"This is my dog's penis. And then I've also had his, uh...balls removed."
Actress and comedian Jenny Slate sits on a sofa, hair in a top knot, leopard print top askew. She is going to teach us all about scientists Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson. She is also extremely drunk.
Though Comedy Central's Drunk History premiered in 2013, I had not seen it until a couple years ago. I returned to the program once more once it started streaming on Hulu, and found myself inordinately emotional about the array of inebriated comics babbling about history's most epic moments. Figures from the past came to vivid life, portrayed lip sync style by beloved actors from Jack Black to Aubrey Plaza. Accounts of historical moments both well-known and more obscure unfolded via tipsy storytellers brought not only tears of laughter to my eyes, but a sense of revelatory wonder. Here I was, 33 years old and learning about Mary Ellen Pleasant for the first time.
If I learned these things in school, I certainly forgot them. What better method to jog my memory than sloshed, foul-mouthed entertainers who may or may not know what they're talking about? The delightful irreverence with which stories like The Scopes Trial are recounted is a huge part of the fun, and Drunk History keeps going strong year after year, a testament, I think, to not only how funny it is to watch juiced up individuals struggle through something, but how truly eager people are to learn things, even if it is done piecemeal and plastered.
There's something sweet and intimate about the way the meat of the show is captured. Derek Waters has a genuine appreciation for funny people, laughing gently and honestly at their foibles, pontifications, and slip-ups. The stories are related in an unaffected manner, partly due to the alcohol, that feels as though a friend is speaking directly to you. In some cases as in Jen Kirkman's retelling of Mary Dyer, the actor gets emotional about the subject matter. This rings so true to me. Watching someone wax passionate about history's finest folk while drunk (but not while being interrupted by their intoxicated friends), is a warm, familiar delight.
And you're learning something. I mean, don't that beat all?
Wednesday, August 21, 2019
Monday, February 9, 2015
Real life isn't like the movies. If you're emotionally unstable, no one sticks around because "they love you" and "you're worth it." Also, no hero busts down the bathroom door because you're mutilating yourself within. Leave that sexy stuff to Hollywood. It's just you and the knife, kid. What'll it be?
Wednesday, August 13, 2014
For Robin
I never touched you, never placed my hand on your shoulder
to steady myself, pitched forward because the joke you told was too funny,
the voice you used beyond the capacity of
a mere mortal's comprehension.
I never looked directly into your eyes--
those warm, electric-blue pools
that sparkled with some secret, long-contained joke
yearning to burst free,
to shatter the banal silence.
For you, nothing was incorruptible.
You were my father, your soft, sweet, baritone
delivering counsel from a place far away, yet so near
right here, in front of me. The wisdom that was penned for you
seemed your own and I heard it coming from your lips
as smoothly and as deftly
as an old, familiar tune
an anthem for the lyrical,
a ballad for those blessed
enough to witness it.
You were my friend, your over-sized boy's clothing
hung over a frenetic, hairy body
that once was uncovered,
dancing wildly beneath the moon
on a field
near Manhattan.
You were my brother, my fellow, my inspiration
guiding me onto my chosen path,
looking behind you
and beckoning with a nod, saying,
"Come with me, follow me--I won't be too far ahead."
No, I never touched you, never felt the warmth
of your skin beneath all that fur,
like a great, friendly dog.
You never heard my voice, never shared in my sadness, my joy,
my life.
But you were in it.
And I knew you.
I love you.
to steady myself, pitched forward because the joke you told was too funny,
the voice you used beyond the capacity of
a mere mortal's comprehension.
I never looked directly into your eyes--
those warm, electric-blue pools
that sparkled with some secret, long-contained joke
yearning to burst free,
to shatter the banal silence.
For you, nothing was incorruptible.
You were my father, your soft, sweet, baritone
delivering counsel from a place far away, yet so near
right here, in front of me. The wisdom that was penned for you
seemed your own and I heard it coming from your lips
as smoothly and as deftly
as an old, familiar tune
an anthem for the lyrical,
a ballad for those blessed
enough to witness it.
You were my friend, your over-sized boy's clothing
hung over a frenetic, hairy body
that once was uncovered,
dancing wildly beneath the moon
on a field
near Manhattan.
You were my brother, my fellow, my inspiration
guiding me onto my chosen path,
looking behind you
and beckoning with a nod, saying,
"Come with me, follow me--I won't be too far ahead."
No, I never touched you, never felt the warmth
of your skin beneath all that fur,
like a great, friendly dog.
You never heard my voice, never shared in my sadness, my joy,
my life.
But you were in it.
And I knew you.
I love you.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Lovers and Madmen Have Such Seething Brains
To all you people out there who see love as exclusive, to those who believe you can find all that you want, desire, and need from one person for years on end, to all who strive for singularity and commitment, I salute you. Yours is an ongoing battle, an uphill climb, a project. It is something that takes effort and care, something that isn't easy. To those of you who believe that the outcome is worth the struggle, keep on keeping on.
I, on the other hand, have never really viewed this as a possibility. The idea of two people learning, growing, and changing together seems an improbable if not impossible idea, and the notion that I could be fulfilled by one person is simply unrealistic.
I am an open non-monogamist in a day and age when this is viewed as abnormal, wrong, and bordering on pathetic. I have, of course, attempted monogamy, but my forays into that practice have been unsuccessful, unsatisfying, and at times downright depressing. To those who believe that non-monogamists are not capable of real love, I only have this to say, in my very best French: Go Fuck Yourselves. Not only have I experienced what it means to have real, rich, fulfilling love, but I also have experienced love that alters, love that gives, love that sacrifices and buoys and strengthens and inspires.
So where does cheating fit in? To me, the idea that a cheater does not love the person they are cheating on is folly. This, to me, is a perception engrained in us from outside influences, whether it be religion, the media, or our peers. It is simply not true. I have seen it, I have experienced it, and I can say without guile that love can exist even when outside gratification is sought. There are, of course, circumstances where love is lost and infidelity occurs, but I am willing to believe that 9 times out of 10, this is not the case.
This brings me to the point of this piece, something that has been on my mind of late, and that is the difference between partners and lovers.
I have been a partner, and I have been a lover. I have had partners, and I have had lovers. To me, there is a difference, and, though you can have both from the same person AT TIMES, there is a reason why people with partners seek out lovers.
Partners are people you love, people you fill your time with, people who give you strength and care for you, people who remain steadfastly on your side through life's turmoil and strife, people with whom you share assets, people with whom you build things, whether it be a home or a family or mutual devotion and trust. Partners are difficult to come by, but finding one can mean a lifetime of friendship, love, and support. Partners are wonderful.
Then why seek something else?
It has been said, "Love leaves the back door open." In my monogamy essay, I mentioned the practice of taking a lover, and how it has been common habitude in certain places of the world for centuries. The idea seems somehow lost on Americans, who view the idea that you might need to seek fulfillment outside of your partnership the height of betrayal. Swinging couples are viewed as hedonistic and sinful, though their marriages may be some of the strongest. It is my belief that couples who understand that their wanting a partner to remain sexually faithful to them as merely a matter of self-esteem, and therefore an entirely selfish desire, are couples who approach life with more confidence and perhaps a healthier grasp on reality than those who jealously seek to own their partners, viewing love as a platform for score-keeping, resentment, and control.
So what is a lover?
A lover is a person with whom to share secrets, a person that fills in the holes (for there are always holes, don't kid yourself), a person who may drift in and out of your life or be replaced by another, a person who fulfills appetites and desires, a person who acts as an escape from reality. They may be someone of which you know very little, and so your idea or perception of them remains in the realm of fantasy, which can be a very good thing in a life full of drudgery. A lover is the partner's polar opposite; where one stands beside you as you go through hell, the other allows you to escape from it. Is one better than the other? Of course not. They are different things. Does the enjoyment of one negate the importance of the other? I do not think so. I believe that seeking fulfillment is not at all the same thing as betraying trust. The two should not be, in my opinion, synonymous.
