Another Random Saturday

*I feel lost today at work. I haven't worked by myself in a long time. It's kind of okay here since there's TV, and a fridge, and I brought my book. Still, it's always nice to know there's someone at the next desk, even if you aren't talking to them. Here's how I spent my day: Watched Rick Steves on his tour of European Christmas traditions (really want to go to Scandinavia now), watched "What Not To wear", showed a client, ate a taco, smoked a cigarette, watched "Pieces of April" (kinda late but I really like that movie), played around on Facebook, smoked a cigarette, said we were out of coffee for the 6th time, watching "Silence of the Lambs".

[side note: I know I'm at work, but if you don't have a question or need something, please don't interrupt my movie watching or emailing. I don't go to your job and sit on the corner of your desk ho-humming while you try to work.]

*Tonight I'm going to my first hockey game of the season with my lovely friend Jen. I love watching hockey. It's the only professional sport I enjoy watching on TV. I love how Texas has a shit football team but a great hockey one. It's irony is not lost on me! It's important to know people. I say this a lot. You can never have too many contacts and friends in too many places. This is relevant as our tickets come to us by way of my other lovely friend who works for the stars. Tonight, we will have the best seats I've had. now, if only I knew someone at the Cowboys organization who could get me tickets, I might make it to my first football game. Sad, how I've lived here most of my life but never went to a game. It's too expensive. I don't have $200 to drop for just myself to go, and park, and eat. Ridiculous.

*Number of Hot Browns made and eaten: 3

* It was released recently that they are looking to make "The Amityville Horror" again. Should be good if Ryan Reynolds runs around topless again. What? He's not in it? It's another remake? What the french!? Dear Hollywood: I'm instituting a new law. You cannot remake a movie more than once. Period. Every time you want to remake a remake, you must give me $1000 and drop the idea. This is a win-win situation. I'll get rich and you'll quit wasting so much money. Why don't you take the amazing technology we have now and remake something that could have used a jolt of CG? How about all those movies with good ideas but poor execution? Undo all the bad acting and even poorer writing. Roger Corman has made over 300 movies for next to nothing. Surely there's something there. However, I warn you, no remakes of cult classics or relatively known films. Whenever you want to do that, give me $100 and tattoo the words: Death Race 2000 on a visible body part. Not even the white hot Jason Stathum could save that poorly planned remake. In short: Quit it!

* Today's word of the day is maunder, meaning to talk incoherently or in a rambling manner. Also, to wander aimlessly.

* On a related note, Dear TV show creators: Don't hold back your money shots till mid to late season. I know you think your show will be the one, the next "Friends" and run forever, but more likely than not, you'll get cancelled before you even get off the ground. I'm looking at you "Eastwick". We all know the story, they're witches. You're not doing any favors to the viewer by dragging out their realization and acknowledgement of their abilities. Now you're cancelled and the show is finally getting interesting. Way to go. See also: "Dollhouse"

* Which leads me to my biggest complaint in television and film. I am sick and tired of people not talking to one another. It never works out for them and frankly, it's unrealistic. You just realized your partner was an alien and your son wants to join the alien peace party, better keep your mouth shut. The worlds coming to an end? Just keep it to yourself, no reason to rock the boat. You saw your best friend's boyfriend/girlfriend kissing another? Keep it to yourself. They'll never find out you know. I'm sick of these unrealistic relationships designed because the writers cannot develop natural conflict. Pathetic. While I'm at at, seriously "Medium"? How long has she been married? How long has she worked at the states attorney's office? Her husband and her boss still don't believe she's talking to spirits? How many cases does she have to solve? 1000? Come on!

* My new favorite website comes courtesy of Blogger's "Blogger's of Note" section. Ugly Overload showcases unattractive critters like this guy:

Personally, I think he looks like a great conversationalist. Everything I say is shocking and amazing. He cannot believe his tiny ears! "You said what?!?"

Another Year Older

Well, I am officially one year older. My birthday week has concluded. No more “Happy Birthday” greetings, no more free drinks. Just me. My Dad asked me if I felt older. The truth is, not really. What would that even entail? How do other people feel inside? What makes you feel older?

At my birthday party, a friend asked how old I was turning. “28,” I said. “Ah yes,” he replied “I could tell you weren’t a day over 30. Look here”. He grabbed my face and pointed to my eyes.

“No crow’s feet. No lines. You look 25”.

I laughed. Can there be that big a difference between 25 and 28? As far as I can tell, I look exactly the same now as I did at 18. A bit more meat around the middle (what have you got to do to get rid of your busted can of biscuits?), a little less elasticity below the chin, skin a bit clearer. I’ve had the same haircut since 1997. I’m not any taller. If I mention my “biscuits”, I’m told to shut up. When do you begin to look older? Would you even want to?

