My best friend loves horror movies. She lives for the heart-pounding anticipation of vampire bites, Michael Meyers stab wounds, zombies getting ready to eat civilian brains. I, however, cannot stand the stuff. It disturbs me—it possibly perpetuates violence in society—and it scares little children. What's the good of that? But obviously, there is an audience out there who likes those films and deserves to have the opportunity to watch them if they want to. It's a free country, right?
That brings me to this blog...
I am free, on this little puppy, to write whatever my heart desires. To some (like anonymous comment #7 on Monday's post) what I write is "blathering dribble." To others, it is entertaining, thought-provoking and perhaps even moving. Those are the people I am writing for.
Just as I can choose not to watch horror movies, readers like anonymous #7 can choose not to read my blog. In fact, I encourage it! I wouldn't want someone to force me to watch a slasher flick—nor do I want my readers to feel compelled to view content they just cannot stomach.
But for the audience to whom I think this blog appeals, I will continue to write the way I have since I started up in November. I will share silly details of my life, comment on books I like, babble on about my personal opinions, and celebrate the uniqueness of my friends—even if their individualism isn't appreciated by everyone else in the world.
So, devoted readers, whether you choose to check back with me tomorrow or click elsewhere, I wish you well.
Blog out.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Love of Fiction
Before Rosie O'Donnell was fighting with half of Hollywood, she was starring alongside Meg Ryan in Sleepless in Seattle—uttering some of the best lines ever. One of my favorites is, "You know what your problem is? You want to be in love in a movie."
Well, what woman doesn't?!
I've always had a big smooshy, gooshy soft spot for movie love. But after reading Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife, I now have an even bigger, blobbier pool of mush in my heart for book love.
I could not put this book down. Seriously, I turned into a hermit over the weekend—staying in my pajamas all day, with my nose buried between its pages. I read almost the whole thing in two days. The love story between its characters, Clare and Henry, is just incredible. The love of a lifetime. It's passionate and tender, and because it skips around the character's lives, from childhood to adulthood, it connects them in a way that could probably never happen in real life. If you saw or read (and enjoyed) The Notebook, you must read Time Traveler. It'll knock your sappy socks off.
I was at Mr. Wonderful's house as I finished the last pages. I was so moved by what I read, I started to cry. I tried to be quiet, I was a tiny bit embarrassed—I've never cried in front of Mr. W. But he hovered over me and saw the wet spot on the pillow under my head. Then he left the room and returned with a long strand of toilet paper so I could blow my nose. Maybe I don't need to be in love in a book or a movie after all...
Well, what woman doesn't?!
I've always had a big smooshy, gooshy soft spot for movie love. But after reading Audrey Niffenegger's The Time Traveler's Wife, I now have an even bigger, blobbier pool of mush in my heart for book love.
I could not put this book down. Seriously, I turned into a hermit over the weekend—staying in my pajamas all day, with my nose buried between its pages. I read almost the whole thing in two days. The love story between its characters, Clare and Henry, is just incredible. The love of a lifetime. It's passionate and tender, and because it skips around the character's lives, from childhood to adulthood, it connects them in a way that could probably never happen in real life. If you saw or read (and enjoyed) The Notebook, you must read Time Traveler. It'll knock your sappy socks off.
I was at Mr. Wonderful's house as I finished the last pages. I was so moved by what I read, I started to cry. I tried to be quiet, I was a tiny bit embarrassed—I've never cried in front of Mr. W. But he hovered over me and saw the wet spot on the pillow under my head. Then he left the room and returned with a long strand of toilet paper so I could blow my nose. Maybe I don't need to be in love in a book or a movie after all...
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
A Few Thoughts on Marriage
Valentine's Day of this year marked my parents' 44th wedding anniversary. Growing up, I do not ever remember seeing them fight. Maybe this is because they've known each other since they were 15 and 18. Maybe they're just an anomaly. Maybe they got all their bumps out of the way in the 12 years before I was born. I don't know. (Mom, feel free to comment and divulge the secret of your success.)
What I do know is that most other relationships I've seen don't hold a candle to theirs. This makes me proud of them, but also terrified for the institution of marriage. Has it lost its luster, or what?
In my quest for answers and solace, I stumbled across a couple of interesting articles/posts I thought I'd share.
Don't be fooled by the title of this one, it has a positive spin.
Marriage: It's only going to get worse
Oprah's site had some good suggestions:
Be Nice, Don't Nitpick
I guess maybe we all just have to adjust our expectations a bit. Admit that we're all flawed—and try accept one another as human beings. Or at least communicate productively about the things we can't accept. Maybe then instead of a 50% divorce rate, there would be more 50 year anniversary celebrations.
What I do know is that most other relationships I've seen don't hold a candle to theirs. This makes me proud of them, but also terrified for the institution of marriage. Has it lost its luster, or what?
In my quest for answers and solace, I stumbled across a couple of interesting articles/posts I thought I'd share.
Don't be fooled by the title of this one, it has a positive spin.
