Where's The Glamour?

      Ahh yes, living life in style. Back in a time when life was about more than trying to get everything done in the most efficient way possible. A time when the main effort was not to make as much money as possible without spending a dime. A period when time could be spared to invest into things like glamour and class. Somehow, we have lapsed out of this beautiful life of glitz and glamour. One may say that as a white female, living on a suburban street in the United States is living in high style. However, I'm not talking about each individual, but society as a whole. We no longer strive for beauty, but for quick and cheap. We no longer strive for class, but for profit and whatever will "get the job done". All I can say, is that it is such a shame.
     My prime example of this concept is the airline industry. The mode of travel that is flight has become downright commonplace nowadays. However, back in the day, flying on an airplane meant that you were in higher class of people. You were riding in style. In exchange for giving the airline business, they would give you a comfortable ride. The flight attendants were there to be pretty, smile, and fluff your pillow. The pilots - in their swanky and mysterious uniform - were darn near super stars. If a pilot was seen on the street, little girls may even ask for their autograph. The airline industry was the picture of glamour. Today, what do you think of when I mention flying on an airplane? Rude flight attendants who sneer at you when you ask for a glass of water? Not getting a pillow and blanket unless you pay extra to be in first class? That's right. No longer is their main goal to make you, the consumer, comfortable and keep the industry a place of high-class transportation, but to get the job done. Their only hope is that they get you to where you paid to go safely, and as cheaply as possible.
      Why is it that our country has lost its sense of class? No longer is going to the cinema a classy night of fun, but it's seen as a cheap alternative. No longer is flying on an airplane seen as an ordeal of style, but a mundane process of getting from point A to point B. Being a flight attendant or pilot is no longer seen as special or exciting, but an almost unfortunate career. The shadow of cheap efficiency has taken over our country's sense of class, elegance, and downright glamour. My challenge: strive for beauty, not cheap. Hope for elegance, not what's quick. Bring back a sense of class to our society.

Let The Games Begin

      Ever since the end of May, we have endured a summer of bad TV. A summer of scanning through the channels; mindlessly flipping between reruns of a favorite sitcom and the latest made for TV movie. An entire season of "what do you want to watch?" "I don't know, what do you want to watch". Well starting this week, we can say this no more. The time has finally arrived. Fall is in the air, and with the new chill in the air comes the new TV shows of the 2011-2012 seasons. To clarify...I am not much of a TV person. I honestly watch barely any, if I'm looking at a television, it's usually a movie. But there are select shows that manage to entertain my family enough to corral us all into the living room for an hour. Various television shows have come and gone in my family's normal weekly repertoire. When I was in the elementary and middle school years, the cool shows were Unfabulous and Drake and Josh. Then as I got older, Beyond The Break, Sabrina the Teenage Witch, and Wildfire were some of my personal favorites. Ugly Betty was great while it lasted.
      As of now, we keep up with How I Met Your Mother, Glee, and The Big Bang Theory regularly. However, with the coming season, we have decided to give a couple of the brand new shows a shot. So we gave Two Broke Girls and The New Girl a chance. We sat down, and watched the pilots together. We even gave Two and a Half Men a try now that Charlie Sheen is off the show. However, we ran into a problem right away. It's becoming increasingly evident to me that as of around two years ago, people just forgot how to write good TV. Instead of witty cleaver lines in sitcoms, they've turned extremely vulgar and just downright nasty. Instead of light and fun story lines, they've decided to add "heart-wrenching" drama to every character's life. It's just become a disappointment. I remember a few years ago, when every week, I would be so excited for next week, so I could see the new episode of my favorite show. Yet somehow, that's completely stopped now.
      I honestly can't think of one show at the moment that I'm just dying to see the next episode of. None of the pilots were impressive, funny, or overly interesting. Maybe there were a couple of laughs here and there. But it's not like in the first season of Glee, when I just couldn't wait for next Tuesday at 7 so I could find out what happens with Finn and Rachel's romance. For the first week of pilots, I give the award of the most entertaining to The New Girl with Zooey Deschanel. It was witty, not overly vulgar, and the main character is actually somewhat likable.
       Maybe it's me. The world's sense of humor has changed, and I just haven't caught up yet. This would really make more sense than anything else. I hate the show Modern Family, yet it won the majority of the Emmy's. My whole family doesn't understand the humor in 30 Rock or The Office. Maybe we just fail to get modern humor. But to all of the amazing writers out there...learn how to write good TV again. Learn how to make a joke without mentioning any exchanges of bodily fluids. Learn how to construct likable characters mixed with interesting story lines. First week of TV? So far...not impressed. Come on writers, let's make this season a great one!

