Lately I’ve started to write a lot of things that never seem to get finished. Even my journal entries are becoming difficult to complete. Two nights ago I fell asleep while writing and woke up to find a semi-coherent sentence that slowly devolves into oblivion, sliding off the page with one giant gash of black ink. The next morning the pen was still in my fingers. Re-reading it I was tempted to put a giant red X through the entire entry. Or just torch the journal and start over. I’ve been filling up journals with nonsense for years, and for what? So someone can read them some day long after I’ve taken my last breath and realize what an idiot I was – especially about men? Useless.
I suppose it’s not just journal entries that I can’t finish, I don’t seem to be able to go the distance with a relationship either. I don’t know how people manage to stay married for thirty years without getting sick of one another. Maybe I’m like a relationship sprinter. Or maybe I’m in the wrong race. Or maybe it’s not a race and I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
Thinking back on all the goodbyes I’ve exchanged with men in my life, it’s painfully obvious that in every case I knew what would bring about the end of things long before things ever ended. Sometimes it was on a first date, sometimes it was after a few weeks, sometimes it took two years. In every single case I can remember a moment where I thought, I should not be with this person, but of course I almost never said or did anything about it. I wonder how much heartache I could have saved myself by speaking up?
Maybe it was something superficial – like a ridiculous outfit or an off-color joke; or maybe it was serious – like showing up for a lunch date with a hickey or writing me a rubber check for half the rent. Regardless of what the indicator was, the point is that such indicators actually existed. And I ignored them. That I can remember so many of them with such clarity tells me I ought to trust my instincts a little more in the future. Had I paid better attention they would have served me well.
What my instincts tell me now is that some day, possibly soon, I will be told that my company is no longer wanted. That my kiss is no longer exciting. That it was fun while it lasted, but it’s no longer comfortable to fall asleep next to me. I know this will hurt a little bit, but I will appreciate the honesty. Honesty is important. From now I on I will be honest with myself. Especially about proper goodbyes.
Look at that. I finished something.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Friday, April 30, 2010
Friday, April 09, 2010
The Guys They Are A-Changin’
It’s hard to find a good man these days. I blame Jack Nicholson for this. I’d like to introduce my first piece of evidence. (Well OK, it’s really my only piece of evidence. Quit being so damn picky.) Watch this:
What the characters in this scene fail to realize is that generally it is not, in fact, a compliment when a man tells a woman that she makes him want to be a better person. Or that he will change X about himself in order to date her/sleep with her/get her back/marry her. They are not alone in this misunderstanding; it’s rather popular these days. Just ask John Legend. Or any one of my ex-boyfriends. I guess it’s easy to see why so many people, both men and women, might see this expression as a form of flattery. “You mean you’d give X up for me? How amazing!” But it’s really not amazing. At all. Allow me to explain.
Plenty of couples fall in love every day. Sometimes (frequently if you happen to be me) one half of the couple does not have their shit together. There are varying levels of Shit-Togetherness, ranging from the truly horrifying Can-You-Blow-In-This-Straw-To-Start-My-Car-So-We-Aren’t-Late-For-The-Movie? to the not so terrible I-Should-Probably-Get-Around-To-Opening-That-IRA-I-Keep-Talking-About. Depending on where a man falls on this scale, certain eff-ups – even biggish ones – may be overlooked. Sometimes they can be overlooked for quite awhile under extenuating circumstances. And often blame lies with the woman for not knowing what she wants and needs in a partner. But eventually all that outstanding shit is going to hit the fan, hard, and if the woman in this scenario is a woman worth having she will probably leave. Suddenly the man will realize that he has lost something amazing and, correctly recognizing this (maybe for the first time), he will offer to change in order to get her back. When this promise to change occurs before the first date – in order to secure a first date even – it often starts small before snowballing into a monster. Case in point:
Dude: [lights up a cigarette, the same kind he’s been smoking every day for a decade]
Girl: Oh, you smoke? I don’t date smokers. I’ll just be going now.
