Ages 5 and Up

I like gadgets. And toys. And gadgets that are also toys... and toys that are also gadgets.

I also like to have gadgets and toys handy to play with while I'm working. (Which makes me realize that what my desk REALLY needs is a Rubick's cube. How fun would that be? While I'm mentally problem solving I could also be puzzle solving! Oh man. I need to get one. But I digress.) As a result of my need to fidget while working, I have toys and gadgets on my desk.  No big.

A couple of weeks ago I saw the new Transformers movie and let me just say this: loved it. One of the (many) things I enjoyed about it? There were NASCAR vehicles that were ALSO Autobots. It's like the movie gods thought, "How can we make Danielle really love this movie? Let's see. Massive explosions, check. Josh Duhamel and Patrick Dempsey, check. Giant killer robots, check. Linkin Park soundtrack, check ... we need something else... Oh I know! NASCAR!" And there it was, Dale Jr's car, all Transformer'ed out. I believe I may have uttered a small shriek of joy. (To be perfectly honest, the only thing that could have made it any better would have been the involvement of Mark Harmon and/ or 30 Seconds to Mars. However, that level of awesome may have caused my head to explode. I'm just saying.)

(Also, I know that my confession of love for Michael Bay movies and the National Association of Stock Car Auto Racing has probably lowered me in the opinions of some readers. To which I can only say: listen up, Mayor McJudgie of Judgertown. I don't demand that you love what I love, so I'd like to be allowed a little space for the low brow. Plus, watching stuff explode on screen is fun, as is watching people turn left at really high speeds for several hours. To each her own.)

Anyway.

So last weekend, I was at Target and I realized that there is a TOY version of the Transformer that looks like Dale Jr's car. And then I realized that having that on my desk would bring me hours of worktime enjoyment. So I bought it.

Let me say now: I had Transformers when I was a kid. I loved them. They were awesome. (I kind of wish I still had them, to be honest.) They were fun. They were complex and gadgety and cool.

I do not remember needing to have an engineering degree to make them, well, transform.

Oh times, how they change.

The box for this little gem of a toy says "Ages 5 and up". I don't know where Hasbro is recruiting 5 year olds from, but I'm thinking ... Mensa. Because holy hell, is this thing hard to figure out. It took me well over an hour to change it from a car to a robot. And by "well over an hour" I mean to say "I'm not going to tell you because it's embarassing, but I went to bed at about 12:30 and I got home with the stupid thing at about 9ish and you can do the math". Even then, I could tell I hadn't done it properly, because my kick-ass robot looked like he needed to spend some time in a repair facility for Autobots that had perhaps been partying too hard the night before. Standing was an issue for him to the point that his posture looked sheepish, as though he was trying to apologize for failing to lay off the high test.

When I woke up the next morning, he was slouching there on my nightstand. It made me feel bad, and also? A little dumb. This is a toy for CHILDREN, I thought. I am THIRTY FIVE. Surely I can figure this out.

Surely the first thing I did was accidentally pop his head off. His tiny robotic gaze spoke to me. It said, "You are a moron."

I put his head back on and began to carefully, painstakingly once again try to follow the diagrams that came with him. Now he stands boldly on my desk, weapon in hand, ready to take on any and all who might annoy or enrage me.

It's awesome.

However, needing two days to figure out a toy designed for use by children as young as 5? Not so awesome.

Brilliant! (Or, You Know, Not)

I wouldn't be writing this post -- which makes me look a bit like an idiot (and that might be a running theme for this week's posts, you have been warned) -- if I wasn't fairly certain that I'm not alone in what I am about to confess.

So here it is: the biggest obstacle in my life? Is me.

For reals, y'all.

Here's what I mean: There are things in my life that I often look at and think, "Oh, I should change that. That's keeping me from living the most spectacular version of my life. Not that my life is bad, necessarily -- because it's totally not -- but if I changed this easily changable thing, it would be MUCH more spiffy."

And then I don't change it. Instead, I keep doing the same things that I've been doing. And now and again, when the thing -- whatever it is, it doesn't much matter -- crops up again as an impending obstacle, I think AGAIN, "Huh. I should totally do something about that."

I know that change doesn't happen through the magical power of wishing. I mean, wishes are nice, but they're nice the way fairy tales are nice. Lovely, but not practical. Nothing really amazing ever happened simply through wishing.

Amazing things happen as a result of rolling up your sleeves and getting your butt in gear.

Change is always possible. However, it requires some WORK.

If I'm not going to do the work to change the things in my life that I want to change then, honestly, don't I need to hush about it? Isn't it unbelievably stupid to want my life to be a certain way if I'm never going to rearrange events and occurances in a manner that would make that vision possible?

