text:
Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here:
Otherwise, hello, and welcome.
Mail Trillian here<
Trillian McMillian
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Women, The Internet and You: Tips for Men Who Use Online Dating Sites
Part I, Your Profile and Email
Part II, Selecting a Potential Date
Part III, Your First Date!
Part IV, After the First Date. Now What?
"50 First Dates"
Don't just sit there angry and ranting,
do something constructive
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your
Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
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Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with
word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (
because of their definition.)
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12/25/11 - 1/1/12
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3/4/12 - 3/11/12
4/1/12 - 4/8/12
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6/24/12 - 7/1/12
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7/22/12 - 7/29/12
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8/19/12 - 8/26/12
8/26/12 - 9/2/12
9/2/12 - 9/9/12
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10/7/12 - 10/14/12
10/21/12 - 10/28/12
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12/23/12 - 12/30/12
1/6/13 - 1/13/13
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1/20/13 - 1/27/13
1/27/13 - 2/3/13
2/3/13 - 2/10/13
2/10/13 - 2/17/13
2/17/13 - 2/24/13
3/3/13 - 3/10/13
3/17/13 - 3/24/13
3/31/13 - 4/7/13
4/7/13 - 4/14/13
4/21/13 - 4/28/13
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5/19/13 - 5/26/13
6/16/13 - 6/23/13
6/23/13 - 6/30/13
7/14/13 - 7/21/13
8/11/13 - 8/18/13
8/25/13 - 9/1/13
9/8/13 - 9/15/13
9/22/13 - 9/29/13
10/13/13 - 10/20/13
10/20/13 - 10/27/13
11/10/13 - 11/17/13
12/1/13 - 12/8/13
12/15/13 - 12/22/13
12/29/13 - 1/5/14
6/29/14 - 7/6/14
9/14/14 - 9/21/14
9/21/14 - 9/28/14
10/12/14 - 10/19/14
11/23/14 - 11/30/14
12/7/14 - 12/14/14
12/28/14 - 1/4/15
1/25/15 - 2/1/15
2/8/15 - 2/15/15
2/22/15 - 3/1/15
3/8/15 - 3/15/15
3/15/15 - 3/22/15
3/22/15 - 3/29/15
4/12/15 - 4/19/15
4/19/15 - 4/26/15
5/3/15 - 5/10/15
5/17/15 - 5/24/15
5/24/15 - 5/31/15
6/14/15 - 6/21/15
6/28/15 - 7/5/15
7/5/15 - 7/12/15
7/19/15 - 7/26/15
8/16/15 - 8/23/15
11/6/16 - 11/13/16
6/24/18 - 7/1/18
Highlights from the Archives. Some favorite Trillian moments.
Void, Of Course: Eliminating Expectations and Emotions for a Better Way of Life
200i: iPodyssey
Macs Are from Venus, Windows is from Mars
Can a relationship survive across platform barriers?
Jerking Off
Get A Job
Office Church Ladies: A Fieldguide
'Cause I'm a Blonde
True? Honestly? I think not.
A Good Day AND Funyuns?
The Easter Boy
Relationship in the Dumpster
Wedding Dress 4 Sale, Never Worn
Got Friends? Are You Sure? Take This Test
What About Class? Take This Test
A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far Far Away, There Was a Really Bad Movie
May Your Alchemical Process be Complete. Rob Roy Recipe
Good Thing She's Not in a Good Mood Very Often (We Knew it Wouldn't Last)
What Do I Have to Do to Put You in this Car Today?
Of Mice and Me (Killer Cat Strikes in Local Woman's Apartment)
Trillian: The Musical (The Holiday Special)
LA Woman (I Love
It is my Cultureth
...and it would suit-eth me kindly to speak-eth in such mannered tongue
It's a Little Bit Me, It's a Little Bit You
Blogging a Legacy for Future Generations
Parents Visiting? Use Trillian's Mantra!
Ghosts of Christmas Past: Mod Hair Ken
Caught Blogging by Mom, Boss or Other
2003 Holiday Sho-Lo/Mullet Awards
Crullers, The Beer Store and Other Saintly Places
Come on Out of that Doghouse! It's a Sunshine Day!
"...I had no idea our CEO is actually Paula Abdul in disguise."
Lap Dance of the Cripple
Of Muppets and American Idols
"I said
place, not
Finally Off Crutches, Trillian is Emancipated
Payless? Trillian? Shoe Confessions
Reality Wednesday: Extremely Local Pub
Reality Wednesday: Backstage Staging Zone (The Sweater Blog)
The Night Secret Agent Man Shot My Dad
To Dream the Impossible Dream: The Office Karaoke Party
Trillian Flies Economy Class
(Prisoner, Cell Block H)
Trillian Visits the Village of the Damned, Takes Drugs, Becomes Delusional and Blogs Her Brains Out
Trillian's Parents are Powerless
Striptease for Spiders: A PETA Charity Event (People for the Ethical Treatment of Arachnids)
What's Up with Trillian and the Richard Branson Worship?
"Screw the French and their politics, give me their cheese!"
Mail Trillian here
Trillian's Guide to the Galaxy gives 5 stars to these places in the Universe:
So much more than fun with fonts, this is a daily dose of visual poetry set against a backdrop of historical trivia. (C'mon, how can you not love a site that notes Wolfman Jack's birthday?!)
Alliance for the Great Lakes
Hot, so cool, so cool we're hot.
Ig Nobel Awards
And you think YOU have the worst bridesmaid dress?
Coolest Jewelry in the Universe here (trust Trillian, she knows)
Red Tango
If your boss is an idiot, click here.
Evil Cat Full of Loathing.
Wildlife Works
Detroit Cobras
The Beachwood Reporter
is better than not all, but most sex.
Hey! Why not check out some great art and illustration while you're here? Please? It won't hurt and it's free.
Kii Arens
Tim Biskup
Jeff Soto
If you're not getting fuzzy, you should be. All hail Darby Conley. Yes, he's part of the Syndicate. But he's cool.
Who or what is HWNMNBS:
(He Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken) Trillian's ex-fiancé. "Issues? What issues?"
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons License
chicago blogs
Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas,
Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don't let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make 'em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They'll never find men and they're always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Smart girls ain't easy to love and they're above playing games
And they'd rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won't understand her and she won't die young
She'll probably just wither away
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don't let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make 'em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They'll never find men and they're always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don't know her won't like her and those who do
Sometimes won't know how to take her
She's rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she's always right
Mama don't let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don't let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make 'em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They'll never find men and they're always alone
Even though men claim they want brains
Life(?) of Trillian
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Well, here it is, my first April 15 as a mortgage paying homeowner. Woo hoo.
Everyone told me it would all be worth it when April 15 arrived.
The increase in my mortgage payment because I didn't have enough money in escrow to pay for the property tax increase assigned to my condo six months after I bought it? WORTH IT!!! My friends and family screamed in unison.
The ever mounting repair and maintenance expenses? WORTH IT!!!! My friends and family screamed in unison.
The condo association assessment fees (and increase to match our new appraisals and increased property tax)? WORTH IT!!!! My friends and family screamed in unison.
So, the first two weeks of February were devoted to sorting through all my 2007 financial documents and finding out just what my April 15 pot of gold would be now that I'm a homeowner. I had receipts for everything.
Business related expenses, medical expenses, tax expenses, home repair expenses, you name it, I had receipts for it. I had my sleeves pushed up high and a baseball cap on (to take the place of one of those olde tyme visors accountants wear in olde tyme movies). I used the free tax online tax application the government offers. Which I found shockingly good, helpful and easy to use. I thought it was great.
Until I got to the end, the part where you learn how much the IRS owes you.
Okay, I mean, I admit, my expectations were unrealistically high. But everyone told me I'd get a HUGE tax return now that I'm a homeowner. People threw out example numbers in the thousands. "Enough to pay off a few medical bills and get some work done in the bathroom and kitchen?" I'd ask, and with vigorous assuredness, resounding affirmations were given. "Trill, you'll be able to do all that
finally take a vacation."
This home ownership thing really
great at tax time.
Whoa, not so fast there girlie.
When I reached the end of the IRS' tax program, I was on the edge of my seat in jubilant anticipation. I was fantasizing about paying off two MRI bills…thinking about how nice it would be to have a new faucet in the kitchen…even musing about taking a week off from work and going somewhere on a, um, what's that thing people do when they're not working? That place they go? What's that called? Oh yeah, a vacation. I haven't had one in so long I can't remember what it is.
Which is good. Because I can't remember what I'm missing. And
good because there's not a vacation in my future. At least not this year.
That glorious, fabulous, it will all be worth it on April 15 advice I was given?
Heh heh heh. Silly Trillian, tax refunds are for people with kids!
A friend has Turbo Tax and insisted I try using that instead of the IRS' free program. So I did. Turbo Tax "found" me less refund money than the IRS' program. What concerned me about that was that I thought my refund should be +/- a few dollars, no matter where or who did my taxes. There difference between the TurboTax end number and the IRS' program end number wasn't huge, but, it was enough to concern me. Enough to make me shell out the money and go to a professional. One of my friends has a guy she swore would find me huge amounts of tax refund money.
I called to make an appointment with him. He asked me a few questions over the phone. He politely declined to do my taxes for me, even though I was referred by a long standing client of his and I was wiling to pay his fee. "Sorry, I don't mean to be insensitive, but you don't earn enough money, your condo isn't valued high enough and you don't have children or other deductions to make it worth it for me, or you, to have me prepare and file your taxes. The IRS has a great program online, now, you should just use that. In your case it shouldn't take more than an hour, probably less." I didn't tell him I slaved over their program for two weeks. I just thanked him and wished him luck during the tax season. He told me he gets through it by focusing on taking his wife and getting away from the kids for a week on April 17 when he jets off to St. Barts.
How nice for him. How nice for Mrs. Tax Accountant.
I was beginning to sense what I suspected all along: Paying a mortgage and property taxes is not the rose petal strewn, chirping birds overhead path to the land of milk and honey that it's made out to be. Unless you're making a ton of money, paying a mortgage and property taxes doesn't do a whole heckuva lot to ease the financial tax burden of being a single/zero.
And that's what it ultimately comes down to: If you're single/zero, you're a cash cow for the US government. With or without a mortgage and property tax, single/zeros with an average income pay ~37% of their gross income to taxes (depending on which state in which they reside, local taxes, property value, etc.). And I learned that "average" is staggeringly higher than I realized. Turns out I am, just like my mortgage broker said, low income in the eyes of home lenders, and low income in the eyes of a lot of other people with a higher income. And higher tax refunds.
Still concerned about the discrepancy between the IRS' program number and Turbo Tax's refund amount, I bit the bullet and went to nationally recognized tax preparation business.
I met a very nice woman who scoured all my receipts, plugged in every deduction she could find (and commended me for being such a nice and charitable person and promised to make a donation to the ASPCA after talking about all that they're doing and why I donate so much of my time and as much money as I can to them) and the end result was dead center between the TurboTax refund amount and the IRS' program refund amount.
I did
thing right. I didn't make the rookie mistake of changing my deductions at work. I remained a single/zero. That saved me from having to pay, yes, PAY, income taxes this year.
a home. I
a mortgage. I've entered the sacred land of the "long form."
But I'm still a single/zero.
And my tax refund was the same paltry pittance it's been in the past.
Next year, if I still have a job and a home, I'll get a slightly higher refund because I'll be able to declare property tax payments and get a little refund from the state. But those increased property taxes I paid, the ones that increased my mortgage payment because I didn't have enough money in escrow? Yeah. Well, I don't get credit for that because
taxes, those property tax payments, were for 2006 taxes. Sure, I paid them in 2007, but, they "don't count" because I wasn't a homeowner in 2006, the year the taxes were assessed.
made me kind of mad. But I actually kind of knew it, I just thought, well, you know, I thought I'd get so many other credits that I'd be thrilled just to have more than usual. The disturbing part is that the nice lady at the tax place "ran the numbers" for me as if I'd been able to claim the property tax payments. Probably won't come as a surprise to any other single/zero homeowners on a low middle income that the refund would not have been significantly higher. It would not have paid my MRI bills or taken me on a vacation. It
have paid a plumber for an hour of work on my kitchen faucet.
The nice lady at the tax preparation place told me I need to earn a lot more money, or get married and try to have a baby or two if I really want to see any real tax refund.
"You're still a single zero. Buying a home doesn't change that for most people," she said, apologetically.
said it, not me. Single. Zero. Might as well get it tattooed on my forehead. "But hey, at least you're not making a landlord rich. And in thirty years you'll be rent and mortgage free," she added congenially, offering an apologetic smile.
Yeah. True. Thanks for reminding me.
Still, it does cushion the blow of losing my home if I lose my job. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that. I tried it. I jumped into the home ownership game, I took all the advice I was given, I read and studied and hoped for the best, and ultimately without a husband, children and/or a nice hefty income, it didn't make much difference.
Oh sure, when my hard drive crashed I could have bought a new computer instead of putting in a new hard drive. That $1,500+ business expense would have garnered me a few extra tax refund dollars. And I was just $500 shy in medical expenses to claim them on my taxes. Fingers crossed for next year! (Just in case you're wondering, your out of pocket medical expenses have to be at least 7.5% of your gross income before you can claim them as "medical expenses." I have no idea what they are if they total less than 7.5% of your AGI, but the government doesn't consider them to be deduction worthy. 7.5% is a large portion of anyone's salary. My out of pocket expenses are staggering. But I was still $500 shy of the golden deduction number. If you've been so sick or injured that you're hoping to use this deduction, a) I'm sorry you've been so unwell and b) I'm sorry that you better be earning minimum wage and working part time if you really want to cash in on that deduction.)
But those deductions wouldn't have added up to a hill of beans in the grand scheme of my tax refund. They would have given me a few more dollars, but they would not have taken me on vacation.
Because I am: Single/Zero.
I can't do anything about that. No one wants to marry me and I can't afford to be a single mother.
However, I
remind married with children people to thank their single/zero friends, relative and colleagues. Maybe even use some of your tax refund to offer to buy the single/zero in your life a drink or foot the bill for a weekend getaway. Why should you be so thankful to single/zeros? Because we're helping foot the bill for
children's education (presuming they go to public schools) and indirectly funding your tax return. The government gives us single/zeros less so you can have more.
You're welcome.
Regardless of your feelings about homosexuality, you need to also thank every gay person for their generous contribution to your children's education and your tax refund. That guy at work who's been in a monogamous, committed relationship with another man for the past 25 years is, in the eyes of the tax forms: A single zero. Just a reminder. There's more to the same-sex marriage issue than gay pride parades and health insurance. There are a
of tax dollars at stake.
But hey! There
some good news! I'm on the list to get my economic stimulus check the first week of May! Woo hoo!!!! I received a notice in the mail saying I
get as much as $300! A whopping $300!!!! Okay, sure, I know a lot of other people who've been notified that they might get as much as $1,200, but you know, us single/zeros aren't worthy and we don't have as many expenses as people with children. So. You know. I understand. So rather than stimulate the economy I'll give whatever the IRS deems me worthy of to some charities.
I know. I know. I come off sounding bitter when I start ranting about tax and the single girl.
If I could afford a bottle of booze I'd just go drink. But I can barely scrape up money for peanut butter so instead of quietly passing out drunk I'll vent my frustration. Yep, give single/zeros tax credits for
putting a child in school (and hence draining tax dollars) and I'll go away and shut up about this. It really
that simple. Give us a tax credit in the amount 2.5 children in a school for 12 years costs and I'll be quiet. And my medical bills will be paid off, and I'll hire a plumber and I'll go on vacation.
Yes. I will stimulate the economy.
But as it stands my taxes are stimulating public school funds, schools where I have no children taking advantage of the tax funded resources. So.
kid swutting well better grow up to make this world a better place for the single/zeros who funded their education. It's the very least they can do.
I can't let this momentous and holy reverent day pass without quoting Meryn Cadell, sure it's a different pope, but whatever, different name, same oppressing religion, it's all papal to me:
Well, I love that man, Pope John Paul III.
I love him, probably more than he deserves.
Okay, so he persecutes homosexuals,
does not believe in abortion,
vists with Kurt Waldheim
and tells us not to take the Pill,
there's still a certain je ne sais quoi...
Some peace, some love some goodwill
Yeah, the Pope, Pope, Pope, Pope Pope.
Then he scooted away in that great Popemobile
I was feeling so trampled
I didn't know what else to feel.
Then we all kissed the ground
where John Paul had been.....
I can hardly wait
til someone famous comes to town again.
Monday, April 14, 2008
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Mom.
I have tried very, very hard, put forth extreme amounts of discipline, effort and will to void myself of emotions over the past few years. I'm convinced feeling nothing is the best thing for some people. And I've come a long way. I feel nothing about feeling nothing. I'm not bothered about the concept of no emotions. I'm not happy or enthused. I'm not sad or confused. I feel nothing about the concept. That's a huge part of the process (I think) and one of the biggest hurdles. My experience has been that you have to truly be apathetic and disassociated (and a little disaffection helps, too) about feelings to void yourself of them. Good and bad, you have to be indifferent about them to freely let go of them.
How did I learn to not care about the good ones like humor and joy and bliss? Eh, no big deal. I have so few occasions to pull out the good emotions anymore that letting go of them, being apathetic about them isn't a big deal.
Bliss? Ha! That's such a foreign concept to me I can't even get my mind around what it even is. I think it might be something like really good sex or Nirvana (the Hindu concept, not the band). People strive for it, work toward it, think it's gonna be great, but my guess is that it's a lot of build up and hype which only leads to disappointment (which ironically and poignantly is more akin to the career arc of the band, not the Hindu concept and don't think the palindrome-ness of that irony doesn't strike me as fundamentally profound)
So letting go of the "hope" for bliss was easy. Really easy. I'll besmirch bliss' reputation at the drop of a hat. I'm not sure I've ever felt bliss, but I think I came close once or twice. It's overrated.
Joy? Well, see above,
One time many years ago a boyfriend (you
it was a long time ago when I start bandying about the term boyfriend) took me shoe shopping. It was my birthday. He picked me up early from work, took me to lunch where copious amounts of really good Champagne were consumed and then took me shoe shopping. Yes. It was joyous. I felt joy from my head to my toes. Not so much because of the consumerism salving my centers of longing and inadequacy, or the booze salving the inhibition sector of my brain, but because my boyfriend knew me well enough and cared about me enough to plan this afternoon of alcoholic and consumeristic debauchery for me. He liked me, he really liked me. Oh sure, a month later he really liked another girl a lot more than he really liked me and gave me an "it's not you, it's not me, it's this girl I met…" break-up line, thus ending the brief period of joy brought on by an erroneous
that he cared about me and wanted to be with me and wanted to try to make me happy. (And back then I
a generally happy person, I didn't need to be
happy. He just wanted to do things to make me happier, he liked making me happy. And then he met a new girl and he wanted to make
happy. Whatever. People are fickle. Dating sucks. Such is life.) So that joy was short lived.
There have been other joyous moments and occasions. The Furry Creature gave me a lot of joy. A
. He was tuned into my joy sector. Listening to music, reading words written by a gifted wordsmith or looking at certain paintings often sparks a joyous epiphany. One time I was all alone in a very isolated area of the Highlands and out of nowhere I had an overwhelming feeling that can only be described as joy. Out of nowhere, in the middle of nowhere, no one else for miles (and miles) rain chucking down, and there I was, all joyous. But, those joyous moments could just be sensory reactions to environmental stimuli. Pleasing sensory reactions, but merely environmental stimuli nonetheless. Not something stirring gaily deep within my "soul."
Eh, whatever. I don't long for it or yearn for it. I accept it if it happens, enjoy the moment, go along for the ride, but if I never felt it again I wouldn't feel incomplete. And it's been a really, really long time since my senses have been environmentally stimulated.
But this voiding of emotions, this state of non-feeling being I've been trying to attain…it's a process, not an event. Sometimes something sneaks up on me, catches me unaware and makes me feel.
I listened to an old Tom Waits album, yes, vinyl,
old, a few days ago. I don't think it's possible to actually feel joyous as a result of listening to Tom Waits, but, I did feel somewhat
, slightly epiphanatic. (h8ters: Spare me the Tom Waits email, okay? I love him, you know I love him, and if you don't love him, cool, fine. Whatever. Rock on.) One of the reasons I was listening to Tom Waits (not that I or anyone else
a reason to listen to Tom Waits) is because I'm trying to let go of some of my cds, vinyl and gasp, mix tapes. I mean, I
iTunes for crying out loud. But those records, I mean, they're old friends. There is
like putting a record on the spindle and watching the needle drop and the music begin. I feel, yes,
sorry for youngsters who've never experienced that
. The anticipation and the instantly gratifying fulfillment playing out in front of you is like no other experience. Simple pleasures, you know. Is
joy? I don't think so – it's more a sensory response thing again.
But.Tom Waits vinyl and a glass of wine on a lonely Saturday night? Yeah, well, yeah,
good. Comforting. I don't think joyous, but, very, very good.
Hey. You go to your church, I'll go to mine.
So, I was sitting there in the dark drinking and listening to Tom put a voice on my "soul," the cracks and pops from the scratches on the vinyl adding to Tom's ambiance when I realized, "This is so swutting
. This
so good. Me, Tom Waits, a scratched record, a glass of cheap wine and a cold, rainy night in a dark room. Yes. Life
good." I was musing on whether or not that could be joy – it
good, and it can
really good to hurt really bad, but, can it be joy? Doubtful. But I couldn't put that album in the "sell" pile. Something's making me hang onto that old, scratched, warped, worn out record. Nostalgia. Sentimentality. Control. (Which, by the way, would make a fantastic cd name for an emo band: Sentimentality Control) Whatever the reason, it's not in the pile of old friends heading out to the used record store. I feel something for that album, and for Tom Waits and I can't sell him. I'm lonely. Horribly, suicidally lonely. But. As long as there's a Tom Waits record to be heard, I'm not alone.
Dr. Strangelove
. Well. Now. You know, it always comes back to
Dr. Strangelove
, doesn't it? There is no disputing, no argument, that
Dr. Strangelove
evokes, and always has evoked, a
of feelings. I can't walk past a Coke machine without thinking about
scene and sniggering to myself. When a waiter asks me what I'd like to drink I smile and say, "Water, please," but what I'm
thinking is, "Water, that's what I'm getting at, water. Mandrake, water is the source of all life. Seven-tenths of this earth's surface is water. Why, do you realize that seventy percent of you is water?" I'm not one of those movie quoting people. But.
Dr. Strangelove
so impacted me, so affected me, shaped so much of my perspective on art, words, comedy, politics and all that is good and visionary and genius in this world that it's impossible for me to
hear that dialog in my head.
Yes. I regularly hear voices in my head and they are Peter Sellers, George C. Scott, Sterling Hayden and Slim Pickens.
The first time I saw
Dr. Strangelove
was at a dingy theater in Detroit. I was 11. It came to my dad's attention that my education and perspective about Cold War politics and history were being shaped solely by Boris and Natasha cartoons. And while he didn't think that was an entirely bad thing, he and my mother thought it was time to round out my Cold War education. They thought I was old enough and mature enough to get a broader perspective on the situation. So when they saw
Dr. Strangelove
was going to show on a big screen again, they were elated to get to see it again
take me for a lesson in politics, the military, the Cold War, The Bomb and the art of satire done to perfection.
I knew this was something really huge because my dad, reading the Sunday paper, snapped out of his usual Sunday paper blasé reverie making occasional "pfft" noises, sat up, yelled to my mother, "You won't
this!" He jumped up, newspaper clutched in his hand, and race-walked to my mother in the kitchen. My mother looked concerned. That look of, "Oh no. Who died?" My dad said, jabbing excitedly at the newspaper, "Look! Look! Look!" My mother's expression changed from worry and concern to instant elation. "Do you know what this
?" she said excitedly.
"I know, I know!"
