Psyched out.

My last installment of USA Network original shows is most certainly not the least. Psych is in the midst of it’s fifth season and is going strong. It is a different breed from all the other shows I’ve talked about, more akin to Monk… but sillier. And funnier.

Shawn is a guy who was trained all his life by his cop dad to notice details, quizzed incessantly during his childhood, he was groomed to be a detective. Gus was his uptight best friend. But Shawn was too much of a screw off (likely because of his dad’s zealousness) and didn’t go the cop route. But with his skills he could solve crimes. One day he got blamed because he knew too much when he called in a tip, so thinking fast, he claimed to be psychic. Then he went and spent Gus’ money to create Psych Detective Agency.

Shawn and Gus are at the heart of the humor. There have been episodes where I couldn’t breathe for laughing so hard – where I had to go back and watch again because I missed what came next, but before I got there I was again laughing too hard and missed it again. The humor is a lot about pop culture, some about 80’s references since that was their childhood, and then just their general bizarre-best-friends humor. Admittedly there are times when I cringe for their being too ridiculous, but mostly I just laugh. Hard.

Their relationship, though, is something to behold. Dulé Hill (from West Wing) plays Gus, and he is the yang to James Roday’s slacker Shawn. It’s this ongoing battle with an intense bond going back years. The struggle and the tension meshed with the history and the camaraderie is what really makes this show work.

Corbin Bernsen (from L.A. Law) plays Shawn’s dad who often begrudgingly or unknowingly helps, when that’s the last thing he wants to do because he thinks his son is not taking anything seriously in life, etc. The detectives that regularly (have to) work alongside Shawn and Gus (as they have been contracted to work cases with the police) are hilarious, too.

There is so much about this show that is right. When the show The Mentalist stole the premise but made it more “legitimate” as a drama instead of a comedy, the characters of Psych even poked fun at it. This season they’ve even been poking fun at themselves; at how they have Shawn figure things out. I love it!

I’ve debated sharing one of my favorite scenes ever, but I don’t know how it would work without a little background of the characters and the start of that episode… you just can’t get how off-the-wall funny it is without having the scene set.So I’ll settle for this quote from a recent episode:

(Detective) Juliet: Who ever said work was supposed to be fun?

Shawn: Ron Jeremy for starters… but that’s beside the point.

It was just in the middle of nothing, and plenty of fine, upstanding folks won’t get it… but it slayed me.

If ever there was a show for ridiculous fun, it’s this one. If you’ve never tried it, give it a chance. It might be too low-brow for you, but you might just love it.

On a role.

In honor of my brother’s birthday (because he’s a fan), I’m talking about Burn Notice today.

Burn Notice has been around a few seasons so you may have caught an episode here or there. It was the first of these clean, fun shows with characters that are relatable because they grow and have emotional depth.

This one is about a spy, Michael Weston, who was wrongfully kicked out (burned) and is trying to make it right. To make money he works different jobs helping people in the kind of trouble the police can’t help with. There’s lots of explosions and cool “jobs” in this one. I love how with voiceovers they sort of explain the MacGyver way of getting it done as a spy, often with a touch of humor.

The show is clever in many ways, not the least of which is how they keep the audience coming back when Michael never actually gets what he most wants – to be back in. But the relationships he builds, often begrudgingly because he wants to be back out there again without ties, really makes this show something special.

For instance, they convey serious depth in the relationship with his mom who is played by Sharon Gless of “Cagney and Lacey” fame. There are so many nuances and adjustments on both sides – honestly it’s phenomenal writing as well as acting when it comes to their relationship and the perils it’s fraught with, yet how much they both fight for it.

Another great element relationally are his two “sidekicks.” First, Sam, an ex-spy who once turned on him has now become the person he can really rely on to get his back. He’s a lot of fun, but no less complex than the rest. And Fiona, an Irish ex-girlfriend who was a bomb maker and general roustabout for the IRA. Somehow with that resume, she still has a heart. They are ever in this love-hate struggle, and it is always engrossing. But she and Sam are his crew, the two people he can count on… his best friend and his girlfriend.

I’ve watched this in fits and spurts in recent seasons because it was too much into the jobs for the people in need and what compels me to keep watching is these relationships, but in the end I always get caught up. Because it’s worth it. And because it’s something other than hockey to talk to my brother about.

Reading revolution.

For some time I was contemplating, then researching like mad, the potential purchase of an eBook reader. Two weeks ago I finally did do so… and it wasn’t a Kindle.

I always thought I’d just never get into having a digital reader. I mean, I adore my personal (and quite large) library of books. It’s always been a dream to have a room in my home designated strictly for books and reading. (One day…)

However, as I continued to prepare for moving abroad I kept looking at my bulging shelves of to-read books puzzling over how to manage accessing them once there. Do I re-purchase? Do I ship – there and back? Because books are such an important part of my life, it was a frustrating dilemma.

Somewhere in the midst of that quandary, a digital book reader started to seem like a good option because even if I had to repurchase a book, it would likely be cheaper this way. When considering it a few years ago, it wouldn’t have been an affordable option, but now it seemed it might be.

So, as is my way, I looked into every kind of reader I could discover. I read up on each of them, finding the benefits and disadvantages of each. What I realized was it really is about your personal needs and likes.

I purchased a beautiful Sony Touch eReader. It’s gorgeous. And red. :D (No, being red is not why I got it, but it definitely tilted me in it’s favor!) For me this was ideal. The biggest selling point was that I can underline and write in the margins of each book, which is my common practice, even in novels. But further, it’s fantastic to turn the page with my finger sliding across the screen as it makes it somehow feel more like a real book.

