You're Doing It Wrong

Do you ever find yourself liking an especially cheesy pop song?

There was a stupid Hillary Duff song something about the rain coming down that I would involuntarily hum along with when it came on the radio. And a generation earlier was a Backstreet Boys song about how I want it that way that I’d sing to in the car. And then the generation before that there was a Spice Girls song that I’d nod my head to. I like sugary, thumpy pop-songs, what can I say? 80’s heavy metal and cheesy pop songs. I’m not even being ironic.

I like some good stuff too, like Paul Westerberg and Bob Mould.

Recently there’s been a cheesy pop song on the radio and I was horrified to learn that it was by one of those dreadful American Idol people. After all I’ve admitted, I was ashamed by American Idol.

[Every time I run the blogger spell check it gives me one word: “undefined” I don’t think it works. Why do none of bloggers special features work for me?]

I went and saw Million Dollar Baby on Friday. One of the main reasons I made it a priority was spoilers. I HATE HATE HATE spoilers. I hate when a movie reviewer tells you “I don’t want to give anything away but … the ending will SURPRISE AND AMAZE YOU” or whatever. I knew about The Crying Game because someone let it slip. I knew about The Sixth Sense because a reviewer referred to it as an homage to another movie where the protagonist was in a similar condition. (I’m being purposefully vague in case you haven’t seen it.)

I started to see items on Million Dollar Baby that were giving something away and I didn’t read them so I didn’t know exactly what would happen or what characters were involved. Some people can’t resist a secret. What is it? An ego thing? A power thing? An “ooh look how special and important I am” thing?

So as soon as the movie went wide I dropped everything to go see it. I’m not a huge Clint Eastwood fan. I find his directing cold. I didn’t think Unforgiven was worthy of nomination much less an Oscar and Mystic River didn’t impress me either. But I liked this movie. Way more than I expected. You can see the formula showing through but it’s a good story and I think Hillary Swank makes the whole thing. Clint and Morgan Freeman are great too, but Swank makes the picture. It’s worth seeing.

I’ll also mention that I am totally opposed to women boxing. I think it’s a crime against nature for women to be violent for competition. But let me tell you, I LOVED watching Maggie (Swank’s character) kick the living crap out of her opponents. I’m surprised by how much I enjoyed it.

Sometime last year I tweaked my back. I think it was Fall, possibly earlier. It wasn’t a big thing. I even remember when it happened. I leaned into the car to grab a bag — groceries or the junk I cart back and forth to work — and I felt a little twinge. Nothing to make me gasp in pain. Just a twinge right between my shoulder blades. (My “wings” as Holiday would say.)

I would wake up every morning with a stiff, slightly painful back. It didn’t impact my life in any sort of major way except for minor discomfort, mainly in the morning. The biggie was yoga practice which had to be modified immediately. I stopped doing all the more advanced stuff I’d been working on and invested a lot of time in very basic stuff, trying to loosen that scrambled up part.

This wasn’t such a big deal except it seemed to take FOREVER to feel better. In December I was still modifying my practice, skipping advanced poses, spending 3/4ths of my time just trying to loosen up.

On December 31 I did a workshop with Holiday and she talked about impatience with our practice (greatly simplified for the purpose of this post) and I thought about it and finally came to the conclusion that: maybe this is my body now. Maybe I am going to be stiff when I wake up. Maybe I’m going to have to invest a lot of time each day just trying to loosen up.

Very shortly thereafter, it dramatically improved. Is it yoga-voodoo? You decide. All I know is, my back feels 99% better and I can get into all sorts of crazy bendy stuff that I haven’t been able to do for months and it is fun. This morning I didn’t even want to stop but I had the writers coming over and had to cut it short.

I publicly express gratitude that my body feels better.

I only have a couple of minutes for some short ends here as a show I may or may not be getting into is about to start. The show is Point Pleasant and someone who worked on Buffy is connected. I watched an episode last week and my basic conclusion was that it was a shame because the show worked about 90% — it’s almost there but not quite. It’s almost original but yet it all feels done before. The lead actress is charming, but not quite charismatic enough. I’m giving it another try, that’s how close.

