So. This year. Let's just say it wasn't my favorite or anything. I mean, it started with my agent and me hopeful that some editor was going to fall in love with my book - and two did...but their sales teams didn't. Because of "the current market". And the other editors passed. So, yeah, that wasn't frustrating or anything. And neither was some work-related drama. No, not at all. I guess it was all a "learning experience" or whatever, but...meh.
However, since I am usually a half-glass-full kind of person, let's look back at the better times of the last twelve months.
My most remember-y type, blog-worthy days of 2011:
- One of my most favorite days this year was when I visited Liana and Eric in London, and Liana and I took the train to Stratford-Upon-Avon to see William Shakespeare's house. It was a beautiful early spring afternoon (seriously - it was blooming about three weeks before it even hit here), and Liana and I took this little path that cut through quaint neighborhoods to get to Anne Hathaway's house. It was just so...nice.
- The day I spent alone in Bruges was just amazing. Traveling alone isn't always ideal - especially when there's no one to help you figure out that the thing you think is an emergency exit is actually a bathroom - but I had no problem roaming around maybe the quaintest place I've ever been. When I happened upon the town convent area, with its thousands of daffodils and the sound of nuns singing vespers from the church, it was maybe the most peaceful moment of my year.
- Yes, I did wake up early to watch the royal wedding. I didn't blog about it, but I feel it needs to be noted. Historic stuff and whatnot.
- Anytime you can say you navigated the twisty turns of Laurel Canyon Blvd. in L.A., and can still successfully sing along to More Than Words with Erica, well, that qualifies as a good day too. Also, on that same trip: climbing to the Hollywood sign...and celebrating that feat with Chick-fil-A. Also: eating lunch on the beach. In November.
- That day I met Thumper? The first Yankee I've ever met? Was quite the awesomest. Even if it was raining and I almost hauled off and beat the crap out of these guys who were making fun of a mentally handicapped guy (my biggest regret of the year is not saying anything to them, but since I was working and I was way, way, WAY angry in that moment, I felt it best to not say anything, lest I blow up and bring retribution unto my place of employment. Still. That grown men would behave in such a way makes me sick. That I had to keep my mouth shut annoys me to this day. But the Thumper part was fantastic.)
- Remember the earthquake? What's crazy about it is that for a good five minutes I just had to assume it was an earthquake because my mom, 50 miles away, had felt nothing. Then I was like, "Oh, wait, Facebook!"
And right after I typed this status, I noticed about four or five other ones, one being from my old roommate Melissa in Hoboken, who'd felt it. Then I started seeing people in Philly and Baltimore chiming in and it was like "Holy cow." What was annoying, though, were the West Coast transplants mocking everyone the next day, to which I wanted to be like, "If it ever snows in L.A., I don't want to f***ing hear about it." And I still stand firm on that.
- And the hurricane a few days later? Oh, that was fun.
- Best day of the year, hands down: July 9. I can't think of a more perfect day at the ballpark, under extraordinarily perfect circumstances. If I remember 2011 for anything, it will be that.
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Saturday, December 31, 2011
Misty, Day-Glow Covered Memories
For whatever reason, I feel like 2011 was the year that the 90s became the decade to look back on warmly as the "the best." Apparently, people have not sat down to watch VH1's I Love the 80s back-to-back with I Love the 90s, because after viewing that, it's no contest about which decade was far more fun, pop-culture wise. But then I realized a lot of it has to do with what age you were when. Like, I obviously remember more of the 90s, but the 80s will almost always be the halcyon days for me.
It probably seems strange because the most pivotal decade in my life thus far was the 90s. I started and graduated high school. I got my drivers' license. I started and graduated college. I got my first real job. I went from merely liking the Yankees to knowing almost everything you need to know about them (don't laugh - there really is so much about that that's shaped my life). Yet I don't get nearly as nostalgic for, say, 1994, as I would for 1984 (sidebar: No songs can ever do wrong for me from that year, no matter how cheesy. Amiright, "Oh, Sherrie," "All Night Long" and the entire Footloose soundtrack?) Maybe because the 90s was when I hit 13 and started becoming self-aware. As important as it is in your adult life to have as much self-awareness as humanly possible, I think it all starts going downhill from there in terms of your innocence and ability to enjoy things unabashedly. And I don't mean that to sound all "put away childish things" or something depressing like that - it's more like, you're focused on other stuff (good stuff, even, like being able to turn the oven on by yourself and bake cookies) that doesn't get in the way when you're 7.
