I haven't had so much as one comment on this blog since March. I am beginning to think that I should delete it. Talk me out of it, I dare you.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Friday, July 06, 2007
32 week ultrasound images, as promised
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Moving, nesting, anxiety and reassurance
The latest of what seems like a zillion apartment moves over the past few years has come and gone...Matt and I have been established in our new pad for nearly a month now. Of course not everything has been put away, but we're diligently fighting our usual pattern of get-things-functional-then-slack-off, leaving boxes of crap unpacked, pictures un-hung, and generally ensuring that our domicile looks like the home of a couple of wayward drunken college students.
We've had to throw out / sell some old crap, but that's way past due anyway, given that my husband is a pack-rat and I'm swinishly lazy. In any case, getting rid of some of the clutter has actually been somewhat liberating, although I suppose it's only a temporary lull before the tide of baby gear begins to fill (nay, overflow!) the void.
I guess this recent futzing about is my manifestation of the "nesting" instinct -- and why not, given that there's roughly two months before arrival of Screaming Infant. In my case, "nesting" isn't so much a matter of cleaning as it is "sort, organize, arrange, and streamline"...perhaps the cleaning will come in later, but for now the relative lack of uncluttered surfaces to clean is forcing me to be generalized in my approach. (This is just as well...I'd hate to see myself morph into some kind of OCD maniac, although given my slacker personality this seems nearly impossible.)
I'm not claiming that I've become a marvel of productivity, mind you -- only somewhat more productive than usual. Hell, on most nights Matt and I are both pretty wiped out by the time we get home from work, and the notion of home-making of any sort doesn't really appeal to either one of us (even under the best of circumstances). Nonetheless, we're getting things done...kudos are especially due for Matt, who has to take on the lion's share of the heavy work but has been extremely patient and good natured about doing so. (To my spouse: baby, yer da bee's knees. :-*)
I'm anxious about the pending childbirth ordeal, but far more so about the responsibilities of motherhood that will follow hot on the coattails of the labor and delivery experience. It's occurred to me that I'm feeling isolated...not in the sense that I'm living in outer Mongolia, of course. Essentially, I'm beginning to recognize the lack of female presence / friends in my life, and wondering how this may effect my attempt to take on the role of "mother".
Not that this dearth of female companionship is any sudden or even recent development -- I've always been sorta-kind of a loner; my close friends are few, and I usually prefer to spend my time by myself or with my significant other. Also, I seem to get along better with men...my attempts to form close friendships with females have historically ended badly, beginning in childhood and continuing more or less along the same path to the present. (Come to think of it, many of my friendships with men haven't exactly been stellar either, but that's another story.)
Anyway, until I got pregnant this lack-of-female-energy dynamic wasn't anything I thought about much. But now it seems like it may be time to make an effort to find some female friends -- and yes, including those who have children of their own. I guess that must sound pretty lame, but it seems to be the right thing to do, along with donning a cheerfully patterned house dress, bobbing my hair in a matronly fashion and accessorizing with June Cleaver pearls. Next thing you know, I'll be taking up knitting. *rolling eyes*
Maybe it's not so odd how the notion of joining the ranks of the child-ed makes me so uneasy. I can take my tongue-in-cheek pot-shots at cornball "mommy" stereotypes all I want, but I think the underlying issue is that I'm feeling insecure about my own abilities to negotiate this incredible change looming before me. The "mommy" lifestyle (and all the un-hipness it may entail) is about to become my lifestyle, and damned soon at that.
I guess that I could be bracing myself for a hefty dose of return Karma for my years of ruthless bashing of all things family-oriented during my early to mid twenties. I mean, the laws of poetic justice surely demand that such atrocious behavior in an overindulged, arrogant young woman is CERTAIN to result in her having a demonseed child which destroys her body and soul, don't they? I'm sure that there are some women out there who may have wished something like this happening to me when they heard me spouting off my booze-fueled ignorance back in 1994. When I think about this, oh how I cringe...laugh away, ye smug middle-aged family gals!
