Control Theory

I started to think about commercials. Mostly I tend to see a TV ad as a time-out so I can run and finish loading the dishwasher for the night, go to the bathroom, or email a friend. A radio commercial is just a damn interruption from some good tunes. Print ads continue to do their good job of making me feel all inferior-like. (Skinny models and well decorated homes – don’t take no rocket scientist does it?) And everyone knows that the Super Bowl is just a mish-mash of clanking helmets and grass stained uniforms that appear in-between some of the finest efforts that Madison Avenue has put forth since – last year.

And it’s this effort that I applaud. For a long time I’ve harbored a secret desire to work in advertising. I don’t know much about story-boards and branding, and the industry is not exactly stress-free. Yet it fascinates me. The concept of creating a situation or series of imagined controls that will sway the behavior of a demographic. Of course, this is all around us. It’s not just on our TVs or radios. It’s in the way I plan dinner. (If I make something they like, they might take out the trash with less fuss.) It’s in education. Religion. Politics. (Duh!) And the Wachowski Brothers made a cool couple of bucks messing around with this concept of control.

Yesterday a local radio station was having issues with the Oprah show. They played a tape of Oprah announcing she was NOT doing some sort of long anticipated give-away on that day (for whatever reasons, they are not important). But the crowd went wild anyway. The DJs were laughing over this phenomenon, and played the tape of the cheering audience over and over.

Now, they didn’t exactly use the term ‘sheeple’, but it was implied. People get in a mindset of behaviors and seem to revel in doing what is expected of them. Again and again. Though I think this is not always such a good thing, I am still struck by the process. I think back on folks like Charles Manson and Adolph Hitler, or for that matter the Rev. King. What kind of charisma, or cojones did they have for getting their disciples to follow them? In the case of the former two, I have long wondered, ‘what if they used their powers for good?’

But with advertising, there is no wondering. There is no hidden agenda. Experts in manipulation and persuasion work in all fields, but in advertising their work is celebrated. These brainiacs can come out of the control closet with their heads held high; their blatant application of influential techniques is out there for all to see. It is what it is.

More Post from Hell

Not sure how much better I’m feeling, but I might as well continue my adventures.

By Sunday, frustrated with the no-sleep situation, and feeling still lousy, we decided I should go get seen. On Sundays though, the only places to go are hospital ERs. I’ll tell you, when you are feeling pretty crappy, strange (and decidedly un-Christian) thoughts go through your head.

Hmm, that guy has ice on his foot. I think I can see the swelling from here. But he’s laughing with his dad, I’m sure I can go ahead of him.

Oh, great – someone pregnant. Damn. They’ll probably take her before me. She does look like she’s ready to pop any time now – but she’s not grimacing, nor clutching her swollen mid-section. Hey, come to think of it, I see no overnight bag. Yay!

I did not just see a bleeding man come up to the desk. Just my bloody luck (no pun intended). ‘If it bleeds, it leads’. No – wait, that’s journalism.

Finally, they call my name. This is the real call, not the “see the nurse in triage” call. Not the, “meet me at Window 1 to discuss your insurance” call. This was it. We’re going to the show.

My husband (with his precious ‘let the spouse come too’ label slapped on his chest) and I gather up our things and follow the nurse. Unfortunately we have to share our moment of glory with another patient and their entourage. But with an examining room in sight, I could afford to be a little more gracious.

After another good long stretch of waiting, a young man of sweet smile and Hispanic accent enters the room and announces that he’s (forget the name), the nurse practitioner. He asks me the same questions as the triage nurse, with the exception of asking me if I had a fever when I came in.

“Well, she took my temperature, but never mentioned the result”

“Did she give you any Tylenol?”
“No.”

“Then you probably didn’t have a fever”

He then proceeded to mash my face with his fingers in an attempt to get to know my sinus cavities better. Then it was off for a chest x-ray.

This wasn’t too bad, but there was a moment of clumsy discomfort trying to wrangle undergarments with the stupid johnny tied behind my back. Also there was no concern for a woman’s privacy in these matters as a couple of x-ray techs stayed in the room during the wrangling. I gave up.

