Is it just me, or does it seem that most of the country have taken a stupid pill? How is it that one of the top "News" items on Google News is the so-called controversy about the latest, almost-famous bimbo known as Miss USA?
I know that my views may brand me as a feminist pig, but honestly, I'm comfortable with that. At least pigs exist in nature, for goodness sake. Miss USA's don't exist in nature; they are freaks of it!!! These plasticized chicks parade around with their perfect, expensive, surgically-enhanced bodies in skin-tight sequined gowns and string bikinis in order to be judged by a panel of C-list celebs and the American viewing public. In order to justify the meatfest, the contest organizers plop in a brief - but often hilarious - Q&A portion of the program to convince us that we aren't just looking at a 3-D version of Playboy magazine. This segment is where we are led to believe that these women not only have unnaturally gorgeous bodies, but also have cerebral superiority and problem-solving skills that would rival anything found on the floor of the United Nations.
What I have gleaned from the multitude of news stories on the web is that the most recently crowned Miss USA from California has gotten a lot of flak for three things (well, really four things): 1) she opposes gay marriage and publicly said so in response to a question posed by the very powerful, openly-gay superblogger Perez Hilton, 2) she modeled for some naughty pics a few years ago, and 3 & 4) she received a new set of knockers purchased by the pageant muckety-mucks. Suddenly, everyone is in a uproar about these serious transgressions committed by the beauty queen. Uhmmm...she's a beauty queen! Who the f@ck is surprised by any of this?
What's even more ridiculous is the number of people calling for her resignation. (Not that I agree with her numbskull comments, including her support of the sanctity of "opposite marriage", whatever the hell that is.) Reality check, folks! Miss USA is nothing more than a marketing device for Donald Trump to make a shitload of money. In case you doubt my premise, I defy to you give me the name of one other previous Miss USA and a corresponding important accomplishment she has done. Yeah, I couldn't think of one either. Yet, everyone is acting as if this role means something! A recent op-ed piece, from FOX News no less, called for The Brainiac from California to resign or be fired because she doesn't represent the "two core brand features" of the pageant (no, it's not the two you are thinking of). Fox's John Tantillo writes, "A Miss USA represents an organization and an ideal and as such any candidate for the job needs to be both a diplomat and a leader." A DIPLOMAT AND A LEADER??? WTF?? I can't think of anything further from the truth. Miss USA is neither a diplomat nor a leader. She's a hot chick with long legs, big titties, a beautiful face, and sparkly teeth. Having a brain is not a requirement, and it is disingenuous in the extreme to give these women the title and responsibility of a diplomat and a leader. Maybe it's time for people to look up those words in a dictionary to understand the huge gulf between their definition and what a Miss USA actually does. (What DOES she do anyway?) Even better, let's revisit one of the most popular YouTube videos to demonstrate the intellectual titans that make up the pool of beauty pageant contestants. Here is the famous clip of Miss South Carolina at the Miss Teen USA 2007 contest. I'm gonna shoot myself in the head if this is what I can expect from our future diplomats and leaders.
Let's be honest about what these neanderthal events really are: they are unseemly, socially-sanctioned opportunities for men to ogle pretty young women and for women to quietly judge them (and themselves even more). Why in God's name, in the year 2009, are we still celebrating these parades of superficiality? Even more distressing, why in God's name is this lame excuse for a news story dominating the airwaves? There are so many more relevant stories that people should be informed of, discuss, and act upon. Things like headless bodies found in Pakistan. Let's get our priorities straight, shall we?
Instead, we get to see the Pimp King, Donald Trump, talk about how the Carrie Prejean controversy is "a good thing". In regards to Miss Prejean's adolescent photo faux-pas, Mister Mushroom Head even said, "I'm going to be looking at these photos" to make sure that they didn't cross his line of good taste. Ewwwww...do you have the same image in your head as I have in mine? Needless to say, it involves crumpled Kleenex.
You may think Donald Trump is a nothing more than a skeezy, rich slimeball. But guess what, folks? That slimeball is laughing at us while he laughs all the way to the bank.
***************************************************************************
For your consideration and/or comment:
What do you think of beauty pageants like the Miss USA contest?
