Browsing through my Entertainment Weekly on Friday, I was surprised to see that a new horror movie called "Insidious" was given a rating of A-. The commercials made it appear to be another one of those jump-cut fests that is only scary because of the loud noises that accompany various reveals. This one appeared to be a cut above. I went to Rotten Tomatoes where more than 50% of the reviews were positive. Being that some of my favorite films are PG-13 spookfests ("The Others", "The Ring", "The Orphanage"), I decided that I wanted to check this one out.
I woke up at around 9am on Saturday and told my wife that I planned to see Adam Sandler's new movie followed by "Insidious". She had already seen the Sandman's movie, but said it'd be OK to see it again. We arrived at the theatre and were told that there was no early showing of "Just Go With It", that a kid's movie was playing instead. I informed them that their website said that the Sandler movie was playing at the given time. They said that it was corporate which displayed the movie times and they never knew ahead of time which show was going to be replaced by the kid's movie. I gave a bit of lip, but not too much as I actually wanted to see "Insidious" more.
We got a seat way in the back as we awaited the starting of the show. My girl had a small popcorn to pass the time. As the credits rolled, a number of teenagers were yapping, so I told my girl I'd prefer to sit near the front, less distractions, you see. Usually the first 20 minutes of a scary movie are a bit boring as this time is used to establish characters, not to scare the audience. It's kinda like a first date in that there's a lot of conversation, but no touching quite yet. This film was no different.
Directed by the man who did the original "Saw", I admired some of the small touches he'd made. In an early scene, the husband puts some anti-wrinkle cream on his forehead before going to bed. Before long, the scares started coming. One clever scene involved a baby monitor. Later, a couple ghost hunters are brought in. They delivered a much needed dose of levity.
Though not the scariest thing I'd ever seen (that would be me looking at myself naked in the mirror), I was reminded again that movies need not have a lot of gore to be effective in getting one's heart racing. Almost as cool is that the film was made for a paltry one million dollars. I don't usually get scared when going to bed on the night that I've seen a horror film, but did get a bit uneasy before nodding off on Saturday, thinking about the old lady from the movie.
Monday, April 04, 2011
Monday, March 28, 2011
Face The Music
In the 8th grade, the highlight of my week was spending the weekend at my mother's. I would watch NBC's "Friday Night Videos" and based on that, make a tentative decision on what cassette I'd be buying the following day. I'd get up early Saturday morning, take a shower, and tell my mom that I was off to the mall.
It was about a two-mile walk to the shopping center. My strategy was to go on streets that were less traveled; I enjoyed the relative quiet of these side streets. The second half of the walk was adjacent to one of Winona's lakes. It got mighty cold there in the wintertime. I sometimes felt like Bryan Adams in the "Run To You" video.
Once I hit the mall, all was well. I'd head for Face The Music and take a look at the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart before browsing through the latest cassettes. The music store obviously played music while I was there, but it generally wasn't from works that I was interested in getting. There was one time, however, when they played New Edition's new one.
Many times, getting a recording was a crap shoot as there was no way of knowing if the songs on it, other than the hits, were any good. I once asked myself, which was better, excitedly walking to the mall wondering which of the dozens of works that were available that I'd purchase or the walk home, when I had picked one out and would be able to listen to it once I got back. I decided that the walk home was superior.
One winter afternoon, I strolled to my mom's with Tina Turner's "Private Dancer" in my pocket; "Better Be Good To Me" is probably my favorite track from it. This tradition continued for a number of years. On one sunny 1986 day, I bought both Madonna's "True Blue" and Wham's "Music From The Edge of Heaven".
I mentioned in my last post that I had been watching the BBC miniseries "Electric Dreams" (about a contemporary family who live without modern-day devices).
In the 70's episode, the 12-year old said that he was impressed with records, that it was nice to have something physical to look at and read while one is listening to the music. He mentioned that this isn't the case when one downloads music by computer. I feel the same, though am more than fine with CD's. The main positive of buying a compact disc is being able to play it in the car. I know that it's possible to listen to downloaded music in one's vehicle, but am not quite ready to make that jump.
Last Tuesday, for the first time in quite a while, I bought a CD on its release date: Duran Duran's "All You Need Is Now". I had been listening to a number of tracks from it on YouTube over the past couple months, and when I saw that it was being released with several more songs on it on March 22nd, I knew I wanted to buy it. I never thought as a teenager in the 80's that I'd still be buying new music by the band in my forties.
It was about a two-mile walk to the shopping center. My strategy was to go on streets that were less traveled; I enjoyed the relative quiet of these side streets. The second half of the walk was adjacent to one of Winona's lakes. It got mighty cold there in the wintertime. I sometimes felt like Bryan Adams in the "Run To You" video.
Once I hit the mall, all was well. I'd head for Face The Music and take a look at the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart before browsing through the latest cassettes. The music store obviously played music while I was there, but it generally wasn't from works that I was interested in getting. There was one time, however, when they played New Edition's new one.
Many times, getting a recording was a crap shoot as there was no way of knowing if the songs on it, other than the hits, were any good. I once asked myself, which was better, excitedly walking to the mall wondering which of the dozens of works that were available that I'd purchase or the walk home, when I had picked one out and would be able to listen to it once I got back. I decided that the walk home was superior.
One winter afternoon, I strolled to my mom's with Tina Turner's "Private Dancer" in my pocket; "Better Be Good To Me" is probably my favorite track from it. This tradition continued for a number of years. On one sunny 1986 day, I bought both Madonna's "True Blue" and Wham's "Music From The Edge of Heaven".
I mentioned in my last post that I had been watching the BBC miniseries "Electric Dreams" (about a contemporary family who live without modern-day devices).
In the 70's episode, the 12-year old said that he was impressed with records, that it was nice to have something physical to look at and read while one is listening to the music. He mentioned that this isn't the case when one downloads music by computer. I feel the same, though am more than fine with CD's. The main positive of buying a compact disc is being able to play it in the car. I know that it's possible to listen to downloaded music in one's vehicle, but am not quite ready to make that jump.
Last Tuesday, for the first time in quite a while, I bought a CD on its release date: Duran Duran's "All You Need Is Now". I had been listening to a number of tracks from it on YouTube over the past couple months, and when I saw that it was being released with several more songs on it on March 22nd, I knew I wanted to buy it. I never thought as a teenager in the 80's that I'd still be buying new music by the band in my forties.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Rewind
While watching the BBC documentary "Electric Dreams" (it's about a family that lives without 21st-century devices for a month), I was reminded of the first time I was introduced to various 20th-century gadgets. In 1982, thinking that it would be something that I'd enjoy being creative with, my mother bought me a tape recorder.
I had went to bed while she was out buying it, but woke up the next morning eager to try it out. I was the first one up as I sat in front of the living room heating vent to keep myself warm as I introduced myself to the device; "Hello, tape recorder, we're going to make some beautiful music together". Along with the recorder itself, my mom had also bought a blank cassette. It was a 90-minute tape made by TDK. She had been told by her sister that 120 minute tapes break relatively easy because of their extra-long size.
I tried to put what I thought was the tape into the recorder, but it was too big. I realized, after a minute or two, that the cassette was still in its case. I opened it up and put the tape inside. The first thing I recorded was me saying, "Testing...1...2...3... Testing ...1...2...3". I played it back and, like many, didn't really believe that the way I sounded on the tape was how I came off in real life. That first day, I recorded a number of TV commercials (a Qbert ad, for one) as well as my brothers and sister talking a bit.
The device hit its full potential in the summer of '83 when I recorded an adaptation of the blockbuster movie "Return of the Jedi" with my siblings. As we headed into the second half of that recording, I quizzed my younger brother on Star Wars minutiae:
I had went to bed while she was out buying it, but woke up the next morning eager to try it out. I was the first one up as I sat in front of the living room heating vent to keep myself warm as I introduced myself to the device; "Hello, tape recorder, we're going to make some beautiful music together". Along with the recorder itself, my mom had also bought a blank cassette. It was a 90-minute tape made by TDK. She had been told by her sister that 120 minute tapes break relatively easy because of their extra-long size.
I tried to put what I thought was the tape into the recorder, but it was too big. I realized, after a minute or two, that the cassette was still in its case. I opened it up and put the tape inside. The first thing I recorded was me saying, "Testing...1...2...3... Testing ...1...2...3". I played it back and, like many, didn't really believe that the way I sounded on the tape was how I came off in real life. That first day, I recorded a number of TV commercials (a Qbert ad, for one) as well as my brothers and sister talking a bit.
The device hit its full potential in the summer of '83 when I recorded an adaptation of the blockbuster movie "Return of the Jedi" with my siblings. As we headed into the second half of that recording, I quizzed my younger brother on Star Wars minutiae:
Friday, March 18, 2011
Twentieth Century Boy
Thinking about the last post I made (regarding some of the things I experienced in the late 90's), I pondered on how grand it would be if I were able to talk to my 1997-era self, to be able to have a conversation with him, to ask for his thoughts on life and how they compare to my own in 2011.
That man is more overweight than I am, but has less gray hairs.
He likes to shave every other day, something I continue to do. He's only had sex for a few years and just got his drivers' license in the summer of '95. He's just read what he considers to be the best book ever: "Conversations With God" and is sky-high on the wisdom it has imparted to him. He's single, but looks to be getting married the following summer.
Does he imagine what life at 40 is going to be like? Would he shudder knowing that in five years, he'll have kidney stones, that having kids won't be in the cards? He would be fairly self-assured, though he has some interesting habits. When he's in his car and sees the person in front of him throw a cigarette out the window, he'll honk at them as if to say, "What the hell do you think you're doing, littering the roads of this beautiful town?"