Then back to another long siege in a different waiting area. The only excitement was when my NP informed me that indeed, I had registered a fever when I first came in, (well over an hour ago) and they’d give me some Tylenol. So, another 15 minutes go by and here come the precious pills. Three of them! I popped them down, and waiting some more.

Finally the NP comes over and says that I have both bronchitis and a sinus infection. Probably not pneumonia. They give me scrips for some antibiotics, and other fun stuff to break up the congestions, and off we go.

The best part of the day (except for the bizarre thrill of getting picked before the bleeding man) was the nice shrimp Pad Thai that my husband got for us later on. Very yum.

The Post from Hell?

For lack of a better title –

So, here we go. Just riffing on all that’s good and all that sucks in my little world. No order, not much rhyme or reason either.

Here’s one for the ‘Good Excuse for Not Blogging’ category.

I’ve been quite sick. If you’re so inclined to check dates and all – well don’t bother. I haven’t been sick since my last post. Perhaps just sick-at-heart. Or just freakin’ busy.

So, right – about this sick thing. On Monday 3/31 I woke up feeling not so great. I felt worse during the day and realized I’d need to cancel my afternoon karate class. I’d been teaching some wee ones the fine art of self-defense in an after-school program. Mostly just teaching them different ways to say “Timothy* – stop doing that.” “Timothy – you cannot practice blocks sitting down.” “Timothy, you’ll have to head over to the office now.” Yeah, little Tim (*not his real name) has been a bit of a hand-full. Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind that I can legally whack the boy, this being a martial arts class and all – but it would serve no purpose, really.

So, Tim and friends had to do without me for the afternoon. And things got worse. The next few days were a weary blend of fevers, chills, coughs – that sort of deal. I’ve missed all kinds of rehearsals (five so far), and have contributed zero to the family concern. Well I take that back. I managed to drive the Crown Prince to a few classes, and help the Young Prince with his paper route here and there, and drive both Royals to a mall at one point.

On Friday night I felt OK enough to go see my Goddaughter in a local dance competition. This was a real treat. She and family (one of my bestest friends Mary-Margaret, her husband and kids) live about an hour north of us in New Hampshire. So to see Mallorie locally was pretty cool. Gosh she looked so pretty, like a real ballerina. She made that whole pointe business look easy too.

So anyway, I was talking about being sick. And realizing I’m leaving out some details. But y’all don’t need to hear about my new electronic thermometer, or the way my phlegm rattled in my chest like a tired ole 1930s Airstream window shade a-quiverin’ and a-vibratin’ on the dust bowl plains of Kansas.

Or do you need to hear about coughing fits so – vigorous – that dinner was, shall we say, revisited?

Yeah, a while back I mentioned rehearsals. I’d do the whole drum roll thing, but I’m mighty tired. I’m in Lil’ Abner – shows are the first weekend in May. So, here’s the all important link for now.

I really want to add some other good stuff in. I had a big party for my 50th. It was swell. I got some swell gifts. Have not done thank – you’s yet. But my friend Judy wrote a great post on her site. Speaking of friends and sites, another friend, Dave has started up his own blog. He’s quite a fine writer too.

I think I’m at an end here.

Whining

It’s not been a real gas around here lately – I haven’t stopped to look, but is like…Mercury in retrograde or something?


Let me preface this fine whine with the fact that more or less, our health is OK. Not fantastic, but OK. OK ain’t bad! (We will learn more about the Young Prince’s liver situation next week too)

Anyway, the house and other things…pretty crappy.

Last week – I think? – The Tahoe needed some work. Who knew an oxygen sensor would cost so much? Hey, I can do it for free…see, watch me breathe. See that? There’s oxygen, I have not dropped dead. I mean…really.

The following day the Toyota needed a check up at the dealer. However, that only cost $45.00! But I did have to bring it to the dealer, not in the same town. That was more of an expense of time – but I did bring the lap top, so some work was done while waiting for my $45.00 to be spent...

