A rare and rather pleasurable thing happened to me this afternoon- the theatre called me at home and actually told me I didn't have to come in for work. I suppose I should explain further. Normally, I wouldn't be scheduled in the projection booth on Saturday night because that's when the union projectionist comes in. However, he took a vacation this week sort of at the last minute, so I was somewhat easily persuaded to take over his shift this evening (I had no plans, so why not?). But at 3:30 this afternoon I got a call from my manager, informing me that the union guy had gotten one of his fellow union projectionists to take over the shift, and so I could have the night off. So hey, cool.
But that's merely a lead-in to what's on my mind right now. When I mentioned the turn of fortune to my dad, he suggested I go out and do something tonight. Perhaps, he mused, I should call a woman I went out with once a few months ago, last time I came home. Now, I didn't have a bad time with her or anything. We sat and talked for a few hours, I liked her and I hope she didn't find me objectionable. However, aside from this one date, we've kept in contact exclusively via e-Mail for the past couple of months, and have never spoken over the telephone. So I semi-demurred, stating that I have several Netflix and NicheFlix DVDs sitting in my room that won't watch themselves (for the curious: Chushingura, Cool Hand Luke, Come Drink With Me, and Turning Gate).
But what troubles me is that maybe I've fallen into a pattern that finds almost no room for interpersonal contact. As a more cinephilic Max Fischer might say, "perhaps I should be spending less time working and watching nerdy movies and more time trying to score chicks." Is my love for cinema legitimate, or is it emblematic of a retreat I've made from the outside world? To put it more bluntly, am I afraid of the biggest unknown of all, other people?
As I said before, I had a good time on my semi-date a few months back. So it's not like I find the idea of talking to this woman unpleasant. And she gave me her telephone number in case I had to contact her last time, so obviously she's not horrified about the idea of my telephoning her either. But part of me just isn't comfortable calling her out of the blue like this. Since we've never spoken on the telephone, I don't want to commit some social breach with her by calling her when she doesn't know I'm going to, but is this a case of me being polite, or is it fear masquerading as decorum?
A final thought: what does it mean when your own parents are encouraging you to get a social life?
Saturday, August 06, 2005
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Under One Roof
I've been getting a distinct ROYAL TENENBAUMS vibe since last night, when my younger brother moved back into the basement temporarily. I guess he had some issues with his apartment and his job and his roommate and his car, so now he's crashing here for a few weeks while he hunts for a new job and a new place to live. I don't have a problem with him moving home per se- lord knows I'm in no position to- but I don't look forward to his time here either.
A lot of this has to do with his relationship with my mother, which is, to put it mildly, strained. More to the point, they've been antagonistic toward each other for years. While she's never been the smothering type or a disciplinarian, she's very strong of will and free to offer strong suggestions. I'm cool with that, but my brother is not, and he is incapable of just saying "yeah, uh-huh" and letting it go. Another problem is that my brother is actively lazy, to the point one can be without actually putting any effort into it. Leave him to his own devices, and he'll sleep fourteen hours every night and leave a stack of filthy dishes on the floor of his bedroom (I'm not hypothesizing here). So whenever he moves home, my mother feels the need to impose strict rules on him- she and my dad are in charge, after all- and since he clearly wants to feel grown-up and independent despite not having a job, an apartment, etc., he protests loudly. What really gets my goat is that his ideas of grown-up life are so unformed, yet he so resolutely refuses to change them to accomodate the outside world. He's like a six-year-old who looks forward to being an adult so that he can drive, watch dirty movies, and move out of the house, but can't quite grasp the responsibility that comes with this increased freedom. My experience living away from home was hardly a rousing success, but at least I got my bills paid on time.
My personal relationship with my brother hasn't always been rosy either. We're civil now, but it hasn't always been so. Back when we were both still living at home before I went to college, he seemed to equate me with mom because I wasn't exactly receptive to his shenanigans, and this was compounded by the fact that he was a few years behind me in school. Because of this, he had several teachers who had previously taught me, and they would sometimes approach him as my little brother, with the expectations that came with that. I was a good student once upon a time, and maybe there was some pressure on his part to live up to the expectations I set (a friend once dubbed him "LIPS"- meaning "lives in Paul's shadow"). But I wasn't off the hook either. Maybe because he has never been the kind of guy to do his own legwork, he participated in many of the same activities (Boy Scouts, marching band, choir, and so on) as I did, which became quite the annoyance for me, since he wasn't very good at most of them and was hanging around largely because I was there. If he was any other kid, he might have taken the hint that the activity wasn't for him, but because I was there, I suppose he figured that since I could do it so could he, and so he tried to coast on the goodwill I had built over the years.
My brother has always been mouthy, but ever since he served in the Navy he's gotten pretty unbearable. He seems to lack the capacity for empathy, and whenever he meets someone with whom he could establish some common ground, he instead adopts an antagonistic stance. For example, at a wedding we both attended in January, he met a girl who had served in the Army, but instead of commiserating about their service experiences he gave her crap about how the Army supposedly sucks compared to the Navy. Yeah, real cool. He's one of the most self-centered people I've ever met, to be honest, and it's this selfish outlook on life that causes him to learn precisely the wrong lessons from his bad experiences. Mom disciplines him not because he needs to shape up, but because she's a bitch (his word). The Navy cracked down on him not because he was averse to discipline but because they're a bunch of assholes. And so on.
So there it is, my brother. I know that he's not as entertaining a topic as Barry Manilow-themed license plates or Cameron Diaz's scrawny tush, but life isn't all sunshine and roses. I don't mean to sounds like I hate the guy, but maybe if I vent now I'll get it out of my system so I can just ignore him for these next few weeks.
A lot of this has to do with his relationship with my mother, which is, to put it mildly, strained. More to the point, they've been antagonistic toward each other for years. While she's never been the smothering type or a disciplinarian, she's very strong of will and free to offer strong suggestions. I'm cool with that, but my brother is not, and he is incapable of just saying "yeah, uh-huh" and letting it go. Another problem is that my brother is actively lazy, to the point one can be without actually putting any effort into it. Leave him to his own devices, and he'll sleep fourteen hours every night and leave a stack of filthy dishes on the floor of his bedroom (I'm not hypothesizing here). So whenever he moves home, my mother feels the need to impose strict rules on him- she and my dad are in charge, after all- and since he clearly wants to feel grown-up and independent despite not having a job, an apartment, etc., he protests loudly. What really gets my goat is that his ideas of grown-up life are so unformed, yet he so resolutely refuses to change them to accomodate the outside world. He's like a six-year-old who looks forward to being an adult so that he can drive, watch dirty movies, and move out of the house, but can't quite grasp the responsibility that comes with this increased freedom. My experience living away from home was hardly a rousing success, but at least I got my bills paid on time.
My personal relationship with my brother hasn't always been rosy either. We're civil now, but it hasn't always been so. Back when we were both still living at home before I went to college, he seemed to equate me with mom because I wasn't exactly receptive to his shenanigans, and this was compounded by the fact that he was a few years behind me in school. Because of this, he had several teachers who had previously taught me, and they would sometimes approach him as my little brother, with the expectations that came with that. I was a good student once upon a time, and maybe there was some pressure on his part to live up to the expectations I set (a friend once dubbed him "LIPS"- meaning "lives in Paul's shadow"). But I wasn't off the hook either. Maybe because he has never been the kind of guy to do his own legwork, he participated in many of the same activities (Boy Scouts, marching band, choir, and so on) as I did, which became quite the annoyance for me, since he wasn't very good at most of them and was hanging around largely because I was there. If he was any other kid, he might have taken the hint that the activity wasn't for him, but because I was there, I suppose he figured that since I could do it so could he, and so he tried to coast on the goodwill I had built over the years.
My brother has always been mouthy, but ever since he served in the Navy he's gotten pretty unbearable. He seems to lack the capacity for empathy, and whenever he meets someone with whom he could establish some common ground, he instead adopts an antagonistic stance. For example, at a wedding we both attended in January, he met a girl who had served in the Army, but instead of commiserating about their service experiences he gave her crap about how the Army supposedly sucks compared to the Navy. Yeah, real cool. He's one of the most self-centered people I've ever met, to be honest, and it's this selfish outlook on life that causes him to learn precisely the wrong lessons from his bad experiences. Mom disciplines him not because he needs to shape up, but because she's a bitch (his word). The Navy cracked down on him not because he was averse to discipline but because they're a bunch of assholes. And so on.
So there it is, my brother. I know that he's not as entertaining a topic as Barry Manilow-themed license plates or Cameron Diaz's scrawny tush, but life isn't all sunshine and roses. I don't mean to sounds like I hate the guy, but maybe if I vent now I'll get it out of my system so I can just ignore him for these next few weeks.
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
Funniest. License. Plate. Ever.
So I didn't work today, and when I went to the grocery store (alone, so don't expect a shopping rant) I saw a minivan with a license plate reading "FANILOW." Honest, I did. Now, I've listened to some sappy stuff in my time, but seriously, what kind of person actually proclaims himself a Manilow fan on his/her license plate, so that every snarky-ass person can chuckle to himself and maybe even write an otherwise pointless blog entry about it?
Heh heh. FANILOW.
Heh heh. FANILOW.
Summer in the country
- Sweet jeebus it's hot outside. On top of that there are gnats everywhere. Honestly I can take these things outside, where I expect them to be, but when they're flying around inside the house it gets pretty annoying. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad except that they dive into my drink and die there, making it all a bit too morbid to drink. And yes, I know that insects crawl into everyone's mouth while they sleep, but at least I'm not awake when that happens. Plus if I partake of any more flying critters during my waking hours I might exceed my recommended daily allowance thereof. And I'm only willing to exceed RDA when it comes to fatty stuff that tastes good (see previous post).
- Seems like some local kids were out riding dirt bikes on the nearby farm for nearly the entire evening. Kind of annoying, but what can ya do. I can't help but think of the (earmuffs Jason) crappy second CHARLIE'S ANGELS movie and that lame dirt bike race. And come to think of it, I find Cameron Diaz pretty ugly and highly grating. Especially when she doesn't get strong direction, she gives off the vibe of a girl who would do something highly off-putting and even offensive and then put on an "ain't I a stinker" grin to try to get away with it. Yeah, I hate girls like that. I also hate when she tries to shake her scrawny ass. It's like watching a skeleton wiggle into disco pants, only not remotely as funny. Methinks she learned the WRONG lessons from THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY- people like her in that because the character is sweet and grounded, not because she hams it up.
