![Charmed by Charm… and I even Caught a Plague]()
by Richard Timothy | May 5, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, I Think There's a Point, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement, Reviewed and Recommended, Utahism
I am a bit plagued at the moment, and have been since Sunday evening. No, it is not because I have killed and eaten that damn bird that yes, still flurries against my bedroom window every morning. I will say, at least after a few weeks it’s finally starting to wear down. It now only attacks the window once every 20 to 30 minutes instead of the repetitious attacks that it was so fond of when I first decided that the window was a worthy adversary.
As for the plague, it’s not your traditional “I’m not dead yet” kind of plague. It is however a plague that I imagine everyone has suffered from more than once throughout their life. I’ve honestly lost track of how many times I’ve had it myself. This time is a little more aquatic in theme. I’ve been thinking in a rather repetitious way that I’d like to be… under the sea, spending some time in the shade of an octopus’s garden. Yes, I’ve acquired the infamous “song stuck in my head” plague. And this time around I’m stuck regurgitating an underwater tune that a quartet from Liverpool first sang about back in 1969. I think blaming my friend Kyle for this might be feasible. He’s the one that got me a ticket to the play that I heard the song at. Along with the blame I suppose I also need to thank him, because it was a really good show.
One of the theatre companies in Salt Lake is called SLAC, Salt Lake Acting Company, who just so happens to be turning 40 this next year… well done there. I usually make it to one show a year, and this year I even though I’m planning on going to their next show, I really had no plans on seeing the one I went to on Sunday. The play was called Charm. It’s a new play from a now local playwright named Kathleen Cahill. I believe she’s been in Utah for around three years now. The performance was even a World Premiere. Ohhh I know, sounds impressive doesn’t it? I think it just means that SLAC was the first place on this planet to officially perform the play. It is pretty cool to be able to have that as a snobbish theatre conversation piece. It’s like being that person that saw U2 perform in a pub in front of 25 people and purchased one of their demo cassettes because they thought they just might go somewhere. Or in short, this is one of my “I knew them before they were famous” stories.
One of those truly great moments in life is when you go to see a performance while in a state of ignorance. I had no idea what the play was about and I had no idea what to expect, and the show consistently exceeded any expectations I could have put on it had I known what to expect. I mean when you have no expectations for a show and then leave the show disappointed or unmoved, that is a tragedy. But for this performance, I walked out of the show jovial and assured in my belief that the world is a brilliant place. It made my good day a great day.
The show was, as the program put it, “Magical, surreal and transcendentally goofy.” It was a mostly satirical look at the life of one Margaret Fuller. She was a free spirit that lived in the 1800’s (1810 to 1850). She was very well educated and had managed to accomplish a few firsts in her day. Here are a few things I think are worth knowing about Margaret:
She was the first full time book reviewer in journalism.
- She was a supporter of woman’s rights, woman’s education and the right to employment.
- She also encouraged prison reform and the emancipation of slaves in the US.
- She became the first woman allowed to use the Harvard College library.
- She became the New York Tribune’s first female correspondent covering the Italian revolution.
- Nathaniel Hawthorne friendship with her used her personality for the inspiration for the character Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter.
A fare share of this is touched upon in the play. At first I thought a lot of the claims were embellished, because that is what I’ve come to expect from productions about historical figures. I really didn’t think that all of these claims were true. The play definitely peaked my interest about Margaret, and got me researching and reading up on her life. Her early departure from her life was a true tragedy. She only lived 40 years, and was traveling back from Italy with her lover, their child and her newest manuscript. The ship crashed 100 yards from Fire Island, New York and went down. None of their bodies were recovered and the manuscript was forever lost. I know it’s sad, still… what a full 40 years.
Charm took a look, a very playful look, at the relationships between Margaret and Emerson, Thoreau, and Hawthorne. The enjoyment of the play was only reinforced by the consistently strong performance by the entire cast. The set and props were minimal, and the movement and freedom it gave to the performers only added to my overall enjoyment of the play. I’d suggest that if you don’t have any plans between now and Sunday, and you live in the Salt Lake area, you should go check out this show. Sadly, it does ends on Sunday May 9th… so take you mom to it as well. I did do a little internet rummaging and it looks like Charm is part of the 2011 lineup at the Orlando Shakespeare Theater. It’s a piece that is definitely worth the two hours you spend watching it.
