Uppercase Woman

Unbalanced

So, I've been fuming ranting and raving stewing considering the whole last 48 hours on this blog.

I've been thinking about what would happen if any of the candidates actually DID come and read my blog post about losing Nicholas and Zachary and why it made me even more a believer in keeping abortion safe and legal (and rare). Then I started to think about how it would be if they read the comments, and then what I posted the next day, and I began to feel, well, frankly... embarrassed.

I'm not embarrassed by you guys--your comments were fine. I'm embarrassed at my behavior, at my cattiness, and at my reactionary response to the few people that asked me that simple question: why didn't I get a c-section? Of course the answer seems obvious, on the surface, either to those of us that have been through a similar situation, or have watched women like us go through it, or have a medical background, or have the Google MD that comes from years of infertility and loss.

But you know what? That does NOT describe everyone who reads this blog any more. There are a lot of people who come here who never had any trouble conceiving (and some who haven't even yet tried) who might honestly just not know the answer to that simple question: why didn't I have a c-section?

Instead of being calm and rational, and what I like to call the "Good Cecily" that handles discussions of the loss of my twins in a reasoned and sensible manner and just answers the question asked, I instead reacted to what I perceived to be the unasked questions or the unstated judgments. I didn't hear a simple "Why didn't you get a c-section?" I heard, "Bitch, why didn't you try harder to save your son's life and have a c-section?"

And you know what? NOBODY SAID THAT. I leaped to conclusions--many of us did--and instead of responding, I reacted. I got angry. I behaved badly. I engaged in an email debate that got ugly. And worse, when the person I engaged with extended what might have been an olive branch I could have possibly grasped onto (admittedly, it was a small branch, slightly wilted, without any actual leaves), instead of trying to bring peace to our discussion, I set the fucking branch on fire.

Additionally, I turned my back on the 110 supportive and positive comments I got and instead focused on the single commenter that was negative. How rotten is that? How ungrateful? How small minded and stupid?

I can't give a reasonable excuse for why this happened; I'd love to blame the hormones (seriously, this is the worst PMS I've ever experienced, and WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PERIOD ALREADY?) but that's not the only reason. In general lately I have been focusing on the dark and not able to see the light. I find that when my surface is scratched these days, what is underneath is bitterness and fear. I'm not letting love in. I'm not letting God in. I'm not letting the light in.

So I'm not sure I should be representing ANYONE to our candidates.

I want to apologize to those of you that asked a simple question and got shouted down. Please, forgive me for not just answering what you asked and instead assuming you were saying something else entirely (and even if that WAS what you were thinking, that is SO not my business). I hope you will continue to come here, and continue to ask questions, and continue to express your point of view even if it differs from mine and from many readers of this blog.

Now, please don't give me a bunch of accolades and tell me how awesome I am for saying this. I'm not big-hearted, or brave, or tolerant, even, particularly. Truth is, I'm mostly kind of an asshole and sometimes I let it show here in the blog. This was one of those times. I'm working on it.

Now. Back to the puppies.

Haircuts, Race, And Why I Cringe About The Whole Damn Thing

On Tuesday we took Tori to get her hair cut again. It grows so damn fast! She was beginning to look a bit wild already, and Sunday is Easter (although I haven't been to church in ages--apparently, I accidentally gave up church for lent thanks to various illnesses and my vacation) and she's wearing the cutest dress that I bought right after Christmas thanks to Tori's internet auntie Tanya in Japan, and I just wanted Tori to look cute and springy and adorable. So, off we went.

Instead of driving twenty minutes away I decided to go to the place that is right in the downtown section of my borough. It was close, and I'd forgotten all about it before, and I realized I should support my local businesses and, so, off we went.

It was a DISASTER.

