Okay one more reality show blog and I will have it out of my system-temporarily. From music to mirror balls. Of course I watch Dancing With the Stars as well as American Idol...the list goes on, but for all intents and purposes the mention of these two will suffice. How could I NOT watch it? Just think of all those sequins and glitter AND COSTUMES!!! OOOOhhhhhhhh! Hold me back...almost as alluring as vampires. Almost. Actually that has only a teensy bit to do with my addiction. For a Broadway show/musical loving girl such as my self- I just feel comfy-cozy with over the top glitz and jazz hands. I do have one complaint however-the show's definition of the word "Star" is very loosely interpreted. In fact if it gets any looser I would like to be considered for season twenty one. Not because I have a false sense of my own importance, but because at least a third of the show's contestants are met with a "WHO?" much as the reaction to the announcement of my name would be. For all anyone knows I too am an "F" list pseudo-celebrity of a cable reality show nobody watches. Potato-Potawto...(hopefully phonetic spelling makes that more sensical.)Sort of like the Circus of the Stars definition of "star"...Remember that one? (Welcome to my random, make yourself comfortable let me get you a Shirley Temple).Regardless, the Dancing With the Stars winner was announced this week and alas-America's view of the "best" is on the same level of the shows definition of "star"...to such an nth degree that I had to wonder (once again) if the voters have been watching the same show I have watched all season.
Just in case you were basket weaving or basket balling, working out,washing your hair, travelling, gardening,riding your bike in traffic sporting spandex, tweeting or cleaning your bathroom grout with a toothbrush instead of watching DWTS (gasp)- I will provide you with a few highlights. First Jewel (LOVE her)was supposed to be on the show, but was injured before the show premiered-boo! (Entertainment news personality Nancy O'Dell was also unable to compete due to injury-sort of like the upgraded version of Leeza Gibbons) Although Jewel is so earthy,unplugged, unfussed and flowery I don't imagine she would have been especially fabulous at the whole production of ballroom dancing. A garden fairy dancing the rumba is hard to get a clear picture on...She was replaced by Holly Madison of Girls Next Door and Playboy fame...Holly stepped in at the last minute so she deserved to be cut some slack. Bless her pretty bleach blond silicone enhanced little heart though, no amount of training was going to save her from her lack of musicality and two left feet. Maybe her not being able to see her feet proved a bit of an obstacle? I am not being intentionally catty but she was almost Monica Seles bad... Jewel's husband Ty Murray who is a bull rider was also on the show. Ty was as if from another line dancing planet-out of his element and I found this utterly endearing. He reminded me of a little boy at church on Easter that looks so adorably uncomfortable in the suit and tie his mommy forced him to wear. I believe he made it to the final four for different interpretations of that same reason. Other notable contestants include: Steve-O (Jackass-danced with Lacey. Find her unique and refreshing),Lil'Kim who was impressively capable and like a African-American ex-con, rapper style version of Betty Boop (she danced with Ricky Shroeder-I mean...Derek Hough), Cute as puppies real life couple, fellow country singers and dance partners Chuck Wicks and Julianne Hough, David Alan Greir (In Living Color- and pretty good in an old time movie suave kind of way...just lacked flair. He danced with Kym Johnson), Belinda Carlisle (The Bangles. She danced with Jonathan Roberts-apparently teaching women over forty is his forte), Denise Richards(Wild Things and Starship Troopers. Former wife to Charlie Sheen- Poor baby. Were they EXPECTING her to be good at THIS? She danced with Maksim Chmerkovskiy), Lawrence Taylor (NY Giants Hall of Famer- sorry but as a football fan- even I am getting tired of the football guys on the show. As you shall soon see- ALL athletes seem to inaccurately skew the votes and throw the results. Ability has little to do with it. He danced with Edyta Sliwinska...lucky Lawrence!)and Steve Wozniak (Apple Computer fame-I know as much about him as he knows about dancing but he was somewhere close to Brave heart courageous to take that on. Cheers to that! His partner was Karina Smirnoff. Thankfully she is engaged to Max now, we wouldn't want her to be tempted to hook up with
Steve. He understandably seemed QUITE smitten with her). Then there were the top three...
Would you like these in order of ability or would you prefer them in order of American likability (mainstream America has different taste than I do-WHAT?!?) haha Never mind, I will go with order of elimination...so that would be the second option.
3.In third place was Melissa Rycroft of Bachelor fame. She is the girl that Jason Mesnick picked and then unpicked. Fickle much? Unbelievably I ACTUALLY did not watch this one. I got too far behind and gave it up. Anyway she was a Dallas Cowboy Cheerleader and had some balletic background. Not EXACTLY a novice, but neither are members of boy bands (Joey Mac- we are cool like that, Joey Fatone and Lance Bass)...I don't mind that so much I guess. She stepped in for Nancy O'Dell post injury, her partner was Tony Dovalani. Melissa should have had Shawn's spot in the top two. Her scores and judges comments were consistently superior and based on her abilities that spot was rightfully hers. Melissa is pretty,classy and relatable- all she needed was a little vavavoom which Shawn as a baby of seventeen rightly doesn't have either. Melissa may very well have a back up career in toothpaste adverts due to her ultra white shiny teeth. Almost like the FRIENDS where Ross whitens his teeth and they glow in the dark (I really should watch more TV...)Now that Melissa has two reality based shows under her belt, she could also become a professional "R"Lister ('R' for Reality) like Rob and Amber and the numerous Road Rules/Real World MTV Challenge-Gauntlet peeps that have made a career of non-famed fame. OR her fifteen minutes are up...
2. Gilles Marini of Sex and the City the movie fame. He was Samantha's blatantly sexcapadey neighbor-who I was flabbergasted that she didn't hook up with before returning to New York. We ARE talking Samantha here. Think the point was that she and Smith were the real deal even though it didn't work out...you don't care...Right, so I would be lying as would the rest of the women in the world if I said Gilles wasn't easy on the eyes or failed to admit that he is not a renowned celebrity either. For Nip/Tuck viewers, you will be verklempt to know that Gilles will be playing Vanessa Redgrave's husband in the upcoming season. There is another show I don't watch...See? There ARE a few-Oh he has also appeared on Ugly Betty. Fab show-sadly I couldn't keep up with that one either...ANYWAY...Gilles was the partner of Cheryl Burke. I haven't been a fan of Cheryl's since Drew Lachey- those two were FANTASTIC together. Gilles and Cheryl though...they were explosive on the dance floor. They had this jaw dropping, temperature rising,unbelievably unarguable chemistry like Edward and Bella, like Carrie and Big, like Derek and Meredith, like Scarlet and Rhett, like Noah and Allie...times seven. Gilles made Cheryl look SENSATIONAL! EVERY girl needs a frame that compliments her picture THAT way (like my dance speak? fancy!) AND they were CRAZY good...I can't recall seeing so many tens. Even from Len! The fact that Gilles was a virtual unknown going into the competition and made it to the final two is a testament to his abilities. I am going to mention here that he is French...will be more clearly relevant shortly...stay with me-know it's difficult. Like following the "logic" of Bill Mahr. Sorry for that...
1. Enter the Winner of the DWTS Mirror Ball Trophy and Olympic Gold Medalist, seventeen year old Shawn Johnson. Shawn's partner was Mark Ballas. Mark is a charismatic dancer and his choreography is phenomenal. He is extremely skilled at showcasing the abilities of his various partners. No complaints there. Shawn is a gold medal winning gymnast. She is cute, young and flippy (irrepressibly cheerable) and improved a great deal throughout the season. Progress IS always a factor, as it should be...but in a competition-the end result HAS to be the key. Shawn was clearly not as skilled a dancer at the end of DWTS as either Gilles or Melissa. Her scores are proof of that. But yet she won...the whole enchilada. Her undeserved win points to a serious flaw in the system.
Unlike Idol, my opinion on the Dancing With the Stars results are less subjective. There are ACTUAL expert judges scores to use as evidence...Bruno (the small, foreign, ultra-expressive and excitable one), Len (the traditional British one) and Carrie Ann's (the saucy Fly Girl one...)scores all reveal the winner as Gilles. Without fail. Hands (paddles) down. It almost appears as though the voter judging was based more on some twisted view of patriotism, rather than on physical dance skill and performance. Plotting the American as Apple Pie Gold Medalist against the Unknown Frenchman (Let's face it- outside of french fries, the french kiss, Chanel,wine, french twist, bread, perfume and French-Canadian hockey players...that's a stretch-there is no love loss on the part of the the United States toward France). There may have been a bit of consolation voting for Mark in the trend of the Academy Awards where voters attempted to make it up to Mark that he and Cheetah Girl-Sabrina Bryan got sent home outrageously early in spite of their high scores. Regardless the reasoning, the end result was preposterous. DWTS fans are up in stilettos? chiffon?(arms). Producers are going to have to reevaluate the process or lose viewership. As with Emitt Smith's controversial win and that of Apolo Anton Ohno-both wins have been chalked up to their outside athletic achievements, rather than their dancing. There should be a subtle way to adjust the way the winner is chosen that still allows the home voters to feel heard- but gives the ultimate decision to the judges. If left as it is...I think Dancing With the Stars will leap (sashay?) the shark shortly...
*Sigh* If that happens I will be forced to look for illegal lifts and abuse of spray tanner in the streets...
Sorry Gilles -that you were robbed of your gaudy trophy that you so steamily...I mean RIGHTFULLY deserved!!!
Argentine tango before you go?
May 23, 2009
And the American Idol is...What the..?!?!
I am not sure about you- but I take in a shameful amount of Reality Television-even though I am not at all shamed by it as you will see by my unapologetic carrying on...
It all began with Real World-which I haven't seen in the past few seasons.I didn't even watch Real World Denver(The house they lived in was a converted bar-B-52's where I used to sip occasionally,back in the day). Then there was Survivor(I would vote myself off just to get away from the snakes and bugs) and America's Next Top Model (Fierceness, smiley eyes, two Jay's and a rotating retired Supermodel Judge). I even did Trading Spaces for awhile and always wondered how long it took the spray painted furniture and and super glued quick fixes to fall apart and how happy the homeowners were about their big transformation THEN? Technicalities. As fascinating as this all is-there is a point and I will get to it NOW...
The American Idol winner (from now on AI) was announced this week and as a self proclaimed expert of the reality genre (believe me-I am not bragging about my lack of life-ness-but I WOULD like to take this moment to send some love in the direction of my beloved dvr for allowing me to have what I want when I want it which includes the option to pause, rewind and delay reality. Muahahaha insert evil, powerful laugh here... You are the cat's pajamas...kudos) I can't help but feel a TAD let down-or bitterly disappointed the focus on the BITTER part.
This season of American Idol was upgraded in a lot of ways...
1. This season introduced a fourth judge Song Writer and Producer, Kara Dioguardi. Over all this seemed to be a positive, although by mid-season the show only allowed for three judges to comment on performances. It was usually Simon and Paula and then EITHER Randy OR Kara who got to speak. Sure that was good for their egos. I am not sure which would be harder to take: Taking turns OR knowing that viewers would rather hear what Paula had to rant than hear your assessment...? When Randy didn't get to speak, viewers missed out on repetitious valuable input like "Dawg that was hot," "I don't know dawg...," and "You can sing your face off." I like to play Predict What Randy Will Say...I am right 91.8% of the time...
*I am going to take two seconds here to give a shout out to one of my favorite moments in the finale: Kara and Bikini Girl. Fight bimbosity!!! Way to razzle dazzle Kara! You rock! Especially in the T-Bird get up you sported during Rock Week. Like spirit week in high school... I suggest for next season Pajama, Backward, Hawaiian and Crazy Hair Music weeks.
2.The addition of the mirrored stage, glittery mics and falling pillars. Next season let's think of even more ways to frighten and disorient the already terrified young contestants. Shall we?
3. This downgrade is an upgrade in my book...Ryan Secrest was toned WAY down. I now find him only nails on the chalk board abrasive. Much better than needles under my fingernails painful. Secrest out? Why, YES. PLEASE...Ever seen Kathy Griffin's bit about him? PRICELESS.
4. Paula was definitely soberfied. Like a whole new Paula sans train wreck reality show, with the addition of a jewelry collection and a new album. She knew how many times the contestants had performed in a night and everything!(not like with Jason Castro last season) She even used big eleventh grade words and although her comments weren't always directly relevant, she was at least watching the same performance as the rest of us. Her comments still read a bit like the "You're a star stickers" you got on your papers in second grade. Also, I am not in a position to question the relevance of others...
5. First blind/vision impaired contestant Scott MacIntyre was on the show this season. Scott amazed me. Not because he is blind, or because he plays the piano or
EVEN that he managed to get through the cheesy group dance numbers-but a combination and sometimes synchronization of the three. Impressive Scott! Sorry they feathered your hair and dressed you like a member of the original Miami Vice cast. Your style was better before the Stylist Intervention. I smell a lawsuit or at the very least a ticket bestowed upon your Stylist on behalf of the Fashion Police. I kept wondering if you were nasty to your Stylist? Revenge perhaps?
6. This season's final five may very well be the best in Idol history. I REALLY did put that in print. I have no pride-clearly. Regardless, I think with the proper management and image consultation each of the top five can and will be successful in their respective nichey music genre cliques. Especially Allison and Danny.
7. The background singers were brought out of the dark onto center stage for various performances. I am not sure why...I found them distracting. Like having sports commentators on the fifty yard line. By definition-thought the background singers belonged in the background. Just saying...Also something about it brought the Real Men of Genius commercials to mind, I have not yet uncovered the connection there.
*Still love Simon. He is consistently the most credible judge in the World Defined by Carla. Sometimes WAY TOO harsh-that is his shtick though. Lots of little play acting/Caricature fulfillment involving and between the AI judges. He NEVER gives undeserved praise and when he gives glowing comments- They are sincere, thought out and heartfelt and are appreciated as such. Go Simon! But PLEASE stop parting your hair like that...I am not sure how you even do that since it is only about an eighteenth of an inch long...but it is like bad hair black magic.
Simon Isn't COMPLETELY Heartless Reminder- he called a girl's boss when she quit to audition for AI (she was horrendous) and got her job back for her. Fox's effort to give Simon a heart= SUCCESS!!!
Wizard of Fox? Do you think that the Wizard of Fox can help Ryan find his way back home and give Randy a vocabulary and a fashion sense that makes him look less like Louis Farrakhan or a member of Outkast rather than an ex band member of Journey. Think Steve Perry is confused by Randy's exploration of bow ties, stripes and prints? (To the tune of Oh Sherrie..."Oh Randy can THAT be you?!") I know I find it disorienting...The Wizard already gave Kara her "swagger"-her favorite word after "honey, baby, sweetie"...and gave Paula clouded clarity-which is the best any of us can hope for. LALA land sort of like the Emerald City. Only with silicone and botox where the munchkins should be. However, "that's a horse of another color..."
Now for the BIG let down.
Kris Allen is the American Idol. KRIS ALLEN!- the itty one that I expected to go home weeks ago before Matt the Hat Donning-Duelling Piano Bar Guy. Kris most definitely stepped it up in the end...but BEFORE that he was the Young Newly Wed Guy because I found him utterly undefined. Literally forgettable. That said-he IS talented. He plays the guitar and takes some creative liberties and most of them add new flava'...he seems nice (not always or typically a prerequisite for talent but whatever)and he is cute-ish in an Elijah Wood, Lord of the Rings hobbit sort of way. That movie made me want a hobbit for a pet- then I could carry it with me in a pink leopard print cage...Well if the whole Idol thing doesn't work out for Kris, then I can provide him with an attractive "plan b". I see him being in the Gavin Degraw, Jason Mraz genre- albeit less original...and miniature. I like those guys too. I will purchase his music, who am I kidding? Not even myself. And it is not so much that KRIS is the American Idol, so much as who he had to "beat" to take the crown...tiara? I am not sure which it is-considering this is a pop competition. Your call. Also...who spells "Chris" like that? "Kris" Allen-that's who! No judgement...ish.
Enter(in strobes and smoke on a spiral staircase) runner up Adam Lambert. RUNNER UP?!? Adam ENTERED Idol an unknown ROCK STAR!!! I think that only David Cook and Daughtry can come close to making that claim legitimately and Adam required less polish than those two as he was already SUPER shiny. Adam has this theatrical, fireworks stage presence. He was BORN to perform and be wild no doubt-but we won't delve into that because he is fifteen (not really) and plays for the other team. Clad in leather guy liner and hip-gloss, glam-rock,club kid style. EVERY single week he performed all out and got rave comments from the judges. EVERY SINGLE WEEK!!!!... (By the way- when and where can I get my Adam doll that sings-yells Satisfaction at the push of a button?...I will be waiting. Impatiently as always). He and Danny were the only names people remembered for the first few weeks of the show. For excellent reason! They were the best!!!That said,Danny's music started to sound the same week in and week out-I am still a BIG fan. Danny is so humble and sweet and he has that throaty, smoker, sore throat voice thing going for him. He dresses himself well (even before they qualified for help from professionals) and resembles Robert Downey Junior..Oh and his young wife died of illness something like three weeks before auditions and encouraged him to go for Idol...*sniff**sniff*...Who can compete with THAT?!?!
Clearly not Adam...
So this is the theory. Not MY original theory...but according to various official and unofficial web sources. Like in political elections, the elimination of a popular contestant (Danny) swung his votes to the next most similar contestant (Kris)...that and the Southern vote (I think Adam made some Southerners a touch uncomfortable...bless their hearts, God love em'-I ACTUALLY do love Southerners but they DO have their own rules and are very proud of them- don't expect that to change soon, or EVER) made Kris the winner. Consolation votes...
Consolation Idol.
Yadda, yadda, yadda...
Doesn't mean anything.
It is ALL irrelevant in the grand scheme of things-
Adam's star will shimmer regardless. Irrepressible. NOT being THE American Idol may cramp his too-cool-for-the-planet style less anyway. Think he got what he came for...
Hahaha Since he is probably over it- I guess that just leaves me...
It all began with Real World-which I haven't seen in the past few seasons.I didn't even watch Real World Denver(The house they lived in was a converted bar-B-52's where I used to sip occasionally,back in the day). Then there was Survivor(I would vote myself off just to get away from the snakes and bugs) and America's Next Top Model (Fierceness, smiley eyes, two Jay's and a rotating retired Supermodel Judge). I even did Trading Spaces for awhile and always wondered how long it took the spray painted furniture and and super glued quick fixes to fall apart and how happy the homeowners were about their big transformation THEN? Technicalities. As fascinating as this all is-there is a point and I will get to it NOW...
The American Idol winner (from now on AI) was announced this week and as a self proclaimed expert of the reality genre (believe me-I am not bragging about my lack of life-ness-but I WOULD like to take this moment to send some love in the direction of my beloved dvr for allowing me to have what I want when I want it which includes the option to pause, rewind and delay reality. Muahahaha insert evil, powerful laugh here... You are the cat's pajamas...kudos) I can't help but feel a TAD let down-or bitterly disappointed the focus on the BITTER part.
This season of American Idol was upgraded in a lot of ways...
1. This season introduced a fourth judge Song Writer and Producer, Kara Dioguardi. Over all this seemed to be a positive, although by mid-season the show only allowed for three judges to comment on performances. It was usually Simon and Paula and then EITHER Randy OR Kara who got to speak. Sure that was good for their egos. I am not sure which would be harder to take: Taking turns OR knowing that viewers would rather hear what Paula had to rant than hear your assessment...? When Randy didn't get to speak, viewers missed out on repetitious valuable input like "Dawg that was hot," "I don't know dawg...," and "You can sing your face off." I like to play Predict What Randy Will Say...I am right 91.8% of the time...
*I am going to take two seconds here to give a shout out to one of my favorite moments in the finale: Kara and Bikini Girl. Fight bimbosity!!! Way to razzle dazzle Kara! You rock! Especially in the T-Bird get up you sported during Rock Week. Like spirit week in high school... I suggest for next season Pajama, Backward, Hawaiian and Crazy Hair Music weeks.
2.The addition of the mirrored stage, glittery mics and falling pillars. Next season let's think of even more ways to frighten and disorient the already terrified young contestants. Shall we?
3. This downgrade is an upgrade in my book...Ryan Secrest was toned WAY down. I now find him only nails on the chalk board abrasive. Much better than needles under my fingernails painful. Secrest out? Why, YES. PLEASE...Ever seen Kathy Griffin's bit about him? PRICELESS.
