What's Missing from Entertainment Weekly's All-Time Greatest?

Entertainment Weekly just issued its “100 All-Time Greatest” issue, which lists the supposed greatest movies, TV shows, albums, and novels of, well, all time. In the Editor’s Note, Jess Cagle writes that “[w]e would decide what was best, without worrying whether it adhered to or violated conventional wisdom,” which included trying to “honor contemporary work that will endure for centuries to come alongside the classics.”

While I am well aware that music is as subjective as one's taste in the opposite sex (which is why many people look at me funny when I tell them my all-time celebrity crush is Tom Selleck!), as a music fanatic I couldn't help but share a few albums that I think should’ve been included in the “All-Time Greatest issue”, although for whatever reason didn’t make it there.   

So I'm just going to go out and say it.  Why the eff did not one single Steely Dan album make the list?  I realize that some do not like Steely Dan and that some may not have heard of Steely Dan (those who have not are either 12 and/or exclusively listen to whatever the Top 40 station spoon-feeds you, and for that your opinion doesn't really matter in this case.)  Most anyone who loves music, or perhaps more importantly knows music, realizes that Steely Dan is a serious band for the serious music nerd, case in point being Paul Rudd’s character in the movie Knocked Up.  His friends made fun of him for it (because that's what douche-y dudes do, but as a music producer he knew his stuff and made his case for why Steely Dan is one of the greatest bands ever). While my life changed (good art has that effect) when I really discovered Steely Dan at the age of 17 is actually pretty irrelevant here, especially since Katy Lied and Pretzel Logic are both albums that have received wide critical acclaim and beyond that are just really universally great pieces of music.  No disrespect to EW, but for these reasons, at least one of those albums should have made the list.

Whether you like hip hop or not, I was quite appalled that not a single Roots album appeared on EW's list, though I did agree with the inclusion of Jay-Z’s The Blueprint, De La Soul’s 3 Feet High and Rising, and The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. The Roots are the kind of band that transcend their genre.  And by this I mean that people who don't even like hip hop happen to appreciate the Roots. But strictly on an album level, their records are the sort that encompass a very distinct mood and theme (of particular importance since EW's listing is based on greatest albums and not bands). Most notable, and missing from the list in my opinion, were Illadelph Halflife (released in 1996) and undun (released in 2011).  Both are the kind of albums that will continue to blow your mind no matter how many times you've played them over.  Listen for yourself, and you'll likely agree.

Finally, how did Al Green's Call Me (which I like, understandably) make the list, but not Shuggie Otis’s Inspiration Information? That album is disgustingly incredible. Released in 1974, it maintains a consistent laidback, romantic mood, while simultaneously unfolding like a novella.  As a timepiece of the 1970s, it also somehow still manages to transcend the time period. For example, I could play the album in summertime 1970s Greenwich Village or summertime 2010s Greenwich Village and in either era it would hold up as one of the great Greats. And, well, “Strawberry Letter 23” and “Aht Uh Mi Head” are easily five-star tracks, at least they are for me.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Why I Like the Big K (Where Image Isn't Everything)

Despite the narrow aisles and low ceilings, constructed for a time of skinnier people and skinnier carts, Kmart feels simultaneously spacious and airy and at the same time, from a different era.  You go there not because the prices are lower (like Walmart) or for its snazzy, trendy wares (like Target); you go there because there will be no lines, no people to run into from work, but also likely no pocket-sized Pizza Hut/Dunkin’ Donuts/Starbucks (which is neither unfortunate nor fortunate, I suppose).

At Kmart, there happen to be fewer shoppers sporting SpongeBob PJ pants and slippers, screaming kids, and the current common cold du jour than the Walmarts and Dollar Trees of yore, though it is not to say that the store doesn't cater to a humble group of folk.  At my local Kmart, for example, there happens to be a high percentage of Franco-American senior citizen shoppers with their polyester pants and carts stocked with whatever cleaning products that happen to be on sale, which provide a certain familiarity because they happen to remind me of my own late Franco-American grandmother.  
 

Nevertheless, while I am never particularly jazzed by the stock of goods that Kmart has to offer (things like storage bins and shampoo always seem to be just a little inflated in price and there is no particular flashy gimmick, such as the promise of a nice stash of new Essie nail polish or trendy, one-season-only apparel freshly hung on the clearance rack), there is something warm and fuzzy about the Big K, and what can I say? I am a real sucker for the warm and fuzzy.

