Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Quagmires

How do we get into these cluttery quagmires? Generally something emotionally devastating occurs and then we shutdown. That's how it happened with me and some friends. The problem with healing is dealing with the therapy or rehabilitation it takes - physically, emotionally, spiritually.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Help!

OK, I feel good today and am motivated, but every time I start to go through some of these piles and piles of stuff, I get overwhelmed again. This is hard! I have way too much and need to get rid of at least half, if not 3/4, of it. The place will be liveable again and feel so good IF I can just get there. I'm trying to clear off the dining room table, but there's nowhere to put anything. I need to breathe, calm down, and get boxes and trash bags out. Then I can sort into those. Off I go again to attempt this Herculean task, and believe me, it is! I need the Clean Sweep people!! Cleaning will be a relief once I get this done.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Retirement Week One

I can't quite wrap my mind around the concept of retirement yet. Even though my official retirement date was June 29, 2005, the first week of it involved working for my reflexologist. Mostly what I do there is operate the cash register and credit card machine, make appointments, and answer questions I don't know much about. Teaching involved asking questions I know the answers to, so this is different.

Last week I had physical therapy appointments Thursday and Friday, lunch with Tina Wednesday, and a lot of time unaccounted for. I've been saying how much I'm looking forward to getting my house in order - literally! What I need to do is get rid of clutter everywhere - all this stuff making it impossible to live in my house, fat on my body, and useless emotions and thoughts. This is a journal to record all this. Wish me luck!

Sunday, June 26, 2005

Comments

I realize that I've all but abandoned this blog and haven't posted in ages. I'm wondering, however, what happened to the comments that used to be on here? There were some clever ones that are now totally gone. Odd and disappointing.

Thursday, April 03, 2003

My House

This is one of my favorite poems. It's by Nikki Giovanni who is my age and has a son almost the same age as mine that she brought up by herself. Her roots are in Tennessee, and it was a highlight when she read some of her poetry at the Academy for Writing at UT during the summer of '89. Richard Marius read it and discussed what he thought it meant, but I think it's so much different for a man to understand what it means for women who grew up when we did to own our own houses and make them our homes. It's about that and so much more.

My House

i only want to
be there to kiss you
as you want to be kissed
when you need to be kissed
where i want to kiss you
cause it's my house
and i plan to live in it

i really need to hug you
when i want to hug you
as you like to hug me
does this sound like a silly poem

i mean it's my house
and i want to fry pork chops
and bake sweet potatoes
and call them yams
cause i run the kitchen
and i can stand the heat

i spent all winter in
carpet stores gathering
patches so i could make
a quilt
does this really sound
like a silly poem

i mean i want to keep you
warm

and my windows might be dirty
but it's my house
and if i can't see out sometimes
they can't see in either

english isn't a good language
to express emotion through
mostly i imagine because people
try to speak english instead
of trying to speak through it
i don't know maybe it is
a silly poem

i'm saying it's my house
and i'll make fudge and call
it love and touch my lips
to the chocolate warmth
and smile at old men and call
it revolution cause what's real
is really real
and i still like men in tight
pants cause everybody has some
thing to give and more
important need something to take

and this is my house and you make me
happy
so this is your poem

[26 feb 72]

From My House, Poems by Nikki Giovanni © 1972
Quill Books
William Morrow
New York

Wednesday, March 19, 2003

Letting It All Hang Out


A Character Analysis of The Full Monty



“I believe in miracles! Where you from? You Sexy Thing!” These lyrics, sung by Hot Chocolate not only for the protagonists’ dance rehearsals but also during the closing credits of the British comedy The Full Monty, summarize the theme of the film which focuses on the plight of six men who all need miracles in their lives. Sheffield, England, once the site of a thriving steel mill, which has been closed and thereby leaving many steelworkers jobless, is the backdrop against which this film is set and the catalyst for changes the characters experience.

