just. let. love. be.

I got wrapped up in a "conversation" with a misguided friend of a verysmart friend on Facebook this afternoon. Wrapped up meaning I stupidly kept my FB page open on my phone, docked by the radio as I drove home from errands and so pulled over TWICE to respond. I felt compelled to respond because it seemed the poster was so ill-informed that my well-informed input would reboot his brain and life could go on rationally. I was wrong.

My verysmart friend had posted a link to remarks made by Dr. Ben Carson about the supposed slippery slope of granting marriage rights to gay couples : the viewpoint that allowing same-sex marriage means potentially having to allow other 'lifestyles' the same. 'Lifestyles' such as pedophilia and bestiality. Okay. How ludicrous is this? Seemed an easy correction - homosexuality & marriage of consenting adults of age are legal; molestation & bestiality are not.

But things became wackier when I was directed to an article (by misguided) that assured me I was being a RACIST in disagreeing with Dr. Carson since he is black and I, as a white liberal, clearly could not accept his adverse opinion because of this situation. Huh?

I had to tap out before my head exploded and/or I drank myself into a place where the words that come out of my fingertips are ferociously mean, and while that can be satisfying for a minute, it is not particularly useful in ultimately persuading hearts & minds.

In the end, I just can't understand how some human beings get so defensive of their own ways that they lose basic compassion for other human beings. Especially other humans who JUST WANT TO BE WITH THE PEOPLE THEY LOVE. Gay couples are not (please correct me if I'm wrong) asking to destroy anyone else's relationship or demand we watch them have sex or make everyone appreciate Adele - they are simply seeking their Constitutional right to pursue happiness via legally recognized marriage that affords them the same benefits as heterosexual unions.

Right?

obamarama

A convenient two-in-one post: I was asked by Mother Talk to review [via my kids] Obama: The Historic Journey, Young Reader's Edition by Jill Abramson PLUS Barack Obama happens to qualify for my NaBloPoMo "Heroes" theme by virtue of his persevering spirit from childhood to young adulthood and on through his recent adventures.

When I opened the package revealing our copy a couple of weeks ago, there was cheering from everyone. The kids took turns paging through it - Mason on the lawn while Paige finished her homework, then Paige at the kitchen counter while I made dinner. They read their favorite parts aloud - how the First Daughters are going to have sleepovers in the White House (I wish they were my friends!) - and implored me to looklooklook! at pictures of the young Barack and behind the scenes on Inauguration Day.

In the eyes and mind of this layout snob mom & teacher, the New York Times publication is visually stunning but not overdone; kid-friendly but not dumbed down. It mixes interesting facts about Obama's childhood & background with details about his rise to the presidency, adding a variety of photos to help kids relate to our President.

Respectfully written, treating young readers as intelligent citizens. I vote YES for Obama: The Historic Journey.

che it isn't so

I missed another day of my self-imposed daily posting quest but for good reason.

Because I am a movie fan/history geek/celebrity whore, I bought tickets for me & my man and a couple of amigas fabulosas (I also got some for Amy & her man before I realized that the experience was going to last a quarter of a day in which case her infant son would have wailed himself inside out and who wants that? Only very cruel people) to a "Special Roadshow Edition" of the 263 minute long Che. There was an intermission between Part 1 and Part 2 but considering I foolishly did not eat dinner before entering the theater, that time off was merely a teasing 45 minutes during which I could choose to dash out for nourishment not of the Cinema Food Pyramid OR wait in the 60+ person line for the two-stall bathroom. I started to imagine the whole situation was contrived to make us really feel like those revolutionaries - starving, tired, angry at The Man.

The "Special Roadshow Edition" featured a Q & A with Steven Soderbergh; I secretly hoped a) he would surprise us by bringing Benicio Del Toro and b) they would take turns rubbing my aching shoulders & butt [we could only find 5 seats together in the very. front. row.] after the 6 hour ordeal. Alas, neither happened. But Soderbergh did provide interesting commentary about the research & craft behind the movie. (I would still have really liked a quick massage though).