Typically, the soundtrack at Kmart brings me straight to the late 1980s or 1990s, playing ballads from Heart or Celine Dion or even Amy Grant (I believe "Baby Baby" happened to be playing the last time I was there), and it makes me want to head straight to the coloring book aisle and pick out a little something for my former 6-year-old self. 
 

 

In its glory days, the Kmart I used to go to was a bustling destination complete with a well-stocked music department, not to mention Walkmans galore.  But the especially exciting feature at the Kmart from way back when was its in-house cafeteria, which, if you could get past the cloud of cigarette smoke, lent a delightful little reprieve to the end or middle of the Big K shopping experience.  They had every fatty, processed, nutrient-devoid dreamboat snack you could want: hot dogs, chicken fingers, French fries, various cream pies, your standard stash of handy-sized chips, and a nice selection of fountain sodas (including, I believe, Mello Yellow).  The cafeteria abutted the hair product section, which was next to the cosmetics section, which meant that the Caboodles (remember those?) were somewhere mixed in between.  How I remember this is no matter, but I loved my Caboodles almost as much as I loved my perm. 

But back to 2013.  I found myself wandering the aisles this past Saturday, well, because I needed some laundry detergent stat and because Kmart happened to be next to the record store where I picked up some Seals & Crofts (summer is when I crave the smooth '70s tunes).  And while I was there it occurred to me how grateful I was to be able to have the freedom to aimlessly wander the aisles of Kmart on a Saturday, but also how grateful I am that there is such a place in 2013 that is neither flashy, nor hipster, nor bottom-barrel cheap, nor particularly relevant, which is, quite honestly, really refreshing.  

 

With its underwhelming aesthetic and lack of identity, Kmart is a kind of unassuming and safe haven, much like Empty Nest (that everyone used to watch but everyone apparently forgot about besides me, it seems), or maybe it’s just where I like to spend a random hour on a random Saturday afternoon, simultaneously out in the world while also away from it.  We all need a little of that in our lives, I think.

Image credit: Pinterest

From Impure Thoughts to Thoughts of Self-Acceptance

Growing up Catholic, going to confession was a regular ritual in my family.  Once a month, my mom would drag my siblings and me to a church three towns away so we could tell a priest our sins.  Truth be told, it was equal parts humiliating, cathartic, and simply a task that was part of my Catholic upbringing.  Nevertheless, I always felt better afterward, because (a) I felt that for the 15 seconds while I did my penance in the church pew I was devoid of all human sin; and/or (b) the whole thing was over until the next month; and/or (c) we typically went out to eat afterward.

The problem with confession as I saw it was that I typically wound up confessing the same slew of sins each month, particularly the personal biggie: "impure thoughts."  When I was old enough to realize that having such impure thoughts was even a sin, I asked my mother how to confess such a thing.  My mother, being the cradle Catholic/enlightened woman that she was, had the apropos response for her precocious child:  "In that case, you say that you've had 'impure thoughts.'"  I was thankful to her for giving me the perfect catch-all for such a complex-to-me-at-the-time-kind-of-sin.

Now that I'm all grown up, I know that these "impure thoughts" are simply a fact of life that can't be erased from my mind no matter how much I try.  After all, I'm a human being with a fully functioning brain and body that are intended for making babies but which serve so many other purposes.   Now I'm not ashamed for such impure thoughts that enter my mind because it reminds me that I'm alive and thriving, and that my body is as engaged as my mind, which is a beautiful, biological thing.  

Furthermore, trying to erase thoughts of any kind only increases the potential for such thoughts to squirm back in, because that's just how the mind works.  We have an uncanny way of rebelling against ourselves, don't we?  (Well, at least I do.)  While I've evolved to know that impure thoughts are natural and acceptable, there are always other things I'm working on or striving to improve, different spiritual philosophies have taught me that self-judgment does not an enlightened mind make (a Buddhist philosphy instead of a Catholic one), which in my adulthood seem so much more logical and practicable. 

Only until we accept ourselves for our various shortcomings, weaknesses, and transgressions, et al. are we more likely to find success in changing and overcoming them, because it is upon self-acceptance that achievement in overcoming shortcomings suddenly becomes wholly and truly attainable. 