The hairdresser was utterly TERRIFIED of her scissors (she had a large scar on her hand where she's slipped before). Tori is not the greatest kid while getting her haircut, crying at first (although she settled down while I held her) and moving around a lot, so the hairdresser kept jumping away from Tori, both afraid of cutting Tori and cutting herself. Once Tori settled down, she worked hard on her, FOR NEARLY AN HOUR.

The result? Tori has uneven bangs, her hair is super short and a cross between a typical boy cut and a bowl cut, one side is much thicker than the other, and she has a huge chunk missing out of the back of one section because the hairdresser slipped and cut when Tori moved. I'd been hoping for something more like this, and instead got this (sorry these pictures suck, I literally stopped writing to run up and interrupt Tori playing with Sarah's daughter to photograph her):

Now, I realize Tori is going to suffer no trauma from this event (I'm not so sure about me) and her hair grows super fast so it's really not a big deal. But let's discuss the hairdresser for a moment. It sounds like she's totally incompetent, doesn't it? Like she has no right to be running a hair salon at all.

But here's the thing: she's African-American, and so are most of her customers, and guess what? She told me most of them DON'T GET THEIR HAIR CUT with scissors. They use clippers on the boys, and the girls get braids or get styles. So she's actually a great hairdresser (I'm judging this by her three kids who were all there with great hair styles). She's just not the hairdresser for Tori.

But she didn't feel comfortable turning us away as customers. How ironic is that?

I thought about this as I listened to Obama's speech. I'll tell you the truth; I don't think what his pastor said was all that wrong, or untrue, or out of line. But it still makes me squirm. In a weird way, it makes me squirm the same way that Sarah and Charlie's road rage makes me squirm. Other people's anger just  makes me uncomfortable. It is very difficult to just sit and listen to other people's rage and just... take it for what it is, and accept that it isn't directed at us personally.

And that, I think, is what Obama is asking us to do.

It's challenging.

I like that he is challenging us.

But here's what bothers me, too. There is a bit of, well, I don't know what to call it. What if Hillary, in reaction to Ms. Ferraro's comments, decided that SHE needed to have give a "major speech" about race?

Yeah.

Only Mr. Obama is allowed to give such a speech. Because he's not white. I, frankly, would not have been comfortable addressing the fact that the reason Tori's haircut came out so badly was because her hairdresser was inexperienced in cutting white hair, frankly, if I didn't have Obama's speech to build it around. I can frame it all nice and carefully around this whole, "See, I'm not a racist" blog entry this way. But I will confess that I hadn't gone to this kid's haircuttery before because I knew it was primarily for African-Americans until one of the parents at the playground mentioned it to me, and I worried that I was being racist by not choosing to patronize it.

The truth is, as a liberal white, I am so goddamned uncomfortable ever talking about race that I pretend it doesn't exist. My friend Jim, who happens to be black, once told me a joke: "What do you call a black person who can fly a plane?" I paused for a moment, and before I could say anything he said, "A pilot, you racist motherfucker!" and then he laughed and laughed. Of course, Jim is the same guy who corrects you when you say, "I dyed my hair black," he looks askance and says, "African-American!" so I didn't take it too seriously, but still--it's a perfect example of my white liberal guilt--I'm looking for the special, above-and-beyond the norm label when, in fact, a black person flying a plane is really just a pilot like everyone else that flies planes.

I found Obama's speech deeply compelling, like so many of you did (as I read in your blogs). But I'm still leaning toward Hillary at the moment. Here's one reason: when I look at the issues section of Obama's page, I don't find anything about a woman's right to choose. Not even when I hunt through it. Extensively. That REALLY bothers me. He claims to be pro-choice, but why not say so? Obama fans, can you help me here? Hillary has women's rights front and center in her issues list. As you all know, this issue is just a tad important to me. Heh.

But before I divert myself too far from the issue at hand, I think Jon Stewart said it best last night: kudos to Barack Obama for standing up yesterday (in my city!) and talking to us about race--LIKE WE ARE ADULTS. God bless him for that.

