Cell-Schmell 07/15/2007

I have a Love-Hate relationship with cell phones. I enjoy their portability. I like that we really don't need a home phone any longer. I like that you can "take" your number with you if you switch carriers. I especially like cell phone carriers vying for my business by giving me great offers.

My dislikes are as follows:

• People who drive 40 in a 55 zone because they are not paying attention. They have their arm up to their ear and are jabbering at 55 mph. Too bad their foot can't keep up with their mouth. And why don't they have a Blue Tooth or even a cord from their phone to their ear? Why are they doing the one-handed drive?

• Being called while I am driving is also another dislike, especially when the caller knows I am driving. Don't call to say "Whatcha doing?" I'm baking a cake. I'M DRIVING!! At least I have an ear piece in use and both hands on the wheel.

• People who leave them on in movie theaters, libraries, restaurants, etc.

• Getting calls for "Gilberto Gonzalez" for two and a half years. The fact that two and a half years have gone by and I am still getting his calls is upsetting. Even worse, half of Gilberto's calls are from Sprint, his "wireless service provider." (Automated Machine Mangling His Name:) "Gelburto GONzalez, please hold for an important announcement from your cell phone carrier, Sprint". Dear Sprint: You are stupid. How do you not even know that this cell phone number is no longer Gilberto's? How do you not know that you don't even own this number, as I use T-Mobile? I have told them at least 4 times to stop calling. It has not worked.

Yea, so. Love them and hate them.

Memoirs of a Geisha - 07/08/2007

I never had any intention of reading Arthur Golden's book, "Memoirs of a Geisha." The idea of it in my mind was dullness, ritual, ancient yada yada, and it did not strike me as anything I would want to read. Yes, color me ethnocentric.
David rented the movie, or was it me? I can't remember. I just remember thinking the movie was a beautiful piece of work. I was moved by Chiyo's story and Sayuri's final conquest of her dream. A few days later, unbeknown to me, my best friend mailed me her copy of the book.

Normally, I will read the book before I watch the movie. I don't want the director/producer's views to cloud up the images in my mind for me, but in this case, I had no choice.

I find it incredible that this work came not from a Japanese woman, but from an American man. And let me tell you, I am glad he did. It was a terrific read. The movie really did do a good job. Some scenes were cut, for time, some characters changed around (again for time) but all in all, the movie stuck closely to the book. The book gave you more back story and end story, which I was grateful for. I cringed every time Hatsumomo was around. I could barely read the part with Sayuri and the Baron, as I had seen the movie and knew what was coming. I hesitated, aren't I silly? I plowed through that part like someone desperate to save a friend, but I made it. I was saddened by the devastation Pumpkin's betrayal caused Sayuri, but really, it was Pumpkin's betrayal that brought about Sayuri's happy ending. I was seeing the life of a Geisha in a new light; not a prostitute as many Westerner's think, but as an artist. They are like slave's to their art, but once they know this life, it is what they want for themselves. A beautiful, harsh existence of fine detail. Arthur Golden's prose is...soothing to the mind; does that make sense? I felt lulled by the beauty (not in a"boring" way, either). I enjoyed the ritual, the ancient, the yada yada and my mind is still entranced by it.

Soul Purpose - 07/05/2007

Reading "The Color of Water" really got me thinking about my own life and where I came from. A few weeks ago, I took a box of paperwork to work to shred. Papers from at least 12 years ago or more. Receipts, accounts, my past life. As I am shredding these papers, I feel myself tensing & I could understand why. No disrespect to my ex and especially my ex's family; I am not here to ex-bash. This is about me (isn't is always?) :) I was shredding bad debts, bankruptcy, my old life that I cannot even recognize, and was remembering. It was such a weird feeling.

