Real Housewives Confession

I need to confess something to my readers, friends, family and colleagues.

I watch a few different versions of Bravo’s Real Housewives. I think some of you may be surprised, just like you are when I’m not very good at Words With Friends. Before those of you who loathe the shows judge me, I am in the process of serious self analysis as to why I’m so enthralled with these very wealthy, very dysfunctional women.

And I am not alone. “Real Housewives of New Jersey” was the number one searched item on Yahoo on Sunday and Monday. It also was the highest rated t.v. show last Sunday.

So what is the appeal? I have not always been a reality t.v. junky. I’ve never really watched Dancing With the Stars or American Idol. I never watched Survivor or Big Brother. I did watch a couple seasons of the “Real World,” specifically the season with Puck and the one that was filmed in Chicago when I rooted for the Jewish girl on antidepressants.

But in the last year, I’ve been drawn to the Real Housewives. Why?

The answer, quite honestly, is the conflict. I have conflict envy. While I spend most of my life avoiding and preventing conflict, on these shows, the women are rewarded when they scream at each other, almost get violent, throw furniture, etc. If I acted the way that they do, and sometimes I would like to, I would have no family, no friends and no jobs. The louder they scream the more popular that they are.

Two of the screaming housewives. 

Watching other people say whatever they like, whenever they want to, is somehow cathartic for all of the viewers who have to live in the real world and can’t (and probably shouldn’t) say what’s on their minds. If I were paid a few hundred thousand dollars to act like a maniac, I probably would do so, gladly. I don’t know that my mania would rise to the level of the Real Housewives, but write me a check, and I will tell you what I really think about you.

So I will continue to lose my brain cells every week to watch these nutty women, even though I’m not proud of it. If you plan to confront me about it, please have Andy Cohen on hand to facilitate.

Holla. 

How Facebook almost Plunged me into a Deep Depression

I’ve been a little depressed lately, and I’m embarrassed to admit why. But we are on the internet, right, so I have to come clean and tell you everything I’m thinking even though it’s trivial.

 The cause of my depression has been Facebook. For the past six weeks I have been posting, and no one has been commenting on anything I’ve posted. If I write a blog, and post the link on my Facebook page, not that many people have been reading it.

 My first thought was that I had reached my social media peak. I was over the hill, no longer of any interest to my Facebook friends. Perhaps, I thought, since getting married in March, I had stopped being interesting, and had just faded into bulk of 30somethings who had settled down instead of being known as my fun, quirky, single self.

I thought about quitting Facebook, but I thought to myself, if no one has any interest in what I have to say, I still have interest in looking at the cute pictures of friend’s kids, the funny post cards that sometimes give me a chuckle, and sometimes don’t.

 Still, I felt rejected, dejected.

 Yet I persevered and still posted.

 I posted a picture with the comment, “Hello from the desert,” a status thanking everyone for their birthday wishes, an announcement that I was heading to Gay Pride Parade, a Cubs Game with my Dad, and Sixteen Candles. And also I wrote thoughts that before June would have been abuzz on my wall. I wrote comments about hot new topics the health care law, a Florida lifeguard fired for drowning, the pregnant Yahoo CEO, an idea about the electricity problems on the East Coast.

 Silence.

A picture I posted that no one liked on Facebook 

So in my state of rejection, I dramatically decreased the number of status updates. I turned to another social media site in my hour of need, Twitter, and sometimes heard from my followers there. However, most of my followers on Twitter aren’t my friends, and so the feedback just wasn’t the same, although it did get me through the darkest of social media days.

 I also received some self esteem boost when I posted as the administrator for my company’s Facebook page. There, my posts were liked, commented on and shared. But on my personal Facebook page, nothing.

The last straw was yesterday. My husband and I are selling our bookcases and I posted them on Facebook. No one said a word. I was just really surprised because I know a lot of people are moving and they are great book cases. So I turned to my Facebook gurus/addicts the 20somethings in my office.

Now here’s the thing. I hate to even say that, because it makes me sound like the old fogey who doesn’t know how to use Facebook. But I swear I do. I am actually quite tech savvy. So the two 20somethings checked their Facebooks and noticed that they didn’t receive the bookshelves post. Then they commented that they haven’t seen me post anything lately.

Together, we checked my privacy settings to find out that I had somehow set it to only post to one friend.

I had been cutting down trees in the forest and no one was hearing them fall.

This discovery was embarrassing, we got a good chuckle, and we changed the setting. They gloated in the way that I have many times when I have helped an older person with a computer problem (although geeze, I hope I wasn’t as obvious).