4. Paula was definitely soberfied. Like a whole new Paula sans train wreck reality show, with the addition of a jewelry collection and a new album. She knew how many times the contestants had performed in a night and everything!(not like with Jason Castro last season) She even used big eleventh grade words and although her comments weren't always directly relevant, she was at least watching the same performance as the rest of us. Her comments still read a bit like the "You're a star stickers" you got on your papers in second grade. Also, I am not in a position to question the relevance of others...
5. First blind/vision impaired contestant Scott MacIntyre was on the show this season. Scott amazed me. Not because he is blind, or because he plays the piano or
EVEN that he managed to get through the cheesy group dance numbers-but a combination and sometimes synchronization of the three. Impressive Scott! Sorry they feathered your hair and dressed you like a member of the original Miami Vice cast. Your style was better before the Stylist Intervention. I smell a lawsuit or at the very least a ticket bestowed upon your Stylist on behalf of the Fashion Police. I kept wondering if you were nasty to your Stylist? Revenge perhaps?
6. This season's final five may very well be the best in Idol history. I REALLY did put that in print. I have no pride-clearly. Regardless, I think with the proper management and image consultation each of the top five can and will be successful in their respective nichey music genre cliques. Especially Allison and Danny.
7. The background singers were brought out of the dark onto center stage for various performances. I am not sure why...I found them distracting. Like having sports commentators on the fifty yard line. By definition-thought the background singers belonged in the background. Just saying...Also something about it brought the Real Men of Genius commercials to mind, I have not yet uncovered the connection there.
*Still love Simon. He is consistently the most credible judge in the World Defined by Carla. Sometimes WAY TOO harsh-that is his shtick though. Lots of little play acting/Caricature fulfillment involving and between the AI judges. He NEVER gives undeserved praise and when he gives glowing comments- They are sincere, thought out and heartfelt and are appreciated as such. Go Simon! But PLEASE stop parting your hair like that...I am not sure how you even do that since it is only about an eighteenth of an inch long...but it is like bad hair black magic.
Simon Isn't COMPLETELY Heartless Reminder- he called a girl's boss when she quit to audition for AI (she was horrendous) and got her job back for her. Fox's effort to give Simon a heart= SUCCESS!!!
Wizard of Fox? Do you think that the Wizard of Fox can help Ryan find his way back home and give Randy a vocabulary and a fashion sense that makes him look less like Louis Farrakhan or a member of Outkast rather than an ex band member of Journey. Think Steve Perry is confused by Randy's exploration of bow ties, stripes and prints? (To the tune of Oh Sherrie..."Oh Randy can THAT be you?!") I know I find it disorienting...The Wizard already gave Kara her "swagger"-her favorite word after "honey, baby, sweetie"...and gave Paula clouded clarity-which is the best any of us can hope for. LALA land sort of like the Emerald City. Only with silicone and botox where the munchkins should be. However, "that's a horse of another color..."
Now for the BIG let down.
Kris Allen is the American Idol. KRIS ALLEN!- the itty one that I expected to go home weeks ago before Matt the Hat Donning-Duelling Piano Bar Guy. Kris most definitely stepped it up in the end...but BEFORE that he was the Young Newly Wed Guy because I found him utterly undefined. Literally forgettable. That said-he IS talented. He plays the guitar and takes some creative liberties and most of them add new flava'...he seems nice (not always or typically a prerequisite for talent but whatever)and he is cute-ish in an Elijah Wood, Lord of the Rings hobbit sort of way. That movie made me want a hobbit for a pet- then I could carry it with me in a pink leopard print cage...Well if the whole Idol thing doesn't work out for Kris, then I can provide him with an attractive "plan b". I see him being in the Gavin Degraw, Jason Mraz genre- albeit less original...and miniature. I like those guys too. I will purchase his music, who am I kidding? Not even myself. And it is not so much that KRIS is the American Idol, so much as who he had to "beat" to take the crown...tiara? I am not sure which it is-considering this is a pop competition. Your call. Also...who spells "Chris" like that? "Kris" Allen-that's who! No judgement...ish.
Enter(in strobes and smoke on a spiral staircase) runner up Adam Lambert. RUNNER UP?!? Adam ENTERED Idol an unknown ROCK STAR!!! I think that only David Cook and Daughtry can come close to making that claim legitimately and Adam required less polish than those two as he was already SUPER shiny. Adam has this theatrical, fireworks stage presence. He was BORN to perform and be wild no doubt-but we won't delve into that because he is fifteen (not really) and plays for the other team. Clad in leather guy liner and hip-gloss, glam-rock,club kid style. EVERY single week he performed all out and got rave comments from the judges. EVERY SINGLE WEEK!!!!... (By the way- when and where can I get my Adam doll that sings-yells Satisfaction at the push of a button?...I will be waiting. Impatiently as always). He and Danny were the only names people remembered for the first few weeks of the show. For excellent reason! They were the best!!!That said,Danny's music started to sound the same week in and week out-I am still a BIG fan. Danny is so humble and sweet and he has that throaty, smoker, sore throat voice thing going for him. He dresses himself well (even before they qualified for help from professionals) and resembles Robert Downey Junior..Oh and his young wife died of illness something like three weeks before auditions and encouraged him to go for Idol...*sniff**sniff*...Who can compete with THAT?!?!
Clearly not Adam...
So this is the theory. Not MY original theory...but according to various official and unofficial web sources. Like in political elections, the elimination of a popular contestant (Danny) swung his votes to the next most similar contestant (Kris)...that and the Southern vote (I think Adam made some Southerners a touch uncomfortable...bless their hearts, God love em'-I ACTUALLY do love Southerners but they DO have their own rules and are very proud of them- don't expect that to change soon, or EVER) made Kris the winner. Consolation votes...
Consolation Idol.
Yadda, yadda, yadda...
Doesn't mean anything.
It is ALL irrelevant in the grand scheme of things-
Adam's star will shimmer regardless. Irrepressible. NOT being THE American Idol may cramp his too-cool-for-the-planet style less anyway. Think he got what he came for...
Hahaha Since he is probably over it- I guess that just leaves me...
May 16, 2009
Just Like Bambi
Spring has sprung and you know what that means? I have been dancing around the May pole in my rumba panties (those are the burlesquey ones with the ruffles on the toosh)...Enjoy the sun. Take heart-"get your hands up-baby get your hands up..."
Your welcome.
I love you too.
Anyway I am not sure if it is the coming of Spring, or my renewed lack of direction...but this past week I did nothing but drink coffee (too much coffee and I got playful with it too a little bit of cinnamon in the grounds, a little bit of 'nilla for the sound. A little bit Of Splenda makes it sweet, a little creamer what a treat..WHAT?!? Imagine it to the tune of Mambo Number Five...I apologize), read (finished Breaking Dawn. Sniff, sniff- farewell mi amore you know where to find me if you ever decide to be unfictional- I will be sparkling in the soul quenching sun. Throat fully exposed in anticipation...) chauffeur (preschool, parks and play dates-I am only in it for the hat and the Monkey kisses), do dishes (necessary evil-beats bathrooms), watch reality television(so sorry Danny I cried too, but it is only the difference of a week apparently a little Kanye gets you to the final two...a little Kanye goes a long way with me as well...#crazy, unstable gangsters make me nervous. Breakdowns=shooting sprees and the hoes (I am not ashamed that I don't know how to spell that) better watch their backs...(I don't know what I am saying either?!?...) take care of the bare bones minimum of my duties (the dressing, the washing, the feeding the wiping) and bask in the tremendous, toasty, earth waking sun... Roll down the windows, let the wind Bridgette Bardot my hair and listen to my favorite music louder than I have right to. It's not my fault you still don't know who Billy Pilgrim is...think Harry Connick Junior is JUST the guy from Will and Grace and you don't know all the lyrics to Rent and Mama Mia...Catch up. Oh and if you are still mocking my New Kids on the Block-You're still wrong, Live a little.Be a Cover Girl, get Full Service and Twisted-Teehee...I listen to almost everything-except techno because WHAT IS THAT? Think you have to have been born after '85 or be neckless, wearing high tops and neon spandex shorts to fully appreciate...Right. So...Spring
I can't remember when I have been so giddily happy to see "someone". Sad or refreshing?...One of those.
Like the second Spring in Bambi when all the little Bambis, Thumpers, Flowers, etc... come out and find love and twitterpation...so did I. In love with green grass, long days, the scent of lilac in the air...okay sundresses sandals and mango body butter may have SOMETHING to do with my euphoria...and the hunter better step off my mom. Oops got a little excited with all the Kanye talk...
Aside from that UTTERLY euphoric.
but I may need to reign it in and try to focus just a little bit...
Where was I? You would be not at all surprised at how many times I utter those words daily...
That's right...Hooray for Spring! Come to Momma. Toe touch, triple back handspring splits, spirit hands...
My bare feet and I adore you.
Your welcome.
I love you too.
Anyway I am not sure if it is the coming of Spring, or my renewed lack of direction...but this past week I did nothing but drink coffee (too much coffee and I got playful with it too a little bit of cinnamon in the grounds, a little bit of 'nilla for the sound. A little bit Of Splenda makes it sweet, a little creamer what a treat..WHAT?!? Imagine it to the tune of Mambo Number Five...I apologize), read (finished Breaking Dawn. Sniff, sniff- farewell mi amore you know where to find me if you ever decide to be unfictional- I will be sparkling in the soul quenching sun. Throat fully exposed in anticipation...) chauffeur (preschool, parks and play dates-I am only in it for the hat and the Monkey kisses), do dishes (necessary evil-beats bathrooms), watch reality television(so sorry Danny I cried too, but it is only the difference of a week apparently a little Kanye gets you to the final two...a little Kanye goes a long way with me as well...#crazy, unstable gangsters make me nervous. Breakdowns=shooting sprees and the hoes (I am not ashamed that I don't know how to spell that) better watch their backs...(I don't know what I am saying either?!?...) take care of the bare bones minimum of my duties (the dressing, the washing, the feeding the wiping) and bask in the tremendous, toasty, earth waking sun... Roll down the windows, let the wind Bridgette Bardot my hair and listen to my favorite music louder than I have right to. It's not my fault you still don't know who Billy Pilgrim is...think Harry Connick Junior is JUST the guy from Will and Grace and you don't know all the lyrics to Rent and Mama Mia...Catch up. Oh and if you are still mocking my New Kids on the Block-You're still wrong, Live a little.Be a Cover Girl, get Full Service and Twisted-Teehee...I listen to almost everything-except techno because WHAT IS THAT? Think you have to have been born after '85 or be neckless, wearing high tops and neon spandex shorts to fully appreciate...Right. So...Spring
I can't remember when I have been so giddily happy to see "someone". Sad or refreshing?...One of those.
Like the second Spring in Bambi when all the little Bambis, Thumpers, Flowers, etc... come out and find love and twitterpation...so did I. In love with green grass, long days, the scent of lilac in the air...okay sundresses sandals and mango body butter may have SOMETHING to do with my euphoria...and the hunter better step off my mom. Oops got a little excited with all the Kanye talk...
Aside from that UTTERLY euphoric.
but I may need to reign it in and try to focus just a little bit...
Where was I? You would be not at all surprised at how many times I utter those words daily...
That's right...Hooray for Spring! Come to Momma. Toe touch, triple back handspring splits, spirit hands...
My bare feet and I adore you.
May 7, 2009
Club Rules
Do you remember when we were kids how we went through a clubhouse phase?
I THINK clubs and club houses are a gateway to childhood. Not all of us were blessed with a Handy Daddy who whipped us up Bob Villa/Trading Spaces Ty/Andrew/Carson-esque clubhouses out of the spare timber in the garage. Some of us had the kind of Daddy's that sent the car out to have the oil changed, called AAA to change flat tires and used the garage to park the car in and little else. For THOSE of us- the ones that were gifted instead with an obligatory imagination-the "clubhouse" was little more than a large refrigerator box with haphazardly cut windows and doors (due to our horrendous cutting skills- hypothetically.) I mustn't forget to mention the finger painted exterior modelling every hue of pink and red one could devise by mixing, blending and shaking the basically non-fancy four provided options. Add the finishing touch of ten dollars worth of mirrored, sparkly and scratch and sniff stickers purchased from the sticker store (NOT Things Remembered. WAY before scrap-booking was "invented" Think...Units and Merry Go Round, two scrunchies and the Go-gos and if you don't get these allusions-I STILL think you're pretty, just shake your head and say yes). Final addition crusty "grass-like" indoor-outdoor rug from under the garage steps that was dragged to the "door" that busted off shortly after it's creation, as well as every blanket a girl had to her name. Enough about the decor- the key to the club house was the rules.
As every Club Member is well aware, the Club Founder gets to make the rules. There was somewhat of a Democratic process involved. That is if by "Democratic", we are referring to the Club Founder feigning interest in what the CM's have to say and then continuing the vigorous crayola marker scribbling on poster board of what she is CERTAIN are the perfect rules. Things like:
1. The clubhouse is reserved for Club Members.
2. Club Members may only be in the clubhouse when the Club Founder is present.
3. Nothing may be added to/taken from the clubhouse decor without the permission of the Club Founder. This includes Club Members.
4. Play nice-and by nice I mean play what the Club Founder wants to play-when and how she wants it played.
5. Club meets everyday after school that we don't have anything better to do and certainly you wouldn't have ANYTHING better to do.
6. All final decisions on the addition of new Club Members are to be decided by the Club Founder.
7. The Club Founder may singly vote you out of the club for any reason without explanation.
8. The Club Founder may (and often will) alter the club rules at any time without notifying other Club Members. Obviously no vote is necessary. Creative interpretation of any and all rules by the Club Founder is to be expected.
Sounds fun! Right?
There was a little pink am/fm radio that only tuned stations halfway, dancing, bike adventures, the occasional crap (I mean craft) and cookies...so membership had it's privileges...That and the Club Founder was pretty spectacular...(insert evil delusional laugh here).
Suffice to say that the Club House phase of my life was short lived. I have always thought boys were better at this teensy weensy aspect of childhood because of that carefree attitude that so charming in boyhood often translates to cluelessness in adulthood.
Our femininity that radiates silky smooth, shimmery and vulnerable- reacts warrior princessy to our club rules and boundaries being violated. This is due to our deep seeded belief that there IS a right way to do things. Our way.
Think about your old club house rules...
Have any of them changed?
Most of mine remained the same although my club house offers better accommodations/perks smells enrapturingly delicious and my rule delivery has perfected with practice. I SO have them knocking down the door to get in.
I THINK clubs and club houses are a gateway to childhood. Not all of us were blessed with a Handy Daddy who whipped us up Bob Villa/Trading Spaces Ty/Andrew/Carson-esque clubhouses out of the spare timber in the garage. Some of us had the kind of Daddy's that sent the car out to have the oil changed, called AAA to change flat tires and used the garage to park the car in and little else. For THOSE of us- the ones that were gifted instead with an obligatory imagination-the "clubhouse" was little more than a large refrigerator box with haphazardly cut windows and doors (due to our horrendous cutting skills- hypothetically.) I mustn't forget to mention the finger painted exterior modelling every hue of pink and red one could devise by mixing, blending and shaking the basically non-fancy four provided options. Add the finishing touch of ten dollars worth of mirrored, sparkly and scratch and sniff stickers purchased from the sticker store (NOT Things Remembered. WAY before scrap-booking was "invented" Think...Units and Merry Go Round, two scrunchies and the Go-gos and if you don't get these allusions-I STILL think you're pretty, just shake your head and say yes). Final addition crusty "grass-like" indoor-outdoor rug from under the garage steps that was dragged to the "door" that busted off shortly after it's creation, as well as every blanket a girl had to her name. Enough about the decor- the key to the club house was the rules.
As every Club Member is well aware, the Club Founder gets to make the rules. There was somewhat of a Democratic process involved. That is if by "Democratic", we are referring to the Club Founder feigning interest in what the CM's have to say and then continuing the vigorous crayola marker scribbling on poster board of what she is CERTAIN are the perfect rules. Things like:
1. The clubhouse is reserved for Club Members.
2. Club Members may only be in the clubhouse when the Club Founder is present.
3. Nothing may be added to/taken from the clubhouse decor without the permission of the Club Founder. This includes Club Members.
4. Play nice-and by nice I mean play what the Club Founder wants to play-when and how she wants it played.
5. Club meets everyday after school that we don't have anything better to do and certainly you wouldn't have ANYTHING better to do.
6. All final decisions on the addition of new Club Members are to be decided by the Club Founder.
7. The Club Founder may singly vote you out of the club for any reason without explanation.
8. The Club Founder may (and often will) alter the club rules at any time without notifying other Club Members. Obviously no vote is necessary. Creative interpretation of any and all rules by the Club Founder is to be expected.
Sounds fun! Right?
There was a little pink am/fm radio that only tuned stations halfway, dancing, bike adventures, the occasional crap (I mean craft) and cookies...so membership had it's privileges...That and the Club Founder was pretty spectacular...(insert evil delusional laugh here).
Suffice to say that the Club House phase of my life was short lived. I have always thought boys were better at this teensy weensy aspect of childhood because of that carefree attitude that so charming in boyhood often translates to cluelessness in adulthood.
Our femininity that radiates silky smooth, shimmery and vulnerable- reacts warrior princessy to our club rules and boundaries being violated. This is due to our deep seeded belief that there IS a right way to do things. Our way.
Think about your old club house rules...
Have any of them changed?
Most of mine remained the same although my club house offers better accommodations/perks smells enrapturingly delicious and my rule delivery has perfected with practice. I SO have them knocking down the door to get in.
April 27, 2009
Reasons Why Coffee is More Satisfying Than Boys...Sometimes
Okay so I am sitting at the table today with my three year old daughter. We are both "reading..." you know about princesses, talking animals and vampires. Note to self. Branch out...Me a cup of coffee in hand, her a Dora cup with that savory juice water mix that I give her so her teeth don't rot. Ewww! (The backwoods teeth theme to Deliverance being strummed in the background...not the juice concoction). Anyway, I notice her eying my coffee which she does a couple of times a week. At which point I generally remind her that caffeine is for grown ups... Blah blah blah. You know, in that way we copy our parents in a vain attempt to explain that as adults we can do things that are bad for us if we want to. I am quite certain that during such speeches I am transformed into Charlie Brown's teacher. Droning on in my daughter's head .You know, Wahwahwahwwhwahwah....
So she is looking at my coffee the wistful way she looks at my lip gloss collection and says in a voice much like that of Cindy Lou Who's..."Maybe when I am big as you ( one of her favorite games to play)- then I can drink coffee WITH you sometimes.. Not now though because little kids can't have caffeine." When she says things like this it is with that longing tone kids say "I wish I knew what that tastes like -" say when a stranger dares to partake of a cookie in their presence. Precious right? So we have a date, when she is old enough that caffeine won't stunt her growth, she and I will go for coffee- for now she has to settle for watery juice or a milk steamer.
Anyway- this of course brought to mind my coffee passion. Which gave me this idea, which I probably should have given it back. Y'know- "thanks but no thanks.." BUT I didn't. So here it is. Reasons Why Coffee is (Sometimes) More Lovable Than Boys... ( the grown variety) This is not a man hating thing at all... Just that- coffee completes me. Heehee. Atleast before two p.m. After that I complete myself.
1. Coffee is Predictable - in the BEST way.- Made to order. Served steamy hot OR icy cold. Sweet or bitter,smoothe or straightforward. Sophisticated or simple. Haha European, Brazilian, Jamaican...take your pick. Regardless- you know exactly what you're getting because you ordered it that way.
2. Coffee mixes well with your girlfriends and shopping. Need I say more? Also it doesn't remind you that you have fifty MAC shadows at home already and only two eyes to apply it to. Coffee understands.
3. Coffee only wakes you up when you want it to.
4. You can find the perfect cup of joe on the first attempt. No fuss. And at a drive-through no less. Talk about instant gratification.
5. Coffee warms you up whenever asked and doesn't complain that your feet are too cold. And REALLY? Man up. Hypothetically...
6. You give your coffee lip all the time and you never have to worry about starting a nonsensical argument. In fact, it gives you a melty kiss in return. Now if only we could teach it the hair tug.
7. Coffee doesn't interrupt you when you're reading to ask if it has clean socks. Coffee appreciates that while being a woman is a glorious, beautiful, complex and fabulous thing that comes with inmeasurable benefits-being utilized as a tracking device is not one of them. Why can boys NEVER find things again? :) Maybe the Myth Buster team should try to defunct that one- good luck.
