2016!

Dear You:

A simple number, illuminated on a black background.

That is everything I want.  The illuminated everything shining through.

Tonight -  CNN (Anderson Cooper and his best friend), random college football, beach fireworks and no internet action.  So, as I exit this last 2015 day, here is the question:

What illuminated action do you want to take this new year?

XO
Salud!

J

Christmas Eve Eve. The Christmas list edition!

See photo and Google away!  Ms. Woodhull ran for president (quite progressive this woman) more than a century ago.  Smart, cunning, and she scared people to death.  I wonder why this fast (supposedly) and ambitious nation has yet to vote a femme into the Oval Office?  We will change that in the coming year.  This is my vision-quested listicle for 2016!

BIG PICTURE:

1.  My USA will elect its first female president.
2.  The Patriots will win another Super Bowl.
3.   Many deadhead authoritarian structures will fall and new ones (independent energy, independent labor) will take their places.
4.  "Brick and Mortar" businesses will be revived; new ones will be created.
5.  The economy will shift . . . in interesting ways.  (Buy stock, darling.)

JOYCE PICTURE:

1.  I will NOT (or just say NEVER) grade another essay or associate with regressive, uptight faculty divisions.  I will, instead, remain in the open world of trade.  I will be bizarre in the bazaar!
2.  I will continue my status as wild cat savior here in the beach zone.
3.  I will learn to speak and read Spanish (seriously, how many year has that been on my list).
4.  I will gain muscle mass :)
5.  I will continue to be thrilled by the song/video "Live Your Life":
     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=koVHN6eO4Xg

'Tis the season to be jolly.

Love, kisses, and everything you want . . , I wish!
Your Joyce

Retail!

Dear you:

Since I am walking away from the goofy repression of low-pay-high-stress college adjunct professorship life (and yes, walking away from the less than lively colleagues who creep me out), I am working as a seasonal retail hire at a legendary old store.  It is really fun.  But I am all over the place.

Have you ever viewed the wonderful old film Auntie Mame (is that the title?) starring Roz Russell? Her free-spirited character faced financial disaster so she gamely entered the work force.  She too was all over the place.  I identify.  Just making it up as I go along:



Crazy!

But, considering the drama on planet earth now (yes, another shooting, more sorrow), you and I are lucky people.

Belated kisses,
Merry etc.
Auntie Joyce

Fragile but strong enough . . . go fly your kites and defy the joy killers.

Dear you, dear world . . .


Friday the 13th, 2015, another day of fragile life on planet earth.  Paris.  Us.

I read this argument a few years ago; I recall a discussion of religious fascism and how it would be the 21st century disease.  How do we spin our dogmas into "justifiable" horror?

During the Taliban reign in Afghanistan (90's and probably resurfacing now), kite flying was against the law.  Kite flying.  Something airborne and lovely, prompted by a running body, a fragile human body loving its brief time on planet Earth.  What is the essential motivation behind banning that?  And relating to Friday, why target people eating, watching sports or listening to music?

Joy killing.  If that is the "religious" motivation, it simply sucks in its stupidity and vanity.

We are all fragile, but strong enough.

Go fly your kites and defy the joy killers.

Love and kisses, really!
Joyce

People, politics, and pumpkin pie . . .

Dear you:

Did you watch the latest hearings, attempts to prosecute/catch Ms. Hinton for . . . anything? All extremist motivations aside, every viewer should have been blown away by her unwavering toughness.  ELEVEN HOURS!   Eleven hours of questions she has answered before.  Eleven hours of looking at that dude with the pointy white hair.  (That would have done me in totally.) And she never lost her cool.

Cool people.  What a good thing it is to be a cool person, in politics and elsewhere.  It seems that "passion" is praised excessively these days.  I hear about passion for careers, passion for hobbies, passion for food, passion for passion.  I am getting pretty tired of passion.  I may be becoming passionately dispassionate.  I've never been a fan of lethargy or passivity, but I am looking back at a good many of my passionate choices and am not sure they were as beneficial (or FUN!) as my "cool" choices.   For example:

PASSIONATE CHOICE 1985 -  accepting a dinner-theater Christmas gig instead of amassing waitress cash in NYC.  Stupid.
CONTRASTING COOL CHOICE 2012 - subverting scamming students at St. Pete. College before my exit-move to PCB.  Smart.

