Thursday, November 14, 2013
I'm Just Saying: No More Drama?
I'm Just Saying: No More Drama?: When I turned 21 years old, I was in Rome wearing a ridiculous Versace shredded black jersey skirt I'd pick up in Milan paired with a ch...
No More Drama?
When I turned 21 years old, I was in Rome wearing a ridiculous Versace shredded black jersey skirt I'd pick up in Milan paired with a charcoal grey cotton roll-neck JCrew sweater that I'd bummed off of one of my travel companions because I hadn't packed warm clothing for a January trip abroad. I also hadn't packed shoes that would endure days of walking through art galleries, along cobblestone streets, up smooth marble staircases, or slippery boat launches. I did, however, manage to fill up my High Sierra duffel bag to such an extent that it required two people to hoist its straps onto my shoulders. Thank God the airlines hadn't started charging baggage fees back then! Looking back, though, my packing abilities weren't what embarrassed me the most, rather it was my complete lack of awareness of the impact of my actions on those around me. And while I'm sure that I wasn't the first, or the last, twenty-one year old guilty of being a narcissist, the drama that I caused on that trip sticks with me 20 years later.
Just what do I mean by "drama", though? Well, that arbiter of modern language, The Urban Dictionary, defines "drama" as: Something women and especially teenage girls thrive on, consisting of any number of situations that have an easy solution, which would bring a fairly good outcome, but these girls choose another bad way to deal with it.
Drama has been a great friend to me. Our relationship started when I was a little girl, watching soap operas with my grandmother. "The Young & The Restless", "Search for Tomorrow", "Capitol", "As the World Turns", "Guiding Light", and "The Bold and the Beautiful" - these were our people, with their big hair, perfect teeth, and the constant drama that swirled around their lives five days a week. The mind of the soap opera character was fascinating to me, especially as it contained a blueprint for problem-solving that involved heavy use of drama. Why tell your new husband that you can't have babies when you can easily steal the baby of your rival and pass the child off as your own?? Why get a divorce when you can fake your own death and run off to an exotic island with your lover?
Life after college was all about drama. For my girlfriends and I, every phone call/brunch/happy hour/dinner was a recitation of the day's boyfriend drama/work drama/family drama/roommate drama. No detail was too trivial to be dissected by the group. You presented your case and we members of the group would pore over every detail, CSI-style. My specialty was voice inflection ("He said he HATED you, or did he say he hated you?") while others of the group were experts in security ("You didn't let him take the keys to your apartment, did you?"), health and wellness ("You need to get tested!"), and employment and benefits("How dare he break up with you and refuse to give you that promotion! You should report him to your company's HR!"). And while I can imagine my 41-year-old self seated at the table next to my 20-something self and my friends and rolling my eyes at the gathering of this brain trust, back then we never judged each other harshly, nor did we ever think of a drama-free solution to our problems ("Maybe you shouldn't be dating your married boss!").
One by one, as we moved on and matured, the drama that bonded our young, single selves to each other would seem, on the surface, to have disappeared. But, let's be real - it hasn't. We may talk a good game, declaring drama-free-zones, and telling people to "keep it moving", but who are we kidding? We may think that we've cleverly disguised our drama-seeking ways, shrouding them in self-righteous indignation, but we haven't. I once stood in line at a Starbucks to pick up my dopio espresso. The place was packed and the line of people in front of me to place an order was twenty deep, while the clump of people awaiting their drinks at the other end of the counter numbered in the teens. About 3 minutes into my waiting was when the "incident" happened - a well-dressed female customer standing nose to nose with the lone barrista processing the drink orders. Apparently, her double shot of something or other was a single shot of something or other, and as she berated the barrista, our Working Girl tried to draw the rest of us into her tirade. Great plan, unless you overlook the obvious - that her nasty little fit was occupying the attention of the lone barrista and holding up all of our orders. She failed to recognize that her drama was causing more drama, and thought, instead, that she was merely exercising her rights.
I can think of far less dramatic occurrences of drama that we all indulge in:
And ordinary people aren't the only ones indulging in drama - the recent government shutdown was ALL drama! As a nation, we seem to have an insatiable lust for drama.
So, can we really live a drama-free life? And if we can, do we want to?
Just what do I mean by "drama", though? Well, that arbiter of modern language, The Urban Dictionary, defines "drama" as: Something women and especially teenage girls thrive on, consisting of any number of situations that have an easy solution, which would bring a fairly good outcome, but these girls choose another bad way to deal with it.
Drama has been a great friend to me. Our relationship started when I was a little girl, watching soap operas with my grandmother. "The Young & The Restless", "Search for Tomorrow", "Capitol", "As the World Turns", "Guiding Light", and "The Bold and the Beautiful" - these were our people, with their big hair, perfect teeth, and the constant drama that swirled around their lives five days a week. The mind of the soap opera character was fascinating to me, especially as it contained a blueprint for problem-solving that involved heavy use of drama. Why tell your new husband that you can't have babies when you can easily steal the baby of your rival and pass the child off as your own?? Why get a divorce when you can fake your own death and run off to an exotic island with your lover?
