New Year things and stuff

I remember thinking about 1999 with wonder as a kid. Would cars really be flying and pot roasts cook themselves? Could my closet pick my outfit for me based on my mood and the weather? Would I be able to plug my brain into a machine that would teach me stuff without having to study? COULD I GO TO SPACE??

Yeah, super bummer. Absolutely none of those things happened by 1999. So here we are, 2018. Our president is terrifying, but hey, at least the stock market is good, am I right? There are self-driving cars out there, but I hear rumor that they crash. A lot. And they're not even close to flying. My friends are all shouting about some game-changing pot that can make a roast in a few minutes, so that's dope. But my closet still stares back at me, blankly, matching my clueless blank stare into it, and I am no closer to being able to choose an outfit. I still have to study study study. I'm also NOT IN SPACE YET. Hrrmph.

Speaking of high tech developments, when the hell are we gonna get light bulbs that last forever? And are smart enough to use the wattage necessary for the fixture they're in so we don't have to choose? I get so sad when a bulb dies. And it never dies along with its friends, they like to space their death out even if they started life together. IT'S A CONSPIRACY.

Okay, enough bitching, because if I'm gonna be honest about it, high tech stuff is somewhat daunting to me. I have a car that can start itself if I push a button, for example. Although I love getting into a warm car when it's cold as a zombie's bra out there, I can't really enjoy it that much because I pretty much can't believe it's happening. The car flashes its lights at me to let me know it has turned on, but I still have to go outside and actually hear it for myself. And then I keep checking it. And checking it. Is it still running? What is this magic? Is it okay out there? Is it wondering where I am? I make so many trips to hang out the door and check in the cold ass air that I'm totally defeating the purpose, but I can't help myself.

Hot spots? Don't get it. Voice commands? I'm too shouty and scare it into failure. But again, I can't seem to believe that my normal speaking voice will suffice. I'm like those Americans who raise their voices at non-English-speaking people as if that will make them understand the language better. Siri, Contana, Alexa, doesn't matter. The bitches hate me and probably talk about me behind my back in their phantom voice lady dive bar. I own things, like this very website, that have capabilities I will never utilize because that would require someone else's brain. Mine is all like, "Oooo, pretty colors! Funny GIF! Press save!" My mother has described me as a "power user" in the past, which I take it to mean I get what I want out of tech stuff and move the hell on. And go back to coloring.

This year promises to be a very interesting one for the ol' redhead, and I'm ready for it. Luckily, there will be plenty to write about. Just hope King Cheeto doesn't press any big red buttons.

Nostalgia keeps taking over

It's probably a symptom of aging combined with a fear of my memory becoming increasingly crappy, but I find myself lost in nostalgia a lot these days. I'm sure it's also a symptom of a tired brain seeking shelter in pleasant thoughts of my choosing rather than school-related topics. Music always can take me deep into nostalgia, as can photographs or old letters. I'm grateful for all of the amazing people I've had and have in my life, and for the experiences I've been gifted with over the years. But today, my nostalgia was focused on one of my truest and most reliable friends growing up. The TV.

Although we kids of the 70s and 80s went outside and played a lot, like most kids with two working parents, I watched A LOT of TV. When I was little, there was no cable, not even VCRs yet, so network TV and PBS were about it. And it all began with Sesame Street, of course, which in the 70s was a pretty small cast of characters compared to now. Thankfully, no Elmo, but lots of Oscar, Kermit, and Big Bird. The Electric Company was also on, but I wasn't that in to it. I watched Captain Kangaroo even though it skeeved me out a little (don't know why), and Mister Rogers, but didn't like any of them as much as Sesame Street. As an adult I had the privilege of working with a Sesame Street muppet for a live stage production at the Kennedy Center, and it was magical to get to see how it all worked from behind the scenes. The 4-year-old in me lost her shit, pretty much. But what really did it for very small Alli, and still never gets old for grown Alli, is the amazing Looney Tunes cartoons. 

