It continues to amaze me that professional performers, those individuals PAID to recite words, make absolute ill-prepared asses of themselves on the Oscar stage. How hard is it to REQUIRE that every single nominee presents a prepared, timed response to the Oscars' committee, and that those responses are recited when the Oscar is handed to the recipient? With all the technology available to the entertainment industry, surely there is an app that would allow the recipient's acceptance speech to appear immediately on the tele-prompter screen so that when the person finally makes it to the mic, s/he has prepared remarks to deliver.
The f-bomb response was not funny or cute; it was offensive, especially coming from an actor at the top of her profession being honored by her peers on a world stage. The constant "Oh, my God" response from recipients becomes annoying when it's all one can think to say. Do the nominees really think that we believe they didn't think/believe they would win, so they did not prepare anything to say when/if they did? For crying out loud: believe you'll win and know what you're going to say BEFORE one step is taken onto the red carpet.
Perhaps the Oscars really is all about the fashion, as audiences have been led to believe. It matters not who one is or what one has accomplished if one is not a hit on the red carpet. Who are you wearing is the new how are you? or congratulations for your nomination. Really? CoJo gets to decide who wins the fashion parade, while Joan is allowed to disrespect any and all contestants in the world's most expensive fashion show? Why?
What has happened to dignity and respect? What has happened to formal events that showcase our manners to the world? Why do our most important public figures stand in front of an open mic and revel in their personal lives, rather than honor their professional accomplishments? I like solemnity in solemn occasions and dislike the tactless show of crassness that substitutes for it in today's public events. I stopped going to graduation ceremonies when they became "beach parties" in the 1990s, with alcohol in abundance, beach balls being tossed throughout the graduating class, Hawaiian leis and floral bouquets, and decorated caps and gowns replacing decorum. I dislike weddings that are all about the couple's personal eccentricities ... to the dismay of the guests who are subjected to bridezillas' whims in proper attire and the huge after-parties that have replaced the reception. Just because the bride is a tattooed Goth does not mean that all of the wedding guests share her enthusiasm for either that lifestyle or the public manifestation of it at a wedding, including a black wedding cake topped with a skull.
This Oscar show was intended to honor the long years of its history, to showcase the progression of the profession; instead, it highlighted how far from the dignity of the past this production has swerved. Young kids hosting the event, being cool and making punked remarks about one another, probably reaches an advertiser's demographic, but it sure turned me off to watching the event. I watched the tributes, heard the winner's announced, but spent the rest of the show with the mute button, beginning with the f-bomb thank you speech.
It's challenging for me to believe that this Oscar event is what the original Oscar committee foresaw, and I'd like to go back in time to a more meaningful event that honors the professionals. I'd like to hear the hosts simply keep the show moving, rather than interject their own style/sense of humor into the program. I'd like to hear the presenters acknowledge the professionalism of the actor, rather than bring up their past indiscretions. I'd like the winners to thank the Academy for the honor, rather than gush over the co-star who impregnated her and/or another male winner's new boyfriend. I'd like to enjoy watching the Oscars, rather than cringe my way through it, wondering who's going to say what next.
If Oscar were not just a statue, he'd be turning over in his grave!
Monday, February 28, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
No is Just Another Word if I Don't Mean It
It's not enough to know when to say no, but (1) I have to actually say the word "no," and (2) I have to mean it. I remember a time many years ago when I literally posted a sign above my kitchen phone that said, "THE ANSWER IS NO, AND I DO NOT HAVE TO PROVIDE A REASON." Perhaps it's time for me to remake the sign and remember to just say no.
This past week I began my new life, a life freed from wanting to fulfill other people's needs because somehow that validates my own life. Especially when I absolutely do NOT want to do something, I find myself saying yes because somehow I convince myself that it's not right/fair for me to say no. What hit me while driving home from my visit to my SoCal Coastal friend is that I feed the land sharks Dr. Laura warns me not to feed. Dr. Laura has recently published a book dealing with this issue, so I'm going to purchase it, read it, and change my methods of dealing with people/times when I want to say no, but say yes and then berate myself.
