Blizzards

So we had these blizzards…

In February of 2010, Mother Nature got pissed at something…maybe our total disregard for the environment, maybe our total disregard for each other…something. On Friday 2/5 into late Saturday 2/6, we had a blizzard. Got about two feet of snow, more or less. The drifts were up to my hips and digging out was arduous. Still, we got through it and made it to work on Monday. Not too bad. Until Tuesday night. The snow started around 7:30 or so, but they said more would be coming. Much more. Well, for a while, it looked iffy…we got a few inches Tuesday night and school was closed for Wednesday. I could deal. My husband and I went out and shoveled the slush, and boy was it heavy. We were glad it was only a couple of inches. Snow had changed to rain and we thought we were good for tomorrow. Then the snow came back…in spades. The changeover was around 3 pm, but this time it wasn’t the pretty, fluffy snow of the weekend. This was heavy, wet snow. It weighed down the tree branches…it broke wires….it blew transformers all over Bricktown.

So now, it’s 2:41 am Thursday morning. Of course, there’s no school again tomorrow. Good thing, because it’s going to take most of the day to shovel this snow away. There has to be another 10 inches out there, this time packing snow. I’m dreading that shoveling experience, and the only plus to it is that we already shoveled the first six inches earlier, so at least there’s that. The plows have been going down our street two at a time. This does not bode well at all. I’m most grateful that we did not lose power, as so many people in our town have this evening. Although I saw flashes of light several times tonight, our transformer held…our lights never even blinked. That may have been my use of my mother’s mojo. When we had thunderstorms, she’d always light a candle to ward off the lightning and hopefully any loss of power. It usually worked….if we lit a candle, the lights would stay on. So tonight I lit candles. I figured that if worse came to worst, at least we’d have some light if the power did go out. This time, the mojo worked.

Snow days are bad for my diet though. I have this compulsion to bake during a snow storm. Saturday it was muffins; today it was chocolate cake. At least I make the Weight Watchers versions, so that’s a bit better. I also cook—soup, stew…chili’s on deck for tomorrow, even though I have no cilantro. I’ll make do. The thing is to fill up the house with delicious smells while the wind whips around outside. There’s comfort in knowing I’m not alone in this. Maybe that explains the mad rush to buy bread, milk, and eggs when the forecasters predict snow.

Speaking of snow, the forecasters are mentioning yet another storm…I hope they’re wrong this time. My diet and my back cannot handle another blizzard.

Privacy Settings

“You should never eat alone.”

This is a lyric from an African song I overheard during a presentation at school today and it got me thinking. The lyric is about sharing, and it reminded me of a scene in Logan’s Run where the protagonist is upset that his female companion saw him eating. In that society, eating was a private thing, much like going to the bathroom, and to be seen eating was highly embarrassing. It made me wonder what makes us choose the privacy settings of our lives. It seems to me that privacy is a very subjective thing, and that modern society has changed our views of privacy. I see it in my students and the things they feel entitled to post on their Facebook and MySpace pages.

I think the erosion of privacy began with television. Having strangers come into your living room night after night (or day after day) started to ease our feelings of who is a stranger and who is not. Fans of television shows began to react to the characters as though they were real people, as evidenced by the interaction between fan and actor in real life. Many television villains have been accosted on the street and treated as though the actions they performed on last night’s show were actual things they did in their own lives. Some fans have had a hard time distinguishing between fantasy and reality, and the idea of what is private, for that actor, changed.

Privacy took another hit with the daytime talk show phase. Starting with Phil Donohue, through Sally Jessy Raphael, and most famously, Jerry Springer, talk show hosts have encouraged people to air their dirty laundry on nationwide television while viewers watched like ghouls at a train wreck, eager to stuff their empty lives with the scandals of others. These shows furthered the idea that interpersonal relationships were mere sideshow attractions to be gawked at by a curious public eager to see sensation over substance. These talk shows evolved (if one can call it that) into the courtroom shows, beginning with The People’s Court with the infamous Judge Wapner, and spawning a myriad of like-minded “Let’s sue em” shows like Judge Judy, Judge Joe Brown and…well, you get the picture. Here come de judge, and he/she’s makin money!

More recently, we’ve seen the burgeoning “Reality TV” market. It started with Survivor and has grown exponentially until we’ve been barraged by the likes of The Bachelor, The Bachelorette (naturally), Shark Tank, and (unfortunately) Jersey Shore. Viewers become so involved in these shows that they follow the cast members as if they knew them personally. One show even mocked its own genre by calling itself “Big Brother.” 1984 is here, and privacy has never been so threatened. These shows further the idea that revelation is fun…it’s entertainment, and furthermore, it’s the fifteen minutes of fame we were all promised so long ago.

