Little Boxes

I've been traveling a lot lately, and one of the few positive things I can say about it, is that it's given me more time for reading. Of course, once the captain tells us that we can use all approved electronic devices, it's time again to go back to the coal mines, but those glorious moments between shutting the hatch and then, have been priceless.

Now I'm not one to read celebrity autobiographies. In fact, I don't think I've ever voluntarily picked up an issue of People. But one actor that I really like wrote a book that I decided to read. It's called "Life's That Way" by Jim Beaver. I know him as Bobby on Supernatural, but he also had a major role in Deadwood. The book is wonderful, but I wouldn't recommend it unless you've lost someone special. It's about his wife's battle with cancer and death, and then the months that followed. Which was compounded by the fact that he had a 2-year-old autistic daughter.

Anyway, the book isn't completely depressing. He's got sort of a raw, sarcastic sense of humor, which comes through, especially when it comes to some of the bizarre things that happen during times like these.

One in particular has to do with all of the necessary paperwork. I laughed, because I remembered how awkward some of this was, and believe me, the government does nothing to make it easier. For example, on most of the forms, you have to indicate your marital status. But there are only two boxes -- married or single. Beaver had the same reaction that I did. I didn't get unmarried, so that seems like the appropriate box to check is the married one. But in the eyes of the law, the other party is gone, so I'm not married anymore. But I certainly didn't feel single. Single denotes some type of carefree, dating person and that clearly wasn't me. It wasn't like I had any choice in the matter, but nowhere on any of the docs was there room to explain this.

And it's not just awkward for people who have lost their spouses. I have a friend who was legally married in California before Prop 8 kicked in. They had an official ceremony, have a marriage certificate, rings and even a video of their wedding. But here in Texas, the government doesn't recognize that. So does he have to answer "single" when he completes forms?

I sort of get that you have to have ways to categorize people. After all, part of my job is creating personas that take a mass of information and boil it into one particular segment, thus destroying all the individual bits of a person in the name of trying to understand what a group of these people have in common and how you would want to talk to them. And I suppose for a census, it's good to know how many men, women and children, there are in a specific country and what ages they are. But when you reduce the categories so that not everyone fits into one, that seems more than a little lame. People are way more complex than a series of little boxes.

The Perfect Mate

I've decided that I want a TV husband like the ones on dramas with female protagonists. And I'm not talking Darrin from Bewitched or Ricky from I Love Lucy. I want the ones who let their wives go out and take on the bad guys while they clean, cook and take care of the kids. These guys are angels!

If you've ever seen an episode of Medium or Ghost Whisperer, you'll know what I'm talking about. Both of the female leads are up half the night being visited by ghosts and then compelled to go investigate. Meanwhile, the husbands wait patiently at home, ostensibly going back to sleep so that they're functional at work the next day. (Although on Medium, Joe was unemployed for a while, so I suppose he could have come back home and napped after taking the kids to school.) There's no bitching about the girls being out all night or not pulling their share of the household chores or not spending enough time with the kids.

Which would be perfect for me. While I don't have kids yet, I do have a houseful of critters who need attention, which results in the house needing attention and a job that doesn't seem to know how to tell time. (Are all those 3 a.m. emails really necessary????) So sometimes I think a Stepford husband would be awesome. Maybe I'll just call CBS and NBC and ask them to send me Joe and/or Jim when Allison and Melinda are through with them.

Smoke and Mirrors

Recently, we hired an SVP of Hoodoo. She comes complete with a MBA, which of course around here makes her a Genius and the Smartest Person Alive.

She deigned to enlighten some of us who are apparently only apprentice witches (who mistakenly thought we were fully qualified years ago) through a meeting that was supposed to explain all about how her mad hoodoo skilz could make our brand of voodoo more powerful.

After an hour of what can only be described as puffery and bragging about various hexes and curses and how happy her clients were with the results, we still didn't have a clue about what she could do for us. We *know* that magic is the critical component to our industry. But access to the particular brand of hoodoo the SVP supposedly practices was cut along with a number of employees a couple of years ago.

What I would have like to hear from her is:

* What type of hexes and curses are available?
* How can I leverage a particular hex to motivate my clients to make the right decisions?
* Are voodoo dolls still effective or do I need to look at Voodoo 3.0 for more innovative executions?

And so on. Instead, we got insults about how un-insights-driven our work has been and she even had the cajones to take on another SVP (who has been in this industry for YEARS) and tell her how wrong her thinking was.

I'm sure as we move forward, I'll grow to respect her. But until then, I just think she's a huge witch who can kiss my asterisk.

The Perils of Facebook

I'm going to steal a page out of Scissor Girl's blog because I need to vent. I have sort of a love/hate relationship with Facebook. It's fun to keep up with friends who live out of town, people I've met in other countries and well, colleagues who work in the other building. It's not so fun to read the updates from my ex-boyfriend's sister because I'm too much of a wuss to unfriend her. But it's always kinda balanced out.

But now I've been friended by several people in Upper Management. And I feel like I had to accept the request. Just to be clear, these are not people I've worked closely with and developed a great relationship with. These are people who don't really know me unless my name happened to be mentioned as an option during our layoff seasons.

Which makes this all a little bit creepy -- it feels like Facebook is starting to become Big Brother. It's not like I'm posting racy photos of myself (a. because there are none. and b. because that's something I wouldn't subject my worst enemy too -- I believe it's considered an act of terrorism in some countries). I also don't update my status that often and when I do, it's usually something pretty benign. The few times I've vented about work, I tried to make it so cryptic that one could tell I was frustrated, but couldn't really understand about what.