But it's not about me.  It's about today's TOP FIVE cool people:

1.  Ms. Clinton (as noted)
2.  Tom Brady (performing quite well during this season's fabulous revenge tour)
3.  Anonymous writing student I taught at the University of South Florida (name withheld to protect the talented) who created the coolest stories that never featured zombies or anatomically impossible sex scenes. (Warning - if you sign up to teach a basic creative writing course, get ready for hilarious descriptions of sexual acts as imagined by the innocent.  I was especially fond of one scene -- created by a virginal writer -- who thought he knew all about his heroine's GEE spot.  No, he wasn't kidding.  He thought it was called the GEE spot due its "ah, gee, that felt good" associations.  Actually, he wasn't cool, but I do want to hand him a high score for adorable.)
4.  Anderson Cooper
5.  Justice Ginsberg (the notorious RBG)

October is winding down; all things Thanksgiving are approaching.
Yes.  Pumpkin pie is cool!  Please do not blame the pumpkin and the classic pie for all the bullshit, "passionate" products that make us nuts:  pumpkin coffee, pumpkin cake, pumpkin ice cream, pumpkin toilet paper, pumpkin tweezers, and (OMG) pumpkin spice anything.  Never mind; it isn't COOL to hate on helpless spin-off products.

Enjoy what is left of 10/2015!

Wishing you cool pleasures . . .

XO

Joyce

WE WILL HAVE SO MUCH WINNING!!!!!!

Dear you:

Syria, shootings in Oregon, flooding in the Atlantic states.  What, me worry?  Never!  I have the promise of The Donald assuring me we will have so much winning.

Winning.  I suppose that means different things to different people. My version of winning is NOT at all like Mr. T's or many of his supporters.  Break it down, "listicle" time again.

Winning according to Joyce:
1.  Gigging in enough dough to pay bills and eat well.
2.  Avoiding the trap of extrinsic motivation.  (If I do this, my department chair will love me etc.)
3.  Enjoying immunity from random opinion.  (Yes, I pretend I'm a Billboard Top 10 star when I work out on the beach.)
4.  Pretending I am immortal.  (This is only disrupted when mailings from AARP or Funeral Benefits Inc. arrive in my mailbox.)
5.  Maintaining physical and intellectual flexibility.  (I can still fall into complete 180 degree splits and can read books written by my adversaries . . . kind of.)

Winning according to Donald:
1.  Talking about my piles of dough.
2.  Manipulating people to fall into traps of extrinsic motivation.  (Don't piss Donald off.)
3.  Enjoying immunity from logic.
4.  Knowing I am immortal!
5.  Maintaining physical and intellectual weirdness.

Choose your 5 actions, from Joyce or Donald, and execute them for your own brand of WINNING!

I guess being alpha and in control is a sign of dominance (a sort of winning), and I have to hand it to Donald for achieving that . . . power.  Speaking of power, check out this clip from Trevor Noah's show compliments of Time:

http://time.com/4060432/trevor-noah-donald-trump-african-president/

Hilarious!
Frightening!
Perfect for Halloween season!

Go forth and win, baby.

XO

Your Joyce

Hey, bartender!

Dear you:

Last Wednesday's Republican debate featured the best stuff first.  Mr.Graham, referring to his bar-owning family legacy, quipped if he is president we will DRINK MORE!

I'll drink to that.

Should I chat about the latest perplexing banter or controversies?  Or should I just stick to Donald, The Movie . . . something we are all watching helplessly.  What is up with The Donald not teaching the weird "Obama is a Muslim and not born here dude" the facts?  Oh wait, The Donald was one of the original birthers.

I am quite confused about this whole religion thing.  What does 'god' have to do with a socially constructed institution called religion?  Gettin' all literature teacher here,  aren't our religious texts simply writings authored by people?  Talk about unreliable narrators.

Buckminster Fuller (check him out on Wikipedia for an impressive resume of thinking and doing) said god is a verb.

I'm getting way too deep.

Happy September, sliding into fall . . . the best one ever, we hope!
Kisses,
Your Joyce

Everyone's cushy little world . . .

Dear you!

As we celebrate Labor Day tomorrow, consider two work related stories in the news that make me want to line up shots and knock 'em all back:

1.  The Kentucky clerk who won't issue marriage licenses to gay couples because of her religious beliefs.
2.  The flight attendant who won't serve cocktails to passengers because of her religious beliefs.

 First Amendment rights.  As for religious actions of choice, in public, in the marketplace, on the job, why are these women asserting a right to prevent OTHERS from doing things they choose? Is their cushy little world so easily disrupted by "different strokes for different folks"? (Flashback to old television sitcom.) Control, control, control.