He's been a big fan of country music since 1992 when he was first exposed to a show called VH1 Country, an hourlong program that showed past and present country videos. He felt so at home with the genre that he believed it would always be his favorite. Little does he know that in a few years, he'll be buying a number of 80's pop CD's. He now has well over a hundred such discs. He'll work a variety of different jobs in the 2000's, mostly consisting of telephone work.
I wouldn't tell him these things, of course. I'd just like to visit with him for a few hours in a place where he'd be most comfortable, perhaps at one of his favorite restaurants, Wendy's or Taco John's. Maybe we could hit one of the old-school theatres that existed back then, years before stadium-seating came to town. I'm sure he'd be glad to know that two films will rock his world before the end of the decade ("Titanic" and "American Beauty"). I wouldn't wish to allude to the Star Wars prequel trilogy being a bit of a disappointment or that the dog his fiancee' recently picked up wouldn't make it to 2001.
We could discuss favorite childhood memories, various anti-social things we'd done, and women we wished we'd fucked. When it came time to part, I would tell him to enjoy being young, to strive to be kind to all those he encountered (even those who are smokers), and to consider writing his thoughts into a journal so that I might post them one day.
That man is more overweight than I am, but has less gray hairs.
He likes to shave every other day, something I continue to do. He's only had sex for a few years and just got his drivers' license in the summer of '95. He's just read what he considers to be the best book ever: "Conversations With God" and is sky-high on the wisdom it has imparted to him. He's single, but looks to be getting married the following summer.
Does he imagine what life at 40 is going to be like? Would he shudder knowing that in five years, he'll have kidney stones, that having kids won't be in the cards? He would be fairly self-assured, though he has some interesting habits. When he's in his car and sees the person in front of him throw a cigarette out the window, he'll honk at them as if to say, "What the hell do you think you're doing, littering the roads of this beautiful town?"
He's been a big fan of country music since 1992 when he was first exposed to a show called VH1 Country, an hourlong program that showed past and present country videos. He felt so at home with the genre that he believed it would always be his favorite. Little does he know that in a few years, he'll be buying a number of 80's pop CD's. He now has well over a hundred such discs. He'll work a variety of different jobs in the 2000's, mostly consisting of telephone work.
I wouldn't tell him these things, of course. I'd just like to visit with him for a few hours in a place where he'd be most comfortable, perhaps at one of his favorite restaurants, Wendy's or Taco John's. Maybe we could hit one of the old-school theatres that existed back then, years before stadium-seating came to town. I'm sure he'd be glad to know that two films will rock his world before the end of the decade ("Titanic" and "American Beauty"). I wouldn't wish to allude to the Star Wars prequel trilogy being a bit of a disappointment or that the dog his fiancee' recently picked up wouldn't make it to 2001.
We could discuss favorite childhood memories, various anti-social things we'd done, and women we wished we'd fucked. When it came time to part, I would tell him to enjoy being young, to strive to be kind to all those he encountered (even those who are smokers), and to consider writing his thoughts into a journal so that I might post them one day.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
What's Park Spelled Backwards?
The summer of 1997 was my first in Rochester, a city of 70,000, and I struggled to find things to do when I wasn't working at Premiere Video. One sunny afternoon, I decided to take a stroll on one of the many bike trails that the town had to offer. Before starting, I took a look at the map that had been posted near the trail and chose to take the path that would lead me back to my car.
I must've took a wrong turn as I kept walking and walking, not feeling I was getting any closer to my vehicle. I finally decided to get off the trail and into the residential neighborhoods where, after some time, I was able to piece together how to get back to my point of origin. One good side to the encounter was that I certainly got my exercise for the day.
On a number of occasions, when I needed to get away from my wife-to-be, I drove to a hillside that was located behind a retail establishment called ShopKo. It was steep going at first, like the side of a cliff, but once up there, I got a good view of the area and was able to chill out a bit.
On one evening, I went to a park located at the edge of town. The sun had recently set as I parked my car. Within seconds, some guy parked right next to me, unnecessary I thought, as there were several other parking spots to be found. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I pulled out and drove about ten parking places to the right. As I turned in, another man parked next to me. Frustrated at not being able to be left alone, I returned home. I found out later that the park was a gay pickup spot.
The place I wound up spending most of my time outdoors was Silver Lake.
Thirty-two minutes was how long it typically took to circle the body of water. Most of the time, I brought my Walkman along to listen to as I walked. When Tori Amos' new CD came out in the fall of 2001, the first time I listened to it was walking around the lake.
One early evening, as I began my walk, I felt a bowel movement coming on, so hurried a bit and headed to a McDonalds that was located just adjacent to the park. Sometimes, at the end of my walk, I would celebrate by going on the swings that were next to the lodge. One time, I smiled blissedly while doing this and listening to Clint Black's Christmas album. I never swung too long as it would make me dizzy after a time.
Sometimes I'd walk with my friend, Art, but it could get tiring as he would whistle at virtually every woman who passed by. One day, halfway around the trail, we were walking together and I had to urinate badly. I saw a huge pine tree coming up and told him I was going to relieve myself there. I looked around and didn't see anyone else nearby. As I situated myself beneath the tree, Art said I wasn't completely obscured, but went for it, anyway. Feeling much better, we continued on our way.
To relieve some of the boredom from walking around the same ol' lake, I had a bit of fun from time to time. I had a ballcap that I would put on not forward or backward, but sideways. I also had some really far-out glasses that I'd put on, the kind that Jesse Ventura used to wear when he was a wrestler.
I was basically daring other walkers to laugh at me and looked closely at people's reactions as I got closer and passed them by.
I must've took a wrong turn as I kept walking and walking, not feeling I was getting any closer to my vehicle. I finally decided to get off the trail and into the residential neighborhoods where, after some time, I was able to piece together how to get back to my point of origin. One good side to the encounter was that I certainly got my exercise for the day.
On a number of occasions, when I needed to get away from my wife-to-be, I drove to a hillside that was located behind a retail establishment called ShopKo. It was steep going at first, like the side of a cliff, but once up there, I got a good view of the area and was able to chill out a bit.
On one evening, I went to a park located at the edge of town. The sun had recently set as I parked my car. Within seconds, some guy parked right next to me, unnecessary I thought, as there were several other parking spots to be found. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I pulled out and drove about ten parking places to the right. As I turned in, another man parked next to me. Frustrated at not being able to be left alone, I returned home. I found out later that the park was a gay pickup spot.
The place I wound up spending most of my time outdoors was Silver Lake.
Thirty-two minutes was how long it typically took to circle the body of water. Most of the time, I brought my Walkman along to listen to as I walked. When Tori Amos' new CD came out in the fall of 2001, the first time I listened to it was walking around the lake.
One early evening, as I began my walk, I felt a bowel movement coming on, so hurried a bit and headed to a McDonalds that was located just adjacent to the park. Sometimes, at the end of my walk, I would celebrate by going on the swings that were next to the lodge. One time, I smiled blissedly while doing this and listening to Clint Black's Christmas album. I never swung too long as it would make me dizzy after a time.
Sometimes I'd walk with my friend, Art, but it could get tiring as he would whistle at virtually every woman who passed by. One day, halfway around the trail, we were walking together and I had to urinate badly. I saw a huge pine tree coming up and told him I was going to relieve myself there. I looked around and didn't see anyone else nearby. As I situated myself beneath the tree, Art said I wasn't completely obscured, but went for it, anyway. Feeling much better, we continued on our way.
To relieve some of the boredom from walking around the same ol' lake, I had a bit of fun from time to time. I had a ballcap that I would put on not forward or backward, but sideways. I also had some really far-out glasses that I'd put on, the kind that Jesse Ventura used to wear when he was a wrestler.
I was basically daring other walkers to laugh at me and looked closely at people's reactions as I got closer and passed them by.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
A Little Bit of Ecstacy
Wednesday afternoon, I brought the latest issue of the local newspaper into my workplace; it's delivered there during the week. Affixed to the front of it was a sticker that said Great Clips was having their Great Haircut Sale for $6.99. This was perfect timing as I was overdue to get my mane trimmed.
So it was that yesterday afternoon, I headed to their outlet near Wal-Mart and said that I was there to "participate in the Great Haircut Sale". The brunette at the counter smiled and said I could be seen by her right away. We exchanged pleasantries as I told her that I wanted the usual: a number two blade on the sides and back blended in with the top.
As she got started, I noticed an older gentleman getting his hair cut. I was a bit transfixed as I noticed how intently he looked at himself as this was being done. When I'm having a cut, I'll look at anything other than my own face. I'll look at the floor, at the utensils that are on the stylist's stand, at the signage placed there.
I hesitate to say that people who stare at themselves like this man did are vain. They're obviously comfortable with what's in front of them. I suppose some feel that if they don't pay extreme attention to what's being done to their hair, they could miss the moment when the stylist messes it up and they're taken to the point of no return. They're on high alert like the main character from "Hurt Locker", knowing that the next moment might portend their doom.
A few minutes later, she sent me off and I was in a great mood as I headed to Wal-Mart to pick up some groceries.
So it was that yesterday afternoon, I headed to their outlet near Wal-Mart and said that I was there to "participate in the Great Haircut Sale". The brunette at the counter smiled and said I could be seen by her right away. We exchanged pleasantries as I told her that I wanted the usual: a number two blade on the sides and back blended in with the top.
As she got started, I noticed an older gentleman getting his hair cut. I was a bit transfixed as I noticed how intently he looked at himself as this was being done. When I'm having a cut, I'll look at anything other than my own face. I'll look at the floor, at the utensils that are on the stylist's stand, at the signage placed there.
I hesitate to say that people who stare at themselves like this man did are vain. They're obviously comfortable with what's in front of them. I suppose some feel that if they don't pay extreme attention to what's being done to their hair, they could miss the moment when the stylist messes it up and they're taken to the point of no return. They're on high alert like the main character from "Hurt Locker", knowing that the next moment might portend their doom.