Alright, alright...shout it from the fucking rooftops; I was a an idiot when I was younger and I was very wrong about many things in which I was convinced that I was right. But there's been a lot of water under the bridge since then, and I've learned a lot about myself, and such is life. My transition from "snarky, cynical, self indulgent and sacred-cow-torching smart ass" to, well, "whatever-the-hell-I-am-now" has been interesting for me, and perhaps pretty amusing to anyone who's known me for a while. I expect to be teased ruthlessly during the approaching transition into motherhood by some of these folks, but what the hell...humility builds character, or is that adversity...?
It makes no odds; I suspect that there will be plenty of adversity and humility on my plate soon enough. And (these days at least) I try not to take myself too seriously anyway...putting myself on any sort of pedestal seems like a pretty efficient way to ensure that I'll be knocked right off of it, ass over tit -- and usually by my own hubris and stupidity. Now, can I have some hot sauce with this big slice o' humble pie, pretty please?
In the meantime, I keep moving forward in my efforts to muster the energy to provide an acceptable level of sane, responsible and loving parenthood -- an intimidating proposition, but hardly a unique one. Emotionally, I think that the whole motherhood picture is still fairly abstract for me, but it's not as though the calendar will pause for the sake of my confusion, wariness, insecurity or general lack of having my shit together. Appropriately enough, I can feel Sy kicking around inside of me as I type this, and it's giving me an odd mix of reassurance and anxiety...I really, really hope I can do right by this little guy.
Okay, I'm off to the perinatologist's this afternoon...I should have some new ultrasound images posted soon. Happy fourth!
We've had to throw out / sell some old crap, but that's way past due anyway, given that my husband is a pack-rat and I'm swinishly lazy. In any case, getting rid of some of the clutter has actually been somewhat liberating, although I suppose it's only a temporary lull before the tide of baby gear begins to fill (nay, overflow!) the void.
I guess this recent futzing about is my manifestation of the "nesting" instinct -- and why not, given that there's roughly two months before arrival of Screaming Infant. In my case, "nesting" isn't so much a matter of cleaning as it is "sort, organize, arrange, and streamline"...perhaps the cleaning will come in later, but for now the relative lack of uncluttered surfaces to clean is forcing me to be generalized in my approach. (This is just as well...I'd hate to see myself morph into some kind of OCD maniac, although given my slacker personality this seems nearly impossible.)
I'm not claiming that I've become a marvel of productivity, mind you -- only somewhat more productive than usual. Hell, on most nights Matt and I are both pretty wiped out by the time we get home from work, and the notion of home-making of any sort doesn't really appeal to either one of us (even under the best of circumstances). Nonetheless, we're getting things done...kudos are especially due for Matt, who has to take on the lion's share of the heavy work but has been extremely patient and good natured about doing so. (To my spouse: baby, yer da bee's knees. :-*)
I'm anxious about the pending childbirth ordeal, but far more so about the responsibilities of motherhood that will follow hot on the coattails of the labor and delivery experience. It's occurred to me that I'm feeling isolated...not in the sense that I'm living in outer Mongolia, of course. Essentially, I'm beginning to recognize the lack of female presence / friends in my life, and wondering how this may effect my attempt to take on the role of "mother".
Not that this dearth of female companionship is any sudden or even recent development -- I've always been sorta-kind of a loner; my close friends are few, and I usually prefer to spend my time by myself or with my significant other. Also, I seem to get along better with men...my attempts to form close friendships with females have historically ended badly, beginning in childhood and continuing more or less along the same path to the present. (Come to think of it, many of my friendships with men haven't exactly been stellar either, but that's another story.)
Anyway, until I got pregnant this lack-of-female-energy dynamic wasn't anything I thought about much. But now it seems like it may be time to make an effort to find some female friends -- and yes, including those who have children of their own. I guess that must sound pretty lame, but it seems to be the right thing to do, along with donning a cheerfully patterned house dress, bobbing my hair in a matronly fashion and accessorizing with June Cleaver pearls. Next thing you know, I'll be taking up knitting. *rolling eyes*
Maybe it's not so odd how the notion of joining the ranks of the child-ed makes me so uneasy. I can take my tongue-in-cheek pot-shots at cornball "mommy" stereotypes all I want, but I think the underlying issue is that I'm feeling insecure about my own abilities to negotiate this incredible change looming before me. The "mommy" lifestyle (and all the un-hipness it may entail) is about to become my lifestyle, and damned soon at that.