The Kindle wasn’t at all ideal for two reasons beyond not having the options I just mentioned. First, in Europe where I'm planning to move, and elsewhere in the world, to download directly to the device without a computer costs considerably more. And I don’t mind using my computer anyway. Second, and much more vitally, because of Amazon’s proprietary system, you can’t download other forms of eBooks. There are hundreds of thousands of free books on Google Books that the Kindle doesn’t provide access to. To some that wouldn’t much matter, but I enjoy the classics and the majority of them are, in fact, in the public domain and therefore free.

There are other fun features that caused the eReader to outshine the others for me, including the ability to group books in collections, but I think I’ve gushed enough. I will say, when comparing it to a Kindle side-by-side today, the only thing the Kindle seems to score higher on is that it’s screen is ever-so-slightly less glary. I’ve a feeling that has to do with the eReader being a touch screen, because Sony has been making these devices far longer (and is an electronics company rather than a book seller as well) and is therefore quite a bit farther along in perfecting and debugging. Besides, the shine factor really wasn’t such a significant difference and the eReader wins, in my opinion, in every other way.

So for my lifestyle and future plans, the scales just about fell on top of my beloved Sony Touch eReader! As a side note, it’s really kind of great to think about how green this option is. Oh, plus it was on sale!

I never knew how powerful it would feel to carry around a library with me. I swear to you, it’s absurd I know, but I am nearing 800 books – all free one way or another - on the device (in my defense, three authors take up about a third of that number)… and I love that at any time I can access any one of them. Oh, and I’ve been able to find over half of the titles on my shelves for free as well, so I’m overjoyed!

Like father like son.

I just now saw a lead in for a segment on a news show about a seven year old being taught to hate… they showed him holding a sign saying, “God hates fags.” The clip included the interviewer asking the parents the question, “What if he grows up and doesn’t agree with everything [you believe] anymore?” He’d be bounced out of the family – “that’s the Lord.”

After a moment of this sinking into not just my psyche but also my spirit, I wept. I wept deeply.

What this family is doing is horrifying on multiple levels. Employing a merciful and forgiving God (who IS love) to wield and spew hate is appalling and grievous. To indoctrinate their children into this hate-filled perspective is shocking and frightening. To believe one is righteous whilst judging others is above all angering and embittering.

I wanted to scream, yet could only weep. I wept for those whom with words they were wounding; I wept for their children who will have a difficult time of ever finding their own way and who might never know what unconditional love is like; I wept for how they were condemning themselves to a life, and (if one believes in such a thing) an afterlife, of misery and coldness; and without knowing it at the time, I wept for the children of a family I grew up with who suffered a similar, though in many ways more insidious, form of tyranny.

I wrote for several hours about this, detailing many things: My perspective spiritually, and how I feel they are so far from knowing who God really is. My feelings about their position on sexuality in the context of spirituality. My heartbreak at their absolutism versus, the beautiful alternative of love and understanding regardless of agreement. My feelings about their role as parents. But what it came down to was my perspective on freedom.

You see, the thing that makes it most difficult for me to decide how I feel about this is that I truly abhor how parenting is controlled by media and popular society. For instance, the public floggings of the parents whom have encouraged their kids to go for their dreams even in youth are appalling to me. To the father who climbed Mount Everest with his 13 year old son – I applaud him for nurturing those dreams and allowing his son to go for it, and not only that but doing it alongside him. It’s not like the boy didn’t have to work very hard to get there. Yes it’s dangerous, but everyday life can be dangerous – and how much better will he be for understanding the effort and preparation and exertion it takes to achieve, but also how worth it the endeavor is?

The same with the 16 year old girl circumnavigating the globe non-stop alone via a sailboat. Or the 7 year old girl in 1996 who became a pilot. (Yes, in attempting to cross the U.S. she, her father, and her flight instructor crashed and died, but she was already better educated than most college graduates, knew her mind and pursued her dream.) How dare the media, the masses, whomever, ridicule and condemn those parents because they didn’t choose to coddle and ignore their child’s dreams and potentials. They listened and gave them wings. Just because our modern society says that protection is the absolute, the most important thing, does not make it so.

Whatever we think about these hate-filled parents, why do we think we have a right to tell them how to raise their children? That above all else bothers me... because, I assure you that if we do, it won’t stop with them. So how can I, then, condemn these parents teaching hate as I so desperately want to? Within my heart I fiercely defend the freedoms we enjoy here in America. I know they are fragile, and come with a great weight of responsibility that we as a nation don’t always handle very well, but I believe it would be an insidious kind of enslavement to have my government tell me how to raise my children (or worse, to have the world do so via the UN). Such a thing frightens me beyond measure, and as a fearless optimist, that's saying something.

To that end, I find it irritating that this news program put the story of the 16 year old sailor, the 13 year old climber, and an 11 year old toreador in the same light as this story of the 7 year old hater, making it seem that these parents are all the same. This is, to me, more of the media tainting and manipulating our perspective.

How do we find our way free of this control while still trying to keep children away from actual abuse? Because I believe that parents of the sailor and the climber, at least, did something magnificent in fanning the flames of their child’s dreams and guiding them as they worked for it... then letting them go to achieve when the time came, knowing whatever the outcome that their child would be profoundly the better for the experience of trying.

I liked what the young climber said, “I encourage other kids to discover their own Everest and go for it.” Magnificent. Incandescent. May we all find that kind of perspective, whatever our age!

Living in the past.

If you haven’t had the pleasure of watching the British television series Life on Mars, you’ve missed out. It’s something that is hard to describe, but in a nutshell is a show where a modern day cop is hit by a car and he wakes up in 1973. In the past he’s a cop as well, but it’s a very different world to the one of forensics and procedures… and seatbelts. He’s just trying to figure out what’s happened so he can get back; is he in a coma, traveled in time, or has he gone crazy?

The show is so incredibly well done, with characters that you can’t get enough of. And realizing just how much things have changed – it’s astounding and quite funny, really, in the context of the show.

