In the late 1980s, while he was studying at the University of Glasgow, Stuart Murdoch became ill with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and was unable to work for seven years. Some reports indicate that he was housebound for eight years. Murdoch said that it was because of this isolation that he became a songwriter.
He said that over the course of a year, his life changed. He went from being an active human being in every way – he was a club DJ in addition to a student – and he found himself fantasizing about everyday life.
“Three years later, I’m sitting in a box bedroom in Ayr, unable to go out, and fantasizing about going down to the shops or being able to make a cup of coffee for somebody,” Murdoch said.
But anyone suffering from CFS and fibromyalgia knows that, sometimes, these simple activities are far out of reach.
“That was a big desert at the time, a kind of vacuum in my life,” he said. “From that, these songs started coming out, these melodies where I could express what I was feeling.
In 1995 he worked with a faith healer, whom he credits with his recovery. He said that she placed her hands above his body for an hour, and the recovery took several months.
“I actually got sicker for a few months, and I feel that was when the demons were being cast out,” Murdoch told New York Times reporter Stephen Rodrick.
Of course, he is not fully recovered and is still susceptible to lingering colds that can last for weeks, but his energy levels have returned to nearly what they were preillness and he is able to exercise regularly. Being sick and spending a lot of time alone at home, Murdoch learned an incredibly precious lesson about life.
“The thing I learned when I was sick was to do things when they felt right,” Murdoch told the Times. “Not hold on to things for a future time that may never come.”
You’re going to LOVE The Fancy.
It was only a matter of time before websites similar to the increasingly popular Pinterest started to pop up out of the woodwork. The Fancy describes itself as “part store, blog, magazine and wishlist,” and it’s the store piece that’s really differentiating the platform from its competitor. The site allows you to “Fancy” anything you see on the Web so you can return to it at a later time.
While I was surfing around Huffington Post looking for inspiration for this evening’s blog post, I came across the headline, “Why didn’t anyone tell me I was marrying a jerk?”
First of all, once you’ve made the decision that you’re going to marry someone, the likelihood of anyone changing your mind is incredibly slim. Second of all, you probably had some idea that the guy was a jerk before you married him.
Band guys are somewhat of a different breed. They’re constantly around people, looking for attention (hopefully in a musical way) and they’re often on the road. So, how do you know that your band guy is a dud? Here are my top five red flags to watch for.
It really has been a glorious long weekend, despite the fact that I have this lingering cold that is preventing me from spending adequate time on my yoga mat.
Saturday evening, Jay and I used our Groupon for the Dedham Community Theatre so we could go see The Descendants. I realize that we’re way late to the game on this one, but seriously, it’s one of the best movies we’ve ever seen.
Note: if you haven’t seen this movie and want to, this post is a major spoiler.
Tonight, the band that is staying with us is playing 20 questions with Jay, which is pretty typical with younger, newer bands. This one seems to be asking the right questions and getting the right idea out of it.
One of them asked Jay how he wanted to die, and without hesitation Jay said, “I want to die next to her, asleep in my bed.”
I nearly cried. He went on to say that he wants to be old, with kids and grandkids and go to bed knowing everything is right and done, and just not wake up in the morning.
You never expect that kind of thing to come out when you’re surrounded by a bunch of 19-21-year-old band dudes, but there it was. And it was awesome.
Happy long-weekend Friday, everyone. Be safe.
Yesterday I found this great article that discusses the idea that women are less tied to being wives and define themselves by being mothers. The article calls into question the need for the term, “wife,” at all and, if we do keep it around, what the word should mean now that the traditional roles of husband and wives have changed.
This non-identity might be a victory if it meant that women have stopped defining themselves in terms of their external relationships rather than internal compasses, or that they have stopped setting impossible standards for themselves, or they have ceased comparing themselves to others. But actually, they have merely found another measuring stick, another dominant identity. The role of wife has been eclipsed by the role of mother. Women no longer define themselves by the happiness of their husbands, but by that of their children.
What I find most interesting is that both women reach the same conclusion for opposite reasons; today’s wives, they agree, are less defined by the role than were their mothers. In fact, we are barely defined by the role of wife at all. We’ve quite rightly erased most vestiges of what the word used to mean, but have not found a vibrant, robust definition of what should come to mean instead. — Lisa Belkin; Huffington Post
I can’t see why we should reject a term when we have the opportunity to redefine it, over and over again, each and every year, every day, whether we are male or female. Like gender roles, the term, “wife,” can mean what we want it to mean.
Words are only as important as the meaning we put behind them.
It’s that time again. The one day of the year that you either love or hate, regardless of your relationship status. This is my first married Valentine’s Day, and I am looking forward to a picnic of Indian food on the floor with Jay while we watch Arrested Development. Laid back.
Anyway, my friend Rob has started creating these little videos for his company, Black Angus Films. This one is kind of funny and is a pretty good representation of what you do not want to be on Valentine’s Day.
It’s the thought that counts and the time you spend with your loved one — not the gifts you receive.
Enjoy the evening!
I am so glad it moved you. I cried reading it, too. It really puts things in perspective.
Well, folks, we’re getting there.
On Feb. 7, a three-judge panel in the Federal District Court of the Northern District of California ruled that Proposition 8 is in violation of the constitutional right of gay men and lesbians in California.
Gee, you think?
From The New York Times:
But Tuesday’s 2-to-1 decision was much more narrowly framed than the sweeping ruling of Judge Walker, who asserted that barring same-sex couples from marrying was a violation of the equal protection and due process clauses of the Constitution.
The two judges on Tuesday stated explicitly that they were not deciding whether there was a constitutional right for same-sex couples to marry, instead ruling that the disparate treatment of married couples and domestic partners since the passage of Proposition 8 violated the Constitution’s Equal Protection Clause.
