My boss: “So apparently, I wrote an open letter to the governor, isn’t that neat?”
Me: * freezing on my way past his office because in fact, I wrote the letter on his behalf and electronically signed in his name but I thought he signed off on it and now I’m second guessing everything and maybe he wanted me to run the final product by him before I sent it out?! *
Boss: * unaware of my mental perturbation * “Very handy how much I get done when others do it.”
New Person: “So, what kind of music are you into?”
DJ: “I like country, Ed Sheeran, and Disney. LB is into older worship music, classic rock, and Phantom of the Opera. Amy’s taste in music is second wave K-Pop, YouTube eclectic, and random commercial jingles. And TG…she’s just Taylor Swift.”
In honor of this review almost becoming my most liked review on Goodreads, I present….
This book did the impossible: it made me like Prince King Charles.
Poor man got stuck with a wanker for a younger son. I’m not saying his life choices didn’t contribute to the problem. But geesh. Every time Harry went on whining about his father I kept thinking, ‘But that’s not terrible parenting? That is actually surprisingly gentle and understanding on his father’s part?’
Are we sure the palace didn’t have a hand in writing this book?
I don’t want to minimize the terrible things that have happened to Prince Harry. The loss of his mother, best friend, and military career all clearly impacted him in ways that were not adequately addressed at the time. What makes reading this book so frustrating, however, is his sense of proportion. He ties everything back to being a prince—even (and especially) things that are not unique to royalty. To name a few:
* Parental divorce
* Sibling dynamics like sharing a room or an older brother who doesn’t acknowledge you at school (and laughs when you do stupid things instead of comforting you)
* A nonacademic student struggling to connect with a reserved, academic parent
* Trying to find your calling/passion in life
* Feeling left out as the “single” sibling in a family full of couples
* Wedding drama over stupid stuff that leaves the bride in tears
* Cultural differences when marrying someone from a different country
None of those things are unique (without seeking to minimize them, I would say even and including his obvious depression and PTSD) but he seems to think they are. And maybe everything is extra extreme for him as a prince. I’m obviously not in his shoes. But while money can’t buy happiness, it sure can make things easier, as he amply demonstrates every time he heads to a different continent to “get away.” Or when the military spends millions to train him on flying Apache helicopters when he can’t just be a “regular soldier.”
Also I just can’t get over the amount of time he complains about photos of him in nightclubs/doing drugs/wild parties circulated and then admits to being in all those places and doing loads of drugs. Like, my dude. There is a simple solution to this?? Maybe find a different hobby?
The real loser in all of this, unfortunately, is the family he blames so loudly for his problems. He clearly expected them all to have realized he was struggling, but it is obvious even from his own very biased perspective that they were doing their best. He set expectations for them (especially Charles and William) that they didn’t know about, so how could they live up to them? While I’m sure Harry’s daughter is delightful, it is a pity he didn’t have two sons. I think it would have helped Harry come to terms with his own problems with his brother if he could seen the sibling dynamics from a different perspective. Older brothers are older brothers, regardless of whether you define them as Heir and Spare. The trappings of royalty might make it more complicated, but nothing I read showed William as anything other than a typical older brother dealing with stress in his own way.
Next to family, Harry blames the paparazzi for the pain in his life. Here he might have more of a point. But I also think even at the heart of it, he really is blaming his family for not “standing by him” and denying every statement that hurt his feelings. Once again, though, I was with his family. There isn’t much point over fighting over every lie. You’d end up doing nothing else. And if a book like this is what he had in mind with defending his honor…well…I think he kind of proves their point. A lot of it just seems petty. (How dare the palace not clarify after-the-fact in a full press media broadcast that they told Meg not to wear a hat when the paparazzi mocked Meg for not wearing a hat to some random royal function!) What did this book accomplish besides highlighting a lot of stupid drama and illustrating that there is plenty to be frustrated with Harry about completely aside from the rubbish the press dragged up?
