Robin Williams: The Joy and the Sadness

It's been a long time since I've felt irresistibly compelled to blog about something that's happened in the "real" world. My posting has slowed down considerably since my husband retired, and much of what I share is poetry at this point.

Having said that, today I hope to create some prose that somehow expresses my feelings about the death of Robin Williams. Experiencing such a visceral reaction to the passing of someone I don't even know surprises me, and I want to understand more about why I feel so personally bereaved. Clearly, I am not alone, because everywhere I look––both online and off––people are remembering him, talking about him, mourning him. I am mourning, too.

There was a joy about him, wasn't there? An irrepressibility of spirit that is rarely seen. It showed up in his comedy and in his acting, and it was carried in his eyes...kind eyes...eyes that twinkled both his joy and his suffering, often at the same time. In every close-up, you could see his humanity, his realness, his compassion...and he felt like your uncle, your father, your very close friend. There was a sweetness in his smile, one that transcended acting...or maybe I should say eclipsed it...because you could not look past the sense that he was every bit as kind and loving as he appeared. His unshuttered eyes were one of the remarkable things about him, I believe.

Of course he was funny, beyond funny, perhaps the funniest man we've ever seen; and he could act his pants off. (I smile, knowing Mr. Williams would have been off and running with that idiom.) Good Will Hunting and Dead Poets' Society and Good Morning Vietnam speak for themselves, and I believe Mrs. Doubtfire probably speaks for all of us who hope to find love and belonging in the world, with a few laughs along the way.

And so we are sad for ourselves, because we lost a bright light...a lively and creative mind...a genius of so much more than comedy. And we are sad for his family, who loved him as only those whose lives are personally touched by someone's energy can...up close and personal...so personal that his daughter Zelda's quote from Antoine de St.-Exupery's The Little Prince brought tears to my eyes in the reading, as did his birthday tweet to her last month (same link). But there is something more that saddens me, something that touches all of our lives as personally as Robin Williams touched the lives of his family.

Robin Williams was bipolar, which means he not only swung happy, but he swung sad...a sadness every bit as devastating as the humor that he so freely shared with us was elevating. Articles are saying that he "struggled" with depression, but that verb doesn't quite work for me. If my observations (formed by knowing and loving more than one person who is bipolar) mean anything, this remarkable man didn't struggle with depression. He was tormented by it, anguished by it, devastated by it. It terrified him in its unpredictability, in its inability to be reliably affected for the long term by treatment of any kind. Every remission was fickle, every relapse a desperate search for something new that might work, now that what was old had ceased to be effective. Most of the time, he didn't let that stop him. Monday, on one very bad morning, he did.

We are all the losers. The man was beloved, but I am troubled at statements made by strangers who would label him "selfish" for having the audacity to leave them and us bereft, people who clearly have never suffered as Mr. Williams did. Don't get me wrong, I am not a proponent of suicide...and I hope I never have to find out how it feels to love someone who seeks respite in that particular escape. But we can't judge another's pain unless we have walked a mile...no, 63 years...in his shoes, nor can we judge that person's inability to withstand the lure of permanent release in one weary, weakened moment when even his valiant spirit failed him.

Here's the thing. Robin Williams, judging from a career observed by many, was what we like to call in my family "a very hard tryer." He pushed himself to excel and achieve again and again, despite being afflicted (through no fault of his own) with the worst sort of burden to bear. I would guess that Sysyphus himself had nothing on Mr. Williams as he stressed and strained to push that boulder of depression up the hill, only to see it roll back down...over and over and over. Every time that stone hit bottom, I can only believe the heart of Robin Williams did, too...and as time passed, that bottom probably started feeling lower, that rock heavier. One of the most harrowing features of depression is its relentlessness...the inexorable nature of it...the entirely based-in-reality fear of never truly escaping it.

Selfishly, I wish Robin Williams had not escaped it. But I take exception to anyone calling him "selfish" for being temporarily overwhelmed by it. Another day, he might have found the strength to start pushing that boulder uphill yet again. Monday, he didn't. But that was one day out of a lifetime. And his courage was and is undeniable.

A final thing, if you'll bear with me. One actress tweeted, "If only Robin had known how many people loved him," her well-meaning inference being that, had he known of this love, he would not have ended his life. My thoughts run a different direction. I believe it is because Mr. Williams knew exactly how many people loved him that he found a way to live with his depression for 63 years. And for that, I thank him.

