"Breaking Bad Marathon"

        I am absolutely addicted to the television show Breaking Bad.  I started watching about six weeks ago, and was hooked from the very first episode.  For me, doing marathons of television show viewing is a new concept, and I absolutely love it. Too much, I think. (It's kind of like watching a really long movie!)   

       For many years, I never watched any TV shows, I mainly viewed movies, both old and new.  Something changed for me, however, once I moved into my apartment and found myself devoid of the company of other humans.  Friends turned me on to some good shows, and I began streaming shows on Netflix.  I watched fourteen episodes of House of Cards (not consecutively), but for some reason I never became emotionally invested in the show, except for my disdain for the female lead, Claire.  I love the show Downton Abbey, and blew through four years of that series poste haste.  I am also a fan of Orange is the New Black, although it is a little graphic for my taste.  Then I discovered Breaking Bad, and it has usurped almost all of my other favorites.  Everything except The Good Wife.  

      I began doing marathons of BB, watching sometimes four or five episodes in a row.  However, once I became engrossed in season three, it became an obsession.  So much so, in fact, that viewing it began interfering with my life, and that includes my class work.  Luckily for me, I was 2/3 through the semester before this BB fascination grabbed hold of me.  

     At the start of this past weekend, I had seventeen episodes left, and I watched four on Friday evening.  Saturday I only watched two because I had my family over to celebrate Easter.  Sunday, however, I was on my own for the day.  I knew when I arose that morning, that I was going to spend the day on the couch, viewing the rest of the series.  Since it was affecting  other priorities, like homework,  I decided that I would give up one day and plow through, freeing me up for the duration of the semester.  I am ashamed to admit that I began at 11:00 A.M. on Sunday morning, and I didn't stop (except to eat and walk the dog) until 10:00 P.M.  I even skipped The Good Wife so that I could watch the very last episode of BB.  Now I can get back to living my life-starting tomorrow.  I am compelled to play hooky from class tonight because....I didn't do my homework!  Imagine-if I had spent those eleven hours studying, I'd know the whole damn French language by now! (My friends and faithful readers know me well, and are keenly aware that this is completely out of character for me.)  So I am going to Email Madame Professeure, obtain my assignment for tonight, and embark on a homework marathon.  (Of course, I had to compose this blog post before I started.)  Thankfully, my grades are good, my attendance near perfect, and I have applied myself throughout the semester.  There have been a number of evenings when I would have liked to skip class, especially during the dreadful winter we had, but I persevered, knowing that an evening might come when I would really need the break.  Tonight is the night!  Regarding the show-it is ranked up there as one of my all time favorites.  I loved the story (and especially that cute little Jesse Pinkman), and found the evolution of the various characters utterly fascinating.  

     I already have another series lined up, but I am holding off starting it until after my final exam.  I'm not going to tempt fate!  I am in the market for an "A", and nothing is going to stop me, not even an evening with Jesse Pinkman.

"Happy Birthday"

     This week, April 23 to be exact, my blog will be two years old.  This is also my 200th post. Happy Birthday 50-Something!

     In the two years since,  I have lost a job, returned to work, continued with my education, moved into my own apartment, and now am coping with the not too far off milestone birthday, which I am already dreading.  I have come to terms with my writing, and realize that I do not have the stamina to really pursue publication.  But I'm okay with that.  I write now more for the pleasure of it, as well as to release and manage my emotions.  I embrace my new life, and adjust to the course that my life has taken, ever grateful for my good fortune, for I feel that I am truly blessed.  I live a simple life, and I am content with it.  I loathe self indulgence, and live within my means.  I don't need designer clothes, a brand new car, the latest that technology has to offer, or lavish vacations.  Let me spend time with my children, see a movie with my BFF, cuddle with my dog, read a good book, cook my favorite meal, witness a beautiful sunrise, and I am happy and filled with gratitude.  I love my apartment and the town I live in.  I value my independence and self reliance.  And above all else, I cherish my sons.  I love them enough to let them go, despite the excruciating pain of it.  As their mother, I encourage them to live their own lives, to pursue their dreams, to do what makes them happy, and not to worry about me.  I still cry when they leave me, but I know that this is how it is supposed to be.  It is my responsibility to allow them their own independence, but to be here for them whenever they may need my support.   

     As I look back on the last 34 years, I cannot believe the speed with with the years have flown by.  If I could only go back in time,  I would love to have spent every waking moment with my children, as  I didn't know that they would be grown up faster than I could blink.  It's unfortunate that life does not really allow us that luxury, however.  Unless a person is independently wealthy,   there are 40 hour work weeks, houses to clean, bills to be paid, laundry to be done, and a spouse who clamors for our attention.  I guess that's why God gives us grandchildren.  The responsibilities of our youth have diminished, and we are able to spend our free time playing with the children.  I, for one, am ready for the next chapter.  Maybe it's time to abandon my resolve and start exerting a little pressure...

