27 December 2006
I got this lovely t-shirt from Santa and I have to say, even with the digital camera and the Cary Grant box set, it was the most exciting present I got. As most of you readers know, I'm obsessed with The Office. It is one of the few TV shows I have to own on DVD as soon as it is released. Thus the squeal of joy Christmas morning when I opened this. It is, as you can probably tell, a bit big. Actually about two sizes too big. I was a little concerned about that until I realized I could just pretend it is Jim Halpert's shirt. And that is what made this the best Christmas present ever!
18 December 2006
13 December 2006
Here Comes Santa Claus (Right Down Santa Claus Lane)
(Words & music by Autry - Haldeman)
Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus,
Right down Santa Claus Lane.
Vixen, Blitzen, all his reindeer
Pulling on the reins.
Bells are ringing, children singing,
All is merry and bright.
Hang your stockings and say a prayer,
'Cause Santa Claus comes tonight.
Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus,
Right down Santa Claus Lane.
He's got a bag that's filled with toys
For boys and girls again.
Hear those sleigh bells jingle jangle,
What a beautiful sight.
Jump in bed and cover up your head,
Because Santa Claus comes tonight.
Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus,
Right down Santa Claus Lane.
He doesn't care if you're a rich or poor boy,
He loves you just the same.
Santa knows that we're God's children,
That makes everything right.
Fill your hearts with Christmas cheer,
'Cause Santa Claus comes tonight.
Well, here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus,
Right down Santa Claus Lane.
He'll come around when the chimes ring out
'It's Christmas morn again.'
Peace on Earth will come to all
If we just follow the light
Let's give thanks to the Lord above,
'Cause Santa Claus comes tonight.
'Cause Santa Claus comes tonight!
I have never understood why we should be giving prayers of thanks for Santa Claus's impending visit, rather than the actual Christmas miracle. Secondly, what exactly does Santa knowing "that we're God's children" make right? And why does anything Santa do have to be made right? Finally, what light are we supposed to follow? Is it a religious light or is it the light of Rudolph's nose? Every spiritual reference in that song is murky and makes the whole song a little sinister, at least in my mind. Any Christmas songs you readers find worrisome, disturbing, or just plain bad?
11 December 2006
07 December 2006
04 December 2006
LibraAnd the possibility that this could be the best day of my life is the saddest joke ever. Because today was the day that I woke up with the knowledge that karma hates me. That it, or fate, or whatever you want to call it is actively trying to make me miserable. And then to turn on the computer and see that horoscope, just like pouring lemon juice on a paper cut.
September 22 - October 22
In future years, you could remember today as one of the best days of your life, dear Libra. Romance should be going beautifully as you exchange deeply felt words of love with your partner. The future looks bright, and you should be full of enthusiastic plans for pursuing what you really want to do. Also, you should be feeling especially strong, energetic, healthy, and ready to try just about anything. A journey may be coming up soon. Have fun!
First of all, there is no romance in my life. My last date was years - yes, years - ago and I am apprently such a loser that a woman in my home ward is telling my mother that she should introduce me to the new 48 year-old single dad of 15 year-old twins who just moved into said ward. Hello? The man is two decades older than I am!
Secondly, I woke up with a stuffy nose, a headache, and a scratchy throat and spent most of the day just trying to stay warm. So, no energy, health, or adventure-seeking around here today.
And finally, I have no plans for the future because I am unemployed and can't afford to have any plans past the vague edict 'Must find job.' The only possibility of a journey I can see is moving home with my tale between my legs because I am, apparently, unemployable. So yeah, it must be opposite day.
01 December 2006
To fully explain today's gratitude for reality, I first have to start with an unsettling confession. Recently I have begun to think of having children as something I want to do. To do in the near future, not as some random possibility in the long-term. Maybe it is because my ovaries, after 17 years of wasted output, have suddenly begun to fear there will be a shortage of supplies and are sending random hormones surging through my system, butI have begun to coo over babies. Whatever the reason, rather than squealing 'EW!' and turning the channel when I happen upon TLC's A Baby Story, I pause and think, 'How lovely.' Well, the actual childbirth isn't lovely, but the newborn baby is. Thus, one of the things I was mentally complaining about during Thanksgiving: dying alone and being eaten by Alsatians.
Which brings us to today. I have been baby-sitting a lot lately for my friend Z, as she and her husband Mr. Conservative bought a new house and are doing all the labor-intensive moving and cleaning of the old house etc. So Wednesday night and today I baby-sat for Jr. while Z and Mr. Conservative got that last vestiges of furniture, dirt, and dust out of their old house. Jr. is 17 months old and absolutely delightful. We have fun driving cars off the back of the couch, rough-housing, and playing his favorite game, Empty-and-Fill the CD Rack. Usually I only watch Jr. for a couple of hours at a time, but today he was here for almost four. So the fun was interrupted by a rather foul dirty diaper. So foul, in fact, that I have been burning candles and Febreezing for several hours, but still think I smell it. If it weren't two million degrees below zero, I would open all the windows. And that my friends, is a reality for which I am thankful. Dirty diapers and not having enough hands, and the sheer exhaustion of being responsible for another human being makes me realize that possibly I'm not ready for that kind of commitment right now and also, thank goodness I'm not a single mom. Even if Jr.'s reddish hair and blue eyes make everyone around here think I am.
22 November 2006
16 November 2006
15 November 2006
I am tempted to just move the bed into the last remaining floor space of the living room, even though a) it would probably bug Miss Parker to no end, especially since the kitchen is also a disaster because I'm either painting or passed out from paint fumes and she is working long hours AND just started rehearsals for a local production of Aida; and b) the sheer act of moving it would probably kill me because I would slip on the plastic drop cloth on my floor causing the mattress to fall on me, pining me to the floor under the window that is opened to alleviate the paint fumes and Miss Parker would find me frozen to death late at night when she returns from rehearsal. Also, sleeping in the living room seems kind of creepy. So the chaos continues.
The worst of it is that amongst this chaos, I am still expected to function normally, to do the job search thing, to handle my financial affairs, to generally live life when I can't remember where I put anything I need to do any of the above. Because when I was packing up my room and moving it about, I found clever places to put everything I needed. Sadly, possibly from sleeping in a paint-fume bedroom, I forgot said cleverness and am now without all the paperwork I need to get through the day. And all of this has to be done and taken care of before I leave for Washington on Tuesday for the Thanksgiving holiday. I need a nap.
