Oscar Night highlights

I am unabashedly devoted fan of the Academy Awards show. Invariably I laugh, cry, and am amazed by the wonderful and spontaneous moments that happen amid all the carefully choreographed action.

Last night was no exception. My favorite part of the show as a whole was the design of the stage and musical numbers, which were created around 1930's and 40's era style. The orchestra was up on the stage where everyone could see them, instead of down in a hole somewhere being invisible. Refreshing! The music was a lovely interplay between the songs from the currently nominated films and songs from past winning films - my personal favorite being "Moon River" from "Breakfast at Tiffany's", since it was the first movie my parents ever went to see together.

The gowns were scrumptious, the hair-do's classic and chic, and I don't think a single person showed up in an outfit made entirely of beaded curtains or saran wrap. The whole thing was a classy affair - even Mickey Rourke looked as if he'd showered in the recent past, which was comforting if somewhat unusual.

Miley Cyrus and Sarah Jessica Parker had beautiful princess dresses, even though I think both of them are dorks. Kate Winslet looked like one of her favorite words... a "goddess"... the color and cut of her dress couldn't have been more perfect for her figure, and her hair was beautiful - simple and face-framing. Penelope Cruz had a dress that was as enviable for its beauty as its history - it was a 64 year old vintage affair... lovely, lovely.

I was a little pissed off that Tim Gunn only caught a word with Angelina Jolie as she sashayed by - there was no full length camera shots of her during the show, and her dress looked pretty boring anyway, sadly. Her only jewelry (that I could see in the brief, moving camera shots of her) were some oversized emerald earrings and a hugely oversized emerald ring on the pointer finger of her right hand. Totally gross considering her tiny, bony little fingers. I found myself missing the days when she would have shown up in leather pants and a blood-stained tee shirt and spent her on-camera time flashing her tattoos and sucking on her date's tongue. Those were the good old days.

On the cattier side, Meryl Streep and her daughter should have chosen dresses that did not look like clashing hues of mud, as they stayed three inches from each other throughout the entire evening. Every time the camera fell on Streep's daughter during the show, she was covering her chest, arms crossed, hands up around her neck area. They do make gowns that cover the upper chest area, perhaps that should have been looked into?

Jessica Biel's choice of figure-smothering overlapping burlap bag couture in boring cream color was confusing, since she has a hot bod. Whoopie Goldberg, however, embraced her Big Woman status and busted out in a huge leopard print creation that emphasized her enormous bazongas. You go, girl! Queen Latifah was classy and gorgeous as always, in a blue dress very similar in color to Kate Winslet's - sort of slatey/smokey/periwinkly.

I have to say that Hugh Jackman gave a wonderful command performance as host/dancer/singer/comedian/audience participation stimulant. He expressed such joy and shared his talents so freely, and just seemed to have such a good time with the whole thing that it was impossible not to smile along with him. He spoke to the stars in the audience and included them in his monologues without poking sharp fun at anyone, and made everyone in the front row feel comfortable rather than as if they were about to be roasted, as some hosts are wont to do. He even cracked himself up during some of the song-and-dance numbers, especially during the futuristic space dance where he sang about not having seen "The Reader"... he was almost laughing too hard to sing, which was funny to watch.

Back on this side of the television screen, my favorite part of the evening happened about 45 minutes before the Oscars came on. I worked until 4pm yesterday, and when I got home I found Bear in the kitchen, pots on the stove, and wonderful smells wafting through the house. He had made me a special "Oscar party dinner" - and boy, was it great! Braised chicken and aromatic rice with peppers... mouth watering stuff!

After we'd eaten, I took our dishes and carried them into the kitchen. The light switch was off, but I had both hands full of dishes so I didn't bother with it. On a sudden impulse, I put the dishes on the counter by the sink and peeled out of my clothes (luckily I was wearing tee shirt and sweats, nothing too complicated). Then I said, "You know, that was such a great dinner...." (here I walked out of the kitchen into the living room where Bear sat on the couch) "... it blew my clothes off!"

The look on his face was better than if he'd won an Oscar - he tried to say something but it sort of came out like "Gmmmf.. bllltttph... rrrmmmsppphhh... holy cow!"

Suffice it to say, dessert was pretty great too. *wink*

From hope to despair and back again - a dizzying tale of thievery

Okay, so I don't live in the best neighborhood in the world. The houses are vintage, yes, but the area is far from ritzy.

About five years ago, Bear and I went to the local statuary and purchased two cement skulls for the purpose of adorning the gateposts on our antique wrought iron gate, which lies deep, oh so deep in the depths of our back yard. For five years, they have happily sat atop the gate posts, keeping guard on our private domain. The odd occasional dislodging of said skulls has happened on occasion due to the hijinks of our local raccoon community, but the skulls were never damaged in any way, as they only fell a few feet to the grassy earth below.

