There is a crucial corollary to “dance like nobody’s watching”:
Poop like nobody else is in the bathroom.
This is so sad to me. I was too young to know of Gilda when she was alive, but that hasn’t stopped me from loving her. I only discovered her this year, when on a whim I read Bunny Bunny. I loved it so much that I immediately read It’s Always Something, bought it for my mom, and watched every Gilda clip I could find on youtube and in the library system, including The Judy Miller Show at least 200 times, as well as the bit where she lifts weights as Jackie Kennedy. She is THE BEST. I love her so much that i want to name my someday child Gilda, I’m not even kidding. She’s inspiring, from her work ethic to the way she loved her husband to the way her friends loved her to her battle with cancer. and duh, she’s HILARIOUS. that kind of talent doesn’t stop being funny just bc it’s 30 years old.
People with cancer cannot possibly be turned off by a place called Gilda’s Place. One, because Gilda is a beautiful name and makes it sound super friendly. Two, who the heck knows who Susan G. Komen is, but that hasn’t stopped people from donating to them! and 3, most importantly, if you are worried people don’t know who your namesake is, THEN TEACH THEM. Don’t take away your namesake, make her relevant again! That’s so easy, because she remains HILARIOUS.
When things like this happen, it makes me feel like old people have little respect for young people. And frankly, if they are worried that calling their organization Gilda’s Club will confuse people and make them not come in, do they really think calling it something nonconfusing like Cancer Hangout WILL make them come in? Get over yourselves, old people, and do a better job marketing yourself and understanding young people, and loving gilda.
Courtesy of a good ol’ boy I went to high school with, this GEM of a facebook status:
THE COW AND THE ICE CREAM - ONE OF THE BEST THEORIES OF THE LAST PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION
From a teacher in the Nashville area
“We are worried about ‘the cow’ when it is all about the ‘Ice Cream. ‘The most eye-opening civics lesson I ever had was while teaching 3rd grade. The last Presidential election was heating up and some of the children showed an interest. I decided we would have an election for a class president. We would choose our nominees. They would make a campaign speech and the class would vote. To simplify the process, candidates were nominated by other class members. We discussed what kinds of characteristics these students should have. We got many nominations and from those, Jamie and Olivia were picked to run for the top spot.
The class had done a great job in their selections. Both candidates were good kids. I thought Jamie might have an advantage because he got lots of parental support. I had never seen Olivia’s mother. The day arrived when they were to make their speeches. Jamie went first. He had specific ideas about how to make our class a better place. He ended by promising to do his very best. Everyone applauded and he sat down. Now it was Olivia’s turn to speak. Her speech was concise. She said, “If you will vote for me, I will give you ice cream.” She sat down. The class went wild. “Yes! Yes! We want ice cream.”
She surely would say more. She did not have to. A discussion followed. How did she plan to pay for the ice cream? She wasn’t sure. But no one pursued that question. They took her at her word. Would her parents buy it or would the class pay for it… She didn’t know. The class really didn’t care. All they were thinking about was ice cream…Jamie was forgotten. Olivia won by a landslide.
Every time Barack Obama opened his mouth he offered ice cream and 51.4 % of the people reacted like nine year olds. They want ice cream. The other 48.6% percent know they’re going to have to feed the cow and clean up the mess.”
Remember, the government cannot give anything to anyone that they have not first taken away from someone else. Did you vote for the ice cream? THAT, MY FRIEND, IS HOW OBAMA GOT ELECTED!!
Uh, that is a cute story about elementary school politics. Like how on Parenthood, Max promised to get vending machines back in his school last week, and basically won on that platform. How does this relate to the complexity of governing our nation and to what Barack Obama has pledged to do as the leader of our country? Not sure. Also, were we promised ice cream? I hope not, because I am lactose intolerant, and I would never have voted for that.
Also also, wasn’t Mitt Romney the one running on a platform without a clear plan? Just checking.
Also also also, NICE jab in the story above re: Olivia’s mom. She probably has a job or something, and lord knows women who leave the home are unfit parents.
- Mealy apples
- Mulled wine
- When hot dudes are Republicans
Listen, I don’t want this to become a “I have no power” blog. But really, that’s all that is going on in my life right now. Dealing with the aftermath of Sandy. Which is something I want to talk about. The aftermath of a hurricane is different things for different people. For some, it’s dealing with tragedy, whether that tragedy be loss of human life or loss of a home. For some, it’s dealing with damage to their property. For others, it’s loss of power. While some of these things are worse than others, that doesn’t mean the person feeling the least amount of tragedy in the aftermath should be made to feel like their situation is being minimized. It’s so easy to say “Oh, just be grateful you didn’t lose anything” and blow off someone’s complaint about no power, but here’s the thing: We are grateful. We are very grateful. That does not mean we can’t be feeling agitated, anxious, cold, hungry, upset or frustrated. Just because we empathize with others does not mean we have to negate or own feelings. My frustration is just as valid as someone’s sadness. My situation is not yours. Therefore, I can’t put myself in your place. I’m in my place. And my place right now is cold and dark and inconvenient. I am aware it could have been much worse. I am aware there are people in worse circumstances. And I feel for them. I have cried while looking at the devastation. I have mourned for them. I want to give money to every single relief fund. It doesn’t mean I can’t be cold and have all those feeling that come with being cold and not being able to do a damn thing about it. It does not mean I can’t be filled with anxiety because my normal life has been turned on its side. People die every single day. There is tragedy every single day. Do we ask people to put aside the trials and tribulations of their lives and all the emotions that go with them because someone else in the world is suffering more? No. Then don’t say “Oh, stop complaining, it could be worse.” I am well fucking aware it could be worse. That doesn’t mean I have to bend over and take it without a complaint.
