A new TV series, The Glee Project, is engaging on several levels. The starting point is that each participant is talented, but the selection process determines what else sets each contestant apart from another, as well as potential cohesion with the existing Glee cast and conforming to the series premise of "losers" who sometimes are winners. Some contestants can out-sing others, while others can out-perform some singers, but what separates them is that intangible quality that goes beyond the skill sets. So far, it appears that few are talented in dance/ choreography, which is a significant part of the Glee performance each week, a performance skill that separates the top tier from who’s going home in the next episode.
What I specifically appreciate is the willingness of the selection committee to hone in on the quality indicators as they specify them each week: the final performance either makes – or breaks – a contestant, and sometimes those indicators are discreet, rather than obvious. It is the distinction that can be made only by a well-qualified working professional, a rare insight that takes years of knowledge and practical experience to develop. You know it when you experience it, but there is no way to define it or even describe it: it's deep and it's real, and it's critical to success.
This week’s episode centered on vulnerability, but not on what one says is his/her vulnerability, but what the individual conveys beyond the words. This kind of reality is not applied like a band-aid to give the appearance of vulnerability, but has to be the deeply-felt vulnerability that no one wants to share with others. In my view, the most disadvantaged performer is the most professional, the young Irish lad who has been on-stage with Celtic Thunder. His job on the Celtic stage is to convince the audience that he’s all man, Celtic strong, a strength that comes from generations of fierce warriors. He’s a young man whose life is more façade than reality, so how does he touch what’s inside and bring it outside for the world to see, especially while he’s on stage? Vulnerability directly conflicts with his previous professional performance, so for him to be vulnerable, not just act it, had to be harder than it would be for any of the other contestants.
From the living room side of the TV screen, it is easier to see contestants acting vulnerable than it may seem from the performance stage. Some of the performers are certain that they have nailed their song and are surprised when the professionals critique the performance as being less than honest. This week’s final performance was presented by a “chica” who spent too much time pretending to be … rather than being. She stereotyped herself the way she thought would be most convincing to the panel of judges, but they recognized her act and sent her home. She wasn’t vulnerable; she was merely acting her perception of vulnerable, and acting did not rate a call-back.
I’m not sure if the goal is to finish the experience with one winner or multiple winners, but that task has to be beyond challenging to almost impossible. When everyone participating shares a level playing field, the little things separate the call-backs from the contestants going home. I am going to stick with the series because I like the life lesson that reminds all of us that sometimes, good enough isn’t, along with an enjoyable hour of talented performers doing their thing. The Glee Experience: tune in.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Greasing Squeaky Wheels
There is dancing in the streets: yippee ti-yi-ya, yippee oh because PS has “more gay couples” than any other CA city, according to the local media! Wowzer, what a triumph of squeaky wheels being heard, especially in PS, where the LBGT community pretty much calls the shots for the rest of the population. However, the failure of the local media is that it compares "heads of household" stats with total population stats to create a perception that is not statistically valid.
IF the stats were presented differently, in PS, of the total census population of 44,552, 2621 households indicated that they were same sex/married or roommate, which could mean that there are as many as 5,242 homosexual residents of the total 44,552 residents in PS (with presumably 39,310 heterosexuals), but that assumed total number of LBGT could be lower because it is not specified how many people comprise a "household." The newspaper makes an essentially heterosexual community become the LBGT capitol of California by its selective combination of statistical information.
What is mentioned in the closing paragraphs of the article is that statewide there are 110 homosexual households (couples/partners/ roommates) per 1,000 households (11%), which seems to damp the rhetoric of the local headlines that scream with gay pride the highest percentage in the state of gay households (11.5%), as if there is a significant difference between the local and statewide statistics. Publicizing that PS is insignificantly more gay than the rest of the state probably would not endear the local media to the local LBGT community.
The end result of the presentation of the statistics skews the facts to serve the interests of the very small, but extremely powerful LBGT community that not only makes policy in the Valley, but directs public relations and marketing to the rest of the world. Although the rest of the CV also has core gay communities, PS becomes the standard-bearer for all because the skewed stats support positive publicity for the LBGT cause. The highest number of homosexual couples per population becomes a huge world-wide marketing tool for the local LBGT events that literally double the population of the area throughout the season and bring in millions in tourist revenue annually.
