*I started watching women’s soccer a couple of days before the opening ceremonies were on. Soccer was my one team sport growing up so it’s the one that I feel like I can really follow now. It absolutely amazes me to see athletes at this level displaying the same cheap shots and poor sportsmanship that turned me off from competitive sports in the first place. These people are supposed to be the best in the world. Do they need to be pushing and punching? Shouldn’t the skill and teamwork be enough?
*The opening ceremonies had the appropriate amount of spectacle, and I’m pretty sure London must have bought their fireworks from the same bulk retailer that the producers of the tepid “Total Recall” remake bought the glass they planned on breaking. It was great to see dozens of people running around on the stadium floor wearing Freddie Mercury harlequin body suits, and I so desperately hoped my nephews were watching when Mr. Bean accompanied the orchestra on “Chariots of Fire.” When the health care system was rolled out as a major focus of national pride, it almost made me want to tune in to talk radio the next day to see which bloviating neocon windbag was going to spontaneously combust first. I’ll also give the producers a lot of credit for using UK artists. It fit much better than having Elton John play at the closing ceremonies in Atlanta or having U2 at the Super Bowl halftime show. And anyone who saw the Arctic Monkeys covering “Come Together?” Don’t run out and buy their catalog based on that performance. Those were not the same Arctic Monkeys I had to sonically endure when they toured with the Black Keys this spring. Although I’m sure they had better sound mixing at the opening ceremonies than they did as the opening act....
*I never would have thought to put the words “badminton” and “scandal” in the same sentence.
*I get it: Broadcast is commerce. But when these new NBC shows have shameless Olympic references wedged into their promos, which seem to run at least twice during each commercial break, and when I have to be reminded of how warm and fuzzy all the gang at KARE 11 is, it becomes off-putting after awhile. All NBC is doing is convincing me I’m not going watch that comedy with Matthew Perry, that other comedy with the baby that’s trying to copy “Modern Family,” the hospital show with the animals, or that other show where all the electricity in the world turns off. I’ve had to sit through so many ads for these I feel like I’ve already seen the first two seasons of each.
*I just have to put this out there -- Michael Phelps’ sister Hilary is gorgeous. I didn’t mind the camera cutting to his family every time he won.
*Do elite athletes really drink a lot of Coca-Cola or eat a lot of McDonald’s? I have a hard time believing this, even if McDonald’s is rolling out this new Under 400 calorie menu. Remember people - that’s under 400 calories PER ITEM. Who goes to McDonald’s and only orders one Filet-O-Fish?
*Speaking of ads: Isn’t that music teacher guy in the Target back-to-school ads the same guy who played the Air Marshall in “Bridesmaids?”
*I’m not a big fan of spoilers. And yet, there have been some people on Facebook who will post things like “Whoo! Go USA!” in reference to a big win that hasn’t been broadcast yet. To say nothing of headline stories on the CNN home page telling me the US won the gymnastics all-around and Michael Phelps won his 19th medal as a gold before I could watch these events... on the same night. And then there are so many people retweeting things I’d rather find out on my own. Olympic spoilers are unavoidable if you go online at all, or if you watch other networks who seem to take pleasure in announcing scores and medal counts before NBC has the chance to show them. Welcome to 21st century media.
*One of my favorite athletes from these games so far is Missy Franklin. Not only was she a dominant swimmer in her events, but she seemed like she simply loved being there and having the chance to compete. She was enthusiastic, poised, and for someone who isn’t even out of high school yet was able to answer many questions from many reporters that made it sound like she has a brain in her head -- and lets face it, that’s something not all of these athletes are capable of pulling off. It’s hard to believe that someone like her and people like the New Orleans Saints players who had accepted bounties for injuring other players even have athletics in common.
Let’s see what the second week brings....
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Sunday, July 29, 2012
The Very Opposite of Plagiarism
I'm kind of surprised it's taken me so long to tell this story here....
I was a voracious reader in elementary school, tearing my way through books like they were all due back at the library the very next day. I'd read A Wrinkle in Time at least eleven times before finishing sixth grade, and I'd gone through every Hardy Boys title I could find. The days when my teachers passed out book orders to the class were like Christmas morning for me. And then somewhere in junior high my interest in reading dried up. You couldn't pay me to read. This became a problem when my ninth grade English teacher told our class we were going to have to do a certain number of book reports every trimester. I was a pretty good student and I enjoyed the teacher so I wanted to succeed in the class, but if that meant reading a book.... Well, let's say I had something of a stubborn streak at age fifteen, and leave it at that.
One day our class was down in the school media center looking for books to check out for our reports. As I was browsing over the shelves looking for something that wouldn't be painful for me to read, it occurred to me that there were literally hundreds, if not thousands, of books in our media center alone, to say nothing of book stores or the public library in town. Was it possible that my English teacher was familiar with every book there was? I didn't see how he could have been. And that was my loophole.
