Cosmetics Intermezzo: In Praise of "Makeup Alley"

And now for something completely frivolous.  Just kidding.  Fact is, for us women, makeup is not only NOT frivolous; it's a way of life. It's part of our LIFESTYLE. That said, that lifestyle can be pretty unattractive and frustrating at times.

If you're anything like me, you've got at least one drawer in your bathroom that is piled full of discarded warpaint and other weapons of mass destruction, the moldering stack of makeup a silent testament to the frustratingly "hit-or-miss" approach that we are all too often forced to take in the face of a barrage of  information (and not all of it good).

Any woman who has ever used a skincare, haircare or cosmetic product knows that there is a bewildering array of tools, devices, creams, lotions, powders and sprays out there; literally thousands of products, each with sometimes-incredible and often conflicting claims.  Whether you are spending $10.00 for a drugstore mascara or hundreds of dollars for an "anti-wrinkle" cream (notice the quotes of cynicism), the selection is seemingly endless and the benefits questionable.

Personally, I am one who tries to "do my homework" before spending my money on another makeup item or skincare product that is guaranteed to solve all of life's problems, everything from an unrefined pore size to split ends to split personality (just kidding about that last one (I think)). Unfortunately, it's not always easy to be well-informed.

Problem is, much as there are thousands of women's beauty and skincare products out there (compared to, say, about five such products for men), there are an equal number of websites, magazines and "testimonials" (again with those cynical quotation marks) dedicated to reviewing these products.  Even worse, it's often impossible to know which reviews to believe. 

What may seem like an "objective" website with "scientific" data substantiating the claims of the latest miracle cream all too often, upon closer inspection, turns out to be tainted by an undisclosed relationship with the product's manufacturers.  Since the recently-enacted legislation prohibiting bloggers and others from writing testimonials about products without full disclosure of any compensation received for such testimonials, I've noticed that several of these types of sites have started inserting the requisite disclosures; others have not, either ignorant of the new law or taking their chances that their transgressions will never be discovered. 

So what's a makeup-lovin' girl to do?

Enter "Makeup Alley" (complete with my unabashed quotations of adoration and worship).  Makeup Alley (or "MUA"), comprising several thousand registered members providing thousands of reviews of various beauty products and accessories, is a woman's best friend. I just can't say enough good things about it. The site has no axe to grind, nor do the vast majority of the reviewers.  Better yet, you will never be overwhelmed with irrelevant information, because you can filter each product's reviews by age group, skin type, date, etc. (after all, with all due respect, who wants to read an 18-year-old's review of an anti-wrinkle cream???). 

By the same token, if you just want to do some research to find the best brand in a given category, you can filter results by most popular with the MUA reviewers or even the most reviewed brands in a category.  The site has other features (a swap section and a mail function, for instance), but the product reviews are the best for all the aforementioned reasons.  All I know is, whenever I see an ad for the latest promising new product, I go straight to MUA to get the real scoop about that product.  Whether I'm looking for the best option for mascara or lipstick or flat irons, MUA's where it's at.

Makeup Alley:  Rocking my world, one beauty product at a time.

DISCLAIMER: In the interest of dotting the t's and crossing my eyes, I can assure you that I have no relationship with MUA, other than being a loyal registered member. I have received no compensation for my opinions as expressed herein (though I'm certainly willing to entertain any such offers!).

Deja Vu All Over Again at the USDA

In the category of “Man, I hate it when I'm right”:

A couple of days ago, I was at the gym using the elliptical machine (boring!) and the gym had the TV tuned to Rick Sanchez's “Rick's List” show on CNN.  I usually avoid this type of tripe like the plague, but unless I wanted to spend 40 minutes staring at the calories burned readout or the second-by-second ticking down of the clock on my workout, I had no choice. 

Anyway, the subject matter for this particular edition of “Rick's List” was the fallout from the Shirley Sherrod debacle and Sanchez was delighting in this prime opportunity for sticking it to Fox News.  Called “Shirley's Story”, the segment focused on the latest developments in Sherrod's firing from the USDA and the reconsideration given her dismissal following the revelation that that dismissal had been based on—wait for it-- incomplete information. 