If I do not condone gay marriage (a Supreme Court smack-down legal thing), then I will not marry someone of the same sex.

If I do not condone alcohol, then I will not drink cocktails.

What on earth is going on?  If my job is to issue marriage licenses or serve bourbon on the rocks, I will do it.  These are legal actions, marriage and slamming back a strong one.

The blood shed for labor movements was not about these two distortions.  Frankly, it is just bizarre.

So, I think I will apply for that waitress job at Waffle House.  And then, I will refuse to serve waffles because it violates my religious beliefs.  You know, the mystical, spiritual power of batter and syrup, something to worship.

Sigh.

Walt Whitman:  "Let us stand up."  But these gals are crawling, fearfully.  Imagine the strength it takes to allow others their choices, their legal choices.

Sigh number two.

Nevertheless, all shall be well.  Or at least BE.

HAPPY LABOR DAY!
Kisses -
La Joyce

Trumpeting and other loud sounds . . .

 

Dear You:

The stock market is all over the place this Monday, reacting to China/Asian economic dynamics.  And Trump promises to fix our China problem.  How, we don't know.  But he is trumpeting Trump-life and gathered a crowd in Mobile, Alabama last week.  You all know this.  But here's my point . . .

As a born-in-Bama gal, I feel entitled to diagnose happenings there.  Generalizations are poison, but my birth state has a rather troubling history.  (How's that for a a euphemism?)  So when I see large, loud crowds screaming love at a divisive politico, I narrow my eyes and get defensive.  What is it they love?

When Donald sang out his usual talking points (never different) I scanned the crowd behind his podium.
Yes, there are the craftily placed African American attendees adding a touch of "See?  Donald is for ALL the people!".  But I couldn't take my eyes off the chick in the yellow dress (shift, mu-mu, nightgown, whatever).

Observe Yellow Dress Lady in the above photo, featured near Trump, to your right.  You should have seen her in action.  Each non-point-scary-claim the Donald made was followed by one of these reactions from Yellow Dress Lady:
1.  Wide mouth screaming.
2.  Wide mouth screaming with arms up in "touchdown" mode.
3.  Violent hand clapping.
4.  Violent hand clapping with head nodding.
5.  Fist in air with booing (this occurs when big T speaks of Clinton or the media).
6.  Maniacal laughter.
7.  AND MY FAVORITE:  Maniacal laughter followed by a full body spin, showing TV land her mullet hairdo.

Have I gone wrong here?  She could be a great gal for all I know.  But something about her represented what I fear about Trump supporters (notably in Bama).  I FEAR their FEAR of everything new, creative, progressive, edgy, or simply different.

Which puts me in a bit of a bind, doesn't it?
Fearless Joyce fearing "them".

But at least you and I, darling, were miles away from Mobile on that given night.  And I recommend we stay far away.

Have a fear-free day :)
Kisses,
Joyce

It was the best of times; it was the most fucked up of times.

Dear you:

A busy July for us all as we swelter, sweat and feel everything shifting.   Shifting is good.  But destruction (negative down shifts) is not so good.  I cannot get past the recent environmental disaster.  The Animas river is running orange, a toxic cocktail from abandoned mine waste.  Ironically, the EPA (Environmental Protection Agency) accidentally released the sludge.  Millions of gallons of horror are flowing down to other rivers, other regions, bringing fresh hell as it rolls.

What can I do?  What can we do?  For every problem there is a solution, right?  Try Google!  And I did.  I Googled the phrase "solution to Animas river" and got nothin' but bad news.  One expert type optimistically claims next spring's mountain-snowcap melt will wash it all away.  I thought we didn't have snowcaps left.  And we have to WAIT until 2016 for a "maybe this will help" event?

Shades of 2010, when the BP spill bloodied up my Gulf of Mexico.

Sad sad sad.  And I had hoped to return to Blogger with pithy comments about the first Republican debate.    But that is way-old news.  I'll just share something from our favorite satirical news source (The Onion) instead.  In the meantime, party on.  Might as well dance it out!