There are far too many sharks in my life, people who tear off pieces of me and bloody the waters in which I live my life. Other sharks, people who feed off other people, pick up the scent and come into my life so they can feed off me. A prime generational example is the mother who turned her own life into shit and passed on all the perceived wrongs done by others to her daughter, who now, at a very young age, feels entitled to live a life based on the world's need to justify the wrongs done to her mother and, by extension, to her. Taking another look, however, at the situation, and it becomes clear that I have no part in either the dysfunction or the resolution. Thus, when I am called upon to engage in the controversies of other people's lives, they begin with the assumption that it is my responsibility not just to do so, but to provide a solution. Because I am wary of racism, the accusations of which seldom seem to require proof, I step lightly in some situations. However, it does not matter to me the color of the skin, but the depth of the "all about me" attitude and entitlement that is being used to manipulate me.
My entire life has been spent trying to fix my world, beginning with my own shortcomings, flaws that were not just pointed out to me since early childhood, but reinforced with constant criticism and punishment. When I am not able to fix whatever is wrong in anyone else's life, not only does that person tell me in no uncertain terms what a failure I am, but then bemoans how I have damaged his/her life in the process of failing to fix their life. It's not my life, it's not my issue, and it's not my responsibility, but when I fail to say "NO" and mean it, I own what is not mine as if it were. Believe me, I have enough of my own dysfunctional life and issues to carry with me, so I have no need to add anyone else's to my life. However, when anyone comes to me, I think how much I would appreciate having someone to help me with my times of need, and I willingly jump right into something I should run from if I had any sense.
I've stopped answering my phone unless it is a person with whom I want to talk and at a time I want to converse. I am working on not offering advice, just listening and walking away, leaving one's personal problems with the person who actually owns them. I am reaching out to people who are important to me, rather than spending time with people who simply feed on me. I've never been a taker, but I really need to become more able to take than to give because the giving is beginning to feel as if I am paying ransom to other people's need. I am slowly convincing myself that it's okay for me to decide not just what to give, but to whom, and equally okay to simply say no.
I've given myself the month of March to "march" on my own path and see if I can turn this negativity around and/or shut it off. I am practicing saying "no" without offering the explanation, but that's going to take time. I am working on not feeling obligated to share what I have with others who make their own spending decisions and thus cannot afford to own what I own. My goal is to find a series of things/ events/ people important to me and then include them/it in my life, instead of telling myself no so I am available to do unto others what I never do for myself.
It's a work in process, but I also hope it's work that will progress.
This past week I began my new life, a life freed from wanting to fulfill other people's needs because somehow that validates my own life. Especially when I absolutely do NOT want to do something, I find myself saying yes because somehow I convince myself that it's not right/fair for me to say no. What hit me while driving home from my visit to my SoCal Coastal friend is that I feed the land sharks Dr. Laura warns me not to feed. Dr. Laura has recently published a book dealing with this issue, so I'm going to purchase it, read it, and change my methods of dealing with people/times when I want to say no, but say yes and then berate myself.
There are far too many sharks in my life, people who tear off pieces of me and bloody the waters in which I live my life. Other sharks, people who feed off other people, pick up the scent and come into my life so they can feed off me. A prime generational example is the mother who turned her own life into shit and passed on all the perceived wrongs done by others to her daughter, who now, at a very young age, feels entitled to live a life based on the world's need to justify the wrongs done to her mother and, by extension, to her. Taking another look, however, at the situation, and it becomes clear that I have no part in either the dysfunction or the resolution. Thus, when I am called upon to engage in the controversies of other people's lives, they begin with the assumption that it is my responsibility not just to do so, but to provide a solution. Because I am wary of racism, the accusations of which seldom seem to require proof, I step lightly in some situations. However, it does not matter to me the color of the skin, but the depth of the "all about me" attitude and entitlement that is being used to manipulate me.