One big plus of a haircut is being physically touched by an attractive member of the opposite sex. Not that my wife isn't good-looking, but she's been touching me for more than a dozen years. During the haircut, I was thinking, "This feels so good, I almost don't mind if she cuts off more than I want her to" (I was semi-uncomfortable the last time I got a haircut as I knew my wife was watching closely).
A few minutes later, she sent me off and I was in a great mood as I headed to Wal-Mart to pick up some groceries.
Sunday, March 06, 2011
Two Weeks of (Mostly) Bliss
Twelve days ago, my SexyGirl took a plane to sunny Las Vegas to spend some time with her parents. Here is what she looks like six months after bariatric surgery:
I knew I was going to miss her, but looked forward to having some "T" time. The first morning I woke up without her by my side, I was startled and soothed by the silence. I've spent the mornings sleeping in, going on the computer for a time, and enjoying the TV not being on during the day.
Before she left, she asked me to be sure that the house didn't get too dirty. Her comment convinced me that she'd come home to a great surprise. Each day last week, I spent an hour or two doing some de-cluttering. Her closet floor had a bunch of clothes and crap all over it, so it was greatly rewarding to remove it as I listened to some of my favorite music. Clothes that were too big for her, I put into storage in the basement. Downstairs, there were boxes scattered everywhere. As I listened to the cassette of Midnight Star's "Planetary Invasion", I put as many boxes as I could underneath the stairs.
One evening, I cleaned out some of the paperwork that had accumulated in one of our kitchen drawers. As I took the drawer out and swept the dust into the wastebasket, I lost grip of it and it fell on my big toe. Youch! It still hurts when I bend it.
When she calls me up each night and asks what I've been up to, I have to omit most of the cleaning I've done in order to ensure the surprise. On one call, she said that she might want to have some cleaning ladies come out as a late birthday present. Maids do a good job of cleaning, but they can't sort through drawers and decide what can and can't be tossed.
I've kept myself relatively busy throughout. Last Sunday, I went to the Hindu temple. It was boring in some parts, but got more interesting when I asked the group if it was better to have an easy life or a hard one. One of the more knowledgeable Hindus said that it's better to have a harder life as one is more apt to turn to a higher power when there is struggle. Not much spiritual growth is typically accomplished when one has it easy. My depression of many years ago attests to this.
I had my monthly massage a couple days ago. Costing just $55 for 90 minutes and located a mere seven blocks from my home, it's an appointment I always look forward to. I'm sometimes caught between wanting to be quiet as she does her work and catching up on what's been going on with her; we worked together in the early '00s. My love also had a massage last week. She's had about four of them in her life and every time, they've been in Sin City with her parents.
She's seen three movies while out there, easily beating me in movie attendance. There've been a couple occasions when I've thought about going, but felt I would be better served by staying home and watching stuff on the DVR. One of my favorites is the late 70's game show "Card Sharks". I enjoyed it as a child and it's great to be able to watch it again.
I went to a pizza place on Friday night with a friend and her daughter and the place was packed. There was a boy of about 12 who kept passing by our table as he went to play video games. With a short blonde haircut and a ballcap on, I pretended that I wanted to say something every time he passed. On one pass, he actually stopped, so I said what I'd been thinking, "You know who you look like?" He said, "Who?" I replied, "Justin Bieber". He said, "Thanks".
I also had some fun yesterday at the grocery store. There was an early-20 something who was shopping and you could plainly see his underwear underneath his pants as he walked the aisles. This irritated me a bit, so I decided to make light of it. I went up to the guy he was shopping with and said, "Your friend's underwear are hot". The man laughed as I headed to the check-out.
I knew I was going to miss her, but looked forward to having some "T" time. The first morning I woke up without her by my side, I was startled and soothed by the silence. I've spent the mornings sleeping in, going on the computer for a time, and enjoying the TV not being on during the day.
Before she left, she asked me to be sure that the house didn't get too dirty. Her comment convinced me that she'd come home to a great surprise. Each day last week, I spent an hour or two doing some de-cluttering. Her closet floor had a bunch of clothes and crap all over it, so it was greatly rewarding to remove it as I listened to some of my favorite music. Clothes that were too big for her, I put into storage in the basement. Downstairs, there were boxes scattered everywhere. As I listened to the cassette of Midnight Star's "Planetary Invasion", I put as many boxes as I could underneath the stairs.
One evening, I cleaned out some of the paperwork that had accumulated in one of our kitchen drawers. As I took the drawer out and swept the dust into the wastebasket, I lost grip of it and it fell on my big toe. Youch! It still hurts when I bend it.
When she calls me up each night and asks what I've been up to, I have to omit most of the cleaning I've done in order to ensure the surprise. On one call, she said that she might want to have some cleaning ladies come out as a late birthday present. Maids do a good job of cleaning, but they can't sort through drawers and decide what can and can't be tossed.
I've kept myself relatively busy throughout. Last Sunday, I went to the Hindu temple. It was boring in some parts, but got more interesting when I asked the group if it was better to have an easy life or a hard one. One of the more knowledgeable Hindus said that it's better to have a harder life as one is more apt to turn to a higher power when there is struggle. Not much spiritual growth is typically accomplished when one has it easy. My depression of many years ago attests to this.
I had my monthly massage a couple days ago. Costing just $55 for 90 minutes and located a mere seven blocks from my home, it's an appointment I always look forward to. I'm sometimes caught between wanting to be quiet as she does her work and catching up on what's been going on with her; we worked together in the early '00s. My love also had a massage last week. She's had about four of them in her life and every time, they've been in Sin City with her parents.
She's seen three movies while out there, easily beating me in movie attendance. There've been a couple occasions when I've thought about going, but felt I would be better served by staying home and watching stuff on the DVR. One of my favorites is the late 70's game show "Card Sharks". I enjoyed it as a child and it's great to be able to watch it again.
I went to a pizza place on Friday night with a friend and her daughter and the place was packed. There was a boy of about 12 who kept passing by our table as he went to play video games. With a short blonde haircut and a ballcap on, I pretended that I wanted to say something every time he passed. On one pass, he actually stopped, so I said what I'd been thinking, "You know who you look like?" He said, "Who?" I replied, "Justin Bieber". He said, "Thanks".
I also had some fun yesterday at the grocery store. There was an early-20 something who was shopping and you could plainly see his underwear underneath his pants as he walked the aisles. This irritated me a bit, so I decided to make light of it. I went up to the guy he was shopping with and said, "Your friend's underwear are hot". The man laughed as I headed to the check-out.
Monday, February 28, 2011
A Tempting Offer
After finding out about the demise of my mother's marriage, one of my brothers floated an idea past her by email. He said that if she were to rejoin the Jehovah's Witnesses, the religion he's been enmeshed in for his entire life and the one that she left in 1984, he would allow her to visit him and their two children. You see, once a member leaves, others still in the organization are not allowed to socialize with them. Of course, my mother got around this in the 80's and 90's as her Witness kids were still young and not yet baptized into the faith. Now, with this particular brother having a position of power within the religion, he wouldn't dare risk getting in trouble by hanging out with his mom.
This got me to wondering if the Witnesses are a cult.
I suspected so, but Googled it this morning for confirmation and, indeed, there are quite a few ways in which the religion falls in line with a standard cult. Here are some examples:
"Cult leaders will tell you you can only be "saved" (or can only be successful) in their organization alone. No other organization has the truth, all others miss the mark.
Cult leadership is feared. To disagree with leadership is the same as disagreeing with God. The cult leaders will claim to have direct authority from God to control almost all aspects of your life.
Cults also try to cut you off from your friends and family because they hate others being able to influence you. A mind control cult will seek to maneuver your life so as to maximize your contact with cult members and minimize your contact with people outside the group, especially those who oppose your involvement.
Those who control the information control the person. In a mind control cult any information from outside the cult is considered evil, especially if it is opposing the cult. Members are told not to read it or believe it. Only information supplied by the cult is true.
Mind control cults keep their members so busy with meetings and activities that they become too busy and too tired to think about their involvement.
In a mind control cult like in Nazi Germany or Communist Russia, you must be careful of what you say and do; "The walls have ears". Everyone is encouraged to watch out for "struggling" brothers and sisters and report what they see to leadership. Often information given in deepest confidence is automatically reported to leadership."
My mother is in the midst of composing an answer to her youngest son. I'm sure the idea of being able to see him and two of her grandchildren is tempting, but it would be at the cost of her present beliefs. Of course, she would actually be like many of the Witnesses, not believing much of what is said at their meetings, but realizing that leaving the organization and the shunning that would ensue would be too great a thing to bear.
This got me to wondering if the Witnesses are a cult.
I suspected so, but Googled it this morning for confirmation and, indeed, there are quite a few ways in which the religion falls in line with a standard cult. Here are some examples:
"Cult leaders will tell you you can only be "saved" (or can only be successful) in their organization alone. No other organization has the truth, all others miss the mark.
Cult leadership is feared. To disagree with leadership is the same as disagreeing with God. The cult leaders will claim to have direct authority from God to control almost all aspects of your life.
Cults also try to cut you off from your friends and family because they hate others being able to influence you. A mind control cult will seek to maneuver your life so as to maximize your contact with cult members and minimize your contact with people outside the group, especially those who oppose your involvement.
Those who control the information control the person. In a mind control cult any information from outside the cult is considered evil, especially if it is opposing the cult. Members are told not to read it or believe it. Only information supplied by the cult is true.
Mind control cults keep their members so busy with meetings and activities that they become too busy and too tired to think about their involvement.
In a mind control cult like in Nazi Germany or Communist Russia, you must be careful of what you say and do; "The walls have ears". Everyone is encouraged to watch out for "struggling" brothers and sisters and report what they see to leadership. Often information given in deepest confidence is automatically reported to leadership."
