The Worst of the Purse

The handbag is perhaps the most beloved fashion accessory – well, next to shoes, of course. 

Whether you prefer an expensive designer bag, a good knock, or something you crocheted out of hemp, almost every woman carries a purse almost everywhere.

These days, men are no longer excluded from the exquisite privilege of the handbag, nor are they relegated only to the briefcase.  Small electronics have broadened men’s carrying options considerably.  Now, even the manliest man might be seen carrying a man-bag in which he keeps his tablet, along with other man items.

Unlike many fashion items, the purse is utilitarian.  It holds our keys, our glasses, our money, our phone and our hygiene essentials.  Without it, how would we carry our stuff?

I have a sad purse story.  For more than a decade, I have had a lot of pain in my left shoulder.  I’ve no loss of motion or weakness, just pain.  I’ve visited doctors and massage therapists, but no one could tell me what was causing the pain, or how to get rid of it.

Recently I moved my home to within walking distance of my office.  I thought walking to work would make me healthier.  What happened was that my shoulder began to hurt so much it would wake me up at night.

Finally, a friend made a suggestion.  He has seen o a doctor’s report that said many women suffer injury from their shoulder bag.  Like most women, I have carried a shoulder bag almost every day since I was twelve.

But, I always carry my bag on my right shoulder, and my left shoulder is the one that hurts.  That didn’t make any sense to me.

As it turns out, that is exactly how it works. When I carry my bag on my right shoulder, my left shoulder works to compensate for the weight.

When I started walking to work, I spent more time with the bag on my shoulder, increasing the injury. 

Now, when I walk behind someone with a shoulder bag, I notice their posture.  Whether it is a young girl with a book bag or a broad-shouldered hunk with a murse, I see the shoulder carrying the bag is raised, and the opposite shoulder is lowered.

“That’s going to hurt you one day,” I want to say to them, but I don’t.

I had feared I would spend thousands of dollars for surgery or physical therapy to cure my increasingly bum shoulder.  So far, my minor efforts have already made a huge difference, without even one visit to the doctor.

First, I removed the five pounds of change from the bottom of my purse.  Then, I made an effort to keep my purse shoulder lowered.  I had noticed that my body seemed permanently crooked, with the left shoulder always lower than the right.  Efforts to keep the left shoulder raised were futile, but focusing on lowering the right seems to have worked.

I am alternating shoulders when I carry my purse, and trying to carry it less often.

While I don’t want to go back to the horrid 1980’s fanny pack, I wish we had more options for pain-free purses.

My final plan is to have a whole wardrobe of small cross-body bags, cute backpacks, handbags and clutches.  I figure the more purses I have, the less strain there will be on any one part of my body.  As with most fashion problems, the answer can be found by shopping.

Festival of Awesomeness (I mean Festival of Chocolate)

If I have a complaint about living in West Palm Beach, it’s this.  There is just too darn much to do.  My biggest problem is that I hate to miss stuff.  In West Palm Beach, there is so much going on that it is impossible not to miss something.

One event my husband and I did not miss was the Festival of Chocolate, held in the Palm Beach Convention Center on November 19 and 20.

The $12 admission was worth every cent, just to be engulfed by the aroma of a room full of chocolate.  For additional fees, one could play chocolate bingo, or participate in a wine and chocolate pairing seminar, with plenty of sampling.

Chocolate vendors were everywhere.  We had two main goals – to eat chocolate now, and to bring chocolate home to eat later.  I am happy to report we succeeded at both.

We enjoyed huge lumps of chocolate billed as “The World’s Best Brownie.”  My husband bravely tried a wasabi chocolate, and liked it.  My favorite was the chocolate wine.  The vendor was gracious enough to let me sample the wine five or six times, just to make sure it really was good.

There was a chocolate museum.  There were chocolate sculptures, and chocolate trivia games.  We saw the step-by-step process of making chocolate, and sampled what was sure to be the freshest chocolate we would ever eat in our lives.