The question now becomes how we can begin to alter our perceptions in order to achieve gratification in our sexual lives. After all, if the Europeans can do it, what is the hold-up in our corner of civilization? Why is it that we restrict ourselves, when we, as free adult citizens of the world, have the luxury to design our own lives? We are living in a world when the most exciting changes in how we view human sexuality are occurring, where people are beginning to accept that there is more than one option out there, more than one sexual practice, more than one way in which love and sexuality can be expressed and enjoyed. It is a very volatile time, which I view as a positive. Chaos is a catalyst for change, and change can be wonderful.
I think a little chaos in one's life is healthy. So I'm up for it. Are you?
I, on the other hand, have never really viewed this as a possibility. The idea of two people learning, growing, and changing together seems an improbable if not impossible idea, and the notion that I could be fulfilled by one person is simply unrealistic.
I am an open non-monogamist in a day and age when this is viewed as abnormal, wrong, and bordering on pathetic. I have, of course, attempted monogamy, but my forays into that practice have been unsuccessful, unsatisfying, and at times downright depressing. To those who believe that non-monogamists are not capable of real love, I only have this to say, in my very best French: Go Fuck Yourselves. Not only have I experienced what it means to have real, rich, fulfilling love, but I also have experienced love that alters, love that gives, love that sacrifices and buoys and strengthens and inspires.
So where does cheating fit in? To me, the idea that a cheater does not love the person they are cheating on is folly. This, to me, is a perception engrained in us from outside influences, whether it be religion, the media, or our peers. It is simply not true. I have seen it, I have experienced it, and I can say without guile that love can exist even when outside gratification is sought. There are, of course, circumstances where love is lost and infidelity occurs, but I am willing to believe that 9 times out of 10, this is not the case.
This brings me to the point of this piece, something that has been on my mind of late, and that is the difference between partners and lovers.
I have been a partner, and I have been a lover. I have had partners, and I have had lovers. To me, there is a difference, and, though you can have both from the same person AT TIMES, there is a reason why people with partners seek out lovers.
Partners are people you love, people you fill your time with, people who give you strength and care for you, people who remain steadfastly on your side through life's turmoil and strife, people with whom you share assets, people with whom you build things, whether it be a home or a family or mutual devotion and trust. Partners are difficult to come by, but finding one can mean a lifetime of friendship, love, and support. Partners are wonderful.
Then why seek something else?
It has been said, "Love leaves the back door open." In my monogamy essay, I mentioned the practice of taking a lover, and how it has been common habitude in certain places of the world for centuries. The idea seems somehow lost on Americans, who view the idea that you might need to seek fulfillment outside of your partnership the height of betrayal. Swinging couples are viewed as hedonistic and sinful, though their marriages may be some of the strongest. It is my belief that couples who understand that their wanting a partner to remain sexually faithful to them as merely a matter of self-esteem, and therefore an entirely selfish desire, are couples who approach life with more confidence and perhaps a healthier grasp on reality than those who jealously seek to own their partners, viewing love as a platform for score-keeping, resentment, and control.
So what is a lover?
A lover is a person with whom to share secrets, a person that fills in the holes (for there are always holes, don't kid yourself), a person who may drift in and out of your life or be replaced by another, a person who fulfills appetites and desires, a person who acts as an escape from reality. They may be someone of which you know very little, and so your idea or perception of them remains in the realm of fantasy, which can be a very good thing in a life full of drudgery. A lover is the partner's polar opposite; where one stands beside you as you go through hell, the other allows you to escape from it. Is one better than the other? Of course not. They are different things. Does the enjoyment of one negate the importance of the other? I do not think so. I believe that seeking fulfillment is not at all the same thing as betraying trust. The two should not be, in my opinion, synonymous.
The question now becomes how we can begin to alter our perceptions in order to achieve gratification in our sexual lives. After all, if the Europeans can do it, what is the hold-up in our corner of civilization? Why is it that we restrict ourselves, when we, as free adult citizens of the world, have the luxury to design our own lives? We are living in a world when the most exciting changes in how we view human sexuality are occurring, where people are beginning to accept that there is more than one option out there, more than one sexual practice, more than one way in which love and sexuality can be expressed and enjoyed. It is a very volatile time, which I view as a positive. Chaos is a catalyst for change, and change can be wonderful.
I think a little chaos in one's life is healthy. So I'm up for it. Are you?
Friday, February 1, 2013
There's three things in this world that you need: respect for all kinds of life, a nice bowel movement on a regular basis, and a navy blazer.
I have so much anger right now. It's palpable. On the other hand, I feel more in touch with the poet in me than I have for ten years. Maybe the anger is a good thing. Maybe within the anger lies the lyrical.
Much of my anger comes from being a woman, and stems from the injustices I see brought upon my sex. Yes, it has gotten better. But it still isn't good enough. Sometimes the way the media treats us, the way the world treats us, the way my close male friends treat us--it's too much. And I try not to be too much of a raging feminist (who wants to hang around a raging ANYTHING?) but it just comes leaking out of me. And it ends up playing a role in my personal life, in my sex life. I feel like until I find a man that is a feminist (not just one that begrudgingly accepts the fact that women are "equal"), I won't be able to let one in entirely. Perhaps it is a lost cause. Perhaps it is a cause not worth fighting. Perhaps I am just too angry. Perhaps I just need to relax and just hope that everything will work out and that the anger will go away. But would I be turning my back on something important not just to me, but to womankind? "We have to be the change we want to see in the world."
Love makes me angry. This past year I have experienced the full spectrum of love, ranging from the unrequited to the unresolved to the unwelcome. All too intense, all too upsetting. My experience with love has been volatile at best, devastating at worst. Is it better to have loved and lost? Yes. Without a doubt. I wouldn't trade a minute of it. To the men whom I have loved, and the ones who have loved me, I thank you. Without you, I would not be who I am. Every bit of torture has informed the kind of woman I have become.
I am angry because of the place I am in right now. Because of goals still not reached, of dreams that still hover in the unattainable distance, taunting me, mocking me. I'm getting older, and here am I still. This is not to say I haven't accomplished anything. I have. But I have so far to go. SO. FAR.
I am angry at some people I love. I feel abandoned and cast aside, misunderstood and taken for granted. That sounds so mawkish, even as I type it, but it's the truth. And it doesn't even begin to graze the surface of what I have been feeling lately. But I'll leave it at that. Far better to be brief than maudlin.
When I was seventeen, I was misdiagnosed with Major Depression and given Prozac. Now, to anybody who knows anything about Bipolar Disorder, this is a HUGE--and quite dangerous--mistake. Prozac causes a Bipolar mind to cycle every day. (Usually you cycle every few days, or every couple of weeks.) Needless to say, my seventeenth year was a scary one. I was so angry ALL OF THE TIME and there was hardly anything that could make me feel normal. My own mother was afraid of me, and was at a loss for what to do. I cut class, I flunked out, I ran away, and every day was a challenge. But damn, did I write good poetry that year.
I feel seventeen again.
Much of my anger comes from being a woman, and stems from the injustices I see brought upon my sex. Yes, it has gotten better. But it still isn't good enough. Sometimes the way the media treats us, the way the world treats us, the way my close male friends treat us--it's too much. And I try not to be too much of a raging feminist (who wants to hang around a raging ANYTHING?) but it just comes leaking out of me. And it ends up playing a role in my personal life, in my sex life. I feel like until I find a man that is a feminist (not just one that begrudgingly accepts the fact that women are "equal"), I won't be able to let one in entirely. Perhaps it is a lost cause. Perhaps it is a cause not worth fighting. Perhaps I am just too angry. Perhaps I just need to relax and just hope that everything will work out and that the anger will go away. But would I be turning my back on something important not just to me, but to womankind? "We have to be the change we want to see in the world."
Love makes me angry. This past year I have experienced the full spectrum of love, ranging from the unrequited to the unresolved to the unwelcome. All too intense, all too upsetting. My experience with love has been volatile at best, devastating at worst. Is it better to have loved and lost? Yes. Without a doubt. I wouldn't trade a minute of it. To the men whom I have loved, and the ones who have loved me, I thank you. Without you, I would not be who I am. Every bit of torture has informed the kind of woman I have become.