{I also thank untold others who are doing the same.}

Connecting by Feedly

RIP

I'm sure most of you are aware that Google Reader will be a thing of the past on July 1st. For months I have been trying to figure out how to stay in touch with the blogs that matter most to me, and I have finally made a decision. Yesterday, I joined Feedly and was happy to find that all of my "followed" blogs from Google Reader transferred over at the click of a button. What's more, by choosing the "magazine" format, I have been able to approximate the look I am used to, and I think this will be a smooth transition for me.

Having said that, I am not pleased with this latest action taken by Google. I'm not sure why they keep pulling the plug on services loyal customers have enjoyed over the years, and their doing so continues to erode my trust in them. Still, I am going to push forward as best I can. Who knows? Eventually, Google may let Blogger go as well, at which time I will probably move to Wordpress and get used to that, too.

For now, the main thing is staying in touch with all of you, and Feedly will allow me to do that. Just wanted to spread the word in case others are worried about the same thing I was...the prospect of losing touch with blogs and bloggers I have grown to care about.

Our connections are worth preserving!

=)

PS. You will need to make the change prior to July 1st or the data from Google Reader will be lost, leaving you to recreate the list of blogs you follow as best you can.

PPS. I just joined Bloglovin, too. It was easy to transfer my Google Reader stuff with just one click, though the site does a lot less than Feedly. However, it has a social component Feedly doesn't have. Over time, I will decide which one I prefer!

for more C posts, click below

Hanging Gardens

 

 We're pretty excited about my nephew's iTunes success.

 

 His new album, Hanging Gardens, dropped today!

(click pic to enlarge and read what iTunes thinks)

 iTunes chose one of the tracks as Single of the Week. (lower left)

THAT'S BIG.

And look where the album itself is positioned!  (upper right)

THAT'S BIG, TOO.

 "All You're Waiting For" was definitely worth the wait.

Hey, every track of this chill and vibey album was worth the wait.

(my nephew is pictured on the left)

CONGRATULATIONS TO TYLER BLAKE

AND HIS BANDMATE MICHAEL DAVID

ON

HANGING GARDENS

{CLASSIXX}

Check it out here.

for more happiness, click below

Til Death Do Us Part

Well, I just waved good-bye to a carload of our kids and grandkids, and I'm missing them already. Thank heavens for a bit of Saturday Centus distraction to ease the separation. (As always, the prompt is in red below, along with the 100 words Ms. Jenny allows us to add.)

My response comes from a tragic

 news story that headlined AOL today. 

∞§∞ 

Til Death Do Us Part

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

We met in Lompoc County, when a back road was the only way to get there. She was fifteen, bright as sunshine, walking straight toward me in that red dress with a crown of curls to match. Never thought she'd talk to a bumpkin like me, and I was right. Took three weeks of persuading before she'd ride out in my old pick-up; even then she wouldn't say much. Later I found out she was shy.

Couldn't believe my luck when she said yes. Never knew a sweeter bride, and she stayed that way. My Ginger did everything for me until the MS took over; then I did everything for her. I wanted to. Even this last thing.

Neither of us made any speeches. Our fingers entwined like ribbons of light, we said good-bye. 

Her eyes were smiling when I pulled the trigger.

∞§∞

Pretty heart wrenching, any way you look at it.
The true story can be read here.

The Voice

I am having way more fun than TV usually offers watching Season 3 of The Voice this year. For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, this musical reality show among shows features judges Adam Levine, Christina Aguilera, Blake Shelton, and Cee Lo Green. Crazy fun is the order of the day, largely because the interplay among these judges is entertaining as can be.

Top five things about the show:

1. The judges are actually talented themselves, rendering their advice and comments a lot more palatable.
2. The singers are invited to audition because they are already good. Result? No painful performances!
3. The judges have an opportunity to "push their buttons" for a singer, but they do not have the opportunity to see that person before doing so, as their backs are to the performers. This is truly a blind audition; talent is the whole enchilada.
4. Every judge who pushes that button (thereby turning his/her chair around) for a contestant must then vie with the others to mentor that candidate, and the choice is up to the singer, not the judges. I have laughed out loud many times at the shenanigans that go on as these sneaky judges jockey against one another to win a particularly desirable singer's favor.
5. After the judges' teams are filled (but not before plenty of hilarity, good chemistry, and teasing as each one tries to "get picked" as a coach), the judges set up battles where two of their team members are invited to a sing-off in front of the audience. Winners go to the live shows, while losers either go home or get "stolen" by another judge who thinks that singer is too good to let go.

