Strictly for Pleasure

Let’s up the hedonism.

A Reduction in Pleasure April 10, 2008

Filed under: Life, the Universe, and Everything, Touch — Jenny @ 5:57 pm

It’s been a rough month.

Truth be told, the first few weeks I was out it wasn’t all that bad. I was uncomfortable (that’s an understatement, actually), but I had a steady supply of helpful pharmaceuticals, a pressing need to stay completely still and watch box after box of television series on DVD, and I was very tenderly waited on hand and foot by the boy and my friends.

It wasn’t fun, by any stretch of the imagination. But it wasn’t the worst scenario in the world.

Then two weeks passed. And although I hadn’t so much as spent an entire four hours sitting up in bed let alone at a desk, it was time to return to work. I spent the first few days sneaking away to quietly sob in the bathroom, the pain was so much to handle. The second week was slightly better, and after becoming more active as a result, the third was worse.

The pain levels have fluctuated, as has my mood, but I don’t feel like I’ve ever reached more than 75%. And now five weeks after the fact, this constant unrest is almost unbearable. I should have begun feeling better after two weeks. That’s when I got back in the swing of things, and I think I did more harm than good. I haven’t healed as well as I need, and my follow-up visits are increasing in frequency - the opposite of what should be happening.

There are legitimate reasons to why I’m still not feeling like myself. I’ve been told as much. Yet I still feel weak, even guilty that I’m not over it.

I hate that I can’t ignore the pain. I hate that I have no energy. I hate that I still have to sleep on my back all the time. I hate that the boy wants to do the simplest thing like take a walk around the block after work and that it’s too much for me to handle. I hate that I’m crying as I write this.

Sorry for the morose topic — just had to get that off my chest. (Pun COMPLETELY intended.) Soon I’ll be posting before and after pictures, and acting like my normal self. Promise.

 

My Cup Runneth Over. Sort of. March 19, 2008

Filed under: Life, the Universe, and Everything, Sight, Smell, Taste — Jenny @ 1:25 pm

I’m back at work after a very LOOOONG two-week, um, vacation.

Yeah.

Anyway, I’m finding it difficult to get back into the swing of things, and have been relying more than a little on my soy lattes to get me through the day. I found this the other day and had to repost it. Just call it my serenity prayer.

Coffee is my shepherd; I shall not doze.
It maketh me to wake in green pastures, It leadeth me beyond the sleeping masses.
It restoreth my brain, It leadeth me in the paths of consciousness for it’s name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of sleep,
I will fear no artificial sweetener for thou art with me; Thy cream and thy sugar they comfort me.
Thou preparest a carafe before me in the presence of my zzz’s, Thou anointest my day with sunlight;
My cup runneth over.
Surely richness and flavor shall follow me all the days of my life:
and I will dwell in the house of Cappuccino forever…

Let us sip… or whatever…

 

I feel boring. And horribly predictable. February 29, 2008

Filed under: Sight — Jenny @ 9:33 pm

I did laugh my ass off, though. One of my new favorite blogs.

http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com/

Some favorites:

#99 - I’ve found myself unable to turn off my editor brain after I get back from work, lately. It’s an impulse and a guilty pleasure.

#78 - I too am guilty of daydreaming of little French speaking children bustling about the kitchen and helping me cook while we read the New York Times and listen to Jazz.

#75 - I too have made this threat in the past few months.

#69 - I can’t help it. He’s just … cool.

#44 - The intro music for All Things Considered gives me the warm fuzzies.

#38 - I shouldn’t even have to comment on this one.

#10 - I have the Rushmore soundtrack.

#5 - Probably bring it up twice a day or so.

#1 AND 2 - Need I say more?

 

Join the Resistance: Fall in Love February 14, 2008

Filed under: Life, the Universe, and Everything, Sight, Touch — Jenny @ 3:20 pm

So, I posted this on a different blog on Valentine’s Day of last year. I absolutely love it, but got a scathing retort from a friend who didn’t appreciate its sentiment quite as much. Alas, to each his own. It’s quite a long article, but worth the read if you have time. Let me know what you think!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Join the Resistance: Fall in Love

Falling in love is the ultimate act of revolution, of resistance to today’s tedious, socially restrictive, culturally constrictive, humanly meaningless world.