01 November 2006
30 October 2006
27 October 2006
24 October 2006
It was once suggested to me that, as an anti-dote to crying, I put my head in a paper bag. As it happens there is a sound physiological reason, something to do with oxygen, for doing exactly that, but the psychological effect alone is incalculable; it is difficult in the extreme to continue fancying oneself Cathy in Wuthering Heights with one's head in a Food Fair bag.This gem, which made my roommate and I laughed hilariously for sometime, also gave me a sense of perspective. A lot has happened recently that tempts me to drown myself in a pool of self-pity, but this sentence is the shove into reality that I need. This world is hard and not fair and I have had more than my share of wonderful things, so I shouldn't let some worries and some sorrows turn my usual rational self into a melodramatic wallower. But just in case, I'll keep the Food Fair bag handy.
13 October 2006
11 October 2006
So now my wildest fantasies involve being located by some sort of official and inheriting, through one of the Scottish lines on either side of my genealogy, some sort of lovely estate. Of course there would at first be a lot of issues with the locals, because I would be seen as an interloper, from America no less. But I would of course win them over with my lovely personality and willingness to adapt to local customs and what not. And of course at some point there would be a dashing dark-haired Scot to sweep me off my feet. Also, don't you think the Scottish countryside would be an excellent place to write novels? Think of the inspiration. Or, homesickness could inspire me to write a brilliant ode to my homeland. See, I think this could be the answer to all my problems.
And when Miss Parker read this, I will be forever banned from watching BBCAmerica or PBS ever again.
10 October 2006
I did hear back from the firm I interviewed with and while I didn't get the position, they did say they were impressed with my interview and that they would keep my resume on file if anything else came up. Which could be what they tell everyone, but it did make me feel pretty zen about the whole situation. In fact I'm pretty zen about my life right now. It could be that a continued lack of sleep has robbed me of my senses (Insomnia is mean, people!) or a preternatural apathy about work in the first place, but I'm not nearly a stressed as I thought I would be. In fact it has been kind of nice to have time to read book for hours or do research for my planned novel or just walk around downtown and people watch. I guess I was far more miserable at my old job than I thought.
So even though I am actually enjoying the free time that goes with being unemployed, I must get back to the thirty job ads I emailed myself last night. Or maybe I'll have words with my alarm clock. It can't be interrupting my best dreams like that.
05 October 2006
I recommend that you readers go and see The Illusionist if it is in a theater near you. It is one of the most visually stunning films I've seen in a while. I don't want to say much about it for fear of giving plot points away, but go and see it. It is worth the $7.
26 September 2006
Days Out of Bed Before 10AM - 1
Resumes Submitted - 3 or 29 or 57. I've kind of lost count.
Hours Spent Watching M*A*S*H Reruns - 27
Interviews - 1
Cell phone minutes wasted talking old office through things - 52
Temper tantrums thrown - 3 (the latest being when I called the old office about my severance and a nice girl named Megan answered the phone. Apparently they needed an administrative assistant they could pay $8 an hour.)
Days spent wandering to Sam Weller's Books on Main Street to drool over old books I can't afford - 3
2nd Interviews - 1 (tomorrow yay!)
Vampire dreams - 2
Flying dreams - 1 (haven't had one of these since I was in grade school - they are awesome! Basically, I can fly. Good times.)
Anyway, thanks for all your thoughts and good wishes. I really feel good about this second interview tomorrow and from what was said at the first interview, if all things go well, I could be employed next week. So fingers crossed people!
18 September 2006
- I drove to my parents’ home both weekends I was in Seattle and got to spend some quality time with them. Also, there is nothing like the ego boost of going back to a place where people think you are great.
- I realized that I hate my job regardless of location and really feel great about not ever going back to work for that company.
- Despite the stress of the whole experience, I’ve never been happier than I was today when I realized I would never again have to wake up to that job.
- Severance packages are like having paid vacations.
- One should never have to live in a hotel for two weeks. I don’t care if it is a studio with a kitchen.
- Everyone was going on about the heat wave in Seattle. It was 75 degrees. I was wearing sweaters and shivering while everyone else was blasting the A/C. I even turned on the heat in my hotel room.
- Because of the short notice under which my flight arrangements were made my itinerary went something like this: Salt Lake – San Francisco – Seattle – Denver – Salt Lake
- Almost bursting into tears in the San Francisco airport after realizing that exactly seven years ago to the day I had been sitting in the same airport on the way to London.
- Salt Lake Int’l Airport experienced horrible weather and a major technological meltdown on the day I flew back, which delayed my flight from Denver for two hours, messed up the baggage claim system to the point that bags from multiple flights were on different carousels meaning that it took me an hour and a half to figure out my luggage wasn’t on any of them, and caused a 30 minute wait to pay for parking.
- My luggage was left in Denver and didn’t arrive until 12:30pm the next day.
- The branch manager of the Seattle branch suffers from short term memory loss due to a car accident earlier this summer. Which caused him to tell me the following stories on a daily basis:
- How he has short-term memory problems because of a car accident earlier this summer.
- How he is suing his contractor because the contractor didn’t weather-proof the foundation and he now has a virulent mold problem.
- How he teaches classes for his church and is “just trying to live by faith.
- Mr. Short-Term Memory, despite the above protestation of religiosity, had a tendencey to drop the F-bomb on a regular basis, especially when telling stories or really, really stupid jokes at which I was forced, out of politeness, to smile.
- Mr. Short-Term Memory also suffered from over-sharing. I know more about his past relationships, his musical preferences, his dog ownership, and his church-going than I knew about anyone I had worked with for 2+ years in the Salt Lake office.
- I got the eerie feeling, despite the inappropriateness of it, that I was being auditioned for not only the administrative assistant position, but for a dating possibility as well. Examples:
- His constant questioning about what I do in my spare time, what music I like, and my opinions on other pop culture things.
- His enthusiasm for playing Death Cab for Cutie over and over on a daily basis after I reluctantly admitted to liking them.
- The performance of what can only be described as a ‘butt shimmy’ while singing along to the Death Cab for Cutie song that was blaring from his iTunes in front of my desk on his way to the conference room.
- His repeatedly asking me if I had a boyfriend, which was confusing since he kept referring to my roommate as “your girlfrie – I mean roommate.” Either way, I wasn’t going to admit to being single.
- His semi-frequent assertion that he knew what I was going through because "I'm also a single person trying to live by faith."