8. Coffee is eager to please you...in a Jane Austen Victorian romance kind of way- not in a fetch you your paper kind of way. Awww... When the Internet finishes it's serial slayings of printed media, will puppies fetch I- Macs? Sad visual. What about the Times famous crossword- what will become of that?
9. Coffee is flexible. It doesn't care that you change your mind all the time. Craves it even. It also doesn't balk at being covered in cream, splenda and sugar free syrup. Nothing wrong with that.
10. Java only passes steam and then it smells like peppermint, vanilla or caramel. It doesn't have fingers or laugh afterward. Enough said. Hhmmm.. Coffee really IS fabulous, right?
My Poor Little Bug. Perhaps hot cocoa with pink mashmallows will suffice until she is " big as me." But now... Time for another cup. Mmmmm...;) ;).
So she is looking at my coffee the wistful way she looks at my lip gloss collection and says in a voice much like that of Cindy Lou Who's..."Maybe when I am big as you ( one of her favorite games to play)- then I can drink coffee WITH you sometimes.. Not now though because little kids can't have caffeine." When she says things like this it is with that longing tone kids say "I wish I knew what that tastes like -" say when a stranger dares to partake of a cookie in their presence. Precious right? So we have a date, when she is old enough that caffeine won't stunt her growth, she and I will go for coffee- for now she has to settle for watery juice or a milk steamer.
Anyway- this of course brought to mind my coffee passion. Which gave me this idea, which I probably should have given it back. Y'know- "thanks but no thanks.." BUT I didn't. So here it is. Reasons Why Coffee is (Sometimes) More Lovable Than Boys... ( the grown variety) This is not a man hating thing at all... Just that- coffee completes me. Heehee. Atleast before two p.m. After that I complete myself.
1. Coffee is Predictable - in the BEST way.- Made to order. Served steamy hot OR icy cold. Sweet or bitter,smoothe or straightforward. Sophisticated or simple. Haha European, Brazilian, Jamaican...take your pick. Regardless- you know exactly what you're getting because you ordered it that way.
2. Coffee mixes well with your girlfriends and shopping. Need I say more? Also it doesn't remind you that you have fifty MAC shadows at home already and only two eyes to apply it to. Coffee understands.
3. Coffee only wakes you up when you want it to.
4. You can find the perfect cup of joe on the first attempt. No fuss. And at a drive-through no less. Talk about instant gratification.
5. Coffee warms you up whenever asked and doesn't complain that your feet are too cold. And REALLY? Man up. Hypothetically...
6. You give your coffee lip all the time and you never have to worry about starting a nonsensical argument. In fact, it gives you a melty kiss in return. Now if only we could teach it the hair tug.
7. Coffee doesn't interrupt you when you're reading to ask if it has clean socks. Coffee appreciates that while being a woman is a glorious, beautiful, complex and fabulous thing that comes with inmeasurable benefits-being utilized as a tracking device is not one of them. Why can boys NEVER find things again? :) Maybe the Myth Buster team should try to defunct that one- good luck.
8. Coffee is eager to please you...in a Jane Austen Victorian romance kind of way- not in a fetch you your paper kind of way. Awww... When the Internet finishes it's serial slayings of printed media, will puppies fetch I- Macs? Sad visual. What about the Times famous crossword- what will become of that?
9. Coffee is flexible. It doesn't care that you change your mind all the time. Craves it even. It also doesn't balk at being covered in cream, splenda and sugar free syrup. Nothing wrong with that.
10. Java only passes steam and then it smells like peppermint, vanilla or caramel. It doesn't have fingers or laugh afterward. Enough said. Hhmmm.. Coffee really IS fabulous, right?
My Poor Little Bug. Perhaps hot cocoa with pink mashmallows will suffice until she is " big as me." But now... Time for another cup. Mmmmm...;) ;).
April 26, 2009
Elizabethtown...My Dearest Mr. Crowe
My Dearest Mr.Crowe,
Let me begin by throwing my own personal celebration in honor of your immeasurable genius. The muses have bestowed upon you more than your fair share of creative gifts. I am certainly not complaining, I am grateful, in fact. Grateful that you use your powers for good and share them with the masses. Myself of course, being a humbly awed member of the masses.
That said, in spite of our being complete strangers, I have something to ask of you. Sorry- it's this thing I do and I won't forgive myself for not at least making the attempt. I have placed my request in a diamond dish, doused it in pearly whipped cream, showered it in pretty please and cascaded it in rubied cherries. Mmmmm...Yummy...(holding spoon out) hear TASTE it...Okay...while your mouth is full...let me verbalize my teeny little wish for you...(kneeling down and gazing hopefully into his eccentrically electrified eyes)...
Write me...I mean, make my movie?
please, Please, PLEASE....I am not in the habit of begging. I mean I never, EVER do. But THIS could be monumentally significant. At least to me.
Don't answer right away- let it percolate. Play with those cherries for a bit- roll them around on your tongue- (I TOTALLY laced them with "There Is No Saying No To Me Serum")staining your lips with their pungent red deliciousness...
Here is my end of the deal. If you see fit to grace me with your gifts, I promise to continue my quirky quest of all things fascinating, real and inspiring. And you can cast me and enhance me and make me endearingly and irresistibly captivating. Something everyone strives for-but hoping I am the most convincing and possibly the first to think to ask this of you.
Anyway, that IS what you do best. So obviously what you were placed on this earth to do. Work your magic. You paint your subject with such intuitiveness that their humanity glows under the tender mastered stroke of your tempered brush. Each canvas reveals the bewitching complexities and alluring vulnerabilities of every subject that you are commissioned to COMPLETE (like that shameless Jerry McGuire reference?). Let ME sit for you. Make me SPARKLE...I vow to do my best to return the favor.
So Cam', ahem... I mean... Mr.Crowe. You relax and savor every last drop of the bejewelled sundae I prepared for you and consider my proposal. I will rub your neck and gush shamelessly and unabashedly about how much I ADORED Elizabethtown. Yes, I know that it was released a few years ago. See how um...provocative and multi faceted I could be? Riveting even. Typically movies are reviewed upon release-but I was saving it...in order to savor every nuance...to be untarnished by the unsolicited opinions of the less worldly, less perceptive mass members. And I am overjoyed that I did because I got to discover it on my own. Much more fulfilling that way. But now, after a second viewing- I cannot hoard it awayin secrecy any longer. Time to share it with the class.
Elizabethtown opens with a shipment of recalled athletic shoes being returned to a warehouse. Cut to Drew Baylor (played intuitively by the well coiffed and impressively non accented Orlando Bloom) reticently boarding a helicopter- lumbering under the world weight he removed from Atlas' shoulders- staring wistfully out the window at the ground below him...beckoning him to jump.
Drew's voice over...
"As somebody once said, there is a difference between a failure and a fiasco. A failure is simply the non presence of success. Any fool can accomplish failure. But a FIASCO- a fiasco is a disaster of mythic proportions. A fiasco is a folk tale told to others that make other people feel more alive because it DIDN'T HAPPEN TO THEM..."
We learn that Drew has sacrificed family social and other professional endeavors in his single goal to create the perfect trainer shoe. Before it is officially released however, the shoe is recalled. Drew is held personally responsible by his boss (played humorously by Alec Baldwin- wonder why he plays a tool so well. Hmmm?) for the company's loss of nearly one BILLION dollars and is asked to publicly take responsibility in an interview to a National Publication that will not be leaked/released for one week. Aware of his own impending doom before the rest of the world is made aware.Time to prepare oneself? Or torment oneself?
As a result of his failure, Drew has lost not only the seven years he has invested in the development of Spasmodica (Said recalled shoe) but he loses everything. His Job, his dreams, his ambition, his hope, his office girlfriend (who just so happens to be Jessica Biel . I think that having and losing her would have been reason enough to propel most men deprived of parachutes from the helicopter window. To me she will always be Mary Camden). Life as Drew knows it is over.
So Drew drags himself back home and purges his worldly possessions, leaving them on the street to be taken by celebratory looters. He then attempts to end himself by means of duct taping a very sharp knife onto the moving arm of his workout equipment. Like a slasher film gone awry...death by knife wielding elliptical seems like harsh and bizarre punishment. Just as Drew is about to unceremoniously bid the cruel world goodbye...his cell phone rings out" I can turn your grey skies blue" ...After ignoring it once and getting an immediate callback, " I can turn your grey skies blue"....Drew finally picks up. His distraught sister, Heather Baylor (played by Judy Greer) is on the other end of the line. tearfully breaking the news that their father passed when visiting Elizabethtown and the family needs him to go there to bring his body back home.
Hesitantly, Drew delays what he considers his imminent date with destiny and flies home to console his mother and sister and to retrieve his father's favorite blue suit. He then heads out on an empty red eye flight to Elizabethtown and carry out his reconnaissance mission so he can return home to cease his existence. Enter flight attendant Claire Colburn. Interestingly casted as Kirsten Dunst- Let me take a moment here Mr. Crowe (mouth gaping at your infinite skill) marvelling that you even manage to make her believable and LOVABLE. (Ready for another sundae? EXTRA cherries. Yes? That's my Good Genius)
I also need to take a pause for redirection as the winds have changed and shifted my focus yet again. Hahaha...In appreciation of the subtle greatness and the intricate balance of subtle nuance and raw emotion of this film. To model a pinch of the absolute artistry of thematic and character development shaped so precisely in your capable hands, Mr. Crowe...Because of this film's depth...its' relevancy-I now realize that the mere description of this film would be like reading the Cliff's Notes to Hamlet-and expecting the same cathartic result. Or listening to the muzak version of American Pie, or humming Jimmy Hendrix, sketching The Kiss...There simply is no doing it justice.
Allow me instead to share some of my favorite lines...No one alive today speaks truth like you. In no particular order I present you with your own AWESOMENESS: Quoting the movie is the only way to do shed any kind of light on it's glory.
Go ahead marvel at your own craft. Impossible not to. (Wiping gooey cherry juice from his chin...)
Drew Baylor: And I thought I was so mysterious...
Claire Colburn: Trust me. Everybody is less mysterious than they think they are.
Ellen Kishmore: Drew, it was real, and it was great, and it was really great.
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Bill Banyon: Is there such a thing as partial cremation?
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Claire Colburn: Do you ever just think I'm fooling everybody?
Drew Baylor: You have no idea.
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Claire Colburn: Men see things in a box, and women see them in a round room.
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Claire Colburn: I think I've been asleep most of my life.
Drew Baylor: Me too.
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Claire Colburn: What they say is, it *will* hit you, it could be ten minutes or it could be ten years from now.
Claire Colburn: [voiceover] Don't get lost!
Drew Baylor: You know, there is nothing greater than deciding in your life that things maybe really are black and white! And this guy Ben, who clearly takes you for granted, who serially takes advantage of you, is bad! And what I'm saying is good! See what I mean? You shouldn't be the substitute for anybody. This guy should be right here, right now, doing this
[kisses Claire]
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Drew Baylor: What is that word...? Whimsical!
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Claire Colburn: I am wearing these clothes- I mean, have you ever had unlucky clothes? This dress that you like-good things have not happened to me in this dress. But I saw it tonight and said "I am going to give you one more chance." and I REFUSE to be let down by this dress again."
Drew Baylor: Ben's very lucky, all we did was kiss.
Claire Colburn: Most of the sex I've had in my life was not as personal as that kiss.
Drew Baylor: And don't worry. Because as great as you look tonight, you are safe with me.
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Claire Colburn: [voice over] Some music *needs* air. Roll down your window.
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Claire Colburn: I don't know a lot about everything, but I do know a lot about the part of everything that I know, which is people.
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Drew Baylor: I've just recently decided that the things we know aren't black and white.
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Claire Colburn: And so we all became helpers, which I *so* can't help. I can't help helping.
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Claire Colburn: I've spent so much time thinking about all the answers to the problem, that I forget what the problem *actually* was.
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Drew Baylor: You're smart, you'll just wear your shoes and *never* ask any questions. Just enjoy your footwear.
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Claire Colburn: To have never taken a solitary road trip across country? I mean every body's got to take a road trip, at least once in their lives. Just you and some music.
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Chuck Hasboro: Death and life. And death and life. Right *next door* to each other! There's like, there's a hair between them.
Drew Baylor: Because we have a moment here, let me tell you that I have recently become a secret connoisseur of 'last looks'. You know the way people look at you when they believe it's for the last time? I've started collecting these looks.
Drew Baylor: I'm not used to girl's like you.
Claire Colburn: That's because I am one of a kind.
Claire Colburn: You have five minutes to wallow in the delicious misery. Enjoy it. Embrace it. Discard it and proceed.
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Drew Baylor: Can you imagine an entire life wrapped up in a shoe?
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Hollie Baylor: All forward motion counts.
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Claire Colburn: I want you to get into the deep beautiful melancholy of everything that's happened.
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Hollie Baylor: It takes time to be funny. It takes time to extract joy from life.
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Claire Colburn: I'm walking out the door... in last night's clothes.
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Claire Colburn: Hey, now we actually have a shot at being friends for the rest of our lives.
Drew Baylor: The rest of our lives... hmmmm...
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Claire Colburn: Welcome to the annual meeting of people who annually meet, and we'll see ya'll next year.
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Claire Colburn: Sadness is easier because its surrender. I say make time to dance alone with one hand waving free.
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Claire Colburn: So you failed. Alright you really failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You think I care about that? I do understand. You wanna be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around. Make them wonder why you're still smiling.
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Hollie Baylor: We were complete opposites and it worked. And something happened between us that was not part of the plan... we were in love.
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Drew Baylor: In that moment, I knew success, not greatness, was the only god the world served.
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Hollie Baylor: I was still waiting for everything to start, and now it's over.
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Claire Colburn: I'm going to miss your lips. And everything attached to them.
I have this unique thing for you...
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Claire Colburn: You know, You're always trying to break up with me, and we're not even together.
Drew Baylor: I know... We're not?
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Drew Baylor: I'm fine.
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Jessie Baylor: This loss will be met with a hurricane of love.
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Jessie Baylor: I teach my kids about the things that really matter. I will teach them about Abraham Lincoln and Ronnie Van Zandt, because they are equally important in my house.
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Drew Baylor: You're great, Claire. Actually, you're kinda amazing.
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Claire Colburn: [after learning that Drew's father is Mitch] Ah, so you're a son of a Mitch.
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Claire Colburn: Never met a Mitch I didn't like. Fun, full of life. Like... everyone wants to be a part of Mitch's club.
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Drew Baylor: We should've taken this trip years ago.
Look at us- you with your many almost great projects and me with my fiasco. Oh God! Both of us working SO hard. For what? We should have taken this trip years ago...and the fact that I am going home to kill myself, is really not your fault." Spoken to his father's urn as he drives it across country spreading his ashes.
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Hollie Baylor: [looking at a picture of Mitch] I love you. This is for you. Your favorite song on a Saturday night.
[Moon River plays] Then Susan Sarandon tap dances...she is made for this type of role.
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(text written on a cloth above the stage): If it wasn't this... it'd be something else.
Drew Baylor: And who says we have to listen to 'them'?
Claire Colburn: *They* do!
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Claire Colburn: Just tell me you love me and get it over with!
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Phil DeVoss: I am ill-equipped in the philosophies of failure.
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Claire Colburn: Life cannot be so cruel that we don't deserve to be together... to eat.
Drew Baylor: As a specialist in the field of last looks- this one- was pretty iconically- Claire.
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Drew Baylor: By the way, I didn't say 'million,' I said 'billion.' A billion dollars; that's a lot of million.
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Claire Colburn: Or look for a girl in a red had who is waiting for you with an alternate plan.
Drew Baylor closes with: No true fiasco ever began as a quest for mere adequacy. The motto of the British Special Service Airforce is:
Those who risk, win.
A single vine chute is able to grow through cement.
The Pacific Northwestern Salmon beats itself bloody on it's quest to travel hundreds of miles upstream against the current with a single purpose- (sex of course), but also...
LIFE...
*******
Heeheehee...There it is! NEARLY all that I love about Elizabethtown. Think I quoted the entire screenplay. UNBELIEVABLE! The entire script is unbelievable and unforgettable. WOW...the way you bring love to vivid technicolor cinematic life.
You spoil girls for the real boys. They can't all be Lloyds and Drews.
So...Mr. Crowe. Cameron- I appreciate your work too much to use such formality...what do you say?
In the words of Claire,
"I know- I'm impossible to forget, but I am hard to remember."
If you would see fit to toss in one of those killer soundtracks and unbelievable American landscapes...Put some Crowe-wise words into my mouth...(I don't LET anyone speak for me)... I am ACTUALLY pleading with you to...
I just thought you might help me remedy the "hard to remember part"
There is no forgetting your own masterpiece.
Of course...you can answer after your cherry drunkenness allows you to speak...
Let me begin by throwing my own personal celebration in honor of your immeasurable genius. The muses have bestowed upon you more than your fair share of creative gifts. I am certainly not complaining, I am grateful, in fact. Grateful that you use your powers for good and share them with the masses. Myself of course, being a humbly awed member of the masses.
That said, in spite of our being complete strangers, I have something to ask of you. Sorry- it's this thing I do and I won't forgive myself for not at least making the attempt. I have placed my request in a diamond dish, doused it in pearly whipped cream, showered it in pretty please and cascaded it in rubied cherries. Mmmmm...Yummy...(holding spoon out) hear TASTE it...Okay...while your mouth is full...let me verbalize my teeny little wish for you...(kneeling down and gazing hopefully into his eccentrically electrified eyes)...
Write me...I mean, make my movie?
please, Please, PLEASE....I am not in the habit of begging. I mean I never, EVER do. But THIS could be monumentally significant. At least to me.
Don't answer right away- let it percolate. Play with those cherries for a bit- roll them around on your tongue- (I TOTALLY laced them with "There Is No Saying No To Me Serum")staining your lips with their pungent red deliciousness...
Here is my end of the deal. If you see fit to grace me with your gifts, I promise to continue my quirky quest of all things fascinating, real and inspiring. And you can cast me and enhance me and make me endearingly and irresistibly captivating. Something everyone strives for-but hoping I am the most convincing and possibly the first to think to ask this of you.
Anyway, that IS what you do best. So obviously what you were placed on this earth to do. Work your magic. You paint your subject with such intuitiveness that their humanity glows under the tender mastered stroke of your tempered brush. Each canvas reveals the bewitching complexities and alluring vulnerabilities of every subject that you are commissioned to COMPLETE (like that shameless Jerry McGuire reference?). Let ME sit for you. Make me SPARKLE...I vow to do my best to return the favor.
So Cam', ahem... I mean... Mr.Crowe. You relax and savor every last drop of the bejewelled sundae I prepared for you and consider my proposal. I will rub your neck and gush shamelessly and unabashedly about how much I ADORED Elizabethtown. Yes, I know that it was released a few years ago. See how um...provocative and multi faceted I could be? Riveting even. Typically movies are reviewed upon release-but I was saving it...in order to savor every nuance...to be untarnished by the unsolicited opinions of the less worldly, less perceptive mass members. And I am overjoyed that I did because I got to discover it on my own. Much more fulfilling that way. But now, after a second viewing- I cannot hoard it awayin secrecy any longer. Time to share it with the class.
Elizabethtown opens with a shipment of recalled athletic shoes being returned to a warehouse. Cut to Drew Baylor (played intuitively by the well coiffed and impressively non accented Orlando Bloom) reticently boarding a helicopter- lumbering under the world weight he removed from Atlas' shoulders- staring wistfully out the window at the ground below him...beckoning him to jump.
Drew's voice over...
"As somebody once said, there is a difference between a failure and a fiasco. A failure is simply the non presence of success. Any fool can accomplish failure. But a FIASCO- a fiasco is a disaster of mythic proportions. A fiasco is a folk tale told to others that make other people feel more alive because it DIDN'T HAPPEN TO THEM..."
We learn that Drew has sacrificed family social and other professional endeavors in his single goal to create the perfect trainer shoe. Before it is officially released however, the shoe is recalled. Drew is held personally responsible by his boss (played humorously by Alec Baldwin- wonder why he plays a tool so well. Hmmm?) for the company's loss of nearly one BILLION dollars and is asked to publicly take responsibility in an interview to a National Publication that will not be leaked/released for one week. Aware of his own impending doom before the rest of the world is made aware.Time to prepare oneself? Or torment oneself?
