Thursday, May 18, 2006

Tears, TV, and Time To Read

Is it normal to cry when watching four earnest fifth graders play the violin during a PTA meeting? And is it normal to cry when they are joined by three girls on the flute, four others on clarinet, and two on trumpet? No? How about when a group of thirty sings "America the Beautiful," followed by possibly the world's cutest song about the fifty states ("shout 'em, scout 'em, tell all about 'em!"), and then—the one that almost had me weeping on the floor begging for mercy—"Lean on Me," complete with awkward back-n-forth swaying and handclapping?

Seriously, it was out of control.

And then I came home and had to watch Elliot Yamin voted off. Bah! And once again—Bah! Bullshiz, I tell you.

I found some solace in the Tivo'ed episode of Lost, where Naveen Andrews finally got some airtime in which to reveal—once again—that even though his character inexplicably fell in love with that vapid girl who was eventually done in by the murderess (and now murdered) Ana Lucia, he is still the most level-headed, clear-thinking, and valuable go-to guy on the island.

So, yes, I was sucked into the blackhole of Wednesday night television, but I still found some time to read before drifting off. I do this, I think, not only because I love to read but because watching television pushes my guilty button. Anyways, I'm currently enjoying Francine Prose's A Changed Man (I keep picturing Edward Norton as the main character, probably because of his turn as the skinhead in American X) and The Time of the Doves by Merce Rodoreda.

3 comments:

Rebecca Mabanglo-Mayor said...

I wept the first time I saw my daughter dancing "planting rice" at our school talent show, then again when our 8th grade rock band announced that proceeds from the sale of their 3 song CD would benefit a local boy recovering from an attack of flesh eating bacteria.

Children are good. Thankfully we have ample reminders to this fact.

Thanks for sharing!

ver said...

The nutso thing is these weren't even my children! I can't imagine when it's them five years from now blowing a trumpet off key with their bangs hanging in their eyes. They'll have to take me out of there on a stretcher...

thelastnoel said...

Don't question when you're being moved. Just enjoy it, baby!