Here is The Onion bit, for your enjoyment:

In light of Donald Trump’s controversial comments about Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly and the Republican Party’s divisive views on Planned Parenthood, many are wondering how the party will win the female vote in next year’s presidential election. Here are some ways the GOP can appeal more to the nation’s women:

• Make it clear that they think everyone, not just women, should receive less health care
• Offer direct, heartfelt apology to any female donors they may have offended
• Clarify that their war on women is really more of a limited-scale combat engagement on women
• Remind voters that they’ve been nothing but nice to their secretaries
• Redesign elephant mascot to feature wider hips and lush, batting eyelashes
• Simply repurpose time-tested GOP strategies for courting Hispanic, black, low-income, and millennial voters
• Deflect attention from party’s opinions on women by reminding voters they have dozens of other equally horrendous views
• Don’t lump all women into one category, but rather acknowledge female voters as individual baby-producing apparatuses
• Emphasize how cutting taxes for large corporations would benefit all women who happen to run large corporations
• Start search for presidential candidate over from scratch

Kisses- 

The Joyce

"Watch out for El Chapo!"

Dear you:

Mr. 305 talks back to The Donald!  The press of current events is relieved by the comedy (continuing) of politics.  And that is pretty tragic considering how politics is supposed to relieve the press of current events.

Check out this Business Insider article elaborating on Armando Perez's (Pitbull) reaction to Trump's idiocy: http://www.businessinsider.com/pitbull-donald-trump-el-chapo-2015-7.     In this short article, notice how he pushes Ms. Clinton and Mr. Rubio to "step it up".

Step it up!  I cannot see/hear that phrase and not think of the dance movies featuring that title.

Here are some alternatives to the "step it up" phrase, following the three word form.  These can be used in political, social, domestic or even taking-to-yourself-when-you're-alone contexts:

1.  Dance it out!  EXAMPLE:  Pitbull to The Donald, "Cut the bull and dance it out!"  Then they engage in a break dancing competition.

2.  Shove it under!  EXAMPLE:  El Chapo orders his crew to stash The Donald's body, "Shove it under the bridge."

3.  Slap it down!  EXAMPLE: If my composition students suffer writer's block, I say "Slap it down!"  (Meaning some words on paper, not me.)

4.  Drink it over!  EXAMPLE:  When Senator McCain is deciding if he should hire El Chapo to eliminate Trump, he says to his advisers "Let's drink it over!"   (Every decision is eased by martinis.)

5.  Bring it on!    Oh, wait, that's been done . . .

Enjoy the July heat and don't forget to drink it over!

Kisses from this place,
The Joyce



   

Independence Day 2015 - a fashionable, fabulous flag . . .

Dear You!

Explosively yours on this holiday, I contemplate the fashionable and fabulous American flag.  Just a symbol, yes, I know, but considering the recent murders in a South Carolina church (and a shooter who I can confidently label as racist-stupid) and the related actions to tank the NOT fashionable or fabulous Confederate flag, I just had to create a list.  Five reasons why our flag is fashionable and fabulous:

1.  The stars  cleverly represent our twinkliness (I know that is not a proper word, but indulge me), our shine-on optimism that refuses to buy the dire bullshit of Rush Limbaugh.

2.  The (straight line) stripes represent the wisdom of that old factoid "the shortest distance between two points is a straight line".  And that, my friends, is our version of getting radically liberating things done quickly . . . sometimes, at least.

3.  The passionate red is . . .  passionate.

4.  The serious blue is . . .  serious.

5.  And finally, the entire symbol itself reminds us that only here can a little boy like Donald Trump grow up to run for President!

Today, the warm, dreamy Gulf of Mexico, is a joy, a blessing, and a seriously passionate reminder to me that it is really, really GOOD to be here.  Here, saluting that fashionable, fabulous flag.

Happy Birthday to us :)

XO,
Citizen Joyce

Six times ten = ME!

Dear you:  I don't imagine I am Ms. Turner (Tina, Tina, Tina), but she is my role-model for moving on up in years.

Six times ten equals ME!

I really don't feel any panic or existential fright; I wonder if that lack of trauma is normal?

But this is my plan for moving in to this decade and on:
1.  I will continue to professorize with zest - maintaining a freelance lack of chains.
2.  I will continue to build the "body electric" - remembering the new yard work load is not equivalent to a dance-yoga workout.
3.  I will continue to cocktail and smoke - including fruits and vegetables in the mix.
4.  I will continue to learn "stuff" - tackling that Spanish language for good and forever.
5.  I will continue to not let the bastards get me down - keeping my teflon component solid.
6.  I will START to invent a new . . . . something.

Stay tuned for more info on what that something is.

Que sera, sera!

Kisses and elasticity -
J

Choosing our dramas . . .

Dear You!

See above photo:  asteroid passing Earth.  This time . . .