    

"Mourning Will Gardner"

     "Make them beg for more, and then don't give it to them!"  

     Do you recognize that movie dialogue?  It is Mama Rose to her daughter Gypsy Rose Lee, in the movie Gypsy.    I believe that, in actuality, this is the mantra of the writers of  The Good Wife.  They have been teasing the viewers for years with the on again off again romance between the show's protagonists, Alicia Florrick and Will Gardner.  Last year, viewers were encouraged to vote team Will or team Peter, and we could even buy our chosen team's T-shirts!  

     I, and many others like me, have been waiting in eager anticipation for Alicia and Will to reunite this season.  My hopes were cruelly dashed last Sunday, when Will, the Zoe Barnes  of  The Good wife, was killed off, shocking viewers.  I am bitterly disappointed.  I know Alicia is married to a S.O.B., and I wanted to see her happy, with a good guy.  Okay, with Will. On the other hand, Alicia is a survivor, and she is sure to grow due to yet another life altering experience.

      I know, I am too emotionally invested in the TV shows I watch.  I'm not the only one...my BFF called me after the show so that we could "mourn" Will.  Many of my friends and I were buzzing all week about the shocking episode, lamenting Will's death, and pondering the rippling effect his absence will have on the other characters.  Many of us also expressed anger at this turn of events.  I even posted a comment to the show's FB page to that effect, indicating that I may never watch the show again.  (That was a knee jerk reaction. I intend to, of course.)

     The Good Wife has been my favorite show since it inception five years ago.  The characters have become friends who are invited into my home every Sunday evening without fail. I manage my Sunday evening schedule based on whether or not the show is on, and also at what time it airs.  I curse the football games that delay its prompt start, and would not go out on a Sunday night if I had a date with a millionaire.  (Okay, that is a bit of a stretch.)  I share in the characters' happiness, I relate to their challenges, and I mourn for them when they are gone. 

     It is with mixed emotions that I will watch tonight's episode.  I have to wonder if Alicia's last voice mail message from Will is going to be reminiscent of a scene from My Foolish Heart,  where Eloise Winters is reading a letter from her lover, soldier Walt Dreiser, who was in the midst of writing it when he was killed.  In the letter, he asked her to marry him...She breaks down sobbing, finally realizing that his love for her was true, but also grieving for the life they would never share. I'm sure that Alicia's scene will be equally emotional.

     I will have a box of tissues at my side tonight, knowing that saying goodbye to Will saddens me.  But life (and TV shows) go on, and like it or not, we will adapt.  The writers gave us no choice. Unless  Alicia had a Pamela Barnes-Ewing moment, and it was all a dream.  We can only hope...

    

"How Raunchy Can You Get?"

     Internet dating, or not, whichever the case may be, is no fun.  Still, I persist in joining a loathsome website, wasting both my valuable time and my limited resources.  I've only ever had one date,  mainly because I'm a snob, not for lack of opportunity.  (Am I really a snob, or am I just in denial about my age, as I have professed to be for months?)  It's quite a dilemma I'm in.  If older men message me, I am disinclined to respond because I can't be that old myself.  If younger men message me (and many do), I am immediately distrustful, imagining that they are merely looking for a rich older woman with one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel.  I'm not rich...

     A friend remarked to me recently about my ability to attract the younger men.  From my perspective, I simply attract bad men, and God knows they come in all ages.  A  forty something had messaged me recently, and I actually found him to be appealing.  Not merely because of his semi youthful good looks, but because he loves movies about as much as I do.  The problem was that he came on too strong, pushing me to meet  him almost immediately.  I messaged him, asking a few general questions about his interests.  His response?  "Do you want to talk on the phone and see how that goes?"  He didn't answer one question!  So, already he's not listening, and apparently he has his own agenda.  Within two or three Emails, I'm already being ignored.  What the fudge!

     Another thing I have noticed, and which I find particularly amusing, is where the fellow has obviously cut a woman out of his picture. (In one case, it was his wedding picture. Can you believe it?)  However, there is more.  Most of these types have their status as legally separated.  (There is no such thing in New Jersey.)  I disregard these types at all costs.

     Then there are the guys who look at my picture upward of sixteen times, without sending one message.  Are they window shopping?  Is it something more perverse?  Perhaps they fear intimacy.  I know I do. 

     Additionally, the screen names and self descriptions are sometimes appalling.  One fellow calls himself klinks.  I immediately scratched him from my list of possibilities, as in my opinion, he either drinks, or he's been in jail.  Another calls himself c--lucky.  (Use your imagination.  I can't even write it!)  Just how raunchy can a guy be?  Then there is the fellow with a thick shock of white hair, who describes himself as having blue eyes and blond short hairs.  (Did I say raunchy?)  By the way, I have no intention of ever finding out...

