Do You Wanna Date My Avatar?

John Hughes, February 18, 1950 - August 6, 2009

You'll never be 18 again, but you can watch it in technicolor.

I heard yesterday that John Hughes died.

I'm 42. I've never had a problem with my age and I still don't. But yesterday, when I heard that the director of those quintessential teen films was gone, my memories took on a more sepia-toned hue.

John Hughes wrote and/or directed many of my favorite films of the '80's: The Breakfast Club, Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Pretty in Pink, Sixteen Candles, Some Kind of Wonderful, and Weird Science. His characters were fun, and smart, and often - even in the silliest of plots - honest. I know they weren't the best. They didn't have action, or special effects, or graphic sex scenes, or anything else that makes a blockbuster nowadays. But they had heart, and they had great music, and they spoke to a generation.

I didn't realize it until now, but those silly teen flicks meant a lot to that idealistic, starry-eyed, definitively '80's girl.

It's going to be a rainy weekend. I think I'll snuggle up on the couch with my family, a big bowl of popcorn, and have a John Hughes film festival.

Best Intentions

Writing that the past few months have been a rollercoaster ride would be an understatement.

I have been online: emails, Facebook,reading other people's blogs, but just haven't felt up to the task myself. I figure it's time to start posting again.

Not to be overly mysterious, but several months back I was diagnosed with a medical condition that my family and I have had to adjust to. In time, I'm sure I'll discuss it here. Thus the reason for my lack of blog presence.

Now, I want to come back. Rhapsody will be the same mish-mash of whatever happens to be bouncing around in my brain on any given day. Sometimes serious, sometimes ludicrous. No theme. No promises. :-)

These Boots Were Made for Walkman

I remember when having a Walkman was "the shit". Of course, at that age, I would have never, ever said, "the shit". It was always better to depend on the radio stations, though. Playing cassette tapes really ate up batteries quickly.

Walkman, at 30, a mystery to teen

Alejandro Martinez-Cabrera
Wednesday, July 1, 2009

What better way to commemorate the 30th anniversary of Sony's iconic Walkman than to ask a teenager for some feedback on the device?

I like to imagine that the experience was similar to an archaeologist rediscovering how a recently excavated artifact was employed thousands of years ago. But I'm well aware that it must have been different for 13-year-old Scott Campbell, who co-edits his own news Web site. For one, teenage impatience must have stood in the place where I fantasize scientific curiosity should have been.

"My dad had told me it was the iPod of its day," Campbell wrote. "He had told me it was big, but I hadn't realized he meant that big. It was the size of a small book."

Sure enough, people on the street noticed the antique clinging from his belt with amusement and friends on his school bus were quick to come up with some witty remark.

Campbell went on to criticize the portable cassette player's size, appearance, functionality and the "hissy backtrack and odd warbly noises."

Even when he discovered the cassette had more music on the other side (it took him three days), Campbell was still disappointed it could only hold a small fraction of what an iPod can.

"Did my dad ... really ever think this was a credible piece of technology?"

Ouch.

A daily dose of postings from The Chronicle's technology blog (sfgate.com/blogs/tech)

This article appeared on page C - 2 of the San Francisco Chronicle

Doctor Who - Planet of the Dead Trailer

Glee! Doctor Who Easter special this weekend!

Run AWAY! Run AWAY!

Have you seen any small, white rabbits running around London with great, nasty teeth?

Recently, a toy replica of the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch was responsible for a bomb scare in London.

Not kidding.

I'm a Millionaire!

Hey, everyone! I got this email today. Looks like I'm set for life!

*****************************************************************

Greetings from Dave Yorke,

I am Dr. Dave Yorke, Group Accountant (R.B.T.T) However, I have already sent you this same letter by post one month ago, but I am not sure if it did get to you since I have not heard from you, hence my resending it again.

I discovered a dormant account in my office, as Group Accountant with Republic Bank of Trinidad and Tobago. It will be in my interest to transfer this fund worth $28.5M Dollars (Twenty Eight Million Five hundred thousand Dollars) in an account offshore. Can you be my partner?

Regards and respect,
Dave Yorke

*****************************************************************

So people actually fall for this crap?

Minnesota - Killing Me Softly

I've started this blog post at least half-a-dozen times in the last few minutes. My current location has me feeling like one cranky bitch. I'm cold. Cabin crazy. House bound. Hungry. Bored. Light deprived. Lonely. Usually, I hit this point around February. Discontent arrived early this year.

Where am I? I live in the Twin Cities area of Minnesota.

My family and I have lived here 10 years now. We've given this place and these people a decade of our lives. We're still treated like outsiders by the natives. We've lost more friends than we've made. Sometimes I felt like we did everything short of standing on our heads and shooting fireworks out of our asses to please people. Minnesota is not famous, but infamous for its fabled "Minnesota Nice". A phrase that to those in the know generally translates to "passive aggressive". We've made no more than a handful of friends, most from outside of the Twin Cities area; many however, are no more than acquaintances. I even have relatives here. Relatives that I've seen a sum total of 8 times... at least half of those were just because my mother was visiting me.

My husband spent 4 months in school in Florida this past year. In that time he made many friends... more than we had in 10 years here. Friends that he's still in contact with nearly every day. People we know here we sometimes don't hear from for weeks at a time, and usually only if we initiate it. During the 4 months that I was here alone as a temporary single parent? I heard from local people less than a dozen times.

At least folks from the Twin Cities match their climate.

Several months out of the year we spend fighting the artic weather. Believe it or not, I was born and raised in an even harsher climate, North Dakota, but I've had it. I've come to dread doing the basic necessities of life, because it involves going outside. The climate is physically and mentally draining. I've spent 40 years fighting the cold: brutal temperatures, dangerous driving conditions, wear and tear on vehicles and homes, depression from light deprivation, having entirely separate winter wardrobes, cramming all outside activities into a few good months... the list goes on and on.

This past Christmas, our "celebration" meant that out of 36 hours, 10 hours were spent in said dangerous, white-knuckled driving conditions due to winter weather. Here, that can hit anytime between November and April. While people in other parts of the country are walking around in their shirt sleeves enjoying the sun on their face, we're wrapping up in double layers of clothing until only the whites of our eyes show for fear of frostbite. Even in the house or at work, I'm cold all the time. Being cold leads to a ravenous appetite. Of course, the human body, when faced with cold tries to shore up its reserves and store fat. The result? Constantly denying my hunger just to button my pants.

Lonely. Cold. Hungry. Depressed. I'm done. I can't live like this any more.

We really wanted to leave years ago, but we have two kids. Two kids who had been moved around a lot when they were younger. We were determined to stay in one place until our eldest graduated high school. We have a year and a half to go. One more winter to endure.