I guess that I could be bracing myself for a hefty dose of return Karma for my years of ruthless bashing of all things family-oriented during my early to mid twenties. I mean, the laws of poetic justice surely demand that such atrocious behavior in an overindulged, arrogant young woman is CERTAIN to result in her having a demonseed child which destroys her body and soul, don't they? I'm sure that there are some women out there who may have wished something like this happening to me when they heard me spouting off my booze-fueled ignorance back in 1994. When I think about this, oh how I cringe...laugh away, ye smug middle-aged family gals!
Alright, alright...shout it from the fucking rooftops; I was a an idiot when I was younger and I was very wrong about many things in which I was convinced that I was right. But there's been a lot of water under the bridge since then, and I've learned a lot about myself, and such is life. My transition from "snarky, cynical, self indulgent and sacred-cow-torching smart ass" to, well, "whatever-the-hell-I-am-now" has been interesting for me, and perhaps pretty amusing to anyone who's known me for a while. I expect to be teased ruthlessly during the approaching transition into motherhood by some of these folks, but what the hell...humility builds character, or is that adversity...?
It makes no odds; I suspect that there will be plenty of adversity and humility on my plate soon enough. And (these days at least) I try not to take myself too seriously anyway...putting myself on any sort of pedestal seems like a pretty efficient way to ensure that I'll be knocked right off of it, ass over tit -- and usually by my own hubris and stupidity. Now, can I have some hot sauce with this big slice o' humble pie, pretty please?
In the meantime, I keep moving forward in my efforts to muster the energy to provide an acceptable level of sane, responsible and loving parenthood -- an intimidating proposition, but hardly a unique one. Emotionally, I think that the whole motherhood picture is still fairly abstract for me, but it's not as though the calendar will pause for the sake of my confusion, wariness, insecurity or general lack of having my shit together. Appropriately enough, I can feel Sy kicking around inside of me as I type this, and it's giving me an odd mix of reassurance and anxiety...I really, really hope I can do right by this little guy.
Okay, I'm off to the perinatologist's this afternoon...I should have some new ultrasound images posted soon. Happy fourth!
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
More photos of the burgeoning belly
These were taken during a brief excursion into the mountains this past Sunday (26 weeks, 3 days -- you're damn right I'm still counting!).
Here's my impression of a hippy chick giving whole-wheat dolphin-safe birth to a mystic granola baby. Behold, the miracle of life...
And because I didn't want to hog the spotlight, here's my handsome spouse modeling his own "sympathy belly" (yeah, right):
Here's my impression of a hippy chick giving whole-wheat dolphin-safe birth to a mystic granola baby. Behold, the miracle of life...
And because I didn't want to hog the spotlight, here's my handsome spouse modeling his own "sympathy belly" (yeah, right):
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Friday, April 20, 2007
Mo' betta belly
At long last, here are the promised recent belly pics. They didn't come out that great (camera issues), and so I had to play with them in Photoshop a bit to get something workable. Nonetheless, I guarantee that my belly is unretouched.
Here's a shot from a couple of weeks ago (19 weeks):
Here are two shots taken yesterday (21 weeks) by Ben, my co-worker:
Here's a shot from a couple of weeks ago (19 weeks):
Here are two shots taken yesterday (21 weeks) by Ben, my co-worker:
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Preggo report, April '07
So, here I am…slightly more than halfway into my pregnancy; tomorrow marks week 21. For an in-depth (*ahem*) look at what’s happening inside of my uterine cavity (and every other pregnant womans' cavity at this stage), go here (or see the floating blob-in-the-orb widget at the top of this page).
I suppose it may seem odd that I’ve blogged so little about being up the pole…I guess I figured that the subject wouldn’t be all that interesting to my teeming masses of devoted readers. Heh. Perhaps more accurately, it’s not as though there’s any shortage of “mommy blogs” out there in the ether (I ought to know -- I’ve been skimming quite a few of them lately) -- but then there’s only one ME blog. Ok -- actually I have three of them, but who’s counting? It’s my party, and I’ll bore you to tears if I wanna. And in triplicate.