At the beginning of the film, friends Gaz and Dave attempt to steal a beam from the mill where they formerly worked. Gaz’s son Nathan reluctantly helps them. Nathan is the most well-adjusted male character in this film and is Gaz’s stabilizing influence. The three major protagonists are Gaz, Gerald, and Dave. Lomper, Horse, and Guy comprise the other three. Their goal is to find employment in order to make money and to regain a sense of self-worth. Each man needs a transformational miracle for his own personal reasons as well.

I like the realization the men had that women would evaluate them the same way they critiqued women. This role-reversal adds a layer of gender politics to the movie that makes it appealing. In fact, if women were in these roles, the film would not be as engaging as it is with this average group of Yorkshiremen. It isn’t erotic or sexually explicit but a commentary on the societal and psychological effects of losing ones job as a result of lay-offs for various business, technological, or political reasons.

Gaz


Gaz, the quintessential Peter Pan, cocky, desperate, and with limited options, is on the dole and seven hundred pounds behind in his child support payments. His wife has remarried a man who provided well for her, and she has a responsible job herself. Gaz and Mandy have joint custody of their son Nathan who loves his father but doesn’t like to stay at his apartment because he says it is never clean or warm enough. It is almost as if Nathan is the adult in this relationship, and Gaz is the reckless, irresponsible playmate.

After Gaz sneaks into a performance of the Chippendales and notices the reactions of the women, he hatches a plan to solve his financial problems. He and other men will dance and strip but unlike those “pooves” will do the full monty and bare all. Eventually he persuades his best friend Dave and their ballroom-dancing former supervisor Gerald to join this endeavor. While they are jogging, Gaz and Dave add Lomper to the list when Dave rescues him from a suicide attempt.

What motivates Gaz after his arrest for indecent exposure and Mandy’s restraining order against his seeing Nathan is that he needs to repay his son for financing his venture in order to have joint custody and to see him. The arrest is reported in the newspapers and causes the liquor distributor to change his mind about providing beer on consignment because people are buying tickets from him. Still, on the night of the performance, Gaz can’t go through with the show because men are in the audience as well as women. Finally Nathan arrives with Dave and gives him a pep talk which pushes him onstage.

Gaz essentially wants desperately to have money to prove to his ex-wife and her husband that he can also provide for Nathan. Although not a traditional role-model kind of father, Gaz loves his son and wants to take part in his life. Through this experience, Gaz regains a sense of accomplishment and learns that removing his clothes onstage isn’t as devastating and humiliating as being stripped of his role as a father.

Gerald


Gerald is a dignified, ambitious, proud man who was once a foreman at the steel plant and now pretends to his wife that he goes to work every day although he has been unemployed for six months. Trying to keep up appearances, he dresses in suit and tie each day and takes the lunch his wife prepares for him. Gerald’s wife still shops with the credit cards and plans vacations. When he tries to say no to her, he can’t form the words. He’s in a most uncomfortable dilemma.

One low point for Gerald is when Gaz and Dave sabotage his interview for a position he knows he could easily manage. Reluctantly, Gerald agrees to audition dancers and to choreograph their performance. Eventually he becomes enthusiastic about the project. The motivating factor for Gerald is the repossession of his house, car, and some furniture, which causes his wife to let him know how disappointed she is in him because he couldn’t confide in her. She tells him that she can deal with losing their possessions and even having the neighbors know about it but can’t bear his deceit.

Gerald feels not only worthless, as do the others, because of the ego-damaging effects that loss of job and financial difficulties bring but also because now his wife knows that he isn’t the kind of man and husband he wants to be. His loss of pride is restored when he decides just this once to take a risk and do something completely out of character. He is offered the job he wanted which also boosts his confidence.

Dave


Dave is overweight and sees himself as much less attractive than he is. His wife Jean loves him and is supportive, but that isn’t enough to give him the confidence he lacks. She is working and he isn’t. Joblessness causes Dave to be impotent sexually and emotionally. When Gerald is worried that he might have an erection during the show, he confides to Dave who tells him he is asking the wrong chap.

