bad bad girl

So here we are. 

I have always been a very good girl. Painfully square, if you will. My two shoes are many things, but mostly goody. 

This occasionally irks me as I age into a period of uncertainty, as I realize that life has no guarantees. The ax of crap may fall on any of us, whether or not we kept curfew, studied hard, or didn’t inhale. And I wonder if I could have been having a lot more fun all this time. People get away with murder. Literally, figuratively... bad guys often win. Folks are camping out in Zuccotti Park right now because the bad guys won. So why not flirt with danger? 

Well, Joe Law squelched that thought, sister. 

canceled

So here we are. 

It’s that time of year again, when the ax starts to fall on the latest television offerings. It’s also that time of year when people shake their heads at the callousness of it all, of the rush to judgement, and the result of this are endless online comments about how everything on TV sucks, sux, socks, or suchs. [Sic.]

I prefer to treat this time of year like an early Thanksgiving. I sit with a warm beverage in my hand and muse upon about how grateful I am that the powers-that-be in television land only have control over their own industry. Think of how horrible life would be if network executives ran the rest of our lives:

open letter

So here we are.

It’s a nutty, kooky world out there, kids. It’s fast, it’s ever-changing, and it’s full of snakes and bear traps. It’s a wonderland of smashed hopes and hardened hearts. Mockery runs rampant on a field of judgement. 

But there is a delicious treat hidden in the back of the cupboard, and its name is Community. Find it, and you will taste joy.

But it is not my intention to use this forum to plug it, review it, or to attempt to convert the reluctant to its charms. It is only my intention to thank it. 

me and i

So here we are.

Of all the things I was grateful did not die last week, it was the iPod Classic. It had been heavily forecasted that it most certainly would not outlive Steve Jobs. Snarky tech bloggers, commenters, and taste-making wanna-bes stared down their noses as they all typed the same sentence:

Who still buys iPod Classics?

neighborhood

So here we are.

I am a lucky girl. I got to spend the other day hanging out with Sesame Street’s Bob McGrath at a special screening that my husband presented at the Museum of the Moving Image in Queens. The screening was a compilation of classic musical numbers from the show, and it was fun to watch Bob (as well as composer Chris Cerf, another guest that day) react to clips he hadn’t seen in years. Granted, I’ve worked with both Bob and Chris for a long time, but not that often as of late (for various reasons), and so it’s always good to see them. 

The best part was during People in Your Neighborhood, when I heard this very tiny voice a few rows behind me singing along. I turned around and saw a wee small three year-old, beaming as she sang the only words she could get out: “who... pee-pa... neigh-hood...”

pause

So here we are.

It’s been almost a week since R.E.M. announced their breakup. While I am not necessarily sad about this (I am a fan, but I am also resigned to the fact that all things must end), it does give me pause. Not just because I was lucky enough to work with them back in 1998, in the “Furry Happy Monsters” insert for Sesame Street, but mostly because it reminds me how much time has passed. It can’t be 31 years since “Radio Free Europe,” and yet it absolutely is. Things change after 31 years. The guys who practically invented college alt-rock are now being played on adult contemporary channels, along with other former bad-asses like Sting and Bowie. How can this not give one pause? 

The bigger disappointment, however, comes courtesy of that bastard otherwise known as the Internet. Smart-assery has rained down on the band since the announcement, but then, there is never a dry spell online. (Careful not to step in that puddle of sarcastic hashtags.)

pledge

So here we are. 

Well, kids, it’s official. I am not a genius. The MacArthur grants have been announced, and once again, I find myself empty-handed. It’s a little disappointing.

Now, I’m no fool. I know I’m not a genius, by sheer definition or even just by conventional standards. And I also know that sometimes I can fall deep into a freelancer’s rut where days go by without my having contributed anything worthwhile to society, laundry, or my bathroom tiles. And I am painfully aware that no one gets thousands of dollars in grant money because they know what’s inside that Godiva chocolate without looking at the little guide. 

So maybe this is a reminder that I should try a little harder to be a better part of the world. And it is today that I make the following pledges:

shallow

So here we are. 

I don’t know who to blame. I don’t know whether it was the stupid issue of the glossy ladies’ mag that I only got because my airline miles were going to expire... or whether it was re-watching too many episodes of Mad Men... or whether it was the fact that I was feeling decrepit and fat and needed a distraction from this as I prepped and dolled for a Monday night concert performance.

All I know is, I couldn’t have possibly chosen to paint my fingernails under my own influence. I like to think that I’m too practical to allow myself to do something that would prevent me from doing anything else... because my life has revolved around my damned nails since Sunday night.