Feeling guilty about our weaknesses or failings only consumes energy that could be applied to more positive areas of our life that could by default reshape our focus away from our weak areas.  Since our bodies and minds only have so much energy, as it releases from the negative to the positive these thoughts/actions happen less often or, if you're truly a saint, not at all.  (Though who wants to have no "impure thoughts" at all?  Isn't that what makes us perhaps a little more interesting and endearing? I like to think so.)

Finding Home

Why I've only gotten into the Dexter series now that it is in its final season is beyond me, but in picking Season 7 up (via Netflix) midstream I have belatedly realized all that I've been missing out on for the past seven years.  Oh, well.  Better late than never, right? 

What distinguishes the show from others is that it is both plot AND character driven, revealing a complicated protagonist, Dexter, who happens to be a symphathetic killer, since he "only" kills the bad guys.  One of my favorite aspects of the show is that we get to hear Dexter's inner monologue, at times wry and sadistic, and other times tender and thought-provoking.  According to those in the know, Dexter's emotional capacity has evolved throughout the seasons, with him revealing in Season 7 the ability to experience the depth of love in a way that he never has before.

In "Argentina," the show's aptly titled Episode 8 of Season 7, Dexter makes a poignant declaration at the end of the show about the idea of finding your own version of home in the world, where he says:

          No matter where we go, we take ourselves and our damage with us. So is
          home the place we run to or is it the place we run from? Only to hide out
          in places where we are accepted unconditionally, places that feel more like
          home to us. Because we can finally be who we are.

The statement struck a chord in me because it was not only beautifully stated, but because it rings so true.  Whether we have it, had it, or are continually searching for it, we are all always longing for that place -- whether physically or mentally -- that we can call home, that place where we can just be. 

It's a place where we are not always understood, perhaps, but where we are completely accepted, where we are free to be our sometimes silly, oddball selves, so much so that our quirks -- those so-called issues/isms/little things that we may be ashamed to share with some people -- are not only openly received, but are cherished, nurtured, and loved.  Sadly, for some, that place may never be found, but for those who've stumbled upon it, it is truly the ultimate of all places to find and to be, if you are so lucky.

And that's all for tonight. 

The Power of Now: Who knew being present could feel so good?

I’m reticent to say a particular book has changed my life to avoid sounding overly dramatic and impressionable, but let’s just be honest here: The Power of Now blew my effing mind away. 

I have read other books that have transformed my thinking:  The War of Art, The Power of Habit, The Secret, and The Four Agreements.  And while I don’t want to discount their value, particularly since they all likewise had lasting impressions on me, The Power of Now took things to the next level for me.

With a Buddhist bent, though with no particular religious affiliation, the book deals with such themes as time (past, present, future), the true self, peace vs. pleasure, and consciousness vs. unconsciousness.  As someone who often grapples with worrying and sometimes anxiety, particularly about the unknown future, Eckhart Tolle’s words spoke to me in an extremely profound way, in a way that I’ve never heard them before – or perhaps have been open to hearing them before.  “You can always cope with the Now, but you can never cope with the future – nor do you have to.  The answer, the strength, the right action or the resource will be there when you need it, before, not after,” Tolle writes. 

While I pride myself on being a pretty good communicator (I thank my Moms for that one), I find myself in my head a lot – thinking, processing, analyzing.  (Maybe it's my INFJ/Piscean combination, who knows.)  Only until reading Pema Chodron’s teachings and then reading this book, did I realize how counterproductive that is, how unnecessary that constant thinking, processing, and analyzing actually IS to making good decisions and attaining the best, most meaningful life possible, which is what we're all striving toward, right?  While Pema Chodron’s words in her beautiful simplicity made complete sense to me, I wasn’t quite sure how to DO it, how to even begin stepping outside my mind.  Tolle put it this way:   

You are cut off from Being as long as your mind takes up all your attention.  When this happens – and it happens continuously for most people – you are not in your body. . . .  To become conscious of Being, you need to reclaim consciousness from the mind. . . . It will free vast amounts of consciousness that previously have been trapped in useless and compulsive thinking.  A very effective way of doing this is simply to take the focus of your attention away from thinking and direct it into the body, where Being can be felt in the first instance as the invisible energy field that gives life to what you perceive as the physical body. 