My mother, stealing a glance at me, said in hushed voice, "Do you think she's old enough? She can be kind of impressionable about this sort of thing, the last thing we need is to cause more problems for her at school."
"Bah! She's old enough, and if it causes problems at school, good! Trillian! Finish your homework! We're going to a movie after dinner tonight."
"What are we gonna see?" I said, confused and worried about what my parents were so excited and worried about letting me see. And also embarrassed about going to a movie with my parents. Because 11 year olds
going to movies with their parents. Especially movies their parents want them to see, "important" movies.
"Dr. Strangelove!!!!" my parents exclaimed in unison, the way I might exclaim to you that I have a backstage pass for The Pixies!!!!!
Okay. So. Somewhere in my 11 year old brain I had an inkling of an idea of what
Dr. Strangelove
was. But my 11 year old brain was confusing it and swirling it around with
The Island of Doctor Moreau
Dr. No
. My parents, my father especially, were always big James Bond fans. My dad, like most
men, manly Marine men, is fond of Sean Connery's James Bond. So. I'd seen
Dr. No
. And
The Island of Doctor Moreau
was on my reading list for next semester and my brother had a copy of the book, a worn out paperback with weird '70s art on the cover. So a lot of (now, in hindsight) humorous thoughts and visions were running through my head during dinner before the movie.
You might wonder why I remember this all so vividly.
Well, because my life was forever changed that night. It was like falling in love. Actually, it wasn't
falling in love, it
falling in love.
My mother put her Sunday church clothes back on and my dad wore his "date" outfit, the ensemble he wore when he and my mother went out without us kids. He shaved and put on after shave for the occasion. My dad used to spin tunes on the hi-fi and whistle as he shaved and got cleaned up for a date with my mother. (He still does, but now that they've transitioned to CD and Bose and his version of spiffed up is blue trousers instead of tan, the pre-date excitement isn't as palpable. He doesn't whistle as much these days.) But, back then my parents going on a date was a bigger deal than it is now. Excitement about freedom from the kids for a few hours and a quiet meal in a restaurant has been replaced by excitement about
spending time with
the kids for a few hours.
But back then date night was a big deal, a deal that did not include us kids. And here we were, on a Sunday night, my dad was spinning records on the hi-fi and shaving and whistling, snapping his fingers to punctuate the Dave Brubeck beat between strokes of the razor. My mother wore a pair of "nice" earrings and a matching necklace to sexy up her church outfit. This was definitely a date. No doubt about it. It had all the benchmarks.
Except this time my parents were taking me with them.
This was unprecedented.
I felt kind of weird about wearing jeans and sneakers and a t-shirt on a date with my parents. I'd never been on a date, but, when my parents went on their dates, and when my brother and sister went on dates, and when people on tv and in movies went on dates, they got spiffed up in "good" clothes. But I was already marked out as one of the biggest dorks at school, a member of the Nerd Herd, and I didn't want to risk falling further from grace with the cool kids at school should some of them be at the theater and see me with my parents. It would be bad enough to be seen at a theater with my parents, but worse to be seen with them, on a date, and me in my "good" clothes. At that point I was growing about one inch taller per week. I had exactly one pair of jeans which would not be considered "floods." They weren't a cool brand of jeans but in the darkness of the theater people might not notice the brand, but they
notice floods so I chose the best of the two options I had available. Long but dorky brand jeans. My brother left a bunch of stuff in his closet when he went back to college that year. He was going to graduate that year and was already making transitions to life after college. I "borrowed" a bunch of that stuff. Records. Books. And some faded, worn t-shirts. I loved the irony of me, a kid on the cusp of being a huge Clash fan, wearing outdated Steve Miller or Thin Lizzy or Endless Summer t-shirts most people were using as rags to wash the car. They were outdated when my brother had them, he only wore them to work on the car or around the house when he was home from college. Even
wouldn't have been caught dead in them for several years before I absconded, I mean borrowed them. It was my first attempt at anti-fashion ironic fashion. At least that's what I told myself in the mirror when I was getting psyched up to go out wearing one of them. And for the record I'd give anything to have that Steve Miller pegasus logo or Endless Summer t-shirt. I wore both of them well into
college years, until they fell apart in the wash. Deep down, way deep down, so deep I'd never admit it to anyone, the real reason I loved to wear them was because they were my brother's and wearing them made me feel close to him. They closed some of the physical distance between us - thousands of miles didn't seem so far when I was wearing his old t-shirts. So I opted for the Endless Summer t-shirt and a cast-off windbreaker from his tennis team days to go with my dorky jeans.
Yes. I remember exactly what I was wearing the first time I saw
Dr. Strangelove.
Doesn't everyone?
Fortunately the only people we saw at the theater were some of my parents' friends and the parents of one of my friends in band (a fellow Nerd Herder). My friend's parents gave my parents a look, that look parents give each other like, "You think she's ready for this? We didn't think our Jimmy was ready…" accompanied by arched eyebrows questioning my parents' judgment. This only added to my confusion and wonderment about what we were about to see.
I sat next to my mother. My dad had his arm around my mother and when the movie started, he have me a jocular dad pat on the shoulder, like, "This is it, kiddo, here we goooo!" the type he gave me when we rode on roller coasters.
Which is an utterly appropriate comparison.
The opening sequence shot in black and white and with the broadest, biggest, shapeliest camera angles I'd ever seen slowly pulled me in (my mother fidgeting embarrassingly at the bedroom scene, patting my knee, giving me furtive glances, probably trying to figure out if I had
clue what the innuendos were in that scene and hoping and praying I was still too innocent to get it.) And then, oh glory be, then, Kubrick released the clutch and sent me catapulting and careening on a lifelong love affair with his opinions on art direction, comedy, politics and what to do with gifted actors.
I got it, all right. Boy did I get it. I was sitting laughing at the dialog and marveling at the art direction right along with my parents. (okay, I didn't realize what art direction was at the time, but I knew it was visually very, very different from anything else I'd ever seen and I knew I would never "look" at things the same way, both literally and metaphorically) At 11, I didn't "get it" the way my parents did, I didn't know enough about the military, politics, the Bay of Pigs and communism, but, I got a lot of it and knew that as I got older I would get a lot more of it. And I realized that Peter Sellers is the funniest man who ever lived. Up to that point I only knew him from the Pink Panther movies, which I liked (my parents
those movies, too) but in my 11 year old mind they were verging on the
Three Stooges
territory. I realized I hated the
Three Stooges
when I was around 6 years old. At age 11, after seeing
Dr. Strangelove
and realizing the brilliance of Peter Sellers, I re-watched the Pink Panther movies and learned the intricacies and intelligence which sets Peter Sellers' Pink Panthers on a level high above the anything the
Three Stooges
could have ever dreamed of attaining. It's embarrassing to admit I even ever connected Peter Sellers' Pink Panther with the
Three Stooges
, but hey, I was a kid. A nerdy kid.
There's a bigger point here. What I realized that night was that my parents were intelligent, funny people. I'd kind of suspected it. But no 11 year old wants to admit that about their parents. But there we were watching
Dr. Strangelove
and there was the proof. There was no denying it, now: My parents were decent human beings.
where would I target my impending teen angst?
You don't ask to be born. Your parents
you be born, then you go to school and you realize life really sucks and it seems so easy and obvious to blame your parents for everything because they made you, forced you to exist, and
you are forced to face the fact that your parents are actually intelligent, funny decent human beings. Life is so unfair.
(That's a joke, people. Really. I'm in a foul mood, but I'm still capable of sarcasm and making fun of teen angst.)
We'd make jokes about the movie, quote the dialog. After that I had inside jokes with my parents. That year I made my mother a Mother's Day card with altered movie poster art, the backs of my parents heads with my arms hugging my mother and instead of planes flying over I had birds and hearts. I replaced the movie title with, "How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Mom." My parents framed it. It hung in the entry way for years.
See? There's a
of feeling there. A lot wrapped up in
Dr. Strangelove
. Not just the brilliance of Kubrick's vision and Sellers' (et al) comedic genius, but a lot of emotions, maybe even joy, connected with my parents and
Dr. Strangelove.
That movie has been omnipresent in my life. Swut. It's been omnipotent in my life. Right up there with Douglas Adams (which, by the way, my dad gave me
for my 12th birthday. Dammit. Something
I owe to him. Along with Roald Dahl, blues, jazz, soul, and vintage rock and roll. And I owe my love to art to my mother who took me to museums every month where we'd sit and look at a painting and she'd ask me to tell her about it, what I thought about it, what I saw.)
a problem. I can't stop feeling about aspects of my life which involve my parents and a few close friends. The thing is, voiding emotions is an all or nothing endeavor. You go all the way or you don't go at all. I'm not going to stop feeling about my parents. That's stupid. Cold. Weird. Impossible. So they were excluded from the start. But what I failed to recognize was that there are a lot of things, a lot of emotion inspiring things, tied to my parents. So I've learned to stop worrying about that and love my mom.
But what about Tom Waits? The Pixies? Paul Klee? Jackson Pollock? Douglas Adams? Charles Dickens? Partaking of their works means agreeing to feel something. A
of somethings. So you either rid yourself of anything which might evoke feelings or you accept that you are simply going to have to feel an emotion now and then.
Life is so unfair.
What sparked this resurgence in voiding emotions?
My desire and efforts to void myself of emotions never waned. I've worked really hard at reaching a balance between truly feeling nothing and remaining in touch, aware and "there" for my family and close friends.
And, upsetting as the past few months have been regarding my father's health, I know I've been able to deal with it a bazillion times better than I would have a few years ago. Not because I care less or more about him, but because I've learned to ignore so many emotional impulses that I can make myself focus on the facts, learning what's going on and learning what needs to be done. Focus on the reality and practical issues regarding cancer and caring for cancer patients. Knowledge
power. Wasting time feeling can render you powerless. That's not to say I haven't been distraught, upset, sad, scared, angry, forlorn, and frustrated, just to name a few emotions I've felt in the past few months. But, when they strike I switch gears and force myself to focus on something practical. No. I'm not squelching the emotion. I know it sounds like I am, but I'm not. I'm enough in touch with myself and my feelings to know what they are at the first glimmer of a feeling. So when say, fear, for instance, hits, I force myself to have the inner dialog on fear. "Think, Trillian, think. What is fear? Fear is an emotion we learn. Why am I feeling scared? Where did I learn to feel scared? Because people suffer and die because of cancer. It happens all day and night, every day and night, in every country, to everyone. Cancer is a horrible, painful, deadly thing which hurts people and kills them. There are many noted cases on file.
why I'm scared. Okay, fair enough. But the fact is that your dad has cancer. Being afraid of it isn't going to make it go away. So feeling afraid is pointless, solves nothing and takes time, gray matter and energy away from doing or thinking something useful. So stop whining like a scared little girl and go do more research on his cancer and find out what to expect so you can anticipate what may happen and what you can do to help your dad. You'll be ready, not overwhelmed and scared."
Dialogs like that run through my head like the CNN newscrawler. Name an emotion, good or bad, and I have a script for banishing it. What I've learned is that most emotions are pointless. Even the good ones.
I always thought I was a fairly focused person - or that I could maintain focus when it was important to do so. But holy even keel, I'm like an automaton these days. It is
what you can accomplish if you form an action plan every time you feel and emotion. Ask me anything about kidney and bladder cancer in males over age 65. Go ahead, ask me. See how fast I respond. I'm not saying I could lead a research team or perform an operation, but, if there's research data available I've read it. I know more about my dad's cancer than he does. I've studied the cell structures, I know what the abnormal cells look like and what the healthy normal cells look like. I know what to expect in the coming months and (statistically) two years. Does it make it "easier" to be so knowledgeable? Yes. And no. It still hurts. It's still scary. I still get angry. I don't want my dad to die and I especially don't want cancer to have its way with him. But. This is life and it's not about what I or you or anyone else wants. It's about nature and biology and the cycle of birth, disease, death. I love my dad, but tell that to cancer. In the end we're all just lumps of cells which can be clinically analyzed and explained.
This outlook has helped me deal with the latest stupidity at work. I
a job. That's just a "clinical" fact of life. Job = Money. Money = Food and Shelter. I'm trying to find a job somewhere else. I'd like to keep my current job. Why? Because I like what I do. I like my clients. Yes. I have difficulty stomaching my boss and most of my coworkers. And that's problematic. Yes, I'm getting the shaft in this situation. But. Take the emotion out of it, develop action plans. I'll still be fired, perhaps, but I didn't succumb to the emotions tangled up in this mess. I've been working on a few plans.
Part of one of those plans was talking to HR.
Hooooo boy, was
an interesting conversation.
I left "feeling" pretty good about a few things, and pretty rotten about some others. We'll see what shakes out in the next week. Could be interesting.
But. The person in HR who shall remain title-less remarked that I seemed very calm and pragmatic about what's happening. The HR person was concerned I was either in denial or ready to go postal, the calm before the storm. The title-less person knows me well enough to know I am anti violence and gun and the postal thing was a (bad) joke. But strong concern about my apparent lack of anger at a few key people was voiced.
"Ya know, I've just never been an angry person. Stuff makes me mad, but anger itself never solves anything. I just try to see the humor or devise a constructive plan for dealing with whatever makes me angry."
"That's very enlightened, Mother Teresa, but repressing emotions, especially anger, isn't the healthiest thing you can do."
"I'm not repressing anger, I'm just dealing with it, practically rather than emotionally."
"Again, very enlightened, Mother Teresa, but getting angry is part of being human. If you don't allow yourself to be human you're denying yourself, censoring yourself."
"Censorship makes me angry. And your accusation that I would censor anything or anyone, even myself, makes me angry. I don't think I like your tone. har har."
"See? There you go - making jokes about it."
"I get it, okay? I understand what you're saying and really, I'm not censoring myself. I get angry about lots of stuff."
"Like what?"
"Michael Vick. And anyone else who purposely hurts animals."
"No, Trillian, I mean things other than obvious violations of humanity."
"Must not have been
obvious, the dog abuse was going on for years before he got caught."
"Get back to work. But satisfy my curiosity. Over the next few days write down everything that makes you mad or angry and how you reacted and dealt with it - just a little or a lot. Let's see how much anger you're repressing."
Roll of eyes.
"That's first on the list. Write that down as number one: 10:47 AM. Mad at HR for telling me I'm repressing anger. Rolled eyes. Netted no results, added more fuel to the ulcer."
Okay. I got the point. I don't think I'm repressing anything, at least not to an unhealthy degree. I'm not a door mat. I'm not a ticking time bomb.
Or. Well. I dunno. Maybe I
and I just don't realize it.
So I tried the exercise.
The results so far are not surprising to me. But. I am seeing some trends. See if you see if you spot them. It's like "Where's Waldo" without the stripy sweater and scarf and hat.
12:15 PM. Bit into sandwich procured at local sub shop and discovered mushrooms on a sandwich, even though I distinctly specified "no mushrooms." Like I do every time I go into this shop. And yet they insist on putting mushrooms on my sandwiches. Mushrooms and a lot of other stuff I don't want on there. 7 out of ten sandwiches are "wrong" when I get them back to my office. Stupid, careless minimum wage employees who do not care about customer service? Perhaps, in some cases, yes, but also a language barrier. Five people working behind the counter and only one speaks broken English. The one employee translates all the orders to the other employees. This situation is rife for disaster on the customer service front, and why I continue to give them my hard earned money defies logic. Picked apart sandwich and discovered a lone stray piece of turkey in the sandwich along with an entire field of mushrooms. (Note to self: Can a vegetarian sue a restaurant which serves an animal hidden in sandwich?) Threw away entire sandwich, will have Mike and Ikes from the vending machine for lunch instead. Vowed to never step foot in the sandwich shop again.
12:25 PM. Coin changer will not accept $5 bill with new design. Okay, this doesn't make me mad, I understand the need for new designs on currency and I even like the new designs. But what makes me mad is that the entire currency recognizing machinery industry will have to be retooled to accept old and new currency designs. I should have been a product designer or engineer. Job security. Especially in industries reliant on government produced items like currency. Scrounged in purse and desk for change to buy lunch of Mike and Ikes from vending machine.
2:00 PM. New girl fighting with mother-in-law-to-be about "weddin'" plans. Again. Felt tense and anxious and embarrassed and angry for being forced to hear the personal fight. Closed office door. Read the Girl Scout pledge. Watched a Ren and Stimpy snippet on YouTube.
6:14 PM. Grocery store cashier wouldn't honor
store's own
coupon received on receipt at previous visit. "$5 off your next shopping order!" Cashier couldn't make the bar code scan and insisted the coupon was not valid. Paid the $5 (used the new design $5 the coin changer at work wouldn't accept and felt oddly vindicated in a man v. machine kind of way) because the line behind me was getting really long and I didn't want to be the person who made all those other people wait just because I have a $5 off your next shopping order coupon and the cashier can't get it to scan into the price reader. Put coupon in purse where it will get smushed and wrinkled and will reside on the bottom of the bag for a few months.
8:00 PM. TV sucks. It doesn't make me mad. Just thought I should log my disgust at the lowest common denominator intelligence factor in most television programming.
6:38 AM. Bo ho poseur on bus reeked of patchouli. Made me feel nauseous and tense. Moved to another seat. Still smelled the patchouli and felt more tense and consequently more angry at her for inflicting her love of things hippie onto an enclosed bus full of strangers. Got off the bus six stops early, gulped in fresh air and felt instantly better even though I had to limp an extra six blocks on my still swollen, still painful surgeried foot. It was worth it to get out of the stench of patchouli. Mused that I was like an animal who gnaws off its own leg to get out of a trap.
10:15 AM. While on my way to a meeting, passed new coworker being openly groped by her fiance in hallway. Their rudeness and lack of professionalism made me angry. I'm no prude and I'm not jealous, but shouldn't have to be subjected to that at work. She should be focusing on her work projects. Why is she being paid to plan her wedding and get groped? Rolled eyes. Went to meeting. Tried to erase the image of her fiancé's hand inside the back of her skirt burned into my retina.
10:33 AM. Felt nauseous during meeting when boss talked while eating a Twinkie, licking her lips and swishing the Twinkie around while she talked. Gross. Rude. Aaack. I cannot believe this woman is the boss of me.
11:58 PM. Can't sleep. Foot hurts. Mad at the medical community for charging ridiculous amounts of money for medically necessary treatments and medications. Wonder if I'll ever not be in pain and how much it will cost me to be pain free. Realize that's a pointless pondering. Take more pain meds.
2:30 AM. Mad at head banger neighbor for listening to Motorhead at amps at 11 volume for two hours straight. Didn't realize Motorhead had such an extensive body of work. But angry nonetheless. Knocked on door to politely ask him to turn down his stereo. Felt like a stupid old lady. He pretended to not hear me knocking on the door. Or maybe really didn't. Either way, got nowhere. Sent another email to condo association complaining about noisy neighbor. Got no gratification from that. Contemplated calling cops with a noise complaint. Didn't want to be
11:33 AM. Smell of burned microwave popcorn permeates entire office. Why? Why would someone be so thoughtless and selfish?
6:25 PM. Guy on the treadmill next to me made stupid jokes about how slow I was going and laughed when I did my backwards walking exercises on the treadmill. Tried to see the humor in it, keep things light and congenial, told him I was training for the next OK-Go video. He didn't get it. Hiked up my sweats so my huge disgusting scar was on view, hoped it would not only gross him out but make him feel really ashamed for making fun of the crippled chick at the gym. Realized how childish that was but still thought he needed a slap in the face with my reality. Jerk.
8:00 PM. Tried new sesame tofu recipe. Hated it. Mad that I spent a lot of money on ingredients for a recipe I ended up not liking and mad at myself for not being content with the existing sesame tofu recipes I have and like. Had toast and peanut butter for dinner.
11:30 PM. Pain. Really mad at the medical community for not easing this horrendous pain and swelling. Contemplate the pros and cons of gnawing off own leg.
6:34 AM. Waiting for bus. In the rain. No covered bus shelters for those of us not in the high property tax bracket. We don't pay enough property tax to deserve covered train and bus stops. Mad at Mayor Daley. In general. And because of the lack of covered bus and train stops in my part of town. Mad that I pay a lot of property taxes in this city and get little or nothing useful in return. But not mad at the feel of rain on my face. It calms me. But. Mad that a guy waiting for the bus is smoking under an umbrella. The smell of smoke mingling with the musty rain smell makes me feel ill and tense and detracts from the pleasure I was enjoying of the rain on my face. Move further away from bus stop to avoid smelling smoke. End up in the back of the queue because of this and subsequently did not get a seat and spent entire bus ride standing smushed further back into a swelling crowd of passengers with their Coughuppalottabucks, jostled by potholes the size of Rhode Island and sent careening perilously close to disaster for my surgeried foot and ankle. Apparently we have a huge illiterate community in my neighborhood because the buses very clearly state "No smoking, drinking or eating on buses, trains and stations." I should feel sorry for these illiterate people, because reading is a right, not a privilege. But still, common sense should prevail in anyone over the age of 7. Riding a bus with a hot smelly beverage splashing out of the cup as the bus jostles along pothole scarred roads doesn't make a lot of sense. Turned up the iPod, resisted urge to aggressively nod head in time to
Planet of Sound
but know the volume was so loud the coffee slurping/splashing co-passengers were angry at me. Score: 1 for the non-coffee drinkers on the bus. Realize this is childish. Don't care.
9:30 AM. Discover what I thought was orange yogurt is actually peach. I hate peach yogurt. Mad at myself for not studying the container better when selecting yogurt flavors. Throw it away. Go morning snackless as punishment to myself.
10:45 AM. Hear new coworker fighting on phone with someone about her "weddin'" plans. Really, really getting sick of this. Seriously. What does she actually contribute to the company and why is she getting a paycheck to argue about her "weddin'" plans?
6:15 PM. Start playlist sent by friend. Excited to have some new music for the gym. Enjoy it until an irritating song starts with a voice I know but can't quite place, look at play list, discover it's Sean Lennon. Roll eyes. Wonder why she would include this on a playlist for me. Figure it's her idea of a joke. Skip to the next song, check to see that it's not Dhani Harrison, or worse, Julian Lennon, continue workout but get riled up thinking about the Beatles and worse, all the Beatles offspring who are "musicians," remember that Ringo Starr's kid plays drums in Oasis and decide I hate Oasis even more than I realized. Decide it's more than Liam Gallagher, but also because a Beatle's kid is involved. Laugh at the realization that I've had an epiphany of anger. Suddenly realize I'm gripping the stationary bike grips so hard my fists hurt and notice my blood pressure is scoring really high even though I'm not cycling that hard. Contemplate the serious hatred I have for all things Beatles and realize I should consider therapy for this, because really all you need is love. But rather than laugh at my own stupid joke I feel even more pissed off and tense because of stupid trite smarmy pith set to irritating cutesy melodies and mediocre musicianship. I don't have a plan for dealing with my anger issues with the Beatles. There's no escape. I've spent a lifetime trying. I've tried to make peace, tried to understand, tried to live and let live, but there's no escape. They're everywhere. And they reproduced and their spawn are everywhere. For some reason I can't explain this fills me with loathing and contempt. The original Beatles b(r)and is bad enough, but the perpetuation of the b(r)and makes me mad. Probably because deep down I know it's genius marketing and I'm jealous I wasn't around to think of it first. Realize I really, seriously need professional help with this Beatles thing.
Anger Management
Dr. Strangelove


