Dreaming Out Loud - Sabbatical

Photo from here

As you have seen, last month's cruise was a delightful sampling of vacation travel. It just whet my appetite for Canada, the Maritimes, sea sailing, travel, and being away from the City, the stresses, and all kinds of things.

I'm saving my pennies for a future trip. (Not my Canadian pennies, however.)

Ah ... some of my vivid dreams are to go back, go on other journeys, sail on a tall ship or yacht - but I'll cover that in another months.

Dreams, you see, can shift, and drift, and sail, and wisp away on currents ...


I came back and have been in the midst of all kinds of sea changes at the office. I find myself in familiar turbulent waters. To move the metaphor back to a land setting, I find myself approaching a crossroads.

I see the intersection coming up on the horizon.

The decisions are, go straight on full steam ahead, turn left ... or turn right -- both into the unknown.

Right now, I can't see the forest for the trees. I'm in the weeds.

Photo from here

To be totally pragmatic, my dream this month is about all about money.
Benjamins. Currency. Funding. Cash. Grants. Dollars -- and "Sense"

Image from here

Image from here

Money: So I can take a "sabbatical" to find out what I really want to do with the other half of my life.

If I wasn't worried about paying off my debt(s), paying my bills, and/or paying my rent, would I escape from current scenario and try new things, explore new locations, spend time with family, take my time and get re-educated/re-trained, and really plan what to do, instead of just lucking into career opportunities?

Yes.

Hell yes. 

In a gold-plated heartbeat.

Image from here

Life is too short to be this stressed-out and stuck behind a computer in a cubicle in an airless building.

But the reality is, this is just a VERY expensive dream. I don't have the kinds of fairy godmothers who have this kind of  discretionary giving. The ability to just to wave a not-insignificant money at a random person to wipe the slate, waive the monthly bills, build a nest egg, and fund a series of journeys down a new set a paths.

Maybe this isn't a really a sabbatical I'm dreaming about?

Time to keep stashing my coins in the wish jars.

An open letter to TLC

Dear TLC,

I am hereby boycotting your entire channel. You used to be a quality source of information and entertainment. I used to spend entire nights and weekends solely tuned to your program lineup. (Well, before you fired Paige anyway. Since then it’s been hit or miss.) I would still occasionally stop on by to visit with Stacy and Clinton, the Roloffs, and to see the antics of the various large families. Not anymore.

I am appalled that, despite misgivings last season from one father on a certain show, (you know which one I’m talking about), you have chosen to renew the program. As the events of the summer unfolded, and are still continuing to unfold in the media, I am even more appalled that the program has not been pulled off the air … FOR THE SAKE OF THE CHILDREN.

These are impressionable young children, NOT actors, who have been thrust into the limelight. Over the last few seasons, the editing and footage aired has made it clear, to me, at least, that at least the older set of children have issues. The younger set of multiples is approaching the age when they will be entering public school, if they haven’t already. Before the mess that is now embroiling their parents became public, that factor should have been considered as well. Now they all have to deal with fame, paparazzi, stress between their parents, isolation, and an endless time period of speculation from their peers and the public.

For the sake of those children, I have imposed my own blackout of all coverage of this mess. I turn the channel when the “news” brings it up. I don’t read articles about it. This will be my only statement about it. If only I could, I would get others to join me in boycotting the program and watching your channel. Even more importantly, I would start a campaign to boycott the purchasing of products from any and all advertisers on the program and your channel.

When you bring back a real quality Learning Channel, TLC, perhaps I might visit you again.

But until then, Shame on you.

Sincerely,

Auntie Nettie

Do Broadway shows need ratings systems?

You know ... I love free Broadway tickets as much as the next girl. Free stuff is good. Actually, free stuff is GREAT, especially for Broadway shows that cost way the heck too much. However, I just couldn't make myself take advantage of the offer that came pinging into my Outlook mailbox this afternoon for:

Tickets to Equus for tomorrow night, starring Richard Griffiths and Daniel Radcliffe.

Now, I like theater. I love me some o'the Brits. I love their accents. They could sit and read the phone book and I would be perfectly happy to hand them my money to do so. I have thoroughly enjoyed both of these actors in their various roles on film and the telly. That being writ, I couldn't bring myself to go to the show because of a) the very mature, disturbing, and adult subject matter and b) because I would have to see the young boy wizard get naked. For me, it would be creepy on so many different levels--mostly because I'm old enough to have been his teen-aged mother!

