Is there someplace I can go for a manual on blogspot? I like this site, but I do get confused easily.
Anyways, have been concocting an idea for a novel. Will it ever make it to paper? Or even my computer's hard drive? We'll see. Right now, I'll be impressed with myself if I get an outline typed out.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Jane Austen Book Club
Grigg: I understand why Colonel Brandon goes for Marianne. And it's not 'cause she's young. It's because she's generous with herself. She's willing to risk her heart. No rules, no fear.
Jocelyn: And Willoughby tramples her.
Grigg: She just picked the wrong guy.
I love this movie.
Jocelyn: And Willoughby tramples her.
Grigg: She just picked the wrong guy.
I love this movie.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Alone
The other night I was driving home from a friends house at almost 11PM. I had been feeling weird--kinda... off--before I left, and I wasn't really looking forward to my 40-minute drive. Now, I had noticed that my tires were looking a little low on air, but I just hadn't gotten around to putting air in (I know, bad car owner, bad). As I was driving, I kept feeling like something was wrong. Somehow the idea got stuck in my head, not that I could get a flat tire, but that I most certainly would get on on my way home tonight. So the whole time I'm driving, I felt this anxiety closing in on me, and a voice in my head saying over and over, "You're gonna get a flat tire! You're gonna get a flat tire!" Then, out there on the freeway, I heard a thump and the smell of burning rubber quickly filled my nostrils. My hands shaking on the steering wheel, I pulled onto the shoulder. This was a busy freeway, with lots of traffic and virtually no streetlights. I carefully got out of the car and checked my tires. All four perfectly intact. At this point I was near tears, and I climbed back into my car, and carefully merged back onto the road.
You would think that nagging voice and anxiety would have gone away, right? Wrong. The anxiety turned into a thick wool turtleneck that was somehow shrinking in on my as the voice changed it's persistent screaming inside my head: "What if you had a flat tire? You would be stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere. There's no one you could call, everyone's busy at work or too far away and would probably say they couldn't come out to help. You'd be stuck alone. Alone. Alone." By this time, I was grateful that my apartment was less than 5 miles away. When I pulled into my parking spot, my hands were shaking, I was choking on dry sobs, and the chant in my head had turned into just one word: "ALONE. ALONE. ALONE."
I think it was a panic attack that shook me that night. But since that night, that word has been haunting me. Loneliness is not unfamiliar to me, in fact it had been my constant companion for years. But since moving into an apartment by myself again a few months ago, I hadn't felt that loneliness. These past few months, I felt satisfied with how my life was. Maybe not completely happy, but I really had no reason to complain. I kept holding my breath, those first few weeks, to see if the loneliness would come settle around me again, but every morning, I was pleased when it didn't. Now, all of a sudden, it came back into my life out of nowhere like a slap in the face. For the past few days, that word, that disgusting, hateful word has taken up residence in my mind, coming out and taking over, usually when my defenses are down as I try to fall asleep (much like right now). When it comes, it's like my body is a plane of glass, and someone just very gently hammers a small nail smack in the middle--where the heart is--and as the cracks slowly spread a vacuum sucks the tiny shards into oblivion, from the inside out. And I just wait for sleep to mercifully pull me into unconsciousness, but not before that empty, hollow feeling settles deep in my bones.
I'm hoping it's just a phase. A very short phase.
You would think that nagging voice and anxiety would have gone away, right? Wrong. The anxiety turned into a thick wool turtleneck that was somehow shrinking in on my as the voice changed it's persistent screaming inside my head: "What if you had a flat tire? You would be stuck out here, in the middle of nowhere. There's no one you could call, everyone's busy at work or too far away and would probably say they couldn't come out to help. You'd be stuck alone. Alone. Alone." By this time, I was grateful that my apartment was less than 5 miles away. When I pulled into my parking spot, my hands were shaking, I was choking on dry sobs, and the chant in my head had turned into just one word: "ALONE. ALONE. ALONE."