On the surface, it seems that PS is cutting off its straight nose to better show off its gay face. The media message is that PS is the place to be if you're gay, but if you're straight, uh, not so much. Because the 11% LBGT population lives, works, and helps supports the city financially, continue to send the gay message, but not at the exclusion of the other 89% of the population that also lives, works, and has money to spend in PS.
IF the stats were presented differently, in PS, of the total census population of 44,552, 2621 households indicated that they were same sex/married or roommate, which could mean that there are as many as 5,242 homosexual residents of the total 44,552 residents in PS (with presumably 39,310 heterosexuals), but that assumed total number of LBGT could be lower because it is not specified how many people comprise a "household." The newspaper makes an essentially heterosexual community become the LBGT capitol of California by its selective combination of statistical information.
What is mentioned in the closing paragraphs of the article is that statewide there are 110 homosexual households (couples/partners/ roommates) per 1,000 households (11%), which seems to damp the rhetoric of the local headlines that scream with gay pride the highest percentage in the state of gay households (11.5%), as if there is a significant difference between the local and statewide statistics. Publicizing that PS is insignificantly more gay than the rest of the state probably would not endear the local media to the local LBGT community.
The end result of the presentation of the statistics skews the facts to serve the interests of the very small, but extremely powerful LBGT community that not only makes policy in the Valley, but directs public relations and marketing to the rest of the world. Although the rest of the CV also has core gay communities, PS becomes the standard-bearer for all because the skewed stats support positive publicity for the LBGT cause. The highest number of homosexual couples per population becomes a huge world-wide marketing tool for the local LBGT events that literally double the population of the area throughout the season and bring in millions in tourist revenue annually.
On the surface, it seems that PS is cutting off its straight nose to better show off its gay face. The media message is that PS is the place to be if you're gay, but if you're straight, uh, not so much. Because the 11% LBGT population lives, works, and helps supports the city financially, continue to send the gay message, but not at the exclusion of the other 89% of the population that also lives, works, and has money to spend in PS.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Not Old Man Shakespeare's Classic Ages of Man
Too much time on my hands leads to too much time spent ruminating, especially the shoulda/woulda/coulda things of life that, at the time, didn't seem like a big deal, but grew in importance during the aging process.
Specifically, I've been thinking about the exuberance of youth, the absolute confidence that I will ... become someone/something grand, important, significant. The totally idealistic enthusiasm children have is often tarnished by well-meaning adults who provide far too many reality checks based on their own lives, rather than urging the young ones to soar beyond what any of "us" experienced during our lives. Of course we cannot allow children to run the streets without supervision and boundaries, but too much structure provides constraints, rather than constructing a ladder that can reach the stars.
The teen years are filled with expectations, many of which are unreasonable and most of which are totally self-serving and egocentric, especially when the generation gap between the expectations of I'm going to and the resignation of the elderly is the grand canyon gap of 50 years, the difference between the Wright Brothers and space flight! I'd rather have cocky teens who are confident of the mark they will make than timid teens who are afraid to crawl out the window after lights out. If you never push the boundaries, how do you know how to go where no one has ever gone before and become someone and/or do something that changes the world?
In the 20s and 30s, there is optimism supporting the major life changes we all face, one way or another: marriage, birthing children, carving out a career, realizing that life is not the piece of cake you once thought it was, or actualizing innate ability and making your own personal dreams come true. Someone had to make sense out of that pile of electronic pieces in the garage, and someone else still has their own pile of pieces to put together that will take us all to the next level. There's still time to dream, time to make it happen, and time to try again in the 20s and the 30s, especially since this is the age group that has decided to stay young forever.
In the 40s and 50s is the acceptance that the clock is ticking faster, that time is marching on whether I'm in step or marching to my own beat. Some of the things I wanted to do, the places I wanted to see, and the people I wanted to meet took another path, and my life is a forest of missed opportunities. Of course, on the other hand, the paths I walked have, for the most part, been rich and rewarding or amazing and interesting -- including the life lessons we all experience first-hand and figure out how to handle all by our lonesomes. It is during this time that our parents leave our lives, our children step away from us to make their own lives, and we stand in front of the bathroom mirror and see our parent's face staring back at us.
