It is rare that any TV drama will actually bring me to tears. If I am watching the news about orphans in other countries or those Operation Smile things, or Animal Rescue, sure. That real life stuff that has to do with children or animals will get me every time, but not regular programming. Last night I was watching my new favorite Sunday night guilty pleasure Grey's Anatomy. I think growing up in a house with a nurse and spending a lot of time in hospitals when I was brought to work has made me partial to medical shows. It started with St Elsewhere and then it moved on to ER. I love any and all of the reality operation shows as well. I have even been know to watch the live surgery on the UW channel (Which will forever gross out my child and my husband.) I just love hospitals and shows about hospitals. People are always nice in hospitals. Sick people are oddly peaceful. People both come into the world and leave the world there on a regular basis. I find myself drawn to it. Well, last night G.A. had this old lady on hospice who was slowly dying with her friends and loved ones around her. Something in how they shot the scene reminded me of sitting bedside watching my Granparents pass away. By the time the credits rolled I was having quite the cry. It was so hard to watch! (Much in the same way I can't listen to Harvey Danger do Jack The Lion. It breaks my heart! It doesn't help that my Grandfather's name was Jack either.)
I really like Grey's Anatomy, even more than I like ER these days. It is some good made for TV drama with smart humor mixed in. And Dr McDreamy totally kicks Dr Kovach's booty in the easy on the eyes department any day!
Ding ding ding ding.... It never ceases to amaze me how well our built in alarms work. Learning to pay attention to our "gut" is probably one of the most valuable things we could ever learn. Today while I was cleaning the house, doing the normal every day activity of vacuuming I was stopped by this overwhelming feeling that something was not right. My skin started crawling, my stomach started knotting. I thought I was about to have an anxiety attack or something. It was really random and hit me fast. I had to stop and ask myself, "Self, what the hell is wrong with you?" After a little soul searching I knew who I had to contact. I made a phone call and found out that there really was something not right happening right at that very moment and I called in the nick of time. It wasn't life shattering, but life altering for someone that I care a lot about. I can't say what it was exactly on a public forum without breaking a confidence, but let's just say for the rest of my life I promise to never ignore my "gut" ever! Lesson learned.
I was rocking the Clarinet last night. I was shocked to see I'm still pretty good. I have great tone, didn't squeak once. Still have really good breath control. The best part, it was SO Much fun. I pulled out a little sheet music and I could still read it! It is like riding a bike. My mouth did get tired faster than it did back in the day though. After about an hour my lips were like, "You are done lady."
I spent the whole night coming up with questions I wanted to ask him. I practiced conversations. I could not wait to meet him. I was an excited and nervous ball of energy. The clock seemed to be moving at half time, each hour crawled by. I changed my outfit twenty times because I wanted to look just right. He had been my hero for so long, I could hardly believe I finally had the opportunity to meet him. I wondered if he would be easy to talk to. I wondered if I would be able to get a complete sentence out without stuttering or giggling. I promised myself I would not under any circumstances make any attempt to tell stupid jokes. I would try not to prattle on too much. I would just ask questions and listen. Soak up whatever genius he would be willing to share with me. I knew my time to talk to him would be limited, but any time would be precious.
When I finally arrived and saw him standing there, in real life, I thought I was going to faint. This person who's genius had had such an effect on my life for so long was right in front of me . There he stood within reaching distance. I took several deep breaths, pulled my mind together, organized the arsenal of questions in my head, and took the first step in his direction.
He looked up at me as I crossed the room. He smiled when he saw me coming toward him. When I got to him he reached out his hand to shake mine. I tried my hardest to not let my hand tremble when I shook his back. When the hand shake was over he did not return my hand to me. He just stood there holding my hand while he continued to speak to the people around him. It was awkward and it threw me off balance. All of the witty conversation and well thought out questions were quickly slipping from my mind. All that was going through my head was, "Why won't he let my hand go? Why is he holding my hand still?"
There I stood dumb and silent holding hands with my hero of so many years.
When he finally turned his attention back to me he looked me in the eye and said, "Well hello there pretty." with a smirk that I have seen a million times before. My heart sunk to my feet. I knew what boorish game we were about to play, what common conversation we were about to engage in. The thought of it coming from him broke my heart. He was looking at me the same way men have looked at me most of my life. In a one dimensional light. He had already decided he was going to give me less consideration than he would probably give the purchase of a good bottle of wine. It was written all over his face.
I tried for a moment to speak to him, to rally some of my questions, some of my excitement from earlier. There was still some hope that maybe I could break through his preconceived idea of me. Then he tried to kiss me. I gave him my cheek, shook his hand very hard and said, "It was very nice to meet you." and turned to walk away. I was crushed.
I wish I never met my hero. I never wanted to know he was only human.
