Operation Beige - the reveal

I have been working for some time on an undercover operation. I will later write more about it, but these pictures will let you know what's been in the works.

From this...to this...



From this...
to this...


From this...to this...


From this...to this...



From this...to this...



From this...to this...

From this...to this...


From this...
to this...


AND FINALLY...

THIS...

all original color photos from this tour of my colorful home. All current photos are now Sherwin Williams Biscuit... aka "beige," except the previously polka dot bathroom, which is now simply white. And for the record, I did NOT paint any ceilings beige.

Not in control

I feel stifled lost beige out of control bored incredibly busy worried lonely stressed uninspired selfish martyred grieving

I move forward when I want to go back. I press onward not knowing where I'm going, not wanting to go at all. I try to trust that there is an end. A good end. Out there. Somewhere.

I keep going.

The Bachelor is crappy television

(I'm blogging about TV, people. TV. Has it come to this? Life is too complicated to blog about right now. This whole undercover operation... let's call it Operation Beige (because every good undercover operation needs a name)... is progressing slowly but surely, and I just. can't. share. And I'm not doing a show. So TV it is)

I apologize if you watch and enjoy The Bachelor.

No, actually, I don't. I think it's crap, and I think you should be ashamed.

There. I said it.

Now, I do have to confess that I've never watched a full episode of The Bachelor. I've seen the commercials. Caught a few moments at the end... you know, the stuff that records on the front of my DVR's recording of Castle (which I completely enjoy. Fun stuff).

But this is my basic understanding:

A handsome guy is charged with slowly narrowing down the field from a bunch of really hot women, who vie for his attentions. They go on dates and the like. The girls scheme and backstab and try to woo the man. The guy is dating all these girls at once trying to figure out which one he is going to marry.

To MARRY.

What sane woman would put herself into that situation? What sane man would want to dedicate the rest of his life to a woman willing to play that game? What kind of a sick man enjoys watching all the women around him play that game?

I cannot possibly believe that it is even remotely about finding true love. It is about being on television. It is about proving yourself desirable.

And I'm horrified that people watch it. Yes, perhaps it's like watching a car accident. You can't look away from the tragedy. But people seem to actually care about who the bachelor picks. Like they think these two very beautiful egomaniacs are going to find love and longevity together, and that somehow gives them hope for the world. I worry for the watchers of the Bachelor. As if romantic comedies weren't screwing with our idea of what love should look like enough already.

Crap, crap, crap.

And it's the downfall of scripted shows. Shows that hire writers and actors. Shows that maybe, just maybe, tell a story worth telling. A story that might have some redemption or some catharsis or some hope for the world. A story that in its fiction has more truth in it than any episode of The Bachelor ever will.

But... as Dennis Miller used to say... that's just my opinion. I could be wrong.

Under Cover

There are things, of course, that can't always be written on a public blog... even an anonymous one. Things that maybe, in time, will be brought to light.

So think of me as working busily under cover. Researching, watching, working, formulating. This under cover job takes up much of my time and much of my brain power, not to mention much of my emotional capital, leaving me at a loss for things to share.

I'm not taking a break from blogging, but I'm finding that I have less time and less interest in it at the moment. I'm not writing as much. I'm not reading as much.

I'm hiding in the shadows.