Alexandra Bogdanovic's Blog: That's life...

If you can't beat 'em, join 'em

The state of American politics never ceases to amaze me. In fact, I'm so disgusted at this point that I don't watch the news or read the newspaper or listen to the radio (much).
For the record, I'm not sticking my head in the sand. I'm just looking out for my health. The current election cycle is not good for my blood pressure.
Having said all of that, it is laughable. And with that in mind, I've decided to share some of my favorite quotations from one of my favorite books. It's called, The Snark Handbook, Politics & Government Edition and it is compiled by Lawrence Dorfman.
Here they are:
"The drinking age should be 18. When you're 18, you're old enough to vote. You should be old enough to drink. Look who we have to vote for! You need a drink." -- Mark Price
"We'd all like to vote for the best man, but he's never a candidate." -- Kin Hubbard
"Hell, I never vote for anybody. I always vote against." -- W.C. Fields
"If voting changed anything, they'd make it illegal. Vote for the man who promises least; he'll be the least disappointing." -- Bernard Baruch
"You've got the brainwashed, that's the Democrats, and the brain-dead, that's the Republicans." -- Mark Russell
"Any American who is prepared to run for president should automatically, by definition, be disqualified from ever doing so." -- Gore Vidal
"One of the penalties for refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors." -- Plato
"The best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter." -- Winston Churchill
"I honestly believe there are people so excited over this election that they must think that the President has something to do with running this country." -- Will Rogers
So there you have it, my fellow Americans. Just something to think about. And until next time, "That's life..."

I'm over it

Yes, I'm back.
Sorry it has been a while since my last post, but I've been swamped with work-related deadlines and other fun stuff.
Among other things, I created a new blog for the animal shelter where I volunteer. You can check it out here. I also do three posts per week on my business site so feel free to stop by and let me know what you think.
It seems like I never stop writing. So when I have had a chance to relax, I've wanted to make the most of it.
With that in mind, I was really looking forward to making my first trip to a (somewhat) nearby flea market this year. In fact, I was so excited about it that I woke up at 5:30 a.m. on a Sunday. Mom and I left bright and early, and arrived at our final destination around 9 a.m.
To make a long story short, the place was packed. The parking lot was a zoo. We couldn't find a space anywhere. So we turned around and went home. I was so pissed I swore I'd never go there again.
This past weekend, we went to another flea market in upstate New York. The traffic was horrible, but at least we actually found a parking place. For more than two hours I fought my way through crowds and emerged with only a couple of treasures. As we were leaving, hundreds of people were still waiting to get in. Mom estimated the traffic was backed up for about 10 miles.
"It makes you wonder why everyone else thinks they need to be here," I said.
Maybe they wanted to go because the TV show Flea Market Flip was being filmed there that day. Maybe they wanted to go because it is in the middle of nowhere and there's nothing else to do. Maybe they just wanted to go because it was a beautiful day and they figured they could find some good bargains. Or maybe they figured going to the flea market would make them seem really cool. If that's the case, here's newsflash: it doesn't.
Some of us have been going to yard sales, tag sales, flea markets and so forth for years. Some of us have been finding treasures at our local landfills since before it became popular.
Personally, whenever anything gets to popular, I walk away. I photographed polo in Greenwich, CT for almost 20 years. But when "everybody" decided Conyers Farm was the place to be, I stopped going.
When "everybody" was rooting for American Pharoah to win the Triple Crown last year I was rooting for him to lose.
Now that everyone is rooting for Leicester City (a 5,000 to 1 longshot) to win the Barclay's Premier League title I'm rooting for a last-minute collapse.
No, I'm not a killjoy, although it may seem that way. I am just a contrarian. I firmly believe in individualism and I march to the beat of my own drummer. As my father once said: "Why would you possibly want to be like everyone else?"
I don't.
Until next time, "That's life..."

