Communications Geekery

On this election eve, an interesting link compliments of my husband/fellow media geek C. about the chaos that Hilary's top spokesguy caused and later dealt with.

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to grab my sleeping bag and get on line for concert tickets to vote.

The Secret o' Life

Those words jumped out at me while listening to James Taylor on my iPod on the Bolt Bus (yay, Bolt Bus! The Internet sometimes works, but the $49.50 is well worth it) a few weeks ago coming home from ridiculouschick's shower.

If you're not familiar with the song, the refrain goes something like this: "The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time."

I was reminded of that again when chatting with HappyLiving yesterday, who was having some of her own revelations about her own current stage of life.

We all spend so much time analyzing what's behind or straining on our tiptoes to see what's forward that it's all too easy to miss what's happening right now.

If I were writing a letter to my younger self in a few years from now (not to sound like a scene from Spaceballs here), I think that might be one of the most important things to know, and to remember.

Catching up

OK, lots of loose ends to catch up on.

First, Rainn Wilson may just be my new favorite celebrity. This guy is truly the real deal. Here's why: The cause he was in town supporting is an incredible group called the Tahirih Justice Center, which provides legal aid and support to women fleeing gender-based violence. What does that mean? Women who are trying to get away from their African tribes to protect their daughters from FGM. Many have them stolen in the middle of the night, no matter how hard they try to protect them. Women who are in arranged marriages who emigrate to the country only to be abused in any number of awful ways, and be left with no legal status to defend themselves, because their visas are tied to those of their husbands.

Not exactly the kind of stuff you'd think the guy who plays Dwight Schrute would support, let alone wholeheartedly.

Yet he did, far beyond the call of duty. He ransacked "The Office" prop closet to bring goodies for the silent auction (including Michael's Dundie award and Andy's Cornell sweatshirt, both used on the show). He posed for picture after picture, in between playing with some of the clients' children. He went to the executive director's home earlier that day to meet with clients and hear their stories. He auctioned off brunch with himself on Sunday for another fundraiser.

He even sat down with me for an interview long after the event was over and most other celebs who come to Washington charity events (Sharon Stone, I'm looking in your direction here) would have been whisked away to their suites or Towne Cars.

As it turns out, both he and the director of the group are Baha'is, and the religion places a heavy priority on seeking social justice. As his celebrity grew, he said, he got all sorts of requests to participate in charities, and finally decided that he had to focus on one cause that spoke to him.

All in all, he was a really cool guy, even if I did sound like Chris Farley on "The Chris Farley Show."

Awesome.

There are other things, but this blog post has well overstayed its lengthy welcome, and you're bored from all that scrolling. More to come.

Schrute Space

First off, man, I've been depressing lately. Not only have I had a serious lack of posts, but those that have been there have not exactly been the stuff of Hallmark cards.

Sorry about that.

So, on a lighter note, I'm gonna meet Dwight tonight! Yes, this Dwight, in all his calculator-watch wearing, beet-loving glamour.

He's emceeing an event in town that I'm attending for work, and that they'll be granting interviews for reporters afterwards.

Awesome.

Here's the thing, though: When it comes to talking to celebrities, my interviewing style looks and sounds amazingly like this, Chris Farley's "The Chris Farley Show" character on SNL.

"Remember that time, when Jim sent you faxes from Future Dwight? Um... that was awesome."

Also, think of the most non-funny cause you can for the event to be supporting. Got it? OK. If you guessed combatting gender-based human rights violations against women and girls, you'd be correct! You know, just the kind of easy, lighthearted topic that lends itself to a fun, non-serious interview about life at work and Dundie Awards.

So, I'd love to some help with questions. Here's the scenario: I need to somehow ask Rainn Wilson, the guy who plays Dwight and who is not Dwight tonight, questions that will make sense and maybe even entertaining reading for a business publication during an event with serious overtones.

Hey, how hard can that be?

C'mon, people. Whaddya got?

So many questions

Slate.com has some very thought-provoking comments on Sarah Palin today. Thanks to the smart author of Quibbling.net for the link.

Crash

It finally happened.

C. walked into our house last night to find both of us crying. Baby in his playpen. Me on the couch.

I finally hit that point, the one I kept thinking that I was tough enough to overcome, to hold myself together, to not give into the desire to just fall apart.

But I'm not.

Poor C. wasn't sure what to do. I tried to explain it, but didn't do a very good job, in between the sniffling and whimpering. It's a combination of things, really, some within my control, some not.

It's an overload of stories at work that I'm doing neither well nor on time and have nothing to be proud of there. It's anxiety about stories, which is something that comes with the job and can often be controlled, but sometimes, you get a big helping that you have to just get through. It's missing my friends there who have left, and not feeling bonds with those who have stayed. It's needing a big heap of inspiration and not knowing where to find it.

It's feeling like I have absolutely no idea what to do with this now one year old, other than feed, change and try to keep from whacking his head on everything. I'm not a mother, I'm a goalie. And I just don't know what to do with this kid right now. I'm not a very good entertainer. I'm at a loss for games to play or things to do.

It's feeling out of touch with friends, and like life if just a series of short, difficult sprints, with some time to sleep in between before you have to get up and do it all again the next day.

And maybe most difficult, it's this dull, emotional ache that seems to have invaded everything I do. Some of it is people related, but much of it is just there. I try to fight and put it in its place, but sometimes, it's too fast for me. It's not painful enough to do anything about, but it's always there, like a nasty hangover headache that just won't finally subside.

I try to power through, and tell myself I'm tougher than this, I can keep it together, that I don't have the luxury of letting myself fall apart. I need to keep going, that I can do this. But sometimes, just sometimes, I want to just give into the sadness and cry. I know I need to be the one to make it better, but sometimes, I just wish someone else could do it for me. Just for a moment, the mother becomes the child again. I know I'll summon up the strength, but right now, the demons sank a few three-pointers when I wasn't looking.

Who's more fun to be around than me?

Seriously... ?

The trampoline is an Olympic sport? The trampoline?

I've probably seen nearly a dozen sets of Olympics in my lifetime. How can I not know this?

And which camera guys draw the short straw to get this event? "Oh, sorry, Bob, we're all full up over at swimming and track. Let's see ... oh, have we got an assignment for you! It'll pull a real, ha ha, bounce in your step..."

My particular good thoughts go out to the low angle camera guy, who spends his entire night earning himself a one-way ticket to Whiplash Street.

Must. Stop. Watching. Camera. Motions. Making. Me. Nauseous. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

There must be some synchronized diving on somewhere?