101 Rock Ave, Apt #3
(Originally written November, 2001)
One thing that should be clearly understood about yours truly is that I live under a rock. I'm not ashamed of it. In fact, it was a life-style choice I made many moons ago.
Why?
Apart from the fact that I was not interested in what some Hollywood star and/or political official had been doing when they were not in front of the camera and/or behind their desk, as appropriate, and realizing that most of Washington and Trenton really does not give a rat's tail about me except on the first Tuesday in November (which is fine with me as long as there are driveable roads and some one to call in emergencies), I have seen little or no reason to keep up with current events.
Too much of it isn't even real news. It's snooping, being nosy for the sake of it. I mean, what does it really have to do with me, anyway, if there was a four-alarm fire in some distant city? Those that were affected by it were either present or got personal calls shortly afterward. The rest of us are just being nosy. I say, bring in the help that would is most effective, such as the fire fighters and EMT people, as well as the social services department and insurance people. But the rest of us? We're just being snoopy, a safely removed gawker who, instead of at least having the gumption to stand behind the yellow tape, is sitting comfortably in our own, non-burning homes watching as some poor person has just lost theirs.
Do the reporters think this is important news? Again, for those it truly did effect, they (hopefully) knew about it before the news people. Not that I'm really knocking the news people. Unfortunately, they must find ways to justify their existence in between real news stories. I can always tell when it's been a slow news week. When the front page of the local newspaper has a picture of a healthy child or pet animal on the front page, they are beginning to seriously hurt for news.
Actually, though I would rather not talk about this any more than necessary (out of respect, if not because everyone else has already said more than enough), I had noticed sometime last August that 2001 had probably been the slowest news Year that I could remember. Until September, of course. I have begun to think of slow news times as the ebb before the flow. Ugh.
The only other item to mention about 9/11 is that, strangely enough, that was the anniversary of my first husband's and my wedding (really!). You can imagine how glad I am that we're now divorced. Imagine trying to celebrate and have such a thing happen. I still feel sorry for anyone who may have had the misfortune to have been born on that day, especially youngsters that have a whole lifetime of birthdays ahead of them.
But, getting back. When I say I live under a rock, I do not just mean that I don't listen to the news. That's not even altogether true. I do read the news. I just never listen to the radio or watch television. The last time I watched television was when Stephen King's "Storm of the Century" aired and, even then, I recorded it to watch later. The last regular TV program I watched was "X Files," before David Duchovny left. Actually, a year or so before he left.
It's not that I don't care about what's going on. I just do not see how what a particular starlet was wearing at the Academy Awards directly impacts my life. There probably is some trickle-down but I'm sure when it reaches me, I'll know it. Actually, that may explain why, when I went to have my hair cut recently, I wondered if my hair dresser had endured a rather bad epileptic fit during the proces-- she certainly messed it up this time!
So if you ever wonder where I am, just look for 101 Rock Ave, Apt #3. It's right next to the Hippy Dippy Weatherman and Bert and Ernie.--mo
One thing that should be clearly understood about yours truly is that I live under a rock. I'm not ashamed of it. In fact, it was a life-style choice I made many moons ago.
Why?
Apart from the fact that I was not interested in what some Hollywood star and/or political official had been doing when they were not in front of the camera and/or behind their desk, as appropriate, and realizing that most of Washington and Trenton really does not give a rat's tail about me except on the first Tuesday in November (which is fine with me as long as there are driveable roads and some one to call in emergencies), I have seen little or no reason to keep up with current events.
Too much of it isn't even real news. It's snooping, being nosy for the sake of it. I mean, what does it really have to do with me, anyway, if there was a four-alarm fire in some distant city? Those that were affected by it were either present or got personal calls shortly afterward. The rest of us are just being nosy. I say, bring in the help that would is most effective, such as the fire fighters and EMT people, as well as the social services department and insurance people. But the rest of us? We're just being snoopy, a safely removed gawker who, instead of at least having the gumption to stand behind the yellow tape, is sitting comfortably in our own, non-burning homes watching as some poor person has just lost theirs.
Do the reporters think this is important news? Again, for those it truly did effect, they (hopefully) knew about it before the news people. Not that I'm really knocking the news people. Unfortunately, they must find ways to justify their existence in between real news stories. I can always tell when it's been a slow news week. When the front page of the local newspaper has a picture of a healthy child or pet animal on the front page, they are beginning to seriously hurt for news.
Actually, though I would rather not talk about this any more than necessary (out of respect, if not because everyone else has already said more than enough), I had noticed sometime last August that 2001 had probably been the slowest news Year that I could remember. Until September, of course. I have begun to think of slow news times as the ebb before the flow. Ugh.
The only other item to mention about 9/11 is that, strangely enough, that was the anniversary of my first husband's and my wedding (really!). You can imagine how glad I am that we're now divorced. Imagine trying to celebrate and have such a thing happen. I still feel sorry for anyone who may have had the misfortune to have been born on that day, especially youngsters that have a whole lifetime of birthdays ahead of them.
But, getting back. When I say I live under a rock, I do not just mean that I don't listen to the news. That's not even altogether true. I do read the news. I just never listen to the radio or watch television. The last time I watched television was when Stephen King's "Storm of the Century" aired and, even then, I recorded it to watch later. The last regular TV program I watched was "X Files," before David Duchovny left. Actually, a year or so before he left.
It's not that I don't care about what's going on. I just do not see how what a particular starlet was wearing at the Academy Awards directly impacts my life. There probably is some trickle-down but I'm sure when it reaches me, I'll know it. Actually, that may explain why, when I went to have my hair cut recently, I wondered if my hair dresser had endured a rather bad epileptic fit during the proces-- she certainly messed it up this time!
So if you ever wonder where I am, just look for 101 Rock Ave, Apt #3. It's right next to the Hippy Dippy Weatherman and Bert and Ernie.--mo
posted by Marige | 6/10/2008 12:39:00 PM
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