 It still isn’t working properly, so I’m going to have to manually select my Facebook statuses for everyone to see. And yes, while it is ridiculous that I thought not one of my Facebook friends “liked” me anymore, it is sometimes like me to go to the glass half empty pretty quickly.

 I know - this whole post is ridiculous in its entirety. Why should I care if anyone “likes”, comments, or shares what I say? Because let’s face it. We are all validated by Facebook in some way, otherwise why would anyone use it? Everyone likes a little attention, even if it’s virtual, and we all enjoy our small piece of fame one click at a time.

 Like?

Special Place in Hell for Rielle Hunter

Last month I wrote about disgraced former presidential candidate John
Edwards, and honestly I didn’t think I would be writing about him
again. But here I am.


Or more specifically, this is about Rielle Hunter, his infamous mistress.

I wish I was less schooled on the details of Ms. Hunter’s life, but
she has been on every “news” program this past week and I honestly got
caught up in her story.  She is promoting her new book "What Really
Happened: John Edwards, Our Daughter and Me."

Ms. Hunter has made the talk show circuit obviously to promote her
book, but also, she says, to tell the “real story” of her affair with
John Edwards. She wants people to understand that John Edwards wife,
Elizabeth was not a “saint” and John was not a demon. She says that
their marriage was bad way before she came along, and that she should
not be viewed as a home wrecker.

Ms. Hunter has apologized not for the affair, or as she says, not for
loving John, but for duping the American public when she went along
with the scam that John Edwards perpetrated that Quin was not his
daughter.
While the numerous talk show hosts have asked her “tough” questions,
they still have maintained an aura of objectivity and dignity during
the interview. They have tried not to seem judgmental.

But Ms. Hunter deserves a wrath of judgment.

My problem with her is not that she had an affair with John Edwards,
although that is certainly distasteful. Nor that she had unprotected
sex with him, for that she is stupid. But her crusade to parade around
the world bashing a deceased woman (Elizabeth Edwards), promoting her
own lies and infidelities, and causing more humiliation for John
Edwards children in the so called pursuit of the truth is just
disgusting.

I wish Ms. Hunter would have just been frank with all of her
interviewers to say, “I wrote this book because it’s salacious and it
will sell millions of copies. I need/want the money to support my
daughter. Even if the contents (none of which are really new) are
hurtful to the Edwards children, including my own daughter, everyone
has to make a living!”

Instead she sits disingenuously in interview after interview trying to
elicit Sympathy? Empathy? Understanding? None of which she deserves.

Ms. Hunter has said that she wants to change the way people think
about her from mistress to mother. I think she will always be
remembered as an insincere opportunist who failed miserably at her
attempt to be celebrated for her sins.

And I predict the person who will sit in judgment of her one day will
be her daughter.

Two new blogs

I have not been writing enough! It's been a busy couple months, but no excuses. I have had two articles published in OyChicago. One asks the question How could Cate Edwards stand by her father at his trial? The other recounts a crazy flying experience.  Thanks for following my blog, and I'll work on being such a slacker. But you know what I've been doing in my limited free time. Writing Thank You Notes!  Have a nice weekend.

Travel Tips: Connecting Flight in Europe, In Flight Food and Entertainment

During my last stopover on the way home from Israel, it was pretty obvious (and from talking to fellow travelers and people at the airlines) that security checks have increased dramatically for flights to the U.S.  I wish I had been prepared for the change, as by the end of my third screening, I felt like the dudes in those Snicker's Bar Commercials. (My angry celebrity persona would be Larry David.)

Speaking of Snicker's, I will also give you my take on airplane and airport food and entertainment.

If you don't feel like reading this, there is one important takeaway that inspired this blog: when you have an overseas stop, give yourself at least two hours to make your next flight. Currently, Orbitz (which I use, I'm not sure about the others) is providing flights in the database that only have an hour stop over. You will almost certainly not make your flight and unless it's a super small airport, your luggage won't either. Don't buy the one hour transfer ticket, unless you are totally flexible and wouldn't mind being stuck in your connecting city and don't need any luggage.


The Transfer

1. Don't expect to be dropped of at the gate.

I'm not sure if this was because of security or for another reason (traffic, personnel) we had to get off the plane and take buses to the terminal. This is only relevant because it's a little uncomfortable to be in a bus with no clue as to where it's going and  it adds to your travel time.

2. Even though you have never left a secured area, you will go through security again.

On my way last trip, I went through security again, was patted down (I hate that so much. It drives me crazy.), my feet and shoes and fingers were tasted for traces of bomb residue. My husband just had his bags checked again and went through the medal detector. My five feet of pure terrorist was clearly a threat to international security. (No, I'm just a short girl who travels a lot.)