I'd love the hear your thoughts. Do tell!

Strength *EDITED*

I was at a meeting this morning and while the topic was technically about fear I found myself focusing on strength instead. The room was full of all these incredible women (ok, a couple of men too, but mostly women) who have all been through the motherfucking wringer of life--in the biggest ways you can imagine--and are all sitting there, these incredible pillars of strength, offering caring and support to others by baring their souls and sharing their vulnerabilities. It's just an amazing thing to see. I was really overwhelmed with the power and generosity of these women today.

This got me thinking about strong women in general, something I've been thinking about anyway as I've been slowly finding myself leaning back toward Hillary Clinton again in this election saga (sorry, I just keep going back and forth and I can't help but feel attracted to her). I think about all the shit she's been through, our Hillary, the fucking sexism she's had to endure (Emily reminded me of the South Park episode that had terrorists hide a bomb in her vagina, for fuck's sake), the ridicule, the hatred... and all this makes me want to vote for her. I look at Geraldine Ferraro, being treated like fucking crap in the press because she had the audacity to mention race (I realize that I'm a. coming from a place of white priviledge and b. blinded a bit because Ms. Ferraro is totally one of my childhood heroes, but I really don't understand what is bad about what she said*, nor do I understand what it is about what she said that's even inaccurate) and I see the steel in these women and I want to honor that.

I've been thinking too about the women I know personally that have set out to accomplish these incredibly difficult goals--like my mom. She was a single mother, working a crap ass job as a book keeper at a trucking company when she said fuck this shit and went back to school and worked her ass off and eventually got a PhD, all while she raised me, the hellion alcoholic child. I mean, how amazing is that?

And there's my friend Sarah--my best friend--who decided a few years ago to buy herself a nice camera and try her hand at being a photographer because she thought just maybe she'd inherited a touch of her mother's incredible eye (Sarah's mom is an amazing painter). And completely self-taught, just by trial and error, she started taking shots and putting them up on the web, and putting herself out there and then she began this journey of taking self-portraits and she got better and better at it and it became everything to her, her true calling, her true art--and damn if it didn't fucking pay off. If you haven't read about it already at her blog, three of Sarah's self-portraits are going to be featured in May's issue of Fitness Magazine. And she's getting PAID. I am SO PROUD OF HER. And to think, thirteen years ago we were huddled in a dark bedroom together shooting up drugs. Baby, we have come a long fucking ass way. I am actually crying when I think about this.

This morning someone said at my meeting that "Courage is fear that has said its prayers" and I think Sarah is one of the most courageous people I know. I know for sure that she has been the answer to my prayers. I've had many great friends over the years--lots of whom are still in my life, thank god--but Sarah is special. I'm so grateful that she is in my life, as is my mom, and are all the other brave, strong women that have made my life as it is today possible.

Who is it your life that makes you shine? What woman made you rise up? I'm feeling so high I want to hear about your strong women. Share away!

*Alright, I give on the Ferraro thing. Looking at the whole quote, I can see why it bothers people.

Maybe We Should Just Discuss Politics

What a fascinating discussion in the comments in the last post. I'm sorry some folks got their feelings hurt, and I'm leaving that discussion over there. OK then. Moving on.

So, someone said here in a comment a while back that they felt sorry for Tori because they thought I would be ill-equipped to deal with her Princess phase thanks to my rampant and raging feminism. Well, as you can see from the new photo in the side bar over on the left, Tori is already developing Princess qualities and I have to say I am secretly enjoying it immensely. See? Here's proof:

OK, perhaps not QUITE so secretly.

She's clearly enjoying dressing up already; she was given a string of Mardi-Gras beads by a drunken Mummer at the Parade on New Year's Day and she LOVED it until she lost it at morning care (she insisted on wearing it there every time she went), so I finally went and got her a new necklace and the only one they sold came with a tiara. She loves wearing it, and I have no issues with her doing so.