30 August 2006
17 August 2006
10 August 2006
1. She's so responsible.
2. She's wise/mature/aware beyond her years.
3. She's always dependable.
By junior high I had, both because of personality and social conditioning, cultivated an air of someone older. I had survived my brief foray in to fangirldom during the New Kids on the Block craze of 1988-89 and I had read enough of the 150 million Baby-sitters Club books to know I didn't need to read more. So I dove right into Jane Austen and the Bronte Sisters and renewed my teachers' faith in my advanced reading skills. I also scorned BOP!, Teen Beat, and pretty much any other publication aimed at adolescents except the occasional issue of Seventeen, but that was because of the fashion. And Vogue sometimes had the naked, so I obviously couldn't throw that into the cart while shopping with the parents. During high school InStyle launched and all my fashion mag issues were solved.
I tried desperately to avoid being labelled, or even being, boy-crazy. I had my little crushes in high school, but they were usually on the scandalously non-LDS boys and had more to do with certain aspects of their personas (hair, attitude, 1967 Mustang) than any real desire to date them. Because who finds lasting happiness in high school? Obviously not the mature young woman whose future plans revolved around at least one university degree and a career in some fabulous metropolis, preferably on the East Coast. So I sat back and let everyone else do the high-drama dating thing and planned for the future.
Eventually, being the mature one got tiresome. Especially around the point, during my sophomore year of college, my roommate's boyfriend called me "the mom of the apartment." Not the description one wants to hear when one is attempting to be a mysterious and alluring woman of the world. And thus the regression began.
It took a while to get going, because habits are hard to break and people don't let you change that easily. But it really took off when I moved in with a girl who had a Shrine to David Duchovny that took up her entire side of our room. It spread to my wall as well and eventually came to encompass many TVBoyfriends and travelled with us through several BYU apartments. How can your day not be good when you wake up to Hugh Jackman or Colin Firth or Jeramy Northam or Michael Vartan staring down at you. Plus you have the euphoria of starvation when you spend all your grocery money on glossy magazines. Of course as we moved on and became Responsible Adults who actually had visitors, we had to down-grade the Shrine. But it is still there in spirit.
The problem now is that I don't know how to stop the regression. A real-life boyfriend might help, but seeing as how I'm possibly more single than I was in high school (Yes, there are degrees of singlehood. They range from Spinster With Multiple Cats to I Call Myself Single Because I'm Dating 5 People on a Regular Basis) the boyfriend thing isn't likely to happen. So I find that at the age of 27, a decade after I should have grown out of it, I'm the girl who buys TV Guide because it has a full-page spread on a TVBoyfriend. At least it isn't Teen Beat.
07 August 2006
Chaos can be good and bad. Today is full of bad chaos. With my boss on vacation, and my uber-boss at HQ for the week, I apparently am supposed to know everything and act way above my pay grade as both Boss and Uber-boss. This morning, if one more person had stood by my desk and expected whatever arcane information they needed to flow unrestrained directly from my brain, I would have had to punch someone. Or something. Throwing my computer monitor through the window seemed a good option, but I don't think I'm strong enough to get the momentum needed to achieve such a feat.
Yesterday was good chaos. I think. I was sitting in my first church meeting, which was the women's Relief Society meeting, minding my own business when one of the leaders of the congregation tapped me on the shoulder and asked me to leave the meeting and speak privately with him. Seeing as how the woman conducting the meeting had just announced I would be giving the closing prayer after singing the closing hymn, I was a little confused and politely asked if we could wait until I was done saying the closing prayer. So after the meeting adjourned, I had a conversation with this leader, culminating in my being invited to teach a Sunday School class. I accepted the invitation and then went to my next church meeting. Halfway through the meeting, the same man sat down beside me and whispered that there was a slight problem. Apparently, the women in charge of Relief Society had wanted me to teach the Relief Society class and were panicked and asking that I be univited to teach Sunday School and invited to teach Relief Society. The poor leader sitting beside me wanted to know if I could do both. I don't know if he didn't want to disappoint me in changing the class I would be teaching, but really, I would much rather they just put me where they need me, rather than do double duty. And I'm sure the poor people who would have to sit through two classes from me in a row would feel the same. Finally we settled on my teaching Relief Society regularly and filling in as a substitute Sunday School teacher. While both jobs seem a bit overwhelming, it is nice to feel needed.
Even if they did ask me to substitute teach Sunday School on the Sunday I'll be teaching my first Relief Society class. I think I need another Swedish Fish.
03 August 2006
So, I wish it were Friday. Mostly because it would mean that I was almost free from this office and wouldn't have to face it for 48 whole hours. But also because I am ridiculously looking forward to the new Will Ferrell movie, Talledega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. I really have no idea why, other than I need a good laugh and I find Will Ferrell's brand of absurdity particularly funny. And how can you not see a movie that promises characters named 'Walker' and 'Texas Ranger'? Chuck Norris jokes are gold. Gold, Jerry!
Therefore, in my patented whine, Why can't it be FRIDAAAAYYY!?! At least I have reruns of The Office and my guiltiest guilty pleasure Supernatural to look forward to. Because if it can't be Friday, at least I can enjoy a pint of Soy Dream fake ice cream (flavor: MINTCHOCOLATECHIP! of course) while watching the funny and the pretty TVboyfriends.
02 August 2006
31 July 2006
Genetics did play a huge part. I weighed 180+ lbs, was 5’8”, had a 38D chest, and wore a women’s 12-14 the fall I started 6th grade. I looked like a full-grown woman before most of my friends had started puberty. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn't look like anyone I knew and definitely not like anyone in Seventeen. I was so Other that I ignored it. I had always been good at academics, been amongst the top in every test and could do quite well with relatively little effort, but this year was the first I remembered actually focusing on it. I would obviously never be successful in any attempt at popularity because a) Esprit didn’t make anything in my size and b) I stood out in all the wrong ways. Also, my brief foray into acting didn’t turn out so well. So I focused on the one thing I could be successful at. It is the first year I remember being referred to as The Walking Encyclopedia, a title I sardonically embraced.
It really didn’t get much better in junior high or high school. I did very well in school, I had friends, my parents were loving and supportive, but my body didn’t change and my refusal to deal with it didn’t help. Food was a consolation and I steadily gained weight. I still remember the ugly reality of surreptitiously standing on the scale in the girl’s locker room in 9th grade and watching the dial climb to 198. I was almost 200lbs. That was how much my 6'0" father weighed. I couldn't deal with that kind of information, so I retreated further into my mental world where it was more important that I was number 1 in my history class than what I looked like in the mirror.
College was a little better. I actually lost weight because of all the walking and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like bursting into tears after shopping for clothes. I still remember justifying over-spending at Old Navy because I could actually wear their size 16 jeans. I went on a study abroad to London my Junior year and between my room at the top of 6 flights of stairs, the walking, my preferring to spend money on things rather than food, and an upper respiratory infection that lasted for two weeks, I shrunk to a size 12. It was elating. I was giving away clothes to girls who were larger than I was. That had never happened to me before.
