CBR Book 5: For All the Tea in China: How England stole the world's favorite drink and changed history

For all the tea in China: how England stole the world's favorite drink and changed history, by Sarah Rose

I love tea. Don't get me wrong, though: I'm not a tea snob. I actually find loose-leaf to be rather a pain in the rear, and sometimes I really just love a cup of Lipton's finest. But I drink a cup of hot tea nearly every morning, and when the weather's cold, I'll probably have more than one cup throughout the day. My point is, I'm a tea-drinker as opposed to a coffee-drinker, so when I heard about a book about the history of tea (sort of), I was pretty interested, and sure enough, this book does not disappoint.

For All the Tea in China ... describes a period of about 4-5 years in the mid 1800s, during which a naturalist by the name of Robert Fortune was hired by the East India Company to essentially "steal" tea from China. You see, England and China traded extensively in those days. England provided China with opium, grown in India; China provided England with tea. The East India Company, though, felt that if they only had the raw materials and the know-how, they could produce tea out of India instead. The problem was that the best tea all came from China, and the Chinese tea growers were the only ones who truly knew how to make it good. Thus, Robert Fortune, disguised as a mandarin, went deep into the Chinese interior, to the best green tea- and black tea-growing areas of the country, and stole tea plants, seeds, and any information regarding the production of tea that he could glean. Once he had the materials, he had to get them back to the coast, onto ships, and safely sent to India. He was also responsible for finding tea-makers and convincing them to go to India in order to grow tea for the East India Company. He was, ultimately, successful.

Sarah Rose's history mainly tells the story of Fortune's travels through China; stories that can be read in his own published memoirs. Also of interest, though, are the descriptions of the economic goings-on, the botanical innovations of the time, and the history that evolved out of these activities. The fact that England provided China with opium, for instance, was a fascinating realization to me. They actually fought wars over the stuff! And Mr. Fortune, in addition to bringing tea to India, was also responsible for bringing countless other types of still-popular flora to the Western world. He successfully proved that green tea and black tea come from the same plant (European botanists were convinced that they were merely cousins), and provided evidence that the Chinese green tea producers actually were poisoning their tea by adding Prussian blue and gypsum, which gave the tea a richer green color. He also revolutionized the way that plant life was transported by making important changes to Wardian cases (sealed glasses compartments, kind of like terrariums).

History is often dry stuff, even when a topic of interest is being discussed. By focusing primarily on Robert Fortune, Ms. Rose is able to provide a readable narrative of one man's "adventures," while providing the historic and economic context alongside it. Overall, an interesting read; I would have thought that corporate or industrial espionage was a fairly new concept, but it doesn't really come as a surprise to learn that the East India Company (the world's first global corporation) was engaging in it during the Victorian era. Also, even though I'm not much of a plant person, learning a bit about the economic importance and high aesthetic value of flora was equally interesting.

The verdict? Worth a read, and not just for tea-lovers. If you're looking for something easy and non-fiction, give it a try!

CBR Book 4: Me: stories of my life

Me: Stories of my life, by Katharine Hepburn.

I love the old, classic movies. I have to admit that I am only a novice in terms of seeing a lot of them, but I'm working on it. You can snoop out my movie blog if you want to know more about that - I won't publicize it here. My absolute favorites are the musicals, and therefore Gene Kelly and Judy Garland. After that, though, I'm all about Cary Grant and Katharine Hepburn. If you haven't seen Bringing up Baby or The Philadelphia Story, I highly recommend them. Comedy genius.

As such, I've been meaning to read Ms. Hepburn's memoirs for several years, and just haven't gotten around to it until now. Having read them, I can't make up my mind as to whether or not I am disappointed. I suppose I was expecting a straightforward "biography," you know, ghost-written by someone else, just with the details filled in by the famous person. This book is not such a work. It's really basically Ms. Hepburn remembering things about her life. What this means is a bunch of random snippets about Connecticut and showbusiness and plays and mostly people, many of whom were apparently a big deal in their time but are not well-remembered today (at least I don't know who they were), provided in sentence fragments with lots of (apparently well-remembered) descriptions of buildings and places and conversations, all through the lens of what you'd expect, I suppose, of Hepburn's personality: blunt, matter-of-fact, and actually a little bit ditzy at times.

I would have wished for more trivia about Hollywood and the movies that Hepburn made, but it was still interesting to read about George Cukor's house and what kind of person Louis B. Mayer was. Hepburn's ruminations on the system of show business as it was in her day is also pretty interesting; it was apparently a lot less of a series of hoops to jump through than I would have thought. People had scripts and things written for them, people were seen in one play and immediately cast in another, and it was apparently no big thing to be seen in something on the East Coast and then immediately whisked off to the West Coast for a screen test. I've read bios of Garland and Kelly that seem to corroborate this, although both of them had more difficulty in some things than Hepburn admits to having had.

There is also, of course, plenty of time given to Hepburn's personal relationships: S. Ogden Ludlow and Howard Hughes and Spencer Tracy. She actually saves Tracy for the last, teasing the reader with it, as though she knows that's what we really wanted to read about. She doesn't shed a whole lot of light on the relationship, either. What I actually came away with was that Hepburn really kind of bought into the faux-romance of Hollywood, despite having come from forward-thinking parents who seem to have had a solid, realistic relationship. Her position on the relationship is one that I would have agreed with, say, 5-10 years ago ... she describes it as very one-sided, her being there and giving her all to Tracy without really knowing if he liked having her around. For 27 years? I'd hope he did. I think probably she just didn't want to share that much, or she didn't feel that giving "his side" of things was her place.

I guess I don't have much more to say about this book ... how does one analyze an autobiography, particularly one not by a literary figure? If you're interested in Hepburn, you ought to read it, otherwise I don't know why you would. It was fun to read, even if the structure left a little to be desired. I now feel the need to add to my Hepburn/Tracy repertoire. Maybe I'll go watch Hepburn's Little Women, currently sitting on my coffee table.

More CBR madness

Incidentally, if you are so inclined, there is a group blog where all (or rather, many) of the individuals participating in the Cannonball Read are posting their reviews, or links to reviews. Check it out!

CBR Book 3: Her Fearful Symmetry

Her Fearful Symmetry, by Audrey Niffenegger

HFS is what would happen if you slightly de-crazified Anne Rice and told her to write a ghost story. The twists and turns are very Rice-ian, but there's little to no sex (of any kind) and no overarching obsession to get caught up in. There are also no particularly sympathetic characters, no discernable point to the whole thing, and not enough development to prepare one for the climax of the novel. In one word, Meh.

Elspeth Noblin, a London-based rare book dealer, dies of leukemia and leaves her entire estate to the twin daughters of her estranged twin sister, Edie. Julia and Valentina (the twins) are stipulated to come and live in Elspeth's London flat for a year, together, before they can sell the place. So they do. There they meet Elspeth's neighbors, scholarly Robert (who was her lover) OCD Martin, and his fed-up wife, Marijke. Oh, they also live next door to Highgate Cemetery, the history of which Robert is writing a book about. The twins navigate London, make friends with Elspeth's old friends (Valentina becomes involved with Robert, and Julia appoints herself Martin's nursemaid after his wife leaves him), and attempt to uncover the secret of why Elspeth and Edie have not seen each other for nearly 20 years. They also get to know their Aunt Elspeth, as she is haunting the apartment. That's when the trouble begins.

I'm going to leave the synopsis at that in order to avoid spoilers. Although, as stated earlier, the climax and thrust of the novel really sort of seem to come from out of left field, and when they do, well, you don't really care a whole lot. Seriously, what a bunch of selfish and uninteresting characters. Julia and Valentina are 21 year olds who have done/are doing nothing with their lives. Valentina has aspirations of being a fashion designer, but she and her sister are so co-dependent that they are crippled in terms of actually having lives of their own. Elspeth was a rare book dealer, and OCD Martin is a crossword setter, while Robert gives tours of the cemetery (which is, in fact, quite famous and interesting) while studying the history of the place, and you would think that with these sort of random and quirky activities the characters (and the novel) might be more interesting. But it's not, really - the quirks provide no development and little movement in terms of the plot, so they mostly just feel like Niffenegger selected professions at random. It doesn't mean anything that Elspeth was a rare book dealer, beyond her agonizing about how the twins don't read any of the fabulous books she has in her flat, or how they've got a Hogarth Press first edition of To the Lighthouse in the bath. (The Hogarth Press was Leonard and Virginia Woolf's press, btw, so that's a pretty sweet book - we're talking close to $20k ... in the tub. Eep.)

Oh sorry, rare book nerd tangent. Ahem.

The book is just sort of meandering, I guess, and when the big reveal(s) come, they don't seem to mean anything. Perhaps there is some larger message and meaning that I'm just missing. The writing is quite nice, but ultimately boring. I'm all about characters, and if I don't care about any of 'em, well, then I just don't care. I was interested in the book I guess because of the potential for rare book nerdery and the fact that the title is a Blake quote. And even that is only relevant in the most superficial sense. The main characters are two sets of identical twins. Valentina and Julia are mirror-image twins, which means that they're totally inverted ... apparently down to their internal organs, or something. Also, I think the larger context of the Blake poem ("The Tyger"), dealing with the duality and symmetry of nature, is supposed to say something about the duality of the character's personalities. But that seems pretty peripheral. That point could have been developed throughout the novel, but it's really not.

You know, in thinking about it, I guess I could sort of argue for the main point of the novel being the double-sided nature of most human beings in terms of being selfish vs. putting the needs of others first. There is a lot of exploration there, I suppose. The twins want their own lives, but often put the perceived needs of the other first. Robert struggles between doing what he wants and doing what Elspeth wants/wanted. Marijke leaves Martin because she wants a normal, OCD-free existence, but she still misses him and ends up helping to take care of him from afar. Martin himself struggles between sort of wallowing (no offense to OCD sufferers, but that is how it is presented to a certain degree) in his disability and making the effort to be better in order to reunite with his wife. Elspeth and Edie, well ... let's just say they follow the trend.