3. More security at the gate

Then, last but not least, you will be questioned at the gate about your intentions for traveling to the U.S.  Then you may be questioned again by another desk agent if you raised any red flags - which I did.

Normally, I wouldn't write something about 1 travel experience, but I spoke to the airline and the last people questioning me, and they say that my experience is now standard procedure for all flights to the U.S from Europe.

Food

Again, back to the Snickers Bar commercials. I have a hard time when I'm hungry. I get lightheaded, nauseous, have headaches and become irritable. Airline food is, with few exceptions, terrible. I've tried eating the regular food and ordering special meals. The food is just bad for the souls in coach.  What is helpful is to prep for the trip as if you won't be fed at all. I recommend dried fruit and energy bars if you are health conscious and cookies and sweets if you are not. Some people eat trail mix, but eating a lot of sodium when you are flying isn't a great idea.

What about the stopover, you ask? Well, the problem is that the food at European airports is ridiculously overpriced and not very good. Also, if you can pay in U.S. dollars, you get change in the local currency. This might be okay, if every country was on the Euro, but many of them still use their native coins. (Anyone need a few Lira? Zloties?)

Entertainment

Don't expect every airline to have small t.v.s in the back of the seats or even several visible ones. You can look online to see your plane's entertainment options, and you should before you travel for 13 hours creaking your neck to watch Forrest Gump three times on the single screen in the front of your plane's section. Don't expect the airport you are connecting will have free WiFi. Even if it supposedly does, you may be sharing the small network with thousands of other people, and hence, you will not be sharing at all.

Conclusion

I know I'm very lucky to get to travel, and please don't perceive this post as whining. I just wish that I had someone post this blog before my most recent and other prior trips, and I wouldn't have been so cranky on the flight (instantly forgotten after watching the new Muppets Movie).

If you have any advice for travelers in this genre, please comment below! If you have any questions, if I can, I'm happy to answer them. (Unless you are asking about cheap tickets. I have no advice except to use Orbitz, Expedia, Travelocity, Etc.)

Where is the Pause Button?

I am a licensed realtor salesperson and have been for about 9 years.

Don’t worry. I’m not going to try to sell you a home in this blog.

When I studied for the Real Estate Exam, the class and the material were difficult for me. In the end, I excelled, but it took me longer than I thought to understand all of the terms, perform pretty simple mathematical story problems, and pull it all together.

My brother is my sponsoring broker. He is excellent at his job and has weathered the tough market due to his excellent reputation and customer service.

……………

We had some friends over for dinner tonight and their two children. Something my friend said a couple of times about seeing two people she knows always “rushing around” has prompted me to write.

I am guilty of this. I’m constantly thinking about what I need to do next, almost to (or just above) the level of compulsivity. This makes me extremely productive, but sometimes I wonder if that fury is fueled by negative energy.  When I’m not being productive, I often get stuck in feelings of anger, disappointment, exasperation and guilt.  It’s only when I return to my normative frenzied state, that I can take a break from those toxic feelings.

Some might say I should address the cause of the toxic feelings and correct them. I don’t think the feelings will ever go away, because to some extent they are based in reality, or at least my perception of reality. What I do have control over is how I respond to those feelings.

The frenzy is the easiest way to escape emotions, but it’s not the healthiest, and it takes a toll.

The best weapon is to pause.

 

Really Pause.

Pause to have nice friends over for dinner, but not being compelled to cook a four course dinner for them. (I made soup, chicken and veggies, they brought the starch and dessert).

Pause to make a cake this week. I never bake.

Pause to catch up on the phone with a few friends.

Pause to write an old friend a verbose email.

Pause to write a blog post.

Pause to call my brother to give up my real estate license. I had until April 30 to become a broker, as Illinois is removing the salesperson designation. The transition called for many hours of continuing education (which I had decided to do online).  I finished 75 percent of it, (the class was actually quite interesting) but to complete the final 25 percent was going to take gargantuan will on my part, and in the end I just didn’t have the time.

I felt bad for a while (I’ve had a year to complete it) that I wasn’t prioritizing it. But between work, exercise, a Hebrew class, and getting married in Israel and having a reception in Indiana, and writing thank you notes, it just wasn’t going to happen.

You may ask why I had a real estate license in the first place. Part of it in the beginning was to help my brother out, make a little money, and also due to the encouragement of my dad,also a realtor, that it could be my back up plan.  My dad really wanted me to complete the course.