Dude: Wait! [violently squishes cigarette in a nearby ashtray] I’ve been meaning to quit for years now anyway. I can quit for you. [starts twitching, tries not to pull out another cigarette, hands book of matches to Girl]
*Sigh*
It’s really all downhill from there. He might try to quit smoking, sort of, but sooner or later, when he’s had a particularly craptastic day and she’s not around, he’ll go to the store and buy a pack and chain smoke the whole thing. He’ll brush his teeth three times and drink half a bottle of Scope, wash all the laundry in his house attempting to eradicate the smoky evidence, and the second she walks in the door she’ll say, “Has someone been smoking in here??” He’ll start to resent her for having to sneak around just to do something he’s always done, something he enjoys and that makes him feel good. She’ll be disappointed that he’s not keeping his word. Things will end badly. It’s a slippery slope.
So Maria, you ask, if you don’t seem to be complimented by a man’s offer to change for the better, what IS complimentary? So glad you asked, dear reader, I’ll tell you. It’s complimentary when a man takes care of himself so that he can take proper care of the people he loves – including his woman. It’s complimentary when a man takes the time to get to know himself, to understand what he wants out of his life, is deliberate in his actions in order to get what he wants, and then chooses you to be the woman with whom he spends his time. It’s complimentary when a hardworking man endeavors to continue to deserve the woman he loves every single day by choosing to honor her with all his actions. It’s complimentary when a man makes a mistake and actually learns from it. It’s complimentary when a man loves a woman so much that she inspires him to be the best version of himself that he can be.
Of course this all works the same in reverse, good men deserve these same things from their partners. And of course I understand that at the end of the day there is no one on the planet that has all their shit together all the time. No one is perfect, mistakes will be made, and that is OK. I’m not perfect and don’t expect other people to be. We all need companionship, love, and support for the hard times. But at this point in my life I’ve decided that I’m going to look for a man who is on the right end of that spectrum, who is ready for what I’ve got to give, and doesn’t need (or want!) to change his lifestyle in order to be what I need. I’m pretty sure I deserve that. I think this is a good goal for 2010.
Maybe 2011. I’m still having fun being single.
What the characters in this scene fail to realize is that generally it is not, in fact, a compliment when a man tells a woman that she makes him want to be a better person. Or that he will change X about himself in order to date her/sleep with her/get her back/marry her. They are not alone in this misunderstanding; it’s rather popular these days. Just ask John Legend. Or any one of my ex-boyfriends. I guess it’s easy to see why so many people, both men and women, might see this expression as a form of flattery. “You mean you’d give X up for me? How amazing!” But it’s really not amazing. At all. Allow me to explain.
Plenty of couples fall in love every day. Sometimes (frequently if you happen to be me) one half of the couple does not have their shit together. There are varying levels of Shit-Togetherness, ranging from the truly horrifying Can-You-Blow-In-This-Straw-To-Start-My-Car-So-We-Aren’t-Late-For-The-Movie? to the not so terrible I-Should-Probably-Get-Around-To-Opening-That-IRA-I-Keep-Talking-About. Depending on where a man falls on this scale, certain eff-ups – even biggish ones – may be overlooked. Sometimes they can be overlooked for quite awhile under extenuating circumstances. And often blame lies with the woman for not knowing what she wants and needs in a partner. But eventually all that outstanding shit is going to hit the fan, hard, and if the woman in this scenario is a woman worth having she will probably leave. Suddenly the man will realize that he has lost something amazing and, correctly recognizing this (maybe for the first time), he will offer to change in order to get her back. When this promise to change occurs before the first date – in order to secure a first date even – it often starts small before snowballing into a monster. Case in point:
Dude: [lights up a cigarette, the same kind he’s been smoking every day for a decade]
Girl: Oh, you smoke? I don’t date smokers. I’ll just be going now.
