Playing Games

My children are very good at games.  They are so good, they make them up themselves.

Princess' favorite game is something I have dubbed Negotiation.  The rules are simple: if you end up doing anything other than what you originally intended, Princess wins.  She is an extremely skilled negotiator, particularly with her daddy:

Sven: Princess, I'll be right back, I have to go get supper.
Princess: No, Daddy, don't leave me!  I love you! (Theatrical, fake tears)
Sven: Oh, honey! (Takes her on his lap and hugs her, missing the devil horns and tail she has sprouted.)
Princess: I just wanted to play one game of hide-and-seek before you go! (wails)
Sven: Baby, I have to go!
Princess: Oh, Daddy! (Faces him, lips trembling, as one fat tear slides down her cheek.)
Sven: All right, one game.
Princess: You count, I'll hide!

Unfortunately for Princess, Mommy has become a very skilled player at Negotiation:

Mommy: Princess, I'll be right back.
Princess: No, Mommy, don't leave me!  I love you!
Mommy: I love you too.  (Closes door.)

Princess: Mommy, I want a cookie.
Mommy: Can you say please?
Princess: Please may I have a cookie?
Mommy: Did you eat your supper?
Princess: (stuffs chicken in her mouth) Yeff.
Mommy: All right, you may have one cookie. (Hands her the cookie.)
Princess: How about two cookies?
Mommy: How about no cookies?
Princess: Yes ma'am.  Thank you for the cookie.
Mommy: You're welcome.

Dexy, unfortunately, excels at a game which, in its very design, exploits our main weaknesses as parents: my insomnia and Sven's back pain.  I call Dexy's game Take the Bed.  In this game, Dexy will, with varying amounts of fuss, go to sleep in his own bed.  2-4 hours later he will wake up, walk down a completely dark hallway into our completely dark room, and pull on my hand until I put him in the bed with us.  He almost always wins, because even if Sven isn't in bed yet, he doesn't want to heft the sleeping Dexy and take him to his low-to-the-ground toddler bed, risking injury to his already stiff back.

"Deb," you wise ones out there must be saying, shaking your heads, "you should stop this at once.  When he comes to your room, get out of bed, take him back to his bed, and put him in there.  Close the door.  Repeat as needed."  (This is what our doctor said.)  I know.  Here's the problem: if I am asleep, once I wake up, I'm done for.  I cannot go back to sleep, usually, for at least 2 hours.  If I wake up just enough to pull Dexy into bed with me, I'm fine.  But if I wake up, walk Dexy down the hall, put him back in bed, sit with him for a few minutes, leave, then repeat the process, I'm doomed.  Okay if Dexy comes to my bed at 4:00 a.m.; I usually get up at 5:00.  Not okay if he comes to my bed at midnight and I just got to sleep.  Especially not okay if he comes to my bed at midnight and it's the fourth night of bad sleep in a row.  (Note to self: do a post about the weird way you start to see sleep after you can't sleep for a while.)

So Dexy is the undisputed winner in Take the Bed.  But Mommy is the champion of Do You Want to Watch Spongebob?, so maybe I can get a nap.

Happy Thanksgiving

If you don't know what to say, say it with Muppets.

Au Revoir, JK8. And by that, I mean, buh-bye.

Last night I was watching TLC.  I should explain, before you must begin breathing into a paper bag, that the batteries on our remote control are dying, so I was stuck on The Learning Channel while I attempted to pound one more channel change out of the clicker.  (What do you mean, "get up and change the channel?" Are you insane?  This isn't 1872, or whenever people had to change the channel for themselves.)

As you all know, I would never, ever voluntarily watch a television network with "learning" in the title.  I don't watch TV to learn.  Nor, for that matter, do I read, surf the internet, or watch movies "to learn."  I am a professional educator.  I don't learn on my off time.

So, while I pounded the remote control on the floor as a mildly interested Sven looked on, it came on: the poignant music (almost as poignant as that awful Sarah McClachlan ASPCA or YMCA or NAMBLA commercial showing all of the dogs that will die unless YOU DO SOMETHING RIGHT NOW!  Every time that commercial comes on, I have to change the channel before Princess starts weeping and saying, "Why are people so bad to the doggies, Mommy?  Where is that doggy's mommy? The poor kitty looks so sad, Mommy!" and then we are both weeping in each other's arms as Ms. McClachlan informs us what we can do to save these animals, but I'm not paying attention because my 3-year-old is having an emotional breakdown and my almost-2-year-old has taken the opportunity to find a six-month-old chicken nugget under the couch and is attempting to eat it.  But I digest.)