My mother is in the midst of composing an answer to her youngest son. I'm sure the idea of being able to see him and two of her grandchildren is tempting, but it would be at the cost of her present beliefs. Of course, she would actually be like many of the Witnesses, not believing much of what is said at their meetings, but realizing that leaving the organization and the shunning that would ensue would be too great a thing to bear.
Monday, February 21, 2011
My Greatest Strength
In early November of 2007, I celebrated my 37th birthday at TGIFriday's with my wife, mother, and her new boyfriend. It was a grand occasion sullied only by one of the gifts that I was given by my mother and her man: Joel Osteen's best-seller "Become A Better You".
For those who aren't familiar with the work, it uses Christian scripture as a basis for telling one how to live a better life. I would've loved to have seen my face when I received it. I'm not against self-help books, but one that relies primarily on the Bible misses out on a good deal of other great information that's out there. My mother had written some kind of message on the first page of the tome; the page that's typically blank. Something along the lines of "All the best, hope this book is a help to you". I smiled, but wished they had spent the money on something else.
In most cases, I would go to Barnes & Noble and return the book; my experience working there in the late 90's alerted me to the fact that they happily accept exchanges for something else even if one doesn't have a receipt. The note that my mom had posted in the book put a dent in those plans, however. It was as if she was ensuring that I couldn't return it. I wasn't about to give up, though. I carefully tore that first page out and decided I would try returning it. The cashier at B&N looked at the book for a few seconds to make sure there was no obvious damage before giving me a credit on it. Unlike the minutes after I received it, I could now smile genuinely at the thought of getting exactly what I wanted.
Not too long after, the office I was working for provided all its employees with a copy of another runaway best-seller, this one called "Strengths Finder".
Its purpose was to find an employee's strengths and then tell them how to make the most of them. My boss said we would eventually get around to utilizing it, but months went by without a mention of it. I decided that I would just return the thing and wound up exchanging it for Britney Spears' new one, "Blackout"; great disc, one of my favorite tracks on it is called "Get Naked".
For those who aren't familiar with the work, it uses Christian scripture as a basis for telling one how to live a better life. I would've loved to have seen my face when I received it. I'm not against self-help books, but one that relies primarily on the Bible misses out on a good deal of other great information that's out there. My mother had written some kind of message on the first page of the tome; the page that's typically blank. Something along the lines of "All the best, hope this book is a help to you". I smiled, but wished they had spent the money on something else.
In most cases, I would go to Barnes & Noble and return the book; my experience working there in the late 90's alerted me to the fact that they happily accept exchanges for something else even if one doesn't have a receipt. The note that my mom had posted in the book put a dent in those plans, however. It was as if she was ensuring that I couldn't return it. I wasn't about to give up, though. I carefully tore that first page out and decided I would try returning it. The cashier at B&N looked at the book for a few seconds to make sure there was no obvious damage before giving me a credit on it. Unlike the minutes after I received it, I could now smile genuinely at the thought of getting exactly what I wanted.
Not too long after, the office I was working for provided all its employees with a copy of another runaway best-seller, this one called "Strengths Finder".
Its purpose was to find an employee's strengths and then tell them how to make the most of them. My boss said we would eventually get around to utilizing it, but months went by without a mention of it. I decided that I would just return the thing and wound up exchanging it for Britney Spears' new one, "Blackout"; great disc, one of my favorite tracks on it is called "Get Naked".
Wouldn't you know it, a few weeks later, we were told that it was time to do the exercises that were in the book. They could actually be done online which was a relief to me, but not so much when I went to the site because it asked for the specific identification code that was printed in each book. It looked like I'd have to buy the book back, but damn if I wasn't gonna try to find a way around it.
I went with my high-school friend to Barnes & Noble in LaCrosse one weekend and took a look at the copies they had of Strengths Finder. I noticed that the ID codes for each book were different, but realized that if I copied down one of the codes and then went onto a computer and used it, I might be able to get around having to purchase the best-seller. I got a piece of scratch paper from my friend and wrote down the digits with a smile on my face. A couple days later at work, I headed to the site, entered the code, did the exercises, and printed it all out. A group of us went over the results shortly thereafter. It turns out that my greatest strength is not letting books sit around that aren't going to be read.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
July 23rd, 2010
That's the day I received Colin Firth's highly acclaimed 2009 film "A Single Man" from Netflix. Though it was number one on my Netflix queue (that's the reason they sent it, of course), I never could find the 100 minutes to sit and view it. And this from a guy who rarely works more than twenty hours a week. No, on evenings when I'm watching TV, it's typically to get caught up on what's been taped on the DVR.
It took "A Single Man" being on that DVR for me to finally watch it. You see, I saw that it was playing on Showtime a few days ago and knowing that it would be presented in HD, as opposed to standard def (which is the type of DVD player I have), thought that might be just the thing I'd need to finally catch it. This turned out the be the case as the day before yesterday, I watched the film with my life partner.
The movie, which takes place in 1962, is about a man whose partner of sixteen years has died in a car accident. For months afterward, the hardest part of his day is just getting out of bed. Though he has a beautiful house, a job as a college professor, and is surrounded by friends who adore him, life is no longer worth living. The movie spends twenty-four hours with him, a day that will wind up being the most pivotal of his life.
I've expressed before how magical it is to sit down and watch a film and then be floored, feeling things that you never expected to, going to work the next day and feeling blessed that you were witness to such a work of heart. "A Single Man" was just this to me and in 9 times out of 10, the movies I fall hardest for are the ones that have fantastic endings ("Titanic" and "American Beauty" being two examples). As the credits rolled, my wife asked what grade I'd give it. I said, "An A". She said she felt the same.
I'm going to be keeping the DVD a little bit longer now so that I can watch "The Making of" and listen to the movie's commentary. If I'd known that the film was going to resonate so strongly with me, I'd have watched it months ago. But such is life sometimes, when the very thing that will bring you incredible happiness is right under your nose, there all the time, just waiting to be experienced.
It took "A Single Man" being on that DVR for me to finally watch it. You see, I saw that it was playing on Showtime a few days ago and knowing that it would be presented in HD, as opposed to standard def (which is the type of DVD player I have), thought that might be just the thing I'd need to finally catch it. This turned out the be the case as the day before yesterday, I watched the film with my life partner.
The movie, which takes place in 1962, is about a man whose partner of sixteen years has died in a car accident. For months afterward, the hardest part of his day is just getting out of bed. Though he has a beautiful house, a job as a college professor, and is surrounded by friends who adore him, life is no longer worth living. The movie spends twenty-four hours with him, a day that will wind up being the most pivotal of his life.
I've expressed before how magical it is to sit down and watch a film and then be floored, feeling things that you never expected to, going to work the next day and feeling blessed that you were witness to such a work of heart. "A Single Man" was just this to me and in 9 times out of 10, the movies I fall hardest for are the ones that have fantastic endings ("Titanic" and "American Beauty" being two examples). As the credits rolled, my wife asked what grade I'd give it. I said, "An A". She said she felt the same.
I'm going to be keeping the DVD a little bit longer now so that I can watch "The Making of" and listen to the movie's commentary. If I'd known that the film was going to resonate so strongly with me, I'd have watched it months ago. But such is life sometimes, when the very thing that will bring you incredible happiness is right under your nose, there all the time, just waiting to be experienced.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Fort Myers
In March of 1993, my stepdad took me to Florida; it was my first visit to the Sunshine State. If you'd like to read an account of my experiences on that first day, written just weeks after it occurred, click here.
On the third day, we drove from West Palm Beach to Fort Myers, Florida. It was the only chance I got to spend a significant amount of time on the roads of Florida. The number of orange groves we passed made it patently obvious that we were down south. We listened to a good deal of country music as that was what I was into at the time and he didn't mind it too much. When Radney Foster's hit, "Nobody Wins" came on, he pontificated on how that was certainly the case when it came to marriages breaking up, as his and my mother's was. Well, I thought, if one of the parties wasn't happy in the relationship, leaving it could be construed as a win of sorts.
In the early afternoon, we arrived at our destination, Hammond Stadium, the spring training home for the Minnesota Twins.
The complex was beautiful and though the game would be split-squad, meaning only half the team would be playing, being able to see my heroes up close and outdoors was sure to be a treat. We headed to our seats which were about eight rows up along the first base line. I was disappointed that Kirby Puckett, the most popular Twin, wasn't in the lineup, but a relatively new guy named Chuck Knoblach was there. I actually had a poster on him on my apartment wall that had him jumping in the air at second base to throw someone out at first called "New Kid on the Blauch". I still have this baseball card of him in the basement:
When the game ended, I encouraged my stepdad to sit outside the stadium for a time so that I could see some of the players leaving in their street clothes. I got a nice little thrill seeing Knoblauch driving off the grounds in a nice car with a smile on his face. We headed off for a bite and then to Orlando, where I would have my first bite of Universal Studios Florida.
On the third day, we drove from West Palm Beach to Fort Myers, Florida. It was the only chance I got to spend a significant amount of time on the roads of Florida. The number of orange groves we passed made it patently obvious that we were down south. We listened to a good deal of country music as that was what I was into at the time and he didn't mind it too much. When Radney Foster's hit, "Nobody Wins" came on, he pontificated on how that was certainly the case when it came to marriages breaking up, as his and my mother's was. Well, I thought, if one of the parties wasn't happy in the relationship, leaving it could be construed as a win of sorts.
In the early afternoon, we arrived at our destination, Hammond Stadium, the spring training home for the Minnesota Twins.