But now I feel like I have to be extra careful -- not just of what I write about myself, but also when I comment on my friends' status. I realize that I'm much more paranoid and neurotic than your average bear, but I like my privacy very much, thank you. It's sort of the same issue I have with drug testing. I don't do any, so it's not like I have to worry about that, but I don't like the idea that someone is using a bodily fluid to determine if I'm employable. And I don't like the fact that if I'm feeling a little bit snarky, I have to tone it down for fear that it will come back to haunt me the next time layoffs roll around.

But I guess this is the social part of social networking.

Radiation: Day 4

We've made it almost through the first full week and so far, so good. As far as my dog knows, he just goes to an indoor playroom every day where he gets to hang out with other dogs most of the day and has to sleep for about 20 minutes. And we've gotten into a routine for leaving the house every morning that seems to work. I can live with this.

So on a totally unrelated note, I have to comment on the strange and wonderful thing that is children's literature. My sister has two small children, one of which is a five-year-old boy. Right now, he is completely fascinated with The Wind in the Willows. I was a little surprised when my sister told me this -- I was picturing a Beatrix Potter book with dainty tea parties, etc. I *know* that I've read this book somewhere along the line, but I must have blocked it. When she told me the plot, I suddenly understood why a young boy (and probably most young girls) would love it so much. Among the awesomeness within the story, there are:

* Multiple car thefts
* Police chases
* Arrest and trial
* Imprisonment
* At least one prison break
* Cross-dressing
* Fraud
* Weapons smuggling and procurement
* Epic battles

It's like all the best Hollywood blockbusters rolled into one! You know, if my mom read this to me as a child, it explains an awful lot!

Radiation: Day 1

This is actually NOT a post about zombies, although that might be fun at some point. Considering I work with quite a few. :)

Today is my beloved puppy's first day of radiation therapy. To keep my anxiety at a manageable level, I thought I'd list all the (non-medical) benefits of us going through this.

1) Totally HOT vet. OK, forget the fact that he's probably 15 years younger than me and married -- I'm not interested in dating him, but it's nice to have eye candy when you're panicked about your dog's health.

2) Tons of Puppy Playtime. Before and after the treatment, all of the dogs there get to roam free and play in the back office of the clinic. So it's almost like an in-door dog park.

3) Company for the Commute. It was kind of fun to have a companion in the car this morning. The clinic is very close to my work, so I had company for most of the drive.

4) Hard Stop in the Evenings. Like most of us in this business, I could work 24 hours a day and still have stuff to do. But now, I'll be like my co-workers with kids -- I HAVE to leave by 5:30 because I have to pick him up before 6. Like them, I'll probably still go home and work a little more, but at least it's a change of scenery.

So a little less snark today and a bit more optimism for me. I'll never be a Pollyanna, but constant nihilism gets a little old too.

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain

One of the things I used to like about my job was my relative anonymity. Oh, I'd present stuff at client meetings, but I had so little contact with any individual that they probably didn't remember me from one meeting to the next.

That's changed a lot with my new responsibilities. In fact, I spent about six weeks straight in face-to-face meetings. And with a recent project, I've had almost daily contact with one person in particular.

So imagine my surprise when, in a conference call with said client and her boss, she acted like she had no idea who I was. Part of the problem was that her boss disagreed with the direction she had taken us in, so I think she was CYA by acting like we just appeared out of nowhere with these crazy recommendations.

Initially I was really upset about the meeting and her attitude. But as I remember that our industry is really about creating illusions, I guess it's just part of the game. I'm more than happy to stay behind the smoke and mirrors.

Teenage Angst-Land

Over the weekend, I read a really humorous take on the Twilight series and saw a promo for the new Vampire Diaries show on the CW and it got me started thinking. Why in the world would a 100+ year-old vampire want to (a) go to high school and (b) date a teenage girl?

Now, I'm not using this to slam Twilight -- it's really an honest question. (Buffy did it, too, and I actually liked that show, although it makes more sense since she is in fact a slayer.) Marketing-wise, I know why -- teenage girls want to read about teenage girls. But what I mean is logic-wise.

Maybe it was just me, but I hated high school. The idea of going back there again is horrifying. Especially if you were older and wiser. I mean, you put up with the BS when you were there because you just didn't know any better. I would think that someone with 100+ years of being around people would spend the entire time rolling their eyes.

And then there's the teenage girl aspect. I'm not expecting vampires to hang out in geriatric facilities, but really? You want to hang out all day long with someone whose biggest concern is who she's going to prom with and what she's going to wear? Remember, you've been around through two World Wars, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, two Gulf Wars, the depression, the Cold War, desegregation, just to name a few. What in the world would you talk about? I guess angsty feelings would probably be something you have in common. Maybe you could listen to Pearl Jam together and talk about how cruel the world is.

I know you should really leave logic out of the picture when you're discussing teenage vampire stories. And I probably should just not even think about things that aren't designed to appeal to me. But let's face it -- what better way to avoid my own angst. ;)

Update on Monkey

Thanks for sending positive vibes our way!

Just got off the phone with the vet and Monkey seems to be doing fine. They got all three tumors without any type of muscle damage. One looks a little suspicious, but she said that it was self-encapsulated, so hopefully, even if it's anything bad, they got it all.

I'll be picking him up in about an hour and a half. He'll be a bit groggy, so it'll be a quiet night at home.

Good Thoughts for Monkey

I know I've been posting a lot of more serious stuff here, and I promise to get back to more snarkitude soon. But if y'all could send some positive thoughts and if it's your practice, say a prayer to the deity of your choice for my best pal and dog, Monkey. He's in surgery today to have some tumors removed.