Pregnancy continues to be easier than I imagined it would be (so far). The legion complications, discomforts, humiliations and uncertainties I was expecting have amounted to minor inconveniences, and in some cases there have even been (snicker) “perks”, such as my fitting into a C-cup bra for the first time in my life, woo!
The back catalog of momma-to-be publications which I have perused are full of advice for “today’s active woman” – tips on modifying her exercise schedule, working “pregnancy breaks” into her daily activities, emphasizing the need to get enough rest and relaxation and not try to do too much, etc. But being the slacker that I am, “slowing down and backing off” is essentially my M.O., so I guess I’m hunky-dory on that point at least.
Mind you, this isn’t to say that I’ve been completely idle; I have, in my half-assed way, been trying to streamline my life in preparation for this grand event, but I think of it more in terms of “cleaning house” than “training for a marathon”.
**On that note: I am sick to death of the prevalence of competitive “Type-A” management-speak terminology found in most baby-related websites – does everything in life have to be turned into a (pun intended) motherfucking competition?! Enough already!
Anyway, lately I’ve been trying to put together a baby registry gift list, and for someone like myself (relatively ignorant of such pregnancy traditions until now), it’s an educational but daunting process. While I may have been aware of the vast infant and child marketing demographic before, it was usually within the context of my scorn and outrage against rampant consumerism (“JESUS CHRIST, how in the hell can people need all of that silly plastic crap??”).
Now that I am “in the foxholes” (so to speak) I proudly remain an atheist, but my outrage has been tempered a by a desire to “do this right” (whatever that means). For the time being, this desire seems to be manifesting in what kind of supplies I choose for my baby, but I’ll give myself credit for at least trying to do some research before I grab. Consumer Reports has been very helpful with some of the big-ticket items, and the advice of other mothers I know has been of great assistance (and sometimes confusion) as well.
That being said, I’ll add that I stay away from the pregnant lady forums for such information – a flood of enthusiastic but highly biased opinions usually leaves me feeling more perplexed than reassured, go figure. Furthermore, some of these women can be damned nasty…the view of the American cross-section via the internet is usually enlightening (and amusing), but when said cross-section is comprised entirely of hormonally-propelled women, well, let’s just say that the ground of rationality and logic can slope away pretty quickly. I’ve got enough of a hard time keeping my own emotional feet on the ground these days without a horde of spastic brood hens shrieking at my godless self via ASCII, thanks very much.
And how am I handling this physically, you may wonder? Well, just fine (according to my OB), although I’m far heavier than I’ve ever been before. Given that I was hardly a dainty petite flower even before I got knocked up, I seem to be handling the extra sixteen lbs or so that I’ve gained so far without too much difficulty, but some days are easier than others. Today I feel normal and springy, but yesterday every movement was like swimming through blackstrap molasses; I felt like a ton of poorly stacked bricks. Given that I’m likely to gain another 15 to 20 lbs (at least), it should be interesting to see how I cope…my back gets sore now just from sitting on my couch, and it’s getting harder for me to rise from a seated or laying down position without making terrific groaning and grunting noises (a source of much amusement to Matt, but I won’t deny him his laughs because he changes the cat boxes). Momentum seems to help me “launch”, but the time may come when the sudden motion combined with the gravitational pull of my huge belly could become downright dangerous. Yet another reason for me to stay the hell out of those tempting Franklin Mint outlet stores, eh?
On the lighter side (*rimshot*), I’ve discovered that pregnancy makes me horny -- very horny. Whether Matt is delighted or intimidated by this development varies from day to day (poor guy), but I’m trying to enjoy it while I can. Something tells me that in a couple of months the idea of having sex will seem about as appealing as riding a mechanical bull while naked, and after consuming several pounds of mashed potatoes (also while naked…?). Hell of an image, I know, but here’s hoping my libido sticks around for a while. I’m having more fun surfing internet porn these days than most fourteen year-old boys, and I don’t even have to steal my mother’s credit card to do it!
I’ve been promising new belly pics for some time now, and I plan to have Matt take some more of them tonight. Stay tuned for greater (MUCH greater) things to come.
By the way, in case any of the three people who read this blog don’t already know, Matt and I are expecting a son – for recent ultrasound images, go here.
