Archive for thoughts

put some pants on ladies

Leggings are not pants. Tights are not pants. Jeggings aren’t pants. Yoga pants aren’t pants…unless you’re practicing yoga at that moment. (Don’t argue me on this – a swimsuit isn’t proper attire at the grocery store just because you’re on your way home from Barton Springs.)  Let’s see,…stockings aren’t pants. Pantyhose aren’t pants either. (You never know these days.) Obviously (to me), wearing only your socks wouldn’t count as pants, so along that same vein, shorts that are a couple centimeters longer than your underwear are not pants.

Now look, I don’t want to tell other people how to dress (yes I do), and I know different people, cultures, subsects, what have you, have different reasons for wearing what they do, but look around ladies – men aren’t trying to pass off a layer of fabric so thin that your skin might be growing over it at this very moment as pants. In fact, many of the men I notice (when I’m not blinded by the sight of someone who for a split second I’m sure came to Starbucks in only a shirt and UGG boots) wear pants that are so baggy they could rival the forever lazy in unattractiveness.

So, until the whole world decides to come together and walk around naked, or men start dressing like Mr. Darcy (and just in general being Mr. Darcy), please, please, please ladies…put your pants on.

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i want to talk about bad christmas music

Everyone has an opinion about Christmas music, ranging from “I love it all! All year long!” to “I hate it all. All year long.” I fall somewhere in between…well, I’m pretty close to the former. Ok, the truth is, if you didn’t know, I love Christmas music and I start listening to it ridiculously (fanatically) early.

But that doesn’t mean I like all Christmas music. Don’t misunderstand me – I’m not trying to say that I like some Christmas songs more than others. I want to be clear: there are some Christmas songs that they need to stop playing. Forever. For-ev-er.

Disclaimer – I hope to not offend here, because I know people have very strong feelings about their Christmas music and would hate to read someone else say that it makes their ears bleed. So if you have those tendencies, watch out.

Here are what I believe to comprise the absolute worst Christmas music. They also happen to be the ones the radio stations play maybe 75% of the time. Oh this frustrating world we live in.

1. Anything sung by Michael Buble, Gloria Estefan, the cast of Glee or anyone who’s ever participated in American Idol. Or by a Springsteen or a Mellencamp. Or by dogs barking. Yep, that’s all going in the same category.

2. Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime and Step Into Christmas.  As much as I love and respect Paul McCartney and Elton John it’s just too antithetical for me to hear them sing about Christmas and how totally fun it is.

3. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Clause. Honestly, I didn’t know until I was into my 20s that this song is actually about a kid seeing his dad in a Santa Clause costume. I was in college before I realized it wasn’t actually about Mommy getting it on with Santa while Dad while sleeping. That being said, I find this song totally creepy. Just hearing someone singing repeatedly about their Mommy kissing anyone is weird to me. Like Freudian Oedipal weird.

4. Anything having to do with a Peanuts movie. No disrespect to Mr. Schulz, but the songs sound like funeral music.

5. Mary Did You Know by anyone who sings it. This song also has a depressing tone to me on top of which (if memory serves correctly) she did know. The angel told her. So stop asking.

6. Same Old Lang Syne by Dan Fogelberg. Just sad. I’m sad just thinking about how sad this song is.

7. Where Are You Christmas? by Faith Hill. I hate this song. How can you have a Christmas song about Christmas that’s only played during the Christmas season that says “Where are you Christmas? Why can’t I find you?” I think I would find this song acceptable if they played it in April (and someone else sang it).

8. Santa Baby, though it’s more bearable when sung by Eartha Kitt. I’m going to categorize this one as creepy too. I don’t really appreciate anyone trying to sexify Christmas.

9. Baby It’s Cold Outside. Y’all are probably all going to think I’m overanalyzing, but the man in this song is way too pushy and the woman is irritatingly coy. The most disturbing lines of this song include, as sung by the woman, “the answer is no” and “hey,…what’s in this drink.” I wish she’d just make up her mind and leave or shut up and stay. His responses to her pleas to leave include “what’s the sense in hurting my pride?” and “how could you do this thing to me?” And, appallingly, one stanza ends with her saying “I ought to say no, no, no sir. At least I’m gonna say that I tried.” Harumph!

10. And I just can’t talk about Christmas music without giving homage to the absolute worst and most odious Christmas song ever written that I don’t think needs further explaining: Christmas Shoes.

One more thing: A Few of My Favorite Things is not a Christmas song. It has nothing to do with Christmas.

Did I leave any out? Which ones do you just absolutely despise?

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here’s a thought…

Why is it perfectly (socially) acceptable to devote immense amounts of your time, energy, money, emotions and life to following football (or any other sport, for that matter), but following celebrity gossip is a tacky, idle pursuit? In both cases, unless you’re actually the player or the celebrity, you’re never more than a spectator….