I'd love to live in a world where Sammy, our next door neighbor's son, could also enjoy wearing a tiara without recrimination, but considering the fact that you can't even get "gender neutral" toys with a kid's happy meal, I don't think we're going to get there any time soon. They love me at fast food places because when they ask whether or not I want the boy or girl toy I demand to know WHAT the toys are before telling them I actually need the one for under-three-year-olds (although sometimes we get the boy toy if it's cool). Heh.

Tori's toys are balanced, I'd like to believe. She has a bunch of neutral stuff, a train puzzle, a tiara, books, stuffed animals, a pull wagon with giant lego-type things that was clearly marketed to boys, and one of those cool popper toys that's pink (not because I didn't want to buy the standard primary color one, but the pink one popped much more satisfactorily).

But things I don't want to see in our house are looming on the horizon. Things like this. Or god, worse even--this new line of Barbie dolls (it's like they are competing--who can bring more skank?). I used to think my mom was crazy for not letting me play with Barbie dolls, but man--now I totally fucking get it. If I even go down those aisles at the store with Tori--or god forbid, a fucking rack of the dolls is somewhere you don't expect it (like I came across one at a bookstore for some reason), Tori's face lights up in a most alarming way. I don't want her to feel the same sort of lack and longing that I did--and lord knows, I got a pretty fucking distorted body image without a single Barbie doll in my house--but STILL. Ye GODS.

So what do you do? I don't mind dress up, and letting her be a girl--but I really don't want her to fall prey to all the shit that's out there, you know? Not to mention there are all kinds of other issues such as there aren't enough dolls that look like real people, there aren't dolls of color, etc, etc, etc. There is so much about this gender and toys crap. How do you balance this in your house?

Juno, or why adoption isn't cute

So it seems like every movie I've gone to see lately has been morbidly depressing. I Am Legend was horribly sad (I know, I just didn't expect that); Atonement, of course, I knew would be, but it was so much tougher than I thought (plus now I'm having nightmares about drowning in subway tunnels). I saw P.S. I Love You which was a MUCH better movie than it had a right to be (and a MUCH better movie than book--the book was awful, I couldn't even finish it--) but still--sad (Hilary Swank was horribly miscast, but did ok anyway).

So, when my mom was desperate for some Tori time this weekend and Charlie and I reviewed our movie options, he was excited to see Juno. This isn't shocking--the reviews are crazy good--but I was feeling pretty full of trepidation. I've read a lot about it; between reading about the very interesting woman that wrote it, and reading the stories of women that have been through similar experiences, and the stories of women that have adopted children, I wasn't sure I was up for a comedy about adoption. Because in the last four years that I've been reading blogs by women who were going through the adoption process, the one thing that has been clear to me is that IT IS NOT FUCKING FUNNY.

But we went.

Ten minutes into the movie it was clear that it was going to be cute. And by cute I mean over-the-top aren't we so fucking clever cute. The dialog was witty, snappy, and utterly and completely unbelievable--there is not a single teenager on the planet that talks the way Juno does. But still, I always enjoy hearing words put together well, so I was able to enjoy that aspect of the movie.

It was my understanding that abortion wasn't discussed at all in the movie, but that's not true. In fact, the first thing Juno does is call someone "to procure a hasty abortion." But she changes her mind because the baby has fingernails. For the first couple of days after I saw the movie I did not see this as an anti-choice movie--I thought, basically, that Juno was presented a choice and made a choice (and hey--I am ALL about choice). But now, after a few days away from the cuteness, I feel like it's actually a damned sly anti-choice statement--and that kind of pisses me off. Not only because of the whole "fingernails" thing, but because the whole movie makes the process of adoption look so easy and simple. Ug.

Anyway. Throughout the movie, I couldn't stop thinking about Kateri, a birth mom, and about this post (warning--tough read if you are an adoptive mom), were she talks about being:

"De-mothered. No one’s mother. Hit the reset button, reboot and start again. Motherhood erased. That’s how it was supposed to be."