All that being said, it was during the performance that I heard the tune Octopus’s Garden, which I’ve never really given a lot of listening to. I mean, I think the Beatles are ok, but I don’t love them. I only own one of their CDs and it was a gift from a friend back in 1995 I think. I’ve listened to it a few times over the years, but I really do mean only a few time, like maybe 6 times tops in 15 years. I did go to a Beatles cover band concert last summer, which was a lot of fun. It was an outdoor concert and they were playing with the Utah Symphony Orchestra. I rained a lot I remember, but there was something wonderful about dancing to the Beatles outside on the side of a mountain in a soft cool summer rain with a glass of wine in my hand… it just made for a good night all the way around.
The point is, because I was in such an excessively good mood because of the play, that, when song came on, I connected it with how happy I was at that moment. Now, and for the past few days, I have been continually singing that song to myself and smiling the whole time. Even last night, as I was laying in bed, exhausted and trying to fall asleep, I was half humming, half snoring the melody of Octopus’s Garden to myself. It is subsiding some, but even as I write this and am listening to Neil Young in the background I’m still humming and singing to myself… “I like to be… under the sea… in an octopus’s garden in the shade…”
What of some of your “stuck in your head” songs?
Image Sources:
Goggle Images, key words: Charm by Kathleen Cahill, sleeping birds, Margaret Fuller, and octopus’s garden.
by Richard Timothy | May 4, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Lightbulbs and Soapboxes, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Reviewed and Recommended
Years ago I was spending some time in Washington state and became friends with a wonderful retired couple whose names I no longer remember. I do recall that the husband was a golfer though. Not a casual player, no he was an everyday kind of player. He even had a small side business where he would custom make putters, which really were works of art and created with a great deal of love for the game. Out of all the times I visited them there was one conversation that always comes to mind when I think about them. The husband was talking about going to a course that next morning to which his wife reminded him that he was going to be golfing on the Sabbath and asked if he thought it was a good idea to miss church because of golf. Then, almost instantaneously he replied, “But honey, golf is 2/3’s god.” He smiled at her, I started laughing, and she rolled her eyes and walked out of the room, thus ending conversation.
For some, golf is the heaven on Earth. For others it’s an incredible waste of land and natural resources. For example, keeping a lush green course alive and well in a place like Las Vegas. As for my perspective on golf, I have played the game. I have even purchased my own clubs. Granted, I only have three clubs and the first two, a pitching wedge and a 5 iron, I got for a dollar each from a thrift shop. I also own a 2 wood, which I purchased for 20 dollars from a Kmart that was going out of business and everything in the store was on clearance. I even keep the clubs in the trunk of my car for years with no bag to put them in. They just rolled around in the trunk along with an empty tennis ball container, a cardboard box filled with cleaning supplies.
When people see the clubs in my trunk there is always a pause of confusion. I get asked if I play, but it’s always an unsure question because I only have three clubs and they are pretty sure positive that I can’t play with only three clubs. I tell them the truth… yes, I do play, just not in the conventional way. And I only need those three clubs to play. Oh, and I only play once every 3 years or so, although I have been known to visit a driving range about once a year to hit a bucket with some coworkers.
So what is Rich Golf? It’s more a game of adventure with golf added into the mix. And I always make sure I bring a Baby Ruth with me in the event I run into a Sloth type character lurking in the rough. To begin with, I borrow a golf ball from one of the friends I am golfing.
Here’s my qualm with regular golf, the better you do, the less you get for your money. If you are playing 9 holes of golf and you get par every time, you get to hit the ball around what 30 to 40 times? Now my logic is that if it takes me 60 strokes instead of 30 I am getting twice as much play time for my money. To give you a clear understanding of my skill in this game, finishing a 9 hole game with a total of 60 hits of the ball is quite exceptional for me. On the average thought I’d say 10 hits before I get the ball in the hole is pretty standard and something I pride myself on. In the game of Rich Golf that is a fairly accomplished feat.
