You see, there are a handful of nouns that are seemingly non-existent without a particular color. However, when combined with said color, they often take on a remarkably more involved connotation than the simple adjective would produce on face value.

While recently reading Geek love: Dating while academic and other misadventures, I couldn’t help but be captured by the dynamic “ivory tower.” Probably the oldest color+noun combination I have today, this one has even been glorified in a chart-topping song (see, Garth Brooks’ Friends in Low Places). And in today’s rhetoric, this particular color+noun combo results in something with a very loose association to the basic visual the two words individually create.

So I move on. What about a “blue lagoon”? How often do you run into your basic, average, otherwise non-color-specific lagoon? You don’t. The bottom line is, all lagoons are blue. They just roll off your tongue better that way.

And of course, if you merely mention Cadillac, tell me that something 74′ long with fins and PINK doesn’t come to mind? Once again, thank you music world for helping us fill in the blank on this one (“…Pink Cadillac / crushed velvet seats / riding in the back / oozing down the streets…”). Then again, though, I could go on for days about the color pink…

But I have to ask on this last one though, why is it that lips can only be ruby red? Not just red. But ruby red. And not candy apple… that’s usually reserved for a convertible. Have you ever heard of rose red, scarlet, or crimson lips? Okay… I suppose there can also be blood red lips. But now we’re talking a whole different person than the one under the ruby red mouth.

Have a colorful day!

~M

Today’s post isn’t so much about the actual pieces of legislation as it is more about the stark contrast that I can’t avoid: are we becoming China? The world has marveled for years at the Chinese government’s quest to control information, yet it seems like Hollywood wants the same measures in place … only under the guise of intellectual property protection. (Which I generally support…as it currently is legislated. However, don’t even get me started on the fact that this proposes placing the IP defense burden on someone other than the copyright holder).

And where I struggle the most is, how can we be even traveling down the same path as China? I mean, in all reality, we are talking the difference between a country who literally turned a blind eye to a toddler’s very public and gruesome demise compared to a country who shunned a favorite son over a couple of dead dogs. (Don’t hate here; I am most certainly not condoning Mr. Vick’s actions by any means … I am simply pointing out the public outcry for his head to roll when the dog fighting ring blew up (and I am still in the “off with his head” party)).

For all our compassion and activism in this nation, and our courage to stand up to our own government, how is it that these two bills, which would ultimately compromise the basic infrastructure of the internet, have even made it this far? I mean, really … what would Al Gore have to say about this?

~M

le sigh

But, I sometimes yearn for the meditations of whimsy. The meditations of inconsequence. The thoughts on really random things.

Today, I meditate on something so cave-manish, I almost think I’m back to the good ol’ days!

While stopped at a busy corner downtown the other day at lunchtime (waiting for the walk signal to turn), I actually got a “beep beep” from a passing delivery truck while I was stopped at the corner.

The latent 30-something now smiles in my head. Well done you, girl! it says.

Because 10 years ago, I remember being seriously annoyed by my guy friend riding shotgun who would reach over and honk (as I’m driving) at girls he perceived as hot when we drove by.

Oh, wait. That’s me, now? Someone perceived me as worthy of a honk? Okay! And thank you! (I waived).

What is it about this silly little base move that can actually have an impact on a girl? It seems so silly that a guy acts so foolish as to honk as he drives by… but in turn, the physiological response I give, is about as silly. Heck yeah, I smile! I was feeling like I was having a skinny+good hair day and you just confirmed it!

Honk on, my guy friends! Because, at the end of the day… while we ladies may bitch about how boyish it is that you do that, we really are tickled deep down that you acknowledged us on the corner!

~M

The blissfully unaware (or, BU, here on out) are a special breed. They have a remarkably stalwart fortitude for their own mission. Very little will derail the BU because, afterall, the BU is actually unaware that something may be attempting a derailment.

It appears as though the BU comes out on top, at least in the short term. Of course, why wouldn’t they, if they are unaware that they shouldn’t be succeeding at that very moment?

The BU are often a pleasant folk, seemingly oblivious to any ill sentiment harbored against them. They are the epitome of water off a duck’s back.

