A Rose is a Rose is a Rose

Poor Joe the Plumber (did you ever think you'd read those four words together in my blog?!). He got so much flak for his name not really being "Joe". So I figured I'd better 'splain myself toute suite should my 15 minutes of fame arrive before I've had the chance to tell you that "Mary" is not exactly my name.

You see, my mother was a devout Roman Catholic (not the least of her flaws, I'm afraid) and in a fit of devotion decided to name her four daughters "Mary." Quite a long-lasting fit, I'll agree, as my eldest sister is fourteen years older than I am. But before you go off imagining a Who's on First kind of scenario ("Mary, did you brush your teeth? Not you, Mary, I can see that you have your tooth brush in your hand. Oh, Mary, will you stop spitting into the sink just to prove you've used the toothpaste!"), I should tell you that “Mary” was worked into our names as either the middle name (eg., Margaret Mary), the part of a two part name (ie., Rosemary), or the first name. I unfortunately, have "Mary" as my first name. It's caused me a lot of heartburn.

I've always gone by my middle name. Except in grammar school, Catholic grammar school that is.The nuns refused to believe that anyone who had the chance would not want to be called "Mary." After all, they'd given up perfectly reasonable names like, say, Joan Collins, to rename themselves something incorporating as many little-known saints as possible. Like, say, Sister Mary Xavier Ignacious. (I could never understand why they chose men's names so frequently. Something for Master Freud to figure out, I'm sure.)

In first grade, the teacher would say something like, "Mary, would you recite the Our Father prayer?" and I'd look around for the dope who didn't know the lord's prayer by now only to find Sister Mary YoureInBigFatTroubleNow staring at me hard. They thought I was stupid, or worse, a troublemaker. Man! you don't want to be a troublemaker in Catholic grammar school. At least not if you're me. Point of fact, you don't want to be stupid either, since they weren't above humiliating the stupid in those days.

In college, I tried to be an initial initial—kind of like F. Lee Bailey, only with an M. But that was weird and pretentious. (So was I in college, wasn’t everybody?)

Ah! So many memories and so little blogging space. Which brings me to a point I wanted to make (doesn't everything, tho?): why, exactly, am I writing this blog?

Oh, big, long, silent pause.

Sure I want to rant and rave about the inanities of the white collar working world—or slightly browned collar, colored by the sweat we in the trenches work up supporting the silly ideas of those on top of the totem pole. And then there’s the necessity of ranting about the current political situation; I mean, who’s not worked up these days, whichever side of the fence you’re on. And then there’s my everyday life of husband and kid and dogs and cats and friends and family and coworkers, the everydayness that most people close to me are sick of hearing about. I’m hoping there’s a larger audience out there who will hear me out.

Mostly I want to give voice to those of us in the real working world who are experiencing these trying times. I think about stuff, I work in the corporate world, I listen to the news (since the stinking newspaper delivery people refuse to deliver the paper to my rural home anymore and I'm too old to be getting my news online--don't get me started on that one or I'll truly blow!). I know I’m not alone in my opinions and I have to get them out there, to hear what other people think and have opinions about. And I need to blow off at least some of the stress and tension of my everyday life.

So bear with me, in fact, join me!

Incidentally, I saw Joe the Plumber on Bill Maher a few weeks ago (another few words one wouldn't expect to appear together in quite that order). Did you catch it? I was surprised by how intelligently Joe came across. I hope everyone thinks the same thing when they see Mary the Tech Worker on Bill Maher (does saying those words together make it happen?).

What do you think?

Things I hate

I may live in Northern California, but I was raised by New Yorkers and spent considerable time in the Northeast corridor. So you can bet I know from hate. In my family growing up, we hated people who had more money than we did. We also hated people who had less money than we did. We hated people who didn’t go to mass every Sunday; truth be told, we hated those who did go—especially once we got into the crowded parking lot with them. When I first moved to San Francisco I thought I was the only one in the city capable of strong emotional reactions to ANYthing.

I could rant and rave endlessly about politicians who posture and obfuscate just to increase their own standing, regardless of what that does to us poor slobs who are trying to keep our jobs and houses. But what thinking person wouldn’t be upset about that? And I guess I shouldn’t get started about the LACK of thinking people who frequently participate in our electoral process. For instance, in this past election? How could anyone have been undecided? I mean, what were they? Dead?

I hate corporate CEOs who announce that the company needs to institute pay cuts, magnanimously laying out how it is to be a gradated cut, starting at the top and trickling down to all the dweebs. Sounds great until you realize that base pay is only a tiny fraction of the total executive compensation package. And if the CEO’s top goal was reducing costs throughout the organization, this pay cut just got him his bonus.

I hate it when people in my yoga class fall asleep during the meditation. I mean, take a nap before class if you’re that tired.

I hate when my husband leaves his boat-size shoes around the house. And I hate that my 8-year-old son is starting to do the same thing with his nearing boat-size shoes.

I hate it when I don’t wake up in time to get my 14-year-old greyhound outside in the morning before she poops on the floor. I really hate it when I step barefoot in that cold slippery poop. But I hate most of all that she’s not going to be around pooping, whether indoors or out, that much longer.

I hate when butthead conservative zealots from Utah shove millions of dollars into promoting their narrow points of view in my state so that we pass a ridiculous and hateful proposition that keeps my gay friends from having the same access to the legal system that I have. Stay in your own state. Marry as many teenage brides as you can convince to marry you, I don’t care. Just leave us alone.

I hate that I know so many people who have recently lost their jobs. I hate that the world feels totally out of control these days. I hate that there are nuclear bombs and nutcases who would use them. I hate bubble gum ice cream. I hate complacency and laziness and people who are mean.

What do you think?