While enjoying my daily news fix (especially Sunday morning, looking back on the week that was), one gentleman caught my attention.   He discussed his work with an interviewer; his chosen drama is asteroid detection and ELE (extinction level event) prevention!

When asked why this choice, why this work to protect our little planet from something that just doesn't feel  "probable" (or possible), he answered that since other people were tackling the buzz-word-anxiety projects like ISIS, poverty, cures for cancer etc., he thought he'd devote his talent to something getting less attention.  This marvelous dude invents ways to adjust the rock's trajectory, just enough to save us all (like the movie Deep Impact for all you 90's buffs).

Really, this planet has been hit by these babies before (talk to dinosaur ghosts).  And they will be back.  Apparently, Earth is ten times more likely to be hit by one of these zingers than we assume/realize.  Someone on the "internet" said that, so it must be true :)    But that's not the point.  The point is we can choose our pet dramas -- choose where we will place our progressive/save-the-world energies.  Maybe my obsession with American politics (especially the fight against religious freaks or civil liberty violations) should be shifted to something else.

What should my selfless, save-the-world obsession be?  I don't think my recent "adoption" of a gorgeous, annoying feline counts.  And I have no scientific ability or healing skill.  I could walk around northwest Florida tragically rapping "Fight the Power", pick up trash along the highways or . . .

I could just be real and embrace my current obsession. I have to!  Why? Because Ben Carson and Ted Kruz are running for president.  Either one of those guys in the White House would be the equivalent of a big-ass asteroid hitting Mother Earth.

And on that note of futuristic fear, I shall sign off!  Welcome in the first day of June . . . hours away.

And enjoy  planet earth, now.

XO
Joyce

Salute!

Hello you!

It is Memorial Day eve, and this is the meme:
   We can all do this.  Not literally, but metaphorically.  Make it beautiful.  Arch that back and let your head go there.  Mythic leaping is something we can all do . . . considering what these boys/men did.   All those wars and all that struggle.  I am required to do more than seek comfort, retirement, and a plush stock portfolio.

My dad fought killer battles in WW2 and survived the Korean "conflict".  What was that like, Charles R.?

Today, the news feed speaks of Isis eating up more of what we call Iraq, and I wonder what those big "I" idiots would do when confronting this leaping femme?  Run?  Shoot?  Would they even get her?

Too much blood and too many control-games.

We can do this:  just jump . . . and make my Daddy proud.

Cheers and kisses -
Your temporarily exiled Joyce

Politics is fun!

Dear you:

Did you enjoy the correspondents dinner last night?  When intentional comedy is produced by our Washington D.C. darlings it is always sweet.  But the unintentional comedy is even sweeter:

Seriously, did Prez candidate Ted really say this at a conservation convention this year?


Side-splitting.

What is WRONG with this dude?

Still, I do love our game, our country.  Hollywood, Politicos, Masters and Mistresses of Industry, Rappers, Educators, Athletes, Gangsters . . .

Quoting Daddy Whitman yet again:  "The powerful play goes on . . ."

Be insatiable -
XO
Joyce

More wacky news!

Dear you . . .

Am I hearing one of this week's news bits correctly?  Does Oklahoma actually ARM volunteer "deputies"?  This cannot be true, says my inner denial-of-all-things-psycho-in-America voice.  But it is.

Apparently, a drug related thing was goin' down in Oklahoma and one of these random volunteers shot and killed a suspect.  It was an accident.  He thought he was pulling the trigger of a taser.  But he pulled the trigger of a GUN.

What is more horrifying?
1.  The fact that this dude doesn't know the difference between a taser and a gun.
2.  The fact that Oklahoma even has a deputy reservists (volunteer cops) program.
3.  The fact that Oklahoma is part of the United States.

Born in Alabama and residing in Florida, states that pretty much always win the CRAZY contest, it is good see another state really going for the title.

NOTE:  I know the man who did this is very old and certainly not malicious, but really?   Why on earth was he even allowed to be in this position?  Sad sad sad.

So, April showers are here and all is well in my world.   For now . . .
Love,
Joyce

Nosey Neighbors & Furniture Removal . . .

Dear You!

There she is . . . always looking out for teens on skateboards, beer on the beach, and ME.

The neighborhood I reside in is called Inlet Beach, a lovely little zone.  However, we have some "private property" types who are working my last city-girl nerve.  This time, it's the random condo owner (see photo) who gets psycho if she sees an unauthorized person trying to dispose of anything in her large and NOT used dumpster area.