Life after college was all about drama. For my girlfriends and I, every phone call/brunch/happy hour/dinner was a recitation of the day's boyfriend drama/work drama/family drama/roommate drama. No detail was too trivial to be dissected by the group. You presented your case and we members of the group would pore over every detail, CSI-style. My specialty was voice inflection ("He said he HATED you, or did he say he hated you?") while others of the group were experts in security ("You didn't let him take the keys to your apartment, did you?"), health and wellness ("You need to get tested!"), and employment and benefits("How dare he break up with you and refuse to give you that promotion! You should report him to your company's HR!"). And while I can imagine my 41-year-old self seated at the table next to my 20-something self and my friends and rolling my eyes at the gathering of this brain trust, back then we never judged each other harshly, nor did we ever think of a drama-free solution to our problems ("Maybe you shouldn't be dating your married boss!").
One by one, as we moved on and matured, the drama that bonded our young, single selves to each other would seem, on the surface, to have disappeared. But, let's be real - it hasn't. We may talk a good game, declaring drama-free-zones, and telling people to "keep it moving", but who are we kidding? We may think that we've cleverly disguised our drama-seeking ways, shrouding them in self-righteous indignation, but we haven't. I once stood in line at a Starbucks to pick up my dopio espresso. The place was packed and the line of people in front of me to place an order was twenty deep, while the clump of people awaiting their drinks at the other end of the counter numbered in the teens. About 3 minutes into my waiting was when the "incident" happened - a well-dressed female customer standing nose to nose with the lone barrista processing the drink orders. Apparently, her double shot of something or other was a single shot of something or other, and as she berated the barrista, our Working Girl tried to draw the rest of us into her tirade. Great plan, unless you overlook the obvious - that her nasty little fit was occupying the attention of the lone barrista and holding up all of our orders. She failed to recognize that her drama was causing more drama, and thought, instead, that she was merely exercising her rights.
I can think of far less dramatic occurrences of drama that we all indulge in:
- constantly arriving late or not showing up at all for outings with friends because of constantly overpacking your schedule.
- never having cash to pay your part of the tab because you forgot to budget in time to stop at the ATM or you're broke and won't fess up!
- loading up your credit card and never paying the bill on time.
And ordinary people aren't the only ones indulging in drama - the recent government shutdown was ALL drama! As a nation, we seem to have an insatiable lust for drama.
So, can we really live a drama-free life? And if we can, do we want to?
Saturday, October 5, 2013
I'm Just Saying: "You're Not as Cute as You Think You Are"
I'm Just Saying: "You're Not as Cute as You Think You Are": On a recent episode of HBO's series, "The Newsroom," Will McAvoy (played by Jeff Daniels), tells his executive producer/former...
I'm Just Saying: Don't Nobody Bring Me No Bad News: A Field Guide t...
I'm Just Saying: Don't Nobody Bring Me No Bad News: A Field Guide t...: The other night - it was a Sunday night after a grand and glorious weekend of fun with my husband, mom, aunt, and nephews - my mother called...
I'm Just Saying: Shutdown Showdown: Why social media + political di...
I'm Just Saying: Shutdown Showdown: Why social media + political di...: This week, the world was reintroduced to the dysfunctional family which is the U.S. government. And while both sides of our elected official...
Shutdown Showdown: Why social media + political discourse = "unfriending"
This week, the world was reintroduced to the dysfunctional family which is the U.S. government. And while both sides of our elected officials took to their talking points (and allegedly to their office minibars) and the airwaves to make their case, we, the people, hashed it out with #hashtags and Facebook rants. Political discourse is vital to any democracy, but the unmediated world of social media, much like the online comments sections, is clearly punching above its weight.
So how did we get here? It's obvious that the seeds of hostile political discourse were sown long before this latest government shutdown. Some would point to March 19, 1979 when the Cable-Satellite Public Affairs Network (more commonly known as C-SPAN) began cablecasting the U.S. House of Representatives live to 3.5 million households. Before that, the deal making and House floor across-the-aisle negotiations that made legislative history were covered by the reporters who were in the chamber. But something happens when the words of your two-minute floor speech flow, unfiltered, to the voters in your congressional district. It's a little like giving a toddler a baseball bat and a 5-lb bag of sugar and walking away, confident that all will end well! With C-SPAN, not only can you hear one Congressman address an opposing Congressman as "my friend", but you can also see the tight-lipped sneer on his face as he's saying it! At times, it becomes the political equivalent of the comic actor Norman Fell's "Three's Company" breaking of the fourth wall, also known as "Ropering", when he would deliver a line to the character "Jack Tripper" and then gaze directly into the camera at us with that sly smile on his face! Some days I'd watch the congressional shenanigans on C-SPAN and I'd laugh to myself and say, "Classic Roper!!"