Treasure hunting is the other aspect of Rich Golf, which adds a whole new level of personal entertainment to the game. The rule is you have to try to keep it on the fairway when hitting the ball. Because I my excessive skill in hitting the golf ball in a way that makes it spin dramatically off course like a race car on icy roads. I spend about half of the game in the tall grass and tree filled areas. The thing about venturing off the padded grass path is that this is where I start building up my collection, no make that my bounty of surplus golf balls. I do attempt to find the golf ball I was using. I also begin looking for any homeless golf balls that happen to be living in the tall grass or wooded areas. The rule is that you have to stop searching for rogue golf balls once you find the one you hit into the rough. Unless you can’t find it, in that case you drop a new ball after 10 minutes of searching.
It’s so entertaining for me to come running out of the woods with 6 golf balls in the side pockets of my cargo pants that I did not have before (cargo pants are a must for this game, you need lots of pockets and storage space). I keep a running tally for the whole game. I always come out ahead too, which is another way you win while playing Rich Golf. I think my personal best over the past 10 years, by the end of the 9th hole, was 32 golf balls ahead. I was unable to return the ball I had borrowed, mainly because I had lost it, but did make up for that one lost golf ball. My record game was in Logan, Utah. It was a morning game too. Three friends and I headed to the links? Court? Field? Course… and it was by far one of the most amusing, entertaining, and playful games of Rich Golf I have ever played. My friends told me I came in last, but I think they meant that in the traditional sense of the game.
I never keep the golf balls for two reasons. I don’t have any place to keep them and since I only play golf with friends and they always have traditional golf equipment, why not let them keep the surplus of found golf balls to use at some later time. I know they actually play the game more than once every few years. The second reason, I wouldn’t feel right about keeping them. It’s like buying chocolates from Belgium and then keeping them in the box waiting for a special occasion to eat them. Not allowing inanimate objects fulfill the purpose and function of their existence is not only sacrilege, but it’s incredibly… well it makes me want to eat ice cream when I’m not in the mood to eat ice cream, and that is just not right, period. It might make a little more sense if I point out that I’m really not a big ice cream person either.
Some of you might be wondering how playing 9 holes of golf with just three clubs works especially then none of those clubs fall into the putter category. Putters are highly overrated and in my case never necessary. I either use my wood in a very soft tapping style, or I just use a clubs long section that has the grippy bits at the end and use it in a pool cue fashion to hit the ball into the hole. Besides, with only three clubs I just walk around with the three of them in only one hand. I then drop the two I don’t need for the shot and use the club that feels right. I do think that the more clubs you have the more befuddled the constricting the game becomes. I do think I might attempt using two clubs next time instead of three, you know, just to gauge the doability of the thing.
There is one alteration that may happen to my game though. A few weeks ago I lent my car to a friend to drive to Boise Idaho to help a friend pack up his house and move. When he got back and returned the car, he had me open the trunk. Inside was an old black and pink golf club bag fill will old, weather beaten clubs. He explained that as he was helping his friend move he noticed that a neighbor had placed the old bag of clubs out on the curb as trash for the garbage man to pick up and take away. So he grabbed it for me. There nestled in with the collection of old golf clubs were my three clubs, looking happy to have a bag to call home. I really have only one gripe. It’s not that they are women’s clubs, which they are, but I could care less about that. The problem is that they are right handed clubs.
Now I might be a lot of things, but right handed was never one of those… except for using scissors. It’s not my fault though. I blame it on the fact that I only had access to right-handed scissors in elementary school. I also believe that this is why I cannot make that Vulcan “live long and prosper” hand gesture with my left hand. I can make it with my right hand as easy as a monkey flings… er, messy stuff. But I cannot for the life of me make that symbol with my left hand, unless I can cheat and tape my pinky and forth finger together.
With this new bag addition to the game I have thought about keeping a golf ball for myself the next time I go. That way I will have my own starting ball the next time I go. Since having that initial thought the motion has been vetoed and will not be becoming a practice for my game. Borrowing that first ball is at the core what the game is about. An initial act of trust and kindness that is extended to you, which is repaid at the end of the game by the reciprocating act of giving them the entire golf ball treasure you collected throughout the game. 
It’s a brilliant moment when you ask your friend to hold out their hands and you begin unloading your golf ball filled pockets into their hands. Once you get to number fifteen they usually start laughing so hard they can no longer hold them all and they spill all over the ground as you keep handing them ball after ball after ball. It’s the perfect ending to a perfect game.