My entire life has been spent trying to fix my world, beginning with my own shortcomings, flaws that were not just pointed out to me since early childhood, but reinforced with constant criticism and punishment. When I am not able to fix whatever is wrong in anyone else's life, not only does that person tell me in no uncertain terms what a failure I am, but then bemoans how I have damaged his/her life in the process of failing to fix their life. It's not my life, it's not my issue, and it's not my responsibility, but when I fail to say "NO" and mean it, I own what is not mine as if it were. Believe me, I have enough of my own dysfunctional life and issues to carry with me, so I have no need to add anyone else's to my life. However, when anyone comes to me, I think how much I would appreciate having someone to help me with my times of need, and I willingly jump right into something I should run from if I had any sense.
I've stopped answering my phone unless it is a person with whom I want to talk and at a time I want to converse. I am working on not offering advice, just listening and walking away, leaving one's personal problems with the person who actually owns them. I am reaching out to people who are important to me, rather than spending time with people who simply feed on me. I've never been a taker, but I really need to become more able to take than to give because the giving is beginning to feel as if I am paying ransom to other people's need. I am slowly convincing myself that it's okay for me to decide not just what to give, but to whom, and equally okay to simply say no.
I've given myself the month of March to "march" on my own path and see if I can turn this negativity around and/or shut it off. I am practicing saying "no" without offering the explanation, but that's going to take time. I am working on not feeling obligated to share what I have with others who make their own spending decisions and thus cannot afford to own what I own. My goal is to find a series of things/ events/ people important to me and then include them/it in my life, instead of telling myself no so I am available to do unto others what I never do for myself.
It's a work in process, but I also hope it's work that will progress.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
The Means Justify the End?
There's a new trend in funeral notices: families request that, in lieu of flowers, "donations to be sent directly to the family." What a concept! A spouse, a sibling, a child, a somewhat related family member dies and the survivors see a business opportunity. Talk about putting a new face on tradition, the ME-ME-ME generation develops yet another way to generate revenue.
The concept could be expanded to include beloved pets. I will be distraught when my dog(s) die, so why shouldn't someone pay for my grief? Perhaps it would help me through the grieving process if I ... went to Las Vegas for an extended weekend ... or ... booked a cruise ... or ... spent a relaxing day at a local luxury spa. I sure don't have the money to pay for any of those extravagances, but maybe I could afford a little something extra during my time of need if strangers pony up some cash.
When my mother died, I had already paid in full the cost of her cremation. I believe in planning ahead so I don't get caught short on cash when it's important that I have it. When a local former gang member was killed on the streets by some upcoming bangers making their bones, people stood on corners to collect cash for the family, as well as to pay for the funeral services that included a very expensive, all-white casket bedecked with lush floral tributes, and a parade of limos to transport the grieving mourners to the cemetery and back home. Now, I agree that death is devastating and we all have to deal with the finality and the shock of losing a loved one, but if I cannot afford to pay for the funeral expenses, the funeral is too expensive. It offends me that ANYONE actually believes that it is someone else's responsibility to pick up the tab for a death in my area of responsibility.
I don't send flowers, and I sure as heck don't send cash to the family, but I always make a donation to a charity when someone I know dies. My charitable donations are part of my annual budget, too, to assure that legitimate organizations receive money to carry on important work. Hospice is one of the most important services to any family dealing with a terminally ill individual, so that organization always gets my first check, followed by the American Cancer Society, the RA Foundation, and an organization that supports diabetes research. The only organization that I refuse to support is the American Red Cross, which is a cash cow for the Red Cross and its employees, but a rip-off for anyone who ever needs their services -- and later receives a bill for what the public is led to believe is free.
We used to honor the family's wishes about funeral tributes, but, in this case, there is no honor in asking strangers to send money.
The concept could be expanded to include beloved pets. I will be distraught when my dog(s) die, so why shouldn't someone pay for my grief? Perhaps it would help me through the grieving process if I ... went to Las Vegas for an extended weekend ... or ... booked a cruise ... or ... spent a relaxing day at a local luxury spa. I sure don't have the money to pay for any of those extravagances, but maybe I could afford a little something extra during my time of need if strangers pony up some cash.