As a result of his failure, Drew has lost not only the seven years he has invested in the development of Spasmodica (Said recalled shoe) but he loses everything. His Job, his dreams, his ambition, his hope, his office girlfriend (who just so happens to be Jessica Biel . I think that having and losing her would have been reason enough to propel most men deprived of parachutes from the helicopter window. To me she will always be Mary Camden). Life as Drew knows it is over.
So Drew drags himself back home and purges his worldly possessions, leaving them on the street to be taken by celebratory looters. He then attempts to end himself by means of duct taping a very sharp knife onto the moving arm of his workout equipment. Like a slasher film gone awry...death by knife wielding elliptical seems like harsh and bizarre punishment. Just as Drew is about to unceremoniously bid the cruel world goodbye...his cell phone rings out" I can turn your grey skies blue" ...After ignoring it once and getting an immediate callback, " I can turn your grey skies blue"....Drew finally picks up. His distraught sister, Heather Baylor (played by Judy Greer) is on the other end of the line. tearfully breaking the news that their father passed when visiting Elizabethtown and the family needs him to go there to bring his body back home.
Hesitantly, Drew delays what he considers his imminent date with destiny and flies home to console his mother and sister and to retrieve his father's favorite blue suit. He then heads out on an empty red eye flight to Elizabethtown and carry out his reconnaissance mission so he can return home to cease his existence. Enter flight attendant Claire Colburn. Interestingly casted as Kirsten Dunst- Let me take a moment here Mr. Crowe (mouth gaping at your infinite skill) marvelling that you even manage to make her believable and LOVABLE. (Ready for another sundae? EXTRA cherries. Yes? That's my Good Genius)
I also need to take a pause for redirection as the winds have changed and shifted my focus yet again. Hahaha...In appreciation of the subtle greatness and the intricate balance of subtle nuance and raw emotion of this film. To model a pinch of the absolute artistry of thematic and character development shaped so precisely in your capable hands, Mr. Crowe...Because of this film's depth...its' relevancy-I now realize that the mere description of this film would be like reading the Cliff's Notes to Hamlet-and expecting the same cathartic result. Or listening to the muzak version of American Pie, or humming Jimmy Hendrix, sketching The Kiss...There simply is no doing it justice.
Allow me instead to share some of my favorite lines...No one alive today speaks truth like you. In no particular order I present you with your own AWESOMENESS: Quoting the movie is the only way to do shed any kind of light on it's glory.
Go ahead marvel at your own craft. Impossible not to. (Wiping gooey cherry juice from his chin...)
Drew Baylor: And I thought I was so mysterious...
Claire Colburn: Trust me. Everybody is less mysterious than they think they are.
Ellen Kishmore: Drew, it was real, and it was great, and it was really great.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bill Banyon: Is there such a thing as partial cremation?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: Do you ever just think I'm fooling everybody?
Drew Baylor: You have no idea.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: Men see things in a box, and women see them in a round room.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: I think I've been asleep most of my life.
Drew Baylor: Me too.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: What they say is, it *will* hit you, it could be ten minutes or it could be ten years from now.
Claire Colburn: [voiceover] Don't get lost!
Drew Baylor: You know, there is nothing greater than deciding in your life that things maybe really are black and white! And this guy Ben, who clearly takes you for granted, who serially takes advantage of you, is bad! And what I'm saying is good! See what I mean? You shouldn't be the substitute for anybody. This guy should be right here, right now, doing this
[kisses Claire]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drew Baylor: What is that word...? Whimsical!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: I am wearing these clothes- I mean, have you ever had unlucky clothes? This dress that you like-good things have not happened to me in this dress. But I saw it tonight and said "I am going to give you one more chance." and I REFUSE to be let down by this dress again."
Drew Baylor: Ben's very lucky, all we did was kiss.
Claire Colburn: Most of the sex I've had in my life was not as personal as that kiss.
Drew Baylor: And don't worry. Because as great as you look tonight, you are safe with me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: [voice over] Some music *needs* air. Roll down your window.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: I don't know a lot about everything, but I do know a lot about the part of everything that I know, which is people.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drew Baylor: I've just recently decided that the things we know aren't black and white.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: And so we all became helpers, which I *so* can't help. I can't help helping.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: I've spent so much time thinking about all the answers to the problem, that I forget what the problem *actually* was.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drew Baylor: You're smart, you'll just wear your shoes and *never* ask any questions. Just enjoy your footwear.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: To have never taken a solitary road trip across country? I mean every body's got to take a road trip, at least once in their lives. Just you and some music.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chuck Hasboro: Death and life. And death and life. Right *next door* to each other! There's like, there's a hair between them.
Drew Baylor: Because we have a moment here, let me tell you that I have recently become a secret connoisseur of 'last looks'. You know the way people look at you when they believe it's for the last time? I've started collecting these looks.
Drew Baylor: I'm not used to girl's like you.
Claire Colburn: That's because I am one of a kind.
Claire Colburn: You have five minutes to wallow in the delicious misery. Enjoy it. Embrace it. Discard it and proceed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drew Baylor: Can you imagine an entire life wrapped up in a shoe?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hollie Baylor: All forward motion counts.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: I want you to get into the deep beautiful melancholy of everything that's happened.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hollie Baylor: It takes time to be funny. It takes time to extract joy from life.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: I'm walking out the door... in last night's clothes.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: Hey, now we actually have a shot at being friends for the rest of our lives.
Drew Baylor: The rest of our lives... hmmmm...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: Welcome to the annual meeting of people who annually meet, and we'll see ya'll next year.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: Sadness is easier because its surrender. I say make time to dance alone with one hand waving free.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: So you failed. Alright you really failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You failed. You think I care about that? I do understand. You wanna be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around. Make them wonder why you're still smiling.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hollie Baylor: We were complete opposites and it worked. And something happened between us that was not part of the plan... we were in love.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drew Baylor: In that moment, I knew success, not greatness, was the only god the world served.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hollie Baylor: I was still waiting for everything to start, and now it's over.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: I'm going to miss your lips. And everything attached to them.
I have this unique thing for you...
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: You know, You're always trying to break up with me, and we're not even together.
Drew Baylor: I know... We're not?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drew Baylor: I'm fine.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jessie Baylor: This loss will be met with a hurricane of love.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jessie Baylor: I teach my kids about the things that really matter. I will teach them about Abraham Lincoln and Ronnie Van Zandt, because they are equally important in my house.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drew Baylor: You're great, Claire. Actually, you're kinda amazing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: [after learning that Drew's father is Mitch] Ah, so you're a son of a Mitch.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: Never met a Mitch I didn't like. Fun, full of life. Like... everyone wants to be a part of Mitch's club.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drew Baylor: We should've taken this trip years ago.
Look at us- you with your many almost great projects and me with my fiasco. Oh God! Both of us working SO hard. For what? We should have taken this trip years ago...and the fact that I am going home to kill myself, is really not your fault." Spoken to his father's urn as he drives it across country spreading his ashes.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hollie Baylor: [looking at a picture of Mitch] I love you. This is for you. Your favorite song on a Saturday night.
[Moon River plays] Then Susan Sarandon tap dances...she is made for this type of role.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(text written on a cloth above the stage): If it wasn't this... it'd be something else.
Drew Baylor: And who says we have to listen to 'them'?
Claire Colburn: *They* do!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: Just tell me you love me and get it over with!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Phil DeVoss: I am ill-equipped in the philosophies of failure.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: Life cannot be so cruel that we don't deserve to be together... to eat.
Drew Baylor: As a specialist in the field of last looks- this one- was pretty iconically- Claire.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Drew Baylor: By the way, I didn't say 'million,' I said 'billion.' A billion dollars; that's a lot of million.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claire Colburn: Or look for a girl in a red had who is waiting for you with an alternate plan.
Drew Baylor closes with: No true fiasco ever began as a quest for mere adequacy. The motto of the British Special Service Airforce is:
Those who risk, win.
A single vine chute is able to grow through cement.
The Pacific Northwestern Salmon beats itself bloody on it's quest to travel hundreds of miles upstream against the current with a single purpose- (sex of course), but also...
LIFE...
*******
Heeheehee...There it is! NEARLY all that I love about Elizabethtown. Think I quoted the entire screenplay. UNBELIEVABLE! The entire script is unbelievable and unforgettable. WOW...the way you bring love to vivid technicolor cinematic life.
You spoil girls for the real boys. They can't all be Lloyds and Drews.
So...Mr. Crowe. Cameron- I appreciate your work too much to use such formality...what do you say?
In the words of Claire,
"I know- I'm impossible to forget, but I am hard to remember."
If you would see fit to toss in one of those killer soundtracks and unbelievable American landscapes...Put some Crowe-wise words into my mouth...(I don't LET anyone speak for me)... I am ACTUALLY pleading with you to...
I just thought you might help me remedy the "hard to remember part"
There is no forgetting your own masterpiece.
Of course...you can answer after your cherry drunkenness allows you to speak...
April 18, 2009
Oh Those Things...That Don't Make Sense
As adults we are prone to try to make sense of things. It gives us comfort to know that the people and the duties and the living of life can be straightened and tidied, explained and compartmentalized. We desperately desire for the elements of our chaotic universe to add up-to fit together.
Life is messy and sometimes the numbers don't equate no matter how many times we carry the one. And the colors won't blend-they clash no matter how we try to scheme them. Occasionally the pieces that make us up refuse to fit- And then what? Do we abandon them or take the trip?
If you have experienced faith in a Higher Power-you have by now come to terms with the fact that while your brain feels the need to sift through the information, you certainly cannot explain faith using solely logic. Faith is a well rounded experience. Solid because it engages your mind and your soul. Just like you can't adequately explain a timeless piece of music that plays your pain note for note- word for word. Or describe the play or the book that effortlessly brought you to life and gave yourself back to you. The painting that is so flawlessly beautiful that you gasp in awe and tear even now as it's essence haunts you. Certainly you can attempt to describe any of these with logic and words, but without the experience the definition falls pathetically and unjustly short.
If you have ever been unfathomably, unfalteringly, heart over head in love or have been genuinely, unselfishly adored and cherished by another- then you could not be more keenly aware that the initial attraction passes through the eyes and spreads to the brain and depends on the mental challenge and engagement to sustain the intrigue. At some point however, the heart takes over and puts the brain on auto pilot. Enter the overwhelming, the ravenous inexplicable... The kind of unanswerable question that keeps you hanging on even if the object of your desire and affection tears your heart out so you can watch them slowly squash it in their seemingly faultless hands. Or maybe- if your lucky...let's not mince words- if you happen to have won the eternal lottery...love has indefinably inspired another to SEE you. Allow you to lay yourself down on them with all your faults and simple complexities-in the brutal light of honesty and still you see nothing but radiant, infallible acceptance and desire reflected in their eyes. Explanation would destroy something so utterly undeserved.
True gifts should just be accepted. Without our vain attempts for clarification.
Hope. Love. Compassion, Faith. Passion. Forgiveness. Beauty. All inexplicable. Yet how foolish would we be to abandon these things the mind cannot explain. Aren't we giving our brains too much credit? I mean...I cannot seem to recall what year it was that Columbus sailed the ocean blue... rhymes with two...and how do you discover a place that has inhabitants? Or square roots...or Spanish verb conjugations. I could fill a library with the things that I don't know.
The tastiest, deepest, most poignant experiences in life are inexplicable.
Maybe...there are times when we should stop questioning the unanswerable.
And just, EXPERIENCE, ABSORB, GIVE, RELISH...
LIVE.
Just might be worth getting our hands dirty and putting our thoughts to bed.
Life is messy and sometimes the numbers don't equate no matter how many times we carry the one. And the colors won't blend-they clash no matter how we try to scheme them. Occasionally the pieces that make us up refuse to fit- And then what? Do we abandon them or take the trip?
If you have experienced faith in a Higher Power-you have by now come to terms with the fact that while your brain feels the need to sift through the information, you certainly cannot explain faith using solely logic. Faith is a well rounded experience. Solid because it engages your mind and your soul. Just like you can't adequately explain a timeless piece of music that plays your pain note for note- word for word. Or describe the play or the book that effortlessly brought you to life and gave yourself back to you. The painting that is so flawlessly beautiful that you gasp in awe and tear even now as it's essence haunts you. Certainly you can attempt to describe any of these with logic and words, but without the experience the definition falls pathetically and unjustly short.
If you have ever been unfathomably, unfalteringly, heart over head in love or have been genuinely, unselfishly adored and cherished by another- then you could not be more keenly aware that the initial attraction passes through the eyes and spreads to the brain and depends on the mental challenge and engagement to sustain the intrigue. At some point however, the heart takes over and puts the brain on auto pilot. Enter the overwhelming, the ravenous inexplicable... The kind of unanswerable question that keeps you hanging on even if the object of your desire and affection tears your heart out so you can watch them slowly squash it in their seemingly faultless hands. Or maybe- if your lucky...let's not mince words- if you happen to have won the eternal lottery...love has indefinably inspired another to SEE you. Allow you to lay yourself down on them with all your faults and simple complexities-in the brutal light of honesty and still you see nothing but radiant, infallible acceptance and desire reflected in their eyes. Explanation would destroy something so utterly undeserved.
True gifts should just be accepted. Without our vain attempts for clarification.
Hope. Love. Compassion, Faith. Passion. Forgiveness. Beauty. All inexplicable. Yet how foolish would we be to abandon these things the mind cannot explain. Aren't we giving our brains too much credit? I mean...I cannot seem to recall what year it was that Columbus sailed the ocean blue... rhymes with two...and how do you discover a place that has inhabitants? Or square roots...or Spanish verb conjugations. I could fill a library with the things that I don't know.
The tastiest, deepest, most poignant experiences in life are inexplicable.
Maybe...there are times when we should stop questioning the unanswerable.
And just, EXPERIENCE, ABSORB, GIVE, RELISH...
LIVE.
Just might be worth getting our hands dirty and putting our thoughts to bed.
April 16, 2009
Five Things That I Can Successfully Accomplish in Five Minutes
Like so many others, I find myself jobless in these trying, uncertain, turbulent, listless, unsettled times. Really, for the first time. For the first time since I have had an actual necessity for a job.
I have observed that my unemployed days go by in a general blur. Officially unemployed, it is not as though I nothing to otherwise employ my time, occupy my mind. Or should it be employ my mind and occupy my time?
Days are marked by my son's school schedule and whatever meager social plans are on the books. Shopping is out. No job- no new shoes. Not that I NEED new shoes. Is it about needing. Really? Haha I am okay with it- truly. Changing old habits is all. Staying home more.
Actuality isn't all it's cracked up to be. On a sunshiny day though-I find a new perspective refreshing. A motivation for reevaluating- sometimes reinventing. Strange as it may be however, this unexpected free time leaves me much more restless, than bored. There is always something captivating and distracting to ward off boredom. This restlessness finds me constantly trying to find innovative, interesting, yet constructive ways to break up the day.
So meet the brain baby of Restlessness...For now I am calling her...Eva- as in am I Eva going to figure it all out? Deep down, I hope not... But sometimes it seems that uncomplicated is pleasant albeit personally unattainable.
And so I try to be constructive.. Clean a little-cook (even I am laughing) and maybe even organize. Hahaha..,( laughing uncontrollably now- tears rolling down my face...)TRY is the operative word. Actually I have refined skills at alphabetizing, color coding... Organizing by style- it is the steps leading up to that point that I don't adore- correction- chemically resist.
Without further adieu ( or blah, blah, blah) here are five tasks that I can successfully accomplish in five minutes. Little micro- increments of day. Keep in mind that I am not speedy by any means. I am a take it in, take my sweet time savorer. I am a strong believer in anything worthwhile is worth waiting for and unless you are the actual boss of me- that you are not the boss of me.
I am banking on being worthwhile. Cross your fingers for me and hope that works out.
1. Decisions are tricky for me. Especially the insignificant ones. Also I thrive on variety... Does that make me fickle? Noncommittal? Indecisive? Whatever. Really doesn't matter. It is what it is. So- In five minutes... I can successfully select an outfit, choose a lip gloss, coordinate the shoes, grab a scarf and dig out a matching pair of earrings. This time constraint does not obviously include putting them into place. Be reasonable. I do of course realize that this is not particularly impressive, but it is practically a festivus miracle for me that developed with years of practice and fine tuning. Keep in mind that this involves two flights of stairs and some serious selective skills.
2. I can choose and discard action verbs for my resume like no body's business. Resumes seem so hokey to me. Understand why they are necessary. I just find them... restrictive. The process makes me feel like I am talking about myself in the third person...btw I hate when people do that. How significant can you really be?!- Did you see the Seinfeld about that? Think the guy's name was Jimmy. And "Jimmy liked Elaine"-only she thought he was talking about someone else- not himself. So anyway-here is my current top five action verbs that describe me... Heehee. You be the judge. Thirty second impression. Ready? Here goes...
1. Challenging 2. Innovative 3.Accessorizing? 4. Um... Mildly entertaining
5.Whimsical?-Creative.
I am hardworking and dedicated... But that is so cliche.
How marketable am I? Really?
Not very- true story. I have this unbridled optimism that allows me to believe that perfect fits exist in every aspect of life. Realistically however, I know that our humanity and selfish ambitions often blind us to and separate us from the serendipitous, coveted hand in glove relationships in life.
I can use the same five minutes on a different day to make up jobs and titles for which I am perfectly suited. Many of them don't ACTUALLY exist- but if they did- I would be the PERFECT girl for them. Minor technicalities. I will save that for another blog.
3. I can think of twenty seemingly unrelated things that are linkable in my own interpretation of reality. I take great pride in being able to trace the connection should I be thinking out loud and should anyone be listening and call me on the seeming randomness- ramdomitity? of my thought processes. Sometimes I trace the mind journey for myself. I know there is a connection- but it is not always immediately traceable. A bit of a self indulgent challenge... This cyclical process that is occasionally responsible for keeping my weary eyes open when my heavy head is cradled soothingly by my vanilla lavender infused pillow. One thought begets another, befriends another, embraces yet another, tempts another, screams in fury at one- contradicts another, interprets the next...chases the monstrous ones back under the brain bed..I find that I write a lot about my busied mind. Sorry...analytical- maybe. Inquisitive- more likely. Unsettled- mostly. I can remember early on in school wishing I could zone out- mind nowhere- like the kids with their heads leaning on their arm eyes glazed over. Temporarily vacant.
4. I can make the perfect cup of coffee. My perfect cup. Something rich and dark- maybe flavored. Had cherry coffee recently. Steamy, dreamy deliciousness. Splenda and enough flavored creamer to turn it the color of the Statue of David. You can tell me how to make your perfect cup one day. Confident I can craft it with my own two little hands in five minutes or less. Not a barista, but I have the soul of an artist nonetheless.
I think that personal preference, coffee, tea- iced or hot... What you take in yours- be it naked (meaning your coffee wears nothing- I.e. black) vanilla, cinnamon, honey, raw sugar, splenda, pink stuff- no matter...I think it is interesting- revealing even. I DO find people fascinating. I like learning new things, experiencing new people. Some more than others. Another blog, another day- I know...
5. Dance it out or sing it out. Preferably a concoction of the two. Temporarily therapeutic and cleansing. I already inflicted a whole blog on you describing the art of dancing it out. I am not particularly discerning when it comes to the music that inspires this process...whatever is on the radio will do. It helps if the song is familiar- comforting- like a favorite perfectly worn sweater. Even better if you know at least eighty percent of the words. Mandatory to the process though, is that you fully commit. Go all out- put some heart into it. No rules as long as you feel it. Otherwise it doesn't work it's magic- will leave you feeling more pent up and repressed than liberated and cleansed. That is a bad thing. SO not what we are going for here.
So that's pretty much it... I can make much more out of ten minutes. I realized while I was coming up with this list that my day is comprised of long spaces and short bursts of energy and productivity broken up by lulls of nothing special.
What can you successfully accomplish in a mere five minutes?
Greatness?
Take my breath away...
I have observed that my unemployed days go by in a general blur. Officially unemployed, it is not as though I nothing to otherwise employ my time, occupy my mind. Or should it be employ my mind and occupy my time?
Days are marked by my son's school schedule and whatever meager social plans are on the books. Shopping is out. No job- no new shoes. Not that I NEED new shoes. Is it about needing. Really? Haha I am okay with it- truly. Changing old habits is all. Staying home more.
Actuality isn't all it's cracked up to be. On a sunshiny day though-I find a new perspective refreshing. A motivation for reevaluating- sometimes reinventing. Strange as it may be however, this unexpected free time leaves me much more restless, than bored. There is always something captivating and distracting to ward off boredom. This restlessness finds me constantly trying to find innovative, interesting, yet constructive ways to break up the day.