So what’s with the overlap of entertainment with reality? What’s the harm? In my mind, the harm is of great importance, because once we devalue our privacy, it’s very easy to give it up. By viewing the revelation of what should be private moments, ideas and actions, it gives permission for us to reveal our own little secrets. Because we’ve seen it so often, it becomes part of what we accept as normal. We bare our souls to total strangers on the internet and feel like we’re safe because it’s just words on a screen, but many don’t realize that those words, once they’re sent into cyberspace, can float around for a very long time indeed, and perhaps come back to haunt us. We blog; we post; we IM, but who’s really reading us? Who will read these words once I post them? And what inferences will be made about me by those who do read? These are consequences most don’t even consider, and that’s frightening to me.

What will privacy look like in 10 years? In 50? And will world events cause those who already think privacy is “no big deal” to give up privacy altogether, perhaps without even realizing it? I think that’s what scares me the most…that people won’t even realize they’ve given up their privacy because they had so little regard for it in the first place. But there’s hope. I’ve spoken to two former students who are in the process of removing pictures from their Facebook pages because they realize that prospective employers might not appreciate them; that they’ve revealed too much…and that’s a start.

Cars Suck

Cars suck. They're simply planned obsolescence engineered to become so much a part of our lives that we have to do everything in our power to appease them. My car needs repairs to the tune of 2 grand. And that's if I don't get everything done, which I won't cause I don't have 3 grand. Yikes. I feel like I'm working to pay off the debt incurred to keep my car on the road to get to work. I'm really hoping that when I retire we can actually move to Bloomington, IN and live in town so I won't need to drive anywhere for my daily needs. Granted, I'd still want a car but it would be nice to only need one car between the two of us because I could walk everywhere I needed to get to on a daily basis.

I miss the city. I never thought I'd say that once we moved out of north Jersey, but I never realized how convenient walking everywhere could be. I took it for granted, I know, but I truly miss it now. Of course, Orange NJ is not the place it was in the late 50s and early 60s, but I miss the idea of being able to live without cars. Walking, buses...what great ideas. And such an easy way to stay in shape. Fitness without the hefty gym dues. This is my idea of a dream life.

Your freedom of speech is my hate-filled invective

Curse my lack of writing discipline! Anyway, I'm back with so many thoughts in my tiny little brain that I must write or risk a cerebral explosion.

Our world gets crazier every day. The whole Kanye West thing disgusts me, because once again man's inhumanity to man becomes so much gossip column fodder. The disgusting part is that while people whine and moan that what he did to Taylor Swift was horrible, what no one's saying out loud is that it's merely a symptom of a much larger problem. It's not just a lack of manners we're dealing with here--it goes back to the whole entitlement issue. "I'm a star and entitled to have my say" or, "I disagree with the president and entitled to call him names during his speech." Since when are we all entitled to say and do whatever we want with impunity? Yes, we have the freedom of speech guaranteed to us, but what people fail to realize is that this freedom stops when it begins infringing on someone else's rights. Just as it is unacceptable to yell "Fire" in a crowded theater because it can then infringe on someone else's right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, it is unacceptable to say things that are hurtful and detrimental to others. It is unacceptable to speak with such blatant disrespect to the leader of our country, despite our difference of opinion. And it is unacceptable to crush someone's shining moment just because we thought somebody else deserved it. There, I said it.

It's been a while but I'm back!

I'm really wishing that this whole Michael Jackson thing would just go away. I'm very sorry for his family and understand that they're feeling a terrible sense of loss at this time, but stopping the world for the death of an entertainer bothers me greatly. What's worse is the idea that the California taxpayers may be footing part of the bill for the funeral. I find this appalling. I think it's all simply evidence of this ridiculous cult of celebrity that has been growing uncontrollably in this country for several years. Is our democratic society so in need of the idea of royalty that we have to create our own in the form of celebrities? I thought we fought a war to get out from under the oppressive rule of a monarch. I can only shake my head in disbelief and wonder when people will start thinking again.

Speaking of thinking, summer school has begun and I'm back to wondering how some of these kids are going to make it after high school. My job is to get kids to pass the state test...a test which is for minimum basic skills, mind you...and it's like pulling teeth to get a lucid sentence out of some of them, never mind a coherent, unified essay. I wish they could understand the importance of clear communication. Unfortunately, some of them never will. I see that all the time, and it's so frustrating to have to deal with adults who never learned how to communicate. That's actually what got me back to teaching--I was tired of fixing problems caused by poor communication skills in business so I thought I'd go back and nip it in the bud before the little darlings got out into the working world. But so many of today's students come in with such a chip on their shoulders. They absolutely don't believe I can possibly know anything worth knowing, therefore they do whatever they can to try to subvert my lessons. It's sad, really, because I know where many of them are headed, and it isn't going to be pretty for them.