It wasn't until nearly four years later that she felt the full pain of her choice:

"The anesthetic had worn off, and I was raw, naked, freshly separated. My body unleashed the primal force of loss so that I could not speak, I could not make a sound. I could not sob. I could not think. The hall of mirrors collapsed in shards stained with the blood of my psyche. Within a month I was suicidal."

In the last moments of the movie, this was all I could think about. Juno is happily playing guitar, her life is fine, and the baby is happy. All is well. Right?

I also couldn't help but think about Dawn and her experiences with her daughter and what she refers to as the "primal wound" her daughter suffered from leaving her birth mother. Now, Dawn has one of the best open adoption stories I've heard of, and it's clear that her daughter is wildly loved and loves in return (I know this because I got to meet them), yet she still talks about how much loss her daughter feels:

“When you were a little tiny baby,” I said and her sobbing quieted but she was still choking on the tears that kept running down her face. “When you were first born you stayed with Jessica in the hospital for three days. And then you came home to us and Madison, you were very sad then. Sometimes you cried a lot. I think it’s because you missed Jessica so much.”

It was like … I wish I could show you the look on her face. The floodgates opened back up but she had such … relief on her face. She was still crying, mind you. She cried for more than 45 minutes.

“It must have been scary for you,” I said. “You didn’t know me. You didn’t know Daddy. You didn’t know Noah. And you missed Jessica. You wondered where she was. I know she missed you, too, you have really missed each other.”

So, sure, in the movie the baby was in a good and loving home. I mean, my heart was with Jennifer Garner's character as the infertile mother throughout the movie (oh, she was perfect, I tell you). But I could not set all of my second-hand knowledge aside and just enjoy this movie. I worry, too, that all those teenage girls there in the theater with us, the ones that giggled as I wept when Jennifer Garner's character got down on her hands and knees at the mall to feel the baby move in Juno's belly, that all those girls will now have taken a big old swallow of the "adoption kool-aid" as Kateri calls it. That if they end up pregnant they will think it is just that easy; Juno at one point says she just wants to "squirt the kid out and get on with her life."

If only it were that easy. So, kids, view with caution. For normal people this movie may be light fare. For the rest of us? Not so much.

Television Women

So, the writer's strike continues (go writers!) and television is becoming more and more of a wasteland. But there has been an odd side effect to the strike, I think. Shows that might have normally been canceled after a few episodes are being allowed a slightly longer run, and the interesting theme that ties some of those shows together? Women.

I've just watched the first three episodes of Cashmere Mafia (I had them all DVRed; I no longer watch TV when it actually airs) and while it has some huge, gaping problems I have to say I cannot remember the last time a network television show revolved around four women. Can you? Not only four women, but four women who met in business school and are all wildly successful in their careers. So name me the last time that any show centered on four smart successful women aired on network television.
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Yeah, I can't think of it either. While I find myself wishing that the women were more like, well, anyone normal frankly--they are a singular unique entity, the New York City urban business woman, something that is hardly reflective of the rest of use women--I do think the show manages to escape some traps it could easily fall into, and the acting isn't too bad and the writing is actually pretty good (of course they are all white, with the exception of Lucy Liu, so that's another problem too). If it could just release the Sex & The City chains that are dragging it down I think it could be a really good show. I love watching women making deals, and calling men on their shit, and this show dedicates a lot of time to that. There's also a lot of makeup and fluff--and I find the whining about demanding nannies and incompetent assistants dull--but what can you do. The additional fact that the show is willing to allow a character to explore a lesbian relationship in a shockingly realistic way is pretty cool too.

...