Yesterday, Bear came home and announced that one of our skulls was missing. I started to say it was certainly his, but then I realized he meant the cement ones out in the garden. As it was getting dark, and temperatures were far below tropical, I decided it was yet another raccoon adventure and put off worrying about it until this morning. When I went outside. In the cold. While my coffee got even colder. And looked. In the shrubs. Under the bushes. No skull.

At this point, I started to think back about the day. I had been home all day, alone. Some thief had not only come past my house into my private, fenced, be-wooded back yard and stolen one of my skull guardians, but had done so WHILE I WAS HOME!

I felt violated. I felt betrayed. I felt a little nauseous. Then I started doubting the neighbors. The next door neighbors have a creepy adult son who does entirely too much hanging around in the broken down RV in their back yard and trying to sell tool kits that he "found". Damn the neighbors, I bet they stole my skull! Then I started thinking about the local teenage kids - damn those kids, I thought, for daring each other to sneak into my private haven and steal my skull. Then I thought about calling the cops and reporting the theft, because hey - what if whoever stole the skull used it to bash someone's brains out in an attempted robbery gone wrong?

And then, this evening, I sat down at my computer and got an email from my tenants. The email was titled "Ransom Note" and it featured this picture:

TO THE PEOPLE IN THE COTTAGE IN THE BACK:
If you ever want to see your friend alive again, I'm sorry but you can't.
However, if you'd like to have his skull back, you are required to set a date and time for the exchange.
Also know that this email is "untraceable" so don't try to be Heroes about this.
Come alone and hungry.

My faith in humanity has been restored.... and I am so very glad that we have such wonderful, funny tenants.

Wonder if they'll miss their new kitten.

Nerds unite!

I found the coolest online gadget tonight while I was goofing around. It's an online timer! If you have something in the oven, are bidding on an ebay auction that's coming down to the wire, or if you're practicing your speed-typing skills, CLICK HERE to go to the online timer.

It's the best - you can even choose between various sounds that will play when the clock winds down to zero. I prefer the clarinet, myself - it doesn't knock you out of your chair.

No kidding. For me, anyway.

See, I think the one on the left is cuter.
Really.

I very rarely blog on a "theme" or main topic, but just recently I came up against a topic on someone else's blog that I feel deserves discussion: Maternity vs. Those who choose the child-free life.

I was reading Dooce.com, whose author Heather participates in video blogging on something called "Momversations". Apparently there is a website and group called "Child Free By Choice", which I also went to check out. The "mommy bloggers" and the "child free bloggers" are at odds, which is not all that surprising. The mommies are mad at the child-frees for wanting public places that do not allow children. The child-frees are mad at the mommies for getting maternity leave at work when they don't get time off for pursuing other valid life goals.

As a forty-two year old woman who has chosen not to have children, I find myself walking straight down the middle of this divide. Perhaps that is because my decision not to have children was fueled more by the advanced age at which I got married, alongside my consistent state of financial instability. Some child-free folks have made their decision based on bad childhood experiences of their own, domestic violence witnessed between their parents, or fears stemming from illness or disease running in the family.

If Bear and I had gotten married when we met in 1989, and retained the high-paying jobs we had at the time, perhaps things would have been different. Perhaps there would have been the patter of little cub-feet down the hall.

However, I must say that having children was never a goal of mine. I never dreamed of having a family, and pretty much planned on staying single my whole life. A desire to retain my inner child and the freedom to jump up and go where I want when I want has pretty much remained the chorus of my anthem.

I don't dislike kids as a rule - as a matter of fact, I have more often than not ended up with all the kids following me around at company picnics, because I'm the only one that will talk to them like real people and play games with them while their parents swill beer and eat barbecue. I enjoy holding babies, and kids are kind of fun - as long as someone else takes them home.

When I am in a public place and children are around, I find that most often it is not the children that irk me, it's the parents. Parents who don't step up to the plate and discipline their kids are not only doing a disservice to the rest of us who are trying to enjoy the movie/store/park/restaurant/whatever - they are doing major damage to the child who will grow up thinking that they are, in fact, the center of the universe, and that the rest of us are here merely to cater to their every whim. It's a cold hard world and kids that are allowed to run amok will learn the hard way from hard people one day, if their parents don't care enough to teach them how to act while they have them at home.

I have found myself in the odd situation where complete strangers have called me selfish to my face after asking me the extremely personal question of whether I have children or not. I have not yet come to understand how my choice not to have children deprives these people of something. Which it would have to do, if I was being "selfish".