     So, how many times can a person get burned before stopping the insanity?  I have thirty more days left on my contract, and this time around I have made myself a promise.  If  I don't meet someone decent within the next month-I'm done.  I intend to not only close my account, but to remove my picture altogether, so that I can't get drawn back in.  (They indicate you have oodles of messages, but you can't see them without paying.  Then when you pay, you have about half the number indicated.  UGH!)  

     I have managed to build a nice little life for myself.  I love my apartment, my dog, school, my writing, and, first and foremost, I have been blessed with wonderful family and friends. When I was younger, I dreamed of the life I have now, a life of independence, self reliance, and freedom.  Do I really need, or want, some man to jeopardize all that I have worked so hard to achieve?  I don't think so.

"Room/Off"

     Coping with today's technology is going to give me a nervous breakdown.  I don't know how many meltdowns I can have before I crack.  I have been uploading a lot of old pictures onto my computer.  I put them in folders, and when I went to look for them later, I couldn't find them.  Literally.  After about twenty attempts, and after coming alarmingly close to hurling my computer through the picture window of my second floor apartment, I said a prayer to St. Anthony.  Old reliable!  I found the pictures.  He must know I can't afford a new computer.

     So today I go to the gym, and since none of my friends accompanied me, I watched the TV to amuse myself  while I pounded on the treadmill.  The problem arose when I tried to turn the TV off, and could not figure out how.  The remote control didn't have an on/off button.  What it did have was a room/off button.  I didn't want to press it, because I assumed it would shut off all of the power in the room.  Feeling my temper and frustration reaching their limits, I asked this young hottie on the next treadmill to show me how to shut the TV off.  He promptly pressed the room/off  button!!!  I saw him stifle a chuckle when I told him what I thought that button was for.  Call me crazy, but the last time I checked, on and room were not synonyms. 

     Yesterday, I had to schedule a meeting in work in one of the conference rooms.  Scheduling is done through the Email account.  Go to the calendar, pick a date and time, Email an invitation to the attendees, and...Email  the room!  I'm not kidding-every conference room has its own Email address, and it responds to the invitation to indicate if it is available or not. What the fudge!  I feel like I'm living in an episode of The Jetsons.

"The New Ten"

     If fifty is the new forty, and forty is the new thirty, and thirty is the new twenty-what is twenty?  The new ten?  Judging by the maturity level of some of my classmates-that would be a resounding YES!  There are about a half a dozen students in my class who talk or kid around relentlessly.   Nothing is serious.  Everything is a joke to them.  Since I returned to college nearly 3 years ago, there have been the odd students who would talk in class, but never to excess.  Well!  The students in my class not only talk constantly, and this is really juvenile, they make fun of the professor!  (I thought they were being inappropriate a couple of weeks ago when I asked them to keep it down.)   Last evening, I was discussing the situation with one of my classmates, a fortyish woman who is equally incensed by their appalling behavior.  "They are behaving like high school students", she opined.  "High school?" I responded in astonishment.  "They are more like grammar school students, in my opinion."   You know, our professor is the sweetest lady, and she is very soft spoken and rather timid.  When the children misbehave, she doesn't call them on it.  The next time I go to class, those brats are going to get an earful from me.  I am not paying my hard earned money to listen to them.  They will be lucky if I don't tell them to shut the f--- up-

in English!  And this time I won't be saying fudge...

"Unwelcome Changes"

     I never thought it would happen to me, but old age is staring me directly in the face, and throwing punches.  As I ponder my declining state, I have noticed the following unwelcome changes.

     I have diminished hearing in my right ear.  I find this to be annoying since, when talking on the phone, I consistently, and historically,  have the phone to my right ear.  Having always been resistant to change, I am unwilling to switch.  So please forgive me for continually requesting that you repeat yourself.  Believe me, it annoys me as much as it does you.  Just not enough to provoke me to change.

     I always go to sleep with the television on and the timer set, with the volume just loud enough  to be audible.  This works well if I am lying on my left side.  However, last night I switched sides and realized the TV was blasting.  My neighbors must love me.

     Did you see Ellen at the Academy Awards last week, when she was shouting dialogue at the older actress, June Squibb?  It reminded me of a conversation between my friends and I.  Unless, of course, they are seated to my left...

     Another issue I am having is with night driving.  The lights from oncoming vehicles threaten to blind me, so I drive slowly, and try to ignore those tailgating me.  My sister has her own solution...she shuts her eyes!

     My mind is becoming a barren desert,  with random words and thoughts blowing around it like tumbleweed.    When I cannot recall a word, I almost feel it rolling around in there, and patiently wait for it to surface, which can take a few minutes...or a couple of days, which causes some difficulty when I have an exam. If I am out with a friend, however, between the two of us, we can form full sentences, usually finishing each others by filling in words or names, rather like completing a vocal crossword puzzle. (If my memory would allow-I'd provide some examples.)  All of this makes me wonder how I expect to learn a foreign language, when I can barely form full sentences in my own...Why do you think I like to write?  I can take days to compose a post, and no one will be the wiser.