A Maybe

 I definitely didn't think this blog would still be out there somewhere, much less something I could pick up and do again.

I'm still not sure.

While I'm making up my mind, eleven more years will not just coast by.

Hello, gorgous.

Back with still more mea culpas. Late May already -- how did that happen? We have our last day of class time on July 13th.

Even on days that drag, or days through which I'm dragging, the experience continues to be one of the  high points of my entire life. That sounds like hype or drama. It's not.

The mental health services consumer helping the mental health services consumer continues to stand as a radical idea in a lot of heads.

The idea loses some of that "radical" labeling every day.

What feels radical to me at the moment is the belief that I can hold a full-time job, and do it successfully. As in success for me, success for my bosses, and, critically, success for my peers/clients/whatever you want to call them.

I'm praying a lot. I inhale the smarts of every class day, as deeply as I can.

As for my television viewing, reviewing, I have time tonight only for these tiny bites:

 This second season of "The Killing" improves  and builds on season one in ways I never expected.

"American Idol" smelled old and musty. So glad it's over... for ten minutes, anyway.

The latest cycle of "Food Network Star" tastes like grade-A chow plus television intelligence. Applause for the improvements to Food Network.

If I'm going to watch TV while in school, better that it's the stuff with IQ and a reason for taking up air time.

More soon. Thank you for being there.

Thanks for having me back, Bloggerville.

I've been in training to work as a mental health peer counseling specialist.
The 27-hours-per-week course started in late January; I'll be in the 600 hours
of classroom training until mid-July.

Then I pray to get assigned to a good-fit internship (3 to 6 months). After that
comes the big job search.

I'm not seeing nearly as much television as I'd like. I love school, but I miss
the twisted schooling of the tube.

I promise not to disappear for so long again. Current gotta-see-ems no matter how
late they keep me up: "The Killing", season two,  Sundays at 10 p.m., and "Fashion Police" (E!) on Fridays
at ten p.m.

Adequate sleep versus television...not an original tug of war, but it sure yanks me around.

"The Killing" Leaves Many Viewers Angry...and this one, happy

If AMC's talk forums indicate viewers' opinions accurately, "The
Killing"
might be in some trouble. Enfuriated viewers feel toyed with
 because
the finale didn't wrap up the Rosie Larsen murder questions
as promised (during the season's first half).
So many people are
saying they aren't going to bother with Season Two, that
they've been fooled by show creator Veena Sud and her team
once -- and one chance is all they get.
I've never followed discussion boards about a television show
before. I honestly didn't know that the anger could reach such a
high temperature.
Sure, I groaned out loud, and laughed, when I realized how
many questions I'd be carrying around about the murderer, about the trustworthiness of certain homicide cops, about
what central character Sarah Linden would choose when
she realized how far the case was from being closed. (At the very end of last night's finale, she's sitting on an airplane just about to taxi down the runway when
the expanse of the mess and toxic aftershock hit her.)
Still, it didn't occur to me for a nanosecond to ditch the series.
Even during episodes that didn't live up to the series' standards,
I relished the characters' changes, how the dialogue is written, how
color and shapes are used to set up themes and subtext.
I'm going to do what I can to support "The Killing" next season.
Television this strong is rare.  Angry people in discussion rooms are not.

A Break for Maria

If I'd been Maria Shriver a couple weeks back, I would have been praying non-stop for a break in the monsoon of press coverage of my life. This week, Ms. Shriver's assumed prayers were answered. New York Congressman Antthony Weiner -- yet another politician who couldn't or wouldn't control his extramarital sexual adventuring -- got monsooned, so to speak.  Televison coverage suffered a sudden case of temporary amnesia regarding Shriver and estranged husband, the ex-Governor of California. Relish it for as long as it lasts, Maria. You deserve so many more answered prayers. Even those who don't pray agree.

One Little Girl, Gone

I never anticipated getting caught in the Casey Anthony trial. I don't watch courtroom shows. Justice matters to me, but most trials move with lead-footed slowness. This time, for the Casey Anthony trial, I got my own foot caught in the courtroom door, thanks to HLN's prime-time lineup. "Dr. Drew Pinsky" is coming at it as physician, an addiction specialist, and a father who's shaken that someone murdered Caylee Anthony, age two. "Joy Behar" may be a comedian by trade, but she has the tough bulldog instincts of an exceptional courtoom-and-crime journalist. Even "Showbiz Tonight", which drives me a little crazy with its hyperbolic scriptwriting, pulls me in if the Anthony trial takes a sizable chunk of their hour. Finally there's "Nancy Grace", well-intentioned and smart and more melodramatic than all the "Real Housewives" episodes combined: she's wall-to-wall Anthony coverage, however, so I watch for a least the first fifteen minutes.  