I'm going to go with yes, it is pretty fricking stupid.   As feeling stupid makes me sad, I am going to knock it off. Either I change what I want to change, or I learn to live with what is and shut up about it. To do otherwise is -- well, it's just ridiculous.

And ridiculous is not equal to fabulous.

Friday Randoms

1. I got my Red Sox tickets today. The envelope that they came in COMPLETELY looked like junk mail. My Sox tickets very nearly went right into the trash.  Fortunately, my spidey senses kicked in before I actually tossed them (or the voice of reason) and I thought "Maybe I should open that before I shred it". Helllllooo nearly confetti-ed Sox tickets. Have I mentioned that I've never before been to a Sox game? I'm psyched. Even if they are obstructed view nosebleed seats. I do. Not. Care.

2. Am I the only person who goes on little food sprees? I will be all into one kind of food for, oh I don't know, a month or so, and then -- it's dead to me. I no longer care about it or want to eat it at all. Right now? Sandwiches. I LOVE me a sandwich. For example, right now, I would do someone significant harm if s/he stepped between me and a peanut butter and jelly sammich. (Which is extra weird because normally I don't enjoy peanut butter that much).  Sandwiches. I want to nom them. (Ability to make sandwiches currently: Let's see -- no bread. No veggies. No mustard. No mayo. Yeah. This is the sad sad land of no sandwiches. At least, until I go grocery shopping. Then it's going to be sandwich HEAVEN, I tell you!)

3. Note to anyone who is thinking about cutting his or her hair really really short (which mine now is): You have to really like your face if you're going to go crazy at the hairdresser, because suddenly, your features are ALL out there. I'm comfortable with my face, but occasionally am startled by the amount of attention it now demands.  It used to be hidden behind the hair. Now it's all out there. It's a little weird.

4. People who refuse to leave messages drive me CRAZY. If I didn't pick up it's because I'm on the other line or not available. Instead of calling 15 times in a row, with your calls separated by 15 second intervals? LEAVE ME A MESSAGE. That's why I have voice mail. Otherwise I will have to hunt you down and make you watch some kind of heinous reality television until your brain explodes.

5. Even when my job is driving me nuts? The people I work with are awesome. Completely, unabashedly awesome. I heart them.

Have a great weekend y'all!

Happy Anniversary!

So I was all set to write a post about what I had for lunch (which probably doesn't sound like a great post, but it seemed funny in my head) when I realized that I've been blogging for just over a year.

I know, crazy.

To be honest, when I started, I was pretty sure that I would have two or three readers, and that one of them was going to be my mom... and I didn't know who the other two might be, but it was likely that my best friend might read it now and again. Probably. Actually, that's who I thought would read it: my mother and my best friend. The idea of three people seemed pretty far fetched.

And now?  I have, like, followers. (And there are more of you who follow via facebook, but who aren't listed as followers here. Which is lovely and totally amazing.)

I feel like I should be doing something for you follower types to thank you for wanting to read my rambles, and for forgiving me for frequently starting sentences with "and" and "so" (I KNOW that's not correct, but I can't seem to stop myself. It's a problem).

So (and there it is again!) here's what I will do: if you are a follower of the blog -- you're all set. If you are NOT listed as a follower of this here blog ON the blog -- sign on as a follower on blogger. You have ONE WEEK in which to do this. Next Friday (that would be the 15th of July) I will draw the name of one of the followers and ... send him or her an anniversary gift. From my blog to you. Because I love y'all for giving me a reason to do this every day.

So. If you're not formally following, sign on as a follower. And then think about what kind of cool gift you could be receiving from me, and my blog. With love.

The Seat of Judgement

We love our court system, don't we? We love to watch it and make fun of it and announce loudly when we think justice is perverted. However, so few of us seem to want to participate. When I was called for  jury duty in 2004, it was interesting to see how many people spent a goodly portion of their time before the judge arguing why they should NOT have to serve, because they just didn't want to. They had other things to do. They'd rather not be there.

Admittedly, being on jury duty was a bit of a pain in the tochas -- it made for a very unpredictable February -- but I was willing to bet that as much as some of my fellow jurors did not want to be there, their desire to be gone was outweighed by the fact that there was someone who could NOT be present in the courtroom, because he was dead. And someone else was on trial for his involvement in that death.

I had to sit in judgement in the courtroom and decide if he was guilty based on what was presented in court.

