October 30, 2008

It Don't?

Remember the song It Don't Matter To Me by Bread? Who doesn't, right? It was only one of the best make-out songs in history. Not that I've ever made out to it. It came out in 1969 - I was eight years old. But I've always been a classic rock kinda gal, and usually listened to radio stations that played has-been music. So when I was listening to KDWB in 7th grade, It Don't Matter To Me was playing all the time, and I thought it was just the best, most romantic thing to ever come across the airwaves.

I heard the song on one of my
Pandora stations the other day and couldn't believe my ears. Lovely melody and everything, but what's with those lyrics? I heard the song from a whole 'nother angle with thirty-five years of experience under my belt. What a delightful study in emotional and psychological development.

So, for your enjoyment, I present a little music video of It Don't Matter To Me by Bread. Beware, this isn't the original recording of this song.  I'm pretty sure it was recorded last year when they were performing at an Indian Casino, their old voices barely able to hit the high notes.  While you're listening to it, scroll down and read the lyrics, complete with commentaries by 12-year-old Meredith and 47-year-old Meredith.

It don't matter to me
If you really feel that
You need sometime to be free
Time to go out searching for yourself
Hoping to find time to go to find

12-Year-Old Meredith: I wish my parents would listen to this song. Maybe they'd give me some time to be free and search for myself.

47-Year-Old-Meredith: How nice. What a great guy, giving his girlfriend some breathing space. There's nothing worse than a needy boyfriend.

And it don't matter to me
If you take up with someone
Who's better than me
Cause your happiness is all I want
For you to find peace your piece of mind

12-YO Meredith: How dreamy! I want a boyfriend who will be understanding and realistic enough to know that he might not be the best boyfriend in the universe. Then if I want to be with someone better than him he won't get all icky and cry or something.

47-YO Meredith: What?! Let me get this straight. It wouldn't matter to you if I went out and found someone better? What's wrong with you? It should matter to you because I'm your dream woman. You should be crushed! But thanks for being so considerate of my happiness and piece of mind.

Lotta people have an ego hang-up
Cause they want to be the only one

12-YO Meredith: What's an ego?

47-YO Meredith: The '60s and '70s were a time of free sexual expression, consider the era. Monogamy was a hang-up. AIDS didn't exist.

How many came before it really doesn't matter
Just as long as you're the last

12-YO Meredith: He wants to be with me forever!

47-YO Meredith: Are you implying that I'm some kind of slut? That you are? Does anything matter to you?

Everybody's moving on and try to find out
What's been missing in the past

12-YO Meredith: Wow. This guy is really a poet. I want to be with someone this talented.

47-YO Meredith: What?

And it don't matter to me
If your searching brings you
Back together with me
Cause there'll always be
An empty room waiting for you
An open heart waiting for you
Time is on my side
Cause it dont matter to me
It dont matter to me....

12-YO Meredith: I'm going to get a boyfriend just like this. He's just so...romantic!

47-YO Meredith: OK, you've got to move on already. By now I've found someone "better than you" and you're still holding your breath for my return? He's better than you! Why would I want to come back? Turn that empty room into gym. Get over it.

October 27, 2008

Letter To A Lover

Dear Solitaire,

Be you traditional or Spider you are evil incarnate. You thwart my good intentions. You make me hate myself.

Solitaire, you disguise yourself as a means to a sharp mind. You claim to be able to make me think, to use reason. But you’re set up to beat me most of the time, making me feel stupid, or worse, determined to beat you with another game. And another. And another. You keep me playing with your bright colors, fun clicky flippy noises and cheerful ringing sounds. Until there are no more plays left for me. You did it on purpose. I must try again. And again. And again.

If defeating me weren’t enough, you provide statistics. The number of tries I made. The number of failures I had. The number of games I’ve played. The number of minutes I’ve wasted. And the minutes translate into hours. I hate you.

For some you are a more potent hypnotic than television. Like with my friend Ruthie, who you also woo. She won’t take on the NaNoWriMo challenge because it might cut into her time with you. Instead of sharpening our minds, you turn them to mush.

You are the ultimate tool of procrastination. You masquerade yourself as a short time-out when you are really a time sucker, an energy sucker. You keep the laundry hamper full and cause dinner to be late. You push the actualization of dreams so far into the future I feel hopeless. You prevent me.

I’m just letting you know, I vow to keep you hidden deep within my computer, at least for the time being. I have things to accomplish. Dreams to pursue. I have a life to live, damn it. So save your flashy kings and queens for someone else. I’m not going to let you steal my soul.

