November 7, 2005 

I wish I had an amusing story to explain my prolonged absence from Eye on Soaps.  Even better would be news of brilliant successes and I donít know, maybe a Lotto jackpot or two.  Or, we could combine the two and I could regale you with tales of astoundingly lucrative successes night after night at the Craps table or something.  Picture me in a glittering, form fitting golden gown and strappy heels, with my hair piled ďoh so carelesslyĒ, yet perfectly, atop my head in an up-do, throwing the dice with a confident little knowing smile upon my face.  Letís not forget the adoring crowd that has gathered around me either, all hoping that if they brush their greedy mitts across my gown then maybe they too will turn into a lucky golden Craps Goddess.   

Sherry, the Craps Goddess. 

Well, ďcrapĒ has been a theme, so at least there really is that.  What Iíve really been up to isnít all that important in the grand scheme of things I suppose, and I can guarantee your imagination can make it more interesting than it really was.  Suffice it to say though, that Iíve made some life direction changes and theyíve yet to be proven wrong (not that Iíve given them time yet, but itís important to capitalize on the little successes, right?) so I feel pretty good about them at the moment.  In case you havenít caught on yet (and Iíll be some of you more savvy readers caught on right from the ďI wishĒ part of the column, and werenít swayed from that notion by discussion of heels and up-doís either) todayís writing is an attempt to get past a block the size of Canada in the creativity department.  Iíd like to tell you that I cleared up that pesky every day life stuff and finally found time to sit at the computer and this is what came outÖbut the God of glittering golden gowns would probably strike me deader than a doornail right here in my chair.  This is about (estimation here) the seventeenth column Iíve started over the last few weeks.  The process has been the same, I delay, stall, delay some more, resort to cleaning the house in order to stall, stop to eat, and finally sit down at the computer.  Then I type two paragraphs or so (and look, weíre there right now!) and then I stop to read them over.  I guffaw at my stupid typographical errors and cringe at my grammatical slayings Ė pretending I actually see them all.  Then I get to the end of paragraph two and realize that I am, once again, a Goddess of Crap(s) of a sort.  It occurs to me that Iím trying to leave that glamorous glittery life behind and do something worthwhile with myself, so I delete all the crap I just wrote and go pick the kids up from school.  The next day, itís the same song, second verse. 

I consulted with friends, mentors, pets, and the mailman.  All suggested that I just *do* it, just sit down, write something, *anything* (and they said use lots of asterisks too), and send it in.  Period.  Donít second-guess it, donít wonder if itís deserving, donít ponder whether itís worthy.  Just do it.  Then supposedly, once you get over that initial hump, itíll come back naturally.  Do you think maybe they meant it would come back *in* that initial column?  Like by the end of it Iíd feel goodÖaccomplished even?  I donít see that happening yet; should I be worried?  Is it normal for paragraph three to be turning out like this?   

I wasnít feeling good at all about paragraph three, so I put an end to it right then and there.  See how powerful I am?  Whoís afraid of Crap Goddess now, huh?  Thatís right.  Maybe I have nothing to say thatís worth reading, but my ability to manipulate the page is just astounding.  Iím like Houdini in spike heels, darting this way and that spreading magic all around!  Just when you think Iím in the middle of a though, pfft, no!  I backtrack, I redirect, I Ölose my train of thought altogether!  And when none of that works, I just push ďenterĒ and try again!   

Speaking of trying again, I have to decide whether I should start watching any daytime soaps again or not.  I havenít seen a moment of one in months, and I while I really miss writing about them (because having a pre-determined subject most certainly helps me) and talking to others about them, I donít so much miss watching them honestly.  I was definitely ready for a break and donít regret it a bit.  I didnít have the time before, and it really felt like a chore to find the time to view the tapes every week.  I have more time now, but I just am not sure if I want to start back up or not.  There is a certain freedom in not watching, I must admit.  Yet I canít picture myself never watching again either, so maybe this is a good time to start back up?  Those of you that have read my columns for awhile know me pretty well, so Iíd be quite happy to hear from you on this subject Ė any reasons you think I might be happy to view GH again?  Any reasons you think I might want to stay away awhile longer?   