Dave is horrified that women will look at him with disgust when he strips. He and Gaz rate women on a scale from 1 to 10. He tells the others that the woman one of them described as having breasts that are too large might have a good personality and then says none of the women will care what their personalities are like. His character represents the superficial way that many people judge each other and themselves.

Although he rehearsed with the others, he couldn’t perform (pun intended) until he had a confrontation with his wife. Bags packed ready to leave, Jean accuses Dave of having an affair when she finds his g-string. This motivates him to confess to her what he’s been doing. Almost in tears, Dave tells her he can’t go through with it and asks who would want to see him strip. Predictably, Jean tells him she would; therefore, Dave feels desirable and sexy to his wife and his performance is for her.

Lomper


Lomper still lives with and cares for his invalid mother. He is still the security guard at the steel plant. He is introduced to the plot when he attempts suicide and can’t get his car started. Dave helps him start his car and then realizes he is trying to asphyxiate himself and stops him. Lomper’s life is dismal since he has no friends, still lives with his mother, and guards an empty building.

The only enjoyment Lomper has is playing the trumpet in a band. Through his new venture, Lomper forms friendships, finds a lover, and even experiences camaraderie with the band when they play “The Stripper” after his publicity in the newspaper. The band plays for his mother’s funeral and at the strip show. Lomper gains a sense of belonging and confidence.

Horse


Horse and Gerald are the only ones who can dance when they start rehearsing. He is also older than the rest of the men, the only one who is black, and has a bad hip. One funny scene is when the men decide they need to practice before an audience, and women members of Horse’s family sit there barely suppressing laughter. Apparently, Horse is self-conscious enough about his appearance to have ordered a penis enlarger (at least I think that’s what that was) despite what the others speculated that his nickname implied. He remains motivated throughout the film despite any reservations he has.

Guy


Guy is well-endowed, handsome, physically fit, but not very bright since he keeps trying to danced up the wall the way Donald O’Connor did in Singing in the Rain. Somehow he thinks he can do it and keeps falling on the floor whenever he attempts it. He is chosen to join the troupe because of his physical assets that will appeal to the audience. Guy’s character isn’t well-defined. The main function he serves is as Lomper’s love interest. The scene in which they become attracted to each other shows their eyes meeting and locking in a long gaze. Then they hold hands at Lomper’s mother’s funeral. Guy stays the same throughout the film. The viewer just learns more about him.

Each of the main three characters believes in a miracle and gains self-confidence. Being out of a job and worried about money brings with it a desperation to take risks. All of the characters risk baring themselves before an audience in order to transform their lives. Those who struggle with the decision learn valuable insights about themselves and each other. It is a different kind of male bonding and rite of passage than is usually portrayed in film and is done humorously and engagingly.

Friday, February 21, 2003

Earl's Photos






Press Release

Earl Warren, Jr. is a Photographer and Independent Producer who has been documenting social and political scenes throughout the Southeast for over 30 years. While working as a photographer at the Tallahassee Democrat during the 70’s, he earned a Pulitzer Prize nomination as well as many National Press Photographer Association awards. He moved to Nashville, Tennessee, in 1980 where he worked as Chief of Photography for the State of Tennessee and later became Director of Media Services for Baptist Hospital. He worked closely with then Governor Lamar Alexander on many state promotional campaigns and additionally accompanied Alexander as photographer on a cross-country campaign tour prior to Alexander’s run for the Presidency.

Wednesday, December 04, 2002

Do You Believe in Rock 'n Roll?

I was there during the dawn of rock 'n roll and remember when radios played all kinds of music on the same stations. Music was just music and not divided into categories for certain demographic groups. As we boomers became marketing targets, however, things changed. And have they ever!

The first time I saw Elvis on television was not on the Ed Sullivan Show, but before. Back then, we had one black and white tv and all watched it together. This time I was alone and doing something while the tv was on and heard someone singing. I looked up and was mesmerized by this amazing man wearing a black shirt and slacks with a lighter colored jacket. He was swiveling and gyrating to the music while he sang while I gasped to myself, "Wow! Who is this?" I was hooked! When Elvis sang, feelings I was too young to identify were triggered. Well, 12 or 13 was a lot more innocent then than it is now, unfortunately.