So there you have it. As a good former English major, I have found a theme to talk about. It's just not a very satisfying theme, somehow. Alas, not a recommend. I think it's trying to be so deep that it's not even good for just a fun, quick read. One keeps waiting for something that never arrives. Certainly that would be a viable theme for a novel, but it doesn't really make for an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon or two.

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

CBR Book 2: Identical

Identical, by Ellen Hopkins

My one-line summary of Identical is that it's pretty much When Rabbit Howls for the Twilight set. It's in a sort of a prose poem style, and it deals with pretty much any issue you can imagine a YA book dealing with: sexual abuse, incest, cutting, eating disorders, drugs, sexual promiscuity, love, rivalries, dysfunctional families ... you name it, these girls are dealing with it.

"These girls" are Raeanne and Kaeleigh (oy, those names) Gardella, twin daughters of a successful judge and a would-be Congresswoman, living "the good life" in mid-state California. Their family has its public side, and its private side, and guess what? The private side is pretty ugly. The girls have their means of coping - namely the aforementioned laundry list of issues. Clearly, the status is not quo, and as we follow the first person "poetic" narrative to the (somewhat predictable) denouement, we are treated to loads and loads of teenage angst, plus some fairly disturbing activity for 18 year olds to be engaged in. (Or at least it's disturbing from the viewpoint of someone with a 3 week old daughter.)

Honestly, I sort of wish Ms. Hopkins had just picked one or two issues and dealt with that. The book would be a lot less busy. But, she's apparently a fairly popular YA author, so what do I know? I'm not entirely sure how this one ended up on my "to-read" list ... I like looking at lists of books in newspapers and on NPR and so forth, and I will often just decide that some random list sounds fun and add a bunch of stuff to my own agenda, which I then promptly forget about.

I think that I must have been intrigued by the structure of the novel, which is admittedly somewhat interesting, if better manifested elsewhere (try Out of the Dust if you want novels in poem form). I am not, by any means, belittling the problems that teenagers face in this day and age, and I think it's great that a successful novel can address those issues, but I guess to me the inclusion of pretty much all of them just seemed kind of gimmicky. Still, I admit that I am not the target audience, and perhaps for a girl who's read Twilight and is looking for something with a little more substance, this would be the way to go.

This book is rated R for sexual content, drug use, and foul language. Some scenes may be disturbing for younger readers.

CBR Book 1: Ella Minnow Pea

Ella Minnow Pea: A progressively lipogrammatic epistolary fable, by Mark Dunn

Ella Minnow Pea (say it out loud if you don't get it) was recommended to me by a friend and co-worker, and I swear that when he was talking about it, it sounded fun and nerdy and mostly kind of silly. It is fun, and pretty darn nerdy, but it really isn't silly at all. In fact, it's a dystopian novel masquerading as word nerdery. Which, if you ask me, is seriously cool. I have a thing for dystopian novels, even though I find them extremely disturbing. And since this one deals in words and language, it's doubly excellent.

The story takes place on the island nation of Nollop, just off the coast of South Carolina. The island's most "famous" native son is Nevin Nollop, author of the pangram "The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog," which, if you're not familiar with it, utilizes each letter of the alphabet. The citizens of the island, accordingly, are word lovers of the first degree. Letters between cousins Ella and Tassie, along with various other people within their sphere, narrate the progressive deterioration of their society, due to the loss of lettered tiles on a memorial to Nollop. This loss (actually due to substandard glue) is interpreted by the powers-that-be as beyond the grave orders from Nollop, dictating the removal of the lost letters from use. What starts out innocently enough (Z is the first letter to go) becomes more and more alarming, due largely in part to the rather draconian punishments handed down for unauthorized use of the letters. Ultimately, in an attempt to save their home, the citizens of the island must attempt to outdo Mr. Nollop and create a new, shorter pangram in order to prove that the ability to do so is not divine.

Sounds kind of cute, right? What I didn't mention, though, is the punishments for using the taboo letters (public reprimand, then stocks or flogging, then banishment or death). Or the fact that the books disappear even along with the first letter. Or the way in which the High Council progressively starts abusing its power, first by reading the letters of the Nollopians in order to uphold their directives, then by seizing the property of banished citizens and those who eventually start to leave the island of their own accord. The progressive silencing of the citizens; those who choose to cease communicating for fear of punishment, and those for whom it becomes increasingly difficult. Those who go mad with the loss of communication. Those who die, all because of letters removed from use.

While I was reading this, I would often find myself in a panic. "Oh crap. Did I just use the letter D?" Seriously, it's really difficult to keep track of that sort of thing. At first the narrators of our story find it an interesting challenge, I think, given that they all have unreal vocabularies. But the fear and difficulty begins to affect the reader later on, as the letters become shorter and shorter, the vocabulary less and less exalted; ultimately, the missives become nearly impossible to read as the characters resort to using alternate spellings and letter combinations in order to communicate. The panic seeps in as the deadline for creating the new pangram looms. Perhaps one needs a somewhat cynical and overactive imagination to really consider what the world would be like if we lost our powers of communication. Perhaps it's a possible reality in today's world of text-speak and spellcheck. Either way, it's scary stuff, at least to me.

This novel is worth reading. It's an easy read that'll only take you a couple of hours, yet it packs a big punch. The epistolary nature of the book brings the subject to the reader in a very personal way, and it allows for a true understanding of what is lost when one removes letters from use. It'll also increase one's vocabulary - you might want to have a dictionary handy. I like to compare dystopian visions: Atwood to Huxley to Bradbury, and so on; Dunn's vision of a world without the alphabet fits right in, believe it or not. Give it a try! You'll gain a new appreciation for that pesky letter Q.

Cannonball Read III

So! Despite the fact that they watch too much television, don't like Russell Crowe, and think skinny, nerdy guys like David Tennant are sexy (they also loooove RDJ and Fillion, in their defense),I spend a lot of time over at Pajiba. It's a fun site, and keeps me largely up-to-date on movie goings-on. Anyway.

In honor and memory of a former Pajiban, the site hosts an annual Cannonball Read. Basically, people "sign up" to read books (I think we're shooting for 52?) and write reviews of them. And then the site donates money to AlabamaPink's son's college fund. Sounds kinda cool, right? I thought so ... I thought, "Hey. I read a lot of books. I'm always (lazily) trying to find things to practice writing about. And this is for a good cause!" So, I'm signed on. Seeing as there is a new, small person in my life, I'm not entirely sure I can get through 52 books this year, but it's possible. I checked out three from the library yesterday.

So, stay tuned for book reviews! Who knows, maybe you'll see something interesting. :) You know, for those 2 people who still check this site sometimes.

Proposed:

That those members of our society who are so inclined embark upon a national campaign to ignore a certain family of individuals who hail from the northernmost state of our country. This family of individuals (who will not be named) are most known and represented by the matriarch of the family, who is ostensibly involved in political activities; however, these people are little more than the latest in a long line of "reality celebrities," and as such, do not deserve the attention that we heap upon them.

To the media: stop writing about them. To the rest of us: stop reading about them. Stop watching things about them on television and the internet. Stop commenting about them. Please pass this message on.

IF WE IGNORE THEM LONG ENOUGH, MAYBE THEY WILL GO AWAY.

Us vs. them

Do you believe that we are all individuals? Like, really believe it? Or do you think that maybe, it's more likely that many of us are carefully, calculatedly individuals, having chosen to fit, more or less, into one of many molds of individuality so that we have people with whom we can identify, and friends with whom to "be individual"? So, my type of individual versus your type of individual?

That's how I feel most of the time. I was an outcast at a small school in a small town from the first grade through the eighth grade. When I got to high school, I finally found friends. This is not going to turn into a post about the recent social issue of bullying. I will keep my opinions to myself, but just know that boy, do I have them. No, the point that I'm trying to make (probably mostly for myself) here is that I question whether or not anyone who has been labeled "different" can ever truly escape that. They may become happy, productive, successful, or even famous, but I would argue that they will still go through life struggling against feeling excluded.

The question is whether or not that problem exists merely in their own heads, or in the greater reality, or some combination of both. I know that, for me, it's probably a combination. Even though I spent high school and college with a good group of close friends, and even though I now have a wonderful, loving husband and a moderately successful life, I would say that in the last 10 years or so, making/finding really close friends has become increasingly difficult. Part of that is my (our) fault: we have moved cross-country twice now to further our careers. We have lived and worked in different places, which makes meaningful social interaction difficult, not least of which because most people attach their own dislike of driving to us. We, on the other hand, are more than happy to drive 30 minutes if it means hanging out with fun people doing something we enjoy. But we're weird like that, I guess.

The problem, too, is exacerbated by social media. Yes, I know you've heard this rant before. It's hard hearing about the fun things your group of friends back in [insert state here] is doing that you obviously cannot partake of. But harder still is hearing about something fun that the group of people you sometimes hang out with nearby did that you somehow missed out on. Maybe at age 35 I'm not supposed to care anymore. Oops. Guess my growth is stunted, since it still makes me curl up like a little child and bawl for about 5 minutes (something I actually didn't do much of when I was a child and really was excluded from pretty much everything, actually. I believe in making up for lost time).

I think that the problem starts in one's own head and extends into the greater world. I think that, for me, I spent so long learning how to function on my own, or with a very small group of friends (which I do have, but they live far away, yes, my own fault) that I ... I don't know, give off a vibe? Do people look at me and think "Oh, she doesn't need us"? With my self-esteem I tend to assume that it is more likely people think I am any combination of the following: loud, obnoxious, not funny, uncool, rude, etc. etc. but that doesn't explain why we (my husband and I) both feel very isolated, because he, at least, is the nicest person on the planet, and I don't understand how anyone could not like him. Maybe they have no respect for that guy who puts up with that insufferable woman.