In the meantime, I plan to be writing about something regularly now.  What I donít know, but something!  Iím tossing around the idea of a sort of compilation weekly column of prime-time TV thoughts because there are several shows I watch that Iím always wanting to discuss (Nip/Tuck, Lost, Alias, My Name is Earl, etc.).  Maybe something in a Live Journal format where those of you that are interested can respond immediately for me and everyone else to see and we can discuss things like how freaky it is that Matt on Nip/Tuck looks like Michael Jackson and other such important details.  Then thereís the whole reality TV thing and I could do an entirely separate column on that, because those of you who avoid it should not have to be subjected.  Iíll pretty much watch any reality show.  I think pointing and laughing at people who intentionally put themselves out there for that purpose is rather therapeutic.  The trashier the better!  Three blondes who have no idea how to housebreak an animal, bringing six pets each to all live under one roof with Hugh Heffner?  Iím in!  Hulk Hogan tries yoga and fights city hall over his 25 barn animals in a ritzy neighborhood?  Bring it!  British nanny tries to change household routine of a police officer?  Now *thatís* drama!  Donít even get me started on Donald Trump nodding his hair encouragingly while talking about sex with a possible virgin in the boardroom.  Ack.  I think maybe Iím only still watching that so I can play  ďTrump or MonkeyĒ on Letterman with the advantage of having had a fresh look at The Donaldís ďDoĒ once a week.  Is reality TV ruining television for actors, writers, and the like?  Probably.  Do I care?  Not so much since I figure everything has itís time and purpose under Heaven (and Les Moonves) and everything is cyclical.  The downtrodden will come back better than ever, not taking for granted that the viewer would embrace every bit of crap they put out there.  Theyíll work harder, unknown talents will get a shot since the known talents will be off starting their own reality shows (which will spark off the disappearance of the reality show, incidentally) and shows with actual actors, doing things likeÖI dunnoÖacting, will be the next big thing.  Circles, big fat circles, Iím telling you. 

Since this is still going nowhere (and not fast evenÖitís been all afternoon!) I may as well work on an ending.  Iím thinking maybe a preview of some of the thoughts Iíve been saving for columns that will be much more scintillating than this little starter column is.   

Look forward to: 

In depth discussion of this phone conversation:

Phone rings.

Me:  Hello?

Long pause.

Them:  Does anyone in the residence speak Spanish?

Me:  No

Them:  Are you sure? 

Me:  Absolutely.

Them:  Is this the Mercushioooo residence?  (First rule, never engage them by correcting their massacre of your name Ė itís a ploy)

Me:  Yes

Them:  Okay then, thank you. 

Points to cover:  Itís ITALIAN already.  Is this related to those Spanish magazine subscription letters I keep getting in the mail?  Why wasnít I quick enough to answer the ďthank youĒ with ďde nadaĒ?  Possible alternate topic:  Why do I have to push the ďEnglishĒ button on the bank ATM screen?  Why canít it just default to English, here in America, and have an ďEspanolĒ button down at the bottom?   

Coming soon some other week: 

Can a seven-year-old girl who ďclaimsĒ to want to play baseball for the love of the game but then refers to the actual games as  ďshowsĒ really be trusted to engage in the actual sport or will we be watching the uniform and shirt we paid good money for twirl around like a ballerina somewhere in the outfield?  Should we bother investing in a glove or just hand her a wand?  Do I explain that itís not like being in a Broadway production or should I just turn a blind eye to the butterfly wings and just be glad she wears the cap instead of insisting on a crown? 

Cell phones:  It *is* different when I have to listen to you talking on your cell phone in Target than it is when your best friend is right next to you and youíre having that same conversation in the store.  Itís different because if Iím going to eavesdrop on your conversation, I deserve to hear both sides of it.  This does NOT mean, however, that I think the walkie-talkie option on your phone is appropriate for public use.  Letís just call that what it is: someone answering you through a megaphone.  I do NOT understand the benefit to those phones.  Sure, you donít have to hold it to your ear, but thatís about it, isnít it?  You still have to have a free hand to push the button when you want to interrupt the guy with the megaphone and talk yourself, donít you?  If itís hands free you want, get the headset, and feel free to use the CB version in the privacy of your own home/vehicle, but they should be outlawed in restaurants and every other public venue.  Iím taking a stand!  Probably I should call a friend and have them roam the streets waving their phone while I say exactly that through the megaphone so that I can be sure everyone will hear it.  Iím all for special ďcell phone sectionsĒ in restaurants for those that just canít make it to the door to take that call out in the lobby, as well.  I think this column will be a three-part expose.  May or may not delve into the conspiracy and cover-up of the ring tone industry.  Iíll text message you with an update when weíre ready to roll with this one. 

As you can see, itís going to be an exciting season around here.  Maybe Iíll change the look of the column!  Maybe Iíll change the name!  You just try to keep up with my golden dancing feet!   

Donít forget to remind me why I want to spend daytime hours with ABC either; itís a big decision that one shouldnít make alone! 

(And seriously, thank you for reading.  Iím really hoping this painful experience will be the beginning of a good place us all, lol!) 



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