So I had a mini meltdown at work yesterday. It wasn't pretty. Lots of closed doors and crying for no good reason. My mental health was questioned by two different people - my boss and another colleague whom I admire deeply. A friend joked with me that now everyone probably thinks I just found out I'm pregnant. I'M NOT BY THE WAY! I finally decided it was a funny thing for him to say about 3 hours after he said it. Anyway, I had to ask my boyfriend to come get me at work (a 70 minute drive for him thanks to traffic and general BS about driving in DC) and I felt overall helpless, needy and dumb.
Anyway, I need to have a new perspective. I've been operating without any balance in my life for a while now, and I'm recommitting myself to taking it down a few notches. So, I'm asking my friends to help me out and not let me give the "I've got too much work" excuse. I think I just need a new approach to work and a healthier attitude. I started today by letting myself linger in bed for an extra 15 minutes (I am the effing boss after all), treated myself to a cappuccino and bagel.. WITH CREAM CHEESE! That's right... I realized it's also entirely likely that the lack of cheese in my life led to temporary insanity. When I accidentally blew it by ordering a Caesar salad last night (covered in Parmesan shavings), I realized that Jesus was just going to have to deal.
So, yes, new perspective, small pleasures. I loved the fact that the sun was out when I left for work this morning (instead of pitch dark) and that birds were chirping as I walked to the office. My friend Jenny is in town this weekend, which I couldn't be more excited about, and I may get to go see a hockey game in luxury box tickets tomorrow night at no cost. Originally I turned them down because of work. I think I will reconsider.
Anyway, yesterday was scary and, again, a reminder of how quickly things can catch up to you and you not realize it. So, here's to a new start.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
So tired...
You would think I had been at the ceremony and after-parties last night given how tired I was today. I pity the fools who had meetings with me this morning. I swallowed yawns and couldn't fake a ton of enthusiasm no matter how hard I tried. I JUST got home from work too. And I'm going in an hour early tomorrow to help my boss prep for a super scary meeting. I can't really complain too much, I did volunteer to do it, I just can't believe I came home to get right into bed to wake up again in five hours.
Anyway, I've nothing profound to share except that the truly crazy part of my evening was when I left the office at 10 and 3 of my co-workers were still there. Oy. I have to say my crew really pulled through for me this weekend. No matter how crazy they make me overall, they got the job done. I also have to thank cable television for coming through for me this weekend. Since I had to be attached to my laptop, USA treated me to Love Actually and Notting Hill, followed by an America's Top Model marathon on MTV and, finally, Much Ado About Nothing on another channel. Solid background noise is essential to a successful work from home day for me, so a tip of my hat to the powers that be for making the task at hand easier to accomplish.
I will confess that I'm starting to re-think this whole sacrificing cheese for Lent thing. Again, the problem is I'm not simply cutting cheese from my diet, but I'm substituting it with other crap that is just as fattening but without the nutritious benefits of cheese. Not so good. My office has become morale snack food central, again, in an effort to bribe people into coming and saying hi to me, but that, too, results in my grabbing an Oreo cookie every time I return from a meeting (must be 15 times a day) or grabbing a handful of Peanut M&Ms between phone calls.
On an even more random note, I heard about two horrible fires this weekend in cities close to my heart. The first actually killed two students at a school where I used to work, which is absolutely heartbreaking to me. The building was about a mile down the road from where I used to live. The second ripped through a favorite restaurant in my hometown - it's been there forever and my mom and uncle still frequent it as we have family friends who work there. It also happens to have the best brunch in town. So, I'm a little stunned by both and am reminded of just how fast everything can change. Hate that it takes things like this to wake us up and slow us down a bit.
Off to Bedfordshire. Sorry for the abrupt conclusion - I'm just beat!
Anyway, I've nothing profound to share except that the truly crazy part of my evening was when I left the office at 10 and 3 of my co-workers were still there. Oy. I have to say my crew really pulled through for me this weekend. No matter how crazy they make me overall, they got the job done. I also have to thank cable television for coming through for me this weekend. Since I had to be attached to my laptop, USA treated me to Love Actually and Notting Hill, followed by an America's Top Model marathon on MTV and, finally, Much Ado About Nothing on another channel. Solid background noise is essential to a successful work from home day for me, so a tip of my hat to the powers that be for making the task at hand easier to accomplish.
I will confess that I'm starting to re-think this whole sacrificing cheese for Lent thing. Again, the problem is I'm not simply cutting cheese from my diet, but I'm substituting it with other crap that is just as fattening but without the nutritious benefits of cheese. Not so good. My office has become morale snack food central, again, in an effort to bribe people into coming and saying hi to me, but that, too, results in my grabbing an Oreo cookie every time I return from a meeting (must be 15 times a day) or grabbing a handful of Peanut M&Ms between phone calls.
On an even more random note, I heard about two horrible fires this weekend in cities close to my heart. The first actually killed two students at a school where I used to work, which is absolutely heartbreaking to me. The building was about a mile down the road from where I used to live. The second ripped through a favorite restaurant in my hometown - it's been there forever and my mom and uncle still frequent it as we have family friends who work there. It also happens to have the best brunch in town. So, I'm a little stunned by both and am reminded of just how fast everything can change. Hate that it takes things like this to wake us up and slow us down a bit.
Off to Bedfordshire. Sorry for the abrupt conclusion - I'm just beat!
Showtime...
So it’s put up or shut up time. After conversing with some friends who read my Oscar picks blog, I realize it’s unlikely I’ll be reveling in glory this evening, proud of the accuracy and depth of my industry knowledge. I have some unpopular picks and didn’t realize so many races were “wide open”. Oh well. I’m still proud of my picks.
Beyonce – too self conscious about her weave. Stop fidgeting. You’re too gorgeous to fidget.
And there’s Meryl Streep flipping the bird to the fashion industry. The necklace? Chez Target. The kimono/oversized dress “makes me look bigger than I really am” get up? I’ll go with Chicos Formalwear.
Reese Witherspoon – sweet mama. “So I’m wearing extensions, so is everybody else tonight. And I’ve got a body that won’t quit and a $20,000 dress on. Oh, and did you see the heffer my ex cheated with me on? I hope he’s crying in his fucking Ramen noodles since that’s all he can afford on his indie salary.”
Gwyneth Paltrow – why does she work so hard at making herself unattractive? Her dress looks like a pattern on my granny’s nightgown.
Jennifer Hudson looks like a conehead with that lame wrap she’s sporting.
SOMEBODY HELP PENELOPE! There’s a dead animal at the bottom of her dress!
Cate Blanchett. Stunning. She’s my favorite look so far tonight. Then again, we did have The Aviator on earlier, in which she plays Katherine Hepburn and, well, I fell in love with her all over again. She’s a goddess.
Kate Winslet – she looks like a delicious piece of salt water taffy. I love her too. It’s official. My little girl will be named Cate or Kate. Oh, let’s face it, Cate.
Helen Mirren. Wow. Ok, Cathryn Helen
Ok.. here we go.. deep voice introduction.. string instruments.. and… MONTAGE!
THE SHOW
Intro looks like a Mac commercial. Does this make it edgy or tired?
Ok, here we go Ellen. Fingers crossed for you. Oh, there’s a beaming Portia de Rossi. LOVE THEM. Ok, back to Ellen. Eh, knew she’d wear a suit but why that one? I’m pretty sure Chris Isaak wore that suit at the last live show of his I saw. Right before he put on the mirror ball suit. Oh no, did she just say Penelope Cruz is from
Oh my God, someone from work just IM’d me. This is like interrupting the Pope during Christmas Eve mass.
Best laugh so far.. including Steve Carrell in her ode to the diversity nominated.
Ok, Ellen danced. I lose that bet.
Hello Mr. Bond. Meow! Daniel Craig and Kidman present for Art Direction. Pan’s Lab! GOT IT RIGHT! 1/1
Maggie Gyllenhaal – one half of one of the coolest couples in
Oh dear, what’s going on with Will Ferrell? His hair looks like Jack Osborne’s. Ok, so far the best thing about the Oscars this year is Ellen’s presence is clearly encouraging more humor. OMG, he and Jack Black are threatening to fight each nominee. This is awesome. And the fact that John C. Reilly is teaching THEM how to have a successful career. I think I’m aroused.
And now we’re transitioning into achievement in makeup. Oh my. A little rough, but that was still one of the greatest Oscar moments I’ve ever seen. Pan’s Lab! 2/2 And with this award comes the first awkward cut off of an acceptance speech.
Here’s the cute moment of the evening. Will Smith’s little boy presenting with Abigail Breslin. That’s not even the sweetest part. The sweetest part was Jada Pinkett Smith tearing up as she saw her little boy come across the stage. They’re here for Best (Short) Animated: The Danish Poet. DAMN. I loved my justification for No Time for Nuts. 2/3.
Best Short Film (Live Action):
The Hollywood Film Corral Sound Effects Choir? Egad. I take back my statement about the techies getting no love. An excellent time to break out the sparkling cider. That’s right. Jen and I have sparkling cider to share. And REAL buttered popcorn. God bless you Mr. Oscar.
Steve Carrell and Greg Kinnear are presenting an award together. I’m starting to think they’re in a gay relationship. Sound Editing: Letters from
Wait. How did Jessica Biel get into this place? Wait, I don’t care now that I’ve heard the fantastic Scottish accent of her presenting partner – one of the dudes from Narnia. Sound Mixing: Dreamgirls. 5/6.
Ah. The lovely Rachel Weisz. Presenting Best Supporting Actor. Is Eddie Murphy tearing up? And the winner is: Alan Arkin. Holy shit. 6/7. Quite possibly one of the worst delivered speeches I’ve seen, but the spirit of it is superb.
Ellen tries to pass off a screenplay to Scorcese. Seems like a dated joke, but it works brilliantly.
Let’s get something straight. I’ve danced most of my life – classes, recitals, competitions – you name it. I’ve grown up with dance and I love it. But I do draw the line at dance interpretations of the Best Picture nominees.
Oh no. Song performances. But always nice to see Randy Newman is making his 79th straight Oscar appearance.
Al Gore and Leo DiCaprio announce that the Oscars have gone green. Thank God these actors will finally be paid for their craft. Maybe Ellen can stop shopping at thrift stores.
Cameron Diaz presents Best Animated Feature: Happy Feet. 7/8 Coincidence it’s after Gore’s bit and Etheridge’s performance of her song from An Inconvenient Truth? I think not. DAMN YOU GLOBAL WARMING AND YOUR SUBLIMINAL MESSAGES!
An ode to the portrayal of writers in film. Yawn. Just as exciting would be a web cam taping of me typing this blog.
Best Adapted Screenplay: The Departed. 7/9. Best speech intro. “Valium works.”
Emily Blunt and Anne Hathaway present Best Costume Design. They’re being a little juvenile and it’s annoying. But Meryl ad libs a nice “in character” moment as she looks on. But back to the clothes. Nice to show off the costumes outside of the film, but the live mannequin thing is a little creepy. Marie Antoinette wins, and my picks officially begin to fall to pieces. 7/10.
The show is not even over and I’ve learned from Yahoo News that Jennifer Hudson has been named Worst Dressed. Ok, now I’m kind of hoping she wins to make up for that.
Cinematography: Pan’s Labyrinth. 7/11. I should have known better. Lust gets us in trouble.
Visual Effects: The Pirates of the
It would appear that my Oscar predictions have played out much like my Karaoke Revolution performances. I start off strong, but then fade into oblivion.
Oooh.. I sense a foreign film montage! But wait, Ken Wantanabe just did the classiest thing I’ve ever seen with his old fashioned royalty like escort of Catherine Deneuve to the podium. I am such a sucker for chivalry and that was sexy as hell. I’m so distracted.
Best Foreign Film. Oh, wait, Clive Owen. More like best Clive Owen. DAMN. And an upset! WHOA. The Lives of Others wins! Pan’s is denied and I continue to look like a fool. 7/13.
Ok, the dance interpreters just did Snakes on a Plane. For fun. I take back everything bad I said about them.
Best Supporting Actress: Jennifer Hudson takes it. And I suck. 7/14. And, by the way, now that she’s dropped that scary cape, I don’t think she should be voted worst dressed.