- Finished Cain's SERENADE tonight, despite the dirt bikes. Awesome, of course, with less crime plot in it than I was expecting. The Sharp/Juana relationship has real complexity to it, and becomes more emotionally involving as the book progresses. The gay-panic stuff in the book was a little dated, but no more so than anything similar from that period, and Cain doesn't make it overbearing. I'm curious to see the allegedly awful Mario Lanza movie version, which jettisons a great deal of the story, and even turns the flamboyant patron into Joan Fontaine.
- Yeah, I know I haven't written about movies lately. Maybe tomorrow, or if not tomorrow then Thursday.
- Seems like some local kids were out riding dirt bikes on the nearby farm for nearly the entire evening. Kind of annoying, but what can ya do. I can't help but think of the (earmuffs Jason) crappy second CHARLIE'S ANGELS movie and that lame dirt bike race. And come to think of it, I find Cameron Diaz pretty ugly and highly grating. Especially when she doesn't get strong direction, she gives off the vibe of a girl who would do something highly off-putting and even offensive and then put on an "ain't I a stinker" grin to try to get away with it. Yeah, I hate girls like that. I also hate when she tries to shake her scrawny ass. It's like watching a skeleton wiggle into disco pants, only not remotely as funny. Methinks she learned the WRONG lessons from THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MARY- people like her in that because the character is sweet and grounded, not because she hams it up.
- Finished Cain's SERENADE tonight, despite the dirt bikes. Awesome, of course, with less crime plot in it than I was expecting. The Sharp/Juana relationship has real complexity to it, and becomes more emotionally involving as the book progresses. The gay-panic stuff in the book was a little dated, but no more so than anything similar from that period, and Cain doesn't make it overbearing. I'm curious to see the allegedly awful Mario Lanza movie version, which jettisons a great deal of the story, and even turns the flamboyant patron into Joan Fontaine.
- Yeah, I know I haven't written about movies lately. Maybe tomorrow, or if not tomorrow then Thursday.
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Food grab bag
One thing I love about Akron-area food is the sheer number of pizza joints that also serve chicken. I'm not talking about wings, I mean real honest-to-goodness fried chicken. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that I grew up here, but I've always found pizza and chicken to be a natural combination. Order a large pie and an 8-piece box of chicken and you've got an instant picnic on a mild Northeast Ohio evening. Not that I'm well-traveled or anything, but I haven't seen the pizza-and-chicken combo anywhere else (have any of you?). Another wonder that can often be found at these restaurants is what is known as the jojo. Whereas chicken shacks far and wide serve potato wedges, jojos are a different breed entirely. These are some big shanks of potato, deep-fried and agreeably seasoned, often served as a side order with fried chicken. When I was younger, I used to dip mine in macaroni salad, but as you all know I'm weird, so don't mind me.
Another local delicacy, which I know can't be found elsewhere, is the Galley Boy, the signature burger of local legend Swenson's. The recipe is fairly simple- two patties (which if I recall correctly are seasoned with cinnamon), two slices of American cheese, barbeque sauce, chopped onions, mayonnaise, and sweet pickle relish, all on a toasted bun. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. I just found out there's a Swenson's near my new place of employment- another movie theatre, surprise surprise- and I'll drop in before work tomorrow to see if they're up to snuff. Although there's no reason to believe they won't be...
Another local delicacy, which I know can't be found elsewhere, is the Galley Boy, the signature burger of local legend Swenson's. The recipe is fairly simple- two patties (which if I recall correctly are seasoned with cinnamon), two slices of American cheese, barbeque sauce, chopped onions, mayonnaise, and sweet pickle relish, all on a toasted bun. Mmmmmmmmmmmmm. I just found out there's a Swenson's near my new place of employment- another movie theatre, surprise surprise- and I'll drop in before work tomorrow to see if they're up to snuff. Although there's no reason to believe they won't be...
Cross at your own risk
Again, maybe it's just that I've been living in the city for so long... but ever since I moved back home I've noticed that the state of railroad crossings is far different here. In Columbus I don't think I saw a single crossing without both the swing-down gate and the flashing lights for whenever a train passed. But here in Portage County, OH, I'd say those highfalutin' railroad crossings are the exception rather than the norm. More often than not I see a crossing with only the flashing lights, although sometimes it's just the gate. And on lightly-traveled residential roads, I'm even prone to seeing railroad crossings with no signals whatsoever- just a sign that reads "Railroad Crossing" and a striped pylon. It's a good thing the pylon doesn't rotate, or else I'd stop there to get a haircut. I'm not complaining, understand- variety being the spice of life, things just wouldn't be as exciting if everything was standardized. But still, these things couldn't be reassuring for the railroads' insurers- what's the railroad company going to do if a car gets into an accident with a train at night because he couldn't see to stop? Are they just going to say "well, it's not like we didn't warn you or anything..."?
Friday, July 29, 2005
Notes From Flyover Country
- I know "flyover country" is a pretty condescending label that usually gets applied to Middle America by cosmopolitan-and-proud types on the coasts, but I can't help but feeling like one of those people as I survey the scene in my new hometown of Suffield, Ohio. I should have known this would happen when I was taking the highway through Akron and saw a city bus with a "SCAT" sign on the side. Of course, SCAT is an acronym for Summit County Area Transit (or something like that), but being Captain Irony from the Big City I couldn't help but giggle. And it happened again earlier today when I drove past Hustler Turf Equipment. I can't help it, I guess- and I'm a big fan of the Robert Rossen movie. While some might ask the question, "what kind of dirty mind would think of porno mags automatically when he sees the word 'Hustler'," I can't help but ask, "what kind of person would name a business with little regard for the potential negative connotations of the name?" I guarantee that nearly every teenage boy who sees the sign thinks the same thing I do.
- Went shopping with my mom yesterday, mainly so I could more easily find my way around the local stores if I had to buy something. Little did I suspect that I'd end up spending nearly ninety minutes inside a Marc's. For those of you who don't know, Marc's is a kind of discount retail emporium that sells a little bit of everything- groceries, health and beauty, home and garden, etc. But the real bargains, as I found out yesterday, are to be found in what's called Aisle One. Aisle One is a catch-all of all the week's sale items, and unless you're the bargain-shopping type, it's pretty much hell. Think plastic kids' sporting goods next to travel-size toiletries next to school supplies next to (I wish I was kidding) cheap lingerie. If you have the stomach for it, you can spend pretty much all day in there. My mom, happily, confined herself to about half an hour or so. But still, I was reminded of a fundamental difference between the two of us- our shopping philosophies. Years of living on my own have made me the kind of shopping who will buy only what he needs, whereas my mother is fairly compulsive in her bargain shopping (actual quote: "I might as well buy two of these basting brushes while I'm here"). One of the few arguments I've ever gotten into with my mother came when I was a senior in high school and I was in a store with her for some reason, and she insisted on buying me another backpack in spite of the fact that mine was perfectly fine. Her reasoning? Why, "it's such a deal," of course. But I wasn't having any of it. I liked my backpack, there was nothing wrong with it, and I'm still using it almost a decade later. Later, I felt kind of bad, not only to get into an argument with my own mother in public, but also because it seems like such a petty reason to argue. But some ideological gaps aren't easily breached. Anyway, a question for any parents out there- is bargain-shopping a typical obsession once you have kids?
- I've also decided to maximize my earning potential by getting a second job while I'm home, which should have the added bonus of making me feel slightly less down on myself. So today I went around to various local business to pick up applications. Checking out the four area banks, I noticed there was not a single male teller or manager working this afternoon. Of course, this may have simply been a coincidence, and there could very well be male employees who just weren't scheduled today, but it seems a bit of a stretch to me that there wouldn't be ANY guys working in banks here.
- The local library is TINY (seems weird that I'd capitalize in this case, but nevermind). They didn't even have a copy of THE LONG GOODBYE- the book, I mean. Or any of the other Marlowe books, actually.
- Went shopping with my mom yesterday, mainly so I could more easily find my way around the local stores if I had to buy something. Little did I suspect that I'd end up spending nearly ninety minutes inside a Marc's. For those of you who don't know, Marc's is a kind of discount retail emporium that sells a little bit of everything- groceries, health and beauty, home and garden, etc. But the real bargains, as I found out yesterday, are to be found in what's called Aisle One. Aisle One is a catch-all of all the week's sale items, and unless you're the bargain-shopping type, it's pretty much hell. Think plastic kids' sporting goods next to travel-size toiletries next to school supplies next to (I wish I was kidding) cheap lingerie. If you have the stomach for it, you can spend pretty much all day in there. My mom, happily, confined herself to about half an hour or so. But still, I was reminded of a fundamental difference between the two of us- our shopping philosophies. Years of living on my own have made me the kind of shopping who will buy only what he needs, whereas my mother is fairly compulsive in her bargain shopping (actual quote: "I might as well buy two of these basting brushes while I'm here"). One of the few arguments I've ever gotten into with my mother came when I was a senior in high school and I was in a store with her for some reason, and she insisted on buying me another backpack in spite of the fact that mine was perfectly fine. Her reasoning? Why, "it's such a deal," of course. But I wasn't having any of it. I liked my backpack, there was nothing wrong with it, and I'm still using it almost a decade later. Later, I felt kind of bad, not only to get into an argument with my own mother in public, but also because it seems like such a petty reason to argue. But some ideological gaps aren't easily breached. Anyway, a question for any parents out there- is bargain-shopping a typical obsession once you have kids?
- I've also decided to maximize my earning potential by getting a second job while I'm home, which should have the added bonus of making me feel slightly less down on myself. So today I went around to various local business to pick up applications. Checking out the four area banks, I noticed there was not a single male teller or manager working this afternoon. Of course, this may have simply been a coincidence, and there could very well be male employees who just weren't scheduled today, but it seems a bit of a stretch to me that there wouldn't be ANY guys working in banks here.
- The local library is TINY (seems weird that I'd capitalize in this case, but nevermind). They didn't even have a copy of THE LONG GOODBYE- the book, I mean. Or any of the other Marlowe books, actually.