The complex was beautiful and though the game would be split-squad, meaning only half the team would be playing, being able to see my heroes up close and outdoors was sure to be a treat. We headed to our seats which were about eight rows up along the first base line. I was disappointed that Kirby Puckett, the most popular Twin, wasn't in the lineup, but a relatively new guy named Chuck Knoblach was there. I actually had a poster on him on my apartment wall that had him jumping in the air at second base to throw someone out at first called "New Kid on the Blauch". I still have this baseball card of him in the basement:
There were some clouds in the sky as the game got underway, but they moved on. I took a number of pictures during the early innings, including one of the moment that a hitter made contact with a ball. I ended up having it converted into an 8 x 10 so that I could look at it from time to time in my apartment and remember that lovely March afternoon.
Later, I purchased a Minnesota Twins Fort Myers T-shirt that had pictures of alligators on it. I wore it with pride that summer, that summer when I would gain so many friends, but my happiness would rapidly erode. I was feeling great that day, however, breathing in the warm air. I don't believe the Twins won, but it didn't matter. This was merely spring training, a time for the players to get back into shape.When the game ended, I encouraged my stepdad to sit outside the stadium for a time so that I could see some of the players leaving in their street clothes. I got a nice little thrill seeing Knoblauch driving off the grounds in a nice car with a smile on his face. We headed off for a bite and then to Orlando, where I would have my first bite of Universal Studios Florida.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Recent Facebook Status Updates
For those who aren't friends with me on Facebook, here are some of the postings I've made over the past few months:
There are few pleasures greater than putting on a pair of underwear that have just come out of the dryer.
"This is hard" - comment made by my wife two minutes into her first ShakeWeight workout
I was listening to a Christmas song yesterday and one of the lyrics was that Jesus's death was much less joyous than his birth. I'm like, "Whose isn't?"
Some time ago, when I was checking out at Target, the cashier asked if I'd be interested in signing up for one of their credit cards; they're bright red. I said I would if I could get it in purple. She said they weren't available like that, which is great as I wasn't interested in it, anyway.
I'll sometimes use my fingers for counting at work, but will only move the very tips of them so my colleagues won't realize what I'm doing.
The commercials for Proactiv almost make me wish I had acne. What else could compel such striking Before and After pics?
The expiration date on my bottle of Aquafina is December 21, 2012. They obviously got the memo that no one will be drinking the stuff the day after.
Went to Subway two days ago to get a six-inch before work. The guy working asked if I'd like a footlong, that it would be just a little bit more to get one. I told him, "No, I get intimidated by anything that's a foot long".
There are few pleasures greater than putting on a pair of underwear that have just come out of the dryer.
"This is hard" - comment made by my wife two minutes into her first ShakeWeight workout
I was listening to a Christmas song yesterday and one of the lyrics was that Jesus's death was much less joyous than his birth. I'm like, "Whose isn't?"
Some time ago, when I was checking out at Target, the cashier asked if I'd be interested in signing up for one of their credit cards; they're bright red. I said I would if I could get it in purple. She said they weren't available like that, which is great as I wasn't interested in it, anyway.
I'll sometimes use my fingers for counting at work, but will only move the very tips of them so my colleagues won't realize what I'm doing.
The commercials for Proactiv almost make me wish I had acne. What else could compel such striking Before and After pics?
The expiration date on my bottle of Aquafina is December 21, 2012. They obviously got the memo that no one will be drinking the stuff the day after.
Went to Subway two days ago to get a six-inch before work. The guy working asked if I'd like a footlong, that it would be just a little bit more to get one. I told him, "No, I get intimidated by anything that's a foot long".
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Horticulture
Though never agrarian in any sense, I felt it would do me some good to take a class in Horticulture in 11th grade. All Ag classes were taught in an annex of the Senior High building which had a greenhouse attached to it. I showed up the first day and was introduced to our teacher, a nice-looking lady who appeared to be in her early 50's. Her name was Mrs. Raddatz and though her hair was a bit grey, I quickly grew to like her. Instead of individual desks, our classroom had eight long tables; two people could be seated at each one. As was typical of me in those days, I chose a place in the back row. I wound up having my own table as we had a small class, about seven people.
I deflated a bit on that first day when the teacher told us that every Monday we would be required to water the plants placed high in the concourse. I didn't like the idea of the students sitting in the concourse (they were in study hall) seeing me with a watering device. They might think I was a femme. I always first sought to water the plants that were the furthest from the study hall kids. On occasion, I got stuck doing the ones closest. I shouldn't have worried, though. There was a guy who came off as much tougher than me named Butch who didn't seem to mind the task.
Butch ultimately come off as too masculine, however. He'd frequently pick on a guy who sat at the table behind him. His name was Matt and he dressed, well, fabulously. It was obvious he was gay, but I had no problem with his gentle soul. When Butch derided him, Matt typically ignored it.
One great aspect of the class was being able to get up and walk around the greenhouse.
That kind of hands-on thing wasn't typical of other high school classes. One morning, as class was about to start, the teacher gave me a note that said I was to report to the administrative offices. It had to do with a recent appointment I'd had with the counselor.
You see, the teacher I had for my Video class had noticed that while other students spent lots of time talking to their peers during downtimes, I was content to just sit in my seat. He thought there might be something wrong with me being a loner, so requested that Mr. Timm see me. I talked to Timm one afternoon and he said that there was nothing wrong with being on the quiet side, that he had the tendency to be this way himself, that the world would be much too rowdy if everyone had an outgoing personality. Timm made me feel that I was just fine being who I was. I never went up to Opprecht, the Video teacher and confronted him on what he'd done. Hell, that'd be going against my MO.
One other note about the Video class: there was a Jehovah's Witness girl named Jina who was in a more advanced class in which students were required to lip-sync to a favorite song of theirs. Now, for this to make sense, you have to realize that Witnesses believe that they will live forever in paradise on Earth. The song she chose was Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven on Earth". Ridiculously appropriate, I thought. I used to fantasize about what song I would sing if I took the class. It would mostly likely be a Beatles one as I was big on them back then.
Anyway, someone in the admin offices apparently wanted to go over one more thing in regards to the issue, but I didn't want to miss a minute of the Hort class (I was really concerned about getting good grades at that time), so ignored the request and watched one of those filmstrips that were so prevalent in 80's high schools.
One afternoon, as we broke for the greenhouse, a classmate named Ben was trying to get through, but a girl named LeJeanna was blocking his way. After a beat, he said, "Move out of the way or I'll boof you". I just saw her working at ShopKo last week and couldn't help but think of that incident when I saw her.
A number of years later, while attending college, I was watching Jenny Jones. A man came onto the stage whose name was Mattress Fever. He looked familiar, so I stepped close to the screen. Oh my god, it was Matt from the Horticulture class. He had apparently changed his name. We all watch talk shows from time to time, but never expect to see anyone we know on them. I was glad to see that he was doing well and still dressing fabulously. Butch, I'm sure, would have a different reaction, but there are few things grander than being exactly who you are.
I deflated a bit on that first day when the teacher told us that every Monday we would be required to water the plants placed high in the concourse. I didn't like the idea of the students sitting in the concourse (they were in study hall) seeing me with a watering device. They might think I was a femme. I always first sought to water the plants that were the furthest from the study hall kids. On occasion, I got stuck doing the ones closest. I shouldn't have worried, though. There was a guy who came off as much tougher than me named Butch who didn't seem to mind the task.
Butch ultimately come off as too masculine, however. He'd frequently pick on a guy who sat at the table behind him. His name was Matt and he dressed, well, fabulously. It was obvious he was gay, but I had no problem with his gentle soul. When Butch derided him, Matt typically ignored it.
One great aspect of the class was being able to get up and walk around the greenhouse.
That kind of hands-on thing wasn't typical of other high school classes. One morning, as class was about to start, the teacher gave me a note that said I was to report to the administrative offices. It had to do with a recent appointment I'd had with the counselor.
You see, the teacher I had for my Video class had noticed that while other students spent lots of time talking to their peers during downtimes, I was content to just sit in my seat. He thought there might be something wrong with me being a loner, so requested that Mr. Timm see me. I talked to Timm one afternoon and he said that there was nothing wrong with being on the quiet side, that he had the tendency to be this way himself, that the world would be much too rowdy if everyone had an outgoing personality. Timm made me feel that I was just fine being who I was. I never went up to Opprecht, the Video teacher and confronted him on what he'd done. Hell, that'd be going against my MO.
One other note about the Video class: there was a Jehovah's Witness girl named Jina who was in a more advanced class in which students were required to lip-sync to a favorite song of theirs. Now, for this to make sense, you have to realize that Witnesses believe that they will live forever in paradise on Earth. The song she chose was Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven on Earth". Ridiculously appropriate, I thought. I used to fantasize about what song I would sing if I took the class. It would mostly likely be a Beatles one as I was big on them back then.
Anyway, someone in the admin offices apparently wanted to go over one more thing in regards to the issue, but I didn't want to miss a minute of the Hort class (I was really concerned about getting good grades at that time), so ignored the request and watched one of those filmstrips that were so prevalent in 80's high schools.
One afternoon, as we broke for the greenhouse, a classmate named Ben was trying to get through, but a girl named LeJeanna was blocking his way. After a beat, he said, "Move out of the way or I'll boof you". I just saw her working at ShopKo last week and couldn't help but think of that incident when I saw her.
A number of years later, while attending college, I was watching Jenny Jones. A man came onto the stage whose name was Mattress Fever. He looked familiar, so I stepped close to the screen. Oh my god, it was Matt from the Horticulture class. He had apparently changed his name. We all watch talk shows from time to time, but never expect to see anyone we know on them. I was glad to see that he was doing well and still dressing fabulously. Butch, I'm sure, would have a different reaction, but there are few things grander than being exactly who you are.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Here's Something to Chew On
Yesterday afternoon around 5pm, I sat Indian-style on the bathroom floor while reading the latest issue of TIME magazine as I ate a Smart Ones Fajita Chicken wood-fired pizza. The article that I was browsing during said meal was about the troubles that Arizona is currently experiencing, problems like illegal immigration, an education system that is in the bottom ten of the fifty states, and the site of a shooting that made headlines for a number of weeks earlier this year.