text:
The true impact of the Motown sound on the civil rights movement was probably an unintended consequence of Berry Gordy's (founder of Motown Records) drive for profits. While white folk artists of the 1960s, such as Pete Seeger, stressed their "otherness" from middle class norms and values to galvanize a progressive core constituency, Gordy stressed the "sameness" of his artists in an attempt to crossover into white markets. "Strong ideas of bourgeois respectability shaped (the Motown) image" (Smith, 120).
Gordy stressed the creation of music that was, "simple, direct and emotional" with cross over potential. He established a factory like operation, complete with a "finishing school" that polished ghetto kid performers, and produced a consistent string of star performers and hits. Gordy's emphasis on creating non-threatening performers made blacks and by inference the civil rights movement more palatable to whites. The scenario would play out like this: "I like the music, I like the performer, he/she isn't so bad. I now have a cultural bridge (however narrow) to relate to other blacks. They aren't so bad." Whites begin to relate to blacks in terms of common humanity rather than stereotypes using the cultural bridge provided by the Motown sound. Television impresario Ed Sullivan summed it up when he said, "(The Negro performer) has become a welcome visitor, not only to the white adult, but to the white children, who will finally lay Jim Crow to rest." (Smith, 132).
The civil rights struggle of the 1960s in some ways mirrored the civil rights struggle in the Reconstruction South following the Civil War. In Mobile, for example, African-American leaders were divided between the privileged black elites who had lived in the city before the War, and recently freed blacks migrating to the city after the War. The black elites were socially and politically moderate and allied with moderate whites. Recently emancipated ex-slaves from the country were more radical. This group was willing to take its demands to the streets and felt they would only get their rights by "making a bold stand." In the Reconstruction South, the triumph of black militancy often led to white backlash and race warfare. Dr. King's ability to negotiate a strategy of non-violent civil disobedience in an environment of black militants, white hardliners, and white moderate "fence sitters" was his genius. Arguably, the cultural amalgamation created by rock 'n roll, coupled with King's message of non-violent change (given urgency by Malcom X's message of the possibility of violence) permitted the triumph of the civil rights movement in the 1960s.
As Smith suggests, the triumph was not complete. Although avenues were created for black upward social mobility (as envisioned by Booker T. Washington), and although a black President (who had numerically more white supporters than black supporters) has been elected, a recent report by the Institute for Policy Studies, a liberal think tank, indicates that the divide between black and white wealth is so wide that achieving parity would take more than six hundred years at the current rate of change. Is black capitalism the answer? The career of Berry Gordy suggests that a black capitalist is a capitalist first, and black second. The marketplace is color and gender blind, which is beneficial to all, but capitalism is also amoral, driven by its own imperatives of economy and efficiency rather than equity and humanity. The good that capitalism does, as in the case of the nexus between the Motown sound and the civil rights movement, may be largely unintentional.
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subset: commoncrawl