What I think it comes down to is this: in the 80s, all I had to do was be a kid. I had no real concerns (except one not-so-nice teacher whom I'd had the pleasure of having twice, but that's another topic for another day) - it was basically 10 years of playing with my friends (either riding bikes outside or being inside with Barbies or the Intellivision), looking forward to/enjoying summer vacation/Christmas/my birthday/the incredible awesomeness of snow days. And it was all going on in a time when anything pop-culture related was cranked to 11. So of course I associate The A-Team or Wham! or Rubik's Cubes with good times. I mean, I still associate the 80s version of American Bandstand with getting a Smurf bigwheel for my birthday because that's what I was watching before my birthday party that year and I'd gotten it the night before. I'm sure Culture Club or Madonna or whoever was playing that day, so of course I'll never, ever dislike them (sidebar: I still associate Madonna's "Borderline" playing on the radio while I was doing a Donald Duck math workbook - a subject I still loathe - with good times because it was like two days before summer vacation started and I was really amped for it at 7. For real). Still, a Smurf bigwheel was all I needed to be really, really happy back then, so anything associated with that is awesome for me as well. Even the giant scar on my ankle, a direct result of that bigwheel. Oh, yes.
My precioussssss
Which is why I laugh when I see all these lists on websites where the writer is nostalgic for the 90s (this has been happening more often than not lately, as it seems most blog writers on big pop-y sites are like 25-26 and getting to the age where you've been commisterating with your friends over "Remember XYZ? That ruled" enough to feel the need to speak for a generation). Not that there's anything wrong with looking back fondly at old stuff (see this entire post), but when it's like a broad, not-broken-down-by-decade list of the "best ever" of kids' shows or commercials or one-hit wonders, and said list is populated entirely by things like The Secret World of Alex Mack or "Tubthumping" with a complete disregard for anything that came before it because the writer doesn't remember anything pre-1993... well, I guess I start to feel a little old or something at 34.
Like, for me, Punky Brewster >>> any kid main-character-based show Nickelodeon can churn out in any decade. It will always be better because I was at the exact age that show was supposed to be appreciated in 1985. It was a show for me, for kids my age, something that inspires the first version of watercooler talk a kid can have (although, weirdly, a bunch of us felt the same way about North and South in the 3rd grade and that was clearly not geared toward our demographic). Someone born earlier than me would probably feel the same about, like, The Brady Bunch. Or Leave it to Beaver (which, sidebar, are shows I watched as a kid, too, thanks to Channel 9 and Channel 11. Are kids today watching The Facts of Life or Who's the Boss somewhere? God, I hope so.). Which is why I'd never assume I can name something the "best ever" for everyone because, well, I haven't been alive as long as pop-culture has. Though, I get it: "The best EVER" is more sexy and likely to get hits than "Things that I think are the best".
So, yes, personally speaking, I think the 80s were a really effing fantastic time to be a kid. For me, "the best." And no amount of "Remember Crystal Pepsi and Hammer Pants?!?!" or "OMG, I was in the first grade when this Color Me Badd song came out!" or lists of 90s child stars then and now (Like, do I care? They're all younger than me, so they still look young and are therefore always youthful) is going to make me think differently.
Although, I'm betting that in about 6-7 years from now, when all these "the 2000s were the best!" posts start rolling in, 80s and 90s kids are going to be most definitely united in being all "Oh, hell no," over that. Because, come on now.
It probably seems strange because the most pivotal decade in my life thus far was the 90s. I started and graduated high school. I got my drivers' license. I started and graduated college. I got my first real job. I went from merely liking the Yankees to knowing almost everything you need to know about them (don't laugh - there really is so much about that that's shaped my life). Yet I don't get nearly as nostalgic for, say, 1994, as I would for 1984 (sidebar: No songs can ever do wrong for me from that year, no matter how cheesy. Amiright, "Oh, Sherrie," "All Night Long" and the entire Footloose soundtrack?) Maybe because the 90s was when I hit 13 and started becoming self-aware. As important as it is in your adult life to have as much self-awareness as humanly possible, I think it all starts going downhill from there in terms of your innocence and ability to enjoy things unabashedly. And I don't mean that to sound all "put away childish things" or something depressing like that - it's more like, you're focused on other stuff (good stuff, even, like being able to turn the oven on by yourself and bake cookies) that doesn't get in the way when you're 7.