And it also led to a somewhat impromptu lunch with Sir Saleski. He works about an exit away as the crow flies. It was lovely, but I did secretly covet his chicken curry soup, or whatever it was. It smelled so good! My apple squash soup was ok, but it lacked something.

Then the same day…my mobile broke. I was on my way to pick up the Crown Prince after his last class, and I had short words with him on the phone. I snapped the flip top shut in a bit of angry haste. A minute later I picked it up again, and saw that the flippy top was – well excuse the expression, like a limp dick. No, that’s not right. But it wasn’t tight, taught, and seated correctly. I tried to open the phone but I was afraid to force it as I saw exposed wiring. That’s never a good thing.

And there is the lovely new phone. No flippy top here. (that's not to say that I am not capable of breaking it, but at least the poor thing's got a sporting chance.)



And then Gentle Reader there’s the story of - the oven. See, over the last while, we had noticed much tension in the oven knob control. I mean. like all of a sudden it was nearly a Herculean effort to turn the knob to the desired heat setting. And then the oven itself started burning everything. So, we couldn't use it without much trepidation, (timing really is everything) We’d have to pop stuff in while it pre-heated. Of course if you were only going to bake things at 500º, then it’s all good, right?


Behold, the new Maytag Performa Range above.


So, over the next few days I gained one new mobile, one new oven and one new water heater.

Oh yes…there’s that too. The water heater was due to be replaced – we had caught wind of a neato cool indirect system. We used Nana Williams’ plumber and phone calls went back for months, finally the date was set for this past Wednesday.

Yay!

Of course, nearly all day we had no running water whilst the work was being done, but that’s no biggie. (Well, it is, but I was trying to be rather brave about it all).

So, yesterday, on Thurs. as the day went on, we realized that either the temperature had significantly dropped outdoors, or we had no heat.

We had no heat.

And as of this morning, no hot water.

Damn and Fuck. Double that while you’re at it.

But I do, honestly and sincerely try to see the positives.

Shelter – check
Electricity – check
Water – check
Cable TV – check
Internet – check

A sense of humor?

Priceless.

I’ve been reading Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love and I am not only fascinated with her story, I’m compelled to be a better writer. Rather, I wish I could write better, now, instantly. That compelling feeling is more of a knee-jerk reaction, nearly a jealousy, but not quite.

Her words are lyrical, yet earthy. She makes you want to befriend her instantly. She makes you want to travel to those wonderful countries – seeking out gurus and chefs and old men and young children who cannot speak English, but what does it matter?

Gilbert also makes me not want to have a divorce, nor a sad messy love affair. Her anguish over those lost loves is conveyed with a visceral despondence.

Oh, and she makes us hunger, mostly for that glorious pasta and pizza, but steadily a desire takes hold for enlightenment, self-actualization and contentment.

And I'm not even finished yet.

Bravo Liz - Bravo.

Random New Year Entry

If we give into temptation Tricky Transitions would be turning us over and over like a tornado – twisting, turning, churning…

Change is good.

But not at the risk of severing limbs or sanity.
So far, these kinds of changes I can handle

Resurfacing

Yes, coming back here to write of things that need to be written about. Poorly - mostly likely.

Ack -- can't believe I haven't written here for several weeks. But then, that's me lately, isn't it? I haven't been a regular blogger in some time, have I. Much to say, but too much guilt and not enough time for a proper post. Excuses, really, but that's what I'm offering up for the moment.

So, spurts and squirts --

Christmas - beautiful roast beef from Lowell Provision, pricey but real damn tasty. Stayed up too late on Christmas Eve - but we had fun. Family all arriving for either brunch or dinner on the big day, and it was good.

Beloved presents of note: Master Chief Helmet for Tom. It does nothing whatsoever but look bloody cool. The Godfather, Animal House, and other neat DVDs for Mike. Some time to relax for me. (plus some nice perfume, books, movies and REI socks for me). Eddie Bauer sweaters and jeans for Dave.

And...a Cuisninart DC 1200 for the whole family! OK, it's really for me. : )