text:
OAuth 1.0 was a big step forward for web security, removing the need for users to give their passwords to third parties, but was a bit of a step backward for anyone writing mobile or desktop clients. Handing over to a website broke the user experience of your app, could easily be spoofed anyway, and led to a bunch of hacks like Twitter's X-Auth standard to try and find a way around it.
Thankfully, with OAuth 2.0, this was by and large fixed, with the new version supporting multiple authentication approaches suitable for web, mobile or desktop (not that all websites implement them all, but that's not the standard's fault).
The one downside as a Cocoa developer is that the officially recommended Cocoa library is, to be blunt, rubbish. It doesn't even compile, and the author has acknowledged that it's completely unusable :)
Thankfully though, there is a very good OAuth library that's nicely designed that I can heartily recommend, which I discovered from the same comment thread (though only after trying a bunch of other less good libraries, alas) - OAuth2Client by nxtbgthng. This has a lovely interface, takes care of managing different tokens for you, is ARC friendly, has no external dependancies, and a BSD license. It also supports both iOS and OS X.
If you want a lesson in good library design, then I recommend comparing and contrasting this with OAuth 2 library in Google's Toolkit for Mac which I'm sure is as easy to use as they claim, but just doesn't make it at all obvious that it is. I leave you to work out which one is the good example and which is the less good one :)