What I think it comes down to is this: in the 80s, all I had to do was be a kid. I had no real concerns (except one not-so-nice teacher whom I'd had the pleasure of having twice, but that's another topic for another day) - it was basically 10 years of playing with my friends (either riding bikes outside or being inside with Barbies or the Intellivision), looking forward to/enjoying summer vacation/Christmas/my birthday/the incredible awesomeness of snow days. And it was all going on in a time when anything pop-culture related was cranked to 11. So of course I associate The A-Team or Wham! or Rubik's Cubes with good times. I mean, I still associate the 80s version of American Bandstand with getting a Smurf bigwheel for my birthday because that's what I was watching before my birthday party that year and I'd gotten it the night before. I'm sure Culture Club or Madonna or whoever was playing that day, so of course I'll never, ever dislike them (sidebar: I still associate Madonna's "Borderline" playing on the radio while I was doing a Donald Duck math workbook - a subject I still loathe - with good times because it was like two days before summer vacation started and I was really amped for it at 7. For real). Still, a Smurf bigwheel was all I needed to be really, really happy back then, so anything associated with that is awesome for me as well. Even the giant scar on my ankle, a direct result of that bigwheel. Oh, yes.
My precioussssss
Which is why I laugh when I see all these lists on websites where the writer is nostalgic for the 90s (this has been happening more often than not lately, as it seems most blog writers on big pop-y sites are like 25-26 and getting to the age where you've been commisterating with your friends over "Remember XYZ? That ruled" enough to feel the need to speak for a generation). Not that there's anything wrong with looking back fondly at old stuff (see this entire post), but when it's like a broad, not-broken-down-by-decade list of the "best ever" of kids' shows or commercials or one-hit wonders, and said list is populated entirely by things like The Secret World of Alex Mack or "Tubthumping" with a complete disregard for anything that came before it because the writer doesn't remember anything pre-1993... well, I guess I start to feel a little old or something at 34.
Like, for me, Punky Brewster >>> any kid main-character-based show Nickelodeon can churn out in any decade. It will always be better because I was at the exact age that show was supposed to be appreciated in 1985. It was a show for me, for kids my age, something that inspires the first version of watercooler talk a kid can have (although, weirdly, a bunch of us felt the same way about North and South in the 3rd grade and that was clearly not geared toward our demographic). Someone born earlier than me would probably feel the same about, like, The Brady Bunch. Or Leave it to Beaver (which, sidebar, are shows I watched as a kid, too, thanks to Channel 9 and Channel 11. Are kids today watching The Facts of Life or Who's the Boss somewhere? God, I hope so.). Which is why I'd never assume I can name something the "best ever" for everyone because, well, I haven't been alive as long as pop-culture has. Though, I get it: "The best EVER" is more sexy and likely to get hits than "Things that I think are the best".
So, yes, personally speaking, I think the 80s were a really effing fantastic time to be a kid. For me, "the best." And no amount of "Remember Crystal Pepsi and Hammer Pants?!?!" or "OMG, I was in the first grade when this Color Me Badd song came out!" or lists of 90s child stars then and now (Like, do I care? They're all younger than me, so they still look young and are therefore always youthful) is going to make me think differently.
Although, I'm betting that in about 6-7 years from now, when all these "the 2000s were the best!" posts start rolling in, 80s and 90s kids are going to be most definitely united in being all "Oh, hell no," over that. Because, come on now.
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Quote of the (Christmas) Day
"Henry's on the basement floor. Don't anybody step on his face!" - My mom, on the Henry Cavill poster I got her for the laundry room.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
An Early Christmas Present of Sorts
Isn't it awesome when something good can come of your choice in the either all-together frightening or utterly freezing bathrooms in your place of employment? Because it happened for me today, you guys (because of the frightening bathroom - though, to be fair, the freezing one has had its share of splashy-splashy times):
Shazam! Tweeted at by former Yankees and now this!