I am angry because of the place I am in right now. Because of goals still not reached, of dreams that still hover in the unattainable distance, taunting me, mocking me. I'm getting older, and here am I still. This is not to say I haven't accomplished anything. I have. But I have so far to go. SO. FAR.
I am angry at some people I love. I feel abandoned and cast aside, misunderstood and taken for granted. That sounds so mawkish, even as I type it, but it's the truth. And it doesn't even begin to graze the surface of what I have been feeling lately. But I'll leave it at that. Far better to be brief than maudlin.
When I was seventeen, I was misdiagnosed with Major Depression and given Prozac. Now, to anybody who knows anything about Bipolar Disorder, this is a HUGE--and quite dangerous--mistake. Prozac causes a Bipolar mind to cycle every day. (Usually you cycle every few days, or every couple of weeks.) Needless to say, my seventeenth year was a scary one. I was so angry ALL OF THE TIME and there was hardly anything that could make me feel normal. My own mother was afraid of me, and was at a loss for what to do. I cut class, I flunked out, I ran away, and every day was a challenge. But damn, did I write good poetry that year.
I feel seventeen again.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
For a long time, I have been wanting to write about the subtle differences between all the different sort of Romance Films that mistakenly all get lumped together under the blanket term, "Chick Flicks." Setting aside the fact that this is a highly offensive and duragatory term that should warrant the castration of whomever coined it, I would like to set the record straight. Are there movies that earn that horrid categorization? Sure. But not as many as you think. Let me clear this up for you.
Romantic Comedy: This is a film that both men and women can enjoy, whether or not it was originally geared toward women in the first place. The writing, acting, and comedy is so fun that you don't mind that it sticks to the same basic formula. The characters are memorable, and some of the moments in the film are iconic.
Examples: "When Harry Met Sally," "Pretty Woman," "Roxanne," "Splash," "Sleepless In Seattle," "The Wedding Singer," "Sixteen Candles," "Some Like It Hot," "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," "I Love You, Man," "Clueless," "The 40-Year-Old Virgin," "Bringing Up Baby," "The Holiday," "Spanglish," "Philadelphia Story," "Sabrina," "Ten Things I Hate About You," "Love, Actually," "High Fidelity," "Annie Hall," etc.
Woman Movie: These are smart, funny (or dramatic. Or both), movies geared toward women, celebrating the female spirit. Men can also enjoy these films, and will probably earn extra points with the ladies for making an effort.
Examples: "Fried Green Tomatoes," "Steel Magnolias," "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood," "Practical Magic," "All About Eve," "Yentl," "Muriel's Wedding," "Sex and The City" (Yes, the television show, too.),"Little Women," "Thelma and Louise," "The First Wives Club," "The Help," etc.
Romantic Drama: Like Romantic comedies, both men and women enjoy these films. Some of the greatest films of all time happen to also be romances. I know, it may shock you.
Examples: "Sense and Sensibility," "Breakfast at Tiffany's," "Casablanca," "From Here To Eternity," "A Streetcar Named Desire," "Pride and Prejudice," "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," "Chocolat," "Say Anything," "Shakespeare In Love," "Titanic," "The Bridges of Madison County," "An Affair To Remember," "Moonstruck," "Love Story," "The Graduate," "The Sound of Music," "Brick," "Roman Holiday," "Notorious," "The King and I," "Gone With the Wind," "Benny and Joon," "Garden State," etc.
Chick Flick: First, a disclaimer: I have heard this awful phrase uttered way too many times, and think it should be wiped from the face of the planet. But, since it seems to be a popular one that won't go away, here are some movies that I think may, in fact, deserve it. These films are so formulated, so cheesy and sicky-sweet that you feel as though a baby cupid is hovering over you, whacking you in the head with a giant ball of cotton candy.
Examples: "Win a Date With Ted Hamilton," "The Prince and Me," "Just Married," "The Wedding Planner," "Maid In Manhatten," "When In Rome," "Sweet Home Alabama," "27 Dresses," "Whatever It Takes," "She's All That," etc.
Romantic Comedy: This is a film that both men and women can enjoy, whether or not it was originally geared toward women in the first place. The writing, acting, and comedy is so fun that you don't mind that it sticks to the same basic formula. The characters are memorable, and some of the moments in the film are iconic.
Examples: "When Harry Met Sally," "Pretty Woman," "Roxanne," "Splash," "Sleepless In Seattle," "The Wedding Singer," "Sixteen Candles," "Some Like It Hot," "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," "I Love You, Man," "Clueless," "The 40-Year-Old Virgin," "Bringing Up Baby," "The Holiday," "Spanglish," "Philadelphia Story," "Sabrina," "Ten Things I Hate About You," "Love, Actually," "High Fidelity," "Annie Hall," etc.
Woman Movie: These are smart, funny (or dramatic. Or both), movies geared toward women, celebrating the female spirit. Men can also enjoy these films, and will probably earn extra points with the ladies for making an effort.
Examples: "Fried Green Tomatoes," "Steel Magnolias," "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood," "Practical Magic," "All About Eve," "Yentl," "Muriel's Wedding," "Sex and The City" (Yes, the television show, too.),"Little Women," "Thelma and Louise," "The First Wives Club," "The Help," etc.
Romantic Drama: Like Romantic comedies, both men and women enjoy these films. Some of the greatest films of all time happen to also be romances. I know, it may shock you.
Examples: "Sense and Sensibility," "Breakfast at Tiffany's," "Casablanca," "From Here To Eternity," "A Streetcar Named Desire," "Pride and Prejudice," "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," "Chocolat," "Say Anything," "Shakespeare In Love," "Titanic," "The Bridges of Madison County," "An Affair To Remember," "Moonstruck," "Love Story," "The Graduate," "The Sound of Music," "Brick," "Roman Holiday," "Notorious," "The King and I," "Gone With the Wind," "Benny and Joon," "Garden State," etc.
Chick Flick: First, a disclaimer: I have heard this awful phrase uttered way too many times, and think it should be wiped from the face of the planet. But, since it seems to be a popular one that won't go away, here are some movies that I think may, in fact, deserve it. These films are so formulated, so cheesy and sicky-sweet that you feel as though a baby cupid is hovering over you, whacking you in the head with a giant ball of cotton candy.
Examples: "Win a Date With Ted Hamilton," "The Prince and Me," "Just Married," "The Wedding Planner," "Maid In Manhatten," "When In Rome," "Sweet Home Alabama," "27 Dresses," "Whatever It Takes," "She's All That," etc.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Milestone
On April 17th, 2012 (yesterday), I finally finished my novel, Albus Unus. I got the idea for this book when I was sixteen years old, and, though I had many ups and downs in the actual writing of the damn thing, I decided that I would buckle down and finish it before my 26th birthday, making it ten years since I started it.
A fan page for my book can be found here:
http://www.facebook.com/AlbusUnus
Anyone interested in more info or requesting a copy of the book can message me.
Next step: publication. But for now, I'm reveling in the moment. Champagne, anyone?
A fan page for my book can be found here:
http://www.facebook.com/AlbusUnus
Anyone interested in more info or requesting a copy of the book can message me.
Next step: publication. But for now, I'm reveling in the moment. Champagne, anyone?
Monday, February 27, 2012
The Oscars!
Some of my favorite Oscar highlights from this year:
Jonah Hill showed up with his mom as his date. I love it when men do this, because really, those are the women that have supported them through all the ups and downs of their entire lives. They deserve to be there.
Melissa McCarthy, as usual, looked gorgeous in her flowing dress, and she was so grateful to be there and meet all of these people that I could see tears in her eyes. She's a wonderful girl. She also had an hilarious bit with Billy Crystal midway through the program.
Oh, and Billy. Delightful. He was just a treat. A huge improvement on last year's hosting debacle.
I need to see The Artist.