And then, on June 1, 1980, CNN had it's first broadcast. Soon, other 24-hour cable TV news channels joined them, and then came the Internet, bloggers and the death of print journalism. We have been re-wired to want things faster and, with the arrival of Twitter, shorter, and so it's little wonder that talking points have replaced thoughtful deliberation. Talking points are the Cliff's Notes of politics, and they have become a crutch for politicians. We have elected officials who think that they don't have time to read the bills they vote for or vote against, so they choose, instead, to read the talking points on the bill. These same talking points will then be used in the press release that their office will release shortly after the member makes their floor speech (also prepared using the talking points) ahead of their colleagues so that the national media spotlight will fall on them first, which will (fingers crossed) get them invited to do a two-minute live interview from some cramped studio in a congressional press gallery. This interview, really, is just another recitation of the talking points. And waiting in the wings, like Mama Rose, is the member's press secretary, Tweeting out to the masses the 140-character version of the talking points as well as a heads up on when the interview will air. And there we sit, watching the interview, listening to the recitation of the talking points, and off we go to Facebook where we go off on each other.
Ask yourself this question: Is it worth it? Is it worth the time and the tension and the trouble to turn the virtual space that's usually reserved for the exchange of cute kid pics and updates on what you ate for dinner into a segment of "Hardball"? If the fires of political engagement burn so hotly within you then read the legislation, learn the voting record of your elected officials, and volunteer with your party for get-out-the-vote and election day activities. This government shutdown has many human faces who are living on the financial margins, so donate time, money and food to your local food pantry. Facebook and Twitter may create virtual community, but we humans who use these tools must create real community. So let's leave the talking points to the talking heads - we've got more important things to do.
So how did we get here? It's obvious that the seeds of hostile political discourse were sown long before this latest government shutdown. Some would point to March 19, 1979 when the Cable-Satellite Public Affairs Network (more commonly known as C-SPAN) began cablecasting the U.S. House of Representatives live to 3.5 million households. Before that, the deal making and House floor across-the-aisle negotiations that made legislative history were covered by the reporters who were in the chamber. But something happens when the words of your two-minute floor speech flow, unfiltered, to the voters in your congressional district. It's a little like giving a toddler a baseball bat and a 5-lb bag of sugar and walking away, confident that all will end well! With C-SPAN, not only can you hear one Congressman address an opposing Congressman as "my friend", but you can also see the tight-lipped sneer on his face as he's saying it! At times, it becomes the political equivalent of the comic actor Norman Fell's "Three's Company" breaking of the fourth wall, also known as "Ropering", when he would deliver a line to the character "Jack Tripper" and then gaze directly into the camera at us with that sly smile on his face! Some days I'd watch the congressional shenanigans on C-SPAN and I'd laugh to myself and say, "Classic Roper!!"
And then, on June 1, 1980, CNN had it's first broadcast. Soon, other 24-hour cable TV news channels joined them, and then came the Internet, bloggers and the death of print journalism. We have been re-wired to want things faster and, with the arrival of Twitter, shorter, and so it's little wonder that talking points have replaced thoughtful deliberation. Talking points are the Cliff's Notes of politics, and they have become a crutch for politicians. We have elected officials who think that they don't have time to read the bills they vote for or vote against, so they choose, instead, to read the talking points on the bill. These same talking points will then be used in the press release that their office will release shortly after the member makes their floor speech (also prepared using the talking points) ahead of their colleagues so that the national media spotlight will fall on them first, which will (fingers crossed) get them invited to do a two-minute live interview from some cramped studio in a congressional press gallery. This interview, really, is just another recitation of the talking points. And waiting in the wings, like Mama Rose, is the member's press secretary, Tweeting out to the masses the 140-character version of the talking points as well as a heads up on when the interview will air. And there we sit, watching the interview, listening to the recitation of the talking points, and off we go to Facebook where we go off on each other.
