As Venus arose from the ocean perched on her clam shell, so does the scent of baking bread arise from the place that is Piantedosi's, to warm the heart, to bring home the idea of home.
Most of the product (product? such an insignificant word for the beauty that is, once imagined, created) is packed up and shipped, both to our local grocery stores and to others with the good fortune to be blessed with its presence. But, and here's an even more beautiful feature, they also have a walk-in operation, in the warehouse. You walk in and go over to the plastic crate shelves, where the freshly packaged rolls await, and you make your selection from bulkies, dinner rolls, sandwich bread, sliced loaves, unsliced loaves..... Uh, excuse me a moment whilst I drool.
While standing here, you can look up and watch the conveyor belts rolling the freshly packaged bread along their track, to slide down to your level, be put in the afore mentioned plastic crate shelves, and rolled over for the customers behind you, because they are surely there. Come in the summer for this one, and all your barbecued hamburger roll and hot dog bun wishes will be granted.
I don't live just outside Malden Square. However, I do shop at the grocery store there. I pick up the T there. I go to the post office there. And I smell the roasting coffee there. I smell the bread baking there. Breathe in..... Breathe out. Breathe in.... Breathe out. Oh, sweet lord of the dough, take me now.
http://www.newenglandcoffee.com
http://www.piantedosi.com
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Why
It's hard to explain to people how quickly something can spiral downward into complete despair. And the immediate NEED for it to stop. The anguish is indescribable and the immediate reaction is to end it. On my desk is a week's worth of pills for the morning, and another one for the night. If I'd had something to drink up here with me, I might have started with Monday and just kept going.
The fucked up part is the reason I might not have. When I was in high school, I'd make sure my homework was finished before I attempted suicide. That way, in case I didn't die, I was ready for the class the next day. By the same logic, if I take these pills and don't die, now I'm short pills for the rest of the month. Fucked up thinking.
------
I'm feeling a bit better now, which oddly makes it difficult to express exactly how I was feeling. Like I can't describe that depth without actually being there. Maybe that's why people who don't suffer extreme depression can't quite grasp how it could happen. When I'm that entrenched in it, I don't feel like I'm in a hole. I feel like I'm in a room way down deep in the ground and I don't see ANY light. I'm not even aware that a light even exists. If someone tries to tell me it's there, I don't believe them. All I want is for the pain to STOP. NOW.
Sometimes, I wish I'd never told anyone about my suicide attempts. All the treatments I've been through, all the resulting crap I've been through... I don't usually feel like I'm better off now. Maybe other people are, but, call me selfish, I wish *I* felt better about it all.
My psych MD wanted me hospitalized over Thanksgiving weekend, because my support system was non-existent and the risk of me harming myself was high. I refused because my parents would have to find out, and that's the LAST thing I want them to know. I don't need the added stress of that, and I told my MD exactly that. Instead, I've agreed, actually requested, that I take part in an outpatient intensive therapy program that lasts a week. It involves classes, daily check-ins, and generally a support system that I otherwise lack. I've done this before, when I was released from one of my hospitalizations.
That's what sucks the most about this. It feels like nothing has changed in six+ years. Whose Line is about all that can make me laugh, and the rare wisecrack someone on-line makes. It's tough to have all my support on-line. I can type and let out my feelings, but a virtual hug has NOTHING on a real hug, and sometimes that's what I need the most. Except for my daughter, the only hugs I get are from the Whose guys. It's SO comforting I can't begin to describe it. They're some of the very few people I let get near me, and definitely the ones I see the most often. How pathetic is that?
I don't want to feel pathetic anymore. I feel so stuck I don't want to deal with this anymore. I want it to STOP. AGAIN.
The fucked up part is the reason I might not have. When I was in high school, I'd make sure my homework was finished before I attempted suicide. That way, in case I didn't die, I was ready for the class the next day. By the same logic, if I take these pills and don't die, now I'm short pills for the rest of the month. Fucked up thinking.
------
I'm feeling a bit better now, which oddly makes it difficult to express exactly how I was feeling. Like I can't describe that depth without actually being there. Maybe that's why people who don't suffer extreme depression can't quite grasp how it could happen. When I'm that entrenched in it, I don't feel like I'm in a hole. I feel like I'm in a room way down deep in the ground and I don't see ANY light. I'm not even aware that a light even exists. If someone tries to tell me it's there, I don't believe them. All I want is for the pain to STOP. NOW.
Sometimes, I wish I'd never told anyone about my suicide attempts. All the treatments I've been through, all the resulting crap I've been through... I don't usually feel like I'm better off now. Maybe other people are, but, call me selfish, I wish *I* felt better about it all.
My psych MD wanted me hospitalized over Thanksgiving weekend, because my support system was non-existent and the risk of me harming myself was high. I refused because my parents would have to find out, and that's the LAST thing I want them to know. I don't need the added stress of that, and I told my MD exactly that. Instead, I've agreed, actually requested, that I take part in an outpatient intensive therapy program that lasts a week. It involves classes, daily check-ins, and generally a support system that I otherwise lack. I've done this before, when I was released from one of my hospitalizations.
That's what sucks the most about this. It feels like nothing has changed in six+ years. Whose Line is about all that can make me laugh, and the rare wisecrack someone on-line makes. It's tough to have all my support on-line. I can type and let out my feelings, but a virtual hug has NOTHING on a real hug, and sometimes that's what I need the most. Except for my daughter, the only hugs I get are from the Whose guys. It's SO comforting I can't begin to describe it. They're some of the very few people I let get near me, and definitely the ones I see the most often. How pathetic is that?
I don't want to feel pathetic anymore. I feel so stuck I don't want to deal with this anymore. I want it to STOP. AGAIN.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Oh Dear Jesus Fuck
Can somebody send me some impulse control? Or at least tell me to Shut The Fuck Up, (OR "get the hell away from the keyboard NOW), Before I fuck up? I can blame it on what the hell my mind does, but regardless of the reason, I know I end up hurting people that do NOT deserve it. Kinda feels like a hang-over. Like I was drinking a lot last night, did something horrible, and now woke up and remember that was a really crappy thing to do, like drunk dialing or something. I feel worse now than I did before I dialed. Fuck.
This kinda rambles, I know, but it makes sense to me, and maybe someone will take something heavy and hit me over the head with it so I don't fuck up next time.
This kinda rambles, I know, but it makes sense to me, and maybe someone will take something heavy and hit me over the head with it so I don't fuck up next time.
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