Octavia Spencer's speech was a huge highlight. She was very grateful and emotional, and she got a standing ovation.
There was a cute bit with Melissa McCarthy and Rose Byrne shooting Grey Goose vodka.
I really loved the format, with the interviews with costume designers and makeup artists. The only thing the show was missing was more musical numbers, though I enjoyed the Cirque du Soleil piece.
Meryl won!!!! I was so happy. She looked so surprised. "When they called my name I had this feeling I could hear half of America going, 'Oh no, oh why her? Again.' But...whatever. First I'm going to thank Don, because when you thank your husband at the end of the speech, they play him out with the music, and I want him to know that everything (tears) I value most in our lives, you've given me. I just want to thank Roy, but also I want to thank--because I really understand I'll never be up here again--I really want to thank all my colleagues, all my friends. I look out here and I see my life before my eyes; my old friends, my new friends. And really, this is such a great honor, but the thing that counts the most with me is the friendships and the love and the sheer joy we have shared making movies together, my friends. Thank you, all of you, departed and here, for this inexplicably wonderful career. (Tears). Thank you so much. Thank you."
Here were some of my favorite quotes from the evening:
"I'd like to thank the movies. I know that sounds general, but it's very real to me."
"This is for my mother."
"We were just two swamp rats from Louisiana dreaming in our basement. This is grand. We love the movies."
"Loving movies comes from your gut, not your head."
"Once you experience the movies, you will love them forever."
"People who make movies are weird."
"You go." "No, it's Hugo."
"I'd like to thank everyone who has ever been born..."
"A year ago we were depressed, sitting in our editing room."
"I was just a kid from Niagra Falls who ate, slept, and dreamed movies."
"Life is full of grace. It brings us joy and happiness. Sometimes life is wonderful and life is that way tonight. Thank you for giving this to me."
"A great film never leaves you, it becomes part of your skin, your soul."
"I'd like to thank my parents for never telling me to get a real job."
"When I first emerged from mother's womb, I was already rehearsing my Oscar speech. Thankfully for you, I've forgotten it."
"This is why there's a buffet."
Jonah Hill showed up with his mom as his date. I love it when men do this, because really, those are the women that have supported them through all the ups and downs of their entire lives. They deserve to be there.
Melissa McCarthy, as usual, looked gorgeous in her flowing dress, and she was so grateful to be there and meet all of these people that I could see tears in her eyes. She's a wonderful girl. She also had an hilarious bit with Billy Crystal midway through the program.
Oh, and Billy. Delightful. He was just a treat. A huge improvement on last year's hosting debacle.
I need to see The Artist.
Octavia Spencer's speech was a huge highlight. She was very grateful and emotional, and she got a standing ovation.
There was a cute bit with Melissa McCarthy and Rose Byrne shooting Grey Goose vodka.
I really loved the format, with the interviews with costume designers and makeup artists. The only thing the show was missing was more musical numbers, though I enjoyed the Cirque du Soleil piece.
Meryl won!!!! I was so happy. She looked so surprised. "When they called my name I had this feeling I could hear half of America going, 'Oh no, oh why her? Again.' But...whatever. First I'm going to thank Don, because when you thank your husband at the end of the speech, they play him out with the music, and I want him to know that everything (tears) I value most in our lives, you've given me. I just want to thank Roy, but also I want to thank--because I really understand I'll never be up here again--I really want to thank all my colleagues, all my friends. I look out here and I see my life before my eyes; my old friends, my new friends. And really, this is such a great honor, but the thing that counts the most with me is the friendships and the love and the sheer joy we have shared making movies together, my friends. Thank you, all of you, departed and here, for this inexplicably wonderful career. (Tears). Thank you so much. Thank you."
Here were some of my favorite quotes from the evening:
"I'd like to thank the movies. I know that sounds general, but it's very real to me."
"This is for my mother."
"We were just two swamp rats from Louisiana dreaming in our basement. This is grand. We love the movies."
"Loving movies comes from your gut, not your head."
"Once you experience the movies, you will love them forever."
"People who make movies are weird."
"You go." "No, it's Hugo."
"I'd like to thank everyone who has ever been born..."
"A year ago we were depressed, sitting in our editing room."
"I was just a kid from Niagra Falls who ate, slept, and dreamed movies."
"Life is full of grace. It brings us joy and happiness. Sometimes life is wonderful and life is that way tonight. Thank you for giving this to me."
"A great film never leaves you, it becomes part of your skin, your soul."
"I'd like to thank my parents for never telling me to get a real job."
"When I first emerged from mother's womb, I was already rehearsing my Oscar speech. Thankfully for you, I've forgotten it."
"This is why there's a buffet."
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Headlines
So many things to write about, but since I am focusing on my novel, I'll just give the highlights:
My parents are ripping out my walls. Let that sink in for a minute. Yeah. I had to get drunk myself. Giant dance floors are important for mid-life crisis. Es.
I have no more best friend. Sure, I have good friends, but my epicenter has fallen out, so here I am, floating in space, feeling vulnerable and lonely, my only support the art I create as I sit alone at my computer, staring at a screen that shines far too bright in the dim light of my office space. I feel as though there's been a death in my family, and I daren't talk about it too much for fear of boring everyone. So there it is.
I am determined to finish the first draft of my novel by my 26th birthday. I started this damn thing when I was 16, so it's a ten-year project in the making. Still a lot of editing to do, but I will be proud when it's done. It is my secret, wild hope that someone, somewhere will fall in love with it and want to publish it. Since I know that isn't realistic, I will most likely self-publish and sell it to Kindle or Amazon. But I expect all my friends to read it.
Work on my movie continues, and we are inching closer to being finished shooting. I feel I look very fat onscreen, so I am looking to lose a few pounds. (Try 30.)
I get drunk just fine on my own now.
Watching an old classic like "When Harry Met Sally" in a movie theater, hearing people laugh at a movie they've all seen a hundred times, is like poetry. I love the movies. It's Oscar time...
My parents are ripping out my walls. Let that sink in for a minute. Yeah. I had to get drunk myself. Giant dance floors are important for mid-life crisis. Es.
I have no more best friend. Sure, I have good friends, but my epicenter has fallen out, so here I am, floating in space, feeling vulnerable and lonely, my only support the art I create as I sit alone at my computer, staring at a screen that shines far too bright in the dim light of my office space. I feel as though there's been a death in my family, and I daren't talk about it too much for fear of boring everyone. So there it is.
I am determined to finish the first draft of my novel by my 26th birthday. I started this damn thing when I was 16, so it's a ten-year project in the making. Still a lot of editing to do, but I will be proud when it's done. It is my secret, wild hope that someone, somewhere will fall in love with it and want to publish it. Since I know that isn't realistic, I will most likely self-publish and sell it to Kindle or Amazon. But I expect all my friends to read it.
Work on my movie continues, and we are inching closer to being finished shooting. I feel I look very fat onscreen, so I am looking to lose a few pounds. (Try 30.)
I get drunk just fine on my own now.
Watching an old classic like "When Harry Met Sally" in a movie theater, hearing people laugh at a movie they've all seen a hundred times, is like poetry. I love the movies. It's Oscar time...
Saturday, December 31, 2011
The Thing About Icebergs Is...
All right. All right. Let's get serious here. It's time to talk about some serious stuff. So I need you to put on your serious face. Wipe that cheesy grin off. All right. Here we go.
I hate soggy bread.
Honestly, is there anything more revolting on this planet? There is nothing worse than biting into your favorite sammich only to find that the bread...is...soggy. It's disgusting. It's nauseating. It's awful. Some people say, "just pick it off." No. No. This sandwich does not DESERVE for me to pick it off. This sandwich has failed me. I am breaking up with this sandwich. Goodbye, sandwich. Take your X-box and your crummy cd's and get outta here!
It's funny, our relationship with food. We depend on it. We love it. We can't live without it. But sometimes we HATE it. Bad food can just ruin your whole day, just ruin it!
Food can also help relationships with people. "Oh, man, I hate those guys, but they're makin' dinner, so...Yay!"