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oh now i get it

I’ve been known to get on my high-horse from time to time. Soapbox too. I have opinions! And, your opinions are good too. They are. And they’re cute! But really…let’s all just listen to MY opinions.

Yea that’s me. I do that. Not on purpose! (ahem, please) But, I do that and I hate it. I do that and then I replay the conversation or facial expression over and over in my head until I’ve boiled it down to an interaction where one person opens their mouth to speak and I pummel them with my giant, suffocating, cartoon thought bubbles. Then the regret kicks in.

Because I don’t mean to be that…let’s say…forceful with the things I believe in. I really don’t. All those that have foregone my friendship probably wouldn’t believe me, but deep down, I’m really quite understanding. I try to see it from other people’s perspectives. I work really hard to consider what everyone within earshot might be thinking, feeling, interpreting, comprehending, misunderstanding and/or believing. And what in their lives led them to this point of disagreement? What experiences have they had that have formed their value system? How might my words be affecting or offending them? I think all of these (and more) during my conversations. It’s quite exhausting. Now that I think about it, I probably just get tired and shovel my opinion quickly on top of the other person without listening at all.

All of this to say that the thing I get on my high horse and then climb atop my soapbox the most for is television. Oh the disdain I have for television, don’t even get me started! The commercials! The blank stares! The wasted time! The terrible, awful, uncreative, regurgitated, insulting programming!

So for years, I have refused to pay for cable. I’ll rent a series on dvd when I want to watch it (sans-commercials), but I don’t have that instantaneous turn on the TV and stare at something option. Which is fine by me! YEA! I don’t need TV! I read books and stuff. I make things. YEA!

But see, I started a new job last week. Everything is different. Rather, it’s different from my old job. In fact, it’s very normal. And there’s something about getting up early, sitting in traffic all morning (and all evening!) and wearing shoes that give me blisters. Something about coming home with eyes tired from reading. Something about 8:00 – 5:00 that makes me want to sit and stare at anything on TV when I get home.

Spurned by my own high-horse. I guess it serves me right…

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the terrifying 20s

I had the wonderful pleasure of visiting one of my oldest and dearest friends last weekend. What is it about visiting old friends that fills me with the same sort of inexplicable warmth I feel turning into my parents’ driveway? There’s something so familiar and easy about old relationships. I don’t have to explain things or try to impress. I can just be. I always leave liberated with a deep joy that I find a hard time maintaining otherwise. But maybe that’s just me…

As we updated each other on the lives of our family members and people we separately new better than each other, I found myself thinking something that I find myself unexpectedly (and unwillingly) thinking a lot lately: “Crap! They’re ahead of me!”

One of my mom’s main mantras when I was growing up was “don’t compare.” She had to tell me this again the other night as we were pondering the divergence of lifestyles that I see happening amongst my peers in our 20s. Comparing is never good because you end up either envying someone else (bad) or patting yourself on the back for being better than them (worse). Neither of those things is healthy or productive, but when I hear someone (my age!) is having their third child and is a stay-at-home mom or someone (my age!) has just bought their second house and this time it has 8 bedrooms, that younger version of myself that’s still inside of me whispers “Crap! They’re ahead of me!” And I could tell you the emotion that follows that thought, but I think I’ll just say, it ain’t happiness.

I think sometimes as we go about our lives we don’t realize the ways in which we insulate ourselves from people who are different from us. For a multitude of reasons I felt out of place at Vanderbilt, but really, I was amongst my people – white people from a middle-class Christian upbringing with an expectation of college leading to a graduate degree. It wasn’t until a couple years out of law school that I met people that didn’t have almost the same life story as I did.

Now, as I’m looking around at my peers in our 20s – those that started at about the same place as me and have, up until  this point, followed a similar path – I am seeing that for the first time in my life, my fellow generation whatever-ers are all going in different directions. We’re making different choices, mistakes, lifestyles and successes. We’re not so much the same anymore. My first reaction may be jealousy, but my final feeling is gratitude.

How much is my life enriched by the ways in which my friends’ experiences differ from my own? How many new perspectives am I shown by these people that are exploring things that I don’t have the courage or constitution to try? How much greater is my understanding and empathy for people because I’m seeing the different ways in which we can survive this complicated adulthood thing?

My mom (yea, I talk to her a lot, so what?) said that around the time that we were in our Terrible Twos, parents would brag to each other about when their children started walking or talking. New parents would gawk at each other and then frown at their own child who wasn’t quite there yet. Twenty years later she laughs this off as she points out that by kindergarten we were all walking and talking. Maybe in twenty years I’ll look back on my Terrifying Twenties and smile thinking about how I used my peers’ lives as a yardstick for my own. Maybe I’ll still be doing it. Either way, I hope I am still surrounded by people who show me worlds I can’t see for myself.

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