Hanna Barbera and Disney tried, but I just wanted to see Looney Tunes all day, every day. And the older, the better. To this day, the WW2-era cartoons can still make me laugh out loud, Mel Blanc was such a crazy person and just straight awe-inspiring with those voices. Never much of a Pepe Le Pew or Foghorn Leghorn fan. I was Bugs all the way, or Daffy pre-60s, which is when he stopped being the funniest and looniest and just became Bugs' bitch. And the music was really the thing. Carl Stalling and his orchestra, oh my god. I was introduced to opera and classical music by these cartoons, and when I was just starting out in opera, about to work on a production I had never heard of called Tannhauser, imagine my delight when I found out I knew its main theme, and knew it well. Thanks, Bugs, for "What's Opera, Doc?"! That's enough about cartoons. You know what I was seriously obsessed with?

No, Jan. The Brady Bunch! It was on so much, like 4 times a day or something. I saw every groovy episode more times than I could probably count at that age. I would sit and roll my eyes while Grams watched her "stories", waiting for that magical Brady hour to arrive, secretly hoping it would be a musical episode. Because come on! Everybody's smiling! Everybody's laughing! Everybody seems so happy todaaaaayyyyy! As I got a little older, my tastes became more sophisticated, though. 

All in the Family came on the air in 1971, the year I was born, so it was a while before it was on my radar. But Archie Bunker was pretty much my Gramps and my uncle Merv wrapped into one hilarious body, and although I enjoyed it through a child's eyes, I never had a clue then what the show's impact was on America. If I ever have the treat of seeing an episode now, it still has the same impact, because this country still has the same issues and the same kinds of people, amazingly. One of my favorite memories was constantly and randomly singing the theme song with Merv at the top of our lungs, both doing perfect Edith and Archie impressions. Those were the daaaayyyyys!

And to say I spent a ton of time pretending to have super powers or that I was bionic is an understatement. 

The 70s TV was super great and all, and gave this kid plenty to imagine, but the 80s took the crown in every way as far as impactful memories. And with the coming of the 80s, cable TV started to emerge, first just HBO and Cinemax and porn, then more and more, like CNN and TBS. And the single greatest thing of my young life in terms of TV happened in August of 1981 when I was 10 years old.

We didn't have cable yet, but my neighbors did! And I'm sure their parents just loved all of us hanging out in their living room as much as possible to watch MUSIC VIDEOS, which is what MUSIC TELEVISION used to be. It was never enough, no matter how much I watched. I had always been drawn to anything musical, Broadway shows Grams took me to, Solid Gold and Sha Na Na on TV, whatever I just get my eyes and ears on. But this was next level obsession, and it expanded my tastes and imagination to no end. It was uncharted territory for these artists, and their videos were ridiculous and over-the-top, or straight-up raunchy, or even just a view of concerts I was never allowed to see at that age. It was the stuff pre-teen dreams were made of. 

I could write another blog just on my 80s television habits, but I won't. There was just too much good stuff. The A-Team, Knight Rider, Dallas, Cheers, Night Court, Moonlighting, The Facts of Life, The Love Boat.....man, we had it good. I hope I read this blog when I'm 80 and tell my robot Dante to project some of this stuff on my 12-foot TV for me on heavy rotation. So I never forget. :-)

Hey girl, why so quiet?

I AM SO BUSY!!!! I had the lofty goal of writing at least twice a week on this here pageroo when I started this site, and that. Is. HILARIOUS. Add full-time school to a full-time job and add a smidge of a social life, and the available minutes fly away into the air like pollen in the fall. I think about things to write about all the time, but haven't become thoughtful enough to jot a note or something to remind my old ass later, and POOF. Gone. And as I sit here typing, I have no dang idea what I want to write about. Hmmmmm.

Halloween just happened. I actually made it out the Saturday before in a fairly elaborate get-up. I was smitten with a purple wig, which evolved into a very purple ensemble, so I decided I was Mrs. Grimace. Post-divorce. 