It's always kind of exciting, when a guy asks you to dinner, you know. "Ooh, let's go to Olive Garden and have some breadsticks!"
I don't have men who are "just friends." Unless they're gay. I love my gay men. Except when we go out and I all of a sudden find myself standing near a wall while they go after their "catch of the day." That sucks.
So back to relationships. Which is a funny word. It sounds like two people relating to each other on a boat.
I have, in the past, compared different kinds of relationships to different kinds of boats. I would like to do so again.
Paddle boats: The fun kind. You sit side-by-side, paddling away, it requires minimum effort, and is just plain relaxing.
Canoes: These require a little more effort, a little more synchronicity. And then if the canoe tips over, you're in deep...deep water, is what you're in.
Rowboats: Now, rowboats, are fine, as long as you're the one sitting under the parasol while the other person is rowing, maybe sitting there with your picnic basket, eating fried chicken or bon-bons or whatever, but if you're the one paddling, watch out. That is no fun.
Cruise ships: It is my belief that you can only be on cruise ships in relationships that are completely platonic, like a woman and a gay man, because ain't no way that any relationship that involves sex or romance is going to be as easy as floating around on a big-ass boat, listening to live music and gaining 20 pounds from the midnight buffet. Midnight buffet... "Yes, I'd like nine pieces of cheesecake to go with my ravioli and pizza." I went on a cruise with my family when I was 19, and when we left I didn't have hips or an ass, and now look at me!
One thing guys will do, instead of asking you to dinner, is asking you out for coffee. What is that? What is that going to lead to? I'll tell you what it's gonna lead to, it's gonna lead to me taking a dump in your apartment and blaming the smell on your dog.
I hate soggy bread.
Honestly, is there anything more revolting on this planet? There is nothing worse than biting into your favorite sammich only to find that the bread...is...soggy. It's disgusting. It's nauseating. It's awful. Some people say, "just pick it off." No. No. This sandwich does not DESERVE for me to pick it off. This sandwich has failed me. I am breaking up with this sandwich. Goodbye, sandwich. Take your X-box and your crummy cd's and get outta here!
It's funny, our relationship with food. We depend on it. We love it. We can't live without it. But sometimes we HATE it. Bad food can just ruin your whole day, just ruin it!
Food can also help relationships with people. "Oh, man, I hate those guys, but they're makin' dinner, so...Yay!"
It's always kind of exciting, when a guy asks you to dinner, you know. "Ooh, let's go to Olive Garden and have some breadsticks!"
I don't have men who are "just friends." Unless they're gay. I love my gay men. Except when we go out and I all of a sudden find myself standing near a wall while they go after their "catch of the day." That sucks.
So back to relationships. Which is a funny word. It sounds like two people relating to each other on a boat.
I have, in the past, compared different kinds of relationships to different kinds of boats. I would like to do so again.
Paddle boats: The fun kind. You sit side-by-side, paddling away, it requires minimum effort, and is just plain relaxing.
Canoes: These require a little more effort, a little more synchronicity. And then if the canoe tips over, you're in deep...deep water, is what you're in.
Rowboats: Now, rowboats, are fine, as long as you're the one sitting under the parasol while the other person is rowing, maybe sitting there with your picnic basket, eating fried chicken or bon-bons or whatever, but if you're the one paddling, watch out. That is no fun.
Cruise ships: It is my belief that you can only be on cruise ships in relationships that are completely platonic, like a woman and a gay man, because ain't no way that any relationship that involves sex or romance is going to be as easy as floating around on a big-ass boat, listening to live music and gaining 20 pounds from the midnight buffet. Midnight buffet... "Yes, I'd like nine pieces of cheesecake to go with my ravioli and pizza." I went on a cruise with my family when I was 19, and when we left I didn't have hips or an ass, and now look at me!
One thing guys will do, instead of asking you to dinner, is asking you out for coffee. What is that? What is that going to lead to? I'll tell you what it's gonna lead to, it's gonna lead to me taking a dump in your apartment and blaming the smell on your dog.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Holiday Drunks
So... different kinds of things are expected at different holidays. We all have our own traditions. But what about our drinking traditions/expectations?
St. Patrick's Day, for example, usually consists of this kind of drinking:
1-Get Drunk
2-Be Somewhere.
3-Possibly Survive
Halloween:
1-Get Drunk
2-Be Somewhere
3-Nail Somebody Dressed As A Pop-Culture Reference
St. Valentine's Day:
1-Get Drunk
2-Be Somewhere
3-Call Former Partners And Scream The Lyrics To "Private Eyes" At Them.
Christmas:
1-Get Drunk (Or Wish You Were Drunk)
2-Stay In
3-Deal With Family BS With Or Without Liquid Protection
New Year's:
1-Get Drunk
2-BE Somewhere!!!
3-Constantly wonder if what you're doing is fabulous enough to ring in the new year respectably.
St. Patrick's Day, for example, usually consists of this kind of drinking:
1-Get Drunk
2-Be Somewhere.
3-Possibly Survive
Halloween:
1-Get Drunk
2-Be Somewhere
3-Nail Somebody Dressed As A Pop-Culture Reference
St. Valentine's Day:
1-Get Drunk
2-Be Somewhere
3-Call Former Partners And Scream The Lyrics To "Private Eyes" At Them.
Christmas:
1-Get Drunk (Or Wish You Were Drunk)
2-Stay In
3-Deal With Family BS With Or Without Liquid Protection
New Year's:
1-Get Drunk
2-BE Somewhere!!!
3-Constantly wonder if what you're doing is fabulous enough to ring in the new year respectably.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Coming Out Day
Blerg, I totally missed "Coming Out" day yesterday! So I'll do it now:
I'M A BISEXUAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There, that's done. I actually did come out to Heidi the other day. Because I thought it was about time. I'll come out to my mom and her idiot husband as soon as I feel like talking to them again. (Well, my mom. The only thing I feel like saying to her husband is, "get away from me, shithead.")
Today is a great day. :) For real. I love happy pills.
I'M A BISEXUAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
There, that's done. I actually did come out to Heidi the other day. Because I thought it was about time. I'll come out to my mom and her idiot husband as soon as I feel like talking to them again. (Well, my mom. The only thing I feel like saying to her husband is, "get away from me, shithead.")
Today is a great day. :) For real. I love happy pills.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Some Things About Texting: A Rant
1- If you start responding with one word answers, especially if there is no punctuation, I am going to assume that either: A) you don't want to talk to me, or B) you are mad at me for something I did.
2- Even if the text I sent you seems like a mass text or something random, I sent it to you because I want your reaction to it. Yes, I sent it to other people. But I want their reaction, too. I don't just send things to everyone in my phone. I send them to specific people for different reactions. And if you get a mass text from me, this means that I like you and think you are a fun person.
3- I delete as I go, so don't feel bad if I have forgotten what we were talking about.
4- If you don't respond to me, I feel bad and I worry that I have annoyed you in some way. It's better to respond three days later than not at all. I feel happy and relieved to get a response, even if it takes hours or days. I know, it's not your fault that I'm highly sensitive.
5- I get lonely. Text me.
2- Even if the text I sent you seems like a mass text or something random, I sent it to you because I want your reaction to it. Yes, I sent it to other people. But I want their reaction, too. I don't just send things to everyone in my phone. I send them to specific people for different reactions. And if you get a mass text from me, this means that I like you and think you are a fun person.
3- I delete as I go, so don't feel bad if I have forgotten what we were talking about.
4- If you don't respond to me, I feel bad and I worry that I have annoyed you in some way. It's better to respond three days later than not at all. I feel happy and relieved to get a response, even if it takes hours or days. I know, it's not your fault that I'm highly sensitive.
5- I get lonely. Text me.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
"To The Boy Who Lived."