Best Documentary (Short): The Blood of Yingzhou District. You won’t know it from my blog, but not only did I win for guessing anything BUT Recycled Life (again, the year of global warming, not recycling), but I DID in fact pick this movie in the online polls I took. You’ll have to take my word for it. I’m feeling good again. 8/15.
Ok, so Jerry Seinfeld would have no place at the Oscars if Ellen wasn’t hosting, so I’m very happy and excited to see him here. Documentary Feature: An Inconvenient Truth. Money. 9/16.
Best Original Score: DAMN IT. My gut said
Best Original Screenplay: Little Miss Sunshine. HOORAY! 10/18.
We’re back to the song performances, and it’s the Dreamgirls homage. Beyonce just gave me goosebumps. If Listen doesn’t win… well, I’ll be forced to be wrong again.
Best Original Song: WHAT?! I Need To Wake Up by Melissa Etheridge wins. 10/19 This equals the biggest crock of BS of the evening. And don’t get me wrong, I love Missy. But I’m going to be sure to call and vote her off of Idol next week.
Montage. Montage. Montage.
Ok, here is the lovely Ms. Winslet presenting Best Film Editing. The Departed. Oof. 10/20. Is that the Charlie Brown music I hear? You know, when he’s just fallen down after trying to kick the football with his head hung low?
The In Memoriam Montage. I still can’t believe Bruno Kirby died this year. One of my favorite film performances ever was his turn in When Harry Met Sally. I know, not profound, but still perfect. But wait, didn’t Don Knotts die last year too? I don’t remember Jack Warden dying – again, another of my favorite supporting performances in While You Were Sleeping. I swear I watch more than just chick flicks.
Philip Seymour Hoffman is one of those guys who might be KIND OF good looking if he didn’t look like he bathed in potato chips everyday. Best Actress: Helen Mirren. Phew, I was getting really nervous about having to get in a car accident. 11/21. Oh Helen, why did you bring your purse up? Isn’t that what your husband is for?
Reese has arrived to present Best Actor. As they run through the nominees this really does seem like more of an open race than I first thought – and that’s based on 5-10 second clips! But
Coppola, Lucas and Speilberg are here to present Best Director. Lucas’ chin, or should I say his uber large second one, always puts me in a daze. And I officially am bitch slapped by the Oscars. Scorcese takes it. 12/23. I guess he had to be the one to stand up with those presenters. Finally, he can afford glasses that don’t have a plastic frame.
Friday, February 23, 2007
My Day
My favorite day of the year is nearing. The nominee overexposure is in place, J. Lo's makeup artist has started bronzing her thighs and all of the hybrid cars from San Francisco to San Diego have been rented out for the An Inconvenient Truth-aware celebrity arrivals.
IT'S OSCAR TIME, BABY!
Back when cleaning my apartment was a priority and my crux of friends were subway accessible to my apartment, I hosted an Oscar party that would make Wolfgang Puck weep with envy. The wine flowed, I made my uber-famous curried chicken salad, and prizes were awarded to the winners of my cutthroat Pick the Winners contest.
While there will be no party this year, I nevertheless humbly offer my predictions for who'll be grasping Oscar (known as "The Precious" from this point forward) late into the evening this Sunday. And yes, we're doing every category.
Best Actor: I've seen none of these performances, so I'm feeling really good about my prediction. I'm serious. More often than not, I'm convinced that the Oscar voters get a bottle of Cristal, drink the entire thing themselves, and whoever they realize they haven't yet slept with gets their vote. Now, the industry buzz is that the buzz has worn out on Forest Whitaker and Helen Mirren walking away with these categories, and Will Smith might in fact walk away with The Precious. However, I feel Smith will suffer from Jamie Foxx's win in 2004. You know, despite his performance, once he took the stage the Academy went - "Oh shit, did we really just give him an award?" While Smith may be deserving, I fear the Academy will think "Fresh Prince" and send him back to West Philadelphia.
Whittaker takes it. The Academy likes to correct mistakes of the past (Crowe winning for Gladiator and not The Insider, par example), and, in addition to what I understand to be a stellar performance, they may see this as making up for Cheadle's loss in 2004 - the real-life portrayal of a dark time by an underrated actor. Oscar's commitment to diversity has been strong these last few years too, so screw you Peter O'Toole. This is not the year of the old white man (unless you're Clint Eastwood). I will confess, however, that I'm secretly rooting for Ryan Gosling, but I tend to be overly sympathetic to Canadians.
Best Supporting Actor: NOT Eddie Murphy. I stand by my Dreamgirls review that he was very good, but didn't demonstrate the depth of character to justify a win. Remember, the Golden Globes are Oscar Light and get away with more middle America crowd pleasures than the Oscars themselves. "HERCULES! HERCULES!" Need I say more?
There are some outstanding performances in this category. As much of a fan as I was of Mark Wahlberg in The Departed, I don't think he'll take it. His portrayal felt like a bit of a caricature the second time I watched the movie, and while Jackie Earle Haley SHOULD get it, Alan Arkin will. Alan Arkin deserves an award, is getting old and gave a fantastically crusty performance in Little Miss Sunshine. He's a longstanding and well respected character actor who is due for an acknowledgement. The Academy will, at times, reward overall careers, even if the nominated performance itself wasn't the best of that career (Michael Caine, The Cider House Rules).
Best Actress: The buzz may be fading, but if Helen Mirren doesn't win the Oscar I will pay paparazzi to chase me into a tunnel.
I've seen each of these performances except for Penelope Cruz, who the media keep trying to convince me is an excellent actress. I don't doubt them, but I believe this is only the case when she's in a Spanish speaking part. I can say that because I haven't seen any of her movies in Spanish so I'm trying to have a little faith in her. But there is no way she's winning in category with the Dench/Mirren/Streep triple threat. I don't think Dench will take it, though she gives a disturbingly wonderful performance in Notes on a Scandal, popular sentiment is she has been overly awarded with The Precious (Shakespeare in Love). Streep was wonderful in Prada, but she won't get it because I honestly and truly believe there are any number of actresses who could have played that role and played it just as well. It's not that hard to play an extreme bitch. I do it every day if you believe my staff, and I haven't taken a single acting class. Winslet is also excellent in Little Children, but she's not the standout performance of that film so an award is probably inappropriate.
Mirren was excellent. She artfully suckered me into a range of emotions within the short time period the film covers. Plus she took me back to the day I visited Buckingham Palace with my friend Kristen, who picked up a postcard with the Queen's picture and matter-of-factly said, in the middle of the shop within earshot of everyone, "You know, I hear she's a real bitch."
Best Supporting Actress: Not Hudson. I know, I know. I'm probably wrong, but I'm going out on a limb here. Oscar can get uppity on itself and doesn't like to be told what to do, particularly by the American Idol viewing audience. I agree she did a great job in Dreamgirls. The singing was second to none and the acting was impressive for a rookie. But my fear is the singing has replaced the acting with these accolades. The Precious will give her the Heisman.
Rinko Kukuchi takes this one, for a number of reasons. First, her performance. Sbe's a much older, emotionally scarred woman trapped in a teenage body with 16 year old girl hormones and no manner in which to scream at life's unfairness. Her performance is the best of the film without saying a single word. Second, the award acknowledges a film that the Academy feels it has to recognize somehow but not with the big prize, as it's the Best Picture nominee with the most mixed reviews. Third, the Academy loves a disability. Finally, the Academy admits there are more worthy Asian actors than Ken Wantanabe and they'll be damned if they nominate Jackie Chan.
Animated Film: Happy Feet. I heard the Christian population was angered by the liberal leanings of this film, with its brainwashing preaching on the environment and its gay lead penguin. Hollywood is full of liberals and nothing says Oscar like gay tree huggers who can dance.
Art Direction: Pan's Labyrinth. I haven't seen it but it is supposed to be extraordinary. The preview alone is one of the prettiest things I have ever seen on my sweet new flat screen TV. I personally didn't like the art direction in Dreamgirls, they were clearly trying to keep a sense of the story on a Broadway stage, but that begs the question, "Why make a movie?" The only other nominee I've seen is The Good Shepherd. My understanding of art direction is it seems to have the most to do with set. There was a tremendous starkness to the set of that film that dances beautifully with the stiff nature of the lead character and the rigidness of the surroundings, so my guess is Shepherd could, in fact, take this any other year in which it wasn't against Pan's.
Cinematography: I define this as the storytelling without the acting, which fascinates me. But, since I haven't seen any of the nominees, I'll go with The Prestige in the hope that it gives me a shot with either Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale or the cinematographer of the film.. who may have brushed against one of them in the hallway at some point and might still faintly smell of their musk.
Costume Design: One of my favorite people recently wrote in her blog that she gets frustrated with this category because it always goes to the period piece and HOW BORING is that. But, has a period piece (Marie Antoinette) ever had a smackdown with a film about the fashion industry (The Devil Wears Prada)? I'm going with Prada.
Directing: Not Scorcese. Everyone wants him to win but he won't. He can't in light of Letters from Iwo Jima. I actually found some of Scorcese's choices to be little cheeky in The Departed and Clint Eastwood delivers a visually stunning, unique and relevant story with Letters. It won't win Best Picture, and it shouldn't, but this acknowledgement is appropriate.
Documentary Feature: An Inconvenient Truth. Duh. Liberal platform with the most liberal audience in the world.
Documentary Short: Anything but Recycled Life. With Happy Feet and An Inconvenient Truth taking The Precious, something in the environment has got to give. It's the year of global warming, not recycling.
Film Editing: I've seen two of the five nominees, but I'm going to go with United 93. It's the only nomination for a film that touched a number of people on a number of levels and was lauded for its use of no-name actors. A difficult story to tell, a respectful way to approach it. Who cares about the editing. Just give it an award.
Foreign Language Film: I know nothing about Water or After the Wedding. I do know in my Best Picture viewing blitz I saw the preview for Days of Glory a few too many times, but can confirm it did very well at Cannes and apparently made the French change a law to recognize its forgotten heroes. My question. WHAT ABOUT US? And by us, I mean USA?!
It's between Pan's Labyrinth and The Lives of Others. From what I'm hearing Pan's was robbed of a Best Picture nod, so we'll hand it this category.
WAKE UP! We're getting to Best Picture. Be patient.
Makeup: The days of Mel Gibson as Hollywood's Golden Boy are long gone. So, in addition to anything but Apocalypto, there will be more accolades for Pan's Labyrinth. That freaky horned thing alone looks worth it.
Music (Score): I'm tempted to go with Babel. I really didn't like this movie but I do have a specific recollection of a moment that resulted in few tears rolling down my cheek. Some might offer that's not saying much, particularly for a weepy sap like me, but for a film I really didn't care about, I remember the music stirring something in me at the right moment. Not the right reason, per se, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it. If you're a betting person, however, Notes on a Scandal will likely take it. I don't recall anything about it from the movie, but since it was featured at the candy counter of the movie theater in which I saw it, it must be good.
Music (Song): Dreamgirls, "Listen". Three songs from the film are nominated but my understanding is this was the only original song that was not in the musical and was written for the film. I pick it because of the strength it carries on its own merits, but also for the importance it has to the movie itself and the development of Beyonce's character. It provides a real transition and is the one moment in the movie that is all hers.
Best Picture: Screw you. I'm saving this until the end even though I'm going in the order of the categories as listed by Oscar.com and it's next. Oh shut up. We're almost at the end and I'm starting to get bored of myself. It won't be much longer.
Best Short Film (Animated): No Time for Nuts. I usually go with best title when it comes to these categories. That, and I went to the store with my boss the other day to pick up morale boosting snacks for our staff and when she asked the clerk, in all seriousness, "Where do you keep your nuts?", I fell to pieces like I was in middle school. I can't stop thinking about it, so it must be a sign.
Best Short Film (Live Action): West Bank Story. It may not be the Sharks and the Jets but I'm guessing they kept the character named A-Rab.
Sound Editing: Letters from Iwo Jima. Lots of kaboom!
Sound Mixing: Dreamgirls. They had to make Jamie Foxx sound like he can sing while not mimicking Ray Charles.
Visual Effects: Superman Returns. I guess this movie should get SOMETHING other than a bitch slap. Shame on you, Parker Posey. Shame on you.
Writing (Adapted Screenplay): Little Children. I'm really torn here. This is a movie that deserves a lot of attention that won't get it in terms of number of Preciouses received. At the very least, though I think those I know who read the book (my boyfriend) had issues with some treatments (he's really smart, I trust him), I'd like to see the writers acknowledged for some true character development and a sophisticated treatment of a troubling story.