The defining character was Gene Hunt, the man in charge of the squad when Sam Tyler wakes up after being hit in 2003. He is a bit of an anti-hero with all his machismo and misogyny, but somehow you can’t help but delight in him. His comments are jewels to be admired, no matter how offensive they are. At his heart, he is a good man, but he’s a 1970’s man's-man, make no mistake. And much as I should writhe at his very character, I adore him.

There was a follow up series to Life on Mars called Ashes to Ashes. It gave us back Gene Hunt and some of the other characters we loved from Life on Mars, except now it’s 1981 and the person that showed up in Hunt’s world from the present is a female officer called Alex Drake. That lends to a whole new level of misogynistic issues that are quite fun to watch unfold. It also lends to a sexual tension that was in turn both intriguing and comical.

Ashes to Ashes was quite good, but didn’t quite capture the mystery and intrigue of Life on Mars. The final episode of the series ran this weekend, answering all the questions. For many that is most desirable. For me, however, it was a let down. I loved the mystery left to us at the end of Life on Mars. It was a frustrating sort of exhilaration that I’d take any day over neat-and-tidy, then forgotten.

I mean, I haven’t stopped raving about Life on Mars since I first saw it until now, but with Ashes to Ashes I guess I feel like it was fun and all, but didn’t rivet me in the same enthralling way. Don’t get me wrong, it is far and away better than the majority of shows out there, especially American shows, and indeed I’m sorry it’s over, but it’s answers, while interesting, weren’t all that engrossing. Mystery is my mate, intrigue my seducer, plain an simple.

P.S. Best car chases since Streets of San Francisco in these two series!

The Doctor is in.

Several weeks back the latest series of Doctor Who with the Eleventh Doctor, Matt Smith, began. My doctor is, and always will be, the Tenth Doctor, David Tennant. I sang Tennant’s praises early on in my blog. He is, quite frankly, my dream guy – crazy-smart, tall & thin, sassy, great sense of style, loves adventure, travels through space and time… and yes, I know he’s an alien. And fictional. I can’t set myself up for disappointment much more completely than that… but I digress.

I was inclined at the outset to dislike Matt Smith as The Doctor. I mean, how can I appreciate anyone who follows up my favorite? Beyond that, he’s just so young, and that’s bothersome because it’s hard to then see him as the 900-and-something-year-old that he is. He doesn’t have any experience in his eyes. To me that is an important quality to have in The Doctor.

However, while so far I feel a bit like Doctor the 11th is a watered down version of #10, I am enjoying the show. His companion Amelia “Amy” Pond, for one, is clever and funny. And Scottish. I adore how they met. The scene early on where she feeds him – one of the funniest things I’ve watched in years. And as a whole, the show is still as fun as ever.

The sass is, I think, what I miss the most. The Tenth Doctor was full of piss and vinegar, and several of his companions were as well – especially Donna Noble. The verbal banter was mouthwateringly good. Also, I think so far I haven’t felt The Doctor’s intensity and strength; that fierceness that, coupled with his sense of adventure, drives him. His vulnerability has been present, but so far not his venom.

Perhaps that’s who this Doctor is, though. I’m okay with that, but it will take some getting used to. Perhaps when I can finally quit comparing, I will be able to more fully enjoy this new Doctor. One thing’s certain, though… I’m still watching!

(Love the new logo!)

The place of pondering.

I sit here on a lovely rainy day pondering. I think that’s one reason I love rain so much – the sound is restful and somehow rejuvenating and in that it gives my mind time and space to consider without the usual stresses. Well, that can happen so long as I don’t run headlong into my day, at least.

What came to mind as I listened to the trickling of the water in the drainpipes, the drops touching down on various surfaces, the swish of the distant cars as the fresh puddles shoot out from below their tires, was the Way of the Tao.

Isn’t it interesting how sometimes you pick up books at random, in a moment you want something different than what you’re in the middle of for instance, and in the end they all seem to relate? One night recently, on a whim, I picked up the tiny tome call What Is Tao? by Alan Watts. Concise as it is, it manages to effectively convey the essentials of the Tao. Having finished that, I grabbed The Tao of Pooh and now and then delved into this easy read.

The thing that most effects me about the Way of the Tao is that it is in the rhythms of nature. It isn’t the worship of nature, but is a kind of respect for nature that we whom have grown up in Western cultures can’t truly understand immediately. This is because in the Eastern cultures they don’t see human beings as standing apart or dominating over nature, but as an integral part of it, fitting right in to it. From a Western perspective, this is revolutionary.

When I started reading these two books, I was already making my way through John Muir’s My First Summer in the Sierra and No Impact Man by Colin Beavan. John Muir was a devout Christian, yet he saw the hand of the divine in nature. When speaking of poison oak and poison ivy he said, “Like most other things not apparently useful to man, it has few friends, and the blind question, ‘Why was it made?’ goes on and on with never a guess that first of all it might have been made for itself.” John Muir may never have know about the Tao, but he understood it.

In No Impact Man, Mr. Beavan talks about the day that he and his family had planned on walking across the bridge from Manhattan to go to a birthday party, but when the day came it wasn’t just raining, it was a torrential downpour. So instead, they stayed home and relaxed and just spent time together. No rushing off in a cab to do the 101 things that we all pack into our “time off” because they were on the journey of a year without making a negative impact on the environment. That day more than any other he felt how the rhythms of nature, even in the middle of one of the busiest cities in the world, is within each of us. He noticed how when we pay attention to these things, when we move within them, we are happier and more connected to the people around us, not just nature.