Culinary types participated in candy making and cake decorating workshops.  We were busy figuring out which treats would come home with us.

In the end, we chose cookies and chocolate-covered marshmallows from blue-ribbon winner Kriss Velasco, Grand Marnier truffles from the Notter School, and raspberry truffles from the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory.

Back at home, we enjoyed our treats, and talked about the fun we had.  Seeing people of all ages, genders, shapes and sizes enjoying chocolate as much as we do was perhaps the best part.  No, that’s not right.  The chocolate was the best part.

The Rum Diary

After deciding to see a movie, we narrowed the choices to either Justin Timberlake’s futuristic sci-fi “In Time,” or Johnny Depp’s “The Rum Diary.”  Left to my own devices, I probably would have chosen the JT sci-fi.  Having to choose between Timberlake and Depp is a win-win for any girl.  When my husband preferred the Depp movie, I was happy enough.

What I didn’t know was that “The Rum Dairy” is an adaptation of an early Hunter S. Thompson novel.  Had I done the research beforehand, it would have been a no-brainer.

In recent years, Johnny Depp has become synonymous with his pirate character, Captain Jack Sparrow.  Before that, we mostly thought of him as a Tim Burton puppet.  Some of us even remember him as a teenage heartthrob on “21 Jump Street.”

Given pirate Jack Sparrow’s  love of rum, I had assumed that The Rum Diary might be somewhat piratey, being set in tropical Puerto Rico and all.

I was wrong.  The Rum Diary is not “Jack Sparrow Cuts His Hair and Goes to Puerto Rico.”

The Rum Diary, it turns out, is one of the best movies I have ever seen.  It is set in 1960.  Depp deftly portrays Paul Kemp, an alcoholic journalist trying to find his writer’s voice, and trying to make a difference on the planet.  He is frustrated by his newspaper’s refusal to let him write exposé articles.  The newspaper wants to him write articles to entertain and entice vacationers.  Wealthy men want to pay him to shape public opinion in their favor.  He cares about the welfare of the common man, and wants to use his typewriter to change the world.

I place Hunter S. Thompson in a category with Jack Kerouac and Ken Kesey, as writers who shaped the culture that ultimately shaped me.  This film is a wonderful tribute to the late Thompson, and a clear window into American culture in 1960.

Watching this movie against the backdrop of current American struggles was enlightening; by 1960, the seeds that are now sprouting bitter fruit were already in the ground.

The Rum Diary is, in my opinion, a near-perfect movie.  The dialogue is brilliant, each cast member shines, and the cinematography is breathtaking. 

The Rum Diary is probably not a movie for everyone.  This intelligent movie contains humor, romance, intrigue, drugs and morality, but not enough of any of those to delight the car-chase or rom-com crowd.  While I wouldn’t categorize it as an art film, it will certainly appeal to those who like good cinema, more than those who want to be mindlessly entertained.

Occupied

I have been watching the Occupy movement with great interest.  One night last week, I even dreamt I was there, on Wall Street.

I have an impressive background in civil disobedience.  My biological father was a founder of the Free Speech Movement at Berkeley.  My adoptive father proudly traveled to Alabama to march with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  He braved bullets to do so.

As a younger person, I organized and attended rallies and marches, locally and nationally. 

Six months pregnant, I rode in the back of a truck to DC in the winter to protest the first Gulf war.  Eighteen years later, that child enlisted in the Army with the goal of fighting in the Global War on Terror.  We all serve our country in the way that suits us best.

As we watched the protests in the Middle East a few months ago, and then in Europe, I wondered if those flames would eventually spread here.

They have, but no one talks about it that way.  Few in London saw a connection with Egypt, and few in the US sees a connection between the Occupy movement and what has happened all over the globe.  Or, if they do, they aren’t talking about it.

Maybe the idea of protest on a global scale is a bit scary to everyone.

One connection, of course, is the huge role that social media has had in organizing and garnering support for these movements.