Notes on a Scandal is also worthy. Some of the best dialogue I've seen in a film in a very long time and, again, a sophisticated treatment of yet another troubling story. Still, I'm going with Little Children given the range and depth in a larger number of characters. Its story also required more sophisticated intertwining of individual plot lines.
Writing (Original Screenplay): Little Miss Sunshine. Let me first confess I believe this to be one of the more overrated films of the year. (Tries to avoid the mass amount of Rick James CDs being hurled in blogger's general direction). Nevertheless, it's fun, it's different and has some great performances. I don't understand its Best Picture nod, but I acknowledge it as clever, honest, thoughtful, funny (highbrow funny, not funny ha ha) and offering a nontraditional snapshot into the lives of a family that is likely more traditional than any of us want to admit. It's not the full story required to earn a Best Picture nod, but it is unique, intelligent and deserving of this particular nod. It's a stand out.
Best Picture: YOU MADE IT! The Departed takes this category. Both crowd pleasing and sophisticated, it includes four excellent acting performances from Oscar favorites, a legendary director, and a gritty story demonstrating solid writing and elaborate intertwining of characters and plot lines. As a former Bostonian, I also appreciated the role the city played in the movie itself and the characters who told the story. As the daughter of a Boston-born Irishman, I was proud of its honesty in portraying this section of the city's population without judgement. I apologize for how patronizing that sounds, but it's how I feel. It also offers the Academy another opportunity to acknowledge Scorsese without acknowledging Scorcese. It also begs the question, will DiCaprio be the new Scorcese? Always a bridesmaid...
So there you have it. I can't wait for showtime! After investing all of this time reading, it's probably not wise to tell you the more I think about my predictions, the less accurate I am and I did, in fact, give these a lot of thought. Nevertheless, enjoy the glitz and the glamour and let's hope this show doesn't ruin Ellen's career.
Days without cheese: 3
IT'S OSCAR TIME, BABY!
Back when cleaning my apartment was a priority and my crux of friends were subway accessible to my apartment, I hosted an Oscar party that would make Wolfgang Puck weep with envy. The wine flowed, I made my uber-famous curried chicken salad, and prizes were awarded to the winners of my cutthroat Pick the Winners contest.
While there will be no party this year, I nevertheless humbly offer my predictions for who'll be grasping Oscar (known as "The Precious" from this point forward) late into the evening this Sunday. And yes, we're doing every category.
Best Actor: I've seen none of these performances, so I'm feeling really good about my prediction. I'm serious. More often than not, I'm convinced that the Oscar voters get a bottle of Cristal, drink the entire thing themselves, and whoever they realize they haven't yet slept with gets their vote. Now, the industry buzz is that the buzz has worn out on Forest Whitaker and Helen Mirren walking away with these categories, and Will Smith might in fact walk away with The Precious. However, I feel Smith will suffer from Jamie Foxx's win in 2004. You know, despite his performance, once he took the stage the Academy went - "Oh shit, did we really just give him an award?" While Smith may be deserving, I fear the Academy will think "Fresh Prince" and send him back to West Philadelphia.
Whittaker takes it. The Academy likes to correct mistakes of the past (Crowe winning for Gladiator and not The Insider, par example), and, in addition to what I understand to be a stellar performance, they may see this as making up for Cheadle's loss in 2004 - the real-life portrayal of a dark time by an underrated actor. Oscar's commitment to diversity has been strong these last few years too, so screw you Peter O'Toole. This is not the year of the old white man (unless you're Clint Eastwood). I will confess, however, that I'm secretly rooting for Ryan Gosling, but I tend to be overly sympathetic to Canadians.
Best Supporting Actor: NOT Eddie Murphy. I stand by my Dreamgirls review that he was very good, but didn't demonstrate the depth of character to justify a win. Remember, the Golden Globes are Oscar Light and get away with more middle America crowd pleasures than the Oscars themselves. "HERCULES! HERCULES!" Need I say more?
There are some outstanding performances in this category. As much of a fan as I was of Mark Wahlberg in The Departed, I don't think he'll take it. His portrayal felt like a bit of a caricature the second time I watched the movie, and while Jackie Earle Haley SHOULD get it, Alan Arkin will. Alan Arkin deserves an award, is getting old and gave a fantastically crusty performance in Little Miss Sunshine. He's a longstanding and well respected character actor who is due for an acknowledgement. The Academy will, at times, reward overall careers, even if the nominated performance itself wasn't the best of that career (Michael Caine, The Cider House Rules).
Best Actress: The buzz may be fading, but if Helen Mirren doesn't win the Oscar I will pay paparazzi to chase me into a tunnel.
I've seen each of these performances except for Penelope Cruz, who the media keep trying to convince me is an excellent actress. I don't doubt them, but I believe this is only the case when she's in a Spanish speaking part. I can say that because I haven't seen any of her movies in Spanish so I'm trying to have a little faith in her. But there is no way she's winning in category with the Dench/Mirren/Streep triple threat. I don't think Dench will take it, though she gives a disturbingly wonderful performance in Notes on a Scandal, popular sentiment is she has been overly awarded with The Precious (Shakespeare in Love). Streep was wonderful in Prada, but she won't get it because I honestly and truly believe there are any number of actresses who could have played that role and played it just as well. It's not that hard to play an extreme bitch. I do it every day if you believe my staff, and I haven't taken a single acting class. Winslet is also excellent in Little Children, but she's not the standout performance of that film so an award is probably inappropriate.
Mirren was excellent. She artfully suckered me into a range of emotions within the short time period the film covers. Plus she took me back to the day I visited Buckingham Palace with my friend Kristen, who picked up a postcard with the Queen's picture and matter-of-factly said, in the middle of the shop within earshot of everyone, "You know, I hear she's a real bitch."
Best Supporting Actress: Not Hudson. I know, I know. I'm probably wrong, but I'm going out on a limb here. Oscar can get uppity on itself and doesn't like to be told what to do, particularly by the American Idol viewing audience. I agree she did a great job in Dreamgirls. The singing was second to none and the acting was impressive for a rookie. But my fear is the singing has replaced the acting with these accolades. The Precious will give her the Heisman.
Rinko Kukuchi takes this one, for a number of reasons. First, her performance. Sbe's a much older, emotionally scarred woman trapped in a teenage body with 16 year old girl hormones and no manner in which to scream at life's unfairness. Her performance is the best of the film without saying a single word. Second, the award acknowledges a film that the Academy feels it has to recognize somehow but not with the big prize, as it's the Best Picture nominee with the most mixed reviews. Third, the Academy loves a disability. Finally, the Academy admits there are more worthy Asian actors than Ken Wantanabe and they'll be damned if they nominate Jackie Chan.
Animated Film: Happy Feet. I heard the Christian population was angered by the liberal leanings of this film, with its brainwashing preaching on the environment and its gay lead penguin. Hollywood is full of liberals and nothing says Oscar like gay tree huggers who can dance.
Art Direction: Pan's Labyrinth. I haven't seen it but it is supposed to be extraordinary. The preview alone is one of the prettiest things I have ever seen on my sweet new flat screen TV. I personally didn't like the art direction in Dreamgirls, they were clearly trying to keep a sense of the story on a Broadway stage, but that begs the question, "Why make a movie?" The only other nominee I've seen is The Good Shepherd. My understanding of art direction is it seems to have the most to do with set. There was a tremendous starkness to the set of that film that dances beautifully with the stiff nature of the lead character and the rigidness of the surroundings, so my guess is Shepherd could, in fact, take this any other year in which it wasn't against Pan's.
Cinematography: I define this as the storytelling without the acting, which fascinates me. But, since I haven't seen any of the nominees, I'll go with The Prestige in the hope that it gives me a shot with either Hugh Jackman, Christian Bale or the cinematographer of the film.. who may have brushed against one of them in the hallway at some point and might still faintly smell of their musk.
Costume Design: One of my favorite people recently wrote in her blog that she gets frustrated with this category because it always goes to the period piece and HOW BORING is that. But, has a period piece (Marie Antoinette) ever had a smackdown with a film about the fashion industry (The Devil Wears Prada)? I'm going with Prada.
Directing: Not Scorcese. Everyone wants him to win but he won't. He can't in light of Letters from Iwo Jima. I actually found some of Scorcese's choices to be little cheeky in The Departed and Clint Eastwood delivers a visually stunning, unique and relevant story with Letters. It won't win Best Picture, and it shouldn't, but this acknowledgement is appropriate.
Documentary Feature: An Inconvenient Truth. Duh. Liberal platform with the most liberal audience in the world.
Documentary Short: Anything but Recycled Life. With Happy Feet and An Inconvenient Truth taking The Precious, something in the environment has got to give. It's the year of global warming, not recycling.
Film Editing: I've seen two of the five nominees, but I'm going to go with United 93. It's the only nomination for a film that touched a number of people on a number of levels and was lauded for its use of no-name actors. A difficult story to tell, a respectful way to approach it. Who cares about the editing. Just give it an award.
Foreign Language Film: I know nothing about Water or After the Wedding. I do know in my Best Picture viewing blitz I saw the preview for Days of Glory a few too many times, but can confirm it did very well at Cannes and apparently made the French change a law to recognize its forgotten heroes. My question. WHAT ABOUT US? And by us, I mean USA?!
It's between Pan's Labyrinth and The Lives of Others. From what I'm hearing Pan's was robbed of a Best Picture nod, so we'll hand it this category.
WAKE UP! We're getting to Best Picture. Be patient.
Makeup: The days of Mel Gibson as Hollywood's Golden Boy are long gone. So, in addition to anything but Apocalypto, there will be more accolades for Pan's Labyrinth. That freaky horned thing alone looks worth it.
Music (Score): I'm tempted to go with Babel. I really didn't like this movie but I do have a specific recollection of a moment that resulted in few tears rolling down my cheek. Some might offer that's not saying much, particularly for a weepy sap like me, but for a film I really didn't care about, I remember the music stirring something in me at the right moment. Not the right reason, per se, but that's my story and I'm sticking to it. If you're a betting person, however, Notes on a Scandal will likely take it. I don't recall anything about it from the movie, but since it was featured at the candy counter of the movie theater in which I saw it, it must be good.
Music (Song): Dreamgirls, "Listen". Three songs from the film are nominated but my understanding is this was the only original song that was not in the musical and was written for the film. I pick it because of the strength it carries on its own merits, but also for the importance it has to the movie itself and the development of Beyonce's character. It provides a real transition and is the one moment in the movie that is all hers.
Best Picture: Screw you. I'm saving this until the end even though I'm going in the order of the categories as listed by Oscar.com and it's next. Oh shut up. We're almost at the end and I'm starting to get bored of myself. It won't be much longer.
Best Short Film (Animated): No Time for Nuts. I usually go with best title when it comes to these categories. That, and I went to the store with my boss the other day to pick up morale boosting snacks for our staff and when she asked the clerk, in all seriousness, "Where do you keep your nuts?", I fell to pieces like I was in middle school. I can't stop thinking about it, so it must be a sign.
Best Short Film (Live Action): West Bank Story. It may not be the Sharks and the Jets but I'm guessing they kept the character named A-Rab.
Sound Editing: Letters from Iwo Jima. Lots of kaboom!
Sound Mixing: Dreamgirls. They had to make Jamie Foxx sound like he can sing while not mimicking Ray Charles.
Visual Effects: Superman Returns. I guess this movie should get SOMETHING other than a bitch slap. Shame on you, Parker Posey. Shame on you.
Writing (Adapted Screenplay): Little Children. I'm really torn here. This is a movie that deserves a lot of attention that won't get it in terms of number of Preciouses received. At the very least, though I think those I know who read the book (my boyfriend) had issues with some treatments (he's really smart, I trust him), I'd like to see the writers acknowledged for some true character development and a sophisticated treatment of a troubling story.
Notes on a Scandal is also worthy. Some of the best dialogue I've seen in a film in a very long time and, again, a sophisticated treatment of yet another troubling story. Still, I'm going with Little Children given the range and depth in a larger number of characters. Its story also required more sophisticated intertwining of individual plot lines.