I think it was a panic attack that shook me that night. But since that night, that word has been haunting me. Loneliness is not unfamiliar to me, in fact it had been my constant companion for years. But since moving into an apartment by myself again a few months ago, I hadn't felt that loneliness. These past few months, I felt satisfied with how my life was. Maybe not completely happy, but I really had no reason to complain. I kept holding my breath, those first few weeks, to see if the loneliness would come settle around me again, but every morning, I was pleased when it didn't. Now, all of a sudden, it came back into my life out of nowhere like a slap in the face. For the past few days, that word, that disgusting, hateful word has taken up residence in my mind, coming out and taking over, usually when my defenses are down as I try to fall asleep (much like right now). When it comes, it's like my body is a plane of glass, and someone just very gently hammers a small nail smack in the middle--where the heart is--and as the cracks slowly spread a vacuum sucks the tiny shards into oblivion, from the inside out. And I just wait for sleep to mercifully pull me into unconsciousness, but not before that empty, hollow feeling settles deep in my bones.
I'm hoping it's just a phase. A very short phase.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Pet Peeve
Tonight I hung out with some new people at a restaurant, you know, just to shake things up a bit. Most of them were cool, but the guy sitting next to me completely ignored me. That's ok, I understand some people are shy, I'm not exactly the most outgoing person either. The service at this place was horrible, but we were trying to make the best of it. Even though the waitress took forever to bring out our food, we just tried to ignore our grumbling bellies and enjoy the each other's company. However, this guy next to me was just not having any of it. The waitress had already brought all our entrees, but we were still waiting on the rice (it was an Asian restaurant). She had confused our orders and didn't realize that we were waiting on it. Meanwhile, this guy's food had gotten cold, and he was not taking it well. He kept grumbling and saying, "My food's cold now, it's disgusting. I don't want it." The rest of us were in the exact same boat, but we were just trying to laugh about it, but he insisted on sulking. He told the waitress to just take the food away, untouched.
Now, I understand the need to send things back. I understand that waiters and waitresses are paid to bring out the customer's food in a timely manner. And I understand that bottling up negative feelings is not healthy. But the honest truth is, shit happens and sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches. It's one thing to make a (albeit, well-deserved) complaint to the waiter when you're in a small group. But to do so in a large group, especially among people you don't really know? NOT a good first impression. Had he simply told the waiter to reheat his food or to quietly send it back or, best yet, speak for the whole table in our dissatisfaction with the service, his actions would have been more appropriate. So of course, because of this one, guy, there was tension at the table. Everyone tried to ignore it, but I could still feel it, this angry heat radiating on my left side causing my whole body to feel tightly coiled. I'm a peace-loving person, I can't stand when anyone around me is upset or angry, and I will do all I can to restore that person to a happier state of mind. But with this almost complete stranger seated next to me, I felt trapped. I enjoyed most of the company I kept tonight, but you can bet, not only will I never return to that particular restaurant, I will do my best to stay away from the company of this particular boy.
And that concludes my nonsense rant for this morning.
Now, I understand the need to send things back. I understand that waiters and waitresses are paid to bring out the customer's food in a timely manner. And I understand that bottling up negative feelings is not healthy. But the honest truth is, shit happens and sometimes you just gotta roll with the punches. It's one thing to make a (albeit, well-deserved) complaint to the waiter when you're in a small group. But to do so in a large group, especially among people you don't really know? NOT a good first impression. Had he simply told the waiter to reheat his food or to quietly send it back or, best yet, speak for the whole table in our dissatisfaction with the service, his actions would have been more appropriate. So of course, because of this one, guy, there was tension at the table. Everyone tried to ignore it, but I could still feel it, this angry heat radiating on my left side causing my whole body to feel tightly coiled. I'm a peace-loving person, I can't stand when anyone around me is upset or angry, and I will do all I can to restore that person to a happier state of mind. But with this almost complete stranger seated next to me, I felt trapped. I enjoyed most of the company I kept tonight, but you can bet, not only will I never return to that particular restaurant, I will do my best to stay away from the company of this particular boy.