Love transforms the world. Where the lover formerly felt boredom, he now feels passion. Where she once was complacent, she now is excited and compelled to self-asserting action. The world which once seemed empty and tiresome becomes filled with meaning, filled with risks and rewards, with majesty and danger. Life for the lover is a gift, an adventure with the highest possible stakes; every moment is memorable, heartbreaking in its fleeting beauty. When he falls in love, a man who once felt disoriented, alienated, and confused will know exactly what he wants. Suddenly his existence will make sense to him; suddenly it becomes valuable, even glorious and noble, to him. Burning passion is an antidote that will cure the worst cases of despair and resigned obedience.

Love makes it possible for individuals to connect to others in a meaningful way—it impels them to leave their shells and risk being honest and spontaneous together, to come to know each other in profound ways. Thus love makes it possible for them to care about each other genuinely, rather than at the end of the gun of Christian doctrine. But at the same time, it plucks the lover out of the routines of everyday life and separates her from other human beings. She will feel a million miles away from the herd of humanity, living as she is in a world entirely different from theirs.

In this sense love is subversive, because it poses a threat to the established order of our modern lives. The boring rituals of workday productivity and socialized etiquette will no longer mean anything to a man who has fallen in love, for there are more important forces guiding him than mere inertia and deference to tradition. Marketing strategies that depend upon apathy or insecurity to sell the products that keep the economy running as it does will have no effect upon him. Entertainment designed for passive consumption, which depends upon exhaustion or cynicism in the viewer, will not interest him.

There is no place for the passionate, romantic lover in today’s world, business or private. For he can see that it might be more worthwhile to hitchhike to Alaska (or to sit in the park and watch the clouds sail by) with his sweetheart than to study for his calculus exam or sell real estate, and if he decides that it is, he will have the courage to do it rather than be tormented by unsatisfied longing. He knows that breaking into a cemetery and making love under the stars will make for a much more memorable night than watching television ever could. So love poses a threat to our consumer-driven economy, which depends upon consumption of (largely useless) products and the labor that this consumption necessitates to perpetuate itself.

Similarly, love poses a threat to our political system, for it is difficult to convince a man who has a lot to live for in his personal relationships to be willing to fight and die for an abstraction such as the state; for that matter, it may be difficult to convince him to even pay taxes. It poses a threat to cultures of all kinds, for when human beings are given wisdom and valor by true love they will not be held back by traditions or customs which are irrelevant to the feelings that guide them.

Love even poses a threat to our society itself. Passionate love is ignored and feared by the bourgeoisie, for it poses a great danger to the stability and pretense they covet. Love permits no lies, no falsehoods, not even any polite half-truths, but lays all emotions bare and reveals secrets which domesticated men and women cannot bear. You cannot lie with your emotional and sexual response; situations or ideas will excite or repel you whether you like it or not, whether it is polite or not, whether it is advisable or not. One cannot be a lover and a (dreadfully) responsible, (dreadfully) respectable member of today’s society at the same time; for love will impel you to do things which are not “responsible” or “respectable.” True love is irresponsible, irrepressible, rebellious, scornful of cowardice, dangerous to the lover and everyone around her, for it serves one master alone: the passion that makes the human heart beat faster. It disdains anything else, be it self-preservation, obedience, or shame. Love urges men and women to heroism, and to antiheroism—to indefensible acts that need no defense for the one who loves.

For the lover speaks a different moral and emotional language than the typical bourgeois man does. The average bourgeois man has no overwhelming, smoldering desires. Sadly, all he knows is the silent despair that comes of spending his life pursuing goals set for him by his family, his educators, his employers, his nation, and his culture, without ever being able to even consider what needs and wants he might have of his own. Without the burning fire of desire to guide him, he has no criteria upon which to choose what is right and wrong for himself. Consequently he is forced to adopt some dogma or doctrine to direct him through his life. There are a wide variety of moralities to choose from in the marketplace of ideas, but which morality a man buys into is immaterial so long as he chooses one because he is at a loss otherwise as to what he should do with himself and his life. How many men and women, having never realized that they had the option to choose their own destinies, wander through life in a dull haze thinking and acting in accordance with the laws that have been taught to them, merely because they no longer have any other idea of what to do? But the lover needs no prefabricated principles to direct her; her desires identify what is right and wrong for her, for her heart guides her through life. She sees beauty and meaning in the world, because her desires paint the world in these colors. She has no need for dogmas, for moral systems, for commandments and imperatives, for she knows what to do without instructions.

