Grabbing back control of the narrative

[Personal post. You know the deal. Don’t hold it against me. This is how I maintain my sanity…]

Because here lately it seems there’s a need. I suppose I could literally change the narrative by writing — narrating — here but, really, what’s the point? I figure allowing people their fantasies is the least we can do for each other in this life. Does it bother me a little that a highly subjective version of events where the kid here has played a role has been used to my detriment (at least in some circles) in order to promote some kind of ridiculous social standing (I really don’t know if this is correct but it’s the best I could come up with. As always, if that turns out to be not the case I’ll be the first to correct and amend…)? Yes, it does. Most notably from the perspective that it continues to amaze and confound me that certain groups determine worthiness using stupid criteria — or, at the least, those attempting to be valued as worthy believe they do. But also because I’m pretty powerless to do anything about it. It’s not that I’m not a fighter; I am. It’s just that I fight to win and being all crazy and angry wins me exactly nothing. Also, it’s just kind of a pathetic move, one I haven’t encountered in any meaningful sense since high school. Very fitting considering the early 20 something bartender’s music compilation playing overhead is just a menagerie of the hits from my high school years. And to think, I moved here in an attempt to further my growth as an adult. Heh. Anyway, don’t worry — just a little pothole. I’m already over it.

Sitting here, contemplating attending this (Thank you Miss Molly, for the invite. Also, outdoor movies? In.), reading this, watching these guys, drinking this, and listening to this (the last reminds me of all those lake house weekends on Lake Burton in the beautiful hills of North Georgia. Thinking of you Barry, Matt, Christy, Erin, Brooks, Chris F., Mark, Brian, Michelle et al. I love all you guys and miss you terribly sometimes.)

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Because I feel like it that’s why

Again, I got nothin. My brain is fried and the office is shutting down early so I think I might go to the haunt and drink some alcohol and write a little in lieu of anything better to do. But — and I know this makes me horribly girly and probably crazy un-hip — I did hear Kelly Clarkson was playing Ford’s Theater this weekend for Memorial Day stuff. While I’m not an attendee of her concerts I must admit, I like some of her songs. They’re total girl power. Dig it. Also, this kind of thing fascinates me. Orwell would be proud. Also, very, very cool. Huge fan. Different Seasons was one of those books that will never leave me. And I think President Clinton has no problem playing the fall guy. He’s probably pretty bored these days? And that’s all I have to say there because even talking about it makes me feel kinda dirty…

So, have some girl pop in your face while I contemplate a Bloody Mary.

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I think I’m going to try to be mean for a little while…

Busy writing today on union bailouts and waste sites over aquifers, so I don’t have much. Also, I need to do a little mental house cleaning (again) and if I write too much here then some of that house cleaning is bound to spill out and really, no offense, it’s none of your bidness. But I will say I found it very amusing when a co-worker said yesterday that it was unbearably hot outside and it felt like a mild spring day to me. This, people, is what it means to be from the Deep South. I actually feel normal and healthy when I sweat. And, because DC is basically built on a swamp, I suspect my first summer here will be a wet one. Bring it on.

Also, two of my dance friends from back home are coming to visit in July. I’m very excited. Trying to get them here the weekend of a softball game so they can meet the boys (and the few girls who actually hang out after the games — I’m looking at you Kate…). It should be fun. They’ll be my first visitors and I actually feel like I can be entertaining to them. I was worried about that at first…

Also, I’m going to attend this in preparation for the Strasburg debut. Did I mention that the Nats are winning my heart? Of course, the Braves will always be my team. But I find myself really pulling for the Nats, really interested in seeing them win. But don’t worry Braves baby…you’re my team when you play the Nats. You know that silly.

UPDATE: Oh dear. Why does this oil spill press conference make me feel sick…key sentences:

While the immediate financial cost may be tolerable, some analysts caution that inevitable regulatory changes in response to the spill will have a longer-term effect on the whole industry.

“A clear outcome of the Macondo well blow out will be higher offshore drilling costs in the future,” said Evolution Securities in a research note.