Scenario:  Me with old porch couch that needs disposal ASAP.  Mildew, cat-fleas and general stinkyness required I do this yesterday; no time to wait or pay for some random methed-out dude to take it away.  So, I dismantled the beast (a heavy, heavy sleeper sofa), using my new yard-gal skills, and then dragged the sofa frame down my street to the aforementioned condo with the fabulous dumpster space.

Drama:  When I was within 3 feet of said dumpster, Miss Nosey came charging at me like I was dropping a nuclear weapon on her "private property".

Dialogue:   PSYCHO:    "You can't leave that here.  This is private property."
                 
                 Joyce:      "Why? The county picks up old furniture here all the time."

                 PSYCHO:     "Well, you don't live here."

                 Joyce:   "I know!  I live in a fabulous house of my own!  Gotta go.  Time to dump this couch in a vacant PRIVATE dumpster down the road.  I love your stretch pants."


SCENE END.

I think the pants compliment confused her.  Try that if you need to baffle a nosey neighbor!  I think it will be even more effective if she/he is not wearing stretch pants.

Signing off this cloudy Sunday, the day HILLARY announced her candidacy for President, 2016!
I love it :)

Kisses,
Joyce

Brief communication - bunny day!

Dear You -

 

My darling computer failed to connect to Twitter or this Blog World for my typical Sunday postings, so here it is, brief and belated:

 

Happy Spring :)

 

Wishing you nothing but new, new, new and absolutely to repetition.

XO

 

Your Joyce

What's up Indiana?

Dear You:

So, the Hoosier state legislature passed a law for "religious protection".  Meaning:  Freaky Conservatives can discriminate in the workplace, in business, and claim faith as justification.  What?  How does baking a cake for Jack and Jack or Jill and Jill instead of Jack and Jill violate anyone's religious freedom?  I just don't get it.  And I am really glad I don't.

Love this dude -- check out the sign:



 Well sir, if you are not booked with dates already, you will be after cool young citizens see this.  A man who loves liberty and dogs, priceless.

Happy end of March . . . there were some "ides" indeed.
The struggle continues.
Have a cold beer and dance it out . . .
XO

Your Joyce

Fangirl . . .

Shot of Channing Tatum in Jupiter Ascending . . . Only HE can save us now!

Dear you:

Yemen is now a chaotic mess; water shortages loom; Ted Cruz (or is it Kruz . . . or even Cruise?) is running for President; the random cat who adopted me had a huge tick on his neck today, and gossip mills report Kim Kardashian's brother is dissing her via Instagram.  It's a madhouse here on planet E!

Spring break ends tomorrow, and I shall be back in the classroom annoying students.  The assigned readings fall under the "power and responsibility" subject heading.  Me?  I'd like to be powerful . . . but mostly, irresponsible.  Perhaps I should send in Tatum's Super-Hero from Jupiter Ascending to lecture, a fictional role model, but at least a role model.   And I'm pretty sure he packs a piece, something I hear the Florida State Legislature is about to make legal on college campuses.  Seriously?  I lose my temper over weak content development!  Do you want ME carrying fire-power in a Composition class? 

Just another day in the northwest part of paradise . . .
Kisses and good luck :)
Your Joyce

Breaking the spring . . .

Hi You!

It is spring break here in PCB, and much bad dancing is going on.
Do you love the Tiki Bar postcard?  What is the sister doing?  Is that twerking gone wrong?
Whatever it is, I hope this was fun (for her at least) and I hope this year's visitors are enjoying themselves.

About the break concept, in general . . . why is complete euphoria allotted to only certain times of the year?
Why aren't these students this crazed and enthused in classrooms?  No one said they have to sit like narcotized lumps staring at laptops or professors.  And why not be this buzzed out at the workplace, mall or grocery store?  When I whistle or lightly bop around public places, I do get the "that is inappropriate" stare sometimes.  But WHY??????  Every day is spring break and every place should be the Tiki Bar.

This is where I am today:  As I close out a 15 year role as fabulous adjunct professor, I am still amazed at the fragmentation of our culture in all things.  Exuberance is set aside for time-off.  Then, time-on (be it in job world or school world) is clocked in at 50%. 

We repeat the phrase "life is too short" . . . trying to remind ourselves/others that THIS DAY is the ONLY day.   But the average day is considered a requisite dullness, preparation for that "special" week of bikinis, beer, and boys.  And fearless bad dancing.