As we all know, everyone from the NAACP to the White House (all of whom had originally tripped all over themselves in their rush to denounce Sherrod) has been in a stampede of backtracking since realizing that in their haste to stamp out perceived racism they had neglected to view all of the facts (or even most of the facts, or even a preponderance of the facts).

I am shocked and chagrined (not)!

This type of story is all too familiar.  In fact, I wrote about this sort of thing in a previous blog entry.  Unfortunately, it looks like nothing has changed in the interim, the ultimate proof in this particular pudding being self-evident. 

But I find myself wondering who was most culpable in this whole distasteful incident:  Was it the blogger who started this tidal wave of controversy by airing a very select portion of Sherrod's speech?  The so-called “news” networks like Fox that ran with it and stirred up the pot?  Or the equally culpable parties like the NAACP and the White House that almost single-handedly ruined this woman's career and reputation (at least, temporarily) in their rush to judgment based on misinformation? 

Judging from the reactions of the parties involved, I'd say all were to blame to some extent.  While the White House and the NAACP tried to bury their mea culpas in a self-serving “defense” of being “snookered” by Fox News, Fox News itself attempted to distance itself from the mess by claiming they never reported this incident as “news”.   Pure semantics at its self-serving best.

What ever happened to accountability? 

Fox News can try all it wants to distance itself from this mess, but when they have made their money based on the hyperbolic bloviating of people like Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity (both of whom ran with this story when it was originally reported), their fate and their reputation are inextricably intertwined with them.  And deservedly so.   They deserve what they get.

Meanwhile, the reactions from the White House and society at large are more difficult to quantify, but are much more disappointing.  While President Obama shouldn't be expected to have personally reviewed Ms. Sherrod's entire speech to get “the rest of the story”,  the people who work for him and most certainly the people who initially made the recommendation to fire Sherrod surely had that responsibility. 

And as for the NAACP, while it may be admirable to have “zero tolerance” for racism of any sort, it behooves such organizations (and all of us) to consider all of the facts before making such judgments.  As for being “snookered”, shame on the NAACP for not taking responsibility for their own actions and shame on anybody who would take the word of Fox News as gospel without further corroboration.  

What does it say about us as a society that we decry those who would make uninformed assumptions about people based on the color of their skin but then accuse people of racism based on the same type of misinformed assumptions? 

There's an increasingly disturbing intolerance in this country for what used to be called freedom of expression and there's precious little effort being made to give people the benefit of the doubt in these types of situations. 

Instead of focusing on education and enlightenment through healthy debate, we focus on censorship and suppression, blackballing from our midst those who would disagree with us.  Let me tell you, folks, censorship is censorship, whether it's directed against “unpopular” thoughts and ideas or against what we consider to be more “acceptable” thought.  (i.e., what's in vogue).  And if there's one thing I've learned in my lifetime from personal observation, it's that you don't change people's underlying attitudes by suppressing their opinions. 

And I also know that my own attitude of distrust toward the media won't be changing anytime soon if CNN's coverage of this incident is any indicator of things to come.  In my view, CNN missed a golden opportunity here to address the “big picture” issue, instead contenting themselves with using their air time for yet another self-serving opportunity to bash their rival network.  

Perhaps they should instead be asking why it is that so-called news stations continue to pump out half-truths and lies and why it is that we are all so willing to lick it up with a spoon. 

Perhaps it's time we all began asking as much.

The Cult of LeBron: Fellowship of the Insufferable

For those few remaining fans of LeBron James (outside of Miami, of course), you may wish to avert your eyes now.  This is sure to be a hyperbolic firestorm.

Can I say it now?  I really despise LeBron James, and I suspect I'm not alone on that one, following last night's pitiful display of unabridged narcissism on ESPN.

Oh, I didn't actually WATCH “The Decision” (and how self-important is that title, by the way?).  Then again, I didn't have to watch it, seeing as video clips and audio bites have been making the rounds across our televisions, computer screens and radios in a steady stream of fallout after the fact.  Still, the whole episode leaves me feeling like I need to take a shower.