How did HLN hijack the ear and one eye I keep on the tube? How is it dragging me over to the TV to sit down and pay full attention so often?

First, Pinsky and Behar usually provide worthwhile television, no matter what their topics of the night center on. Second, I am baffled by this trial. It twists my mind in a knot that mothers kill their children, mothers who are not suffering from post-partum psychosis. Casey Anthony makes no sense to me. If she killed her child, which seems likely at this point, I want to understand why, as well as I can. I've always been driven to comprehend the human psyche, both its darkest hours and its brightest lights. This trial and the blank-faced young woman at its center hold lessons for me, if I can watch long enough to learn them.

My Bad (TV Habits), Part Uno

Yeah, Memorial Day can be tough on television's consistent viewers. "Encore presentations" and burn-offs of unsuccessful series show up all over TV listing pages. Still, some promising programs do get their slots. Do I watch them? Not this year. Instead I chose the second installment of this season's "The Bachelorette", and the debut of "Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition, from the team that runs "The Biggest Loser"

Not exactly adventurous viewing. Tonight, Monday, I wanted safe, familiar -- and mostly, fun. I didn't get it.

"The Bachelorette"  franchise has not freshened up its formula. Plucky, smart, hot-looking single girl bravely wades her way through 25 bachelors (down to 13 tonight) via staged-for-televion dates and "private" conversations with the suitors, randy and rowdy on the surface, more sensitive in their hidden hearts. Ashley appears sincere; some of the guys strike me as worth dating. Yet even I, with my robust appetite for not-so-good TV, can't do this franchise again. I'll peak in for rose ceremonies and pieces of the finale.  Beyond that, even my tastes are maturing a little. It would be  delightful surprise if future "Bachelorette/Bachelor" seasons could do a modicum of maturing, too.

As for "Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition",  there's hope for a better show coming out of the one that aired tonight. Chris Powell offers tough training  and nutrition facts adaptable to people's real lives. Rachel lost 161 pounds over the course of the hour, but it was a believable fight; in the middle, discouraged, she managed only a three-pound loss in three months. Powell wasn't there to hold her hand through the year of life-saving loss. Unlike the featured  "Biggest Loser" participants, she had to do much of the grittiest work alone. Her final-moments victory didn't get her to her desired weight, but it got her much of the way there. That's some serious inspiration.

Because it's just an hour, however, "Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition" has almost no time to emphasize its takeaway points on exercise and smart eating. It shows the struggling dieter crying about self-sabotage, yet gives us no useful advice on recovering from foiling one's own cherished plans.

It would have held our attention, to learn specifics from the often tearful Rachel and her bright light of a coach. More information and authentic stumbles, less emoting -- if the producers steer in that direction, they'll be steering the show into fresh territory, with its capacity for celebratory moments intact.

See You Sooner, Oprah....

I have been an off-and-on viewer of The Oprah Winfrey Show over the twenty-five years of its life. When I tuned out, it was often because I felt uneasy with the power Oprah credited to individual persons and the human race in general. I'm a centrist Christian; I'm fine with listening to other people talking about their faith, whatever it may be.  When so much faith was being put in the human psyche and soul, however, I needed to take a break.  During this last season, I've watched more often, been more comfortable. Humans didn't seem like Oprah's elevated powers anymore. During the final episode, Oprah briefly explained to her audience "which God" she was referring to, seeing how some people got "riled" when she made those references. Later in the telecast, she thanked her team "and Jesus", because it was only the grace of God that made it all come into being. As for her final Oprah Show words, Winfrey held her hands in a praying position and said "To God be the glory". Then she looked at the crowd for a few vulnerable moments before leaving.

I smiled. I probably said "no kidding". I meant to say "Amen". See you sooner, Oprah.

How I got eliminated from American Idol!

As one of the posts below attests, I had some hopes for the new judges, the new tweaks, the new contestants on American Idol. Turns out I hoped too soon. Tonight the two season finalists were coronated; last night, three of them battled each other and the judges had their last say-sos of the year. I could hardly watch either episode. Hence, I lost my spot in Idolville. a) It turned out that the judges praised far too often, and with too little helpful specificity for the struggling contestants. b) It turned out that the audience for AI has gone very young and very conservative. Rocker Haley got the axe in the round of three. AI ended up with two country music contenders, one 17 years old and the other 16.

