People Really Sing These Things?

Apparently, I have been under estimating the talent that is Lady Gaga. I was not aware that she was such a lyricist. The sheer poetry that is required to use the term "glue gun" in a song is astounding:

I won't tell you that I love you

Kiss or hug you

Cause I'm bluffin' with my muffin

I'm not lying I'm just stunnin' with my love-glue-gunning

I was so stunned when I heard the words on the radio in the song "Poker Face" that I almost stopped the car. As soon as I reached my house, I had to confirm that what I thought I heard was, in fact, what I heard. Sure enough, it was.

I can only imagine what "I'm bluffin' with my muffin" means. The images running through my head really aren't that pretty.

The Joy of Song

For all of my complaints of how overpaid lyricists try to pass off fuzzy rhyme and verse as poetry to music, I must admit there are still songs that can take my breath away. I was reminded of this again today when I took a moment to enjoy the final verse of "The Boxer" by Simon and Garfunkel:

In the clearing stands a boxer,

And a fighter by his trade

And he carries the reminders

Of ev'ry glove that laid him down

Or cut him till he cried out

In his anger and his shame,

"I am leaving, I am leaving."

But the fighter still remains

The imagery is so simple and yet so powerful that it makes me want to weep. I can clearly see the beaten man, head lowered, gloves dangling from tired hands. All he wants to do is go home. But he stays, pursuing a dream built on "lies and jest."

This is the kind of song that makes listening to the radio worthwhile.

And it's the kind of storytelling I aspire to write.

A Long Road to Old

I keep hearing radio commercials advertising that David Cook will perform at the 2009 Oregon State Fair. Initially, all I could think was, "Wow, from American Idol winner to State Fair performer ... that's a long fall from grace in a short period of time."

Then, I realized I saw Sting in concert at the Oregon State Fair.

When I was in college.

Which led me, of course, to my second realization: I'm definitely old.

I'm not sure why it always surprises me when I remember that 40 is a mere 10 months away (exactly 10 months, in fact), but it does. Must be early onset dementia sneaking up on me.

(For all the youngsters out there, Sting used to be the lead singer of The Police. He sang about his love for Roxanne, the prostitute, and begged people not to stand too close to him before leaving the band to start a solo career, which went nowhere fast. Now, he's probably best known for his on-again, off-again claims of marathon sessions of tantric sex with his wife.)

Pondering Moments

Now that I have time, I find I ponder a lot of things. Below is a brief -- and (admittedly) mostly judgmental -- selection of these musings:

-- Do people who dress up in their finest to shop at Target think their attire makes up for the fact that they are chewing gum like a common farm animal?

-- Is there any chance that today's teens will learn that if they will just watch where they are going rather than texting as they walk, they won't crash into others?

-- Is there a chance that those same teens will ever learn that they are at fault for the collisions and stop cussing others out for their rudeness?

-- Do members of a band ever realize that what they term as "poetry" is often just gibberish?

-- Why do people insist on driving in the left-hand lane when they aren't passing anyone?

-- The more famous Kathy Griffin gets, the less funny she becomes

-- Does Starbucks realize that I (and my coffee-loving brethren) have figured out that you get three shots of espresso in an iced venti mocha but only two in a hot venti mocha for the exact same price?

-- Cheese: How could something that tastes so right be so wrong?

-- Wine: Ditto

Off to ponder a little longer ...

Dealing with the Geographically Challenged

The following is an actual conversation between my mother and step-father, who were talking to one of their friends about a trip they are taking:

Step-father: "Our first stop is going to be in Leavenworth, Washington. It's made to look like a Bolivian town ..."

Mother: "No ... no ... Bavarian. It's supposed to look like a Bavarian town."

Step-father: "Bolivian, Bavarian ... it's the same thing."

Mother: "It's not the same thing. Bavaria is Scandinavian and ..."

Me: "No, Mother. Bavaria is not part of Scandinavia."

Mother: "Well, close enough."