I shall never understand how people hate social media...
Shazam! Tweeted at by former Yankees and now this!
I shall never understand how people hate social media...
Playing Matchmaker: The TRUE Meaning of Christmas, Y'all
So, as has become our yearly custom, Ken and I did our annual "Christmas Saturday", in which we bake a crapload of cookies and watch cheesy, made-for-TV holiday movies, just so we can rip on them. While this year's choice, The 12 Dates of Christmas, was FAR more coherent than, say, Christmas Cupid, and actually showcased the holiday in its title unlike, say, The 12 Men of Christmas, it left me more than a little, uh, peeved.
Why? Because it's central message was pretty much "Be nice to people...and make sure everyone you know is paired up." At least that's what I took away from it. I mean, how could I not, when our heroine turns to her blind date at Midnight Mass (don't ask), points out her elderly neighbor sitting in a pew and says "I don't want to end up alone like her." Meanwhile, said neighbor is shown to be a jolly, friendly woman, who bakes lots of delicious fruitcakes and has a red Kitchen-Aid mixer - the mark of a truly hip and excellent old lady. She mentions she doesn't have a husband or kids to bake for, but it comes off matter-of-fact, and not feeling sorry for herself. Yet the main character cannot bear the thought of this horrendousness. Oh no, making it into her dotage with enough of her faculties that she can still live alone AND take herself to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve is just NOT a fate that should befall anyone, you guys. She later sets her up with an older guy she keeps running into, because playing cupid is what people should do when they're living a day over and over again, trying to get something right.
What's also curious is that the movie makes a point to show this girl's ex boyfriend, a nice guy who had planned on proposing to her until she got all obsessed with getting married. He didn't want to end up just some guy who was helping her meet a goal. So does she learn from this? You know, maybe take some time to get okay with herself? Nay, she decides to pair up every remaining single person she knows, give guys who were already pretty okay (in a hipsterly way) makeovers and not question what some kid did with a giant paper-bag-covered magnum of champagne that just happened to disappear from the time he left the liqour store to the time she runs into him in the alley. No, continuity is just beyond her because his plotline didn't involve meeting The One (instead it involved puppies). Oh, and she had to fall in love with her blind date over these 12 dates. So I can see how the movie might forget that little flaw of hers that led her to her current state to begin with, but what should we care? Her surface flaws were fixed! That's enough, right? SIGH.
Now, now, I know it's not a movie that's meant to be taken to heart so much, but I'm so tired of every TV movie pressing this whole "LIVING ALONE IS DEATH TO LIFE!" notion or whatever. It's bad enough that there's this message of "You must find a mate or your life means nothing" pushed on us by society or Hollywood or relatives (not mine, just to FYI - THANK GOD), that adding one more chip to that pile-on just vexes the hell out of me. Happiness doesn't come from other people. You gotta figure that shizz out for yourself or you aren't going to be an old lady who takes herself to midnight mass - you're going to be an old lady who's bitter and pissed that life didn't meet your expectations. And then you only have yourself to blame.
And I'm glad I don't need to relive Christmas Saturday 2011 12 times over to realize that.
Why? Because it's central message was pretty much "Be nice to people...and make sure everyone you know is paired up." At least that's what I took away from it. I mean, how could I not, when our heroine turns to her blind date at Midnight Mass (don't ask), points out her elderly neighbor sitting in a pew and says "I don't want to end up alone like her." Meanwhile, said neighbor is shown to be a jolly, friendly woman, who bakes lots of delicious fruitcakes and has a red Kitchen-Aid mixer - the mark of a truly hip and excellent old lady. She mentions she doesn't have a husband or kids to bake for, but it comes off matter-of-fact, and not feeling sorry for herself. Yet the main character cannot bear the thought of this horrendousness. Oh no, making it into her dotage with enough of her faculties that she can still live alone AND take herself to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve is just NOT a fate that should befall anyone, you guys. She later sets her up with an older guy she keeps running into, because playing cupid is what people should do when they're living a day over and over again, trying to get something right.