So meet the brain baby of Restlessness...For now I am calling her...Eva- as in am I Eva going to figure it all out? Deep down, I hope not... But sometimes it seems that uncomplicated is pleasant albeit personally unattainable.
And so I try to be constructive.. Clean a little-cook (even I am laughing) and maybe even organize. Hahaha..,( laughing uncontrollably now- tears rolling down my face...)TRY is the operative word. Actually I have refined skills at alphabetizing, color coding... Organizing by style- it is the steps leading up to that point that I don't adore- correction- chemically resist.
Without further adieu ( or blah, blah, blah) here are five tasks that I can successfully accomplish in five minutes. Little micro- increments of day. Keep in mind that I am not speedy by any means. I am a take it in, take my sweet time savorer. I am a strong believer in anything worthwhile is worth waiting for and unless you are the actual boss of me- that you are not the boss of me.
I am banking on being worthwhile. Cross your fingers for me and hope that works out.
1. Decisions are tricky for me. Especially the insignificant ones. Also I thrive on variety... Does that make me fickle? Noncommittal? Indecisive? Whatever. Really doesn't matter. It is what it is. So- In five minutes... I can successfully select an outfit, choose a lip gloss, coordinate the shoes, grab a scarf and dig out a matching pair of earrings. This time constraint does not obviously include putting them into place. Be reasonable. I do of course realize that this is not particularly impressive, but it is practically a festivus miracle for me that developed with years of practice and fine tuning. Keep in mind that this involves two flights of stairs and some serious selective skills.
2. I can choose and discard action verbs for my resume like no body's business. Resumes seem so hokey to me. Understand why they are necessary. I just find them... restrictive. The process makes me feel like I am talking about myself in the third person...btw I hate when people do that. How significant can you really be?!- Did you see the Seinfeld about that? Think the guy's name was Jimmy. And "Jimmy liked Elaine"-only she thought he was talking about someone else- not himself. So anyway-here is my current top five action verbs that describe me... Heehee. You be the judge. Thirty second impression. Ready? Here goes...
1. Challenging 2. Innovative 3.Accessorizing? 4. Um... Mildly entertaining
5.Whimsical?-Creative.
I am hardworking and dedicated... But that is so cliche.
How marketable am I? Really?
Not very- true story. I have this unbridled optimism that allows me to believe that perfect fits exist in every aspect of life. Realistically however, I know that our humanity and selfish ambitions often blind us to and separate us from the serendipitous, coveted hand in glove relationships in life.
I can use the same five minutes on a different day to make up jobs and titles for which I am perfectly suited. Many of them don't ACTUALLY exist- but if they did- I would be the PERFECT girl for them. Minor technicalities. I will save that for another blog.
3. I can think of twenty seemingly unrelated things that are linkable in my own interpretation of reality. I take great pride in being able to trace the connection should I be thinking out loud and should anyone be listening and call me on the seeming randomness- ramdomitity? of my thought processes. Sometimes I trace the mind journey for myself. I know there is a connection- but it is not always immediately traceable. A bit of a self indulgent challenge... This cyclical process that is occasionally responsible for keeping my weary eyes open when my heavy head is cradled soothingly by my vanilla lavender infused pillow. One thought begets another, befriends another, embraces yet another, tempts another, screams in fury at one- contradicts another, interprets the next...chases the monstrous ones back under the brain bed..I find that I write a lot about my busied mind. Sorry...analytical- maybe. Inquisitive- more likely. Unsettled- mostly. I can remember early on in school wishing I could zone out- mind nowhere- like the kids with their heads leaning on their arm eyes glazed over. Temporarily vacant.
4. I can make the perfect cup of coffee. My perfect cup. Something rich and dark- maybe flavored. Had cherry coffee recently. Steamy, dreamy deliciousness. Splenda and enough flavored creamer to turn it the color of the Statue of David. You can tell me how to make your perfect cup one day. Confident I can craft it with my own two little hands in five minutes or less. Not a barista, but I have the soul of an artist nonetheless.
I think that personal preference, coffee, tea- iced or hot... What you take in yours- be it naked (meaning your coffee wears nothing- I.e. black) vanilla, cinnamon, honey, raw sugar, splenda, pink stuff- no matter...I think it is interesting- revealing even. I DO find people fascinating. I like learning new things, experiencing new people. Some more than others. Another blog, another day- I know...
5. Dance it out or sing it out. Preferably a concoction of the two. Temporarily therapeutic and cleansing. I already inflicted a whole blog on you describing the art of dancing it out. I am not particularly discerning when it comes to the music that inspires this process...whatever is on the radio will do. It helps if the song is familiar- comforting- like a favorite perfectly worn sweater. Even better if you know at least eighty percent of the words. Mandatory to the process though, is that you fully commit. Go all out- put some heart into it. No rules as long as you feel it. Otherwise it doesn't work it's magic- will leave you feeling more pent up and repressed than liberated and cleansed. That is a bad thing. SO not what we are going for here.
So that's pretty much it... I can make much more out of ten minutes. I realized while I was coming up with this list that my day is comprised of long spaces and short bursts of energy and productivity broken up by lulls of nothing special.
What can you successfully accomplish in a mere five minutes?
Greatness?
Take my breath away...
April 5, 2009
Fast and Furious...Worth it's Weight in Diesel
Gentlemen Start My Engine...
Vvrrrooommmm, Vrrroooommmm, Vrrroooooommmmmm...
Heehee-Sorry, that simply was NOT to be resisted. Too obvious. I would be a lesser girl for passing it up.
Went to see Fast and Furious yesterday...I have been chomping at the bit to see it (or I would have been, had I been a horse-Why DO I use these expressions anyway?) since I saw the preview for it and witnessed first hand that Vin Diesel WOULD (round off, cartwheel into splits) in fact be in this one...COMPLETELY the most persuasive element for me. I sat the two sequels following the original out because they did not include the original cast. There was a little nod to the Tokyo one at the beginning of Fast and Furious that I caught without having seen it-very impressed with my skills of observation. So, I am easily impressed...at least with myself. Why I like Ellen and John Stewart...feel clever when I get their jokes in real time. Other than that little reference,this F&F pretended the other cheap impersonation knock-off movies never happened. Well played since nobody saw them. Okay so Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, Michelle Rodriguez and the girl who plays Vin's sister and will make a career of looking a bit like Demi Moore-I mean, Jordana Brewster- all back for Fast and Furious. Do you like how they removed the "The's" and pretended it was an all new title? Action movies are by definition uncomplicated. They would lose seventy percent of their audience if they started throwing in fifty cent words and sub plots. This movie was exactly what the title promises however, Fast and Furious. Ca-ching! Triple cherries.
Let me just say that previous to yesterday, I had given up action movies (for a minimum of five years). Not for lent- I am not Catholic- (can you give action movies up for lent? Pretend you ACTUALLY like them...) but for the following reasons...I feel myself drifting into a cliche tinted de ja vous coma every time I witness the same five or so actors deliver the same predictable lines ( I predicted at least five in F&F before they were uttered -correction...Vin purrs them-like an engine. SO MUCH BETTER x-)) All the same "plot" lines...for example- heroes girlfriend, wife, or endearing family member is killed or kidnapped by villain. Hero is wrongly accused of a crime by a corrupt police force. Hero from the wrong side of the tracks get tangled with the wrong kind of crowd...Hero is a bad guy with a heart of gold...bad guy gone good...blah, blah, blah. Bank robberies ,car chases, plane crashes, jail breaks, heists. Loss of a partner or good friend at the hands of the foe to provoke the hero. Obvious guilt on the part of the hero...giving him a renewed hunger for justice. Gratuitous skin shots thrown in for flavor..Followed by shoot shoot-grisly offing of assistant bad guy boom kabaam...Hero gets his revenge when coming face to face with his disturbingly corrupt nemesis (these are of the crooked police chief, foreign drug lord, hero partner gone to the dark side...handsome Bond type villain...or devily gorgeous leather clad villainess variety. Frequently however, villains have deep facial scarring or are albino, or have some other bizarre identifying manifestation of their inner turmoil.)...drop, punch, slam, sirens, bang, fiery explosion...
Insert memorable three to five line catch phrase that with any luck will be badly impersonated for years to come and you have yourself an action hit. If your action movie stars Nicholas Cage- add horribly executed southern dialect...why do they add that when it is irrelevant and the actor can't pull it off? Why? They just don't care-people with see it anyway. Irrelevant. Who needs quality when you have fast cars, muscly heroes, hot scantily clad chicks, grizzly villains, fabulous scenery, lots of fire and violence...a few well choreographed fist fights, a story line and script that could be written by an eighth grader with a limitless major studio budget? I guess no one,...except me- I usually opt for the Action Films mature and oh so much more enticing older brother- the Epic Film. That way I get my cake and eat it too...only the butter cream icing...
I am not even going to delve into the earthly disaster films. Why pay money to see that...Got CNN? Pretty sure sensationalizing news and impersonating disaster films is the soul purpose of Anderson Cooper...Toss in Geraldo Rivera for the spontaneous, comedic element and voile obliterates any inexplicable need for disaster movies.
So the point. Fast and Furious. Dom and his gang- with some new additions as many of the original group met an untimely end in THE Fast and THE Furious- not to cause any confusion- are not only stealing cars, they are stealing gasoline. Way to bring theft relevance into the year 2009... Dom eventually leaves Letty, his friends and his family to protect them because the feds are on his tail...and why wouldn't they be? Right? We ARE talking Vin Diesel...admirable tail. Sorry! Focusing... Paul Walkers character is still the loose canon, driven man in blue...sorta' sometimes donning a blue Donna Karan or Boss suit- does that count?...Btw- even in man size-Paul Walker (as Brian O'Conner) brings forth visions of Ricky Shroeder when he was on Silver Spoons, Zach from Saved by the Bell and Justin Timberlake in his curly long hair like the boy in the creepy adolescent Brooke Shield island movie N'Sync days...I think it is an age thing. That- or he is made to look like the JV squad bench sitter in the glory of Vin's machismo gladiator grease stained mechanic type shadow. I don't want to give too much away. Obviously the two are reunited...they race against each other in an illegal street race scene and of course true to the name- lots of sizzling driving scenes with brightly colored, revvy, purry, hummy, noisy,turny,jumpy,crashy,super shiny,ultra fast cars doing all sorts of unbelievable tricks and stunts that made me shiver. Things that I have no inclination to do behind the wheel of a Honda Pilot, but I would gladly hand over the keys to Dom...as long as he promised to keep talking in that voice that sounds like he ate gravel and broken glass for breakfast followed by a carton or two of Camels...unfiltered. He can recite the preamble if he wishes...but if I had my druthers...(another funny word) I think I would pick Prince lyrics...pre symbol...or Neruda, or Crash by Dave Matthews, something by Jay-Z...Maybe Fast Car by Tracy Chapman...and wear a white ribbed wife beater...Pure-strike that- drizzled...in Deisel-iciousness...That's not asking too much. Just the cat's pajamas- told you I was bringing it back. Hear me roar...
Anyway a must see- in a purely entertainment and thrills kind of way.
Get your engine revved.
Vvrrrooommmm, Vrrroooommmm, Vrrroooooommmmmm...
Heehee-Sorry, that simply was NOT to be resisted. Too obvious. I would be a lesser girl for passing it up.
Went to see Fast and Furious yesterday...I have been chomping at the bit to see it (or I would have been, had I been a horse-Why DO I use these expressions anyway?) since I saw the preview for it and witnessed first hand that Vin Diesel WOULD (round off, cartwheel into splits) in fact be in this one...COMPLETELY the most persuasive element for me. I sat the two sequels following the original out because they did not include the original cast. There was a little nod to the Tokyo one at the beginning of Fast and Furious that I caught without having seen it-very impressed with my skills of observation. So, I am easily impressed...at least with myself. Why I like Ellen and John Stewart...feel clever when I get their jokes in real time. Other than that little reference,this F&F pretended the other cheap impersonation knock-off movies never happened. Well played since nobody saw them. Okay so Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, Michelle Rodriguez and the girl who plays Vin's sister and will make a career of looking a bit like Demi Moore-I mean, Jordana Brewster- all back for Fast and Furious. Do you like how they removed the "The's" and pretended it was an all new title? Action movies are by definition uncomplicated. They would lose seventy percent of their audience if they started throwing in fifty cent words and sub plots. This movie was exactly what the title promises however, Fast and Furious. Ca-ching! Triple cherries.
Let me just say that previous to yesterday, I had given up action movies (for a minimum of five years). Not for lent- I am not Catholic- (can you give action movies up for lent? Pretend you ACTUALLY like them...) but for the following reasons...I feel myself drifting into a cliche tinted de ja vous coma every time I witness the same five or so actors deliver the same predictable lines ( I predicted at least five in F&F before they were uttered -correction...Vin purrs them-like an engine. SO MUCH BETTER x-)) All the same "plot" lines...for example- heroes girlfriend, wife, or endearing family member is killed or kidnapped by villain. Hero is wrongly accused of a crime by a corrupt police force. Hero from the wrong side of the tracks get tangled with the wrong kind of crowd...Hero is a bad guy with a heart of gold...bad guy gone good...blah, blah, blah. Bank robberies ,car chases, plane crashes, jail breaks, heists. Loss of a partner or good friend at the hands of the foe to provoke the hero. Obvious guilt on the part of the hero...giving him a renewed hunger for justice. Gratuitous skin shots thrown in for flavor..Followed by shoot shoot-grisly offing of assistant bad guy boom kabaam...Hero gets his revenge when coming face to face with his disturbingly corrupt nemesis (these are of the crooked police chief, foreign drug lord, hero partner gone to the dark side...handsome Bond type villain...or devily gorgeous leather clad villainess variety. Frequently however, villains have deep facial scarring or are albino, or have some other bizarre identifying manifestation of their inner turmoil.)...drop, punch, slam, sirens, bang, fiery explosion...
Insert memorable three to five line catch phrase that with any luck will be badly impersonated for years to come and you have yourself an action hit. If your action movie stars Nicholas Cage- add horribly executed southern dialect...why do they add that when it is irrelevant and the actor can't pull it off? Why? They just don't care-people with see it anyway. Irrelevant. Who needs quality when you have fast cars, muscly heroes, hot scantily clad chicks, grizzly villains, fabulous scenery, lots of fire and violence...a few well choreographed fist fights, a story line and script that could be written by an eighth grader with a limitless major studio budget? I guess no one,...except me- I usually opt for the Action Films mature and oh so much more enticing older brother- the Epic Film. That way I get my cake and eat it too...only the butter cream icing...
I am not even going to delve into the earthly disaster films. Why pay money to see that...Got CNN? Pretty sure sensationalizing news and impersonating disaster films is the soul purpose of Anderson Cooper...Toss in Geraldo Rivera for the spontaneous, comedic element and voile obliterates any inexplicable need for disaster movies.
So the point. Fast and Furious. Dom and his gang- with some new additions as many of the original group met an untimely end in THE Fast and THE Furious- not to cause any confusion- are not only stealing cars, they are stealing gasoline. Way to bring theft relevance into the year 2009... Dom eventually leaves Letty, his friends and his family to protect them because the feds are on his tail...and why wouldn't they be? Right? We ARE talking Vin Diesel...admirable tail. Sorry! Focusing... Paul Walkers character is still the loose canon, driven man in blue...sorta' sometimes donning a blue Donna Karan or Boss suit- does that count?...Btw- even in man size-Paul Walker (as Brian O'Conner) brings forth visions of Ricky Shroeder when he was on Silver Spoons, Zach from Saved by the Bell and Justin Timberlake in his curly long hair like the boy in the creepy adolescent Brooke Shield island movie N'Sync days...I think it is an age thing. That- or he is made to look like the JV squad bench sitter in the glory of Vin's machismo gladiator grease stained mechanic type shadow. I don't want to give too much away. Obviously the two are reunited...they race against each other in an illegal street race scene and of course true to the name- lots of sizzling driving scenes with brightly colored, revvy, purry, hummy, noisy,turny,jumpy,crashy,super shiny,ultra fast cars doing all sorts of unbelievable tricks and stunts that made me shiver. Things that I have no inclination to do behind the wheel of a Honda Pilot, but I would gladly hand over the keys to Dom...as long as he promised to keep talking in that voice that sounds like he ate gravel and broken glass for breakfast followed by a carton or two of Camels...unfiltered. He can recite the preamble if he wishes...but if I had my druthers...(another funny word) I think I would pick Prince lyrics...pre symbol...or Neruda, or Crash by Dave Matthews, something by Jay-Z...Maybe Fast Car by Tracy Chapman...and wear a white ribbed wife beater...Pure-strike that- drizzled...in Deisel-iciousness...That's not asking too much. Just the cat's pajamas- told you I was bringing it back. Hear me roar...
Anyway a must see- in a purely entertainment and thrills kind of way.
Get your engine revved.
March 31, 2009
One Word...five minutes
Okay so in my senior year of high school I had this teacher, Mr. Taylor. Mr. Taylor taught English and had a multitude of unorthodox teaching techniques and unique viewpoints. He definitely left an impression on all of us...
Anyway, Mr. Taylor used to have us journal for the first five minutes of every class. He would provide us with a word or a quote (sometimes from literature) and we had to free write on whatever came to mind with regards to his provided subject for five minutes. The one rule was that we were not allowed to pick up our pen from our paper until the five minutes were up. So...I am going to give it a try...I am a bit rusty and I am using a keyboard rather than a pen...but Mr. Taylor- this is for you...sort of. Oh this is for you...anti-perspirant is your friend, go into the Shower Clean scented light...it will be okay. Promise.
Here are the rules according to Mr. Taylor and revised by me...I am going to open a book, choose the first word that jumps out and set the timer on my I-Devil...here goes nothin'...
The word is frustrated...Haha funny that should be the word that I see first. I get frustrated much more frequently and easily than I should. Not angry-frustrated per se- just generally frustrated. When things don't go my way-when I can't have what I want, when and how I want it...Did I just admit to being a spoiled brat? I think that I did...which I knew about myself. Work REALLY hard to hide/change that aspect of myself, but I don't often admit to it... ESPECIALLY when called out on it...oh well. Haha I am most guilty of this because I guess I get frustrated when I fail to meet my own undefined expectations. Frustrated by my own inadequacies... and shortsightedness...at my numerous imperfections...Why I have to be flaming scarlet hot or icy blue frozen and can't just wade around in the lukewarm pool of indifference...like everybody else. Seems so much easier. I find myself exhausting. That is frustrating too. Frustrated that I care too much, think too much, say too much...but not in that order- the thinking usually comes in last place. Makes me weary.
Also I get frustrated that I get frustrated because it is a total waste of time and emotion and hard to work out, but that doesn't keep me from rolling around in it like a mud wrestler taking down a worthy adversary from time to time...haha stretch for a metaphor-I know...but
I don't want to be a pig in mud...thanks for indulging me that...
Let me think of some things that frustrate me about myself...lack of vision, lack of patience...I am the absolute worst judge of time to ever roam this crazy earth... As in how long it will take to get ready to go somewhere. Shower, makeup, hair, clothes, shoes, accessories...repeat most of these steps for the kiddos...minus the make up...Although I do this most days, I often do not have to do this on a schedule...which according to me should be a four letter word...never to be uttered in my presence.Did I mention how long it takes to find my keys? ESPECIALLY if they are where the are SUPPOSED to be. How long it will take to get loaded up and into the car, how long it will take to drive to the desired location and how much longer it will take if there is traffic, an empty gas tank or an accident...If I get lost...even with the aid of Gretchen Pearl Steinbacher-my GPS with the British accent that I changed accidentally and now she just sounds so much better informed and seems more capable of directing me to my desired location...Or if the Monkeys fight the whole way and I have to try to stunt drive while I referee and THEN I have to try to put back the hair I pulled out of my scalp before I can go anywhere publicly... How long I will be in a place once I finally arrive...forget about if I see anything shiny, or run into anyone I want to speak with...or have to ask for help... and how long it will take me to get back home again...You see my predicament? The clock is not my friend. If I set my stubborn mind- not to be late it is only successful because I have literally allowed an hour more than should be reasonably necessary...Let's not talk of being reasonable. A whole 'nother can of worms...or olives...that sounds better.