I would say that it “almost” makes me embarrassed to be an NBA fan, but I'm not even sure I was a fan anymore (at least not of the NBA as it is currently constituted).  And make no mistake about it, this was embarrassing on a grand scale.  I don't know which was worse:  watching for the past couple of years as "the King" relieved himself all over the collective upturned faces of his minions until it culminated with last night's retch-fest; or watching those fawning masses not only taking the dousing but sucking it up with a straw while begging for more.  Or perhaps most nauseating of all was the breathless commentary of a media that had long ago shed the bothersome bonds of journalistic integrity in its relentless pursuit of the Next Big Thing in the cult of celebrity.

Oh, I've long known that professional sports is big business, that it's primarily about endorsements and paychecks and entertainment extravaganzas more traditionally witnessed with the WWE.  I guess that's just part of growing up.  But the tripe that millions witnessed last night goes way beyond the pale, even for a sports cynic such as myself.

There's an old Stephen King miniseries called “The Stand” where Jamey Sheridan (yes, that Jamey Sheridan from “Law & Order” spinoff fame) plays a post-apocalyptic devil incarnate in cowboy boots.  In one of the penultimate scenes of the movie, the cheering crowds are gathered in Las Vegas to worship Sheridan as he prepares to dismember two innocent sacrificial chumps for the collective joy of his cheering minions.  It's a scene of spectacle and an obvious reference to both the crucifixion of Jesus Christ and to modern-day society's immorality and mob mentality.  It's also the scene that kept running through my head as ESPN dragged us inexorably closer to the moment of “King James's” self-coronation and pronouncement of the American burg where he would deign to “take his talents”.  Turns out, it wasn't Cleveland.  Big surprise.

Naturally, the people of Cleveland are devastated.  And, no doubt along with the people of New York, New Jersey, Chicago and any other city whose team and hopes were jerked around by this jerk, they are angry.  And frankly, it's about time.  For at least a year now I've been wondering when the fans of Cleveland were going to stop prostrating themselves and start resenting LeBron.  I mean, at what point exactly does a person start to feel a sense of shame at the loss of personal dignity that is required to grovel in an effort to please a fickle, overpaid superstar for whom no amount of fawning would ever be enough?

I feel bad for the fans of Cleveland.  I really do.  After all, they took that last step in self-inflicted humiliation by creating a musical love letter to LeBron, a “Hymn to Him”, as it were, only to have their affections spurned before a national audience.  Called “Please Stay LeBron” (set to the tune, appropriately enough, of “We Are the World”, penned by yet another insulated ambassador of selfdom by the name of Michael Jackson), the heartfelt rendition resembles nothing so much as what passes for Sunday worship by the NBA faithful.  But I can't also help wonder if these same fans would've seen LeBron for the selfish megalomaniac he is if he had elected to keep his “talents” in Cleveland.  I'm thinking no, but I guess we'll never know for sure.

Still, I have to confess that there's a part of me that thinks the fans of Cleveland brought at least some of this on themselves.  I'm hearing more and more of how over the past 17 years or so seemingly everyone in the Buckeye State, from his family to his friends to his coaches, teachers and teammates and other assorted sycophants and hangers-on have done everything in their power to enable LeBron's colossal sense of entitlement.  He's been surrounded by a solar system of lesser planets, all willing to simultaneously subjugate their own egos while inflating his.   Basking in his glow, they've gladly cloaked his sins for him.  Too bad there's not a fart blanket big enough or strong enough to cloak us from the noxious, malodorous cloud now emanating from his gravitational pull.

I mentioned earlier that the hoopla surrounding “The Decision” reminded me of that mob scene in “The Stand”.  Something else I remember from that scene in the movie is when one of the few people in the slithering mob stood up to his fellow countrymen in an attempt to stop the insanity, yelling “this ain't how Americans act!”.  Maybe not.  But it's a fair imitation of how sports fans act.  And we all know that we get exactly what we deserve.


Rant over (for now).

Better Marriage Blanket

You know you're really scraping the bottom of the creativity barrel when you find yourself writing about a "fart blanket", but hand me a scraper and let's start the scrubbing, shall we? 