I had thought, being in my late 20s, that I would be through with all this heartache over size. I have been eating better, healthier. I occasionally go to the gym. I’m slowly moving toward my goal weight. But this weekend the angst of the past 15 years came to a head, I went to see my roommate in a fashion show. And paraded before me, in one of the largest disconnects of modern American society, was a stream of size 2-6 models wearing the latest in adolescent fashion. In one of the write-ups the shops had provided as a running commentary, it boasted that it carried sizes 0-18 and XS to XXL. Considering that the majority of Americans range in the L-XL categories, it is no wonder so many girls have eating disorders. This size is still the exception to the fashion rule. Fashion needs to catch up.
Shopping after the show wasn’t fun. Shopping is still a prickly experience for me. Most of the time I can do it without recalling the tears and the panic and the desperation of those adolescent afternoons spent in a Maurices dressing room. Saturday was different. In most stores I went into, I felt vaguely claustrophobic. Even chains I usually have no problem with, like GAP didn’t feel comfortable. And there are stores I just don’t venture into, mostly because they don’t fit my aesthetic, but also because I just don’t feel like I belong in them. And sadly, just walking into Buckle with Miss Parker, so she could find a pair of jeans that fit, made me want to burst into tears. I had to get out. I couldn’t spend time in a store that didn’t even carry my size. So I wandered around the Provo Towne Center until I could control it. My question is, does this ever end? Will there ever be a time when I’m completely comfortable in my own skin, when the pain of the past doesn’t overthrow the present? Will I ever not be discouraged by the fact I am not and never will be a size 6? Will I ever be able to stop holding myself to a false idea of perfection? And is the fact that I'm actually recognizing and confronting this issue a positive step?
18 July 2006
This summer has seemed irrationally long, even though it is only half over, and due to my brother's wedding in April and my aunt's wedding in August, my vacation time was used up. At least all the days I haven't earmarked for Christmas. So I thought this would be a long hot, uneventful summer. But then my parents, my brother and sister-in-law, and I decided that since my aunt's wedding is on a Friday, we were going to spend that Saturday at DisneyLand. I can't tell you how giddily excited I am about this. Now that the plane tickets are purchased and vacation days scheduled, it all seems real. I've never been to DisneyLand. I did go to Disney World when I was 3, but that was far too long ago. So here is to reveling in childhood and enjoying an impromptu family vacation!
05 July 2006
Minor Spoilers - Read At Your Own Risk!
I finally saw Superman Returns yesterday. It seemed a fitting way to spend an overly hot afternoon and wile away the hours before the real festivities started. I was still slightly conflicted, even after hearing mostly good reviews from critics and friends alike. I got off to a rocky start when, after hearing Marlon Brando as Jor-El, hearing the John Williams score, I did not see the oh-so-familiar names of Christopher Reeve and Margot Kidder whoosh past on the starry background and felt like crying. But I soon found it entertaining and thought-provoking. So here is what worked for me and what didn't, and of course, the thoughts it provoked.
First, accolades must be given to those in charge of the art and set direction. The Art Deco with a modern twist was a perfect fit. It paid homage to the 1930s origin of Superman while creating a seamless modern world that the audience could recognize. It was simultaneously familiar and other, making Metropolis and the world of Superman believable and complete.
I think being the person picked to wear the tights would be extremely daunting, especially in the wake of Christopher Reeve, but Brandon Routh did well. He made Clark Kent and Superman separate entities, but you could still see a bit of each in the other. So either the casting agent had an excellent eye or Mr. Routh has a great future ahead of him. Or both.
I have never cared for Kevin Spacey as an actor, having never seen most of the films people laud him for. However, he made an excellent Lex Luthor, balancing the megalomania with the almost tangible sense of insecurity that drives it. He made a plausible villain in both his climb to victory and his fall to defeat.
I have long enjoyed watching Parker Posey do what she does best -- kooky supporting characters. But I think she did an extraordinary job as Lex's hanger-on. Her change from obedient follower to instrument in defeat felt validated by each scene she was in. It wasn't just the sight of a handsome, suffering Superman, or the loss of someone important in the impending mass destruction. Rather, it was about recognizing the sheer evil of the whole plan. She made Kitty believable as someone who would follow Lex to the end of the earth, literally, but would still have the iota of courage to undermine him.
What Didn't Work
The Lois Lane with whom I am familiar is a ball of energy harnessed by a steely determination. The Lois Lane on the screen was not. Kate Bosworth did not portray the woman who risks life and limb for a story, but rather one that has a keen nose for news. There is a difference. There was no sense of immediacy in most, if not all, of her scenes. Lois Lane moves at 120 mph to everyone else's 60. Here, she maxed out at maybe 75 mph. For example, if one were sneaking a smoke, one would be more agitated than resigned. And this movie's Lois Lane seemed more resigned than agitated about pretty much everything.
Additionally, I had issues with the whole Lois Lane subplot. Why does she need a child? She could have been equally upset about the disappearance of Superman without the driving force of an on-hold fiance and a child. Again, she played this, or was directed to, with an air of resignation, which seems so completely un-Lois like.
Finally, the unavoidable Christ references. The Superman mythos has long been compared to the Christ story, but some of the images and textual references were so blatant, it took me out of the movie long enough to say "Are you kidding me?"
I really did enjoy this movie and would like to see it again. It tackled the iconic story well and probably restarted the franchise. I found its themes intriguing. The one that got me thinking the most was that of our modern twist on hero worship. Throughout the film, Perry White wants to know everything about Superman in order to sell papers. He doesn't care what it is good, bad, or fatal. If it sells, it is gold. In a world where weekly the heroes of past and present are dissected and trotted out for inspection, do we recognize the damage we do to them and to ourselves? If we can't believe in them, even for a moment, can we ever believe in ourselves? This theme is picked up and carried through to its end by Lex Luthor's visceral pleasure in watching his goons beat Superman to a bloody pulp. He seemed to enjoy it even more than when he was participating in the beating. Do we get pleasure from watching the great be torn down because it makes us feel greater, or because it absolves us of our guilt for not being so? If the great have weaknesses, weaknesses that destroy, does that validate our mediocrity? And if we can't uphold greatness, is it the end of innocence?
03 July 2006
I found The Mercy of Thin Air by Ronlyn Domingue on the bargain shelf at Barnes & Noble Friday night. I was drawn to the lovely simplicity of the cover art and intrigued by the blurb on the book jacket. And at $4.95, the price was perfect for my non-existent book budget. (My financial aspiration is to one day be well-off enough to buy whatever book strikes my fancy.) I was expecting a nice summer read.
