Censorship? Not Quite.

There’s a new movie out in the theaters. It’s about the Dixie Chicks and something to do with the fallout from their comments at a concert. That’s all I know about it because I don’t keep up with the Chicks. I agree that the Dixie Chicks exercised their "right to free speech." I have a problem with when and where they expressed their opinion.

The people attending that concert or any other concert did not pay their hard-earned money to hear the political opinions of the trio. They paid to be entertained. The Dixie Chicks have gained the publicity they have because of their talent as singers and musicians. To use that fame as a means for political posturing is inappropriate.

The Chicks want to let the world know how they feel about our presence in Iraq or our President? That's just fine. Hold a press conference. Put a link to "Our Political Stand" on their website. Write a song about it and let the fans decide. Start an organization with other like-minded celebrities. Give it a catchy name that leaves no doubt that their mission is not connected to their creative and artistic talents but rather, is to state and support their political views.

Using a concert stage, the Grammys, the Emmys or any other venue where the public is attending because of their appreciation of an artist or artists to state a political viewpoint is inappropriate. Imagine a speaker at the Democratic or Republican National Conventions breaking into song in order to showcase their artistic talents -- equally inappropriate.

The radio station owners who discontinued playing Dixie Chicks music and the fans who have turned their backs on the Chicks are expressing their opinion -- not intimidating and punishing or censoring the Chicks. They are voting with their dollars and that's what seems to work better than almost anything in our society.

Since the government has not restricted the Chick's ability to say what they think, it IS NOT censorship or a violation of the right to free speech. Screaming censorship seems to be an attempt to cloud the issue and undo the damage done to their fan base.

The radio station and music store owners who pulled the Dixie Chicks from their line-ups were either business owners who were doing what they thought was best for their business or they were individuals expressing their opinion. If the radio stations or music stores were state or government owned and they decided to pull the Chicks, well, I guess I would consider that censorship. They weren’t. They were privately owned and reacted to the comments of their customers. There are plenty of online stores where fans could buy the CDs and play them if they wanted to support the Dixie Chicks.

While I don’t identify with any political party, that’s not to say that I don’t have strong political beliefs on a number of subjects. I just keep my politics and my entertainment separate. When I go to a concert or listen to the radio or play a CD, it’s a kind of therapy for me. Music helps me escape from the stress of my everyday life or deal with emotion. With entertainment awards shows on the rare occasion I watch them, I’m there for escape. It’s light. It’s fluffy. I don’t want to hear about politics from entertainers. I’ll read the news for that. I’ll discuss the issues with enlightened, intelligent people who are willing to accept that their viewpoint isn’t the only one. Don’t sucker me in by making me think I’m going to be entertained only to blindside me with some political bullshit that’s going to raise my blood pressure. I don’t care if you’re spouting something I agree with or not. I don’t want to think about politics while I’m escaping for a little fun.

Hospitals Are Making Me Sick

Hospitals have been on my mind lately. People who go to hospitals, people who work in hospitals, food served in hospitals, parking fees charged at hospitals, and the smell of hospitals top my list today.

Between the young (my 4 month-old granddaughter) and the old (my man’s 70 year-old mother), I’ve spent a good deal of time with family and kind-of-family in hospitals recently. My back is paying the price for sleeping in uncomfortable chairs as I kept watch. I feel safe whining about that now that the young and old are out of the woods and either home or on their way there.

I’ve seen excellent staff and mediocre staff and incompetent staff. I’ve learned that anyone in the hospital needs an advocate who can keep an eye on everything. Mistakes are made. I understand that we all have our “off days” but when your job is caring for sick people, you’d better make sure that your “off” moments are inflicted on inanimate objects or non-sick people. I’m generally an easy-going kind of gal but the lab folks were damned lucky I wasn’t there when they, unnecessarily, caused my granddaughter pain. There is much love in my heart for the nurses who fixed that problem.

You can see what I read (Look. Over there. Off to the right. See that list?). I like food. I’m not terribly picky. I thoroughly enjoy gourmet meals but Taco Bell can make me drool under the right circumstances. Because I love food and have a tendency to overeat, I belong to Weight Watchers (also on that list). Being forced to eat from a hospital cafeteria is not pleasing from either a drooling standpoint or a Weight Watcher-y one. You’d think a hospital would have healthy food options.

You’d be wrong.

Two dollars to park? This is doubled from six months ago. This is outrageous. I know what they’re charging for hospital stays and I know what they’re charging for craptacular food. It’s robbery, pure and simple.