Instead of checking out books and taking the time to read and possibly enjoy them, I thought it'd be a better (easier) idea to just write reports about books that didn't exist. I knew I was taking a chance with this, but I was pretty sure I'd never get called on it if I just made them sound convincing enough. I figured my teacher would read the report and think, "Huh, haven't heard of that one before," and then just move on to the next one in the pile. My mother was a teacher, so I'd seen the repetitive, assembly line nature of grading papers firsthand. The odds had to be in my favor.
I invented authors, titles, main characters, page number counts, assigned them a wide variety of genres to show my diverse interests, wrote plot summaries and concluded them all with some trite statement about what I had learned from the story. I didn't read a single book in ninth grade, but I turned in so many book reports I may have earned some extra credit.
It's hard for me to pinpoint an exact answer if anyone ever asks when I started writing. But I'm pretty sure that part of my brain was alive and kicking by at least ninth grade.
I was a voracious reader in elementary school, tearing my way through books like they were all due back at the library the very next day. I'd read A Wrinkle in Time at least eleven times before finishing sixth grade, and I'd gone through every Hardy Boys title I could find. The days when my teachers passed out book orders to the class were like Christmas morning for me. And then somewhere in junior high my interest in reading dried up. You couldn't pay me to read. This became a problem when my ninth grade English teacher told our class we were going to have to do a certain number of book reports every trimester. I was a pretty good student and I enjoyed the teacher so I wanted to succeed in the class, but if that meant reading a book.... Well, let's say I had something of a stubborn streak at age fifteen, and leave it at that.
One day our class was down in the school media center looking for books to check out for our reports. As I was browsing over the shelves looking for something that wouldn't be painful for me to read, it occurred to me that there were literally hundreds, if not thousands, of books in our media center alone, to say nothing of book stores or the public library in town. Was it possible that my English teacher was familiar with every book there was? I didn't see how he could have been. And that was my loophole.
Instead of checking out books and taking the time to read and possibly enjoy them, I thought it'd be a better (easier) idea to just write reports about books that didn't exist. I knew I was taking a chance with this, but I was pretty sure I'd never get called on it if I just made them sound convincing enough. I figured my teacher would read the report and think, "Huh, haven't heard of that one before," and then just move on to the next one in the pile. My mother was a teacher, so I'd seen the repetitive, assembly line nature of grading papers firsthand. The odds had to be in my favor.
I invented authors, titles, main characters, page number counts, assigned them a wide variety of genres to show my diverse interests, wrote plot summaries and concluded them all with some trite statement about what I had learned from the story. I didn't read a single book in ninth grade, but I turned in so many book reports I may have earned some extra credit.
It's hard for me to pinpoint an exact answer if anyone ever asks when I started writing. But I'm pretty sure that part of my brain was alive and kicking by at least ninth grade.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
What's Not to Be Happy About?
I screwed everything up. The day was ruined and it was all my fault. At least that’s what it felt like sitting in the hotel room last Saturday night after falling victim to the specter of technical difficulties -- something I am not accustomed to doing.
Let me back up some.... About a week ago I got a message from my cousin asking if I would be willing to record a video of her son’s wedding, which was two days away. She apologized for it being so last minute, but I’ve done a few other wedding videos in the family, including her older son’s, so this wasn’t an unusual request. I told her I’d be happy to, and since I’m not really a fan of weddings (SURPRISE!!) this would give me something to do throughout the day. I recorded somewhere between two and three hours of video, spent the day thinking about a narrative, included candid moments in the crowd, captured the important touchstone events of the day, looked for unique perspectives the bride and groom would appreciate seeing later on. Long story short: Technical glitch. Two and a half hours of video reformatted into nothingness out of nowhere. If it were possible to have a part of my soul break off and wither away, I’m pretty sure it would feel like the moment of realizing the data was truly, irrecoverably gone.
At first I wanted to put my fist through the hotel wall, but that would have only made it easier for me to hear the snoring father and the crying baby next door, which I could already hear more clearly than I needed to. Instead I texted a few of my cousins, mostly looking for someone to commiserate with, but also because I felt I had to own up to this. Yeah, I know, it was a technical thing and it wasn’t my fault, but I try to be reliable for the people in my life so I still felt awful. I hated to think I had promised to take care of something so important to the bride and groom and I was going to let them down.
I met up with my parents in the lobby the following morning, and right away my mother could tell something was bothering me. (For future reference, if my face is expressionless, I’m not making eye contact and I’m only speaking in quiet, short sentences? It’s a good idea to keep your distance.) She empathized with my disappointment and said it would be okay in that way that mothers will say even when it won’t. But she also said something later that stuck with me. When she had been dancing with the groom at one point in the night, she had told him how great it had been to see him smiling all day long, and so happy. To which he replied, “What’s not to be happy about?”