What's also curious is that the movie makes a point to show this girl's ex boyfriend, a nice guy who had planned on proposing to her until she got all obsessed with getting married. He didn't want to end up just some guy who was helping her meet a goal. So does she learn from this? You know, maybe take some time to get okay with herself? Nay, she decides to pair up every remaining single person she knows, give guys who were already pretty okay (in a hipsterly way) makeovers and not question what some kid did with a giant paper-bag-covered magnum of champagne that just happened to disappear from the time he left the liqour store to the time she runs into him in the alley. No, continuity is just beyond her because his plotline didn't involve meeting The One (instead it involved puppies). Oh, and she had to fall in love with her blind date over these 12 dates. So I can see how the movie might forget that little flaw of hers that led her to her current state to begin with, but what should we care? Her surface flaws were fixed! That's enough, right? SIGH.
Now, now, I know it's not a movie that's meant to be taken to heart so much, but I'm so tired of every TV movie pressing this whole "LIVING ALONE IS DEATH TO LIFE!" notion or whatever. It's bad enough that there's this message of "You must find a mate or your life means nothing" pushed on us by society or Hollywood or relatives (not mine, just to FYI - THANK GOD), that adding one more chip to that pile-on just vexes the hell out of me. Happiness doesn't come from other people. You gotta figure that shizz out for yourself or you aren't going to be an old lady who takes herself to midnight mass - you're going to be an old lady who's bitter and pissed that life didn't meet your expectations. And then you only have yourself to blame.
And I'm glad I don't need to relive Christmas Saturday 2011 12 times over to realize that.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
On Going to The Symphony
Last night at Lincoln Center (for a performance of Handel's Messiah):
Lady to guy in row in front of us: "So, which of the arts is your favorite?"
Guy: "Oh, I really enjoy the ballet and opera."
Gist of Ken and Rachel's conversation in our row:
"Zac Efron was really hot in New Year's Eve!"
Also observed:
- Avery Fisher Hall looks way bigger on TV
- The end of the Hallelujah Chorus is akin to the end of the 7th inning at a Yankee game: people take it as their cue to bolt from the premises, even if there's still more to go.
- No one wore formal evening attire, which is at once relieving and a bummer. I was really hoping to gawk.
Lady to guy in row in front of us: "So, which of the arts is your favorite?"
Guy: "Oh, I really enjoy the ballet and opera."
Gist of Ken and Rachel's conversation in our row:
"Zac Efron was really hot in New Year's Eve!"
Also observed:
- Avery Fisher Hall looks way bigger on TV
- The end of the Hallelujah Chorus is akin to the end of the 7th inning at a Yankee game: people take it as their cue to bolt from the premises, even if there's still more to go.
- No one wore formal evening attire, which is at once relieving and a bummer. I was really hoping to gawk.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Quote of the Day
"They take all these cute guys and make them into movie stars…and then they don't want to be my friend." - Former Production Gal Amy, on the vexingness of this sort of thing.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Crushin' on Mr. Fix-It
You know what's one of my secret pleasures? Along with real estate guides and sitting in a room with just the Christmas tree lights on (doing that right now, y'all)? Home renovation shows. Oh yes.
It all stems back to when we had construction done on our house when I was in the eighth grade, which is seriously another post for another day because it was six months with the randomest motley crew of construction workers in our lives (example: burly guys terrified of your pet Labrador; a guy who was once arrested for riding a horse while drunk; workers tearing out your staircase, taking their ladder home...and leaving a radio on upstairs. It was a very amusing time in Casa Bischer). But seeing the end result and the sheer amount of work that went into it really opened my eyes to how awesome home renovations can be.
So, anyway, since then, I've enjoyed renovate-y things. I like walking around Home Depots. I like when people I know are having their houses/condos redone and I can see what their plans are. And, yes, I like home improvement shows. And HGTV and DIY are like a crack supplier for me with those things.
Anyway, that's all just a whole lot of explaining to bring us to my point, my latest installment of KB's TV Crush (which, sidebar, this is like a boom time for cute, "KB's Type" guys on TV. Thank you, whoever is making that happen):
Matt Muenster, the host of Bath Crashers. A little scruffy, a lot personable, actually funny (His reaction to a bathroom festooned with swans, "It's a water fowl adventure in here!", was particularly charming) mixed with manly home reno-type stuff and shazzam! Yeah, I may be enjoying this show a lot lately. The fact that it's on like 16 times a week doesn't hurt.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm all DIY inspired right now, and have to fix my makeshift star holder/transplanted branch on my Christmas tree. If they ever have a show about that and other useful ways to use Scotch Tape, I'm so there.