My observations on the BU stem from two very different circumstances, both of which are close to me at the moment:

Party A: Girlfriend who is wildly in love with a man who is unlikely to settle down. She pushes along blindly, planning future events together, and family gatherings. All the while he is (possibly) dating other women, and assures his people that it isn’t that serious with Girlfriend. Yet, for all his assertions of casual dating, Girlfriend is right where she wants to be: on the the path to her own happily ever after.

Party B: The college-aged IT staffer at my office, who continues to wear designer jeans with substantial (and likely expensive) holes in them paired with skin-tight tee-shirts on a daily basis. I only notice this when his hair isn’t dyed patchwork red and black, or the pegs in his ear-lobes aren’t sparkling. For a professional office that maintains a business-casual dress code daily, I am so amazed at the BU and how he is oblivious to the fact that his attire and personal grooming habits are far from appropriate.

I raise a glass to you, the BU! You manage to make it through life without getting bogged down in the minutiae of adverse actions. You seemingly cruise through a gauntlet each day while incoming blows simply glance off you, leaving no mark. Your mission and being are on track, and nothing is going to get in the way for you!

I, on the other hand, am hyper-aware of the atmosphere around me. Any change in proverbial air pressure causes a flurry of thoughts to race through my mind: am I impacting anyone else? is my action here going to result in X, Y, or Z? do I want to continue on this path, or should I reevaluate? … I can’t say that I am BU.

Although, given my acknowledged propensity to over-think, perhaps I need to embrace a little BU-ness for this new year? 2012: the year of obliviousness! Who knows? It could be fun!

Happy New Year!

~M

Whoa.

Stop.

Time Out.

Did M just lay that one out there? Yes, yes I did.

This is ignited by pop music. It’s all over the radio right now, so something must be going on, right? In the middle of the afternoon this week, there were back to back (to back!) songs that were seemingly glorifying, or at the least failing to condemn, physically violent relationships.  Observe the following 2:

• Florence & the Machine’s “Kiss with a Fist.”
  Do I even have to get past the title? Well, if I must, the songs opens with “You hit me once / I hit you back / You gave a kick / I gave a slap / You smashed a plate over my head / Then I set fire to our bed.”
• Fun’s “We are Young.”
  Not an excuse. It’s buried in the early part of the song but here they offer up “My seats been taken by some sunglasses / Asking ’bout a scar / And I know I gave it to you months ago / I know you’re trying to forget / But between the drinks and subtle things / The holes in my apologies / You know I’m trying hard to take it back.”

The third song in the mix adds a bit of redemption, as it squarely criticizes someone for his role in abusing a woman… but again, I am blown away by the fact that there is even a 3rd song on the top playlists right now that involves DV, even if it’s sort of speaking out against it!

Small kudos go to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus for “Face Down.” (“Cover up with makeup in the mirror / Tell yourself it’s never gonna happen again / You cry alone and then he swears he loves you // Do you feel like a man when you push her around? / Do you feel better now, as she falls to the ground?”)

I have a very hard time listening to these songs. Until you meet a friend in the emergency room at 4am…Or accompany a woman to speak with a prosecuting attorney to go through with her testimony…Or join a friend in a group therapy session for battered women, DV seems like something that happens elsewhere. Perhaps to those other women. And even so, how big a deal is it?

It’s a very big deal.

And it’s never acceptable.

So why is pop radio glorifying it right now? I am incensed that the Florence and Fun songs are out there right now. Because some young guy is singing along mindlessly, not really paying attention to the lyrics, and all the while he is subconsciously singing himself into some sort of okayness about giving a woman a scar or a kick.

It has taken decades to get the support systems in place to help curb this problem. Advocacy groups have belabored the justice system and the hospitals and the police departments to take this crime seriously. And when headway has finally been made, pop culture takes a giant leap backwards.

Shame on you, Florence and Fun, for seemingly condoning this horrific offense. I invite you to volunteer at a battered woman’s safe house for one day, and then talk to me about your catchy little lyrics.

And don’t get me started on Foster the People’s über-catchy “Pumped Up Kicks.” Several million people are singing along to a teenage homicidal killing spree, without really paying attention.