“I should hope so,” I said while gently smiling “I moisturize”.

I read a piece in my new book club book, “The Brief History of the Dead”, about a woman who tried never to show emotion on her face. I understood the passage to mean she wanted to save her face. The act of smiling caused her pain; her face was a mask in jeopardy from breaking. Now that she was dead, she smiled all the time though it was still uncomfortable for her. I understand this principle implicitly. Wrinkles are caused from facial movement (among other things, but this seems to be the main offender). You first see lines form around your eyes from smiling and squinting and laughing. Paper-thin cuts stretch across your forehead from looking quizzically at something, from squinting, from acting surprised. Slowly the collagen in your lips begins to decompose and cracks stretch out from the center towards your nose, your chin, your ears, from smoking, or using a drinking straw, or making a disapproving face.

I see them now. I seek them out. Starring in the mirror, running my fingers over my skin, feeling for imperfections. It’s become obsessive, trying to control what takes the least amount of effort to do so. I could fix my jellyroll, but I’m lazy. I can be good and dedicated for a couple weeks, but once I see an ounce improvement I stop. I’d rather spend that time cooking or watching TV or reading. Where the moneymaker is concerned, it’s effortless: Wash face, exfoliate several times a week, moisturize, sunscreen, serums and potions. It all takes 5 minutes. I have no idea if it’s helping.

This week I fully realized what the number of getting older means. More questions about boyfriends or lack of boyfriends, more depression over lost opportunity, the realization that fewer opportunities would come my way. I could die bitter and alone. My cat could eat me and no one would find me for days. I could disappear “down the funnel” and out of the memories of others. Little by little we fade away, the point is to have someone else there to document it, to acknowledge it happening. I don’t want to become desperate for connection.

“The Hours” is on TV and Julianne Moore is talking about living with what we can bear. It’s a poignant statement. The series of events in life that stack up before tumbling to the ground and we are crushed beneath their weight. Every year we get older, the piles get higher and we beg the Heaven’s for someone to help us shoulder the weight.

You're Pre- Post- Thanksgiving Post!

Since our family is relatively small (4) for the holidays, my parents have been skimping back on the basics like a full sized bird for Thanksgiving. Most of the fun of this holiday is eating turkey for a week straight until you can't stand the sight or taste of it anymore. As only 3 of our 4 eat meat, they started buying turkey breasts. Unacceptable. This year I told them, "Get a bird, even if it's a small one! How am I supposed to make Hot Brown's with out a lot of turkey"? Thankfully, they are sensible people and gave in to my demands.

Now, I know you're asking, "What they hells a Hot Brown"? I'm glad you asked:

Hot Brown's were invented in Louisville, Kentucky and are genius. According to Wikipedia, this happened in 1926 at the Brown Hotel. The site also says that it consists of "an open-faced sandwich of turkey and bacon, covered in Mornay sauce and baked or broiled until the bread is crisp and the sauce begins to brown. " Now, that's not exactly how I know them, but that's the genius of Wikipedia: anyone can post anything as fact.

In my house, Hot Brown's have been elevated to a Thanksgiving art form: toasted bread, mashed potatoes, stuffing, turkey, gravy, shredded cheddar cheese, all broiled until brown. You can add tomatoes as well (if you like that sort of thing).

Every year, I count down to Thanksgiving for the sole purpose of Hot Browns. They're a smorgasbord of leftovers. The kitchen sink of turkey day! The... grand poo-bah of... of... Damn.

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's A Holiday, So You're Getting 12 Year Old Material

While cleaning my living room in preparation for tonight’s birthday after party, I came across my high school comp notebooks; each lovingly decoupaged with pictures of bands and actors I liked, buzz words (luscious, scorpio, indecent, spy, monster, tingle, etc), and personal illustrations. Inside were barely legible scrawls of depression and bad poetry, spoken word, quotes, and illustrations. Some of them are pretty good for 15 and 16, some need some work, and others are truly embarrassing. In keeping with the oath I gave my sister, I am publishing some of the least horrid for you here today. (Gotta love teen angst!)

[side note: transcribing these was really fun as I wrote all the dates in the European style.]