Writing (Original Screenplay): Little Miss Sunshine. Let me first confess I believe this to be one of the more overrated films of the year. (Tries to avoid the mass amount of Rick James CDs being hurled in blogger's general direction). Nevertheless, it's fun, it's different and has some great performances. I don't understand its Best Picture nod, but I acknowledge it as clever, honest, thoughtful, funny (highbrow funny, not funny ha ha) and offering a nontraditional snapshot into the lives of a family that is likely more traditional than any of us want to admit. It's not the full story required to earn a Best Picture nod, but it is unique, intelligent and deserving of this particular nod. It's a stand out.
Best Picture: YOU MADE IT! The Departed takes this category. Both crowd pleasing and sophisticated, it includes four excellent acting performances from Oscar favorites, a legendary director, and a gritty story demonstrating solid writing and elaborate intertwining of characters and plot lines. As a former Bostonian, I also appreciated the role the city played in the movie itself and the characters who told the story. As the daughter of a Boston-born Irishman, I was proud of its honesty in portraying this section of the city's population without judgement. I apologize for how patronizing that sounds, but it's how I feel. It also offers the Academy another opportunity to acknowledge Scorsese without acknowledging Scorcese. It also begs the question, will DiCaprio be the new Scorcese? Always a bridesmaid...
So there you have it. I can't wait for showtime! After investing all of this time reading, it's probably not wise to tell you the more I think about my predictions, the less accurate I am and I did, in fact, give these a lot of thought. Nevertheless, enjoy the glitz and the glamour and let's hope this show doesn't ruin Ellen's career.
Days without cheese: 3
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Not..
Not quite right: I didn't eat cheese today. But I also bought "morale snacks" for my team this afternoon - Twizzlers, Peanut M&Ms, Pretzels, Oreos, Goldfish crackers and soda. Of course, the morale snacks were kept in my office as a way of bribing my staff to come be nice to me. And they did. But I also upped my "morale" quite a bit, well, with everything BUT Goldfish Cheddar crackers!
Not quite fair: I worked a 12 hour day today. Part of it, however, was spent with one of my staffers and my boss trying to figure out if a co-worker looks more like Katherine Heigl (Izzy - Grey's Anatomy) or Charlize Theron. I'd prefer to work more 12 hour days than have to sit next to this woman in meetings.
Not quite what I had in mind: Grey's Anatomy has officially straddled the dolphin. (Feeble attempt to kill the phrase "Jumped the shark") Never engage in a three part series of shows about whether or not your main character is dead when most of your audience actually would prefer the show if she were dead. Those weren't tears of joy at her revival.
Not cool: My DVR opted out of taping The Office tonight. For no reason at all.
Not surprising, but not benign: I found out one of my staff members started a lie about me. So very petty. So very upsetting. So very much a waste of my time the way I've catered to this person. So very luck for this person they were not in my physical presence to incur my Irish wrath. So very grateful to my father for letting me curse on the phone for 20 minutes about it.
Not to be underestimated: Alan Arkin at the Oscars this Sunday and the fact that tomorrow is Friday.
Days without cheese: 2
Pounds likely gained due to indulgences other than cheese: 1.6
Not quite fair: I worked a 12 hour day today. Part of it, however, was spent with one of my staffers and my boss trying to figure out if a co-worker looks more like Katherine Heigl (Izzy - Grey's Anatomy) or Charlize Theron. I'd prefer to work more 12 hour days than have to sit next to this woman in meetings.
Not quite what I had in mind: Grey's Anatomy has officially straddled the dolphin. (Feeble attempt to kill the phrase "Jumped the shark") Never engage in a three part series of shows about whether or not your main character is dead when most of your audience actually would prefer the show if she were dead. Those weren't tears of joy at her revival.
Not cool: My DVR opted out of taping The Office tonight. For no reason at all.
Not surprising, but not benign: I found out one of my staff members started a lie about me. So very petty. So very upsetting. So very much a waste of my time the way I've catered to this person. So very luck for this person they were not in my physical presence to incur my Irish wrath. So very grateful to my father for letting me curse on the phone for 20 minutes about it.
Not to be underestimated: Alan Arkin at the Oscars this Sunday and the fact that tomorrow is Friday.
Days without cheese: 2
Pounds likely gained due to indulgences other than cheese: 1.6
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Cheese, George, Cheese
Welcome to my obligatory Lent blog. I'm so glad you've joined me.
The verdict? Cheese. I'm giving up cheese. Go ahead, laugh.
Lent is about sacrifice or giving more of yourself. Since I'm already maxed out in the self giving department, perhaps not with charity but certainly with my sanity at work, and thus not quite in the ways God intended, nevertheless, I have to go with sacrifice. And there is really no greater material, measurable sacrifice in my life than cheese.
OK, that's a lie. Caffeine is the bigger sacrifice, but that is off the table. I have rules, people. If God doesn't understand, he's not the guy I thought he was.
I have caffeine every day, but I'm quite certain I have cheese every day too. But when Lent falls during one of the toughest stretches of my professional life, giving up an opportunity for a quick jolt of consciousness is unacceptable. So cheese it is. This is hard for me, people. I don't quite think you understand. I require cheese.
I don't have much of a sweet tooth, so giving up chocolate really isn't giving up much of anything. Beyond soda and cheese, I don't have a ton of vices. Well, other than sniffing glue, but that, too, gets mama through the day. But I cook a ton of pasta recipes, and they all have cheese. Cheese on salads, cheese on sandwiches, cheese on pizza, cheese on burritos - it's all gone. And yes, this includes cream cheese, CHEEZ-ITS, Cheetos.. oy, and right after I discovered the baked ones.
I have successfully given up cheese before, and lost about 5 or 6 lbs because of it. I will confess I'm hoping for similar, if not better, results. We'll see how it goes. My success with Lent has wavered in my older years. When you're young and vibrant, you're up for the challenge and are simply satisfied in life based on the fact that you're young and vibrant. Well, I'm old and blotchy now, so it doesn't quite cut it anymore.
I'll confess we're less than 24 hours into Lent and I already feel like I've veered off course from its meaning. See, although I've avoided cheese, I talked myself into lunch at McDonald's today because I was depriving myself. Hmmm... something about a square peg in a circle.
Anyway, good luck to my fellow Lent participants and for the love of God, eat some cheese for me.
Days without cheese: 1
The verdict? Cheese. I'm giving up cheese. Go ahead, laugh.
Lent is about sacrifice or giving more of yourself. Since I'm already maxed out in the self giving department, perhaps not with charity but certainly with my sanity at work, and thus not quite in the ways God intended, nevertheless, I have to go with sacrifice. And there is really no greater material, measurable sacrifice in my life than cheese.
OK, that's a lie. Caffeine is the bigger sacrifice, but that is off the table. I have rules, people. If God doesn't understand, he's not the guy I thought he was.
I have caffeine every day, but I'm quite certain I have cheese every day too. But when Lent falls during one of the toughest stretches of my professional life, giving up an opportunity for a quick jolt of consciousness is unacceptable. So cheese it is. This is hard for me, people. I don't quite think you understand. I require cheese.
I don't have much of a sweet tooth, so giving up chocolate really isn't giving up much of anything. Beyond soda and cheese, I don't have a ton of vices. Well, other than sniffing glue, but that, too, gets mama through the day. But I cook a ton of pasta recipes, and they all have cheese. Cheese on salads, cheese on sandwiches, cheese on pizza, cheese on burritos - it's all gone. And yes, this includes cream cheese, CHEEZ-ITS, Cheetos.. oy, and right after I discovered the baked ones.
I have successfully given up cheese before, and lost about 5 or 6 lbs because of it. I will confess I'm hoping for similar, if not better, results. We'll see how it goes. My success with Lent has wavered in my older years. When you're young and vibrant, you're up for the challenge and are simply satisfied in life based on the fact that you're young and vibrant. Well, I'm old and blotchy now, so it doesn't quite cut it anymore.
I'll confess we're less than 24 hours into Lent and I already feel like I've veered off course from its meaning. See, although I've avoided cheese, I talked myself into lunch at McDonald's today because I was depriving myself. Hmmm... something about a square peg in a circle.
Anyway, good luck to my fellow Lent participants and for the love of God, eat some cheese for me.
Days without cheese: 1
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Gotta love a man with a sense of humor
Some of you may recall from last evening's post that my boss told me how run down I look and suggested I get some blush or lipstick.
Well, God must have been watching... and he's a sick mo fo.
Before going to bed last evening, I decided to apply a new product to try to fix another facial flaw (yah, ok, it was zit cream - cuz that's fair at 28 years old). Well, I awoke this morning and looked in the mirror and saw a bright red blotched up face. It is even hot to the touch. Basically, I look sunburned. But, of course, compared to my lily white neck, it's a hell of a contrast.
So, I clearly had some sort of reaction to this product, and perhaps shouldn't douse my entire face with it next time. But I did want to share that I accurately predicted my boss would say how much better I looked today - "Wow, you got some rose on your cheeks! You look good!". Of course, everyone else is saying, "Wow, your face is really red!". Thanks for that Captain Obvious, I hadn't even noticed.
So, yah, despite an overload of moisturizer (which will just give me more zits, by the way. Yay for vicious cycles), an even bigger dose of concealer (again, more zits to come), extra foundation and NO blush, I look like a freak show.
I definitely can't win this week.
Well, God must have been watching... and he's a sick mo fo.
Before going to bed last evening, I decided to apply a new product to try to fix another facial flaw (yah, ok, it was zit cream - cuz that's fair at 28 years old). Well, I awoke this morning and looked in the mirror and saw a bright red blotched up face. It is even hot to the touch. Basically, I look sunburned. But, of course, compared to my lily white neck, it's a hell of a contrast.
So, I clearly had some sort of reaction to this product, and perhaps shouldn't douse my entire face with it next time. But I did want to share that I accurately predicted my boss would say how much better I looked today - "Wow, you got some rose on your cheeks! You look good!". Of course, everyone else is saying, "Wow, your face is really red!". Thanks for that Captain Obvious, I hadn't even noticed.
So, yah, despite an overload of moisturizer (which will just give me more zits, by the way. Yay for vicious cycles), an even bigger dose of concealer (again, more zits to come), extra foundation and NO blush, I look like a freak show.
I definitely can't win this week.
Monday, February 19, 2007
No bunch for this Brady
Uncalled for? Absolutely.
I must confess that I am COMPLETELY bumming about the Moynahan-Brady split.
Most who know me know I am no fan of Tom Brady. That's right, I liked the Patriots better when they were big, fat, pathetic losers. I'm not afraid to admit it. But, then this Tom Brady character waltzed in, took the ball out of my first love's hands (ok, Jordan Knight was my first love, so I guess Drew Bledsoe was really my second) and had to go make my football team a freakin dynasty.
Bastard.
Despite the general bad taste in my mouth that forms at the thought of Tom Brady, I really did dig the Tom and Bridget combo. I'm not quite sure why, but I did. I mean, she's been in some of the worst movies ever made (Coyote Ugly, Sum of All Fears, The Recruit) and, well, she's devastatingly gorgeous giving me, as a warm blooded female, every reason to hate her. Still, despite that, I always kind of thought she was cool. She's never claimed to be the Oscar worthy actress and, yes, she's a knockout, but I also bet she'd spilt some nachos with me and have a couple of beers if I needed a friend. She may throw them up afterward, but bygones..
Anyway, I'm just very sad for these two because ultimately, they're nice, good people who stay out of trouble and clearly loved each other for a time. So, with news of a break-up and the B-Moy three months pregnant, you know something went terribly, horribly wrong in their relationship. And oh what fun it must be to read about your former love/father of your baby rumored to be dating Giselle. Again, I don't know why, but when I read an article praising Brady for a seemingly impossible upgrade to Bundchen, I got angry.
You're aces in my book, Bridget. Must be the Irish thing.
I must confess that I am COMPLETELY bumming about the Moynahan-Brady split.
Most who know me know I am no fan of Tom Brady. That's right, I liked the Patriots better when they were big, fat, pathetic losers. I'm not afraid to admit it. But, then this Tom Brady character waltzed in, took the ball out of my first love's hands (ok, Jordan Knight was my first love, so I guess Drew Bledsoe was really my second) and had to go make my football team a freakin dynasty.
Bastard.