One of my favorite stories so far from No Impact Man was how on another day when it was raining, he was walking somewhere or other with his daughter on his shoulders. Feeling guilty that because of his choice to do this no impact challenge his daughter was having to be out in this weather. He was trying to hold the umbrella so that she would not get wet, but she was crying. Then a gust of wind blew the umbrella over and rain poured on both of them, and his daughter stopped crying. After he righted the umbrella she started crying again. After a couple of times of this he realized that she’s not crying because she was getting wet, rather she was crying because the umbrella is stopping her from getting wet. In his words, here’s his realization in that moment:

“And on this rainy day, here is what happens when I treat my body as something more than a means to transport my head, when I finally learn to treat the landscape as something more than the space that stands between where I am now and where I want to be later:

I take Isabella down from my shoulders and let her jump in a puddle, soaking her shoes and her pants. For fun, I jump in the puddle, too. Isabella laughs. She stretches out her arms with her palms facing up to catch the rain. She opens her mouth, sticks her tongue out and leans her head back. I try it, too.

When did the child in me disappear?

People are running past. They look desperate, miserable, trying to get out of the rain. What has happened to us?”

I think I’ve always kept the child in me, splashing in puddles and loving playing in the rain, for instance. But also, I am a person of the journey, appreciating the path often more than the destination. Also, I have often felt that there is no place better to find the divine than in nature. To connect with the Way of the Tao has for me been more of an understanding of how I relate naturally as well as how I move through the journey.

Reading the Tao Te Ching, the main source of understanding the Tao, is an interesting process this time around. It is causing me to question my ambition. But it is also giving me permission to find rest and contentment in this time of intense struggle with my situation and my lack.

In sharing this, I’m not saying I’ve converted to some new faith, but rather that I feel knowing about the Tao enhances and deepens the faith I have. It gives me a mind for the whole rather than a part. I see creation, not simply man, when exercising my faith. I have always had an affinity for this way, but until it was explained to me I accepted the idea of man’s domination, if uncomfortably.

I think when I started to see the world in this ancient way, I also understood how much less I need in order to feel the fullness of joy. If you know me or have been reading here for a bit, you know that I’m a purger, trying to keep myself free of so much stuff that weighs us down. But isn’t it so much a better idea to simply not collect these things so that there is no need to purge? I’m not saying strive to be an ascetic and live in deprivation, but more to be thoughtful in what you buy. To have less stuff is to have more time because you needn’t work so much to get it and you have less to clean and sort and put away. Not a bad trade.

I look forward to exploring the Way of the Tao more. I look forward to feeling the rain on my tongue and appreciating the wind on my face. I look forward to being fully present and having the time to connect wholly with those around me. I look forward, but only in that I am completely engaged now so I know whatever comes I will be the same then – engaged and ready.

Ten on Tuesday.

I thought I'd join in on this week's Ten on Tuesday. I tend to prefer when the questions are interrelated as well as on a topic that interests me, but this week's questions do touch on travel and the outdoors, so I figured I'd give it a go...

1. What two cities should be moved closer together?
Gosh. I’m not sure. I think I like the journey too much. But I think it’d be wherever I am to wherever I want to be next. Yet, that’s not right either because I’d not like Edinburgh, Scotland to be down the road from Los Gatos, California. That’d be creepy and ruin the point.

2. What was the first plane ride you took?
No idea – was way too young. I remember the first plane ride I took alone. I was seven and went on a plane from Northern to Southern California to visit my grandma and grandpa. It was so exciting to be doing this on my own that I can even tell you what the sundress I was wearing looked like (this was in the days when one dressed nicely to travel).

3. What continent would you most like to visit?
All of them. And I will.

4. What’s your favorite place to window-shop?
I don’t like shopping, really, so mostly I hunt online (and still don't much like it). Although I did a browse through REI on Saturday and enjoyed it a lot. Got me excited for hiking in nature and traveling the world – two of my favorite things. Back when I had a place to do my art, my answer would have been Home Depot.

5. What’s the least fun you’ve ever had at a place specifically tailored for fun?
Well, because I read someone else’s answer to this question, what comes to mind was when I went to this really cool event, a Mayfest, at the Tourist Club on Mount Tamalpais in Marin County last year. We had to hike down this really steep grade to get to it, and once I got down there I got an insane migraine. It was quite hot and heat makes my migraines explode. I’m miles and miles from anything resembling a place to rest, I rode with a group in a beat up SUV with no working air and no apparent shocks, and all there is available to drink is, of course, beer... which will only dehydrate me and make the pain worse. There was traditional German polka-like music replete with screeching (so it seemed to me) horns blaring, bodies everywhere in a relatively small space, barbecues heating it up more and sending smells wafting everywhere that made me feel like puking even more, and a blazing bright sun shining in my eyes to sharpen the pain up to the nth degree. I didn’t want to spoil the event for the rest of the group, but I thought I might just curl up and die somewhere. The worst was all those hours and hours later when we left, I still had to walk those several miles up that incredibly steep grade in the heat. Hell of a day. Funny thing was it was such a cool event that even in that state I wanted to become a member of the club.

6. You’re stuck on an island with plenty of food, a companion, and a relatively stress-free lifestyle. What do you say when the rescue ship comes?
It took me a long time to come up with a real answer for this. But then I remembered. Island fever. When on Maui, one of the most beautiful places I’ve visited, I realized that I’d not be able to live there very long because I would get serious island fever... mostly because I love to explore, it’s my nature to my core, and once it’d all been explored (including the water around the island), no matter how wonderful and simple my life was (which is ideal in my book), I’d go stir crazy pretty quickly. Though, I could ask the rescue ship to send us a helicopter so that when we want to we could take jaunts off the island. Then I’d not feel trapped. The other thing is, where is this island? In the middle of the Pacific Ocean thousands of miles from anything, or just off a coast somewhere so that if we built a canoe we could paddle off now and then? Also, if the island is New Zealand, I’M STAYING.