Can we talk for a minute about the difference between court and the media? Court doesn't come with a nice remove from the defendant. He (or she) is right there, in front of you. As human as you are. With redeeming qualities and flaws and bad hair days and moments of brilliance and moments of extreme dunderheadedness. There is no overriding media commentator. Nancy Grace is not there to announce breaking news and the ONLY possible way that the evidence can and should be construed. All you have is what's there in the grave hush of the courtroom.

On one hand, you have a life that is gone. On the other, you have someone who may have taken it. And then you have to find without a doubt, without a question, that the defendant is guilty. Because at the end of it all, if you have ANY questions, if there's even a possibility that the defendant is innocent, he needs to be able to go home.

That's how it works. You can't have any questions. It has to be proved without a shadow of a doubt.

And so sometimes people walk. Not because they're innocent, but because in our system, we rely on the burden of proof to find them guilty. We ask regular people to review that proof -- or lack thereof -- and make a decision. We know it doesn't always work, because no system is perfect. We do the best we can with what we have.

I'm pretty sure that if you disagree with a verdict -- and we've all done it -- there are reasonable ways to express that. I'm also pretty sure that seeing people publicly threatening the life of an exonerated defendant makes me feel ill. Calling for the death of Casey Anthony now  hardly makes anyone look like an agent of justice.  It makes them look as though they believe all life is valuable except for the people they've decided are wrong  -- no matter what the courts say.

And while I'm on the subject of taking life, let's think about this: In death penalty cases, do you want a jury to weigh lightly or heavily? Do you want them to be satisfied with a scarcity of evidence? Or do you want them to make sure that it's all there?

Oh sure, maybe if it's a mom accused of killing her child, you might be satisfied if the jury said "She's loopy, she's a liar, we think she did it." Off to death row for her. She's a killer, right? A crazy, remorseless killer. You know. You watch CNN. You have no doubts.

But what if it was you? What if it was you .. and you were innocent? And there was a case built that couldn't actually prove that you killed anyone, but circumstances looked like you might have, and then it's your life on the line. How badly would you want that reasonable doubt? If a juror -- even one -- had a question, thought "but maybe, no" -- would you want her to say,  "Aw screw it. Guilty"?

I know I wouldn't. I bet you wouldn't either.

I don't know if Casey Anthony killed her daughter. But I know that I'm glad I didn't have to decide, and I know that the jury shouldn't be lambasted for its decision. I was on a jury that took some heat for some of the decisions we made -- ones that weren't made lightly, ones that involved shouting, some crying, and hours spent deliberating -- and it was unpleasant.

It's easy to sit in judgement until the consequences are life or death. And then it's very, very hard.

Puzzle Pieces

When you're building a puzzle, you often have a couple of pieces that look very similar in both shape and design -- so similar, in fact, that you can find yourself trying to mash a piece into a space where it looks like it should fit, seems like it should fit, but where it clearly does NOT fit, no matter how you press and wiggle and manipulate. It's just the wrong fit. That's not where it goes.

There are people for whom I am the wrong puzzle piece. While I am a part of the overall pattern of their lives -- carry the same genetic material, am part of the bigger story -- I don't fit into the space that they have reserved for me. I never have, and no amound of manuvering is ever going to make it so.

If you look at those pieces that you've tried to make fit into the wrong spot? They always look a little sad after. Bent. Maybe a little wrinkled. Kind of mashed and as though they've taken a beating.  It's not good for the puzzle piece. So maybe you set it aside, work on the puzzle without it, until it gets lost or forgotten, or you find another home for it.

It's hard to be pushed to the side, but not as hard as it is always to know that you don't fit and never will.

Until, that is, that you remember that the problem is not the puzzle piece. It is not you. The problem is that you're just being put in the wrong place. That somewhere, in the pattern, there is a perfect slot for you, where you link exactly.  Where the pieces around you mesh in harmony. Maybe it's not where anyone expected you to be, but it's where you belong.

Also remember this: that set aside or no, forgotten or not, without you, the picture will never be completed.

That's What Friends Are For

I know that I'm blessed in my friends. Really blessed.

Monday is my friend Shilo's birthday.

This is for her.

When I walked into preschool, I couldn't have guessed that you would still be my friend 31 years later. That you would still be around to make me laugh, to cry with if I needed to cry, and to make me think. That you would still be in my life to teach me how to be a better person, one who is fair and kind and optimistic when I want to be cranky and sarcastic and viewing my glass as half empty.

That you would be still be around to cheer me on when I want to quit. That you would continue to believe in me when I don't believe in myself.

On your birthday, I can't imagine what I could give to you that is half of what you've given me.

Happy birthday to one of the most fabulous people on this earth and my favorite fellow Geek.


Much, much love to you.