Marriage: It's only going to get worse
Oprah's site had some good suggestions:
Be Nice, Don't Nitpick
I guess maybe we all just have to adjust our expectations a bit. Admit that we're all flawed—and try accept one another as human beings. Or at least communicate productively about the things we can't accept. Maybe then instead of a 50% divorce rate, there would be more 50 year anniversary celebrations.
Monday, February 25, 2008
A Big, Mean, Cynical Buoy
There are times in all of our lives when we feel completely alone. Not in a good, wandering-down-the-beach-at-sunset-solo kind of way. But like the world has turned on us. Like no one understands us and we are swimming in a sea of disdain and judgment.
These are the times we need a friend the very most. We need a friend to throw a life preserver our way and drag our weakened bodies through the tides so we do not drown.
Sometimes that life preserver takes the form of commiseration. Sometimes it becomes rage. Sometimes it merely shapes itself into a shoulder to cry on. But without it, without that friend's attempt to rescue us, we would sink.
I have tried to save my water-treading friends in different ways throughout the years. But often the only way to help—at least when they reach their most feeble state—is to jump in and swim next to them. Subjecting my own self to scrutiny and scorn. Sometimes the only thing that keeps a person going is knowing they have an ally at their side in the water.
These are the times we need a friend the very most. We need a friend to throw a life preserver our way and drag our weakened bodies through the tides so we do not drown.
Sometimes that life preserver takes the form of commiseration. Sometimes it becomes rage. Sometimes it merely shapes itself into a shoulder to cry on. But without it, without that friend's attempt to rescue us, we would sink.
I have tried to save my water-treading friends in different ways throughout the years. But often the only way to help—at least when they reach their most feeble state—is to jump in and swim next to them. Subjecting my own self to scrutiny and scorn. Sometimes the only thing that keeps a person going is knowing they have an ally at their side in the water.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Faux Me
My male coworkers have been teasing me lately. Wait, I take that back, I believe they started teasing me during my third or fourth week of work. Anywhoo, they keep bringing up the episode of Seinfeld where George resolves to do and say the exact opposite of his natural behavior or speaking inclination. He declares "Everything Opposite" his new religion. And his pathetic, downtrodden life completely turns around (for one episode).
The coworkers have decided that during the nearly three years they've known me, my lovelife has been sub-par and rife with disaster—all of which has been my fault. Now that I have a new man, they're telling me I need to keep my mouth shut when I want to speak, play hard to get when I want to come on strong, and maybe scoff at commitment instead of embracing it.
This raises more than a few questions.
I, like most girls, usually start out new relationships being my nicest, most detached, funniest, shiniest self. As the relationship progresses, my tendencies may slip into a slightly more polar position. I may demand a little more, be a little meaner, get a little needier and occasionally forgo shaving my pits.
So are my coworkers telling me I should skip the shower, be kinda bitchy, request more dates, not crack jokes, and maybe throw in a burp or fart for good measure right in the beginning? Or are they meaning that I should continue being nice, detached, funny and shiny forever (which in some respects would be the opposite of my later inclination—but IS my normal new-relationship behavior—making it a non-opposite approach).
Being that I don't even know what my true starting point looks like, I don't think I'll be able to accurately identify its opposite. And just because this concept worked for George, that doesn't mean it'll work for me.
What do you think?
The coworkers have decided that during the nearly three years they've known me, my lovelife has been sub-par and rife with disaster—all of which has been my fault. Now that I have a new man, they're telling me I need to keep my mouth shut when I want to speak, play hard to get when I want to come on strong, and maybe scoff at commitment instead of embracing it.
This raises more than a few questions.
I, like most girls, usually start out new relationships being my nicest, most detached, funniest, shiniest self. As the relationship progresses, my tendencies may slip into a slightly more polar position. I may demand a little more, be a little meaner, get a little needier and occasionally forgo shaving my pits.
So are my coworkers telling me I should skip the shower, be kinda bitchy, request more dates, not crack jokes, and maybe throw in a burp or fart for good measure right in the beginning? Or are they meaning that I should continue being nice, detached, funny and shiny forever (which in some respects would be the opposite of my later inclination—but IS my normal new-relationship behavior—making it a non-opposite approach).
Being that I don't even know what my true starting point looks like, I don't think I'll be able to accurately identify its opposite. And just because this concept worked for George, that doesn't mean it'll work for me.
What do you think?
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Signs, Signs Everywhere
Yesterday when I was driving to work along the pock-filled asphalt of La Tuna Canyon Road, I noticed a sign I'd never seen before. It was tacked to a telephone pole, right there in the middle of suburbia, and read (in drippy red spray paint) "Slow Down Asshole."
Knowing how rushed the traffic can get on that stretch of road, I had to laugh that someone took the liberty of posting their own speed limit warning. Then I started wondering if maybe that was another kind of sign—you know, like from the universe. Maybe the big man upstairs was trying to tell me or one of my fellow motorists to slow down in another aspect of our lives.
This, of course, made me want to look for even more signs, so here goes...
Sign you should obey your boss
He hands you a fortune cookie after a department lunch and you say, "No way, man, I want to pick my own—this is my future we're talking about." You pick another cookie, crack it open and nothing falls out. It's empty.