Thus she does indeed pose quite a threat to our society. What if everyone decided right and wrong for themselves, without any regard for conventional morality? What if everyone did whatever they wanted to, with the courage to face any consequences? What if everyone feared loveless, lifeless monotony more than they fear taking risks, more than they fear being hungry or cold or in danger? What if everyone set down their “responsibilities” and “common sense,” and dared to pursue their wildest dreams, to set the stakes high and live each day as if it were the last? Think what a place the world would be! Certainly it would be different than it is now—and it is quite a truism that people from the “mainstream,” the simultaneous keepers and victims of the status quo, fear change.

And so, despite the stereotyped images used in the media to sell toothpaste and honeymoon suites, genuine passionate love is discouraged in our culture. Being “carried away by your emotions” is frowned upon; instead we are raised to always be on our guard lest our hearts lead us astray. Rather than being encouraged to have the courage to face the consequences of risks taken in pursuit of our hearts’ desires, we are counseled not to take risks at all, to be “responsible.” And love itself is regulated. Men must not fall in love with other men, nor women with other women, nor individuals from different ethnic backgrounds with each other, or else the usual bigots who form the front-line offensive in the assault of modern Western culture upon the individual will step in. Men and women who have already entered into a legal/religious contract with each other are not to fall in love with anyone else, even if they no longer feel any passion for their marital partner. Love as most of us know it today is a carefully prescribed and preordained ritual, something that happens on Friday nights in expensive movie theaters and restaurants, something that fills the pockets of the shareholders in the entertainment industries without preventing workers from showing up to the office on time and ready to reroute phone calls all day long. This regulated, commercial “love” is nothing like the passionate, burning love that consumes the genuine lover. These restrictions, expectations, and regulations smother true love; for love is a wild flower that can never grow within the confines prepared for it but only appears where it is least expected.

We must fight against these cultural restraints that would cripple and smother our desires. For it is love that gives meaning to life, desire that makes it possible for us to make sense of our existence and find purpose in our lives. Without these, there is no way for us to determine how to live our lives, except to submit to some authority, to some god, master or doctrine that will tell us what to do and how to do it without ever giving us the satisfaction that self-determination does. So fall in love today, with men, with women, with music, with ambition, with yourself. . . with life!

One might say that it is ridiculous to implore others to fall in love—one either falls in love or one does not, it is not a choice that can be made consciously. Emotions do not follow the instructions of the rational mind. But the environment in which we must live out our lives has a great influence on our emotions, and we can make rational decisions that will affect this environment. It should be possible to work to change an environment that is hostile to love into an environment that will encourage it. Our task must be to engineer our world so that it is a world in which people can and do fall in love, and thus to reconstitute human beings so that we will be ready for the “revolution” spoken of in these pages—so that we will be able to find meaning and happiness in our lives.

What if everyone decided right and wrong for themselves, without any regard for conventional morality? What if everyone did whatever they wanted to, with the courage to face any consequences? What if everyone feared loveless, lifeless monotony more than they fear taking risks, more than they fear being hungry or cold or in danger? What if everyone set down their “responsibilities” and “common sense,” and dared to pursue their wildest dreams, to set the stakes high and live each day as if it were the last? Think what a place the world would be!

 

Yes We Can February 11, 2008

Filed under: Life, the Universe, and Everything, Sight, Sound, Touch — Jenny @ 9:58 pm

 So this made me cry. Which meant I had to post it.

Yeah, I’m a sap. But that’s damn inspiring.

 

Guilty Pleasures: In Defense of Dancing Around to Justin Timberlake February 10, 2008

Filed under: Sound — Jenny @ 3:44 am

funny-pictures-dancing-cat.jpg

That’s right. I said it. Don’t act like you don’t do the same thing when you hear it.

 

That’s Why They Call Them Business Socks February 5, 2008

Filed under: Sight, Sound — Jenny @ 4:00 am

The boy brought to my attention that I had neglected to mention one of my very favorite shiny, happy songs - performed by an equally happy and shiny duo. For anyone who has seen Flight of the Conchords on HBO, you know how goofy and hilarious they are. But in my opinion, their older live stuff is SO much better.

Please watch this. You’ll thank me later.

And this.

Last one. For now.

 

A Matter of National Importance: Cleavage February 4, 2008

Filed under: Sight — Jenny @ 11:12 pm

Hillary is a controversial figure. Has been for a very, very long time. She has her fair share of people who “can’t stand her,” and I’ve always been curious to hear why. Is it her persona? Is it her past? Is she too strong? Is she too weak? Should she be held accountable for Bill’s infidelity, or at least for standing by him? Should she be held accountable for how heavily he campaigns for her?