For real. That is what she told me today. I told her some of my favorite people are movie nerds so if she is turning into one that is not necessarily a bad thing.
We went to The Chronicles of Narnia yesterday. It was as good as I expected it to be. It was better than Tristan and Isolde. It was very much a kid’s movie (Big war, no blood) but I didn't expect it to be more than that. Pretty neat.
D and I went and saw it last night. Unless you are totally dying to see a mid level chick flick with mildly interesting costumes, I would say wait and rent it. It was not horrible, but it was not that exciting either. They didn't stay true enough to the story. They did for a while in the beginning and then they just sort of meandered waaaay off the storyline. That was disappointing as it is a pretty cool legend.
The hardest part for me was that I really liked the guy she was forced to marry. So the whole time she was betraying him, it made her character a lot less sympathetic.
I had little to no emotional response to this movie. So I would not even call it sappy.
I finally saw Memoirs of a Geisha. I loved it! The costumes and sets were worth the price of admission. The score was dreamy. The actors were beautiful, almost too beautiful. A lot of the movie was exactly how I had imagined things in my head when I was reading the book. You can tell the author had a heavy hand in the design of it all. I don't know if the movie would be as magical for someone who never read the book. For example, having read the book I know what happens after the movie ends. The movie sort of ends abruptly and leaves things open ended. Had I not read the book, that would have frustrated me. If I had to complain I would say that some of the characters were too pretty. The leads were cast perfectly, but some of the characters that were supposed to be hideous in the book were far too attractive. In the book I imagined the women who ran the house to be older and a lot more run down and wicked looking. The American General was also supposed to be fat and gross and drooled when he spoke. He just seemed smarmy, but not disgusting. I wanted the bad guys to be really bad guys, instead they seemed like attractive actors dressed down a little more than usual. As long as you don't have a problem with your fuglys just being sorta ugly, then you will love this movie. I'll most definitely be buying this one when it comes out on DVD.
This evening after work, against my own better judgement, Darian and I will be checking out Tristan and Isolde.
Last night I tried a Yoga class. I went to the gym at lunch and did some weight training, a smidge of cardio and noticed a flyer for Power Yoga at 5PM. I thought about giving it a shot, but wasn't married to the idea until one of my co-workers agreed to try it with me. Well, at 5PM we were on our mats on the floor ready to be yogasized, or whatever you would call it. The first thing we did was curl up on the floor in this sort of praying position. We sat like that for what seemed like an eternity. The teacher was talking to us about a lot of stuff that I could not pay attention to because when I did I would start giggling. I'm sorry, but when you start talking about "surrounding your heart with pink light" I'm going to loose it. I can't help it. Then I hear my friend suppressing laughter which only made it worse for me. At that pont I was hanging on by a thread. So there I was curled up on the floor with all of my blood rushing to my face, trying hard not to laugh and also plotting my escape. I was too far from the door and knew there was no way out. I was there for the hour like it or not. When he thought we had been curled up long enough he had us change positions. What got me was when he said, "Normally you would stay in this first position a lot longer, but we have time constraints we must work with today." A lot longer? Really?!?! If I sat like that any longer I really would have passed out from all of the blood rushing to my forehead. As far as I was concerned I could not possibly have sat like that ANY longer. For the next hour he had me pretzelling my body in ways I have not in a while. I was surprised at how limber I still am, since I have not done any stretches in a long time. No amount of flexibility was going to help me keep my balance in some of these positions though. I was grateful that by the end of the class I had not fallen over. Once I let my competitive side take over, I was doing much better. I decided I was going to "Win" yoga. Don't ask me how; it just got me through it.
During the cool down, more suppressed giggling when he was talking about feeding the earth with the negative energy and recycling it like the trees do with us or something like that. When he brought up the pink light around my heart one more time I lost it. I buried my face in my arm and laughed as quietly as possible. He must of heard me because he said not to feel strange because this is a very emotional point in the workout. "It is OK to cry." He thought I was crying! This of course only made the giggles worse.
I am officially not an adult.
This morning, yoga got it's revenge. There are parts of me that hurt that I didn’t even know could hurt. I am in some serious pain today.
I am sick of taking pills every day for one thing or another. One is to make the sharp pain go away and help me sleep, another is to make my skin look all pretty and the other four are to force my body to work properly (in theory). It seems my Ovaries are conspiring with my Pancreas to overthrow my body.
It feels like I am always swallowing pills. Take this with milk, take that with food, take this at night, don't take these within 12 hours of each other, don't eat sugar, don't drink alchohol ever... I would love to hear what my Liver feels about all of this.
