Friday, December 4, 2009

From the Midst of the Montage

Have you ever felt as if you’re in the midst of your life-changing montage?

You know what I mean, right?

In movies, we watch our hero/heroine suffer some tragedy, be it the death of a loved one, the loss of a career, or a broken heart, some combination of events that leads them to their lowest of lows, and then …. the montage.

The montage typically consists of 60 seconds or less of quick flashes of scenes showing our hero/heroine (Oh, let’s just go with “she” shall we? What? No reason) taking those necessary steps to pick herself up, dust herself off, and move on with her life. We see glimpses of her at the gym, beginning a new job, meeting new people, throwing out old things, buying new, painting or decorating her home, perhaps physically moving to a new locale. The montage ends, of course, with our heroine shiny, new, and completely physically and emotionally ready to turn the corner and *BAM* run into that love of her life who was just waiting, it seems, for her to get her own together.

Yeeeah.

A good, recent example of this is the movie (500) Days of Summer.



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[Stop reading if you have plans to see this movie and don’t want spoilers.]



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We see our hero, Tom, played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt [remember that cute little alien from 3rd Rock from the Sun?] writing greeting cards and falling in love with a girl named Summer. The film jumps around a bit time-wise but we see how Tom views their relationship, his hopes and dreams, and then we see those dreams crushed, revived, and finally obliterated when she finds someone new and he quits his job. Then … the montage. Tom finally takes up architecting again, trashes his apartment but starts drawing on the walls (I know, right?), and starts pounding the pavement looking for his “real” career. He focuses on making his own life better … and getting over lost love. We end with him 1) at an interview for the job he’s likely to finally get and 2) meeting Autumn …. that girl who was just waiting for him to notice her.

Wow, that almost made me gag and I LOVE that movie.

Yeeeah.

Do you know why directors make use of the montage? Because the actual process is long and excruciatingly painful. The actual process takes months or years. The actual process is ripe with setbacks, false starts, minor (and major) horrors, grief, and disillusionment.

The montage doesn’t show you the day-to-day, seemingly never-ending stress, the psychological and physical warfare a person goes through as she recovers from the lowest point in her life.

And, when is the montage over?

When has our heroine “finished” her re-construction to the point that the requisite *BAM* happens?

Is there a checklist out there that someone is hiding from me?

Do I simply need to check off “new car” and *BAM* … or “painted wall” and *BAM*?

Ooh … can I yell “CUT! SCENE!” and start the new scene?

‘Cause I’ll do it. In public if necessary.

"LINE!!!"

Sunday, November 15, 2009

It's Really Not About Steve At All!

I ignored the bad reviews and went to see All About Steve today. I mean, it's got Sandra Bullock so it can’t be all bad, right? Right?

Eh … not all bad. Some bad, oh yes. But, some good as well.

In short, All About Steve isn’t all about the character Steve. It’s all about the lovable yet uber-quirky cruciverbalist [psst … that’s a crossword puzzle maker] Mary Horowitz, played by Bullock, who sets her sights on easy-on-the-eyes camera man Steve, played by Bradley Cooper (in one of his few not-entirely-an-asshole roles this year) in order to be what others want her to be: normal.

Were bits overdone? Well, yes, it seems that is a given in most movies these days (see my take on 2012) with the exception this year of Star Trek (all hail). Were bits unfunny that were supposed to be funny? Well, yes, but I found myself wondering how much of my reaction or non-reaction was because of the expectation of unfunny I had walking into the theater.  I had laughs, I got a bit teary, and I left with that happy ending feeling - and that's about all I ask of movies on any given Sunday.

Just promise me this: If you go to see this movie, don’t go expecting a romantic comedy in which the main character gets her guy; she doesn’t.

What she gets is the insight that she’s already perfect ... and perfectly unique.

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“If you love someone, set him free; if you have to stalk him, he probably wasn’t yours to start with.”
~ Mary Horowitz.  Now those are words to live by.

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A word on Bradley Cooper: Isn’t it about time for this guy to do a movie in which he’s actually the good guy who gets the girl??? I have not seen all of his work but what I have seen this year includes the above movie in which he shuns the seemingly-crazy-but-lovable Mary, The Hangover in which he plays an irresponsible ass of a best friend and husband, and He’s Just Not That Into You in which he plays a cheating bastard. Seriously, be the good guy, Cooper, ‘cause I will learn to disregard the good looks if you keep playing the ass.

Saturday, November 14, 2009

What Began As a Tweet-Sized Review of 2012

On a last minute whim (and a last minute cancellation of the party I was supposed to attend today), I went to see 2012 this afternoon. 2012 – the big disaster movie with John “Better Off Dead” Cusack sans sister Joan but with a wigged out Woody [Harrelson].

Latest, greatest special effects? Check.

Main lovable star in a sad rut ready to turn his luck around? Check.

Adorable kids in serious need of smacking at various points of the movie? Check.

Cynical guy calling the shots who we’re supposed to believe is evil but who seems to me to be the only sensible person in the film? Check.

[I’m with you, Oliver Platt; that probably means I’m going to hell, but I’m with you!]