Except maybe just one more game…



October 20, 2008

An Important Message From A Relatively Unknown Blogger

I'm not one to advertise my political views, I can't resist in such an important election as the one we'll be having in a few short weeks. Really, get serious. The change referred to by Sarah Palin has nothing to do with moving forward. She's a scary, scary person. Oh, she's not up for president you say? Doesn't matter, as VP she could very well become president in a blink of an eye.

Yeah, Vancouver is a lovely city...

October 15, 2008

An Example For Ruthie

I'm writing this post for my friend Ruthie to inspire her to join me in undertaking the NaNoWriMo challenge. She's afraid writing a 50,000-word novel in thirty days will take away from her TV and Solitaire time. I'm trying to convince her the challenge involves straight writing and no editing, which of course is a challenge in itself. She doesn't think she can do it. Free flow, man. That's the secret. As her mentor I've assigned to her the task of writing now, two weeks prior to the commencement of NaNoWriMo, not the novel itself, but as practice in writing without editing. One-half hour a day. With this post I will demonstrate how this type of writing turns out. It isn't pretty. If you want to read something of sense, I advise you to look at another blog. Ruthie, this is for you, an example of how one-half hour of unedited, unstructured writing looks like. The time is 8:10 p.m. Ready? Go.

Tonight I'm sitting at my fairly new laptop computer in my specially designed room. The room is my own, not to be shared with Boyfriend unless he's invited. He stays far away. So I'm sitting here at my desk, which is situated by the window. Outside my window I can see a full moon rising over the rooftops. As I was driving home from playing tennis with Charlotte this evening around 7:00 the moon was huge and orange and a big contrast from the royal blue sky. The face of the moon was very distinct and I felt like it was peering into my soul. He understood why my day had been so bad, but gave me assurance that tomorrow would be better.
Tomorrow I'll be running around with tons to do, getting ready for a weekend at the lake. The fall colors will be in full force, with most of it laying on the ground waiting for us all to clean up. I'll develop blisters on my hands that will be nursed in front of the wood-burning pot-belly stove in the evenings. I'm looking forward to some hot cocoa, the first cup of the season actually. The air will be cold. I might even get a little rose in my usual pale palor. Boyfriend will be away for the evening for a couple of hours, so that will give me some time to bake an applesauce cake and to whip up some of my mom's delicious chip dip, which will be served with the Bugles Charlotte is bringing along. I've already prepared a beef stew, which I still haven't put into the freezer. I hope I don't poison everyone with salmonela.
Work is a bithc, and I hate most of the people in charge. My boss is all queer about the stock market and I'm tired of her pissing around about how the wold is coming to an end. She's just mad because she doesn't have a pot to piss in and she wants to retire. Well, don't we all. Too bad for her she's got a dolt of a husband whom she's left, and who is demanding half of the pension she's earned in the past 30+ years of State service. Can I help it if she married an idiot? A slothful, non-working, greedy idiot? No. So I don't want to hear about how her life is hell and she's vacuuming the floors of some raggity apartment building, now that she's become a caretaker since separating from her dumbass husband. I don't care.
Then there's Chris, that one who thinks she's the fucking queen of france in her underpants. She walks around like she's hot shit, and treats other people like crap. Too much poop reference in that last sentence. But poop is pretty much what I think of when I look at Chris. She's a dog, and I'm pretty sure she wants to be a lesbian. Not that I have anything against lesbians. It's just that I don't think people who are lesbians should pretend they're not. I know a few, and therefore know of what I speak. Those nuns I know are the same way. They joined the convent to escape the fact that they think they're freaks. Or they just hate men and thought the ocnvent was the best way to avoid them. Chris is from the school where authority keeps secrets from the pepole who actually do the work around the office. She wants to be the one with all the knowldge, won't give updates, and therefore prevents the rest of us peons from being able to do our jobs. I suppose that makes her look good? Like she's doing more work than the rest of us? I don't know. I just want to see her eyes gouged out, and as she's stumbling around looking for them I'll stand there and kick them to the other side of the room and not tell her where they are.
But why do I torment myself over the crappiness of my day job. (more poop references - I have to stop that.) The rest of my life is pretty dang good, except for when I have to share it with someone I haven't seen in thirty years. That's something I had to do recently. This guy I used to know. Ruthie helped me figurre out why the experience was so horrid to me. I don't like myself for what we came up with. What SHE came up with. But I have to admit she's probably right. Do I really want him to think of me as the one who got away? And why would I think the live I lead would disenchant him from still wanting me? It's all just really dumb and I wish the feelings of inadequacy would go away.
How much do I lvoe Diet Dr. Pepper? Way too much. I think the caffiene has made me immune, or else I'm just constantly jittery and don't even know it. But if you're going to drink diet pop, Dr. Pepper is the way to go. Either that or Diet A&W Rootbeer. That's a pretty good diet too. I don't like diets that taste like diets. But I can't believe I used to drink at least a 6-pack of Coke every single when I was young and skinny and wild. I'd go to work with my Coke and ciagarettes and smoke and drink Coke all day long. OK, now I have to confess that I've done some editing in that I keep typing Cock rather than Coke. I didn't think you'd want to read about how I drink Cock. Ish. That's just gross.