What I discovered was a beautifully sculpted work that follows the after-life of a 20's Flapper following her tragic death in 1929 and her intersection with the modern world. Its themes of life, death, love, choice, and regret flow through the multiple strands of the story and seem at times like a philosophical text hidden in narrative. (I used that sentence to describe the book to Miss Parker, to which she replied "Pretentious much?") The book isn't without its flaws and the narrator isn't always likable, but it did keep me reading well into the wee hours of the morning on several occasions, including last night despite the fact I had to be to work at 7:30 am.
I think it is a great pick for those of you who like substance in your summer reading. Especially since you can pick it up for $5.
28 June 2006
Part of the reason is that I'm shy and a born observer. I don't say things unless I think it is important. But I remember enjoying social activities and looking forward to them in a way I can't these days. Cocktail party sort of situations are my own personal version of hell, because I feel I have nothing to say. I don't really know how I went from being the preschooler who told a man at my mother's salon that his smoking of cigars would turn his lungs black and he would die or told the woman at our apartment's pool that she shouldn't wear bikinis because God wanted her to be modest. As I was thinking about how different that child is from the adult who doesn't think she has anything of interest to say to anyone a long-forgotten memory popped up.
In 9th grade my biology teacher arranged a field trip to a local university to see its science department. The trip included a visit to the planetarium right before lunch. Because our teacher treated us like 5 year-olds she arranged us into boy/girl pairs we had to eat with, and because of a coincidental packing of lunches rather than buying lunch at the campus cafeteria, my friend and I were assigned to eat with two of the most popular boys in the class. We were tangentially friends, so it wasn't as socially awkward as it might have been. However, we were talking about the planetarium and constellations when I mentioned that as a little girl, I knew my birthday was coming when Orion arrived on the horizon. One of the boys, I don't remember whom, surely thinking himself clever, flippantly asked why I didn't just look at a calendar. I think I gave a half-hearted smile while the boys laughed, but I do remember completely shutting down for the rest of the meal.
With that memory all the mortification of Jr. High rejection and the sinking feeling of smiling when you want to cry came flooding back. I don't blame those boys. It was Jr. High everyone had their own issues and insecurities to deal with and this isn't the defining moment of my life. I had lots of intervening years in which I participated and enjoyed social activities. Additionally, I alone decide how to live my life. My decision now has to be whether I'll let something that happened 12 years ago dictate who I am today.
13 June 2006
Everytime I see a promo or a magazine cover or hear an ad for Superman Returns, I get a little melancholy. I just feel so conflicted about this new movie. It seems so wrong that the franchise should be resurrected when Christopher Reeve is no longer with us. It seems rather galling that there should be a new incarnation of the Man of Steel.
Maybe I'm upset because, having been born the year the first movie was release, Christopher Reeve is the only Superman I know. I was never a comic book reader, so my frame of Superman reference is basically the four movies. And regardless what one thinks of their individual quality, they represent my understanding of Superman mythology.
Oddly, I never had an issue with the television program Smallville, possibly because it dealt with something outside the realm of the movies or because when I watched it, I was more disturbed by my growing attraction to the anti-hero, Lex Luthor. Also, I found it comforting when Christopher Reeve guest-starred in a couple of episodes. It didn't seem so much as the passing of the torch, but rather the acknowledgement of a partnership.
The discomfort I have felt since I heard about the new movie only increased when I caught the cast presenting an award on the MTV Movie Awards and then commenting on a documentary about Superman on A&E. Brandon Routh - the new Superman - not only, despite brown eyes, reminds one of Christopher Reeve, but his voice sounds similar as well. It was a little creepy to hear a voice naturally echoing the timbre and cadence of a childhood hero.
I still haven't decided if I'm actually going to see the movie when it hits theaters. On the one hand it seems overly eerie, on the other like I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. It is, after all, only a movie and Superman is only a comic book character.
The irony of all this emotional turmoil is that Superman has never been my favorite superhero. I always preferred Batman, the self-made Caped Crusader dwelling in shades of gray, to the black & white certainty of the Man of Steel.
12 June 2006
I suprised my roommate Parker with my dedication to the event. I think my watching the England/Paraguay game on a Spanish-language station may have worried her. But I loved every minute of it. And so we come to today. The US choked. Hopefully they can get it together for their next match against Italy. They are better than they played today and I hope they show it in the upcoming days. But I have to confess, if it came down to a US/England match I would be hard-pressed to choose a side.
09 June 2006
05 June 2006
- I am beginning to really, really hate Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Not because of them personally, but because I cannot stand one more morning waking up to some DJ telling me some inane detail from a "source close to" them about their life. I so do not understand the obsession people have with the private doings of individuals with whom they are so wholly unconnected. Corollary: I am also fed up with Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes, Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn, and the unholy cultural phenomenon of stupid mashed nicknames assigned to all of the above.
- I'm sorry, but if the several protests about immigration could be held at Library Square without disrupting traffic and closing roads for an entire Sunday, the gay pride people can do it too. And don't flip me off Man in the Crosswalk when I have to make a turn before you get all the way to the other side of the street because the light is yellow, there are 47 cars behind me and there was no advance warning about the closed roads.
- It should not be 97 degrees on the first Tuesday in June. 87 I could handle. But if it is reaching almost 100 in the first of June, one long, hot, miserable summer of smelling of sunscreen and hat hair is before me. Not. A. Fan.
- Shut up, Fox News. Specifically, but not limited to, John Gibson and Bill O'Reilly.
- Is it fangirly of me that I really want to buy Anderson Cooper's book Dispatches from the Edge despite having no money with which to do so?
- How sad is it that in my late 20's I'm fighting a losing battle against a sophomoric crush on a guy from church? Especially one who doesn't know my name and is at most only 2 inches taller than I, therefore incompatible with every pair of shoes in my closet, except the flip flops.
- Jane Austen novels are like crack. They get you all high on 'romance' and 'love' etc. and then you crash, hard, into reality, ie: see above.
Any thoughts? Or do I just need to stop wasting time and get back to the ugly, ugly world of past due invoices?