I’ve been in the hospital recently, myself. It was just the emergency room but while I was waiting to be seen, I wrote the following:

Feh. Emergency rooms suck ass. Why am I here? Nearly passed out three times with chest pain. Not a good combo but most likely related to the cold I had for the past week and not being able to eat today. Still chest pain and nearly passing out means I’m sitting in this waiting room for going on three hours. Whatever. It sucks. The poor, the uninsured, the hypochondriacs and the truly ill or injured are here. I wonder what category is mine? Hopefully, I’ll find out before morning.

It turned out to be bronchitis and a sinus infection that were cleared up quickly with an antibiotic. I keep a little notebook with me at all times. If I’m bored or inspired or angry, I write. Lucky you, dear reader; you’ll get to read that drivel, too!

Random Thought #1: Anonymity in an Airport Bar

I have a fondness for airport bars. Somehow, they don’t have that air of desperation wafting through them like happy hour places. The patrons in airports are exciting; they’re going somewhere. They are merely killing time between one exciting flight and another and they all have an interesting story.

I’m different, too. When I’m in the airport bar, I don’t have laundry on the floor in stacks of whites, darks, and hand-washables. I don’t have a front flowerbed in dire need of weeding. No one knows that my fish tank looks like it’s filled with anti-freeze or that there’s something scary growing in that plastic container on the back of the third shelf in my refrigerator. The bartender has no idea that I have Eurekaphobia (fear of vacuums).

Yeah, it’s a nice little fantasy. I can’t wait for my next trip.

Almost Spoiled

I’m learning to spoil myself just a little bit.

Becoming a self-spoiled princess is my ultimate goal. That’s going to be a tough one. I’m what one friend calls the “I can do it myself gal.” I’m also speeding rapidly towards the age (am I already there?) where “princess” might be laughable. Do princesses build things? Work on cars? Hunt? Play pool?

Just recently, I’ve discovered the joy of pedicures. How could I have never experienced this?! The warm water, the foot and calf massage, the skilled nail gal? I’m sure there’s a proper term for her job. I don’t know what it is. Since I’ve never been what you’d call high maintenance or a girly-girl, I’m not familiar with the terminology. Her name is Faith and she’s an irreverent riot and I adore her.

This week my toes are reminiscent of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. This might be a bit much if it was sandal weather but since it’s autumn and my toes are appropriately and professionally covered most of the time, I’m okay with that.

I might fail at the princess thing but I think I’m getting the hang of letting myself be pampered* just a little bit. It’s about time.


*Disclaimer: In this instance, pampering does NOT apply to age-play. I mean, I’m okay with what you do with other consenting adults but it’s not my thing. Plus, that’s a topic for another day.

Silver Linings & Positive Thinking

A friend of mine once wrote about Silver Linings and it started a lovely conversation between a group of people. We were talking about how our difficulties in life can make us stronger, smarter, more sympathetic to others... in other words, look for the silver lining. My thoughts on the topic follow.

This topic reminds me of something I realized a while back but need to be reminded of on a regular basis: We don't know the pain our neighbor may have suffered. We look at people and see what they allow us to see. We may envy them and think they have it made or they've been lucky or admire their strength and success. We have NO IDEA the path they traveled to get to that point in life. We have no idea the heartache they suffered along the way.

I’m an optimist. I choose to be. I want to share my child-like joy in the beauty of everything with everyone in my life. I once called my mother and made her go out in her yard and look to the west because the sky was so absolutely the most beautiful shade of blue that I couldn't stand not sharing it (she questioned my sanity). Even when the dark clouds scare the shit out of me, I think they're beautiful. I think my rose-colored glasses are cemented to my head. Occasionally, they get muck on them and it's hard to see the beauty in life but I eventually find a way to wipe them off.

Of course, that's not to say that there haven't been times that were heartbreaking or so stressful I should have been in a rubber room (I was going to say straightjacket but those who know me know I'd enjoy that). There were times that were physically painful. There were times that were so emotionally devastating I thought my heart really would break. There were times when I thought I would snap but held it together because I didn't think I'd be able to find my way back. There were times I didn't care if I lived. Those were muck on the rose-colored glasses times.

I guess what I'm using too many words to say is that while I know there are tragedies and ugliness in the world, I have decided to focus my gaze on what's good and beautiful and awe-inspiring. I also know that even the muck, in retrospect, will have beauty or value later. I'll learn something about myself. I'll understand another person's pain and be able to comfort them. I'll understand that the deepest pain I may feel has a balance and that other side is a peak of joy that makes my spirit fly.