Do you have any sports that you altered to make your own?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: man golfing, sloth goonies, treasure, golf balls, using golf club as pool cue, Shatner Vulcan fail, and handful of golf balls.
![Charmed by Charm… and I even Caught a Plague]()
by Richard Timothy | Apr 30, 2010 | Confessed Confidentially, I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Something I Know Nothing About
I know there was been some anticipation in regards to the hearing about the weekend that was the “writing workshop”. What did I learn? Was it worth it? Did I dress up as my favorite Muppet and come some tea with a bunch of strangers? Let me answer that last question first… (insert me giving a blank stare here). Ok, now that that’s taken care of, let’s move on and begin with the basics at the beginning. The workshop was on a Saturday and Sunday and was about 8 hours long, each of those days. Which means it was about 9 to 10 hours long because of all the hugging, kissing, hand shaking and picture taking that happened at the end of each day.
The workshop had a title that equated to writing and speaking and making a lot of money doing that. My cutie-baby-sweetie-pie had gotten me a ticket, hoping it would be useful for my writing and enable me to get a few contacts while I was there. 
Plus, I love her lots and lots. So when the prospect of spending a weekend with her during a weekend she would be out of town was presented to me how could I say no to that? I jumped on the wagon, saddled up the horses, found the lost sheep, lead the cattle home, and a whole slew of additional old west cowboy jargon that people use instead of just saying, “Yes, I’d love to go with you.” Because we were driving I knew it was going to be a long trip, but fortunately for me I’m very proficient at sleeping in moving vehicles… or parked vehicles for that matter. I can sleep almost anywhere is what I’m eluding there here.
I did have my apprehensions though. I know, I know, shame on me for setting up expectations beforehand. It was just that I had a feeling that not everything at the workshop was going to apply all that well to me and my creative writing topics. The thing was, I was right. The workshop felt very geared towards writing a self help themed book and not creative fiction. I mean some of the writing exercises were quite useful, plus there was some information that will be very helpful for writing my book proposal for when I start shopping for publishers. It’s just that a workshop for writing my own self help book wasn’t quite the writing style I am focused on.
There were a few… bonding exercises? I think that’s what you could classify them as. I think I kept doing them wrong though. I mean I would participate and met some wonderful people, it’s just our experiences were a little different and I wasn’t sure how to relate. Some of the stories were incredibly personal and intense too. Stories about growing up in hard times, or being abandoned at the hospital after they were born a few months premature, or having their father walk out on them when and their mom after they were born, or the struggle of spending a lifetime wanting children and never being able to have any, or stories of either physical or mental abuse, or both. Still out of all of that hardship, these people have risen out of that darkness to make a good life for themselves. It was a weekend of people writing the outline for their own personal VH1 Behind the Music episode and it was quite the experience. I just didn’t really have anything like that to share. Well, nothing that would be appreciated or understood that is.
One thing about the weekend was that I was able to partake from the cup of minority… or cups depending on how you look at it. I was one of the few pasty people there. It was a very diverse group and most of the people there were women. So right there are two of the minority tags I had for the weekend. Then there was the last minority cup I drank from, and it was probably the one I was the most unprepared for. I’m not exactly sure how to put this… do bluntly put, I was one of the very few non “praise Jesus” people there.
The room was full of avid believers who were very vocal about their support of deity in a “Yes Lord” kind of way. It was a lot of fun to be around their energy, and the presenter definitely knew their audience. They started hyping up the whole god angle in their presentations and processes. I can’t say I blame them. Presenting to a group is about knowing your audience and when you get a surge of excitement, and audience interaction every time you mention the word “god” you are going to milk that word for all its worth. This resulted in the room being filled with vocal exclamations and phrases such as, “Yes!” “That’s right!” “Amen.” “Mmm.” “Yes Ma’am.” “Tell it sister!” “You go girl.” and even one, “We’re preaching now!”
