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Back on the electronic leash

Dear Technology:

I’m glad we’re back together after a short, holiday-induced break. It’s good we didn’t have to buy Christmas gifts for each other. What would I get the entity that has everything? (Teleportation capabilities for the user, perhaps.)

I want you to know that I cheated on you with paper. I read magazines by turning real pages. I carried books around in my bag, and did not worry about also carrying a charger and trying to find an outlet. I had face-to-face conversations with actual humans.

I know we never said we’d be exclusive, but I still felt guilty every time I had a tangible experience.

“We were on a break!”

Anyway, now that we are back together, I’ve been thinking about how much I depend on you in general. I can’t really get you out of my life. I’m not the only one. It’s kind of frightening. Allow me to elucidate:

A very good friend emailed me to ask me what her husband’s cell phone number was because she had left her cell phone at home and couldn’t remember his number. I relied on you (in the form of iCloud) but you failed me and managed to lose half the numbers in my address book. His was one of them. I had to call Eddie to get the husband’s number, which Eddie texted to me. And then I emailed it to my friend.

Sheesh.

Remember the days when we didn’t need you to remember numbers? I bet you are feeling really proud of yourself right about now.

Anyway, even though we are back together, I want you to know that I still value my independence. I can’t have you all over me all the time. It’s not you, it’s me. Sometimes I need a little time to myself, time without you. I hope you understand.

See you in a few minutes!
Beth

Digital communication

Help me help you

Dear Local Columnist:

I’ve been reading your “column” for a little while now. I realize that our local paper is not quite The New York Times, but there are many excellent writers and columnists on staff. So, I have expectations. I keep expecting that your column will get better, more interesting, less meandering. It doesn’t.

The paper has been running your column for about three years now, I think. I know it must be tough to find something fresh to talk about on a regular basis. Believe me, I know. Sometimes I can barely maintain this blog.

You really can’t go on this way, though. Today’s column might have been the worst yet. It had no point whatsoever and smacked of deadline desperation. Plus, it was long. Way too long. It could have ended at the headline, in fact.

I want to help you. Here are a few tips:

  1. Figure out why you are writing. What is your purpose? What is the main point you want readers to take away from your column? Do you want to inform? Motivate? Entertain?
  2. Pick a tense and stick with it. Today’s column featured past, present, future, past progressive and future perfect — all in the same paragraph.
  3. If you are going to name-drop, use names recognizable to most people. I didn’t know whom you were talking about half the time today (and I didn’t care enough to Google).
  4. Don’t date yourself unintentionally. (See No. 3.)
  5. Make sure your work has a clear beginning, middle and end. Each paragraph should build consciously on the prior. Your work should flow.
  6. Find a good editor. All work can be better. Find someone to read your work before you submit it — someone you know will be tough on you so that you can improve. (Maybe you are a good editor and want to edit this post for me. Please do!)

I want you to succeed. I know you have some good ideas; it’s the execution that needs finesse. If you improve, we readers benefit.

Good luck!
Beth

Thanks to teachers

 

2012 in review

Dear Sickos Like Me:

Thank you. It is because of you that certain posts on my blog continue to earn attention. For the second year in a row, parasites and rednecks continue to be the main attractions, according to my WordPress annual report. Search termsThat sounds about right.

In fact, I’m about due for another procrastination post like this one or this one. (WARNING: disturbing images!)

There’s a small problem, though, as evidenced by these stats:

Top posts

The top posts have nothing in common with each other. So the people who come looking for rednecks are probably not the ones who look for parasites. I could be wrong. There could be people out there with the same odd interests I have.

WordPress suggests I write about these topics again. Maybe. I guess you can never have enough parasite posts. You sickos like me would like that, wouldn’t you?

So, just for you, here is something super awful for you to enjoy:

intestinal schistosomiasisTo quote from “The Princess Bride,” “Dear God, what is that thing?” That, my fellow freaks, is a Brazilian man afflicted with “intestinal schistosomiasis leading to portal hypertension and splenic sequestration.”

In layman’s terms, he is suffering from an infection with a type of Schistosoma parasite that led to high blood pressure in his portal vein system and enlargement of the spleen.

Enjoy!

Beth

P.S. If you want to read the rest of my WordPress annual report, scroll down for the link:

4,329 films were submitted to the 2012 Cannes Film Festival. This blog had 36,000 views in 2012. If each view were a film, this blog would power eight film festivals.

Click here to see the complete report.

Dear Readers:

It’s the new year and, as always, I have a plan. I’m not big on the typical resolutions, though, because they are, well, typical. Here is what I plan to do in the new year.