And it clicked for me: Losing the video was a disappointment, but I’d made a much bigger deal out of it than what was necessary. Because whether or not there was a video, he was married to the love of his life, someone who compliments him as well as any one person could compliment another. And their wedding day had been perfect. They’d still have all the memories that came with the day, not to mention what had to be the at least three thousand pictures the photographer took. Losing the last-minute video wasn’t going to change any of that. Not having perfect wouldn’t be enough to keep them from being happy.
Are their lives going to be perfect from here on? Not likely. Nobody gets that. Even though it was a great day, there were some examples of not perfect going on in the lives of the dozens of family members we were all surrounded by that weekend. Some health concerns, palpable losses, professional stress, family stress, people feeling regrets about choices they’ve made or paths they’ve followed. But it was all okay in the moment, because we were together. I know there are a lot of Facebook photo-messages that get posted where people brag about how they have the greatest family or the best cousins or whatever. I’m happy for anyone with a strong family, but... no. You really don’t get it. Nobody has a family like we do. I know how much of a cliché it sounds to say that, but if you had the chance to spend time with all of us in the middle of Farmland, Wisconsin this past weekend and saw how so many levels of aunt / uncle / grandmother / cousin / second cousin / step second cousin / great-grandchildren blend together as just a collection of family, you might start to get it. So the best thing about the weekend for me, even with what felt like an epic failure right in the middle of it, was the chance to be reminded that I am part of something much greater than most people will ever get to experience.
Because of this I was able to put the whole video foul up in perspective: Even if it was sure to be a disappointment, it wasn’t enough to interfere with anyone’s greater happiness.
Let me back up some.... About a week ago I got a message from my cousin asking if I would be willing to record a video of her son’s wedding, which was two days away. She apologized for it being so last minute, but I’ve done a few other wedding videos in the family, including her older son’s, so this wasn’t an unusual request. I told her I’d be happy to, and since I’m not really a fan of weddings (SURPRISE!!) this would give me something to do throughout the day. I recorded somewhere between two and three hours of video, spent the day thinking about a narrative, included candid moments in the crowd, captured the important touchstone events of the day, looked for unique perspectives the bride and groom would appreciate seeing later on. Long story short: Technical glitch. Two and a half hours of video reformatted into nothingness out of nowhere. If it were possible to have a part of my soul break off and wither away, I’m pretty sure it would feel like the moment of realizing the data was truly, irrecoverably gone.
At first I wanted to put my fist through the hotel wall, but that would have only made it easier for me to hear the snoring father and the crying baby next door, which I could already hear more clearly than I needed to. Instead I texted a few of my cousins, mostly looking for someone to commiserate with, but also because I felt I had to own up to this. Yeah, I know, it was a technical thing and it wasn’t my fault, but I try to be reliable for the people in my life so I still felt awful. I hated to think I had promised to take care of something so important to the bride and groom and I was going to let them down.
I met up with my parents in the lobby the following morning, and right away my mother could tell something was bothering me. (For future reference, if my face is expressionless, I’m not making eye contact and I’m only speaking in quiet, short sentences? It’s a good idea to keep your distance.) She empathized with my disappointment and said it would be okay in that way that mothers will say even when it won’t. But she also said something later that stuck with me. When she had been dancing with the groom at one point in the night, she had told him how great it had been to see him smiling all day long, and so happy. To which he replied, “What’s not to be happy about?”
And it clicked for me: Losing the video was a disappointment, but I’d made a much bigger deal out of it than what was necessary. Because whether or not there was a video, he was married to the love of his life, someone who compliments him as well as any one person could compliment another. And their wedding day had been perfect. They’d still have all the memories that came with the day, not to mention what had to be the at least three thousand pictures the photographer took. Losing the last-minute video wasn’t going to change any of that. Not having perfect wouldn’t be enough to keep them from being happy.
Are their lives going to be perfect from here on? Not likely. Nobody gets that. Even though it was a great day, there were some examples of not perfect going on in the lives of the dozens of family members we were all surrounded by that weekend. Some health concerns, palpable losses, professional stress, family stress, people feeling regrets about choices they’ve made or paths they’ve followed. But it was all okay in the moment, because we were together. I know there are a lot of Facebook photo-messages that get posted where people brag about how they have the greatest family or the best cousins or whatever. I’m happy for anyone with a strong family, but... no. You really don’t get it. Nobody has a family like we do. I know how much of a cliché it sounds to say that, but if you had the chance to spend time with all of us in the middle of Farmland, Wisconsin this past weekend and saw how so many levels of aunt / uncle / grandmother / cousin / second cousin / step second cousin / great-grandchildren blend together as just a collection of family, you might start to get it. So the best thing about the weekend for me, even with what felt like an epic failure right in the middle of it, was the chance to be reminded that I am part of something much greater than most people will ever get to experience.
Because of this I was able to put the whole video foul up in perspective: Even if it was sure to be a disappointment, it wasn’t enough to interfere with anyone’s greater happiness.
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