The truth is that my self-confidence isn't actually that bad. More often what I assume is that those other people are merely part of a different "group of individuals," and that I (of course) am the true individual who does not fit in. And thereagain, I think that's something that has come about independent of me. Sam in high school and college prided herself on being different from everyone. She didn't seek it out, exactly ... she just was, and back then that seemed to still gain her friends and admirers. These days, though, adults seem to have different values, and suddenly, Samantha finds herself just wanting to be liked. It's a reversion, actually, back to grade school, when little Sammi (ugh) just wanted to fit in. The difference is that the goals are somewhat at odds. I really like being myself. I'm a work in progress, a practicing human, as I like to say. And I'm fine with what I like, what I think (and what I think about), how I dress, and so on. But I still want to be liked, and have friends who call on a Friday and say "Hey, what are you doing tonight?" or write on my Facebook wall that they're just checking in to see how I'm doing (although at 8 mos. pregnant I am a bit tired of the question "How are you feeling?"), or post a funny picture of something inane we all did last weekend.

I just want to know what I'm doing wrong. Because all we have in our own lives is ourselves, right? We are the constant. Therefore experience would lead us to believe that, if the same thing seems to happen to us over and over again, it must be me, right?

Nobody really likes being alone.

Things I miss

• Wine (WINE.)
• Sushi
• My feet. They're down there somewhere.
• "Real" yoga. The difference is sort of...the difference between constantly improving/perfecting your actions, vs. what feels like merely a holding pattern.
  
• Sleeping on my back, which I wasn't even aware I really did that much of. But boy, do I miss it.
• Serious workouts/cardio. Like, a lot.
• My brain. I'm pretty spacey these days.
• My ability to walk up a flight of stairs without becoming winded. I'll never take that for granted again.
• Did I already say wine?

Happiness is...

This is a meme. Do it yourself, if you'd like. I was tagged by RTM over at FlixChatter, and I'm going to do it here in order to keep the more personal blogging separate from the movie blogging. Ten things that make me happy. Here we go...

1. My husband. He makes me happy, even when he doesn't. He's my best friend, and I would rather hang out with him than anyone else. Good thing, since he's pretty much the only person I have to hang out with.

2. My cats. We call 'em monkeys. They're hard work sometimes, and they're often obnoxious, but they're also big and fuzzy, endlessly amusing, and surprisingly loving.

3. Helping out friends. It just puts a big old smile on my face.

4. Randomly hearing a song I love on the radio. Sometimes, that can just make your whole day.

5. Mail. I love getting mail, if it's actually FOR ME, as opposed to a bill or a junk mailing. I even get excited about magazines that come every month, and those little red envelopes from Netflix.

6. Food. I could narrow it down, but why bother?

7. Hearing good things about people I like/care about. Yes, that includes celebrities.

8. Tea. I drink it hot every morning. I like various kinds, mostly black, and I am not a snob about tea bags. Yes, I drink it even in the summer, but it's best when it's fall/winter, I have nowhere to be, and I can linger over a crossword puzzle whilst sipping.


10. Exercise. Yeah, I know, I'm a weirdo. I promise I still have days where I am too lazy to do anything, but more often than not, I love a good work-out. If I haven't worked out in a while, I don't even have to do anything fancy...30 minutes on an elliptical machine will have me grinning from ear to ear.

(I'll tell you a secret: unfortunately, that was more difficult than I would have guessed.)

Career decisions

Recently, I've been thinking about my career. More specifically, about what I would do if I decided to no longer be a rare book cataloger. Now, don't get me wrong. I really like my job, and I have no intention of leaving the profession any time soon. I do have some fears, I guess, about the longevity of rare book cataloging, though, and I think often about that most dreaded of interview questions: Where do you see yourself in 5-10 years?

Someone, during an interview actually, gave me a great answer to that question recently: "In 5-10 years, I hope to be the best cataloger I can be." The lip-service answer, of course, is something about moving up into administration, being the head of a department, supervision, blah blah blah. That's just ... so not me. Realistically, I sort of imagine I will end up in that kind of role someday, but it's not what I'd want. I actually want to be one of those crusty old types who just catalogs the books. Knows everything. Follows orders. That would make me happy.

But. What would I do if I weren't a cataloger? I have no idea. I really can't come up with anything, mostly because I'm lazy, and until someone is going to pay me to sit around and read books, or exercise, or watch movies, I don't have any brilliant ideas. Teacher? Critic? Editor? That last is perhaps the most reasonable, but the publishing industry is scrambling these days, and besides. My grasp of grammar isn't really that great. Some type of journalism? I dunno. I need to write a lot more, and a lot more regularly, before I really get the sense that anyone would want to read what I write. And what would I write about?

Not so long ago, I pondered what I might go back to school for, if not my dream MA in English lit. I came up with linguistics. I like languages and learning about languages, and how we use language ...

Basically, I think I have skills, interests, and inclinations in things that aren't terrifically lucrative, or even conducive to "real" jobs.

Something to continue pondering, I suppose...hopefully, the world will still need catalogers for a little while longer.

Still here!

I guess it says something sad about the fact that I haven't really blogged here since starting the movie blog, huh? That is, I think, going quite swimmingly ... at least I'm enjoying myself. My current schedule doesn't allow me to watch quite as many movies as I'd like, but I'm still managing to find things to blog about there.

And here? Well, let's see. Summer in CT has been ridiculously hot so far. Work is work - I enjoy it but don't like the logistics of it. We made a week-long trip to MN back in June to see friends get married, and friends get ordained, visit w/family and friends, and see a Twins game at shiny new Target Field. We also made a trip down to NYC to see the Twins v. the Mets at Citi Field. They won both games, so we're 2-2 this year. Yay! We also traveled to Vermont over the 4th of July weekend. Neither of us had ever been there, so we wanted to visit, and since we have friends who live in Montpelier (more or less) and Burlington, we had good excuses. Good food was had, good conversation, and an excellent hike. And now, we stay put for a while. Last weekend actually featured some fun activities, though - CAKE was playing in Danbury, on Andrew's birthday, no less, so we caught their excellent show. They played all of my favorites, because, of course they did! We also saw Inception (excellent!) and went to Shakespeare in the Grove for an al fresco performance of As You Like It (because really, is there any other way to see it?) Hoping to get to a Rockcats game (local triple-A team, Twins affiliate) this weekend, perhaps.

Otherwise, all is well.

Oh, and uh ... the elephant in the room? For those who may not know, we are expecting the debut of "Rock Star Klein" in December. All going swimmingly so far. Recommend keeping a look-out on Facebook for more information, as blogs are not the most private things ever. Or shoot me a message if you'd like to be included in any emailings that happen. :)

So yeah. How are you?

Psst.

Now I've gone and done it ...

Banana Oil Movies

Needs lots of cosmetic work, but hey! It's a start...

Open letter, # I forgot

Dear Javier Bardem,

Could you please do more accessible movies, and fewer heavy, serious ones, so that I can see more of you? My Top Five list has a vacancy, and you're the front-runner.
Thank you!

Love,

me

Blog news

By posting it here, I'll feel more held to it.

I am planning on starting a new blog devoted to movies/film. Haven't fully nailed down a name yet, haven't started writing posts - it's just in the works. I'll let you know when it's going to happen. Right now I've got a week before I go on vacation for a week, so not really sure if it'll happen before then.

At that time, several of the posts here regarding movies (and books about movies) will be moved (I hope) to said new blog, and this blog will return to its uninteresting stream of consciousness litany of opinions.

As such - here's what I'm thinking about this week.

*Oil spill. The !@%!@#^% oil spill. My god. There are no words.
*Peripherally, I am good with the fact that Obama is not "venting" his frustration. That's not his job, people. I think it says a lot about our tabloid culture that we ... what, exactly? Just want Obama to stand at a platform and struggle with showing his anger while not cursing? What would that solve, precisely?
*That whole "ruined perfect game" thing. Look, I've been a fencer for 17 years. I've seen bouts won and lost on "bad calls". I've seen directors look at video after the fact and say "Oops. Yeah, I was wrong." It's part of the game - ANY game. Let's move on, shall we?
*Vacation! We are going to MN for a week to attend a wedding, attend an ordination, see a Twins game in their shiny new stadium, see lots of friends, hopefully meet some cool bloggers, and just generally enjoy ourselves. Woot.
*I'm reading a new book about movies, (It's about John Hughes, mostly, and the impact of the great "teen" films of the 80s) but I won't go into that. Suffice it to say I am craving lots of James Spader and RDJ. :D

Glad it's Friday. Enjoy the weekend!

More movies

I'm reading a book right now entitled Hellraisers: The Inebriated Life and Times of Richard Burton, Peter O'Toole, Richard Harris & Oliver Reed, and it's lead me to realize that I have never seen a Richard Burton film, and have really only seen O'Toole, Harris, and Reed in more modern things. I don't remember Camelot (Harris) or Oliver! (Reed). The only thing I can think of having seen w/O'Toole in it is Stardust, although someday we'll get around to Lawrence of Arabia. I love Harris and Reed in Gladiator, and truthfully, I have loved Reed ever since, and only because of, Black Arrow, which is lamentably unavailable on DVD. WTF, Disney??

All of this is just to comment on my increasing commitment to movie geekdom. In the last year or so I read a Gene Kelly bio and a Judy Garland one, and have plans to read one on Chaplin at some point ... Hollywood's fascinating. I think we forget that the antics of the obnoxious celebutantes and crazy actors of today is truthfully nothing new. Seriously, read Hellraisers and you'll realize that today's gang is pretty tame by comparison. The writing's kind of a mess, but it's terribly entertaining.