We all have choices

So, last Wednesday was my dad's birthday. It was also the nineteenth anniversary of his death.
I still miss him and I always will.
I still love him and I always will.
That's not to say we didn't have our share of issues. We had plenty. In fact there were times we drove each other crazy. There were times we almost came to blows.
What can I say? He had a wicked eastern European temper. So do I. In that respect I am definitely my father's daughter.
Looking back, I had plenty of reasons to be angry.
Daddy never put a hand on me. Words were his weapon of choice. He once told me he never wanted to have children, but he "accepted me" when I was born. I don't remember if I was nine or 10 when he told me that. All I know is that I was definitely too young to understand. In my mind, my father wished I had never been born. And he told me as much.
I held it against him for a long time. Those words fueled teenage rebellion and served as inspiration when I was old and smart enough to get the best of him -- and just about everyone else -- in verbal sparring matches.
But I had a choice in the last months of his life. I could hang on to all of that anger. Or I could let it go.
By that time he was all but bedridden, his feet ravaged by neglect and type II diabetes. It was clear that he was suffering and that he would suffer more as other complications threatened to set in.
So I went to him. And we talked. And we reached an understanding. At times it was an uneasy truce. But in the end, I'm glad we made peace.
And in the end, we all have choices.
Until next time, "That's life..."

An official invitation

As of today, I've written more than 130 posts here on goodreads. And those of you who have been following me for a long time know I very rarely use this as a platform for blatant self-promotion.
But, as the saying goes, rules are made to be broken. Even self-imposed rules.
So I am taking this opportunity to invite those of you who live in the New York City area to the opening reception of a group photography exhibit featuring some of my work.
The reception will be held from 6 to 8 p.m. April 3 at Art and Sound Gallery in Greenwich, CT. For those of you who live in the City, the gallery is just a short walk from the Port Chester train station, so it shouldn't be too much of a hassle to jump on Metro North (take the New Haven line) if you want to come.
No matter how you get there, I can guarantee that if you like photography you will have a good time. And if you appreciate work by unknown or "emerging" artists, you'll definitely have a blast. If you appreciate a community art gallery, this is definitely your scene.
If that's not enough, the owner, curator and exhibitors are all really cool, too.
So please feel free to stop by. It will be great to meet you.
Until next time, "That's life..."

March madness

You know, there are some times when I just want to haul off and sock someone right in the mouth. Ka-pow! Damn, that would feel good.
I am not ashamed to admit it -- but I am way too smart -- and way too civilized to act on it. If I weren't I suppose I could always go to a rally for Donald Trump. It seems that violence is perfectly acceptable there.
Actually, now that I think about it, please forget I even said that. In all honesty, I wouldn't be caught dead anywhere near one of those events.
Instead I have decided to cope with my anger in a much healthier way -- one that will also allow me to help others who share my frustration and disgust about the state of American politics.
I am hereby officially announcing the creation of the Angry Americans Support Group (AASG). In this group, we will learn the importance of taking a deep breath before we act and we will learn to think before we speak. We will practice meditation and learn to channel our aggression through exercise.
We will learn the art of listening. That means we will keep our mouths shut and our ears and minds open when others are speaking. We will learn to respect other viewpoints even though we disagree.
We will learn to share our opinions without engaging in hysterics, histrionics or verbal abuse.
We will learn that the only way to make our country better is to better ourselves.
When we have accomplished all of this, perhaps we can teach our politicians, wannabe-politicians and those who seek the presidency but claim they are anything other than politicians a thing or two. Assuming they'll listen, of course.
Until next time, "That's life..."