***************************************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to take a peek in the award-winning Opening the Kimono!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
The Art of Downshifting
I am a woman of extremes. Sometimes I find myself on top of a mountain completely disconnected from the modern world and basking in the light of Spirit; other times I fly around my house like a headless chicken, maniacally seeking the never-ending end of the to-do list. I think it's time for me to learn the middle way.
Two weeks ago, I was literally on top of a mountain in Northern California. Many wonderful things transpired for me -- some personal, some communal, some marital, and all spiritual. It was my time to remember who I was: a Divine being worthy of joy and love. I am so grateful for the transformational journey I took, and it's experiences will stay with me always.
So what did I do upon returning from this Zen-like state of absolute bliss?
I stressed out, of course!
First of all, going for more than a week without writing is NOT good for me. I missed my creative outlet and I longed to receive my regular treatments from the King of All Healers, MacDaddy. When I did re-enter my so-called-normal life, I was inundated with the heavy tolls one pays when going out of town: laundry, mail, laundry, putting away stuff, laundry, catching up on email, and laundry. Each day I promised myself that I would sit down to write, and each day I filled it with other tasks deemed "more important" than my creative expression and primary vocation. I had excuse upon excuse that kept me from MacDaddy. My need for literary release became stronger and the gulf between the written word and me became larger.
This morning, I became acutely aware of how I had inadvertently micromanaged my schedule such that writing time was not even considered. I would get up early to make The Bean her breakfast and lunch, go to an appointment, follow up on a proposal, send some important emails, have a working lunch with Michael, update my web site, pick up The Bean from the bus stop and get her hair cut, go to Publix for milk and other necessaries, and finish the day by primping myself for a fancy shindig I will attend later this evening. In my mind, I had accounted for every minute of the day, leaving absolutely no room for one teensy little thing: ME.
Thankfully, a little while ago I forced myself to step away from the computer so I could finally, truly return to it. For the first time since returning from my spiritual retreat, I put on Jai Uttal's "Music For Yoga and Other Joys", did some much-needed movement, and had a fantastic, relaxing, restorative meditation practice. How ridiculous it was to respond to my spiritual retreat by totally ignoring Spirit. Duh. Double Duh.
It was glorious to move my body again! I had grown tired of being one big head, unconsciously flitting from task to task, wishing hoping begging that I could get it all done and knowing that I never would. This afternoon in our meditation room, I did what is foreign to me: I downshifted. I slowed down and allowed my spirit, head, heart, and body to occupy the same space. It was nothing less than Divine.
After only 15 minutes of quiet reflection, my muse returned to me in all her splendor. I knew what I would write about and how I would return to my rightful role as Author, Speaker, and Bringer of the Mojo. I would simply share with you how difficult it is to jump from total release to total responsibility in the blink of an eye. The guilt for having gone away propels us forward and pushes us to accomplish just one more item on the list. Why do we think we don't deserve to slow down, even after a period of rest? Is it some sort of emotional masochism that yells, "You can enjoy your vacation, but you better damn well know you'll pay the price for it when you return!"
That's total bullshit.
I want to live in the groove where it's OK to slow down, even if it is for just 15 minutes a day. I want to give myself permission to write as often as possible. I want to bask in the moment instead of automatically jumping to the next one. I want to remember that I am more than a mom and a wife. In the end, I want to put into practice what I learned on the mountain.
Thank you for waiting for me, dear reader. I know that I have been absent for a while, and I know that it is annoying when you are used to seeing new installments of my Serious Mojo blog on a regular basis. I appreciate your patience and will do my best to deliver the goods from this point forward. We are in a relationship together, you and I. And I am ready to do my part again.
Ahhhh.....it feels SO GOOD to be back.
********************************************************************************
For your consideration and/or comment:
Do you ever go crazy right after vacation?
********************************************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to take a peek inside the award-winning Opening the Kimono!
Two weeks ago, I was literally on top of a mountain in Northern California. Many wonderful things transpired for me -- some personal, some communal, some marital, and all spiritual. It was my time to remember who I was: a Divine being worthy of joy and love. I am so grateful for the transformational journey I took, and it's experiences will stay with me always.
