Roaring of the Bliss

I have a few dreams in life that have been pretty consistent. Generally, I’m not a big dreamer – it’s not like I’ve always wanted to conquer the world or be president or anything, but there are things in my life that I want to happen, and mostly, some small part of me believes that they will happen. I’m all about the attainable, pragmatic dreams, you see, and this whole dream big bullshit just isn’t for me. I think wanting to have a family and write a book is big enough, and anything on top of that is just gravy.

I have had one dream, however, that has lurked in the back of my mind for decades, and it’s been the most frustrating kind of dream – the kind where everyone else holds the cards, and nothing I ever do could make it come true. It was as pointless as whiling away hours wishing I could win the lottery or that Gary Oldman would decide that he was truly, madly, deeply in love with me and wanted to escape to Paris for a midnight elopement, despite the fact that we’ve never met. The dream was so impossible that it seemed that futility was mine to cherish instead, because until today, I’d merely written it off as a hopeless cause.

Today, that dream is a reality.

We have been selected as a Nielsen family. Nielsen ratings, y’all. My whole LIFE I’ve wanted to be a Nielsen family! And that day has finally arrived, and I just…well, I don’t know what to do with myself. We’re in the qualitative group, which means that next week, a packet (a packet! A whole packet!) of information with notes and questions and comment boxes will be arriving at our doorstep! They care what we watch. They care.

I got so excited that pumped my fist at the office when Adam told me they called. I pumped my fist, and then I had to explain to all of my coworkers why I was pumping my fist, which drew a lot of blank stares and a few snickers, because it’s not like Nielsen is a common dream, and even I will acknowledge that it’s pretty pathetic.

However, gone are the days of merely bitching about television and ratings and moaning in wild frustration that no one ever asked us, because oh yes, they’re asking us, and ASK AND THEY SHALL RECEIVE. Adam actually asked the woman if she would accept stapled notes if our thoughts could not be contained in mere packets, and I am thrilled to report that she welcomes notes! And extra packets! And attached notes, maybe even NOTEBOOKS on our television-watching!

We strategized our approach over dinner – who would take what TV, what we would watch and who, exactly, would keep the best notes to send in. Because we have a responsibility to television watchers across America, and ladies and gentlemen, I will not let you down.

Sigh. Sometimes dreams really do come true.

You mock me, but look, we’ve already covered my love for surveys, which is only eclipsed by my love for television,and to combine those loves is like some kind of perfect storm of madness and ecstasy. Yes, I love television, and I am always irritated by those who look down on those of us who imbibe a little time every evening to stare blankly at a screen that does nothing but embarrass us with its idiocy, but I just figure they’ve never watched Big Love, because Big Love is magic. It’s MAGIC, I tell you, and it’s also coming back on Monday, and to say I’m excited is like saying that Sunny likes to lick her own ass, which is an understatement.

Speaking of television, did anyone see that kid spell schuhplattler on the National Spelling Bee? SCHUHPLATTLER. Honest to Christ, the second the judge busted out with the word in that remarkably Hitler-esque accent, I thought I’d die, because again: SCHUHPLATTLER.

And finally, I’ll leave you with both a warning and a recommendation, should you find yourself near a Barnes and Noble this weekend. First, I recently finished The Kite Runner, and for all of its insane buzz, I’m here to act as a wet blanket: I hated it. I thought it was ridiculous and far-fetched, and completely and utterly overrated. My heart did not soar, as one Amazon reviewer promised. In fact, my heart ached, because I was so intensely irritated by the never-ending implausibility and overwrought drama. You have been warned. And if you read it and loved it, it’s likely that I offended you and for that I am sorry, but I did not like it.

However! Because all I seem to do is bitch about books these days, I’m here to tell you that Prep is absolutely fantastic, and I can’t put it down. I’ve even taken to bringing it in the car just in case a reading emergency arises, like a stoplight or something. Lawyerish recommended it, and hoo boy was she right!

I hope you have a great weekend, full of good books and warm rain and whatever else it is you want. And maybe you, too, will get the phone call of your dreams!

*Tangerine Dream

35 comments May 31st, 2007