There was even a reverend in the group and not a me kind of reverend, but the kind that actually preaches at services every Sunday. Oddly, this meant that the presenters did their best not to offend the clergy in the audience. In a weird way he became the buffer for acceptable topics, whether he wanted to be that judge and jury or not. There was even one point where a presenter made a bit of a joke in regards to sleeping with a wealthy man, and then retracted the joke instantly apologizing to the reverend and confirming to him that she was kidding and, “I really didn’t say that to him reverend.” It was too bad too, because I thought it was rather funny.
So based on all of that, and based on my perspective on the topic of religion, I spent as much time as possible smiling quietly and not saying a word. I couldn’t even share what my novel was about with any of them, because I was fairly certain that they would not only not get it, but express a lack of appreciation for me being there. I wasn’t concerned that they would beat me with sticks or anything like that. They were all very nice people. It’s just that, well, I think if I were on Survivor, that little bit of information would have easily been enough to have me be the first one voted off the island.
There was one thing that happened that did make me giggle though. There was a moment when people were sharing in front of the class and someone chose to use a religious reference to convey the point they were trying to make. They explained that, “… just as it says in the bible, give a man fish and you will feed him for a day, but teach a man to fish and he can feed himself for a lifetime.” It was very fitting for the point they were trying to make, the problem was, as one of my road trip friends pointed out to me, that quote is nowhere in the bible. It’s actually a Chinese proverb. Yeah, I still smile when I think about that.
So, was I disappointed I went? No, not at all… mostly no… let’s say about 85 to 90% not disappointed. I did meet some amazing and beautiful people, and heard some true stories that I’d never believe were true had I not met the person sharing their story. I also saw some huge transformations happened for a few people there. There are some people there that will never be the same, but in a good way. I did have to do a lot of on the spot translation to work out if what they were sharing would apply to a satire novel. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t. Still, there were a few technical bits and shared information that were definitely useful once I get to that point.
I even wrote an outline for a book I may at some point in my life write. I had been playing with the idea for a book based on some personal experiences and perspectives I’ve accrued during my life. Turns out the original story idea could easily be split into two different books instead of just one. So I did get some clarity on that and a scattered outline for that distant time when I’m ready to write a new type of story. I do still have four or five books to either start and finish, or just finish, until I get there though. So, you know, at least I have that going for me. I guess that means I should probably stop writing so I can get writing. I’m a bit of a conundrum that way.
What are your thoughts on today’s Smirk?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: writing workshop, red wagon, diversity, man with fish, and book idea.
![Charmed by Charm… and I even Caught a Plague]()
by Richard Timothy | Apr 29, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Pratchett Perspective
Out of all the holidays that cover our calendars and motivate us to schedule a time to get together with friends and family to eat food and cake there is one holiday that I love more than any other. The nice thing about this holiday is that it’s not a set day, well I mean it is but it’s a general holiday that branches all across the year. It’s the holiday I call the birthday, and I’m not referring to just mine. Other holidays mean very little to me. Giant bunny rabbit day… who cares. Chubby old guy in a red suit that spends an entire night breaking and entering into all the homes of children that believe in him day… could care less. Single awareness/buy flowers and chocolate for a loved one day… yawn.
But give me the day a friend, family, or loved one was born and I will make sure that if we are not celebrating together on that day that I will at least raise a glass in their honor. I’m a firm believer in celebrating the “grand entrance onto this planet” day, because in my experience it’s our friends that make our stroll down Life Boulevard worth it. My life is eminently better because of the people I have in it. Birthdays celebrate life, namely the lives that I care most about.
I have met the occasional individual that is overly anti-birthday. Now I’m not sure if this is specifically their birthday, other people’s birthday, or if it’s just birthdays in general. Usually when I try to talk to these people about this they run away from me with their fingers in their ears while yelling, “I can’t hear you. I can’t hear you. La lalalalalalalalala!” They are not always the best conversationalists, well at least the two that I’ve tried talking to weren’t. I’m sure it’s not completely their fault, but it does make me a little sad.
There are even some birthdays that we make official holidays… well governments do anyway. In the US it appears that there are a few official “birthday” days for a few long dead folk that apparently someone somewhere thought deserved national observance. Some of these nationally observed birthdays include Robert E Lee, Lincoln, Washington… actually that’s it. I could only find those three. There is also Queen’s Birthday as a holiday in a few places around the world. It looks like that’s it though. You know what I think the governments should do, everyone should get their birthday off as a paid holiday. It would be one of those laws that I think everyone would show up to vote for. And no matter how bad the politicians mess up, there would always be that light at the end of the perpetual black hole that is politics. It’s something all people everywhere deserve.