So what did I do upon returning from this Zen-like state of absolute bliss?
I stressed out, of course!
First of all, going for more than a week without writing is NOT good for me. I missed my creative outlet and I longed to receive my regular treatments from the King of All Healers, MacDaddy. When I did re-enter my so-called-normal life, I was inundated with the heavy tolls one pays when going out of town: laundry, mail, laundry, putting away stuff, laundry, catching up on email, and laundry. Each day I promised myself that I would sit down to write, and each day I filled it with other tasks deemed "more important" than my creative expression and primary vocation. I had excuse upon excuse that kept me from MacDaddy. My need for literary release became stronger and the gulf between the written word and me became larger.
This morning, I became acutely aware of how I had inadvertently micromanaged my schedule such that writing time was not even considered. I would get up early to make The Bean her breakfast and lunch, go to an appointment, follow up on a proposal, send some important emails, have a working lunch with Michael, update my web site, pick up The Bean from the bus stop and get her hair cut, go to Publix for milk and other necessaries, and finish the day by primping myself for a fancy shindig I will attend later this evening. In my mind, I had accounted for every minute of the day, leaving absolutely no room for one teensy little thing: ME.
Thankfully, a little while ago I forced myself to step away from the computer so I could finally, truly return to it. For the first time since returning from my spiritual retreat, I put on Jai Uttal's "Music For Yoga and Other Joys", did some much-needed movement, and had a fantastic, relaxing, restorative meditation practice. How ridiculous it was to respond to my spiritual retreat by totally ignoring Spirit. Duh. Double Duh.
It was glorious to move my body again! I had grown tired of being one big head, unconsciously flitting from task to task, wishing hoping begging that I could get it all done and knowing that I never would. This afternoon in our meditation room, I did what is foreign to me: I downshifted. I slowed down and allowed my spirit, head, heart, and body to occupy the same space. It was nothing less than Divine.
After only 15 minutes of quiet reflection, my muse returned to me in all her splendor. I knew what I would write about and how I would return to my rightful role as Author, Speaker, and Bringer of the Mojo. I would simply share with you how difficult it is to jump from total release to total responsibility in the blink of an eye. The guilt for having gone away propels us forward and pushes us to accomplish just one more item on the list. Why do we think we don't deserve to slow down, even after a period of rest? Is it some sort of emotional masochism that yells, "You can enjoy your vacation, but you better damn well know you'll pay the price for it when you return!"
That's total bullshit.
I want to live in the groove where it's OK to slow down, even if it is for just 15 minutes a day. I want to give myself permission to write as often as possible. I want to bask in the moment instead of automatically jumping to the next one. I want to remember that I am more than a mom and a wife. In the end, I want to put into practice what I learned on the mountain.
Thank you for waiting for me, dear reader. I know that I have been absent for a while, and I know that it is annoying when you are used to seeing new installments of my Serious Mojo blog on a regular basis. I appreciate your patience and will do my best to deliver the goods from this point forward. We are in a relationship together, you and I. And I am ready to do my part again.
Ahhhh.....it feels SO GOOD to be back.
********************************************************************************
For your consideration and/or comment:
Do you ever go crazy right after vacation?
********************************************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to take a peek inside the award-winning Opening the Kimono!
Monday, May 11, 2009
My Mother's Day Card
Here is the card my lovely daughter made me for Mother's Day. I love when my second grader uses a benign Hallmark holiday to further her anti-war, feminist agenda. Young Skywalker has learned her lessons well. :)
For those of you who can't decipher the message of a seven year-old who writes in yellow Crayola marker, here is a transcript:
Our moms should be the Presidents of the U.S.A.
Reasons Why.
1. Moms are specail (special)
2. Moms rock the world
3. Moms rule the world
4. Moms would run the world well
5. It would be peaceful
6. Moms would make it a better world
7. Moms would stop war!
For those of you who can't decipher the message of a seven year-old who writes in yellow Crayola marker, here is a transcript:
Our moms should be the Presidents of the U.S.A.
Reasons Why.