Calling out bullies, cowards and trolls

I would like to think that my parents raised me well. I would like to think that being an only child and a first-generation American raised in a multicultural household helped make me the person I am today. I would like to think that being exposed to people from different countries, religions and socioeconomic strata at a young age taught me tolerance.
But there are some things that I simply cannot and will not tolerate. I have no patience for stupidity, hypocrisy, arrogance, ignorance, bullies or cowards of any kind -- especially those of you who engage in hateful behavior and shameless vitriol while hiding behind a computer screen.
So imagine my disgust when I read one of my favorite blogs this morning. In today's post, the author said that she'd gotten a lot of negative responses to her last entry -- one in which she expressed reservations about voting in U.S. elections. From what she told us, some people called her a "retard." Some even said that that they hoped she would die.
So now I am talking directly to those of you who engage in that kind of behavior. Yeah, you know who you are. Please don't pretend otherwise. It insults my intelligence -- and it makes me mad.
Anyone who knows me well knows that I am the sweetest, nicest, most wonderful person on the face of the earth -- until you make me mad. And then I am a nasty bitch -- so you probably don't want to do that.
But I digress. The bottom line is that it's easy to think you're all big and tough when you're sitting at a computer. Yeah, you're such a big talker -- such a know-it-all. You probably think you're the smartest person in the room, which is pretty pathetic considering you're probably sitting by yourself with no friends, no social life, a dead end job and a dead end life. Does calling someone names and putting them down make you feel better?
Let me tell you something: If someone says something you disagree with or you don't like and your first reaction is to call them names or use foul language or put them down, it speaks volumes about your lack of intelligence, among other things. Ordinarily, I wouldn't even waste my time or my breath on anyone like you -- but as a wise man once said, all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.
If you don't know who said it, look it up. It's on the Internet.
Until next time, "That's life..."

Get off your butt and do something!

UGGGHHHHH!
Sorry. I just had to get that out of my system. I feel better now... I think.
Then again, maybe not. I mean, you know it's bad when your cat is getting on your nerves.
It's just that I've been trying to write this blog for the past two-and-a-half hours. I have deleted everything and started over at least 10 times. I have changed my mind about what to write at least three times. I have changed the headline and resized the photo.
In other words, I have had the worst case of writer's block ever. Or at least it feels that way.
By the time I get to this point, I usually resort to block writing. For those of you who don't know what that is, it's a fancy way of saying that I just throw words on the page and see what sticks. Or something like that.
There is another option. They say if you're really at a loss for words, the best thing to do is to get up, stretch, maybe do some jumping jacks or go for a walk. It doesn't really seem to matter what you do. Just get off your butt and do something!
Unfortunately it's after 8 p.m. here, so it's a little late to hit the gym and walking after dark isn't all that safe around here. So I suppose I'll just do the next best thing and take a stroll into the kitchen to get some coffee. It's going to be a long night...
Until next time, "That's life..."

Unsportsmanlike conduct

I don't care if I sound like an old fart -- or worse. I don't care if this sounds self-righteous or sanctimonious.
I've come to the conclusion that I am sick and tired of bad behavior. In fact, I'm fed up with it. Enough is enough already.
Would-be politicians are celebrated for name-calling and Twitter rants. Some of them even seem to have cult followings. Hmm..... to whom could I possibly be alluding?
Spoiled, self-centered, egocentric professional athletes gloat when they win and sulk when they lose. When they are confronted about their behavior they continue to act like spoiled brats instead of grown men.
Let's talk about what happens on the gridiron. In professional football, dirty hits are a dime a dozen. I can't help but wonder if the players have forgotten that the game they play is dangerous enough without the blatant fouls. Apparently these guys don't care if their own brains are scrambled and they don't seem to give a damn if they permanently maim or cripple anyone else. At this point I am afraid that the only thing that might stop their reprehensible conduct is a death on the field -- but I pray it never comes to that.
Don't even get me started about the athletes who use performance enhancing drugs. Oh, I am sorry, I misspoke. I meant to say, don't even get me started about the athletes who allegedly use performance enhancing drugs.
There is something worse than all of this bad behavior and that's an apologist. Yes, there are actually people out there who are more than willing to condone and make excuses for poor behavior.
Well, I have a newsflash for all of you. There is no excuse! It is not OK! It is not acceptable!
At some point, everyone has to be held accountable for their actions. Everyone has to be prepared for the consequences -- no matter how unpleasant they may be.
Personally, I learned about actions and consequences when I was very young. In fact, it was a lesson I've never forgotten.
I was in nursery school, or maybe kindergarten. My favorite toy back then was a green plastic squirt gun. My mother let me have it on one condition -- that I would never, ever, under any circumstances, point it at anyone. Of course that didn't make sense, because it was a water pistol, but Mom didn't care.
To make a long story short, I didn't play by the rules. I filled my squirt gun up with water, and promptly squirted one of my classmates with it. My victim happened to be a little boy who didn't speak English very well, but he definitely found a way to let me know he didn't appreciate being squirted. He bit me!
Because he bit me hard enough to break the skin, my mom had to come to school and take me to the doctor. I was in a lot of pain, and of course I expected Mom to take my side. She didn't though. And to add insult to injury, she confiscated my favorite water pistol.
She also hid it -- and it remained hidden until we moved more than 20 years later.
Until next time, "That's life..."