30 May 2006
So, Walking Fine Art tagged me and I decided, for once in my life, to participate. So here are 49 things you may or may not know about me:
7 Things I Want to Do Before I Die
1. Travel the world
2. Build my dream house
3. Write a novel and have it published
4. Live in a foreign country
5. Get out of debt – and stay out
6. Be able to write with my left hand as well as I do with my right.
7. Get LASIK surgery
7 Things I Cannot Do
1. Eat anything that came from a cow
2. Handle spiders
3. Visit a Holocaust museum
4. Play an instrument
5. Wear orange
6. Give up dark chocolate
7. Tell my right from my left
7 Things That Attracted Me to George Clooney*
*I know it is supposed to be ‘My Spouse’ but I’m single and George is practically perfect in my book.
1. Um, have you seen him?
2. The mischeivious twinkle in his eyes that never disappears.
3. He spearheaded the Sept. 11th charity telethon and was also active with those put on for the 2005 Tsunami and Hurricane Katrina victims.
4. He refused to let Bill O’Reilly bully him and forced O’Reilly to put his money and his fame where his mouth was.
5. Really, check out Ocean’s 11. Yum.
6. He puts his money where his mouth is and finances/produces/directs etc. projects he believes in.
7. He and his father recently toured the Sudan on a fact-finding trip without Hollywood trappings in order to educate people on the horrors happening there of which America seems largely unaware.
7 Things I Often Say
1. S_______ S______, this is Scully. (Telephone greeting at work, I say it so often, I occasionally slip and say it when I’m at home)
2. That’s just crazy talk. (Usually said in my head in response to someone’s idea/request/demand at work. When I’m in a good mood. What I say when I’m in a bad mood would totally lower your opinion of me)
3. I need a nap.
4. Where’s my Secret Trust Fund!?! (One long-held fantasy, second only to George Clooney, involves some heretofore unknown relative leaving me a magnificently large inheritance)
5. Idiot! (Usually shouted at one of the many wretched drivers on the freeway, any time I see anyone on Fox News, and any time I hear someone from the Bush Administration speak about the war, the environment, the economy, national security, the global community, themselves, etc.)
6. No cheese.
7. What? (Because I have drifted off into FantasyLand and missed whatever just happened)
7 Books I Love
1. A Room With A View by E.M. Forster
2. Persuasion by Jane Austen (Well, pretty much anything by JA, but this is my fave)
3. Possession: A Romance by A.S. Byatt
4. About A Boy by Nick Hornby
5. Our Mutual Friend by Charles Dickens
6. Catcher In The Rye by J.D. Salinger
7. The Thursday Next Series by Jasper Fforde
7 Movies I Could Watch Over and Over
2. Rat Race
3. What’s Up Doc
4. Pride & Prejudice (with the caveat that I fast forward through any scene involving Mrs. Bennett.)
5. The Sting (Yummy Paul Newman, plus I always forget who knows what so it is always an adventure)
6. To Catch A Thief
7. Singin’ In The Rain
7 People I Would Like to Hear From
2. Miss Parker
6. Panini (I know you have left the blogging world for a bit, but I’d still like to hear your answers)
7. My Mom (who doesn’t technically have a blog, but I’d still like to see her answers)
18 May 2006
Jensen Ackles, Naveen Andrews, Christian Bale, Orlando Bloom, Adrien Brody, Gerard Butler, Tom Cavanaugh, Kyle Chandler, George Clooney, Stephen Colbert, Sean Connery, Anderson Cooper, Bradley Cooper, John Cusack, Johnny Depp, David Duchovny, Jakob Dylan, Rupert Everett, Colin Firth, Cary Grant, Hugh Grant, Josh Holloway, Hugh Jackman, Gene Kelly, Will Kemp, John Krasinski, Ashton Kutcher, Hugh Laurie, Nicholas Lea, Dylan McDermott, Ewan McGregor, Viggo Mortensen, Dermot Mulroney, Paul Newman, Jeremy Northam, Edward Norton, Matthew Perry, Brad Pitt, Johnny Reznick, Michael Rosenbaum, Robert Smith, John Stamos, Jon Stewart, Rob Thomas, Michael Vartan, Goran Visnjic, Michael Weatherly, Michael T. Weiss, Tom Welling, Luke Wilson
17 May 2006
Yesterday I found out that a friend from high school died last weekend. I don't even know if friend is the right word, as we traveled in different circles that occasionally overlapped. Maybe 'friendly' would be a better term. Additionally, I hadn't had contact with this person since graduation nine years ago, so I didn't think that it would have too great of an impact on my life. It is sad and I feel for his family, but it didn't alter my plans or cause any deep brooding. Until today.
At about eleven o'clock this morning, my Yahoo LAUNCHcast started playing a UB40 song and the fact of my friend's death hit me hard. I flashed back to a junior high field trip. My friend had brought a Discman or something similar and some speakers to attach it to and we listened to UB40's cover of Fools Rush In while we joked and laughed and whiled away the long hours until we reached home. I believe this was also the trip in which he and a friend had purchased a rubber chicken and then accidentally lit it on fire. The best part was the chaperones having no idea what had happened despite the rising level of panic and rancid burning smell coming from our section of the bus. While these memories rushed through my mind, I fought back tears, not so much because I had lost someone in my life, because he hadn't been a part of my life in almost a decade. But rather because of the loss of possibility. I will never be able to reconnect with my friend. He will be absent at our ten-year high school reunion next year. There will be no reminiscing about starting rubber chickens on fire or any of the other crazy things that adolescents do to avoid boredom. There will be no excitement at discovering what the intervening years have held for us. Time had run out. I had been betting against time and it won. Like it always does.
20 April 2006
14 April 2006
03 April 2006
Saturday, I got very excited when I remembered that Daylight Savings Time was here again. I like having the sun out for a few hours after work, encouraging the feeling that you actually have time to do things. It also means spring is definitely here to stay. What I forgot about was the way the change in morning sunlight plays with your internal clock. Perhaps this is because until I started working full-time, I was never up before the sun, regardless of season. And Sunday I slept in, so the sun was up before I was and I focused on the joy of basking in the sun until almost 8 pm. So this morning when my alarm went off at 6:45, I hit snooze, because it had to be a mistake; it wasn’t light enough in my room. Several snooze buttons later, I actually looked at the clock and realized it was past time to get up and get moving or I would be late. I tried to tell myself I wasn’t tired, because it was the same time I usually get up. I had almost convinced my inner clock that it was wrong, when I turned on my car. And there, contradicting all my convincing, the clock blinked a bright 6:45 am. I couldn’t lie to myself any longer. I was up an hour earlier than usual and I hated it! If only the American work day included naptime.
