Velveteen Mind

If Matt Lauer Won't Have Me, Brian Williams Will... Not, Either.

NBC Nightly News emailed me the other day.  Yeah, the one on TV.  The one with Brian Williams.  And, no, you smart-alecs, it was not a newsletter or some such spam.  A real live NBC Nightly News staffer emailed me personally.  For my opinion.  Or, as I like to think of it when one of The Big Three calls me:  my Oh-pin-eee-yawn.  Okay, clearly I've been watching far too much The King of Queens, one of the few DVD sets we own while we have no cable.

Speaking of no cable, someone get that hooked up ASAP because I am going to be on TV!

I immediately pictured this: Brian Williams:  Tonight on NBC Nightly News, I fall in love with Megan Jordan and steal her away from Matt Lauer.

Let the Velveteen Mind love fest begin!

And may I say that it is about time that NBC noticed me?  I've been writing about Matt Lauer ever since my guest post on Plain Jane Mom, My Label Maker is Broken This Week.  In fact, it was that post that finally caught the attention of NBC News.  You know, this NBC:

Brian Williams:  So Barack, I'm thinking Megan's boobies would be about this big in person. 
What is your opinion on that matter?
Barack Obama:  You nasty, Brian.

The NBC News researcher found my "Label Maker" post while researching the topic of pollsters using labels such as "Soccer Mom" and "Security Mom" during this election.  Not the first time I have been hit up for an interview based on that guest post, mind you.  Naturally, I am the go-to blogger on the topic of politics.

Ahem.

Nevertheless, Erika Angulo had questions.  On behalf of NBC.  Which clearly means, on behalf of Matt Lauer.

Note to Erika, it's only going to get uglier from here.  I'm about to massacre our interview, so you might want to go back to work for Brian Williams right about now.  Tell him I said, "Holla!"

The brilliantly patient Erika, who had no idea of the long-winded answers she was about to receive, wanted to know if I felt labels such as "Wal-Mart Mom" are necessary to describe certain groups of voters.  Additionally, what are the main issues for mothers during this election and do I feel that John McCain, Barack Obama, and Hillary Clinton are doing a satisfactory job of addressing those issues?

The Queen of Spain is now spitting out her coffee and yelling, "Why on earth would you ask Megan, of all people?!" 
Shut up, Erin.  I am wicked smaht.

In response to Erika's questions, clearly on behalf of Brian Williams himself, I expounded as such:

"I think that our current Presidential candidates are, in fact, too concerned about what specific groups want to hear.  Hence, the mad grasping at labels so they can get a jump on what they expect to hear.   So, do I think that they are doing a good job of addressing issues of mothers today?  Yes, and I wish they'd stop.

Catering to our "interests" may be just what has helped to create the entitlement society in which we are currently living, in my humble opinion.  (You are laughing, right?)"

I wasn't sure if I had answered her question, so I went on to further not answer her question by offering my opinions about how complex mothers are today (which I will illustrate with a photo of me standing in front of ABC Studios in New York, demonstrating my opinion of Good Morning America vs. The TODAY Show on NBC):

"Many of us are struggling with rather disparate opinions when it comes to our current political environment.  Not to mention the financial environment.  What we want and need for our families may be contradictory at some point, so that leaves us grasping at three tremulous candidates.  All of which are walking on politically correct eggshells and offering very little real hope.

Can you care about gas prices but also capitalism?  Can you pay to drive your kids to soccer practice, frowning at the havoc it is wreaking on your budget, while you or your husband is earning the money for that gas by working at "The Better Mousetrap Company"?"

I think at this point, Erika was saying to herself, "Did she just answer my question?  Did she read my question?  Does she think this is a blog post?  She had better not try to turn this into a blog post."

She responded to my email with something along the lines of how my opinion was "refreshing," which I think means "completely irrelevant and uninformed" in reporter-speak.  She then went on to ask my opinion of whether or not the government should pay for child care and if employers should implement mandatory work schedules to enforce a work-life balance for mothers.

Asking a stay-at-home mother about working mothers' rights is sort of like asking a frog if birds should be allowed to fly at night. 

But I answered her anyway.  I had to answer her, because I was picturing this:

Brian Williams to Brian Williams:  I never knew such a brilliant mind existed out there.  And to think I can read Velveteen Mind any time I want.  Now, do I pronounce this political goddess's name "Meeegan" or "Meg-an"?

I would hate to deprive Brian Williams, and by extension Matt Lauer, of my profound opinions on things I have no business talking about...  or pretty much thinking about ever.

So I responded to Erika's questions about working mothers' rights with something along the lines of, "Where does it end in regards to who picks up what part of the bill?" and "Exactly when did our responsibility to make well-informed choices as parents end?  When were we granted the freedom to stop making the hard decisions, because I seem to have missed that memo?" 