But spring is breaking out all over.  And I am Tiki Bar glad about that.
Here is to fearless bad dancing, metaphorically speaking, every bloomin' day!

Kisses and get ready for tonight's new season of The Kardashians :)
The Joyce

Professor of the year . . .

Hi You!

The dude in the photo (with fluffy feline) is quite the catty professor.  I am not sure if the story I found is satire or truth, but he is quoted as saying:

"Don't give me any of your shitty papers and you will get an A."

So this is the way to win student approval.  And ease the workload.

On to an itchy new month . . . beware the ides of March. (I am not sure what that really means.)  Is the message warning us about a new season of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, due to air March 15?  Or is it alerting us to more shenanigans from the conservative camp?

Relax, have a martini, and stay tuned for March Madness.

Cheers to all, including the king of "Oh no he didn't", Professor Zizek.

Kisses,
Ms. Joyce  (note the "Ms." -- women's history month too!)

Another Red Carpet . . .

Hi You!
Another red carpet night, Oscars.  This a la animal get-up from a few years back is still my favorite:

Do you remember this?  Isn't that Bjork?

Meanwhile in the USA, panic alerts are flashing for certain USA shopping malls.  Malls?  Really?  I just don't get the idiocy of these small "t" terrorists.  I hate to even type the word.    Fearful of popping up in a security screening of internet chat.

Cold in the nation, even sweeping down to area code 305!  Come, warmth . . . come soon.

Leaving you now to contemplate the swan dress.

Kisses -
The J

Recruitment, political party style . . .

Hi you!

This day's latest slaughter of brothers and sisters by ISIS leaves me weak.  What planet am I on?  The sea runs red with blood . . .

Meanwhile in our USA, something from Buzzfeed caught my attention.  Armando Perez, A.K.A. Pitbull (my fandom is adolescent-like crystal clear in this blog) is being recruited by the Republicans!

Ah, Armando . . .
  But as quoted in that Buzzy piece, he is not so easily signed on to political gang membership:

"I’m not here to be part of any political party,” Pitbull said in a statement. “I’m here to bring political parties to my party because they can’t, they won’t they never will, stop the Pitbull party, Dale!”

Dale indeed, darling.

I am thinking La Casa Blanca for Pitbull himself.  At least, the Party party would go on, refusing to bow to sadistic, pleasure hating a-holes who slaughter by the sea for Sunday fun.   Can't touch this/us?

The split-mind continues, considering all that, and I shall carry on:  Composition classes to enjoy manana and the weird escapism of Downton Abbey tonight. 

Yes, carry on.
Kisses & DALE -
Joyce

Post-Super Bowl Fabulosity . . .

Dear you --

The Patriots WON WON WON the Bowl a la Super!!!!

A record-breaking viewing crowd and a freaky game with unexpected events (e.g. - football bouncing into fallen receiver's hands and fame-making interception by humble youngster who was working at Popeye's five minutes ago) made the NFL championship show the best ever.  And my Brady/Patriot bias has nothing (well, maybe something) to do with my assessment.

But there is more!  The advertising.  Yawn, yawn, yawn in response to the pathos of puppies and paternity. What I loved is/was the Reebok sell:




Be more human indeed.  My idealized self loves to identify with these types, and the televised ad Super Bowl night was just . . . killer good.  I have to use the word inspirational, exhausted though it be.  But the backlash is coming already:  claims this appeals to vanity, the ME ME ME obsession.  Really?  Isn't it refreshing to see a celebration of the flesh instead of the latest techno gadget or the crap sold on Home Shopping Network?  And even if most serious play-types can't afford the actual Reebok product, doesn't this ad acknowledge they exist and are "just doing it" (sorry, competitor Nike) too?

But I need to add another human-type to this Reebok demographic, one that is often criticized by fitness freaks and Puritans:
The Sporty-Lite Human!  She smokes and enjoys reading in the bathtub just as much as she likes her workouts.  Aren't both forms of delicious indulgence required if she (okay, I do mean I) REALLY wants to "be more human"?

One last interesting confession.  On YouTube, the Reebok ad is linked to a quiz that calculates . . . "humanness".    I took the quiz.  My confession?  When asked if I had to choose between being a genius or being astonishingly good looking, I chose the latter.

Have a truly human day :)

Yours in Mutual Narcissism,
Joyce

Super Bowl Sunday --- nail biting plus beer . . .

Halftime, Dear You!