Here was the girl they “loved”. The girl they had all figured out. Loud and mean, but as soon as they came close to figuring her mind she would change. Metamorphose in into a whole new person. One unlike the other. To confuse and manipulate the minds of the public. And she was hated for it. And she loved that hate as if it were pure love. Because to be hated, to be horribly despised, is to be truly popular. For no one wastes their time hating no one.
*
“Cemetery”
It’s cold breathes past my lips.
I flutter my eyes.
Lost in its embraced kiss.
All alone.
The moist grey seeps in
And I am hypnotized by the crisp dawn of death.
The stone is cold.
I stutter my breath.
Our denied future is foretold.
This is alone.
Autumn fingers caress my skin
And I cry through the pain that it brings.
This ground is damp.
I clutter the sky
Dreaming of that one enchanted whore.
We are alone.
The dirt begins to cover my bones
And I’m glad for the peach that it brings.
*
In me, you see, little pieces of yourself. You break one off and let it grow. I am a clone from one mass god, and you are all his drones.
*
Here. I am. A lonely shell.
In caverns deep and dark like hell.
It’s cold always and slippery too,
My footings lost
I plunge toward you.
I’m caught in webs of filth and smut.
They’re razor sharp and like to cut.
Small wounds of pain for me to bare,
I’d have hurt them too, it’s only fair.
I fall and fall in silent bliss,
I waited for that unfelt kiss.
I’ve landed on the rocky ground
My ears haven’t heard a single sound.
This is where my falling ends,
My limbs are broken,
But I’ll mend.
My heart was shattered by the fall,
This was no love at all.
So I lie still and wait
And wait,
I’m waiting for a little fate
To guide me from this death marked course,
I cry a little from remorse.
I wait and wait yet no one comes,
I wait and wait until I’m done.
*
“Blood Petals”
The flowers open and all the blood rushes out.
The buds around it open and blush crimson in response.
The blood pours out.
The first flower turns purple.
Its petals turn back and touch its stem.
Open.
Open.
The flowers open and bleed red.
The first flower turns black and the blood rushes out.
The engorged petals push against the stem and fall off.
The blood pours out and the petals fall down.
The petals fall down and the flower is no more.
The blood stops rushing.
The petals have all fallen.
The flower is no more.

Follow The Watch...

This month's issue of "Writer's Magazine" focuses on the memoir as literary device and stumbling block. I thought a lot of the tips and tricks offered apply equally to blogging as this is memoir in it's most instant form. The articles suggest to write everything down. Don't worry about story just get memories on the page. How much should you leave in, what should you leave out? How important are the feelings of your subject?

I worry a bit about how the sometimes subjects of my blog will react to what I've written, but never enough to not write what I want to say, simply how I'll say it. I was torn this weekend with an amazingly idiotic story I heard, but decided against retelling it as it did not happen to me or around me. Hersey is not admissible in court and therefore not in my blog. We'll see how long that rule lasts...

The best thing I took away from reading these articles were tips from successful, published memoirists. Most agreed that the best thing you can do is document. Whether it be in a notebook, on 3x5 cards, loose leaf paper; start recording your memories of events both big and small. This is where the blog is, I feel, the perfect medium. A quick note here, and longer story there. You're free to readdress a previous post, to expand on or correct any points or errors. For this, the blog is perfect.

I lay in bed last night struggling to fall asleep. Just moments before I was visibly yawning, now I'm tossing and turning (It always seems to work out this way for me). I keep thinking about the little things, the memories that float in and out of our minds at rapid speed. The ones that don't belong to any significant event but are burned into our cortex all the same.

In my earliest memory, I'm one. The vision is fragmented. I feel like I'm in "The Matrix"- a tv with two club chairs facing it in a never ending white room. I'm in the living room of our apartment in Whitehurst. There's foil on the half moon window to keep the light out. My mother, pregnant, lies on the couch with a wash cloth over her eyes. That's it. I don't know what she was wearing, what the couch looked like, what or who else was in the room. Only that she was pregnant and not feeling well, that there seemed to be a yellow light pushing past the foil and into the room. Perhaps it was afternoon...

When I was three, or at most, four; my sister and I played hide and seek in the living room of a duplex we shared with faceless neighbors. I remember nothing about them except that I was jealous of their kid. He had a motorized car that he would ride around and around the front lawn in. I wanted one so badly. I got a Big Wheel instead.
[side note:Now, when I think of duplex's my mind immediately wanders to the story of "Pyramus and Thisbe".]

My sister and I would take turns hiding behind the couch, the bookcase, the table, then jump out at each other. It seems the concept of hide and seek was known to us, but the execution was still a ways off. Around and around we'd go. Finally, we jumped out and discovered two figures standing at the large picture window in our living room smiling and waving. We screamed bloody murder. It was the first time I had ever been scared. My father ran in to see what had happened, who was hurt. We must have scared my poor grandparents even more. They had driven down from Louisville to surprise us. When they saw us playing, they stopped to watch for a while before knocking. How horrid then and how funny now!