Some jackass loser smacked my car last weekend. Not just a scuff — there’s paint chipped and the bumper will probably have to be replaced. This person knew s/he hit and ran. Bob did a work related trip to Corvallis and there were many government vehicles around so we suspect this was the location and reason for someone’s bad behavior. I’m trying not to get exercised about it because it’s only a car and no one died but I would never be that big of an asshole so it bothers me that someone else felt okay about driving off and leaving it.

We did a Trader Joe’s run tonight and bought this triple cream blue cheese that should probably be illegal. It’s too yummy.

Finally, sometimes I feel like a loser because I can become overwhelmed so easily and my life is relatively stress free. It only takes one or two little things to be unpredictable or veer off course and I start to feel undone. That’s the kind of week I had. I feel undone.

We went to see General Public last night. They played at a place called Barracuda which is a enormous meet-barn off Burnside with a fakey beachy-island type theme and huge aquarium behind the bar. Well, the bar in the part we were in. It was a huge place, there was another downstairs half with another bar and an upstairs and pool tables. The women’s room had 12 stalls – I counted. There may have been more than one women’s room. I didn’t check.

It’s the kind of place with drinks served in giant fishbowls and lots of room to see and be seen. I would have *loved* this place when I was 21 but at this point in my life, I felt like I was getting away with something just by being there. And on a work night.

Bob had called in advance to get our tickets and was informed the band would go on at 9pm and we arrived at 9pm and were not thrilled when at 10:30pm the band still hadn’t started. Come on, people. There are grownups in the audience. It’s way past our bedtime. The $2 Rolling Rock (sponsoring the event) was only mildly placating as the basis for my agitation was a desire to be fully functional on Friday. Drinking a bunch of cheap beer would not further my cause.

The crowd, which was modest, is impossible to categorize. I saw a little bit of everything but at least 1/4 of the room was people our age. Just about the time I was preparing to incite a riot, the band came out and after about three bars of “Tenderness” all was forgiven. I loved every minute of the show and when the main set ended I looked at Bob with a hint of outrage and demanded to know how long they had played.

Almost an hour and a half. They came back out and played more and ended with “Save it for Later.” Perfect.

On the way back to the car there was this young woman standing in front of a glass door and she had a dog and recall I have this adult onset irrational fear of dogs thing and I assumed it was some sort of blood-thirsty deathhound and as we got closer it looked like some sort of goofy cartoon dog with a sweet face and batboy ears which he flapped a little as we walked by. We saw the sign for the shop and it was Voodoo Donut (The Magic is in the Hole) which we’d heard about at the Neal Pollack reading.

Next thing I know, Bob is charging in there. It’s a cramped space with a counter and a bench and while we were there, some mad professor type guy who was talking loudly something about a bicycle and a ditch. Bob bought a lemon cruller and a maple bar thing and I had a bit of each and it was awesome. I think they use extra fat and sugar.

We were in bed, lights out a 1am (ouch!). Totally worth it.

Dietary Guidelines for Americans

The Guidelines provide authoritative advice for people two years and older about how good dietary habits can promote health and reduce risk for major chronic diseases.  They serve as the basis for Federal food and nutrition education programs.

Yeah. Because if I’m looking for information on taking care of my health, the government is where I would turn. (dripping sarcasm if you can’t tell.)

It’s almost bedtime and I shouldn’t even start this as there is never such thing as a “quick post.” I’ll hammer a bunch of stuff out and then notice that it’s somewhat incoherent and riddled with typos and a few words need spell check and then some grammar will look sketchy and then I’ll elaborate more and next thing you know, 45 minutes have gone by.

This weekend was movie binge weekend although we ended up pooping out, partially influenced by the weather. On Friday I saw Finding Neverland (warning: non-specific spoiler on this one) which NO ONE warned me was a 10 hankie film. I expected at least a 2 hankie film. Why make a drama if you don’t want your audience sniffling before the end? But this was much more tragic than I’d expected, mainly due to a scene with a small child capable of holding a heartbreaking expression for what seemed like ever. All this aside, it’s an excellent film. Johnny Depp and Kate Winslet are fantastic.