 My brother was really nice about it when I called him. It was a little bittersweet.

……………..

So without thinking about it too much, I hope to include many more pauses in my life that will help me not to be as focused on yesterday and tomorrow. I don’t have a plan (because I plan too much as it is), but it has to be my priority.

Because I believe living a life consumed by what’s next and resonating hurt is no way to live at all.

On Thursday, Rabbi Wolpe who I follow on Facebook posted this on his page which has really resonating with me:

"To pray is to pay attention to something or someone other than oneself. Whenever a man so concentrates his attention -- on a landscape, a poem, a geometrical problem, an idol, or the True God -- that he completely forgets his own ego and desires, he is praying. Choice of attention -- to pay attention to this and ignore that -- is to the inner life what choice of action is to the outer."
W.H. Auden

I hope this weekend and week that you will have the inspiration to pause, and I hope that I do too.

Key Lime Pie for Brain

I remember someone once explained to me the concept of non profit financial allocations and how sometimes a great idea wasn’t funded because it would mean something else would have to be decreased or cut.

He said, “The pie doesn’t grow any bigger, you just have to cut more slices.”

At this point in my life, just this month or so, I feel like I need a few more pies, to stop eating pie, or to throw the pie in a clown’s face.

But let’s say I’m the pie, I just feel right now that I keep slicing myself into smaller and smaller pieces, almost to the point of them being minuscule so that no one wants a taste anyways, but I want them to still have it.

What is bogging me down is so dumb, so unimportant in the scheme of the universe, it’s almost embarrassing, especially because I don’t have kids.

Twelve lovely women are throwing me a shower for my recent wedding. I put off buying a dress for this shower until Monday. Finally, I did it. Why do I hate shopping so much? That’s for another blog post. But I have the dress, now, I still need shoes and the right kind of bra. In addition, I need to buy them “hostess gifts.” To my parents’ huge annoyance, I haven’t done this yet. I plan to go to this cute store right by my condo on Friday after work.  But what if I run out of time? What if I show up to the shower with no gifts, braless,and  in flip flops?

I have some thank you notes to write that after Saturday will become 40+ thank you notes. I never wrote thank you notes for my bachelorette party (thank you notes and a penis cake just seem weird). And I didn’t write thank you notes to my the gift givers at my Israel wedding because my husband said that isn’t customary. But I’m worried he’s wrong or that I was wrong not to write thank you notes for the bachelorette party.

And then there’s the wedding reception on May 20. I need something to wear to that. I don’t want to shop. I hate shopping, but I need something really nice.

The next thing bothering me is I am supposed to renew my real estate license by taking a course and a test. I have until April 30. I have taken half of the course, but I need to finish the rest. Then I need to take a test. I have 11 days now to complete. They gave us a year to complete it. I’m down to 11 days. Part of my lackluster attitude is I don’t practice real estate. My brother is a broker and way, way back in the day I would help him once in a while. But I think the last time I did anything useful for his business was 6 years ago. So it’s hard to motivate, but I feel bad about not doing it. Especially because it’s not hard, just time consuming.

Then there’s my second bedroom in my condo. I want to get rid of all my books. I have a mini library. The room is starting to smell like a library because of them. But I can’t do it. I’m stuck. One reason is because I just love the books, the other is I don’t really know what to do with them or how to pack them up or whatever.

I need to organize my kitchen, but I can’t do it. I’m stuck.

I haven’t been a very good friend to anyone lately. But I don’t even know how to right now.

And then there’s work. I feel very stressed out. But it’s hard to tell what is self imposed and what is actual.

And then there’s some legitimate stuff as well in my family that is causing me concern.

And some Visa issues (8 months from now! HaHa) that need to be worked out for my husband.

And what about the dentist? When am I due for a cleaning?

And how will I ever be able to manage having kids if my brain is going like this every day!

To avoid it all, I’ve joined a fancy gym. I work out almost every day. Today I watched the Real Housewives of Atlanta Part 1 Season Finale. I burned 500 calories (allegedly, who knows if those machines are correct) and was thoroughly entertained. But when I got off the machine, I just felt guilty because of all the other stuff I need to get done.

My husband is great. He sees me spinning my wheels and tries to put the brakes on. Despite his valiant efforts, he’s snoring and I’m awake at 2:35 a.m.

On his computer. Because mine died tonight. When the hell will I fix that?

I know people have much, much more significant problems and challenges in their lives. And I try, try to think about that when overwhelmed by what I’m overwhelmed by. But, it doesn’t really work.

And I just think about my tiny pie pieces.