text:
Jill Onedera eBooks
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The Role of Religion in Marriage and Family Counseling
Jill Onedera & Jill Duba Onedera
Routledge, July 2007
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text: Replacement Windows and Doors in Plainwell Windows and doors offer beauty as well as energy efficiency to your Plainwell home, so whether you're in the market to upgrade existing products or starting fresh, the honest, helpful staff at Pella Windows and Doors will help you find the windows and doors that are right for you. We built our organization on high-quality wood windows and have enhanced it with an impressive line of vinyl windows, fiberglass windows, and entry and patio doors. You can select from our wide selection or have us personalize a plan that matches your style. We strive for exceptional service and back it all up with warranty protection you can depend on. What are you looking for in your window or door replacement project? If you want to boost natural light in your home, bow windows are some of the best windows to do just that. Connecting four or more windows in a sweeping curve that extends outside of the home, bow windows have more angles for light to brighten a room. For those folks wanting to also let more fresh air into the room, casement windows that swing open are a great way to do it. These swinging, hinged windows open out to allow more of the outside in. The little touches make a big difference in crafting a new window or door that is customized and completely yours. That's why we'll work with you to personalize your window or door. The perfect color, finish, grille or trim is able to add character. Innovative features, such as between-the-glass blinds and shades, bring function to new windows. You're even able to review energy-efficient glass options and one-of-a-kind hardware. Customer service has always been at the forefront of Pella Windows and Doors. Since we were established in 1961, our experts have constantly worked to serve customers and go beyond what's required. We are dedicated to looking for a better way to give our best to customers and reinforcing a commitment to detail. Our goal is to work with you bring your vision for your home to life. So, let your inspiration go—and picture your home with beautiful Pella® windows and doors. Feel free to explore this site and get some ideas, then reach out to us at 269-215-4157 or come by your local showroom to schedule your complimentary, in-home consultation.