Despite social media, however, the Occupy movement has had a hard time articulating its demands.  Recently, though, they have become clearer, and focused on specific legislative action, rather than the earlier demands that were more sweeping, and less realistic.

On the other side, a Republican presidential candidate has said that the fault of poverty lies with the individual.  On a more level playing field, that would absolutely be true.

An interesting point circulating on Facebook is this.  Compared to the plight of many other countries, those in the American 99% are in the global 1%.

There is no doubt that across the globe, people are becoming less and less satisfied with inequity and corruption.  Social media gives voice to complaint, and becomes a tool to effectively organize.

Here in the US, it’s hard to wrap our brains around the complexities of the problems, the poorly stated and misunderstood demands of the protestors, the dismissive retorts of the politicians, and the mindset-shaping and limited coverage by the media.

What we need is an intelligent and thoughtful overhaul of our entire financial and governmental systems without abandoning the ideals of free enterprise that have made the US a land of opportunity.  But it’s hard to put that on a placard and march with it.

Here in Florida, civics is a required course of study in the public schools, even at the Middle School level.  Yet, our local middle school has not taken advantage of these events as a prime teachable moment, and my middle schooler is shocked when I tell her that civil disobedience is not only a right, but also a responsibility, of the American people.

My metaphysical friends are sure that these waves of protest are a sign of the 2012 shift.  They believe that the vibrational level of the planet is being raised to create, or make way for, the new paradigm.

I truly hope so.

I remember marching with my friends under a banner that read “Pagans for Peace.”  It was the end of the day, and we were cold and tired.  We had been chanting all day, waving broccoli in the air as a sign of contempt for the first Bush administration.  We sang inspired, clever chants; “Send George Bush, send Dan Quayle, send Neil Bush when he gets out of jail.”  Finally, someone started a chant that expressed how we really felt; “We’re hungry, we’re tired, we don’t like the government.”  Somehow, that expresses the energy I feel from the Occupy movement right now.

No one should doubt that a dedicated grassroots movement could change the face of a nation.  It has before, and it will again.

Most of us feel that somewhere, somehow, change needs to come, and the “change” we voted for in 2008 might be too little, too late.

But if the occupation of Wall Street and beyond is going to fulfill its mission, it needs to occupy itself with the tasks of better messaging, better focus, and better media coverage. 

Purple Pianos, Unicorns and Killer Hot Tubs - A New TV Season Has Begun

Well, the new season of Glee has begun – last week, in fact.  I even have cable TV in my new condo.  Truth is, I just can’t seem to get excited enough about either the first or second episode to actually write about them.  I guess that is a review in and of itself.

So let’s see. . .Now that Kurt has acceptance and a great boyfriend, he’s freaking out because he is so very  gay.  As his Dad put it, “Not Rock Hudson gay, gay-gay.”

Finn is freaking out because he doesn’t know what to do after high school.

Rachel is freaking out because, even with all her talent and her Dads’ support, she is a senior in high school with no performance cred whatsoever. That seems very unlikely.

Shu is freaking out because Sue is running for congress on a platform of removing the arts from schools.

Quinn has reinvented herself yet again, this time as a goth skank.  Oh, and Rachel’s birth mother, who is the adoptive mother of Quinn and Puck’s baby, is teaching at McKinley.  Now Quinn’s freaking out because she wants custody of her baby.

So everyone is McKinley High is freaking out.  The plot is even more unlikely and contrived than the first two seasons.  I am bored and uninspired with what was once my favorite TV show, Glee. 

Ryan Murphy is so yesterday.  He bored me over the summer with his reality show, “The Glee Project.”  Now he is continuing to inspire me to . . . yawn.

As far as new TV seasons are concerned, nothing on Glee so far can hold a candle to the new “American Dad,” where Celo Green plays an evil killer hot tub.  This episode has better music, and a more believable plot, than anything I’ve seen on Glee so far this season.