-- sigh --

I relate this for two reasons:

1. There's a reason I don't always come across as "worldly"
2. No matter what else is going on in your life, you can generally still find a reason to laugh at your relatives

I double-dog dare you to take a good, hard look at your family and laugh today.

Continuing Absurdity of Commercials Part II

The Celebrity: Sarah Jessica Parker (a.k.a. SJP, ex-Carrie Bradshaw)

The Set Up: Based on the commercial, it's a little hard to tell at first. The only thing I can seem to focus on when SJP appears on screen is how big her forehead seems with her hair pulled back and how bright and smooth and shiny her face appears. Her head almost looks like a bowling ball.

Then, as she starts prattling on and squeezing a little red ball, we get to hear about how she's concerned with preventing and repairing lines and wrinkles on her face.

The Solution/Product: Well, obviously ... it's for a skin care line designed to relieve people of their unsightly wrinkles ... and apparently every distinguishing facial feature they have ever had.

The Absurdity: Where do I even begin? The list seems endless:

1. Her skin has obviously been sandblasted to doll-like perfection (hopefully, by a doctor). It is not natural and no matter how many times you use this over-the-counter product, you will not achieve these results.

2. The commercial is perfectly lit so that it flattens out every feature and no shadow can possibly fall in a wrinkle or a crevice. Unfortunately, the rest of us mere mortals do not have the option of being perfectly lit from all sides at all times.

3. Sorry, but I remember SJP back from the days when she was in "Square Pegs," as well as that painful "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" movie (opposite Helen Hunt) and the delightfully odd "L.A. Story" (opposite Steve Martin). Even then, she sported the first sign of crows feet. Again, believing an over-the-counter potion can counteract the long-term effects of sun and Hollywood is absurd.

4. She smokes. And she's over 40. Smoker + Over 40 = Anything but wrinkle-free skin.

Parting Thought: I don't care how many potions and lotions you inject into SJP's face, if you squash her head the way she squeezes the red rubber ball, nothing would bounce back.

Fun in Wineville

Sunday.

McMenimins.

McMinnville.

While this is clearly a standard stop on Fridays and Saturdays for the wine country crowd, Sundays is for the locals. People just looking to get away from it all. Have a drink or two in peace. And maybe some decent food. While not the most upscale place, of it is definitely homey. And relaxed.

Who could ask for more?

Career Choices

I thought about becoming a Personal Organizer. They earn good money, get to make their own hours and they don't need a specialized degree to do it. Besides, how hard could it be? Chuck old stuff that has no sentimental value and find homes for the rest. Invest in a few boxes and a label maker and you're set, right?

Then I read that professional organizers need to be compassionate.

Well, crap ... there goes another career aspiration.

Continuing Absurdity of Commercials

The Celebrity: Julianne Hough (the "professional" dancer from Dancing with the Stars who became a "professional" country singer)

The Set Up: Poor Julianne used to suffer from unsightly pimples under her caked-on make-up. She needed a way to take those pimples away.

The Solution/Product: A three-step acne-fighting regimen

The Absurdity:

1. While "demonstrating" the product, "professional" Julianne "smooths" the cleanser on her face and then "wipes it off" with washcloth. Of course, the washcloth isn't wet and her face is still caked with make-up after using the cleanser. Does this acne company think we're stupid?

2. Perhaps, just perhaps, if poor Julianne wore a little less make-up, she wouldn't break out and wouldn't need the acne line. Or, if she didn't partake in a profession that required her to complete a full workout while she was in full make-up, she might find the same results.

But that would be smart. And sensible. And simple.

Cutting Through the BS of BS

I have been struck of late by the number of products Brooke Shields is peddling. It seems like every time I turn on the TV, I am bombarded by yet another commercial featuring her extolling the benefits of a product. As of now, I have seen her in commercials for toothpaste and a sun block that somehow, amazingly reverses the signs of sun damage. How ever do they do that?

The third BS-hawked product is a prescription medicine that is used to make your eye lashes longer. Of course, one potential side effect of using such a drug is that your eyes could be permanently discolored. Yeah, like that's what I want to use. Or promote.