In the 60s sets in the resignation of the elderly, who quickly learn that no one listens to old people, no one wants to spend time with old people, and spending day after day with other old people confirms the why of those decisions. Driving a car is no longer an adventure, but an accident waiting to happen, especially when one has traveled from 2-lane country roads to 8-lane freeways, and speeds have gone from 45 flyin' mph to 85 get the hell out of my way mph. Each day becomes a challenge of remember when, accompanied by a whole litany of I used to, and thank god the dog is a good listener.
My mom always said that you cannot put an old head onto young shoulders, indicating that the wisdom of the elderly could temper the exuberance of the youth, provide a reality check for the expectations, temper the frustrations of acceptance, and hold at bay the resignation of the elderly who feel as if life has either passed them by completely, or disappointed them in its outcome. I now realize that there is much to be gained by providing historical lessons, but today's generations are too busy texting, tweeting, and I-Ming to have the time to listen. They will get their lessons the old-fashioned way, from the school of hard knocks, the same way we all did, back before we became the old folks determined to teach the young ones some of life's truths and save them from the mistakes we made when we were their age. We cannot save anyone from learning life's lessons one at a time, so quit trying!
On this fine day, with a "sudden drop" in the temps from 113 yesterday to a mere 109 today, and the air conditioning cranking at least half of the total hours each day just to keep the inside of the house bearable, and the last of the injections of filler inside my knee, I find myself wanting to revisit a whole lot of shoulda/woulda/coulda opportunities that I didn't hear knocking. I want to go places, do things, and be with people, rather than taking care of my house, my pets, and my possessions.
I'm tired of being the responsible person, the one who does it all because there is no one else to do it for me. I'd love to have someone else remember that Wednesday is garbage day -- and take the cans to the curb; to have someone else groan at the realization that it's been 2 weeks since the last big doggie doo pick-up in the dog run; to have someone else clean the damned car, inside and out, because that is one of the physical activities that really torques my spinal column (as well as both vacuuming and mopping); to wash an occasional load of clothes, fold them, and put them away. But the choices I made back then led to my life today, so I live with knowing that I did what I had to do back then, even though it sucks to live with it in the here and now.
Today is one of those days that I'd like to lock the doors, drive away, and come back another day. My destination: a walk along the beach, a lingering dinner in a nice restaurant (rather than fast-food), and a really good night's sleep topped off with someone else figuring out breakfast. When I was younger, I did that, but for some reason, I'm just not as confident today as I was yesterday that it's a good idea, much less that I can make it happen.
Do I hear a chorus of "I love to go a-wandering, along the mountain track, and as I go I love to sing my knapsack on my back. Val-der-ee, val-der-rah, val-der-ee, val-der-rah, ha ha ha ha ha ha, val-der-ee, val-der-rah my knapsack on my back!!" Perhaps I'll load up my knapsack and see what happens ...
Specifically, I've been thinking about the exuberance of youth, the absolute confidence that I will ... become someone/something grand, important, significant. The totally idealistic enthusiasm children have is often tarnished by well-meaning adults who provide far too many reality checks based on their own lives, rather than urging the young ones to soar beyond what any of "us" experienced during our lives. Of course we cannot allow children to run the streets without supervision and boundaries, but too much structure provides constraints, rather than constructing a ladder that can reach the stars.
The teen years are filled with expectations, many of which are unreasonable and most of which are totally self-serving and egocentric, especially when the generation gap between the expectations of I'm going to and the resignation of the elderly is the grand canyon gap of 50 years, the difference between the Wright Brothers and space flight! I'd rather have cocky teens who are confident of the mark they will make than timid teens who are afraid to crawl out the window after lights out. If you never push the boundaries, how do you know how to go where no one has ever gone before and become someone and/or do something that changes the world?
In the 20s and 30s, there is optimism supporting the major life changes we all face, one way or another: marriage, birthing children, carving out a career, realizing that life is not the piece of cake you once thought it was, or actualizing innate ability and making your own personal dreams come true. Someone had to make sense out of that pile of electronic pieces in the garage, and someone else still has their own pile of pieces to put together that will take us all to the next level. There's still time to dream, time to make it happen, and time to try again in the 20s and the 30s, especially since this is the age group that has decided to stay young forever.
In the 40s and 50s is the acceptance that the clock is ticking faster, that time is marching on whether I'm in step or marching to my own beat. Some of the things I wanted to do, the places I wanted to see, and the people I wanted to meet took another path, and my life is a forest of missed opportunities. Of course, on the other hand, the paths I walked have, for the most part, been rich and rewarding or amazing and interesting -- including the life lessons we all experience first-hand and figure out how to handle all by our lonesomes. It is during this time that our parents leave our lives, our children step away from us to make their own lives, and we stand in front of the bathroom mirror and see our parent's face staring back at us.