Overall, the movie was extraordinarily well done on all counts - superb acting, breathtaking cinematography, and in the first half (technically called The Argentine) the back & forth scenes between Guevara's idealistic beginnings and his leading peasant armies through Cuba and his appearance at the UN in 1964 are smooth and provide engaging, fascinating insights. The second half (Guerrilla), though understandably necessary to Che's story, was excruciating after the first half hour [which amounted to only 1/4 of the run time]. Artistically & philosophically it was brilliant - the handheld camera work up & down hills and through the jungles of Bolivia definitely brought me closer to the plight of the people - but I was exhausted, mentally and physically.

I am glad Soderbergh & Del Toro felt strongly about bringing us these parts of Guevara's story in such detail and with such emotion. I think it's too easy for people to draw lines in the sand and put some revolutionaries in the Hero camp and all others on the Villain side, but nobody is truly black or white; perspective is everything, and Che understands that.

Viva

gracias para esta foto

the spy who loves you

Tonight I went to a meeting with my best friend Jen who works at our kids' school as a Special Education aide. We presumed the meeting was a general 'heads-up' gathering to discuss potential budget cuts in the district. We presumed incorrectly; it was actually a classified employees' union cross-burning rally. A rally that degenerated frightfully into a teacher-bashing rant, because We think We're more important than classified staff because We have our "college educations" (their leader made air quotes when she said that - does that mean she thinks my degree is a sham? Not necessary? I was confused). I honestly started to feel like if I were identified as a teacher (and I saw a number of staff assistants & librarians there who know me; I sat very still and tried to actually become invisible), there would be gasps & shrieks & possibly a stoning.

I get very nervous when a union starts talking fast & loud. Essentially, I think the union is a positive organization for making sure people are treated fairly in their work situations; unfortunately it can easily become a hostile Us vs. Them exercise. When it comes to educational situations, my greatest concern is for the kids being served - obviously I enjoy a paycheck, and of course I realize some people rely on their paychecks to survive, but threatening to walk out of a job at the expense of children makes no sense to me. So I get wiggly & nervous about that stance, and the classified workers at tonight's meeting mentioned the possibility of striking if their positions are scheduled to be cut.

Again, I completely understand being upset about losing a job (hello!), but then their leader promised to inform the district that the classified employees "are the most important people in the district." That if they were not in the schools, children would not be getting a quality education. My heart was racing, I started sweating - partly because of the aforementioned stoning possibility, but mostly because I hate this game; it takes a village, people. Let's not argue about who is more or less necessary in our kids' lives - let's just do our best work during our time with them and discuss fair salaries at the end of the day.

I did reveal my secret identity to a few people as the meeting ended and was secretly bemused when their eyes widened and they flushed slightly. It tells me they don't really think we teachers are power hungry elitist monsters, and that's a relief. I don't like fighting.

one order of hope & change, please

Welcome.

Personal hopes:

1. I can somehow positively affect at least one individual each day.
2. I can figure out how best to help my son manage his thoughts & emotions.
3. I can instill early in my daughter a sense of confidence that I didn't gain until college.
4. I can regularly plan an entire month's meals for my family & lessons for my classes.

Global changes:

1. We can approach one another with an open mind & a firm handshake.
2. We can spend our time, energy, & money more wisely.
3. We can be kinder to our planet.
4. We can smile more.
   

What's on your menu this term?

photo courtesy of Vanity Fair

but i kind of wanted to stay up late...

All day I've felt like I do when I'm on a rollercoaster, like I do when the Cowboys are in the Super Bowl - there is utter excitement about the situation that is slightly tempered with a feeling of "what if?" What if the car bolts off the track? What if my team suffers a devastating injury?

'Cautiously optimistic.' Polls and pundits and predictions signaled Barack Obama's win but I dared not think directly about it. I almost engaged in the superstitious nuttiness I display on game days - not showering, wearing every bit of team gear I own, gluing myself to every move made by the players - but I did not; I chose the opposite strategy of deliberately showering (even loofahing), wearing no blue, and forcing myself to stay away from NPR until after 4 p.m.

To be honest, I have never disliked or even distrusted John McCain; I admire his integrity as a man, I am grateful for his service to our country, and I've found him to be an extraordinarily gracious gentleman in his defeat tonight.

I look forward to our country emerging in the next four years as a renewed force, with renewed energy & spirit, in this world.

God bless us all.