Sunday, July 24, 2005
The Unthinkable
All of you folks who've been waiting on pins and needles ever since my New Year's mirthfest to hear what direction my life will take, wait no longer! Because help is on the way...
Not that I'm thrilled about it or anything, but desperate times, etc. Which is a roundabout way of saying that I'm going to moving back with my folks for a bit. Now you understand why I'm less than ecstatic.
Ever since I've graduated from college, I've been in this funk that has me wondering if I should incur the wrath of Cruise and submit to various drugs to make me feel happy again. No, it's not really that bad. I've just been kinda unmotivated to do anything. My lifestyle isn't really condusive to a get up'n'go attitude. I spend my days alone in a dark projection booth, and when I finish working I usually sit for a few hours in a dark movie theatre. Maybe I should start quilting or something, find people with similar interests who live near me.
So for the time being I'm going to bite the bullet and, at my parents' suggestion, bunk up at their place. The idea makes sense, I suppose. Aside from the twinge of shame I'd feel moping around THEIR house on a Friday night (at least when I moped around my place on a Friday night it was still MY place, right?), there are more practical reasons why this is a pretty kind of okay temporary arrangement.
To begin with, I'd be closer to my extended family, who I don't see nearly enough. In particular my grandparents, who are all still around but are currently all between the ages of 85 and 90 years of age. Some of them have not been too well of late, and I feel bad that I'm unable to visit them more than two or three times a year. I always enjoy talking with them, and I hope my company isn't too much of a bother for them. One of my assorted problems is that I'm lousy about calling people. Personally, I chalk this up more to the fact that I've always despised impersonal telephone chit-chat (Miranda July would be so proud of me) than to simple rudeness. Plus I always worry that I'm interrupting something when I call. So the opportunity to see them face-to-face on a regular basis is a positive of this move. Also, if any of them should take a turn for the worse, I'd like to be able to lend a hand if needed.
On a more selfish note, I need to save my money. I'm currently pursuing the idea of going to film school in fall '06, and while I'm sure I could get some monetary help both from my family and through various loans, I'd also like to chip in some of my own green. So I'm planning to work through the shame! In addition to transferring to another theatre (the theatre manager is also from Columbus) in order to keep getting health insurance and free movies, I'll also be getting another job for during the day. Between the two jobs and the decreased cost of living, the money will, if all goes according to plan.
Of course, there are drawbacks. My parents live out in the country (their property backs up into a farm), so I'll probably have to spend more on gas. I'll also need to get used to how quiet their house gets at night compared to the trains, garbage trucks and lawn mowers I'm used to hearing here. And if I want to see a remotely that is even remotely "artsy," I'll have to drive about an hour to Cleveland instead of the ten-odd minutes it takes me to get to the Wexner Center from my current place. In other words, I'll probably get much more selective in my viewing (unless I get paid to screen something).
At this point, the folks are limiting me to a year at their place, which sounds doable. It's not that I don't like my parents, I just feel like this is a step backwards for me from living on my own, independently, barely making ends meet but nevertheless getting by. Then again, sometimes one needs to take a step backwards to better see what needs done. If the film school thing doesn't work out for whatever reason (if you have any advice along these lines, don't hesitate to drop me a line), I'll probably look for a grown-up type job. Maybe I'll move back to Columbus, or maybe an even cooler city (one without asswipe Buckeye fans). But until then, I'll have a year to evaluate. Watch this space for occasional updates on my situation. I thought about doing a regular blog on the subject of my year at home, but right now I'd rather not commit to something like that. But if I change my mind, you'll be the first to know.
"My name is Paul. Your name is Paul. I'll find a job. You'll find a job. I'll get a friend. You'll get a friend. I won't fall into the rut. You won't fall into the rut. Good night. Good night."
Not that I'm thrilled about it or anything, but desperate times, etc. Which is a roundabout way of saying that I'm going to moving back with my folks for a bit. Now you understand why I'm less than ecstatic.
Ever since I've graduated from college, I've been in this funk that has me wondering if I should incur the wrath of Cruise and submit to various drugs to make me feel happy again. No, it's not really that bad. I've just been kinda unmotivated to do anything. My lifestyle isn't really condusive to a get up'n'go attitude. I spend my days alone in a dark projection booth, and when I finish working I usually sit for a few hours in a dark movie theatre. Maybe I should start quilting or something, find people with similar interests who live near me.
So for the time being I'm going to bite the bullet and, at my parents' suggestion, bunk up at their place. The idea makes sense, I suppose. Aside from the twinge of shame I'd feel moping around THEIR house on a Friday night (at least when I moped around my place on a Friday night it was still MY place, right?), there are more practical reasons why this is a pretty kind of okay temporary arrangement.
To begin with, I'd be closer to my extended family, who I don't see nearly enough. In particular my grandparents, who are all still around but are currently all between the ages of 85 and 90 years of age. Some of them have not been too well of late, and I feel bad that I'm unable to visit them more than two or three times a year. I always enjoy talking with them, and I hope my company isn't too much of a bother for them. One of my assorted problems is that I'm lousy about calling people. Personally, I chalk this up more to the fact that I've always despised impersonal telephone chit-chat (Miranda July would be so proud of me) than to simple rudeness. Plus I always worry that I'm interrupting something when I call. So the opportunity to see them face-to-face on a regular basis is a positive of this move. Also, if any of them should take a turn for the worse, I'd like to be able to lend a hand if needed.
On a more selfish note, I need to save my money. I'm currently pursuing the idea of going to film school in fall '06, and while I'm sure I could get some monetary help both from my family and through various loans, I'd also like to chip in some of my own green. So I'm planning to work through the shame! In addition to transferring to another theatre (the theatre manager is also from Columbus) in order to keep getting health insurance and free movies, I'll also be getting another job for during the day. Between the two jobs and the decreased cost of living, the money will, if all goes according to plan.
Of course, there are drawbacks. My parents live out in the country (their property backs up into a farm), so I'll probably have to spend more on gas. I'll also need to get used to how quiet their house gets at night compared to the trains, garbage trucks and lawn mowers I'm used to hearing here. And if I want to see a remotely that is even remotely "artsy," I'll have to drive about an hour to Cleveland instead of the ten-odd minutes it takes me to get to the Wexner Center from my current place. In other words, I'll probably get much more selective in my viewing (unless I get paid to screen something).
At this point, the folks are limiting me to a year at their place, which sounds doable. It's not that I don't like my parents, I just feel like this is a step backwards for me from living on my own, independently, barely making ends meet but nevertheless getting by. Then again, sometimes one needs to take a step backwards to better see what needs done. If the film school thing doesn't work out for whatever reason (if you have any advice along these lines, don't hesitate to drop me a line), I'll probably look for a grown-up type job. Maybe I'll move back to Columbus, or maybe an even cooler city (one without asswipe Buckeye fans). But until then, I'll have a year to evaluate. Watch this space for occasional updates on my situation. I thought about doing a regular blog on the subject of my year at home, but right now I'd rather not commit to something like that. But if I change my mind, you'll be the first to know.
"My name is Paul. Your name is Paul. I'll find a job. You'll find a job. I'll get a friend. You'll get a friend. I won't fall into the rut. You won't fall into the rut. Good night. Good night."
Saturday, June 25, 2005
Random observation
I was just thinking the other day- what is the big deal about alphabetical order? Yes, I know that it makes a handy-dandy filing system, but what I don't get is why the alphabet needs to be in a particular order in the first place. This isn't a unique thing- every alphabet has a special order, but there honestly isn't much of a reason for this. Sure, when you're in kindergarten the order (and the song that goes with it) makes an effective mnemonic device, but once you know what the letters mean, the whole thing feels arbitrary to me. The letters exist primarily as symbols for one or more sounds, and have no real qualitative value. In other words, A is no greater than B, and there's no concrete universal law that states that Z must be last (the ABC song must be different in Britain, where they say "zed"). This isn't a pet peeve or anything- it's just something I've been wondering about. If you can think of a compelling reason why the alphabet should have the order we all know (from a causation standpoint- I know the effect that alphabetical order has on modes of classification), I'm all ears.
Scenes From a Mall is a lousy movie but an applicable title in this case
A few months ago I transferred to another theatre because they were short-staffed. I like the change of venue- my coworkers are more friendly with me, I get all the hours I want, and the booth equipment is newer. However, the new theatre is not without its drawbacks. One of the big ones is that it's quite a bit further from my house- about 15 more miles each way, which hits my gas budget pretty hard. A more personal issue is that, unlike my old theatre, it's situated smack dab in the middle of a mall. And you know how I feel about malls.
Now, I'm not going to gripe about my ideological objections to mall culture- after all, I've done that already, and seeing as how I almost never update this thing the post won't be hard to find. No, this space is reserved for more specific observations/gripes about the mall in which my current place of employment can be found.
To begin with, the food options found within are slim and, for the most part, pricey. Now, nothing against PB&J, but you just get sick of eating the same thing every day, so sometimes you have to shell out for lunch. However, even the most modestly-priced restaurants can't fill me up for anything less than $8. Which may not sound like much to you but is a decent chunk of change when you're a non-union projectionist.
A more work-related gripe is a typical projectionist pet peeve- the staring audience members. Maybe this will come as news to some of you, but there are people who start the movies, and before they start the films they have to thread the projectors. But just because a person is doing something behind a glass partition doesn't mean you're visiting the zoo. Projection booths are filled with people who work this particular job because they aren't big on interacting with paying customers (who have a tendency to treat service-industry workers as subservient goons). As such, chances are the guy threading the projector doesn't really want to be watched as he is working, much less waved at. I'm willing to make exceptions for young children, but once you're in double digits, I'll ignore you no matter how largely you gesticulate in my direction.
My next observation isn't a gripe so much as just something I noticed when leaving the mall today. On the way out to the garage where I usually park my car, a modeling agency has an office, and today they were advertising for "free screen tests for reality TV show." I didn't really think much of this until I noticed that there were three sharply-dressed model-type girls standing by the sign trying to reel in mall-walkers (they didn't bother with me, to my relief). To me, this says just about all there is to say about reality television as a genre- only type-A photogenic (or in this case telegenic) hotties need apply. THE AMAZING RACE is pretty cool though.