Instance after instance of excruciatingly drawn-out suspenseful moments? *sigh* Check.

Actually, I could simply say this:

2012 – There are moments for thought-provoking words of feeling and long looks of love … but not when a freakin' tsunami is going to crush you in seconds unless you do that one thing you need to do!!!!!

Who DOES that???!!!!

Apparently, John Cusack, Amanda Peet, Chiwetel Ejiofor (Yeeeah, I have no idea on that one either), "President" Danny Glover, and George Segal, to name just a few.

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Side note: To the two women who needed to change seats after the movie began in order to sit in the row directly behind me, for the love of GOD, WHAT WERE YOU EATING???? 
 
*crumple* *slurp* *crunch* *rustle* *cough*
 
*cough* *cough*
 
*cough* *giggle* *cough* *cough*
 
You, dear ladies, deadened completely the beginnings of sympathy I had for the doomed people in the movie.  Thank you.

Monday, November 2, 2009

All I Ask ... Is For A Smile!

Oh, irritation! Oh, lack of customer appreciation!


I bought a few books Saturday at my new Barnes and Noble. One was a new hardback from Charlaine Harris – Grave Secret – a continuation of her Harper Connelly, I-was-struck-by-lightning-and-now-find-dead-bodies heroine (no, seriously, it’s very entertaining), along with another sci-fi book … and a romance book (don’t you judge me).

Standing at the register, making my purchases, I commented to the worker that I thought the Harris book had a members’ coupon available so she looked online for me and the following exchange took place.

“I’m not seeing one.”

“Oh … okay, I thought sure there was one but maybe it was for her other new release.”

“Well, if you buy it today then find the coupon, just bring it back with the receipt and we can take care of that for you.”

“Great!”

The coupon was in my email; I found it the next day. It expired tonight.

So, I made sure that I had the book, still in the bag with the receipt, in my car and headed there tonight after Sadie aka Sadistic-even-though-I-had-a-baby-10-days-ago fitness instructor extraordinaire found new and vicious uses for exercise balls. Finally back at Barnes and Noble, I made my way (gingerly) to the registers and explained to a worker there what was going on … no problem … she just needed a manager to authorize it.

The manager arrived. Here’s where the irritation began:

Hmm … the two were having problems getting the return to go through and the worker asked me if I have another receipt as the Harris book is not listed on the one I gave her.

Eh???

I look at the receipt and then find myself in the awkward, and extremely irritating, position of explaining to them what apparently happened. I bought three books Saturday: The Harris hardback and two paperbacks. The person checking me out rang up one of the paperbacks twice and forgot to ring up the Harris book.

Initial blank looks. Final recognition.

“Sooooo ...” I noted, much to my chagrin, “it seems I’ll probably end up owing you more instead of getting any money back.”

No response as they are returning one of the paperbacks and ringing up the Harris book.

“Well, I guess at least this will help with your inventory.”  I chuckle.

No response.


No smile.


Nothing.

Now, I realize that I simply ended up paying for the books I received. I get that. But given the circumstances – that a customer believing she was entitled to money back from a coupon ends up paying more instead because of a mistake of one of their employees – could I have a bit of, oh, I don’t know …. extra kindness at least??

A freakin SMILE perhaps??!!

Honestly, I left feeling as though they thought I had done something WRONG when I can just as easily envision another customer flatly refusing to pay the additional amount because it was an error by one of their employees. It felt as if, because I was honest, I was only penalized.

All I ask … is for a smile while you’re taking MORE money from me. Is that too much?

I don’t think so.

Boo and hiss, Barnes and Noble.

Saturday, October 31, 2009

It's Quiet ... But Not Quiet Enough

Halloween 2008 included friends, handing out candy to cuties, and my red hair with one hell of an afterlife.  Actually, that afterlife lasted almost a full year.  In short, the red spray did not only get on my hair for a fun spooky night effect but also on my bathroom walls, sink, and, most importantly, the bathroom linoleum.  From light tan to pink in one step.  Nothing got it out. 

A few weeks ago, I sucked up my pride, contacted my apartment complex and finally asked how much it would be to replace that bathroom linoleum.  I anticipated that it would come out of my security deposit anyway once I moved out; no one would want an apartment with linoleum that looks like it got a bit too intimate with the Pepto-Bismol.  My landlords rock ... not only did they replace it promptly once I asked, they essentially patted me on the head, told me I'm a good tenant, and didn't charge me a dime for it. 

*lively linoleum limbo

Sadly, I now love my bathroom linoleum and hate the perfectly adequate kitchen linoleum. *sigh

Thus ended the horror of Halloween 2008

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Halloween 2009 includes no friends, no candy, no dress-up.  Sad? Pfft.

Halloween 2009 began with a facial (Aaaah, Indigo), continued with a flick (Aaaaah, Clive Owen in The Boys Are Back at Celebration Cinema), included a hot, soft pretzel with cheese and dark chocolate English toffee (Aaaaah, Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory), moved on to new boots (thank you JCPenney), new books (via the new Barnes and Noble), and rounded out nicely with Chicken Bowtie Festival and Tiramisu (care of Carino's). 