~M

This is my first nomination, and I never cease to be amazed at how people come to read these random musings. And likewise, the blogging world continuously fascinates me with its creativity, thought, and perspective.  I am somewhat delighted to know that writing is not becoming a lost art!

For this award, I have to share ten things you may not know.  Then I must pass the award on to at least six bloggers.

10 things you may not know

• I am a one-sneezer.
• In second grade, I broke my arm by “inventing a new way to go down the stairs.” (I do not recommend any method wherein your head goes first)
• I have three cousins — between the four of us we cover 3 time zones, 3 countries, and 3 continents.
• Rives on 4a.m. is one of my favorite TED talks.
• I have five pets — all are boys.
• Six years ago next week, my life undeniably changed forever.
• I had a seven-month stint as a live window-model in a shoe store. (That’s not entirely true. I was hired as a sales associate; the store was so painfully slow that we would live model on the faux rock displays to pass the time).
• For no reason whatsoever, eight is my favorite number.
• I have been to all but nine of the states in the continental United States.
• I have traveled through 10 countries in Europe.

6 bloggers nominated

• Abby Has Issues
• Ms. Nikks
• 321Delish
• A Confederacy of Spinsters
• Mona Lisa Memoirs
• James L. Carey

Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge – they were all messages of love. If you look for it, I’ve got a sneaking suspicion… love actually is all around.

~Prime Minister (Hugh Grant), Love Actually

‘Tis the night before the night before Christmas (or, more succinctly, only 2 sleeps left until Christmas), and I can’t help but draw on one of my favorite non-traditional Christmas movies. Soft spot for Hugh Grant aside, I tear up in the opening minutes every time I watch Love Actually. Even before anything is said, you are transported to the passenger arrival area in Heathrow Airport, watching loved ones reunite. If you haven’t seen this in a while, you probably should revisit it. (Go ahead. I’ll wait).

At this time of year, there’s something about slowing down long enough to witness or observe the goodness in this world. The grace. The kindness. The love.

It’s in the eyes of the people serving meals at the local shelter. Not only on Christmas day, but on December 16th or February 8th, too. And in the eyes of the people enjoying those meals.

It’s in the hand of a parent, walking through a park, holding the hand of his just-learning-to-walk child.

It’s in the bags of groceries that every Woodland Elementary student took home this holiday break, from an anonymous donor.

It’s in the kitchen — bubbling pots, baking pans, simmering sauces, and rising dough — of every family’s ‘chef’ preparing the family dinner.

It’s in the hug of the mom as she catches her child in her arms as he jumps off the bus after school.

It’s in the stranger’s smile and patience holding the door open at the post office, as you walk up, precariously balancing packages.

It’s in the sincere thank you the over-worked service teller offers up with a smile, after helping you and the 5,479 other people before you that day.

It’s in the helping hands, open doors, and thoughtful invitations of friends every day.

Slow down this season. Resist getting caught up in the last-minute rush and retail madness. And instead, step back from yourself for a minute and look around you. I suspect you will see kindness and love, if you open your eyes. And if you don’t? Hold the door open for the next person coming up the sidewalk, or quietly pay for a tank of gas for someone who may not have as much as you do this season.

Maybe you are the love and kindness others will see when they take a minute and look.

~M

One of the Top 10 things was Doug Hutchison’s marriage to Courtney Stodden. What’s that you say? You missed it too? We must have been too overwhelmed with Charlie and Arnold to catch this one. Apparently it’s List worthy because he’s 51 and she’s 16!

One friend would comment that this isn’t right and that they really need to find an age-appropriate relationship.

This phrase, “age-appropriate relationship”, has always struck me as odd, almost bothersome. It’s no secret that I have historically dated older, not necessarily by choice. But having dated upwards of the 13-year gap, and most recently the 11-year gap, I’m not uncomfortable there. In fact, I am mildly bemused, if not slightly weirded out, by the thought of dating younger.

But I am slowly beginning to realize that there may be something to this “age-appropriate relationship” concept.

Most often (Demi, aside) you will still see a May to December romance wherein the elder partner is the man. If you have a 45 year-old man with a 34-year old woman, they are inherently in different life places. She may still want a family of her own, whereas he may be beyond that (or, more often, been there/done that).