UPDATE 2: English pirate on Facebook makes me happy. (h/t Appletini)

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Sad for the loss but elated by the memory

Oh LOST, you made me cry. And I liked it. I won’t go too deep into it but I really liked the way the writers ended the show. Deeply and profoundly, leaving many questions unanswered without apology. Just like life. There will certainly be those who are bothered by this — they are the same people who complain about everything because, as this show pointed out time and again, there really are no neat answers and you don’t always get what you want. That’s just life, which, to my mind, was the great and simple metaphor of the show. Nothing more remarkable than the connection between a group pf people. Nothing more remarkable. So those people who want to moan and demand their answers can go right ahead and I’ll just respond the way I was directed to: with a good cry because it made me really miss my dog; heavy thinking about the things and people who are important to me and why I need to protect those relationships even though it’s painfully difficult sometimes; and the urge to re-read CS Lewis’ The Great Divorce (which I did until the wee hours of the morning).

Thank you LOST writers. I’m so glad there are other believers in this world. It mitigates the moments of loneliness that accompany life on the island.

UPDATE: just cause, here’s an apropos excerpt from Lewis’ Great Divorce. Great book man. Seriously.

But what you ask of earth? Earth, I think, will not be found by anyone to be in the end a very distinct place. I think earth, if chosen instead of Heaven, will turn out to have been, all along, only a region in Hell: and earth, if put second to Heaven, to have been from the beginning a part of Heaven itself.

“‘That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering, ‘No future bliss can make up for it,’ not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. And of some sinful pleasure they say ‘Let me have but this and I’ll take the consequences’: little dreaming how damnation will spread back and back into their past and contaminate the pleasure of sin. Both processes begin even before death. The good man’s past begins to change so that his forgiven sins and remembered sorrows take on the quality of Heaven: the bad man’s past already conforms to his badness and is filled only with dreariness. And that is why, at the end of all things, when the sun rises here and the twilight turns to blackness down there, the Blessed will say ‘We have never lived anywhere except Heaven,’ and the Lost, ‘We were always in Hell.’ And both will speak truly.’

‘Is that not very hard Sir?’

‘I mean, that is the real sense of what they will say. In the actual language of the Lost, the words will be different, no doubt. One will say he has always served his country right or wrong; and another that he has sacrificed everything to his Art; and some that they’ve never been taken in, and some that, thank God, they’ve always looked after Number One, and nearly all, that, at least they’ve been true to themselves.’

‘And the Saved?’

‘Ah, the Saved… what happens to them is best described as the opposite of a mirage. What seemed, when they entered it, to be the vale of misery turns out, when they look back, to have been a well; and where present experience saw only salt deserts, memory truthfully records that the pools were full of water.’”

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Let me amend

SSP. And, because these are op-eds and so there’s no official correction process for these kinds of things, I’ll do it here because God forbid people think I don’t care about the health of the kids…

This line, “While virtually no one would argue that anything that leads to healthier children is a good thing…” should actually say, “While virtually no one would argue that anything that leads to healthier children ISN’T a good thing…”

Shoot. Totally my bad. That is indeed what I wrote. Mistake. If you read the rest of the piece you pick up that it’s a mistake but, you know, “in print” is a serious concept. It’s funny because I was just reading this yesterday and laughing. Yeah, now it doesn’t seem so funny. Ah well, I’m correcting as best I can and still learning to be a little more cautious. But, for the record, childhood obesity = bad. So don’t come to me saying I don’t care about the health of the kids. I’ll say you’re a big dumb liar. And I’ll have something to point to. So there.

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Dale Peterson scares me a little

And these are probably true.

Also, a bit ago, I was saying that I should try to be nicer as I write op-eds under my byline. Well, more diplomatic. And then the softball coach pointed me here and now I’m kinda thinking funny is better. Brutal. But hilarious.

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Tuesdays are my favorite days

Heh. I lied. (Thanks Moira)

Also, pleased to get a review copy of this book. I’m gonna read it really fast — hopefully — and review it. You can borrow it when I’m done.

Listening to this at this very moment and missing the dance girls back in Athens. I hate leaving friends.

UPDATE: now it’s this. I forgot how much I love this video…

UPDATE 2: And now this one. Good to have you back Rhapsody.

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