Rant purplely, right? Super fun to get away from gingerdom sometimes, it's such a huge part of my identity. I did not revisit this look on Halloween itself, but instead chose an easy, funny thing I could throw on after work. No trick-or-treaters at my place EVER, so it was beers with buddies instead.

(God, I'm boring myself right now.)

The funny thing about Halloween to me is how people act when they are dressed as someone or something else. Some take it as an excuse to tart it up and get super slutty, and good for them. But I gotta wonder, why save it for that one day? I've said it before, but hell, let your slut flag fly! It's obviously enjoyable to let it all hang out, and there are 364 other days to embrace your inner ho-bag! Others go super dark, which is fine unless a lot of alcohol is involved. Or too much sugar. Hey buddy, that tin foil butcher knife is a little too close to my Guinness, step the hell back. Others just take the day as an excuse for bad behavior in general. One of my friends got uncomfortably flirty with me with his girlfriend across the same room, for example. STAHP. Your costume doesn't make you resistant to consequences, unfortunately. 

It is super fun to see highly clever costumes. People put SO much time, thought, money, and effort into this day. I have had some amazing costumes in my day, but I can't take credit for them. My mommy made them. :)

So what if I was only 6, Lynda Carter woulda been proud! 

I'm glad it's over, the amount of candy in my life lately is concerning. And now that I've bored you (and myself) sufficiently, I'm gonna go watch the last episode of Stranger Things 2. And I promise not to write again until I have something to write about!

Nighty night.

Daydreaming nerd

In February I started taking my cardiovascular health more seriously (because OLD and FAT), and started running and doing high-intensity workouts on a regular basis. (Ironically, I had my first serious cardiovascular scare last month, which is part of the reason I've been so quiet lately. Girlfriend has been STRESSED. I am totally fine, nothing serious happened. Had something called a pericardial effusion, water on the heart, which was causing me a lot of pain and discomfort, likely caused by an idiopathic infection called pericarditis. I ended up in the ER one day because I thought I was maybe having a heart attack. It was found on CT and completely cleared up by a course of steroids, and I've had alllll the tests and officially have a super healthy ticker. YAY!) Anyway, I know lots and lots and LOTS of people claim to enjoy running, but I think they *might* be lying. There are certainly aspects of it I enjoy, like the solitude and meeting and exceeding goals and stuff, but generally I find it mind-numbingly boring. I listen to different podcasts or whatever to try and spice it up, and plan different routes and locations, but naawww. Still bored. So I frequently turn to the old stand-by workout of choice in this house, the kitchen dance party with the boom-cracking water-proof ear buds on the "make 'em bleed" setting. 

I have carefully cultivated several workout playlists that are all about 45 minutes long, and dancing to these playlists is so fun that I can never believe it when the time is up. Like, I SMILE the whole time. I can't do this when running because I have to run on the beat which is crazy-making and I probably would look like a crazy person with that giant grin on my face. But in the privacy of my big kitchen, I can be as absolutely stupid-looking as I want, y'all. And I am. Because fuck it. 

Music typically has two effects on me. It either captures me in its structure, captivating me with its layers and movement and emotion, and I can think of nothing else while it plays, OR it's something I'm so familiar with that it just feels like an internal drive that moves my limbs and lets my brain wander. The latter is the kind of music I workout to, because I have the most awesome daydreams while I do it. As a kid, I would listen to music over and over, constructing elaborate daydreams around it, whether I was on stage somewhere (my parents' coffee table, ha) performing the role of Annie (of course), or was a Solid Gold dancer/choreographer, or a in my own music video or something. It would entertain me for hours. I have not outgrown this at all, it seems. With this morning's dance party, I was dancing on stage with the Sex Pistols, I was Belinda Carlyle with a neon off-shoulder sweatshirt on, and I was the instructor of a dance party workout class for bored 40-somethings called Put on Your Dance Pants. That last one is recurrent, because with all of the Zumba-type workout class crazes out there, wouldn't there be a market for people like me who still want to dance til their faces hurt to Fugazi or Talk Talk? I mean, I'd love a "class" that felt more like a party and had no judgement or real form to it, made me smile and laugh the whole time, and maybe ended with a cold beer. I'm probably not alone.

