the new busy.

Are you kidding me? Every time I see Microsoft Hotmail's new campaign slogan, I make a face and shake my head. "The New Busy?" Seriously? I know some goofball(s) made a lot of money off of that "idea" and I shake my head at that too. (By the way, isn't it us, the Gen X'ers, that get made fun of for using air quotes? Well, perhaps we also over-use quotes in general, however I think air or typed quotes also add the perfect dash of tongue-in-cheek, don't you?)

As a friend of mine, ironically a former Microsoftie (or is it MS'er?), said to me over the weekend, "What even is the New Busy? What does that mean?" Weird. Who wants a new Busy? Find me someone who actually wants a new Busy. Seriously, call me. I will talk some sense into you. I want less Busy. I want a mini-Busy, a Busy salve, a Busy tamer, a Busy reliever. Honestly, I actually want the Old Busy. You know, the Busy where you had to juggle changing your home answering machine message (so that you sound like Wolfman Jack) and make dinner in time to catch "People's Court." Or the Busy where waiting in the grocery line for the man in front of you to pay with a check didn't make you want to go postal. Or how about the Busy where making a mix-tape took the same amount of time as it did to listen to it? Or the Busy where it was hands-down more fun to get a dirt clod thrown at you than try to respond to 287 emails before bed. I hate the New Busy and I hate that Microsoft is trying to sell it to me. I KNOW what the New Busy looks like and it isn't me trying to figure out how to fit in yoga. Bottom line: anything that is selling New + Busy scares the shit out of me.

Here's the New Busy:

How many times have you called the cable company to have them explain to you the very best deal, triple-whatever, including digital-whatever, taking up at least 45 minutes of your evening, only to get to the very end and they say that "Whoops, that price is not available in your area." Exactly. Me too — once was enough. So the New Busy stuck with basic cable and had to call and order stupid digital boxes that I had to set up on my own, which required at least one support phone call, upon which they tried to sell me the digital upgrade, which had a great price (!), only to discover that alas...not available in my area. Honestly, the New Busy is exhausted just from writing this paragraph.

How many times have you told the grocery checker that you forgot your club card, but could they please give you the discount this one time? Little do they know that the New Busy intended on signing up, but after I filled out the card, I realized that I have to bring that card back into the store. You can't mail it. You can't do it online. I have three neatly completed applications in the bottom of my New Busy purse. You find them.

When you've made your pet boarding reservation, did they tell you that the required boarding-specific immunizations are not up to date, only to discover that your vet can't see your pet until the week after you return from your trip? The New Busy had to find a new in-home boarder.

I called in my prescription refill. Easy. Then fought for thirty minutes to find a parking space. Hard. Only to be told by the pharmacist that they can't give me my prescription because my insurance only covers payment on the last week of the month. No, I'm not kidding. The New Busy had to do it all over again...two days later.

The New Busy keeps re-sending emails to myself so they appear at the top of the list.

I carry any and all liquids in ziplock bags all the time because I've been burned by running out of FHA-required one-quart bags on airplane travel days.

I tape my parking pass to my coat on the last day of the month so I remember to put it on my rearview mirror that night.

Trader Joe's' steam-in-the-bag vegetables almost make me cry with relief.

I cancelled home milk delivery because paying the bill online and remembering to email them every time I needed to reduce or stop delivery took more time than just buying it at the store.

Finding time to read "Real Simple" takes a real commitment.

I use Pert Plus.

An ad for a 5-minute dinner recipe makes me laugh like a mad scientist.

I pay my daughter to make her own school lunches.

I email during traffic jams, text on elevators, and return phone calls while grocery shopping.

When I'm out jogging, I have to carry both my iPod and my phone because no, I don't have an iPhone. That would require switching carriers and that's a rabbit hole I don't want to go down anytime soon.

The smaller garbage cans, which the City promotes to reduce waste, are only 12 gallons less but they don't have wheels.

One staple of the New Busy purse is three different power adapters. Enough said.

The only folks who are making it easier for the New Busy are the paid parking lot owners, who's online over-time fine payment system is a breeze.

Ok, ok. This could go on longer than the New Busy has time for. I'm from Seattle and I do appreciate Microsoft from a regional economy stabilizing angle (that was a mouthful) so, I will give them a break. They didn't invent the New Busy, and honestly they have some legitimate tools trying to help us wrangle it. It's not lost on you either, I know, that the "New Busy" campaign is supposed to be doing exactly that — selling a Busy-wrangling tool. Maybe that should have been the campaign. A cowboy, Busy in the role as the villain, MS as the cowboy's rope. Cowboy + Rope = Busy being wrangled. Works for me! Microsoft?...Call me. If you get a busy signal, don't worry, there's an app for that.

jumping the shark.