Later that night, Bob and I went to a double feature at the Kiggins of Closer and I♥Huckabees – which is an odd bill. Closer was intense, but I knew it was about people being wretched in relationships, I expected it to be more repellent and really, the characters were quite human in that they made selfish choices and reacted poorly when things didn’t go their way. Excellent acting all around. I don’t know what to say about Huckabees. It’s an odd picture, somewhat funny, far-reaching. It doesn’t succeed but was fun to watch anyway.

The weather people had made dire forecasts for Saturday that we’d be getting snow and ice so when we woke up Saturday morning and saw perhaps a teeny sheen of ice on the world outside our window, we scoffed and continued our day without incident. Later I saw on TV that Portland had more than a teeny sheen so perhaps we should be more grateful.

Saturday afternoon we went to see The Aviator and I was pleased to see the theater was fairly full. Yay, people going to see a good movie. Of course I would quickly regret this as a couple of bucketheads with their not-too-swift buckethead kid sat next to us and proceeded to talk as though in their own livingroom for a goodly portion of the movie. As soon the film started the kid started in, “Why are they doing that?” and I gaped at them in astonishment as they chattered away explaining to Forkwit what we were watching.

We beat them into unconsciousness and then turned our attention to the movie which is quite good, again, with fantastic acting but Howard Hughes was a grade A nutjob and held our sympathy by the skin of his teeth. Also, no movie, barring those with elves and hobbits OR Jedi and stormtroopers, needs to be 2 hr 45 min long.

When we exited the theater, the freezing rain was falling and we had to tiptoe along the sidewalk to get to our car. (I touched down once for a slight deduction.) Bob drove slowly and we made it home without incident. We intended to see Bad Education (Pedro Almodóvar) on Sunday which was only playing in Portland, but when we woke up there was more ice and we decided to cocoon it for the day and watched Kill Bill v. 2 on DVD instead. Excellent and entertaining in every way. I didn’t know what to expect and I was surprised by what I got. Wish I’d re-watched v. 1 before we saw it

Finally, we’d intended to see House of Flying Daggers today but instead ended up doing chores and so forth. The temp. warmed up and the ice disappeared but we never got it together. I started reading Three Junes which Doni loaned me a month or 2 ago and as usual, I read the first 20 pages and didn’t think I would get into and found myself still reading 100 pages later. I’m back to it. Good Night.

Today there was a story in the A&E about Nick Hornby’s new book. It sounds like a must own classic.

Excerpt:

Hornby divides every month into two categories, "Books Bought" and "Books Read." There's not always a lot of overlap -- he's forever buying books he intends someday to read and not getting around to it, and defends himself by saying, "And I'll bet you do it, too."

(Jeff Baker Jan 14 05 Oregonian)

Yes, I do. I have a half dozen Signet Classics like Crime and Punishment and Madame Bovery that I bought years ago that don’t even have bookmarks in. (Sometimes I pile up a bunch of books to read next to the bed and I’ll start a few and read about 7 pages, stick in a bookmark and put back in the pile. Then I get tired of feeling overwhelmed by this huge pile of books by the bed and put them back on the shelf to read later.) I also have a bunch of ratty used paperbacks that I always think I’m going to get to like an Edward Hoagland book of essays and some Joyce Carol Oates shorts stories. The only time I look at these books is when I’m tidying the bookshelf or going on a trip and think that traveling will produce the optimum environment to finally dive into these books. Then I read everything else I brought with me and bring them back home and put them on the shelf.

This week I finished Harry Potter #5. I thought that HP #4 was mediocre except she really pulled it out of her ass at the end for a nice emotional payoff that redeemed the book. #5 I thought was a much better story that totally lost it in the 3rd act — like she suddenly realized she’d been droning on for 900+ pages and had to wrap it up quick. I could reduce 50 pp. from the book by taking out unnecessary adverbs. One time she uses “sycophantically” — is that even a real word? (dictionary.com says it is — okay, I don’t think it should be.) Also, don’t you think it’s weak story telling to get your hero into a terrible fix and then at the critical moment, have him rescued by some character(s) that have been off-stage for awhile, showing up to save the day. I think you can get away with doing this once. But this happens several times. Finally, in the writer’s favor, I will say that Harry’s 15 year old angst where he’s angry and doesn’t think anyone can understand how he feels is spot on teenage behavior. Don’t misunderstand, I liked the book but I don’t think it held up for 956 pages.