In the 60s sets in the resignation of the elderly, who quickly learn that no one listens to old people, no one wants to spend time with old people, and spending day after day with other old people confirms the why of those decisions. Driving a car is no longer an adventure, but an accident waiting to happen, especially when one has traveled from 2-lane country roads to 8-lane freeways, and speeds have gone from 45 flyin' mph to 85 get the hell out of my way mph. Each day becomes a challenge of remember when, accompanied by a whole litany of I used to, and thank god the dog is a good listener.
My mom always said that you cannot put an old head onto young shoulders, indicating that the wisdom of the elderly could temper the exuberance of the youth, provide a reality check for the expectations, temper the frustrations of acceptance, and hold at bay the resignation of the elderly who feel as if life has either passed them by completely, or disappointed them in its outcome. I now realize that there is much to be gained by providing historical lessons, but today's generations are too busy texting, tweeting, and I-Ming to have the time to listen. They will get their lessons the old-fashioned way, from the school of hard knocks, the same way we all did, back before we became the old folks determined to teach the young ones some of life's truths and save them from the mistakes we made when we were their age. We cannot save anyone from learning life's lessons one at a time, so quit trying!
On this fine day, with a "sudden drop" in the temps from 113 yesterday to a mere 109 today, and the air conditioning cranking at least half of the total hours each day just to keep the inside of the house bearable, and the last of the injections of filler inside my knee, I find myself wanting to revisit a whole lot of shoulda/woulda/coulda opportunities that I didn't hear knocking. I want to go places, do things, and be with people, rather than taking care of my house, my pets, and my possessions.
I'm tired of being the responsible person, the one who does it all because there is no one else to do it for me. I'd love to have someone else remember that Wednesday is garbage day -- and take the cans to the curb; to have someone else groan at the realization that it's been 2 weeks since the last big doggie doo pick-up in the dog run; to have someone else clean the damned car, inside and out, because that is one of the physical activities that really torques my spinal column (as well as both vacuuming and mopping); to wash an occasional load of clothes, fold them, and put them away. But the choices I made back then led to my life today, so I live with knowing that I did what I had to do back then, even though it sucks to live with it in the here and now.
Today is one of those days that I'd like to lock the doors, drive away, and come back another day. My destination: a walk along the beach, a lingering dinner in a nice restaurant (rather than fast-food), and a really good night's sleep topped off with someone else figuring out breakfast. When I was younger, I did that, but for some reason, I'm just not as confident today as I was yesterday that it's a good idea, much less that I can make it happen.
Do I hear a chorus of "I love to go a-wandering, along the mountain track, and as I go I love to sing my knapsack on my back. Val-der-ee, val-der-rah, val-der-ee, val-der-rah, ha ha ha ha ha ha, val-der-ee, val-der-rah my knapsack on my back!!" Perhaps I'll load up my knapsack and see what happens ...
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Summer's Here!!
I parked beneath a fully-leaved tree, in the shade, with my windshield facing away from the sun, with the windows all cracked an inch, but when I returned to my car after my dental cleaning, the temp read-out was 122 degrees!! Glad to know that the AC cooled the car to 114 degrees by the time I arrived home, where the temp was steady at 113 degrees.
Summer has arrived in the desert.
Yep, I've turned on the AC, but did so reluctantly because we all had smart meters installed, whether we wanted them or not, by the electric company. Smart readers help the electric company better access my usage patterns and information, especially my usage during the peak hours (translation: most expensive usage hours), such as noon to 6 pm -- when the temps soar to their highest, along with the electricity rates that, ironically, don't give a damn that it's hotter than hell outside. The focus of the electric company is profit, so charging the highest rates for electricity during the hottest times of the day is simply good business for them and another financial hit for the consumer.
I replaced all the doors/windows, as well as all of my appliances and light bulbs, with energy efficient options over the past several years, but I did not replace the Trane AC system because it continues to work well. I clean the filters and the outside fan every month, and I'm not going to spend $5 grand to replace the equipment until/unless it fails. The temp control is set to 85 degrees, which actually feels quite cool inside on the tile flooring when it's in the hundred + teens outside.