I suppose it may seem odd that I’ve blogged so little about being up the pole…I guess I figured that the subject wouldn’t be all that interesting to my teeming masses of devoted readers. Heh. Perhaps more accurately, it’s not as though there’s any shortage of “mommy blogs” out there in the ether (I ought to know -- I’ve been skimming quite a few of them lately) -- but then there’s only one ME blog. Ok -- actually I have three of them, but who’s counting? It’s my party, and I’ll bore you to tears if I wanna. And in triplicate.
Pregnancy continues to be easier than I imagined it would be (so far). The legion complications, discomforts, humiliations and uncertainties I was expecting have amounted to minor inconveniences, and in some cases there have even been (snicker) “perks”, such as my fitting into a C-cup bra for the first time in my life, woo!
The back catalog of momma-to-be publications which I have perused are full of advice for “today’s active woman” – tips on modifying her exercise schedule, working “pregnancy breaks” into her daily activities, emphasizing the need to get enough rest and relaxation and not try to do too much, etc. But being the slacker that I am, “slowing down and backing off” is essentially my M.O., so I guess I’m hunky-dory on that point at least.
Mind you, this isn’t to say that I’ve been completely idle; I have, in my half-assed way, been trying to streamline my life in preparation for this grand event, but I think of it more in terms of “cleaning house” than “training for a marathon”.
**On that note: I am sick to death of the prevalence of competitive “Type-A” management-speak terminology found in most baby-related websites – does everything in life have to be turned into a (pun intended) motherfucking competition?! Enough already!
Anyway, lately I’ve been trying to put together a baby registry gift list, and for someone like myself (relatively ignorant of such pregnancy traditions until now), it’s an educational but daunting process. While I may have been aware of the vast infant and child marketing demographic before, it was usually within the context of my scorn and outrage against rampant consumerism (“JESUS CHRIST, how in the hell can people need all of that silly plastic crap??”).
Now that I am “in the foxholes” (so to speak) I proudly remain an atheist, but my outrage has been tempered a by a desire to “do this right” (whatever that means). For the time being, this desire seems to be manifesting in what kind of supplies I choose for my baby, but I’ll give myself credit for at least trying to do some research before I grab. Consumer Reports has been very helpful with some of the big-ticket items, and the advice of other mothers I know has been of great assistance (and sometimes confusion) as well.
That being said, I’ll add that I stay away from the pregnant lady forums for such information – a flood of enthusiastic but highly biased opinions usually leaves me feeling more perplexed than reassured, go figure. Furthermore, some of these women can be damned nasty…the view of the American cross-section via the internet is usually enlightening (and amusing), but when said cross-section is comprised entirely of hormonally-propelled women, well, let’s just say that the ground of rationality and logic can slope away pretty quickly. I’ve got enough of a hard time keeping my own emotional feet on the ground these days without a horde of spastic brood hens shrieking at my godless self via ASCII, thanks very much.
And how am I handling this physically, you may wonder? Well, just fine (according to my OB), although I’m far heavier than I’ve ever been before. Given that I was hardly a dainty petite flower even before I got knocked up, I seem to be handling the extra sixteen lbs or so that I’ve gained so far without too much difficulty, but some days are easier than others. Today I feel normal and springy, but yesterday every movement was like swimming through blackstrap molasses; I felt like a ton of poorly stacked bricks. Given that I’m likely to gain another 15 to 20 lbs (at least), it should be interesting to see how I cope…my back gets sore now just from sitting on my couch, and it’s getting harder for me to rise from a seated or laying down position without making terrific groaning and grunting noises (a source of much amusement to Matt, but I won’t deny him his laughs because he changes the cat boxes). Momentum seems to help me “launch”, but the time may come when the sudden motion combined with the gravitational pull of my huge belly could become downright dangerous. Yet another reason for me to stay the hell out of those tempting Franklin Mint outlet stores, eh?
On the lighter side (*rimshot*), I’ve discovered that pregnancy makes me horny -- very horny. Whether Matt is delighted or intimidated by this development varies from day to day (poor guy), but I’m trying to enjoy it while I can. Something tells me that in a couple of months the idea of having sex will seem about as appealing as riding a mechanical bull while naked, and after consuming several pounds of mashed potatoes (also while naked…?). Hell of an image, I know, but here’s hoping my libido sticks around for a while. I’m having more fun surfing internet porn these days than most fourteen year-old boys, and I don’t even have to steal my mother’s credit card to do it!