At any rate, I've now added Becket, Cleopatra, and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? to the old Netflix queue ... Camelot's already on it, as is A Lion in Winter and Oliver!. Fun times ahead! Any recommendations to add?

New focus?

I'm not necessarily turning into a movie blogger just yet, but when the fabulous RTM asked me to do a guest post about new favorite, up-and-comer Mark Strong, how could I say no? Read it here, and of course, many thanks to RTM for the honor!

Iron Man 2

Despite the amount of movies I see, I have long resisted writing reviews, for a variety of reasons. Mostly, I think I just don't have the attention span. However, I read a lot of reviews, and in this case, having seen the movie now, I feel the need to offer up my own opinion in order to set the record straight. I am not a snooty movie critic. My main desire in seeing a film is usually just to be entertained (although sometimes it's to see a specific actor). I am, admittedly, a huge fan of Robert Downey, Jr. I have what I consider to be a reasonable amount of geek cred, so I am usually down with the newest comic book film, and I do love a good popcorn flick. I hated The Dark Knight for being far too overwrought and overrated. So, with that disclosure, read on, if you wish.

We watched the first Iron Man movie on Friday night as a refresher course, and I think that was a good choice. It reminded me of the things I loved: the banter, RDJ, the scenes where it's just Tony Stark with his computers and robots, the sheer badassness of Iron Man himself, Jeff Bridges; and of the things I was less thrilled with: Terrence Howard (seriously, ugh) and the big finale fight scene, mainly.

SO, Iron Man 2. Let me start out by saying that, for my money, all of the things I liked about the first movie were still present. I had most feared for the "Stark working" scenes, thinking there just wouldn't be a need for them, but they're still there (along with Paul Bettany as Jarvis, who, seriously, I want to help walk me through my day). AND, they fixed the things I didn't like. Switching Don Cheadle for Terrence Howard was a brilliant move, IMO ... he just fits right in. And the final fight scenes were much better this time around. Good stuff. Now, as for the rest of the film.

First of all, one of the things that a lot of critics complained about was the slightly more serious tone of the second movie as compared to the first. I actually found this to be completely appropriate and enjoyable. In the first movie, Tony Stark had his world changed. He created a superhero suit that looks really fun, and he accordingly enjoyed it. For the second go-round, the bottom should drop out. Consequences should arise, troubles should multiply, characters (I'm looking at you, Pepper) should be more stressed out. All of that seemed completely natural to me, and completely understandable within a greater story arc. And there were still light/fun moments, heightened, I think, by a slightly more cohesive cast.

About that cast: Cheadle, as mentioned, is awesome. Paltrow's Potts has been accused of not being as "good" this time around, but again, I think that within the framework of the story, she was right on. Scarlett Johanssen, as Stark's new assistant/possible double agent, has been called "wooden" by numerous sources. There again, though, I would argue that to me, that just seemed like her character. She was supposed to be apart from "the gang" and of questionable motive. She delivered. Mickey Rourke was a fun bad guy. Maybe not as fun as Jeff Bridges, but so what? And finally, Sam Rockwell was just fabulous. He pulled off being a knock-off Tony Stark perfectly. Where Tony is charismatic enough to hardly ever seem slimy, Rockwell's Justin Hammer was a complete little shit, and I thought he was perfect. Bonus points for director Jon Favreau's slightly stepped-up role as Happy Hogan. About RDJ, I'm not sure what needs to be said. The man is a revelation. He can convey more in the blink of one eye than most actors can do in their entire body of work. Call me biased if you want, but the guy's incredible, and I love that we have a comic book franchise with a lead who can seriously act.

On to other matters -- like the plot/story. Critics complain here, but may I remind you that this is a comic book movie? Plots are always a bit ridiculous, maybe a little hole-y, usually fairly busy. This one is no exception, but I really didn't think it was overloaded. Didn't feel there were too many villains, really liked the character development (in terms of Stark) ... I actually wished they'd done a little bit more with Rourke's character. Overall, though, it was easy to follow (unlike some - *cough*Dark Knight*cough*), and it set up things to come while deepening what was already there. That equals success in my book.

In summary, I think that in terms of critical reception, expectations were simply too high. I totally loved this movie, and my main complaints were that RDJ didn't spend enough time in a tank top, hammering things, and that ScarJo's fight sequences were a little too fast and blurry to be properly enjoyed. We need to remember that in good trilogies (see: Star Wars) the second act is always the dark one, and that's usually a good thing. If you liked the first one, go see this one with an open mind and/or lowered expectations, and I think you'll have a good time. Unless you liked Terrence Howard as Rhodes, in which case, I cannot help you.

Best Picture?

Unless your roof is a lovely shade of granite, you probably know that the Oscars happened last Sunday. You also probably know that, despite making more money than God, Avatar lost Best Picture to The Hurt Locker, a comparatively tiny film that made a whole lot less money. No doubt there are tons of people up in arms about this, as there are every year. Why doesn't a "popular" movie win the biggest awards? Who even saw The Hurt Locker? Well, members of the Academy. Not me. I saw neither, having no interest. So I have nothing to say about that.

But, when RTM over at FlixChatter asked about Best Picture winners that I wanted to watch more than once, I got to thinking. You may recall (but probably not) that I brought up a somewhat similar topic a couple of years ago. I definitely find those movies that I enjoy watching more "important" than those that somebody else says are worth watching.

But what interested me was the result of those two ideas merging. The movies that the Academy and I agreed upon. And so, I made some lists and checked them twice, and I will share them with you. As such, here are those Best Picture winners that I have seen. I've also made a note of how many times I've seen them, whether or not I'd see them again, and whether or not I own them.

Best Picture winners, seen by me
Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) - 1
Gone with the wind (1939) - multiple, own
Casablanca (1943) - 1, would see again
Hamlet (1948) - 1, undecided
An American in Paris (1951) - 1, loved, want to own
Gigi (1958) - multiple, own
Ben-Hur (1959) - multiple
The Apartment (1960) - 1, would see again
West Side Story (1961) - multiple, not a fan
My Fair Lady (1964) - multiple, own
The Sound of Music (1965) - multiple, own
Patton (1970) - 1
The French Connection (1971) - 1
The Godfather (1972) - 1, would see again
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975) - 1
Rcky (1976) - 1
The Deer Hunter (178) - 1
Amadeus (1984) - multiple
Platoon (1986) - 1
Dances with Wolves (1990) - 2
Silence of the Lambs (1991) - 1
Unforgiven (1992) - 1
Schindler's List (1993) - 1
Forrest Gump (1994) - multiple
Braveheart (1995) - 1
Shakespeare in Love (1998) - multiple, own
American Beauty (1999) - 1
Gladiator (2000) - multiple, own
A Beautiful Mind (2001) - 2, want to own
Chicago (2002) - multiple, own
LOTR: Return of the King (2003) - 1
Slumdog Millionaire (2008)- 1, would see again


What I discovered was that, in a reasonably small collection of DVDs, a surprising number are Oscar winners. I actually went through the longer list of all BP nominees, and the numbers go up accordingly. Those that I didn't personally enjoy I still thought were (generally speaking) remarkable films: well-made, well-acted, solid. Even if I wouldn't watch them again, I appreciate them as very good, except American Beauty. I've just got no use for that one.

So, I mean, of these 31 movies, I would definitely watch over half of them again. Of those, nearly half again I actually own or plan on owning. There are at least 10 winners that I have immediate plans to see, so maybe I'll have to update this list, but still. Not bad numbers for the old Academy, eh?

Vague thoughts

Here's what I'm thinking about. I'm grasping, so bear with me. I've recently been "reconnecting" (rewatching his stuff) with an actor/characters I really liked as a kid. Preteen, I guess. What I'm finding fascinating is that I really think my eleven-year-old self was on to something. I don't think that I was at a point yet where I can really say I had a crush, but there was a definite connection. And now, I think "Wow. That guy really had something." So it's sort of a chicken-and-egg discussion: Do I really like him now simply because I did then, or is there some fundamental part of my tastes that has not changed? Kind of lame, I guess, but if you know me, you'll know that my love of actors is just a thing, and really, I'd have to say that this guy is the first. Now he's pushing sixty and a grandpa and I miss the slim, blond young man of my youth. I bet he does too. How bizarre that I could come back to it. Obviously, on the screen, he hasn't changed - the characters haven't changed - but I have. But seriously, schoolgirl swooning aside, what interests me is the reconnect. Admittedly, the shows I'm watching were not really children's shows, and so it's reasonable that I would enjoy them as an adult. But it's his performance and characterization that resonates with me, and I'm not sure that it's all nostalgia. Surely some of it is.

Meh. I don't think I'm getting across what I'm trying to. Anyway.

Yeah, vague, random, and probably really lame. My husband is laughing right now, trust. Oh well.

No, I'm not telling who it is. It's too dorky for words.

Open Letter IV

Dear Fashion Industry-

This just occurred to me. If the reason for having skeletal runway models is that your clothes look best on them, wouldn't it be an exciting, interesting, and potentially lucrative challenge to actually design your clothes so that they look best on normal people? Just a thought. You should get on that.

Love,

5'3", 140 pounds, broad-shouldered, voluptuous me.

Styling question!

Just in case there are any fashionistas out there who might actually read this. How would you "winterize" this dress, preferably in order to wear it to work?

Bonus points if you work in the shoes.

Go!

Want list, musical

Arctic Monkeys, Humbug
Lily Allen, It's Not Me, It's You
Katzenjammer, Le Pop
Camera Obscura, My Maudlin Career
Neko Case, Middle Cyclone

Blogging

So I've updated some of my links to reflect some more blogs/people I like to keep up with ... most of them are people I actually know. So far. ;) I got rid of a few that seemed truly dead, and I noticed that one or two of you have been awfully slack. Yep, boys, I'm looking at you.