With all the serious events on planet earth, millions of American peeps and I are all peppy over the game.  I am simultaneously on Twitter, posting random reactions to #PatiotsNation or something hash-taggy like that.

Seriously, I want Brady and company to take this one.  Give Tom another ring!

Meanwhile, rain falls in north Florida all day.  I complete my taxes and get fined for not paying for health insurance.   Really?  My precarious work situation is tough enough without being penalized for not cooperating with health insurance monoliths.

But why worry about reality?  Miss K. Perry is about to perform at halftime and I can distract myself with bread and circuses . . . putting the Romans to shame.

Offering a hopeful prediction:  Patriots will win this one . . . Wilson's last minute miracles won't happen this night. Or so I say.  OMG!  Just looked at the television.  K. is riding on this vile looking, giant, mechanical tiger.  And now there are dancing robots . . . Truly, we are a demented nation :)

Kisses and Go Patriots!

Your Joyce

Balls, bread bags and a big old storm . . .

Hi you!


Just when I thought it was safe to celebrate the Patriots' AFC win and upcoming Super Bowl, here comes #DeflateGate.  See Twitter.  Really?  The nonsense continues as attackers eat TV time with assertions of guilt:  They say Brady must have requested the football changes (for those outside of sports craziness, you know the claim --- the air pressure for balls used by the Pats in the game against the Colts were judged below required limits).  Really, again?  Why would someone this good at the game do something that could jeopardize a hot season record?  The Pats are clever and deflation would be a rookie mistake.  Balls.

And now on to BREAD BAGS!  After the recent State of the Union speech, the Republican response by Senator Ernst replayed her campaign screeds.  Those ad-bits were all about her humble childhood; one so pure and poor that she had to put BREAD BAGS over her one pair of shoes during wet weather.  Pretty soggy stuff.  What was relevant about her personal anecdote?  What on earth did it have to do with a response to the SOTU?  It made as much sense as #DeflateGate.

And additionally, winter is real.  A serious storm is on its way to the northeast.  Weather folks say is will be equivalent to a Category 5 hurricane.  Ms. Ernst should send her bread bags up that way.

Balls, bread bags and a big old storm.

That is the buzz this day as I do the usual avoidance of serious class preparation for Composition lectures tomorrow.  Why be serious when I can be . . .  me?

Love and kisses to all Brady supporters and the sweet Northeast in general.  Get out your bread bags!

Joyce

P.S. - A cat has adopted me.  Not feral, Gato (his new name) wandered onto the property weeks ago and meowed at me until I gave him milk.  Now, he has a fur sleep-house, the best cat food, entertainment (he likes to watch me dance), toys, the screened in porch as Gato's Ghetto, and the entire yard as his personal litter box.  Me.  With a living creature who loosely depends on me.  The pressure!

Speak . . .

And I believe that is all I need to say this day.

Love,
Joyce

2015 underway . . .

Dear You:

2015 has a wonderful look to it.  2. 0. 1. 5.  Math whizzes among you may understand its allure.

Here in Panama City Beach/Inlet Beach, foggy chill is drifting in, bringing wintry temperatures . . . at least according to north FL standards.

Reading Chauncey DeVega's blog, I was amused and stirred by his thoughts on resolutions for a new year.  So often, my resolutions are simple, like "to-do" lists.  I try not to overshoot or make promises that I can't execute.  But this year, I want to take another resolution approach.

Back to Mr. DeVega and his recent holiday post.  He writes: "Some folks believe that I am "angry". As a working class black American, my 2015 resolution is that I promise to be even more angry whenever possible and appropriate."

That is just one cool thing DeVega says, and I am "resolving" inspired by his point.  So, for 2015, I promise to:
1.  Be even more disruptive at the college whenever things look a little too much like "Office Space".
2.  Be less accepting of idiocy - everywhere.
3.  Be continually impatient for change, social and political, in my USA.
4.  Be insatiable.
5.  Be TEFLON when it comes to work-hustling, family blow-back, or local redneck foolishness!

BE!

I could share my DO list too, but it wouldn't mean much.  I can always DO, but BEING is often much more difficult.

Cheers and kisses . . . enjoy the NFL playoffs (love you Patriots + Tom Brady & Giselle), the comforts found on cold nights, and the comedy we will all soon enjoy provided by the next race for the presidency/2016.  The Republican contest should be quite a show!   (PS: Why won't they give me Rand Paul? Well, that's another blog entry . . . )

Joyce Joyful Nuevo Nuevo!!