Fans were divided into two camps: Pat Boone or Elvis. Pat Boone was clean-cut with a wholesome smile that showed perfect teeth, wore white bucks, and had gone to Lipscomb to college. His were smooth, upbeat songs and white-bread versions of Little Richard's recordings. Since everybody from Frank Sinatra and Perry Como to Fats Domino and Chuck Berry to Martha Carson and George Jones were on the radio, we could hear them all. Elvis's politeness and self-effacing sense of humor made his bad boy image less threatening even though that was part of the attraction. I wore my Elvis pin for my school picture in the 8th grade and was thrilled that Mother took a friend and me to downtown Nashville to a movie theater to see Love Me Tender. This was during the time when people first started thinking those of us who listened to rock music were going straight to hell without passing Go or collecting $200.

It wasn't long before American Bandstand helped us learn the latest dances and songs. High school brought Motown, Paul Anka, Fabian, Frankie Avalon, Dion and the Belmonts, Jerry Lee Lewis, Sonny and Cher, and the day the music died with Buddy Holley, Richie Valens, and the Big Bopper. Certain songs bring back memories such as bopping to "Rockin' Robin" and slow dancing to "Sixteen Candles" with my first boyfriend's shirt pocket since he was about 6' 5" and I'm 5' 2." He learned some of Duane Eddy's songs and would play them on his electric guitar when he called me sometime. Probably the most annoying thing of all was when Brenda and I sang "Tears on My Pillow" every chance we got to anyone we could stop in the halls long enough to listen. In addition to singing that way, we also spoke in falsetto voices that were harsher than Frankie Valley's. We'd greet each other in that voice with, "Hello Dear!" and did the witches' speech from Macbeth that way, too. You know, "bubble, bubble toil and trouble."

During the British Invasion, I defected to the Beatles. The Rolling Stones didn't do for me what the Beatles did. Their appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show was exciting, and I thought their movie was a hoot. Others I enjoyed were Rod Stewart, Eric Clapton in his various band incarnations, The Animals, and some others I can't remember right now. I was in college by then and not listening to music as much except at dances when we did the twist and the dance of the month. "What'd I Say" was played at every dance we had there for quite a while. I did listen to Al Hirt, Pete Fountain, and some other kinds of music then, too.

We lost our innocence in 1963 when President Kennedy was assassinated, and that began what people consider the 60's as a philosophy and life-style and lasted until the mid-70's. (We won't discuss disco even though I did learn how but never bought any BeeGees albums.) I embraced folk music and enjoyed learning the background of the Childe Ballads and the bluegrass connection to old British songs. Joan Baez, Judy Collins, Bob Dylan, Donovan, Buffy Sainte-Marie, Hoyt Axton, Doc Watson, Peter, Paul & Mary, The Pozo Seco Singers, Gordon Lightfoot, Joni Mitchell, Arlo Guthrie, Pete Seeger, The Kingston Trio, Richard and Mimi Farina, John Hartford, Ramblin' Jack Elliot, the Clancy Brothers, and others are still there in my record collection. This was a time when we were becoming politicized. President Kennedy told us we could make a difference. We believed it.

My early life was shaped by the safety of the 50's which provided an emotional safety net when all hell broke loose in the 60's. Howdy Doody and Mickey Mouse became Country Joe and the Fish and Jimi Hendrix for some of us. Janis Joplin, Jefferson Airplane, Tom Lehrer, Johnny Cash, Jim Morrison, The Mamas and the Papas, Fleetwood Mac, the Allman Brothers, John Prine, and Dr. Hook played on my turntable with the folk music. During the first year I was married, I got to see Peter, Paul, and Mary and Bob Dylan in concerts in Norfolk. Dylan appeared on the heels of being booed at the Newport Folk Festival for using electric instruments for half his set. That's what he did at the concert. The first half was acoustic and the last half electric. Coffee houses were favorite places to go. Those were interesting times, and the music was great. I have CD's now but can't get rid of my LP's. Too many memories!