Then there's the parking lot itself, where I have recently rediscovered the phenomenon of the space-stalker. You know the types- when the lot is semi-full, these are the drivers who circle the lot in search of customers who are leaving in order to swoop in and steal their spot. Today, this was taken to an almost frightening extreme by a guy who followed closely behind me like the world's most inept stalker while I strolled out to my car. If I wasn't in a hurry to leave I would have taken a nice long walk around the parking lot, up and down a bunch of rows (or maybe even levels), acting lost so as to throw this asswipe off the scent. Following someone around simply to have first dibs on their parking spot is pretty much the definition of being a selfish leech.
Which brings me to my final gripe- customers who park in employee-designated spaces. Perhaps this doesn't sound like a big deal to some of you, but I really hate this. Say I'm working the late shift on a Saturday and I get stuck in traffic. Lot's pretty much full anyway, but there is absolutely no way I'm getting an employee spot. Half of them are invariably filled with cars no mall employee could possibly afford (H2s, Lexuses, etc.). Sometimes I see these people parking and getting out of their cars, and some of them even have kids with them. Yeah, great example for your progeny, parents- take a parking spot that's designated for someone that's not you. Children have a tendency to pick up on little things like that, and can seize on the realization that rules aren't really all that important. Listen, the employee parking spaces weren't designated in the lot for the purpoe of stealing space from the paying customers- they're a courtesy given to mall employees for convenience, and they are certainly convenient. When I'm on a schedule, I shouldn't have to hunt for a place to park for twenty minutes. The sooner I turn the car off, the sooner I can come in and start your movies. So leave me the spot, so that everyone wins.
Now, I'm not going to gripe about my ideological objections to mall culture- after all, I've done that already, and seeing as how I almost never update this thing the post won't be hard to find. No, this space is reserved for more specific observations/gripes about the mall in which my current place of employment can be found.
To begin with, the food options found within are slim and, for the most part, pricey. Now, nothing against PB&J, but you just get sick of eating the same thing every day, so sometimes you have to shell out for lunch. However, even the most modestly-priced restaurants can't fill me up for anything less than $8. Which may not sound like much to you but is a decent chunk of change when you're a non-union projectionist.
A more work-related gripe is a typical projectionist pet peeve- the staring audience members. Maybe this will come as news to some of you, but there are people who start the movies, and before they start the films they have to thread the projectors. But just because a person is doing something behind a glass partition doesn't mean you're visiting the zoo. Projection booths are filled with people who work this particular job because they aren't big on interacting with paying customers (who have a tendency to treat service-industry workers as subservient goons). As such, chances are the guy threading the projector doesn't really want to be watched as he is working, much less waved at. I'm willing to make exceptions for young children, but once you're in double digits, I'll ignore you no matter how largely you gesticulate in my direction.
My next observation isn't a gripe so much as just something I noticed when leaving the mall today. On the way out to the garage where I usually park my car, a modeling agency has an office, and today they were advertising for "free screen tests for reality TV show." I didn't really think much of this until I noticed that there were three sharply-dressed model-type girls standing by the sign trying to reel in mall-walkers (they didn't bother with me, to my relief). To me, this says just about all there is to say about reality television as a genre- only type-A photogenic (or in this case telegenic) hotties need apply. THE AMAZING RACE is pretty cool though.
Then there's the parking lot itself, where I have recently rediscovered the phenomenon of the space-stalker. You know the types- when the lot is semi-full, these are the drivers who circle the lot in search of customers who are leaving in order to swoop in and steal their spot. Today, this was taken to an almost frightening extreme by a guy who followed closely behind me like the world's most inept stalker while I strolled out to my car. If I wasn't in a hurry to leave I would have taken a nice long walk around the parking lot, up and down a bunch of rows (or maybe even levels), acting lost so as to throw this asswipe off the scent. Following someone around simply to have first dibs on their parking spot is pretty much the definition of being a selfish leech.
Which brings me to my final gripe- customers who park in employee-designated spaces. Perhaps this doesn't sound like a big deal to some of you, but I really hate this. Say I'm working the late shift on a Saturday and I get stuck in traffic. Lot's pretty much full anyway, but there is absolutely no way I'm getting an employee spot. Half of them are invariably filled with cars no mall employee could possibly afford (H2s, Lexuses, etc.). Sometimes I see these people parking and getting out of their cars, and some of them even have kids with them. Yeah, great example for your progeny, parents- take a parking spot that's designated for someone that's not you. Children have a tendency to pick up on little things like that, and can seize on the realization that rules aren't really all that important. Listen, the employee parking spaces weren't designated in the lot for the purpoe of stealing space from the paying customers- they're a courtesy given to mall employees for convenience, and they are certainly convenient. When I'm on a schedule, I shouldn't have to hunt for a place to park for twenty minutes. The sooner I turn the car off, the sooner I can come in and start your movies. So leave me the spot, so that everyone wins.
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
The pet peeves column only the people in Dallas can see
Seeing as how it's been nearly three months since I last posted here, I figured it was time to poo or get off the pot, so I came up with the idea of writing posts about little things that bug me. If this works out, I'll keep doing them every so often when I think of something. So, without further ado...
When I was in grade school the school lunchroom they would sometimes sell orange juice. I always loved orange juice growing up, so I'd buy that whenever they had it instead of milk, just for something different. I remember that there was always one kid who complained every time they had orange juice because he couldn't stand the pulp. He was a pretty big kid so I never asked him why (I didn't want to get him angry, I guess), but I always figured that he was just a weirdo.
Flash forward to a few years ago. I'm at my local grocery store and I have a craving for orange juice. I head over to the dairy case and I notice that there are all sorts of orange juice- regular, "heart-smart," calcium-fortified, and you guessed it- pulp-free. Which either means that big grade-school pulp-hater guy grew up to be the president of Tropicana or there are lots of pulp haters in the world. I'm leaning toward the latter.
Honestly, I just don't get it. What's wrong with pulp, folks? You like oranges, right? Well, oranges are full of pulp. So why not drink orange juice with pulp too? Seems a logical extension to me. But pulp-free orange juice seems to sell almost as quickly as regular orange juice, if not faster, since when I went to the grocery store this evening the pulp-free row of the dairy case was actually more empty than the normal-level-of-pulp row.
I fear that it's only a matter of time until scientists genetically-engineer an orange with no pulp. I know it sounds odd now (I imagine the orange slices will be nothing more than little baggies full of juice) but corporate science being the way it is, they'll do their damnedest to appeal to the pulp haters of the world. "Love oranges? Hate vitamin C? Introducing Sunkist pulp-free oranges. Loaded with all the vitamins, minerals, and great taste of regular oranges, but without all that pulp you hate." And then maybe they'll throw in a dig at pulp saying that the Taliban loves it or something.
But for me, orange juice without pulp just isn't orange juice. Try fresh-squeezing yourself some. What are the chances you'll get a batch without any pulp? Oh... wait, let's see here... well, whaddya know, zero. One time I stopped at a convenience store late at night with a raging OJ craving, and all they had in stock was pulp-free. So I bought it, opened it up in the car, and took a drink. I swear the first thought I had was "who put Tang in my OJ?" That's what it tasted like to me, an orange drink- sweet, sort of orange-y, but lacking in the body and presence that pulp provides.
Recently, my salvation has arrived in dairy cases. That's right- orange juice with LOTS OF PULP. More than just answering the question "where does pulp go after the wussy fake-tasting OJ the kids like has had its soul sucked from the mix?" extra-pulp OJ just tastes so much better to me than that de-pulped concoction. This is a drink that puts on no airs and harbors no illusions- when you take a drink, you know exactly where it's been, and it's like the orange is right there, giving you the gift of its goodness. Or something like that. I first tried LOTS OF PULP OJ when I had a pretty bad cold- sneezing and coughing and the like- and just drinking it made me feel better. On top of that, when I went into a coughing fit later in the day, little bits of pulp came up with the lung-butter I coughed up into my mouth, and it tasted a lot better than it would had I been drinking juice without pulp. All right, so that was kind of gross, but it really was a cool moment, in a weird way.
So maybe I can't stop the wussification of the American consumer (why can't they just drink apple juice, fer chrissakes?), but I can do my part to show my love for old-school pulpy OJ. Imagine an orange juice that was 95% pulp, with just enough juice to give the pulp flavor, and it would come out of the carton slowly, like cream soup or ketchup. I know I can't be the only pulp fan out there. So I ask you- pulp, yea or nay?
When I was in grade school the school lunchroom they would sometimes sell orange juice. I always loved orange juice growing up, so I'd buy that whenever they had it instead of milk, just for something different. I remember that there was always one kid who complained every time they had orange juice because he couldn't stand the pulp. He was a pretty big kid so I never asked him why (I didn't want to get him angry, I guess), but I always figured that he was just a weirdo.
Flash forward to a few years ago. I'm at my local grocery store and I have a craving for orange juice. I head over to the dairy case and I notice that there are all sorts of orange juice- regular, "heart-smart," calcium-fortified, and you guessed it- pulp-free. Which either means that big grade-school pulp-hater guy grew up to be the president of Tropicana or there are lots of pulp haters in the world. I'm leaning toward the latter.
Honestly, I just don't get it. What's wrong with pulp, folks? You like oranges, right? Well, oranges are full of pulp. So why not drink orange juice with pulp too? Seems a logical extension to me. But pulp-free orange juice seems to sell almost as quickly as regular orange juice, if not faster, since when I went to the grocery store this evening the pulp-free row of the dairy case was actually more empty than the normal-level-of-pulp row.
I fear that it's only a matter of time until scientists genetically-engineer an orange with no pulp. I know it sounds odd now (I imagine the orange slices will be nothing more than little baggies full of juice) but corporate science being the way it is, they'll do their damnedest to appeal to the pulp haters of the world. "Love oranges? Hate vitamin C? Introducing Sunkist pulp-free oranges. Loaded with all the vitamins, minerals, and great taste of regular oranges, but without all that pulp you hate." And then maybe they'll throw in a dig at pulp saying that the Taliban loves it or something.
But for me, orange juice without pulp just isn't orange juice. Try fresh-squeezing yourself some. What are the chances you'll get a batch without any pulp? Oh... wait, let's see here... well, whaddya know, zero. One time I stopped at a convenience store late at night with a raging OJ craving, and all they had in stock was pulp-free. So I bought it, opened it up in the car, and took a drink. I swear the first thought I had was "who put Tang in my OJ?" That's what it tasted like to me, an orange drink- sweet, sort of orange-y, but lacking in the body and presence that pulp provides.