1. Moms are specail (special)
2. Moms rock the world
3. Moms rule the world
4. Moms would run the world well
5. It would be peaceful
6. Moms would make it a better world
7. Moms would stop war!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Almost Ready to Blog
I have been on vacation and away from the blogosphere for over two weeks, and I can't figure out how to re-enter.
There is so much to say, yet the words aren't coming to me...yet. My house is a chi nightmare with piles of dirty clothes, hampers of clean ones, stacks of paper, and towers of post-travel clutter. Almost 300 emails awaited me upon my return, and important proposals are in the hopper. Big stuff happened while I was on the mountains of Northern California and Sedona, yet my journey is staying within me, unable to find a public witness.
I want to share with you about my spiritual quest. I want to inspire you with stories of Truth and Beauty. I want to rant and rave about my last two weeks.
But, somehow, I'm not quite ready.
Maybe I need another day to have my house settle down so I can settle in. Or maybe I need to get my much-anticipated bodywork session tomorrow before I dive into the juicy stories. Whatever the case may be, I am not ready to share my West Coast dramas, traumas, fears, hopes, dreams, realizations, anecdotes, or a-has on the keys of MacDaddy. Maybe I never will... I'll have to search inside to see if my stories are meant to stay private or not. I sure hope they want to come out!
However, I want to take baby steps back to you. I thought a perfect way to do so would be to share with you an inspiring video of one of my most talented and adorable teachers, Jonathan Baxter. Bax is the King of the Hoop, and his circular dance with the Divine never ceases to put a smile on my face, a sparkle in my heart and a tingle in my loins. Enjoy!
There is so much to say, yet the words aren't coming to me...yet. My house is a chi nightmare with piles of dirty clothes, hampers of clean ones, stacks of paper, and towers of post-travel clutter. Almost 300 emails awaited me upon my return, and important proposals are in the hopper. Big stuff happened while I was on the mountains of Northern California and Sedona, yet my journey is staying within me, unable to find a public witness.
I want to share with you about my spiritual quest. I want to inspire you with stories of Truth and Beauty. I want to rant and rave about my last two weeks.
But, somehow, I'm not quite ready.
Maybe I need another day to have my house settle down so I can settle in. Or maybe I need to get my much-anticipated bodywork session tomorrow before I dive into the juicy stories. Whatever the case may be, I am not ready to share my West Coast dramas, traumas, fears, hopes, dreams, realizations, anecdotes, or a-has on the keys of MacDaddy. Maybe I never will... I'll have to search inside to see if my stories are meant to stay private or not. I sure hope they want to come out!
However, I want to take baby steps back to you. I thought a perfect way to do so would be to share with you an inspiring video of one of my most talented and adorable teachers, Jonathan Baxter. Bax is the King of the Hoop, and his circular dance with the Divine never ceases to put a smile on my face, a sparkle in my heart and a tingle in my loins. Enjoy!
Monday, April 20, 2009
The Importance of U and I
Kids never miss anything their parents say. Just ask my trucker-mouth hubby.
Ever since the birth of our daughter seven years ago, Michael and I have been very careful about the language we use around her. The only 'bad words' we sometimes used in her presence were hate, idiot, and stupid. In fact, my daughter was unable to recognize true dirty words for years because she never heard them. I recall one occasion in the car when someone cut me off and almost caused an accident. I yelled, "I fucking HATE when people do that shit!" My daughter gasped in her car seat and cried, "Mama! You said a bad word! You said HATE!" Whew! That was a close one. Despite that terrible (yet totally forgivable) slip-up, our word choices around the wee one have been decidedly PG rated.
However, after seven years, our attitude on semantics has gotten a little lax, and shit happens. So does fuck.
Those two popular expletives are the favorites of both my husband and I when the appropriate situation arises. Whereas in the past we have been cautious about dropping the F-bomb around the child, we have been caught blurting it out more often than we care to admit. Recently, my husband let a few of them rip when he discovered a large scratch on his precious Passat and when his computer crashed just as he desperately needed it for a big work project. My outbursts are usually related to spills on clothes, computer mishaps, and traffic dramas.
Imagine my husband's embarrassment yesterday when our cherub asked him in her sweetest Cindy-Lou Who voice, "Daddy, why have you been saying fuck and shit lately?"