A Day To Remember

"On September 11th, 2001, 4 passenger jets crashed by the force of terrorism. The twin world trade centers were each hit with planes, a third into the Pentagon. A fourth plane never reached its destination, it was brought down by the brave souls on Flight 93 that made the ultimate sacrifice. Almost 3,000 innocent people were killed that day, along with the first responders to the attacks: firemen, police, and paramedics. In remembrance of these brave men and women, post this as your status." These are the words that are plaguing Facebook news feeds around the country on this day. This day on which ten years ago something horrific happened. Ten years ago today, almost three thousand innocent American citizens woke up. It was a day like any other. The date had no significance to the country; not close to any Christian holidays, no reason life shouldn't go on exactly as it was. Hundreds of Americans boarded their airplanes; Middle aged men ready to make their commute to work. Families like my own ready to begin a vacation. Pilots that were just starting another day at the office.
       The moment these planes were taken over by terrorists, America changed forever. Women were widowed, children were orphaned, girlfriends and boyfriends abandoned, and America lost in the turmoil of it all. The World Trade Center was hit, and at first, while they were still drinking their morning coffee, perhaps the local firemen and police officers rejoiced at the possibility of an exciting day at work. Then they witnessed what they were facing. A building just waiting to collapse. Those on high floors who had given up hope jumping to their deaths. Hopes of an exciting work day were gone, and in its place, the realization that they would be lucky to live to drink another cup of coffee.
       Ten years have passed, and we're still remembering. There's no escaping the memory; it's all over television, the internet, newspapers, it's everywhere. Am I the only one who believes that this is not a day to remember? We should not be trying our best to remember this horrific day, we should be doing our best to forget. We should not be celebrating the tenth anniversary of a tragedy. That's what happened, it was a tragedy. A tragedy that should be learned from. Of course, we should honor those who were killed. There were men and women who did very brave things on this day. However, doing our best to remember this day, and keeping the memory alive, it's like reopening a fatal wound in our country's history. And forcing high school U.S. History classes to watch a documentary that shows the event of terrorists killing our citizens over and over again is like rubbing salt in that wound.
       Ten years ago today, I was six years old. A kid in my first grade class was blabbering on about some plane crash. An hour later, my teacher was watching the news while our class had playtime, with tears in her eyes. Such an event is not a day to be remembered. It is a day to be learned from and forgotten. The pain, the suffering, remembering is just torturing ourselves. This morning I woke up, and gave myself one minute. Sixty seconds to remember, and honor the brave few, and give out my best wishes to the families of those who lost loved ones in the act of terrorism. Then my sixty seconds were up, and I moved on with my life. Do not think that I am some anti-American lunatic. I'm just a girl who believes we should work to remember what our country should be proud of: good times, breakthroughs, things that put a smile on our faces. Not something that brings tears to our eyes.

9/11/01 - I have such respect for the day, but hopefully our country is someday strong enough to forget.