Anyway, the voice-over dude came on as the slomo montage played, showing the kids, a pre-earring John, and a pre-shrew-from-hell Kate as he said, "Watch how it all ends...the final John and Kate Plus Eight."  Sven said, still mild, "Wow, the final one."

How wonderful!  No more John and Kate!  Except, we all know this is not the end of John and Kate.  John is suing TLC because he's too famous to get a real job.  Really.  Apparently, the idea that no one would hire John because he has been documented as a passive-aggressive, dumb, commitment-phobic philanderer has not occurred to him!  No, they aren't hiring him (and I'm sure he has applied everywhere) because he's too famous.  I hope Corey Feldman hasn't heard about this, because think of how many of us he could sue.  ("You used to have my poster on your wall but now you think I'm an idiot!")  I could personally be financially liable for the upkeep and maintenance of at least four New Kids on the Block.

I propose a countersuit: we should all commit to a class-action suit against TLC, for inflicting John & Kate on global society.  Because if I'm blogging about it, and I have never personally watched the show, it's in the air like a virus.  We must stop others from attempting to emulate TLC's success with John & Kate.

I saw it this morning on Good Morning America: "The Octomom, One Year Later."  I turned off the television.  I hope it sent a strong message.

Conversion

"There are two types of people in this world. Those who like Neil Diamond, and those who don't. My ex-wife loves him."

- What About Bob

I have resisted. I have stood firm. I refused to jump on the bandwagon. When I learned friends of mine had succumbed to the saccharine music and squinty eyes of the evil one, I shook my head sadly and mentally crossed their name off of my future intellectual-only gatherings. I firmly believed, in my heart, that this was the great divide of our time:

Behold! Taylor Swift. Beware, my friends. I am one of you no longer, for I have succumbed. I now am forced to admit the truth: I kind of don't completely despise Taylor Swift. I would go so far as to say I no longer long to puncture my eardrums with my cuticle scraper when I hear her voice. In fact, you could even say that the thought of being on the same planet as her no longer fills my heart with a dread previously reserved for discovering a scorpion in my shoe.

She's not so bad.

Taylor Swift engaged in a stealthy, calculated strategy to bring me to her side:

1. She began writing songs and singing them and recording them and became famous. Initially, I was unimpressed with Taylor Swift because her voice sounds like she's singing through an oscillating fan and her songs are lame and predictable. (But she wrote them when she was 15, so it's okay for them to be lame and predictable.) But, hey...some of them are catchy. I found myself nodding involuntarily when I heard one once.

2. She made "country" music that was close enough to pop music to "cross over" to VH1, where I receive most of my current music education. Again, at one point during the video for "Love Story," I may have, without cognition, tapped a toe.

3. She was humiliated by Kanye West. As Katy Perry so aptly tweeted, "It's like u stepped on a kitten."

4. She hosted SNL. This was the final straw that broke the bull on the horns of the pot I was watching but it never boiled. I cannot resist an unexpectedly successful SNL host, no matter what. If Kim Kardashian hosted SNL and was hilarious, I would become her biggest fan. If Rush Limbaugh hosted SNL... no, I can't go there. But I will say that the only reason I ever FOR A MOMENT considered voting for John McCain was because he was an awesome SNL host.

This season of SNL has been dreadful. Really, really awful. Then, the magical talented young skinny rich probably fresh-smelling Taylor Swift shows up, and knocks it out of the park. There was not a single dud in the whole night. Some were better than others, but nearly every sketch got at least a chuckle out of me, and she was in just about everything. Check out her monlogue:

And then this one, a public service announcement:

But this is the one that was closest to my heart:

Resistance was futile.

Writing

I love to write. I love to read. I love to talk about books I have read. I love to talk about things I have written. Fascinating. To me.

I saw some of Stephenie Meyer's interview with Oprah the other day, and she made some statements about her writing that I found interesting.