I wish I could impart my knowledge to some younger people I know. Don't marry young. (They do). Don't have kids until you get your degree (they do anyway and drop school). Don't charge things and live beyond your means (they do). And they're drowning. I wish I could help...but we all have to make our own mistakes and grow from them. I married young, at 21, thinking someone would take care of me, and years later, I realized I was doing all the taking care of. I had nothing financially other than the hand-to-mouth paychecks I was getting. I left. I got a small apartment for my son & I. We lived on mac and cheese and sandwiches for a while (I never learned to cook and never had to during my marriage; he's still a superb cook). Poor Jacob and the tasteless meals he endured. We lived without cable for 2 years. We had no cell phone. I made my rent, my car and always made the payments for Jacob's prepaid college plan. Who needs cable anyway?

I had a good job, though, and a boss who believed in my talents. He promoted me and gave me excellent raises. Then in 2000, I bought my first home, by myself. I was 29, a single mom and a homeowner. I was ecstatic. I was SO proud of me. Some time last year, when looking at the new home we purchased, David's mom and grandma asked me if my new larger home was like a dream come true. I honestly replied "No. Buying my little blue house was my dream come true. This is on a whole different level."

I spent 6 happy years in the "blue house." My car was paid for, my son's college was paid for, I had investments. What? True. Me. Investments. I learned to cook just a little, met David, we married, had Isabel, and little blue house got very crowded.

Here I am now in my "beyond-dream" home. I remember being told by my ex "One day we'll have a house," and I waited and waited for it to happen. It never did; it wasn't given to me. I had to work my butt off to get it for myself. Now, I've owned two, sharing this one with my goofy husband.

As I shred those papers, my chest constricted, remembering the past. But this past and God made me stronger than I could ever imagine.

The Color of Water - 07/03/2007

"The Color of Water: A Black Man's Tribute to His White Mother," by James McBride.

This was one of the nine books given to me by Aunt Joan. I was actually in the middle of reading "Memoirs of a Geisha," but left it at work one day and was wanting to read something in the evening. As you know, I tend to read two or three books at a time, so picking up another book is not a big deal to me.

What a great life story; both his and his mother's. This is the true story of a black man, one of 12 children born to Ruth. As a child, James struggles to understand his mother. Why is she so different from the other mothers in his neighborhood, in looks and demeanor? Why is she so strict, so reserved and guarded? Why must the family be its own microcosm? Why does she not answer questions on who she is and where she came from? When he asked her if he was white or black, she'd answer that he was a human being. When he asked her what color God was, her reply was "God is the color of water."

She was tough. She was proud. She was totally contradictory - making fun of those "crazy white people" as she read the newspaper and then admonishing her children to not get involved in the rights movement. This woman put 12 children through college; all 12. Education and knowledge were the number one priority in her life and she made that a priority in her kids' lives. It wasn't all peachy and roses. Imagine being a white woman with 12 black kids in the late 50's through the early 70's? Not accepted by either race; not "fitting" anywhere. This is why she was so protective.

When James stated that he wanted to write a book about her life, it took James 14 years to wheedle out the information from his mother. A white woman. A Polish woman. A Jewish woman. A woman who grew up with a sexually abusive Rabbi father, a lovely but crippled mother, an older brother and a younger sister, all terrified of their father. They bought a store in a black neighborhood and becamse wealthy fleecing the blacks in town. They were shunned by the other Jews for selling to blacks and gentiles. Day and night was work work work for Ruth, born Raichel Shilsky. The story of her escape from this life to New York, her meeting her first black husband with whom she founded a Christian church and raised 8 children before his death, marrying another black man who took on those 8 kids and gave her 4 more, always treating her with respect before his death, and her struggle as a single-mother is an inspiring one. I could never even begin to imagine what she went through. Never. I'm Puerto Rican, married to a white American man and living in the year 2007. Not even a blip on the radar to the world. But back in the 50's when she married? Could you imagine the fear? The doubts? and the love she and Andrew McBride shared to be that strong?

James McBride does a terrific job of expressing his feelings of being lost; adrift. Not knowing who he was. Yes, it sounds cliche' to want to "find oneself," but in McBride's case, it was true. The research and the writing of this story must have been such a cathartic one for him. To understand that he is so many things- he's black, he's white, he's Jewish, and yet never fully any of those. Ruth could never understand his need for all this information, but went along with is finally, because everyone in her former life was either dead or in Florida. :) We're just human beings, right? What a woman.