7. Which day of the week do you look forward to most?
This is going to sound so stupid, but I love Thursdays. Always have. I can’t explain it. I don’t know that it’s the one I most look forward to, but I do love me my Thursdays. I think I look forward to the days I know I will be doing something I love doing or will be with someone I love, or be doing something I’ve never tried before... and that’s never on a specific day of the week.

8. What’s your favorite place to enjoy the great outdoors?
Anywhere in nature, I guess. I love the forest, but I also love the ocean. I’m not big on deserts, but that’s mostly because of my issues with heat ever since I got heat strokes 15 years ago. Well, that and I DON'T love dry, dusty, barren places. I love lush, green, moist... with creeks flowing through the dense trees and secrets to discover, as well as the wildlife that comes with that environment. Then, too, the sound of the crashing waves of the ocean... especially in the rain. Or if in someplace lovely (like the afore mentioned Maui), then snorkeling all day long and seeing the wonders of that sort of wildlife! I feel like nature is my temple, so entering it in any form is a way for my soul to be refreshed. (Perhaps that is why I prefer the moist, lush places... though even in the deserts I can experience this.)

9. What’s on your “to do” list this summer?
Hmm. Well, number one would be moving to Scotland. But before and after, going on as many hikes and jaunts into nature as possible. Potentially getting back to cycling. Mostly remembering to find restful moments to just partake and enjoy... whatever is around me. And continuing in my quest of purging the detritus of life – both internally and externally. Less stuff, less clutter, getting to the bare minimum externally. No more mass amounts of storage. Just my books, some quality kitchen things, and some lovely bits that bring me joy. Internally getting rid of the junk that weighs me down, that detracts from living my best life, from being as open as possible to those around me MUST GO. Freeing myself of those annoying thought processes that cause me to think “I can’t” is another big part of this detritus I’m purging. Also, to continue to find more ecologically sound ways of living, wherever I may be, and reducing my waste as much as possible. Mustn't forget, watching the Stanley Cup Playoffs.

10. Which natural disaster freaks you out the most?
I don’t really get freaked out by such things. I’ve been in intense blizzards without power, some of the worst earthquakes in recent history, and even a hurricane or two. I don’t think I’d like to have my home (such as it may be) taken out by any of them, but why dread what we have no control over? I will say that as a kid I’d have nightmares about Tsunamis. But they were cartoon-like dreams where the giant tidal wave would suddenly be overcoming the towering downtown of a big city. And there I'd be running, knowing it was useless. Interestingly, I neither lived next to the ocean nor in a big city with high rises... so go figure. But, because I love water so much I think I’d be really sad to experience its devastating powers, whether through floods or hurricanes or tsunamis. Also, I have this weird sort of feeling that if my stuff was all taken from me in this way, it’d sort of be freeing. It’d be hard because I have things from family whom have passed on, yet it’d be so releasing – I’d be able to be the nomad a really am without worry over stuff. Even if it’s stuff I LOVE. I’m a weirdo, aren’t I?

Okay, I just wrote all that, and then realized I would totally be freaked out by potential avalanche if I ever was somewhere where that was a possibility. Being buried alive is a horrific enough thought, but to do it while freezing is worse somehow. Yikes.

So there you go. A little more about me you mightn't have known.

The devious nature of inanimate objects.

I love books. Passionately. I do NOT, however, love mass market books. You know the ones – 4” x 6 3/4”, horrid rough and dark pages, smells disgusting, frustrating to keep open (especially if it’s a long one), yellow quickly (like as you read it). I abhor them.

No really, I think they are evil. Well, since last night I do. You see, I was reading one, ignoring my sore hand from holding the nearly 800 page volume open and trying not to destroy the spine, while laying on my stomach. Because I was leaning on my elbows, I was holding it closer to my face than when I’m sitting properly.

Now, I already know that holding one of these Godforsaken volumes means that my hands get so dry touching those pages that even after I’ve put the volume down for the day, when I apply lotion, within two minutes I need more as my skin is still parched. That’s horrible.

But it’s nothing to last night. Because the book was closer to my face, I was breathing in that… shite. Apparently something – I can’t begin to guess what exactly – from the pages of the book was inhaled and imbedded in my lung. I was hacking almost all night. Whatever I did, nothing seemed to sooth it. It was like that one molecule was sucking out all the moisture in my chest. I was barking like a sea lion. The gallon of water did nothing (except make me need to pee), covering my mouth in order to breath in the warm moisture of my own breath did nothing, finally the third Sucrets allowed me to get to sleep.

I want to chuck this book and all the other mass market volumes I own at the person who came up with such an abhorrent idea. Cheap bastard. Except, I want to find out what happens in the story. I’m torn.

One thing is for sure, I’m gathering all the ones I’ve read that don’t have sentimental value and am selling them to the used bookstore. I don’t want to wake up to find that while I was sleeping the mass market paperbacks attacked and left me completely void of moisture – meaning I’m cracking everywhere so that when a breeze comes through the open window, I blow away like dust. Like I said, EVIL.

The reality.

I am a reality TV hater. Truly. However, I did see the “preview” episode of Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution. Honestly, what he’s trying to accomplish is so vital, and also so valiant.

He has gone in to the most unhealthy city in America. They have the most deaths from health problems resulting from obesity. So they are dying young. They are the most obese city in the most obese country in the world. So he went there to attempt to effect positive change.

He’s trying to start in one school, be successful there and they will start to adopt his ideas for the entire school system. But he only has a week. A week to make healthy food that meets the ridiculous USDA requirements, a week to serve fresh food on the same budget as processed, a week to feed all those kids and get them to like it. A week. I can’t imagine kids that have been raised only on processed foods could change their tastes and these eating habits they’ve had no choice in for pretty much the whole of their lives.