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a Program of the National Park Service NEW! Arthurdale: A New Deal Community Experiment Explore Arthurdale, West Virginia, and discover a town founded during the Great Depression when First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt championed subsistence homestead communities for struggling Americans across the country. In this lesson, learn about the impoverished Appalachian mining town that Arthurdale's homesteaders left and the Progressive-era theories about communal work, school, and rural life they tested at their new home. Monroe Doctrine (1823) The Monroe Doctrine was articulated in President James Monroe's seventh annual message to Congress on December 2, 1823. The European powers, according to Monroe, were obligated to respect the Western Hemisphere as the United States' sphere of interest. President James Monroe's 1823 annual message to Congress contained the Monroe Doctrine, which warned European powers not to interfere in the affairs of the Western Hemisphere. Understandably, the United States has always taken a particular interest in its closest neighbors – the nations of the Western Hemisphere. Equally understandably, expressions of this concern have not always been favorably regarded by other American nations.
A Brief History of Jim Crow "I can ride in first-class cars on the railroads and in the streets," wrote journalist T. McCants Stewart. "I can stop in and drink a glass of soda and be more politely waited upon than in some parts of New England." Perhaps Stewart's comments don't seem newsworthy. Consider that he was reporting from South Carolina in 1885 and he was black. Stewart had decided to tour the South because he feared for freedmen's liberties. The Civil War In Pictures, Part 1: The Places Last year marked the 150th anniversary of the start of the American Civil War, a milestone commemorated by The Atlantic in a special issue (now available online). Although photography was still in its infancy, war correspondents produced thousands of images, bringing the harsh realities of the frontlines to those on the home front in a new and visceral way. As brother fought brother and the nation's future grew uncertain, the public appetite for information was fed by these images from the trenches, rivers, farms, and cities that became fields of battle. Today's collection is part 1 of 3, covering the places of the Civil War: the battleships, prisons, hospitals, urban centers, and rural pastures where history was made. Tomorrow's installment features some of the people involved in the conflict, and on Friday I'll be sharing some of the amazing three-dimensional stereographs of the war.
Brief Timeline of American Literature and Events, 1620-1920 Brief Timeline of American Literature and Events: Pre-1620 to 1920 This timeline provides a short chronology of events in American history and literature. It is linked to course pages and bibliographies as well as to a set of more general linked resources: pages on American authors, literary movements, and American literature sites. Each author page contains a picture (if available), a bibliography (if available), links to major sites about the author, and links to works online.
Making of America aking of America (MoA) is a digital library of primary sources in American social history from the antebellum period through reconstruction. The collection is particularly strong in the subject areas of education, psychology, American history, sociology, religion, and science and technology. The collection currently contains approximately 10,000 books and 50,000 journal articles with 19th century imprints. For more details about the project, see About MoA. Making of America is made possible by a grant from the Andrew W. Citizen news: A democratic addition to political journalism Editor's note: Herbert Gans is one of America's preeminent sociologists, and some of his most notable work has come in examining the American news industry. His seminal 1979 book Deciding What's News: A Study of CBS Evening News, NBC Nightly News, Newsweek and Time was born out of years spent in newsrooms, watching how the never-ending flood of human activity was distilled into the news. Here he argues for a new area of emphasis in political reporting for a democratic society — what he calls citizen news.
Silverites, Populists, and the Movement for Free Silver Gold bugs v. Silverites Political battles over currency issues became intensely divisive during the last quarter of the 19th century as industrialization accelerated in the Northeast, while the South and newly settled areas of the Midwest remained dependent on farming. Over the Top - A First World War Free Online Adventure Game Introduction Over the Top is an interactive adventure game that allows YOU to experience life in the trenches during the First World War. As a young Canadian soldier stationed somewhere along the Western Front in the late Fall of 1916, you will live through some of the excitement, despair, brutality and sheer horror of trench warfare. Over the Top is based on the real-life experiences of Canadians who lived and died in the trenches during the First World War. Part history and part adventure story, Over the Top is divided into sections.
The Articles of Confederation Also see the Constitutional Topics Page for this document, a comparison of the Articles and the Constitution, and a table with demographic data for the signers of the Articles. Images of the Articles are available. ContentsPreambleArticle I - Style Article II - States Rights Article III - Mutual defense Article IV - Laws of other states to be abided; extradition Article V - The Legislature Article VI - Rights denied the States Article VII - Appointment of military officers Article VIII - United States to pay for defense; taxes Article IX - Rights granted the Federal Government Article X - Committee of States Article XI - Canada may join the United States Article XII - Assumption of debt Article XIII - Articles are Supreme Law, amendment ConclusionSignatories Agreed to by Congress November 15, 1777; ratified and in force, March 1, 1781. Preamble To all to whom these Presents shall come, we the undersigned Delegates of the States affixed to our Names send greeting.
Parable of the Polygons - a playable post on the shape of society This is a story of how harmless choices can make a harmful world. These little cuties are 50% Triangles, 50% Squares, and 100% slightly shapist. But only slightly! USA Stretching across the continent of North America, the United States goes from the Atlantic Ocean in the east to the Pacific Ocean in the west. North of Mexico and south of Canada, it has the Gulf of Mexico on its south-eastern border. The US consists in addition of two more states that are not contiguous to (not touching the other parts) the main body of the United States. Hawaii is located in the middle of the Pacific Ocean; Alaska is on the northwest coast of North America, bordering Canada. Going clear across North America, the United States has a great variety of climates and landscapes, from temperate rainforest to desert, fertile plains to icy mountains. Quill's Quiz - 1100 Question US Mega Geography Quiz