It's pretty routine surgery and since the vet isn't freaking out yet, I'm not freaking out. We'll have the lab results back some time next week. But I can't help but worry and of course, I'm feeling guilty for leaving him there alone at the vet's office. (Silly, I know, but you pet owners know what I'm talking about.)

I'll post again later when he's out of surgery.

Yes, there can be too much sharing

Warning: You should probably avoid reading this if you're eating.

We have an out of suite women's bathroom where I work, which means that anyone is free to use it. I don't really mind this. Public toilets completely squick me out anyway, so I just take it for what it's worth.

But the women who use our bathroom are much grosser than your average bear. There's always water on the counter by the sink, just waiting for you to lean over and wash your hands so that it can get all over your shirt or jeans. Half the time, the paper towel dispenser doesn't work. The door handle looks like it's been through Chernobyl. I really thought it was as gross as it could get.

Until this morning. I walked in to see several long, thick black hairs. All over the sink. Not just on one side, but all over the place. Now, I'm not the most observant person on the planet, but if even I could see them, why couldn't the person who left them there? Or was she just too lazy to pick them up. Maybe she was just trying to share.

Social Netiquette

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook. I love that I can keep up with my friends through amusing status updates. This is especially true for people who are no longer in this area or who I've met through my travels. Or even people who work in our Other Building.

But some people just don't seem to know when enough is enough. I've had to hide several people who seem to do nothing except take endless quizzes and post status updates every 10 minutes. I don't know how you can be that active online and hold down a job.

I remember last year, the Pope encouraged teens to give up Facebook for Lent. At the time, I was new to it, and not being a big fan of this particular Pope, thought it was a bit weird. But you know, I think taking a break every now and then might not be such a bad idea.

High School Musical Too

So, last week, I found out that someone who has had a negative impact on my career has left the company, and I was a little humiliated to find out how happy that made me. I mean, really! I've always complained that her behavior and treatment of people was pretty high schoolish and look at me! Like the wimpy kid that cheers when someone finally beats up the bully.

But in examining my reaction, it occurred to me that, in a lot of ways, ad agencies very much mirror high school. There is definitely a caste system, or at the very least cliques. Once you're branded as one thing, it's nearly impossible to make the switch. (I remember a project manager who wanted to become a writer and believe me, that didn't end well.)

And I bet you could probably match people's current jobs to what they were like in high school.

• Creative Services: These folks were probably either in band and/or the theatre department. I say this as a former and inner creative myself. Definitely my background.
• Client Services: I'm willing to bet these people were the cheer leaders, drill team, jocks and student council members. There's just a ton of skill crossover there.
• Tech: I'm just gonna generalize and say that these people were probably in the Math Club and National Honor Society.

I know we have other departments here, but I don't really have enough exposure to them to make an educated guess.

Of course, having said that, now, like in high school, I don't really fit into any one category and I would suspect that most of the people I respect here, don't either. In high school, I was somewhere between the band geeks, the theatre crowd, the Math Club (believe it or not) and the freaks (I had a thing for boys with long hair). And my current role is so broadly defined that it could encompass anything from cheerleader to chess club to Future Farmers of America.

All I can say though is that I'm greatful to be out of high school and that for the most part, job descriptions and personal backgrounds are where the similarities end.

Lessons from the Jungle Cruise

So I just returned from a week's reprieve at the Happiest Place on Earth. It's funny, because in a lot of ways, I'm pretty jaded, but I still get goosebumps when I ride Pirates of the Caribbean and I have to smile when my 7-year-old niece and 5-year-old nephew run up to Stitch and beg for autographs.

This trip was a little different though because now my niece (no, not the 7-year-old, this one is 21) works there so we got to see things from a totally different perspective.

Let's face it -- I wouldn't last 5 minutes at a job like this. I can't stand the idiot questions I get from my supposedly professional co-workers, much less completely clueless tourists. But after watching my niece and her friends at work, I noticed something. They get frustrated too, but they've also learned how to have a good time with it. And they make the most out of the limited creative license they have -- yes, many of the jokes are standard, but they add their own and turn what could be a totally monotonous job into something of an acting career.

Don't worry. I'm not going to start cracking bad jokes. Remember, I'm the chick with no sense of humor. But I am going to try to remember that I'm a creative at heart and use my limited creative license to have some fun.

The Road Not Taken

So, as I was driving in this morning, I was listening to my new favorite song, "Sound of Madness" by Shinedown. It's basically a cry of frustration from the singer to presumably a romantic interest who blames all of her problems on her bipolar disorder, but refuses to get seek help. He confirms that he, too, suffers from mental illness, but he's chosen to deal with it.

One of the reasons I'm so fond of this song is because I can relate -- oddly enough, both personally and professionally. My work these days is primarily around mental disorders and the treatments, and one of the biggest issues is that many people either won't take the drugs at all or stop taking them. From a personal perspective, I have friends, family and romantic attachments who have refused or ceased treatment as well. The results have not been pretty. We're talking divorces, estrangements, hospitalization, substance abuse, suicide attempts and unfortunately, completion.

I've read a ton of research and I understand the issues -- the side effects, the complications and the not-feeling-like-yourself, among others. But what I don't understand is the complete giving up. Believe me, I'm not unsympathetic. I have more than my share of issues and I've been down in that hole more than a couple of times. But when I see that it's hurting other people in my life, it's time to do something.

I know that the drugs are not for everyone. But there are other options -- exercise, yoga, counseling, diet changes, hypnosis and herbal treatments, just to name a few. And yes, I know that mental illness severely inhibits initiative and motivation. But to not even try? When someone offers to help? When you can see that it's destroying relationships?