Recently, my salvation has arrived in dairy cases. That's right- orange juice with LOTS OF PULP. More than just answering the question "where does pulp go after the wussy fake-tasting OJ the kids like has had its soul sucked from the mix?" extra-pulp OJ just tastes so much better to me than that de-pulped concoction. This is a drink that puts on no airs and harbors no illusions- when you take a drink, you know exactly where it's been, and it's like the orange is right there, giving you the gift of its goodness. Or something like that. I first tried LOTS OF PULP OJ when I had a pretty bad cold- sneezing and coughing and the like- and just drinking it made me feel better. On top of that, when I went into a coughing fit later in the day, little bits of pulp came up with the lung-butter I coughed up into my mouth, and it tasted a lot better than it would had I been drinking juice without pulp. All right, so that was kind of gross, but it really was a cool moment, in a weird way.
So maybe I can't stop the wussification of the American consumer (why can't they just drink apple juice, fer chrissakes?), but I can do my part to show my love for old-school pulpy OJ. Imagine an orange juice that was 95% pulp, with just enough juice to give the pulp flavor, and it would come out of the carton slowly, like cream soup or ketchup. I know I can't be the only pulp fan out there. So I ask you- pulp, yea or nay?
Monday, March 07, 2005
hahahahahahahaha heeheehee *snort*
In case you haven't heard about it already:
http://enews.earthlink.net/article/str?guid=20050306/422a8e50_3ca6_15526200503061163583095
What a jokester. I know I find the idea of basically taking out an entire country pretty hilarious. I mean, hey, when I was young, I got bored one afternoon and asked my mom what I could do, and one of the suggestions I threw out jokingly was "can I bomb Libya?" Of course, I was eight at the time, and yeah, she called me on it.
The point here isn't that someone is joking about nuking Syria. I'm all for free speech, after all. But it's one thing when, say, a standup comic, a radio talk-show host, or an idle kid jokes about it, and another entirely when someone in an actual position of power makes the suggestion. Then it takes on a level of irresponsibility on the part of joker, I'd say. I'm sure all the people of Syria found it pretty hysterical, to say nothing of its neighbors, who no doubt would've suffered from the fallout. And how about all the parents of the dead and injured soldiers from the Iraqi war, who've died while (vainly, thusfar) searching for the WMDs that Sen. Johnson is so eager to make light of? Rolling in the aisles, I'm betting.
Yeah, Sen. Johnson was within his rights as an American to make that joke. But that doesn't mean it was a good idea. And as a senator, he should know that being not only in the public eye but in a position of power and influence carries a degree of responsibility for one's actions that wouldn't be an issue if he was just a private citizen. That one of the people he was talking to at the time was President Bush, who's almost always in the public eye, makes it worse. I'd like to hear what the people of Syria have to say about this incident- not just his inappropriate joke at their country's expense, but at his dismissive "hey, didn't you realize I was just kidding?" response when he was questioned about it.
Oh, and "just talking between veterans?" Now there's a joke for you. As they said in the film THE OPPOSITE OF SEX, "just because I've gone to a bar mitzvah doesn't make me Jewish."
http://enews.earthlink.net/article/str?guid=20050306/422a8e50_3ca6_15526200503061163583095
What a jokester. I know I find the idea of basically taking out an entire country pretty hilarious. I mean, hey, when I was young, I got bored one afternoon and asked my mom what I could do, and one of the suggestions I threw out jokingly was "can I bomb Libya?" Of course, I was eight at the time, and yeah, she called me on it.
The point here isn't that someone is joking about nuking Syria. I'm all for free speech, after all. But it's one thing when, say, a standup comic, a radio talk-show host, or an idle kid jokes about it, and another entirely when someone in an actual position of power makes the suggestion. Then it takes on a level of irresponsibility on the part of joker, I'd say. I'm sure all the people of Syria found it pretty hysterical, to say nothing of its neighbors, who no doubt would've suffered from the fallout. And how about all the parents of the dead and injured soldiers from the Iraqi war, who've died while (vainly, thusfar) searching for the WMDs that Sen. Johnson is so eager to make light of? Rolling in the aisles, I'm betting.
Yeah, Sen. Johnson was within his rights as an American to make that joke. But that doesn't mean it was a good idea. And as a senator, he should know that being not only in the public eye but in a position of power and influence carries a degree of responsibility for one's actions that wouldn't be an issue if he was just a private citizen. That one of the people he was talking to at the time was President Bush, who's almost always in the public eye, makes it worse. I'd like to hear what the people of Syria have to say about this incident- not just his inappropriate joke at their country's expense, but at his dismissive "hey, didn't you realize I was just kidding?" response when he was questioned about it.
Oh, and "just talking between veterans?" Now there's a joke for you. As they said in the film THE OPPOSITE OF SEX, "just because I've gone to a bar mitzvah doesn't make me Jewish."
Friday, February 25, 2005
For the time being...
Those of you who have been waiting for me to write something new on this thing will have to wait a while longer until something worth writing about comes along. I come across blogs all the time where people will write what they did that day, what they had to eat, etc., and that's really not my bag. In other words, still lonely, still underappreciated at work, still unable to get any substantial amount of writing done. Oh, and the bells situation (as described in a previous post) has only gotten worse, I'd say. But hey, seeing plenty of movies, so if you want fresh content, you'd be better off with my film blog at:
http://hkoreeda.tripod.com/filmdribble
However, here's something to tide you over for now, one of those strange news stories. I swear I didn't make this up, even if the incident sounds like something you'd find in a HOME ALONE knockoff. But the vocation of the genius in question is what makes this priceless.
http://enews.earthlink.net/article/str?guid=20050223/421c0dd0_3ca6_1552620050223-2082323585
Enjoy!
http://hkoreeda.tripod.com/filmdribble
However, here's something to tide you over for now, one of those strange news stories. I swear I didn't make this up, even if the incident sounds like something you'd find in a HOME ALONE knockoff. But the vocation of the genius in question is what makes this priceless.
http://enews.earthlink.net/article/str?guid=20050223/421c0dd0_3ca6_1552620050223-2082323585
Enjoy!
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Unhappy New Year (please don't read)
(Warning: loads of self-pity contained herein. Do not read on an empty stomach, or on a full stomach for that matter. And no, I'm not drunk.)
So it's 2005, and I still don't have a flying car. But my mode of transport, crappy though it may be, isn't really on my mind right now, since it survived the recent severe dip in temperature and ought to do so again when the time comes. No, with the turning of the years, the time has once again come to assess my life and where I am right now. And what a sad bastard I've become.
Yes, I actually cried just a few minutes ago. I shed tears, the first time since, oh, last New Year's, when I re-watched that masterpiece 25th HOUR. This time, I suppose my tears could potentially be explained by the shattering combo of DOGVILLE and Nico's haunting synth-y version of "My Funny Valentine." But that wouldn't really be accurate. No, I cried for the same reason I did when I was young- because my life has made me sad. This time it wasn't one particular thing, like a painful fall or a sudden loss of a pet, but the combination of every little thing I've been sitting on and wallowing in for years now, and which I haven't really done much to resolve.
My work situation most of you already know, so I'll spare you the gory details. It's a piece of the puzzle that is my life, and though I spend a great deal of time working, my anxieties in life don't really have much to do with the work itself- in fact, fretting over job-related matters is a welcome reprieve from the all-consuming troubles of the world at large. Instead, I think a lot of my problems can be traced back to where I am right now- sitting at home, alone, typing something up on the computer.
This is SO not where I saw myself ten years ago. I know that it's like that for just about everyone, but fuck, this isn't even remotely close. Hell, I didn't even know what I wanted to study in college back then, much less what my plans were in life, but living with a roommate, working long hours, weekends, and holidays to pay the bills weren't on the agenda. The hopeful version of the high-school-me might have imagined the today-me sitting at the computer, yes, but I'd be hard at work writing some great screenplay or novel, not an onanistic blog in which I mostly just feel sorry for myself. Nothing against onanism, you understand. It's just that when you yearn to complete something major and substantial, jotting down your personal feelings feels a little like treading water.
Of course, I've been pretty much blocked for the last month or so, and the few occasions I have been able to eke out a few pages they don't really fit into anything larger. Writer's block is part of the game, of course, but this is getting pretty ridiculous, in my opinion. Part of me wants to just give up. There's a difference between a dream and a goal, after all, a dream being something you hope you might someday find yourself doing, and a goal being something you actually work and strive for. Naturally, the two can coincide, but I'm less and less sure that they actually have in my case. To say nothing of my yearning to actually direct movies. I just have no goddamn idea how I'd get from where I am now to the point where I'd actually make a movie. Sad but true.
It's not that I'm opposed to the idea of "selling out." Back in college this was a big and nauseating idea for me, the idea of trading in one's lofty aspirations to instead find a place in the everyday grind. Right now I can't even find an entry point into this world, much less a comfortable niche in it (hell, I can't even be comfortable in shopping malls, as you already know). I've never been the kind of person who can assimilate easily into his surroundings, and ever since I went to college I've gotten worse and worse at it.
Which brings me to my other problem- I'm really fucking lonely, and I'm scared to do anything to change this. I've always been a solitary person, from the time when I was young, and I've become a bit of a social retard (if you'll pardon the expression) as a result. I've recently discovered that my personality can be alienating or discomforting to those around me, and because of this not a lot of people really want to socialize with me for any extended period of time, not even to tell me in any kind of depth what's wrong with me.
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
How does one react to finding this out? Well, if you're me, you smile and nod and stroke your chin, saying things like, "hmmm, I see," and "yeah, I'll work on that." But, to extend Brad's question from I HEART HUCKABEES, how can I be not myself? I've always seen myself as being genial and easygoing, and while the perceptions of are only a certain portion of what I really am, these perceptions are all they've got to go on, and if they're put off by what they see, I can't convince them otherwise. They can't walk the proverbial mile in my shoes, so to speak.