Despite the general bad taste in my mouth that forms at the thought of Tom Brady, I really did dig the Tom and Bridget combo. I'm not quite sure why, but I did. I mean, she's been in some of the worst movies ever made (Coyote Ugly, Sum of All Fears, The Recruit) and, well, she's devastatingly gorgeous giving me, as a warm blooded female, every reason to hate her. Still, despite that, I always kind of thought she was cool. She's never claimed to be the Oscar worthy actress and, yes, she's a knockout, but I also bet she'd spilt some nachos with me and have a couple of beers if I needed a friend. She may throw them up afterward, but bygones..
Anyway, I'm just very sad for these two because ultimately, they're nice, good people who stay out of trouble and clearly loved each other for a time. So, with news of a break-up and the B-Moy three months pregnant, you know something went terribly, horribly wrong in their relationship. And oh what fun it must be to read about your former love/father of your baby rumored to be dating Giselle. Again, I don't know why, but when I read an article praising Brady for a seemingly impossible upgrade to Bundchen, I got angry.
You're aces in my book, Bridget. Must be the Irish thing.
State of the Celt
No, not the Boston Celtics. I haven't really followed them since Kevin McHale retired. Even then, I really only followed them because my dad looked a little like Kevin McHale, and how can you not cheer for your dad in the NBA? I am proud to report that a Celtic won the slam dunk contest at the All Star Game this weekend, much to my amazement. You have to understand, the last Celtics encounter I had was the season opener following the Patriots Super Bowl win and the Red Sox World Series win. When Paul Pierce got on the microphone and said they, too, would bring a championship home to Boston, everyone in the arena laughed. I'm not kidding.
But this is not my point.
I was one of 5 people in the DC Metro area who had to work today, President's Day. Because of the holiday, the Washington Post opted not to print The Express, their commuter version of the paper (think an easier to open USA Today with a little bit of brains). As such, I had nothing to do on the train this morning but listen to my music and stare at the other 4 weary people on the train. You could tell we were all trying to assess each other's situation, with sleepy eyes. "At least I get to wear jeans," the woman sitting across from me thought to herself when she looked my way.
So I had a lot of time to think. The state of the celt is the state of yours truly.
My move to DC in July 05 and the months that followed have had a tremendous impact on my life, professionally and personally. Far more positive has come out of it than negative. The breadth of my world, however, has narrowed tremendously. My work life doesn't allow for office friendships, as I've already made clear. So, coming down here, having these restrictions in place and knowing very few people outside of work means my world is very small.
My life in Boston was not ideal, but I lived with and worked with my best friends in the world. It did make for the occasional unnecessary office drama, but it was minor in the grand scheme of things and completely worth it. There was always something going on, always something to do, and an amazing group of friends to do it with. I was also in driving distance to my parents, another bonus. I've come to realize that my years in Boston were essentially the equivalent of what college was supposed to be for me. I don't want to call them the best years of my life, there were one or two regular and quite major difficulties, but I definitely had my little bubble that I lived in, a bubble that required little outside of its own contents. I had support everywhere I turned, from a group of people I couldn't get enough of.
Even if I went back to Boston today, however, it wouldn't be the same. I'm not the only one from our group to pick up roots and leave, and others have nestled in with soon to be spouses or actual spouses in, gulp, the suburbs. It was a moment in my life I can't recapture. And I've yet to find those same amazing people in the type of quantities and proximity down here that I had before.
This isn't to dog anyone down here. I have some pretty wonderful people in my life. I feel like I rarely get to see them (suburbs, spouses, kids, online dating binges) but they are here. Granted, I have few friends my age, but many are younger, which is another challenge. Again, not to dog my good friends, but sometimes I just feel like I can't quite articulate my world and have it make the same amount of sense. They are a few years away from my situation. Yes, three years can make a difference, at least right now. Lucky bastards.
So my world is small. And work takes up SUCH a big chunk of it. Sometimes it feels like 75% of my life. And so much of work is negative. It is simply not a supportive place, nor is it a friendly place. Some of it is silly, like my boss calling me fat (for the record, she asked me if I was losing weight today, but all that tells me is she somehow found my blog. Plus, at the end of the day she told me how run down I looked and suggested I get some blush or lipstick. Jesus H. Christ. BTW, thanks, Dad, for this great Irish famine look to my eyes I inherited from you when I'm tired.) But, on a more serious note, Friday's workday led to the discovery of something I wasn't supposed to see, something that said some not so complimentary things about me from a person who I thought I'd been pretty good to. Friday also led to two different comparisons to someone I like to call my nemesis (comparisons that didn't end with me coming out the winner), and then there's the general sense I carry with me that most of my co-workers are unhappy and frustrated and perhaps I have some role in it, however small it may be. It's the two steps forward three steps back syndrome that seems to plague my everyday. And I don't have enough going on in my life outside of work to balance it out. The couple of gems I do have are on the receiving end of the pressure to make up for everything. The smallest thing goes wrong in my life outside of work and I get so down, and I become unreasonable and emotional, and it's silly. Not to mention unfair.
Of course, the answer is to pursue more outside of work. But where's the time? Right now, I don't have it. Even as I write this blog I can think of 3 other work related things I could be attending to from the comfort of my ugly sofa, in my mismatched pajama bottoms and t-shirt.
So I'm at a bit of a loss. I wish I had more in my world. I mean, at the same time, I've always been content with a smaller world. I will confess I've never been that good at nurturing friendships, nor have I been great about frequenting social scenes (we already know about my lack of fascination with bars/clubs). Oof. I dunno. I don't have any answers today. I'm just craving balance that is not to be had right now.
I think I'll start by cleaning my room. My cleaning habits have disintegrated into that of a 10 year old boy's and, well, it's basically unacceptable. Perhaps if I can find some order and find some space in that small sphere of my life, it will empower me to take greater control of my other spaces.
But this is not my point.
I was one of 5 people in the DC Metro area who had to work today, President's Day. Because of the holiday, the Washington Post opted not to print The Express, their commuter version of the paper (think an easier to open USA Today with a little bit of brains). As such, I had nothing to do on the train this morning but listen to my music and stare at the other 4 weary people on the train. You could tell we were all trying to assess each other's situation, with sleepy eyes. "At least I get to wear jeans," the woman sitting across from me thought to herself when she looked my way.
So I had a lot of time to think. The state of the celt is the state of yours truly.
My move to DC in July 05 and the months that followed have had a tremendous impact on my life, professionally and personally. Far more positive has come out of it than negative. The breadth of my world, however, has narrowed tremendously. My work life doesn't allow for office friendships, as I've already made clear. So, coming down here, having these restrictions in place and knowing very few people outside of work means my world is very small.
My life in Boston was not ideal, but I lived with and worked with my best friends in the world. It did make for the occasional unnecessary office drama, but it was minor in the grand scheme of things and completely worth it. There was always something going on, always something to do, and an amazing group of friends to do it with. I was also in driving distance to my parents, another bonus. I've come to realize that my years in Boston were essentially the equivalent of what college was supposed to be for me. I don't want to call them the best years of my life, there were one or two regular and quite major difficulties, but I definitely had my little bubble that I lived in, a bubble that required little outside of its own contents. I had support everywhere I turned, from a group of people I couldn't get enough of.
Even if I went back to Boston today, however, it wouldn't be the same. I'm not the only one from our group to pick up roots and leave, and others have nestled in with soon to be spouses or actual spouses in, gulp, the suburbs. It was a moment in my life I can't recapture. And I've yet to find those same amazing people in the type of quantities and proximity down here that I had before.
This isn't to dog anyone down here. I have some pretty wonderful people in my life. I feel like I rarely get to see them (suburbs, spouses, kids, online dating binges) but they are here. Granted, I have few friends my age, but many are younger, which is another challenge. Again, not to dog my good friends, but sometimes I just feel like I can't quite articulate my world and have it make the same amount of sense. They are a few years away from my situation. Yes, three years can make a difference, at least right now. Lucky bastards.
So my world is small. And work takes up SUCH a big chunk of it. Sometimes it feels like 75% of my life. And so much of work is negative. It is simply not a supportive place, nor is it a friendly place. Some of it is silly, like my boss calling me fat (for the record, she asked me if I was losing weight today, but all that tells me is she somehow found my blog. Plus, at the end of the day she told me how run down I looked and suggested I get some blush or lipstick. Jesus H. Christ. BTW, thanks, Dad, for this great Irish famine look to my eyes I inherited from you when I'm tired.) But, on a more serious note, Friday's workday led to the discovery of something I wasn't supposed to see, something that said some not so complimentary things about me from a person who I thought I'd been pretty good to. Friday also led to two different comparisons to someone I like to call my nemesis (comparisons that didn't end with me coming out the winner), and then there's the general sense I carry with me that most of my co-workers are unhappy and frustrated and perhaps I have some role in it, however small it may be. It's the two steps forward three steps back syndrome that seems to plague my everyday. And I don't have enough going on in my life outside of work to balance it out. The couple of gems I do have are on the receiving end of the pressure to make up for everything. The smallest thing goes wrong in my life outside of work and I get so down, and I become unreasonable and emotional, and it's silly. Not to mention unfair.
Of course, the answer is to pursue more outside of work. But where's the time? Right now, I don't have it. Even as I write this blog I can think of 3 other work related things I could be attending to from the comfort of my ugly sofa, in my mismatched pajama bottoms and t-shirt.
So I'm at a bit of a loss. I wish I had more in my world. I mean, at the same time, I've always been content with a smaller world. I will confess I've never been that good at nurturing friendships, nor have I been great about frequenting social scenes (we already know about my lack of fascination with bars/clubs). Oof. I dunno. I don't have any answers today. I'm just craving balance that is not to be had right now.
I think I'll start by cleaning my room. My cleaning habits have disintegrated into that of a 10 year old boy's and, well, it's basically unacceptable. Perhaps if I can find some order and find some space in that small sphere of my life, it will empower me to take greater control of my other spaces.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Remember when...
The co-inventor of the television remote died today. I think it's only appropriate that it took more than one person to create something that has resulted in so much laziness. Please take a moment today to remember the days before a TV remote, and I challenge you to GET UP to turn on your television just once today, but without rolling your eyes from the added effort.
No street cred
I'm so sick of the cold weather. Unfortunately, I don't feel particularly entitled to this feeling.
DC winters are a joke compared to what I grew up with. Childhood in Maine and college in the frozen tundra of central New York taught me that winter started in October, usually around Halloween, and didn't really end until May. Sure, the temperatures started to creep up a little in April, but that didn't mean you couldn't get a massive snow storm the following week. Snow rarely equalled a day without school; a storm really had to have moxie to cancel or delay classes where I'm from.
So, here I am, mid-to-late February, and really only two months into true winter here, and I'm just done. Granted, it has been colder than it should be here, and we're all still feeling the impact of a storm that brought snow and ice to the region last week. Still, we did not see all that much snow. It was the ice that really complicated things, there still wasn't that much of it, but the temperature has yet to rise enough to really melt it, so there are landscapes of icy snow all around. Of course, the bigger problem is no one knows what to do with it here, so parking everywhere remains an issue as nothing is really plowed out, walking surfaces aren't fully cleared, it's just absurd. Schools were closed 3-4 days last week, when there was only one day where precipitation of some sort fell from the sky.
I know my friends in New England will read this with disdain. I know I'll be out of it before you are, and I know I've yet to have it as bad as you (though, let's face it, winter was delayed for you this year, too.) I'm sorry everyone. My blood has thinned and my overall ability to deal with winter is leaning more to the side of those below the Mason-Dixon Line. I just can't wait for warmer weather, days without jackets, cherry blossoms and, well, an overall happier attitude for me and everyone around me. Then, at least temporarily, I can stop dreaming of vacations I can't afford to take. I'm sick of being cooped up and want to go outside and play!
DC winters are a joke compared to what I grew up with. Childhood in Maine and college in the frozen tundra of central New York taught me that winter started in October, usually around Halloween, and didn't really end until May. Sure, the temperatures started to creep up a little in April, but that didn't mean you couldn't get a massive snow storm the following week. Snow rarely equalled a day without school; a storm really had to have moxie to cancel or delay classes where I'm from.
So, here I am, mid-to-late February, and really only two months into true winter here, and I'm just done. Granted, it has been colder than it should be here, and we're all still feeling the impact of a storm that brought snow and ice to the region last week. Still, we did not see all that much snow. It was the ice that really complicated things, there still wasn't that much of it, but the temperature has yet to rise enough to really melt it, so there are landscapes of icy snow all around. Of course, the bigger problem is no one knows what to do with it here, so parking everywhere remains an issue as nothing is really plowed out, walking surfaces aren't fully cleared, it's just absurd. Schools were closed 3-4 days last week, when there was only one day where precipitation of some sort fell from the sky.