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Mississauga, Ontario based Walmart Canada announced the Angus Steakhouse Select truck is traveling across Alberta, Manitoba, Ontario and Quebec, stopping at select Walmart Canada Supercenters this summer, all in the name of showing Canadians they can have great tasting, tender steak at affordable prices. It is interesting to note the difference in brand strategies between the Angus Steakhouse Select branded program in Canada and the generic private label Choice program in the US. Canada has certainly chosen a more ownable branded approach.
"Our Angus steaks are produced from Angus cattle, a breed recognized for its high quality. The meat is tender, juicy, flavorful and well marbled," said Jose Duarte, director of merchandising for meat and deli at Walmart Canada. "Like fine steakhouses, we age our Angus select grain fed beef for maximum tenderness."
Available exclusively at Walmart Canada supercenters, the Angus Steakhouse Select line of steaks are available in four different cuts:
- Top sirloin steak
- Strip loin steak
- Boneless Ribeye steak
- Tenderloin steaks
The Angus truck is visiting cities throughout Canada


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About me
Roccota is a handmade jewelry shop that works with natural materials: minerals, seeds, textiles, wood, crystals, natural shells, metals... always raising awareness and taking care of our environment.
My grandmother and great grandmother sewed, embroidered and turned everything that came into their hands into wonderful creations. Each piece I make carries with it its wisdom and are full of details that represent me.
Nature is my main inspiration, colorful designs that represent the beaches, jungles, flowers, cities, set in the Venezuelan culture that is where I come from.
Do not hesitate to contact me in case you have any question, I will respond as soon as possible!
I hope you like it!


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Since 1920, Valley Wide Cooperative has been helping farmers and ranchers build their homes and businesses.
Valley Agronomics offers a wide variety of agricultural products and services. Through precision agronomics, our expert crop advisors help producers achieve maximum economic yields on their fields.
Our fleet of delivery and service trucks are ready to serve all your energy needs. Customer service is our number one priority.
Our goal is to provide products and services of the highest quality. Our retail stores have brands you know and trust. You will be amazed by our selection and pricing.
Valley Wide Cooperative Feed produces healthy, nutritious feeds in the form of flaked corn, rolled barley, and a variety of other feeds
We are always trying to contribute to the communities we are a part of, through donations, sponsorship, and scholarships.
Locations hiring for this position: Jerome, ID (Corporate Office)
Valley Wide Cooperative is a company motivated by service. We have been helping farmers and ranchers build their homes and businesses since 1920. Our mission is "To provide quality products and services at a value both the company and customer enjoy. We do this with respect to the communities we do business in and the environments that we impact."
If you are looking for an opportunity to gain experience with a great marketing team, APPLY TODAY!
The Valley Wide Cooperative marketing department offers 3-4 month internship opportunities, depending on different needs and circumstance, both full-time and part-time.
• Work with the marketing team to develop and schedule social media posts.
• Analyze data to adjust strategy and content being employed in social media posts.
• Assist in other marketing activities as needed.
• Help execute social media engagement strategies.
• Manage social media employee contribution incentive program.
• Respond to customer engagement on social media.
• Occasional design work.
• Other duties as assigned.
• Working on a marketing related degree preferred.
• Previous experience in digital marketing or social media business account a plus.
• Experience with Adobe Photoshop or some other photo editing equivalent.
• Ability to interpret analytical data.
• Strong time management and organizational skills.
• $8.75/ hour pay (both full and part-time)
• Discount at retail locations
• Company phone and tablet


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Your favorite cheerleader will shout for joy when her best friend joins the squad!
Dog Lover Heaven carries a line of unique collectible figurines called Doogies. Our patented interchangeable, locking o-ring system allows you to customize your figurine. Just add the dog breed doogie head of your choice to this body and present your favorite cheerleader with an unusual and special gift.
Doogie bodies are made of stone resin and are hand painted.
Approximately 5 1/2" tall (Body Only)
(Body, vehicle and heads are sold separately.)


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An underage girl is in custody after a bomb threat at Menominee High School.
The threat came in shortly after 12:30 Central time this afternoon.
Menominee Police say they a girl about the bomb threat, and she's now in custody.
Police also say they should have more information about the incident available later tonight.
All the students have gone home safely.
Two K–9 units are at the school searching the premises — one from Escanaba Public Safety, the other from the Brown County, Wisconsin Sheriff's Department.


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Created on 08-09-2018 03:16 PM - edited 08-09-2018 03:23 PM
We have a 32 node impala cluster where each node is both an executor and a coordinator. We wanted to dedicate 6 nodes as co-ordinators and the rest as executors.
We created two config groups and set is_executor=false for coordinators and is_coordinator=false for executors and we restarted the impala service.
We deleted a table and tried to recreate it we got an error saying the table already exist.
We would like to know how to refresh the metadata on all the nodes.
Did you try INVALIDATE METADATA?
Created 08-13-2018 07:09 AM
Did you try INVALIDATE METADATA?
Created 08-15-2018 07:14 AM