I was having a great laugh with a friend the other day when I referred to something we were talking about as "jumping the shark" — the popular idiom used to describe when there is a clear, defined moment when something takes a nose-dive. If you are not familiar, the idiom comes from an episode of the TV show, "Happy Days," when the (before that episode) über-cool Fonzie character jumps over a shark on waterskis wearing jean cutoffs and a leather jacket. Yes, that sentence just happened. Jean cutoffs, leather jacket, shark, waterskis. Pretty obvious now, right? The show "jumped the shark" and the ratings were never the same.

What I love about this particular idiom is that it identifies an exact moment when the collective conscious says, "Yep...we see it. Right there, that's the moment. Things really sucked after that." When used in the context of entertainment, there are examples all over the place. Like when Quiet Riot went back on tour, this time of college fraternities and with only one original band member. Or when Mr T pushes Rocky Balboa's trainer out of the way and the push causes him to have a heart attack (WTH?) in "Rocky III." Or how about starting with the opening credits of Bret Michaels' "Rock of Love Bus" (as opposed to "Rock of Love" which...rocked, but most people I know won't admit they watched it. I even caught the "Rock of Love Marathon," which was a fantastic Sunday with popcorn for breakfast, lunch and dinner.) Frankly, nearly any sequel has to be very careful about not strapping on the waterskis. What about in music? How about when John Mayer said his penis is like a white supremacist in Playboy? (For the record, that entire article is NUTS. Read it. The white supremacist thing got all the play, but seriously, there are some nuggets in there. He has one whole answer that goes like this, "It's all about geometry. I'm sort of a scientist; it's about being obtuse with an angle. It's sort of this weird up-and-over thing. You gotta think 'up-and-over'." I know...just read it.) TV? George Costanza's fiancé's envelope-licking death on Seinfeld? (Although many will argue that the show was still brilliant after that.) I think "Melrose Place" jumped the shark when the Kimberly Shaw character comes back from the dead, pulls off her wig and shows Michael her scar. That was only in season three! Ironically, the actress that played her, Marcia Cross, currently has an online poll suggesting that her "Desperate Housewives" character's lesbian story line is jumping the shark.

This could go on for days.

People use "jumping the shark" to describe all kinds of things, but typically they use it inappropriately. "Jumping the shark" is not just a disappointment, it's the demise. It's also not just an over-reaching commentary such as describing the entire state of Seattle Mariner baseball, it's a definitive moment. And the cool part? It's a moment that you know is a moment right when it's happening. No rear-view-window reflection required. Like when Republican vice presidential candidate Sarah Palin told CBS News' Katie Couric that she could see Russia from her house. Whether you like her or not, she jumped the shark right then. Or when Helen Thomas, a nearly 60 year veteran of the White House press pool, recently said that Jews should go back to Germany (I understand that this one line is a bit out of context, but trust me...she jumped.) Or when Larry Craig, the former Idaho senator who was arrested for lewd conduct in an airport restroom sting, claimed he had a "wide stance." Watch out, we have a jumper!

Again, this could go on for days.

So after all of my laughing, I have been reflecting; what are my personal jumping the shark moments? I've had them. I know so because again, you know when something's jumped. I've had dates jump the shark. Like when I was first out of college, a guy that I had previously adored from afar in high school (three years older) asked me out, took me to a great Japanese place for dinner (all going well), then proceeded to take me to the airport lounge for drinks. If it wasn't bad enough to end up at the airport, the kicker is that they were known for serving stiff drinks. Bad move. I had some fun with it — including making him believe the date was a roaring success until we got to my apartment and I shut the door before any chance of a goodnight kiss. For the record, he jumped the shark the moment he turned into the airport parking lot.

My marriage jumped the shark and I know when that moment was. I know exactly when my path to becoming an attorney jumped the shark, as well as when friendships changed, relationships altered, or paths redirected. My list could go on for days too. Yours? It's kind of interesting to think about, isn't it? We know these moments exist right as they are happening. Whether we want to accept them or not, or when we accept them or not, is really the question. There were five Indiana Jones movies despite the fact that he saved himself from a nuclear explosion by hiding in a refrigerator. "Melrose Place" lasted seven seasons I think and it got nuttier and nuttier. "The Price is Right" jumped with Bob Barker's first plastic surgery, then again with his sexual coercion scandal at age 71 (ick), and yet again with Drew Carey as host (in my opinion) and you can still tune in and watch ecstatic Ohioans on vacation win at Plinko. And then there's "Happy Days" which limped along for another seven years after Fonzie was all wet (as were the ratings). Why? Who knows? As usual, I'm not trying to answer any big questions, I'm just thinking about these things. Exploring. Shaking my head a little. Sometimes I guess we humans just like to beat a dead...shark.