I'm not sure where I'm going with this except venting my frustration at people who won't get help and let it ruin their lives and those of others. Shinedown guy, I hear you and I'm giving you a virtual high five for choosing to fight rather than spending eternity in that pit of dispair.

So while I'm trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up, I thought I'd share a lighter topic. A few months back, I stumbled on to a blog entry called "Deconstructing Jonny Quest". It was about the funniest thing I've read in a long time -- I remember LOVING that show as a child. For those of you who aren't familiar with it, Jonny Quest was a Saturday morning cartoon about Jonny, his scientist/adventurer dad, their bodyguard (???) Race Bannon, an Indian kid named Hadji that they presumably adopted and a pug named Bandit. Each week, they would fly around the world fighting evil, in the form of mummies, aliens, mechanical spiders, ghost pirates, etc. If this sounds even remotely like a normal cartoon, do a search on YouTube for the credits.

But that got me to thinking about the other bizarre show concepts that I watched as a child. I realize I was born in the 60s, but there must have been a lot of drugs circulating around the television studios during those days! Here's some of the ones I remember:

The Banana Splits: This was sort of a live-action variety show for kids, I guess. The Banana Splits were a band that hosted the show, made up of (and I'm not kidding!) a gorilla, an elephant, a dog and a lion. They played rock music, told bad jokes and introduced a series of cartoons and live action shows, such as Danger Island (with cannibals), the Three Musketeers, Arabian Nights and Gulliver's Travels. The opening credits alone could make you think you were hallucinating.

HR Puf'n'Stuf: There's a reason this show got a head shop named after it -- this is easily the most bizarre one of the bunch. The premise is that a British kid has a magic flute that can talk and is being pursued by a witch (aptly named WitchyPoo) who desperately wants the flute for something diabolical. The only safety he can find is under the protection of a dragon/sheriff named HR Puf'n'stuf who lives on an island with furniture and other usually inaminate objects that have come to life. Would you believe this came from the same people who brought you the Banana Splits? And yes, it's live action, too.

The Perils of Penelope Pitstop: This is the stereotypical damsel-in-distress show. Penelope is a race car driver who can outdrive anyone in the Fast & the Furious franchise, but apparently is too oblivious to notice death traps set by her uncle. You see, Penelope is an heiress and the next in line for her fortune is her uncle, so naturally, he tries to kill her every episode. And despite the fact that she can operate very sophisticated vehicles at high speeds, she always ends up in some time-delayed execution. So tied to the train tracks, suspended from a cliff with a candle under the rope, that type of thing. Fortunately, she has a posse of golden-hearted mobsters who always seem to know when she's in trouble and pile into their PT Cruiser to come rescue her.

I haven't tried re-watching any of these after a horrible experience watching the old Speed Racer cartoon. (I guess as a child, I didn't notice that the characters don't move at all naturally and that the audio doesn't sync up to their mouths, but as an adult, it was pretty annoying.) I want to remember them as insanely goofy magical experiences that shaped me today. Or account for what's wrong with me. ;)

A Framework of Fail

So I've alluded to the fact that I'm somewhat less enamored of my job than I have been in the past. To clarify a bit, I used to be user-focused -- it was my job to make sure that I understood who was using our end product and how to make it the best possible experience for them. That all changed post-vacation. I came back and was told that with my new clients, I was focused on the business. As in how to make them more money.

OK, fine. I understand that they have to make money or they can't pay us and if they don't pay us, I don't have a job. But this new "focus on the business" aspect is insane. I guess if I was an MBA, I might have more respect for it. But what it means to me is that I'm no longer involved in the work. I feel like I'm actually doing meta work -- you know work about the work. I feel like all I do these days is create frameworks to talk about talking about the work. And argue with other people about them. At length.

The problem is that at the end of the day, the frameworks are useless. I've been in the trenches and I know what the people doing the actual work really need. And it's not a bunch of charts and boxes describing the approach. Oh sure, we present them and argue about them and finally agree about them. But what happens then? They languish unused on the server while the writers, designers and IAs are scrambling to get the information they truly need to get the job done.

So there it is. When I was first presented with this, I thought I could handle it a bit like the Comedian from Watchmen, albeit without the napalm, guns and blowtorch. He saw the world for what it was and because he thought he was the only one who got the joke, he made himself into a parody of the world. I thought I could do the same thing -- I get that it's all a joke, and I do get paid for it, so why not just have fun and laugh quietly to myself while I'm earning a paycheck. But it turns out that the joke's on me. Doing this for 10+ hours a day plus traveling almost every week to talk about it with people who actually take this seriously is destroying my soul.

I go on vacation in exactly a week and I think I'll use that time to search what's left of my soul to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. Who knows? Maybe I'll come up with a framework for it.

A Town Called Hypocrisy

It's been a while since I've been on here. Suffice it to say that I returned from vacation to find my personal and professional life turned upside down and backwards and not in a good way. But it has made me reflect on some of my personality traits and I have to admit, I'm just one big ol' book of contradictions, as most of us probably are. Here are some of the things that just don't sync up:

300 and Watchmen: I'm not a violent person. And I can't stand gunfire, cannon fire or even fireworks. (When I was three, a "gunfighter" at Six Flags broke character to assure me that it was all make believe because I was crying so hard) So why are these my favorite movies?

Kid Rock: This is probably the area that humiliates me the most. I'm what could probably be considered a bit of a feminist or at least very progressive. So why did I just buy a Kid Rock CD this weekend? Well, because it had a remix that involves Werewolves of London, but that's still no excuse for supporting someone who dated Pamela Anderson!