Dude: Wait! [violently squishes cigarette in a nearby ashtray] I’ve been meaning to quit for years now anyway. I can quit for you. [starts twitching, tries not to pull out another cigarette, hands book of matches to Girl]
*Sigh*
It’s really all downhill from there. He might try to quit smoking, sort of, but sooner or later, when he’s had a particularly craptastic day and she’s not around, he’ll go to the store and buy a pack and chain smoke the whole thing. He’ll brush his teeth three times and drink half a bottle of Scope, wash all the laundry in his house attempting to eradicate the smoky evidence, and the second she walks in the door she’ll say, “Has someone been smoking in here??” He’ll start to resent her for having to sneak around just to do something he’s always done, something he enjoys and that makes him feel good. She’ll be disappointed that he’s not keeping his word. Things will end badly. It’s a slippery slope.
So Maria, you ask, if you don’t seem to be complimented by a man’s offer to change for the better, what IS complimentary? So glad you asked, dear reader, I’ll tell you. It’s complimentary when a man takes care of himself so that he can take proper care of the people he loves – including his woman. It’s complimentary when a man takes the time to get to know himself, to understand what he wants out of his life, is deliberate in his actions in order to get what he wants, and then chooses you to be the woman with whom he spends his time. It’s complimentary when a hardworking man endeavors to continue to deserve the woman he loves every single day by choosing to honor her with all his actions. It’s complimentary when a man makes a mistake and actually learns from it. It’s complimentary when a man loves a woman so much that she inspires him to be the best version of himself that he can be.
Of course this all works the same in reverse, good men deserve these same things from their partners. And of course I understand that at the end of the day there is no one on the planet that has all their shit together all the time. No one is perfect, mistakes will be made, and that is OK. I’m not perfect and don’t expect other people to be. We all need companionship, love, and support for the hard times. But at this point in my life I’ve decided that I’m going to look for a man who is on the right end of that spectrum, who is ready for what I’ve got to give, and doesn’t need (or want!) to change his lifestyle in order to be what I need. I’m pretty sure I deserve that. I think this is a good goal for 2010.
Maybe 2011. I’m still having fun being single.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Happy and Sad, Sad and Happy
I can't tell if I'm happy or sad.
Lately I've felt happy. I'm laughing with good friends, laughing with loving family, laughing with handsome men. I've been going out and having a good time. I've been staying in and taking bubble baths. I've been learning how to smile again. But no matter how much I laugh or smile or flirt there comes the moment -- and it inevitably will arrive -- where the twinge of guilt creeps in.
I start to think about the man I almost married and I know that wherever he is, he is most likely not happy. And then I feel sad. Some days I feel happy all day long, laughing, smiling; and when my head hits that pillow I think, "Wow, I didn't miss him today." And then I feel sad. And guilty. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about what my life is going to be like from now on and I get excited at the ocean of possibilities that I have in front of me. Then I remember that he's counting down the weeks until he gets sent to Afghanistan. And I feel sad. I still love him and I want more than anything for him to find happiness and peace. To find love again. I worry about him going overseas and pray that he'll come home safely to his friends and his family.
Sometimes I want to call him and tell him that this was not all his fault. I should have realized a long, long time ago that we were not right for each other. But I didn't. I should have been honest with myself about who he was and what we both wanted. But I wasn't. I could have chosen not to hold him responsible for my unhappiness, and placed that burden where it always belonged, with myself. But I couldn't. And I can't call him. I don't want him to see my name on his caller ID and get excited, only to talk to me and get upset. I don't want to hurt him any more.
I just don't want to hurt him any more.
Which is why I don't know if I'm happy or sad. I feel happy, but I feel like being happy is somehow being mean to him. That might be absurd, but it is what it is, and I can't help it. So for now I'll go on feeling happy and sad. And maybe some day soon I'll just get to be happy. I think I deserve it, after having been sad for such a long time.
Lately I've felt happy. I'm laughing with good friends, laughing with loving family, laughing with handsome men. I've been going out and having a good time. I've been staying in and taking bubble baths. I've been learning how to smile again. But no matter how much I laugh or smile or flirt there comes the moment -- and it inevitably will arrive -- where the twinge of guilt creeps in.