I'm kind of slack, too, I admit it. I suddenly find that I have a minor interest in many things, as evidenced by my internet habits: cooking, style, movies, etc. Perhaps I shall make a better effort to pick one thing that I am thinking about in a week and post about it. I'm even considering a not-so-daily outfit posting. Good lord.

Here's what I'm thinking about today: the chalk directive, "Love your bodies" on the library steps. I do love my body. I also love college campuses, and that message is just one reason why. Movies. I'm becoming more of a "movie buff" every day.Subject headings. Seems to me they're being used less frequently, and with less efficiency. What gives? I thought everyone just loved "keywords". Arthur and Arthuriana. I'm cataloging it and reading Malory. Yoga/exercise. Looking forward to going home and doing some.Food. I'm hungry. We've been making lots of new recipes lately, and have successfully experimented with making "homemade" ravioli from wonton skins on two occasions! Also, looking forward to some new eats and socialization with newish friends this weekend. Decorating. Still unpacking.

What are you thinking about?

My wishlist:

Per a discussion with the fabulous Mari, I would like:

For all of my friends to be in happy relationships, an awesome job at Yale, a kid, loads of cash, a smaller waist, Frye boots for everyone!, tons of cute interesting cardigans in a variety of colors, less cellulite on everyone's thighs, and maybe some Dom Perignon.

Also new kneepads for Mari, and pants for me.

If anyone can do anything about any of that, I'll be your best friend forever. I can give you a list of acceptable cardigans right now,even. :D

Opera #3: Duke Bluebeard's Castle

Duke Bluebeard's Castle
Music by Bela Bartok, libretto by Bela Balazs

The story of Bluebeard and his wives is a reasonably well-known (?) fairy story written by Charles Perrault (best known for Cinderella). Bluebeard brings a new young bride to his castle, wherein she snoops behind locked doors and discovers that her new husband has horribly murdered his former wives. In the story she manages to escape and live happily ever after. Perrault apparently likes to get a little scary and gory before he serves up the happy ending.

In the operatic version, the bride, Judith, arrives at her home to find seven locked doors. The opera centers around her demands for the doors to be unlocked (based upon her love for Bluebeard and her desire to bring light to his dark home), Bluebeard's protests and eventual relentings, and what she discovers behind those doors. In succession: a torture chamber, an armory, a treasury, and a vast realm, all stained with blood. Behind door number six is a lake of tears. Judith doggedly moves ahead with each door, despite her horror at all the blood, and when she reaches the sixth door, she declares that she's solved the mystery: Bluebeard has murdered his former wives, and it is their blood that stains his castle, their tears that make up the lake behind door six, and their bodies that lie behind door seven. The final door is opened to reveal one part of her theory correct: the wives are there, alive, and shadows of their former selves. Judith takes her place among them, and the opera ends with the castle (and Bluebeard) once again thrown into darkness.

Clearly, this is a much more psychological and ultimately darker interpretation than Perrault's original story. The journey Judith takes is apparently one through her new husband's soul, and in the end, she is assimilated into his life, losing her "self" and merely becoming a part of his whole. I suppose the moral of the story would be that perhaps one doesn't really want to know everything about one's partner's past and psyche. There is, of course, also the notion of a wife's duty to defer to her husband in all things, becoming a part of him rather than an individual.

What is tremendous about Bartok's opera is the music. It rises and falls with creepy/scary tension and tender moments. The accompaniment for each of the rooms truly paints the picture, making this opera a little easier to envision on stage, even while merely listening to a recording. I'd have to say I enjoyed this one, perhaps more than the others ... the story, though, is clearly a hard one to really follow or interpret. I suppose I prefer simple plots and execution, rather than something requiring serious psychoanalysis.

Opera #2: Vanessa

Vanessa
Music by Samuel Barber, libretto by Gian Carlo Menotti.

Barber is certainly a more recognizable name than Argento, and I would hope that Menotti's name rings a bell as well. Samuel Barber is arguably one of the premier American composers and mainly worked in orchestral music and art song. Vanessa was his first (and more or less only) opera. I'd at least heard of this one in college, since "Must the winter come so soon" was a pretty standard piece for aspiring mezzos. What is really interesting about this is the fact the Menotti wrote the libretto. If you have not heard of him, Gian Carlo Menotti was a pretty major American composer of opera himself, and wrote some of my absolute favorites, namely The Medium and Amahl and the Night Visitors (seasonal!). He was also Barber's "lifelong companion," as they say. Barber was a big fan of opera but just never found a libretto he was happy with, so finally Menotti decided to write one for him himself. It premiered at the Met in 1958.

Vanessa is a former great beauty, now in her forties, who has lived the life of a recluse for the past 20 years, apparently because of a love affair gone wrong. She has no visitors, wears a veil, and covers all mirrors and portraits in her house. She lives with her niece, Erika (about 20), and her mother, "The Baroness," who refuses to speak to her. When the opera begins, Erika is arranging the household for an important guest, who Vanessa is awaiting anxiously. Apparently, the guest is her former lover, but instead of himself arriving, it is his son, also named Anatole, who appears. His father has died, and he is curious about the woman who haunted his father.

Almost immediately upon arriving, Anatole seduces Erika, but then declares his affection for Vanessa herself. Erika, nursing a fairy tale idea of romance, disagrees with Anatole's more worldly approach, and so turns down his proposal of marriage, despite her feelings for him. She decides that since Vanessa has been waiting for so long, living in solitude and ostensibly "saving herself," that it is only fair she be the one to win Anatole's hand. In good order, Anatole and Vanessa announce their engagement, subsequent with our discovery that Erika is now carrying Anatole's child. She rushes out into a bitter winter night, apparently to end her life. She is found, hours later, passed out in the snow. Upon recovering, she admits to her grandmother, The Baroness, that she was with child, but is no longer. Her grandmother leaves the room without a word, and it is clear that she will never speak to Erika again, either.

A month passes (we are told). Anatole and Vanessa are married and preparing to move to Paris. Vanessa is haunted by what that night, and constantly asks both Anatole and Erika if there was something between them. They, of course, deny this. Vanessa tells Erika that the house is hers, and after the newlyweds leave, Erika covers all the mirrors and portraits, locks the gate, and dons a veil, declaring that now it is her turn to wait.

Clearly, a properly "operatic" plot. Since Barber is, like Argento, a "contemporary" composer, we again have a work that is not really given to memorable melodies, or even arias in the traditional sense. The mostly conversational nature of the work leads me to believe that it's probably much more interesting/enjoyable to actually watch a production, rather than simply listen to a recording. The music is the real star here. It moves from solemn to playful to melodramatic in a matter of seconds, and definitely gives a mood of anxiety and impending doom. I really liked the concepts at play here - the supposition that Vanessa's doomed love affair played itself out in perhaps the same way that Erika's does, and that therefore there is hope that Erika herself will be rescued someday by the shadow of her former lover. They're almost like Miss Havisham, with all her clocks stopped, still in her wedding dress. The Baroness hovers over them, disapproving, like a guilty conscience, and they wait with growing anxiety for the day when they will be rescued and can revisit a perhaps lost youth. Kind of what we all want, isn't it?

Opera #1: Postcard from Morocco

Postcard from Morocco
Music by Dominick Argento, text by John Donohue.

Never heard of this one, have you? It's a one-act, and Argento, surprisingly, is a "contemporary" American composer. The opera premiered in Minneapolis in 1971. It's basically a group of people at a train station, most of whom are identified by something they are carrying: "Hat Lady," "Old-Luggage Man," and so forth. There are also, apparently, entertainments like a puppet show and operetta singers, roles which are doubled by the waiting passengers. Each individual is protective of their privacy and self by way of behaving defensively toward their possessions. In turn, all of the other individuals try to learn about each person, and to see inside each bag, case, or box. Ultimately, one character, "Mr. Owen," (the only one with a name) is forced to reveal that his "painting kit" is, in reality, empty. Once this realization is made, the other characters fade away, leaving "Mr. Owen" to sink into his own fantasy world, and the opera ends.

The text is in English, and the music is, of course, very "contemporary" in style, with not a lot that resembles a traditional aria. Excellent singing, though, and a very expressive style, which is apparently a trademark of Argento's work. I generally prefer things that are much more melodic and lyric, but I think that in this case the style worked to convey the chaos of an being in an unfamiliar, busy place and interacting with strangers.

Ultimately, I thought the opera was very interesting, and the story reminded me of existentialism, of Sartre's "No Exit," and the notion that "Hell is other people". All of the characters display or communicate a fear ... fear of traveling, of other people, of revealing themselves; yet they all want to get others to open up to them. In the end, when they succeed, they are then no longer interested in the individual who has been laid bare. Within the "entertainments" are musical references, most notably to Wagner and his The Flying Dutchman, which focuses on an character supernaturally cursed to sail the seas forever unless saved by a stranger's act of compassion and love. Argento says of Postcard that it "could ... serve as a prologue to Wagner's opera, suggesting a different but equally possible origin of that journey: not launched by supernatural forces at all, but by very human ones, by people who fail to show charity or pity, love or understanding ... Perhaps this unkindness is self protective or thoughtless or not malicious; perhaps it is the result of curiosity, suspicion, selfishness ... Whatever the reason, when it does occur, another Dutchman is born and ... a new voyage begins." (text from CD program notes)

An operatic journey begins...

A project!

So, in a former life, I wanted to be an opera singer. And yet, somehow, I never really paid that much attention to opera. Recently, I was reminded of how much I do actually like great voices, and I was inspired to listen to some opera. But where to begin? Well, I happen to have a book entitled The Metropolitan Opera: Stories of the Great Operas by John W. Freeman, in which are listed 150 operas deemed "important". And so, the idea for a project was born. I would read the synopsis and information about an opera, and then get hold of a recording and listen to it. Whether or not I will successfully post about them is another story entirely, but I'm willing to try. And so, this is the introduction. I just finished listening to the first opera in the book, and I will try to talk a bit about it momentarily. If nothing else, I ought to feel a little more cultured ... and I'm always saying I ought to listen to more "classical" music.