Sense and Sensibility: I LOVE this book. To the point where it used to be my comfort book when I was unhappy. But again with the feminist thing!

And these are just the ones off the top of my head. I'm sure there are much more embarrassing examples that just go against everything I believe in.

What about you? What contradictions do you have?

In Memoriam

I'm not good with serious posts as I really think blogging works best with sarcasm, humor or at least positive insights. But today being what it is, I'm going to try to write something meaningful that will hopefully be uplifting rather than depressing.

Today is the 6th anniversary (how I hate using that word in this context) of my beloved husband's death. I decided a couple of years ago that I would try to use the day to remember the wonderful person he was and that it was a blessing to have had him in my life, even if it was cut short too soon. Unfortunately due to the transient nature of our lives and work, most people I'm close to these days never had the chance to meet him or know him all that well. So here goes -- my post to the kindest, most gentle and generous soul I have ever known.

Chris and I had known each other about 6 months or so before he asked me out. My friends and I frequented the bar he worked at, so I got to know him gradually. One night, two of my friends had a really bad fight (a misunderstanding over a guy naturally) and for whatever reason, while they were in the bathroom yelling at each other, he asked me out. The odd thing is, that night ended one of my long-term friendships (I never really get over how badly one friend treated the other over something so stupid) and started another.

From the very beginning, we got along beautifully. I think we decided by date 3, which was 3 days after the first date, that we needed to be exclusive. Shortly after we started dating, I made a major career change, which he questioned (as did everyone), but fully supported once he understood that it was something I really wanted. Because my new job was with a startup, my hours and responsibilities were crazy -- sometimes all nighters and always late night. He certainly expressed concern for my welfare and that he missed me, but he was still supportive of me. He made gourmet sandwiches for my lunch and cooked supper when I got home, no matter how late.

We moved in together with his cat about 9 months after we started dating. Because we both had a love for animals, we picked up and found homes for numerous strays before we got a dog of our own. At one point, our cat was diagnosed with diabetes and Chris diligently gave him insulin shots twice a day for the next 6 years. When we eventually got another dog, it was a rescue dog that bit Chris so badly that he had a scar on his nose, but he refused to give up on her.

Some time after we had been dating for about 4 years, the question of marriage began to surface. Our families were asking about it. Our friends were curious. We were terrified. We had a great life together. Why fix what ain't broke? And then we started talking about the future. We both wanted a house. Kids. And we figured out that getting married was the right first step. I think if it would have been up to Chris, he would have chosen a JP office visit or a trip to Vegas. He was never one for much of a fuss. But because he knew what it meant to me, he went through with the big church wedding, complete with 5 attendants on each side.

We had a fantastic marriage for the next year and a half. And then one Sunday morning in late April six years ago, I got the call. And two days later, it was all over. I was left alone with our life.

I miss him every day of my life and probably always will. But I'm forever grateful that this wonderfully kind soul and truly great human being was a part of my life. So, Chris, today is for you. I'll light a candle for you tonight and drink a toast in your honor. Because true love is always alive in our hearts.

Who Do You Love to Hate?

So, I've started watching this really random cartoon, which is weird because (a) I don't really have a conventional sense of humor, so I'm not even a fan of hip stuff like Family Guy and (b) I don't like science fiction/superhero themes and many, many cartoons (including this one) focus on these. But this one is a parody on Jonny Quest, which was one of my childhood favorites, so it works for me.

Anyway, the show concerns itself with "good" guys and the villains they fight. And one of the terms they've coined is "arching", which is basically targeting and attacking your arch enemy. At one point, the main villain is forbidden (by the villian union??) to "arch" the protagonist (I really can't say good guy again with a straight face) of the show. And the main villain HATES it. Because there's nothing he loves more than to torment his rival. So much so, that he doesn't ever want to REALLY defeat him because then life's meaning would be gone.

For whatever reason, I'm fascinated by this theme. The rules of engagement (as defined in the cartoon) are about getting one up on one's nemesis without causing any real damage. And I'm not sure I've ever seen this in real life. Maybe it's because I missed out on this type of thing when I was in college. (I never cared for football, so the whole rivalry thing just didn't happen for me. ) And I'm curious if this type of relationship exists in the adult world. I guess in the agency world, you've got the tension between the account people and the creatives. But it doesn't feel like "arching" to me.

Anyone out there have a great rivalry going? I'd love to hear some good "arching" stories.

A Tale of Two Families ... With Some Sparring Thrown In

Family dynamics are always interesting to observe. Every single group is a little bit different, with their own tribal customs and rituals. Friday night I got to observe the new beau's family in the wild.

Despite being absolutely terrified of meeting him, his son, his mom and dad, his sister, brother-in-law, niece and six random friends of the family, once I got there, everyone did their best to make me feel at home. Some of it was a little awkward (we were at a barbecue joint and everyone was trying to push meat at me, the vegetarian), but well-intentioned, none-the-less. And I somehow got seated between my beau and his son, which was really frightening, because his son's opinion matters more than anything else in the world. But even his son seemed to be trying to put me at ease by talking to me throughout the entire meal. (We totally bonded on gargoyles.) Anyway, what started out being the scariest thing in the world ended up being absolutely OK. More than OK. It was actually really fun. Because everyone acted like having me around was the most normal and coolest thing ever.