Three words:  Better.  Marriage.  Blanket.  Also known as the "fart blanket" to those in the know.  If you've never personally had the pleasure, the “Better Marriage Blanket” purports to use “the same type of fabric used by the military to protect against chemical weapons” to “neutralize” gas molecules caused by flatulence.   The ad is accompanied by a photo (right) of a happy, smiling couple enjoying some flatulence-free bivouac time while the husband is wrapped up in his hermetically-sealed methane blocker (although no word if the blanket comes complete with a set of earplugs as well).  The manufacturers even go so far as to say their product “makes a great wedding or anniversary gift”.  And they say romance is dead.  

Seriously, though, I'm trying to imagine the look on the bride-to-be's face when she unwraps her very own “fart guard” at her bridal shower and what she's supposed to make of it.  (Although, could be she'd just be bewildered, since, if her fiance were smart, he'd have taken great pains to keep that part of his “personality” at bay during their courtship, only to spring it on her when it's too late for an annulment.  But I digress.) 

While I wish that the secret to a better marriage were so simple, I somehow doubt it.   Fact is, this is just the latest example of assorted materiel being offered by manufacturers to address the battlefield of the marriage bed.  Think about it for a minute:  We've got “Breathe Right” strips to quell the aural misery of snoring; fart blankets to tame the malodorous excretions of our bedmates; and mattresses designed to withstand an onslaught of jumping jacks and restless legs syndrome.  Next thing they'll be offering is a Glade enema.

Speaking as someone who once slept on the floor of a walk-in closet in a bed and breakfast suite that offered no alternative respite from my husband's loud and continuous snoring; and speaking as someone who has on more than one occasion slept on the floor next to the bed to escape my husband's tossing and turning, I appreciate the efforts of products such as this.  I really do.  But really, when you need to call in the military to defeat the enemy at the gates of flatulence, I'm thinking it's time for twin beds (either that, or combat pay).

Just my opinion.

Heroes Among Us

So another Memorial Day has come and gone, receding with the sunset and not to reappear until another year has passed.  Just as we carelessly throw around the term “veteran” in our everyday speech to describe

all manner of things completely unrelated to true veterans, for many of us Memorial Day, too, has lost much of its meaning.  With all the holiday sales on clothing, electronics and grilling equipment, along with the backyard barbecues and treks to the beach, it is all too easy to forget the true import of this day.  But I was reminded  recently as I watched the HBO miniseries “Band of Brothers”, which was being re-broadcast on cable television.

I had seen this miniseries before, but it bears re-watching for many reasons.  Perhaps more than anything, what leaves a mark is the unflinching depiction of the true horrors of war (at least, as true as they can ever be to someone who has never been there) and the honest portrayal of those ordinary individuals who fought in World War II, a study in heroism that included pain and anger and misery and, yes, fear.  And it's the fear that makes the sacrifice all the more poignant.  It was Mark Twain who said that “[c]ourage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear.”  I believe that wholeheartedly, as there can be no greater bravery than that which trumps the fear of one's fate.

Also striking is the realization that following incredible acts of heroism and bravery in the midst of unimagineable horror, those who survived returned to live the anonymous and typical lives of mid- and late-century Americans.  They were men whose once-ordinary lives had been interrupted by the extraordinary circumstances of history, only to return to their ordinary lives when history had been made.  They became businessmen and mill workers and landscapers and teachers whose resumes were surely humble but whose accomplishments were surely not.  And aside from the fact that it's hard to imagine that they could ever have had the same perspective on life's minor annoyances as those who did not share their experiences, they could have been any one of us.  And I think that's the point.

As a society, we yearn for heroes, often bestowing such misplaced epithets on sports stars, cartoon “superheroes” and even celebrities.   But I would submit that we need look no further than our brave veterans whose contributions we honor on Memorial Day.  We rightfully admire the heroism of Eisenhower and Churchill and FDR, without whose leadership in the darkest days of recent history we are left to ponder what fate may have befallen the world.  But what of the everyday lives that were lost or forever changed on our behalf, both long ago and in the recent past?  And what of the brave men and women that continue to fight on our behalf  half-way across the globe?