Which brings me to a dilemma- I want to be close to others, but I don't really have much experience with it, and others don't seem to want to be close to me. Maybe it's only certain other people who don't want to be close to me, but right now these people are pretty much all I've got. The wedding I'm going to next week casts this into pretty sharp relief. The bride, the daughter of some family friends, is three years younger than I am. Meanwhile, I'm not married, not engaged, and I haven't even had an honest-to-goodness girlfriend in years (I won't say how many). I'm not saying that marriage is something I crave in the near future- far from it- I'm just extremely lonely, with no light at the end of the tunnel.
How do people meet people? This seems like a silly question, but in my case it's actually fairly sincere. I know that people go to parties and clubs and the like, but frankly these places tend to frighten me. The situation at work is weird (it was a group of coworkers who leveled with my about my personality), and I don't really have many other avenues in my life. I don't need a lot of friends around me- I'm not the kind of person- but a few people I can hang out with on a night like tonight isn't an unreasonable expectation for a guy like me. The upcoming wedding also made me think about this- if I was getting married soon, I have no idea who I'd choose to be my best man. I only keep in semi-regular contact with my best friend from high school, and I'm not close enough with any of my friends nowadays to even consider them. I suppose I'd choose my younger brother, not because we're particularly close but because I wouldn't really have anyone else to turn to.
Thankfully, I don't see myself getting married anytime soon. Again, I'm cool with this. But my loneliness has caused me to yearn for women even while my crippling insecurities have kept me from going anywhere with them. If I have a problem meeting friends, it's at least twenty times as bad when it comes to dating. Most of the females I encounter in my life are in my work environment, meaning they're either (A) career-minded women looking for a mature, settled-in man, or (B) college-aged girls out in search of a good time. I generalize, of course, but in my life the women in between these two extremes are few and far between, and usually spoken for. I've reached the point in my life (three years after graduation) where the trappings of my college years- roommate, casual and faded clothes, no real career prospects- are getting harder and harder to justify as anything other than laziness. But at the same time, I'm not a party guy looking for a casual screw (grass being greener, would that my life were that fun or that eventful). So I'm too much of a slacker for the women in category (A) and too much of a drag for category (B). Add to this that I live in Columbus, where most women here love Buckeye football (I can't stand it) and you've got quite a predicament.
I know, I know. It could be worse. It could always be worse. I have a family that loves me, although I'm kind of a deadbeat son who doesn't keep in touch as often as I should. I'm employed, with health insurance to boot, which in today's job market is nothing to sneeze at. And hey, I still have my health. Or do I? I'm beginning to wonder whether my anxieties haven't affected me physically. Despite having given up caffeine a full six months ago, I've lately had trouble getting a full night's sleep, often waking up two or three times a night even after a long and exhausting day. The resultant fatigue has even affected my sight- on more than one occasion in the past few weeks I've had some trouble with reading numbers out of order (for example, at work I read print number "4214" as "4124").
So what am I to do right now? Even if I get friends, get a better-paying job, and maybe even find a girlfriend, my anxieties will most likely remain. I've had them for years, and it's going to take a lot for me to shed them, I think. I wish I had someone to talk to about my personal issues, maybe even a professional- an analyst, I mean, not a hooker. I don't want to self-medicate (at least not with prescription drugs- whereas if the wedding has an open bar, I'm there), but what could possibly help me break out my current funk?
Many people I know have made New Year's resolutions, but I can't bring myself to do that this year. I guess part of me has gotten tired of my history of not following through on them in years past, but then again the problems in life rarely have concrete solutions. After all, if it was so easy to solve these problems, they would've been solved long ago. I know I have problems, and I know I have to work on them. But I also can't lose the essence of myself, even if it something manifests itself in ways that can make others uneasy. So where do I go from here?
(Thanks for reading. Much less self-pity in the future, I promise.)
So it's 2005, and I still don't have a flying car. But my mode of transport, crappy though it may be, isn't really on my mind right now, since it survived the recent severe dip in temperature and ought to do so again when the time comes. No, with the turning of the years, the time has once again come to assess my life and where I am right now. And what a sad bastard I've become.
Yes, I actually cried just a few minutes ago. I shed tears, the first time since, oh, last New Year's, when I re-watched that masterpiece 25th HOUR. This time, I suppose my tears could potentially be explained by the shattering combo of DOGVILLE and Nico's haunting synth-y version of "My Funny Valentine." But that wouldn't really be accurate. No, I cried for the same reason I did when I was young- because my life has made me sad. This time it wasn't one particular thing, like a painful fall or a sudden loss of a pet, but the combination of every little thing I've been sitting on and wallowing in for years now, and which I haven't really done much to resolve.
My work situation most of you already know, so I'll spare you the gory details. It's a piece of the puzzle that is my life, and though I spend a great deal of time working, my anxieties in life don't really have much to do with the work itself- in fact, fretting over job-related matters is a welcome reprieve from the all-consuming troubles of the world at large. Instead, I think a lot of my problems can be traced back to where I am right now- sitting at home, alone, typing something up on the computer.
This is SO not where I saw myself ten years ago. I know that it's like that for just about everyone, but fuck, this isn't even remotely close. Hell, I didn't even know what I wanted to study in college back then, much less what my plans were in life, but living with a roommate, working long hours, weekends, and holidays to pay the bills weren't on the agenda. The hopeful version of the high-school-me might have imagined the today-me sitting at the computer, yes, but I'd be hard at work writing some great screenplay or novel, not an onanistic blog in which I mostly just feel sorry for myself. Nothing against onanism, you understand. It's just that when you yearn to complete something major and substantial, jotting down your personal feelings feels a little like treading water.
Of course, I've been pretty much blocked for the last month or so, and the few occasions I have been able to eke out a few pages they don't really fit into anything larger. Writer's block is part of the game, of course, but this is getting pretty ridiculous, in my opinion. Part of me wants to just give up. There's a difference between a dream and a goal, after all, a dream being something you hope you might someday find yourself doing, and a goal being something you actually work and strive for. Naturally, the two can coincide, but I'm less and less sure that they actually have in my case. To say nothing of my yearning to actually direct movies. I just have no goddamn idea how I'd get from where I am now to the point where I'd actually make a movie. Sad but true.
It's not that I'm opposed to the idea of "selling out." Back in college this was a big and nauseating idea for me, the idea of trading in one's lofty aspirations to instead find a place in the everyday grind. Right now I can't even find an entry point into this world, much less a comfortable niche in it (hell, I can't even be comfortable in shopping malls, as you already know). I've never been the kind of person who can assimilate easily into his surroundings, and ever since I went to college I've gotten worse and worse at it.
Which brings me to my other problem- I'm really fucking lonely, and I'm scared to do anything to change this. I've always been a solitary person, from the time when I was young, and I've become a bit of a social retard (if you'll pardon the expression) as a result. I've recently discovered that my personality can be alienating or discomforting to those around me, and because of this not a lot of people really want to socialize with me for any extended period of time, not even to tell me in any kind of depth what's wrong with me.
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK
How does one react to finding this out? Well, if you're me, you smile and nod and stroke your chin, saying things like, "hmmm, I see," and "yeah, I'll work on that." But, to extend Brad's question from I HEART HUCKABEES, how can I be not myself? I've always seen myself as being genial and easygoing, and while the perceptions of are only a certain portion of what I really am, these perceptions are all they've got to go on, and if they're put off by what they see, I can't convince them otherwise. They can't walk the proverbial mile in my shoes, so to speak.
Which brings me to a dilemma- I want to be close to others, but I don't really have much experience with it, and others don't seem to want to be close to me. Maybe it's only certain other people who don't want to be close to me, but right now these people are pretty much all I've got. The wedding I'm going to next week casts this into pretty sharp relief. The bride, the daughter of some family friends, is three years younger than I am. Meanwhile, I'm not married, not engaged, and I haven't even had an honest-to-goodness girlfriend in years (I won't say how many). I'm not saying that marriage is something I crave in the near future- far from it- I'm just extremely lonely, with no light at the end of the tunnel.
How do people meet people? This seems like a silly question, but in my case it's actually fairly sincere. I know that people go to parties and clubs and the like, but frankly these places tend to frighten me. The situation at work is weird (it was a group of coworkers who leveled with my about my personality), and I don't really have many other avenues in my life. I don't need a lot of friends around me- I'm not the kind of person- but a few people I can hang out with on a night like tonight isn't an unreasonable expectation for a guy like me. The upcoming wedding also made me think about this- if I was getting married soon, I have no idea who I'd choose to be my best man. I only keep in semi-regular contact with my best friend from high school, and I'm not close enough with any of my friends nowadays to even consider them. I suppose I'd choose my younger brother, not because we're particularly close but because I wouldn't really have anyone else to turn to.
Thankfully, I don't see myself getting married anytime soon. Again, I'm cool with this. But my loneliness has caused me to yearn for women even while my crippling insecurities have kept me from going anywhere with them. If I have a problem meeting friends, it's at least twenty times as bad when it comes to dating. Most of the females I encounter in my life are in my work environment, meaning they're either (A) career-minded women looking for a mature, settled-in man, or (B) college-aged girls out in search of a good time. I generalize, of course, but in my life the women in between these two extremes are few and far between, and usually spoken for. I've reached the point in my life (three years after graduation) where the trappings of my college years- roommate, casual and faded clothes, no real career prospects- are getting harder and harder to justify as anything other than laziness. But at the same time, I'm not a party guy looking for a casual screw (grass being greener, would that my life were that fun or that eventful). So I'm too much of a slacker for the women in category (A) and too much of a drag for category (B). Add to this that I live in Columbus, where most women here love Buckeye football (I can't stand it) and you've got quite a predicament.
I know, I know. It could be worse. It could always be worse. I have a family that loves me, although I'm kind of a deadbeat son who doesn't keep in touch as often as I should. I'm employed, with health insurance to boot, which in today's job market is nothing to sneeze at. And hey, I still have my health. Or do I? I'm beginning to wonder whether my anxieties haven't affected me physically. Despite having given up caffeine a full six months ago, I've lately had trouble getting a full night's sleep, often waking up two or three times a night even after a long and exhausting day. The resultant fatigue has even affected my sight- on more than one occasion in the past few weeks I've had some trouble with reading numbers out of order (for example, at work I read print number "4214" as "4124").