I like my little East Wing and I like my new computer. I can't reaally get the internets to work correctly yet, but that could be because I'm still using stupid dial-up.l I've got a router and am ready to switch to high-speed wireless, but I'm afraid. I have no idea how all that works, and even though I've spent the money on all the equpment and even a wireless card for our desktop, I'm afraid to take the plunge. I think I worry about the money it will cost to get a provider. Damn people charge so much for something evgeryone needs. I feel like I'm buying air. Air. Dumb little signals in the air.

And speaking of signals I saw a picture on the internets of all the garbage that is floating around the earth in space. It's scary. Garbage in space. Pieces of satellites and stuff. Maybe it was a hoaxy kind of picture, but it made sense to mee. Why wouldn't there be crap out there. There I go again with the poop. Do I have an obsession? Anyway, I wonder what will become of our universe. Remember when Mr. Henningsgaard told us that technology will advance exponetially? That was over thirty years go. He wasn't kidding. I can't keep up with it all. Those iphones make me mental. Kids texting. People talking on their cell phones in the car. I tell you the world is going to hell. And not because of the stock market. Or maybe the stock market is behind it all. I don't know. I just wish things were a little simpler. Except I do love the internets. I might be as addicted to the internets as I am to Diet Dr. Pepper.

There you have it. It is now 8:42. I've written 3 pages and 1,238 words in a half an hour. It isn't a cohesive piece of writing, but I wrote and wrote and didn't pay attention to typos or grammar. That's the secret to the NaNoWriMo challenge. I'm sure somewhere in that jumble there's a story. Can you pull it out?

October 02, 2008

Cheerleaders Are Trying To Rule The World

When I saw the similarities between these two women I nearly peed my pants, from laughter and from fear.


PETA Saves My Joyless Day

So, I've been feeling a little blue lately. You know how it is. Your job gets you down, your day-to-day life is a grind. The kitchen sink's full of dishes and the toilet is broken. Mundane tasks become mountainous, and you just feel shitty about yourself.

PETA, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, changed all that for me today. They energized me. They made me see myself in a much more positive light. They saved me from the depths of depression because...they proved to me that I am not the stupidest person alive! Hooray!

PETA wants Ben and Jerry to adjust the recipe of their ice cream and replace cow's milk with human milk. Apparently trend has already begun in Switzerland. I'm totally not kidding. You can read the article
here. And for your convenience I've included the letter PETA sent to Ben and Jerry. I hope it makes you laugh as much as I did.

"September 23, 2008

"Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield, Cofounders
Ben & Jerry's Homemade Inc.

"Dear Mr. Cohen and Mr. Greenfield,

"On behalf of PETA and our more than 2 million members and supporters, I'd like to bring your attention to an innovative new idea from Switzerland that would bring a unique twist to Ben and Jerry's.

"Storchen restaurant is set to unveil a menu that includes soups, stews, and sauces made with at least 75 percent breast milk procured from human donors who are paid in exchange for their milk. If Ben and Jerry's replaced the cow's milk in its ice cream with breast milk, your customers-and cows-would reap the benefits.

"Using cow's milk for your ice cream is a hazard to your customer's health. Dairy products have been linked to juvenile diabetes, allergies, constipation, obesity, and prostate and ovarian cancer. The late Dr. Benjamin Spock, America's leading authority on child care, spoke out against feeding cow's milk to children, saying it may play a role in anemia, allergies, and juvenile diabetes and in the long term, will set kids up for obesity and heart disease-America's number one cause of death.

"Animals will also benefit from the switch to breast milk. Like all mammals, cows only produce milk during and after pregnancy, so to be able to constantly milk them, cows are forcefully impregnated every nine months. After several years of living in filthy conditions and being forced to produce 10 times more milk than they would naturally, their exhausted bodies are turned into hamburgers or ground up for soup.

"And of course, the veal industry could not survive without the dairy industry. Because male calves can't produce milk, dairy farmers take them from their mothers immediately after birth and sell them to veal farms, where they endure 14 to17 weeks of torment chained inside a crate so small that they can't even turn around.

"The breast is best! Won't you give cows and their babies a break and our health a boost by switching from cow's milk to breast milk in Ben and Jerry's ice cream? Thank you for your consideration.

Tracy Reiman
Executive Vice President"

And thank you, Tracy Reiman, for shamelessly letting your little light shine!