I get frustrated at my sensitivity, my vulnerability. I get frustrated that I am not only a poor judge of time...but of situations...and restrictions...hmmm...I get frustrated at my lack of parenting skills...that I am too big of a child myself to be the example that I would like to be .All mature and responsible...Wise... I get frustrated that I have no desire to do things that I believe I should WANT to do like cook...and sometimes communicate effectively. I get frustrated that I do not have enough room in my closet to hang all my clothes effectively...I get frustrated at my adorable but noisy puggle...because sometimes he becomes too much for me with the scratching and the whining and the crying...grrr...he has the worst habits I have ever seen in a dog and it is due to total lack of training...Where is the Dog Whisperer when I need him?...tsk...tsk...submit... HELP...how can he do that anyway? I get frustrated that life never quite meets up to my expectations, nor I to it's- I am sure...
Saved by the bell. hahaha...Added the paragraphing after the fact.
Now I am frustrated by my inability to adequately describe my thoughts on frustration in five minutes...Heehee
Anyway, Mr. Taylor used to have us journal for the first five minutes of every class. He would provide us with a word or a quote (sometimes from literature) and we had to free write on whatever came to mind with regards to his provided subject for five minutes. The one rule was that we were not allowed to pick up our pen from our paper until the five minutes were up. So...I am going to give it a try...I am a bit rusty and I am using a keyboard rather than a pen...but Mr. Taylor- this is for you...sort of. Oh this is for you...anti-perspirant is your friend, go into the Shower Clean scented light...it will be okay. Promise.
Here are the rules according to Mr. Taylor and revised by me...I am going to open a book, choose the first word that jumps out and set the timer on my I-Devil...here goes nothin'...
The word is frustrated...Haha funny that should be the word that I see first. I get frustrated much more frequently and easily than I should. Not angry-frustrated per se- just generally frustrated. When things don't go my way-when I can't have what I want, when and how I want it...Did I just admit to being a spoiled brat? I think that I did...which I knew about myself. Work REALLY hard to hide/change that aspect of myself, but I don't often admit to it... ESPECIALLY when called out on it...oh well. Haha I am most guilty of this because I guess I get frustrated when I fail to meet my own undefined expectations. Frustrated by my own inadequacies... and shortsightedness...at my numerous imperfections...Why I have to be flaming scarlet hot or icy blue frozen and can't just wade around in the lukewarm pool of indifference...like everybody else. Seems so much easier. I find myself exhausting. That is frustrating too. Frustrated that I care too much, think too much, say too much...but not in that order- the thinking usually comes in last place. Makes me weary.
Also I get frustrated that I get frustrated because it is a total waste of time and emotion and hard to work out, but that doesn't keep me from rolling around in it like a mud wrestler taking down a worthy adversary from time to time...haha stretch for a metaphor-I know...but
I don't want to be a pig in mud...thanks for indulging me that...
Let me think of some things that frustrate me about myself...lack of vision, lack of patience...I am the absolute worst judge of time to ever roam this crazy earth... As in how long it will take to get ready to go somewhere. Shower, makeup, hair, clothes, shoes, accessories...repeat most of these steps for the kiddos...minus the make up...Although I do this most days, I often do not have to do this on a schedule...which according to me should be a four letter word...never to be uttered in my presence.Did I mention how long it takes to find my keys? ESPECIALLY if they are where the are SUPPOSED to be. How long it will take to get loaded up and into the car, how long it will take to drive to the desired location and how much longer it will take if there is traffic, an empty gas tank or an accident...If I get lost...even with the aid of Gretchen Pearl Steinbacher-my GPS with the British accent that I changed accidentally and now she just sounds so much better informed and seems more capable of directing me to my desired location...Or if the Monkeys fight the whole way and I have to try to stunt drive while I referee and THEN I have to try to put back the hair I pulled out of my scalp before I can go anywhere publicly... How long I will be in a place once I finally arrive...forget about if I see anything shiny, or run into anyone I want to speak with...or have to ask for help... and how long it will take me to get back home again...You see my predicament? The clock is not my friend. If I set my stubborn mind- not to be late it is only successful because I have literally allowed an hour more than should be reasonably necessary...Let's not talk of being reasonable. A whole 'nother can of worms...or olives...that sounds better.
I get frustrated at my sensitivity, my vulnerability. I get frustrated that I am not only a poor judge of time...but of situations...and restrictions...hmmm...I get frustrated at my lack of parenting skills...that I am too big of a child myself to be the example that I would like to be .All mature and responsible...Wise... I get frustrated that I have no desire to do things that I believe I should WANT to do like cook...and sometimes communicate effectively. I get frustrated that I do not have enough room in my closet to hang all my clothes effectively...I get frustrated at my adorable but noisy puggle...because sometimes he becomes too much for me with the scratching and the whining and the crying...grrr...he has the worst habits I have ever seen in a dog and it is due to total lack of training...Where is the Dog Whisperer when I need him?...tsk...tsk...submit... HELP...how can he do that anyway? I get frustrated that life never quite meets up to my expectations, nor I to it's- I am sure...
Saved by the bell. hahaha...Added the paragraphing after the fact.
Now I am frustrated by my inability to adequately describe my thoughts on frustration in five minutes...Heehee
March 30, 2009
I Don't Like Mondays...
Tell Me Why...I don't like Mondays...I DON'T LIKE MONDAYS....
Not enough that it is true. Now we have to dwell on it because the song works it's way into our head and just sticks there...like toilet paper to our shoe. Ewww...
You know that one, right? Shooting it down seems a bit drastic...maybe just a smidge...
Who really does? Like Mondays, that is... Look at what music alone has to say about it...Manic Monday- kissing Valentino by the crystal blue Italian stream being the only real redeeming qualities to the entire day and that is only because her alarm hasn't roused her out of the fantasy and shattered her illusion to the harsh reality of Monday and what little-it has to offer her.
Monday, Monday...Can't Trust That Day......not looking so good.
I Don't Like Mondays...couldn't be more clear...Not a fan to be found.
What is it about Monday exactly-that makes it so difficult to endure...Like a Full House marathon...it seems to roll on and on- all up hill...in sweltering heat and you're wearing those pointy shoes that make that unbearable circular blister on your little toe that takes days to heal...
I will start with the obvious...
Going to Bed Early: Coming off of the weekend high, going to bed early Sunday so that we can drag ourselves out of bed on Monday begins the cycle of resentment that repeats every seven days. ...Preemptive as our attempts may be...going to bed early-Never DOES work anyway...because our brains and our bodies don't care that the boss expects us in at seven sharp- We have inadvertently altered our sleep cycle. Might as well face it...those eyes aren't shutting until 11:17pm. The more we stare at the clock- the more likely that we will be watching vacuum, work out DVD, mineral make up and multi level marketing commercials at one a.m.- with four hours left to sleep. Resist the urge to stare at those digital numbers...silently recite the lyrics to 80's rock ballads instead- much more conducive to sleep...
We both lie silently still
In the dead of night
Although we both lie close together
We're still miles apart inside
Was it somethin' I said, or somethin' I did-
did my words not come out right..."
Sleepy...right?
When I had a regular job...I would lay out my clothes,pack my bag, put everything into my car... Set my coffee on the timer to brew all by itself...best creature feature known to man...that and heated seats-which I no longer have. Sniff, sniff... Anything I could do to get me out of the house on time Monday...because I knew that my curled up snuggliness would be victorious over the drone of my alarm at five a.m. and that the chill of the bedroom floor could not compete for my affections with the perfect dent my head had worn into my feather pillow.
It also never fails that on the days I know that I have to rise early...I spend a half hour searching aimlessly for my emerald Too Face foil liner, my left vintage silver earring, or the lid to my pink coffee travel mug. Any item that hasn't been relevant enough to recall in the last month-suddenly becomes an urgent need. This defies explanation. Curse that Murphy and his blasted laws...heehee
Okay...so reason one for dreading Monday-Getting up early and not being able to sleep at a decent hour Sunday night...
Two- Ineffective use of preparation-getting ready time...often resulting in waves in the back of my hair and that sense that I have forgotten something that stays with me all day long.
Three -Surrendering the weekend...Think Surrendering the weekend is a the biggest deterrent to showing Monday some love...Underlying reason: the weekend allows us to cut loose- stay up late, play a little, do something simply because we FEEL like it.
Returning to the grind reminds us of our numerous responsibilities...Our grown up-ness...I hate to admit it, but my first REAL sign of optimism comes on Thursday. I don't know if this started when Friends used to run on Thursday night, or now because it is Grey's, Private Practice night...or if it has not a thing to do with Must See Tv (heehee) and it is simply because Thursday nestles at the bosom of Friday...but Thursday has been filled with the twinkle of optimism for me-as long as I can recall. Glimmer of hope...end in sight...light at the end of the work week tunnel. You know the bit.
Poor Monday- should be viewed as a new beginning. Fresh...invigorating...full of new challenges to be conquered... Not so much...Perhaps though, if we could change our perspective, tweak it here and there...we could do that whole "Accentuate the positive" thing...think how many Mondays we drag ourselves through in general distaste. Maybe they could be useful for something...Since the entire country is being moved by the spirit of conservation and all...maybe we could have a green view on Monday...not sure how that translates, but...
There has to be something redeeming about it...right?
We do HAVE to suffer through Monday in order to embrace Friday.
That's something...
Best not shoot Monday down just yet. Does serve it's purpose...
How about- I don't completely and utterly detest Mondays with every ounce f my composition...?
Not enough that it is true. Now we have to dwell on it because the song works it's way into our head and just sticks there...like toilet paper to our shoe. Ewww...
You know that one, right? Shooting it down seems a bit drastic...maybe just a smidge...
Who really does? Like Mondays, that is... Look at what music alone has to say about it...Manic Monday- kissing Valentino by the crystal blue Italian stream being the only real redeeming qualities to the entire day and that is only because her alarm hasn't roused her out of the fantasy and shattered her illusion to the harsh reality of Monday and what little-it has to offer her.
Monday, Monday...Can't Trust That Day......not looking so good.
I Don't Like Mondays...couldn't be more clear...Not a fan to be found.
What is it about Monday exactly-that makes it so difficult to endure...Like a Full House marathon...it seems to roll on and on- all up hill...in sweltering heat and you're wearing those pointy shoes that make that unbearable circular blister on your little toe that takes days to heal...
I will start with the obvious...
Going to Bed Early: Coming off of the weekend high, going to bed early Sunday so that we can drag ourselves out of bed on Monday begins the cycle of resentment that repeats every seven days. ...Preemptive as our attempts may be...going to bed early-Never DOES work anyway...because our brains and our bodies don't care that the boss expects us in at seven sharp- We have inadvertently altered our sleep cycle. Might as well face it...those eyes aren't shutting until 11:17pm. The more we stare at the clock- the more likely that we will be watching vacuum, work out DVD, mineral make up and multi level marketing commercials at one a.m.- with four hours left to sleep. Resist the urge to stare at those digital numbers...silently recite the lyrics to 80's rock ballads instead- much more conducive to sleep...
We both lie silently still
In the dead of night
Although we both lie close together
We're still miles apart inside
Was it somethin' I said, or somethin' I did-
did my words not come out right..."
Sleepy...right?
When I had a regular job...I would lay out my clothes,pack my bag, put everything into my car... Set my coffee on the timer to brew all by itself...best creature feature known to man...that and heated seats-which I no longer have. Sniff, sniff... Anything I could do to get me out of the house on time Monday...because I knew that my curled up snuggliness would be victorious over the drone of my alarm at five a.m. and that the chill of the bedroom floor could not compete for my affections with the perfect dent my head had worn into my feather pillow.
It also never fails that on the days I know that I have to rise early...I spend a half hour searching aimlessly for my emerald Too Face foil liner, my left vintage silver earring, or the lid to my pink coffee travel mug. Any item that hasn't been relevant enough to recall in the last month-suddenly becomes an urgent need. This defies explanation. Curse that Murphy and his blasted laws...heehee
Okay...so reason one for dreading Monday-Getting up early and not being able to sleep at a decent hour Sunday night...
Two- Ineffective use of preparation-getting ready time...often resulting in waves in the back of my hair and that sense that I have forgotten something that stays with me all day long.
Three -Surrendering the weekend...Think Surrendering the weekend is a the biggest deterrent to showing Monday some love...Underlying reason: the weekend allows us to cut loose- stay up late, play a little, do something simply because we FEEL like it.
Returning to the grind reminds us of our numerous responsibilities...Our grown up-ness...I hate to admit it, but my first REAL sign of optimism comes on Thursday. I don't know if this started when Friends used to run on Thursday night, or now because it is Grey's, Private Practice night...or if it has not a thing to do with Must See Tv (heehee) and it is simply because Thursday nestles at the bosom of Friday...but Thursday has been filled with the twinkle of optimism for me-as long as I can recall. Glimmer of hope...end in sight...light at the end of the work week tunnel. You know the bit.
Poor Monday- should be viewed as a new beginning. Fresh...invigorating...full of new challenges to be conquered... Not so much...Perhaps though, if we could change our perspective, tweak it here and there...we could do that whole "Accentuate the positive" thing...think how many Mondays we drag ourselves through in general distaste. Maybe they could be useful for something...Since the entire country is being moved by the spirit of conservation and all...maybe we could have a green view on Monday...not sure how that translates, but...
There has to be something redeeming about it...right?
We do HAVE to suffer through Monday in order to embrace Friday.
That's something...
Best not shoot Monday down just yet. Does serve it's purpose...
How about- I don't completely and utterly detest Mondays with every ounce f my composition...?
March 29, 2009
Dance It Out
I feel the need to "dance it out" today.
Purge my soul...empty my brain...set my body free.
For those non-Grey watchers...Meredith and Christina...best friends and Resident Surgeons on the show (sometimes other female characters on the show join in-you know, common bond and all)...when they suffer the inevitable man troubles, have hearts on the mend, are crushed by the weight of troubled minds, suffering guilt from mistakes they have made (in their case-often life altering errors), or merely need to release aggression,frustration, aggravation or burn off stress... Jeans/scrubs off...whatever could be deemed constricting...Freedom of restriction is completely mandatory to the process...
and then, they "dance it out."
In full out pajama party fashion-they turn up the music loud...louder...right there perfect. Screaming thoughts drowned out by impassioned lyrics and penetrating rhythms.
Feet start out tapping, then stepping...as the momentum in the music builds and swells...jumping in time...Stomping guilt out under the pound pounding of their feet. Aching heart eased by the beloved distraction as it's busted free from it's mournful, rhythmic beat and it speeds with the building movement. Boom, boom, boomity boom...
Weary body gives itself over to the music as the melody washes straight through. Baptism by bass. Hips swaying, then shaking, pumping-circling...Shoulders roll, arms raised in surrender. Swaying, Hands grasping, punching, circling as dictated by the pulsating beat. Sadness seeps...anger works it's way out- frustration releasing in the form of energy spilling through every pores...Back snake like and writhing...releasing pain with each rolling motion. Hair moving with every sway and shake of the head...Feeling anything but the music becomes impossible...
Move it, rock it, feel it, twirl it, kick it, roll it, heal it, groove it, get it, round and round... move it up, take it down... sway and swing. Jump, bounce-shout... spin and turn until it sorts itself out.
Beat gets louder, faster, building...higher... keep momentum. Climbing... Maintain at full speed as long as you possibly can...it's the only way.. Whatever it takes. .one song, two, seven...ten...
Crescendo.. panting...harder-until all that is left to do is gasp...
Collapse.
Either in exhaustion, laughter filled tears or tear filled laughter.
Possibly blissful release.
"Dancing it out" is reserved for high low and in between...
For the thrilling, exhilarating, can't get any higher... filled to the rim and over flowing. Bubbling over with bliss. This moment could not be richer...I am so full I could burst- exploding in a exulted state of unadulterated joy...
For the stuck in the middle...got to do something to make me EXIST... be it exultation, anguish, rage or gratification. Splash vivid color on my canvas, speed my pulse...depart from this nothing redundancy that slumps us all from time to time. Breeding the hunt for the FEEL.
and...
For what I call "no air moments"...when the one thing I need is the sweet cleanse of deep breathing...but instead my lungs clench up...my nostrils paralyzed...panic sets in...Prayer seems mandatory...but I am suffocated by the neediness of my humanity... Like the fear so deep that all you can do is scream out but irony has yanked your voice. , For those dark moments when I feel like breaking... giving myself-soul, mind and body-over to the million tiny cuts I spend my life trying to mend with band aids of futility...only to find a deeper one when the bandage is lifted for inspection...When I want to lay in a ball on the floor and let the darkness set in because there aren't arms big enough to encompass me...
Those are my "dance it out moments"...
Girls have been dancing it out for years...to slightly alter the words of Edward (my favorite vampire and yours)...
Dancing "is exactly my brand of heroin"...
of which I have never partaken...
but I get the drift. If it provides a release that is anything like dancing.
Who needs therapy when you have music?...Haha- and a blog.
Don't believe me?
I'll show you how this works...turn up the music...
I could teach a class...call it Cathartic Funk.
Purge my soul...empty my brain...set my body free.
For those non-Grey watchers...Meredith and Christina...best friends and Resident Surgeons on the show (sometimes other female characters on the show join in-you know, common bond and all)...when they suffer the inevitable man troubles, have hearts on the mend, are crushed by the weight of troubled minds, suffering guilt from mistakes they have made (in their case-often life altering errors), or merely need to release aggression,frustration, aggravation or burn off stress... Jeans/scrubs off...whatever could be deemed constricting...Freedom of restriction is completely mandatory to the process...
and then, they "dance it out."
In full out pajama party fashion-they turn up the music loud...louder...right there perfect. Screaming thoughts drowned out by impassioned lyrics and penetrating rhythms.
Feet start out tapping, then stepping...as the momentum in the music builds and swells...jumping in time...Stomping guilt out under the pound pounding of their feet. Aching heart eased by the beloved distraction as it's busted free from it's mournful, rhythmic beat and it speeds with the building movement. Boom, boom, boomity boom...
Weary body gives itself over to the music as the melody washes straight through. Baptism by bass. Hips swaying, then shaking, pumping-circling...Shoulders roll, arms raised in surrender. Swaying, Hands grasping, punching, circling as dictated by the pulsating beat. Sadness seeps...anger works it's way out- frustration releasing in the form of energy spilling through every pores...Back snake like and writhing...releasing pain with each rolling motion. Hair moving with every sway and shake of the head...Feeling anything but the music becomes impossible...
Move it, rock it, feel it, twirl it, kick it, roll it, heal it, groove it, get it, round and round... move it up, take it down... sway and swing. Jump, bounce-shout... spin and turn until it sorts itself out.
Beat gets louder, faster, building...higher... keep momentum. Climbing... Maintain at full speed as long as you possibly can...it's the only way.. Whatever it takes. .one song, two, seven...ten...
Crescendo.. panting...harder-until all that is left to do is gasp...
Collapse.
Either in exhaustion, laughter filled tears or tear filled laughter.
Possibly blissful release.
"Dancing it out" is reserved for high low and in between...
For the thrilling, exhilarating, can't get any higher... filled to the rim and over flowing. Bubbling over with bliss. This moment could not be richer...I am so full I could burst- exploding in a exulted state of unadulterated joy...
For the stuck in the middle...got to do something to make me EXIST... be it exultation, anguish, rage or gratification. Splash vivid color on my canvas, speed my pulse...depart from this nothing redundancy that slumps us all from time to time. Breeding the hunt for the FEEL.
and...
For what I call "no air moments"...when the one thing I need is the sweet cleanse of deep breathing...but instead my lungs clench up...my nostrils paralyzed...panic sets in...Prayer seems mandatory...but I am suffocated by the neediness of my humanity... Like the fear so deep that all you can do is scream out but irony has yanked your voice. , For those dark moments when I feel like breaking... giving myself-soul, mind and body-over to the million tiny cuts I spend my life trying to mend with band aids of futility...only to find a deeper one when the bandage is lifted for inspection...When I want to lay in a ball on the floor and let the darkness set in because there aren't arms big enough to encompass me...
Those are my "dance it out moments"...
Girls have been dancing it out for years...to slightly alter the words of Edward (my favorite vampire and yours)...
Dancing "is exactly my brand of heroin"...
of which I have never partaken...
but I get the drift. If it provides a release that is anything like dancing.
Who needs therapy when you have music?...Haha- and a blog.
Don't believe me?
I'll show you how this works...turn up the music...
I could teach a class...call it Cathartic Funk.