So what am I to do right now? Even if I get friends, get a better-paying job, and maybe even find a girlfriend, my anxieties will most likely remain. I've had them for years, and it's going to take a lot for me to shed them, I think. I wish I had someone to talk to about my personal issues, maybe even a professional- an analyst, I mean, not a hooker. I don't want to self-medicate (at least not with prescription drugs- whereas if the wedding has an open bar, I'm there), but what could possibly help me break out my current funk?
Many people I know have made New Year's resolutions, but I can't bring myself to do that this year. I guess part of me has gotten tired of my history of not following through on them in years past, but then again the problems in life rarely have concrete solutions. After all, if it was so easy to solve these problems, they would've been solved long ago. I know I have problems, and I know I have to work on them. But I also can't lose the essence of myself, even if it something manifests itself in ways that can make others uneasy. So where do I go from here?
(Thanks for reading. Much less self-pity in the future, I promise.)
Wednesday, December 29, 2004
It stinks!
Normally I'd post something like this to my film blog, but since I have this page for more personal observations I figured I'd put it here instead.
Is film criticism becoming irrelevant? It's a question that bears asking, not so much for serious film-nerd types, but because of more mainstream moviegoers. My job in a multiplex brings me face to face with these people every day, people who don't necessarily espouse the same ideas on film as an art form as I do, people who still see movies as a tool to unwind and relax after a stressful day. I'm not one of these folks, although I can kind of sympathize with where they're coming from- sometimes you just need something to take your mind off your troubles. And when you have to spend $8.50, you'd like to pick a winner.
Now, sometimes this means seeing a movie like THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW, a silly but highly diverting disaster movie that sells itself on effects and spectacle. But, as the old saying goes, you can't eat burgers everyday. Sometimes you crave something a little different, although with some grounding in the familiar, usually a recognizable cast. How, then, can one choose between the various offerings out there that don't have a $30 million ad campaign or a pre-sold franchise name? That's where the critics come in.
In the past year, the critics have given their seal of approval (more or less) to a number of just-outside-the-mainstream titles as BEFORE SUNSET, ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND, I HEART HUCKABEES, THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU, BIRTH, SKY CAPTAIN AND THE WORLD OF TOMORROW, and CLOSER, all of which have played at my (mainstream) multiplex. These positive ratings have (to a certain extent) encouraged a number of people to see these films, and when I've had the chance to observe the audiences exiting after these films, more often than not I've heard a distinct amount of grumbling. Random comments I've heard have included "well, THAT sucked," "I didn't get it," or the old favorite "what the hell was that about?"
None of the aforementioned titles are outside my cinematic comfort zone, so I can't exactly empathize with people who don't receive these films on their respective wavelengths. Still, I can see where they're coming from. When one is used to viewing a certain kind of film (e.g. Hollywood) in a certain way (e.g. "turning the brain off"), watching something in a non-commercial style that requires active engagement in the story can cause uneasiness and discomfort in an audience caught unawares.
I suppose the mainstream critics are at least partly to blame for this. One major reason is the ratings shorthand that has pervaded contemporary movie reviews, providing an at-a-glance assessment of a film's quality, or lack thereof. Taken in the context of a full review, a critic's rating can provide a relative measure of his feelings, but more and more newspapers and magazines have taken the ratings out of their natural context. Nearly every (mainstream-oriented) publication I read nowadays has a page devoted to "capsule" reviews and ratings, with little more than a sentence or two to back up the rating. So when one picks up a newspaper with the intent of finding something to see, there's a list of movies, star ratings, and maybe a bit of synopsis or a pithy observation.
The problem comes from taking the star ratings at face value- i.e. to assume that every film listed under a given rating is equal. To name one ready example, Roger Ebert gave both VAN HELSING and THE BROWN BUNNY 3 stars. Having seen both films I can attest to the fact that assuming one film is equal to the other is, quite frankly, laughable. And yes, I realize that the example is a bit extreme- after all, they were never meant for the same audience, they were never booked at the same theatre in Columbus. However, if two different films at the same multiplex are rated similarly by critics (for example, BIRTH and FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS), there's a temptation to think both films to be equally-suitable choices for a casual weekend viewing, when that's clearly not the case.
It's this conundrum, and the bad feelings it stirs up among some viewers, that brings me back to my original question. Is film criticism becoming irrelevant? I don't think so, although the discontent many people feel for critics would imply otherwise. If people are going to put stock in the opinions of critics, these people need to learn to actually read the reviews, instead of just going by the critic's grade. A good critic will, in the process of expressing his own opinions on a film, provide enough information on the film's style and substance for a reader to gauge whether or not he's interested in the film in question. If you trust a critic, you should be able to read a review and know whether you want to see the film, provided you hadn't already decided.
I think it also helps to know one's own tastes. If you don't like a certain kind of movie, that's OK. As with anything in life, when it comes to cinema we all have a comfort zone (mine includes violent Asian revenge flicks and long-ass French movies about nothing, but does not include Garry Marshall movies). If you want to try something new, that's fine, but if you don't like it, don't blame someone else. But at the same time, don't let that discourage you from trying something else that's new in the future. After all, do you think I've been watching Claire Denis movies all my life?
Is film criticism becoming irrelevant? It's a question that bears asking, not so much for serious film-nerd types, but because of more mainstream moviegoers. My job in a multiplex brings me face to face with these people every day, people who don't necessarily espouse the same ideas on film as an art form as I do, people who still see movies as a tool to unwind and relax after a stressful day. I'm not one of these folks, although I can kind of sympathize with where they're coming from- sometimes you just need something to take your mind off your troubles. And when you have to spend $8.50, you'd like to pick a winner.
Now, sometimes this means seeing a movie like THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW, a silly but highly diverting disaster movie that sells itself on effects and spectacle. But, as the old saying goes, you can't eat burgers everyday. Sometimes you crave something a little different, although with some grounding in the familiar, usually a recognizable cast. How, then, can one choose between the various offerings out there that don't have a $30 million ad campaign or a pre-sold franchise name? That's where the critics come in.
In the past year, the critics have given their seal of approval (more or less) to a number of just-outside-the-mainstream titles as BEFORE SUNSET, ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND, I HEART HUCKABEES, THE LIFE AQUATIC WITH STEVE ZISSOU, BIRTH, SKY CAPTAIN AND THE WORLD OF TOMORROW, and CLOSER, all of which have played at my (mainstream) multiplex. These positive ratings have (to a certain extent) encouraged a number of people to see these films, and when I've had the chance to observe the audiences exiting after these films, more often than not I've heard a distinct amount of grumbling. Random comments I've heard have included "well, THAT sucked," "I didn't get it," or the old favorite "what the hell was that about?"
None of the aforementioned titles are outside my cinematic comfort zone, so I can't exactly empathize with people who don't receive these films on their respective wavelengths. Still, I can see where they're coming from. When one is used to viewing a certain kind of film (e.g. Hollywood) in a certain way (e.g. "turning the brain off"), watching something in a non-commercial style that requires active engagement in the story can cause uneasiness and discomfort in an audience caught unawares.
I suppose the mainstream critics are at least partly to blame for this. One major reason is the ratings shorthand that has pervaded contemporary movie reviews, providing an at-a-glance assessment of a film's quality, or lack thereof. Taken in the context of a full review, a critic's rating can provide a relative measure of his feelings, but more and more newspapers and magazines have taken the ratings out of their natural context. Nearly every (mainstream-oriented) publication I read nowadays has a page devoted to "capsule" reviews and ratings, with little more than a sentence or two to back up the rating. So when one picks up a newspaper with the intent of finding something to see, there's a list of movies, star ratings, and maybe a bit of synopsis or a pithy observation.
The problem comes from taking the star ratings at face value- i.e. to assume that every film listed under a given rating is equal. To name one ready example, Roger Ebert gave both VAN HELSING and THE BROWN BUNNY 3 stars. Having seen both films I can attest to the fact that assuming one film is equal to the other is, quite frankly, laughable. And yes, I realize that the example is a bit extreme- after all, they were never meant for the same audience, they were never booked at the same theatre in Columbus. However, if two different films at the same multiplex are rated similarly by critics (for example, BIRTH and FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS), there's a temptation to think both films to be equally-suitable choices for a casual weekend viewing, when that's clearly not the case.
It's this conundrum, and the bad feelings it stirs up among some viewers, that brings me back to my original question. Is film criticism becoming irrelevant? I don't think so, although the discontent many people feel for critics would imply otherwise. If people are going to put stock in the opinions of critics, these people need to learn to actually read the reviews, instead of just going by the critic's grade. A good critic will, in the process of expressing his own opinions on a film, provide enough information on the film's style and substance for a reader to gauge whether or not he's interested in the film in question. If you trust a critic, you should be able to read a review and know whether you want to see the film, provided you hadn't already decided.
I think it also helps to know one's own tastes. If you don't like a certain kind of movie, that's OK. As with anything in life, when it comes to cinema we all have a comfort zone (mine includes violent Asian revenge flicks and long-ass French movies about nothing, but does not include Garry Marshall movies). If you want to try something new, that's fine, but if you don't like it, don't blame someone else. But at the same time, don't let that discourage you from trying something else that's new in the future. After all, do you think I've been watching Claire Denis movies all my life?
Monday, December 20, 2004
Don't ever try to swim against the mighty tide of justice.
A few weeks ago, I got a jury summons in the mail. I was summoned to report tomorrow morning at the municipal courthouse, and I'd be in bed right now if not for the fact that the theatre doesn't give time off for jury duty. While there are certain things in this country and its current government that have me disillusioned, at heart I believe in the system itself, and so I'm a little frustrated that I'm unable to report for jury duty. We're taught from a young age that jury duty is both a right and a responsibility for all citizens, much like voting, and I sincerely believe that's true.
What rankles me is that, like so many other things in life, money became the deciding factor for me- my choices were to either be excused from my civic duty in order to remain financially above-ground, or to report tomorrow morning and bail on work for as many as two weeks (if not more) during a season in which the theatre is short-staffed. So naturally, I chose the former, with one of my managers sending a request to the courthouse asking that I be excused (at least, I hope she sent it- all I need now is to get in trouble for THIS).
So pardon me if my rants all seem to have the same theme of late- I just can't help but feel like I'm hemmed-in by my economic station these days. If I was working a job more befitting my degree and intelligence level, I'm sure I could've gotten vacation pay in order to be a good citizen. But since I'm working for, quite frankly, lousy pay, I can't afford not to keep working.