Ask yourself this question: Is it worth it? Is it worth the time and the tension and the trouble to turn the virtual space that's usually reserved for the exchange of cute kid pics and updates on what you ate for dinner into a segment of "Hardball"? If the fires of political engagement burn so hotly within you then read the legislation, learn the voting record of your elected officials, and volunteer with your party for get-out-the-vote and election day activities. This government shutdown has many human faces who are living on the financial margins, so donate time, money and food to your local food pantry. Facebook and Twitter may create virtual community, but we humans who use these tools must create real community. So let's leave the talking points to the talking heads - we've got more important things to do.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Don't Nobody Bring Me No Bad News: A Field Guide to Aging Parents, Sickness, Health and Other Everyday Occurences
The other night - it was a Sunday night after a grand and glorious weekend of fun with my husband, mom, aunt, and nephews - my mother called. It was around 8:30pm, after a lazy Sunday of church in the morning, a breakfast picnic, my epic post-picnic 60-minute walk followed by an equally epic living room nap. I could tell by the tone in her voice that the reason for her call wasn't going to be fun, and I was right. I'd like to say that this was my mom's first nocturnal data dump, but it's always been her SOP. When I was a little girl, Mom and Grandma would recite the list of injured and infirm from among family and friends. When I went away to college, the dinner recitations became late night phone calls to the hall phone in my dorm. Mom's streak continued while I was in grad school, so much so that I was rendered a nervous wreck anytime the phone rang after 8pm.
After grad school I got my very first cellular phone which I thought would thwart her, but it didn't. It just encouraged her to leave two post-sundown messages of doom - one on my house phone and the other on my cell. When I took a job that required shift work that put me on overnights, the telephone would ring at 7am, when she knew I'd just be getting home. I don't know which ticked me off more - the insensitivity on my mom's part or the fact that she always happily chirped a "sleep well" into the phone after dropping her bomb.
And then I got married and the calls stopped. It was the happiest of times. I mean Mom and I still talked and met up for lunch and shopping, but the nightly tales of trauma stopped. Well, at least for the first few years. And then, wouldn't you know it? Everyone started getting old, including, apparently, my mom. Soon, she was back working the night shift and telling me all of the ghoulish details of this one's MRI and that one's CAT Scan. So, when my husband suggested that we activate the Caller ID on our home phone, I gladly said "hell yes!!" And then I hugged him. And then I slept, like a baby.
I had quite the call-screening operation going until my sister, who had studied at the feet of the master we call "Mom", discovered texting and soon her stressed-out texts filled my phone inbox with cryptic texted tomes of "Call me!!!!" or "Emergency!!!" that covered everything from a broken down car to a nephew at the hospital ER with a sinus infection/allergy attack/school yard scrape.
So then there were two and there was no safe place.
And then Dad got sick and soon I couldn't switch off the family switchboard. After his death, the floodgates opened and every Mom-call was answered, even the after-8pm calls. But, it's been a struggle. Every time the phone rings after 8pm, all I can hear going through my head is that song from The Wiz - "Don't Nobody Bring Me No Bad News". Not familiar with this little ditty, where's here's a verse:
After grad school I got my very first cellular phone which I thought would thwart her, but it didn't. It just encouraged her to leave two post-sundown messages of doom - one on my house phone and the other on my cell. When I took a job that required shift work that put me on overnights, the telephone would ring at 7am, when she knew I'd just be getting home. I don't know which ticked me off more - the insensitivity on my mom's part or the fact that she always happily chirped a "sleep well" into the phone after dropping her bomb.
And then I got married and the calls stopped. It was the happiest of times. I mean Mom and I still talked and met up for lunch and shopping, but the nightly tales of trauma stopped. Well, at least for the first few years. And then, wouldn't you know it? Everyone started getting old, including, apparently, my mom. Soon, she was back working the night shift and telling me all of the ghoulish details of this one's MRI and that one's CAT Scan. So, when my husband suggested that we activate the Caller ID on our home phone, I gladly said "hell yes!!" And then I hugged him. And then I slept, like a baby.
I had quite the call-screening operation going until my sister, who had studied at the feet of the master we call "Mom", discovered texting and soon her stressed-out texts filled my phone inbox with cryptic texted tomes of "Call me!!!!" or "Emergency!!!" that covered everything from a broken down car to a nephew at the hospital ER with a sinus infection/allergy attack/school yard scrape.
So then there were two and there was no safe place.
And then Dad got sick and soon I couldn't switch off the family switchboard. After his death, the floodgates opened and every Mom-call was answered, even the after-8pm calls. But, it's been a struggle. Every time the phone rings after 8pm, all I can hear going through my head is that song from The Wiz - "Don't Nobody Bring Me No Bad News". Not familiar with this little ditty, where's here's a verse:
When you're talking to me
Don't be cryin' the blues
'Cause don't nobody bring me no bad news
You can verbalize and vocalize
But just bring me the clues
But don't nobody bring me no bad news!
Maybe this is my punishment for being the good girl growing up, being the one Mom could always talk to about everything. Maybe it's time for me to be as open and honest with my mom as she always has been and continues to be with me, even when I want her to stop. Maybe I can create some sort of Mom shorthand or Morse Code that lets me know that all's clear and it's safe to talk to Mom. Or maybe I can finally provide Mom with a one-word data dump of my own: Stop!! Well, actually, Stop PLEASE!! I mean she is my mother, after all and I'm no fool! I can't change her, but maybe I can get her to change the subject once in a while.
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