15 March 2006
01 March 2006
27 February 2006
23 February 2006
Gregory House, MD (Actor: Hugh Laurie)
Sayid Jarrah (Actor: Naveen Andrews)
John Krasinski as Jim Halpert on The Office
Dean Winchester (Actor: Jensen Ackles)
21 February 2006
Some months ago, over Christmas, my family and I went to see a movie. I was sitting next to my brother Mime and on his other side was his fiancé, FutureMrs. Mime and my mother. The previews started and the second or third preview was for the X-Men III movie. In unison my mother, FutureMrs. Mime, and I, with voices full of the reverent awe usually reserved for religious observances, exclaimed “Its Hugh Jackman.” I believe a few other ladies, not in our party, might have done the same thing. More recently, I’ve been party to a lot of chatter, both in conversation and on the Internet, about Fantasy Boyfriends. While I’m sure this phenomena isn’t restricted to the female sex, it isn’t the sort of conversation I have with males. So, at the risk of sounding like Sex and the City, what makes having a Fantasy Boyfriend (or five) so great?
Obviously fantasy is part of the draw. Fantasy is perfect. In FantasyLand you can be the perfect version of you, complete with the perfect wardrobe and perfect hair and the Boyfriend is perfect as well. There are no flaws, just the virtues and vices (what, I like the bad boys) that attracted us to them in the first place. It also helps that Fantasy Boyfriends are usually found on movie or TV screens and represent what society deems to be perfection already. They are attractive in a way very few people are in real life. I’ve really only seen one exception to that rule, and that is Miss Parker’s friend thePretty who could be Tom Welling’s (Smallville, Cheaper by the Dozen) twin. But even perfection gets tiresome after a while.
Perhaps another draw is the escape. Life is, for the most part, long stretches of the mundane punctuated by insanity. Who doesn’t need to escape from this world into another once in a while? And how often does one get to use their imaginations once they are adults? Especially when one is stuck in a cubicle 8 hours a day with only the radio to keep them company.
Finally, fantasy is fun. So, in honor of that fun, Ladies and Gentlemen, feel free to share your Fantasy Boyfriends and Girlfriends. I’ll start. Here are Scully’s top five (what, I have commitment issues) Fantasy Boyfriends of February 2006:
5. Gregory House, MD – Yeah, I know he is rude, anti-social, and addicted to Vicodin, but there is just something about the way that actor portrays him that makes me love him. I’m drawn to the Slightly Unhinged.
3. Sayid Jarrah – So he used to be employed by the Iraqi Republican Guard as an ‘interrogator’ and he has used those skills on the island several times. Sure he seems to be starting a Bad Boys Club with Sawyer and Charlie, but I would feel safe if I were stuck on a Lost island with him. Plus, his accent is fabulous.
2. Jim Halpert/John Krasinski – Lest you think I’m including more than five, this entry is for a character from The Office (US) and the actor who plays him. The character Jim Halpert is a nice guy with a great sense of humor, pining for the engaged receptionist. John Krasinski is an up-and-coming actor who seems, from a recent appearance on Leno, just as nice with just as good a sense of humor as his onscreen alter ego.
1. Dean Winchester – One of the lead characters on my favorite guilty pleasure Supernatural, this boy is like a M&M, all hard and brittle on the outside, soft and gooey on the inside. Also, he is extremely attractive.
So now that you have had a peek inside my head, let me peek into yours! Share your Fantasy Boyfriends/Girlfriends or at least tell me what you think about mine.
15 February 2006
September 22 - October 22
You will notice that your emotions are coming to a monthly climax today, dear Libra. Don't be alarmed, but do be cautious about lashing out at people for no reason whatsoever. You may feel on edge, and unintended slights from others could push you over the top in a fury of emotion. Harsh words spoken today can damage other people's feelings for a long time. Remain silent if you feel triggered.
For the past few weeks, a deep and abiding rage has been building. Most of it revolving around my feeling that my life has stagnated. As any regular readers know, I hate my job. Now, many of you will think “Well, DO something about it Scully!” which I agree with, but it is really hard to walk away from a job that pays almost double what most Utahns make per hour, plus great benefits, and a great 401k matching plan. Especially when I contemplate my car payments, my recently increased rent, my recently doubled car insurance payments (yeah, don’t ask) and the $6 I have left in my bank account until Friday. All in all, not the best environment for turning in my two weeks’ notice.
This means that all that rage bubbles up when my co-workers page me for the fiftieth time that day to ask a question for which I don’t have the answer. Or when my boss arrives before me and neglects to do things like pick-up the morning paper he requested be delivered or switch the lock so that the door actually closes, or check the fax machine, or switch the phones over from our night-time answering service. Or coming up with increasingly difficult progressive billings for various clients that I’m in charge of keeping track of and submitting.
On top of all this, I’ve had to give up dairy. First it was just milk and yougurt that made me sick, but now every sort of dairy product, even the littlest bit of cheese, makes me ill. And sadly, the one and only thing I have ever liked about Valentine’s Day, frosted sugar cookies, have just enough dairy to make them verboten. I think Karma hates me.
10 February 2006
Low and behold, I was only one short half hour away from The Office, my new television obsession. I liked the British version, but haven’t been able to religiously watch the American version due to changing time slots that are invariably up against some other obsession. But now it is on Thursdays. It was a Valentine’s Day episode and it was hilarious. My two favorite moments involved the temp tearing out his hair because he had inadvertantly 'hooked up' with a co-worker on February 13th and didn't know how to handle the V-Day situation and the ‘financial presentation’ given by the branch manager to the CFO at corporate that involved a montage of all the branch employees set in slow motion to U2’s With or Without You. I couldn’t stop giggling.
Then I found my way to Comedy Central, which isn’t a channel I usually frequent, except for The Daily Show and The Colbert Report. Where else can you find laughs in such things as the Cartoon Riots, the illegal wire-tap hearings, Bush’s budgetary machinations, and the war in Iraq? The most giggle-inducing moment came when The Colbert Report aired a clip of Attorney General Alberto Gonzales saying (and I paraphrase, of course): “Senator, I believe in my opening remarks I discussed President Washington, President Lincoln, President Wilson, and President Roosevelt’s electronic surveillance programs under their administrations.” I have never laughed so hard at the sheer inanity of our government.
So what was shaping up to be a night spent whining that it wasn’t Friday, turned out to be a night of hilarity. Perhaps I was primed, through sheer exhaustion, to find everything funny. But that hour and a half of television strangely made it all bearable.
07 February 2006
The sun is up and shining when I drive to and from work.
The fact that I can adjust my work hours and leave 20 minutes early so I can get home and on the gym treadmill before the other two girls in my complex who like to work out at 5 pm.
The Television Without Pity forum for The Office in which everyone posts quotes from the show that make me laugh so hard I have to do the barely convincing ‘cough’ to cover up the fact that I’m not doing actual work.