When asked about possible sequels to the Twilight Series, or whether or not she would ever finish Midnight Sun, she responded, each time, by saying that, in order to write something, she needs to feel "alone" with it, as though no one else will ever read it, as if it will never be published.

I'm not going to criticize her process, though I will point out it seems self-defeating, but I'm not the one who is an international phenomenon, so I guess she's onto something.

It got me thinking, though, about my own process. My participation this month in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writer's Month: 50,000 words in 30 days) has brought me into online contact with many amateur writers like myself. A a result, I am gaining awareness of my own process.

1. I do not plan anything. When I begin something, I have a vague main character, some very nebulous secondary characters, and some idea of what the central conflict or theme will be. That's it. I start it and go from there.

I don't outline, or do character sketches, or research anything in advance. I often actively avoid plots requiring me to do so; my awful NaNoWriMo novel (really, it's terrible) required me to craft a 6-generation genealogy that I constantly had to refer back to. (Why did I give that one character 10 daughters? Why?) The few times I have tried to plan, my characters quite unreasonably decided that wouldn't work and took off on their own anyway, meaning I had just wasted a couple of days on work that would be wasted.

The pro? It makes writing really just pure fun. As I'm writing, I have no idea what's going to happen next, either. The con? It makes it really hard to find a good ending. If you don't know from the beginning where the story will end, it can be hard to recognize an ending if you find it.

2. I tend to edit as I go. This is a terrible thing. Part of the reason I did NaNoWriMo was that the whole point is to just write like blazes, as quickly as you can, then go back and edit it later. I did it, but now I'm finished halfway through the month. Maybe I can do another one?

Anyway, when I was writing my vampire novel, I got stuck editing, re-writing, and re-imagining the first 20,000 words or so. I probably stalled out there for months. Then, when I finally moved on, I was somewhat obsessive about going back and making sure everything was working. Editing, by its very nature, isn't the creative exercise writing is, so it really puts the brakes on my imagination.

NaNoWriMo has really gotten me focused on writing, but even then I was jumping back and forth.

I've already begun a new one, that will not, to my current knowledge, be supernatural in any way. I've also got ideas for prequels and sequels to the vampire one, and I think this NaNoWriMo can be saved if I re-work it a bit, expand some of the plot.

If anyone knows of an extremely rich, possibly insane person who would like to sponsor an amateur writer so she can quit her job and write full-time with no guarantee of ever being published, I know you'll let me know.

Why I Will Never Be in an Infomercial

This morning, I was watching an infomercial. It followed the well-loved and oft-used format of the following:

Avuncular smiling man, possibly bow-tied, holds product and talks about it 99% of the time.

Young and pretty woman follows him around, saying things like, "Wow!" and "That's amazing!"

Occasional young and pretty women demonstrate how they are completely incompetent at housekeeping because they use paper towels.

Yes, it was for one of those steam-cleaner things, the Steam Weasel or something like that. The big selling point here seemed to be that it used something containing microfiber, which made the steam even more steamy, or something.

Anyway, it occurred to me that I could never be in an infomercial. If I were playing the role of Adoring Female, it would go like this:

Avuncular Man: Deb, what would you say if I told you I could clean this filthy window faster with the Steam Weasel than you can with those chemical-based immoral Nazi-inspired household cleaners?

Deb: I would say you're huffing glue.

Avuncular Man: Okay...well, I'll prove it to you!

Deb: I don't need any proof that you're huffing glue.

Avuncular Man: No, I mean proof that my Steam Weasel is better than those ammonia-based free-loading communist-supporting earth-destroying chemicals.

Deb: You mean Windex?

Avuncular Man: Okay, are you ready? (Hands Deb a roll of paper towels and a bottle of Windex)

Deb: Whatever, I guess.

Avuncular Man: And...GO! (Wielding his Steam Weasel like a Ghostbuster's Proton Pack, he begins to scrub the window with something that looks like a giant piece of sponge cake.) Look at that! Look at the patented Microfiber Chambers just suck up that dirt! Isn't that amazing?

Deb: Okay. (Squirts on Windex and wipes it off with a paper towel.) I'm done.

Avuncular Man: But look, Deb! I finished faster than you, and my side is cleaner!