Has my warranty started to run out? I know my Gall Bladder's has, it keeps threatening to leave. The doctor says the next 4 day attack and they are taking him out. (I decided anything that causes me this much pain MUST be a "him")
All right, I am done feeling sorry for myself. I don't have it that bad, and I should just be happy that I have access to pills that keep me ticking right?
I have been reading reviews of three movies that I have been really looking forward to seeing. All three movies are getting crap reviews. "Match Point" has been referred to as final proof that Woody has "gone to seed" "Triston and Isolde" has been likened to something the WB would make. And "Memoirs of a Geisha" only got nominated for best score not even best costumes!
Is it too much for me to ask that someone make a movie about unrequited love that is both interesting and visually beautiful but not cheesy? Seriously? Is it that all of the good stuff has been done so well that it can't be done again, or have we just become lazy?
I'm still going to see all of them, but now I am not looking forward to it as much as I was.
It feels like he just got home. This seriously was the shortest three weeks ever. The upside is since New Years Eve we have been back in that warm Honeymoon phase that even after all of these years we always manage to find. I can't imagine there ever being another person out there in the world that I should/could be with. There isn't another man out there who could understand/know me better, deal with my idiosyncrasies with more charm, or that I could possibly love more. I hate when he leaves on a work day. He always walks me to the door and kisses me goodbye. He stands in the doorway while I walk away. I look back, he waves. Eventually I hear the door close and the world gets cold again.
I feel like I have been punched in both sides of my head. At least I don't look it. I didn't swell on the outside. It only hurts when I smile.
I took the Vicoden last night and fell asleep feeling no pain. Jon said it was the most relaxed he has ever seen me.
Now if only I could find a way to blend a cheeseburger. I am SO hungry! I thought this whole Ice Cream diet would be neat, but I am over it. I want my hot coffee and my junk food STAT! No heat, solids, straws or anything for another 24 hours.
I had the very last tooth on each side on the top jaw removed today. My teeth are straight but a tad crowded and these were giving me trouble so they told me to have them pulled. I was so freaked by the idea of this. I was a head case for the last three days.
My dentist says I had long roots and my teeth did not want to come out. We had a bit of a war with them. She tried to pull one out all at once, I told her it wasn't going to happen, but she seemed to think she had a shot. After what can only be described as some of the worst sounds I have ever heard coming from my mouth (it sounded like my skull was cracking) she finally gave up and said she was going to have to break it and go one root at a time. When she was trying to take the whole thing, I swear it felt like she was going to snap my upper jaw in half. It was some serious hard core pressure.
She broke it down and went one root at a time. They marveled at how long my roots were and how deep they ran. She lost her grip on them quite a few times before they came out. She was right, they looked like reversed fangs! Super long and sharp. I could feel them all the way in the back of my nose. She said they were so long they probably would irritate my nasal cavity if they got infected. Gross.
They are out now, and the one strange thing I noticed was when I take the gauze out of my mouth and speak, I swear my voice sounds different. It changed the acoustics in the inside of my mouth and it makes it sound deeper in my head. It is annoying. I am sure I will get used to it over time, but being the audio geek that I am, it is bugging me. Jon says I don't sound a lot different, but that is because he doesn't hear how I hear my voice in my head. It is like standing in a really echoing room or something. I sound a lot boomier in my head. I should try singing.
The doctor said I was a great patient. I didn't even flinch. I told her it is because I am an Alaskan. We are a tough bunch. And well, I gave birth with no meds, all natural. Nothing will ever hurt that bad ever again.
Oh, they gave me Vicoden, so I will take that if it hurts and they put me on an ice cream only diet for the next 48 hours. Life is rough.
After being so excited to see this movie I finally rented it.
It was like watching someone's photo album on screen. I know the director was trying to create uncomfortable tension and mood with the long pauses and silence, but seriously. If you ever attempt to watch this movie, don't do it with a glass of wine at night. It will send you right to sleep. We watched it at 7PM last night and by 8PM we couldn't keep our eyes open!
I should have watched it with some Greek espresso in one hand and a red bull in the other, but then I would have been so ADD I would not be able to pay attention. There really isn't a lot going on in this one. And at the end, there isn't a resolve. If I had to describe it to someone in one sentence I would say it is a movie that was made to be an arty film utilizing all of the arty film cliches very unsuccessfully.
Do I recommend it? No. Unless you have insomnia.
I suggest they do the opposite of a traditional director's cut and put out a version with about 12-15 minutes shaved off.
With all of these documentaries hitting the mainstream and finding quite a bit of success, I think its time for someone to do a documentary on death. Here is the extreme twist that is just right for this Supersize Me, Bowling for Columbine, 'reality' TV kind of world.