And that concludes my nonsense rant for this morning.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
A few changes
It's 2:30 AM and the deep, thoughtful post I've been working on for months now is giving me a headache. So again, I tweaked my profile and layout because I'm still deciding what I want this blog to be. Much like I'm trying to decide what I want my life to be. But that line of thinking will bring me back to that headache-inducing post, so here is where I say, good night.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Where the Wild Things Are
I remember when I was in grade school and I read Where the Wild Things Are for the first time. The book was a mystery to me. I was confused by and almost afraid of the drawings of these large beasts with huge claws and long teeth. Reading the book I thought, why would anyone include monsters in their happy place? And why wasn’t this boy afraid of them? And how brave was he to speak to his mother in such a disrespectful manner? I decided that the book would make much more sense to me if I were a boy. But I also remember thinking, there’s something about this book that I would only be able to understand when I was a little bit more grown up.
When I heard they were making a movie out of this 10-sentence story I remembered my childhood musings and intrigue about the book. I bought a copy, wanting to rediscover this world created by Max and see if years had indeed unlocked at least some of its mystery. Sure enough, it did. Now when I flip through the pages, I see Max for the boy he is: wild and brave, creating a world where he is totally unrestricted and fully in control. He has no reason to fear these beasts more than twice his size because he can and does make himself their king. But ultimately, he is a boy who wants the freedom to express the wildness within him and be loved unconditionally for it, not just in spite of it.
Being a fan of any story that involves escaping reality through sheer imagination (Peter Pan and the Chronicles of Narnia are still among my favorite books), I looked forward to seeing this story brought to life. Despite reading reviews of it being much darker than most expected, I still had high hopes. And I was not disappointed. Somehow they managed to turn 10-sentences into a full-length movie without destroying the integrity of the story Maurice Sendak created. Out of necessity, events were created and manipulated not according to the book, but it is still very much the same world Max escapes to.
One of the biggest plot changes was the naming of the wild things. Not only were they named but they were made into complete, rounded-out characters that the audience could completely embrace as creations of Max’s imagination. Though they all had distinct personalities, it was downright magical to see how they took turns representing different aspects of Max’s personality and, at times, his perceptions of the people in his life. Carol is like Max’s best friend or soulmate, the one he could relate to most. Just like Max, Carol hates change and desires that his family stay together, just as it is. He’s looking for that happiness that is so close but remains just out of reach, and he’s searching for that something or someone to bridge the gap. Judith takes turns being like his mother’s more authoritative side and the negative, pessimistic gloom that Max can’t seem to escape, nor does he really want to escape it. Ira is probably what Max wishes his dad could be like: completely and unconditionally devoted to Judith (his mom). Douglas is the epitome of the unconditionally loyal friend because, honestly, what better friend could their be than one who still stands by your side, even after ripping out your (favorite) arm. Alexander is the part of Max that feels lost in the chaos; how Max feels other people probably view him--an annoying mosquito that people swat away. And KW is like Max’s mom in the best way. Of all the wild things, she’s the one who knows exactly who he is--she’s the only one who calls him Max from the begining--and loves him whole-heartedly, no questions asked. She can see that Max is pretending to be someone bigger than he really is, but instead of questioning his authority like Judith does, or pushing to know his background, or lifting him on a pedestal that deep down he knows he doesn’t deserve, she just loves him with her whole being.
A major addition the movie brought to the story was the conflict among the wild things that Max tries to resolve. Like his own life, a family is changed for what appears to be the worse, but in this world, maybe there’s a chance he can repair it. Through the movie Max tries his best to unite the beasts and make the hurt and loneliness go away. But even in this world of make-believe, it is bigger than he is, and Max ends up feeling like he just made everything worse. So Max returns home, glad to be free of the responsibility of fixing the world’s problems. Where he isn’t expected to take care of everyone, but instead he is taken care of, which is exactly where all little boys belong.