Thumb-twiddling

Without going into too much detail, I am here to tell you that I suddenly find that I am not currently singing, fencing, or cataloging. What on earth am I doing with my life? I sort of thought when this day came, I would have had something much more important going on to take the place of these all-important activities. You know, like a kid, maybe. Instead, I putter around the house, spend way too much time on the Internet, have finished watching the entirety of Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, don't work out enough, and sometimes read multiple books in one day.

I didn't really have a point to this post. It's just Christmas music season here at Chez Klein, which always makes me miss the singing. I don't actually miss fencing a whole lot - I needed a break. I will most likely be working again before too terribly long. It's just a weird place to be : Sunday night with the week ahead of you pretty much wide open. I'll try to get some cardio, I'll go to the library and get something else to read ... but what else? Damn all other hobbies for sounding unappealing.

I need something to do.

My philosophy

As summarized in a conversation with my brother.

People suck. Surround yourself with people who suck less than others, and try not to be a person who sucks a lot. That's about it.

Mac-hell-yes

I've just been inspired, by news of a big-screen production of Coriolanus and a fun movie blog, to revisit an old LJ post of mine. It basically involves a smash-bang idea for a big-screen production of Macbeth, which has NOT been done properly, and, well, I'm going to let you read my argument for it in a minute. The following is my original post. New ideas for casting will be italicized.

...
So, a couple of days ago, Andrew & I were discussing (ok, I was babbling and he was tuning me out) Clive Owen and Daniel Craig and how they both started out in theatre and have done their fair share of Shakespeare, which I would love to see, of course. I went off on a tangent, trying to figure out what play could be turned into a film version that could star both actors. And it was kind of hard to start out with. They're both in their late 30s-early 40s so you really can't do another version of Midsummer Night's Dream, or anything with the usual two sets of young lovers. I filed this dilemma away in the back of my mind and went on with my life.

But then, this morning, I hit upon the solution, and seriously? It's kind of brilliant. There hasn't been a really good version of Macbeth done recently. There've been some modernizations and weird realizations and things, but not a serious version. Think about it: it's got plenty of room for new-fangled special effects. It's got big battle scenes. It calls for absolutely top-notch actors ... I seriously think it could be a blockbuster. And none of the true leads have to be dewy, fresh-faced youngsters. They can be people in their prime. Anyway. Here's my casting. Yes, I'm thinkin' BIG.

Macbeth
Dramatis Personae

Duncan, king of Scotland ... Ian McKellen (Sir Ian, having already done Macbeth, will enjoy this irony)
Malcolm, Donalbain, his sons ... Gerard Butler, James McAvoy (both Scots)
Macbeth, Banquo, generals of the King's army ... Clive Owen, Kenneth Branagh (who in a perfect world, will also direct)
Macduff, Lennox, Ross, Menteith, Angus, Caithness, noblemen of Scotland ... Daniel Craig (as Macduff, the perfect foil to dark and brooding Clive Owen). Not picky about the rest. Some British-y actors I like : Mark Strong, David Thewlis, Matthew Macfadyen, Dominic West, Jeremy Northam, Rufus Sewell, Chiwetel Ejiofor...
Fleance, son to Banquo ... Freddie Highmore or Thomas Sangster. Sorry, Dan Radcliffe is too old.
A Porter ... Derek Jacobi. Although, Sir Ian in a cleverly disguised double role might be interesting...
Lady Macbeth ... Cate Blanchett
Lady Macduff ... Emily Watson
Three Witches ... Emma Thompson, Phyllida Law, Sophie Thompson (The latter two are Emma's mother and sister, respectively, and I just think the three of them would have a rousing good time)

...

Anyway. Yeah. I think it's brilliant. Somebody needs to get on that. Maybe when Branagh is done with Thor. What do you think?

Road trip!

I have not been on top of my blog reading. In catching up, I am once again struck with the weird notion that everyone else has a more interesting life than I do, which is most likely not all THAT true. I just think it's boring 'cause I'm in the middle of it. Anyway. We recently completed a rather ridiculous road trip, so I'll post about that. Stay tuned if you read the husband's blog, as he'll probably have a more structured wrap-up at some point. Anyway. Here goes ...

Day 1. Drive from Danbury, CT to Ann Arbor, MI. Yeah, you're reading that right. 12 hours. After about a 30 minute break at the home of friends Jen & Erik (and adorable cats Mariane and Amelia) we head over to Detroit to watch the Tigers kick the crap out of the Twins. Ugh. At least the Twins had the last laugh...
Day 2. Pancakes w/Jen & Erik. Brief look around UMich campus, culminating in lunch w/Jen T. and a friend of hers. We hit the road for Chicago, where we have a really fabulous dinner w/friends Matt and Melissa, then proceed to sit up and talk baseball into the wee hours. Adorable cat is Emmy.
Day 3. Apple pancake (yummm) at M&M's ... celebratory mood, as Matt is celebrating a birthday AND passing the bar! Into the car, headed to Stillwater, MN, home base of the Kleins. Dinner with Mother-in-Law. I realize that homes I've stayed in more than once, occupied by family, really start to feel like home after a while. Adorable cats Maya, Beatrix, and Claire.
Day 4. Head north to Two Harbors and "The North Shore" for the main event of this trip, the wedding of Matt and Jessica! Large group of friends all staying in a lodge for the weekend = extremely fun times. Highlights include Gooseberry Falls in the rain, post-barbecue bonfire, Jones D&D themed sodas, copious amounts of beer, friends galore!
Day 5. Sleep in. Huge breakfast with a crowd. Lovely walk along the shore of Lake Superior. Wedding! The sun came out, ceremony was lovely, celebration a total success. Matt & Jess know how to throw a party. No adorable cat.
Day 6. Up early, driving back to Chicago for a stay with husband's uncle John and aunt Marti. Lovely people. Another house that feels like home. Greek food, yum. No adorable cat.
Day 7. Up for diner breakfast w/John, drive to Indianapolis. Brief stop in sports bar to watch (early and boring) part of Twins/Tigers tie-breaker. Dinner at YAT'S (chili cheese etoufee FTW!!) with CORINNE AND LEILI! "Home" again to my uncles' Rich and Jim's. Twins WIN? Awesome. Adorable cat Tucker and awesome, awesome poochie Max.
Day 8. Bloomington for a brief walk-around and a pancake at the Deli. Pancake and Pax II as good as remembered. Bask in Twins' win. See various people : Robert, SLIS folk, Andrew and Zander, Scotty, Leili and various fencing types. No Sammy K. :( Back to Indy for dinner at Bazbeaux's w/uncle, home to relax. Talk w/uncles until wee hours.
Day 9. Quick breakfast, hit the road for Grand Rapids. Meet up w/ MARIIIIIIIIIIII for excellent lunch, then thrift store madness. Ask her about her new Shania Twain coat, for serious. Stupendous (of course) dinner chez Mari, meet-up w/Dudebro. Adorable cat Sphinx!! Sleeeeeep.
Day 10. Diner breakfast. Hit the road. I convince husband to just go home. Lunch was in ... Hmm. Don't recall. Dinner was Thai food in Scranton. Arrival home? 10:30 pm. Adorable cats? MINE.

Now who's boring? Apologies to anyone in the previously mentioned locations that we failed to see ... there was not a whole lot of time spent anywhere, but it was fantastic to see friends and family, some not seen for upwards of 2 years, and to be a part of a wonderful wedding.

Rude awakening

What if one is, in fact, living up to one's potential?

Too young to be heroes, too old to play April Fools'...

Otherwise known as Hip, part II. When last we discussed this particular subject, I had decided to ignore it for the present. Well, I got a little tired of that, so I looked around online and I tried another orthopedic doctor ... one that has actually specialized in research on arthritis, etc. in younger patients. He looks at my MRI scans and does some slightly different X-rays, and declares that I am suffering from hip dysplasia, which basically means that my bones don't fit together properly. As a result, arthritis! We decide, of course, on a cortisone injection. Well, tried that. The shot sucked, the hip hurt in a variety of new and interesting ways for a week afterward, and then it sort of settled back down into normalcy. We're talking my hip's brand of normal, here, which means it still hurts. I suppose on average it hurts a little less, but I am definitely not living pain-free.

So, in the follow-up, doc says that basically, if pain management doesn't work, replace it! Ack. I am also supposed to look into a truly terrifying procedure that involves cutting my bones and trying to fit them back together properly. Seriously, I can't even think about that without bursting into nervous and slightly hysterical laughter. Anyway, my doctor doesn't think that it is an option for me since I am already suffering from arthritis, but he wants me to go get looked at by a specialist anyway. Still need to schedule that...

So. I'm sort of back to ignoring/waiting it out. I don't want to have a hip replacement right now. I guess I'd like to wait as long as possible. Generally, it seems that I will reach a point where I just can't take it anymore, so I guess I'm going to wait 'til I get there. We'll see. I can't really say that I'm dealing with this brilliantly ... I get pretty ticked off sometimes, you know, sort of a "why me?" reaction, or just annoyed that this is happening now, when I'm thirty-four, instead of sixty. But, what can you do? I've altered my workouts and fencing habits as much as I am willing, I take ibuprofin or whatever (only seems to work a little sometimes), and I have a big ice pack that covers my whole hip with which I am in love. That'll have to do for now. I'm waiting until I literally "can't get out of bed".

*Title from "Give In" by Tina Dico

Open letter 3

Dear Lady GaGa-

Madonna's already done pretty much everything you're doing, and somehow, it looked less silly on her.