Which brings me to a point I made around election time- while the financially comfortable are free to participate in government if they want, it's an uphill battle for those who are scraping by. Back then, I suggested that Election Day be made into a nationally-observed holiday, and now I think something really ought to be done for jury service. Not a holiday, of course, but something that encourages service among people of every social class (there, I said it), not just those who can afford two weeks off. Perhaps an incentive for companies who grant their employees jury pay, I dunno. This way, juries really will be comprised of the defendant's peers, and not just if the dependent is well-off, either.
What rankles me is that, like so many other things in life, money became the deciding factor for me- my choices were to either be excused from my civic duty in order to remain financially above-ground, or to report tomorrow morning and bail on work for as many as two weeks (if not more) during a season in which the theatre is short-staffed. So naturally, I chose the former, with one of my managers sending a request to the courthouse asking that I be excused (at least, I hope she sent it- all I need now is to get in trouble for THIS).
So pardon me if my rants all seem to have the same theme of late- I just can't help but feel like I'm hemmed-in by my economic station these days. If I was working a job more befitting my degree and intelligence level, I'm sure I could've gotten vacation pay in order to be a good citizen. But since I'm working for, quite frankly, lousy pay, I can't afford not to keep working.
Which brings me to a point I made around election time- while the financially comfortable are free to participate in government if they want, it's an uphill battle for those who are scraping by. Back then, I suggested that Election Day be made into a nationally-observed holiday, and now I think something really ought to be done for jury service. Not a holiday, of course, but something that encourages service among people of every social class (there, I said it), not just those who can afford two weeks off. Perhaps an incentive for companies who grant their employees jury pay, I dunno. This way, juries really will be comprised of the defendant's peers, and not just if the dependent is well-off, either.
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Do you have rock'n'roll? Can I buy it?
For those of you who don't get the reference, the title of my blog comes from Don Hertzfeldt's animated short REJECTED. This is seriously one of the funniest things I've seen in a long, long time. I originally saw it as part of Hertzfeldt and Mike Judge's anthology film THE ANIMATION SHOW, but it can also be found online at http://www.bitterfilms.com/. REJECTED was even nominated for an Oscar, for those of you who care about such things. For those who don't, don't let the Academy endorsement frighten you- it's so cool and warped that the nomination was almost certainly a fluke.
Also, WinMX rules. I downloaded a bunch of Leningrad Cowboys music and the sweet "Al Capone" song that I heard in Claire Denis' U.S. GO HOME, among other things. Of course, file-sharing is bad, immoral, etc. But it's also good for those of us who don't have gobs of money to spend on CDs. Therein lies the rub, etc.
For those who are hankering for more film reviews, I should be posting a short piece on OLDBOY in the next day or so, as soon as I'm able to watch it without being interrupted. I'm stoked to see it- I hear it's awesome- but I just haven't had time lately.
Also, WinMX rules. I downloaded a bunch of Leningrad Cowboys music and the sweet "Al Capone" song that I heard in Claire Denis' U.S. GO HOME, among other things. Of course, file-sharing is bad, immoral, etc. But it's also good for those of us who don't have gobs of money to spend on CDs. Therein lies the rub, etc.
For those who are hankering for more film reviews, I should be posting a short piece on OLDBOY in the next day or so, as soon as I'm able to watch it without being interrupted. I'm stoked to see it- I hear it's awesome- but I just haven't had time lately.
We don't need bells to worship God.
So I gave up caffeine a few months ago. Aside from the somewhat-astounded looks I get from people when I tell them, I've had no trouble whatsoever with it. I've become calmer, I think, and less prone to frantic or angry outbursts. And my body has been co-operative- up until recently, that is, when it has been rebelling somewhat. I've been getting tired more easily since I gave up caffeine, but lately I've found it difficult to sleep more than a few hours at a time, or when I have, it hasn't been a particularly deep sleep.
Which brings me to the point, the reason why I'm up at 9 in the AM on Sunday, my day off, complaining on my brand-spankin'-new blog instead of snoozing as I ought to be. This morning, around 7:30, the Catholic church down the block rang its bells. This isn't the first time I've been awakened by the bell-ringing, but in the past, it's been my bad luck rather than the early hour that was to blame. Sometimes the church is given to ringing the bells in the evening while I'm napping, and one time was especially rough since I was trying to sleep off a migraine. But this time I wasn't to blame- after all, it was 7:30 in the morning, an hour when quite a few people are still sleeping, especially on a Sunday.
Now Sunday, as most people know, is the day traditionally set aside by the Catholic faith (and others besides) as the day of rest. All good Catholics are to get up and attend mass that day, and aren't supposed to work. But what about the rest of us (the folks who celebrate Festivus)? I'm certainly respectful of all kinds of religions (unlike some people: see http://enews.earthlink.net/article/entguid=20041218/41c3b950_29e_67020041218314577160), and as a lapsed Catholic, with many family members who are active in the Church, I've got nothing against the Church or their God, even if we aren't exactly on speaking terms. And yeah, I'm certainly glad that Bess got into heaven- she went through a lot, after all. But come the fuck on. How many Catholics were still in bed when the bells rang? Chiming bells for the entire surrounding neighborhood to hear regardless of the hour (and yes, I'd maintain that 7:30 AM on Sunday is early) is just plain inconsiderate. To say nothing of the Freedom Of Religion Is Freedom From Religion crowd, who now have more fodder for their secular-centered arguments.
As for me, as soon as I'm able, I plan to enjoy the day of rest by resting. I hope the bell-ringer doesn't get any wild ideas.
Which brings me to the point, the reason why I'm up at 9 in the AM on Sunday, my day off, complaining on my brand-spankin'-new blog instead of snoozing as I ought to be. This morning, around 7:30, the Catholic church down the block rang its bells. This isn't the first time I've been awakened by the bell-ringing, but in the past, it's been my bad luck rather than the early hour that was to blame. Sometimes the church is given to ringing the bells in the evening while I'm napping, and one time was especially rough since I was trying to sleep off a migraine. But this time I wasn't to blame- after all, it was 7:30 in the morning, an hour when quite a few people are still sleeping, especially on a Sunday.
Now Sunday, as most people know, is the day traditionally set aside by the Catholic faith (and others besides) as the day of rest. All good Catholics are to get up and attend mass that day, and aren't supposed to work. But what about the rest of us (the folks who celebrate Festivus)? I'm certainly respectful of all kinds of religions (unlike some people: see http://enews.earthlink.net/article/entguid=20041218/41c3b950_29e_67020041218314577160), and as a lapsed Catholic, with many family members who are active in the Church, I've got nothing against the Church or their God, even if we aren't exactly on speaking terms. And yeah, I'm certainly glad that Bess got into heaven- she went through a lot, after all. But come the fuck on. How many Catholics were still in bed when the bells rang? Chiming bells for the entire surrounding neighborhood to hear regardless of the hour (and yes, I'd maintain that 7:30 AM on Sunday is early) is just plain inconsiderate. To say nothing of the Freedom Of Religion Is Freedom From Religion crowd, who now have more fodder for their secular-centered arguments.
As for me, as soon as I'm able, I plan to enjoy the day of rest by resting. I hope the bell-ringer doesn't get any wild ideas.
I live in a giant bucket.
The Xmas season is in full swing, as we all know. Some people I know will ream me out for calling it Xmas, but really, what the hell does Christ have to do with it anymore? So anyway, I recently made my yearly trip to the mall to buy gifts for the family. Walking around, I realized how alienating the mall was for a guy like me, a guy who doesn't buy into the whole go-go consumer mindset. As I walked around this temple of commerce, I noticed that nearly everyone else was dressed in nice, un-faded clothes, wearing expensive fragrances, and carrying fancy cell phones and other assorted gizmos. I'm against the idea of carrying cell phones (a rant for another day), but what kind of got to me was the clothing/smelly-stuff issue. Thinking about it, I realized that I haven't bought a piece of clothing that wasn't socks, underwear, jeans, seasonal outerwear, or souvenir t-shirts in at least two years, and I've never spent any money on what might be classified a "fragrance."
This realization, combined with the fact that most Xmas music makes my asshole clench, made me quite uneasy. I didn't recognize these people, I thought. I don't see myself in them. They look like people I'd see on television, and I don't watch television. Are they the strange ones, or am I strange for not conforming to their ways? Is the fact that I don't wear fashionable clothes and drench myself in manufactured scents the reason I don't have a girlfriend or a well-paying honest-to-goodness-grown-up job?
And then I realized- these were exactly the thoughts I'm supposed to have, walking into a mall. The trend-based environment that was so suffocating to me is meant to produce anxiety in shoppers, in order to compel them to make guilt-based purchases lest they feel like they're behind the curve. Unfashionable behavior is the disease, and large-scale spending is the cure. Trouble is, if you think this way, you can never stop spending, since fashion is temporary, and next season is just around the corner.
Meanwhile, I'm dressing much the same way I did in high school, spending most my incidental scratch on DVDs instead of the clothes on my back, and I could honestly live the rest of my life happily without going inside a mall ever again. I know enough people who are also like this to know that I'm not alone in thinking this way. We may be a minority, but I'm fine with that.
This realization, combined with the fact that most Xmas music makes my asshole clench, made me quite uneasy. I didn't recognize these people, I thought. I don't see myself in them. They look like people I'd see on television, and I don't watch television. Are they the strange ones, or am I strange for not conforming to their ways? Is the fact that I don't wear fashionable clothes and drench myself in manufactured scents the reason I don't have a girlfriend or a well-paying honest-to-goodness-grown-up job?
And then I realized- these were exactly the thoughts I'm supposed to have, walking into a mall. The trend-based environment that was so suffocating to me is meant to produce anxiety in shoppers, in order to compel them to make guilt-based purchases lest they feel like they're behind the curve. Unfashionable behavior is the disease, and large-scale spending is the cure. Trouble is, if you think this way, you can never stop spending, since fashion is temporary, and next season is just around the corner.
Meanwhile, I'm dressing much the same way I did in high school, spending most my incidental scratch on DVDs instead of the clothes on my back, and I could honestly live the rest of my life happily without going inside a mall ever again. I know enough people who are also like this to know that I'm not alone in thinking this way. We may be a minority, but I'm fine with that.
Sunday, February 01, 2004
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