Maybe I’d have appreciated the book more if I felt it at least showed growth. I’m glad by the end Harry got some counseling. Hopefully he continues on that journey. But the stream-of-conscience style grated on me as a reader. The fragmented style, choppy chapters, and irrelevant stories that never tied back in also left me frustrated. He either over or under shares everything. He presumes an innate knowledge of players and occasions in his life that I simply didn’t possess. Then he goes into detail about bowel movements, family jewels, and frostbite situations. The man’s sense of TMI is all out of whack.
(I understand those are the salacious bits that sold this book for many, but they just him feeling more out of touch than ever. Heading to the South Pole any time soon? Might I recommend a bespoke cozy for your private parts? )
And you know, most disappointing of all, not once did he mention the reality TV show I Want To Marry Harry! (Okay, yeah, I’m kidding there, but with how randomly he chooses what to highlight, why not that show? Seemed like positive PR to me.)
Bottom line: at many points during this book I thought, ‘Was Harry dropped on his head as a baby? Is that what this is about?’ and finally I have concluded, ‘No. He just did a lot of drugs and never learned to see a situation from anyone’s perspective. He does, however, expect everyone to be able to see it from his.’
My state leader in Montana has taken to answering calls with: “Good morning. It is -10 degrees out. No need to tell me the weather by you.”
But really, who can blame him? Virginia has had an unseasonably mild winter. It is starting to get a little ridiculous. (And we’re going to pay for it with all the bugs this summer.)
This week, however, takes the cake for bipolar weather. On Wednesday it was in the 40s. On Thursday it was 80 degrees. This morning woke up to snow flurries.
It will be a miracle if we don’t all get sick.
I am sorry, Mom, for laughing when you protested the historical American Girl doll from 1974. And then the one from 1986.
The newest editions to American Girl’s historical collection are from 1999.
Maybe that’s what kids are into these days but I can’t get past the cringe.
“Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.”
I appreciate the solemnity of Ash Wednesday.
I attend a very joyful church. From day one, I have been drawn back by the joyful celebration of God’s love every Sunday. I am used to music and cheerful greetings. But not on Ash Wednesday.
On Ash Wednesday the diminished congregation arrives in silence. There is no opening song to get your foot tapping. There are no colorful fabrics from the vestry, no rose colored candles full of symbolism. Only black.
You have ash placed on your forehead and are reminded that you are dust.
Then you go home.
It is a comforting reminder that all emotions have an important role. Some days are full of joy and celebration. And some days are existential, because you are dust and to dust you shall return. And both are good.
Always a good sign when the hair stylist is cackling with glee at her results.
We will see how long this perm lasts!
The upside of getting my housemates hooked on Korean dramas is that they now have a burning desire to try Korean food. Today we tried a local hole-in-the-wall spot about twenty minutes away. I’d give it a B+. The place was cute and clean with K pop playing and the traditional TV on the wall showing nonstop K pop dancing. The menu had quite a variety of different options. The tteokbokki was yummy. (My housemates already want to go back.)
My biggest problem was the complete lack of side dishes. Instead, each meal came with soup and salad. The the soup was a miso broth and delicious, but the salad was predominantly iceberg.
I can’t speak to the ramen my housemates got (they both loved it) but my lunchbox was heavy on the breading, tofu, and spam. It also had glass noodles and rice which didn’t seem to fit with the rest of the meal. Lots of carbs. I was a bit disappointed.
But full confession the soy also gave me a stomach ache so maybe I’m just cranky with the meal for that reason. Next time I will try harder to find something with kimchi!
1,096 days.
It feels a lot longer since we lost Grandma Bea. Her funeral was one of the last big social events before COVID shut everything down. I’m still grateful for that small mercy, the chance to share grief with family and friends and mourn her passing collectively. Just one month later and that would have been impossible.
We miss her, but also look forward to seeing her in heaven.
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