Sunday, December 30, 2007

Out with the Old, In With the New

Well, my dear friends, it is that time again. What many consider a time to reflect on the year past, and make plans for the year ahead.

While The Baroness is all about the "To Do" list, I'm starting to believe that making plans for the entire year ahead is far too onerous a task. I mean really, do you know what you'll be doing on July 23, 2008? Will you have time to factor in that 2 mile run you plan to do every day, or will you be at home with clogged sinuses, feeling guilty because you can barely muster up the energy to stir the Neo-Citrin into your hot water? Will you be eating your 100-calorie lunch salad, or will you have the opportunity to meet an out-of-town friend at their favorite burger joint for a chat-n-chew and some yummy-yet-verboten dessert? I can tell you, without a doubt, that while the Baron has swung the Baroness' mindset over to planning mode over the years, I balk at planning quite that far in advance, or at painting the entire year with a huge "Resolutions" brush. It all seems so robotic and self-sabotaging. I do not know what will be happening on July 23, 2008 and I like that. It feels oh-so-vaguely mysterious. And mildly spontaneous.

So, rather than talk about how we can make a better life for ourselves in 2008, I am proposing two exercises before the clock ticks over - one extremely cathartic to wipe the slate clean, the other a challenge, in a reflective sort of way.

Exercise 1: The Unspeakable List
This first activity is one that I learned from my niece. She's a very smart cookie, and even though she may not know it, she has taught me many new things (maybe The Baroness isn't such an old dog after all...). The key to this task is to do it very privately. On a bus, at work, on your laptop while commuting or at your kitchen table with family milling about picking over the turkey carcass - probably not the best locales. Get pen, get some paper, get private, and make a list of numbers from 1 to 15. Then, think of 15 significant people in your life. These may be family, friends, co-workers, team mates. Their significance may be great or it may be small. No matter. The thing is, if you're thinking of them, there's a reason you're thinking of them. Write a name next to each of the numbers.

Now things get juicy. As you go down the list, think of the unspeakable thing that you would like to say to this individual. It can be as mild as a complaint or it can be a scathing criticism. Whatever gets the bile flowing. Write it down - here, neatness does not count. What does count is getting it out from rambling around and around in your brain and into something tangible. I may not know much, but I do know that keeping all those festering, seething, mumbling, I-should-have-saids inside of you can be extremely detrimental to your health and well-being. So rather than speaking your mind and potentially jeopardizing all sorts of relationships, you can just let it out and let it go.

Once you've completed your unspeakable list, destroy it. Thoroughly. Rip it into a thousand pieces. Shred it. Burn it - carefully! Leave no trace behind. And then - here's the challenging part - be done with it. Pish posh, wipe your hands and your psyche clean, and move on to 2008, knowing that you got your last word in and feeling all the better for it. Ah. So satisfying.

This dovetails beautifully into the next exercise in our "Make Way for 2008" agenda.

Exercise 2: The Truth about Others
Have your ever read something that, at the time doesn't really register, but stays with you for what seems like forever? Here's one of the passages that I can't seem to stop thinking about. What we see in others is what we're really seeing of ourselves. It is the most basic yet the most complex idea I've ever read.

And I really believe it bears thinking about all of the time. Because, as we approach 2008 with our now-bileless soul, it's time to really reflect on ourselves through reflecting on others. Not only will this ultimately benefit us, it will also force us, in a very gentle yet purposeful way, to regard others in a new way. And I do use the word "regard" here in its most literate sense.

What I propose is two-fold: One, look at the things that drive you crazy about others, and reflect on how these qualities may also be qualities of yours. If you strive to change these things in yourself, will you begin to regard these crazed people in a new light? I guess you'll have to try and find out.

Two - the most important, and as you'll remember me saying earlier, the most challenging- look for the positive qualities in others. With some individuals, you may have to look long and hard. But I guarantee that, just as in others, there is a beautiful quality lurking in you. Seek it, cultivate it, share it.

My wish for you is a healthful, fulfilling, laughter-filled 2008. Keep looking.

Affectionately,
The Baroness

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Mulling it Over

To all the Baroness readers out there, just an f.y.i. that I'm mulling over:
a) cider
b) ideas
I'll be back in the New Year, refreshed, renewed, and with many many irksome things stuck in my craw.

Until then, may the holiday season be a time filled with love, amazement, and - of course- laughter.