Deb: Well, first of all, you've had that monstrosity turned on and warmed up for the last six hours of filming, so it was all ready to go. If I was using that at home, it would have taken me 30 minutes to find the extension cord, then another 30 minutes before I remembered that the Microfiber Whatever was still in the washing machine from the last time I used it, then 10 minutes while I ate a bag of chips, then 5 minutes to put the darned thing away and just use the Windex.

Avuncular Man: Ha, ha! (Wipes sheen of sweat from his brow.) But you can't deny my side is cleaner! I've cleaned and sanitized, using Deep Steam Technology!

Deb: Okay, you win. When you have your annual French-Kiss the Window party, no one will get meningitis.

Avuncular Man: Okay, let's move to the kitchen!

Deb: Let's not. I think Law and Order is on another channel. I know I've seen it before, but I can never remember the verdicts. And since it's a Jerry Orbach, I know it's going to be good.

Avuncular Man: But wait! If you order today, the Steam Weasel can be yours for only 3 payments of $33!

Deb: Can't you just say it's $99?

Avuncular Man: And we'll throw in these two additional cleaning tools, the brush attachments, and a Cheryl Tiegs calendar from 1982! It's an additional $75 value, and you will get it for free!

Deb: Okay, who says it's a $75 value? It only works on your product, it's not like I can sell it for $75 on the street. And, seriously? Two giant sponges and a couple of industrial strength toothbrushes? $75? I will grant you the calendar is cool.

Avuncular Man: Please leave. Just go.

Deb: Was it something I said?

Fin.

Halloween 2009

Dexy was a pirate:

Princess was a fairy:

Together, they were Cap'n Blackheart and The Unnamed Sprite:

I was a vampire:

It was dark, so you can't see how much I sparkled.

Sven's costume requires some explanation; it also required him to speak a line. The following is a quote from "Writing is Easy!" by Steve Martin, included in his collection Pure Drivel, Hyperion Books, 1998. On page 8, we are treated to the following passage:

Creating Memorable Characters

Nothing will make your writing soar more than a memorable character. If there is a memorable character, the reader will keep going back to the book, picking it up, turning it over in his hands, hefting it, and tossing it into the air. Here is an example of the jazzy uplift that vivid characters can offer:

Some guys were standing around when in came this guy.

You are now on your way to creating a memorable character. You have set him up as being a guy, and with that come all of the reader's ideas of what a guy is. Soon you will liven your character by using an adjective:

But this guy was no ordinary guy; he was a red guy.

This character, the red guy, has now popped into the reader's imagination. He is a full-blown person, with hopes and dreams, just like the reader. Especially if the reader is a red guy. Now you might want to give the character a trait. You can inform the reader of the character trait in one of two ways. First, simply say what that trait is - for example, "but this red guy was different from most red guys, this red guy liked frappes." The other is rooted in action - have the red guy walk up to a bar and order a frappe, as in:

"What'll you have, red guy?"

"I'll have a frappe."

Here, then, is Sven's costume:

"I'll have a frappe."

A fun time was had by all.

Real Glee

I am in love with the television show "Glee." It is an over-the-top look at high school politics, focused on the efforts of dreamy teacher Mr. Scheuster to revive his old high school show choir. Imagine High School Musical through the lens of 90210 and you have some idea, though Glee has far more humor (and way more talent) than either of those.

For me, the show has become very personal, as I empathize (so much!) with the kids, but also with the teachers. Because it's such a fine line, doing what is best for your program, but also doing what is best for the individual children who make up that program. As a choral director, I was always first and foremost a teacher.

In an online discussion about Glee, I referenced a dilemma Mr. Scheuster had: the popular kid, who everyone liked, challenged the unlikeable but extremely talented diva for a solo. This is, in my experience, a very common thing: I can't tell you how many times I have passed over a kid I love for one I really don't like because the talent is undeniable.

In response, another poster told me that her experience as a choral singer (never as a director) was that all choral directors have little "pets" that get all of the solos, regardless of talent. That "everyone" talked about how "terrible" the top chorus was, because it was full of "pets" the director had chosen just because "she liked them." (Hmmm...I wonder if she actually took a survey of "everyone" or if "everyone" consisted of her parents and friends...)