I Always Wanted a White Horse Named Tir na nOg

A quick one today as I left this to the last minute and only have 10 to spare before I leave work. Certain thoughts keep popping into my head randomly. No, not just the "burn them, burn them all" evil leprechaun, or "did I turn on the living room light? Am I DVR-ing "Lie to Me"? It's the kind of things one fantasizes about or thinks about regularly. Is there a god? If so, does he hate me? Do you ever really know a person? Or my favorite in which I reenact a fictional interview with some magazine like Interview.

I am often amazed at how little people know about themselves and where they come from. Certainly there are exceptions to being naive, adoption being one, but what's the excuse for everyone else? How can you NOT be interested in who your family is, where they came from, were any of them famous? I grew up in a household where history and superstition ruled. I learned all about my father's people (Irish and Prussian) and gradually about my mother's (Welsh) as she became more interested and informed herself. I remember thinking how cool it was that I'm one quarter a place that doesn't really exist anymore. Prussia. Prussian. "How very Prussian of them." Other than that, the best stories came from Ireland- the mythology, the clans, the IRA. I always felt very Irish (my full name is incredibly Irish so that helps), as does the strong bond I feel with my father who identifies strongly as Irish as well though he speaks no Gaelic, but does speak German, Polish, and Russian. Funny.

My sister, if you were to ask her, would identify very Welsh (which makes sense as she is strongly linked with our mother). This explains why she has the Welsh dragon tattoo and I have a celtic knot. It took us forever to come up with a tattoo to get together (we settled on "sister" in hieroglyphics- another dedication to our Dad).

I am fascinated with learning more. I want to know everything. When I meet people and say something like, "Wow, that's an interesting last name. What is it?"; and they have no idea. I feel very sad for them. It must be horrible to have no understanding of where you come from or your culture. To see yourself purely as American, nothing else. The beauty of this country is in the mixed heritage of our citizens. If we don't know (or care to know) about ourselves, how can we expect to be tolerant and know others?

Remote Control (anyone else remember that show?)

There's a shame attached to watching certain TV shows, as if you were secretly dating your best friends ex or eating ice cream out of the carton at 2 AM. I don't understand it, but I follow it. Like keeping my collection of Mandy Moore movies hidden in a box in my closet, it's a secret. The cool kids don't watch that. You're too old to like that. I thought you had taste?

So, like your first foray into AA, I am standing up- tall and proud- and declaring: My name is Graygrrrl, and I love "The Vampire Diaries"!

In the spirit of the Sunday list, I am sharing with you my most intimate of intimate (and that's including my aforementioned love of Ms. Moore): My DVR queue.

Sunday:

Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives

Ace of Cakes

The Amazing Race (screw you football for making me miss most of this show because it ends up starting 30-40 minutes late. Don't look smug CBS! You should have anticipated this and arranged your schedule accordingly)

The Simpsons

Family Guy

The Next Iron Chef

Mad Men (I'm keeping your time slot open in honor)

Monday-Friday:

Jeopardy (those damn Teen Tournament kids are smart!)

Chelsea Lately

Monday:

House

How I Met Your Mother

Accidentally on Purpose

The Big Bang Theory

Lie to Me (Though I remember it being up against something else so I couldn't record it, but I can't find said show now...)

Chef Academy (premiere's this week, so it may not be on this list next week. We'll see)

Tuesday:

So You Think You Can Dance

V

Tabitha's Salon Makeover (I watched my 1st episode of this show yesterday and what can I say? She looks like an extra in "Sleepwalkers" and people hate her. I heart!)

The Good Wife

Wednesday:

So You Think You can Dance (results)

America's Next Top Model

Modern Family (now that Model is over)

Law & Order: SVU (Oh Stabler, how do you still have a job?)

Ghost Hunters

Top Chef: Las Vegas

Ghost Hunters: Academy (if this doesn't get more interesting, it's gone)

Eastwick (though I heard it just got cancelled)

Thursday (for the ladies):

Bones

Fringe (hand down one of the best shows on TV today)

Vampire Diaries

(I miss you 30 Rock, but I can watch you online or, more realistically, from Netflix)

Grey's Anatomy

Project Runway

Friday:

Law & Order (oh! Who saw last weeks? Connie no!)

Stargate Universe

The Soup

Saturday:

Usually, I tape a couple movies here. This week, I'll be recording "Brokeback Mountain" on Bravo

Saturday Night Live (depending on host)

Miscellaneous:

*Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations (depends on location)

*Any talk show with a good guest (Did you see Ian Sommerhalder get molested by Rosie O'Donnell last night on Jimmy Fallon?)

*House Hunters & House Hunter's International

*My First Place

*Arrested Development (replaying on IFC)

*The Graham Norton Show

*Good Eats

*Miscellaneous food shows

*Monty Python's Flying Circus

*Cash Cab

Stand proud. Shout loud. It's okay to like TV (even if it's bad).