Welcome, Mr. President

another word

Dear Everyone In The Political Arena,

Unless you are talking about this guy,

I would let him call me "Little Lady"

this guy,

Not as good as Mad Max; light years beyond Hamlet

or this guy,

Before the crazy; please come back...

please refrain from using the word "Maverick."

Because you, Senator, are no...

Sincerely,

Not A Hockey Mom

major disappointment, that's all that was happening

I have heretofore really liked M. Night Shyamalan's films; I have previously enjoyed the acting of John Leguizamo, Zooey Deschanel, and of course my second husband Mark Wahlberg; I LOVE scary movies, especially when they are more suspenseful than gory; I consider myself a light green girl who believes in the effects of global warming etc. and does her best to leave a gentle footprint on the environment.

In other words - I AM THE PERFECT CANDIDATE FOR APPRECIATING THE HAPPENING. I'm shouting because I looked so forward to it and we had babysitting drama that finally worked out and we went to the expensive fancy theater in the Cobra and I not only didn't like the movie, I kind of really hated it. The more I thought about it, the more appalling I found the entire thing.

My issues (and I own them unashamedly; there is apparently an entire society of viewers who think people like me are complete idiots who missed the whole point but I think they're crazy. You decide; report back):

1. The characters are quite unlikable, mainly because they might as well be cardboard cut-outs hauled around to different parts of the set. No one made me care. Not even my man (!!!) or the little girl. Who doesn't like adorable little girls? Everyone seemed to be going through a weird & tedious acting exercise (and failing miserably).
2. The dialogue is ridiculous. Leguizamo's math teacher says something to the effect of "That's the great thing about being a math teacher, you can give people numbers and statistics that help them understand blah blah blah." Seriously? And characters ask questions that don't make sense like "What are you doing?" when it's either obvious what is being done, or the one doing it is clearly not going to say. I frequently felt the urge to backhand anyone who spoke in the movie.
3. And speaking of speaking, it was like watching somebody's very first play. People in real life don't talk one at a time, in soliloquies, especially when there is some sort of emergency. People don't calmly utter every syllable of every word. Or enunciate precisely, when they shout.
4. Beating watchers over the head with THE MESSAGE [Take care of the environment, you thoughtless assholes, before the environment takes care of YOU!] is not only the opposite of entertaining them, it's condescending and mean. I GET IT, and I AGREE, but now I hate you.
5. Mark Wahlberg never took off his shirt. NEVER. And that, my friends, makes the least sense of all.

When my favorite part of a movie is the proper grammar (the main character asks the train conductor why they've stopped and he responds "We've lost contact" and Elliot says, "With whom?" YES!), I feel a tad cheated. Some movies are meant to be instructional, insightful, thoughtful, yeah yeah. I need to know that before I go though, to get in the proper mindset. Otherwise I'll get all snarky and bitchy when I don't see a bare chest.

in which we ponder politics (sort of)

Here is a phrase that threw a small wrench in my mental gears this afternoon:

"...former European porn star and politician"

AND POLITICIAN. Absolutely fascinating.

We Americans can be so stuffy, demanding impeachments & resignations when our leaders merely get busy with interns and prostitutes. Can we imagine a Congress in which the likes of Ron Jeremy and Jenna Jameson call for action? So to speak, anyway.

I cannot stop pondering what kinds of work the Italian parliament accomplished during the FIVE YEARS Ilona Staller was a member. Was there a dress code? Did they have one of those big screens to project proceedings? So curious.

Interestingly, Ms. Staller and her ex-husband have already been featured in my blog. It was just as fun then as now.

this kind of exercise i can handle

Democracy is so exciting!

(I'm being serious. I think I could become a total voting geek).

Children who caucus.
(Note bag full of snacks; some grown-ups were ready to jump them for it...)

________________________

I have exercised my political muscle.

It is tired and now needs a nap.

day of the caucus (not carcass)

I really really want to go and be a responsible voting citizen. I know I should, especially since I found out the Democratic party does not count the primary ballots when awarding delegates in Washington State. Argh.

And I want my kids to check it out, witness potential mayhem democracy in action. They did watch the last Presidential inauguration, even though they were only 5 & 3 and it wasn't the winner we were hoping for. (Paige was excited to see Mrs. Cheney, though, because she wrote A is for Abigail, which we adore).