I’ve been promising new belly pics for some time now, and I plan to have Matt take some more of them tonight. Stay tuned for greater (MUCH greater) things to come.
By the way, in case any of the three people who read this blog don’t already know, Matt and I are expecting a son – for recent ultrasound images, go here.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Car!
Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's back into car-loan debt we go. Ach, to hell with it...we needed a car and we got one, and with a reasonably good deal. I must say that it's nice to come out of a car-buying experience without finding yourself with the psychological equivalent of a bleeding rectum stretched to the size of the
Eisenhower tunnel.
Anyway, behold our nifty new ride -- the 2007 Hyundai Elantra. A sensible little family truckster, wouldn't you say?
(ours is dark grey, and as such I have named it "Spalding". I miss that guy.)
Eisenhower tunnel.
Anyway, behold our nifty new ride -- the 2007 Hyundai Elantra. A sensible little family truckster, wouldn't you say?
(ours is dark grey, and as such I have named it "Spalding". I miss that guy.)
Pre-parental tension
The pregnancy continues on it's life-altering course. Physically I'm doing just fine -- according to my OB I've gained about 9-10 lbs so far, which is well within an acceptable range for my gestation (currently 18 weeks). Not that you'd guess this to look at me; my belly is huge and I feel like a moose. I know, I know -- "shut up and be pregnant". I am, and all things considered it's not really bothering me all that much, even though I am as big as I've ever been in my life (soon to get even bigger, muah-ah-ahhhh!). I'm not looking forward to having to lose the weight, but what the hell...every pregnant woman in the world goes through this.
Matt and I have been having a rough time of it lately...things are OK now, but the past couple of weeks have been tense (to put it mildly). I attribute this to a combination of factors: I'm pregnant, hormonal and being weaned off anti-depressants; Matt's having major father-to-be anxiety and a stressful time at his job, and we're in a fairly dismal financial situation. Oh, and we're both trying to minimalize the booze intake while negotiating the huge amount of life tweaking / streamlining necessitated by the pending arrival of a screaming newborn. Furthermore, we have a history of going Klingon when trying to solve problems together...definitely candidates for Parents of the Century, eh folks? *rolling eyes*
Anyway, after I realized that acting like a hystrionic bitch wasn't helping anything, I decided to try and ease back on the chicken-little routine while somehow remaining focused on what needs to be done before the baby arrives. I can't say that I'm feeling very sure of myself right now...I'm as daunted by parenthood as Matt, and as I've mentioned our lives are hardly in that "Okay! NOW we're ready to have kids!" strata that the media would have me believe actually exists.
But instead of beating myself up for my perceptions of inferiority and buying into all of the gloomy predictions given to me by my own family ("Your life is a MESS!"), I'm making an effort to remain positive and proactive. I'm trying to find strength to convince my husband that everything will ultimately be alright, and maybe even BETTER than alright...I guess by doing that I'm trying to convince myself as well. Hopefully he and I can get in a situation where we're pulling together...I think it's possible, and am trying like hell to not let these hopes become buried under my fears.
Matt and I have been having a rough time of it lately...things are OK now, but the past couple of weeks have been tense (to put it mildly). I attribute this to a combination of factors: I'm pregnant, hormonal and being weaned off anti-depressants; Matt's having major father-to-be anxiety and a stressful time at his job, and we're in a fairly dismal financial situation. Oh, and we're both trying to minimalize the booze intake while negotiating the huge amount of life tweaking / streamlining necessitated by the pending arrival of a screaming newborn. Furthermore, we have a history of going Klingon when trying to solve problems together...definitely candidates for Parents of the Century, eh folks? *rolling eyes*
Anyway, after I realized that acting like a hystrionic bitch wasn't helping anything, I decided to try and ease back on the chicken-little routine while somehow remaining focused on what needs to be done before the baby arrives. I can't say that I'm feeling very sure of myself right now...I'm as daunted by parenthood as Matt, and as I've mentioned our lives are hardly in that "Okay! NOW we're ready to have kids!" strata that the media would have me believe actually exists.