It’s hard for people to put into words. Even some in her own party see her as a negative presence. Clinton and Obama are neck and neck in the majority of key issues, yet he’s the golden boy who will bring about change (don’t get me wrong, I’ve got a serious politi-crush on Barrack), and she’s a shrew.

What gives?

Stanley Fisk seemed to have the same idea when he wrote his piece “All You Need is Hate” in the New York Times this morning.

Respected political commentators devote precious network time to deep analyses of her laugh. Everyone blames her for what her husband does or for what he doesn’t do. (This is what the compound “Billary” is all about.) If she answers questions aggressively, she is shrill. If she moderates her tone, she’s just play-acting. If she cries, she’s faking. If she doesn’t, she’s too masculine. If she dresses conservatively, she’s dowdy. If she doesn’t, she’s inappropriately provocative.

That last point brought up a memory of reading the Washington Post in July, when Pulitzer-winner Robin Givhan wrote a piece about Hillary wearing this shocking little number, and why it was inappropriate.

hillary.jpg

Not so long ago, Jacqui Smith, the new British home secretary, spoke before the House of Commons showing far more cleavage than Clinton. If Clinton’s was a teasing display, then Smith’s was a full-fledged come-on. But somehow it wasn’t as unnerving. Perhaps that’s because Smith’s cleavage seemed to be presented so forthrightly. Smith’s fitted jacket and her dramatic necklace combined to draw the eye directly to her bosom. There they were . . . all part of a bold, confident style package.

With Clinton, there was the sense that you were catching a surreptitious glimpse at something private. You were intruding — being a voyeur. Showing cleavage is a request to be engaged in a particular way. It doesn’t necessarily mean that a woman is asking to be objectified, but it does suggest a certain confidence and physical ease. It means that a woman is content being perceived as a sexual person in addition to being seen as someone who is intelligent, authoritative, witty and whatever else might define her personality. It also means that she feels that all those other characteristics are so apparent and undeniable, that they will not be overshadowed.

To display cleavage in a setting that does not involve cocktails and hors d’oeuvres is a provocation. It requires that a woman be utterly at ease in her skin, coolly confident about her appearance, unflinching about her sense of style. Any hint of ambivalence makes everyone uncomfortable. And in matters of style, Clinton is as noncommittal as ever.

My first reaction to the above was, “Are you serious?” Would she report the same way on a man’s chest hair or the bulge in his pants? Seems a bit unbalanced. Maybe if Hillary had shown up that day in something unquestionably provocative, she would deserve such attention. But Givhan isn’t saying it’s inappropriate for a woman to show similar cleavage on the Senate floor. She’s saying it is inappropriate for Clinton to do so.

As insulting as this idea may be (and it was PLENTY insulting to Clinton’s people), one has to wonder how much attention would be paid to such matters were the first female president of the US to be elected this November. She’s already analyzed and dissected in every action she takes. If you listened to Maureen Dowd long enough, Hillary’s reaction to Barrack Obama touching her arm in public would be enough of a plot to carry a daytime soap opera.

I already feel for her. And though I know you could sooner hold back the tide than keep people from commenting on inane, arbitrary points in a public figure’s life, I have to say it.

Lay off the woman, already.

 

Tell me why … February 4, 2008

Filed under: Life, the Universe, and Everything — Jenny @ 9:43 pm

128341195462187500ihatemundayz.jpg

I want to shoooooooooooooooot the whole day down.

 

Shiny, Happy Music January 28, 2008

Filed under: Sound — Jenny @ 12:11 am

A few years ago I made a mixed CD of songs that made me happy. Not just an “Aww, this reminds me of (fill in the blank)” sort of happy. That uncontrollable, tap-your-foot-and-bounce-around-like-a-muppet sort of happy. The type of songs that physically take control of me, and yank me out of my worst mood inspite of myself.

rem_14.jpg shiny_06.jpg

In reorganizing my iTunes this weekend (I have WAY more music than anyone could ever need), I ran across this list. I thought I’d share a few, in no particular order. Feel free to weigh in if you have any that you would add. Happy be-bopping!

Shiny, Happy People - R.E.M.
Whip It - Devo
Under Pressure - David Bowie & Queen
Upside Down and Bubbletoes - Jack Johnson
Send Me On My Way - Rusted Root
I’ve Got My Mind Set On You - George Harrison
I’m the One Who Wants to Be With You - Mr. Big
Nowhere Else - Seventy Sevens
Where It’s At - Beck
Just Like Heaven - The Cure
You Sexy Thing - Hot Chocolate
Son of a Preacher Man - Etta James
My Sharona - the Knack