                            c) If the interesting but vocally limited Scotty wins (my money's on him), it's going to read too much like show's most recent years. Last season's winner, Lee DeWyze, has all but vanished from the music scene. He seemed like a sweet-hearted bar band singer, not an American Idol, and his debut album bit the big one. The season before, Kris Allen's victory was yet another victory for yet another sweet-hearted bar band singer whose debut CD slid down the charts and vanished.

Both these guys were cute, endearing, engaging young men. Neither one had the chops for a big-guns career. If I'm wrong about either one, I'll be happy to chow down on my words.

                                    d) Scotty may actually have a good shot at a big country music run. I hope he hits it. Still, his vocal mannerisms are both unoriginal and annoying; when I lived in Nashville, I heard countless guys with more creative approaches to country singing. e) Even if I'm wrong about Scotty, I can't willingly listen next season to the judging panel sound like they don't know anything about original, thoughtful singing, when I know they do.

I had a great time with American Idol for a lot of years. Nonetheless, it's time for me to watch the excellent "The Voice" instead. I'm also cranked up for "The X Factor" debut. Just the thought of hearing Simon Cowell once again intone, "Look, there's no other way to say it, that was terrible" -- ah, it's going to sound like music to my ears. Original, thoughtful music.

The Killing, Part Two

Anyone who knows me will tell you that I talk alot. "The Killing" (AMC TV) makes me go quiet. Tonight the ninth out of thirteen episodes aired. More than ever, I'm glad I watch this Sunday night television treasure alone.  The investment in the characters goes down inside the viewer much further with every installment. The characters themselves continue to show us more of their countless inner paradoxes and contradictions -- and even why some of those contradictions are there. Tonight they seemed loaded with anger and sadness and old wounds still needing to heal. So I'm even more quiet -- inside and out -- than usual. This is one of those scripted series that feels infinitely more real than anything offered by reality television.

For those of you who aren't watching "The Killing", I hope you decide to watch the remaining chapters anyway. The AMC TV website tells you most of what you need to know to catch up, if you so desire. I'd be willing to bet, however, that you won't care about not knowing how the storylines got to where they are now. That's how strong all the fundamental components are here.

If I could give you one clue about this grade A murder mystery/character drama, it would be a quote from a minor character at her parole hearing. Facing the board, and the widower of the woman she killed while driving drunk, she says something like "I don't think it's in our nature to forgive each other."

One thing this series talks about -- without saying anything too directly -- is the damage done when we don't forgive each other.

I can't measure its expanse, either.

I Can't Get Real With the Housewives Anymore -- and don't you interrupt!

Argue, argue, argue. Gesture, gesture, gesture.  Interrupt, interject, and the beat gets more rude with every episode I jump into.

The unfortunate reaction (unfortunate for me) to all of this verbal slapping and snarling: I can barely watch five minutes of my favorite city in the Real Housewives franchise, New York.

I've never found "the culture of argument" entertaining anyway -- my stomach gets tight and the breathing goes shallow. I have this reaction anytime I have to listen to people fight.

So what if these women are getting paid for being cruel to each other? I look for the moments when friendships actually have a growth spurt and/or the families have real fun, but they seem to be fewer. In the meantime, the housewives criticize sensitive and serious things like each other's parenting decisions, with almost no real knowledge of the situations and why certain decisions were made.
      
 I'll keep popping in to see what's going on, but
that's it. Unless being kind and funny and less dramatic starts to gain traction, I'll stick with the two "relationship reality" shows that give Bravo reasons to be proud: "Bethenny Ever After" and the sweet, quirky-smart Rosie Pope's "Pregnant in Heels".

For now, a very lonesome storyline

My first memory of television soap operas goes waaaaay back to the late Fifties/very early Sixties. It's a vague recall of a spooky set of opening credits, mood-i-fied by the cheesy genius of  soap opera organ music.Then I started watching classics like "Ryan's Hope", "All My Children", "Another World", "As the World Turns", "Guiding Light", and, of course, "General Hospital". I was a freelance writer; I could work and stay up to speed on storylines like the wedding of Luke and Laura on GH. I thought some of the actors and stories just radiated creative spark. I thought they were plenty good enough for nighttime television; sometimes, too good. Other actors and plots, unfortunately, smelled like very old gym shoes. True soap fans were able to go from "wonderful" to "horrifying" in a single episode, being delighted by the inconsistency itself. Most soap fans knew that there was little or no rehersal time, very little turnover time for scripts, and that part of the genius of those who did it well was their ability to be brilliant on a half-second's notice.