Contrast this with my family's reaction to this relationship. They're in denial, and being passive aggressive, are determined that if they just ignore the fact that we're dating, the relationship will go away. I heard from my sister-in-law that my sister and my Mom think I'm a complete idiot for even giving the new beau the time of day. This is based on the one or two times they met him almost 20 years ago. Yes, he broke my heart. Yes, he made some mistakes. But you know what? We were TOO young for the relationship to be viable at that time. (I shudder to think what would have happened if we HAD stayed together. ) So, they're tryng and succeeding somewhat in making me sad that I can't share my excitement about this new relationship with them. Because I know that if things go south, they'll throw anything and everything I share back into my face with an I Told You So. (Interestingly enough, I told my husband's sister about it, and she is overjoyed. Go figure.)

So, in the midst of all of this, I had a karate tournament. What a disaster that was. I'm not totally discouraged because I think there were a number of things working against me, but it certainly didn't turn out how I would have expected or hoped. Suffice it to say that I came in 4 out of 4 in my division. Knocked out (figuratively, not literally) in the first round. I did fight someone two belt ranks higher than me, who seemed to have a lot of tournament experience, so I guess that's something. And I did manage to score a few points on her. So it wasn't all terrible. Just not what I'd hoped for.

So I'd say I broke even on this weekend's events. The loss at the tournament was more than made up for by Friday night's family frivolities. I'm not counting my family into the equation because maybe if they can pretend this relationship isn't happening, I can pretend that they don't have an opinion about it.

High Anxiety

Do you ever wonder how you get yourself into such a naturally untenable position? Well, I've managed to get myself into two. And I'm seriously wishing that I had some type of prescription drug habit to help me cope. Dr. House? You there with the Vicodan?

I'm not a social creature. I'm pretty sure some people would classify me as downright anti-social or as my new beau so politely put it, a little on the reclusive side. To clarify though, Im not mean spirited nor do I think most people are somehow bad. I just don't have the mingling skills most girls seem to acquire somewhere along the way, so unless I know someone, I don't really know what to say.

But this weekend, I have two huge (one figuratively and one literally) social events. Gah. Why me?

The first is the most emotionally signifcant -- a birthday dinner for the new beau's sister. That is happening tonight (supposedly anyway -- I still have no details!). Which means, in addition to his mother and son, to whom I was briefly re-introduced to last weekend, I get to meet and hang out with his dad, his sister, her husband and presumably her three-year old daughter. That's a lot of people. And because he'll have his son, whom he hasn't seen all week, his attention will rightfully be on him, not me. So I'm kinda gonna be out there on my own. Thankfully, it's a birthday party, so hopefully the focus will be on his sister, so I won't have to talk much.

The second is literally the bigger of the two -- a karate tournament. Which means that I've somehow decided that it's OK to put myself in a situation where people are going to stare at me. Fortunately, most people don't care about the girls, so the crowd watching me will be significantly smaller than if I was one of the guys. But there will still be a degree of people watching and yes, judging what I'm doing. There's obviously a lot less talking involved in this, but there's still an awful lot of people I have to interact with.

So gentle readers, please say a kind prayer to the deity of your choice for me tonight and tomorrow. I think it's Nietsche who said that what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger. If that's true, I'll be giving Achilles, Xena and Muhammad Ali a run for their money by Sunday.

The Surreal Life

Remember when you were little and you had these ideas about what life would be like when you were all grown up? Because I'm not much younger than Methusaleh, my initial thoughts were something like my parents had -- I would become a housewife with lots of kids and a husband who wore a suit and went off to work every day. Obviously things have turned out much differently for me. Which is probably better. I'm a littel ADD, which works out GREAT in advertising, but probably not so much for a housewife. What I'm trying to say is that I'm used to curve balls in life and have abandoned Plan A through about Plan H.


This weekend, I re-met my new beau's mom and son. (I had met his mom during the previous relationship and his son about 4 years ago totally randomly at a AAA office) As I sat in the same dining room I once sat in 20 years ago, watching my ex- and now current boyfriend interacting with a son who is just 7 years younger than he was when we met, I'm just blown away at how circular life is. I mean, who could have predicted when we split up 17 years ago that we'd end up right back where we started? And I wanted so much back then to have ended up like this.


I don't want to get ahead of myself because I still don't know how far this can go. And I absolutely still cherish the life I had with my husband. So I'm absolutely not in the "this was meant to be" kind of mindset. We've both obviously have a ton of issues to deal with, both separately and as a couple. But just the sense of deja vu or deja future or whatever that I had in that dining room was cool.

The first rule of Fight Club

So, I've talked a little about my karate club. Some vital background info: We have four paying members -- two boys and two girls (let's call the others Ginger, Gilligan and the Skipper). The club is in some serious financial trouble because our dues don't really cover the rent, but our master (from herein to be referred to as the Professor) is covering the difference in hopes that the economy will turn around. In addition to the financial stress, there is a huge gap of talent between the students. Suffice it to say that Gilligan and the Skipper are really, really good and Ginger and I are, well, about what you'd expect for 30ish and 40ish women who aren't all that athletic. The boys don't particularly like to work out with us because they don't see us as much of a challenge.

At the tournament on Saturday, Ginger and I were talking to our young champion from my blog over the weekend (Gilligan). as we watched different sparring matches. Somewhere in the conversation, he happened to let it slip that he, the Skipper and a number of our former male students were participating in a "fight club" to hone their sparring skills. At our school. For free. And this whole thing was being directed by one of the other teachers in our school. Who I'll call Mr. Howell.

I thought it was odd that Ginger and I weren't included -- we are the only ones in our club who aren't. But we've never participated in tournaments, so I didn't think too much about it. Ginger did, though. She was thoroughly offended and feels that our dues are what's keeping the school alive, as well as funding a fight club that we aren't allowed to participate. So she confronted the Professor at our Monday class. I could tell right away that he was uncomfortable talking about it, but she was furious.