To my way of thinking, my choice not to have children is actually the least selfish thing I could do. I am choosing not to add people to this already overcrowded planet. I am choosing not to bring a person into this world whom I am not able to adequately provide for. If I had the financial stability that caring for a child requires, I would certainly adopt a child before I would have one of my own. The way I see it, there are already so many children that are here - so many that need love, need parents, need everything. I will admit that the women on those reality shows popping entire baseball teams out of their vaginas make me more than a little sick.

Some of the benefits of being child-free that I enjoy are:

* My husband and I are completely focused on each other. Our love is not diluted or distracted or divided - and we can express our love whenever we wish, in whatever way we wish, in any room that we wish, as loudly as we wish. It's like the best sleepover party ever, and it will last as long as we do.

* I am free to read, sleep, eat, and enjoy my free time without encumbrance.

* I am completely unaffected by the world of PTA/BabiesRUs/babysitters/Barney/prom night bashes/mini-skirt and makeup wars/underage drinking and drug probems, and am unutterably happy to be so.


Some of the things that may not be so great about being child-free are:

* I wonder who will spend time with me when I am old, or care for me when I am aged. Not that having kids guarantees that they will not turn out to be arseholes and leave you alone anyway... but not having kids pretty much guarantees that no one will be around when your teeth are falling out.

* Almost every man that I have ever loved has given another woman children, either before or after we were together. I think that has added to my desire to remain child-free. It sets me apart.

* I think I would probably have been a good mom, and I will always wonder what that experience would have been like.


Another thing which puts me in the middle of the road as opposed to on one side or the other is that just because I choose not to have kids myself does not mean that I hate other people who choose to be parents. Obviously the human race would not continue if everyone stopped having children. That's just silly. And I don't see any reason that I should go around sporting "pro child-free lifestyle" tee shirts, hats, or bumper stickers. All of that crap just serves to create hatred and stir up judgemental behavior. It doesn't make any sense to become intolerant of other people's choices when their intolerance irritates me. Becoming part of the problem does not fix the problem.

I do wish that people would only have kids after loving, careful consideration, however. Mindless procreation by people incapable or unconcerned with caring for the children is, in my mind, a crime against the children and against society. People that have children to "save" a marriage, or to get attention from other people, or to use them as pets or accessories are all too common.

Checking in

My neck is out of whack. Got this huge rope-like muscle pain from the left side of my neck that runs down and tries to hide under my left shoulder blade. Bear has been heating up the hydrocollator for me and I've been popping Motrin - so far, just temporary relief.

I've been wondering lately how to shut off the self-critical tape that seems to run in the background of my thoughts all the time. You know, the one that says, "You're eating THAT for dinner? You should eat more green vegetables. Why aren't you out exercising? You're getting fat. Your house looks like crap, why don't you learn how to lay tile and fix the damn bathroom yourself? Why did you take all those years of piano lessons if you're not going to sit down and play now?" It seems that even though this running commentary doesn't actually motivate me to DO anything, it keeps on going and going and going.

Then there's another part of me that wonders what would happen if the self-critical tape actually did shut off. Would I get fatter and fatter? Would my house get more and more cluttered? Would I suffocate under the things I am not getting done? Is the tape in my mother's voice or in my own? These are questions to ponder.

I have to choose which bills to put off until next month. This economy is killing me - my energy bills just suddenly jumped to nearly double what they have been, and my income (surprise, surprise) did not follow suit. And so I find myself trying to pay the bills that I am afraid of and leave the less scary ones for the next pay period.

Bear's son (whom I will call "Cub") and his wife are having problems. This is no great surprise to anyone who knows them, but what was surprising was Bear receiving a text message from Cub's wife this morning saying "take him" (WTF???) and ending with "u r his father". First off, Cub is a man, not a snow globe. Take him? Take him where, exactly? And if the girl is astute enough to realize that Bear is his father, then she must also realize that she is Cub's wife - perhaps she has forgotten the "for better or worse" part of those vows she was so anxious to exchange.

I am exceedingly glad that I chose to remain a child-free zone. The thought of bringing a person into this world and trying to ensure their emotional, physical, and financial well-being is just beyond my imagination. I can't even seem to do those things for myself, let alone anyone else. Seeing how many people's children grow up to treat them like crap just adds credence.

Sent a couple of emails out to relatives I haven't kept in touch with since my dad's passing - I realized that the last time I'd spoken with them we said "of course we won't lose touch"... a year ago. Amazing how quickly time passes.

Am still in training at work, but doing better now that I have an instructor that is kicking my arse a bit. Bear has been asked to come in and test for a position as well, am keeping my paws crossed that they hire him as well. It could be the boost we need to get our finances in order.

Over and out.

A year ago today

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

- W. H. Auden

Marcheline's Movie Review

Our tenants treated us to a movie on Friday night, and we treated them to dinner afterwards. It's been a long time since Bear and I have been to a movie in the theater, and this one was a real treat.