Daydreaming, especially in a world where reality is a cold, hard bitch that makes me cry for humanity on a far too regular basis lately, is such a gift. Coupled with exercise, it might be the best stress-reliever there is, and feeling like a dumb kid again whenever I can is DA BEST.

Dream a little Lottery dream

Everyone is going nutso over the Powerball lately, and why not? The current jackpot is $700 million, which is apparently a $443.3 million dollar payout. I'm not a lottery player usually, and I only play the occasional penny slot machine if I happen to be around them, but the tag line to the old California Lottery commercials I saw when I was a kid keeps repeating in my head -- YOU CAN'T WIN IF YOU DON'T PLAY! So I went and bought 10 tickets, which is $20, so big whoop if I lose. WHICH I WILL, I know that with every fiber of my being. In fact, I looked it up, and a person has a 1 in 292,201,338 chance of winning the jackpot. Gotta love those odds! But I find it fascinating how having these tickets in my possession makes the imagination run wild, how the logical mind can have a firm grasp of the fact that I just wasted $20 on an impossible dream, and yet still the illogical mind can take over and dream about what would happen to my life and the lives of those around me if I did win. What would you do with that kind of money dropped in your lap?

First of all, it would probably suck in myriad ways. You would probably have to go into hiding or change your name or both. Everyone you know would treat you differently, and people you don't know would want things from you. I have never sought fame, and I can't think of a worse way to gain it, because of the headache of dealing with the greedy. The needy, on the other hand, would be the hardest part for me. It would be amazing to really be able to make an impact in a way that benefits a great number of people, instead of the paltry annual contributions to public radio and the ACLU and the like that I am currently capable of affording. But how would you choose? How would you determine who or what organization is the most "worthy" of your generosity? And do you make huge, one-time contributions, or become an annual donor? I think I would start a foundation in order to award grants, which might be the most fair way to make these decisions - with a board of intelligent, thoughtful people. See? It's crazy that I'm thinking about these things, but it's fun, so whatever. I do what I want!

I also think about working. Would I stay at my job? If you do something you love, would you still quit just because you no longer need the income, or do you stay and deal with all of the attention, which would detract from the work you're trying to do anyway? That's a real doozy. Most of us have worked hard to get where we are, getting through school and moving up the ladder, trying to make something of ourselves in our industry of choice, so do you just leave all of that behind? I think it would be amazing to be able to volunteer exclusively, still contributing, but not requiring payment. But again, how do you decide where you would volunteer, where your impact would be the greatest? And would you be safe to even go outside?

Since I don't have cable and rarely see any TV, I haven't seen what happens to these people after winning that kind of money, so I did some research. (My favorite quote came from an article in the Atlantic, which was, "Those who participate should buy tickets early in order to enjoy their real value—the pleasure of anticipation—for longer". So true! That's what has been so fun the last few days, because I bought my tickets the day after the last drawing.) As for past winners, the ones who have had bad luck or have made bad decisions are the ones the media focuses on, and all data on the subject is self-reporting, so it's hard to get a handle on how many people actually flourish after a lottery win. But it does seem that your ability to handle your money prior to your win is directly proportional to your success in keeping your winnings and having an affluent future. One statistic that came up again and again was that 70% of lottery winners lose it all within 5 years, but that statistic applied to all lottery winners, regardless of the payout amount. From the limited amount of research I did, it seems that the key to success is smart investing, having trusted financial advisers and a lawyer, and taking the payment plan rather than the lump sum because of the tax impact of the latter. But can I still buy a pony?

To me, it seems like the dreaming part might be a lot more fun than the actually winning part, so maybe I should play the lottery more often! And if you, like me, have some tickets in your hot little hand for tonight's drawing, good luck! If you win, I promise only to ask for you to pay off my student loan. PROMISE.