Sick As A Dog

       Everyone has those times when they're not feeling quite right. When a nagging aching of the head or scraping of a dry swollen throat fatigue us. Sometimes these simple symptoms can just be a minor distraction that lasts a few hours, or maybe they turn into an infection that plagues you for a few days. Regardless, it's never fun. I'm one of those people that doesn't get sick very often, but when I do get sick, I get really sick. However, I won't deny the select times that I did somewhat "fake" sick so I wouldn't have to face the school day that was to come. Come on, back in elementary and middle school, we all did it once or twice. It started with "my tummy hurts!" or "I have a sore throat!" Back in the days when a fever above 99.5 meant your ticket out of school. The days in which staying home from school meant a full day of laying on the couch, chicken soup in one hand, remote in the other. Switching off between sleeping and mindlessly trying to find something on daytime TV that is mildly interesting.
       Every since I started high school, staying home from school sick meant something completely different. First of all, in high school, you don't stay home unless you absolutely have to. While going to school not feeling 100% is awful, sometimes, missing a day of school can be even worse. So much make up work, test, and quizzes to try and catch up with. There have been times when I feel like I'm making up one day of missed school for an entire week. Because of this, I've gone to school sicker than I should have been one more than one occasion, ignoring the "fever and vomit free for at least 24 hours" rule. Second of all, staying home from school is no longer the relaxing break it once was. Instead of TV, it's studying for the physics quiz they're reviewing for in class while you're on the couch. Instead of sleeping, it's reading the Benjamin Franklin passage you expect they assigned in English.
       Staying home from school for being as sick as I've been for the past few days is far from "relaxing" or "fun". However, one thing will never change. Those same comforts from my childhood have followed me to this point. The same old tricks continue to dull the pain in my throat and the ache in my temples. A nice hot tea  accompanied by yogurt will always take the sting out of every swallow. Ten Thing I Hate About You and Parent Trap are my "go to" movies that are guaranteed to make me want to tear my hair out a little less. But the biggest comfort of all to me, ever since I was a little girl, is when my Mom would sit down next to me and stroke my head. From my hairline down to my neck; she would softly run her fingers through my hair. Back and forth, and back and forth. A fool proof way to stop the pounding in my head.
        Being sick is not something that anyone wants to go through. But, it happens to everyone, and everyone has their own remedies to make it all better. Some do tea with honey, others swear by chicken noodle soup. Some do hours upon hours of sleep, others try to push through the pain. Regardless, everyone will get better, and hopefully go on to face the day ahead. A cough, a sneeze, a tickle in the throat; in my eyes, none if it can be cured without tea and bad romantic comedies.

Go Bananas, Go Go Bananas!!!

      The cadence of the percussionists keeping the beat. Our feet keeping the pulse to the steady beating of the drum. The gate to the stadium opens with a creaking squeal. The green of the field is shocking under the bright lights of the football stadium. Players are already out, tossing the ball, running drills, giving last minute pep talks, and sizing up the enormous players of the opposing team. The scoreboard is ticking down the seconds until the game is to begin, and the smell of hot dogs and popcorn is in the air. I look to the crowd, a full house. The section of bleachers just reserved for students is jam packed full, all camouflage clad, as the school is dedicating the game to military appreciation. As we get in formation to enter the field, all football players and coaches are shooed away from the green. We're cued, and we march onto the field like trained soldiers. Left, right, left, right. Beads of sweat are trickling down the collar of my wool marching band uniform in the ninety-three degree heat. Instruments up, and we march down field blasting the school song. The crowd is buzzing with school pride, screaming and cheering. Not for the band whatsoever, but for the game that is about to ensue. Then the national anthem swells from my clarinet, and in the last few words: "O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave." the student section bursts with pride, chanting "U-S-A, U-S-A, U-S-A!" To top it all off, the beating of something flying overhead turns into the deafening chopping of a helicopter doing a flyby just over my head. The coast guard apparently had something specially arranged.
       The band then creates a sort of tunnel. The football players at one end, and then as we play a quick and bright tune, they sprint through the tunnel, to the other side, and the game is to begin. It's quite uneventful for the first half of the game, though the student section never lost any volume, the cheer team on the sidelines ensured this. Every once and a while, if things were dying down too much, they'd break out in to some kind of cheer that involved the audience, in order to get them pumped up again. Something like "Go bananas, go go bananas!", triggering the audience to repeat, and do as the chant says: GO BANANAS! Half time has arrived, and the score is an unpromising 3-3, one field goal per team. The band does our half time show, playing the songs of West Side Story while making different shapes and styles on the field. We're followed by a dance routine, and a flags routine. And the team is ready to resume the game. As the score is tied up, both teams have come back ready to fight. The other side's bleachers were surprisingly filled as well, all of the students blindingly showing off their school pride in bright yellow attire and booing our team as they run back on to the field.
       The second half is to begin. It wasn't looking like it would ever shape up to be a particularly exciting game. A touchdown was scored for our team, then the other team, tying it up once again. The clock was running dangerously low. Due to the heat and lateness of the hour, no one wanted that game to run into overtime. Coaches for both sides are plotting vigorously against one another as key players are soaking themselves with the water from Gatorade bottles. A whistle blows, and the players smash into one another once again. Everyone around me was cheering harder than ever, so I guess our team was doing something wonderful; someone next to me explained that we had gotten a first down, whatever that means. The teams come together to plot for a few more seconds before another play begins, and all of a sudden the crowd goes WILD! The band is cued to get on our feet and blast the school song once again. A touchdown was scored, and we secured the lead. The game had been won.
       First home football game of the year: check.