March 26, 2009
A Peek at the Cat's Pajamas
Dinner mint colored prom dresses and finger curls...bobby socks and soda fountains...Poodle skirts and rebels with greased back hair...
Although I am quite certain that being a teenager in any decade is /was a challenge-think it would have been pretty fab to be a teenager back in the fifties so that I could be an extra in Blue Hawaii or some old Franky and Annette movie...dance in a harem behind Elvis while he played his guitar in his Hawaiian shirt and swim trunks. Afterward I could utter some amazingly cheesy lingo in the background like "boss, backseat bingo, cherry, big daddy, dream boat, swell...and the cat's pajamas" Mostly, I would say "the cat's pajamas". (Actually I think that originated in the 20's but let's fast forward it to the fifties...)
On second thought, I AM going to bring that back... Why not?
The cat's pajamas is defined by the Urban Dictionary as:
Lingo describing someone (something) who is great, incredible or special. Usually indicating stylishness or innovation. Pajamas were a relatively new fashion in the 1920s. The term "cat" was beginning to be used as a term to describe the out going and unconventional jazz-age flappers.
The cat's pajamas will be cozy right up to my eclectic group of adjectives such as: dreamy-which I use regularly and -tall glass of water...which I reserve for special occasions. Heehee... Oh and I of course turn non words into adjectives by adding "y" and I am NOT the only one. Admit it, you do it too. The English language as it currently exists...need a little flair from time to time. And I am just the girl for the job. So...I didn't want to engage you in another extended kitty metaphor. So I spare you. Just this once. You're welcome.
Instead...dadadada.... picture me unveiling my grand scheme in a sequined Price is Right Girl gown...smiling my best bimbo smile...now...(removing the red velvet curtain) Viola....
Since I like cats and pajamas...and Elvis movies and fifties beach movies starring people from the mickey mouse club and peanut butter commercials... and I worked for a year in a fifties theme restaurant called Angel's (really...it was a family restaurant-sounds like adult entertainment. With juke boxes on the table, pictures of Elvis, James Dean, Marilyn and Bogart all over and Looney Tunes-which I never figured out how those fit in to the theme. I made a million milk shakes and served ridiculously giant pieces of cake- oh I had to wear a red bow tie which I detested and a red apron-yyyuuuuccckkkkk!) when I was in college and I still indulge in vanilla cokes and cherry cokes and vanilla cherry cokes...all with extra cherries and even though I don't know much about them, I have an appreciation of old cars- really LOVE them! Anyway, hopefully you see my point, I think I had one.
Oh there it is, Sit up please- your head fell on it and you leaked a little drool on it during my long drawn out monolog. RUDE! Hahaha abut understandable. Moving on...I am going to give you a peek at the cat's pajamas... According to the definition, let us just pretend I am a hipster. Let's talk pajama talk and I will give you a peek at some of my favs. Some silky, some sassy, some silly, all soft...all mine.
This all came upon me the other day when I was sadistically attempting to put all of my clean clothes away. Like clowns in a circus car. Cramped-not creepy as all get out. Had chick flicks running in the back ground-so it was slightly better than community service. The picking up trash from the side of the highway in a florescent vest kind-but only slightly...Other than clean and dirty- there is no methodology to my "system." So mixed in with suits and dresses, jeans and sweaters-were pajamas...loads of them. More than I remember purchasing...was mesmerizing really...all the fabrics and colors and silhouettes...They distracted me long enough from my drudgery that I will give you a peek- I'm a sharer...sometimes. Right now I am...
So I have a thing for pajamas. The matching kind. There are a few reasons for this. First, I am matching obsessed. Not matchy, matchy...but everything has to "go". Even when I am only going to bed. Have you ever seen the poster for Pajama Game? The male lead is wearing the bottoms of men's pajamas with no shirt and the female lead is wearing the coordinating pajama top with no pants. Two piece Dick Van Dyke style pj's are my among my favorites (but the femme version...in girly prints, colors and fabrics) and for basically the reason that the poster conveys. No-not so I can share half of them with anyone -although Harry is wearing the pants on the most recent poster. He can share my jammies he wants. Haha......hmmm....
NO! BECAUSE you can wear just the top and no bottoms, you can wear the bottoms with a tank or a bra or you can wear the two pieces together. Versatility. right? Of this variety, I have mint green plush ones, red silky polka dot ones, winter blue polka dots with satin trim, hot pink with cup cakes, white with cherries and blue birds and pies... (I have a cherry love too-so I have all kinds of cherry wear.), blue with strawberries , plaids and florals and two pair with sock monkeys on them..not really sure how THAT happened. One pair is summer and one winter-BOTH with sock monkeys some on the beach, some on sleds...Both blue-different shades. Moving on. The half brother to the Van Dyke jams are the pajama pants- not sweat pants. Pajama pants. Boxer style shorts or hipsters. Worn with a tank. Another good mix. Oh and the half sister is the cami and matching panties ideal in summer. Short sets cute too.
Once I sorted out all the two piece pj's and had caught about 7 minutes of the Holiday- I hung a hundred tanks on those little hangers with the hooks for the straps-the ones they always fall off of..I moved on to the nighties...all baby dolls. All of them. Lace and floral, eyelet and satin, silk,chemise, cotton, polka dots and ribbon ...and one Betsy Johnson black ribbed slip style with pink trim and pink ribbon straps and ruffled bottom. Probably Kitten's favorite pajamas...but too cold for them in the winter. I could wear them, but I would never set foot out of the toasty refuge of my over pillowed over blanketed bed.
Will spare you the robe chat. In short- robes allow for the bra and panty as pj's combo... The robe that matches the cute sets...and allow you to have your curtains open and not die a horrible hacking death of pneumonia- all be it in fetching attire.
So those are this cat's pajamas...
Also googled a company called The Cats Pajamas... Obvious what they make...clever-right? I miss pajama parties. Going to bring those back too-while I am at it. Just as soon as I finish pressing my petti-coat.,,the one that won't fit into my closet with all these pajamas.
I bet Gidget could help. Maybe Wally Cleaver.
Although I am quite certain that being a teenager in any decade is /was a challenge-think it would have been pretty fab to be a teenager back in the fifties so that I could be an extra in Blue Hawaii or some old Franky and Annette movie...dance in a harem behind Elvis while he played his guitar in his Hawaiian shirt and swim trunks. Afterward I could utter some amazingly cheesy lingo in the background like "boss, backseat bingo, cherry, big daddy, dream boat, swell...and the cat's pajamas" Mostly, I would say "the cat's pajamas". (Actually I think that originated in the 20's but let's fast forward it to the fifties...)
On second thought, I AM going to bring that back... Why not?
The cat's pajamas is defined by the Urban Dictionary as:
Lingo describing someone (something) who is great, incredible or special. Usually indicating stylishness or innovation. Pajamas were a relatively new fashion in the 1920s. The term "cat" was beginning to be used as a term to describe the out going and unconventional jazz-age flappers.
The cat's pajamas will be cozy right up to my eclectic group of adjectives such as: dreamy-which I use regularly and -tall glass of water...which I reserve for special occasions. Heehee... Oh and I of course turn non words into adjectives by adding "y" and I am NOT the only one. Admit it, you do it too. The English language as it currently exists...need a little flair from time to time. And I am just the girl for the job. So...I didn't want to engage you in another extended kitty metaphor. So I spare you. Just this once. You're welcome.
Instead...dadadada.... picture me unveiling my grand scheme in a sequined Price is Right Girl gown...smiling my best bimbo smile...now...(removing the red velvet curtain) Viola....
Since I like cats and pajamas...and Elvis movies and fifties beach movies starring people from the mickey mouse club and peanut butter commercials... and I worked for a year in a fifties theme restaurant called Angel's (really...it was a family restaurant-sounds like adult entertainment. With juke boxes on the table, pictures of Elvis, James Dean, Marilyn and Bogart all over and Looney Tunes-which I never figured out how those fit in to the theme. I made a million milk shakes and served ridiculously giant pieces of cake- oh I had to wear a red bow tie which I detested and a red apron-yyyuuuuccckkkkk!) when I was in college and I still indulge in vanilla cokes and cherry cokes and vanilla cherry cokes...all with extra cherries and even though I don't know much about them, I have an appreciation of old cars- really LOVE them! Anyway, hopefully you see my point, I think I had one.
Oh there it is, Sit up please- your head fell on it and you leaked a little drool on it during my long drawn out monolog. RUDE! Hahaha abut understandable. Moving on...I am going to give you a peek at the cat's pajamas... According to the definition, let us just pretend I am a hipster. Let's talk pajama talk and I will give you a peek at some of my favs. Some silky, some sassy, some silly, all soft...all mine.
This all came upon me the other day when I was sadistically attempting to put all of my clean clothes away. Like clowns in a circus car. Cramped-not creepy as all get out. Had chick flicks running in the back ground-so it was slightly better than community service. The picking up trash from the side of the highway in a florescent vest kind-but only slightly...Other than clean and dirty- there is no methodology to my "system." So mixed in with suits and dresses, jeans and sweaters-were pajamas...loads of them. More than I remember purchasing...was mesmerizing really...all the fabrics and colors and silhouettes...They distracted me long enough from my drudgery that I will give you a peek- I'm a sharer...sometimes. Right now I am...
So I have a thing for pajamas. The matching kind. There are a few reasons for this. First, I am matching obsessed. Not matchy, matchy...but everything has to "go". Even when I am only going to bed. Have you ever seen the poster for Pajama Game? The male lead is wearing the bottoms of men's pajamas with no shirt and the female lead is wearing the coordinating pajama top with no pants. Two piece Dick Van Dyke style pj's are my among my favorites (but the femme version...in girly prints, colors and fabrics) and for basically the reason that the poster conveys. No-not so I can share half of them with anyone -although Harry is wearing the pants on the most recent poster. He can share my jammies he wants. Haha......hmmm....
NO! BECAUSE you can wear just the top and no bottoms, you can wear the bottoms with a tank or a bra or you can wear the two pieces together. Versatility. right? Of this variety, I have mint green plush ones, red silky polka dot ones, winter blue polka dots with satin trim, hot pink with cup cakes, white with cherries and blue birds and pies... (I have a cherry love too-so I have all kinds of cherry wear.), blue with strawberries , plaids and florals and two pair with sock monkeys on them..not really sure how THAT happened. One pair is summer and one winter-BOTH with sock monkeys some on the beach, some on sleds...Both blue-different shades. Moving on. The half brother to the Van Dyke jams are the pajama pants- not sweat pants. Pajama pants. Boxer style shorts or hipsters. Worn with a tank. Another good mix. Oh and the half sister is the cami and matching panties ideal in summer. Short sets cute too.
Once I sorted out all the two piece pj's and had caught about 7 minutes of the Holiday- I hung a hundred tanks on those little hangers with the hooks for the straps-the ones they always fall off of..I moved on to the nighties...all baby dolls. All of them. Lace and floral, eyelet and satin, silk,chemise, cotton, polka dots and ribbon ...and one Betsy Johnson black ribbed slip style with pink trim and pink ribbon straps and ruffled bottom. Probably Kitten's favorite pajamas...but too cold for them in the winter. I could wear them, but I would never set foot out of the toasty refuge of my over pillowed over blanketed bed.
Will spare you the robe chat. In short- robes allow for the bra and panty as pj's combo... The robe that matches the cute sets...and allow you to have your curtains open and not die a horrible hacking death of pneumonia- all be it in fetching attire.
So those are this cat's pajamas...
Also googled a company called The Cats Pajamas... Obvious what they make...clever-right? I miss pajama parties. Going to bring those back too-while I am at it. Just as soon as I finish pressing my petti-coat.,,the one that won't fit into my closet with all these pajamas.
I bet Gidget could help. Maybe Wally Cleaver.
March 24, 2009
The Way That I Remember It
Life is colored with experiences-like a kaleidoscope with brilliant shades of stained glass in varying hues of violet, jade, emerald, azure, amber, crimson, sienna, and marigold. A myriad of shapes that form a fresh and unique design when shifted and turned by the slightest twist of fate. Shapes formed by the experiences that we race to the edge and dive into their icy cool surface shattering with it all of our inhibitions- and the ones we hide away from under the warm, lavendar fluffy blanket of familiarity and security. Those that I have shied from or the choices I made in the name of comfort- I have lived to regret. I view them as unsightly scars of weakness and fear forever marring my life's masterpiece...curses though, still researching the subject...
Our lives are shaded by individuals who have left their mark on us. Those we remember with tangible tenderness and those whose recollection causes the air to escape our lungs and brings to our cheeks the pallor of a corpse. Triangle shaped memories of the places we can't help but envision when we close our eyes' curtains on the troubled day and lie in bed waiting for the illusive Slumber Angel to whisper the peace thick secrets that lull and numb our heavy minds and caress our restless hearts leaving them still.
Words leave their vibrant hues on our life's canvas as well. Recorded by our memory-often without our permission .For posterity. Words that I forgot to remember. Those that I felt certain I had adequately buried or forgotten come flooding down on me at the first sign of frailty-like the scene in Magnolia when frogs rain down from the heavens-because how do you prepare yourself for something like that? Weighing down your existence with all the vengeance of an Egyptian plague.
Hahaha...that was a lot of set up for what I have to share. Playing with my words today. Like play dough in my fingers-rolling, tearing, smoothing, folding rubbing, twisting...seeing what I can form with them. Also like the play dough, I may place the tiniest bit of my words on my tongue to make sure they taste as good as they smell.Metaphor gone awry. TMPI...heehee....
So my life has taken this unplanned detour... Not that I was ever on my best day, a planner. I let things happen to me- much more than I should. I just get taken in by the visual and soulful spectacle of it all and sometimes I forget to take the stage in full command of my character, deliver my lines with conviction and take a well deserved bow. Partially this is due to the reliance on my belief that it is only fifty percent up to me anyway. I will let that one hang in the clouds of pondering for another day's musings.
Anyway- this detour...this rest stop...is referred to by Theodore Geisel (aka Doctor Seuss) as the Waiting Place in the book we all got as a high school graduation gift-The Places You Will Go. In the waiting place, my being...and all it's complicated, damaged, dangerous, turbulent,raw, tortured, naive,inquisitive, hungry, insatiable, soul searching and glorious pieces...those- and the ones I don't have names for yet...multiple personality disorder is a full time position. Hahaha .
Each of these over crowded conflicted internal siblings- they keep stacking on top of each other and tearing themselves down and rebuilding-taking on a new form. Making curious concoctions ranging from despondence and apathy to unguarded vulnerability and unabashed glee. When the doubtful brother takes over as chemist...and the memorex of my mind feels generous...she starts to play back words that soothe me- defending me against him. Stroking my uncertainty. So-when I was hovering in doubt and utterly undefined yesterday-She played back this memory to me in an effort to drown out Doubt.
When I was about fourteen or so, phasing out of the gawky all limbs caterpillar phase and coming out more wavy than straight. I felt a bit like I do now. Waffling between fascination and reluctance...and so naturally, I started to behave differently. I have never been scholastically brilliant, but have always had a gentle grasp on most things educational. Anyway this particular memory is set at church. I arrived with my new butterfly wings...but had not yet learned how to spread them and fly-the result- was general confusion and moodiness. Details here are sketchy. Basically our teacher who was a college student asked me a few questions that I evaded or laughed off-or something like that...and I was apparently behaving in a flighty manner-because he asked me to see him outside of the classroom. Again- not too clear here, but knowing myself at that age, I probably rolled my eyes and said "Sure, Whatever..." Once in the hall...His end of the conversation went something like this:
"I am not sure what you are doing in there or why, but I want to make something clear to you. You are not a dumb girl and you shouldn't pretend to be.Not ever. I don't know if this is about boys- or what, but you don't need to act that way to get attention. Don't compromise who you are for anyone. If someone doesn't appreciate you for what you have to offer, then you don't need them. Now I expect you to go back in there and be the bright girl I have come to expect you to be. Are we clear?"
I think I was flabbergasted. Shocked that he had so accurately identified something that I wasn't conscious that I was doing...for reasons that were being shaken up with my insane hormones like a soda bottle on a hot summer day. I am still oblivious to my entire self-often-if not always. My ever changing view of myself leaves me utterly blind to what others see in me. I may be physically blind one day and if I am-I hope to posses an iota of the inner beauty that Andrea Bocelli has that he so generously bestows on the rest of us...won't be singing.;0)
He probably wouldn't remember this and honestly-I didn't know that I had retained it until recently. I think my memory played this back to me now-not because I am playing dumb for anyone-but because I am feeling insecure and conflicted, much like then. Funny how having somebody care about you enough to just take the time and tell the truth can stay with you.
So for today, this memory of a teacher who cared enough about me to take my hand and lead me toward the exit of the Waiting Place is pacifying me until I get up the strength to lick my wounds, shake off doubt and injury, head for the fire exit and take another turn on the kaleidoscope in hopes of a more idyllic shape the next time fate takes a turn at my wheel.
Our lives are shaded by individuals who have left their mark on us. Those we remember with tangible tenderness and those whose recollection causes the air to escape our lungs and brings to our cheeks the pallor of a corpse. Triangle shaped memories of the places we can't help but envision when we close our eyes' curtains on the troubled day and lie in bed waiting for the illusive Slumber Angel to whisper the peace thick secrets that lull and numb our heavy minds and caress our restless hearts leaving them still.
Words leave their vibrant hues on our life's canvas as well. Recorded by our memory-often without our permission .For posterity. Words that I forgot to remember. Those that I felt certain I had adequately buried or forgotten come flooding down on me at the first sign of frailty-like the scene in Magnolia when frogs rain down from the heavens-because how do you prepare yourself for something like that? Weighing down your existence with all the vengeance of an Egyptian plague.
Hahaha...that was a lot of set up for what I have to share. Playing with my words today. Like play dough in my fingers-rolling, tearing, smoothing, folding rubbing, twisting...seeing what I can form with them. Also like the play dough, I may place the tiniest bit of my words on my tongue to make sure they taste as good as they smell.Metaphor gone awry. TMPI...heehee....
So my life has taken this unplanned detour... Not that I was ever on my best day, a planner. I let things happen to me- much more than I should. I just get taken in by the visual and soulful spectacle of it all and sometimes I forget to take the stage in full command of my character, deliver my lines with conviction and take a well deserved bow. Partially this is due to the reliance on my belief that it is only fifty percent up to me anyway. I will let that one hang in the clouds of pondering for another day's musings.
Anyway- this detour...this rest stop...is referred to by Theodore Geisel (aka Doctor Seuss) as the Waiting Place in the book we all got as a high school graduation gift-The Places You Will Go. In the waiting place, my being...and all it's complicated, damaged, dangerous, turbulent,raw, tortured, naive,inquisitive, hungry, insatiable, soul searching and glorious pieces...those- and the ones I don't have names for yet...multiple personality disorder is a full time position. Hahaha .
Each of these over crowded conflicted internal siblings- they keep stacking on top of each other and tearing themselves down and rebuilding-taking on a new form. Making curious concoctions ranging from despondence and apathy to unguarded vulnerability and unabashed glee. When the doubtful brother takes over as chemist...and the memorex of my mind feels generous...she starts to play back words that soothe me- defending me against him. Stroking my uncertainty. So-when I was hovering in doubt and utterly undefined yesterday-She played back this memory to me in an effort to drown out Doubt.
When I was about fourteen or so, phasing out of the gawky all limbs caterpillar phase and coming out more wavy than straight. I felt a bit like I do now. Waffling between fascination and reluctance...and so naturally, I started to behave differently. I have never been scholastically brilliant, but have always had a gentle grasp on most things educational. Anyway this particular memory is set at church. I arrived with my new butterfly wings...but had not yet learned how to spread them and fly-the result- was general confusion and moodiness. Details here are sketchy. Basically our teacher who was a college student asked me a few questions that I evaded or laughed off-or something like that...and I was apparently behaving in a flighty manner-because he asked me to see him outside of the classroom. Again- not too clear here, but knowing myself at that age, I probably rolled my eyes and said "Sure, Whatever..." Once in the hall...His end of the conversation went something like this:
"I am not sure what you are doing in there or why, but I want to make something clear to you. You are not a dumb girl and you shouldn't pretend to be.Not ever. I don't know if this is about boys- or what, but you don't need to act that way to get attention. Don't compromise who you are for anyone. If someone doesn't appreciate you for what you have to offer, then you don't need them. Now I expect you to go back in there and be the bright girl I have come to expect you to be. Are we clear?"