I start to think about the man I almost married and I know that wherever he is, he is most likely not happy. And then I feel sad. Some days I feel happy all day long, laughing, smiling; and when my head hits that pillow I think, "Wow, I didn't miss him today." And then I feel sad. And guilty. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about what my life is going to be like from now on and I get excited at the ocean of possibilities that I have in front of me. Then I remember that he's counting down the weeks until he gets sent to Afghanistan. And I feel sad. I still love him and I want more than anything for him to find happiness and peace. To find love again. I worry about him going overseas and pray that he'll come home safely to his friends and his family.
Sometimes I want to call him and tell him that this was not all his fault. I should have realized a long, long time ago that we were not right for each other. But I didn't. I should have been honest with myself about who he was and what we both wanted. But I wasn't. I could have chosen not to hold him responsible for my unhappiness, and placed that burden where it always belonged, with myself. But I couldn't. And I can't call him. I don't want him to see my name on his caller ID and get excited, only to talk to me and get upset. I don't want to hurt him any more.
I just don't want to hurt him any more.
Which is why I don't know if I'm happy or sad. I feel happy, but I feel like being happy is somehow being mean to him. That might be absurd, but it is what it is, and I can't help it. So for now I'll go on feeling happy and sad. And maybe some day soon I'll just get to be happy. I think I deserve it, after having been sad for such a long time.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Murphy’s Law, or A Story in Which Everything That Can Go Wrong, Will.
Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.
Shaun and I are not getting married. I moved back to stay with my mum and dad for a bit while I finish graduate school. Their house was broken into and just enough things were stolen to ruin my life for the next several weeks, including my computer and the engagement ring which was legally Shaun’s. Am now trying to finish my semester without losing my mind, and simultaneously hoping that Shaun opts not to take me to small claims court for the ring, since it was uninsured.
So. At the end of this, the longest and most ridiculous relationship of my life, I’m left with a lot of questions I don’t know the answers to. Most of them begin with the word, “Why.” For example, Why did I let this go on for so long, knowing that I was not ever going to be really happy? Oh, and, Why did he even ask me to marry him in the first place? I’m resigned to the fact that I may not ever know the answers to these questions. I’m also determined not to *ever* let this shit happen again.
Maybe I’ll join the Peace Corps. Maybe I’ll get a job in Chicago or Texas and move away. Maybe I’ll move downtown like I’ve been wanting to for ages. Maybe I’ll hit the lottery and go live out the rest of my days in Spain. Maybe I’ll go out and get absolutely shitfaced with my friends every weekend between December 12th and whenever the hell winter semester starts.
Or maybe I’ll do all of these things. And anything else I want to do.
Anything I want to do. I barely know what that means anymore, and that’s pathetic.
So I’ll conclude this web log entry with another question, only this one is of the What variety.
Maria, What do you really want to do? I'm open to suggestions.
Stay tuned, dear reader, stay tuned. Oh, and if you’re in Detroit any time soon and feel like having a beer with someone, do call me, will you?
Shaun and I are not getting married. I moved back to stay with my mum and dad for a bit while I finish graduate school. Their house was broken into and just enough things were stolen to ruin my life for the next several weeks, including my computer and the engagement ring which was legally Shaun’s. Am now trying to finish my semester without losing my mind, and simultaneously hoping that Shaun opts not to take me to small claims court for the ring, since it was uninsured.
So. At the end of this, the longest and most ridiculous relationship of my life, I’m left with a lot of questions I don’t know the answers to. Most of them begin with the word, “Why.” For example, Why did I let this go on for so long, knowing that I was not ever going to be really happy? Oh, and, Why did he even ask me to marry him in the first place? I’m resigned to the fact that I may not ever know the answers to these questions. I’m also determined not to *ever* let this shit happen again.
Maybe I’ll join the Peace Corps. Maybe I’ll get a job in Chicago or Texas and move away. Maybe I’ll move downtown like I’ve been wanting to for ages. Maybe I’ll hit the lottery and go live out the rest of my days in Spain. Maybe I’ll go out and get absolutely shitfaced with my friends every weekend between December 12th and whenever the hell winter semester starts.
Or maybe I’ll do all of these things. And anything else I want to do.
Anything I want to do. I barely know what that means anymore, and that’s pathetic.