  1. Gorge myself on wasabi cashews until I am sick of them, then swear off them for the rest of the year.Wasabi cashews
  2. Kiss someone every day. This is likely to be Eddie and/or the kids, but I’m leaving myself open for Johnny Depp-related opportunities.
  3. Tell Eddie I love him every day because he puts up with comments like the above. I’ll do this every single day, even if I’m mad at him (in which case I will hiss it through gritted teeth).
  4. Refuse to be ashamed that my favorite song right now is “What Makes You Beautiful” by One Direction, and I’m a little bit fascinated by Harry Styles.
  5. Record my children recreating a “Saturday Night Live” skit featuring Will Ferrell as Harry Caray.
  6. Finally finish reading the Harry Potter series to the kids. (Those last few books are wicked long.)
  7. Find something nice to say about the people I don’t like, even if it is something as small as “She isn’t as bad as most people think.”
  8. Focus on the positive student comments instead of the one cranky one.
  9. Keep candy in my office to elevate visitors’ moods.
  10. Use only three-word sentences on one random day. (This seems weird and fun and has no redeeming value.)

I think it’s a short, interesting, eminently doable list.

I had a plan last year too. Here’s what did not happen:

  • try noodling. (I could not find a guide in Georgia.)
  • acquire more chickens. (I travel too much.)
  • stop letting my son’s superhero noises bother me. (That’s never going to happen fully, but I did have good days here and there.)
  • see Van Halen reunited with David Lee Roth in concert. (Tour cut short because of Eddie Van Halen’s health issues.)
  • see my friend Tina’s new place and finally talk her into visiting us.
  • audition for a play or musical. (No time.)
  • actually go out for drinks/dinner with my friends Matt, Pam and Kathy instead of just talking about it.

What are your not-so-typical resolutions? I’d love to hear from you.

Best wishes in the new year!
Beth

Happy new year!

Dear 2013:

Welcome! I am happy to see you. Your predecessor, 2012, was a tough character in some respects.

Although I am pleased you are here, I’m a little worried about your plans for me. The first day I spent with you was not one I’d like to repeat. The day started out great in the North Georgia mountains hanging out with good friends, but ended in a roadside ditch (well, nearly).

Let’s recap:

  • Humming noise manifests in the back of Eddie’s truck, and it is not one of the kids
  • Commence prayers to the vehicle gods (“Please let us make it home and we’ll take it to get it fixed immediately.”)
  • Prayers unanswered, and we receive vehicle god smack-down in the form of a clunking noise, a huge thud, and then black smoke billowing from the back end
  • Stuck 20 miles north of the thriving metropolis of Macon, Georgia
  • Call to Firestone roadside assistance that took two hours to finally fetch a tow truck (Idiot service woman on phone: “What is your zip code there?” Eddie: “Where? Here on the side of the road?”)
  • Car repair and car rental places closed for holiday
  • Tow truck arrives but refuses to transport children
  • Call to Middle Georgia Taxi to get transportation to a hotel in Macon
  • Taxi arrives in the form of Lester in a 100-year-old grandpa car
  • One week’s worth of luggage, snacks, a cooler, etc. loaded and taken to hotel
  • Dinner at Cracker Barrel (yay!)
  • Call from Firestone this morning revealing that the entire back end has to be replaced at a cost of more than $2,000 (yay.)

So 2013, I really hope that this is not indicative of our next 364 days together. I’d like joy, peace, health, and more money in my savings account than I ended with last year. If you could make that happen, then I’ll forgive your behavior on Day 1.

Thanks, and I’m looking forward to spending a great year together!

Love,
Beth

12 Days of Teaching

12_Days_of_Christmas

Dear 16th-century Poet Who Wrote the “12 Days of Christmas”*:

I’d like to adapt your song to reference my life as a professor. I hope you don’t mind.

For space’s sake, we’ll skip to the last verse. Please sing to the tune of the standard arrangement by Frederic Austin.

On the 12th day of Christmas, my students gave to me:

12 “strongly agree”s
11 alumni notes
10 brilliant comments
9 rec. requests
8 mangled clauses
7 late-night emails
6 Twitter retweets
5 bacon links
4 lame excuses
3 “utilize”s
2 ampersands
And pride in a job well done!

(They drive me crazy, but I love them just the same.)

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

Sincerely,
Beth

*No one knows for sure who wrote it.

Dear Dr. G:

Hello, and I hope you are doing well since I last saw you at AEJMC. I’ve been thinking about you lately for a strange reason.

