Song Obsession of the Week

So I must confess, I have watched American Idol this season. I know, lame. I watched David Cook's season, but other than that the only one I ever followed was the first one, with the brilliant KC. But this season I decided, meh, I guess I'll watch it...and Kris Allen is amazing! Yes, Adam Lambert can pull off the rockstar thing, and yes, he played Fiyero in the LA cast of Wicked, but pretty much every song Kris sings makes me want to go buy his album. Here are my faves:



"She Works Hard for the Money"

"Falling Slowly." LOVED that he took a risk with one of the best movie songs ever!


"Heartless." Love that he covered Kanye AND The Fray's versions.

So there you have it, I watch American Idol. I do not, however, vote for American Idol. I save that ultimate lameness for So You Think You Can Dance...WHICH PREMIERES NEXT WEEK PEOPLE!

I Like...Awkwardness

Oh man, you have to check out Awkward Family Photos. They're just putting out in the open what we have all experienced at some point in our lives...except these are WAY more awkward. Best procrastination tool ever!

I Like...the semester being over!! (Almost)

It's true...this insane semester of full-time practicum + class + insane number of papers is finally winding to a close. It has been hectic and exhausting, but challenging and productive for the most part. In short, here is what I learned:

I am a LOT more interested in social policy than I ever expected.

I became a somewhat passionate advocate for education policy reform. 

I could see myself being more involved in the macro/community development/policy/advocacy aspects of social work than I previously thought.

Some professors are crazy, and some are crazier.

I heart Trinity for actually preparing me for grad school. I learned that this semester, because last semester was a joke.

Even when writing insane papers for insane professors whose jargon and made-up terminology is impossible to follow, I became more introspective and got more of a handle on my own philosophy of social work and empowerment. 

I want to start a community vitalizing, sustainable development, strengths-based, street-level, innovative social change organization. Someday. 

I still love to write, even if the paper topic is vague and I am making up B to the S the whole way.

I have written 127 pages...10 more to go. 

Hallelujah!

p.s. why is it raining, cold, and feeling like November? It's May 10!

I Like...Reality Checks

I got this from Arloa Sutter, a community organizer/minister from Chicago whose blog I found recently :) So powerful.

Being poor is getting angry at your kids for asking for all the crap they see on TV.

Being poor is having to keep buying $800 cars because they're what you can afford, and then having the cars break down on you, because there's not an $800 car in America that's worth a damn.

Being poor is hoping the toothache goes away.

Being poor is knowing your kid goes to friends' houses but never has friends over to yours.

Being poor is going to the restroom before you get in the school lunch line so your friends will be ahead of you and won't hear you say "I get free lunch" when you get to the cashier.

Being poor is living next to the freeway.

Being poor is coming back to the car with your children in the back seat, clutching that box of Raisin Bran you just bought and trying to think of a way to make the kids understand that the box has to last.

Being poor is wondering if your well-off sibling is lying when he says he doesn't mind when you ask for help.

Being poor is off-brand toys.

Being poor is a heater in only one room of the house.

Being poor is knowing you can't leave $5 on the coffee table when your friends are around.

Being poor is hoping your kids don't have a growth spurt.

Being poor is stealing meat from the store, frying it up before your mom gets home and then telling her she doesn't have make dinner tonight because you're not hungry anyway.

Being poor is Goodwill underwear.

Being poor is not enough space for everyone who lives with you.

Being poor is feeling the glued soles tear off your supermarket shoes when you run around the playground.

Being poor is your kid's school being the one with the 15-year-old textbooks and no air conditioning.

Being poor is thinking $8 an hour is a really good deal.

Being poor is relying on people who don't give a damn about you.

Being poor is an overnight shift under florescent lights.

Being poor is finding the letter your mom wrote to your dad, begging him for the child support.

Being poor is a bathtub you have to empty into the toilet.

Being poor is stopping the car to take a lamp from a stranger's trash.

Being poor is making lunch for your kid when a cockroach skitters over the bread, and you looking over to see if your kid saw.

Being poor is believing a GED actually makes a difference.

Being poor is people angry at you just for walking around in the mall.

Being poor is not taking the job because you can't find someone you trust to watch your kids.

Being poor is the police busting into the apartment right next to yours.

Being poor is not talking to that girl because she'll probably just laugh at your clothes.

Being poor is hoping you'll be invited for dinner.

Being poor is a sidewalk with lots of brown glass on it.

Being poor is people thinking they know something about you by the way you talk.

Being poor is needing that 35-cent raise.

Being poor is your kid's teacher assuming you don't have any books in your home.

Being poor is six dollars short on the utility bill and no way to close the gap.

Being poor is crying when you drop the mac and cheese on the floor.

Being poor is knowing you work as hard as anyone, anywhere.

Being poor is people surprised to discover you're not actually stupid.

Being poor is people surprised to discover you're not actually lazy.

Being poor is a six-hour wait in an emergency room with a sick child asleep on your lap.

Being poor is never buying anything someone else hasn't bought first.

Being poor is picking the 10 cent ramen instead of the 12 cent ramen because that's two extra packages for every dollar.

Being poor is having to live with choices you didn't know you made when you were 14 years old.

Being poor is getting tired of people wanting you to be grateful.

Being poor is knowing you're being judged.

Being poor is a box of crayons and a $1 coloring book from a community center Santa.

Being poor is checking the coin return slot of every soda machine you go by.

Being poor is deciding that it's all right to base a relationship on shelter.

Being poor is knowing you really shouldn't spend that buck on a Lotto ticket.

Being poor is hoping the register lady will spot you the dime.

Being poor is feeling helpless when your child makes the same mistakes you did, and won't listen to you beg them against doing so.