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A couple of weeks ago, mere days into the new year, my grandfather passed away after a three year battle with leukaemia. I have lived with him and my grandmother for about four years while I was in university, and despite being "prepared" for the death for quite some time now, I have to say that losing him has been the hardest death that I have experienced in my life. I've been thinking about it for what feels like an incredibly long time, through my very odd and unproductive coping methods with grief, and have finally come to the conclusion that maybe, like nearly everything else in my life, the best way for me to figure this all out (at least figure out some small semblance of the situation) is by writing about it.
When I got the call from my stepmom, Tamara, I was on the phone with my cousin Marina (my grandparents' goddaughter) in Edmonton and still lounging in bed. I put her on hold while I talked to Tamara and after hanging up, clicked over and said to her somewhat bewildered, "He just died." Marina and her sister Cassandra had just returned to Edmonton from their visit to Toronto only two days before, but their parents were still in the city until the end of the week. She hung up to call and tell them the news, so they could go to the hospital right away. The moment I hung up with her, I curled up back under my covers and cried for a solid half hour before pulling myself together and heading upstairs. My brother Alex and I were at our mom's, since I couldn't be at the hospital (I had developed a sinus infection while there); we got our stuff together and headed to my grandparents' house right away. Alex went directly downstairs to fix the few things my grandfather had asked him to repair on his train set (before he had even gone to the hospital), and I sat down with my family at the kitchen table. There was this strange alternation between staring blankly at each other and telling funny stories about things my grandfather had done.
From that point on, I held my emotions in check until I took it upon myself to babysit my little cousins during the wake. The oldest, at nine years old, fully understood the situation and spent the entire day crying. Finally, after having the girls help me write a eulogy on behalf of the four grandchildren, the three of us ended up huddled over each other in tears. The next day at the final viewing and funeral, I was steadily crying. It seemed very real, all of a sudden. I couldn't deny any longer that he died, seeing him lying there in the casket. And at the same time, I was briefly frustrated that this happened, suddenly distraught that I had totally forgotten to give him one of the souvenirs I picked him up from my trip to Wales (a coin, to add to his well-loved collection), and yet totally accepting that… well, that it is what it is. I was angry and empty and numb all at the same time, but overall, I accepted it. I wasn't confused — I'm still not confused — but I am sad. I'll always be sad.
The loss came right before my dad and Tamara were supposed to be off on their honeymoon (having just gotten married on New Year's Eve), and was postponed a week. Meaning, they've been gone this past week and I decided that I wanted to stay with my grandmother to keep her company while everyone else has been honeymooning, working, at school, and so forth. If anything, I thought that maybe spending this time with her would not only help in keeping her company, but also maybe lead me toward dealing with my own emotions that I seemingly can't let out all at once.
As we made our way through the week, we easily fell into a routine of breakfast by 9.30am, lunch at around 1.00pm, and dinner no later than 5.30pm, so that we could be changed into our pyjamas and under blankets on the couch watching Murdoch Mysteries on Netflix by 6.15pm. In between these times, we were either drinking wine, running errands, cooking something fun, shovelling the stupid amount of snow on our driveway from the storms we've been having, or having people come visit us (and thus, eating a lot of panetone and drinking a lot of espresso and tea). Sometimes, it was a combination of more than one fo the above. On the off chance that we both decided to take some downtime for ourselves, she'd sit and watch game shows on TV while I worked on my blogging for a bit.
Throughout this time spent together, we've done a lot of reminiscing, storytelling, laughing, crying, and stating (almost dumbfounded), "I can't believe he's not coming home. I can't believe he's gone." But in truth, I can believe it. I'm not in denial… I accept the situation fully. I don't like it, but I accept it. I do think it would help for me to do some online therapy with BetterHelp in order to help me cope with my feelings, though.
I understand what's happened and somehow feel a sense of peace that he's no longer suffering. If there's anything to be 'okay' with through all of this chaos and emotion, it's that fact. He's not suffering. The hardest parts of death are not for the person who has died (it's all over for them, at least on this plane), but for the people that they've left behind.
I guess that, as they all say, the best way to heal is allowing time to pass and mend.


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4 tablespoons chia seeds
1 cup coconut milk
1 tablespoon of maple syrup
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
1. Pour coconut milk into a mixing bowl. Add chia seeds, maple syrup and vanilla. Stir well.
2. Let Mixture sit for 30 minutes at room temperature or refrigerated.
3. Top with fresh blueberries, or it is delicious plain.


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Bar-Mitzvah Max Klinger - Aventura FL
Max enchanted the audience with his eloquence and poise. But it was his demonstration of gratitude that was the icing on the cake! Lovely family, Klingers: here's hoping for many more simchas with you!!!
Cinematography: IgalMR Films
Event Planner: Stephanie Esquenazi
Flowers: Jairo Barrios
Photo: Sagette Van Embden
Venue: Lubavitch Aventura South


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Childhood Cancer
I am very excited about the relationship I have formed with Childhood Cancer over the last few months and can not wait for what the future holds.
The Childhood Cancer Association is one of Australia's key childhood cancer support organisations, dedicated to supporting children living with cancer, and their families.
The Childhood Cancer Association supports children with cancer and their families from South Australia & Northern Territory, as well as families from country Victoria and New South Wales, when their child receives treatment in Adelaide.
Support is tailored to meet the needs of every individual family. Key services and support include: professional counselling, daily hospital visits, sibling support, accommodation for country & interstate families, respite accommodation for all families, financial assistance, education support via home tutoring, and bereavement support.
The Childhood Cancer Association relies solely on the generous support of the community, to enable it to continue to provide vital services and support to families in need.
Rachel Lawrie - Ray White North Adelaide will do everything in our power to support such a fantastic foundation.


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Charge Controller (by type)
MPPT or Maximum Power point Tracking is an algorithm that's included in charge controllers used for extracting maximum available power from PV solar module under certain conditions. With MPPT charge controllers you get 15 to 30% extra yield as compared to PWM. To fully exploit the potential of the MPPT controller, the array voltage should be substantially higher than the battery voltage. The MPPT controller is the solution of choice for higher power systems (because of the lowest overall system cost due to smaller cable cross sectional areas). The MPPT controller will also harvest substantially more power when the solar cell temperature is low (below 45°C), or very high (above 75°C), or when irradiance is very low.
PWM (Pulse Width Modulation)
Although still in use, yet it's an older technology as the total yield is about 25% to 30% lesser than Quality MPPT charge controller. The PWM charge controller is a good low cost solution for small systems only, when solar cell temperature is moderate to high (between 45°C and 75°C).


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|New-Grad Truck-Driving Positions
|When it comes to job placement, we have you covered. Courses offered at our institution allow you to qualify for an
array of driving positions upon graduation. There are never any employment contracts and placement with our
industry partners is optional. As a student graduate, you will leave with the knowledge and skills to transition into
entry-level positions throughout the trucking industry.


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No German or English service at the church today. Please join us at the picnic!
Service begins at 11 a.m. In case of rain there is a large, comfortable shelter.
Swimming pool, children's games, picnic tables on-site
INFO on how to get there under "News" tab and going to the summer edition of the NEWSLETTER


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We are delighted to announce that we will be sponsoring the IOSH Annual Conference 2015, the UK's leading symposium for health and safety professionals.
Titled 'Leadership in Action: Shaping the Future', the UK's flagship health and safety conference is taking place on 16-17 June 2015 at ExCeL London. We are sponsoring the Leadership in Action stream, one of four concurrent conference strands, and will be actively participating in the symposium programme.
With more than 30 conference sessions and 60 expert speakers, and unrivalled networking opportunities over two full days, IOSH 2015 will offer strategic global insights, influential case studies and best practice guidance to implement in the workplace. The event will again coincide with Safety & Health Expo, the Facilities Show, and related events run by organisers UBM Live.
Commenting on the announcement, Managing Director of International Workplace, David Sharp, explained:
"We've been providing health and safety information, advice and education for nearly 20 years, and have been an active supporter of both IOSH and UBM events during that time. Safety – and especially health and wellbeing – are now widely recognised as key contributors to effective organisational performance. It's a pleasure to support IOSH 2015, and we're excited about meeting the hundreds of delegates this premier event attracts both from the UK and from around the world."
Specialising in the management of people and places, we help organisations achieve world-class levels of compliance and performance, to a consistent standard across their global operations.
© International Workplace


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Episode 4 - Telltale's The Gone Gold
On this episode the boys get sidetracked by 2012's The Walking Dead, talk about ESRB letting parents know their kids can gamble with lootboxes, which Prince of Persia is best, and discuss the PS+ changes coming next year. Shout out to Reset Memory and Grimecraft for the show's music, and make sure to follow us on Twitter @4yanks1aussie. Please leave us a rating on iTunes if you like the show!


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Physics I: Classical Mechanics Exam Questions 2, 4, 5, and 8 through 10 (and their solutions) cover Newton's Third Law; static friction; jumping men; masses on an accelerating surface; a suitcase on a conveyor belt; and spinning rods and mass. This resource is part of the MIT OpenCourseWare - AP Physics - Newton's Laws of Motion collection. Course: 8.01L Physics I: Classical Mechanics, Fall 2005Instructor: Dr. George Stephans Dr. George Stephans, 8.01L Physics I: Classical Mechanics, Fall 2005. (Massachusetts Institute of Technology: MIT OpenCourseWare), http://ocw.mit.edu (Accessed November 21, 2008). License: Creative Commons BY-NC-SA http://ocw.mit.edu/OcwWeb/web/terms/terms/index.htm#cc http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/us/legalcode
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Lana is the (not-so-dark) overseer of content execution at Seer. The part she enjoys most about her work with Seer is the neverending opportunity to learn about new industries, working with teammates and clients to find out what makes each one special and helping convey that to audiences.
Prior to joining Seer in 2012, Lana spent eight years as a marketing coordinator in the outdoor advertising industry and two years as a marketing coordinator / proposal editor for a public-private partnership firm. She also juggled a side-hustle as a freelance writer for various websites and online publications.
Lana graduated from Temple University with Honors, earning her B.A. in media studies with a focus on journalism and advertising.
Outside of work, Lana enjoys reading, writing, and being a pop culture junkie who can quote The Golden Girls extensively. In 2013, she published her first novel, Bad Taste In Men. Several of her short stories have been published in anthologies. Lana is an affiliate member of the Horror Writers Association (HWA) professional organization. She's also Seer's resident food-pusher and won't hesitate to foist snacks on you if you're anywhere near her desk.