my life

Boiling water, Cosmo, the "R" in "VCR", and the homework/housework dilemma.

This and probably some extra things you didn't bank on, because once I start writing, no one knows--not even I--where my tapping fingers will carry me.

I took leave today so I could work on the boatload of research/impending homework I have due next week, knowing I won't be able to take leave next week. I promised myself that I'd use today productively, so if I'm not researching, reading assigned stuff, or writing assigned stuff, I'd clean the house.

It's 1pm, I'm almost finished with the chapter I've been slogging through for days now, and the house is almost spotless except for the floors and bathrooms, which I'm saving for a weekend distraction.

I poured boiling water on my hand today. It wasn't smart, and it smarts. I wasn't drunk or watching television over my shoulder, nor can I even claim my dog bumped me at the crucial moment. Nope. I stood there with a pot of boiling water in my right hand and a measuring cup in my left, and poured a goodly dose of boiling water right past the intended target and directly onto my hand. I realized my error before dumping the entire pot on myself and adjusted my aim accordingly. (I hope it heals before Tuesday, because I'm scheduled to (finally!) take my annual Physical Fitness Test. I do pushups on my knuckles, and the pushups will be uncomfortable if my skin peels off.)

I was making a huge batch of hot water cornbread, see. I've recently returned to native cooking for a number of reasons. We eat a lot of cheap, healthy vegetable-y stuff in the Black Belt class, as well as read a lot about how poor people cooked and ate, and I've thus remembered lots of the stuff I ate growing up, which I swore I'd never eat again once I left home and could afford "real food." I've wearied of eating out finally, for lunch or dinner, and like having huge pots of food from the weekend to take to work for lunch during the week. Plus it's healthier. Last but not least, I recently saw Supersize Me!, a documentary film that will make you think twice before pulling into McDonald's (or any fast food establishment, for that matter). I didn't have much of an attraction to fast food to begin with, so the movie actually made me edgy about eating out at any franchised chain. So...I've been eating much healthier lately, except when I pour boiling water on myself, which can't really be described as healthy.

I finally produced decent cornpone. Now if I could just produce fluffy buttermilk biscuits like I used to, I'll die a happy woman.

A couple of times in the past month, I've heard myself utter the words, "I was reading about X in Cosmo the other day, and...."

I'm not a Cosmo girl, see--not in looks, interest or attitude. I remember reading the magazine once or twice when I was a teen, at which point I realized they publish the same ten articles every issue, but they just change the wording and put in new pictures. I noticed this as a teen, mind you, the closest I've ever come* to actual concern over what others might think of my body image or perceived sexiness.

* Within smoke signal distance, if I remember correctly.

So some thoughtful person left an old copy of Cosmo in the ladies' room a few weeks ago, see. I am a bathroom reader, even if I know I'll only be a few seconds. I like to say I don't enjoy lost time and thus find some way to engage my mind, regardless of the length of unavoidable delay, but the truth is that staring blankly at a bathroom stall stops me up. I'm sure there's some deep-seated psychological reason for it, but it isn't really worth the $120/hr a good shrink costs, so I just live with it, and try to go into such situations prepared.

For this reason, I snag a mag on my way to the stall, and glance through it as time permits (it stays there throughout the day, so I get a better sampling of the magazine over time). I've noticed a few things about Cosmo.

- They still write the same ten articles, just like before, one of which is invariably, "How to drive your man crazy in bed." Other stand-bys are losing those unsightly pounds, makeup tips (from someone famous), inane remarks about various stars, and what's hot and what's not in clothing, hairstyles, and makeup. Apparently, women care about these things. Incessantly.

- I think I've figured out why the women don't smile. It will crack their makeup. (If they do smile, it's a gentle upturned-lip-corner smile, as opposed to a smile of genuine amusement or enjoyment.)

- The articles are just as banal as they ever were. No surprises there.

- The magazine purports to help women become more beautiful, stylist, confident and sexy, but can only maintain its readership if it crushes their self-esteem. It seems to me that beauty, style, confidence and sexiness all depend upon healthy self-esteem.

Frankly, I'm appalled that enough women read this trash to keep them in (apparently profitable) business. For years. For me, though, it's a choice between this, Christian Reader (a little TV-guide looking magazine with people's personal stories of faith), or rereading my controlled area badge or whatever I might have in my pockets, so Cosmo usually wins.

On the lines of popular appeal, though, I got to thinking about television. I just learned that there are people on the welfare system in Alabama, for which they get something like $176/mo for having a child or two and being jobless (they also get food stamps), and many of them have cable television bills over $100/mo. When the social workers go over to check out their homes, the entire family is almost always watching television.

Then it occurred to me that this isn't just welfare people. Don't most Americans watch television several hours a day?

If you don't, you're a freak.

Like me.

I can't say I've ever been addicted to television. That I remember. There was a period where I was making copies of programs that appealed to me to mail to an overseas friend, at which point I discovered why they put the "R" in "VCR." I began to make a habit of setting my VCR for programs that looked interesting, and going about my life, unencumbered by the "gotta get home by 8pm for the X-Files" blues*. But then, such a change isn't possible if you're addicted to fifteen or twenty programs, I guess; you may as well go ahead and devote your life to the tube.

* With the added bennie of being able to fast-forward through the commercials, as well.

As it is, I haven't bought cable services since I came back into the military. I finally broke down and bought a television (to watch movies), but cable?

So I was wondering, see. Which is worse for you: drinking a glass or two of wine a night, or watching five hours of television a night?

Why don't the mental health people ask how much TV you watch? "You watch how much? More than three hours? You need a therapist. You have a serious initiative deficiency and possible escapism problem. Oh...and you're watching what? Survivor? I'm referring you to a neurologist, as well. You may be brain damaged."

But no. More than one glass of wine and you're possibly suicidal. Constant television when you aren't at work* or asleep is...normal.

* Strike that. Lots of people watch whatever's on all day at work, too. It's called streaming video.

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