"S S S " -- RE-EXAMINED.

Everyday, throughout the day while I'm working, I remind myself, and order myself -- "SIT, STAND, STAND UP STRAIGHT!"

Though I published an "S S S " blog on June 13, 2009, I'm attacking the subject again, because nowadays, when I tell myself "SIT, STAND, STAND UP STRAIGHT," I seem to end up slumping even more.

"Spaghetti posture" -- that's what it looked like on JD, our son, whether he was on his bike or just walking around. JD, at age 15, was hooked on exercise. He biked on his exercise bike about 3 times a day -- pedaling fast, hunched over -- pedaling faster and faster. Like a good Mom, when he was off the bike, I reminded him to stand up straight, then found myself, fairly often, blurting out, "STAND STRAIGHT-- IT'S EASY -- JUST DO IT!"

My husband, actor John Cullum, and I wondered if JD was becoming an exercise bulimic, but parents outgrow their wonderings as the child grows up and gets into other things. JD is now a working actor in L.A. and his posture is strong and quite straight.

Spaghetti posture -- it's something to avoid -- that out-of-date, aged look of an older person -- the dowager's hump -- the wearied, slumped-over head.

"SIT, STAND STRAIGHT" is what you have to yell at yourself as days, weeks, months, years pass! And here we are today, into the new New Year. I just did a "vlog" with my husband about Resolutions, and said, "Don't make resolutions -- resolving to do something quite often predetermines that the something will fail."

Dammit, I've certainly mastered the physical disciplines of classical ballet -- why can't I maintain S S S ? While typing, creating the words you are reading right now, I keep re-adjusting my posture. I put a wooden board against the back of my desk chair. Sometimes (like today), I'm wearing a wide, tight, uncomfortable belt. But neither board nor belt helps me obey my S S S command.

Hey, I've even tried working/typing/writing with a book on my head. It's ridiculously distracting!

REALTY: The only way to hold onto S S S is to find some little moments when you can practice what you're preaching.

SO -- am I practicing? Yes!

My husband and I take a walk first thing in the morning -- a stand straight, stand tall, head-high, stroll around my studio.

We take hands and stroll 15 feet to the entrance door -- enter my dance studio area, then, we stroll 30 feet from the door to the other end of the studio, where a huge loudspeaker sits. Holding hands, we square the corner. It's just 25 feet from the loudspeaker to the skinny mirror. Approaching it, we see the slender couple in the mirror, and admire ourselves. We look ... well ... nice, sort of king-and-queenly elegant, sprightly, youngish, not at all thickset, mature.

I like the way we look together.

We proceed 30 feet along the mirrored-wall to the audience seats. (My dance studio converts into a small theater.) After we square the corner, it's just 18 feet back to the hall.

JC goes to his office, I go to mine.

Our promenade sets a mood -- exterior and interior, and somehow, once we get that tall, confident, head-high feeling -- well, we can't sustain it throughout the day, but I'm okay -- having obeyed the S S S command, I know it'll be verified again, tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.

DEAR YOU MESSAGE

Dear A ... B ...C ... D... E ... F... G .. H ... etc

I've written this "Dear You" post before. Did you know me in September and read it back then?

I need to say it and write it again for 2011.

(Because I have a new page for Em's Talkery now, I've had to go through my friends list -- 889 profile pictures -- click each picture, and send out a hi, asking all my friends to "like" the new page.)

You are on the list because you've confirmed a friend request. So I am talking to you -- a real person in my mind, not just a name. I've seen your FB profile, glanced at your stuff -- photos, graphics, mutual friends, age, etc. Whatever you've put on your profile page goes into my brain and stays in what my husband, John Cullum, calls my "hopper."

I absorb your words, tone, rhythm or lack of it, stiffness, inhibition, tendency to apologize, sense of humor, friendly or not very friendly implications in what you've mentioned. I sense solidness, lost-ness, even shyness, and vague unease. And I remember what you've conveyed -- not the details, but importance of certain people, events, and things you've done (or have mentioned that you haven't done, but wish you had.)

So from your FB page, (or from a comment, or a message you've sent me), I know you.

I've been a Facebooker since May. I see how my friends come and go -- disappear, and then, sometimes return. But I continue to KNOW who you are -- the reverberations of our back-and-forthing stay with me. I wonder what happened to you, and think "Gee, I haven't heard from so-and-so" and move you to a someplace area, to make space in my hopper for the current people.

So here I am, into the first week of a new year, sorting you and me out.

I'm hoping you'll say hi, or comment on ... well, maybe my vision of "Vertical Gardens," or my not sweet essay on "Angelina Jolie" or you'll say something about our "New Appliance Woes."

Or maybe you'll wait, and say something about next week's essays that I'm working on, "Gone Heroes and Heroines," or Britain's "Bad Sex Award."

I'll say it again -- dear J ... K ... L ... M ... N ... O ... P ... etc ... I know who you are.

ANGELINA JOLIE

She's beautiful. Stunning, head-to-toe sexy looking, an actress who can play any role. In every movie I've seen her in, she's what I watch -- my eyes goes to her.

Jolie is a very creative artist.

Jolie carries herself, nowadays, and her children, and her devotions, her various commitments to charities, with amazing grace and exceptional dignity.