The good news is that it's mid-June and I've just had to turn on the AC; many years, the AC comes on the first of May. If the weather continues to cooperate, we'll be back in the bearable 90s by the end of September, which means not using the AC 24/7. All discretionary income will be spent to pay for AC in the desert during the hot, hotter, hottest 3 summer months, our own version of stay-cations. Between gas prices and electric bills, no one can afford to go anywhere/do anything!!
Oh, well.
Summer has arrived in the desert.
Yep, I've turned on the AC, but did so reluctantly because we all had smart meters installed, whether we wanted them or not, by the electric company. Smart readers help the electric company better access my usage patterns and information, especially my usage during the peak hours (translation: most expensive usage hours), such as noon to 6 pm -- when the temps soar to their highest, along with the electricity rates that, ironically, don't give a damn that it's hotter than hell outside. The focus of the electric company is profit, so charging the highest rates for electricity during the hottest times of the day is simply good business for them and another financial hit for the consumer.
I replaced all the doors/windows, as well as all of my appliances and light bulbs, with energy efficient options over the past several years, but I did not replace the Trane AC system because it continues to work well. I clean the filters and the outside fan every month, and I'm not going to spend $5 grand to replace the equipment until/unless it fails. The temp control is set to 85 degrees, which actually feels quite cool inside on the tile flooring when it's in the hundred + teens outside.
The good news is that it's mid-June and I've just had to turn on the AC; many years, the AC comes on the first of May. If the weather continues to cooperate, we'll be back in the bearable 90s by the end of September, which means not using the AC 24/7. All discretionary income will be spent to pay for AC in the desert during the hot, hotter, hottest 3 summer months, our own version of stay-cations. Between gas prices and electric bills, no one can afford to go anywhere/do anything!!
Oh, well.
Because I Say So
Each time I come across the TV pundits pontificating about the Casey Anthony trial, I ask the same question: does Casey really believe that she's not guilty, that her daughter did not die in her sleep as the result of using xanax (Zanny, the nanny) to "babysit" her daughter while mommy went out clubbing? Casey would not be the first, nor the last, young mother to do this to her child, but Caylee died. What the hell do you do when you finally wake up the day after your night before and realize that your daughter is dead?
Do you call your parents and tell them that you drugged your child so she would sleep while you were out clubbing and now you cannot wake her? You know it was just an accident, but your parents would call the police and blame you for what happened to Caylee: who needs that? Why not just stuff her body into the trunk of your car and go on with your life, no harm/no foul? No one will know unless you tell them, so just keep your mouth shut and worry about it only if you have to. You can't change what happened, so get over it.
I see Casey pretending tears minutes after giving her lawyer the come-on looks and coy smiles, making the cute little faces, and I wonder if she thinks all 12 jurors will accept her lies and deny her daughter's truth. I'm willing to bet that Casey's confident she will walk away from this courtroom to continue the life she's not just always wanted, but she's always lived -- including the 31 days of partying that her daughter's death complicated, but did not hinder.
The truth is always at the bottom of even the most believable lies, but Casey's lies are so far-fetched that it's a wonder she believes them. Her mother said it all with her initial 9-1-1 call: it smells like there's been a dead body in my daughter's car trunk, and that's the truth that has to replace all the lies that have taken its place.
Do you call your parents and tell them that you drugged your child so she would sleep while you were out clubbing and now you cannot wake her? You know it was just an accident, but your parents would call the police and blame you for what happened to Caylee: who needs that? Why not just stuff her body into the trunk of your car and go on with your life, no harm/no foul? No one will know unless you tell them, so just keep your mouth shut and worry about it only if you have to. You can't change what happened, so get over it.
I see Casey pretending tears minutes after giving her lawyer the come-on looks and coy smiles, making the cute little faces, and I wonder if she thinks all 12 jurors will accept her lies and deny her daughter's truth. I'm willing to bet that Casey's confident she will walk away from this courtroom to continue the life she's not just always wanted, but she's always lived -- including the 31 days of partying that her daughter's death complicated, but did not hinder.
The truth is always at the bottom of even the most believable lies, but Casey's lies are so far-fetched that it's a wonder she believes them. Her mother said it all with her initial 9-1-1 call: it smells like there's been a dead body in my daughter's car trunk, and that's the truth that has to replace all the lies that have taken its place.
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