My response to that (which I did not post) was that I have been accused many times of having "pets." My accusers are generally the ones who didn't get the solo, or have been told they cannot go on the trip because they didn't meet the requirements, or what have you. It's so subjective, isn't it? What appears to a student to be inexplicable favoritism is often the result of agony on the part of the teacher, as the teacher struggles to be truly "fair."

I was reminded of a situation I had years ago, as a fairly new teacher, and thought I would share it with you. It is one of the most difficult experiences I have ever had as a teacher. It all really happened:

I was directing a 6th grade production of a play. For the sake of anonymity, let's say it was "Annie." I held auditions, and two girls signed up to try out for Miss Hannigan.

Maybelle Pantorum, candidate number 1, was eminently qualified for the role. She was a natural actress, and had taken acting lessons since she was three years old. I know this because Maybelle told me so, every day, during the week leading up to auditions. Mrs. Pantorum, Maybelle's esteemed mother, worked at the school, and stopped me numerous times in the hallway to share this information with me as well. (I should note that Maybelle chose me she decided to try out for Miss Hannigan because "no one else wanted it," so that meant she would "automatically get it.")

Shayla Violet, candidate number 2, never spoke a word in class, ever. She never sang, either. She came from an extremely poor family. She once came to school with her head shaved because her brothers had caught lice, so her mother just shaved everybody's head. She signed up after Maybelle, but with a decidedly different attitude. She knew she wouldn't get the part, but she wanted to try.

In the audition, Maybelle's performance was very stylized, with hand gestures and emphasis on carefully selected words. She was dreadful.

Shayla nailed it. She just nailed it. Based on talent alone, this was a no-brainer. Shyla got the part.

Then it started. Maybelle demanded to know why she didn't get the part. She asked me before class, after class, during class. I told her all of the things you say, "You did a great job, but I decided I wanted Shayla." "I just wanted something different, you'll get a chance next time." Finally, she cornered me and said, "I want to know why you gave that (slur) the part instead of me."

I said, "Because she was better than you." (I'm sorry, but it had been days of her harassing me, and her insult of Shayla was too much to bear.)

Enter Mrs. Pantorum.

"How DARE YOU tell my daughter she isn't any good!"

"Ma'am, I didn't tell her-"

"After all the money we have spent on lessons and coaches, who all tell us Maybelle is THE MOST TALENTED child they have EVER SEEN, one of them says she will be in the MOVIES, we have an AUDITION, how dare you-"

"Ma'am," I interrupted (yes, I interrupted!), "I never said Maybelle didn't do well. She did fine."

"I understand," Mrs. Pantorum said, now opting for the quiet-patient tone, "that you feel you have to give those people opportunities, but don't think you're doing her a favor, in the real world she'll be against real talents like my Maybelle-"

And I lost it. In my own, quiet way, I lost it.

"Ma'am," I said, "I did not give the part to Shayla to 'give' her anything. She was better. Maybelle was fine, but Shayla was better. If you want her to be an actress in the 'real world', you should teach her how to take rejection, because she's going to get a lot of it." (I know! I can't believe I said it, either!)

The story had two endings, one good, one bad. Each ending took place after Mrs. Pantorum went to the principal and demanded I be fired, and he had a sincere and hearty laugh with me over the incident. (The first time someone demanded I be fired!)

Good ending: A few months later, Maybelle went to try out for cheerleader. Mrs. Pantorum came to all of the "closed practices" (and stayed, despite being asked to leave), criticized the sponsors, openly talked about how much would change once "her Maybelle" was on the squad, etc.

Maybelle did not make cheerleader. Mrs. Pantorum was openly told it was due to Mrs. Pantorum's inability to follow the rules. The sponsor said, "I wouldn't mind working with your daughter, but I'll never work with you." The result of that statement was a firing: Mrs. Pantorum was asked to leave and not return to school except by special permission of the principal.

Bad ending: A few days after my conversation with Mrs. Pantorum, Shayla disappeared. She was always in trouble with someone; she never did anything, but her brothers were notorious troublemakers and Shayla got a lot of fallout. Maybe her parents home schooled her; maybe they moved. I called, but got no answer.

Maybelle ended up playing the role after all. She did fine.

But I have always known Shayla would have been better.