You once called me a dilettante, which made me mad at the time. It wasn’t really accurate for the situation (as I recall, you were upset with me because you wanted me to focus solely on my doctoral work, but I wanted to keep my full-time job, you know, so I could eat and have shelter).

La dilettante

I know your heart was in the right place, and that you were, in your own way, showing confidence in my ability to do scholarly research full time.

Though it may seem like I am a dabbler, it’s not that at all. It’s the opposite, actually. I throw myself into something fully, learn as much as I can, then I move on to something else. More short attention span than dilettante.

sorry-attention-span-length-apology-ecard-someecards

That’s why I have five degrees (yes, five). It is also why my résumé looks like the life of eight different people.

If I could, I’d have more jobs (in addition to the one I have now, which I love). Some of these jobs include:

  • Flight attendant (A waitress in the sky? Yes!)
  • Travel writer
  • Tour guide for some exotic location
  • Cruise ship social director or bartender  (like Julie or Isaac from The Love Boat)
  • Personal chef (Wait … I think I already am.)
  • Character actress (like Rebel Wilson)
  • Personal assistant to someone nearly crazy (Think of the stories I could tell!)
  • NBC page (that’s one of those unfulfilled college ideas)
  • Beta tester for games
  • Game show host
  • Full-time employee at my university’s study-abroad campus in France (!)
  • Owner of a craft brewery
  • PR executive for Disney
  • Train conductor
  • State senator

Maybe Santa can bring me new names for my contact list to help me accomplish my goals.

So yes, I am interested in many things. Dilettante? No. Focused? Yes, for periods of time. Game show host? I can only hope. Thanks for helping me in one of my pursuits.

Anyway, happy holidays, and I look forward to seeing you in Washington, D.C.

Sincerely,
Beth, Aspirational Polymath

Celebrate the little things

Dear Universe:

Thanks for all the twists and turns that led Eddie and me to meet each other and get together. He is the only person I truly ever could have been with for the long haul.

Why? He just gets me.

For example, he knows when to do a good deed. I came home from work and he had put up the Christmas tree and decorated the house. Score!

When you’ve been married a while (17 years for us), gestures like that sustain the relationship and keep it from getting boring. You have to look for treasures among the familiar. The excitement among the mundane. The embers in the ashes.

Sometimes it is not the big things that have the most impact. Just think about all the little things there are to be thankful for on a daily basis:

  • The cool side of the pillow
  • A for-no-reason kiss and hug from your child
  • The first sip of coffee in the morning
  • A spectacularly groomed beard (Nicholas David, I’m talking about you!)
  • Simple white Christmas lights
  • A super-sharp chef’s knife
  • Justin Bateman’s ad libs in “Horrible Bosses
  • Using a triple word space in Words With Friends
  • A light that turns green as you approach
  • Really good cotton sheets
  • Chumlee
  • The SNL “Single Ladies” video parody (especially Justin Timberlake)

The holiday season is filled with big moments. I’m going to take the time to appreciate the little ones too.

I’ll take a cue from my moment-planning husband.

Thanks again, Universe!
Beth

Dear Suzanne Venker,

I read your recent editorial, “The war on men,” on Foxnews.com (not my usual source for news or opinion, but my friend Travis knew I would appreciate your piece). Fox did not enable comments, so I have to share my thoughts here.

I have to hand it to you: You are a good writer. Persuasive, even. I can almost see readers’ heads nodding as you make the ludicrous argument that the problem with men is women.

[Women have] been raised to think of men as the enemy. Armed with this new attitude, women pushed men off their pedestal (women had their own pedestal, but feminists convinced them otherwise) and climbed up to take what they were taught to believe was rightfully theirs.
You’re kidding, right? There’s so much wrong with that paragraph, I don’t know where to start. Let me paraphrase:
Women=nervy
Feminists=bad
Equality=wrong
Oh boy.
But wait, there’s more:

[The rise of women] has also undermined [men’s] ability to become self-sufficient in the hopes of someday supporting a family. Men want to love women, not compete with them.

So what you are saying is that men can’t be self-sufficient because those darn women are taking their jobs? (Hmmm … the fear of people taking jobs …  a strangely familiar talking point … )

 

And women “need men to pick up the slack at the office – in order to live the balanced life they seek.” If I were a man, I would be insulted. What you are insinuating is that men are only good at working. And of course, we women should get back in our binders, surrender to our nature – our “femininity,” as you put it. (Now where did I put that blasted apron?)
Men haven’t changed much – they had no revolution that demanded it – but women have changed dramatically.
Those poor, unevolved men. Such sad little specimens looking for the 1950s again. Perhaps they should get with the program and realize that it is more fun to have a partnership than a dictatorship.