Worst of all, he’s got a kitchen full of women who pretty much hate and resent him. Their contempt is palpable. One in particular is a real ball-busting biotch. I CANNOT fathom not wanting someone to bring healthy change knowing that these kids they are feeding are the first in generations to have a shorter life expectancy than the previous generation. At least, I cannot imagine not being OPEN to a better way.

Having lived abroad, I think the saddest thing that Americans are known for is for being, on the whole, fat. I remember having been there about a month, when in a bathroom I heard two Europeans talking about this. I wanted to come out of the stall and say, “Really, ALL Americans?” using me as an example for the thin side… but I knew at that point a least I was only proof of their stereotype. It really bummed me out. Not because I cared about their opinions, but because I cared that we are so unhealthy. That I was (am again) so unhealthy.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy with my body whatever it’s size. But I want to be healthy and fit as a way of life. When I lived abroad I achieved that. Without even knowing it, I lost 50 pounds. Just eating like the locals, walking everywhere, and frankly, being happy. And I truly didn’t have a clue it was happening.

These women at the school kitchen Jaime Oliver is working in think they don’t have a choice. They just do what they’re told, so to speak. The school food board essentially say the same thing – they just follow the USDA guidelines. Two breads a day. At least this much sodium, at least this much fat. Blah-blah-blah. No personal responsibility, so no guilt. No ability to change anything (so they tell themselves), so no extra effort need be made. Worst of all, they don’t think anything is wrong with their status quo.

It seems to me we are allowing the government, yet again, to decide things for us. This time it’s the health of our children. It’s the length of their lives. I’m not even a parent and I care deeply about this. Yes, I’m pissed off that our government is so all-invasive and can control so much, but why I care deeply is that these are children. We, in feeding them this processed CRAP, are taking years off their lives and training them to do the same for themselves. Not to mention the things that can’t develop properly because they aren’t getting the proper nutrition.

I think the most significant thing that Oliver said in that episode is that he’s been to South Africa in the townships and those kids are getting fed better and healthier food than American kids are in school. Appalling. Parents should care. We as a community should care. I care.

I won’t be watching the show because I frankly cannot stand the platform of reality TV (if it were a documentary project I’d be all-in), but I will try to discover whether his project succeeded or failed. I know he did revolutionize the food system in schools in Britain, so there is some hope. I will hope. And eat veggies for lunch!

By the way, Oliver has a petition going to improve school food, if you’re interested.

What we have.

I want to start this post out by saying that this is NOT me preaching at you, this is me sharing my astonishment and expressing my realizations at how the way I live my life effects the world.

I’m so ashamed. When I actually consider my weekly trash output, I’m so ashamed. I’m someone who has always been, shall we say, ecologically conscious. I remember in the mid-80’s, for instance, long before recycling was touted, much less readily available, and being ecologically minded was PC (long before there was such a thing as PC), I would cart around my empty Coke cans in my bookbag to bring them home to recycle (meaning then later taking them out to a recycling center as home pick-up was unheard of). The last few Christmases I only shopped with reusable bags. Good things. Valuable things. Things I should and will continue. But what about all the trash I was outputting? Recycle or not, why am I using so many things for no more than a few minutes and trashing them?

By now some of you might be wondering what I’m on, as in what I’ve been ingesting mentally. You would be right to assume there was something. In a round about way, an online girlfriend opened up my world. It was a simple link posted on Facebook. A movie review, actually, and one that was just so-so. But she recommended a website, and as she is someone I admire and whose opinion I value, I checked it out.

No Impact Man. Heard of him? He’s that weirdo in New York City who tried to live, along with an 18 month old daughter and his reluctant wife, with no environmental impact for a full year. I was interested in practical ways I could live a more ecologically friendly life – simple things like when I made the resolution at the beginning of the year to only ever use recycle bags, otherwise I must carry the items without anything or simply not get them. Extreme? Perhaps. (Or at least to some.) But, though I’ve been far more ecologically sound than most of those in my neighborhood, I’d never taken that real step of making it an absolute. So far it’s been incredibly easy to live by. But I digress.

Through this simple post by a girlfriend, I discovered many things. One of the most impacting was the short video call “The Story of Stuff.” Wow. I mean, WOW. It really makes you think about what you buy… and even why you buy it. Even more, it opens your eyes to SO MUCH about the process of making, about how we became a consumer society, and so much more. Beyond that video, I discovered other products and possibilities as to change and how I can conserve.

But most of all, and especially after hunting down a copy of the book No Impact Man, I found out just how much waste I am putting out there every day. It’s astounding. I, for instance, had only recently started using handkerchiefs now and then, more as a novelty and a convenience in cold weather. But when I realized that the thousands and thousands of tissues I still use and translate that into trees, I was floored. How about paper towels? It’s so easy to pick up a rag for the dirty jobs and a dishtowel for the drying jobs that might cause me to normally reach for a paper towel.

But then one of the resources pointed out feminine hygiene products. Um. Yeah. Not getting into too much detail here, boys, but I must say I was astounded that there WERE these options. How come I’d never heard of them before now? I’m THRILLED not to have to ever worry about running out. I’m psyched that will not have to spend all that money yearly on products – ever again. For the lifestyle of living abroad and travel which I’m working toward, knowing that wherever I am what I need will be available by the mere fact that I have all I need always with me is revolutionary. And, then also it’s great knowing that I’ll never, ever again add that kind of waste to the environment. (Never mind that I won’t be putting bleached and not toxin free – none are, nor are such things regulated – paper-based wads inside me.) Girls if you are curious to know what I’m talking about, check out DivaCups and LunaPads. Mine are on their way!

So far I’m about a third of the way through the book, and I’ve not yet gotten to the big changes he (they) made. Like TP alternatives. Like only food produced within a certain distance from them. Like… well I don’t know as I’ve not gotten to that yet! But what I do know is that all my take-out waste is absurd; that when I ate at that restaurant last night, it would have been easy enough to have a cloth napkin in my bag so as not to waste the paper; that cutting back – especially my trash output – actually isn’t hard at all.