I know my friends in New England will read this with disdain. I know I'll be out of it before you are, and I know I've yet to have it as bad as you (though, let's face it, winter was delayed for you this year, too.) I'm sorry everyone. My blood has thinned and my overall ability to deal with winter is leaning more to the side of those below the Mason-Dixon Line. I just can't wait for warmer weather, days without jackets, cherry blossoms and, well, an overall happier attitude for me and everyone around me. Then, at least temporarily, I can stop dreaming of vacations I can't afford to take. I'm sick of being cooped up and want to go outside and play!
Thursday, February 15, 2007
By request.. for A
A lot of my friends berate me for my more regular than not so regular "I'm getting old!" rants. I mean, I get it, I'm not really old. I'm not really young, either, but I'm still pretty young and I do acknowledge the fact that I need to do a better job of taking advantage of that. I think because I've climbed my career ladder at a bit of a clip and grew up an only child (IE spending more time with adults than kids my age), I've always felt older than I really am as a matter of course. The result was usually discomfort in social situations with people my own age, but now that I'm finally catching up to myself in terms of age, I'm confronting external acknowledgements of getting older instead of the exclusively internal.
I think the problem is that I've yet to fully realize the fact that I'm an adult now. This, of course, simply begs the question, "Will I ever?" I know I definitely am an adult - bills to be paid, job expectations, a social life that doesn't require asking my parents permission to stay out past 11, etc. Nevertheless, I guess I have a hard time understanding that when people look at me they don't see a fresh-faced spring chicken. Perhaps that sounds dumb, but it's true. For the first time ever, the sense I have of myself is younger than that assumed by those around me.
This all starts to creep up in a variety of ways. First, you stop getting carded in bars.. ever. Second, you start to get "Ma'am" more than "Miss" when you're being helped at a store, standing in line, etc. In my mid-twenties, upon meeting new people, one of the first questions they would ask was "Are you married?" That, alone, was an odd conversation to adjust to. Now, without even asking if I'm married, more often than not I'm getting, "So, do you have any kids?".
It happened to me just today and I'm pretty sure I had to check to see if my jaw actually dropped. It's not the first time, not by far, but it just floors me how people can look at me and jump to that. Maybe I need to start using eye cream. Except that factor alone would advance my perceived age by at least 20 years.
My guess is that you don't really ever start to feel like an adult until you do have kids of your own. At that point, the juxtaposition of your pre-children life and your post-children life has to be so dramatically opposite that you can't help but acknowledge your adulthood. Of course, I still don't know if I want kids, if I'm being perfectly honest, but what's really scary to me is I've already had the conversation with myself that tells me if I decided to have kids and wanted to raise them the way I feel is best, I'd have to put on the professional brakes right now and take a couple of steps back. That, too, is scary. The thought of reaching any sort of point of no return. Granted, I still have plenty of time to switch careers or go in a different direction if I really wanted to, but right now, that would simply be dumb. So, I'm already feeling, well, a little trapped, and that certainly isn't something any of us equate with youthfulness.
I do think I need to reconnect with the more youthful aspects of my personality. I think, to a certain extent, that I do, with a select group of close friends who see my more self-conscious and goofy side (not to mention the Karaoke Revolution lover side). But I think I need to be more outward about it. I need to re energize and get out there. Be a little silly, laugh a little louder, and, most importantly, get a little more active. My knee was creaking the other day. That can't be good.
I think the problem is that I've yet to fully realize the fact that I'm an adult now. This, of course, simply begs the question, "Will I ever?" I know I definitely am an adult - bills to be paid, job expectations, a social life that doesn't require asking my parents permission to stay out past 11, etc. Nevertheless, I guess I have a hard time understanding that when people look at me they don't see a fresh-faced spring chicken. Perhaps that sounds dumb, but it's true. For the first time ever, the sense I have of myself is younger than that assumed by those around me.
This all starts to creep up in a variety of ways. First, you stop getting carded in bars.. ever. Second, you start to get "Ma'am" more than "Miss" when you're being helped at a store, standing in line, etc. In my mid-twenties, upon meeting new people, one of the first questions they would ask was "Are you married?" That, alone, was an odd conversation to adjust to. Now, without even asking if I'm married, more often than not I'm getting, "So, do you have any kids?".
It happened to me just today and I'm pretty sure I had to check to see if my jaw actually dropped. It's not the first time, not by far, but it just floors me how people can look at me and jump to that. Maybe I need to start using eye cream. Except that factor alone would advance my perceived age by at least 20 years.
My guess is that you don't really ever start to feel like an adult until you do have kids of your own. At that point, the juxtaposition of your pre-children life and your post-children life has to be so dramatically opposite that you can't help but acknowledge your adulthood. Of course, I still don't know if I want kids, if I'm being perfectly honest, but what's really scary to me is I've already had the conversation with myself that tells me if I decided to have kids and wanted to raise them the way I feel is best, I'd have to put on the professional brakes right now and take a couple of steps back. That, too, is scary. The thought of reaching any sort of point of no return. Granted, I still have plenty of time to switch careers or go in a different direction if I really wanted to, but right now, that would simply be dumb. So, I'm already feeling, well, a little trapped, and that certainly isn't something any of us equate with youthfulness.
I do think I need to reconnect with the more youthful aspects of my personality. I think, to a certain extent, that I do, with a select group of close friends who see my more self-conscious and goofy side (not to mention the Karaoke Revolution lover side). But I think I need to be more outward about it. I need to re energize and get out there. Be a little silly, laugh a little louder, and, most importantly, get a little more active. My knee was creaking the other day. That can't be good.
Friday, February 9, 2007
Memories?
My mom called today. We spoke just a few days ago, which means we should be good for another three weeks before another two weeks of phone tag begin. Yah, I stopped feeling bad about screening her calls once I realized she was screening mine.
But I digress...
She called from Sugarloaf. Sugarloaf, for those of you unfamiliar with the wonder that is the Great State of Maine, is the most popular ski mountain in the state. Oh.. ha ha ha.. dear.. hee hee hee.. no, my mother is not there skiing (falls off of couch laughing). A very "special friend" of hers is a musician, and he has a gig up there every Friday. She accompanies him on the three hour drive to and from every Friday. That's what "friends" are for, after all..
But I digress...
When I picked up the phone I heard a quite a bit of noise in the background. My mom was laughing quite a bit. "Hello?"
"OH GOOD! You're there!" (Where else I would be I'm not sure. My mother tends to forget my Friday nights growing up were spent working at a grocery store instead of out at parties and, well, I keep forgetting Friday nights are for fun. Ok, I'm feeling sorry for myself. I'm sick. And tired. And old.)
"Yah, what's going on?"
"Well, I'm doing this trivia thing (hysterical laughter) and (hysterical laughter) I know you'll know the answer to this."
"Mum.. you know it's cheating when you call someone, right?"
"Ooooooohhh yah yah yah I know that. But we're stumped and I've assured everyone in this pub that my daughter will know the answer to this question off the top of her head."
"Oookaaaaaaaaaay"
"Right. Ok. Here goes. You ready? (hysterical laughter) You're going to get this immediately."
"Yah, sure."
"Ok, you saw him in concert and got his autograph. You had him sign a hat.."
"Chris Isaak."
"YES!"
"That was the question?"
"What?"
"The question.. the question was what male singer did Wanda's daughter go see live and get his autograph on a hat?"
"Thanks for the help! BYE! (hysterical laughter)
Not even my mom makes time for my lame sense of humor.
This has all been a lame and rambling build up to something completely different. I cannot believe my mother did not remember Chris Isaak.
My mother is responsible for getting me into his music, after all. My mom and dad divorced when I was two and, sadly, I watched her go through some fairly long and well, eventually heartbreaking relationships. They involved cheating, lying, all the good stuff. Well, one breakup in particular left her pretty shaken. Lyle Lovett and Chris Isaak were two of their favorite artists. I'm assuming because when he was cheating on his wife with her that he made some indication of their music reminding him of her. I wonder if he used the same ones on the women he cheated on my mother with...
But I digress..
Anyway, there was a lot of Lyle and Chris listening in our house during the relationship and, once they broke up, whenever the music would come on, my mother would cry and urge me to turn it off.
So, I guess it's good that she has forgotten who Chris Isaak is. But I find it so odd that someone who had such an imprint on a time in her life is forgotten. Particularly because they resonate so much with me about that point in our lives. I still know the particular songs that she couldn't hear. I just can't believe she blocked it out.
I guess I'm wondering if it simply stands symbolic of our relationship. On two very different levels, in two very different places, despite living the same experience.
By the way, she really is a lovely woman. We just.. well, we're mother and daughter.
But, more importantly, was I really the subject of a trivia question tonight?
But I digress...
She called from Sugarloaf. Sugarloaf, for those of you unfamiliar with the wonder that is the Great State of Maine, is the most popular ski mountain in the state. Oh.. ha ha ha.. dear.. hee hee hee.. no, my mother is not there skiing (falls off of couch laughing). A very "special friend" of hers is a musician, and he has a gig up there every Friday. She accompanies him on the three hour drive to and from every Friday. That's what "friends" are for, after all..
But I digress...
When I picked up the phone I heard a quite a bit of noise in the background. My mom was laughing quite a bit. "Hello?"
"OH GOOD! You're there!" (Where else I would be I'm not sure. My mother tends to forget my Friday nights growing up were spent working at a grocery store instead of out at parties and, well, I keep forgetting Friday nights are for fun. Ok, I'm feeling sorry for myself. I'm sick. And tired. And old.)
"Yah, what's going on?"
"Well, I'm doing this trivia thing (hysterical laughter) and (hysterical laughter) I know you'll know the answer to this."
"Mum.. you know it's cheating when you call someone, right?"
"Ooooooohhh yah yah yah I know that. But we're stumped and I've assured everyone in this pub that my daughter will know the answer to this question off the top of her head."
"Oookaaaaaaaaaay"
"Right. Ok. Here goes. You ready? (hysterical laughter) You're going to get this immediately."
"Yah, sure."
"Ok, you saw him in concert and got his autograph. You had him sign a hat.."
"Chris Isaak."
"YES!"
"That was the question?"
"What?"
"The question.. the question was what male singer did Wanda's daughter go see live and get his autograph on a hat?"
"Thanks for the help! BYE! (hysterical laughter)
Not even my mom makes time for my lame sense of humor.
This has all been a lame and rambling build up to something completely different. I cannot believe my mother did not remember Chris Isaak.
My mother is responsible for getting me into his music, after all. My mom and dad divorced when I was two and, sadly, I watched her go through some fairly long and well, eventually heartbreaking relationships. They involved cheating, lying, all the good stuff. Well, one breakup in particular left her pretty shaken. Lyle Lovett and Chris Isaak were two of their favorite artists. I'm assuming because when he was cheating on his wife with her that he made some indication of their music reminding him of her. I wonder if he used the same ones on the women he cheated on my mother with...
But I digress..
Anyway, there was a lot of Lyle and Chris listening in our house during the relationship and, once they broke up, whenever the music would come on, my mother would cry and urge me to turn it off.
So, I guess it's good that she has forgotten who Chris Isaak is. But I find it so odd that someone who had such an imprint on a time in her life is forgotten. Particularly because they resonate so much with me about that point in our lives. I still know the particular songs that she couldn't hear. I just can't believe she blocked it out.
I guess I'm wondering if it simply stands symbolic of our relationship. On two very different levels, in two very different places, despite living the same experience.
By the way, she really is a lovely woman. We just.. well, we're mother and daughter.
But, more importantly, was I really the subject of a trivia question tonight?
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Greetings from 'Lina
I've never been to North Carolina but I've been through it before. In the 4th grade, my mom, her boyfriend and his youngest son and I drove from Maine to Orlando during a school vacation. Naturally, we drove through North Carolina... in a driving snow storm. Yah, we managed to hit the Carolinas during a freak storm. It was awful. There were no hotel rooms because every traveler had gotten off of the road. We were offered various hotel lobbies and conference rooms in which to sleep. Instead, we opted to sleep in the car. Happily, my mom's boyfriend at the time had a Lincoln Town Car. It was ugly as hell, but it slept four quite nicely.