There is some amazing talent this year. Most every genre imaginable is not only represented but represented well. So listen up, my friends. If you haven't seen this show, do yourself a favor next week and turn it on. In fact, why not just consider your Monday and Tuesday nights filled? Indefinitely.

I promise you will not regret it!

=)

PS. And Carson Daly as a host ain't too shabby, either.

for more V posts, click below

Dissing My Religion

I rarely get political here, and that's not my intention today either. I suspect my readership is about evenly comprised of liberals and conservatives, Republicans and Democrats...with a mix of Independents and Libertarians thrown in for good measure. And I like it that way.

For the record, my views no longer fit neatly into any one party platform. Liberal and conservative, depending upon the issue, I now choose candidates based on character and integrity as much or more than party affiliations or positions. I also respect every person's right to support whatever candidate(s) he or she feels inclined to support, and I have no problem agreeing to disagree on issues and policies. I enjoy and appreciate the give and take of respectful political discussion.

Sadly, respectful political discussion is increasingly hard to come by, and personal attacks have become part and parcel of every race. Recent words from Lawrence O'Donnell of MSNBC have left me fuming, because in an attempt to discredit Mitt Romney, this unscrupulous commentator has launched an attack on my religion. The hostile tone of O'Donnell's remarks, along with their departure from anything even approaching the truth, disturbs and offends me on every level. Even more disturbing and offensive is the complete lack of response from MSNBC, a news organization that should hold Mr. O'Donnell (and itself) responsible for dispensing vitriol and failing to vet material.

How is it that Lawrence O'Donnell has called the LDS faith, practiced by 14 million people worldwide and 5 1/2 million citizens of this country, "demented, fraudulent, and ridiculous" without repercussions to his career? And where is the justification for his latest spew on MSNBC, excerpted as follows:

"Mormonism was created by a guy in upstate New York in 1830 when he got caught having sex with the maid and explained to his wife that God told him to do it..." (It gets worse, but I don't want to give his verbal garbage additional play on my blog.)

Surely there can be no excuse for this kind of disrespect in the public arena. Not only is it patently untrue, but it's completely inappropriate in every way imaginable. I am dumbfounded that any of this nonsense would make it past the cutting room floor, and I am troubled by what I sincerely hope will not become a trend.

We, the members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, deserve better. And so does our national discourse.

A Breath of Fresh Hope!

Several months ago, an article by Wendy Ulrich appeared in the Deseret News entitled "How Can God Be Trusted? Some Lessons from Bones and Sinew." Normally I would just post a link, but because I want all of you to read her words so badly, I am cutting and pasting them here in their entirety. That's how valuable I think Ms. Ulrich's piece is. Read it and smile, because the knowledge that our bodies are constantly rebuilding themselves not only offers new hope for improved health no matter your age, but reminds every one of us that we can change ourselves spiritually, too.

Write on, Wendy...

I recently learned that all the cells in all the muscles in the human body are destroyed, hauled off, then rebuilt about every four months. Ditto with all the blood cells every three months, all the bone cells every couple of years. Who knew?

When we stress muscles with exercise, special wrecking-crew cells get a stronger-than-usual signal to come in and start tearing things down and cleaning things out. Rest after exercise cues another crew of cells to start building things back up again, just a little stronger than before. Without exercise, old cells don’t get taken down and recreated as efficiently; muscles and bones are rebuilt slightly weaker than they were, according to Chris Crowley and Henry S. Lodge, M.D., authors of "Younger Next Year."

This information gives me a lot of incentive to hit the streets.

It also gives new credibility to the notion that adversity might even be good for me. It makes me wonder if I’m using challenges, stress or threats to tear down old notions of who I am and what I believe, replacing them with something more accurate, strong and flexible.

I think of a friend who, with cause, concluded as a child that she could only stay safe through constant vigilance. People could not always be trusted. Ditto with God. As an adult that worldview often left her anxious, suspicious and grasping for faith. She wanted to relax and trust in God’s care. After all, sometimes things worked out fine. But sooner or later — usually sooner — they didn’t again. Was she not yet righteous enough to deserve more protection? Was she creating a self-fulfilling prophecy?