Sign you should listen to your sister
She says, "I just don't feel like he's the right fit for you. You guys seem to fight a lot." You ignore her and find out 9 months later that he cheated on you with a married ex-girlfriend.
Sign you're growing up
You run in to your dad's best pal at In 'N' Out Burger. Instead of introducing you to his lunch partner as his "surrogate daughter," he jokingly introduces you as his girlfriend. And then his buddy says, "Do you have a sister?"
Sign you need a vacation
You find out your company could be taken over by an evil empire competitor. Then you get word that you'll be given 6 months severance and benefits if the merger should cause you to lose your job. Instead of thinking, "Thank goodness! That will give me plenty of time to find something else," you think, "Sweet! I can totally go travel across Europe for 2 months!"
Sign that he's a keeper
You've just come out of a movie and mention that you're very thirsty. He says, "Want me to buy you a bottle of water from that vending machine?" "No," you say, "it's fine, I have some in my car." He pulls out his wallet and says, "I'm thirsty too, I'll just buy one and you can have a few sips." Then he dashes to the vending machine, comes back, opens the bottle and hands it to you.
Your turn—share with me some of the signs you've seen in the past few weeks!
Knowing how rushed the traffic can get on that stretch of road, I had to laugh that someone took the liberty of posting their own speed limit warning. Then I started wondering if maybe that was another kind of sign—you know, like from the universe. Maybe the big man upstairs was trying to tell me or one of my fellow motorists to slow down in another aspect of our lives.
This, of course, made me want to look for even more signs, so here goes...
Sign you should obey your boss
He hands you a fortune cookie after a department lunch and you say, "No way, man, I want to pick my own—this is my future we're talking about." You pick another cookie, crack it open and nothing falls out. It's empty.
Sign you should listen to your sister
She says, "I just don't feel like he's the right fit for you. You guys seem to fight a lot." You ignore her and find out 9 months later that he cheated on you with a married ex-girlfriend.
Sign you're growing up
You run in to your dad's best pal at In 'N' Out Burger. Instead of introducing you to his lunch partner as his "surrogate daughter," he jokingly introduces you as his girlfriend. And then his buddy says, "Do you have a sister?"
Sign you need a vacation
You find out your company could be taken over by an evil empire competitor. Then you get word that you'll be given 6 months severance and benefits if the merger should cause you to lose your job. Instead of thinking, "Thank goodness! That will give me plenty of time to find something else," you think, "Sweet! I can totally go travel across Europe for 2 months!"
Sign that he's a keeper
You've just come out of a movie and mention that you're very thirsty. He says, "Want me to buy you a bottle of water from that vending machine?" "No," you say, "it's fine, I have some in my car." He pulls out his wallet and says, "I'm thirsty too, I'll just buy one and you can have a few sips." Then he dashes to the vending machine, comes back, opens the bottle and hands it to you.
Your turn—share with me some of the signs you've seen in the past few weeks!
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Wanderlust
One of the best movies I saw in 2007 was Into the Wild. Based on Jon Krakauer's touching and insightful book, it recounts the journey of Christopher McCandless as he travels across the western United States and into Alaska—where his life comes to a tragic end. He was only 24 when he died.
People thought McCandless was crazy for going out on his own, ill-equipped and into unfamiliar territory. He was young and stupid, they said.
But I think he was a great seeker of knowledge and truth. Getting lost can help us find who we really are.
I also think that somewhere inside all of us, there is an adventurous spirit that wants to run away. I've had conversations with friends several times about being overcome by the desire to just keep driving when we're on the way home from work. Just ditch everyday life and go set up camp in the Grand Canyon or casino-hop in Vegas. Shake things up a bit. Feel more alive.
But instead, we settle for little escapes. We spend hours lost in television shows and movies. We live vicariously through characters in books. We hike in the local mountains. Or maybe just try a new restaurant in a neighboring city. Throwing mere scraps of experience to our starving adventurer.
I admire Chris McCandless for being brave enough to indulge his appetite. He turned "what if" into "what next"—something most of us will never do. And as a result, he may have known himself better at age 24 than any of us will ever know ourselves at 100.
People thought McCandless was crazy for going out on his own, ill-equipped and into unfamiliar territory. He was young and stupid, they said.
But I think he was a great seeker of knowledge and truth. Getting lost can help us find who we really are.
I also think that somewhere inside all of us, there is an adventurous spirit that wants to run away. I've had conversations with friends several times about being overcome by the desire to just keep driving when we're on the way home from work. Just ditch everyday life and go set up camp in the Grand Canyon or casino-hop in Vegas. Shake things up a bit. Feel more alive.
But instead, we settle for little escapes. We spend hours lost in television shows and movies. We live vicariously through characters in books. We hike in the local mountains. Or maybe just try a new restaurant in a neighboring city. Throwing mere scraps of experience to our starving adventurer.
I admire Chris McCandless for being brave enough to indulge his appetite. He turned "what if" into "what next"—something most of us will never do. And as a result, he may have known himself better at age 24 than any of us will ever know ourselves at 100.
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