Being poor is a cough that doesn't go away.

Being poor is making sure you don't spill on the couch, just in case you have to give it back before the lease is up.

Being poor is a $200 paycheck advance from a company that takes $250 when the paycheck comes in.

Being poor is four years of night classes for an Associates of Art degree.

Being poor is a lumpy futon bed.

Being poor is knowing where the shelter is.

Being poor is people who have never been poor wondering why you choose to be so.

Being poor is knowing how hard it is to stop being poor.

Being poor is seeing how few options you have.

Being poor is running in place.

Being poor is people wondering why you didn't leave.

I like...swimming!

Growing up in the tropics, the coolest thing to do was join the swim team...partly because of the abundance of beautiful pools and bored kids, and partly because swimming was the sport that offered the least possibility of heat stroke. I lovvvved swim team, and continued to swim through high school, then stopped when I got to college, mostly because I got lazy. Hence the Time of Working Out Sporadically and Eating 4 or 5 Meals a Day began (strangely, I LOST 15 pounds when I went to college, but those habits have caught up with me now)! Add in the Time of Being Married to a Person Whose Favorite Channel is Food Network, and we have a recipe for disaster (pun not intended).

Fast forward to last month, which I like to call the Time of Banishing the Flab. I have spent so many five-day periods slugging away on the treadmill for an hour at a time, trying to motivate myself and convince SOMEONE that it's worth it. Five days after my must-get-fit obsession began, it would end because I wanted to take an ax to that darn treadmill or kick it til it wouldn't make me run on it for another horrifically painful minute. Finally, after months (okay, years) of this battle with the Dreaded Treadmill of Doom, I in all of my genius observance have discovered that my key to getting fit in a way that is sustainable and lifestyle-changing is finding something that I actually ENJOY. I know, it's not rocket science, but for some reason I had myself convinced that running was the only mechanism for banishing the flab, even though I detest it and want it to die and would rather jump in a pool of purple pond sludge than do it.

I discovered that working out CAN be enjoyable again, and I really found this out by going to Zumba class for the first time. I got to shake my booty to awesome Latin music and get a CRAZY workout out of it! This salsafied inspiration got me thinking about other ways that I could work out yet enjoy myself and end my workout like those crazy weirdo runner people who say running helps them think better. For the record, all running does for me is help me think about how much I HURT and how much I just want to stop running and walk straight to Freddy's Frozen Custard to make myself feel better.

Sooo, all of this thinking about exercise, along with the discovery that I can get an awesome discount at the Health Sciences Center health club, made me remember how much I loved being an Aquadragon (the Jakarta International School mascot is the Komodo Dragon, so swim team = Aquadragons), and I decided I'd take up swimming again. So I drove myself to Academy, bought a sweet Nike swimsuit, and drove myself to the pool. I tried to swim my first lap at the pace I was used to going at, before the Time of Fourth Meal at Taco Cabana caught up with me, and let's just suffice it to say that did NOT work. Yikes. So I resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to start out slow, but at least I'm not as slow as the 30 year old dude with a mohawk who believes with all his heart that wearing a Speedo will make him the next Mark Spitz...it will not, FYI. I feel pretty good about my ability to get back into form, swim at a fairly respectable pace, and not half to turn over halfway across the pool to float on my back so I can breathe...but then Michael Phelps version 2.0 comes into the pool - no matter what time of day I am there, he is there - and I decide I have a long way to go and decide to get out of the pool for fear of looking like the weird speedo dude who thinks he knows what he's doing.

The point of all this is to say, I have been swimming at least 3-5 times a week for the past month, and I love it! It clears my head, it's a fantastic full-body workout, it's relaxing, and it doesn't make me cry or yell in pain or give dirty looks to anyone who passes me because they should be suffering with me in my running, darn it! I'm not quite back to my Aquadragon days, but I'm getting there. Yay for getting fit!

Song Obsession of the Week

Love Matt Nathanson...

"Falling Apart"

I Like...Susan Boyle

When the news is filled with depressing things like family murder-suicides, more economic crisis, details about U.S. torture policy, and random medical student-turned-stalker-slash-killers, the media jumps on feel-good, smile-getting stories like that of Susan Boyle. This sweet, 47-year-old woman came on Britain's Got Talent, got boo-ed and laughed at by the audience and judges, and proceeded to knock them on their arses as soon as she opened her mouth. Seriously, it was pretty great to watch Simon Cowell's stone face break out in a surprised grin with her first notes. 

You should really watch the video. 

But as heart-warming as this is, and as much as it makes every housewife or bored businessman jump up in their living rooms to root for the underdog, it made me think about WHY we were all so amazed by her performance. YES, her voice is awesome, and she is extremely talented...but to be honest, it's nothing we all haven't heard before, in a concert, or in a musical. 

If we're being completely frank, the reason everyone was floored is because that awesome voice came from someone who looked like Susan Boyle. Before she opened her mouth, we all (myself included) assumed she was one of the weirdos who came to juggle or sing a ho-down about her cat on national television, because we are so used to judging people on their too-frizzy hair, or their not-made-up-enough face, or their slight lisp, despite the fact that behind all that might be a sweet, good, valuable, impressive person that - GASP - we might learn something from! Yes, the voice would have still been impressive had it come from someone who looks like J-Simp or one of the girls from The Hills, but I think the sensational media blitz wouldn't have spread quite as quickly as it has. It's a happy, victorious tale for Susan, but kind of a sad commentary on our society and where we place top value.

Maybe I'm too cynical, but I do think it's worth pondering exactly why our expectations were so low for this lady who is clearly brilliant/ace/cracking/bloody great. 

p.s. I wish I was British.