This essay on Jolie is just an impression, an end-of-the-year reviewing. Like my gathering up bills, expenses to send to our accountant, I'm tidying up thoughts that need to be sorted and filed away so that I'm done with them.

When I see Jolie -- puffy kissable lips, perfect features, that how-could-it-be-a-more- perfect body, I wonder, would I want to be her? I'm envious, but I've never wanted to change places with anyone.

To clarify my impression, before I sat down at my keyboard, I looked her up online. I read a well-written complete story, filled with personal quotes, quirky revelations, words that had to come from her.

(Based on my knowledge of show biz, I'm sure she has a publicist and staff who handles all this -- a publicist works with the artist-client, and writes, rewrites and makes certain the client is presented in the way that the client wants.)

Jolie is thirty-five now, with six children, three of her own and three whom she adopted. She's worked hard, done many movies, won lots of awards, keeps going non-stop, almost, in her quest to be one of the most starry stars in the world.

What I read confirms what I have gathered about Jolie over the years.

Ten years ago she's was wild, outrageous, unconventional -- saying, doing, behaving in public, occasionally, in deliberately shocking ways. (A movie star's words, photos and statements stay in my mind like dance steps -- like cooking recipes, like computer routines that enable me to embed videos in a post.)

I can't forget her wearing, around her neck, a vial of blood from one of her husbands just as he wore a vial of her blood; nor can I erase my memory of her uninhibitedly bragging about making love in public places; nor can I turn off some of the cruelly rejecting remarks she's made about Jon Voight, her famous actor dad. And I didn't invent the fact that she touted her own bisexuality, and her tattoos.

(I read that some of her tattoos have been lasered away, and others have to be layered with special makeup for semi-nude shots.)

Clearly, Jolie is doing-doing what she's been advised, helped, directed to do, based on what she wants. My impression of her as a humanitarian is a sense of strategically planned trips, contrived, carefully choreographed shots for the media, plus statements about the underprivileged needy children, that are remarkably eloquent -- yes, strong!

But are they touching?

They don't touch me.

Her quest to become what she's succeeded in becoming, has been helped, not hurt, by her annexing the married Brad Pitt. After all, he's one of the most famous international male stars in the world. My impression of her relationship to Pitt is a sexual love affair that developed from a one-night-stand situation, lasted quite awhile, and made them into a uniquely fascinating, unconventional, newsworthy couple.

Hey, they are skilled actors, and they are playing a loving couple.

Acting is "acting" -- creating a feeling, a truth, and the good actress that is Jolie, is partly because she's so utterly focused on herself. I could be wrong. I don't like her. I don't trust her. Even so, I always pay attention when Angelina Jolie appears, talks, is interviewed, quoted, amidst an explosion of flashbulbs, and fabulous photos.

Tell me if I'm wrong. I'll listen.

NEW GIZMO ATTACK

What's that, I thought as I noticed a 2" x 2" box in a picture of JFK making a speech 50 years ago.

It was an ad that said, "Use your QR Reader to directly access the JFK Twitter feed." I'd seen a box like that, but never tried to figure out what it was

QR? Maybe you know what QR is, but I didn't.

I Googled, saw another 2 x 2 box and this: "QR (Quick Response) code is a two-dimensional bar code that can store contact info, URLs, even paragraphs of text. Although they were invented in 1994, they were relegated to industrial applications until a new generation of consumer electronics made them practical for just about everything.

"Now the Android and iPhone have software for decoding them. QR codes are being developed into new applications called “hardlinking” or “physical world hyperlinking,” that make it easy for user's to capture data from products, magazines, billboards and even each other’s phones."

I saw a string of ads: Make your own QR Code courtesy of ZXing project. Google image search of social QR code applications. Silicon Alley Insider -- Mobile Barcodes: Big In France!”

Oh dear, oh no ... is this something new to learn? I felt myself sinking in the quicksand of the latest, newest hot, fashionable, in, trendy, smart, chic, cool thing.

I know what a bar code is, and occasionally I'd like to be able to read it and learn what something's going to cost, but this 2 x 2 code square -- that people use on business cards, on their stationery, imprint it on their T shirts -- it's important -- a new form of communication as well as a way to advertise.

Oh boy, am I ever behind the times. I have a cell phone that I hardly ever use. I don't have a laptop, (just 3 PCs ). I don't have a Blackberry, or Android, iPhone, iPad, or an Xbox, or a QR code reader.

Do I need it -- do I buy one -- how would I use it -- why would I use it? Isn't it just a popular gizmos like what we bought years ago, because everyone had calculator, or alarm clock on his wristwatch?

If I don't get QR reader will l be a Neanderthal, and never ever be able to catch up with whatever is next?

What IS next? Maybe a mental telepathy in-putter, that will send other people's thoughts into my head? What device will Steve Jobs invent -- a 3D vision of the cell phone caller?

I know it's going to happen! It's progress, right? There won't be phones -- just maybe an ear piece that gives you everything -- a jewel you can attach to your earlobe?

Maybe everyone will be wearing a ring? Like those old mood rings that changed colors -- a ring that'll tell you if it's a customer, a relative -- with one little twist, you'll know if it's a friend or a foe.

Why do I feel I need protection from progress?