Hmmm..with that joke, did my blog just jump?

isn't it ironic?

Ok, I'm back to Chuck Klosterman again. I should probably write him a fan letter and maybe I will, but first I want to explore an idea sparked by one of his essays involving Ralph Nader, the consumer advocate turned national political candidate, and Rivers Cuomo, the singer/songwriter and frontman for the band Weezer.

I started running recently. I would say, "again" but honestly that would be totally disingenuous. I'm sure my lack of discipline surrounding a regimented exercise routine will eek it's way into an entry at some point, but for today, let's just picture me as a runner. Jacked up on sunshine, a wide woodsy urban trail packed with comrades drinking the cool aid, an athletic-enough me hitting a good stride with my iPod fueling the pace. Weezer's "Troublemaker" on loop and my gleeful connection with the lyrics evident on my face. I get it! Klosterman nails it again: Cuomo isn't being ironic, he means what he is saying! Listen to it now with this in mind...it is awesome and interesting.

In his essay, "T is for True," (http://tinyurl.com/2drfv2a) Klosterman deftly identifies how both men present a literal and non-ironic world view and this is confusing and frustrating for most, if not all, of the rest of us. Irony is so common in our culture. It makes us laugh, feel comfortable, be casual, sound smart. Being literal can confuse most of us. There's a bit of a lie in irony and it's easier to hide in that space - for the giver and receiver. The literal truth can be harder to swallow, and sometimes we also just don't care. Sometimes I think it can even backfire. A filter can be good and useful. Irony can be useful, can't it?

I am a classically ironic person (note how many times in my entries I have to pull us out of irony by saying words like "truthfully," "honestly," "literally" and "really"). I like to be casual, funny. Yes, you've heard me say how open I think I am, which can mean less ironic and more literal, but the truth is that I am typically only really open and transparent with those closest to me. (Admittedly I do think I am probably more open than maybe the average person, but still...) Like David Foster Wallace wrote in 1993, "an ironist is impossible to pin down." That can be me. That can be a lot of people.

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day who, according to him, made the mistake of asking his ex-wife how she is doing. He got an ear full, but I think he was hoping for the ironic "just super, thanks." Even with the likely scathing delivery, he could have stepped away from that answer much quicker, which is what he wanted. For all of my talk about being more open, bringing more authenticity to the table, having the courage to tell some truths (not all), blah blah blah (insert smirk), I have to say...irony is an oft-used, pervasive tool and frankly, it's a safety-net. Can you imagine if I employ literalism when the barista at my building's coffee shop asks me how I am doing, and I reply with: "Not great. I'm freaking out about lack of income right now, I've only eaten half a piece of toast and crappy tea this morning, and you are about to charge me $5.70 for a cup of milk with some green powder in it and I'm completely at your will because I have a headache that requires caffeine to relieve it." COME ON! Even if I went the other way and went literal with the positives (which would sound like bragging), the bottom line is that both scenarios would evoke the exact same reaction - horror. Who the hell is this woman? Or if I answered every question about my divorce with what really is in my head? Uh, no. Depending on the audience I will say things like, "It's super fun" or, "Don't do it. Just have more sex." Light and flip. Ironic.

All of that being said, it's possible that we do overuse the "to tell you the truth" lead-ins that soften the impact of the literal statements. David Foster Wallace also said that "...our pervasive cultural irony is at once so powerful and so unsatisfying." But I wonder, is it really so unsatisfying or can't we find a happy medium between the two? Can't irony be a valuable social tool, the aforementioned safety net?

Klosterman envisions the possibly asexual, and therefore not likely to even get married, Nader delivering a wedding vow like this: "In sickness, with the possible exclusion of self-contained vegetative states, and in health, assuming neither party has become superhuman or immortal." Who wants to hear that? On the other hand, Rivers Cuomo has a line in "Troublemaker" that I love and play over and over again. He builds it up by telling you that he is going to pick up his guitar, play heavy metal riffs, exactly like he likes, and lays it on us with: "You want arts and crafts? How's this for arts and crafts?" and he breaks into a brash and loud braggart-feel guitar riff. I love it. Listen to it - it's fun. And Cuomo meant it! He's in your face, there is no irony. But again - maybe moderation is really the key. We can't all run around answering every question like maybe the answer is in our heads, can we? Like maybe Cuomo, giving exactly what I am thinking with a loud guitar riff-esque approach? The answer in your head is no. Mine too. We all know that most of us can't and don't want to run around being literal all the time. People also don't necessarily want to hear it either, and that's not a bad thing. Ironically, irony can keep us connected but also allow us to step-back and take a breather when we may need it. Putting the guitar down is not so unsatisfying.