Hmmm...I should rename this blog and call it what it is today-a rant. There's lots to rant about lately, besides the MJ thing. I think what upset me the most about that (and yes, I've gone full circle) was that Farrah Fawcett died the same day and by that evening, the world was like, "Farrah who?" Having lost both my parents to cancer and then having my own cancer, I know how horrible her last days were, not only for her, but more importantly, for her family. It's a gruesome death and the family members had to have spent more time mourning her before her death than they did afterward. You're on a death watch when someone with a terminal illness nears the end. I'm reminded of a line from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar: "Between the acting of a dreadful thing and the first motion, All the interim is like a phantasma, or a hideous dream..." II.i ll 63-65. From her first diagnosis to her death I'm sure that family went through their own version of a hideous dream, and yet the demise of an overaged manchild who may very well have been a pedophile overshadowed all their grief and replaced it with a media circus that became nauseating. My heart goes out to Farrah's family.

Well, my rant has run its course. I will push to update this blog with more frequency, dear readers. Till then, I'm off.

Horse racing and other stuff

Ok, Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now post time. God, I miss Fred Capacella. With the running of the Kentucky Derby and Preakness, my mind is reliving the Saturday afternoons of my youth, when local thoroughbred racing was televised and my grandmother and I watched religiously. I was about 13 and unable to place any bets at a track, but I got pretty darned good at picking winners on the television. It got so I could analyze the field by track condition, jockey, past races and current weather and be right more often than I was wrong. I always felt the excitement mount when the track announcer, the aforementioned Mr. Capacella, would make that signature nasal announcement and the gates would fly open. I knew when a horse took the lead too early, or when a jockey made a move at the wrong time. Honestly, thoroughbred racing was and still is the only sport I have always enjoyed watching. It's not even the thought of winning, because I've never once placed a bet in my life; it's just the mental challenge of bringing so many disparate facts together into one final decision and then watching to see if that decision was the right one.

On another front, it's almost the end of another school year. It's about time-there's a very good reason that the school year only runs for 10 months, and despite the popular misconception that teachers "get summers off" what that really means is that I'm out of work and have no income for two months. So it's another summer of summer school, which will pay me roughly half of what I'd normally make per month, but it's better than nothing. My real issue is that I do need the break. Teaching is a very stressful profession-you try spending 45 minutes with 30 adolescents five times a day and see how you do. Then try making them do stuff they don't want to do and actually learning something from it (if they do it at all) and on top of all that, have your own life. Summers used to be a time for me to destress and plan my next year in peace and quiet. That doesn't happen as easily working summer school. Before Summer school (BSS) I used to be ready to start back by late August and would approach the classroom eagerly and with a sense of excitement. Now, I've been in the classroom till mid-August and that eager anticipation is no longer there. I truly can't wait for the economy to improve and for my salary to increase enough to be able to put money away for the summer so I can have time to be me again. It's coming!

Enough griping. It's early evening, the sun is still up and the weather's warm. I think I'll take a walk-get ready to open the gate; it is now post time.

Star Trek and its consequences.

Tim and I saw the new Star Trek movie today. I was excited, of course, but did head in with a little trepidation. When something achieves a somewhat iconic state, it's a little bit scary to think that someone will take it in a new direction that you might not have wanted to see. I needn't have worried. I don't think I've seen a film that had such a strong effect on me, mostly because one wouldn't expect a little sci-fi flick to be so moving. It was appropriately action packed, as I'd anticipated, and yes, it was fun to see the younger versions of the characters I'd grown to love over the past 40 years, but it was more. As the story progressed, and the beloved characters appeared on the screen, it was like being able to go back in time and see people you loved meeting for the first time on a road to becoming....well, the people you loved. It was comforting, nay, even heart-warming.

One of the phrases bandied about during the massive press juggernaut leading up to the release of the film billed it as "not your father's Star Trek." I humbly disagree. My father was a huge Star Trek fan, as well as a fan of Science Fiction films in general. He would have loved this film. I think he would have had the same excitement I felt when each character was introduced, and he would have been just as excited as a kid with a new toy. It made me a bit sad that he couldn't have lived long enough to see this movie, because it definitely would have been my father's Star Trek.

As the movie came to its end, my husband and I both reacted quite strangely-well, strangely to most other moviegoers, not to us. We were moved; choked up-teary-eyed. I'm not exactly sure why, but as I wiped the tears from my face, I realized that the trepidation I'd felt before the film was that it might not achieve exactly this effect; that somehow they'd make light of the characters we'd loved all those years ago and still loved to this day. All the hoopla about making it a new Star Trek or moving it in a new direction didn't diminish one bit of the humanity at the core of the story. They got it right, and I was more than just a little bit grateful.

And on that note, I believe I will boldly go...to bed.