Affectionateley,
B von B

Tuesday, December 18, 2007

To Be or not To Be

Sometimes people have some problems. To share these issues is a tricky proposition. The exposure can either come off whiny or make the poor reader slightly squidgy & in need of a long hot shower. Bad taste be damned, the Baroness is about to share an issue that she's currently struggling with. Will you, dear reader, care or not care? That is the question. Should it be the question? That is also the question. Perplexed? Intrigued? Read on at your peril.

I know that the purpose of a blog is to just be a journal of sorts. I also know that I enjoy writing. What I'm wrassling with right now is why I started this. Ah yes, the question of intention.

You see, like every other warm-blooded individual, deep down I'm looking for some sort of validation. Yes, surprising. With me being such a capricious, who-gives-a-care kind of gal. But if I am to face the cold truth, I'm not all that unique. I'm looking for some sign of life in the vastness know as cyberspace. While I amuse myself to no end, I have no idea if my writing is doing what I think it should. And that's when the handy-dandy "Comments" section of the blog come in.

It's quite lovely, I must tell you, to open my blog and find new comments. It makes me believe that I could possibly be writing something that has some resonance. Here's the catch - I started this so that I could get my just writing out there. No formal process, just pure autonomy. No submissions to an editor, no rejection letters.

But hitting that "Publish Post" button is beginning to feel like I've launched my baby out into a vacuum. And all of a sudden, rather than just being passionate about getting the writing out, I'm becoming obsessed with knowing if anyone is reading it. Why? Am I nuts? Is that what's important here? I really don't know. As much as I'd like to believe that I've embraced all new things tech-y, maybe this is one realm that I'm just not ready for.

I'll have to sit with this for a while. I just don't know.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Merry Christmas, Greedy Guts

'Tis the season once again for that perennial favorite - shortbread. Sit down and get comfy while the Baroness tells you a story.

During a holiday season not so very long ago, when the Baroness was the Baroness von Analyses, she made a promise to her fellow Analyses workers that she would bring them a big batch of delectable shortbread cookies to enjoy on December 24th. The Baroness tries ever so hard to live up to her promises. So, the evening of December 23rd, she opened up her magic pantry and got to work. Sadly, just after the cookies went in to the oven, a migraine headache befell the Baroness, and she had to retire to her chambers. After giving instructions to the Baron as to when the cookies should be removed, for optimum flavour and texture.

Even as she rested in her parlor, medicated and nearly asleep, the Baroness could begin to smell the cookies. Burning. So much for the optimum flavour and texture. But, alas, the Baroness could not arise to save the cookies without losing her cookies, nor could she yell to the Baron to get off his royal duffness without rending her head to split in two. So quietly, cleverly, she came up with Plan B.

On the route on her way to work in Yuppyland was a bakery, where only a few days before she had noticed that they had recently added shortbread to their repetoire. She would swing by, pick up a dozen to go, and pawn them off as her own. Slighty devious - but desperate times call for desperate measures. Imagine the Baroness' surprise when, after placing her order, she was informed the total came to $24.00. For twelve cookies. $24. Not including tax. Merry freakin' Christmas.

The moral of the story: Commerce is commerce, it's a supply and demand world, and it doth sucketh to be on a holiday budget when demanding supply.

Flash forward to present day. The Baroness mercifully no longer works in Yuppyland, and is merrily ensconced in an area of the globe known as Suburbia. Just down the street is another bakery. A much different bakery. This bakery caters to a wide variety of people - young, old, fixed income, well-to-do. They have no flashy imported display cases or Italian marble flooring. They are down-to-earth, honest women who know their customers. Their superior shortbread cookies cost a whopping $5.20. Per dozen. They fly out the oven and out the door, and they give everyone in the neighborhood their taste of Christmases past and present.

The moral of this story: Yes, Virginia, there really can be a spirit of giving during the holidays. Just look immediately around you. The spirit is alive and well in every humble local merchant who doesn't heed the call of commerce just because the calendar's flipped over to December.




Saturday, December 15, 2007

A Dear John Letter

Dear John Cusack:

I'm not writing to tell you I love you. Don't get me wrong, I think you're a fine, fine actor. Your work in The Grifters - so clever. High Fidelity - hilarious. Being John Malkovich - genius . But I can't say I love you, because I don't know you. We have never swapped spit nor holiday cards. I can't say I love you, as I have never acted with you in a movie, nor have I ever been a childhood buddy . I can't say I love you, as I have never been your prom date, nor a long-time family friend. But now that you're here, and I'm sure so enrapt by what might come next, I will take the opportunity to tell you the one thing I love about you. (See what I just did there?)