When my mother died, I had already paid in full the cost of her cremation. I believe in planning ahead so I don't get caught short on cash when it's important that I have it. When a local former gang member was killed on the streets by some upcoming bangers making their bones, people stood on corners to collect cash for the family, as well as to pay for the funeral services that included a very expensive, all-white casket bedecked with lush floral tributes, and a parade of limos to transport the grieving mourners to the cemetery and back home. Now, I agree that death is devastating and we all have to deal with the finality and the shock of losing a loved one, but if I cannot afford to pay for the funeral expenses, the funeral is too expensive. It offends me that ANYONE actually believes that it is someone else's responsibility to pick up the tab for a death in my area of responsibility.
I don't send flowers, and I sure as heck don't send cash to the family, but I always make a donation to a charity when someone I know dies. My charitable donations are part of my annual budget, too, to assure that legitimate organizations receive money to carry on important work. Hospice is one of the most important services to any family dealing with a terminally ill individual, so that organization always gets my first check, followed by the American Cancer Society, the RA Foundation, and an organization that supports diabetes research. The only organization that I refuse to support is the American Red Cross, which is a cash cow for the Red Cross and its employees, but a rip-off for anyone who ever needs their services -- and later receives a bill for what the public is led to believe is free.
We used to honor the family's wishes about funeral tributes, but, in this case, there is no honor in asking strangers to send money.
Monday, February 21, 2011
WOW: I TAKE IT ALL BACK ...
The neighbor girl called and asked if she could come over because her mother left to go visit a with a "friend." I said sure, and she brought along both her dog and her homework. My dogs were glad to see her little fella, but she was obviously in a bitchy mood from the surly look on her face. She told me she had to finish the project I helped her with last week, so I asked her to tell me about it.
When she brought me up-to-date, I offered suggestions that were met with a whine. When she started bitching out my dogs for sharing space with her, I told her to stop it. When she again got in my face and again bitched out my dogs, I told her to knock it off or go home. She picked up her things and her dog and stormed to the garage door.
I stopped her there and told her that she knows how to behave, so if she wants to behave properly, she can stay and I'll help her. "Nooooo," she whined, "I don't need you to help me! Just tell me what to write!"
"Really?" I responded. "Doing the project is your homework, not mine."
"Oh, forget it," she yelled, "I'll just fail like I always do," and stomped out of the garage.
Buh-bye. I guess our 4 days together are ancient history and any future shared time seriously in doubt. Whatever.
When she brought me up-to-date, I offered suggestions that were met with a whine. When she started bitching out my dogs for sharing space with her, I told her to stop it. When she again got in my face and again bitched out my dogs, I told her to knock it off or go home. She picked up her things and her dog and stormed to the garage door.
I stopped her there and told her that she knows how to behave, so if she wants to behave properly, she can stay and I'll help her. "Nooooo," she whined, "I don't need you to help me! Just tell me what to write!"
"Really?" I responded. "Doing the project is your homework, not mine."
"Oh, forget it," she yelled, "I'll just fail like I always do," and stomped out of the garage.
Buh-bye. I guess our 4 days together are ancient history and any future shared time seriously in doubt. Whatever.
4 x 14 = 96
The younger generation has a sense of entitlement that takes some getting used to, including the teen next door informing her mother, who then informed me, that while her mother was out-of-state, the girl would be staying with me. I often fumble when caught unprepared, and I stood there, mouth agape, and could not think of one single reason to say no, although I really, really did not want to say yes. It’s not that I do not like the girl, but dealing with teens is a challenge for a senior citizen who has done just that for the past 35 years of her professional life.