Finding inspiration in the shower

Inspiration. As defined on merriam-webster.com, it simply "something that makes someone want to do something or that gives someone an idea about what to do or create : a force or influence that inspires someone."
It can also be, "a person, place, experience, etc., that makes someone want to do or create something," or it can simply be "a good idea."
It is essential to us creative types. It can also be extremely elusive... and that is so annoying.
Some people find it in nature. Some find it in something as simple as a sunrise, a sunset or the sound of the waves lapping on the shore. Some of us draw it from far less appealing places... like the bottom of a bottle.
Sometimes inspiration strikes out of the blue. Sometimes it strikes in the strangest of places. Believe it or not, I've heard it even hits some people while they're on the toilet.
But personally, I get my best ideas while I'm in the shower. That's where I came up with the lyrics for the "Dexter's Pile jingle," among other things. It's also where I come up with the topics for a lot of these blog posts -- and I suppose that explains a lot.
Seriously. I don't know why. I guess there's just something about hot water, shampoo, conditioner and soap that sparks my imagination.
What about you? Where do you find your inspiration, and when does it strike? Leave me a comment and let me know.
Until next time, "That's life..."

My addiction

Hi there. My name is Alex, and I'm addicted to books.
All together now... "Hi, Alex!"
Okay, now that we've gotten that out of the way, I'll get to the point. I'm serious. I'm a bookaholic. I have been since I was a little kid.
Back then my parents read to me all the time and I was only allowed to watch half-an-hour of TV per day. As a result, I developed a healthy appreciation for books and learned to read at an early age.
I read whenever I got a chance, even on the way back to school from a field trip when I was in first or second grade. I remember looking at the words above the front door and a snotty teacher asking me what on earth I was doing.
"Reading," I answered. "What do you think I'm doing?"
Yes, I was a brat. And she was another word that begins with a "B." But I digress.
In third or fourth grade, I started reading everything I could get my hands on. I read The Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew, the Black Stallion books, the Trixie Belden mysteries and the Bobbsey Twins series.
When it came to reading, I was always a few grade levels ahead of most of my peers. I remember tackling my first Ludlum books when I was in middle school. I also read sci-fi and fantasy and thrillers.
I read in school. I read at home. I read at camp and on vacation. I read when I was supposed to be studying. I read on my lunch break at my first part-time job. At night I sneaked a flashlight into my bed and pulled the covers over my head so I could keep reading after I was supposed to be asleep.
Now that I'm almost 50, nothing's really changed. I read whatever I can, whenever I can. Hardcovers, paperbacks, e-books, it doesn't really matter. Mysteries, suspense, thrillers, sci-fi, romance, historical novels, fact-based novels... Yes, I'll read it all. Having said that, I prefer fiction, but I'll read non-fiction, too. I love a good memoir, but in all honesty my favorite is my own.
A really good book will keep me up until the crack of dawn. A bad one... well, that's better left unsaid.
At any rate, I've got to go. I've got to finish Best Kept Secrets by Sandra Brown.
Until next time, "That's life..."