I find myself wondering how we could ever possibly thank these people for their sacrifice.  As Winston Churchill famously said, "Never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed by so many to so few".   Churchill was specifically referring to the valor shown by the Royal Air Force during the Battle of Britain in 1940, but his words have broader meaning, resonating through time and space.  I wonder how many of us ever really take those words to heart and contemplate their truth?

We can, and will, continue to debate the merits and necessity of war as the years go by.  We will continue to question what it is that ails the human heart, making such conflict a seeming inevitability.  But what cannot be debated is the debt of gratitude that we all owe to all of our veterans, these heroes among us.



Photo credit: 
Arlington National Cemetery.  Photo used by permission and license of the U.S. Army.  

Musings of a Non-Cigarette Smoking Woman*

* "X-Files" reference.

Just a few random thoughts, ideas and questions on my mind that I thought I'd share:

1. Why are bottled water bottles so cheap and flimsy nowadays?  You can't even get the cap off without geysering yourself.
2. What in God's name are they singing in those "Kayem" hotdog commercials?  Try as I might, I just can't seem to make out the words.  Is it even English? 
3. What exactly constitutes "honest" ingredients in pre-packaged food products?  For that matter, what ingredients would be considered "dishonest"?
4. Do cats see themselves in the mirror?  Sometimes I think they do, but if that's the case, then why don't they seem to recognize themselves?  And even if they don't recognize themselves, you'd think they'd react to seeing another cat....
5. Why is it that when someone asks for someone's opinion, they offer a penny, but when someone volunteers an opinion, it's worth two cents?  Is this the new math, or just Keynesian economics gone awry?
6. Pull-top canned goods are the greatest invention in recent history (and one of the most long overdue, I might add).
7. Why can't I find chocolate-covered Altoids anymore?  And while we're on the subject, I'd like to know who came up with the name "Altoids".  Sounds like a particularly nasty medical condition, doesn't it:  "I have Altoids".
8. I was watching that old Stephen Spielberg movie "Duel" the other night.  That's the one where Dennis Weaver plays a put-upon henpecked husband who's driving to a sales call on the California highways and byways and finds himself in a deadly fight for his life with a ticked-off truck driver that he passed on the highway.  This was before anyone had coined the phrase "road rage".  Great movie.  But I found myself wondering (and not for the first time), why Dennis Weaver didn't just turn his car around and go home after the truck passed him the first time (or even the tenth)??  
9. Speaking of driving, precisely how much acceleration does it require to back your car through the
   
   
   
   WALL of a parking garage??  And by the way, how do you do that and have no damage to the back end of your car??
10. Carl Yastrzemski (aka "Yaz"):  One of the most iconic (or as Boston Mayor Tom Menino would say, "ionic") players in Red Sox history.  And, to my knowledge, the only pro athlete to have had a birth control pill named after him.
11. "The X-Files" is and always will be one of the best shows in television history.  Government conspiracies.  Rampant paranoia.  General spookiness.  Oh, and one of the most (if not THE most) intelligent and engrossing television romances of all time.  FBI Agents in love.  It just doesn't get any better than that.  More on this at a later date.
12. I was reading an article the other day and one of the contributors was identified as someone who "studies disgust" (disgustologist?).  Brother, if there was ever an indicator that we've gone too far with this "culture of outrage" business, then that would be it.
13. Can anyone tell me what the purpose is of the "code search" button on the TV remote control (other than to act as a kill switch for the remote control, that is)?  Seriously.... 
14. Why is it that whenever someone uses the phrase "it's only human nature", it's usually in connection with something negative?  What does that say about our nature as humans?
    
15. How come they have flea and tick collars for dogs and cats but not for people?  Wouldn't it be easier to wear one of those than to spray yourself head-to-toe with tick repellent?
    
16. How come hotels stock their bathrooms with all kinds of fancy soaps and skin creams but never provide any paper towel so you can wipe out the sink and counter after each use?  And speaking of such, if I were to find a hotel bathroom vanity that actually had functioning drawers in it, I think I could fall in love.
    