So I’ll conclude this web log entry with another question, only this one is of the What variety.
Maria, What do you really want to do? I'm open to suggestions.
Stay tuned, dear reader, stay tuned. Oh, and if you’re in Detroit any time soon and feel like having a beer with someone, do call me, will you?
Sunday, November 29, 2009
A Resurrection Of Sorts
So I've decided to bring my blog back to life. Holler if you're still out there. Keep an eye out....
Friday, January 02, 2009
For the Star Wars Geeks
This video is up for a People's Choice Award this year (you can vote for it once a day up til January 7th at www.pca.com). He took John Williams' most famous movie themes and made a song about Star Wars. If I wasn't already engaged to Shaun, I might try to marry this young man. Enjoy.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Against My Better Judgment…
I am in love with the Twilight books. Yep, I said it. My name is Maria and I’m addicted to a saga about teenage vampire love.
I’m halfway through the third book in the series of four and I realize that it does not make sense for me to be enjoying this story as much as I am. I generally have much better taste in literature than this, for heaven’s sake! I mean, can we talk about character names for a moment? Our lovely, perpetually blushing, innocent-yet-wise-beyond-her-years protagonist is named Bella Swan. Really? Her name is Bella and she’s beautiful, how shockingly original. And Swan – once an ugly duckling, now grown up into a beautiful swan. Sigh. Talk about an extreme lack of subtlety.
So the main story line is that Bella falls in love with a “17” year old vampire named Edward Cullen(who is actually 107). The author, Stephenie Meyer, spends an unbelievable amount of time talking about how Edward is basically sex on a stick. His face, his body, his voice, everything about him draws Bella in – and her readers too. As my friend Sara says, “You want to know the lust that is Edward Cullen.” So true, dear reader, so true. He tries to warn Bella that he might be the bad guy and that it’s dangerous for her to be around him, but of course she ignores his warnings. This proves two things: first, that even when men are 107 all they really want is a 17 year old girl, and second, girls will fall for the bad boy even when it means risking a broken heart – or death, in this case.
**WARNING: SPOILERS!!
So at the beginning of the second book Edward and his vampire family are throwing Bella a party for her 18th birthday party (which, of course, she is upset about since now that means she is “older” than Edward), when she accidentally gives herself a paper cut and one of Edward’s brothers almost kills her. A tense moment in the plot to be sure, and something I was not expecting, but an action that caused me to wonder, “Well, what the hell happens when she has her period??” I asked Sara about this, as she’s already read all four books, and has been dealing with a similar obsession a bit longer than I have. Her response: “It’s never addressed.”
Does this not seem like an obvious flaw to anyone except me? They constantly talk about the how the Cullens resemble animals – bears and mountain lions. They have heightened senses of smell. In my opinion, Bella’s in some trouble every time Aunt Flo comes to town. But apparently that’s just me.
What’s really the most upsetting to me about this story though, is the fact that Edward and Bella are in love, supposedly soul mates, dedicated to each other forever, insanely attracted to one another, but they don’t have sex. (At least not so far.) Edward is afraid that it will be too much for him and he will hurt her. And because he tells her this all the time, how he could hurt her, ne kill her, at any moment, the readers fear it too. But Bella seems to think that, “Edward and his rules,” are a bit silly and old-fashioned. This teaches the young people who read these books that sex is bad! It makes men do bad things and it could get women hurt!
In spite of all this, I just can’t help myself. And against my better judgment I freaking LOVE these books. They’re what you get when you cross Danielle Steel with Anne Rice (before she was born again and swore off the undead forever). So I will finish Eclipse and rush out to get Breaking Dawn. And when it’s all said and done I will probably read them all over again a few months down the line.
I’m halfway through the third book in the series of four and I realize that it does not make sense for me to be enjoying this story as much as I am. I generally have much better taste in literature than this, for heaven’s sake! I mean, can we talk about character names for a moment? Our lovely, perpetually blushing, innocent-yet-wise-beyond-her-years protagonist is named Bella Swan. Really? Her name is Bella and she’s beautiful, how shockingly original. And Swan – once an ugly duckling, now grown up into a beautiful swan. Sigh. Talk about an extreme lack of subtlety.
