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There’s a little sports competition going on over in London right now, perhaps you’ve heard of it? Ah yes, the 2012 Olympic games… I have made absolutely no secret of my love of all things relating to the British Isles, so I was so lucky to be able to get down with my geeky self and send oodles and oodles of love to England while watching the Opening Ceremony.
I am uber-fortunate to have a husband who is understanding of my fascination, though I suspect that may have had to do with promises of the cocktails that were consumed while we watched.
Also: I admit to being TOTALLY bent out of shape when the ceremony-haters started popping up on Facebook and Twitter. Alas, that’s the danger of social media. I just didn’t really expect the Haterade when it came to the Olympic Opening Ceremony. You know, the celebration of the tradition of countries around the world coming together for some good old-fashioned sport?
Anyone who didn’t get a little choked up when they showed children’s choirs in each country singing has a heart of stone. That’s basically what I’m saying. It’s not about one-upmanship, and being “better” than Beijing- just appreciating the amazing show that played out for the world, and accepting the invitation to share in the festivities that was so graciously offered.
JK Rowling, the Queen skydiving, Mr. Bean and Kenneth Branagh didn’t hurt either.
About six months ago I mentioned in a post that I was so disappointed that it didn’t look like I was going to be able to attend BlogHer this weekend in NYC. Amy and I were going to finally live it up with the people we’ve been following for all these years, and were totally going to rock it out at Sparklecorn.
And then our central A/C unit died, killing my trip.
In the long run, my not being able to go to BlogHer has been a GOOD thing. Amy just started a new job, and is away in Florida training this week.
And Operation New Job has FINALLY paid off for me. I start my new position tomorrow, which would have been a lot to take in after a weekend of partying in the City that Never Sleeps. (Especially based on the amazeballs photos that have been appearing on Instagram all weekend!)
I guess the point that I’m trying to make is that everything happens for a reason, even if it seems really strange and inconvenient at the time.
I’m even more sure of that after my last day at my old job. Yes, my coworkers were amazing and blew out all the stops to make sure that I felt appreciated and knew that I’d be missed. After almost five years with the same group of quirky fun people, it was hard not to get choked up multiple times throughout the day. Bidding farewell to the Frat House and the Lego Block of Doom was really surreal when it actually came time to leave.
However, some new developments came to light that REALLY reinforced that now is the time for me to make my move, and that even if I hadn’t been on the move out now, I’d definitely be in a hurry to find something, ANYTHING else. The company was making some big changes, and my department barely resembled what it was when I was hired.
Perhaps the most disappointing thing for me was that once I gave my notice, nothing was said or done to attempt to keep me. There was no discussion regarding the unhappiness that had prompted me to start looking for a new position, and no searching for a solution to the fact that there was little potential for advancement. After giving them five years, I basically got a “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”
So yes, this is a good move for me. I’m going to be gaining experience in some new areas that will definitely increase my marketability in the long run. I’m taking an entry level job that pays as well as my old one, and offers the potential of a promotion. The possibility of earning some overtime is appealing as well. Kids, don’t buy the myth that they’re selling you. Being “Salary” isn’t necessarily the way to go anymore. It’s a way for companies to trap you at an absurdly low rate of pay and expect you to work overtime without any additional compensation.
This will obviously mean some changes for Army Boy and I, notably a vastly different work schedule for me and six weeks of training. It will also greatly cut back on the time that I can spend visiting my favorite blogs each day, and I will miss stopping by and seeing what is happening in the lives of all of my Internet friends. Fortunately, that’s only temporary, and I’m going to make every effort to keep up with regular posting and commenting in the evenings.
I wish that I was sharing this to say “I have finally made the step where I get to do nothing but read all day and write while wearing my fancy uniform of yoga pants and Life is Good,” but that could still definitely be on the horizon.
Plot Summary (From Amazon) : Diana: Her True Story was originally published in 1992 under the guise of a quasi-authorized biography, with mostly unnamed courtiers and royalty as the accredited sources. It instantly became a sizzling, international bestseller that lanced the boil of Windsor family dysfunction, triggering a chain of events that led to Charles and Diana’s divorce. After her tragic death in 1997, Morton revealed that Diana had not only been the main source for the book, but had also edited his original drafts for accuracy. In return for this gold mine of information, Diana wanted complete anonymity for fear of retaliation from the queen–a fear that seems reasonably justified after reading the icy, inhuman portrayal of Her Majesty.
Beyond the racy and irregular royals, Diana: Her True Story gives a full account of the princess’s rocky childhood, her bouts with bulimia, the rejection she felt by Charles and the royal family, and her tenacious ability to overcome adversity.
Let’s skip the soundtrack on this one, shall we? It feels a little too light-hearted for the subject matter.
After watching the 2010 mini-series “The Queen,” I was intrigued to read the scandalous book that brought so much angst to the royal family by its very publication. At the time, this biography drew the curtain back on what Diana’s life was really like among the Windsors, and the immense sense of isolation she felt. Initially published as a collection of stories from anonymous sources, Andrew Morton later revealed that a great deal of the text came directly from the Princess herself.
I can see how the book would have been a total scandal at the time, from shattering the image of the “People’s Princess” by revealing a woman at war with her own demons, to portraying the monarchy as cold and out of touch. It’s particularly poignant now, from what we are shown of the relationship that Prince William and Kate cultivated over a number of years, to view the seeming contrast between William’s marriage and his mother’s.
The book portrays Prince Charles horribly, as an emotionally stunted creature who missed his chance with his true love Camilla Parker-Bowles, and settled for Diana to quiet the demands for an heir. He even informs Diana that should “this marriage business” not work out, he would return to his bachelor ways. He made no secret throughout their marriage of his continued closeness to Camilla, even wearing cufflinks from her on his honeymoon with Diana. His disappointment upon the birth of Prince Harry (instead of his wished-for daughter) was the emotional nail in the coffin of his marriage to Diana, and their relationship never recovered.
Diana is depicted as unspeakably lonely and trapped within the royal system, feeling that she could trust very few and that every aspect of her life was on display. She battled depression and bulimia (which was emphasized far too many times throughout the book), while struggling to find her own sense of purpose. She received very little positive reinforcement from the royal family on her own successful public image, and frequently had to deal with Charles’ jealousy about her popularity. (PS- Did I mention the bulimia?)
All in all, this was a very somber read, but it was clear how much joy William and Harry brought their mother. She in turn exposed them to experiences not typically given to the royal family, including bringing them on her many charity visits. Her influence is visible in the open way they interact with the public today.
Although I enjoyed the subject matter, I wasn’t overly fond of Morton’s writing style, which tended to lean a little too much toward name-dropping and was extremely dry. I’m currently reading “Elizabeth The Queen,” and the difference between the authors’ styles is extremely evident. I can’t seem to get enough of Sally Bedell Smith’s charming anecdotes about HRH.
Three out of Five Scandalous Phone Calls.