The Redemption of Charlie Sheen?

I have to admit, I have never paid much attention to Charlie Sheen.  Until the media barrage of tiger blood, I thought of him only as Martin Sheen’s son, Emilio Estevez’ brother, and the guy from the 1980’s classic movie “Wall Street.”

That’s right, I have never watched an episode of “Two and a Half Men.”  I only understood the popularity of the show when the rock star from Mars let us know that he was winning, and it appeared to the rest of us that he was actually losing. . .his mind, his job, and his grasp on reality.

Now, it seems, he is attempting a comeback from his meltdown. 

His Comedy Central Roast will air next week.

I happened to catch a snippet of his interview with Matt Lauer this morning while I was working out in the gym.  I wonder how many who watched the interview were hoping for the Charlie Sheen of last February, rather than this subdued, regretful, repentant dad.

No tiger blood, no goddesses – but still proud that he gave losers permission to think they are winning.

I am not convinced he is as sober as he says he is.  He was unwilling, or unable, to give a time reference for how long he has been sober.  Sheen said it had to do with his disapproval of AA.  I’m not so sure.  I can tell you the date of my last cigarette, for instance, eleven years ago.

The ten minutes I spent with Charlie on the elliptical machine this morning got me thinking about celebrity meltdowns, and meltdowns in general.

I’ve come to some conclusions.

Celebrity meltdowns are generally more dramatic than the meltdowns normal people have.  I think that’s all about money.  The media encourages bad behavior – it’s good for ratings.  No one makes money if I rant and rave.

A person like Charlie Sheen can afford to lose his job.  He’s set for life.  If I go crazy and lose my job, I will be lucky to keep a roof over my head. 

Insane wealth breeds insanity.  It must.  Look at the many celebrity meltdowns we have seen in the past decade.

As in real life, some, like poor Amy Winehouse, end up dead.

Some, like Whitney Houston, fade into oblivion.

Some, like Lindsey Lohan, are still waiting for the jury.

A few, like Mariah Carey and Britney Spears, actually manage to redeem themselves.

I think the media-huffing public enjoys a good redemption.  We, in fact, hold the power.  If we buy the new tickets, watch the new shows and listen to the new songs, redemption occurs.  If not, we relegate the crazed celebrity to the has-been oldie-but-goodie where-are-they-now shelf.

I think, too, we enjoy the idea that comebacks are always possible.  It feels good to know that, if we ourselves screw up, redemption is possible for us.

Are we witnessing the redemption of Charlie Sheen?  It’s too early to tell if his talent, tenacity and lineage outweigh his pathetic addictions and narcissism.  In tough times, the American people have very little sympathy for the over-privileged.

Five Simple Things to Know about Dating

As you can imagine, as a professional tarot reader I spend a lot of time talking about love.  Over the almost twenty years of my career, I have learned a few things that seem to be universally true.  I’ve listed five of them here.

Dating is a numbers game.  The more people you meet, the more chances you have.  It’s that simple.  One hundred failed dates don’t matter if the hundred and first makes you melt.

Never date anyone who is more screwed up than you are.  We are all damaged.  Try to find someone whose damage is no worse than yours.  It will make things a lot easier, and will keep you from being in the position of constant caregiver, or constant forgiver.

Try to see the worst in your potential partner.  When we love someone, we see the best they can be.  That’s the inherent power of love, and it’s a beautiful thing.  But everyone has a dark side.  Until you know the very worst your partner can be, you won’t know if there is a deal-breaker lurking around the corner.

Don’t bring leftovers to a new table.  It’s good to learn from the past.  Once you’ve got the lesson, though, you have to let the past be the past.  Don’t make a new partner pay for the bad behavior of your ex.  If you can’t grow past your “ex-periences”, you simply aren’t ready for a new relationship.