What I think I love most about the movie is how it is filmed as though Max himself is telling the story. All perception is biased by his point of view, and yet, it’s not the watered-down light-hearted fantasy Disney has taught us to expect of children. Even at it’s most rambunctious and happiest moments, there is still a hint of the sadness and loneliness permeating throughout. It’s as though Max realizes that no matter how free and wild he may act or how far away he runs, he can’t escape the troubles and worries that plague him. In the end, the most comforting place turns out to be the very place he has been trying to escape. It is at home that he finds beautiful, imperfect, and unconditional love.
When I heard they were making a movie out of this 10-sentence story I remembered my childhood musings and intrigue about the book. I bought a copy, wanting to rediscover this world created by Max and see if years had indeed unlocked at least some of its mystery. Sure enough, it did. Now when I flip through the pages, I see Max for the boy he is: wild and brave, creating a world where he is totally unrestricted and fully in control. He has no reason to fear these beasts more than twice his size because he can and does make himself their king. But ultimately, he is a boy who wants the freedom to express the wildness within him and be loved unconditionally for it, not just in spite of it.
Being a fan of any story that involves escaping reality through sheer imagination (Peter Pan and the Chronicles of Narnia are still among my favorite books), I looked forward to seeing this story brought to life. Despite reading reviews of it being much darker than most expected, I still had high hopes. And I was not disappointed. Somehow they managed to turn 10-sentences into a full-length movie without destroying the integrity of the story Maurice Sendak created. Out of necessity, events were created and manipulated not according to the book, but it is still very much the same world Max escapes to.
One of the biggest plot changes was the naming of the wild things. Not only were they named but they were made into complete, rounded-out characters that the audience could completely embrace as creations of Max’s imagination. Though they all had distinct personalities, it was downright magical to see how they took turns representing different aspects of Max’s personality and, at times, his perceptions of the people in his life. Carol is like Max’s best friend or soulmate, the one he could relate to most. Just like Max, Carol hates change and desires that his family stay together, just as it is. He’s looking for that happiness that is so close but remains just out of reach, and he’s searching for that something or someone to bridge the gap. Judith takes turns being like his mother’s more authoritative side and the negative, pessimistic gloom that Max can’t seem to escape, nor does he really want to escape it. Ira is probably what Max wishes his dad could be like: completely and unconditionally devoted to Judith (his mom). Douglas is the epitome of the unconditionally loyal friend because, honestly, what better friend could their be than one who still stands by your side, even after ripping out your (favorite) arm. Alexander is the part of Max that feels lost in the chaos; how Max feels other people probably view him--an annoying mosquito that people swat away. And KW is like Max’s mom in the best way. Of all the wild things, she’s the one who knows exactly who he is--she’s the only one who calls him Max from the begining--and loves him whole-heartedly, no questions asked. She can see that Max is pretending to be someone bigger than he really is, but instead of questioning his authority like Judith does, or pushing to know his background, or lifting him on a pedestal that deep down he knows he doesn’t deserve, she just loves him with her whole being.
A major addition the movie brought to the story was the conflict among the wild things that Max tries to resolve. Like his own life, a family is changed for what appears to be the worse, but in this world, maybe there’s a chance he can repair it. Through the movie Max tries his best to unite the beasts and make the hurt and loneliness go away. But even in this world of make-believe, it is bigger than he is, and Max ends up feeling like he just made everything worse. So Max returns home, glad to be free of the responsibility of fixing the world’s problems. Where he isn’t expected to take care of everyone, but instead he is taken care of, which is exactly where all little boys belong.
What I think I love most about the movie is how it is filmed as though Max himself is telling the story. All perception is biased by his point of view, and yet, it’s not the watered-down light-hearted fantasy Disney has taught us to expect of children. Even at it’s most rambunctious and happiest moments, there is still a hint of the sadness and loneliness permeating throughout. It’s as though Max realizes that no matter how free and wild he may act or how far away he runs, he can’t escape the troubles and worries that plague him. In the end, the most comforting place turns out to be the very place he has been trying to escape. It is at home that he finds beautiful, imperfect, and unconditional love.
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