In the realm that is birthday splendor and cheeriness there are those people that you don’t know, that usually carry with them a halo of fame and appreciation. They may be gone, or they might still be around and kicking for the next one to seven decades. The point being that they are people that you hold a place for in your heart, or mind, or empty shell where some people claim your spirit resides. Regardless of you existential beliefs there are some people’s birthdays that we choose to remember and celebrate in our own personal way.
Some birthdays I choose to celebrate include:
- Elvis Presley – January 8
- Audrey Hepburn – May 4
- Douglas Adams – March 11
- Winnie the Pooh – October 14 (that was when he was first published)
- Groucho Marx – October 2
- Frank Sinatra – December 12
- Terry Pratchett – April 28
That’s right today is Terry’s birthday, which is a touch responsible for the subject matter of today’s Smirk. I’ve been thinking of a few things I could do for my celebration of Terry’s “I’m glad you were born” day. I was contemplating making it a Rincewind day and just run away from everyone and everything today. I would just wait for someone to say my name and then just start running away from them as fast as I could. As appealing as this idea was I realized that there was a very good chance that I would not get much work done and that I would be a rather sweaty smelly mess by the end of the day. Well that and I’d probably have to go in for a psyche evaluation.
Another thought was to Weatherwax my evening and run up and down my driveway with a broom in an effort to get it started. That idea lost its appeal when I went outside and noticed that it was lightly snowing. Besides there was the concern that if any neighbors saw me doing this they might show up at my door step with a signed petition asking me to go in for a psyche evaluation.
I then thought about calling my friend Kyle to come over and watch Hogfather with me. My only concern there is that he’s already threatened a Pratchett intervention when he found out that the last 5 books I’ve read were all Discworld novels and inviting him over for a Pratchett birthday moment might be just the thing to push him to making that threat a promise. I was willing to risk it, but turned out he was working. So instead, I chose to celebrate Terry’s birthday by enjoying a glass of brandy and listening to some Thomas Tallis while reading out of my first edition hardback copy of Good Omens. It was a perfect Pratchett celebration.
Who are some of your birthday celebrations?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: happy birthday, fingers in hears, Terry Pratchett, and glass of brandy.
![Charmed by Charm… and I even Caught a Plague]()
by Richard Timothy | Apr 27, 2010 | I Think There's a Point, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking
Sometimes you will come across a subject that most of your immediate circle of friends would advise you to avoid conversing about. These topics experience a kind of banishment from civilized conversation. Such topics include, but are not limited to, religion, politics, paper or plastic, global warming, who was the better Willy Wonka Gene or Johnny, or Apple or Windows. These are topics fall into the realm of taboo. And one of the most volatile topics I have ever managed to come across is the topic called Oprah.
Now before clicking on the “Leave Comment” link and calling me a variety of slang words combined in such a way so that you hope when I get home my mother runs out from underneath my front porch and bites me on the leg, or you choose to announce to everyone reading that my parents were never married, or possibly that the area resting on my neck is made out of excrement, please read the whole thing first, then comment all you want. In one of my earlier Smirks I was writing about a headline a friend had sent me that Fox News had put out. There was one reader who, the second they got to the part where I mentioned Fox News, wrote a comment about how Fox News is good and those who disagree are not so much bad people as they are wrong people. There was more to it than that, but other readers pointed out that the Fox fan was missing the point and needed to go back and read whole thing. When he did, they kindly retracted their initial tangent and told me to keep writing.
As for Oprah, in my opinion, for many she is the big “It”. She is the medal at the Olympics, the little gold man statue at the Oscars, the bacon in a BLT, and the idea that is responsible for the creation of peanut butter. For some she is the dream at the end of the dream, the Grand Poobah of “It”. She is the icon and reward of success to many people across this country. There is a shared belief out there that the second you step on stage with Oprah on her show you have officially “made it.”
I’ll admit, I don’t get it, and I think on the average men just don’t. I mean we know there is a power there… mainly because we’ve been told there is by our significant others. If your partner, lover, wife, husband, significant other, etc, is an Oprah fan, you learn very early on that any negative connotations about her, even in a jokeful setting, just aren’t worth it… ever.