17. Why is it that the officiating in NBA games has become such an open joke, but no one is doing anything about it (hello David Stern?)?
18. I'm sure that Emeril is a fine chef and a fine human being, but his cooking show is unwatchable, primarily due to the fawning audience that "ooh"s and "aah"s with his every move.  You'd think these people never saw parsley before.
19. You know those fat "torso shots" of pedestrians the news shows always show when doing a story on obesity?  I wonder if those people recognize themselves, or if the news stations just keep showing the same torsos over and over again?
20. Every time I watch one of those "best pig-out joints" shows on the Travel Channel or on the Food Network and I see someone scarfing down a five-pound burrito, I can't help thinking that the rest of the world sees something like that and thinks that's how all Americans eat.
21. I'm still miffed that Pluto has been de-planetized.  If they weren't sure it was a planet, then shouldn't they have held off classifying it as such in the first place?  Think of all the people who have come and gone and who died with the knowledge that there were nine planets when in fact there were only eight?  What else in the canon of human existence will be reconsidered upon further review?  Talk about revisionist history.... 
22. Ever notice that your more traditional Communists have no sense of humor (and if you think I'm exaggerating, try to imagine Stalin or Lenin watching "The Three Stooges")?  I'm pretty sure that explains the ultimate demise of the Soviet Union.  Think about that, next time you're tempted to take yourself or your causes too seriously.
 

Photo credit:  Cat looking in mirror. Photo used by permission and license of RBerteig.

Listmania

Did you know that there is actually scientific evidence that the act of crossing off items on a “to-do” list triggers feelings of pleasure and well-being in the brain?  Did you also know that there are over 200 MILLION hits on Google about making “to-do lists”?  200 MILLION HITS.  Do you know what that means?  It means we're all a bunch of list junkies.

But like any other addiction, there comes a time when too much is just, well, too much.  Case in point, my good friend Diana, who recently succumbed to the lure of the list and found herself trapped in a literary limbo.

Diana and I have always been two peas in a pod.  We've always shared a similar sense of humor.  But more than anything, we've bonded over books.  Big books.  Little books.  Tall books.  Short books.  Old books.  New books.   Books.  Books.  Books.  You name it, we'd read it.    But she took me one further, for she'd read a cereal box if that's all there was (and she'd like it).

One night last winter, Diana and I were celebrating her birthday at our favorite restaurant.  I remember it was bitterly cold outside.  It was one of those nights where you could hear the sound of sleet slapping against the window panes of our corner booth, as if drawn to the light and the warmth within.  I was savoring the heady mix of sizzling fajitas and frozen margaritas, when suddenly the evening took a wrong turn into a really BAD neighborhood.

For it was then that Diana put me on notice.  Seems she'd found a list somewhere called “Books You Must Read Before You Die” and was slowly—painfully—making her way through it with a dogged determination usually reserved for preparing a tax return.  See, she had come to realize that if she lived to be 75 years old and read one book per week, that meant she “only” had one thousand, eight hundred and twenty books to read before she died.  And, by God, she did NOT intend to waste her quota on what she called “crap” (and I'm guessing that meant no more perusal of the Wheaties Times for her).   Wah wah...

Well, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  Idly stirring the melting ice in my now-empty glass, I couldn't help wondering what she would do if she finished the list and still had 20 years left to live?  What then?  Paging Dr. Kevorkian...

But in all seriousness, this was depressing.  Her passion for reading had become a chore, even as her life had become one big “to-do” list.  And it wasn't even her list!  She was stuck in an endless literary loop, trying repeatedly to get through Finnegan's Wake and hating every minute of it.   But she couldn't just stop reading it and move on to something she actually enjoyed, oh no, because Finnegan's Wake, you see, was on “THE LIST” (and let's be honest, why else would anyone be reading it??).  

My heart sank.  Diana had become one of them:  One of those people who toe the line of conformity, ignoring her own path to follow that of some arbitrary third party.  It was a real “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” moment.  I silently screamed that I wanted whomever had replaced my book-loving friend with this android to GIVE HER BACK!!  I sensed we had reached a crossroads in our reading lives.   You could almost feel the fissure form between us.

What had happened to my longtime friend?   Whatever it was, I hoped it wouldn't happen to me too!

