ggbd

Goth Girl Blog Day. Who comes up with this stuff? Who knows? And what am i doing in this yard full of people on a bright day like today? i'm going to get a sunburn and that will NOT go well for me. Sigh. The things i do for my family.
Speaking of, they're over by the food, just out of range of this photo. i kinda like that i moved and the picture came out all fuzzy. Actually, i was banging my head up and down and my mom's bff saw me doing it and INSISTED on taking a photo. And she INSISTED on me doing it again so she could actually manage to click the little button on her little phone. Sigh. Like i said, the things i do for my family.
There is one good thing about this photo. You can't see my fingernails. Black polish is the only color i use, of course, and i go through quite a bit of it. When my nails are painted, they attract my attention and i work on them until the color is all scraped off. Actually, i take pride in very slowly peeling the polish off, revealing the milky paleness of my nails. It's a way to pass the time and it drives my mom crazy, which adds to the appeal of the peeling. You could say it's a manner of us bonding, a mother-daughter activity for us.
Speaking of which, she cannot buy nail polish for me ever again unless i go with her. She absolutely does not understand me at all. i completely ran out of polish and had to call her to pick some up on her way home from work. "Black polish, mom, just black polish," i said. What does she bring me? Neon black! omg, are you kidding me???? NEON black??? Those two words should never be linked and yet there they were on the bottle.
So i tried to be a good little punk rock goth girl. After thanking mom, i opened up the bottle, with its bright PINK top, and painted my nails. omg! It was the shiniest stuff i had ever seen... and it was BLACK. Like, falling into a deep cave BLACK. It just sucked all the light out of the room... and then threw all that light out of my fingertips. NO!!! i cannot be the goth girl of light!!!

In memory of the REAL Sam Johnson , and with thanks to Morgan for inspiring me.

chores

You know, one of the downsides to being single is there's no one else to get things done but yourself. Ran out of milk? Well, then, you should have gone to the store on your way home.
No more clean underwear? Hey, you saw the laundry piling up! You ain't blind!
Can't find a clean cup? Hmm, maid service 'round here is the pits.
Dust bunnies running to meet you when you come home? Well, you were talking about getting a pet, right?
Honestly, it really gets to me every once in a while, and this is definitely one of those times. It seems I just get done with washing dishes and the task has to be done again. A dishwasher would have to be ultra-powerful to get off the bits and pieces left behind for a week or more.
I've needed to go to the store since Sunday, but I haven't made it there just yet. One thing after another seems to get in the way and I'll say, "oh, I'll just shop on the way home." Never happens. Once I'm on autopilot heading home, I don't even think "Oh, milk!" until I'm pulling up in the driveway. So, I nurse the little I do have, stretching it for one more day, one more cup of coffee, for one MORE day. Aaarrggghhhhh!
And I have no one but myself to blame. Absolutely no one. Oh, poor me. Poor, poor me.
Then I think of my friends who are raising children. Then I think of those who are raising children by themselves, working every day, still needing to take care of all these little mundane tasks that are part and parcel of civilized life. I have it so easy, in so many ways! Hats off to YOU, dear friends, and kudos for all your efforts. Truly. I honestly don't know how you do it. Well, actually, my best friend once replied to that line with "someone had to do it and I was the only one who could. So I did."
Now, if you don't mind, I have dishes to wash and laundry to sort...