So I go to class on Wednesday and I'm the only one there. The Professor is freaked out because now Mr. Howell is pissed off because the fight club was supposed to be a secret. Mr. Howell then emails Ginger and I inviting us to participate in said fight club. But he's angry with Gilligan for telling us about the club and has now ex-communicated him not keeping it a secret.

I know that discretion is the better part of valor, but really? Gilligan can't play because he spilled some big secret? When he's the only champion we've got? And now the Professor and Mr. Howell aren't speaking, Mr. Howell isn't speaking to Gilligan, the Professor is frustrated with Ginger. And I'm stuck in the middle. We're not talking about teenagers, here. Most of the parties involved (with the exception of poor Gilligan) are in their 30s, 40s or 50s. So why do I feel like I'm back in high school with the bickering, name-calling and cliques? Seriously, next time, can I just fight a schizophrenic Ed Norton??????

And the winner for best drama is...

There's a curse out there that goes something like "May you live in interesting times." I have long believed in this. For past 5 and a half years, I've lived a very quiet existence. And I really like that. It's not just that I don't like drama, I also worry way too much about everything. So really, things are better off when I'm just worried about getting home in time to walk my dogs.

Things started getting a little more interesting when I had my not-date, which led to a sort-of-date, which led to a definite date, which is leading up to possibly something more. Which is exciting and wonderful. Except we both have two very eccentric families to deal with. And for most people, this would not be a problem. Holidays and special events, otherwise, who cares, right? Well, I have the meddling family from hell. I do my best to set boundaries, but I will confess that when I was newly widowed, I needed their help -- with everthing from home repair to legal issues. And they sank in the claws and haven't backed off since.

His situation is even more complicated. Because he had a child at a rather young age, he is just now going back to school. And so that he can afford to go back to school and help support his son, he's living with his parents. Yes, that's right -- that means that there are two generations of his family I have to worry about making a good impression on. And because of our rather complicated history (including a lot of crying on my part) and his current lack of employment, my family is not positively disposed toward him. And while, in the long run, I don't really care, I don't need the lectures.

I know that anyone reading this would be thinking, oh surely, Trixie, this is so not a big deal. And it probably wouldn't be if it wasn't coupled with drama no. 2 -- the karate school soap opera. More on that tomorrow. If I'm not dead from High School Musical overload.

The Art of War

I belong to a tiny little martial arts club. We have four real members and about four others who show up every now and then. Today, three of us went to a tournament. Two of us (including me) were too nervous to sign up to fight. We've only been doing this a little over a year, so we didn't feel qualified. 

The one who did is one of the people I admire most right now. He is just now 21, has a two-year-old daughter and is living with his parents while he's trying to go to school. A while back, his mother got really, really sick, but they don't have insurance. So now they have no money. Needless to say, the odds are really stacked against him. One of my other classmates and I have been taking private lessons from him, both so that we can improve our skills, and also so that he can have money to attend our martial arts classes.

Today, he made us proud. He fought beautifully. He has skills way above his belt level and took on a much more experienced fighter.  And won. Despite all of the things that have to be going on in his mind, all of his worries and concerns, he was able to concentrate enough to do what he needed to do to win. He's putting the same amount of commitment and passion into school, because he wants to be a cop someday. He's seen some of the worst that many people can see and he still believes in working toward making the world a better place.

I don't think I'll ever be the fighter in the ring that he is. But I hope that I have the courage to fight to make things better that he does.

My Non-Date Part Deux

So just to wrap things up, because I don't like to leave things hanging, my movie excursion with the ex was not a date. I don't think. He bought dinner and the movie tickets, but there was nothing romantic whatsoever about the entire evening. That's not to say I didn't have a good time.

There is something very comforting about being with someone who has known you for 20 years and has seen you at your very worst and is still willing to hang out with you. And that as much crap as we've both been through, neither of us has really fundamentally changed. He's still the geeky comic book guy that doesn't seem to understand that I'm not all that fond of sci-fi unless there are hot actors involved and I'm still the idealist that tries to talk about stuff no one else cares about and he's patient enough to listen. Or at least pretend to, which is more than most people do.

I think we'll be friends. Not the soul mates I once thought we would be, but not strangers either. And it's good to have someone to hang out with.

A Non-Date

So, to follow up on an earlier post, eHarmony guy has vanished off the face of this earth, which oddly doesn't bother me. I'm not even suffering from a bruised ego. He was cute and seemed to have a generous nature (I'm basing this on him being a teacher and adopting a stray dog), but he did like sports a bit too much and he has the same name as my husband. Which would be ... well, awkward, in the long run.

But the ex on Facebook has stuck around and we're going to see a movie tonight. And I'm really not sure what that means or what I want it to mean. Up until now, our communications have been pretty un-romantic. (We've discussed Alexander the Great's military tactics and sexual politics, the general state of education in the U.S., why neither of us really cared about the Oscars, my work, his school, etc. -- you know, normal stuff.) The movie thing came up after we both decided that we really do want to see Slum Dog. He had asked me about another movie previously, but not in a hey-do-you-want-to-see-it-together way. So, bottom line is that we're going to see a movie tonight.

I actually didn't think too much about the whole situation until he asked about logistics, i.e., where to meet and when. Because we want to grab some food before the movie, I'm going right from work. So that leaves three options: him picking me up at work, me picking him up at his house or meeting at the theatre. So I suggested meeting him at the theatre. I mean, I'm not sure that this is technically a date, so if I was going with anyone else, that's what I would do.