Kisses,

S

Loss

death isolation
futility alone
i am by myself here
you've left
and now the life
has run
away from the light
and happiness
is a shadow
dark and ugly
and
i feel that you
were stupid to go

you didn't know
the love you had
and left behind
for want of attention
that was already there
and left us all
to love you now
that you are gone
and your spirit is left
to carry your memory
alone

JCS, 8/13/1977-8/21/1991

Tournament

IQ is no problem here
We won't be playing Scrabble for her hand I fear
I need that beer ~ "Seven Days," Sting

I was listening to Ten Summoner's Tales yesterday, and when this line was sung, I thought (and maybe said aloud, alone in my car) "Oh, they would totally be playing Scrabble for my hand." And that got me to thinking ... what if we found our mates via tournament? What sort of competition(s) would you have in order to select the person you wanted to spend your time with? Here's what I came up with ...

It would have to be a multi-part tournament, with a bunch of different, smaller competitions, and a total score to determine the winner in the end. Probably not Scrabble, but maybe Trivial Pursuit, for one of the rounds. I had trouble with an athletic component ... I'm thinking maybe some type of obstacle course that would serve as an equalizer for men with various/different athletic abilities. Definitely a talent portion that could involve any type of performance skill. Maaaybe a stand-up comedy routine? And finally, (this would be the hard one) some type of teamwork assignment for all competitors as a group, designed to determine things harder to fathom personality-wise, you know, ability to work in a group, selflessness, leadership qualities, quick thinking, resourcefulness, etc. Obviously, that's a rough overview, but really, I think it could work. Obviously if someone were not a brilliant athlete, they could make up in other areas, like intellect and talent, and just generally being a good person ... like my husband, who is probably glad he didn't have to go through an obstacle course in order to win my hand.

Open letter, part II

Dear citizens of the United States -

In case you hadn't noticed, we are (still) in something of an economic crisis. Even if you don't "believe" in it, we are also in the midst of an environmental crisis. This word, "crisis," pretty much means that we (and our government) all have to do things that we might not like. You know, like paying more taxes. Suck it the hell up and learn how to share. Maybe we should all go back to kindergarten?

Disgustedly,

Samantha

Expertise

Do you ever think about the mundane little things that you do with great capability during the day? The really, really simple things, like buttering your toast or even something that requires a certain amount of skill, like driving a car? We do those things with ease and confidence. We don't even think about them at all. What if we could apply that same sense to the things about which we worry, like our jobs, or a sport, or a performance? Is that how "professionals" do it?

Compare and contrast

Now see, this is why I still like Russell Crowe better than Robert Downey, Jr. and why I think Crowe's a better actor. His next announced role will be in a drama directed by Paul Haggis entitled Next Three Days. Robert Downey, Jr., on the other hand, will next appear in Due Date, directed by "that guy who did Old School and The Hangover", and co-starring Zach Galifianakis. Sigh.

Sure, RDJ will make more money. And some say comedy is harder than drama. But still ... I am not a big fan of drama in general, but I hate, hate the "new comedy" a la Apatow, et al. C'mon, man. You're a really good actor. Show it instead of making with the paydays.

Rant?

I very sincerely believe that everyone - individuals, governments, everyone- needs to use their brains to think intelligently and rationally, with moderation, perspective, and a lack of personal bias. I am so incredibly tired of listening to people complain about what the government's doing because they are losing jobs/money/etc. or to governments (or pieces of individual governments) bicker amongst themselves because they think someone else should make the concession, or to people rant and rave about things about which they either have no cold, hard, facts or refuse to believe the cold hard facts presented to them. Why hasn't the economy turned around yet? Because it takes years to dig into a hole, therefore it will take years to dig out. This is not rocket science. The NY Senate gets no work done for a full month because they can't agree about who's in control. Gee, thanks, guys. Way to do what the people hired you to do. The various countries of the world want to argue about who should do more to clean up the environment instead of actually cleaning up the environment. For god's sake. Get over yourselves. Think about someone else for a change. If not your neighbor, then your kids. Grandkids. Whatever.

No-one is exempt. Me included. I'm just so disgusted with humanity in general these days. My inclination when I got into the car this morning was not to listen to NPR. Should've gone with my gut.

Growing old

So, way back when, I solicited topics for further discussion. One request was to "hear more about the hip". Since it's possible that there are readers (hey, anything's possible) who know nothing about this, I'll try to start from the beginning.

I guess for a couple of years now, I've started having pain in my right hip. As is my tendency, I ignored it for a long while. Knees hurt, hip hurt, whatever, no big deal. Well, the pain started to get worse ... not in a particularly incapacitating sort of way, but just in an "wow, maybe I shouldn't have fenced that last bout" kind of way. It hurt a lot if I was out walking for any extended period of time, or if I was out in cold weather. And, since I am currently gainfully employed with insurance benefits, I decided that maybe it was time for it to get looked at.

I went to see an orthopedist, who poked and prodded a bit. Of course, it behaved perfectly. They took x-rays. Everything looked normal. Next step, MRI. But not just any old MRI -- one with an arthrogram, which means injecting a contrast solution into the hip joint so that those bits show up clearer. I do not recommend this activity. The MRI itself wasn't as bad as I feared (apparently, I am not claustrophobic), but that damn shot was painful, and my hip hurt for about a week afterward. It didn't help that they managed to hit a nerve while they were in there, I imagine.

What the MRI told us is that I have "lost" a good bit of the cartilage that ought to be padding my hip joint. We are all bewildered as to how that happened. The doctors (I ended up seeing a second one, as well) keep asking if there's been any sort of trauma or injury. There hasn't. I am apparently too young for a hip replacement, and one of the doctors actually said "this isn't the kind of thing we do a replacement for." However, there's not really a fix. I got a lot of noise about pain management...but I decided that a steady regimen of Aleve and/or cortisone shots don't really appeal to me at this point in my life, for various reasons. One doctor said physical therapy wouldn't really help, the other said it might, so I might look into that at a later point.

For now, I'm just limping along. I'm sort of learning what sets it off and what doesn't ... unfortunately, exercising 6 days a week seems to be problematic. It was pointed out to me that loss of cartilage with resulting bone contact, inflammation, and pain is essentially arthritis. So, I've got an arthritic hip at the age of 33. Apparently, that's fairly unusual for someone under the age of 65. But what can you do? It's not as though I can do something that will bring about the return of that cartilage. I plan on just keeping on and seeing what happens later. I might go back to another orthopedist at some point, just to see if they have anything different to say. And maybe, when I'm old enough, they'll replace the sucker. I have to admit, I'm kind of hoping for that. I totally want to be that 50 year old vet fencer with the bionic hip.

The Poet Lovers - Eugene Field

Completely charmed by this poem I just found ... it's the final piece in a book I'm processing.




In some cases, it helps if you speak it aloud. I think my favorite line is Speak not at Talbot give some sign,/However Smollet be.

The art of being grown-up

Went to a conference. Ashamed of feeling like a kid, along for the ride. Everyone's so serious and intellectual, and I just don't know how to be that way. I'm not really 100% convinced that I have the desire ... I'm lazy. I do know that I meet incredible people who leave me with the desperate need to be impressive. But really, I just have more interest in life itself than in any particular aspect. I've never been able to devote my whole mind, body, and being to a single subject. Is that a bad thing? There are plenty of people out there who contribute, right, without being the world-changers? Do the people they admire still think highly of them, just as human beings, or are they merely disappointed?

...Rather, does one really have to be defined by one's career? Motivated, inspired, intrigued, yet confused, desirous, lost.

Things on my afternoon walk downtown that made me smile

*This on my iPod.
*Tulips!
*People jogging.
*A gentleman carrying a Chico Bag.
*An elderly woman who reminded me somehow of my grandmother.
*The building with the "Danbury Police Community Services Building" sign. Aren't the police, by definition, entirely "community services"?
*The boy in CVS who attempted to chat me up by remarking on the amount of cat hair on my fleece jacket.
*The business employee out in front of his store watering the shrubbery ... with a little silver watering can.
*The clock sticking out of the side of the building (that did not say four of two).
*Did I mention the tulips? I love tulips.

Oh, hello

Dear me. I've said nothing interesting in a while. Perhaps ever. Um...I shall now attempt to list the things that have occupied my brainspace for the past few weeks:

*vacations
*hiking
*nature
*torture
*politics
*Russell Crowe
*Anna Karenina (Yes! I am reading a Russian novel, and I am enjoying it!)
*cataloging
*Charles Dickens
*SPRING
*children and child-rearing
*singing (Starting to miss it)
*the future
*aging/dying/depressing things
*I, Claudius (Mostly the identification of random British actors whilst watching crazy Roman people do crazy, crazy things. Oh, Caligula.)
*thinking more deeply about a subject before I mouth off about it (You know, actually using my brain?)
*clothes/style
*fencing, my effing hip, and physical fitness in general


...Hmm. Maybe some time soon I'll have something that I feel is worthy to say, again. Maybe. I mean, just look at that list. It is fraught with potential subjects for deep and meaningful blogging, isn't it? Anything in particular I should pontificate upon, theoretic readers?

The Ugly Truth

I totally want to see this movie. I generally enjoy rom-coms, and my love for Gerard Butler is well-documented ... although I kind of can't stand Katherine Heigl. What is interesting to me about this movie, though, is that so far we've got two trailers, and I don't think that fully follow the usual formula for rom-com trailers. Boy and girl meet. Boy and girl hate each other. Boy/Girl is interested in other Boy/Girl. Ultimately, Boy/Girl and second Boy/Girl doesn't work out, and original Boy/Girl realize that they're perfect for each other. And usually the trailer reflects that. In this case, however, we get only marginal hints that maaaybe Boy is realizing he really likes Girl, but no indication that Girl is interested in Boy, or that second Boy is going to turn out to be a total jerk. Now, I don't doubt for a second that this is how the movie is actually going to play out, but I think it's interesting that they're withholding this in the trailers. Brilliant marketing, really, since you might go see it just to see if they actually do something different.