I started reading the popular and acclaimed series "Harry Potter" when I was about twelve years old per my sister Heidi's recommendation. Back then, the first three books were already out. I remember reading them, enthralled, unable to put them down even when we went to Grandma Richards' for dinner. (That would not be the last time I got in trouble for reading Harry when I could have been socializing.) And I wasn't the only one. My mom used to read the books to us, no matter how old we got, as we curled around her, including my step-dad Jim, listening as she read chapter after chapter, begging her to keep going when her voice got tired.
Once I finished the third, it was like I was starving and left without bread as I waited for the fourth. Every wait between books got more and more difficult. In between, all there was to do was discuss the mysteries and intricacies with your friends or go see the movies about 900 times in the theater or at home. When "Goblet of Fire" came out, it was darker. I was 14 or 15, and I remember being slightly scared during the resurrection of Voldemort scene. The dark magic was realistic and well-described. To the nay-sayers who said the book series was evil, this is the one scene, I think, that might stray toward that end. But still to this day, if anyone says anything negative about the series, I get an almost irresistible urge to shove a book up their asses.
"Goblet of Fire" was also the first book in the series to make me cry. Toward the end of Harry and Voldie's duel, the ghosts of Harry's parents come out of the tip of Voldemort's wand, wishing Harry encouragement and telling him how proud they are of him. I remember my mom reading this to us, crying. We were all crying at that point. That's what the books mean most to me. J.K. Rowling weaves her worlds and characters so effectively that you feel as strongly about these people as if they were flesh and blood. The stories are powerful not only because they are about good triumphing over evil, but they are about people, people you get to know and love.
When "The Half-Blood Prince" came out, we were in London ("we" being my dad, Sheila, Andrea, Marjaan, Heidi and I), for the premier. We sat outside on the street as midnight arrived, and we were so wildly enthusiastic that more and more camera crews from different news stations came to interview those "crazy American girls." When we were let in the book shop we, along with hundreds of crazed fans, groped our copies like feverish hounds. We posed as more press took our photos, clutching the books, hardly able to wait until we trotted back to the hotel room. Our dad started reading to us from chapter one, "The Other Minister." Both my parents, I should mention, are extremely good at reading things out loud. For the next few weeks we spent in Europe, all of us would read Harry at night, us girls sometimes reading in secret late at night. (We got in trouble for that one, too.) The book was amazing, my personal favorite in the series, and also, I think, the best. It is very intricate and intelligent, and it never ceases to entertain.
By the time it came to waiting for the seventh, I already had my own theories about how the series was to end. (All of which came true, by the way. I knew what was what.) I remember discussing, arguing, and anticipating with my friends and family. In the meantime there were more movies. They all had their ups and downs, but in general, they were likeable. My favorite still is "Prisoner of Azkaban." I also think that it and "Deathly Hallows: Part One" are the most well-done, though "Hallows" follows the book most faithfully of all of them.
Finally, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" arrived on July 21st, 2007. My closest friends and family all went to the book release at midnight, dressed in our finest Harry Potter attire. (I was Ginny, as my hair was long and red.) Mark, my boyfriend at the time, had just left on his mission and missed the premier, so I, of course, had to lord it over him and gloat to the best of my ability. I went home and started reading the book with my good friends Amy and Colton. We stayed up very late and got very far in the book, but I didn't want to devour it all in one night. It was the last book, I wanted to savor it. (Unlike Amy, who finished it that night. Or rather, early the next morning.) As I said, everything I predicted came true, down to Snape being good, (I knew this because of the one line in "Half-Blood Prince" where Harry is coming after him and Snape simply says, "No, Potter.") and Harry having to die because of the bit of Voldie's soul in him and then coming back to life. The Malfoys ending up on no one's side. Draco having a final confrontation with Harry and Harry having to save his life. Stuff like that. The main thing I was surprised about was Fred's death. I mean, I knew somebody major (besides Snape, whose death ALSO made me cry), had to die, but I didn't think it was him. I remember setting the book down for a second, my heart pounding, my mouth drying up. Not Fred. It was too sad. It wasn't until the scene with his family mourning him that I actually cried, though. Then came one of my favorite moments in the book. The Death eaters had broken in, Neville had killed Sagini, (YAY, Neville!!!!) and the students and faculty of Hogwarts were putting up an heroic fight. At one point, Bellatrix is attacking Ginerva Weasley, Luna, and Hermione, when Mrs. Weasley comes rushing in, yelling, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" She then kills Bellatrix. I remember my mom reading that out loud, practically screaming the line. (I am now tearing up as I am typing this.) My mom, like Molly, is a kind of mama-lion, protective of her cubs. It was so fierce and brilliant a moment that every time I read it I get chills and the urge to stand up and cheer. There are several of those moments through the series and the final book. She's a talented girl, that JoAnn Kathleen.
But even when I finished the book, at least it wasn't over. There were still movies to look forward to, and fun ones at that. I went to all the midnight showings, dressed up, of course. Going to the premiers with friends has been some of the funnest times. Finally, "Deathly Hallows: Part One" came out. My friends and I went as the villains of the stories. Colton was Draco Malfoy, Amy was Bellatrix Lestrange, Heidi was Delores Umbridge, Whitney was Rodolphus Lestrange, Stacy was Narcissa Malfoy, and I was Severus Snape (my favorite character in the series; I'm also in love with him. Like, for real). The premier was fun and packed. The movie was brilliant. It followed the book so closely, it was almost perfect. My favorite scene was the counsel of Death Eaters toward the beginning. Such a well-crafted scene and so well acted, especially by the gifted Alan Rickman and Ralph Fiennes, Snape and Voldemort, respectively.
And so here we are, at the end. It has been a long road with these stories. I'm now 25 and the books have stayed with me all the while. I am constantly reading one or two Harry Potter books, so I have lost track of how many times I've read them. I'll even occasionally read the series backwards or start somewhere in the middle of one of the books and then read til I've gotten to that point again after I finish the rest in order just to mix things up. I am beyond a fanatic, I am emotionally attached. Not just because I grew up with them, but also because of how much they have influenced myself and those around me, like my sister, who struggled with reading and relating to people in general until Harry came into her life, and now she's going into forensic psychology, is incredibly smart and well-read, a poet, and the life of the party (yes, I attribute all of this to J.K. and her marvelous books). I have been inspired by this series, uplifted by them, and moved by them. It is hard to say goodbye. But say it we must.
So here's to Jo. And here's "to the Boy Who Lived."
Once I finished the third, it was like I was starving and left without bread as I waited for the fourth. Every wait between books got more and more difficult. In between, all there was to do was discuss the mysteries and intricacies with your friends or go see the movies about 900 times in the theater or at home. When "Goblet of Fire" came out, it was darker. I was 14 or 15, and I remember being slightly scared during the resurrection of Voldemort scene. The dark magic was realistic and well-described. To the nay-sayers who said the book series was evil, this is the one scene, I think, that might stray toward that end. But still to this day, if anyone says anything negative about the series, I get an almost irresistible urge to shove a book up their asses.
"Goblet of Fire" was also the first book in the series to make me cry. Toward the end of Harry and Voldie's duel, the ghosts of Harry's parents come out of the tip of Voldemort's wand, wishing Harry encouragement and telling him how proud they are of him. I remember my mom reading this to us, crying. We were all crying at that point. That's what the books mean most to me. J.K. Rowling weaves her worlds and characters so effectively that you feel as strongly about these people as if they were flesh and blood. The stories are powerful not only because they are about good triumphing over evil, but they are about people, people you get to know and love.
When "The Half-Blood Prince" came out, we were in London ("we" being my dad, Sheila, Andrea, Marjaan, Heidi and I), for the premier. We sat outside on the street as midnight arrived, and we were so wildly enthusiastic that more and more camera crews from different news stations came to interview those "crazy American girls." When we were let in the book shop we, along with hundreds of crazed fans, groped our copies like feverish hounds. We posed as more press took our photos, clutching the books, hardly able to wait until we trotted back to the hotel room. Our dad started reading to us from chapter one, "The Other Minister." Both my parents, I should mention, are extremely good at reading things out loud. For the next few weeks we spent in Europe, all of us would read Harry at night, us girls sometimes reading in secret late at night. (We got in trouble for that one, too.) The book was amazing, my personal favorite in the series, and also, I think, the best. It is very intricate and intelligent, and it never ceases to entertain.