Aside from the absurdity of the products, though, I find two fascinating things in all of this:

1. Is Brooke Shields really so hard up after her miserable, overrated flop called "Lipstick Jungle" was tossed off the air that she has to jump on any and every commercial opportunity that comes her way?

2. Do companies really believe that Brooke Shields has the appeal necessary to convince naive consumers to mindlessly buy their products? I find it hard to believe that people decide to buy something just because they've seen BS in a commercial.

Of course, I find it hard to believe that anyone is buying anything simply because they have seen it in a commercial. Can't we think for ourselves? Can't we figure out what's right for our lives without someone telling us what we need to make it better?

Here's to cutting out the BS in our lives.

Finally Read THE Book

For years, friends have been telling me that I needed to read "The Devil Wears Prada." They said that I would find Miranda Priestly familiar.

From watching the movie, I already knew that the similarities I saw were almost haunting. I still can't watch Meryl Streep say "Why is no one ready?" in just that oh-so-put-upon tone without having flashbacks of a woman I worked with who brought every assistant she ever had to tears ... on a regular basis.

When you are in the midst of a similar situation, though, the last thing you want to do is read a book that reminds you of just how horrible people can be in treating others. So, try as I might, I couldn't ever make it past more than the first five pages.

Finally, after much coaxing by a friend, I picked up the book again to read. In the movie, of course, you only get a glimpse of the depravity of which this woman is capable. The book was much more enlightening than I could imagine. Not only did it remind me that I worked with a woman exactly like Miranda Priestly, but it made me realize I also worked with a woman who must have been using the book as a primer on how to get ahead in management.

Of course, in reading this, I once again have to ask: What makes people act like this? What drives them to such horrendous behavior? Are they just so unhappy with their own lives that they must spew their vile on others? Are they jealous? Bullies? Drunk with power? Were they just born without any empathy?

Let's face it, if these Mirandas of the world were out killing people in the same way they slaughter careers, egos, emotions and personal lives, we would call them sociopaths. Instead, the best we can muster is "assholes," all the while hoping the moniker will be enough to warn others of the darkness in their souls.

Does Anyone Actually Listen to Songs Anymore?

Now, I will admit that I really liked Duran Duran when I was a teenager, but clearly, I didn't pay much attention to the lyrics. The following is a line from their song "Hungry Like the Wolf" (forever immortalized in Oregon history as being the song that was playing on the radio when Diane Downs shot her own children):

"I smell like I sound ..."

Um ... WHAT?

I'd write out the rest of the lyrics, but they don't help clarify what that line is supposed to be conveying.

Coffee Oases

A few days ago, I told a friend that I was in a bad mood and had almost rammed a woman who was trying to beat me to the drive through at Starbucks. I was surprised to discover that what she found most fascinating about my story was not that I had been in such an irritable mood, but that there was such a thing as a Starbucks with a drive through.

Considering she lives in Manhattan, that probably shouldn't have surprised me. But it did make me start thinking about how ubiquitous drive-through coffee joints are in Oregon. So, I decided to count those in my own little community. In counting, I included only those that were:

1. Drive-throughs
2. Predominantly coffee places (no McDonald's, for example, could be included)
3. On the main drag through town (I didn't, after all, want to go crazy and try to track down every coffee joint in town)

In a town of 32,400 people on a 3.2-mile stretch of road, I came up with eight:

Coffee shops on the south side of Highway 99

Start with the Starbucks, of course.

If you look closely (behind the tree), you will see the "drive thru" sign.


Sorry, I was taking some of these while driving. This is a little trailer that is always busy.

Another driving picture. Bad, I know. This is near City Hall, across from the fire station.

Coffee shops on the north side of Highway 99

This one is in Texaco's parking lot. Gas and coffee all in one spot.

This is a little place called LeAnn's. If you look in the background, you can see the sign for Wal-Mart.

The larger of two Dutch Bros. in town.