Sunday, November 24, 2002

Better Than Nothing

I used to be intimidated by vegetarians, but I got over it. Part of it is the healthier-than-thou attitude most militant in the ones who buy special grinders for wheat grass and pay so much attention to live food and ingredients that it becomes an eating disorder. My short attention span has not only kept me from becoming addicted to anything but makes it impossible for me to keep up with all it takes to prepare and follow a strict dietary regime. I'm bipolar when it comes to food as evidenced by my having a juicer and a microwave, not eating white bread or rice but knowing the fast food places, having a water filter but also drinking carbonated battery acid with caffeine and aspertame which is about what Diet Coke is, shopping at Wild Oats and Kroger, taking vitamins and supplements but not eating as many fresh fruits and vegetables as I need to, and the list goes on. My theory is that any effort is better than nothing. Moderation in all things, including moderation. I should do so well as to be moderate when it comes to exercise!

Saturday, November 09, 2002

Testosterone Causes Brain Damage

Despite all the controversy about hormone replacement therapy, I'm not ready to quit taking it. It was such an ordeal to find the right one that worked for me that I became conversant on side-effects of them all. I was allergic to the adhesive on the patch. I tried that two different times and had welts all over me. Unattractive and itchy. Several different estrogen pills were like eating M&M's without the great chocolate taste. Waste of time and money. My body rejected the hormone implants both times they were attempted although the brief time they spent in my body helped. It takes a couple of months to know if something is going to work or not. During this time emotions are all over the place and make PMS look like being well-adjusted. Tears or rage - highly sensitive or in a tower with a hit list! Over two years of not feeling like my usual easy-going self wore me out and alienated others. At least they could get away from me! I was stuck with being around me all the time. It was really bad!

Eventually I went to see my trusty family physician Clyde Collins for some other matter and was in hysterical mode that day. With glazed eyes and spinning head, I asked him why there weren't tests to see what kind of hormones we needed. I raved on and on for a while ranting about the litany of problems this was for me. He listened to me and told me because no one had any idea I'd react to them that way until I took them. Dr. Collins then mentioned that since the implants helped that perhaps I needed to take Estratest since it has some testosterone in it and the others were only estrogen. Could it be that I might have some help here? He asked me if my gynecologist had gone through menopause. I told him no and asked if he had. I think he did a few years later since he was driving a red sporty convertible.

My gynecologist was in Nashville and primarily interested in surgery, I think. She was really good at that part of it and especially liked doing the implants (more like surgery). I'm not really blaming her but have found out later that it's become standard practice to prescribe something with testosterone when estrogen alone doesn't help.

Anyway, I tried yet another prescription with hope and trepidation for what it might do. A month later I went back to see Dr. Collins to let him know how I felt. He asked a few questions, and then I told him I really liked these and that I felt great. I was more like myself, happier, sense of humor had returned, no crying or hysterical jags, and more energy. Things were getting back to abnormal for me again. He was glad to hear it and happy with the success of it all until I mentioned that he forgot to tell me about the side-effects. With a look of concern, he had his pen poised to write and was getting prepared to handle this new emergency.

I told him that I'd decided that just a little testosterone was all anyone really needed and that I'd find myself driving around for hours lost but wouldn't ask for directions. (the pen went back in his pocket) I also switched channels with the remote control during the middle of programs even when I liked them and then kept flipping. I'd leave socks on the floor wherever I took them off, put wet towels on wood furniture and the bed, and tell people I'd call and not do it. But worst of all, I'd started thinking The Three Stooges were funny.

By then Clyde was leaned back grinning and said, "That's not funny!" I told him all women and secure men thought it was when I told it. Then he threatened not to tell me which way to shave when my beard grew in.