I've been watching how writers are treated in the world around me. How they are portrayed in books, movies, the news, tv shows, etc, etc, et cetera. And here are two things that stand out to me the most: (1) they often have a big choice to make when choosing the material to write about (i.e. keep a friend or dish all and lose friend forever) and (2) they expose themselves and are reduced to the most vulnerable state we know of. Oh, and to be a great writer, you must be male, unshaven, tortured, skirt-chasing, imbibe in all vices and make a mockery of everyone and everything around you. Is that about on-par with what you see in the media? At least in movies and some tv shows, these great, prolific (if not 'fringe' dwelling) writers are stereotyped into this narrow, gender-specific category. At least, that's what I'm seeing. But then again, I also think that you will always see what you're looking for. (Not find what you're looking for, just see what you're looking for. A distinct difference.)
Switching gears, I think I'll confess to a guilty pleasure of mine.... NPR!! National Public Radio is knocking my socks off left and right. Every which way I turn it's like boom! BAM ba-da-bing. And I have to admit, I like it. I like it a lot.
The sweet justice of this confession is that I used to DESPISE npr. Like, with a passion boarding on spiteful. My dad would listen to it in the car and I'd get all cranky and be like "uh, if I wanted to listen to people talking on the radio, I'd have a conversation with it, I listen to the radio to listen to music! duuuuuuhhhhhh." Then promptly change it to some station that probably sounded like nails on a chalkboard to my dad but delighted me. My oldest brother would listen to it too and I just thought he was dorky and working on his "know-it-all" skills.
I therefore repent of my sins of ignorance and superficial judging and lay myself down at the mercy of the intellectual powers that be.
If I were a "favorites" type of person, I'd start describing my favorite parts of NPR, but a quick mental scan of the things I listen to divulges no one particular item as my favorite NPR-ism. I just like tuning in and picking up in the middle of these conversations they're having on the radio with intelligent people or people with fascinating histories or perspectives or ideas or theories. I like it when they discuss current affairs and I'm yelling at the radio and then one of the panelists eloquently states what it is that I was shouting at the radio. It makes me feel smart. But all it shows is that I'm paying attention. I suppose in some arenas, paying attention is all the smartness you'll ever need. Or is that in ALL arenas?
I also like listening to the Jesus music station. I think there are more than one in Tallahassee now, but there is only one to me. And I love it! I'm actually okay with it when the DJs talk... because they're actually funny and entertaining and real and honest and unapologetic and totally not frontin'. So it helps that they often (not all the time, but most often) play super music (I wish there was more VARIETY though), and the DJs don't annoy me. The only other station in Tallahassee that has DJs that don't bother me is Hank 99 and that's just because there ISN'T one. So yay for my favorite Jesus music station, keepin' real and not frontin'.
When I was in high school, I begged for a CD player to be installed in my sweet ride (an '84 volvo) because I already suffered from road rage (having to traverse TALLAHASSEE in rush hour traffic to go to torture - oh, uh, school) and the radio and the commericals and bad DJs just intensified a very horrible experience. Plus I didn't have AC for a while. But that wasn't really an issue. I just tried to think about how the sun beating down on my arms and legs was slowly but surely tanning them to a warm, golden complexion. And now, I never listen to the CD player (true, it is in the trunk...).
It's odd how the things we hate the most become a favorite staple of the ride to French class or work. It's interesting how a favorite past-time can become the most loathed activity under the sun. Is it normal for such things to pull 180's? Do they come full circle and return to where they started? Does the circle keep spinning 'round so that one day you love rummikub and the next day you hate it? And so forth and so on?
Oh, the mysteries of the world. They taunt us and expose our limited understanding.
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