The smaller Dutch Bros. This one has only one drive-up window.

The little Java Junction that's across Highway 99 from Starbucks. It does great business. One of the biggest sellers is its Mexican hot chocolate.

See? Despite what everyone might say, I come by my love for coffee honestly. It's an Oregon institution.

Of course, don't make me count the number of wineries in and around my little town. That little Oregon institution would put the coffee places to shame. :)

Time Keeps on Slipping, Slipping Away

Time has been slipping away for me. Obviously. I haven't found time to post in weeks. In fact, I can't make it through the first chapter in my organize your life handbook.

Is that pathetic or what?

Question of the Day

What's a Hollaback Girl? And why does she want to spell the word "bananas"? To prove she can?

My Kingdom for a Dash-Mounted Camera ...

Not that I truly, truly need something so extravagant, but It would have been handy today when I came across the Malibu-Barbi pink Hummer. Complete with vanity plates, a matching pink windshield decal announcing it was a Hummer 2 (not simply a Hummer) and a platinum blonde, overly tanned Barbi behind the wheel, I wondered for a moment if the vehicle was part of an April Fool's day prank.

Then I realized that it wasn't yet April and no one in their right mind would take such elaborate steps for a prank.

Of course, no one in their right mind would buy a Malibu-Barbi pink Hummer in general.

My kingdom for a picture of the monstrosity ...

No Room For Assholes

A dear friend of mine encouraged me to read the book "The No Asshole Rule: Building a Civilized Workplace and Surviving One That Isn't" by Robert I Sutton, Ph.D. I have to admit that I was skeptical at first because I have worked too many places that claim to have a no asshole rule only to find that the entire roost was ruled by them.

The book was very good, though. The author not only explained what it was like to work with jerks, but laid out a simple two-question test to identify said jerks:

1. After talking to the alleged asshole, does the "target" feel oppressed, humiliated, de-energized, or belittled by the person? In particular, does the target feel worse about him or herself?

2. Does the alleged asshole aim his or her venom at people who are less powerful rather than at those people who are more powerful?

The second question, I think, is the most telling. How many of us have worked with people who take out their wrath on people who report to them, but are sweet as pie to those they report to? Many would say this is managing up. I'd counter that it is being two-faced.

Further, the author outlined common actions of assholes (or as he called them, The Dirty Dozen):

1. Personal insults
2. Invading one's personal territory
3. Uninvited physical contact
4. Threats and intimidation, both verbal and nonverbal
5. "Sarcastic jokes" and "teasing" used as insult delivery system
6. Withering e-mail flames
7. Status slaps intended to humiliate their victims
8. Public shaming or "status degradation" rituals
9. Rude interruptions
10. Two-faced attacks
11. Dirty looks
12. Treating people as if they are invisible

What I found so interesting about this list is that many people may not even define some of these things as inappropriate behavior. Often, this is because things such as "dirty looks" or "treating people as if they are invisible" are subjective, hard to quantify. They don't always seem to cross the line like yelling or name calling might. That doesn't mean, though, that the behaviors are any less hurtful or demeaning. It's like the classic abuse situation -- just because there aren't bruises doesn't mean that abuse isn't occurring.

The other interesting point that the author made was that we have all been guilty of these behaviors from time to time. The difference, though, is whether you are an occasional asshole or a certified asshole. One is fairly transitory -- it overtakes us and leaves us feeling guilty in the end. The other is, well, the other.

What was also intriguing was the number of places that seem to adopt a no asshole rule only to violate it repeatedly. The end result is poor performance, high turnover and a reputation that some companies (or individual jerks and bullies) cannot overcome.

According to the book, there is an upshot in all of this. For the victims of such abuse, the consolation is knowing that jerks do get theirs in the end. Call it karma or universal retribution or simply the fact that they run out of people who don't know their games and the pain they inflict on others. At the end of the day, these people will suffer for their actions.

The book is a quick read and well worth the investment.