By the time it came to waiting for the seventh, I already had my own theories about how the series was to end. (All of which came true, by the way. I knew what was what.) I remember discussing, arguing, and anticipating with my friends and family. In the meantime there were more movies. They all had their ups and downs, but in general, they were likeable. My favorite still is "Prisoner of Azkaban." I also think that it and "Deathly Hallows: Part One" are the most well-done, though "Hallows" follows the book most faithfully of all of them.
Finally, "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" arrived on July 21st, 2007. My closest friends and family all went to the book release at midnight, dressed in our finest Harry Potter attire. (I was Ginny, as my hair was long and red.) Mark, my boyfriend at the time, had just left on his mission and missed the premier, so I, of course, had to lord it over him and gloat to the best of my ability. I went home and started reading the book with my good friends Amy and Colton. We stayed up very late and got very far in the book, but I didn't want to devour it all in one night. It was the last book, I wanted to savor it. (Unlike Amy, who finished it that night. Or rather, early the next morning.) As I said, everything I predicted came true, down to Snape being good, (I knew this because of the one line in "Half-Blood Prince" where Harry is coming after him and Snape simply says, "No, Potter.") and Harry having to die because of the bit of Voldie's soul in him and then coming back to life. The Malfoys ending up on no one's side. Draco having a final confrontation with Harry and Harry having to save his life. Stuff like that. The main thing I was surprised about was Fred's death. I mean, I knew somebody major (besides Snape, whose death ALSO made me cry), had to die, but I didn't think it was him. I remember setting the book down for a second, my heart pounding, my mouth drying up. Not Fred. It was too sad. It wasn't until the scene with his family mourning him that I actually cried, though. Then came one of my favorite moments in the book. The Death eaters had broken in, Neville had killed Sagini, (YAY, Neville!!!!) and the students and faculty of Hogwarts were putting up an heroic fight. At one point, Bellatrix is attacking Ginerva Weasley, Luna, and Hermione, when Mrs. Weasley comes rushing in, yelling, "NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!" She then kills Bellatrix. I remember my mom reading that out loud, practically screaming the line. (I am now tearing up as I am typing this.) My mom, like Molly, is a kind of mama-lion, protective of her cubs. It was so fierce and brilliant a moment that every time I read it I get chills and the urge to stand up and cheer. There are several of those moments through the series and the final book. She's a talented girl, that JoAnn Kathleen.
But even when I finished the book, at least it wasn't over. There were still movies to look forward to, and fun ones at that. I went to all the midnight showings, dressed up, of course. Going to the premiers with friends has been some of the funnest times. Finally, "Deathly Hallows: Part One" came out. My friends and I went as the villains of the stories. Colton was Draco Malfoy, Amy was Bellatrix Lestrange, Heidi was Delores Umbridge, Whitney was Rodolphus Lestrange, Stacy was Narcissa Malfoy, and I was Severus Snape (my favorite character in the series; I'm also in love with him. Like, for real). The premier was fun and packed. The movie was brilliant. It followed the book so closely, it was almost perfect. My favorite scene was the counsel of Death Eaters toward the beginning. Such a well-crafted scene and so well acted, especially by the gifted Alan Rickman and Ralph Fiennes, Snape and Voldemort, respectively.
And so here we are, at the end. It has been a long road with these stories. I'm now 25 and the books have stayed with me all the while. I am constantly reading one or two Harry Potter books, so I have lost track of how many times I've read them. I'll even occasionally read the series backwards or start somewhere in the middle of one of the books and then read til I've gotten to that point again after I finish the rest in order just to mix things up. I am beyond a fanatic, I am emotionally attached. Not just because I grew up with them, but also because of how much they have influenced myself and those around me, like my sister, who struggled with reading and relating to people in general until Harry came into her life, and now she's going into forensic psychology, is incredibly smart and well-read, a poet, and the life of the party (yes, I attribute all of this to J.K. and her marvelous books). I have been inspired by this series, uplifted by them, and moved by them. It is hard to say goodbye. But say it we must.
So here's to Jo. And here's "to the Boy Who Lived."
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Truths For Mature Humans Part 2
1. Women who can’t do their own makeup should never be allowed to apply your tanning lotion.
2. Texting has created a whole new way to be passive-aggressive.
3. Lonely cat lady is a stereotype for a reason.
4. Having someone you could imagine yourself hooking up with in your group, whether work, friends, church group, etc., is a great motivator for actually showing up.
5. Even if a policeman is busy at the side of the road, ticketing an unfortunate driver other than you, people will still slow to a crawl as they drive by.
6. Things that are important are often the hardest to remember or carry out.
7. Your mother will never like what you’ve done with your hair. And she is the person who cares most in the world about the dead skin cells that sprout out of the top of your head.
8. 19-year-olds are the most opinionated people in the world. And their opinions are usually wrong.
9. Some activities you did as a child are simply more fun as an adult. Coloring, Mad Libs, Spin the Bottle, Twister, Truth or Dare, etc.
10. Burning your tongue can just ruin your whole day.
11. You never curse more intensely than the moment you stub your toe.
12. Black people are awesome because they express themselves so exuberantly.
13. Sometimes you wish you were Black.
14. Disney movies are so much funnier now.
15. There is a point in your life when you realize that only a small handful of people know or like the real you. This handful does not usually include your parents.
16. Why the hell did we have to learn long division?
17. The only reason you learn about pH balance in Chemistry class is so that you can take care of your hot tub when you’re rich enough to get one by doing something other than being a Chemistry teacher.
18. The point at which you stop caring how you look to other people and just to yourself is usually the point you start exercising more.
19. If there is a bug in my drink, I usually just drink around it.
20. The music coming from the ice cream truck will still get you a little happy and excited, whether or not your artificial hip actually keeps you from running after it.
21. Thinking of yourself as a big reader and actually being one are not the same thing.
22. People who say they like running are liars.
23. Whether or not you’re a competitive person, there will always be that person of the same sex that gets under your skin and makes you want to outdo them at everything.
24. Sometimes you still misjudge the size of your mouth.
25. I hate it when there’s ice at the bottom of your glass, and you go to drink the tiny last bit of liquid at the bottom of your glass, and all the ice falls on your face.
26. There’s a certain point where someone is quoting a movie a little too much and then it gets awkward.
27. Forgetting the punchline of a joke halfway through is akin to believing, for a second, that you’re drowning.
28. As a kid, having the same name as five other kids in your class and having to be called something like “Ashley J.” is kind of cool. As an adult, it kind of sucks.
29. Yes, most things in infomercials actually look like a good idea. That doesn’t stop the commercials from being annoying and cheesy. “But WAIT!”
30. Sometimes you go to job interviews and find yourself hoping, halfway through the interview, that you won’t be hired for this job.
31. What is up with complete strangers adding me as a friend on Facebook?
32. Everyone wishes they were a pirate. Just a little.
33. I’m confused about the conflicting instructions on tooth care I’ve gotten over the years.
2. Texting has created a whole new way to be passive-aggressive.
3. Lonely cat lady is a stereotype for a reason.
4. Having someone you could imagine yourself hooking up with in your group, whether work, friends, church group, etc., is a great motivator for actually showing up.
5. Even if a policeman is busy at the side of the road, ticketing an unfortunate driver other than you, people will still slow to a crawl as they drive by.
6. Things that are important are often the hardest to remember or carry out.
7. Your mother will never like what you’ve done with your hair. And she is the person who cares most in the world about the dead skin cells that sprout out of the top of your head.
8. 19-year-olds are the most opinionated people in the world. And their opinions are usually wrong.
9. Some activities you did as a child are simply more fun as an adult. Coloring, Mad Libs, Spin the Bottle, Twister, Truth or Dare, etc.