I just started writing a REALLY long facebook status about how totally overwhelmed I am at the prospect of getting to Manhattan tomorrow, getting through a very long, big day at work (which will end at around midnight), NOT coming home to Brooklyn (thankfully in the long run, but also auuugh not coming home is awful), and getting through a very long Friday, too. And about how the thing I most look forward to right now, for my sanity, is watching this next SNL with Louis C.K. Really, that’s like, as far as I can process, and I cannot wait.
And then I was like, augh, no, I should not post that when my coworkers have lost power for days and suffered extensive property damage and I never even lost internets.
And then I was like, wait, I should not apologize for feeling all of these feelings, for being semi-hindered by my need to control all logistics [FUCK FUCK FUCK GETTING TO WORK TOMORROW FUCK!], and hey, remember that thing Michele wrote on tumblr today? It made me feel not bad about how I feel about all of this, because my transit anxieties don’t not mean I don’t also feel for those who got the short end of the hurricane stick. I can have my feelings and empathize, too, and deal with what I’m dealing with how I can. That is all. Good night, internet.
PS OMG LOUIS C.K.
I did not sleep last night, because I was too worried about how long it was going to take me to get to and home from work today. When I did sleep, I dreamt that the sun didn’t come up today.
The feller went to work at 6:30am in a car, and it took him nearly an hour and a half. So I’m staying home, and I think that was a pretty good decision. Oh, Brooklyn. Oh, Sandy.
I instagrammed a photo of my cat, hashtagged it #cats, and tapped the tumblr button when I published it.
One of those photo wall/no original content/inspirational phrases/pre-Pinterest/more free-form than Pinterest tumblrs picked it up, and like 20 people reblogged it from there.
Nobody added anything, nobody commented, and nobody came back to follow me. I don’t care about that last bit, but the first two bits confuse me. What happened to content? Generating your own photos, ideas, musings, etc? I mean, I know, I’ve always known, that 95% of tumblr is that exact kind of blog, that those of us non-media entities who turn up (however frequently or infrequently) to post something we just thought of or comment on a quote or video we’ve found are in the VAST minority, but I’ve never followed a trail like that. The guy who reblogged my cat has a blurb on his tumblr saying, “My name is John, and I’m finally happy, and we’ll probably get along. My blog is a collaboration of things I love and things I hate. I’m taken by the girl of my dreams. <3” And one of his recent posts is a photo reblog of the words “Fuck High School,” so yeah. My fashionista 17-year-old cousin has one of these blogs and like 10k+ followers, because this is just that set’s medium for that sort of thing. I get that.
But there’s something about all this that makes me ever the more thankful we didn’t have today’s internet and photo access in the 1990s. And the internet we did have, the parts we could make ourselves, lent itself to WORDS, not images. WRITE THINGS, YOUTHS, WRITE THINGS! In fifteen years, you’ll look back just as embarrassed as my generation does now (let’s talk about my AOL Publisher-made site about Titanic, SHALL WE? And my brief affair with livejournal? And everything in-between?), but you’ll have something to show for it. Take this GEM of an excerpt from a blog post I wrote ten years and two days ago, in the fall of my sophomore year of college, age 19:
So in my life, in the last few weeks, several things have happened. In no order: A big ending, lots of little beginnings, some in-betweens, lots of roller-skating, 1000 mg/day of penecillin, missed appointments, kept appointments, points galore, burberry envy, very little reading, lots of [sometimes crappy] writing, much staring at walls, minimal staring at actors, lost keys, found keys in bookbag, willard party & resulting madness, french homework and quizzes, creepy french TA, cracked out the xmas music, bought soup, world series, kappa delta name tags, found a formal date, where’s all my money?, cleaned room, rehung posters, overslept, underslept, interslept—just kidding—, diet cokes and wheat thins, love and all the other things that make my life taste good. that could be a country song. alright, i’m late to class now… love’n’oranges.
I’m fairly certain I wasn’t kidding about “interslept,” but I knew my mom was reading, and I’m just saying. If you’re putting it all out there, you should do the putting! Also: I put it out there for myself and my friends, because they get me. When new internet humans come along (like so many of the tumblr crowd, hello!), they become my friends through what they write and how they express themselves. So I follow, I write back, I like, I reblog with comment. I get that culling and sharing visual content is cool, because people out there are making cool things, I just don’t get how it’s personal, and I like my internet personal.
That being home on the couch listening to the wind and our rattly windows beats being in my 36th floor office listening to the scary internal creaking noises of a skyscraper. That shit is the worst.
So you know, french press, pile of cats, CNN on mute, lots of online shopping/browsing (remember, self, everything on ModCloth is made of the cheapest possible fabric that could look ever look like that, and it will be 2-3 inches too short on you), cereal, smoothies, yesterday’s Chinese food, and probably some books and naps.