Not So Wordy, After All - or, Truth in the Midst of Bullshit

I am not living up to my name. Life sometimes interferes with my desire to write. The bullshit and drama of life sometimes interfere with my truth. If I can't live truth, I don't feel I can write it, either.

I'm struggling to find a way past this moment. I hope by forcing myself to blog something, anything, it will help me break free of this inertia.

Martinis

Martinis. Martinis are made with gin or vodka and dry vermouth. In my opinion, a martini isn't a martini unless you use gin. Olives, onions or lemon twists are acceptable garnishes.

A Cosmopolitan is not a martini. An Appletini is not a martini. None of the cocktails currently being paraded as -tinis are martinis. If it has anything other than the ingredients in the above paragraph, it is NOT a martini. It is a cocktail.

If you put beer in a martini glass, it would not suddenly become a beertini. It would still be beer. Grape juice poured in a wine glass does not miraculously become wine. Tea poured in a coffee cup does not become coffee.

It's rather simple, my argument: The drink doesn't change because of the glass.

When I go to a bar and order a martini, the bartender should not begin rattling off all the whatever-tinis on the menu. He or she should ask, "Gin or vodka?" Or, perhaps, even better so as not to confuse those unfamiliar with a decent martini, "How would you like that prepared?" That's my favorite response. It's permission to be as picky as I like about my drink and I am picky (recipe to follow). I'm also a generous tipper. I may be a wordy bitch but I'm not a bitch. A half-way decent martini will gain my bartender 20% - more if it's perfect.

How I Like My Martini
Ingredients
Ice
Water
Gin
Vermouth
Olives

Fill the martini glass with ice and a little water. While the glass is getting good and cold, pour the gin (Bombay Sapphire, is my favorite) over the ice in the shaker. Pour the ice and water out of the martini glass and pour in a tiny bit of dry vermouth. Swirl the vermouth around in the glass and then pour it all out. Swish the gin and ice around in the shaker just a bit then strain it into the glass over two olives. Blue cheese-stuffed olives are amazingly good in this. I’ve been able to sweet talk more than one bartender into making them for me. For this extra effort, the tip is substantial.


Despite my pickiness, I've only sent two martinis back. One because it was made with vodka and the other because it was "dirty." I can't drink a dirty martini. It reminds me of being knocked down by a wave at the beach and getting a mouthful of briny water. In fact, I'm feeling a bit queasy just thinking about it.

On Truth... and Change

Kahlil Gibran said:
Say not, 'I have found the truth,' but rather, 'I have found a truth.'

I am very nearly a fanatic when it comes to the truth. There are many reasons for for my stance on truth and I'll probably put them down here over time. I won't do that today, though. Suffice to say, I've learned that Kahlil was right. There isn't one truth. We all have our own truths. I'm learning that the only way I can truly be happy in this life is to live my truth. I must live honestly within my own world or everything else is tainted. I've also learned over time that my truth will change.

Eric Hoffer said:
We can never really be prepared for that which is wholly new. We have to adjust ourselves, and every radical adjustment is a crisis in self-esteem: we undergo a test, we have to prove ourselves. It needs inordinate self-confidence to face drastic change without inner trembling.

Lobsang Lhalungpa said:
A person recognizes his spiritual potential when he looks at the problems of his existence ~ growth, old age, sickness, death ~ and sees that these are things he cannot change. But what he can change is his own attitude, his own way of looking at life.

Carl Rogers said:
The curious paradox is that when I accept myself just as I am, then I can change.

Will Garcia said:
The first step toward change is acceptance. Once you accept yourself, you open the door to change. That’s all you have to do. Change is not something you do, it’s something you allow.

I accept change. Sometimes, I don't realize that's what I'm struggling against but when I do, I welcome it. It's a chance to grow, to learn, to evolve. As long as I remain true to whatever my truth may be or become, I am alive. When I refuse to change, to accept a new truth, that's when I die. As I said at the beginning of this post, truth is a big deal to me. I love what others have said about truth. It inspires me to remain true to myself.

Miguel de Unamuno said:
I shall be asked, "What is your religion?"
And I shall answer that my religion
Is to seek truth in life and life in truth,
Conscious that I shall not find them while I live;
My religion is to struggle tirelessly
And incessantly with the unknown.

If you decide to read my words, you'll find truth to be a common thread. You'll also find an overabundance of quotes. I'm a voracious reader and I love the inspiration I get from the words and truths of other people. As William Somerset Maugham said, "I quote others only in order to better express myself."

Welcome To My Blog

I'm opinionated.

I rant. I rave. I bitch. I moan.

I write.

Thanks for dropping in to read.