The person making the film actually fakes his or her own death. The only people who know that it isn't real are the close friends filming it. The dead person goes into hiding for two weeks. They have their friends get everything on tape from the breaking it to the friends and family, the planning of the funeral, the actual funeral itself, a bunch of testimonials about the person in a whole 'this WAS your life' sort of way. All the while the dead person can make confession booth commentary on what is happening to be spliced in. And then when people are good and messed up over it the big reveal, "Surprise, I am still alive!"
Then they can film when everyone kicks the crap out of the "dead" person for doing it.
It is the perfect cross between the extreme documentary and reality television with lousy/mean twists.
Someone put soap in the fountain on E Roy and Broadway. There were bubbles everywhere! I took this quick photo while waiting at the red light. There were people playing in it. I wish I got a better one, but there were a lot of cars.
Jon and I got engaged on New Years Eve at a Long Winters show two years ago. That night could very easily be described as one of the happiest moments of my life. For the first time in a long time everything seemed to have fallen into place and everything I wanted was starting to finally happen for me. I had a great kid, I cleaned my ‘house of friends’ of toxic people leaving me surrounded with nothing but positive influences and I was in a relationship with the only man that I’ve ever truly loved. My life was a dream.
Somewhere in the back of my mind I always knew/hoped we would be together someday. It was the only truth that made sense to me even if to the outside world it didn’t seem to make any sense at all. When he stood up in front of all of those people and asked me to be his wife, all of the doubts and questions melted away. He confirmed to the world what I knew in my heart and soul all along.
Over the last year Jon’s work has taken him away from me so much. Between being on completely different sides of the world and living completely separate lives for five months, it caused a strain on the both of us. When he came home, things were not at all what we had expected. In fact it was quite the opposite.
It was akin to going back to the small town you grew up in. When you go home, the people look so much the same, you expect everything to be the same and it is hard to adjust when you realize people do grow and change. We looked like the same people, it is the same house, the same routines, but something was undeniably different. Neither of us could put our finger on it and it led to these feelings of detachment and resentment. It was like having a stranger in the house who looked like my husband that went away in July but who wasn’t him at all.
For the last few weeks we have been sort of dancing around each other. Doing what we could to just stay out of each other’s hair and not pick any pointless fights over ridiculous things. I went out with my girls and he retreated to his movies.
From the outside it looked like everything was fine, but there was a tension/silence surrounding our place that nobody wanted to be around, especially not us. Suddenly I was looking at the person who I would have pretty much given my life for over the last ten years and there was a stranger looking back at me. I’ve never been more afraid of loosing in my life. I actually considered that I might be living the last chapter of our beautiful story. I was heartsick over it.
Then after a very bizarre string of random events over the last three days, there was a shift and everything came into very sharp focus. Life handed me a whole bunch of challeges and epiphanies in a very 'It’s a Wonderful Life' sort of way.
Through the eyes of other people and other situations I was given perspective and realized that we had only been protecting ourselves from the pain of having to be away from each other. We had our shields up for so long that by the time we were reunited, we forgot how to take them down and let each other back in. We almost forgot for a moment just how completely lucky and blessed we are to have one another. If we lost this battle the loss would have defined loves tragedy.
Last night we rang in the New Year with The Long Winters again, as we did two years ago. Something shifted during the evening and it was like a floodgate opening. We reconnected and it felt like the night he proposed to me all over again. We laughed and talked and really opened up to one another again. He finally returned home and I finally opened the door to welcome him back.
I would like to say I regret doubting us for even a second, but I won’t. The doubt is what led me to explore in my mind the possibility of my life without him in it. That exploration gave us both a refreshed outlook on how much I really do love my husband and how lucky we really are.
What I learned this year is being away from the person you love is one of the hardest things a relationship will ever go through. Without even knowing it, your mind and heart will go into a survival mode to counteract the pain of missing the person you love. The important thing to remember is that if you allow yourself to let go and don’t keep things in perspective, the result would be a future filled with regrets. That is not an option for me.
I know it seems like a really private thing to post in such a very public place, but I feel like it is such a moving, life altering event it would be selfish of me not to. So many of you have read about all of the good times and shared them with us through me. People have told me that they really idealize the story we share. It is a great story, but every story has its plot twist and low points. That doesn’t mean the love is not good or as perfect as human love can get, it means we are only human. In reality, being faced with and then overcoming obstacles makes it that much better.
Life is hard, love is harder. If it is real you will fight to the end for it and you will overcome all of the obstacles that life throws at you. I almost let myself forget that, I won't ever make that mistake again.
I am polyblogorous (I made up that word)
I Wanna See the Movies of my Dreams...- Is where I write the most. I consider it my main blog.
Storytelling: A plot begins to take shape.- My creative writing bog where I keep stories I wrote or things that inspire me to write.
Oodles of Doodles- Things I doodled or my "art" blog.
86 Things I Want To Do Before 2007- is another thing I started but never finished.