So the main story line is that Bella falls in love with a “17” year old vampire named Edward Cullen(who is actually 107). The author, Stephenie Meyer, spends an unbelievable amount of time talking about how Edward is basically sex on a stick. His face, his body, his voice, everything about him draws Bella in – and her readers too. As my friend Sara says, “You want to know the lust that is Edward Cullen.” So true, dear reader, so true. He tries to warn Bella that he might be the bad guy and that it’s dangerous for her to be around him, but of course she ignores his warnings. This proves two things: first, that even when men are 107 all they really want is a 17 year old girl, and second, girls will fall for the bad boy even when it means risking a broken heart – or death, in this case.
**WARNING: SPOILERS!!
So at the beginning of the second book Edward and his vampire family are throwing Bella a party for her 18th birthday party (which, of course, she is upset about since now that means she is “older” than Edward), when she accidentally gives herself a paper cut and one of Edward’s brothers almost kills her. A tense moment in the plot to be sure, and something I was not expecting, but an action that caused me to wonder, “Well, what the hell happens when she has her period??” I asked Sara about this, as she’s already read all four books, and has been dealing with a similar obsession a bit longer than I have. Her response: “It’s never addressed.”
Does this not seem like an obvious flaw to anyone except me? They constantly talk about the how the Cullens resemble animals – bears and mountain lions. They have heightened senses of smell. In my opinion, Bella’s in some trouble every time Aunt Flo comes to town. But apparently that’s just me.
What’s really the most upsetting to me about this story though, is the fact that Edward and Bella are in love, supposedly soul mates, dedicated to each other forever, insanely attracted to one another, but they don’t have sex. (At least not so far.) Edward is afraid that it will be too much for him and he will hurt her. And because he tells her this all the time, how he could hurt her, ne kill her, at any moment, the readers fear it too. But Bella seems to think that, “Edward and his rules,” are a bit silly and old-fashioned. This teaches the young people who read these books that sex is bad! It makes men do bad things and it could get women hurt!
In spite of all this, I just can’t help myself. And against my better judgment I freaking LOVE these books. They’re what you get when you cross Danielle Steel with Anne Rice (before she was born again and swore off the undead forever). So I will finish Eclipse and rush out to get Breaking Dawn. And when it’s all said and done I will probably read them all over again a few months down the line.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Breathe and Reboot.
So I just deleted the entire contents of my hotmail account. The oldest email dates back to the summer after I graduated from Michigan. I had more than 700 unread emails, a total of 3200+ in my inbox. Just too overwhelming. Delete, start fresh. Maybe I'll be able to maintain a better handle on the incessant stream of junkmail I get now.
It seemed like a good idea to keep up the trend and resurrect my lifeless blog. I know, I know, it's about time.
Tonight I made Shaun bring me to see "Twilight" -- I feel sure I will pay for this for a long, long time. Bless his heart, he was the only male in the theater. It's really Sara's fault, she recommended the first book to me. (Well actually, she mentioned how the descriptions of Edward make her drool.) A quick 500 pages and 7.5 hours later and I'd finished Twilight, then I had to get my hands on the second one. I drove to Borders in a snow storm to buy it (not kidding). Finished that one in two days. So Shaun gave me #3 as an early Christmas present. They're easy (brainless) reads, and it feels nice to not be reading for school. I plan to use my semester break to its fullest.
Which brings me to school. Ah, school. Still love it, but this past semester became - rather suddenly - exceedingly, ridiculously difficult. It quickly became what everyone told me grad school would be like from the beginning. So at least now I know what to expect from here on out! I certainly don't expect things to get any easier. But I'm officially half way through and I still have my 4.0 intact. Go me!
I promise it won't be almost three months before the next post. Honest.
It seemed like a good idea to keep up the trend and resurrect my lifeless blog. I know, I know, it's about time.