I could say that Oprah is one of those people you either love or hate, but she’s not. I mean sure people either love her or hate her, but there are plenty of people that just don’t care either way. I, for one, am quite ambivalent towards the great and powerful O. Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely a fan of all the good she has done and the help she has given to so many people in need. It’s the type of action I appreciate. It’s just that neither Oprah nor her show are topics that are of any real interest to me…
Unless I hear the phrase from my cutie-baby-sweetie-pie, “I watched Oprah today.” Then it’s time to take a little interest. It’s important not to dismiss it. Do I care that Angela watched Oprah? No, not really. But I do care that watching Oprah has made her happy and her being happy is what’s important and worth paying attention to.
The interesting thing I find about Oprah is that she’s becoming more of a thing, a brand, an idea… a verb. Oprah is a type of symbol or status instead of a person. Also, I think everyone has an Oprah, but not everyone’s Oprah is Oprah.
I was recently having a conversation with a friend about this very topic. I have been thinking of my “made it” story and who person my Oprah is. For Angela, it’s definitely Oprah. Pretty cut and dry, and no surprises there. For me though, at this point in my life I’m going to have to say that Jon Stewart is my Oprah. The opportunity to walk onto his show and be interviewed by him to talk about my latest book really is one of my quintessential Oprah moments. That’s the great thing about the Oprah verb, we all have our own Oprah, and I like that it’s not the same for everyone.
So, who’s your Oprah and what is your Oprah moment?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: Oprah, BLT, and John Stewart.
by Richard Timothy | Apr 25, 2010 | Gratefully Grateful, I Think There's a Point, It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time, My List of Things that Don't Suck, Non-Fiction, Observationally Speaking, Public Service Announcement
I was going to post yesterday, but then I realized that today, or at the time tomorrow was going to be April 25. Yes 4/25, it seemed to be calling to me as the day that I should post my 100th Smirk. Oddly, posting number 100 on 4/24 would be like celebrating the New Years on the 30th instead of the 31st. If there ever was a day to share your 100th blog post with the world April 25 would be that day. Ok, fact is any day is a good day to post your 100th blog post. In my case, I was fine waiting a day so that could suggest that in some random numerological way, it meant something special, specialer… something whooo-ish. Truth of the matter is I just wanted to put the word numerological in one of my Smirks, because, well, it’s one of those words that always puts a smile on my face.
I know 100 is one of those important numbers in regards to television. I was never really sure why though. As it turns out when a television series hit episode 100 it is commonly the step required for a series to be considered for syndication in the US. I wonder if that means I’m now eligible for syndication in the US. Personally I think it’s a great idea (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).
I have watched a few 100th episodes from various series and what I do remember is that these episodes were usually pretty lame. It seems to be the episode dedicated to the highlighting past highlights, or as I like to call it, the flash back episode. As a fan it always felt like the class review before the big test next week.
I do have a theory about this though. I think it equates to the “too drunk to work” effect that happens in all realms of the daily function that is commonly referred to as work, or “a job”. I would venture that I’m not the only one who has arrived to work in the morning only to be confronted by a co-worker with lava red eyes and a sway remnant of a slouching metronome. They have that goofy smile on their face, which is a smile usually reserved for things that are eventually placed under the “seemed like a good idea at the time” category of personal stories. Then out comes the utterance, “I think I’m still drunk from last night.”
I understand that there are plenty of situations that result in drunken celebration. Your favorite team wins some championship… or just some game. Your Avatar in some virtual gaming world finally completed some huge super quest that you’ve been doing for 18 months. Your kid finally said Dada. It’s Prom. Your neighbors with that little yappy dog that never shuts up finally moved. Or, the demon bird that has been attacking your bedroom window every morning from 6 to 10 has innocently spontaneously combusted, which had nothing to do with the strategically placed heat lamps, magnifying glasses, mirrors, and a plate of birdseed. Regardless, there are endless possibilities that can ignite the need for celebration during a week night, which, if you spacing sucks, might result in you arriving to work a little wobbly.