Oh yeah,  and something very much like, "I don't want a SugarDaddy-in-Chief."

Then Erika emailed me back with something like, "Huh?"

And then she dropped the bomb on me:

"The story should be on msnbc.com this weekend."

What?  I thought I was going to be on TV?!  MSNBC dawt calm?!!!  That's for losers that don't have cable!

Um, apparently while I was distractedly dazzled by the photo of Brian Williams at the top of the website she sent me to in her first email, I failed to notice she had sent me to the "web exclusive" section. 

Note to NBC:  your staffers should not be allowed to send interviewees to sites with photos of people that even know Matt Lauer if they are not, in fact, going to be seduced interviewed by said person and broadcast out for all the world to see on television...  with flashing signs illuminating their cool blog's URL and such, too.  FYI.

So, I remain this close to meeting Matt Lauer:

So close, yet so far away.

And the interview consigned to msnbc.com?  It showed up on the front page that weekend, as promised, and lots and lots of people got to read all of my erudite opinions on political pollsters and the distinct lack of a need for a SugarDaddy-in-Chief.

Wait.  Damn.  No, they didn't.  My bit was cut down to a couple of lame soundbites that Goose, my one year old, could have given.  I have no idea why they cut out my comedy routine.

I'm here all week, folks.

PS-  NBC the television network: 

I am available to fly (at your cost) to New York and appear on the TODAY Show or NBC Nightly News or any of your other shows that are housed in the vicinity of Matt Lauer's dressing room any time.  I even know where to find you, though a limo to Rockefeller Plaza would not be turned down.

PPS-  I know I told you there was going to be some "tongue" involved in this post, but the photo of me, well, sort of licking Matt Lauer has been compromised.  Don't be too disappointed, though, because his face may or may not have been made of cardboard.

PPPS-  NBC also interviewed Erika Jurney from Plain Jane Mom for the same piece and she came off sounding smart.  Whatever.  When she starts seeing bumper stickers that say "SugarDaddy-in-Chief" she'll be jealous.

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Related Posts:

What's Important This Election, Mom? by Erika Angulo on msnbc.com

Phrase Anatomy:  Who will be the "Soccer Moms" of 2008 Campaign? by Jennifer A. Dlouhy, Hearst Newspapers

I Am Your Very Own Dichotomy.

Who's Afraid of the Queen of Spain?

My Label Maker is Broken This Week.  guest post on Plain Jane Mom

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Beware Drowsy Blogging

You know that post I told you I am going to write about
Matt Lauer, Brian Williams from NBC Nightly News, and my tongue?

It is going to look something like this:
However, if I tried to write it right now, it would look something like this:
Thanks, Zyrtec.  You bastard.

I'm switching back to Claritin.

Until then, um, play around in my sidebars.  Am I missing you in my blogroll?  Have you read my Favorite Posts?  Isn't that the cutest photo of baby feet ever?  Have you RSVP'd for The People's Party, yet?  Have something you would like me to add to the Mommybloggers: The Resource page?  Last call for Channel Editors for Blog Nosh Magazine!

Wow.  You have a lot to do today.  Good thing I'm too drowsy to blog coherently...  Hey, when did those purple raccoons show up in my kitchen?  Who let the unicorn in?  Do you smell glitter?

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Blog-Sitting for Fussypants and I'm Going Pearl-less

I am neither Fussy nor wearing Pants, but I am guest posting over at Fussypants today!

And, because I can't stop thinking about babies and giving birth, I am sharing both of my birth stories, some of which you have heard, most of which you have not.

I even included a photo of me in a red bikini at 8 months pregnant!

By the way, if you are new here from Fussypants, stick around because I have a story to share with you involving Matt Lauer, Brian Williams from NBC Nightly News, and my tongue.  Including pictures.

You are seriously subscribing right now, aren't you?

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Happy Mother's Day, ya'll!

Boats and Birds
Gregory and the Hawk
video with lyrics, in case you want to learn it for a tearjerker lullaby...

I'd love to know...  What do you sing to your babies?

 

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I Am Your Very Own Dichotomy.

Occasionally, I just walk out of the house and leave the family to fend for themselves.  I grab my purse, my phone, and my keys, yell something like, "Good luck, suckers!" over my shoulder, and hit the road.

I am a road person.

The other night, I did just that.  It had not been a particularly difficult day, but it had been a long couple of weeks.  Maguire came home from work and my heart unexpectedly slipped out the door behind him as he entered.  I had no choice but to follow.

I haven't mentioned this, but I have a new car.  A "new to me" car.  Guess what it is?  You'll never guess.  Moosh?  You might know.

It's a white Volvo V70 wagon.  My dream car. 