Call me a prude. (Ummm, Okay. You are a PRUDE.) I'm not sure I'm up to seeing people get butt-naked on stage. My last Broadway play experience, Shakespeare's Cymbeline of all things, had gratuitous nudity in it as well. It was so unexpectedly jarring that it took me completely out of the rythym of the play. Since it happened in the first act I had to sit there wondering if I'd have to see other people get naked at another point. I've still not recovered from the experience, (though it was mostly due to Phylicia Rashad's horrific accent and acting). A little warning would have been nice. I could have chosen not to attend or to look away.

Sadly, I'm used to the use of foul language in everyday use and on stage. (I'm a guilty party here too). I'm also regrettably getting used to suggestive situations and content creeping into my many forms of entertainment. Unfortunately, I am not used to the gratuitous nudity that is starting to crop up everywhere, even on the stages of the highest of the high-brow, the opera. Even The New York Times has noticed (see article here).

There should be a quick way to know about a staged show's "adult" content, aside from first-hand experiences, word-of-mouth, reviews, and other publicity. Some productions have a clue in the title, i.e. Naked Boys Singing, but other shows seem innocuous, i.e. Avenue Q. If all you see is the poster with the cute puppets, would you know that this musical addresses issues like sex, drinking, and surfing the web for porn? Avenue Q's website is very good about being upfront about what ages the show is appropriate for, but not every one will take the time to do the research.

For all that the systems are criticized, the television and film industry has a well-established rating mechanism. Is it time for stage productions to have one too?

Girls and Football - dilemmas

As an older sister to two sports-playing younger brothers and a daughter to a sports-watching dad, I would always be the bane of their existence when games were on. I tried not to interrupt this bonding experience, because I am smart enough to know not to ask "dumb" questions during plays. But really, Ladies, who is not confused by the whole downs, endzones, penalties, off-sides, man-in-motion thing, anyway. Seriously. Do we really care? Yes, we know the big guys are the defense, the special teams are "special," and we all mock the kicker. We're supposed to idolize the QB. My favorite position on a football team, however, is the "tight-end" EXACTLY for the reasons you think. (YUMMY)

To add to my dilemmas, I grew up in a New England state and now live in New York so my loyalties (again, IF I CARED!) are divided. My policy for the "big game" du jour, du week, and du whatever, has always been to find out who my family/boyfriend/host/friend was routing for and THEN ROUTE FOR THE OTHER TEAM. 'Cause I'm the imp of perverseness that way ...

So, imagine what Sunday was like. On the one hand, New England, land of my upbringing, has this undefeated team -- supposedly the favorite, with this monster machine, debonair QB, and all that hype. Then we have the Giants, underdogs, scrappy, the better of the two NY teams, led by one of the Manning brothers. What's a girl supposed to do, again, IF SHE CARED?

Here's the thing. The Patriots. From what I gleaned from my glancing at the sports/gossip pages, Tom Brady dates an obnoxiously obnoxious supermodel. Strike 1. Tom Brady broke up with his ex-fiancee who found out she was pregnant. Strike 2. Patriots accused of spying on other teams. Strike 3. Coach didn't seem to be too remorseful that he was caught doing this. Strike 4. Coach seemed to be filled with hubris. Strike 5. Undefeated season Strike. 6. ---- mmmm --- the imp seems to be leaning in favor of ...
The Giants. Underdogs. Point 1. Cute Manning brother still dating college sweetheart. Point 2. Cute Manning brother NOT a regular in the society/gossip pages. Point 3. Coach not caught spying. Point 4. Again, underdogs. Point 5. (Can you see where this is going?)

Now, to be fair, I avoided much of the whole Superbowl day by either sleeping, reading the papers, napping, watching the FoodNetwork, TravelChannel, the PuppyBowl (which is strangely addictive), or Jane Austen ... however, thanks to the loud raucous parties throughout the building and across the street, I knew exactly when to flip to the game and watch the instant replays of some wonderful plays. Nice. Very nice, and you have to admit the dichotomy of Austen and football has to be admired on some levels.

So, if you haven't figured it out.

GO GIANTS!

Not that I care or anything ...

Nope. Not me.