Now, in the "wildly successful" column (as opposed to the 'only on the air because we have nothing else' column) falls the new show based on the Terminator movies, The Sarah Connor Chronicles. I'm sure you saw it if your TV was on when it was on, because some ridiculously astronomical number of people watched the show (I think I heard 34 million). The show basically covers the territory between the second and third movies--when Sarah is free and in hiding and protecting her son John from the machines from the future (we know that she dies eventually thanks to the third movie, and they pull no punches about that in the show).

Now, I freely admit that I am a sci-fiction geek to the extreme (I love the movie the 5th Element--no, I really really do), so I'm pretty easy to please. But they made some truly smart decisions about this show, particularly about the casting. Sarah Connor is played by Lena Heady, a fairly accomplished actress who manages to convey the fragility of her love for her son perfectly, but also manages to be tough and true and strong without the bulked out artificialness of Linda Hamilton in the second movie (which I actually liked). John Connor is played quite well by the young man that played Zach on Heroes.

But by far the best casting choice was the use the lovely and amazing Summer Glau of Firefly/Serenity fame. She's playing the "good" terminator, the one sent back to protect young John. She kicks butt most elegantly, and she manages to look like an actual robot while she does it. It's awesome.

The writing is surprisingly tight and compelling, the show captivated both me and Charlie and it is MUCH HARDER to get Charlie to buy into a sci-fi world than it is me (I'll fall for anything). I really enjoyed it and I am so glad to see it, to see more tough strong women doing what they need to; saving the world. Oh yeah.

The only real issue I have with the show is the truly disgusting and misogynist image they are using to promote the show featuring Summer's armless and topless torso. Ick. Memo to Fox and all other idiots that promote science fiction: WOMEN WATCH TOO. STOP USING SEXIST IMAGES AND YOU WILL SELL MORE/GET MORE VIEWERS.

...

Other than that, I enjoyed watching the first two episodes of American Idol. And if you ever wanted to know why I stopped hosting poetry readings here in Philadelphia? It's because of this; all those crazy people that auditioned? THEY WRITE POEMS TOO.

Tactician Vs. Idealist

I had a fascinating conversation recently with my friend Geoffrey. We were talking about voting, and how committed we both are to the process--and how differently we vote. Geoffrey is an idealist; after voting for Ralph Nader in 2000, he felt badly about voting as an idealist and decided to vote for John Kerry in 2004, even though he had great reservations about Kerry's record. He's decided this time to vote his heart and not for the most "viable" candidate. He doesn't much care for any of the front runners; was not a huge fan of Bill Clinton and is not at all enamored of Hillary. He says the only guy he likes remotely is Kucinich.

When I take those online polls to find out which candidate matches my views the most, Kucinich is also the one that rises to the top. I'm not surprised; he's clearly the most liberal and socialist minded candidate running for office this time around. But there is no way in hell I'm voting for him.

(I won't be discussing the Republican nominees today. Because, like, why? That is what it is. Thank God Giuliani is losing so far is all I can say.)

I like Obama. I find him invigorating and inspiring, I love the passion he presents and the way he makes me feel that odd, burning sensation behind my breastbone I identify as hope and optimism and national pride. But I probably won't be voting for him either.

I want to like John Edwards. I love the fact that he continues to discuss the truth about America, and the fact that there are two different nations (one poor, one rich). I admire his wife's courage, and I have to admit that I love the fact that they are most likely our compatriots in assisted reproduction. But I find the idea of his 13,000 square foot house disconcerting (seriously, does anyone other than those people with the 14 children need that much space?), and he's just too... I don't know. Pretty.

I find that I am like a lot of other Democrats that feel on the fence about Hillary Clinton. I'm opposed to the idea of political dynasties. I think Hillary is too perfect as a politician, and maybe a little out of touch with being a normal person.

But damn it, I just love her.

I know all her issues. But I will most likely vote for her for three reasons. One, I believe she might win, and I'm a tactical voter rather than an idealism voter. Two, I want, oh so desperately, to see the light in Tori's eyes when she grows up knowing that she could be president. Three, I want, oh so desperately, to see the light in my eyes when I know, finally, in my heart, that a woman can be president.