We went to see Neil Gaiman's "Coraline" - in 3D!

Now, I've seen some 3D movies before, and they were okay... but all I can say is that technology has come a long LONG way since then, and the 3D effects in this movie... heck, even in the previews... was un-freakin-believable. The stuff in the movie came out and tickled the ends of my eyelashes, for real.

The story was great, of course (Neil Gaiman is one of my favorite authors), and as Tim Burton handled the animation, that was stellar as well.

Even though at first glance this seems to be a "kid movie", I can assure you it is not a kid movie. As a matter of fact, if I had kids under the age of 10 or maybe even 13, I would probably not take them to see it.

Not that it's gory or anything, but it's frightening in that most scary of ways... psychologically. Blood and guts horror films don't scare me, but a good psychological thriller gets me looking behind doors and running up the stairs ahead of the dark every time.

The cast of characters in "Coraline" is really excellent, and there is a veritable buffet of cultural references scattered throughout the movie for those quick enough to pick them up. For example, one scene featuring the two aged former actresses has them speaking lines from Hamlet. As I am a huge fan of Hamlet, I noticed it right away - but the lines were so perfect for the movie and the moment, they did not stand out as odd to someone who had never read Hamlet.

A good bit of fun, this movie!

Dear Diary

Today sucked. Not only did it suck, it sucked huge goat balls.

I have spent the past two months with an on-the-job trainer, and thought I was learning to do my job as a radio operator. Apparently, once she was not the center of attention any more (ie: I was actually working the radio as opposed to sitting by and watching her do everything), she got bored with it and told the training manager that she wanted me to train with someone else. In her true dramatic fashion, she said, "I have taken her as far as I can, and she needs someone else to get her to the finish line".

So another trainer volunteered to take me on. Mind you, all this time I was being told by the training manager and my former trainer that I was doing marvelously, and was far and above the most advanced trainee they had for the time I had been there. I was feeling pretty good about myself, and was able to handle almost 80% of the radio calls on my own.

Today, I sat with my new trainer for the first time. The first words out of his mouth were, "Why do you use the embedded keys to type a position report?" I knew right then what I was in for. I sighed and said, "The reason I use the embedded keys is because I was TOLD TO by the training manager and the trainer I just spent two months with."

Apparently, my new trainer has issues with the way my previous trainer told me to do EVERYTHING and so I spent the entire day having him hammer away at the way I typed, the way I said things on the radio, the order in which I do things, and on and on it went.

The thing I am most pissed off about is this: I think the trainer I have now is RIGHT.

I had questions about the first trainer's way of showing me to do things too, but I just clammed up and did what she said because, well... she was the trainer.

Now I feel like I've just wasted two months of my life, and now I'm having to start all over at square one again. I very nearly cried at work today, and I am not the crying type. At least not at work. It took every ounce of whatever that is that keeps you from breaking down in tears to keep my face straight the entire day.

I won't lie. I like being good at things. I think I'm smart. If you give me three hundred things to learn for a test tomorrow, I will get one hundred percent (or damn near it) on that test. To me, having spent two months learning stuff that is of no use, learning ways of speech and muscle memory that I now have to un-learn is like scraping fingernails on a blackboard.

I thought I was good, and now I find out I was good at being crappy.

It is a letdown, and I honestly feel like calling in sick to work tomorrow. But I know that is the cheesy, coward's way out and so I will go.

I feel like someone ran a Mack truck over me and then backed up to see what they hit.

Then I came home and went on my pipe smoking forum to relax and chat with the guys, and some asshole from Sweden decided to insult me, make sexist comments about me, and generally degrade me in one of the threads on the forum. I didn't take it lying down, I told him what he could do with his opinion, but it just added that extra layer of crap on an already shitty day.

I suppose I should just go to bed. Except "Casablanca" is coming on TCM in fifteen minutes. Mabye I can get my cry in after all...

Marcheline's Movie News

Hey, I just found out that the movie I was an extra in this past summer, "Splinterheads", is FINALLY being premiered!

The film festival is called SXSW09 (that's shorthand for "South by Southwest '09) and it's held in Austin, Texas. The film festival portion of the dealio is going on from March 13-21, and if you click the link you can find the movie synopsis under the "Emerging Visions" title.

I won't be making it out to Austin to see it, of course, (my social calendar can only hold so much, you know...) but I'm excited to know it's finally coming out and maybe someday I'll be able to get it on DVD. We'll see how it goes.

Of course, I'm just dying to see if they kept any of the scenes I was in. If they did, I will of course post screen caps with self-aggrandizing captions, because hey - would you expect anything less from me, dahlings? I dare not disappoint.

Toodles!

Yesterday, at my house