12.22.2007

Diagnosis: Bodygitis

I am kind of a lazy hypochondriac. This means that I imagine that I have all kinds of awful ailments, but am too lazy to be proactive about going to a doctor or finding the source of said illness. And being of the dramatic ilk, my diseases are always fairly major, life-changing ones. My most recent ailment: Meningitis. At least, it started out as meningitis - mostly because my neck was really stiff, and I had a headache. A headache, which I, of course, attributed to the excess of fluid my meningitis-covered brain was sloshing around in. However, as the days progressed while I was still able to touch my chin to my chest without any pain, I decided I must have mis-diagnosed myself. I considered legal action for a brief moment, but then once I realized the effort I would have to exert, I changed my mind.

So now I've decided that I have discovered a new strain of meningitis - Bodygitis! Where your entire body hurts! It's the awesomest. I haven't decided how the science of it works yet, but I'll get there. I think it is something to do with the excess fluid in your brain draining to more open areas and pooling - or something.

All I know is, I got it, and it's bad. Or, at least I think it's bad, but I'm not about to make a doctor's appointment so really it's anybody's guess.

12.17.2007

'Tis the - eh, who cares?


I think that I might've become one of those people who is depressed by the holiday season. Which sucks.

I don't know - I have been loving the scent of pine distributed all around the city lately by the onslaught of northern coniferous-dealing gypsies. I enjoy all the little twinkling lights. I was tickled to see that my new neighborhood decorated the streets with old-timey-esque lights and garlands. And yet, overall, I am left feeling fairly "ehn" about the whole thing.

After we had our first semi-significant snow I switched to my Rat Pack Christmas on my iPod, but I only made it through Frank's "Christmas Waltz" and Dino's "Baby It's Cold Outside" before I went back to my Diane Rehm News Round-up podcast.

I am flying back home this week and am honestly very excited to see my family, friends, and pets. One might even think that would be enough to pep me up, but so far - nuffin.

I am going to try to head over to Rockefeller Center before I head home to see if an over-sized bedazzled tree surrounded by mass-capitalism can get the ol' holiday-cheer a-flowin'. At this point, I feel like I might need more of a Christmas miracle. Where's Linus and the gang when you need 'em?

12.12.2007

I Can Even See my Gold-Diving Swimsuit

My roommate and I just finished watching the DVD of "The Secret" which is the latest feng shui-esque way of thinking sweeping the world (and by "world" I mean the rich, lucky, healthy, happy people), and I couldn't be yellier. Out of respect to my neighbors, I stopped yelling when it was finally over, but if I could still be guiltlessly yelling, I would.

My employer loaned me the DVD a little over a week ago telling me that "The Secret" was all about receiving back the energy one puts forth from the universe. (And, by the way, I refuse to provide a link to any information "The Secret" since I will not boost their readership by the - what, how many of there are you? - 2 readers of my blog.) When she told me this, I couldn't really argue with it since, I sort of agree with it in that I do believe that once you begin to look for the positive in the situation, the positive is more apparent. Likewise, of course, with the bad. Much in the same way that once you start to pay attention to yellow cars you suddenly see them all around you. So I reluctantly took the DVD and put off actually watching it since I would then have to return it only to be forced to discuss it with her. However, since she likes to watch bits of it fairly frequently, I had a set amount of time before I had to get it back to her. Expecting it to be pretty bad, my roommate and I armed ourselves with a bottle of wine and popped in dreaded DVD. And now 91 minutes later I am left not even angry as much as disheartened with the human race.

Basically, for those of you who don't know, (or, as I like to refer to you, "the lucky ones"), The Secret is all about how becoming schizophrenic will solve all of your problems. Okay, maybe I am exaggerating a wee bit with the schizophrenia, but it is about how if you actually visualize yourself as a better, healthier, happier, and, most importantly, wealthier person, you will become one.

So the first issue that I take with this is that I am pretty much a person how lives in her head - imagining all sorts of happy, awesome things happening in her life. Therefore, according to The Secret, I should be diving into pools of gold like Scrooge McDuck with hybrid boyfriend Michael Showalter/Joseph Fiennes/Groucho Marx/Disney's Robin Hood telling me how funny I am with my pets, Ralphie, Toula, and an adorable panda bear cub named Inc., by my side. And yet, I am sitting in my tiny room, alone, broke, with cheap wine on my breath. So far, so good, right?

I mean I could almost forgive them the crazy of all of this if it wasn't so obviously based in materialism. There is even a bit in the video of a little boy looking longingly at a picture of a new bike. Of course all he has to do is think and see himself owning the bike long enough before he actually receives it.

Oh! and there is this whole bit about how The Secret works on a time delay - so just in case a couple of good nights of you imagining you spooning with the celeb of your choice doesn't work out, don't worry! It will. . . at some point. Just keep on imagining- sorry, realizing it and buying The Secret merchandise and it will come. For example, we do see the boy mentioned above does eventually get his bike, presented by his grandfather - but I couldn't help thinking it was like that old "Werther's Original" commercial where we see the initial kid's present grandson played by the same actor as the original young boy in the past.

Then, which elicited the most yelling, there is their whole thing about how if you are sick, it is your own fault since you were, obviously thinking unhealthy thoughts. They even go into a story about a woman with breast cancer who cures herself simply by "Secreting" it away. She claims that it was the funny movies that she watched that cured her in three months. Anyone who knows me knows that this is a touchy issue. And anyone who knows my late, beloved grandmother knows that, even in the toughest times, she was never without laughter so I call BULLSHIT!

There is also a whole portion of the 91-minute-long DVD (did I mention that it was 91 minutes long?) where all these rich and successful individuals (including one of the authors of "Chicken Soup for the American Idol Soul") talking about how, clearly, there is more than enough riches/happiness/love to go around, since not everyone wants the same things. For example, in regards to relationships, not everyone "wants the same person." True, but quite a lot of people want to marry Brad Pitt and/or Angelina Jolie and I am pretty sure that polygamy is still illegal or, at the very least, frowned upon in most areas.

There is more that I could say - much more - but I need to start switching gears to how I am going to put some kind of positive spin on my seething hatred for this before I have to discuss it with my boss tomorrow.

Then again, I am going to start visualizing a fat raise, because, I mean, it couldn't all be bullshit. I mean, look how well it worked out for that “Chicken Soup for the Soul” guy.


12.05.2007

Hopefully my 15 Minutes Aren't Up

I recently found out that the "Amanda" featured in a question in The Princeton Review's ACT prep textbook who makes a call to Chicago is actually inspired by ME!! Since I worked for TPR for, like, my entire life, I have had various people ask me about it, but since I am nothing if not insecure, I was sure that it was based on the Amanda* who held the lowly dewey position before me. Luckily for me, however, a good friend recently spent some serious Q.T. with one of the main writers of the manual who informed my friend that the inspiration came from none other than li'l ol' me!

As much as my former job drained the life and soul out of me, and made me fairly depressed, this news somehow made me pretty pumped. I mean, if they aren't going to bother to reimburse me at least most of the money they owe me, the least they can do is make me pseudo-famous, right?

I mean, right? True - they could've put me on a shirt, but I can settle with this.


*Not only was there an Amanda before me at TPR, but when I went away to college my position was taken over by another Amanda Smith who went to the same high school. Ah well. . .