So it's with real sorrow that I note, along with thousands of other scribes, that after September 2011, we'll only have six soaps left. Cancelled in the last few years (or the last few months): "Another World","As the World Turns", "Ryan's Hope", "Passions", "Guiding Light", "Port Charles", "Sunset Beach", and, finally, "One Life To Live" and "All My Children". It's true. Erica Kane is momentarily out of work.

I'm not going to add my theories about why soap operas -- or, much more accurately, daytime dramas -- have been leaving the screen. I only know that I'm losing the chance to see some of the best young talent, and the best older talent, on a daily basis. I tip my hat to all of them. They gave me decades of bad TV, mediocre TV, good TV, and, sometimes, great TV.

"The Killing" -- Sunday night telescape shake-up

Getting gripped by yet another series -- the last thing I need. I took the chance on AMC's "The Killing" anyway. A couple of critics I trust think it's scripted drama's version of top-line couture. I don't know how to explain fully why it's so wonderful -- not yet. From seeing the pilot episode and the first, hour-long episode, twice each, I can at least promise you that it's shockingly compassionate, even to those who look most likely to have committed the title's crime. I can promise you extraordinary cinematography; "The Killing" does not get the visual treatment afforded most television dramas. This is a serialized movie. The colors they find in Seattle's loneliest corners make it into a film all by themselves. The young girl who was murdered comes vividly alive through the shock of her parents and friends. Like "Mad Men" and "Breaking Bad", this storytelling takes its time. The actors bring  mysteries and questions just by the way they enter a scene -- they're that skilled and almost musical.

As for the police who will supposedly be the ones to solve the mystery -- they're the most merely human TV cops I've ever seen. Here's hoping "The Killing" remains the gift to the audience it is now. If not? The first two hours will always be in my file, under "How Good Can Scripted Television Get?"

New Idol, New Housewives, New Lightbulbs

For reasons I don't understand, I've been avoiding "American Idol", after being a semi-steady viewer every season. At first I got it: I hate the stinky would-be singers that the producers stick into every episode of the city-to-city  auditions. I was sure I was going to dislike Jennifer Lopez and miss Simon Cowell too much to make the transition.


Then I watched parts of a few early episodes and got a small shock. J-Lo wasn't being a diva; even more important, Steven Tyler, Jennifer and senior judge Randy Jackson were bonding. The chemistry seemed great. I felt delighted relief.


I avoided watching again for another three weeks at least.


Tonight I tried AI again, during one of the Hollywood Final 24 hours.
The chemistry between the three judges has gotten even richer.
I still miss Simon Cowell's smart frankness, but each judge is clearly trying not to be a kissy-huggy sentimentalist. The singers being pared down sound at least okay, if not excellent. (One heartfelt plea, however -- don't sing "I'm Not Going" or any Whitney Houston oldies, okay? Please??)  It looks like I might be back on the American Idol track again after all.


The bad news this week comes with the debut of "The Real Housewives of Miami". The culture of argument and gold-star meanness has just plain worn me out. When Simon Cowell got mean and argumentative, he had points to make. These women simply lack adult filters, signs of grown-up psyches that can handle impulses to say cruel things. Other than checking Bethenny Frankel's second season as a solo ex-housewife, I am done with this franchise.

Remind me not to be "Real" when I grow up.

Later, Sarah -- Much Later

I hate to admit that I can't watch something. My ego likes to think that I can view all TV, no matter how pea-brained, strange, cliched, etc. I draw the line at porn and gratitous violence. That's it.

Supposedly.

I couldn't watch "Sarah Palin's Alaska" (TLC), whose first season ends this week. I tried. Politics wasn't the issue. There's something about Ms. Palin that makes my skin crawl. I felt it the first time I saw her on the news during the 2008 Presidential race.

Bristol, by contrast, has some inexplicable charm and authenticity that kept her on "Dancing With The Stars" this past season.  Still, every time the camera grabbed a quick shot of Mama Sarah, applauding her girl, I recoiiled.

Betcha she'll be back for a second season on TLC. As the woman herself says, don't retreat. Just reload.

The Snow Soldiers, 2010

Every blizzard I've ever been in -- from Chicago to Fargo, North Dakota to Minneapolis to New York -- has its Snow Soldiers. These TV reporters get sent by their editors to various locales around the city in question, for the express purpose of standing outdoors in blizzards.