I will long remember the moment in the movie "17 Miracles" when someone who looks like a mountain man comes to a woman who has roamed away from her Mormon pioneer handcart company to search for fuel. He appears from nowhere and asks urgently how the company is doing. She clearly can’t figure out who this man is or where he came from, but she reports, "We are starving. We are dying. We are desperate."

His concern is evident. He thinks a moment. He wonders aloud if he might help a little. The question does not seem to be whether he is able to help, willing to help, or has the concern and compassion to help. For some reason the question seems to be whether he is allowed to help. Apparently permission is granted: He miraculously provides dried meat for her to take back and distribute, saving many lives. When she turns to thank him he has disappeared, along with the cave from which he produced the food. True story, it is claimed.

This is the message I got: God is absolutely aware, compassionate, concerned — and from time to time he sends some messenger or miracle as evidence of that love. But he does not pull us out of the game we came here to play. He respects and loves and trusts us enough to let us see it through, even when we are sure we are losing, even when we cannot for the life of us remember why we chose to play or what position we trained for. He remembers. He is true to his promise to let us have the experience we apparently signed up for: tearing down, rebuilding stronger.

Sometimes an experience tears us down so far we feel like there is no physical or spiritual muscle left to rebuild from. But he is the resurrection and the life and the God we can come to know “in our extremities.” He can be trusted, not because he will keep us safe but because he will save us. We are loved enough and he is good enough, and we can take that to the bank. The victory is his, but the spiritual muscle will be ours, forever.

Wendy Ulrich, PhD, MBA, psychologist, author and founder of Sixteen Stones Center for Growth (sixteenstones.net), most recently co-authored the New York Times bestseller "The Why of Work."

Thanks, Wendy!

And don't forget to leave a comment here so you can try to win the "I am still learning" plaque to celebrate my 1100th post! (Contest closes on Sunday the 11th.)

Welcome to my Book Binge

(Or at least, I do!)

I've been enjoying some very good reads lately and am happy to spread the news about three authors who were entirely new to me last month but are well on the way to becoming old friends. If you aren't already aware of their talents, I hope you will consider looking into them. Perhaps you will even embrace them as I have.

The first is Marcia Willett, whose books come as close to Rosamunde Pilcher's as any I've run across. Set in the English countryside and peopled with charming, quirky, and mostly endearing characters are "A Week in Winter," "The Way We Were," and "A Summer in the Country." The next Willett novel I intend to swallow in one gulp (just can't seem to put them down) is "The Children's Hour." Needless to say, I'm ready to dive right in!

Simply beautiful is Kent Haruf's novel, "Plainsong." This author's writing, lean and intense as Hemingway but far more graceful on the mind, imbues commonplace events with a soft luster that pulled me in gently yet held me fast, unable (or unwilling) to look away. Haruf places his readers in deep water, but the waves roll in slowly and shimmer. I will be reading the sequel, "Eventide," as soon as time allows.

Sandra Dallas rounds out my group of three, and I thoroughly enjoyed "The Diary of Mattie Spenser," "The Persian Pickle Club," "Tallgrass," and "Alice's Tulips." I'll be sure to visit her other work too, as I love nothing better than a good book about women and the ties that bind them...to each other and to their families. I think you will find that Ms. Dallas fills that bill with style, sensitivity, a touch of mystery, and a sense of history.

What could be better?

=)

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Caroline of Salsa Pie. (It's easy...no signing up!)

Must They Die in Vain?

Life is precious, and I can't let my thoughts about the sad demise of Whitney Houston go by unmentioned. There are no definitive reports as to her cause of death, but I think the assumption that drugs were involved, whether directly or indirectly, would not be amiss. At the very least, years of substance abuse likely damaged her health to the point where she was susceptible to losing her life so early.

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, using drugs or alcohol to alter my perception of reality goes against my beliefs. In fact, drinking and drugging are out of the question for observant Mormons, which protects many of us and our children from the ravages of that particular addiction. However, it does not protect all, because the freedom of choice which is our birthright still allows every individual to make his or her own personal decision.

In the interest of respecting and protecting privacy, I will not mention names or details in sharing with you that my family has been touched by the destructive forces of drug/alcohol addiction. I have seen the consequences with my own eyes, and the definition of devastating is to watch mood-altering substances take over a person's body and soul, changing a loving, honorable person into a mere shadow of his or her former self. This unspeakable horror, the epitome of evil in this world, is a tragedy for everyone concerned, and I hate it beyond my power to express.