Since reading this one little paragraph have I been able to reduce my overthinking, by focusing what is going on at the given moment.  Here I am typing on this keyboard/sipping my tea/my legs are extended and crossed at my ankles/a cold draft is hitting my calves.  In other words, I am in the complete present – not feeling bad about some stupid comment I made to a coworker the other day, not regretting the ice cream I had last night, not worrying about making sure I work out today.  I am completely and utterly in the present, because that’s all there is – not the past, not the future, but the present. 

Even in our present lives, though, there are circumstances or situations that make us unhappy or dissatisfied.  These may be where we live, our jobs, friendships or relationships, certain addictive behaviors, and even our daily routines.  Tolle suggests that “[w]herever you are, be there totally”, but “[i]f you find you’re here and now intolerable and it makes you unhappy, you have three options: remove yourself from the situation, change it, or accept it totally.”  Being in the present is the knowing you have the power to change the situation and that the situation does not have power over you.   That is such a freeing concept to me:  the idea that we are as much in control of our life situation as we are our life destiny.

There’s so much more, but as with everything it's much better experienced firsthand.  Just read the book, and if you're as taken by it as I was, they even have The Power of Now Inspiration Cards!  (Totally worth it, in my humble opinion.)  I may not have it all figured out, but so long as I have the tools I’m at least partway there, right?  That's what I tell myself anyway.

"What You Won't Do For Love"

I am utterly obsessed with Jessie Ware these days. 

Her voice, her style, her essence and soul -- to me, she represents everything that I love about music.  Needless to say, if you haven't heard about her, you're missing out.  Tonight I discovered a cover she did of one of my very favorite songs of the 1970s, Bobby Caldwell's "What You Won't Do For Love", and it's so disgustingly beautiful I can't stop listening to it. 

Even though the original is one of my favorite songs of all time, I am honestly not sure whether the original or Jessie's remake is better.  (As a sidenote, 2Pac and Gwen McCrae also have some pretty fine renditions of the tune as well.)  Alas, without any further adieu, here's a side by side of Jessie's version and Bobby's version.

 

Overwhelmed by TMI

I have been feeling overwhelmed by too much information lately. Not in the “I’m-all-offended-because you’re-telling-me-too-much-information” kind of way, but more in the “I-don’t-know-what-to-do-with-all-this-information-overload-in-the-world” kind of way. 

And the Internet is in large part to blame.

It has become so fundamental to us for so many things – for researching, for communicating, for creating, which is why I freaking love it. Practically everything you need to or want to know is on there, at your fingertips at any given time. But because of this kind of access, the Internet has produced a kind of live information feed of EVERYTHING that you either WANT or DON'T WANT to hear or read about.  And it all has become incredibly overwhelming.

I am admittedly a full participant in what the web has to offer: I’ve got my various social networking accounts and profiles (Facebook, Pinterest, LinkedIn, you name it); I keep most of my favorite websites on Google Reader, except for the stragglers that I have bookmarked on various computers, the lack of organization of which is, quite honestly, driving me bananas these days; and I have my various favorite go-to news sites (in particular, the Daily Beast and Huffington Post). 

While I like to feel connected and informed on current matters, there is an undesirable byproduct of this all, which is as true and as cliched as it sounds: information overload.  For this reason, I admire my good friend Elizabeth who up and quit Facebook cold turkey several months ago. She finds herself more content and at peace, not to mention the fact that she doesn't even miss it.  She has also found herself making more of an effort to initiate contact with her friends and family the old-fashioned way:  via telephone or email. While I admire that, I know that quitting Facebook is not the answer.

Because for me, it’s a bigger issue.  This was revealed to me as I was driving home last night clicking through all my SiriusXM presets and feeling overwhelmed by that too. I love the liberty of being able to choose, but what good is choice when it becomes so limitless that we continually feel unsettled in our decision(s)?

Technology is supposed to streamline things – and it does in many ways – but if the side effects are stress, dissatisfaction, and feelings of being overwhelmed, something ain’t right, right? While I want to find a way to scale back my reliance and the pressure I feel from it, I know that giving it up completely is not realistic or something that would be beneficial to me, since it is very much a fabric of our/my contemporary existence.  And, besides, I like a lot of what technology has to offer.

I am a believer in self-awareness, especially as it relates to being the first step toward addressing anything.  So, for now I'm going to sit tight and think about it for a bit, but my hunch is that I might need to simplify my life or tweak my perspective.  But if you have any tips or pearls of wisdom in the meantime, I’m all ears, and eyes, AND fingertips. (Oh, you know it's true.)