Not bad for a single person with no plans, right?

Right.

I'm home now, cocooned in my totally cool, black Hogwarts hooded fleece, watching a channel surfer's combination of an NCIS marathon and spooky movies (Halloween 1, 5, 4, who knows).  All should be well.



[Note: picture is a year or so old and, although I have been known to enjoy a stogie once in while, I am not doing so tonight. It is the only pic of said fleece I could find.]

And all would be well except for one annoying fact: people keep calling, texting, or otherwise notifying me of their party-dress-candy-fun-family-friends-filled plans for this all hallows' eve.  There is nothing quite like seeing pictures of others' beautiful children dressed in horrifically cute costumes, eager faces smiling with bags and pumpkins in hand ready to beg for sweets to remind you of what you lack.  Don't misunderstand me, I love seeing the pictures, love hearing about the fun ... just not in the seemingly concentrated two-hour span that just ended. 

And not when I'm home alone with no candy and no prospects for kidsters knocking and getting miffed at the oversight of sweetness.

I remember a time when I dressed up to hand out candy while my ex took my stepson around the neighborhood for trick or treating.  I LOVE handing out candy.  I also love finding glow-in-the-dark makeup and attempting to inspire some nightmares that will later shock the kiddies out of their sugar-induced comas. 

I miss that.

So, next year, when you're making your Halloween plans, take a second to think of any of your own single friends, living in apartments, who might like to come help with your candy hand-out.  Believe me, even if they have some hot adult party they are attending (please and thank you), they will still appreciate the invitation.

Meanwhile, it's quiet here ... but not quite quiet enough.
Happy Halloween, All Hallows' Eve, Festival of Samhain ....

Friday, October 30, 2009

The Biggby Jinx

Is my Biggby Coffee jinxing me? I think so.

It's a well known (to me) fact that there seems to be a shortage of hot (to me) professional SINGLE males (HPSM) in my city.  Believed to spend much of their days in office buildings, these elusive creatures are rarely seen.  Their continued existence is, at times, only confirmed during the summer festival days when groups of females will wander downtown Grand Rapids in a daze with one shared thought:

"Where have you (and you and you and you) been hiding??!!!" 

Now, perhaps a less known fact is you can occasionally run into a HPSM at local coffee houses.  For example, I was stunned recently when standing in a building lobby outside my local Biggby, talking on my cell phone, to be confronted with not one, but five such individuals walking through the lobby.  I continued bravely with my conversation but blaring through my head, reminiscent of a festival day, was, "Where have you (and you and you and you and YOU) been hiding??!!!" 

[Answer: apparently in this particular building, the location of which I will take to my grave.]

One would think this phenomenon suggests we should support our local coffee houses thus feeding the addiction that brings the HPSMs out in the open.  That's probably true; however, recent events suggest that my local Biggby is actually jinxing me around the HPSM.

Two days ago, I made my way to Biggby for my daily SSML (that's skinny skinny mocha latticino, no whip - oh yeah, I'm one of those people).  Leaving with my cup o-chocolate goodness, I began walking through the lobby when a seemingly HPSM rounded the corner walking toward me.  Eyes met, smiles were exchanged.  He said, "Hello."  I said, "Hello." 

Jinx #1:  Said "Hello" was followed promptly by a stumble worthy of an I Love Lucy episode.  Although I managed to keep my ass from hitting the ground and (most of) my coffee from doing the same, my undulations and grunts were really not the stuff of successful first meetings.  *horror*

One day ago, I made my way to Biggby for my daily SSML.  Leaving with my cup o-chocolate goodness, I made my way through the lobby and was approaching the doors when I heard an elevator *ding* over my left shoulder.  Instinctively, I looked toward the sound only to see the same HPSM exiting said elevator and shifting his eyes in my direction.  A smirk.  A smirk followed by a "Hi."  Excellent, right?

Jinx #2:  My uncontrollable response to this encounter as a 30-something professional female was to giggle.  GIGG-GAAAAL!!  I also managed one squeaked, "Hi," worthy of Jr. High but apparently that was not enough ... another giggle escaped on my way out the door.  *mortification*

Today, I made my way with a certain amount of trepidation to Biggby for my daily SSML.  I did not see the same HPSM today. No. I did see an older specimen encountered three times before but lately thought extinct.  I had actually engaged the older specimen (and by older, I only mean that I would not feel quite as puma-ish around this particular HPSM as the other admittedly puppish example) in casual conversation about the daily trivia question, shared laughter, no trippage.

Jinx #3:  The older pup entered Biggby with a tall, leggy brunette. *throws up hands and walks away*

I'm beginning to think there's something in that latticino. 

Why?

Because, well, because the alternative is that it's just me. 

.....


Naaaaaaaah.  It's the freakin' coffee.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

The Twilight Saga ... Seriously Condensed

Click *here* ONLY if you've already read all four books.



Don't say I didn't warn you.







I would give proper thanks to the artist but I haven't a clue who that would be ... I can only thank my little sister for a chuckle-filled tweet.