So now, I'm starting to get a little unnerved. Which, given my levels of social anxiety, isn't really that hard to do. It's just that one of the reasons I've been so happy to talk to him is because I've been so comfortable with him. So hopefully once we're face to face, I'll be comfortable again. Otherwise, I have a feeling that I'm going to once again regret giving up red wine for Lent and wishing that I was at home with my dogs re-watching Season One of Prison Break for the 1oth time.

The Meaning of Life

Every now and then, I get a little twinge of moral dilemma -- or maybe it's a burgeoning mid-life crisis -- that I'm not doing enough with my life. Don't get me wrong, all in all, I have a pretty good life, my one major tragedy exluded. But sometimes when I'm supposed to be pushing another pixel around, I dream of doing something that would leave the world a better place.

Now, I know this probably happens to everyone, but it's happening to me more and more these days. I think about creating, expanding or documenting knowledge to pass along to future generations and it just seems, well, like something worthwhile.

But I have responsilities that I can't just walk away from. My four legged kids depend on me for their welfare and let's face it, they're my familly. My parents are getting older and I worry about being too far from them. And I love the fact that I see my youngest niece and nephew at least once a week and have a great relationship with them.

So I'll just keep pushing the pixels during the day for now and dream big at night. At the very least, I can expand my own knowledge so if there ever is a chance, I'll be ready!

The Huntress

My cat is a born hunter. Which isn't always a bad thing. I can pretty much rule out ever having to worry about rats or mice. And she usually takes out any June bugs pretty quickly as well.

But then there's the other critters. As a mostly-vegetarian-who-eats-fish and who does it out of a guilty conscience rather than for health reasons, I have major animal death issues. So suffice it to say that I was disturbed the first time my cat brought a snake into the house through the doggy door and proceeded to play with it. Now I'm not a snake fan. In fact, I'm one of those people who have nightmares about the floor being covered with snakes and there's no way for me to cross it. But it's still a living creature and doesn't really deserve to be tossed about like a, well, catnip mouse.

Needless to say, if I can catch her with one that's still alive, I'll get it away from her and put it in the front yard where it has a chance to get away. Same with geckos and other lizards that she catches.

Last night, my cat ramped it up to a whole new level with a bird. I know you shouldn't like animals better just because they're cute and cuddly, but there it is. The bird just broke my heart. And I know that it's in my cat's nature to hunt and that she's not doing it because she's a cold-hearted killer, but that didn't make me feel any better. All I could think of was "why oh why did I give up red wine for Lent??????"

Tell me why this is a land of confusion...

It's been forever since I've written anything here, and for a while my excuse was that I was too busy, then it was that I was too confused, and now, even though I'm both, I'm thinking this may help.

So to start with, I'm re-entering the dating world for the first time in a little over 10 years. (I'm considering the end of my previous dating about the time that my husband and I became exclusive and not including the nightmare of an evening that happened about 3 years ago as an actual date.) My shrink (of all people!) talked me into eHarmony because she felt that it would help me weed out some of the freaks. (Hah! You can tell she's never been on there!)

So despite my initial trepidation, I set up a profile and proceeded to receive communiques from gentleman after gentleman with handlebar mustaches whose pride and joy is their grandkids. Uh, yeah? Hello? Still wanting my own family here. I finally got an email from someone who is actually younger than me who seemed kind of interesting and I agreed to go on an actual date.

We followed all of the protocols -- met in a public place during the day -- and spent a couple of hours talking and watching some idiots make fools of themselves playing Rock Band. I managed to escape with a minimal amount of stranger-touching-me anxiety and both agreed that we had a good time. Since then, I've had a couple of really random text messages and that's it. In fact, I had one this morning. "Hey there." I happened to be getting ready for work when it arrived (at 7:50 in the morning) so my response was a little delayed, but since then? Nothing. Is this how people communicate these days? I'm tempted to think he's blowing me off, but if so, why does he keep texting? Gah!!!!!

So if that wasn't enough drama for someone whose most intense moment of the week is normally how badly I'll get my ass kicked in my karate class, I have an ex-boyfriend emailing me. He found me on Facebook, which wouldn't seem all that unusual except that he searched for me by my maiden name. Since it's (a) not really Smith and (b) long and hard to pronounce and spell, I'm guessing he really wanted to find me.

After we split up more than 15 years ago, I really, really hated him. I gradually came to realize that I was just as much to blame for my pain in that our relationship was 90% in my head. And we kept running into each other because our lives seem to be inexplicably intertwined. (We were both significantly impacted by the same college professor who is the brother of the guy who owns the bar where my husband worked.)

So now, we're emailing each other once or twice daily. Which was fine. That's definitely within my anti-social comfort level. Plus, because he knows what I've been through and vice versa, we're both aware of how broken we are in many ways. Then, today, he asked me out. Sort of. Again, I can't really tell. He's already asked me to go see The Watchmen with him but that was supposed to be because I'm the only other person he knows who has actually read the graphic novel. And he proposed at some point going to see Slum Dog since we're probably the only two people in North America who haven't seen it. But this morning, he suggested seeing Coraline. Tonight or tomorrow night. Yep, that's right, less than 24 hours notice. So that would suggest that it's NOT a date, right?

Fortunately (or not, I'm not sure!), I can't do either. I'm getting my ashes tonight, which I really need to do because I've given up red wine for Lent and I NEED to make it official. Tomorrow night, my niece is in town, who I haven't seen in a couple of months, and we're going to dinner.

So we'll see what, if anything happens, with either of these situations. Frankly, I'm just ready to get on a plane to go dig in Italy.