Of course, it is not new.  I bought it for very close to an even trade for the land yacht that was my Dad's old emerald green Lincoln Towncar.  I suspect there is a hamster in the engine running around frantically taping everything together, laughing in a bewildered way about how I could be so blinded by the boxy loveliness so as to not notice that I was being taken...  but it is mine.  I finally have my own car again.

And I work it hard.  In particular, I work the CD player.  Haven't had one of those in years.

The soundtrack for my solo escape road trip along the Mississippi Gulf Coast beaches the other evening was Ani DiFranco's Canon, a 2-disc compilation of some of her best songs.  My husband introduced me to Ani DiFranco in college and I was sold immediately and ever since.  One of the only performers I never tire of, and I get tired of music shamefully fast.

Fueled on by Ani's voice berating government, penises, and Righteous Babes who have their panties on a little too tight, I made my way along the scenic beach highway.  One thing I love about the Mississippi Gulf Coast is that from Gulfport to Bay St. Louis, there are almost no structures built on the beach-side of the highway.  Drivers are afforded unobstructed views of the water for miles.

This makes for a fine brainstorming environment.  I busy part of my mind with driving, just enough to keep the random, distracting noise at bay, and leave the rest of my mind to solve solve solve.

On this particular evening, I was unaware of any unresolved issues for which I was setting out to solve.  However, an hour into the drive, just as I was making it across the Bay St. Louis bridge from Pass Christian, the tears began to fall.

They were those hot tears, those silent tears, the ones that just drop drop drop.

The ones that surprise you.  The ones that have been waiting, silently, patiently, and of which you were too busy to be aware.  Until they find the break.

I would love to be able to tell you why I was crying.  I do not know.  It was our internal release valve, I think.   No one thing in particular, it was just time to relieve some pressure.

So I drove.  And I cried.  And I listened to Ani DiFranco.

I thought about how I never listen to music anymore.  Since living in New Orleans, I have become an avid talk radio listener.  It started with the New Orleans station WRBH, Radio for the  Blind and Print Handicap.  They would read books on air, as well as magazine articles, but my favorite was the show on which they read the drugstore ads.  Literally.  It was hilarious.

The best show was on a day when a little old lady was reading the Rite Aid ads and said, "Let's see, you can get 300 count Vitamin C for...  let me see...  oh, shoot, I can't read that small print.  Just go in and tell them you want the Vitamin C deal."  The irony was so sweet, I can't even tell you.  I just wanted to kiss her.

Nevertheless, it hooked me on talk radio.  Now I listen to shows like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh.  They are on when I am in the car during the day, so they are my guys.  I don't always agree with their politics, but I am never disappointed in the discussion.  I welcome the questions they force me to consider.

Ani DiFranco is a master at that.  She does not disguise her politics and pleads for you to open your eyes.  She makes me face social problems I might otherwise not consider.  She invites me to question my beliefs.

Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh might be two of the most conservative voices in the media today.

Ani DiFranco might be one of the most liberal voices in the greater media today.

They share my ear equally.

They propel my voice equally.

And their opinions could not be more disparate.

“The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function.” 
F. Scott Fitzgerald

I see the discussions in my comments sections regarding politics.  You ask each other, "Is it possible to be socially liberal and fiscally conservative?"  "Are not conservativism and liberalism mutually exclusive?"  "How can you straddle this fence?"

These questions can easily apply well beyond the political boundaries.

When I posted the photo of my shoes in Summer Shoe Choices:  I Am a Punk Rock Florida Retiree, I wasn't really asking you what shoes I should wear to San Francisco.  I was sharing with you the dichotomy that is me.  That is all of us.

We are so much more than labels.  We are so much more than conservatives and liberals, Rebublicans and Democrats, mothers and wives, bloggers and writers, consumers and marketers.

So I listen to Glenn Beck with ears wide open.  And I savor the moments when I listen to Ani DiFranco, as I feel her words physically enter my heart.

"I use my dress to wipe up my drink.  I care less and less what people think." 

Ani DiFranco, Dilate

I drove along the beach as evening turned to night, and I watched the wind blow thin streams of sand across the road.  My headlights illuminated the sand as though it was fog.  I was driving through time itself. 

I drove along the waterline of Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, and I experienced all that is splendor and desolation.  Two years after Hurricane Katrina and one lot will be filled to the property lines with a magnificent reproduction of a Southern plantation home while the next lot will hold a FEMA trailer with a spray-painted plywood sign near the road that reads, "AllState and State Farm:  The Axis of Evil."

This is not my political statement.  This is not about that. 

This is about the complex labyrinth that is us.

And sometimes it makes me feel as though I am split down the middle.

Sometimes it makes me cry.

Sometimes it makes me rejoice.

Today it makes me reach out.  For no reason other than because I can.

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Related Posts:
Glenn Beck's Responsibility Bead-Down.  I'm In.
Who's Afraid of the Queen of Spain?
Camille Was a Lady.  Katrina Was a Bitch.

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