"My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son-of-a-bitch."

–Jack Nicholson

For the record...there's at least one literal statement in this entry.

walking a tightrope.

About six weeks ago, I was sitting at a friend's apartment enjoying a lilac-scented breeze blowing through their sunny second floor windows. Late afternoon, dinner and friends coming together. Amazing homemade guacamole (with red onion — great addition!), a coriander-infused cold beer (interesting) and easy conversation rolling from one subject to another.

On the south wall of their living room is a framed poster of the New Yorker magazine cover art from September 11, 2006. An artistic and interesting cover, regardless of whether you understand the significance of it or not. It's an almost all black and white depiction of a man walking skillfully holding a long balancing pole. As such, you assume the presence of a tightrope, but none is to be seen, and you assume the presence of anchors, but again, none are to be seen. The reason? The cover served as the magazine's five year anniversary remembrance of all that was lost on September 11, 2001. It artfully used Philippe Petit's unauthorized tightrope walk between the 111th floors of the Twin Towers on August 7, 1974, removed the towers, removed the rope, and reminded us of what can disappear into thin air.

Philippe Petit calls himself a tightrope artist and a world-class pickpocket. He's been quoted as saying, "I am someone who lives in the clouds and have no respect for the way humanity organizes society on earth. I don’t have a bank account, don’t have a car, don’t have a little box full of money." He is a life-long street performer and in 1974, he became, as the New York Post describes, "one of New York's most beloved curiosities." He has been interviewed hundreds of times, books have been written about him and in 2009, the documentary chronicling his famous walk, "Man on a Wire" (http://manonwire.com), won the Academy Award for Best Feature Documentary. Today, he is a curiosity still, but a powerful voice for independent, artistic thinking and for choosing to live a singularly unique life.

Since laying my eyes on that poster, Petit has been on my mind. I find it wildly interesting that the New Yorker brilliantly chose him as a beacon of remembrance. The visual depiction is profound, no doubt, and maybe a little obvious, but I think ultimately his endeavor is a powerful example of the indelible grace of one individual soul, of 3,000+ souls. Six years of planning and dreaming for 45 minutes 110 stories off the ground, dancing across the wire. I think his act reminds us that there is profound value in the manifestation of the individual soul. A powerful subtext to the visual used by the New Yorker.

Also since that sunny Sunday evening, the hosts, my friends, have also been on my mind. Shortly after that dinner, they shared with me the profound struggle that they are now engaged in. They are battling time, opinions, treatments and physical and mental exhaustion, and a host of other things I can't even wrap my brain around. I am struck by the similarities between the artwork on their wall, and their battle. An invisible tightrope, a unknown path. When I think of them, I am reminded that you cannot choose timing and fate, yet these are hugely defining forces in our lives. I imagine they are trying not to fight it, but to challenge themselves to learn how to live boldly with what is in front of them and be fearless about the outcome. To walk that tightrope with confidence and verve. Honestly, I don't have to imagine it, I know it to be true. They are soulful and strong, methodical and wise, and I know they are tapping into each other's energy to face all that is now their new "normal." I deeply admire them as individuals and as a couple. What I find incredibly fascinating about fate is that Cancer (capital 'C') might have always been lurking in their future, but fate brought these two individual souls together to face it as a united front. I am holding onto that thought, because I want to, and have to, believe that there are slivers of good that can be embraced when trying to boldly challenge yourself to dance across a tightrope to the other side.

"To me, its really so simple, that life should be lived on the edge. You have to exercise rebellion. To refuse to tape yourself to the rules...to see every day, every year, every idea as a true challenge. Then you will live your life on the tightrope." - Philippe Petit

can we handle the truth?

I haven't written an entry in awhile. It's ok if you didn't notice (insert lame attempt at humor.) The truth is that I am afraid, so therefore I have nothing to say. Afraid of what I really want to write about, what really interests me to talk about. Do I not think people can handle the truth? Maybe not yet.