********************************************************************

"The difference between how a person treats the powerless versus the powerful is as good a measure of human character as I know."

-- Robert I. Sutton, Ph.D.

This is Simplicity?

In an attempt to simplify my life, I think I have filled it far fuller than before. I am working less than I once was, but now I have -- literally -- stacks of magazines and books left unread, personal writing projects that are unwritten, cross stitch projects that are untackled and artwork that has been left unpainted. And that doesn't even take into account all of the cleaning I want to do and yet somehow never get to. In the midst of this, I am left to wonder when I thought I would have time for it all.

What's even more intriguing is how I got it all done when I was working 70-plus hours a week. Of course, I now have far more time to think and consider the work I am doing and appreciate the little things in life. Still, it's interesting to know what takes priority when your life shifts courses. Work can expand and contract to fill our days, but what else we fit in around the edges defines who we really are.

Literary Fear Mongering

I really have to wonder about some of the reading materials available out there. During a recent trip to the bookstore, I found a slim paperback book titled "Wash Your Hands! Dirty Truth About Germs, Viruses and Epidemics." Since I have a fairly sick fascination with all things viral, I picked it up. What I didn't realize was the book was little more than a roadmap to turn even the most level-headed American into a hypochondriac. The description on the back of the book reads, in part:

"Did you know the brown spots on apples are carcinogenic? That gardening can lead to Legionnaire's disease? That a a toothbrush can pass on the hepatitis virus, or than an improperly cared-for cavity can endanger the heart? These health risks -- the very real results of diminished attention to personal hygiene, especially hand washing -- crop up in every part of life. ... From allergies to the possibility of an avian flu pandemic, Dr. Frederick Saldmann examines in detail the many dangers that may lie in wait and sets out simple measures for keeping them at safe distance -- his number one mandate being washing your hands as often and as thoroughly as possible."

Hmmmm ... really? It's our inattention to personal hygiene that has caused this? I am to believe that we are dirtier now than at, say, around the Civil War, when baths were taken once a month? And as for the brown spots on apples being carcinogenic ... well, that's a stretch, in my opinion. Brown spots are rot often caused by mold or fungus. Although not particularly toxic, studies have indicated that one of the main forms of this rot could be a genotoxic, which has led people to speculate that it is a carcinogen. Animal studies have been inconclusive.

That's my long way of saying that I think this book represents fear mongering at its worst. Yet you know someone is going to buy this and believe it. And then we are going to have another hypochondriac on our hands.

Help us all.

Appreciating the Little Bills ...

When I originally left Oregon 16 years ago, I was looking for something bigger and wider and brighter than where I had lived my entire life. So, I moved to Southern California, in search of my own golden dreams.

What I didn't know was just how much gold those dreams would consume in their own right. As I bounced from Victorville (it's near Barstow ... you're thinking of Vacaville, which is in Northern California) to San Bernardino to Wilmington, Del., to Los Angeles to Los Angeles to Los Angeles (yes, three different L.A. areas over the years) to San Diego to San Francisco, it took more and more money just to survive. And I'm not talking cost-of-living increases. These were genuine differences in what it cost to live in each of these communities. My rent decreased only once in all of those moves -- when I left Los Angeles for San Diego. Of course, the 9 percent savings I found there were completely blown away by the 26.5 percent rent hike I took when I moved to San Francisco.

Upon returning to Oregon, I knew that my world view would change. Trees would no longer by dwarfed by buildings. Mom-&-Pop shops would be far more inviting than chain stores. Wide open spaces would hold greater value than urban sprawl. And bills would be lower.

I didn't really know how much lower until I received my electric bill. Having lived in Southern California for several years, I will admit that I am prone to keeping the heat high in my apartment. So, when I opened the bill, I expected it to be a little excessive.

It was $46.

I paused momentarily, thinking about how I used to pay $100 a month for electricity in the winter months in San Diego and $150 or more for gas and electricity in San Francisco during the same time frame. By comparison, $46 was a downright bargain.

Then I realized that $24 of that was the fee to set up my new service. My actual bill for electricity was $22.