But instead of beating myself up for my perceptions of inferiority and buying into all of the gloomy predictions given to me by my own family ("Your life is a MESS!"), I'm making an effort to remain positive and proactive. I'm trying to find strength to convince my husband that everything will ultimately be alright, and maybe even BETTER than alright...I guess by doing that I'm trying to convince myself as well. Hopefully he and I can get in a situation where we're pulling together...I think it's possible, and am trying like hell to not let these hopes become buried under my fears.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
"Mammon is Queen"
Okay, like some other poseur faux-intellectual-walking-stereotype-of-the-left snobs you may know, I rarely watch network television. However, during a recent visit with my mother and sister in North Carolina, I found myself parked in front of an idiot box pretty much constantly, as it seemed to be the easiest way to avoid the pitfall of conversing with my relations. Yeah, I know -- "ask me about my dysfunctional family". Or better yet, don't.
At any rate, by the insistence of my sister and my own tendency toward cowardly avoidance of conflict, I sat through a portion of Oprah that may as well have been an infomercial for the latest self-help craze known as "The Secret". I choked down about ten minutes of bromidic viewer testimony and smugly authoritative commentary from Oprah's "expert panel" before (by way of preventing myself from asphyxiating on my own righteous indignation) needing to leave the room.
My husband -- who clearly has a higher outrage threshold than I, or at least is a lot more mean-spirited -- viewed the entire show, and highlighted it for me afterwards despite my clapping my hands over my ears and rolling around on the floor screaming "NONONONONONONO!!". And because I think he truly enjoys seeing me get pissed off (so long as it's not at him), he recently forwarded this Slate.com piece to me (quoted below). Which, in turn, I am now compelled to share with the three individuals who might actually read this blog. Vive le spleen!
"And at what point do we stop feeling like we have to take the good with the craven when it comes to Oprah, and the culture she's helped to create? I get nauseated when I think of people in South Africa being taught they don't have enough money because they're "blocking it with their thoughts." I'm already sickened by an American culture that teaches people, as "The Secret" does, that they "create the circumstances of their lives with the choices they make every day," a culture that elected a president who cried tears of self-congratulation at his inauguration, rejects intellectualism, and believes he can intuit the trustworthiness of world leaders by looking into their eyes. I'm sickened by a culture in which the tenets of the Oprah philosophy have become conventional wisdom, in which genuine self-actualization has been confused with self-aggrandizement, reality is whatever you want it to be, and mammon is queen."
~Peter Birkenhead
At any rate, by the insistence of my sister and my own tendency toward cowardly avoidance of conflict, I sat through a portion of Oprah that may as well have been an infomercial for the latest self-help craze known as "The Secret". I choked down about ten minutes of bromidic viewer testimony and smugly authoritative commentary from Oprah's "expert panel" before (by way of preventing myself from asphyxiating on my own righteous indignation) needing to leave the room.
My husband -- who clearly has a higher outrage threshold than I, or at least is a lot more mean-spirited -- viewed the entire show, and highlighted it for me afterwards despite my clapping my hands over my ears and rolling around on the floor screaming "NONONONONONONO!!". And because I think he truly enjoys seeing me get pissed off (so long as it's not at him), he recently forwarded this Slate.com piece to me (quoted below). Which, in turn, I am now compelled to share with the three individuals who might actually read this blog. Vive le spleen!
"And at what point do we stop feeling like we have to take the good with the craven when it comes to Oprah, and the culture she's helped to create? I get nauseated when I think of people in South Africa being taught they don't have enough money because they're "blocking it with their thoughts." I'm already sickened by an American culture that teaches people, as "The Secret" does, that they "create the circumstances of their lives with the choices they make every day," a culture that elected a president who cried tears of self-congratulation at his inauguration, rejects intellectualism, and believes he can intuit the trustworthiness of world leaders by looking into their eyes. I'm sickened by a culture in which the tenets of the Oprah philosophy have become conventional wisdom, in which genuine self-actualization has been confused with self-aggrandizement, reality is whatever you want it to be, and mammon is queen."
~Peter Birkenhead
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