They bring rulers and yardsticks with which to measure the deluge.  They collar passers-by and hope for a great blizzard yarn. What they usually hear: "I went out to get some milk and diet soda and then you called me over."

The colder and more encrusted by ice and snow the reporters get, the more they're enjoyed by their bosses. I'm not sure if we learn much about the weather from them. It seems to be the same lesson every year: standing out in a blizzard doesn't feel good at all. That's why the only people who do it are police officers and television reporters. 

If you happen to befriend a television reporter, give them long underwear from someplace that specializes in outdoor toughness, like Patagonia. Hope that your friend doesn't suffer too telegenically -- otherwise, they'll get called upon to play human windsock or human snowcone. Or human yardstick.

Once Again, "The Good Wife" Goes Wow

"The Good Wife" is having a jaw-dropping second season. The episode first run on October 19th nearly boiled over with crucial character and plot development. Just when hissing and spilling was almost reached, however, the writers and cast pulled back and gave us a moment or two for cooling off and  relishing some small, tasty detail -- a character's glance here, an exhale of relief there...

I hope the show brings back Mamie Gummer as often as possible. She's so subtle and funny and intense -- all at once -- you forget that she's Meryl Streep's daughter. Gummer deserves to be watched and cheered for, period.

Don't worry if you missed Season One, or the start of this season. Just jump in when you can. If needed, episode recaps can be found on the CBS site. "The Good Wife" is so well-written and acted, though, that you'll learn about the series' past from jumping in to the present. As for the good wife herself, Juliana Margulies? I try to find weaknesses in her work from time to time -- but usually I'm too busy just enjoying the heck out of her genius.

Give Tim Gunn his own show again

I love Tim Gunn on "Project Runway". I'm going to love his two books, once I buy and read them. I love the man's honesty about his celibacy, about being bullied as a kid, about trying to take his own life at age seventeen and how happy he is now that said attempt failed.

If I were a handsome, well-educated single gay man, I'd try to find a way to ask Tim Gunn on a date.

In lieu of a date, I'll settle for Lifetime giving Mr. Gunn his own show in addition to "PR". Bravo's effort, "Tim Gunn's Guide to Style", taught me a lot about fashion, self-esteem, wry humor, and life. Sir Gunn got thoroughly annoyed with Bravo when they tried to cast a second banana with whom he'd clash and create drama; if Lifetime promises not to pull such unreality stunts, I wonder if he'd consider it?

Besides being well-mannered, droll, kind, smart....Tim Gunn has a lot of life from which to draw genuinely interesting show content. As for fashion, few in the business know as much about helping people to look as good as their God-given faces and bodies will allow. That alone is more than enough for a broadcast.

Joy Behar Loves Doing Homework

Happy first year anniversary to Joy Behar on HLN (9 p.m. and 1 a.m.).  Yes, it's the Joy Behar from The View, flying solo and sitting in the pilot's seat. 

On just about any topic this hour show hits, count me in. It turns out to be a lot of counting: She loves to hit a thousand topics per episode, the more diverse the list,  the better.

 Behar is a comic by trade, but she has a strong streak of the PhD. in her. That's how she manages to be a semi-expert on everything from reality television to Millenium feminism to celebrity culture to civil rights law -- the list is as long as your imagination can imagine.

This is a commentary/interview/comedy show with  a compulsive's need to learn.

Not only does Behar avoid boring her viewers, she manages to edify in bite-size units. No wonder she's increased HLN's viewership by 14%. What a piece of work.

Jimmy Fallon, of all people!

Before the 2010 Emmys dim completely in the pop culture memory bank, I have to lift an imaginary glass of the beer I don't drink to Jimmy Fallon. Yeah, I've seen his late-night gig, but never forced myself to concentrate and truly give the guy a chance.

I was concentrating last Sunday during the Emmy opening sketch/musical triumph. It turns out that Jimmy Fallon can play a very mean guitar and brilliantly sing like a lot of people, including (for that blazing opener) Bruce Springsteen. Fallon and an oddball crew of surprising talents, plus the wizard leads from "Glee", knocked out one of the very the best openings of an awards show I've seen in the bazillion years I've been watching awards shows.


For three hours, the whole affair levitated every time Fallon stepped on the stage.

I will never ignore Jimmy Fallon again. Neither will millions of other people who saw the Emmys, and really saw Jimmy Fallon, finally.