I think this is what traditionally happens for the 100th episodes. Everyone on the show was whooping it up the night before in celebration of reaching their 100th episode and arrive to work the next morning in a mental state that isn’t exactly fitting to the work that needs to be done. So the producer gets a few lines out of them and then they spend the rest of the recovering while the production team uses a bunch of old footage to compile the 100th episode. Of course this is base on my extensive lack of knowledge when it comes to the television industry, but it does make sense.
So the question is what to do for big number 100? I’m not 100% sure. I mean other than having it be a mathematically consistent day (Monk would be so proud) and using the word numerological in today’s Smirk I feel pretty good about what’s been covered so far.
I would like to say thank you to all of you who read my Smirks. Thanks for e-mails, the comments, the stories you share, for the friends you introduce my writing to, and for coming back to see what I’ve written this time and to see if it gets your Smirk on. That’s one of the unexpected results I’ve gotten from the past 100 posts. It’s been the interaction I’ve had with you, the readers. My perspectives and tangents may have gotten you to smile and laugh, but you replies and encouragement have definitely returned that experience to me.
I write a Smirk to get you to smirk, causing you to reply to my Smirk about you smirking thus causing your smirk to get me to smirk. It’s a kind of the circle of life, but instead of lions we have smile and laughter, oh yeah, and people.
I did make reference to this a little while ago on my fan page, but one of the things I’m going to be doing is making an eBook out of the first 100 Smirks. It will be a little while before I get it out and offer it to everyone. I do need to get a proofreader to clean up some of the messy bits, and I’ll have to figure out what to do with the video segments and images. Once all of that is figured out, it should be about 150 or so pages of pure reading pleasure. And if the eBook does well enough, I’ll see if I can get some print copies made, if there is enough interest from people who would like one. I’ll keep you posted as this whole thing develops.
I do have one favor though. I call it the “share me” favor. If you have any friends that you think might get a bit of a smile or laugh from my writing, please share me with others. As you know, part of my main goal with my writing is to bring joy and laughter to others. The more people I can reach and share with, the more I can accomplish this goal. Also, a big thank you to all of you who have emailed links to my blog to your friends, who have posted my Smirks on your Facebook walls, who have suggested you friends to me so I could invite them to check out my writing, and simply, for sharing me with your friends. I appreciate your trust and you support.
It’s been a brilliant time so far and I can’t wait until I get to do another highlight of Smirk highlights post for when I reach number 200. Although, I really didn’t highlight anything did I? Well, maybe next time. Oh and for the record, that damn bird is still around, but I promise that once it finally buggers off, there is going to be a party!
I do feel a toast is in order though. So everyone get a glass of something… wine, beer, gin, orange juice, water, whatever works best for you. Don’t worry I’ll wait… ok great. So now that we’re all here and with a drink in hand, please join me in raising you glass.
Here’s to the first 100 Smirks and to all the smiles, joy, and laughter they have put into the world… and to all of you for being that source and conduit of all that joy and laughter. Thank you all. Cheers!
What are your thoughts on Smirk 100?
Image Sources:
Google Images, key words: 100, thank you, cheers, drunk at work, and share.
I am a bit plagued at the moment, and have been since Sunday evening. No, it is not because I have killed and eaten that damn bird that yes, still flurries against my bedroom window every morning. I will say, at least after a few weeks it’s finally starting to wear down. It now only attacks the window once every 20 to 30 minutes instead of the repetitious attacks that it was so fond of when I first decided that the window was a worthy adversary.
One of the theatre companies in Salt Lake is called SLAC, Salt Lake Acting Company, who just so happens to be turning 40 this next year… well done there. I usually make it to one show a year, and this year I even though I’m planning on going to their next show, I really had no plans on seeing the one I went to on Sunday. The play was called Charm. It’s a new play from a now local playwright named Kathleen Cahill. I believe she’s been in Utah for around three years now. The performance was even a World Premiere. Ohhh I know, sounds impressive doesn’t it? I think it just means that SLAC was the first place on this planet to officially perform the play. It is pretty cool to be able to have that as a snobbish theatre conversation piece. It’s like being that person that saw U2 perform in a pub in front of 25 people and purchased one of their demo cassettes because they thought they just might go somewhere. Or in short, this is one of my “I knew them before they were famous” stories.