For a long time I believed that I wanted a woman president for Tori. But damn it, I want one for me. I want to feel like I belong to this nation, for fuck's sake. And President Hillary? With First Husband Bill? Yeah, that totally works for me.

So how about you? Are you an idealist, or a tactician? Where does your heart lie as we approach Super Tuesday?

Celtic Woman, Oh How I Hate Thee

I have been wanting to write about this for the longest time but I haven't because I was worried that maybe I just didn't get it. Plus I didn't want to offend anyone, since it was clear that lots and lots of people love this whole Celtic Woman thing, but now my local PBS station is running the fucking Christmas special incessantly and Tori has decided she just loves it and I've watched it about five times and I want to insert a drill into my ears, slowly, so I guess I have to.

I hate the whole Celtic Woman phenomena. Don't know who they are? Here's a primer.

Let me tell you why. First off, why the fuck is it called Celtic WOMAN as in singular woman? Because last I checked, there are five of them. Why aren't they Celtic WOMEN? I mean, surely they aren't as pompous as to claim that they represent every Celtic woman out there? Secondly, they are dressed up like dolls. They are compressed into pastel colored ball gowns with perfect, immobile hair. Thirdly, they aren't allowed to move. The singers hold their arms still at their sides when they sing--something I've seen almost no singer do, ever--other than terrified first graders at recitals. It makes for an eerie, almost cartoon like performance.

The last problem? The last problem is the singing.

I'm sure that they all have lovely voices. They can certainly hit the notes. But the amount of reverb on their microphones, combined with the layering of voices, and the soft, breathy way they sing make it sound as if their voices are the death gasps of inflatable sex dolls. I would give anything to see them rip off their corsets and belt a real god damned tune.

For a long time I couldn't figure out what bothered me so much about them; at first I was stuck on the music and the music only. I hate this horrid trend in classical music, where the soul is sucked out of it and all the boring parts and icky, negative sections are stripped away and just the pretty, soaring arias are left. It started about 15 years ago with the Three Tenors (confession: I own the first CD), which led to the huge popularity of the actually rather mediocre Andrea Bocelli (I know! He's blind! He's good! But he's just not great!) but has now spawned such evil things as Andre Rieu (for God's sake, what IS IT about that man?) and even begun to branch out into other cultures with groups like the Twelve Girls Band from China. I realize that I'm a complete musical snob--I can't help it, it's bred into me after all (my grandfather had a PhD in musicology), but I feel so badly when I see people listen to this music and miss out on real classical and real opera (say, like Cecilia Bartoli--now, THERE'S a singer: the power, the control! *swoon*).

Plus there's that whole thing about how maybe the Celtic Woman are (arg! woman! are!) from Celtic lands, but they don't really perform much traditional Celtic music. I mean, the Christmas special closes with "Let It Snow," which unless it was translated from Gaelic is NOT A CELTIC TUNE. I hypothesize that the reason the singers hold their arms so still is to say, "Look, we're holding our arms still, just like in Irish dancing--see, we're really Celtic!" The problem is that this adds to the appearance of these women being fake and doll-like, plastic blow-up singing toys.

But I realized what really bothered me about Celtic Woman is that it is actually incredibly dehumanizing to these women that are doing the singing. The male director (who is listed FIRST, by the way, under the website's "people" section) has taken some solid singers and depersonalized them so completely that I doubt their own families would recognize their voices. Like I said, they have been transformed from vibrant, talented women into pretty painted dolls.

The fact that Public Broadcasting--a notion I have always supported, wholeheartedly--trots out these pretty painted dolls for each pledge drive this year has made me begin to reconsider my membership. I mean, it's the PBS version of tits and ass. Whatever brings in the dough, right? Well, not my dough. Not this year. Hell, I'll pay them to stop.