About halfway through my meal, as I bit into another portion, I felt something hard. Weird, I thought. I chewed one more time and still felt something hard in my mouth; that's what she said. I spit the portion out and saw nothing but chewed-up food, so threw it into the toilet (just inches from my face) and flushed. I finished the pizza and began using my tongue to remove the debris that had accumulated over the meal. Just then, I felt something weird on the upper left-side of my mouth. Either an extra-large piece of debris or....no, it couldn't be.
I looked in the mirror and saw that a piece of my tooth was missing; the filling was now fully exposed and I was reminded of the movie "Terminator", feeling a bit more machine now than I was five minutes before. Before telling my wife, I headed onto the internet to find out what my options were, if tooth fairies still come if one inadvertently flushes a molar down the toilet.
About halfway through my meal, as I bit into another portion, I felt something hard. Weird, I thought. I chewed one more time and still felt something hard in my mouth; that's what she said. I spit the portion out and saw nothing but chewed-up food, so threw it into the toilet (just inches from my face) and flushed. I finished the pizza and began using my tongue to remove the debris that had accumulated over the meal. Just then, I felt something weird on the upper left-side of my mouth. Either an extra-large piece of debris or....no, it couldn't be.
I looked in the mirror and saw that a piece of my tooth was missing; the filling was now fully exposed and I was reminded of the movie "Terminator", feeling a bit more machine now than I was five minutes before. Before telling my wife, I headed onto the internet to find out what my options were, if tooth fairies still come if one inadvertently flushes a molar down the toilet.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
268 Lafayette
During 10th and 11th grade, I lived with my mother and stepdad in a 3-bedroom apartment. It was actually part of a very large house in downtown Winona. From there, it was a mere 2-block walk to Midtown Foods where we went to rent videos. Midtown was cool in that me or any of my siblings could go there on our own and pick a movie or two out. We merely had to sign the rental contract. Some of the movies they rented which I had no interest in were "Top Gun" and "The Secret of My Success".
Five blocks further, there was another place called Video Hits which had a greater selection, but wound up being shut down because they were renting out porn. There were two consecutive doorways to get to that section. The first led to science fiction, which I frequented, and a few steps past that was the XXX section. Some might've saw me heading to sci-fi and think I was going to check out porn, but it was merely to see what they had for Star Wars-type films; "Star Whores" would have to wait.
A number of years earlier, my mother took us boys to a barbershop called Farrell's. Playboy magazines were liberally strewn throughout the shop. Though curious, I never picked up an issue while my much younger brother, Matt, had no such hesitations.
A couple of times, getting home from school, I noticed that my mom had locked the front door. She was supposed to have left it unlocked when she left home after eating lunch. Rather than wait around, I headed to the side of the house where my bedroom was located and was able to finagle the window open and sneak in that way.
My four younger siblings visited on the weekends while I had the week to myself. My bedroom was sweet in that the space under the door was extra wide on one corner. It allowed me, when I laid on the floor, to see everyone that was sitting on the living room couch watching TV. One night in October of 1987, I watched as they celebrated the Minnesota Twins' victory in Game One of the World Series. I was really into the Beatles then and explicitly remember listening to "Within You Without You" laying there one evening. Sometimes the light would shine onto me and Matt would say, "I know you're looking under there".
At the place where he lived, if you got on top of the couch in the TV room, you could see into his bedroom. He liked listening to CD's back then on his hi-tech stereo. He had stuff by Harry Connick, Jr, Joey Lawrence, Eddie Murphy, and a disc that played a Thunderstorm for an hour.
For a number of weeks, my sister came over after school and we watched shows like "Hollywood Squares" and "Double Dare" while she munched on a small bag of Cheetos.
George Michael's "Faith" was extremely popular at the time and my sister was a big fan of it. Who wasn't?
Since I only saw them on the weekend, I liked to have fun with my brothers. On a couple of occasions, when they went to the movies and I elected to stay home, I put one of their 10-inch action-figure wrestlers on the top of the door that led into our living room.
The first person who walked in would get a surprise. I staked out a spot to watch in the kitchen as magic time approached. One time, my mom came in first. Yeesh! But on another, I got my brother, Matt. He response was swift. He went straight into my bedroom and broke my Luke Skywalker Dagobah glass. As he came back out into the living room, I said, "You're gonna have to pay for that".
I especially enjoyed it when my mother and stepdad would go out of town. They typically left me with five or ten bucks and stocked the fridge with my two favorite foods, Little Debbie Zebra Cakes and Totino's Pizza. It was great having the whole place to myself, not least because it allowed me to watch movies in complete quiet and darkness. A couple of the films I enjoyed during this time were "Silver Bullet" and "Christine". Late at night was when the real magic happened as we had HBO and Showtime; translation: I got to watch soft porn.
Five blocks further, there was another place called Video Hits which had a greater selection, but wound up being shut down because they were renting out porn. There were two consecutive doorways to get to that section. The first led to science fiction, which I frequented, and a few steps past that was the XXX section. Some might've saw me heading to sci-fi and think I was going to check out porn, but it was merely to see what they had for Star Wars-type films; "Star Whores" would have to wait.
A number of years earlier, my mother took us boys to a barbershop called Farrell's. Playboy magazines were liberally strewn throughout the shop. Though curious, I never picked up an issue while my much younger brother, Matt, had no such hesitations.
A couple of times, getting home from school, I noticed that my mom had locked the front door. She was supposed to have left it unlocked when she left home after eating lunch. Rather than wait around, I headed to the side of the house where my bedroom was located and was able to finagle the window open and sneak in that way.
My four younger siblings visited on the weekends while I had the week to myself. My bedroom was sweet in that the space under the door was extra wide on one corner. It allowed me, when I laid on the floor, to see everyone that was sitting on the living room couch watching TV. One night in October of 1987, I watched as they celebrated the Minnesota Twins' victory in Game One of the World Series. I was really into the Beatles then and explicitly remember listening to "Within You Without You" laying there one evening. Sometimes the light would shine onto me and Matt would say, "I know you're looking under there".
At the place where he lived, if you got on top of the couch in the TV room, you could see into his bedroom. He liked listening to CD's back then on his hi-tech stereo. He had stuff by Harry Connick, Jr, Joey Lawrence, Eddie Murphy, and a disc that played a Thunderstorm for an hour.
For a number of weeks, my sister came over after school and we watched shows like "Hollywood Squares" and "Double Dare" while she munched on a small bag of Cheetos.
George Michael's "Faith" was extremely popular at the time and my sister was a big fan of it. Who wasn't?
Since I only saw them on the weekend, I liked to have fun with my brothers. On a couple of occasions, when they went to the movies and I elected to stay home, I put one of their 10-inch action-figure wrestlers on the top of the door that led into our living room.
The first person who walked in would get a surprise. I staked out a spot to watch in the kitchen as magic time approached. One time, my mom came in first. Yeesh! But on another, I got my brother, Matt. He response was swift. He went straight into my bedroom and broke my Luke Skywalker Dagobah glass. As he came back out into the living room, I said, "You're gonna have to pay for that".
I especially enjoyed it when my mother and stepdad would go out of town. They typically left me with five or ten bucks and stocked the fridge with my two favorite foods, Little Debbie Zebra Cakes and Totino's Pizza. It was great having the whole place to myself, not least because it allowed me to watch movies in complete quiet and darkness. A couple of the films I enjoyed during this time were "Silver Bullet" and "Christine". Late at night was when the real magic happened as we had HBO and Showtime; translation: I got to watch soft porn.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Taking It Up the Tailpipe
I think it’s a bit ridiculous the degree to which some are hung up on gas prices. It’s like they always have to look at what it’s going for in the morning and the first they hear that it may be going up, they rush out to save a few nickels. Can you imagine how different things would be if gas stations didn’t have their prices displayed on huge signs outside, if you had to enter the store to know what it was going for? Why should gas be any different than coffee?
I admit to glancing at the price of petrol once in a while and concede to getting a small amount of satisfaction when I purchased some for 3.45 last week (the price now stands at 3.75). But let’s look closer. I bought 10 gallons of gas, so saved 3.00. That means I have 3 more dollars in my checking account than I did before. Does that make me happier? Not really. I’d rather have no reaction to the increases and just pay what they’re charging. I can take it up the keister as well as anyone (that’s what she said).
Bill Maher said a number of years ago that the price of gas should be at least 5 dollars a gallon (considering the value you get from it as well as its scarcity). I agreed with his sentiments and as gas has steadily increased, I’ve paid it no mind. I do feel bad for those who have less disposable income and who, therefore, suffer more as prices increase. I guess what it comes down to is one can either piss and moan about the oil companies or do something about it (public transport, bicycling, walking, car pool, hybrid, siphon others' gas). Stop playing the victim.
(Composed on September 16, 2008 - First time posted)
I admit to glancing at the price of petrol once in a while and concede to getting a small amount of satisfaction when I purchased some for 3.45 last week (the price now stands at 3.75). But let’s look closer. I bought 10 gallons of gas, so saved 3.00. That means I have 3 more dollars in my checking account than I did before. Does that make me happier? Not really. I’d rather have no reaction to the increases and just pay what they’re charging. I can take it up the keister as well as anyone (that’s what she said).
Bill Maher said a number of years ago that the price of gas should be at least 5 dollars a gallon (considering the value you get from it as well as its scarcity). I agreed with his sentiments and as gas has steadily increased, I’ve paid it no mind. I do feel bad for those who have less disposable income and who, therefore, suffer more as prices increase. I guess what it comes down to is one can either piss and moan about the oil companies or do something about it (public transport, bicycling, walking, car pool, hybrid, siphon others' gas). Stop playing the victim.