This has definitely been a change for the better -- mentally, physically, emotionally and now financially. It may seem ridiculous, but it's true: my cost of living now is what my rent used to be in San Francisco. Isn't it great?

My Closet Runneth Over

25 percent of clothes in women's closets never leave the hanger.

Why? Because they don't fit.

This was an interesting fact to find after spending the weekend contemplating my own closet. They say that, in general, we wear only 20 percent of the clothes we own. I think that's actually being generous. Even after purging dozens and dozens of shoes and shirts and skirts and pants over the past year, I still find myself with much more than I ever wear. Does one person really need more than 15 sweaters? Even if I wore them every day, I will still have two full weeks of sweaters at my disposal. Seems excessive.

Now, I am not one to advocate wearing the same outfit day in and day out. Gilligan's Island my life is not. Nor am I the type to push for a wardrobe made up of only five pants, five shirts and five pairs of socks. There is always the need for that special outfit that you pull out only for the holidays or a party. For a polished suit that looks great in a job interview or a meeting. But, does a woman really need 10 different pairs of black pumps?

The reality is that the need for things has gotten so bad that it has impacted every part of our lives. We have to pay more for bigger houses to hold more things. And when we fill our houses, we rent storage lockers, which often come on 10 different sizes that are able to accommodate everything from the measly mess-maker to the perfected pack-rat.

That said, even though I know the pitfalls of consumption, I would still probably buy another pair of black pumps if they were the exact color I needed and they made me feel as though I were walking on pillows all day. After all, I may be trying to live simply, but I am still a woman.

Splendor of the Mountain

There's a spot as you head east out of McMinnville on Highway 18 where the treeline dips just enough to catch a glimpse of majestic Mt. Jefferson on the horizon. The glacier-blanketed peak seems to be permanently bathed in a sunset-pink hue that beckons to distant travelers.

Mt. Hood may be the symbol of Oregon, but its 10,497-tall brother has become the symbol of my freedom. When the clouds part and I see the mountain, I am filled with an overwhelming sense of peace. It's like nature is reminding me of my ability to find space, room to breathe. It may have taken me 38 years to get to this point, but I am incredibly grateful to have the opportunity to experience it.

Photos taken of Mt. Jefferson as I was driving out of McMinnville:


Highway 18 is in the foreground. Mt. Jefferson is in the distance.


A better picture of the mountain. It's a little crooked, but I was driving when I took it. :)

When you see this picture, consider that the mountain is more than 120 miles from the eastern edge of McMinnville. If I was to drive to the mountain, I would log about 154 miles on my car.

Other facts:

-- Mount Jefferson was named for Pres. Thomas Jefferson by the Lewis and Clark Expedition
-- The expedition first saw the peak in March 1806 from the mouth of the Willamette River
-- Because of its remoteness, few geology studies have been completed on the mountain
-- It is a stratovolcano -- a tall, conical volcano with many layers of hardened lava, tephra and ash
-- Researchers speculate that the mountain may be extinct, but it has awoken after long periods of inactivity at least twice before

Focus for the Year

After two interesting months -- January living with my family and February spent moving and unpacking -- I have decided that the year ahead needs to be focused on finding sanity in my life. While certain pressures have decreased significantly in my life, others haver persisted. Mainly, I believe, because I have allowed them to. After all, how do I live without worry? How do I continue without stress? How do I say no to friends when their requests don't make my heart sing?

So, for the next year, I am going to try to chronicle my work toward this end. Finding sanity. Remembering to love the little things in life. Taking time to breathe.

New Resolution

I made a new New Year's resolution unlike any I have ever made before. As with most people, my previous resolutions have always focused on the standard fare -- lose weight, save more money, reduce my debt. These will still be overall goals of mine for the coming year, but none of them really struck me as the reason for living this coming year.

Instead, as I contemplated the year, only one resolution came to mind: Pursue happiness.

So, this year is dedicated to the pursuit of happiness. Who will join me?