In June of 1971, Richard Nixon officially declared a "war on drugs," citing drug abuse as "public enemy number one." I think he identified the aggressor correctly, but it's plain to see that a war on drugs conducted by the government has not been able to get the job done. What is essentially a moral battle cannot be fought with laws only. Rather, individuals and families must wage this war...and it must be fought in the hearts and in the minds of every man and woman, every parent and child. Vulnerability to drugs begins in the spirit, and the best defense is having a healthy one.

Love and example are powerful teachers, and while they cannot alter personal choice, they can certainly influence it. A strong family (where freedom is encouraged within the limits of reasonable and firmly enforced parental boundaries) is a bonus...as is allowing a child to assume the natural and/or justly applied consequences of behavior whenever possible. Refusing to "fix" everything that goes wrong in a young person's life creates numerous opportunities for him to realize that certain behavior brings certain results. It also allows ample room to develop much-needed coping skills and engenders the self esteem that comes from acting upon the world independently. In addition, children should be taught to understand, accept, and express their feelings, while being encouraged to channel them in non-destructive ways. All of these things, offered in an atmosphere of love and personal responsibility, increase resilience and even forge some armor.

I also believe it is essential to gift our children with a strong spiritual foundation and practice, whatever form that might take. Of course, there is no guarantee that this will keep them off the path of substance abuse, but it does place an anchor in the soul that can help a person find his way back from the abyss that is addiction, just as his family can provide the necessary tether.

In more general terms, we can all fight the moral war on drugs by speaking up, reaching out, and chipping in. Our society is sick, and we really do have to be the change we wish to see in the world. We can use our voices by avoiding media that glorifies drug use, refusing to laugh at jokes that minimize that behavior, talking turkey with other parents who seem to view experimentation as just another phase of adolescence, and forming alliances with those who agree that drugs are a scourge on our society. What's more, if we really want to see our culture's attitude toward substance abuse change, we need to walk the walk by using moderation ourselves. I'm not saying everyone has to become a teetotaler, not even close, but I can't count the times I have attended parties in the workplace where grown, professional men and women have behaved like frat kids, drinking their way to stumbling steps, slurred speech, and sick stomachs. What can possibly be the point of placing oneself beyond having fun...especially when you can't even remember anything the next day...or if you do remember, you're not proud of the memory?

The thing is, it matters. What we do matters. A society is defined by the way people behave...and yesterday's taboo can easily become today's tradition. Has the use of substances become a tradition in our country? Yes. Has the abuse of substances become a tradition? I fear that it has, and I fear the results as well. Families are destroyed, people forfeit their lives, and our nation is weakened. We are losing too much and too many...with too little resistance.

So, my friends. Here comes the thought question. Are we fighting the good fight...doing everything we can to make a difference? Or are we being complacent...onlookers only? Or worse, enablers?

One thing is certain. To do nothing at all is a choice in itself.

Books Times Five

I've been making a few Blurb books lately.

All but one are for my grandkids. The other is for my mom.

I like getting these poems down in a book for safekeeping.

And they seem to like receiving them, too!

Blurb makes me smile.

;)

click below for more happiness

How Do You Mend a Broken Heart?

It was a rough weekend at the Anderson house.

And we are definitely singing the blues...

How can you mend a broken heart?

How can you stop the rain from falling down?

How can you stop the sun from shining?

What makes the world go round?

How can you mend this broken man?

How can a loser ever win?

Please help me mend my broken heart,

and let me live again.

I can still feel the breeze

that ruffles through the trees

and memories of days gone by.

We could never see tomorrow...

No one said a word about the sorrow.

And, how can you mend a broken heart?

How can the losers ever win?

Please help us mend our broken hearts

and let us live again.

-The BeeGees

Maybe next year??

Go, Niners!

=)

In My Life

(I hope you will turn up your sound and enjoy the melody.)

"In My Life" is one of my favorite Beatles songs, and not just because my nephew sang it at my son's wedding. The lyrics were written by John Lennon, inspired by Kenneth Allsop's remark that Lennon should inject more of his own life into the music he wrote. Apparently, the journalist had learned more about John from reading "In His Own Write" than from any of his lyrics.

With that in mind, "In My Life" began as a self-described rambling poem where the composer sort of took a bus ride through his childhood haunts, including Penny Lane and Strawberry Field. Lennon was not happy with the result, calling it "the most boring sort of 'What I Did on my Holidays Bus Trip' song." He reworked the lyrics into a much more generalized reflection on his past, and very few of the original lines remain.