“Although the Constitution permits communities to enact most laws they believe to be desirable, it requires that there be at least a legitimate reason for the passage of a law that treats different classes of people differently,” Judge Stephen R. Reinhardt wrote in the decision. “There was no such reason that Proposition 8 could have been enacted.”
This morning I woke up to a tweet from my former colleague calling Gisele, “Yoko.” I didn’t understand why she would be saying this, but it caught my eye because of a blog post I wrote last month.When I turned on the radio this morning, I understood where this tweet came from:
Waiting for an elevator after the game with some other Patriots’ wives, Gisele was videotaped saying, “I can’t believe they dropped the ball so many times. My husband cannot f—-king throw the ball and catch the ball at the same time.” — Celebrity Circuit, CBS News
Of course, this comes after her email to friends and family asking that everybody pray for her Tommy. And so the bashing began.
Going on a heart-healthy diet — something I really should do — before the Super Bowl has proven to be difficult. I know that, even if you’re not into football (like me) it’s entirely likely you’ll be gathering with friends to watch the game. What gathering is complete without a ton of food? Start stretching (your stomach) out now with this recipe:
- 1.5 cups milk
- 6 slices of whole wheat bread (or any bread)
- 6 eggs
- Pumpkin spice
- Canola oil
- Beat the eggs and milk together until well blended. Add a splash of vanilla (or about a table spoon) and a few shakes of cinnamon, sugar and pumpkin spice (about 1/2 tablespoon of pumpkin, 1/4 tablespoon cinnamon, 1/2 tablespoon of sugar).
- Place the six slices of bread side-by-side in a long dish (like a lasagna pan) and pour the egg mixture over the slices. Soak for five minutes per side.Note:When I do this, there is a little bit of overlap for some of the bread. It works out OK, especially if you are using a regular sized frying pan and are only able to cook two slices at a time.
- Set the oven to 250 degrees and start the pan on a medium-low setting. Spray with the canola and add a tiny bit of butter. Place a plate or a baking sheet in the oven — this will keep the French toast hot until you’re done cooking. Note:by using canola and butter, you get a crispy outside and a soft inside.
- After the 10 minutes of soaking is up, be super careful when transferring the bread to the pan, generally two slices at a time, unless you have a griddle. The bread is likely to tear in the process.
- Cook each piece until each side is golden brown. I am hesitant to give you a time, as I have been learning that each stove is different. I would say check after three minutes to see how everything looks. This is really about using your best judgement.
Of course, top with maple syrup, unless you prefer something else on your French toast. I apologize for not having photos to accompany this recipe, but I wanted to get it up for Lauren. It really is super good and the French toast is incredibly dense. I hope you all enjoy!
I was perusing Facebook this evening and found this article posted by one of my friends. It was written by Lisa Khoury for The Spectrum. Here is her argument for why it is classless for women to be tattooed:
I get it. It’s the 21st century. You’re cool, you’re rebellious, you’re cutting edge, you have a point to prove, and you’re a woman. Awesome.
Ladies, I know you’re at least at the legal age of making your own decisions, but before you decide to get a tattoo, allow me to let you in on a little secret. A secret you may have not fully realized yet thus far in your life. What you must understand is, as women, we are – naturally – beautiful creatures.
Seriously, though. Your body literally has the ability to turn heads. Guys drool over us. We hold some serious power in our hands, because – as corny as this sounds – we hold the world’s beauty.
But something girls seem to forget nowadays, or maybe have not been taught, is that women hold the world’s class and elegance in their hands, as well. So what’s more attractive than a girl with a nice body? I’ll tell you what: a girl with class. Looks may not last, but class does. And so do tattoos.
An elegant woman does not vandalize the temple she has been blessed with as her body. She appreciates it. She flaunts it. She’s not happy with it? She goes to the gym. She dresses it up in lavish, fun, trendy clothes, enjoying trips to the mall with her girlfriends. She accentuates her legs with high heels. She gets her nails done. She enjoys the finer things in life, all with the body she was blessed with.
But marking it up with ink? That’s just not necessary.
I’m not here to say a girl should walk around flaunting her body like it’s her job – that’s just degrading. Instead of getting a tattoo, a more productive use of your time would be improving and appreciating the body you have been given, not permanently engraving it.
Can you get meaning out of a tattoo? Arguably. If you want to insert ink into your skin as a symbol for something greater than yourself, then maybe you are proving a point to yourself or the rest of the world.
First of all, I have to congratulate you on breaking down the female role so simply- we are here to make men drool! To turn heads! We hold some serious power in our hands! So thankful you let me in on this, because frankly, while typing this I was looking down at my tattooed arms feeling lost…and now I understand why I’m happily married, raising an intelligent child, hold two degrees, and live a wonderful life. Oh, wait…
I think the biggest, most glaring problem in your article is that you are saying that women should not get tattoos. Not men. And with that comes a laundry list of things that are wrong with your argument. You say that tattooed women are lacking class, yet I find it interesting that the person who is making such a broad and judgmental statement is the same woman who is calling “wearing high heels” and “getting your nails done” a productive and good use of time. Your ignorance is almost shocking to me, and I kept holding out for the “just kidding, guys! I’m really not this crazy!” all the way to the end. To put it simply, I just can’t find the logic in any of your argument.
I think it is pretty clear how I feel about tattoos. I haven’t yet addressed class. Aside from all of the feminist and and general human respect issues that Danielle clearly addresses in her blog post, I think it’s important to consider what class really is.
My opinion? Class is not about being beautiful or done up. Class is about being a good person and treating others in a respectful way. It’s about doing the right thing, even when the right thing is hard to do. Class is a characteristic, not a beauty statement.
What do you guys think? I’m sure that many of you will disagree with Lisa, but I wonder if any of you agree?