 

My Puerto Rican husband, operating with a full tank of genetically predisposed machismo, happily handles “women’s work” such as cooking, cleaning, sewing, laundry, putting the kids to bed, etc. (In fact, he is vacuuming right now.) He does these things (unasked) almost as often as I do. And we both work full-time. When we both handle tasks around the house, then we get done faster and have more time to spend together. Score!

 

But aren’t you being a little hypocritical? I mean, you are working after all. You are potentially taking writing jobs away from men. I mean, I guess it is OK because Dr. James Dobson and Dr. Laura Schlessinger say you’re awesome. But still.

 

I know you’ve carved out a little niche for yourself, but really you need to butt out. (“Shut up” seems too harsh. Plus, I would never want to stifle another woman as she climbs up to take what is rightfully hers.) The Ward Cleavers of the world will find their Junes. The Tony Micellis will find their Angela Bowers and the Mitchell Pritchetts will find their Cameron Tuckers. The Elyse and Stephen Keatons will find each other.

 

And if they don’t, then it’s no one’s fault but their own.

 

Happily married to an equal partner for 17 years,
Beth

There’s no place like home

Dear Founding Fathers,

I know you won’t read this because, you know, you are dead and all, but I felt compelled to write.

And say, “Thanks.”

I don’t usually think about the Constitution, the Revolutionary War, and all that freedom jazz on a daily basis. Then I travel. And feel really freakin’ fortunate.

I’ve been roaming around the desert in 90-degree heat with everyone telling me how nice and cool it is now. Abu Dhabi is apparently Satan’s sweaty butt crack in the summer.

Maybe it is the heat that causes the crazy. Or maybe it is the money. New money. Oil money. “Look at me!” money. Shiny things sparkle. The abaya-clad ladies like crows flock to snatch them up, take them back to their concrete nests.

I want to say so much, but I have to tread carefully. There is a new law that says people can’t criticize the government. I think back to the recent U.S. election, a war fought on Facebook, and I have to laugh a little.

I see strange things — strange because of my American eyes. If I were Emirati, though, I would shrug and say, “No problem, no problem.” National Day approaches. It’s like the U.S. Fourth of July. National pride is especially strong right now, as the country celebrates 41 years. In 41 years, this gleaming city has sprung from sand — sand heated and pressed into windows and doors and walls.

Everywhere is something new. Here a new Guggenheim. There an extension of the Louvre. What’s this? A new maritime museum, also by 2030. Or so they say.

And everything has to be bigger, better, first. Tallest building? Check (Burj Khalifa in Dubai, tallest in all three areas of measurement). World’s biggest shopping mall? Check (Dubai Mall). World’s furthest-leaning man-made tower? Check (Capital Gate in Abu Dhabi).

But wait, there’s more.

The Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque (largest mosque in the U.A.E.) alone features the biggest dome in the world, houses the world’s largest hand-knotted carpet, and the biggest chandelier inside a mosque.

Largest mosque in the U.A.E.

World’s largest hand-knotted carpet

 

Biggest chandelier inside a mosque

Ferrari World (world’s largest indoor theme park) features the world’s fastest roller coaster, the Formula Rossa (150 mph). Oh, and the largest logo (on the roof).

The Emirates Palace Hotel (second most expensive hotel ever built [uh oh, what happened there?]) houses the world’s first gold vending machine.

You get the picture.

It smacks of desperation. A new country trying to make a big name for itself. Like the last child who is always the loudest, craving all eyes, all attention, all the love.

Meanwhile, logic has gone on holiday. For example, Al Raha Mall is right across the highway (six lanes) from the place where I am staying. Look at how close it is!

But it takes 15-20 minutes, five miles and four U-turns to get there. There is a flyover exit to get to the building next door, but it is not possible to use the same exit to get to the mall.

Emiratis will hire people to build sturdy concrete walls surrounding construction sites (it’s mandatory to hide them), and then tear down one part of the wall when they decide where the driveway or road needs to go.

The U.A.E. is full of great ideas — flashy, PR opportunities. But built on a foundation of shifting sand. It makes me proud of a similar entrepreneurial spirit — America’s foundation — but the difference is follow-through. And a full plan to start. Here, “no problem, no problem” often is a big problem.

It’s a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t want to live here.

And I feel so fortunate to live in a place where I can talk some smack.

So thanks.

Stars and stripes forevah,
Beth