But, because anyone who knows me also knows that I seldom say no, I agreed. Her mother was leaving Thursday evening and returning late Sunday evening, so I faced 4 days with a 14-year-old girl, a long 96 hours looming large. Making matters even more ominous, I started sneezing during my class Wednesday night and woke up Thursday morning feeling awful: raw throat, coughing, sneezing, pounding headache, the typical symptoms portrayed by actors in cold/flu/seasonal allergy commercials. I called the mother and told her that I was sick, but the mother had no options, so we were all in for the weekend.
I am pleased to say that it went well. While my guest went to school Friday, I spent the day in bed with my dogs keeping me both company and warm. I gulped Night-Quil and cough medicine, chased with a couple of Aleve, and toughed it out. When the phone call came at 4 pm to tell me that my guest was staying after school, it took me a minute to realize that she should already have been here: school lets out at 3:00 pm. A bit slow on the uptake, I said okay because there was no choice. I am used to being asked for parental permission, not being told a child’s plan after the fact, but this was not a battle I was going to have with a fatigued body, a befuddled mind, and a box of Kleenex in my hand!
Saturday was a much better day, but I was still woozy. We went to the grocery store and bought the ingredients for a chicken casserole and assembled it prior to heading out to a movie and lunch. During lunch we chatted, me carrying the conversational ball more often than she, but had a nice time. I sent her to an age-appropriate comedy, while I enjoyed a much more serious The King’s Speech. When we returned home, I told her I had Netflix available, so she settled down for the duration. Her dog came with her, which made for a lot of fun as the 3 dogs played, then protected their respective owner. However, when her dog decided to settle on my ample warm lap, he backed off both of my female dogs with a low, steady growl. Realizing the dominant 4-pound male Cheewahwah was going to win that battle, my dogs settled for staking their claim on his owner’s lap.
Sunday morning was our confrontation: when my guest told me she was going home, but would be back in a few minutes, I said fine and off she went. My phone began ringing and it was her mother, obviously upset and wanting to talk to her daughter, who was not answering her phone. I told her that her girl had gone home, but would be back in a few minutes. She wasn’t. I finally realized that her phone was again ringing and found it in the guestroom bed, buried under a heap of blankets. That’s when I had my ah-ha moment: my guest had been gone for over an hour, not a few minutes, and could be in distress without any way to communicate that to me.
In a panic, I threw on some clothes, then headed for the garage door on my way to the house next door. As I raised the garage door, she came into view and I went for the “typical Mom” response: where the HELL have you been? You TOLD me you would be gone a few minutes, and you’ve been gone an hour! Your MOM has been calling and she’s worried sick because you haven’t been answering your PHONE!
If looks could kill, I’d have keeled over dead on my garage floor. She was pissed at me for challenging her because she told me where she was and it was no big deal. Yes, she’d left her phone at my house, but so what? She was watching a movie and, when it was finished, she came back. She brought me a carton of eggs because we were going to make waffles (an hour earlier) and stalked into the house.
Well, that took me aback, but I followed her in and told her that I was worried about her safety, especially when I realized that she did not have her phone with her. I explained to her that I’m not her “babysitter,” but that she is a guest in my home and owes me basic common courtesy while she’s under my care. She stewed for a while, but I made the waffles as promised. While we were eating, she apologized, breaking the tension. We chatted a bit, then retired to the sofas for some serious Sunday TV viewing, including programs I had DVRd and her newly-discovered Netflix option. We made a batch of brownies, ate PF Chang left-overs and chicken casserole, and just enjoyed doing a whole lot of nothing.
I woke her up at 9:30 pm last night so she could toddle home to her own bed: Mom was en route and missed her daughter. This was the first time that Mom had left her little girl with anyone other than family, so she was concerned about how things had gone and wanted to tuck her girl in herself. I shared that feeling 100%, having raised my own two children back when. I was happy to tell her mom truthfully that it went well.
I will consider saying yes if I’m asked again. Really. Not that I want to be asked right away or anything, but if it does come up again … well, I'll at least think about saying yes, even though I may say no if I have something else on my schedule.