While the lyric was written entirely by Lennon, the music was a collaboration with McCartney, and George Martin wrote the bridge. Released on the Rubber Soul album in 1965, In My Life is ranked 23rd on Rolling Stone's 500 Greatest Songs of All Time, as well as fifth on their list of The Beatles 100 Greatest Songs. It also placed second on CBC's 50 Tracks, and Mojo magazine named it the best song of all time in 2000.

As for me, I will never forget the sound of my nephew accompanying himself on the piano as he sang this beautiful song to my son and daughter-in-law at their wedding dinner in 1999. (And they have been making beautiful music together ever since!)

There are places I’ll remember

All my life, though some have changed.

Some forever, not for better;

Some have gone and some remain.

All these places have their moments

With lovers and friends I still can recall.

Some are dead, and some are living.

In my life, I’ve loved them all.

But of all these friends and lovers,

There is no one compares with you.

And these memories lose their meaning,

When I think of love as something new.

Though I know I’ll never lose affection

For people and things that went before;

I know I’ll often stop and think about them.

In my life, I love you more.

Though I know I’ll never lose affection

For people and things that went before;

I know I’ll often stop and think about them.

In my life, I love you more.

-John Lennon

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Telling It Like It Is...

My husband is home from work today, so I need to be quick about this, but I do have something on my mind that I thought might be worth a paragraph or two.

I am troubled when people in the media or political activists refer to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (of which I am a member) as a cult. Of course, I realize that, in the broadest definition, every religion can be considered a cult...but I also know that detractors of Mormons and our faith selectively choose to employ that term because of certain negative connotations attached to it. Extreme groups such as the Branch Davidians or Manson Family, for instance, have been assigned the label of cult, and the word itself has acquired overtones of mind control, isolation, psychological manipulation, and not uncommonly, evil.

With over 14 million members throughout the world, one of the most active welfare and humanitarian relief programs in existence, and families who are integrally involved in serving their communities, the LDS Church is hardly cultish...either in its action or in its intent. I sincerely hope and believe that responsible people will recognize this kind of agenda-driven labeling of the fourth-largest religion in our country for what it is: an attempt to demonize a religious group for personal, social, or political reasons that, while unknown to me, cannot possibly excuse the disrespect and dishonestly entailed in that effort.

Just my humble opinion, of course, and today I needed to put it out there. (Maybe I should stop watching these cable news channels altogether!)

;)

Does X Factor Have the X Factor? Yes!

My desperately needed hair appointment is looming (gotta leave in just over an hour), but I did want to say a few words about X Factor this morning because I'm liking that show almost as much as my reigning favorite, So You Think You Can Dance. To tell the truth, I am not a big TV viewer. In fact, I never watch in real time (fast forwarding through the commercials is a must), but I do DVR my five favorite shows every week to enjoy at my leisure. And X Factor is the only one I can't wait to see.

Of course, its kissing cousin is American Idol, but the relationship is mostly superficial. With L.A. Reid of Epic Records on board and Simon more candid that corrosive, the judging is considerably better. And the talent is so good that they had to send people home who would have won Idol rather handily. I'm not sure where X Factor is getting all these amazing singers, but there are definitely some hard-hitters in the line-up...and no lightweights at all. This makes for some pretty exciting auditions, made even more so by the fact that they are performed in front of a large, live audience.

Another interesting feature is the inclusion of singers aged 12 and up. Groups are also allowed to compete, adding a new flavor to the mix. But the artists I am most drawn to come from the over-30 category. Their voices pack a world of experience, and they definitely know what to do with it.

If you haven't checked out X Factor, I suggest you give it a go. They are down to the final 32 contestants (8 girls, 8 boys, 8 over-30s, and 8 groups), but only 16 of these acts will make it to the show. Each of the four judges has been assigned to mentor one of the groups, and it will be up to that judge to send half of his or her proteges home in the next week or so. (I was surprised to see that all the coaching and final selecting will take place in the judge's own residences.) Paula Abdul, who is in charge of the groups, will have a ton of people staying at her house! L. A. Reid will host the boys, Simon Cowell the girls, and Nicole Scherzinger the over-30s. Should be fascinating.

So far, the show has evoked strong emotions in me. There's something about seeing talented people pursue their dreams that pulls this old dreamer in, and these singers are really putting themselves out there. A number of them are likable, too, which doesn't hurt.

I have a feeling X Factor is going to come up a big winner this year.

=)