Tonight I made Shaun bring me to see "Twilight" -- I feel sure I will pay for this for a long, long time. Bless his heart, he was the only male in the theater. It's really Sara's fault, she recommended the first book to me. (Well actually, she mentioned how the descriptions of Edward make her drool.) A quick 500 pages and 7.5 hours later and I'd finished Twilight, then I had to get my hands on the second one. I drove to Borders in a snow storm to buy it (not kidding). Finished that one in two days. So Shaun gave me #3 as an early Christmas present. They're easy (brainless) reads, and it feels nice to not be reading for school. I plan to use my semester break to its fullest.
Which brings me to school. Ah, school. Still love it, but this past semester became - rather suddenly - exceedingly, ridiculously difficult. It quickly became what everyone told me grad school would be like from the beginning. So at least now I know what to expect from here on out! I certainly don't expect things to get any easier. But I'm officially half way through and I still have my 4.0 intact. Go me!
I promise it won't be almost three months before the next post. Honest.
Thursday, October 02, 2008
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
HBO is Back, or, I Like TV
Many of you may already know that I used to work for a cable company. A big one. I've also been a loyal fan of HBO since before the days of Sex & the City and The Sopranos and Curb Your Enthusiasm and Real Time with Bill Maher. For a while there HBO could do no wrong. On top of Sopranos and Sex they built a solid lineup of shows -- Alan Ball's Six Feet Under, the incredible (and underrated) Deadwood. They were pretty much the Cadillac of premium cable channels. And then it all seemed to start to fall apart.
I had to work the Monday after the series finale of The Sopranos aired. People were pissed. Inordinately pissed if you ask me. I was one of a very few who actually liked the finale, and it's big, Screw you! to everyone else's expectations. Plus I like Journey. But I digress. Everyone in Metro Detroit canceled HBO. We couldn't even talk them into keeping it for $5 a month. I knew HBO was worried. Sex, Deadwood, and Six Feet Under were all long finished. Losing The Sopranos was like losing your last remaining limb after many years and painful surgeries -- and the HBO sales reps knew it.
Calling Lisa Kudrow's weird and horribly un-funny The Comeback, "the replacement for Sex & the City!" in a sales presentation to our group, the HBO rep looked close to tears. Things got worse with John From Cincinatti. In Treatment features a great cast, but somehow I've never found it compelling. I did rather enjoy the first season of Tell Me You Love Me, but that may have been because my man was being held hostage by the U.S. Navy and there were some pretty, um, shall we say... steamy scenes in that show. Entourage still had to prove itself, and while Bill Maher and Larry David are both hilarious and brilliant, they may be a little bit neurotic for some. HBO needed it's one-two punch
back.
They've got it.
I think, more than any other show, Entourage is the new Sex & the City. It's funny, candid, extravagent, and (more than anything else) about four friends who'll do anything for each other. It's proven itself to me and I'm just waiting for it to start winning some awards. But the real point of even wasting the 20 minutes it's taken to write this so far, is to tell you about True Blood.
Created by Alan Ball (whose credits include American Beauty and Six Feet Under) and based on the novels of Charlaine Harris, it's the story of a modern day romance between a 25 year old telepathic waitress (Anna Paquin) and a 173 year old vampire named Bill (Stephen Moyer), who is, to put it simply, really freaking hot -- in spite of being dead. (It's a technicality!) It takes places in rural northern Louisiana. There is sex, comedy, and blood. It is the greatest thing I have seen on TV in a long, long time. HBO is back.
I had to work the Monday after the series finale of The Sopranos aired. People were pissed. Inordinately pissed if you ask me. I was one of a very few who actually liked the finale, and it's big, Screw you! to everyone else's expectations. Plus I like Journey. But I digress. Everyone in Metro Detroit canceled HBO. We couldn't even talk them into keeping it for $5 a month. I knew HBO was worried. Sex, Deadwood, and Six Feet Under were all long finished. Losing The Sopranos was like losing your last remaining limb after many years and painful surgeries -- and the HBO sales reps knew it.