But, because anyone who knows me also knows that I seldom say no, I agreed. Her mother was leaving Thursday evening and returning late Sunday evening, so I faced 4 days with a 14-year-old girl, a long 96 hours looming large. Making matters even more ominous, I started sneezing during my class Wednesday night and woke up Thursday morning feeling awful: raw throat, coughing, sneezing, pounding headache, the typical symptoms portrayed by actors in cold/flu/seasonal allergy commercials. I called the mother and told her that I was sick, but the mother had no options, so we were all in for the weekend.
I am pleased to say that it went well. While my guest went to school Friday, I spent the day in bed with my dogs keeping me both company and warm. I gulped Night-Quil and cough medicine, chased with a couple of Aleve, and toughed it out. When the phone call came at 4 pm to tell me that my guest was staying after school, it took me a minute to realize that she should already have been here: school lets out at 3:00 pm. A bit slow on the uptake, I said okay because there was no choice. I am used to being asked for parental permission, not being told a child’s plan after the fact, but this was not a battle I was going to have with a fatigued body, a befuddled mind, and a box of Kleenex in my hand!
Saturday was a much better day, but I was still woozy. We went to the grocery store and bought the ingredients for a chicken casserole and assembled it prior to heading out to a movie and lunch. During lunch we chatted, me carrying the conversational ball more often than she, but had a nice time. I sent her to an age-appropriate comedy, while I enjoyed a much more serious The King’s Speech. When we returned home, I told her I had Netflix available, so she settled down for the duration. Her dog came with her, which made for a lot of fun as the 3 dogs played, then protected their respective owner. However, when her dog decided to settle on my ample warm lap, he backed off both of my female dogs with a low, steady growl. Realizing the dominant 4-pound male Cheewahwah was going to win that battle, my dogs settled for staking their claim on his owner’s lap.
Sunday morning was our confrontation: when my guest told me she was going home, but would be back in a few minutes, I said fine and off she went. My phone began ringing and it was her mother, obviously upset and wanting to talk to her daughter, who was not answering her phone. I told her that her girl had gone home, but would be back in a few minutes. She wasn’t. I finally realized that her phone was again ringing and found it in the guestroom bed, buried under a heap of blankets. That’s when I had my ah-ha moment: my guest had been gone for over an hour, not a few minutes, and could be in distress without any way to communicate that to me.
In a panic, I threw on some clothes, then headed for the garage door on my way to the house next door. As I raised the garage door, she came into view and I went for the “typical Mom” response: where the HELL have you been? You TOLD me you would be gone a few minutes, and you’ve been gone an hour! Your MOM has been calling and she’s worried sick because you haven’t been answering your PHONE!
If looks could kill, I’d have keeled over dead on my garage floor. She was pissed at me for challenging her because she told me where she was and it was no big deal. Yes, she’d left her phone at my house, but so what? She was watching a movie and, when it was finished, she came back. She brought me a carton of eggs because we were going to make waffles (an hour earlier) and stalked into the house.
Well, that took me aback, but I followed her in and told her that I was worried about her safety, especially when I realized that she did not have her phone with her. I explained to her that I’m not her “babysitter,” but that she is a guest in my home and owes me basic common courtesy while she’s under my care. She stewed for a while, but I made the waffles as promised. While we were eating, she apologized, breaking the tension. We chatted a bit, then retired to the sofas for some serious Sunday TV viewing, including programs I had DVRd and her newly-discovered Netflix option. We made a batch of brownies, ate PF Chang left-overs and chicken casserole, and just enjoyed doing a whole lot of nothing.
I woke her up at 9:30 pm last night so she could toddle home to her own bed: Mom was en route and missed her daughter. This was the first time that Mom had left her little girl with anyone other than family, so she was concerned about how things had gone and wanted to tuck her girl in herself. I shared that feeling 100%, having raised my own two children back when. I was happy to tell her mom truthfully that it went well.
I will consider saying yes if I’m asked again. Really. Not that I want to be asked right away or anything, but if it does come up again … well, I'll at least think about saying yes, even though I may say no if I have something else on my schedule.
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