Or, take a scenario I’ve seen twice lately: 70-something man and late-50s woman. She’s still a social butterfly in her pre-golden years. He, on the other hand, is often ready to call it a night when the sun goes down.

Doug suggests that love knows no age. I don’t disagree with him. I very much believe you are capable of being in love with someone a generation removed from your own. However, I am beginning to wonder about the practicality of such a romance. I believe that for this to work, each partner may be giving up significant life events in order to accommodate the other.

So where does the answer lie? Is there such a thing as an age-inappropriate relationship? And does appropriateness have a range … say a 6-year spread? Or, a 4-year gap?

I’m not one to judge relationships. Goodness, at this time of the year, if you can find someone to stand beneath the mistletoe with you, I consider it a job well done!

~M

Call me pretty.
Send me notes. Call my house and hang up.
Or even, drive by every day.
Hold my hand, and bring me a corsage.
And call me pretty, please.

Call me beautiful.
Pursue me. Date me.
Impress me with your silly ploys.
Tell me stories and paint the sky, and tell me
that none of it compares as to when you
Call me beautiful.

Call me elegant.
Comment on my depth and grace.
Court me. Woo me. Let me stand tall at your side
as together we pass by this way.
Call me elegant this day.

Call me regal, ardent, wise.
But call me also neat. And fun.
Esteem my sense of self. Admire my elan.
Join me in this journey, so long as you can stand to.
But when the day is done, and it’s just you and me, it’s okay to still
Call me pretty.

~M

3 of the 5 people at the table last week are in the throes (?) of divorce. Person4 is a widower (and otherwise simply needs to breakup with a girlfriend) and Person5 is Single. Very Single.

And as KimK illustrated this week, apparently that is all the rage now.

Jests aside, however, I need two hands to count the number of friends I have going through a divorce right now (and I’m only counting 1 spouse out of the divorcing couple in my friend count). This seems like an inordinately numerous population of people parting ways. Part of this population is characteristic of “we just grew apart” while another part of the population can point to a relatively distinct motivating event/action/etc. Either way, though, I can’t help but take notice.

And with a little sadness, mixed with a noticeable dose of skepticism, held up by a pretty well-fortified wall, the Single Girl has got to ask: why would anyone want to get married anymore?

Don’t get me wrong, the little piece of me that still believes in happily-ever-after is fighting tooth and nail to not be snuffed out…but with weariness I can’t help but wonder if it’s all just destined to be a short-term side trip in life, commenced with profound joy and capped with gut-wrenching heartache and scars, and filled with roller-coasters in between?

I do recognize that most of today’s couples are often a dual-income household, which poses its own inherent stresses…but were there not era-specific stresses 30-, 50-, or 85-years ago? “The Art of Wife” suggests that it is a blurring of both the work and home roles which leads to today’s relationship struggles. But then, again, this op-ed contributor points out that she may as well find herself a “wife”, since she is set up to be a primary breadwinner.

As DocRx laughed the other day when we were debating this topic: “Those damned women’s libers totally ruined it for us!” We thence resumed fantasizing about being Women of Leisure.

But, I seem to have veered off on a tangent. While being wholly related to the topic at hand, the topic at hand may not be wholly related to Working Households vs. Homemaker Households. And my question isn’t about why marriages seem to be disintegrating all around right now.

So I go back to square one and wonder: is marriage a worthy venture in today’s day and age? Or, does one enter into wedlock, not with ‘Til Death Do Us Part, but instead trepid awareness of the eventual pain of divorce? I would hate to suggest that someone’s reality come to fruition from a seedling belief sowed at the outset.

That little happily-ever-after part of me hangs onto the fact that I am over 30, and the success rate for people getting married “later in life” is substantially higher than those who marry earlier. But that doesn’t totally satisfy my query as to the worth of this once-sacred, honored, and heralded institution.

With any luck, one day perhaps I’ll be able to say: First time’s a charm!

~M

Retro re-post of the day: What Does It All Mean?

Retro re-post bonus: Meditations in Brief