I love your brain. In a community of higher-profile actors, model/actors, socialites/that-should-never-be-actors, you pepper your interviews with words like "transcedence" and "polemics". Even I, the ever-erudite Baroness, had no clue what "polemics" was. Had to get Jeeves to fetch the Webster's from the library. (FYI - polemic: Of or pertaining to controversy; disputatious.) (Mental note - look up "disputatious"). How many women go ga-ga over an eloquent man with a big..... vocabulary. I know that I sure do - you had me at polemics...

Long and short of it, I love that because of your striking intelligence, you entice me to read an interview with you. I know I won't be disappointed. You with your dark shiny hair and your meaningful eyes, and what I can only imagine is your sexy, sexy voice. And then BAM! You drop the P-bomb. I love that. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Keep it up. Keep standing above the rest of the pack with your beliefs, your convictions, and your way with words that makes us actually think. And sigh. And go to the dictionary every so often. Because, believe it or not, even though I am a fan (Fan: informal of fanatic: a person who is moved by a frenzy of enthusiasm or zeal; a religious zealot), I still have a brain which I quite like using from time to time.

On that, I'm not disputatious.

Wednesday, December 12, 2007

(Disposable) Baby on Board

Ack. It's happened again. Much to The Baroness' dismay and disgust, I have seen a infant riding in a car with one of those yellow "Baby on Board" signs hanging in the back window. Don't misunderstand me - I love infants. It's their idiot parents I can't stand. The ones who go to the effort of buying and putting up a "Baby On Board" sign - they just can't be bothered to buy an actual car seat for said baby.

You know the ones - the ones who, for whatever moronic reason, seem to think that their baby would be much safer travelling in their arms. The ones who believe that, in the event of a collision, their human limbs will rise above the laws of physics and reality and shelter their precious child from impact. You know the ones - the ones who eschew the proven worth of an child car seat in lieu of letting their toddler roam freely up, down, over, under and all around the car. Waving at me from the ledge above the back seat, no less.

What is wrong with you people? Is it thrift? Well, you managed to buy a sign, and you have on a fabulously expensive winter jacket. Is is poverty? Most hospitals now have a program where you can be given a car seat if you can't afford one before you even leave the maternity ward. Different cultural values? Oh, I see, in your culture you don't value human life until one's old enough to do up their own seat belt. Give me a break. Is it laziness? Apathy? A super-hero-esque protective shield around your vehicle that makes you impervious to fender benders? Get out of your damn dream world.

I live in a city where I (an adult)(who can do up my own seat belt) am very wary of other drivers. People are always in a hurry, there's a lot of construction going on, with the consequent road rage to accompany it. And now, joy of joys, it's holiday season. So the crazed masses are not simply driving, they're speeding to the mall/talking on their cell phones/drinking their coffee/flipping someone off/text messaging their best friend. Throw an infant into the mix (which, ironically, is how I believe this holiday originally began) and mayhem is sure to ensue:

"Did you bring the car seat?"
"I didn't bring the car seat - I had the baby. Did YOU bring the car seat?"
"No, I had the diaper bag, stroller, toy box, coffee, cell phone, and iPod."
"Well, screw it. We're late for the 4 AM 1-hour after-Thanksgiving-special-psycho-early-bird shopping day sale. Just put him on your lap."
"Sounds like a plan."

Now, when the Baroness gave birth to Duke #1 and Duke #2, she did her best to make damn sure that they each were protected from harm in every way possible. Why? Because, in essence, they were a part of her, and had resided in her private quarters for close to 10 months. To this very day, the Baroness values these two beasts beyond all else(except, of course, The Baron, but that's a story for another day). Even now, as they are close to leaving our home to take on countries of their own, I still nag and indoctrinate (while they're sleeping - very effective!) and I threaten, and ultimately, I protect. They're miracles, you see. Or maybe that's part of the problem. These parents don't/won't/can't see this simple truth. It is their responsibility to do for their child what their child cannot do for themselves.

I hereby implore all "Baby on Board' sign manufacturers to raise their prices, and include a free child's car seat with every purchase.

"Baby On Board", indeed.









 
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