I am about 75% of the way through the book, "The Help" by Kathryn Stockett. (No, this is not a book report, I promise.) It's excellent and astonishing that it's her first novel. The core of the story is about two black women and one white woman who collaborate to write brutally honest stories about the black women's experiences as maids in Jackson, Mississippi in 1962. I was exposed to the study of civil rights as early as grade school, and in college I focused my Political Science degree on women and ethnic studies. However, despite everything that I have been taught, everything I have learned, reflected on and absorbed, it still astounds me that people really believed all that bullshit (excuse my french) about race relations less than fifty years ago! And I'm not some naive bleeding heart who doesn't understand the nuances of how powerful socialization and group dynamics can be, but it's crazy how pockets of this country, and powerful people, kept that degrading, inhumane and vile set of beliefs alive well into recent memory. I wonder? What issue(s) from these times will our children and our grandchildren be astounded by? Gay marriage? Immigration? I wonder. But now I'm on a soapbox and getting sidetracked...

They always say that you should write what you know, but honesty can be very hard. The characters in "The Help" risk their livelihoods, their friendships and their personal safety to tell their truths. Of course, that's to the extreme, and yet it raises an interesting question...what compels someone to tell their truth? To talk or write about what they know? It takes courage no matter how big or small the truth. Being separated from my husband and going through a divorce has made me a magnet for other people's stories. I'm just as attracted to their truths as they are to tell them to me and it's been fascinating. Why don't we share more, and more often? Exposing others and ourselves is an obvious reason. Timing is another. We actually keep a lot of secrets, us humans, we really do. I never really knew that until now. Maybe someday I will have the courage to tell some of the backstories, but for now, here are some truths that I have learned:

Married men and women cheat - emotionally and physically. And not just the emotionally decrepit ones, really great human beings with good intentions and loving hearts find themselves in that place.

Even the most driven, intelligent, spirited woman wants to be able to count on a man. Lean on a man. Be caught by a man. (...yes, this one is autobiographical, but I am far from alone.)

Psychotherapists and psychologists use their skills in their own personal arguments.

It's possible for an adult woman to cry for 8 hours straight and still be considered holding it together.

Regret is common.

Marriage is hard for everyone, but great partnerships and big, expansive, ridiculous love does exist.

Physical attraction is real and relevant. Chemistry and connection cannot be fabricated. Neither one need be rational or explainable.

Being 40+, never married and no kids could be a real problem.

Being 24 with a spouse and a child on the way could be a real problem.

People have things they can bring to the table if we will just let them.

It's possible that worlds will collide when your divorced, best male friend washes one of your children's hair because your estranged husband has made such a scene during drop off that you can barely function to do the job.

Timing is a bitch.

Fate needs courage.

Eating a sandwich, alone in a hospital waiting room, with no one at home waiting for you, tending to your friend who is also alone, and feeling happy, really happy about the connections that you do have is amazing...and so is the bacon.

Sex is not off the table. Everyone will talk about it under the right circumstances and many want to.

Email, Facebook, Twitter, chat, texting, cell phone chats with your Bluetooth on your drive home from work really do bring people closer together. It can also make you obsessive and crazy.

Asking the bartender to plug in your cell phone apparently is a common request.

Bikini waxes, good lingerie, high-quality shampoo and face lotion that smells like oranges — these small luxuries are for us.

Asking for help is hard but receiving it is honestly, pretty darn soulful.

Money is emotional. Duh.

An 11 year old has the right to say no to Facebook.

When your friend compares herself to Kelly from the "Real Housewives of New York," especially the "I've lost my mind, want a jelly bean?" part, you kind of love your friend even more.

You can keep it all together and not crumple. You can pick up the dog poop, pull the weeds, load and unload the dishwasher, do the laundry, take out the garbage, not forget the milk, pay the bills, keep a job, make new friends, raise a child, dance by yourself, get up and close the windows when it's raining, find your keys, sew the button on your coat and cut flowers for your nightstand...all by yourself.

Being emotionally unavailable is not just a catch-phrase.

It's possible to be jealous of neighbors that are naked in their hot tub...all the time.

More people still smoke pot than maybe you realize.

People will surprise you...again and again and again.

Book club is overrated unless you spend 80% of the time connecting and only 20% talking about the book, provided you read the book, which is worth it.

Flicking your disposable contacts across the room and refusing to put sandwich bags on the grocery list are really just silent protests.

The desire to do right by your children is black and white. The path is grey.

People fall in love really quickly - they just forgot they could.

Walking around New York City with just your thoughts, your iPod and a sunny day can be life changing.

A cat that is run over by a car on the day you file for divorce can break the ice.

Striving to be fearless is daunting, but has immediate rewards. Immediate.

It's important to make choices that are not just distractions. (Thanks for the insight wise newer friend.)

The challenges in life? That is life and that is not a bad thing. (Thanks for the insight wise old friend.)

Most people are good, really good.

Some people cannot handle the truth and maybe that's ok.

That's all...

...for now.

(p.s. I couldn't help using the picture of the Fonzie book because seriously...what was that guy hiding?)