The only hitch today is that my parents have brought a Wii for us and will be wounded if the worship is interrupted. So. I'm leaning toward telling my children they can play unlimited Wii after they attend the caucus with me. What say ye, wiser readers? Is it bad to bribe young people to pay attention to the world around them for a bit?

Must go ponder...And shower. (One doesn't want to smell like a carcass at the caucus).
_____________________________
There is also this to read today, if you get really lonely.

gloria steinem wept

At the risk of losing my highly-regarded "bad mom" status, I must relay the words of my young son upon hearing about Hillary Clinton's step into the presidential race.

First of all, it starts with a bad mom/good mom situation - I was letting him play the odious GameBoy in the car for a few minutes, but I had the radio on NPR while we drove to the library. As we came to a stop, the announcer played Hillary's clip about "beginning a conversation" and Mason pipes up from the back seat - still feverishly pushing buttons, mind you - with "A GIRL wants to be the president?"

I immediately pictured Ms. Clinton recoiling at being called a girl and gently replied, "Yes, a woman is thinking about running for president. Does that surprise you?"

Frenetic sounds of MarioKart. "Uh huh." Alright, so much for a meaningful conversation about history and politics with this 8-year old. But then, again with no pause in the game, "I think it would be cool to have a girl [cringe] president."

"Why do you think it would be cool?" I decide we'll discuss the differences between girls and women and who likes to be called what at a later time...

And here is my moment of Super Mom pride: "Because girls think before they act."

Huh. A self-aware male in my midst? What have I done to deserve this? Wait a minute...what do you want from me, buddy?

where can i get a toilet brush, socks, hamster food, and dinner?

My best friend is really lucky. To begin with, I have not called anyone my 'best friend' (without sarcasm) since high school, which was long ago in a galaxy far, far away. Secondly, she is taller than me and can wear dark lipstick unselfconsciously, with glamour - usually two big strikes against best friend status. Moreover, she's from Southern California, pooh-poohs my processed food warnings, and...she shops at that place. I know I should be Harry Potter-brave and just say the name of the wicked and evil thing to take away its power, but I am weak [okay; sounds like 'tall fart']. I'm a little afraid they might sue me or send their poor slave workers after me with pitchforks and torches. Okay, I'm being silly - they would never bother to sue me.

So you know, I'm not a 21st century Norma Rae vigilantly fighting to unionize downtrodden laborers (although I do believe that to be an issue with you-know-who) - the words 'vigilant' and 'fight' make me tired just typing them, frankly. And I can't spout the numbers for comparing how THEY help vs. hurt the US economy, though I have a strong suspicion which way the balance leans in the long run. No, these very important problems are icing on the rancid cake that is my intense dislike of the overall atmosphere of desperation and deceitful manipulation. I have set foot in you-know-where 3 times - once dragged by my mom, another time to spend a gift card on PTA supplies, and once more as a Secret Shopper for which I was paid $5, which I seriously consider blood money. Each visit left me feeling like doing two things: 1) Apologize to every employee for whatever I did or didn't do as an American to help them find a better job and 2) Burn the place down. Then dance on the ashes. Okay, three things.

These strong, bitter (violent?) feelings about a store give me pause. I think it's because I'm frustrated, feeling powerless to stop the madness that is blind support of a company that obviously exploits its workers and cruelly undercuts other establishments. I get Capitalism and the economic reality of competition and I don't begrudge anyone doing business. However, doing it viciously at the expense of others and pretending to be an asset to the community - that is despicable. I am perfectly okay with someone hating me (this is just hypothetical of course) and saying so to my face. Fine. But sniping about me to others, hitting on my husband and insulting my kids before cheerfully greeting me and inviting me to a Tupperware party - that is insidious and intolerable. That place is the one inviting me to a party while deriding me behind my back. Not cool.

So what's a best friend to do? We have occasional thoughtful, reasonable discussions about American consumerism and our role as responsible citizens. Then she sneaks off to the devil store for a few things before the kids get home. But apparently my silent contempt is a great guilt-inducer, and sometimes that's all we need to change. Yes, sir, she's lucky to have me.