Or maybe I'm just continually looking for excuses to go see it. Y'know, aside from the fact that Gerard Butler is totally going to be my second husband. ;)

**Don't feel like posting links to trailers. You can look 'em up if you're interested.

An open letter

To teenaged girls (yes, I know, there are none reading this blog) everywhere:

See this?

That's Dev Patel. He was in that movie, Slumdog Millionaire. No, not the one about emo vampires ... the one that won 8 Oscars last night. Yeah. Anyway. Look at him! He is young, and adorable, and British, but with a nice exotic twist. He looks clean and alert and seems to be unfailingly polite. So cute! So charming! I really fail to understand why you are not all screaming and swooning over him instead of


Robert Pattinson, who says really weird things in interviews, seems to have an aversion to even the most rudimentary of hair styling tools or products, and really just looks stoned most of the time.

Can we work on that? Seriously, I think you'll thank me as time goes by and you get a little older. Kthxbye!

Crosswords + Chickweed = win.

Awesome. Means "to kiss", btw. I'm seriously going to be using that word whenever possible.

GOOP

Hi. My name is Samantha, and I like GOOP. Just in case there's anyone reading this (who doesn't know what GOOP is), I will explain. GOOP is, more or less, the blog of Gwyneth Paltrow, in which she offers recommendations on the following: Food to make, places to go, things to see and do, things to buy, and ways to make one's life better. The website has many detractors, even in terms of the bigger guns, like E!Online, which never misses an opportunity to mock this website. But you know what? I think it's pretty cool. I get all the snarky comments about how she thinks she's the next Martha Stewart, or she seems to forget that she is a ridiculously rich person and therefore has different taste/ideas about what is affordable than us average Janes, or that it's just so holier-than-thou. And to those comments, I choose to reply with an idea that is becoming really important to me as I grow: Learn from whatever source you can. Are her recommendations sometimes expensive, or snooty, or just plain ridiculous (I'm looking at you, detox diets)? Sure. But sometimes, they're good! I like her notion of layering outfits by starting with basic pieces that can be added to depending on the occasion. We actually tried two of her recipes for our Thanksgiving dinner, and they were really good! And she's got a workout video posted that was done by her trainer, who also trains Madonna. Now, sure, this trainer probably charges astronomically for a private session, but who am I to look askance at a free workout video? Might I remind you that both Gwyneth Paltrow and Madonna, while sometimes scarily so in the latter's case, are both in really good shape?
I'm not saying that anyone should follow Gwyneth Paltrow's (or anyone else's, for that matter) ideas about how to live life wholly or to the letter ... you should come up with your own. But the best way I know to do that is to borrow shamelessly from other people when you think they have a good idea. And so, I will avoid detox diets and overpriced Christmas gifts, but I will enjoy the use of black leggings as a basis for getting dressed in the morning, and roasted brussels sprouts and a really good salad dressing, and positive recommendation on a great sushi restaurant in NYC, and glowing praise for a book I've been meaning to read, and I think my life will be better for it. If others choose to miss out because they think they're being condescended to by Pepper Potts, well, that's their choice. Me, I'll take tips on life from wherever they come. Even if the name "GOOP" is pretty freakin' stupid.

Social networking?

You know, Facebook is kind of sad when you were never the popular kid. There are lots of people from my past that I remember fondly, and it's always exciting to find them on some website, to see what they've been up to and what they look like now. I'm happy to see them. I like to talk to them, hear how they've been, and all of that. And that's great.
I've come to realize, however, that such "relationships" leave me cold. This is unsurprising, and probably not unusual, but I think it goes deeper than that. Because I spend (too much) time on things like Facebook, I see the interactions that my friends have with their friends. They're all so excited to see each other! And they go into immediate reminiscences, and they often call each other to catch up, and maybe even meet up. And I guess what I realize is that I have always been on the periphery.
I was never the popular kid. In grade school, I was the antithesis of the popular kid. In high school and college, I thought that I fit in more, but I guess people still held me at arm's length. There are no "Hey, remember when"s and "I was just talking about you"s and "Call me, let's get together"s. There are certainly practical reasons for that, most notably the fact that I live nowhere near most of these people. And I admit that there are some people I never knew that well due to my own disinterest or some other reason. But ultimately ... I think of the quote from the film version of Sense & Sensibility when Willoughby says of Brandon that he is the sort of person that "everyone thinks highly of, but no-one remembers to talk to".
I think that I am just a person that people encountered on the way rather than someone they remember fondly or wish to reconnect with. I'm just that girl, the little one that everyone picked on, or the one who dressed funny and didn't wear shoes, or the one who showed up at lots of fencing tournaments. I suppose that I shouldn't complain, as there are most likely a whole slew of people that nobody remembers at all. But it makes me sad. What people don't realize about me is that all I have ever wanted in my life was to fit in somewhere. Be normal. One of them. But I was somehow always the unusual one, and the more people treated me as such, the more I suppose it came true.
There's worse, though, and that's the people that I realize want largely nothing to do with me, and some who I know don't even like me anymore. It makes me realize that I must've done something, or been someone that they didn't like or that made them unhappy. I suppose some have just moved on and don't care one way or the other.
At the bottom of it, though, is that same little girl who never uttered a word and never cried, but who only wanted to be included and loved. I still try so hard, maybe too hard, to make people happy or make them like me or just make them feel good because I like making people feel happy. I do it freely, yes; but doesn't every one want something in return? I remind myself to look for that love and acceptance from the few close friends I do have, from my husband, from myself ... but I don't think I ever got over not having it from the people I grew up with, and I wonder if I will ever stop looking for it now.

Words looked up today:

apostasy
haem
meson

This edification brought to you by leisure activities such as "Word Challenge" on Facebook and The Audacity of Hope by Barack Obama.

Be excellent

My "New Year's Resolution" can be summed up in this way : I'm going to be nice to myself. To elaborate only slightly, my hope is to stop and think about my actions, and whether or not they're going to enhance/make better, or be harmful. Reasonably appropriate on the heels of a teensy bit of celebratory excess ringing in the New Year. Let the improvement begin?

Final thought of 2008

Alright, it's really going to be two thoughts, mostly because I don't want to seem completely shallow.

1. I'm just starting The Audacity of Hope, and I've listened with interest to the preparation that President-Elect Obama has been making (yay, science!), and man, I am glad I voted for that guy.

2. I am totally, utterly annoyed that Heath Ledger is stealing all of Robert Downey, Jr.'s thunder this year just because he died. There. I said it. The Dark Knight was a trainwreck of a movie, nothing compared to Iron Man, and Downey, Jr.'s performance in Tropic Thunder blows The Joker out of the water. I am not looking forward to award season and seeing who the hell ever gets to go up and accept awards snivel over and over again about Heath Ledger while RDJ just sits there and looks like a hot, hot guy who fixed his shit instead of shuffling off the mortal coil. So there.

Awesome book of the day

Joyce, James, 1882-1941
Finnegans wake / by James Joyce
London : Faber and Faber ; New York : Viking, 1939


Limited first edition. 425 copies, numbered and signed. I think what gets me is holding such a book, maybe taking it in hand to write the call number in the back, and thinking "James Joyce held this book in a very similar manner, almost 70 years ago." It's not the 70 years that's so impressive in this case, but rather the James freaking Joyce part.

This is when I really love my job.

War economy?

I've just finished reading Howard Zinn's A People's History of the United States, which might be my biggest accomplishment in 2008. I've actually been "reading" it for a couple of years now, half a chapter at a time, usually after I'd read another entire book or two. About a month ago I decided that enough was enough, and I was going to just finish the bloody thing already. There was quite a feeling of excitement upon finishing, let me tell you. I might have "raar"ed and thrown the book down (gently, of course). I'm not telling. But anyway, I had a point to make here.

One of the things that Zinn focuses quite a lot on is the way in which the US government, quite often, chooses to control society and the economy by engaging in wars. He makes his point quite clearly, and I started to think about how, in my memory, that's been true, what with the Bushes and the Middle East. I've also been thinking about how (if at all) the Obama presidency will differ from the way the government has been operating for a really long time. Obama does not fall into the standard mold, and so even if he represents the upper classes in his personal situation in life, he's still outside of that white, Anglo-Saxon (to coin Zinn's description of the presidency in general) box. Back to the war economy idea ... at one point in reading I chortled to the husband that at least with the way things are now, Obama was unlikely to fall back on that sort of operation. However, I'm rethinking that. Is it possible that we will just pull out of Iraq and jump right into Afghanistan? I guess what I am not sure about (being, you know, in no way qualified to talk about this sort of thing) is whether or not the "war economy strategy" will even work at this point, seeing as we're already knee-deep in such nonsense and it's certainly not doing anything for the economy right now.

I guess what I'm getting at is just that I hope the mold is good and broken. I hope that Obama is different enough to shake things up, and I hope that the system has reached the point where it no longer functions, and we need a new system. Fingers crossed, eh?

This is what I get for listening to NPR on the way to work...sometimes it's worth it, though, if only to hear Steve Inskeep say "SuperPoke!"

Sexy.

There is no point to this post other than to declare that I think the song "Come On Get Higher" by Matt Nathanson is damn sexy. Even if he himself is not particularly.

Yes? No?

To be read:

"Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We've got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen."

~First paragraph of Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence.

The first American edition* is sitting just to the left of me, waiting to be cataloged. That first paragraph is fabulous. Why haven't I read this yet?

*Fine, so it's not the first Am. edition, but rather a reprint claiming to be such. Not that it matters, but I feel the need to truthfully represent the collection.