To his credit, Daddy fessed up to his crimes without giving some weak-ass excuse like "Because I'm the adult, that's why!" He simply apologized for his poor choices and thanked Emma for lovingly bringing it to his attention. When he relayed the story to me later, we both agreed that part of Emma's desire to ask her daddy about his slips of the tongue was to be given the opportunity to say fuck and shit without getting into trouble. Smart kid. I don't blame her; I would have done the same thing when I was her age.
I, on the other hand, rarely say those foul words. When something swear word-worthy happens, I either do a weird Yosemite Sam rant ("Rassafrassindabnaggitriggidnutter!") or simply say the naughties WITHOUT including vowels. I growl, "Fcckkkkk!" or "Shhhtttttt!" I have convinced myself that my vowel-free profanity is totally acceptable. Without the U and I, I am free and clear to say exactly what I want without being labeled as a foul-mouthed, bad mommy, right?
I mean, there's no WAY my daughter would figure out what I really meant to say.
(Such is the rationalization of a deluded, imperfect, yet totally human mom.)
**************************************************************
For your consideration and/or comment:
Have you ever let a doozie slip in front of the little ones?
**************************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to read an excerpt from my book, Opening the Kimono!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ever since the birth of our daughter seven years ago, Michael and I have been very careful about the language we use around her. The only 'bad words' we sometimes used in her presence were hate, idiot, and stupid. In fact, my daughter was unable to recognize true dirty words for years because she never heard them. I recall one occasion in the car when someone cut me off and almost caused an accident. I yelled, "I fucking HATE when people do that shit!" My daughter gasped in her car seat and cried, "Mama! You said a bad word! You said HATE!" Whew! That was a close one. Despite that terrible (yet totally forgivable) slip-up, our word choices around the wee one have been decidedly PG rated.
However, after seven years, our attitude on semantics has gotten a little lax, and shit happens. So does fuck.
Those two popular expletives are the favorites of both my husband and I when the appropriate situation arises. Whereas in the past we have been cautious about dropping the F-bomb around the child, we have been caught blurting it out more often than we care to admit. Recently, my husband let a few of them rip when he discovered a large scratch on his precious Passat and when his computer crashed just as he desperately needed it for a big work project. My outbursts are usually related to spills on clothes, computer mishaps, and traffic dramas.
Imagine my husband's embarrassment yesterday when our cherub asked him in her sweetest Cindy-Lou Who voice, "Daddy, why have you been saying fuck and shit lately?"
To his credit, Daddy fessed up to his crimes without giving some weak-ass excuse like "Because I'm the adult, that's why!" He simply apologized for his poor choices and thanked Emma for lovingly bringing it to his attention. When he relayed the story to me later, we both agreed that part of Emma's desire to ask her daddy about his slips of the tongue was to be given the opportunity to say fuck and shit without getting into trouble. Smart kid. I don't blame her; I would have done the same thing when I was her age.
I, on the other hand, rarely say those foul words. When something swear word-worthy happens, I either do a weird Yosemite Sam rant ("Rassafrassindabnaggitriggidnutter!") or simply say the naughties WITHOUT including vowels. I growl, "Fcckkkkk!" or "Shhhtttttt!" I have convinced myself that my vowel-free profanity is totally acceptable. Without the U and I, I am free and clear to say exactly what I want without being labeled as a foul-mouthed, bad mommy, right?
I mean, there's no WAY my daughter would figure out what I really meant to say.
(Such is the rationalization of a deluded, imperfect, yet totally human mom.)
**************************************************************
For your consideration and/or comment:
Have you ever let a doozie slip in front of the little ones?
**************************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to read an excerpt from my book, Opening the Kimono!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Friday, April 17, 2009
Restoring My Faith
Just when my cynicism and raging PMS hormones are threatening to consume me, I stumble upon three YouTube viral vids that put a smile on my face and a spring in my step. It's amazing how a few minutes of video can restore one's faith in the beauty and magic of the human condition. I'm sure you've seen these before; I think we all deserve to see them one more time.
Enjoy, and make it a great day!!
Susan Boyle's Performance on Britain's Got Talent
Enjoy, and make it a great day!!
Susan Boyle's Performance on Britain's Got Talent
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Let It Flo!
