Wednesday, February 24, 2010

More lyrical madness

Warning: Rant ahead.
OK, I've been listening to pop radio, and that is never a good thing. What is the deal with all these pitiful-girl-next-door songs? I got somewhat worked up listening to one tonight. I thought they had come out of nowhere and proliferated in the past year, but then I discovered that someone named Taylor Swift is responsible for most of them. Yep, she's the one with the best guy friend she secretly pines for. Aside from the fact that this is a wholly laughable construct, it sends a completely pathetic, desperate message.

Sung: But she wears short skirts/I wear T-shirts
She's cheer captain/And I'm in the bleachers

Unsaid: As we compete for men, we can categorize ourselves based on completely superficial characteristics and pit ourselves against each other.

Sung: Standing by and waiting at your back door/All this time how could you not know

Unsaid: If I wait passively long enough, you will choose me. I have nothing to say or do about it.

Sung: I'm the one who makes you laugh/When you know you're about to cry

Unsaid: If I give enough, I can make you happy! And then you will choose me!

The thing is, these types of songs never talk about the major deal-breaker with these guys: they aren't into you. So why would you stay hooked on someone who doesn't want you? Tell him how you feel and then move the f*k on. And I know, yes, these are fictitious songs. But I also know there are women out there in this situation, crying on their painted guitars. And I have been in this situation myself. And I wish that someone had just told me to move the f*k on. That it's not going to be this guy, and that's OK. That things do not just come to you in life just because you want them; you have to do something about it. Not that I'd have listened to any of that. Still.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Lyrics comma stupidity thereof

OK first, what is the deal with Even the Nights Are Better? I had it in my head today and I thought, really, *even* the nights are better since you've found me? I would think that the nights would be the *first* thing to see significant improvement. I mean, sure, Air Supply is not where I should look for logical lyrics. And they don't supplant the Worst Lyrics in the History of the English Language winner, Dan Hill's Sometimes When We Touch. Yeah, Dan, sometimes the honesty is just too much. But still, come on. Dumb. Which would not matter if it weren't so ding-danged catchy.

Secondly, I looked up the lyrics to that song that starts out Our love is ... like water. I only really know that first line, and I've always kind of liked it. Huh. Our love is like water. That's sort of nice, isn't it? Wrong. The rest of the song is NOT NICE. Good to know that now, more than a decade later.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Happy New Year/Valentine's Day!

Today is Valentine's Day and the lunar new year. We celebrated the former with dinner out last night; the latter was going to the annual Tet celebration in Virginia Beach and then getting Chinese food on the way home.

The Tet celebration was nothing like the ones in Cedar Rapids that I vaguely remember. This one is huge, and full of hundreds of people. Asians as far as the eye can see, which is not very far, because your view's blocked by a bunch of Asians. There's a stage with actual organized programs. And all the food's for sale. I don't remember it being like that in the rinky-dink parties we'd have in Iowa. But then, I was a little kid. What did I know?

Anyway, Jeffrey helped me discover something about myself at the celebration: Whitey can't win with me. I saw an older white guy walk in from the parking lot alone, and immediately got suspicious. He was a little schlubby, bald and bearded, and I immediately thought, Asian fetish. Gross. I've seen plenty of that kind of thing, and I am not interested in it. So I stereotyped him right away. And I said something to Jeffrey, like, ew, gross. And Jeffrey said, "Maybe he dropped off his family and went to park the car." And that seemed plausible enough.

Then we went inside. Aforementioned as-far-as-eye-can-see Asians. And there the guy is, still alone. Just walking around. I was grossed out again. Like, what the hell are you doing here unaccompanied? Who gave you a pass?

So I was telling Jeffrey all this and he said, "I saw that guy talking to a Vietnamese guy. Maybe he's a Vietnam vet or just someone who loves Asian culture? Do you just want Asians to celebrate Asian culture?" And I guess he has a point. I probably think that everyone should celebrate cultures, not just those drafted into that culture by birth. And I say "probably" because I haven't thought about it as such since elementary school. And probably then it was with a lot of idealistic passion.

So, my husband taught me a flaw in my own thinking. Happy Valentine's Day, honey. I love you.

Still that guy was creepy.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

A gift

OK first let me apologize for the topic of this blog post. It's going to be about Facebook, which is about as beaten as a dead horse can be. So, sorry.

But I've been thinking about it lately because someone I know has blocked me from his page. I don't know if it's just me; he may have blocked everyone. It might have nothing to do with me at all. At first I was annoyed and offended. But now I see it for the true gift that it is.

We have a tenuous relationship, this person and I. I didn't even like to see his posts; they struck me as self-pitying and whiny. I even hid his updates from my news feed. But for some reason, I continued to go to his page, even though it annoyed me. I was weaning myself slowly, but I couldn't completely break the habit. It was making me unhappy but I kept doing it. I'm addicted to things that make me crazy.

But now I see that he helped me break my addiction in a way that I don't have to feel bad about. He did what I could not do. I am very thankful for that.

Monday, February 08, 2010

Simple pleasures

Here are just a few of the many, many things it turns out I love.

1. Masterpiece Classics' version of Emma. I love the simplicity, and the costumes, and the drama. And of course, I love Mr. Knightley. In fact, here are my favorite Mr.s Knightley, in order of preference:
1. Jonny Lee Miller
2. Paul Rudd
3. Jeremy Northam
Of course, they are all very close.

2. Box macaroni and cheese. I hadn't had this since I was a kid, but I made some tonight. And sure, it's different now, all organic and such. But still, it is quite delightful. It started out as a side, but then I finished the entire box. Jeffrey asked, how many servings did you eat? I replied, all.

3. Comparative advantage. On Sunday, Jeffrey and I enjoyed a day of doing the things we like to do, and are good at, around the house. I put together a bookcase, and he made a really good caldo verde-like soup. When his mom heard I was putting together the bookcase, she was appalled. And in the past, I'd have made a big deal out of how we turn gender roles on their heads. But now, it's just comfortable. I do what I like. He does what he likes. It doesn't have to be a thing. It's just us.

Wednesday, February 03, 2010


Today's entry is sort of like an '80s sitcom clip show: Some personality, not much substance. But I had to post tonight because a friend of mine from work sent me this astrology Web site that lists traits of the sun signs. I had to laugh at hers because under "likes" it listed rainbows and magic. But I looked up mine, and I've never seen one peg me so dead-on. It's like it was written secretly by an ex, insightful but not bound by any show of affection. Check out my likes:

Scorpio Likes: strenuous activity, the unraveling of mysteries, winning at any cost, being acknowledged the undisputed champion of anything, and the comfort of their own homes.

Being acknowledged the undisputed champion of anything! Seriously! That's what Son Ngoc Van means in Vietnamese! Then there's this:

A typical Scorpio has the characteristics of self-criticism, intense concentration and a passionate drive, which results in complete success or utter failure. You also have a strong self-destructive streak along with unreasoning temper that can be triggered at a slightest provocation. You are very suspicious and jealous.

I mean, come on. Have you met me?