Most of all, what I’m realizing is that my grandparents had the right idea. Okay, my grandmother was a hoarder in many ways – not like those horrendous shows you see on TV with all the filth, but in the never-throwing-things-away sort of scenario. We cousins still joke about the Styrofoam platter that had the duct tape down the middle, which was used ever time we visited. The water used to rinse our plates had to be taken out and used to water the plants outside in the Nebraska heat. That idea of “waste not, want not…” the idea of being grateful for what you do have, these are good tenants to live by.

[Those positive psychologist have] discovered that happy people spend a lot of time being grateful for what they have and savoring their experience. They don’t rush through “now” to get to later. They don’t make taking care of themselves or their families something they have to get over with so they can get to the good stuff. Instead, they insist that this moment, whatever it is, is the good stuff. – Colin Beavan, No Impact Man

So their idea then, my grandparents and their generation, was that if we treat what resources we have as precious, we understand how this life is precious, too. We have less “need” for things because we are so full up with blessings for what we have in front of us. If that’s archaic thinking, bring on the Ben Gay and Metamucil.

(No offense, gang... but could YOU resist this picture??)

And so it goes.

I confess I did end up watching The Academy Awards last night. As I said, I really wasn’t all that interested, but thought I’d fast forward to the acceptance speeches. Then that opening happened and I just kept watching. *Sigh.* I disappoint myself. (Kidding.)

I was a little astounded that I predicted every single winner, including the more obscure which I didn’t list in that last post. That’s most certainly a first. Of course it helps that I was able, through the more illicit bits of the internet, to actually see most of them. Also, and most of all, because I finally acknowledged the politics of the entire process instead of going just with my heart.

On the “yes-yes-yes!” side: I think it was really exciting that we had for the first time a woman director win. I thought Sandra Bullock showed extraordinary poise, grace, humility, graciousness, and humor - her speech made me almost glad she won. I loved all the dedications to those who serve in the armed forces. I enjoyed how they again introduced the top actors and actresses. Seeing some of the clips made me excited to see some of the other films I hadn’t gotten around to watching yet which is nice for a change. I thought James Taylor doing the memoriam was lovely. And it was my year for dresses as there were so many RED ones! Hooray! I thought Gabourey Sidibe’s confidence was wonderful. The tribute to John Hughes was nice. Lastly, Neil Patrick Harris was great!

On the “not-so-much” side: Bridges speech, man, was not all that groovy, man. (His wife is still a stunner, though.) I was terribly disappointed that District 9 didn’t get some of the periphery awards (though as I said, that’s what I figured). I wish Streep had done it, darn it. I also would have liked it if more winners were gracious and witty like Bullock or heartfelt like Waltz and Bigalow (and Bullock). Wish we could have had another Roberto Benigni moment… this show was a bit dull, wasn’t it?

Some questions: Who makes up the seating chart? I want that job! How on earth did those dancers manage to fly like that? No really, HOW? How precious were the nervous winners? Why is it that although I recorded the show a half hour over what they allotted, I still didn’t get the speech for best picture?

I had some other witty observations, but I can’t recall now. Perhaps that’s a good thing for you! I will say it was a nice show overall because it wasn’t so over-the-top. But I was still glad for the fast forward button.

I guess Hollywood just doesn’t impress me anymore. I used to love the glamour and keeping up on the films and such. Now I’d rather focus on the latest language I’m learning or go for a hike or watch a hockey game than pay attention to any of that. Give me a scifi over a serious drama or a kid flick over the critic’s choice any day! Yet films can give us insights and perspectives into things we might never have been exposed to otherwise, and that’s something to value, particularly if it’s done well and unbiased.

In all my blustering about not being into the Academy Awards here, I’m sure I’ll again at some point in my life consider what my acceptance speech would be were I to win. It’s just a part of having a dream, even when it’s not actually a Hollywood dream… and I plan to keep dreaming!

Celluloid dreams.

“And the Academy Award for best picture goes to… District 9.” Wouldn’t a shocker like that be exciting? It’d be nice to have the Oscars shaken up a bit, to be sure, but even more I actually prefer this film to the others up for best picture.

To be fair, I haven’t and most likely won’t see Precious. I just don’t do those kinds of films that show the never ending horror of a life without a possible way out; without hope. That fatalistic perspective does it for some, but as a person who doesn’t do anything by halves – especially glasses (and their fullness) - I think something like that just enforces the false assumption that there’s no way out; no choice. In my opinion there are always options and choices (we may not like any of them, but they are there).

In all honesty, though, I don’t think the Oscars are likely to hold any surprises, even with ten films duking it out for the top spot. That’s disappointing… and why I likely won’t watch it this evening. It’s ironic, really, that I’ve finally seen nearly all of the films nominated, but don’t care about the show.

Maybe it’s my new perspective on waste and want in our culture (read: consumerism), but not even the fashions really get me excited. I don’t know why I feel the falseness and pretention this time over other years, but I do. Is it that nominating ten films for best picture seems so obvious a marketing strategy rather than a desire to open up the field? Is it that I no longer give a toss about the actors and their lives? Is it that the quality of films today as a whole are so lacking? Of course in all that, I’m still curious about the outcome.

BEST PICTURE

Of the ten nominees, I was most impressed with District 9. Allegorical and intensely revealing, it showed us the best in worst in humanity through the medium of scifi. After that, Avatar for all it’s beauty and with it being a technological joyride, seems like a Disneyfied, animated lollypop. Don’t get me wrong, I immensely enjoyed Avatar, but in story and intensity it can’t compare to District 9. And anyway, I think Up is a far better film as a whole!