Nevertheless, I've been kind of fascinated by North Carolina lately, especially since there is such a movement of people setting down roots here. One of the few still affordable areas with a decent economy, young couples are moving here so they might actually afford a house, and seniors are moving here because the triple threat of tornadoes, hurricanes and alligators that put Florida on the map has finally lost its charm. The continuing growth of this area is apparent even as I type this.. outside my window is a construction crew building new homes in what looks like will be a lovely development. Hmmm.. how many schools are down here again?
Anyway, I've been here about 3 hours, I have a program to attend tonight, but I've had so much happen to me so far I just had to get typing away. Plus, any stories from this evening will involve too much shop talk. Yuck.
My trip started off OK. On my way to the airport I was reminded of some of the things that stop phasing you after living in DC for a while. One example is the conference sign for a certain military branch's "Modern Land Warfare Breakfast Series" meeting that was going on at the hotel I walk through to get to the Metro every day. This should seem odd, right? Mmm... eggs and armored tanks. Anyway, it didn't cause me a ton of pause. Then, at the airport, I realized I was walking behind former Congressman and recent unsuccessful US Senate Candidate Harold Ford, Jr. My roommate sees these people every day working on the Hill, but even if you're not involved in politics, you get used to seeing the high powered movers and shakers around from time to time. When a friend was in town last year and we met up for dinner at The Dubliner, George Pataki was at the table next to us, with who appeared to be his very spoiled teenage son, and his son's very spoiled teenage friends.
The flight was fine, well, once we got through take off. In the past few years, I started to develop a real fear of flying. In all honesty, it was shortly after 9/11. But, my fear isn't that something like that will happen, I just can't handle the bumpiness of it. Turbulence makes my heart race, my hands shake and sweat, and I do all I can to take lots of deep breaths. It makes me so nervous. My work requires so much travel that I know I need to get through it, I just don't know how. But, after the first 10 minutes or so, it was smooth sailing, thank God. The take off was so rough had it lasted any longer.. sheesh.. I would have been a mess.
So you've heard about how the South tends to be a bit slower, have you not? Well, I can certainly confirm that. Now, don't get me wrong, I am well aware this is not the deep south. But, it's still southern and I would say things do in fact move a bit slower.. even the toilets. I had a Western style showdown with a toilet in the Raleigh-Durham airport restroom. It looked like an auto-flush, had the little laser eye and everything, but it wasn't flushing. A closer look near the "faux" auto-flush sensor had "manual flush" etched next to it, with an arrow pointing left. Except, there was no flush or button to the left. I stood in the stall, not sure what to do. Ew. I can't not flush the toilet! What do I do? I stood a moment longer. No, this is ridiculous. I made sure the bathroom was empty, and made my plan to run to the sink, wash my hands and run like the wind out of the restroom.
I crept out of the stall and threw the faucet on, just as I was furiously pumping the soap, the auto-flush went off. I could have sworn I heard faint laughter and a "gotcha!". I hate it when the toilet mocks me.
I then proceeded through the terminal to the rental car shuttle. "Shoe shine, Ma'am?" a gentleman asked to my right. "No thank you," I smiled. "No problem. You have a good day." I then took a look down at my black loafers. Wow. They really do look beat up.
I continued my walk down the long terminal corridor. This is when I start to sound cocky but don't mean it. Living in Boston and DC doesn't do a ton for a girl's confidence, so it always catches me a little bit by surprise when I go to a smaller city or town and find I do quite well. Lots of smiles, looks of glances in my direction. Not that I'm looking for the attention or another beau, I'm quite happy with mine actually.. just saying it's nice to be generally appreciated. Especially since I have a huge zit rocking my chin right now and, well, let's face it, my boss called me fat (see yesterday's blog).
As I approached the escalator to the ground level, a gentlemen turned the corner and was well ahead of me to step on. Nevertheless, he stepped to the side and waited for me to get on. "Oh.. thanks!" I said, surprised.
The best, however, was my rental car shuttle driver. Ron. How do I know his name is Ron? Because he introduced himself to me. He took my bag, asked for my name and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Ron, and this is Kathy." He pointed to the passenger across the aisle from me, just another visitor to Raleigh on her way to pick up a rental car. "Hi Kathy. It's nice to meet you." "Hello!" We were fast friends.
"That's a lovely name you have," he said to me. "A pretty spelling. It reminds me of my sister's name. She has a unique name too. Ambia." "Ambia?" Kathy confirmed. "Yes, Ambia." "Oh, that is pretty," I said politely. I, of course, immediately thought of that prescription sleep aid, Ambien, and then thought her name was nothing but unfortunate. Kind of like when Yasmin (pronounced "Yasmin"), one of the most recent birth control pills, was advertised and I watched my friend Yasmin (pronounced "Jasmine", but still) suffer through the media blitz. Oh, and now there's Yaz, another new birth control pill. Carl Yastrzemski must be rolling in his grave.
Anyway, we proceeded to have a lovely conversation and will be exchanging Christmas cards this year. Ron also carried my suitcase from the van to the inside of the rental agency - THAT I have never seen before.
All of this, of course, is to lend support to the reputation of the southern states as more courteous, chattier, and overall better at the whole human to human interaction thing. But only one evil empire is capable of shutting that image down, even in the kindest of places.
Enterprise Rent A Car.
I won't go too far with this. I can't. I've had a couple of friends work there in the past and one of my best friend's really good friend works for a rental car company and I'm pretty sure it's Enterprise so out of respect I'll keep this short. Simply put, however, I have never dealt with a sleazier, nastier, cheaper, shadier organization. The Jedi knight that is North Carolina's power of propriety cannot slay the Sith lord known as Enterprise.
Somewhere a geek is weeping.
OK, so not a ton has happened. Just a few small things that I thought were worth sharing. I really wish I had more time here. I've spent most of my afternoon catching up on work e-mails and trying to do the responsible thing. The geek in me, however, would love to be able to check out some of the campuses in the triangle, but I will hope for another time. Back to DC tomorrow and a very very busy weekend.
Nevertheless, I've been kind of fascinated by North Carolina lately, especially since there is such a movement of people setting down roots here. One of the few still affordable areas with a decent economy, young couples are moving here so they might actually afford a house, and seniors are moving here because the triple threat of tornadoes, hurricanes and alligators that put Florida on the map has finally lost its charm. The continuing growth of this area is apparent even as I type this.. outside my window is a construction crew building new homes in what looks like will be a lovely development. Hmmm.. how many schools are down here again?
Anyway, I've been here about 3 hours, I have a program to attend tonight, but I've had so much happen to me so far I just had to get typing away. Plus, any stories from this evening will involve too much shop talk. Yuck.
My trip started off OK. On my way to the airport I was reminded of some of the things that stop phasing you after living in DC for a while. One example is the conference sign for a certain military branch's "Modern Land Warfare Breakfast Series" meeting that was going on at the hotel I walk through to get to the Metro every day. This should seem odd, right? Mmm... eggs and armored tanks. Anyway, it didn't cause me a ton of pause. Then, at the airport, I realized I was walking behind former Congressman and recent unsuccessful US Senate Candidate Harold Ford, Jr. My roommate sees these people every day working on the Hill, but even if you're not involved in politics, you get used to seeing the high powered movers and shakers around from time to time. When a friend was in town last year and we met up for dinner at The Dubliner, George Pataki was at the table next to us, with who appeared to be his very spoiled teenage son, and his son's very spoiled teenage friends.
The flight was fine, well, once we got through take off. In the past few years, I started to develop a real fear of flying. In all honesty, it was shortly after 9/11. But, my fear isn't that something like that will happen, I just can't handle the bumpiness of it. Turbulence makes my heart race, my hands shake and sweat, and I do all I can to take lots of deep breaths. It makes me so nervous. My work requires so much travel that I know I need to get through it, I just don't know how. But, after the first 10 minutes or so, it was smooth sailing, thank God. The take off was so rough had it lasted any longer.. sheesh.. I would have been a mess.
So you've heard about how the South tends to be a bit slower, have you not? Well, I can certainly confirm that. Now, don't get me wrong, I am well aware this is not the deep south. But, it's still southern and I would say things do in fact move a bit slower.. even the toilets. I had a Western style showdown with a toilet in the Raleigh-Durham airport restroom. It looked like an auto-flush, had the little laser eye and everything, but it wasn't flushing. A closer look near the "faux" auto-flush sensor had "manual flush" etched next to it, with an arrow pointing left. Except, there was no flush or button to the left. I stood in the stall, not sure what to do. Ew. I can't not flush the toilet! What do I do? I stood a moment longer. No, this is ridiculous. I made sure the bathroom was empty, and made my plan to run to the sink, wash my hands and run like the wind out of the restroom.
I crept out of the stall and threw the faucet on, just as I was furiously pumping the soap, the auto-flush went off. I could have sworn I heard faint laughter and a "gotcha!". I hate it when the toilet mocks me.
I then proceeded through the terminal to the rental car shuttle. "Shoe shine, Ma'am?" a gentleman asked to my right. "No thank you," I smiled. "No problem. You have a good day." I then took a look down at my black loafers. Wow. They really do look beat up.
I continued my walk down the long terminal corridor. This is when I start to sound cocky but don't mean it. Living in Boston and DC doesn't do a ton for a girl's confidence, so it always catches me a little bit by surprise when I go to a smaller city or town and find I do quite well. Lots of smiles, looks of glances in my direction. Not that I'm looking for the attention or another beau, I'm quite happy with mine actually.. just saying it's nice to be generally appreciated. Especially since I have a huge zit rocking my chin right now and, well, let's face it, my boss called me fat (see yesterday's blog).
As I approached the escalator to the ground level, a gentlemen turned the corner and was well ahead of me to step on. Nevertheless, he stepped to the side and waited for me to get on. "Oh.. thanks!" I said, surprised.
The best, however, was my rental car shuttle driver. Ron. How do I know his name is Ron? Because he introduced himself to me. He took my bag, asked for my name and said, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Ron, and this is Kathy." He pointed to the passenger across the aisle from me, just another visitor to Raleigh on her way to pick up a rental car. "Hi Kathy. It's nice to meet you." "Hello!" We were fast friends.
"That's a lovely name you have," he said to me. "A pretty spelling. It reminds me of my sister's name. She has a unique name too. Ambia." "Ambia?" Kathy confirmed. "Yes, Ambia." "Oh, that is pretty," I said politely. I, of course, immediately thought of that prescription sleep aid, Ambien, and then thought her name was nothing but unfortunate. Kind of like when Yasmin (pronounced "Yasmin"), one of the most recent birth control pills, was advertised and I watched my friend Yasmin (pronounced "Jasmine", but still) suffer through the media blitz. Oh, and now there's Yaz, another new birth control pill. Carl Yastrzemski must be rolling in his grave.
Anyway, we proceeded to have a lovely conversation and will be exchanging Christmas cards this year. Ron also carried my suitcase from the van to the inside of the rental agency - THAT I have never seen before.
All of this, of course, is to lend support to the reputation of the southern states as more courteous, chattier, and overall better at the whole human to human interaction thing. But only one evil empire is capable of shutting that image down, even in the kindest of places.
Enterprise Rent A Car.
I won't go too far with this. I can't. I've had a couple of friends work there in the past and one of my best friend's really good friend works for a rental car company and I'm pretty sure it's Enterprise so out of respect I'll keep this short. Simply put, however, I have never dealt with a sleazier, nastier, cheaper, shadier organization. The Jedi knight that is North Carolina's power of propriety cannot slay the Sith lord known as Enterprise.
Somewhere a geek is weeping.
OK, so not a ton has happened. Just a few small things that I thought were worth sharing. I really wish I had more time here. I've spent most of my afternoon catching up on work e-mails and trying to do the responsible thing. The geek in me, however, would love to be able to check out some of the campuses in the triangle, but I will hope for another time. Back to DC tomorrow and a very very busy weekend.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
A reminder for me.. and maybe someone else
None of us are perfect. Not even me.
Communicate. Communicate. Communicate. When that fails, keep being honest and communicate some more.
Don't equate rough patches with failure. They happen to the best of us.
It's OK to admit you've done something wrong or handled a situation in a less than perfect manner. The victory is being able to see that flaw in yourself rather than ignore it in an effort to point the finger elsewhere and not be held accountable.