(Composed on September 16, 2008 - First time posted)
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Magic
I was surprised to get a call from my mom the other night that her marriage to my stepdad has faltered. It's mainly a case of one party being too controlling. I don't get wanting to control others. I feel that my will for another is their will for themselves, kind of how I feel God feels about us. Why would you want to constrain those you love? Resentment is sure to build in such cases.
They did quite a number on keeping the extent of their troubles hidden. Other than some strange goings-on on Christmas Eve, I wouldn't have figured their union was in any danger. Interesting how people put a happy face on their lives when it's anything but. Some are the same on Facebook, nothing but positivity. You know they can't be like that in real life and if they are, you married the wrong person.
When I first received word that my parents were contemplating divorce twenty-eight years ago, I was watching Olivia Newton-John's concert special on HBO.
It is forever linked now with that evening. One of my siblings told me what was going on and I went to the source to see if it was true. My dad was sitting on top of my mom in the living room, but this was no sex act. He was asking why she wished to dissolve the partnership.
This happened at almost the exact moment that I was first experiencing puberty. I'd go to my 7th grade classes and get what I liked to call "tenny" (tension) headaches on many a day. My grades went into the toilet and I came to rely more on my grandmother as I began to feel more distant from my parents.
My dad moved out of the house and into an apartment complex. One evening, I went there with my siblings. It was small, but sufficient, I suppose, for a now-single man. I noticed a jar full of quarters on the nightstand. I asked if I could have some. He said that he was saving them for something or another. A moment or two later, when he wasn't looking, I took a couple dollars' worth out of it and said that I was going to head over to the mall; it was located just two blocks away.
The shopping center was mighty quiet on that evening. I headed the length of the mall to my favorite haunt, the Electric Rainbow arcade. Halfway there, I saw a girl who was in one of my classes, Courtney. She was the one who as a 1st grader, I fantasized chose me to play with out of all the boys in our class. She looked fantastic that night, a vision with beautiful blond hair and preppy clothes. She may have gazed at me as we passed each other. I wasn't sure if she even knew who I was.
I set to playing some of my favorite video games: the sitdown version of Turbo, Star Wars, Joust, stuff like that. Playing those games helped me decompress a bit. They gave me peace when that was in very short supply. I left the arcade and just a couple steps later, saw Courtney again, heading in the opposite direction as before.
This time, she smiled and said, "Hi". I said "Hi" back to her and was on cloud nine as I walked past the rest of the stores. I was living in a broken home now, but it needn't be my destiny. Someday in the not-too-distant future, I would have a family of my own and all this heartache would be a thing of the past.
Tracks I listened to while composing this:
Take Good Care Of My Heart - Jermaine Jackson & Whitney Houston
New Girl Now - Honeymoon Suite
I Go Crazy - Paul Davis
How Much I Feel - Ambrosia
They did quite a number on keeping the extent of their troubles hidden. Other than some strange goings-on on Christmas Eve, I wouldn't have figured their union was in any danger. Interesting how people put a happy face on their lives when it's anything but. Some are the same on Facebook, nothing but positivity. You know they can't be like that in real life and if they are, you married the wrong person.
When I first received word that my parents were contemplating divorce twenty-eight years ago, I was watching Olivia Newton-John's concert special on HBO.
It is forever linked now with that evening. One of my siblings told me what was going on and I went to the source to see if it was true. My dad was sitting on top of my mom in the living room, but this was no sex act. He was asking why she wished to dissolve the partnership.
This happened at almost the exact moment that I was first experiencing puberty. I'd go to my 7th grade classes and get what I liked to call "tenny" (tension) headaches on many a day. My grades went into the toilet and I came to rely more on my grandmother as I began to feel more distant from my parents.
My dad moved out of the house and into an apartment complex. One evening, I went there with my siblings. It was small, but sufficient, I suppose, for a now-single man. I noticed a jar full of quarters on the nightstand. I asked if I could have some. He said that he was saving them for something or another. A moment or two later, when he wasn't looking, I took a couple dollars' worth out of it and said that I was going to head over to the mall; it was located just two blocks away.
The shopping center was mighty quiet on that evening. I headed the length of the mall to my favorite haunt, the Electric Rainbow arcade. Halfway there, I saw a girl who was in one of my classes, Courtney. She was the one who as a 1st grader, I fantasized chose me to play with out of all the boys in our class. She looked fantastic that night, a vision with beautiful blond hair and preppy clothes. She may have gazed at me as we passed each other. I wasn't sure if she even knew who I was.
I set to playing some of my favorite video games: the sitdown version of Turbo, Star Wars, Joust, stuff like that. Playing those games helped me decompress a bit. They gave me peace when that was in very short supply. I left the arcade and just a couple steps later, saw Courtney again, heading in the opposite direction as before.
This time, she smiled and said, "Hi". I said "Hi" back to her and was on cloud nine as I walked past the rest of the stores. I was living in a broken home now, but it needn't be my destiny. Someday in the not-too-distant future, I would have a family of my own and all this heartache would be a thing of the past.
Tracks I listened to while composing this:
Take Good Care Of My Heart - Jermaine Jackson & Whitney Houston
New Girl Now - Honeymoon Suite
I Go Crazy - Paul Davis
How Much I Feel - Ambrosia
Monday, January 17, 2011
Myriads and Myriads of Memories
Four years ago, I made a number of posts regarding the time I spent in the Jehovah's Witnesses.
They can be found here, here, and here. Thanks to a regression therapist that I've recently started seeing, here are some more memories that have come to light:
The songbook back then had 119 songs. One was sung before the meeting started, another during halftime, and one more at the end. There are three that I remember to this day: The first is the last song in the book: Keep Your Eyes on the Prize. The second is called Myriads and Myriads. I don't know the name of the third, but it was unusual in that it had a bit of a bouncy beat, something unusual compared to the rest of the Witnesses' oeuvre. It's one you wouldn't necessarily mind hearing on the radio. The only lyrics I remember from it were, "If you have such faith accompanied by works, da da da da da da da da".
To this day, I don't understand why they thought it was a good idea to make children sit for two hours during the twice weekly meetings, one hour for a third meeting. Kids have to sit enough during school, but to expect them to do more in the evening hours, for subjects that most likely wouldn't interest them, should almost be considered a form of brain-deadening neglect.
I had a number of games I played to kill time while waiting for the meeting to end. If I was lucky enough to sit on the inside of a row, I counted the number of raised particles on the walls. I imagined that one was a star, another was a galaxy, over here was another galaxy, we lived here, and so on.
I knew Jehovah was on my side whenever I sat next to one of the two windows that looked out on a resident's yard. How grand, I thought it must be, as I looked at a man playing with his dog, to be able to spend a Thursday evening relaxing and unwinding, to be able to wear a T-shirt and jeans as opposed to a suit and tie. I love how the Witnesses' make a big deal about how they're not worldly yet wear clothes that are an unmistakable symbol of the world.
Another lucky break was when my parents couldn't wake up in time to take us to the Sunday meeting. I was as quiet as a mouse if I got up early on Sunday morning so as not to accidentally wake them up. There was no way I was going to try to rouse them. It'd be like knowing that today you were to have a root canal and anything went as far as trying to get out of it. Sometimes they woke up in time to just take us to the second hour which was bittersweet.
Michael Jackson was a member of the Witnesses in the early 80's which was cool in that he was the hottest singer at the time. If he found something compelling about the beliefs, maybe I should, too. These days, Prince is their most famous adherent, something that negatively affected the concert I went to see him perform at in the summer of 2004.
It had been 20 years since Purple Rain had rocked the world and his show that year was an opportunty for us all to go back to those halcyon days. Xcel Energy Center in St Paul was sold out and thousands of fans were pumped to see him perform. For the most part, it was good, but he excised some of the songs that he felt no longer fit in with his new spirituality.
I found this ironic. In the mid-80's, I surreptiously listened to his music while a Witness. Now out of the Witnesses and free to listen to whatever I wanted, Prince had decided that he was too holy for such theatrics. My highlight that night was his performance of "D.M.S.R.", a song I didn't expect to hear as the S in the song stood for sex.
My old man was not above striking me or my siblings if we stepped out of line. I recall one evening when me and one of my brothers were escorted outside by my father during the middle of a meeting. Under the starry sky, he proceeded to 'rap our backsides.
At home, he utilized a more sinister device, the belt. I have a number of scars on the middle of my back that my wife and various doctors have asked about. I'm not sure if they came from my dad, are a past-life scar, or have some other source. I don't blame him for hitting me, though. He must've known that one day, I'd be much sexier than him.
They can be found here, here, and here. Thanks to a regression therapist that I've recently started seeing, here are some more memories that have come to light:
The songbook back then had 119 songs. One was sung before the meeting started, another during halftime, and one more at the end. There are three that I remember to this day: The first is the last song in the book: Keep Your Eyes on the Prize. The second is called Myriads and Myriads. I don't know the name of the third, but it was unusual in that it had a bit of a bouncy beat, something unusual compared to the rest of the Witnesses' oeuvre. It's one you wouldn't necessarily mind hearing on the radio. The only lyrics I remember from it were, "If you have such faith accompanied by works, da da da da da da da da".
To this day, I don't understand why they thought it was a good idea to make children sit for two hours during the twice weekly meetings, one hour for a third meeting. Kids have to sit enough during school, but to expect them to do more in the evening hours, for subjects that most likely wouldn't interest them, should almost be considered a form of brain-deadening neglect.
I had a number of games I played to kill time while waiting for the meeting to end. If I was lucky enough to sit on the inside of a row, I counted the number of raised particles on the walls. I imagined that one was a star, another was a galaxy, over here was another galaxy, we lived here, and so on.