It all stems back to when we had construction done on our house when I was in the eighth grade, which is seriously another post for another day because it was six months with the randomest motley crew of construction workers in our lives (example: burly guys terrified of your pet Labrador; a guy who was once arrested for riding a horse while drunk; workers tearing out your staircase, taking their ladder home...and leaving a radio on upstairs. It was a very amusing time in Casa Bischer). But seeing the end result and the sheer amount of work that went into it really opened my eyes to how awesome home renovations can be.
So, anyway, since then, I've enjoyed renovate-y things. I like walking around Home Depots. I like when people I know are having their houses/condos redone and I can see what their plans are. And, yes, I like home improvement shows. And HGTV and DIY are like a crack supplier for me with those things.
Anyway, that's all just a whole lot of explaining to bring us to my point, my latest installment of KB's TV Crush (which, sidebar, this is like a boom time for cute, "KB's Type" guys on TV. Thank you, whoever is making that happen):
Matt Muenster, the host of Bath Crashers. A little scruffy, a lot personable, actually funny (His reaction to a bathroom festooned with swans, "It's a water fowl adventure in here!", was particularly charming) mixed with manly home reno-type stuff and shazzam! Yeah, I may be enjoying this show a lot lately. The fact that it's on like 16 times a week doesn't hurt.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm all DIY inspired right now, and have to fix my makeshift star holder/transplanted branch on my Christmas tree. If they ever have a show about that and other useful ways to use Scotch Tape, I'm so there.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Drink a Toast to Innocence, But Not to Mark Zuckerberg, I Guess
You know what doesn't happen if Facebook exists, like, 35 years ago? THIS SONG.
Think about it. If Dan and his lady friend had Facebook, they more than likely would've "friended" each other, even though they were exes, because they were clearly both fond of each other despite breaking up. So he would've known that she was in a joyless marriage because she probably would've posted a status along the lines of "Would like to say I love the man, but I don't want to lie, lol." And she would've known the audience was heavenly, but the traveling was hell because he probably would've said something like "Great show, Cleveland. But I just miss my f***ing waterbed, man." Although I don't know if a man who wrote a song about "fishes in the ocean" would've cursed on the ol' FB, but you never know.
Still. The point is, they probably wouldn't have had as poignant or as song-writing-worthy of a reunion in the grocery store if the internet existed back then. God knows, they probably would have had an emotional affair via direct messages and emails, without even seeing each other in person and then the architect would've found out about it while checking out his wife's smartphone and instead of food shopping on Christmas Eve, he and Dan's lady friend would've spent the holidays getting to know each other again on Bora Bora or consulting a divorce lawyer or something. Nothing as nostalgia worthy as what actually went down.
Thank god for it, I guess. But I wonder how many other things get ruined because of technology. Alas.
Think about it. If Dan and his lady friend had Facebook, they more than likely would've "friended" each other, even though they were exes, because they were clearly both fond of each other despite breaking up. So he would've known that she was in a joyless marriage because she probably would've posted a status along the lines of "Would like to say I love the man, but I don't want to lie, lol." And she would've known the audience was heavenly, but the traveling was hell because he probably would've said something like "Great show, Cleveland. But I just miss my f***ing waterbed, man." Although I don't know if a man who wrote a song about "fishes in the ocean" would've cursed on the ol' FB, but you never know.
Still. The point is, they probably wouldn't have had as poignant or as song-writing-worthy of a reunion in the grocery store if the internet existed back then. God knows, they probably would have had an emotional affair via direct messages and emails, without even seeing each other in person and then the architect would've found out about it while checking out his wife's smartphone and instead of food shopping on Christmas Eve, he and Dan's lady friend would've spent the holidays getting to know each other again on Bora Bora or consulting a divorce lawyer or something. Nothing as nostalgia worthy as what actually went down.
Thank god for it, I guess. But I wonder how many other things get ruined because of technology. Alas.
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