It's really hard to ask for help, but so freeing when you finally allow yourself to do it. Everyone needs help at some point in time. To quote a favorite band, sometimes you can't make it on your own.
Take care of yourself. You're the only one in charge of you.
Other random thoughts:
I got on the Metro the other day and found someone reading the newspaper from the day before. I recognized it immediately because it was Tuesday and the front page story was the Super Bowl. It occured to me what a great discount newspaper subscription program that could be.
Why is it that I can walk 1.5 miles 3-5 days a week, spring up two flights of stairs throughout the day to reach my office, and climb the massive Metro escalator at my work stop every single day, but still feel like I'm going to keel over and die once I reach the top???
It was one of the coldest days of the year today and as I walked through Pentagon Row to meet a friend for dinner, I saw parents taking their children ice skating on the small rink in the complex. The outdoor complex. On the coldest day of the year. Why am I so paranoid about being a horrible parent again?
My boss invited me to join a kickboxing class with her the other day as a stress reliever. After politely declining, she looked me up and down and said, "Well, just remember it's really important to take care of yourself physically." This, a day after she chided me for announcing my intentions to go load up on junk food. Is it just me, or is she calling me a fatty?
Off to North Carolina tomorrow! Hope to have loads to share with you...
Communicate. Communicate. Communicate. When that fails, keep being honest and communicate some more.
Don't equate rough patches with failure. They happen to the best of us.
It's OK to admit you've done something wrong or handled a situation in a less than perfect manner. The victory is being able to see that flaw in yourself rather than ignore it in an effort to point the finger elsewhere and not be held accountable.
It's really hard to ask for help, but so freeing when you finally allow yourself to do it. Everyone needs help at some point in time. To quote a favorite band, sometimes you can't make it on your own.
Take care of yourself. You're the only one in charge of you.
Other random thoughts:
I got on the Metro the other day and found someone reading the newspaper from the day before. I recognized it immediately because it was Tuesday and the front page story was the Super Bowl. It occured to me what a great discount newspaper subscription program that could be.
Why is it that I can walk 1.5 miles 3-5 days a week, spring up two flights of stairs throughout the day to reach my office, and climb the massive Metro escalator at my work stop every single day, but still feel like I'm going to keel over and die once I reach the top???
It was one of the coldest days of the year today and as I walked through Pentagon Row to meet a friend for dinner, I saw parents taking their children ice skating on the small rink in the complex. The outdoor complex. On the coldest day of the year. Why am I so paranoid about being a horrible parent again?
My boss invited me to join a kickboxing class with her the other day as a stress reliever. After politely declining, she looked me up and down and said, "Well, just remember it's really important to take care of yourself physically." This, a day after she chided me for announcing my intentions to go load up on junk food. Is it just me, or is she calling me a fatty?
Off to North Carolina tomorrow! Hope to have loads to share with you...
Monday, February 5, 2007
Howdy neighbor!
Not so long ago, my MP3 player died on my commute home, leaving me to my Sudoku puzzle sans soundtrack. I was doing just fine until the gentleman next to me decided to engage me in a conversation about different puzzles, what his wife prefers (Sudoku) versus what he prefers (crosswords), what type of puzzle is more difficult, etc. I was reminded that, should you opt not to wear earphones on the Metro, you take this enormous risk every single day - the random stranger chat up.
Today, however, I fell victim to the unexpected, "I don't care how many 'Leave Me Alone' indicators you're sporting, lend me your ear" chat up. Despite my MP3 player blaring, Sudoku puzzle half completed, distant and exhausted look on my face, a gentleman sat next to me and proceeded to tell me all about how he ended up at the wrong stop, on the wrong train, so on and so forth. I politely smiled and assured him he was back on track now. Tee hee.. on track... sigh...
It then occurred to me that I didn't take part in the conversation out of the kindness of my heart. See, when you live in a place like DC, you get paranoid. I, in turn, became convinced he was doing some sort of sociological study about how human decency is lost and no one needs anyone anymore. Human interaction is no longer necessary. Hey, this stuff happens around here. So, because of my selflessness, that study will never be published. You can thank me later.
On a random and concluding note, my former boss (as in the last organization I worked for) sent me a lovely bonsai tree to congratulate me on my pseudo-promotion. I don't know how I managed to swing that, having my boss from the job in which I was miserable reward me for success in the position for which I left her. Damn. I really am good. Now if only I could get my papasan chair back from my ex.
Today, however, I fell victim to the unexpected, "I don't care how many 'Leave Me Alone' indicators you're sporting, lend me your ear" chat up. Despite my MP3 player blaring, Sudoku puzzle half completed, distant and exhausted look on my face, a gentleman sat next to me and proceeded to tell me all about how he ended up at the wrong stop, on the wrong train, so on and so forth. I politely smiled and assured him he was back on track now. Tee hee.. on track... sigh...
It then occurred to me that I didn't take part in the conversation out of the kindness of my heart. See, when you live in a place like DC, you get paranoid. I, in turn, became convinced he was doing some sort of sociological study about how human decency is lost and no one needs anyone anymore. Human interaction is no longer necessary. Hey, this stuff happens around here. So, because of my selflessness, that study will never be published. You can thank me later.
On a random and concluding note, my former boss (as in the last organization I worked for) sent me a lovely bonsai tree to congratulate me on my pseudo-promotion. I don't know how I managed to swing that, having my boss from the job in which I was miserable reward me for success in the position for which I left her. Damn. I really am good. Now if only I could get my papasan chair back from my ex.
Sunday, February 4, 2007
Super Bowl of Purple Rain
I don't have a ton to say about the game. I'm not at all invested in its outcome but all of the fumbles have been quite entertaining. I'd simply like to offer how impressed I am with Prince. As halftime neared, I had fantasies of him throwing a hissy fit in the bowels of Dolphin Stadium, demanding a canopy be constructed tout de suite so not to frizzify his royal locks. I predicted to myself he'd hold up the entire show waiting for the rain to hold off, or perform 1999 from the Bears' locker room.
But he endured the rain and did so in full force. With a do-rag tied backwards and a commanding eye to his backup ladies that said "I don't give a shit if you fall and break your neck, DANCE BITCHES!", Prince's pyrotechnics and collection of phallic guitars brought forth a great performance. Then again, anything would look good compared to that hallucination-inducing Andy Warhol meets Girls Just Wanna Have Fun meets Tito Puente pre-game show. Whose grand idea was it to have a Cirque de Soleil interpretation of the wonder of football? It's things like this that make me hate the Super Bowl.
But back his not so highness. (Get it? He's really short!) I do wish he'd kept to his own stuff, however. While I can forgive him for "Proud Mary", "All Along the Watchtower" was hard to take seriously. It's hard to pay proper homage to the rockers who made the song famous when the current performer is sporting a turquoise suit with tangerine orange shirt. And I'm making an educated guess that his boots had at least a 4 inch heel. Of course, there's only one possible thing that could have made for a perfect Prince performance...
I would have given away my first born child for one performance of Batdance.
But he endured the rain and did so in full force. With a do-rag tied backwards and a commanding eye to his backup ladies that said "I don't give a shit if you fall and break your neck, DANCE BITCHES!", Prince's pyrotechnics and collection of phallic guitars brought forth a great performance. Then again, anything would look good compared to that hallucination-inducing Andy Warhol meets Girls Just Wanna Have Fun meets Tito Puente pre-game show. Whose grand idea was it to have a Cirque de Soleil interpretation of the wonder of football? It's things like this that make me hate the Super Bowl.
But back his not so highness. (Get it? He's really short!) I do wish he'd kept to his own stuff, however. While I can forgive him for "Proud Mary", "All Along the Watchtower" was hard to take seriously. It's hard to pay proper homage to the rockers who made the song famous when the current performer is sporting a turquoise suit with tangerine orange shirt. And I'm making an educated guess that his boots had at least a 4 inch heel. Of course, there's only one possible thing that could have made for a perfect Prince performance...
I would have given away my first born child for one performance of Batdance.
Saturday, February 3, 2007
Curse you Zach Braff
I've spent my Saturday afternoon wasting away and watching a Scrubs marathon on Comedy Central. I also took a luxurious nap over about 4 episodes, but that's besides the point.
My point is I'm trying to forgive Zach Braff. In general, I think he's great. I admire his commitment to Scrubs, I appreciate the quirkiness behind it, and I really enjoyed Garden State. Plus he's got that blue eyed, big nosed, dark hair thing that I've always liked in a guy.
So it won't surprise you that I was really looking forward to watching The Last Kiss. I was excited about the cast (ranging from Casey Affleck to Tom Wilkinson to Jacinda from Real World London... clutch!) and had high hopes for his potential in what I thought was more of a romantic comedy, albeit a bit more tortured one than the average fare. Gulp. That's not really what the movie is at all.
A dear friend's husband called it "the perfect depiction of what it's like to really be a guy." This may be true. But it also played into every single insecurity I have (please see previous blog) and left me a puddled mess on the floor at its conclusion. Zach Braff plays a 29 year old man whose beloved girlfriend has gotten pregnant. Both seemingly into it but also agreeing marriage isn't the answer, they seem to have found a mutual groove to serve as the foundation of their relationship - we're together, we're in love but we don't need no stinkin paper to tell us we're legit type thing.
It was a fine movie. The acting was good and the dialogue worked, plot line was believable, etc. While I wouldn't say I was necessarily rooting for any character or actively sympathized for any, I was still invested in them. Actually, if anything, I disliked quite a few of them, so much so with one of them that I actually cursed my sex aloud when she appeared on screen. So, again, it was a fine movie, but I will simply make sure it never crosses paths with a DVD player in my physical presence ever again. It's a heart wrenching movie that I found really difficult to endure.
So, if you've lost faith in men recently, please avoid this movie at all costs. Though, at the same time, if you need a reminder of just how rotten and selfish women can be, perhaps it's a good weekend afternoon activity for you. And I won't turn my nose at its ultimate message: do right for those you love and your conscience, be honest and never drive your Prius into a tree.
My point is I'm trying to forgive Zach Braff. In general, I think he's great. I admire his commitment to Scrubs, I appreciate the quirkiness behind it, and I really enjoyed Garden State. Plus he's got that blue eyed, big nosed, dark hair thing that I've always liked in a guy.
So it won't surprise you that I was really looking forward to watching The Last Kiss. I was excited about the cast (ranging from Casey Affleck to Tom Wilkinson to Jacinda from Real World London... clutch!) and had high hopes for his potential in what I thought was more of a romantic comedy, albeit a bit more tortured one than the average fare. Gulp. That's not really what the movie is at all.
A dear friend's husband called it "the perfect depiction of what it's like to really be a guy." This may be true. But it also played into every single insecurity I have (please see previous blog) and left me a puddled mess on the floor at its conclusion. Zach Braff plays a 29 year old man whose beloved girlfriend has gotten pregnant. Both seemingly into it but also agreeing marriage isn't the answer, they seem to have found a mutual groove to serve as the foundation of their relationship - we're together, we're in love but we don't need no stinkin paper to tell us we're legit type thing.
It was a fine movie. The acting was good and the dialogue worked, plot line was believable, etc. While I wouldn't say I was necessarily rooting for any character or actively sympathized for any, I was still invested in them. Actually, if anything, I disliked quite a few of them, so much so with one of them that I actually cursed my sex aloud when she appeared on screen. So, again, it was a fine movie, but I will simply make sure it never crosses paths with a DVD player in my physical presence ever again. It's a heart wrenching movie that I found really difficult to endure.
So, if you've lost faith in men recently, please avoid this movie at all costs. Though, at the same time, if you need a reminder of just how rotten and selfish women can be, perhaps it's a good weekend afternoon activity for you. And I won't turn my nose at its ultimate message: do right for those you love and your conscience, be honest and never drive your Prius into a tree.
Thursday, February 1, 2007
20 Confessions
1) I probably dislike more people than I should for stupid reasons. I admit this is a fault. I began to realize this as I stood there and decided to dislike the people standing next to me tonight because of what they were wearing and how they were speaking. I know that’s wrong. Still, I need real things and real people. I believe true beauty is accomplished in five minutes of basic makeup and minimal hair maintenance. I love the fact that if your general way of dress and mannerisms don’t scream “DOWN TO EARTH” that I don’t have a ton of time for you. Simply put, it’s how I roll.
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