Don’t be a cynic, or a Pollyanna.  Love is everywhere, and yet it can seem to be the most elusive thing to find, and the most difficult thing to maintain.  Believe in love, no matter how much it has disappointed you in the past.  On the other hand, taking off the rose-colored glasses will allow you to make the right decisions.  Find the right balance, and know that healthy love relationships, unlike Santa and the Easter bunny, really do exist!  Love happens, and it can happen for you.

Updates Applied

Tonight I have applied the latest updates to correct a series of problems our bloggers have encountered. I will be adding an error reporting function soon to help solve issues. Thanks for your patience.

- John

The Glee Project!

Another Day Late Dollar Short Hulu Review by Christiana Gaudet

As much as I love Glee, I wasn’t going to watch the Glee Project.

First, it’s on the Oxygen Network, for gosh sakes.  As a point of personal pride, I just pretend this network doesn’t exist.  In fact, I mostly pretend TV doesn’t exist.

But, being a Gleek is like being gay.  You don’t choose to be, you just are.

I also hate Reality TV.  I hate it because of its name.  Sorry, but “Reality TV” is an oxymoron, end of story.

I hate how cheesy and petty and stupid it makes people seem.  I’m afraid it will actually cause those of us not on television to act as if we are.

Mostly, I hate it because it is so damn compelling.  As much as I’ve tried not to, I’ve been sucked into “What Not to Wear,” “The Apprentice,” “The Sing-Off,” and “The Voice.”

I have yet to watch an episode of “American Idol” for fear it would simply be mind crack for me.

So, a night off, a bottle of wine, a willing husband and curiosity got the better of me.  I thought I would check in, just for the first five minutes, to see just how terrible The Glee Project would be.

Problem is, it was awesome!  It just what the doctor ordered for those of us going through end-of-the-season slushy withdrawals.

Here’s the premise.  Forty thousand talented youth auditioned nation-wide for a chance to be one of twelve chosen to compete in this weekly TV show.  The ultimate winner will be a guest star on seven episodes of Glee.  Ryan Murphy explains it as a way of creating a talent pool from which to pull replacements for the Glee Club’s graduating seniors.  Good.  I was wondering how they would handle that.

The twelve contenders are all fabulously talented.  Since what they are competing for is a spot on Glee, they need to be more than talented.  They need to be able to take direction, learn dance steps quickly, emote appropriately, and fit into the larger-than-life Glee world.

Like the Glee cast, each of these kids is an individual.  There’s a short boy, a dreadlocked boy, a fat girl, a hot Latina, a gay kid and so on.  They are all likeable, and all believable as potential members of New Directions.

The show itself involves the usual reality TV moments of coaching, desperation, friendship, appraisal, and competition.  Since the coaches and directors are actually from the Glee staff, it had enough star power to be interesting.

First, the kids each had to sing a line from the song “Signed, Sealed, Delivered.”  The object was to show individuality.  Then, they recorded a video together, performing Katy Perry’s “Firework.”

Each kid’s performance was evaluated.  The bottom three each had to do a “last chance performance” for Ryan Murphy himself.  Ryan then chose one to eliminate from the competition.

In this first episode, the kid went home because of his ‘tude, not his chops – an important lesson for all aspiring performers.

Although it is a cheesy reality show on Oxygen with disappointing ratings so far, The Glee Project has a lot of what makes Glee itself so much fun.  I’ll be back next week to see what happens.

Where’s Seth When You Need Him?

It’s just our luck.  Saturday Night Live goes on summer hiatus, and Bam (!!!!)  Sarah Palin doesn’t know who Paul Revere was, and Andrew Weiner tweets his junk.

Why, oh, why couldn’t they have done these fool things just a few weeks earlier?  Then, we could all enjoy Seth Meyers’ take on these pernicious goings-ons.  Then we could all appreciate the obvious real reasons we tolerate politicians – they make us laugh, and they make us feel smart.

If you were going on a tour of American historical hotspots, wouldn’t you quickly bone up on the basics, in case you had to say something intelligent?  Maybe at least read a plaque?  Honestly, the fact that Sarah didn’t remember Paul Revere was not the most disturbing thing here.  The most disturbing things, for me, were these.