10. Burning your tongue can just ruin your whole day.
11. You never curse more intensely than the moment you stub your toe.
12. Black people are awesome because they express themselves so exuberantly.
13. Sometimes you wish you were Black.
14. Disney movies are so much funnier now.
15. There is a point in your life when you realize that only a small handful of people know or like the real you. This handful does not usually include your parents.
16. Why the hell did we have to learn long division?
17. The only reason you learn about pH balance in Chemistry class is so that you can take care of your hot tub when you’re rich enough to get one by doing something other than being a Chemistry teacher.
18. The point at which you stop caring how you look to other people and just to yourself is usually the point you start exercising more.
19. If there is a bug in my drink, I usually just drink around it.
20. The music coming from the ice cream truck will still get you a little happy and excited, whether or not your artificial hip actually keeps you from running after it.
21. Thinking of yourself as a big reader and actually being one are not the same thing.
22. People who say they like running are liars.
23. Whether or not you’re a competitive person, there will always be that person of the same sex that gets under your skin and makes you want to outdo them at everything.
24. Sometimes you still misjudge the size of your mouth.
25. I hate it when there’s ice at the bottom of your glass, and you go to drink the tiny last bit of liquid at the bottom of your glass, and all the ice falls on your face.
26. There’s a certain point where someone is quoting a movie a little too much and then it gets awkward.
27. Forgetting the punchline of a joke halfway through is akin to believing, for a second, that you’re drowning.
28. As a kid, having the same name as five other kids in your class and having to be called something like “Ashley J.” is kind of cool. As an adult, it kind of sucks.
29. Yes, most things in infomercials actually look like a good idea. That doesn’t stop the commercials from being annoying and cheesy. “But WAIT!”
30. Sometimes you go to job interviews and find yourself hoping, halfway through the interview, that you won’t be hired for this job.
31. What is up with complete strangers adding me as a friend on Facebook?
32. Everyone wishes they were a pirate. Just a little.
33. I’m confused about the conflicting instructions on tooth care I’ve gotten over the years.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Gay And Mormon.
This is my friend Blake's entry from the new book: "Gay Mormons? Latter-Day Saint Experiences of Same-Gender Attraction."
It is a great read. I recommend it.
http://gaymormonforum.org/gay_mormons/node11.html
It is a great read. I recommend it.
http://gaymormonforum.org/gay_mormons/node11.html
Sunday, April 17, 2011
The C Word. And Others.
In this modern age, the age of liberated women, tv shows like Sex and the City, and pants, one question that seems to float around an awful lot is this: is courtship dead?
I was thinking the other night, and I realized that I've never really been asked out on a date. Perhaps this is my fault for always hanging around too many guys until my expectations are lowered, but then again, it seems strange that this phenomenon has been generated simply from my propensity to surround myself with men.
Don't get me wrong, I've been out to dinner with guys. But they're usually guys I am already involved with or "just friends." I don't recall there ever being a time when a guy asked me to dinner or dancing or something with the intention being getting to know me better because he liked me and wanted to see where we could go. Maybe my memory is failing me, I don't know. The point is, have men become too comfortable with the fact that women are liberated enough that they don't have to woo us anymore? Many women claim that our new-found freedom is a double-edged sword. We want power, respect, independence, and treatment as equals, but we also want to be adored, pampered, fought for, and romanced.
While I'm on the subject of courtship and romance, another issue has been on my mind. The issue of that little phrase, "I love you." This, to me, is a phrase that packs quite a punch. It is a phrase so significant to me that I have only said it to three men "in that way" in my entire life. However, I've been hearing more and more about people who say it quickly and often, who throw it out willy-nilly like "hello," or "cute dog." So my question is this: how many people out there are the type to say it quickly and to anyone they happen to be dating, and how many are the type to wait, to weigh things carefully, to make sure it's actually true before they say it? Also, how many people have said it back, just to protect their partner's feelings?
So that's it. For today, at any rate.
I was thinking the other night, and I realized that I've never really been asked out on a date. Perhaps this is my fault for always hanging around too many guys until my expectations are lowered, but then again, it seems strange that this phenomenon has been generated simply from my propensity to surround myself with men.
Don't get me wrong, I've been out to dinner with guys. But they're usually guys I am already involved with or "just friends." I don't recall there ever being a time when a guy asked me to dinner or dancing or something with the intention being getting to know me better because he liked me and wanted to see where we could go. Maybe my memory is failing me, I don't know. The point is, have men become too comfortable with the fact that women are liberated enough that they don't have to woo us anymore? Many women claim that our new-found freedom is a double-edged sword. We want power, respect, independence, and treatment as equals, but we also want to be adored, pampered, fought for, and romanced.
While I'm on the subject of courtship and romance, another issue has been on my mind. The issue of that little phrase, "I love you." This, to me, is a phrase that packs quite a punch. It is a phrase so significant to me that I have only said it to three men "in that way" in my entire life. However, I've been hearing more and more about people who say it quickly and often, who throw it out willy-nilly like "hello," or "cute dog." So my question is this: how many people out there are the type to say it quickly and to anyone they happen to be dating, and how many are the type to wait, to weigh things carefully, to make sure it's actually true before they say it? Also, how many people have said it back, just to protect their partner's feelings?
So that's it. For today, at any rate.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Just a Little Poetry.
I am in orbit around you,
I am suspended weightless over you
like the blue man
in the Chagall,hanging over you
in a delirious kiss.
Yesterday on the street
I swore I heard your name.
I turned and there was nobody there.
Just five birds rising off the ground--and when their wings hit the air,
I heard your name again.
Just for that second I was one of them,
pounding out your name...
A word of two syllables
locked inside my head.
You see, I am
and I will always be
the one who loved you
without limits.
This is my whole life right now.
Writing to you, talking to you like this.
Saying things I wanted to say,
but could not. And why?
When you are reaching for a star,
there is a long way to fall.
I love you. I have breathed you in.
Why should we sip from a tea cup,
when we can drink from the river?
I am suspended weightless over you
like the blue man
in the Chagall,hanging over you
in a delirious kiss.
Yesterday on the street
I swore I heard your name.
I turned and there was nobody there.
Just five birds rising off the ground--and when their wings hit the air,
I heard your name again.
Just for that second I was one of them,
pounding out your name...
A word of two syllables
locked inside my head.
You see, I am
and I will always be
the one who loved you
without limits.
This is my whole life right now.
Writing to you, talking to you like this.
Saying things I wanted to say,
but could not. And why?
When you are reaching for a star,
there is a long way to fall.
I love you. I have breathed you in.
Why should we sip from a tea cup,
when we can drink from the river?
Monday, March 14, 2011
The Post-It Always Sticks Twice...
"Actually, there is a good way to break up with someone. You can have the guts and the courtesy to tell a woman to her face that you no longer want to see her. Call me crazy, but I think you can make a point of ending your relationship in a manner that does not include an email, a doorman, or a missing persons report. I think you could all get over your fear of being the bad guy and actually have the 'uncomfortable breakup conversation' because here's what: avoiding it is what makes you the bad guy. And you know what else? Women aren't all irrational psychos. We just want an ending to a relationship that is thoughtful and decent and honors what we had together. So my point, Billy, is this: there is a good way to break up with someone, and it doesn't include a post-it!"
-Carrie Bradshaw
-Carrie Bradshaw
Monday, February 21, 2011
Elton John Said It Best.
Funny how life goes in circles. You think you've moved on, forgotten, started anew, and then you find yourself in a staring contest with four years ago. You had only just begun to move past your past, and then there it is again, waving hello to you, smiling and smelling so familiar...
We are haunted by our pasts, yes. That is always the case. But every once in a while, when history starts repeating itself and we get that all-too-unsettling sense of deja vu, it stops us on our tracks. We straighten up, look around, sniff the air, the hair on the back of our necks standing straight up as if in warning. "You've been here before..."
We are haunted by our pasts, yes. That is always the case. But every once in a while, when history starts repeating itself and we get that all-too-unsettling sense of deja vu, it stops us on our tracks. We straighten up, look around, sniff the air, the hair on the back of our necks standing straight up as if in warning. "You've been here before..."
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