I am going on a much-needed retreat and vacation with hubby starting next Friday, and there is only one thing on my mind right now: my friggin' period.
In order for me to properly participate in both activities, both on a spiritual and carnal level, I want to be menses-free. Historically, my monthly visitor Flo always seems to arrive at the most inopportune times; therefore, this week I am endeavoring to nudge her along so she'll be gone by the time I step on the first of many Delta airplanes.
Ever since I stopped taking The Pill, Flo's ETA is a crap-shoot. The near-absence of sugar and caffeine in my diet has made her stay a little more bearable, but it has not done much to predict her whereabouts. Two of the consistent indicators of her impending arrival are sore boobies and a bad f#@king attitude. I can attest to having both. (If you read my scathing rantblog yesterday called "Don't Let the Nutters Win", I'm sure you have an inkling of my mood du jour.)
I've been shown the two unpleasant warning signs; now it's time for me to kick it into high gear. Here are a few proactive steps I have taken to start riding the red pony...
1. I'm wearing white panties underneath white pants. This is the surest way I know of to taunt the menstruation goddesses into action.
2. I emptied the bathroom garbage. Only then will it be ready to receive the pile of nastiness associated with copious used plugs and pads.
3. Speaking of products, I've moved all applicable sundries into the bathroom staging area. There are tampons of all sizes (junior, regular, super, superplus, and twin mattress), pads (supermaxiovernightican'tbelieveyouneedthatmuchprotectionwhileyou'reasleep), and the cute little pantyliners for the final, is-it-over-maybe-i-don't-think-so-not-yet day.
4. I scheduled a really huge TV interview for tomorrow. Having mere stage jitters is for pussies; I want to have a full-blown, nauseous cramp-fest in order to make the moment as memorable as possible.
There it is. I'm stepping into the driver's seat so I can have unrestricted time with Spirit on a mountaintop followed by unrestrained nookie with the Spousal Unit.
I'm ready for ya, Flo.
Your move...
********************************************************
For your comment and/or consideration:
What are the signals that Flo is about to arrive at your house?
********************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to read a chapter of Opening the Kimono!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
In order for me to properly participate in both activities, both on a spiritual and carnal level, I want to be menses-free. Historically, my monthly visitor Flo always seems to arrive at the most inopportune times; therefore, this week I am endeavoring to nudge her along so she'll be gone by the time I step on the first of many Delta airplanes.
Ever since I stopped taking The Pill, Flo's ETA is a crap-shoot. The near-absence of sugar and caffeine in my diet has made her stay a little more bearable, but it has not done much to predict her whereabouts. Two of the consistent indicators of her impending arrival are sore boobies and a bad f#@king attitude. I can attest to having both. (If you read my scathing rantblog yesterday called "Don't Let the Nutters Win", I'm sure you have an inkling of my mood du jour.)
I've been shown the two unpleasant warning signs; now it's time for me to kick it into high gear. Here are a few proactive steps I have taken to start riding the red pony...
1. I'm wearing white panties underneath white pants. This is the surest way I know of to taunt the menstruation goddesses into action.
2. I emptied the bathroom garbage. Only then will it be ready to receive the pile of nastiness associated with copious used plugs and pads.
3. Speaking of products, I've moved all applicable sundries into the bathroom staging area. There are tampons of all sizes (junior, regular, super, superplus, and twin mattress), pads (supermaxiovernightican'tbelieveyouneedthatmuchprotectionwhileyou'reasleep), and the cute little pantyliners for the final, is-it-over-maybe-i-don't-think-so-not-yet day.
4. I scheduled a really huge TV interview for tomorrow. Having mere stage jitters is for pussies; I want to have a full-blown, nauseous cramp-fest in order to make the moment as memorable as possible.
There it is. I'm stepping into the driver's seat so I can have unrestricted time with Spirit on a mountaintop followed by unrestrained nookie with the Spousal Unit.
I'm ready for ya, Flo.
Your move...
********************************************************
For your comment and/or consideration:
What are the signals that Flo is about to arrive at your house?
********************************************************
Visit www.TheresaRose.net to read a chapter of Opening the Kimono!-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
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