First, Sarah didn’t think to be prepared.  Most people would have anticipated the need, and prepared themselves. 

Second, when caught with her pants down, she lied.  She flubbed, she flustered, she flopped.  For goodness sake, Sarah, just tell us the truth.  A pretty smile, and the gosh-darn truth that, you know what, I just blanked out on Paul Revere completely.  Wide-eyed blink blink smile.  She could have gotten away with that, and we would have respected her honesty.

Speaking of boned up and pants down, Sarah was trying to spin out of her ghastly revisionist history when the focus was off her and on Andrew Weiner and his . . . well, his weiner.  Does he call it Weiner, Jr?  I would.  Something with that many portraits deserves a name.

It is possible that in today’s high-tech world, societal norms have changed so drastically that tweeting a picture of your congressional member is tantamount only to the harmless flirting of yesteryear.

Here’s what gets me.  I am clearly aware that if I post, tweet, IM or email anything that the general populous might find questionable, I may have to answer for it later.  Haven’t we all heard the sage advice “Don’t post anything you wouldn’t want to see on the cover of the Wall Street Journal?”  Why didn’t Andrew Weiner have the internal mechanism to make a good decision here?

This is all on the heels of the Sperminator.  And, oh, I almost forgot, John Edwards is in the hall of shame, too.  Political scandals seem to be coming faster and faster.  Blame the internet, blame the 24-hour news cycle, blame anything but the politicians themselves, and the system that creates them.

Politicians expect to be held to a different standard than the rest of us.  If an average working person pulled any of the shenanigans of these folks, or showed an embarrassing lack of knowledge and preparation as Sarah did, that person would be unemployed.  That the politicians make more than quadruple what we make, and much of that money comes from our pockets, only adds insult to injury.

But who’s to blame here, really?  If a child misbehaves and the parent doesn’t correct the child, we blame the parent when the child gets out of hand.  Who’s to blame for out of hand politicians?

Arguably, we are.

But why do we let them get away with it?  Why do we not hold them to the same standard we hold ourselves?

Sadly, the answer may be that we envy them.  In their success, we see the possibility for our own success.  Their failures make our own failures seem more palatable.

 I may have made some mistakes today, but I do know what Paul Revere did, and I didn’t send anyone random pictures of my privates.  I guess I’m doing ok.  I don’t have as much money as Sarah, Edward, John or Arnold, but I do, apparently, have more common sense. 

Another problem is our constant political infighting.  Clearly, political stupidity happens on both sides of the aisle.  It’s not about red or blue, or tea or coffee.  Each side is eager to bring the other side down.  Instead of doing what we pay them to do, they spend their time exposing and exploiting each other’s bad behavior.

If nothing else, the United States should probably start addressing these issues on a fiscal level.  Each time a politician drops his pants it costs the American people a whole bunch of money.  I have always thought that, when dealing with other people’s money, one needs to be above reproach.

I think, too, we as a nation need to do some deep soul-searching about what we value.  More specifically, I think we need to ask ourselves why we no longer value intelligence.

Many politicians have actually used campaign tactics that suggest we should vote for them because they are dumb like us.  They scorn smart people as “elitist,” and “out of touch.”

I have a theory about where this came from.  I believe its seeds were sewn many decades ago.  After Sputnik, we put a lot of time and money into public education because we wanted to win the space race.  An unintended result was the youth movement of the 1960s.  That’s right – if we give kids too much education, they rebel.

Thus began the dumbing down of America, the ongoing results of which are Sarah Palin, Andrew Weiner, Elliot Spitzer and the like.

It is time, once again, for the children of this land to stand up and exclaim “The emperor has no clothes.”

And he just tweeted a picture to prove it.

I’m sure Seth’s take on these recent events would have been funnier than mine.  Still, I am sure he is just as scared, and just as angry, as I am.