Calling Lisa Kudrow's weird and horribly un-funny The Comeback, "the replacement for Sex & the City!" in a sales presentation to our group, the HBO rep looked close to tears. Things got worse with John From Cincinatti. In Treatment features a great cast, but somehow I've never found it compelling. I did rather enjoy the first season of Tell Me You Love Me, but that may have been because my man was being held hostage by the U.S. Navy and there were some pretty, um, shall we say... steamy scenes in that show. Entourage still had to prove itself, and while Bill Maher and Larry David are both hilarious and brilliant, they may be a little bit neurotic for some. HBO needed it's one-two punch
back.They've got it.
I think, more than any other show, Entourage is the new Sex & the City. It's funny, candid, extravagent, and (more than anything else) about four friends who'll do anything for each other. It's proven itself to me and I'm just waiting for it to start winning some awards. But the real point of even wasting the 20 minutes it's taken to write this so far, is to tell you about True Blood.
Created by Alan Ball (whose credits include American Beauty and Six Feet Under) and based on the novels of Charlaine Harris, it's the story of a modern day romance between a 25 year old telepathic waitress (Anna Paquin) and a 173 year old vampire named Bill (Stephen Moyer), who is, to put it simply, really freaking hot -- in spite of being dead. (It's a technicality!) It takes places in rural northern Louisiana. There is sex, comedy, and blood. It is the greatest thing I have seen on TV in a long, long time. HBO is back.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Monday, September 01, 2008
Obama '08
Mom and I went downtown this morning to try to hear Barack Obama speak at the Labor Day Parade. We were not the only ones! Check out the video I took. OBAMA '08!!!Sunday, August 10, 2008
I Can't Believe Joey Is Six Years Old.
And yes, that is a Dyson vacuum cleaner on his cake. Just in case you were wondering.
Friday, August 08, 2008
Re-re-re-reading
So I'm reading the Harry Potter books. Again. This will be the first re-read all the way through every book since the seventh came out. They still rock.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Politik
So I voted today. First time since moving to the new house. As expected my polling place is a local elementary school. All the volunteers at the polls were little old ladies. One had an actual oxygen tank.
Since it's just a primary you can't split your ticket, you have to vote all Democrat or all Republican. So, to make it 'easier' for voters, the ballot is basically divided into two columns. The Republican candidates are all on the left hand side; the Democratic candidates are on the right. At the top of each column there are corresponding labels. And pictures. Of these men: 
The top two men in this picture appeared next to the word, "Republican." The bottom two men were next to the word, "Democrat."
For those of you that slept through American history in high school (because it is unforgivably boring and biased), these four men are (clockwise from top left) Abraham Lincoln, Ronald Reagan, John F. Kennedy, and Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Arguably the most famous and beloved U.S. Presidents from each of their respective parties.
After exiting the voting booth I took my completed ballot to the little old lady with the oxygen tank and asked her who was responsible for designing the ballot, and specifically, for placing those pictures on it. She looked at my ballot and said, "Wow. I've never noticed those before. Is that... Abraham Lincoln?? Ha ha ha, I've really never noticed those before. I don't know who designs the ballots. Try calling City Hall, I guess." Then she stood up and went over to the other blue haired ladies and said, "Hey Eleanor, look at these pictures on the ballots!" I deposited my ballot in the electronic ballot thingamajig and left.
But something about those pictures is bothering me. Of course Republicans want to be represented by Lincoln and Reagan; Lincoln freed the slaves and Reagan is like the Paul McCartney of Republicans -- everyone loves him. And of course Democrats want to be represented by FDR and JFK, FDR got us out of the Great Depression and JFK was the politician's equivalent to Brad Pitt.
But are they relevant examples? Is it fair to say that the Republican party of Abraham Lincoln's time is in any real way similar to today's Republican party? Is FDR still an icon for Democrats? And what about young, first time voters? To voters ages 18-25 these examples are not likely to resonate the way a picture of George W. Bush and Bill Clinton would.
I still can't really put my finger on why this bugs me so much, but it just doesn't sit right with me somehow. It seems you shouldn't be able to put pictures like that on a ballot.
At any rate, I just hope the Zoo proposal passes.
Sunday, August 03, 2008
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