I knew Jehovah was on my side whenever I sat next to one of the two windows that looked out on a resident's yard. How grand, I thought it must be, as I looked at a man playing with his dog, to be able to spend a Thursday evening relaxing and unwinding, to be able to wear a T-shirt and jeans as opposed to a suit and tie. I love how the Witnesses' make a big deal about how they're not worldly yet wear clothes that are an unmistakable symbol of the world.
Another lucky break was when my parents couldn't wake up in time to take us to the Sunday meeting. I was as quiet as a mouse if I got up early on Sunday morning so as not to accidentally wake them up. There was no way I was going to try to rouse them. It'd be like knowing that today you were to have a root canal and anything went as far as trying to get out of it. Sometimes they woke up in time to just take us to the second hour which was bittersweet.
Michael Jackson was a member of the Witnesses in the early 80's which was cool in that he was the hottest singer at the time. If he found something compelling about the beliefs, maybe I should, too. These days, Prince is their most famous adherent, something that negatively affected the concert I went to see him perform at in the summer of 2004.
It had been 20 years since Purple Rain had rocked the world and his show that year was an opportunty for us all to go back to those halcyon days. Xcel Energy Center in St Paul was sold out and thousands of fans were pumped to see him perform. For the most part, it was good, but he excised some of the songs that he felt no longer fit in with his new spirituality.
I found this ironic. In the mid-80's, I surreptiously listened to his music while a Witness. Now out of the Witnesses and free to listen to whatever I wanted, Prince had decided that he was too holy for such theatrics. My highlight that night was his performance of "D.M.S.R.", a song I didn't expect to hear as the S in the song stood for sex.
My old man was not above striking me or my siblings if we stepped out of line. I recall one evening when me and one of my brothers were escorted outside by my father during the middle of a meeting. Under the starry sky, he proceeded to 'rap our backsides.
At home, he utilized a more sinister device, the belt. I have a number of scars on the middle of my back that my wife and various doctors have asked about. I'm not sure if they came from my dad, are a past-life scar, or have some other source. I don't blame him for hitting me, though. He must've known that one day, I'd be much sexier than him.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Yet Another Movie-Related Post
This past Saturday, I went with my high-school friend to "Tron: Legacy". The original "Tron" came out 28 years ago; I was 11 years old at the time. I remember my mother taking me to it. Though the special effects were ground-breaking, I wasn't overly impressed with the film. Looking back, I am overly impressed with my mom. She taught me to love the movies from a very young age. Back then, one couldn't go online and see what the reviews were for a given movie. The closest thing was to look at what the movie critic had said about the film in the local newspaper. My mom would base what movie the family should see on what "looks good".
While taking us to plenty of sci-fi and action films, she also enjoyed going to films that were more her style, things like "Tootsie", "9 to 5", "Arthur", and "Mr. Mom". In most cases, I had a good time going to these films as well. One of my mother's favorite parts from "Arthur" was when the butler, John Gielgud, said to Dudley Moore, while he was in the bathtub: "Perhaps you would like me to come in there and wash your dick for you, you little shit." I'm greatly looking forward to this spring's remake which stars Russell Brand as the title character.
As me and my friend walked into the screening room on Saturday afternoon, a couple men and their sons were coming out. They looked confused. We walked in to complete darkness. Other than the track lights coming off the stairs, it was pitch black. I paid it no mind and found us a seat at the very top. Gradually others came and the pre-show magic began. There were about twenty other people at the show, all of them male. I explained to my friend what had occurred in the first so he wouldn't be lost; he got lost, anyway. The plot didn't make perfect sense, you see.
Nonetheless, we had a great time. Daft Punk did the soundtrack which was full of electronic and techno beats. I was grooving throughout the film. One of my favorite moments was when Jeff Bridges' son (by the way, this was the second consecutive movie I was attending that starred Bridges) went into the old video arcade and approached the circa early-80's jukebox. The first track it played was Journey's classic "Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)". Bridges was fun as always. In one scene, when his son is yelling at him, he says, "You're messing with my Zen thing, man!" Though not a masterpiece, we had a great time with the film and were glad we went.
While taking us to plenty of sci-fi and action films, she also enjoyed going to films that were more her style, things like "Tootsie", "9 to 5", "Arthur", and "Mr. Mom". In most cases, I had a good time going to these films as well. One of my mother's favorite parts from "Arthur" was when the butler, John Gielgud, said to Dudley Moore, while he was in the bathtub: "Perhaps you would like me to come in there and wash your dick for you, you little shit." I'm greatly looking forward to this spring's remake which stars Russell Brand as the title character.
As me and my friend walked into the screening room on Saturday afternoon, a couple men and their sons were coming out. They looked confused. We walked in to complete darkness. Other than the track lights coming off the stairs, it was pitch black. I paid it no mind and found us a seat at the very top. Gradually others came and the pre-show magic began. There were about twenty other people at the show, all of them male. I explained to my friend what had occurred in the first so he wouldn't be lost; he got lost, anyway. The plot didn't make perfect sense, you see.
Nonetheless, we had a great time. Daft Punk did the soundtrack which was full of electronic and techno beats. I was grooving throughout the film. One of my favorite moments was when Jeff Bridges' son (by the way, this was the second consecutive movie I was attending that starred Bridges) went into the old video arcade and approached the circa early-80's jukebox. The first track it played was Journey's classic "Separate Ways (Worlds Apart)". Bridges was fun as always. In one scene, when his son is yelling at him, he says, "You're messing with my Zen thing, man!" Though not a masterpiece, we had a great time with the film and were glad we went.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
On Happiness & Laughter
After spending a fruitful weekend with a high-school friend, last night I took the opportunity to watch programs that had accumulated on our DVR. One of my favorite comedians, Jim Carrey, had hosted Saturday Night Live and I looked forward to checking it out. Much to my surprise, I gained nary a laugh from said program while my wife chuckled a number of times. Could it be that I just wasn't in the mood for a bit of levity?
After finishing "The Larry Sanders Show", I saw that a movie from 2004 was playing on the Independent Film Channel. Starring Tom Hanks, "The Ladykillers" was a Coen brothers movie (they directed the recent "True Grit") that I hadn't seen. The trailers made it look amusing, but I wasn't motivated enough to see it more than a half a decade ago.
It was a very unusual role for Hanks in that he played a Southern gent with an incredibly vast vocabulary and a goatee. He reminded one a bit of Colonel Sanders. There were a number of laughs in the early going and I loved how Hanks' character wasn't ashamed to use the 12-dollar words that he was familiar with; I sometimes have the tendency to dumb down my language when talking to others because I don't wish to pelt them with phrases they're not familiar with.
My wife grew tired and went to bed about an hour into the movie while I watched the heist that the film's characters had planned took place. It's a fantastic feeling to stumble upon a film that you have no expectations for, but which winds up pleasing you greatly. There was a running gag involving a garbage barge and I laughed the hardest, crying almost, when it was used for the last time in the movie's final minute. Just as an orgasm completes the sex act, so too, should the biggest laugh of a comedy come about at the very end and this is one of the rare movies that did so for me.
If it wasn't pleasing enough to close my night with a huge guffaw, my morning had started strong as well. As I drove with my friend on the interstate and looked at the farms covered by snow on a day in which the temperature hovered around 20 degrees, I was struck by a knowing that everything is perfect just the way it is. Now, that is something that I like to believe, but to actually feel it in the marrow of one's bones was a beautiful thing.
On the way home, my wife picked up a prescription while I walked a bit in the clinic's halls. I saw a lady who was walking kinda funny and smiled a bit, almost ashamed of how good I was feeling. I wanted to tell her that though it might not seem so, nothing needs fixing. A moment later, as an older man passed me, I again displayed an expression of extreme contentment. Walking outside to the car, I was tempted to skip, so great was my feeling of well-being. I do what I can each day to create my own happiness, but sometimes I'm surprised by how strongly the feeling can manifest.
After finishing "The Larry Sanders Show", I saw that a movie from 2004 was playing on the Independent Film Channel. Starring Tom Hanks, "The Ladykillers" was a Coen brothers movie (they directed the recent "True Grit") that I hadn't seen. The trailers made it look amusing, but I wasn't motivated enough to see it more than a half a decade ago.
It was a very unusual role for Hanks in that he played a Southern gent with an incredibly vast vocabulary and a goatee. He reminded one a bit of Colonel Sanders. There were a number of laughs in the early going and I loved how Hanks' character wasn't ashamed to use the 12-dollar words that he was familiar with; I sometimes have the tendency to dumb down my language when talking to others because I don't wish to pelt them with phrases they're not familiar with.
My wife grew tired and went to bed about an hour into the movie while I watched the heist that the film's characters had planned took place. It's a fantastic feeling to stumble upon a film that you have no expectations for, but which winds up pleasing you greatly. There was a running gag involving a garbage barge and I laughed the hardest, crying almost, when it was used for the last time in the movie's final minute. Just as an orgasm completes the sex act, so too, should the biggest laugh of a comedy come about at the very end and this is one of the rare movies that did so for me.
If it wasn't pleasing enough to close my night with a huge guffaw, my morning had started strong as well. As I drove with my friend on the interstate and looked at the farms covered by snow on a day in which the temperature hovered around 20 degrees, I was struck by a knowing that everything is perfect just the way it is. Now, that is something that I like to believe, but to actually feel it in the marrow of one's bones was a beautiful thing.
On the way home, my wife picked up a prescription while I walked a bit in the clinic's halls. I saw a lady who was walking kinda funny and smiled a bit, almost ashamed of how good I was feeling. I wanted to tell her that though it might not seem so, nothing needs fixing. A moment later, as an older man passed me, I again displayed an expression of extreme contentment. Walking outside to the car, I was tempted to skip, so great was my feeling of well-being. I do what I can each day to create my own happiness, but sometimes I'm surprised by how strongly the feeling can manifest.
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