When major sporting days like this occur, I really find myself torn. I was a major tomboy growing up. My two older brothers not only coached my basketball team practically raised me. Sports are a big deal. I even remember my father getting me an early dismissal from grade school to watch Cleveland State in a late-round game of the Final Four. The boys were very jealous. But now as I am trying to live a more mindful life I understand the horrible underbelly of sports like boxing and the Kentucky Derby.
Boxing is a no-brainer. We should be evolved enough to not want to watch two guys punch each other in the face. We should not want to be one of the guys who are punching other guys in the face. And most importantly a guy who punches a guy in the face for a living should not be worth 300 million dollars!
Horse racing is just an abusive of a sport. With a big exception. The horses don't know what the fuck is happening. They didn't sign up for it. They are just trying to outrun the whip. It's not a sport. It's like hitting your neighbor in the back of the head with a golf club, betting on it, and calling it a sport. Plus there are a ton of illegal drugs and losing horses becoming meat. My father always said of horse racing "the jockey wins he gets a million dollars. The horse wins and he gets a bucket of oats."
That being said I'm probably going to glance at the results of both events. But I am not going to give any money to the industry. If you really want to boycott then you can always choose to celebrate World Naked Gardening Day. And yes it is a thing.
Here. Learn something:
http://www.wngd.org/
http://time.com/3843519/manny-pacquiao-and-floyd-mayweather-boycott-boxing-for-good-lipsyte/
http://www.peta.org/blog/see-alarming-peta-kentucky-derby-ad/
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Did you know that there is such a thing as adult coloring books? I did not. And I thought I was so worldly. But tonight at my friends' house a stack of them were plopped on the dining room table after a serving of lovely bean soup.
There were many choices of genres. Fruit, sunbursts, feminist leaders and a very enticing book of stained-glass dragons and wizards provided something for every level of nerd and arrested development. The conversation that followed during the coloring was deep and insightful. Perhaps the magic of not being able to make eye contact coupled with transforming a white page suddenly hot pink and electric blue has the capacity to unlock a special place in the brain. If nothing else my Joan Jett with plaid pants and pink guitar glistened with 80's splendor - a true masterpiece.
"Some time spent with the simple task of adding color to the page and creating something beautiful really seems to appeal to people. There’s also the nostalgia factor. Chances are last time you spent an hour or so coloring in you didn’t have a mortgage and you weren’t worried about a nagging boss or the financial crisis! Coloring in seems to help people think about a time when life was simpler and more carefree."
- Johanna Basford artist/coloring book author
Today I had a great day. I taught a comedy workshop to theatre majors at Richard Stockton University. We have all heard a familiar phrase. "Those who can't - teach." But please allow me to add a new one. "Those who want to be inspired, energized, challenged, questioned and apreciated - teach."
I love any opportunity I have to be in a class room. Especially in a situation like I was in today. These kids wanted to be there. They wanted to learn. They wanted to do well. They were a lot of fun and very talented. Remember being that young and full of that outrageous energy? Ah to be young again.
We played improv games, did a quick writing exercise, and I gave a little lecture. I already got an email from one of the students telling me they learned a lot. Ah instant gratification. I'm staring to like this interweb thingie. Plus what the hell. Any time you get to pretentiously say "I'm teaching a master class at the local university", that's a great flippin' day!
Cooler yet a colleague at the college (how's that for alliteration?) took me out to a working lunch. We discussed grant writing and future collaborations. Plus, after my big day on campus I had dinner with friends where we talked about ideas, politics and volunteer work. Could it be that I am finally a mature adult?
Say it isn't so. But I can already feel my desire for a slurpee and Simpson reruns slipping away.
For the first time in my life I am considering taking a tiny apartment in a high-rise. I grew up in a small house. I have rented varying portions of free-standing homes and owned three single-families. But the only thing close to an apartment building was my college dorm room. It seems like it is a totally different lifestyle. The idea of a concierge, paying for a parking spot and (sigh) pairing down my personal items leaves me a bit anxious.
I read William Power's New Slow City last month. It is a chronicle of his year in a NYC micro apartment. I am slowly getting hooked on a non-hoarder lifestyle. But what to get rid of? My musical equipment takes up a lot of room. My beloved shoes could fill a closet on their own. Seasonal wrapping paper, books, Halloween decor and souvenirs oh my!
On the uptake I could use common areas in this new building to participate in my community. I can get my butt out of the cramped apartment and get to the exercise room or the pool. I could be very, pretentiously simple, and Buddhist, and neat. But I know in my heart that this fragile lifestyle is just a garage sale away from exploding. Help.
I'm sad to see the news from "Charm City" this week. The triangulation of anger is just outrageous to someone like me watching it all on television. So cops mishandle a prisoner causing fatal harm to him. Then hundreds of people who didn't know him personally throw rocks, loot a liquor store, and burn down a CVS. That's like bombing a veterinary office when you don't like your tax bill. I know it's more multifaceted than that. But I do know that you can't say stop treating us like criminals or we will act like criminals! And it is immature to think that would work. "I'll hold my breadth until I get my way." It didn't work when we were two. And it doesn't work now as adults.
I saw a particularly aggravating snippet on Fox News (I know, I was channel surfing.) last night. A roving reporter was being shouted at by a man saying things like "They need to hear us!" So the reporter put the microphone to the rioter's mouth and said "What do you want to say?" The man said nothing for several seconds before stumbling out "I mean... I'm like...you know what I'm sayin'?"
NOTE TO SELF: When you are looting a liquor store because you are not being heard, you better have something to say when a national news source gives you the floor in a live feed. Or else you look kind of silly.