The McVitties Chocolate Caramel Digestives I bought at the London Market on Saturday. I got addicted to them when I lived in London six years ago and I’m ecstatic to have found a new supplier.
All the new jazz CDs I have had an excuse to buy since I told my brother I would do the music for his wedding reception and open house.
My CD-playing alarm clock, the CD-playing part having died some weeks ago, miraculously springing back to life so that I could wake up to Stacey Kent’s Let Yourself Go rather than obnoxiously chipper DJs.
01 February 2006
Last night I had an appointment to get my car serviced and I decided I should keep my momentum going and headed to the gym. I got back just in time to shower before my favorite guilty pleasure, Supernatural, came on. I attempted to watch the State of the Union address, but the President’s overly-smug attempts at humor and his shifty little eyes made me realize I was making a face similar to Senator Clinton’s and that really isn’t a good thing. So I watched Supernatural with a towel wrapped around my head like a turban, wearing my flannel pajama pants and an old t-shirt. Halfway through the show, there was a knock on the door.
Not thinking, I went, in all my post-shower glory, to answer the door. Well, it was my new home teacher who seemed very uncomfortable for reasons I didn’t grasp at that moment. He stuttered something about catching me at a bad time and made his escape after I told him Sunday afternoons were really the best times to catch my roommate and I. After I shut the door and went back to the television, I realized why he was uncomfortable. I had a good laugh at the vision I must have been with the towel-turban headdress, the cumulus cloud pajama pants and bare feet. I do wonder if he will ever have the courage to approach me again. Which is sad, because he seemed like a nice guy.
30 January 2006
I have been thinking a lot about the judgments people make regarding others. The impetus for this meditation is three-fold. I have been reading a book I received as a Christmas gift titled Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books by Azar Nafisi, I recently saw Walk the Line, the Johnny Cash biopic, and I also recently had a conversation about the unceasing tabloid coverage surrounding Jennifer Aniston, Brad Pitt, and Angelina Jolie. All of which made me think about the judgments we make everyday about others.
Reading Lolita in Tehran was written by a liberal Iranian English literature professor about her life under the Ayatollah and his successors in post-revolutionary Iran. It is marginally about a secret, underground book club she started with a select group of female students after she was removed from her teaching position for being too radical. What it is really about is finding sanity in a world turned upside down, in a world where you are marginalized and judged because of your second X chromosome. A world where edicts by the ruling elite are final and disagreement is treason.
Walk the Line is a Johnny Cash biopic, but it is also about his wife June Carter Cash. The scene that struck me involves June Carter, recovering from a bitter divorce from her first husband, shopping in a small Mom & Pop store on a tour stop in the early 1960’s. Carter came from a well known Christian family, famous for its singing and performing. A woman who is also shopping recognizes Carter and tells her how much she admires Carter’s parents. Carter says she will tell her parents. The woman then says she is surprised that the elder Carters, being “good Christians,” still communicate with their daughter after her divorce. The woman continues berating Carter by saying marriage is ordained of God and permanent. She then walks away, leaving Carter extremely discomfited and on the verge of tears.
Finally, during a party this weekend, the topic of the tabloid fodder that is the Aniston-Pitt-Jolie triangle came up. People had different opinions and I played devil’s advocate, but really, I have never met any of the parties and I know nothing about what went on and neither did anyone else in that conversation. In fact, I have tried to avoid knowing anything, but merely standing in line at the grocery store means at least one 72 pt. font headline forces its way into one’s conscious. Which means everyone has an opinion about who wronged whom and who is at fault and who should be ostracized from society and who should receive our sympathy. Only three people know the truth and frenzied speculation will not uncover it.
What reflecting on these experiences produced was the idea that we can never know what is going on inside someone’s head. Ever. Even if we try to communicate, we are still flummoxed by different interpretations of the meaning of words. To observe and to converse gives us only an inkling as to what goes on inside the head of others. To believe that we can pass judgment on another because of something we see or read is hubris beyond belief. I am not suggesting we shouldn’t discern between right and wrong, or that we can’t protect ourselves from harmful individuals. But there is a difference between choosing and condemning. And we haven’t the right to condemn.
27 January 2006
5. Vampire Nightmares. I have been plagued by vampire nightmares since the beginning of junior high. I can remember most, if not all, in great detail even though I have never written them down. They are burned in my memory. And they are always extremely vivid dreams in both detail and color. I am always being pursued, most often while trying to defend myself and whomever I am with in the dream. Usually I lose a compatriate or two to the other side. And if, by chance, the point comes where I have lost and am about to become the victim, the dream stops and starts over at the beginning. It repeats until I figure out how to beat and destroy the vampires. It adds up to quite a few sleepless nights over the years.
4. Jealousy. I am an extremely jealous person. I'm jealous regarding friendships, relationships, the use of my time, my money, and my things. If I offer, then I'm fine, but when people use or abuse or expect something from me I consider outside their right, I can be extremely upset. I try very hard not to act on my feelings, but I have them nonetheless.
3. Fear. A lot of my behaviors are driven by fear. I fear the unknown, which means that basically everyday I have to make myself get out of bed when I would much rather stay in it. The smaller my world, the happier I would be. I read an article in the New York Times a few years ago about a growing trend among Japanese men in their 20s and 30s. They were becoming 21st century hermits, often living with their parents, sticking to their bedrooms, not even interacting with even parents or family, and having food left outside their rooms at meal times. Often they would only emerge from their inner sanctums in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep to wander the streets. Their only connections to the outside world was television and the internet. The article scared me into thinking a little more about branching out and facing some fears. Not too many, but some.
2. Relationships. I have always thought relationships with the opposite sex were too fraught with drama and complication to be bothered with. In high school I had crushes, but usually with the unavailable or the prohibited. I liked the idea of someone better than the actual someone. I'm still that way, in that my life has enough ups and downs and enough complications that I think adding someone else, an unknown factor, just seems like a straw that would break this camel's back. In all my mental excursions to FantasyLand, regardless of what TV boyfriends populate them, I usually end the adventure alone.
1. The Real Me. I am extremely introspective and I think best in metaphor, which I conjur to apply to experiences and people. The metaphor I apply to myself is one of a multi-walled enclosure. There are many walls, each with a locked gate. My family, friends, and acquaintances all have keys that open gates, but only so many. The people very closest to me have keys that open the most, but everyone has a stopping point, a level at which they can no longer pass. And I'm not really sure who gets in the most center gate. That just might stay locked forever.
Miss Parker, you're it.