In all reality, though, Avatar is likely the only gate crasher to The Hurt Locker’s party. Because that’s the one will likely win. It’s really a good piece of filmmaking without the heavy-handed polemics in which modern warfare films seem to revel. Inglourious Basterds is a extreme longshot only because the Academy doesn’t hold with a brash loudmouth like Tarantino. Too bad, really.

I do wish it was about what’s best and not Hollywood politics. But when has it ever been really about what’s the actual best performance or best film? I can’t remember a time.

Oh, and I think the best director will likely be Bigalow for The Hurt Locker, though her ex-husband Cameron could give us another lame King-of-the-World speech – potentially in Na’avi this time – if Hollywood is less thoughtful and more financially motivated in their decision.

BEST ACTOR & ACTRESS

In both cases, I think it will be less about performance than about rewarding those the Academy haven’t bothered to honor yet. If you were looking at performance alone, Renner of The Hurt Locker should get it, hands down. With Clooney in Up in the Air, there was nothing really challenging in it, was there? He was just sort of… Clooney. He’s a good actor, but this role seems almost rote for him. In Invictus, Freeman was convincing but really not amazing. (I think it’d be fun if he won, though, because he does so many joke sketches on The Late, Late Show with Craig Ferguson!) I think Firth in A Single Man will be overlooked for the subtlety of his layered performance as the Academy at large tends to prefer showy.

I think for that reason they will select Bridges. I haven’t seen Crazy Heart, but honestly haven’t heard anything good… Bridges is pathetic, drinks to excess, sings, and apparently even flashes a pot belly which, put together, is the Academy’s weak spot (over-the-top, sappy, pathetic, looking-your-worst roles). I think, though, he will be chosen because of his body of work, not because he was the best of the five this time with these performances.

Best actress is where I most hope the Academy doesn’t do what I expect them to do. I’ve a feeling they’ll reward the sweetheart of the screen who finally had a vehicle to showcase her abilities in a way the Academy likes. Now, I like Sandra Bullock, but in this field this year, she was nowhere near the others. Mulligan (love her!) lit up the screen in An Education, but she didn’t have as deep a role as some of the others. I think Mirren will likely be overlooked because her film wasn’t as embraced, though from what I here her performance was a stunner. I’d say that no matter how great Sidibe’s performance was, as a freshman, a true unknown with little marketability (thinking like Hollywood here, peeps), the odds are against her.

Personally, I think Streep’s performance in Julie and Julia was incredible. I only saw Child when I watched her, which is an astounding feat. It was subtle as well as showy – just like Child herself. She’s the most decorated, though, so though hers was the best performance I think they’ll skip her for Bullock. But a girl can hope!

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR & ACTRESS

Well, in short, wouldn’t it be awesome if Waltz from Inglourious Basterds won? I hear Tucci was truly horrifying in The Lovely Bones, and he’s really a fantastic actor (he really WAS lovely in Julie & Julia), but I don’t see them giving it to him for some reason. Harrelson in The Messenger is unbelievably fantastic (this from a girl that doesn’t much care for him), but I don’t think he’ll pull it either. Matt Damon has proved to be a great actor, but this roll in Invictus? Really? Plummer? Same as Mirren, not a widely embraced film. I’m thinking Waltz. That’d be cool.

I think this category is a lockdown for the women. This is likely where they will show tribute to Precious – and from what I hear, rightfully so. Apparently Mo’Nique is set herself in a league all her own with this performance of the horrifyingly abusive and manipulative mother. I did see Up in the Air, and while I do think that Kendrick brought energy, humor, and pathos to the film, it wasn’t enough… I mean, even if Mo’Nique’s performance wasn’t all that it’s being touted (and I’m thinking it is because how often do they talk about lesser comedians in this way?), the Academy likes to be seen rewarding the films that show the horror of the plight of the underprivileged. Somehow they think they’ll be forgiven their insane riches. Please. But, though I don’t want to go anywhere near the film, I do think this time around the performance is likely worthy of the PC nod.

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE

Right. I know this isn’t one of the “big six” categories, but it’s been my favorite in recent years. I actually saw all five nominations this time… even the more obscure The Secret of the Kells. Can I just say that while I may be in the minority, I thought Fantastic Mr. Fox was dull and rather lame all ‘round. Sadly, I saw it in the theatre. Bleh. (The one thing I did like was when they were going to swear, they always used the word “cuss.” My favorite was “mothercusser.”)

Coraline was great animation and even a good story, and while I did like it a lot, I actually had a nightmare after watching it. Me. Br-rr-rr! The button eyes – horrifying! I can’t imagine the Academy going for it. But maybe that’s me. The Princess and the Frog was sweet and sappy – a true old-fashioned Disney… though not as good as those of the past. The music really was fantastic, though!

Up was “FULLY AWESOME!” It’s so heartwarming and fun and sweet, without hurting your teeth. Even my date teared-up in this one! It’s one of my favorite movies of the year, if not my absolute top film. For heaven’s sake, it’s up for best picture (see how good it is??) – of course it will win here.

But I must, must, must give my two-cents about The Secret of the Kells. It’s not your typical animated film. It’s artistic in how it’s drawn, almost architectural. Like Frank Lloyd Wright doing background animation. STUNNING. But then, the story was deep and touching. It involves faith without explaining the faith, it involves hope and survival and love and curiosity and wonder and so much more. Honestly, I absolutely loved it. I kinda wish that Up would win best picture, so that The Secret of the Kells could win here… but the Academy wouldn’t do either part of that scenario. They’d choose all four of the others over this one in my opinion. Very sad.

I know it’s silly to have written this long post when I’m not all that into the Oscar show itself this time around, but for whatever reason it was this year that I was able to see so many of the nominated films… I guess it seemed a waste to not talk about them! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy the glamour. I think I might just go read a book.