I think I was flabbergasted. Shocked that he had so accurately identified something that I wasn't conscious that I was doing...for reasons that were being shaken up with my insane hormones like a soda bottle on a hot summer day. I am still oblivious to my entire self-often-if not always. My ever changing view of myself leaves me utterly blind to what others see in me. I may be physically blind one day and if I am-I hope to posses an iota of the inner beauty that Andrea Bocelli has that he so generously bestows on the rest of us...won't be singing.;0)
He probably wouldn't remember this and honestly-I didn't know that I had retained it until recently. I think my memory played this back to me now-not because I am playing dumb for anyone-but because I am feeling insecure and conflicted, much like then. Funny how having somebody care about you enough to just take the time and tell the truth can stay with you.
So for today, this memory of a teacher who cared enough about me to take my hand and lead me toward the exit of the Waiting Place is pacifying me until I get up the strength to lick my wounds, shake off doubt and injury, head for the fire exit and take another turn on the kaleidoscope in hopes of a more idyllic shape the next time fate takes a turn at my wheel.
March 17, 2009
The Sounds of Summer
March is SUPPOSED to be the snowiest month in Colorado. Today is March the seventeenth. St. Patrick's Day. Hooray! I believe in celebrating every day...ESPECIALLY the seemingly random selection of days we have coined, "holidays." Plus I love green....just not in my beer. Overly techno-colored foods look unnaturally vibrant and taste weird. Sorta' creep me out. But here, I'll pour you one. Just brush your teeth right after or they'll stay that color.
Not the point.
So this unseasonably warm weather fills my head with Summer, even though it isn't even Spring. Spring in Colorado is a complete and utter tease. She whets your appetite with the sweet promise of unclouded days and wavy,navy nights...then runs away-leaving you with the extreme chill of an April blizzard.
But summer! Summer is the union of yin and yang, fire and ice relationship that melts to warmth in the gooey center blurring the line that separates the two-forming a perfect whole. The blend of severe and mild. That rarity of finding someone that has the innate sense of knowing precisely what you need and gives it to you before the desire reaches your own consciousness. By far the most seductive of all the seasons. The heat, the bronzed, glistening skin, the sweet fruit and powdery floral scents that fill your nostrils. Summer possesses an effortless sensuality, the frivolity, the water, the sand...there is just no competing with Summer. Winter hibernates the senses and Summer heightens them...breathe it in with me....close your eyes, throw your head back in reckless abandon..that's right...now!mmmmmmmmmmmmm... And the sounds! splashing, crashing, humming, purring,pulsating, rhythmic, sizzling... that sensation when the sun mingled wind-tugs your hair, the sun spilling out over your skin...and the music! It always comes back to the music. Doesn't it? At least it does for me. So...before I get too, too carried away. Here is my soundtrack of Summer.
Top 10 Summer songs, artists, sound tracks...
1. Anything from Dirty Dancing, Grease, Footloose,Stand by Me or Top Gun
To this day when Sylvia and Mickey (the song Johnny and Baby reenact in Johnny's studio-apartment on that sweltering summer day-Come hear Lover Boy...oh Lover Boy...? That's the one) , Hungry Eyes,the Time of My Life, She's Like the Wind, Stay, Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow- or anything else from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack (either of them) drowns me in summer's essence...Oh, oh, oh and makes me wish Patrick Swayze would have taught me to dance...on a log over a river. The only time I will EVER wish I was Jennifer Gray.
Grease- Summer Lovin' and You're the One That I Want... Still think of myself as a Pink Lady...bababumba...and at seven after seeing Grease, I started 'smoking" those skinny little pretzels and saying, "Tell me about it- stud"...My parents LOVED that one- especially when I did it at the church picnic.
Foot Loose- theme song and Let's Hear it for the Boy-still would like to try that car trick where she has one foot in each car...not sure insurance covers idiocy though...and the barn dancing was memorable too.
Stand by Me...If you don't love this movie, stop reading now. This movie captures youth and summer more than any other that I can bring to mind...and my mind is over flowing with useless information. Keep reading if you don't believe me. River Phoenix, Will Wheaton, Corey Feldman, and Vern (always forget his name-the guy who is married to John Stamos' ex-wife Rebecca Romaine-no longer Stamos)...also Shawn Astin(sp?) (whom I met at a cheer competition in ninth grade- post Goonies, pre Rudy-super sweet) and Keifer Sutherland... for whatever reason I have thought of him as uber cool for the past...twenty years. Anyway the sound track is oldies...like Let the Good Times Roll, Lollipop and duh...Stand by Me.
Don't let me forget-
Top Gun-Take My Breathe Away, Danger Zone and Playing With the Boys...Great Balls of Fire...and the guitar theme with no words... puts me on the back of Maverick's motorcycle in my aviator Ray Bans and a white tank...Cocktail movie and soundtrack summery too...WHAT happened to Tom Cruise?!? Guess after Top Gun, he had nowhere to go but down. Bless his heart, God Love Him...
Think I could still quote most of the lines to ALL these movies.
I SO cheated. Counting those all as one. My game, my rules. Deal...;0)
2. Jimmy Buffet...OBVIOUSLY his shtick-right. Parrot heads, pina colada's, island paradises and margaritas...My favorites are Margaritaville, Cheeseburger in Paradise, Volcano,Fins, He Went to Paris, Come Monday and Son of a Son of a Sailor...I feel freckled and hungover just thinking about it. I am the "woman to blame"...heehee. Gonna' get the hat that says so, just cuz' I think it's cute.
3. Bob Marley...No Woman, No Cry,Stir it Up... nothing like reggae-it reeks of Summer in the best way.Steel drum bands,coconut oil, Jamaican beaches, palm trees swaying in the tropical breeze..When in Jamaica...I lay on a hammock strung between two palm trees sipping on a frozen drink called a hummingbird.I drifted to the whispered lullaby of the blue topaz ocean and read some bubble gum novel- I can't remember which..I have never been so shimmery, coppery brown in my life, nor will I probably allow myself to be again...safe sun and-not wanting my face to look like a leather handbag in fifteen years. Oh and at night! The resort had this club where they played old school rap and Shaggy... and drinks were always full...So to this day, I can't resist It Wasn't Me...or Ricky Martin...La Vida Loca or Shake Your Bon- Bon...It's no wonder why Stella went there to Get Her Groove Back.
4. Again- kind of his soul purpose...Kenny Chesney embodies the sizzle of summer. Not saying HE is hot...LOVE his music, some of it is irresistibly sultry... but he does nothing else for me. Sure the feeling is mutual...hahaha. Think I have everything he has ever done, including the Christmas CD. When the Sun Goes Down, There's Something Sexy About the Rain, Anything but Mine, She Comes From Boston, Old Blue Chair, She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy and Being Drunk is a lot Like Loving You -are just a few of my gazillion Kenny Chesney favorites. Think he is the heir to Jimmy Buffet's throne, there may actually be a written agreement between the two of them.
5. Jack Johnson...perpetually barefoot on the beach with his guitar. He is a beach boy in the most literal sense...and his music is like liquid sunshine. Drink it, it's delectable. Probably BEST known for doing the soundtrack for Curious George. One of my favorite Jack Johnson songs is "Banana Pancakes." His music makes me want to live in a beach hut, barefoot and disheveled. Surfing all day-this part may require a lesson or two...hundred. But in my dream, I just know how.Have to stick a bonfire on here, only because fire, summer and salt water...all part of the beachy theme.
6. Billy Pilgrim. One of my favorite groups of all time. They are folky and soulful and I used to see them at summer festivals here. Lyrically they are unbelievable, but musically simple. Do yourself a favor and if you don't know Billy Pilgrim-get to know them. INCREDIBLE. They make my soul reverberate in ecstasy. Hoolahoop is an especially summery song of theirs. Obscure...but a buried treasure. I promise.
7. Seventies rock like The Eagles, CCR, Steve Miller Band...songs like Boys of Summer, Hotel California, Life's Been Good to Me so Far,Sweet Caroline,Sweet Home Alabama, Joker oh and anything by Van Morrison. Love Van Morrison...American Pie, the Pina Colada Song...make me want to joyride in a convertible on a sweltering summer night with the top down, tires melting into the fiery asphalt... hair blowing...devil may care -he has to catch me first...and all of that.
8. 80's and 90's Rock and Kid Rock- Anything from the Go-Go's...Vacation! Manic Monday and In Your Room by the Bangles, Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany, Prince, Little Red Corvette, Purple Rain, Let's go Crazy, Raspberry Beret...David Lee Roth's California Girls. Michael Jackson The Way You're Makin' Me Feel, Def Leopard, Billy Joel, "Only the Good Die Young", Cindy Lauper, Boy George,The Cars, The Police, "One Headlight " by the Wallflowers. Madonna,Poison,Motley Crew, Aerosmyth, Blondie and Pat Benetar...the Eddie and the Cruisers Soundtrack, Kid Rock's All Summer Long and Cowboy...Beastie Boys...Ice, Ice, Baby, Jessie's Girl...Salt n' Peppa...Raw Base. The Rhythm of the Night. Black Crows, Sheryl Crow, Counting Crows (see a theme?) Richard Marx-Endless Summer Nights...Turn the Radio Up, INXS...Mystify and Devil Inside...George Michael Faith cd, Spin Doctors- Bryan Adams, John Couger, Sonia Dada. I cannot neglect to mention NKOTB's new Summertime song. Love that too...so reminiscent. I am now jumping up and down on the couch with a n over sized man's button down and knee socks, sun glasses on and a hair brush for a microphone...Let the neighbor's look. Join me? We'll give em' a show.
9. The fifties stuff...Under the Boardwalk, Save the Last Dance,And Then He Kissed Me, Do Wa Ditty, Summertime, What a Night, Surfer Girl, Fun, Fun, Fun...Elvis, Beach Boys, Beatles...and more musicals...Mama Mia! Which btw I rolled my windows down and raced at top speed down the highway to just yesterday. Told you I had spring fever. Oh and... A-Know this isn't fifties, IS before my time...B-If you have not seen the movie-check it out. Music and scenery alone are worth the price of admission and C-you can blame me when you have ABBA stuck in your head for a week. "Don't go wasting your emo-tion. Lay all your love on me..."
10. This is a song thing...my favorite summer song of all time...Summertime by Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. LOVE IT!!! ADORE IT...Summer, summer summer time...time to sit back and unwind... I will never get tired of this song. Something about Will Smith and my age...haha...makes me feel like we grew up together. Plus everything he touches seems to have some sort of redeeming quality to it... "Now this is a story all about how, my life got flip-turned upside down..." Oh and just ask my mom- everything she did that was to my disliking at age twelve, was met with my poorly adapted rendition of "Parents Just Don't Understand"...Subtlety comes with experience. Haha...it is true though...they still don't understand.
Also love Will Smith's Switch
That's my summer hit list. Love it or leave it... make up your own. Regardless- ooey, gooey, drippy, sandy, sweaty, salty, liquefied, gritty, edible, tangible, caramel, alluring, steamy, dreamy Summer-is on it's way. Embrace it. I will...
"Hello Lover..."
Not the point.
So this unseasonably warm weather fills my head with Summer, even though it isn't even Spring. Spring in Colorado is a complete and utter tease. She whets your appetite with the sweet promise of unclouded days and wavy,navy nights...then runs away-leaving you with the extreme chill of an April blizzard.
But summer! Summer is the union of yin and yang, fire and ice relationship that melts to warmth in the gooey center blurring the line that separates the two-forming a perfect whole. The blend of severe and mild. That rarity of finding someone that has the innate sense of knowing precisely what you need and gives it to you before the desire reaches your own consciousness. By far the most seductive of all the seasons. The heat, the bronzed, glistening skin, the sweet fruit and powdery floral scents that fill your nostrils. Summer possesses an effortless sensuality, the frivolity, the water, the sand...there is just no competing with Summer. Winter hibernates the senses and Summer heightens them...breathe it in with me....close your eyes, throw your head back in reckless abandon..that's right...now!mmmmmmmmmmmmm... And the sounds! splashing, crashing, humming, purring,pulsating, rhythmic, sizzling... that sensation when the sun mingled wind-tugs your hair, the sun spilling out over your skin...and the music! It always comes back to the music. Doesn't it? At least it does for me. So...before I get too, too carried away. Here is my soundtrack of Summer.
Top 10 Summer songs, artists, sound tracks...
1. Anything from Dirty Dancing, Grease, Footloose,Stand by Me or Top Gun
To this day when Sylvia and Mickey (the song Johnny and Baby reenact in Johnny's studio-apartment on that sweltering summer day-Come hear Lover Boy...oh Lover Boy...? That's the one) , Hungry Eyes,the Time of My Life, She's Like the Wind, Stay, Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow- or anything else from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack (either of them) drowns me in summer's essence...Oh, oh, oh and makes me wish Patrick Swayze would have taught me to dance...on a log over a river. The only time I will EVER wish I was Jennifer Gray.
Grease- Summer Lovin' and You're the One That I Want... Still think of myself as a Pink Lady...bababumba...and at seven after seeing Grease, I started 'smoking" those skinny little pretzels and saying, "Tell me about it- stud"...My parents LOVED that one- especially when I did it at the church picnic.
Foot Loose- theme song and Let's Hear it for the Boy-still would like to try that car trick where she has one foot in each car...not sure insurance covers idiocy though...and the barn dancing was memorable too.
Stand by Me...If you don't love this movie, stop reading now. This movie captures youth and summer more than any other that I can bring to mind...and my mind is over flowing with useless information. Keep reading if you don't believe me. River Phoenix, Will Wheaton, Corey Feldman, and Vern (always forget his name-the guy who is married to John Stamos' ex-wife Rebecca Romaine-no longer Stamos)...also Shawn Astin(sp?) (whom I met at a cheer competition in ninth grade- post Goonies, pre Rudy-super sweet) and Keifer Sutherland... for whatever reason I have thought of him as uber cool for the past...twenty years. Anyway the sound track is oldies...like Let the Good Times Roll, Lollipop and duh...Stand by Me.
Don't let me forget-
Top Gun-Take My Breathe Away, Danger Zone and Playing With the Boys...Great Balls of Fire...and the guitar theme with no words... puts me on the back of Maverick's motorcycle in my aviator Ray Bans and a white tank...Cocktail movie and soundtrack summery too...WHAT happened to Tom Cruise?!? Guess after Top Gun, he had nowhere to go but down. Bless his heart, God Love Him...
Think I could still quote most of the lines to ALL these movies.
I SO cheated. Counting those all as one. My game, my rules. Deal...;0)
2. Jimmy Buffet...OBVIOUSLY his shtick-right. Parrot heads, pina colada's, island paradises and margaritas...My favorites are Margaritaville, Cheeseburger in Paradise, Volcano,Fins, He Went to Paris, Come Monday and Son of a Son of a Sailor...I feel freckled and hungover just thinking about it. I am the "woman to blame"...heehee. Gonna' get the hat that says so, just cuz' I think it's cute.
3. Bob Marley...No Woman, No Cry,Stir it Up... nothing like reggae-it reeks of Summer in the best way.Steel drum bands,coconut oil, Jamaican beaches, palm trees swaying in the tropical breeze..When in Jamaica...I lay on a hammock strung between two palm trees sipping on a frozen drink called a hummingbird.I drifted to the whispered lullaby of the blue topaz ocean and read some bubble gum novel- I can't remember which..I have never been so shimmery, coppery brown in my life, nor will I probably allow myself to be again...safe sun and-not wanting my face to look like a leather handbag in fifteen years. Oh and at night! The resort had this club where they played old school rap and Shaggy... and drinks were always full...So to this day, I can't resist It Wasn't Me...or Ricky Martin...La Vida Loca or Shake Your Bon- Bon...It's no wonder why Stella went there to Get Her Groove Back.
4. Again- kind of his soul purpose...Kenny Chesney embodies the sizzle of summer. Not saying HE is hot...LOVE his music, some of it is irresistibly sultry... but he does nothing else for me. Sure the feeling is mutual...hahaha. Think I have everything he has ever done, including the Christmas CD. When the Sun Goes Down, There's Something Sexy About the Rain, Anything but Mine, She Comes From Boston, Old Blue Chair, She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy and Being Drunk is a lot Like Loving You -are just a few of my gazillion Kenny Chesney favorites. Think he is the heir to Jimmy Buffet's throne, there may actually be a written agreement between the two of them.
5. Jack Johnson...perpetually barefoot on the beach with his guitar. He is a beach boy in the most literal sense...and his music is like liquid sunshine. Drink it, it's delectable. Probably BEST known for doing the soundtrack for Curious George. One of my favorite Jack Johnson songs is "Banana Pancakes." His music makes me want to live in a beach hut, barefoot and disheveled. Surfing all day-this part may require a lesson or two...hundred. But in my dream, I just know how.Have to stick a bonfire on here, only because fire, summer and salt water...all part of the beachy theme.
6. Billy Pilgrim. One of my favorite groups of all time. They are folky and soulful and I used to see them at summer festivals here. Lyrically they are unbelievable, but musically simple. Do yourself a favor and if you don't know Billy Pilgrim-get to know them. INCREDIBLE. They make my soul reverberate in ecstasy. Hoolahoop is an especially summery song of theirs. Obscure...but a buried treasure. I promise.
7. Seventies rock like The Eagles, CCR, Steve Miller Band...songs like Boys of Summer, Hotel California, Life's Been Good to Me so Far,Sweet Caroline,Sweet Home Alabama, Joker oh and anything by Van Morrison. Love Van Morrison...American Pie, the Pina Colada Song...make me want to joyride in a convertible on a sweltering summer night with the top down, tires melting into the fiery asphalt... hair blowing...devil may care -he has to catch me first...and all of that.
8. 80's and 90's Rock and Kid Rock- Anything from the Go-Go's...Vacation! Manic Monday and In Your Room by the Bangles, Think We're Alone Now by Tiffany, Prince, Little Red Corvette, Purple Rain, Let's go Crazy, Raspberry Beret...David Lee Roth's California Girls. Michael Jackson The Way You're Makin' Me Feel, Def Leopard, Billy Joel, "Only the Good Die Young", Cindy Lauper, Boy George,The Cars, The Police, "One Headlight " by the Wallflowers. Madonna,Poison,Motley Crew, Aerosmyth, Blondie and Pat Benetar...the Eddie and the Cruisers Soundtrack, Kid Rock's All Summer Long and Cowboy...Beastie Boys...Ice, Ice, Baby, Jessie's Girl...Salt n' Peppa...Raw Base. The Rhythm of the Night. Black Crows, Sheryl Crow, Counting Crows (see a theme?) Richard Marx-Endless Summer Nights...Turn the Radio Up, INXS...Mystify and Devil Inside...George Michael Faith cd, Spin Doctors- Bryan Adams, John Couger, Sonia Dada. I cannot neglect to mention NKOTB's new Summertime song. Love that too...so reminiscent. I am now jumping up and down on the couch with a n over sized man's button down and knee socks, sun glasses on and a hair brush for a microphone...Let the neighbor's look. Join me? We'll give em' a show.
9. The fifties stuff...Under the Boardwalk, Save the Last Dance,And Then He Kissed Me, Do Wa Ditty, Summertime, What a Night, Surfer Girl, Fun, Fun, Fun...Elvis, Beach Boys, Beatles...and more musicals...Mama Mia! Which btw I rolled my windows down and raced at top speed down the highway to just yesterday. Told you I had spring fever. Oh and... A-Know this isn't fifties, IS before my time...B-If you have not seen the movie-check it out. Music and scenery alone are worth the price of admission and C-you can blame me when you have ABBA stuck in your head for a week. "Don't go wasting your emo-tion. Lay all your love on me..."
10. This is a song thing...my favorite summer song of all time...Summertime by Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince. LOVE IT!!! ADORE IT...Summer, summer summer time...time to sit back and unwind... I will never get tired of this song. Something about Will Smith and my age...haha...makes me feel like we grew up together. Plus everything he touches seems to have some sort of redeeming quality to it... "Now this is a story all about how, my life got flip-turned upside down..." Oh and just ask my mom- everything she did that was to my disliking at age twelve, was met with my poorly adapted rendition of "Parents Just Don't Understand"...Subtlety comes with experience. Haha...it is true though...they still don't understand.
Also love Will Smith's Switch
That's my summer hit list. Love it or leave it... make up your own. Regardless- ooey, gooey, drippy, sandy, sweaty, salty, liquefied, gritty, edible, tangible, caramel, alluring, steamy, dreamy Summer-is on it's way. Embrace it. I will...
"Hello Lover..."
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