And then I realized that to some degree, it already had happened to me.  Because somewhere along the way, much of the joy and spontaneity of life had been swept away and buried under a tidal wave of “responsibility” and needing to “accomplish” things with my time.  But it wasn't always that way.

When I was a kid, my friends and I used to spend hours telling each other ghost stories, thrilling to the goosebumps on our arms and the toasted marshmallows stuck to our fingers.  We'd catch fireflies in the warm summer dusk, watching in wonder as they'd light up in the glass jar we kept for such special occasions.  We'd ride our bikes to nowhere, speeding as fast as we could pump the pedals, just to feel the wind on our faces.  Life was all about being in the moment. 

But it seems the further we get from childhood, the more regimented our lives become as we strive to keep free-form thought at bay.  We are forever planning ahead or looking behind.

In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realize that my friend Diana really isn't that unusual.  Scary, isn't it?  I mean, let's face it: We're all a little “list-crazy”.  From an early age, we worry over our Christmas lists for months on end.   Even God Himself was a list-maker,  the Ten Commandments being the ultimate “NOT-do” list.   I'm actually beginning to think that there's an unspoken 11th commandment, that being “Thou shalt make a list and check it twice”.

Everywhere, we are inundated with evidence of humanity's need to synthesize and categorize:  Best-seller lists.  Best-dressed lists.  Worst-dressed lists.  Most eligible lists.  Fortune 500 lists.  Craig's List.   There's a list for the “most annoying words” (there should be one for the most annoying lists).  And the mother of all guilt-trips:  The to-do list.

Celebrities are on the A-List, B-List, C-List or D-List (whose only inhabitant seems to be Kathy Griffin). There are “wish lists” we can compile online to remind ourselves what it is we really want, and then we share our lists with other listmakers on Listmania.

And if all that's not enough, there's even a BOOK of lists (I wonder if it's on the list of books to read before you die?).

Even the words we use every day speak volumes about our fear of  living “off the list”:   If a company is performing poorly, it will be DE-listed from the stock exchange.  If we have no energy, we are list-LESS (literally, we have no list (whatever that means)!!).

What is with all this list-making and our cosmic place on “the list”?   We're forever pushing our way to the goal line, with the goal line forever being pushed back by the addition of new tasks to our to-do list.  But are we even really making our own  lists?  Or are we, like my friend Diana, letting others define our goals and standards for us?  We've all seen those lists of  "Places to visit before we die";  "Movies to see before we die".   Even the articles that seem on the surface to be about taking control of your own life are based on socially-defined goals rather than personal joys.

That's not to say that there's anything wrong with lists in moderation, of course.   After all, they can help keep us organized, anchor us when we might otherwise float aimlessly.  But lists can also make our lives too rigid, too regimented, and too restricting. Look at my friend Diana.  She had transformed something that had been a great source of joy in her life (reading) and turned it into the literary equivalent of the Bataan death march:  One thousand six hundred and forty-two books to go before I die;... Nine hundred and seventy-three books to go before I die;  Four hundred and fifty-two books to go before I die;....   I don't know about you, but that doesn't inspire me to read.  If anything, it just makes me want to run out and enlist (or not).

It's great to be goal-oriented, but we need to find a balance point, taking the time for some “off-list” living.  For in the end, it's not just about what we do but who we are.  And how can we really know who we are if we don't follow our own intuition once in a while?  Open ourselves up to the joys of the unplanned moment, like a windchime caught in a summer breeze? 

A few weeks after my dinner with Diana, I found myself in a Barnes & Noble.  I noticed a small table on the first floor with a sign that read “thought-provoking books”.  (The IMPLIED list.)  Around the table stood three or four silent, unsmiling customers who were scanning book jackets, presumably looking to have their thoughts provoked.

After my initial reaction of disbelief that there could only be one table's worth of books in this 3-story building deemed able to provoke thought, I thought of my friend Diana, plowing through her unhappy list of books.  And I walked past that table and proudly  into the “cheap and mindless” section.  I would decide what I found thought-provoking, letting my intuition be my guide.  I was living off-list, if only for a moment.

On some level, I think Diana would have approved.