love, love, love, love

Since last week, I've been having my own little film festival. For Christmas, my singing bird gave me one of those gifts that keep on giving: The Entertainment 2010 for Charleston, SC. Yes, it was my idea, but I considered it a gift for both of us, as we both are on fixed incomes (no, we haven't won the lottery yet!) and it would stretch our entertainment and dining dollars quite nicely. Savannah isn't large enough to rate such a book yet, but there's good news. Since the book is part of a national group, quite a few of the discounts can be used everywhere in these United States. Nice!
Regal Cinemas has quite a few coupons in said book, a generous SIXTEEN of them, in fact. All but two offer a savings of $5 on admission for two tickets. Now, you know me: I love my movies!!! And, as I generally attend them solo, at first glance it seems those coupons might be difficult to use up during the course of a year. Not so! As I have found this week, the coupon requires the purchase of two tickets, BUT the tickets can be for TWO DIFFERENT MOVIES! Ah, what a perfect gift for a cinemaphile like moi!
Friday night, I found myself in Savannah with - incredible as it sounds - no specific plans. No dinner engagement, no art offering, no party. So, I took myself to a double-header, discount coupon in hand. The movies of the night were "When In Rome" followed by "It's Complicated", both dealing with love, as it would happen. My rationale for these choices was simple. The first movie was to allow me to re-visit Rome, to see the Forum once more, maybe even spot my name carved in marble atop the temple built for the beloved wife of Antoninus. And, on the basis of my having once been a wife and now divorced, I chose to see how Meryl Streep handled the situation. So, ulterior motives and all, into the cinema I trod.
Well, I saved $5 off the two tickets, getting to see both movies for only $14. Sah-weet! Then, because I used my Regal Crown Club card and hit a certain reward threshold, I also snagged a FREE ticket to a movie of my choice in the next three months. Wow! As an extra bonus, I thoroughly enjoyed both movies, getting many laughs and giggles throughout. A wonderful evening!
So, tonight, I thought I would repeat the feat and use another coupon for my version of a double-header. I saved another $5 with the coupon, then the Regal Crown Club rewarded me with a FREE small popcorn. Yum!
This time, I chose what I thought were two Oscar contenders (turns out, only one of them is, and it's not the one the Savannah Film Festival showed this past fall). Both, again, are love stories. Must be something in the air! "A Single Man" was first in the line-up and Colin Firth was spot on as a man cast adrift after the death of his partner. They had been together 16 years, separated only when a fatal car wreck interfered. Excellent, in so many ways. The second choice was one I had missed at the SFF, "The Young Victoria". Now, I'm not usually one for historical romances, truly, but... well, this was my second chance to see it on the big screen, you know? So, I did. And I am so glad that I did! Talk about romances! This story of Queen Victoria and her Prince Albert was everything a love story should be. Beautiful. I cannot recommend both of tonight's screenings highly enough.

film festival!

I was privy to a most unusual film festival a few weeks ago. This was a two-week celebration of the odd, the rare, and the quirky. The Psychotronic Film Festival boasted ten such films, as diverse in subject matter as in country of origin. Alas, I was unable to see all of them, due to schedule conflicts mostly, but I thouroughly enjoyed the six I attended. The first I saw was actually the second night's feature, a British film, later developed into a tv show, titled after the professor at its center. "Quatermass and The Pit," out in 1967 in its mother country, changed its name to "Five Million Years To Earth" for its US debut a year later. This bit of science fiction was full of the xenophobia all the rage in that day, tempered by the presence of a single female scientist. Interesting, defnitely.
The fourth film of the series, and my second, was a comedic farce about sex. A local (i.e., from the States) movie, "Scenes From The Class Struggle In Beverly Hills" had the misfortune of being released in 1989 shortly after the death of one of its featured young actresses. What a shame! The movie is hilarious, tracking the sexual escapades of its two male leads as two households are merged for a brief time. if you get a chance, track it down and enjoy a few laughs! This was a fitting note to end my first week of the festival.
On the first night of the PFF's second, and final, week, "Bare Knuckles" was to have been the feature, a macho, physical, 1970's flick. That was not to be, but our intrepid host managed a bit of last-minute mojo to offer "The Night Of The Juggler" in its stead. Released in 1980, this one still had a 1970's feel to it, as well as an incredible car chase with Mandy Patinkin as the cabby giving James Brolin advice while they, literally, "follow that car!" One scene, in particular, persists in my mind: as Brolin's character is listening to his ex-wife whine, he flips his mane of hair away from his face and looks into the camera. Classic move!
The next night was actaully a film I had seen before, many years ago whilst a student in Tallahassee. That town boasted an art cinema in one of its malls and "Tampopo", a Japanese film, debuted there in 1987. Starring a young woman trying to make a go of her noodle shop and the men who set about helping her, the story is delightful and guaranteed to make you want to rush out to your nearest Japanese restaurant. Thank God I had the sense to eat ramen soup before the show - this time!
The next evening I missed, as I was working, but I did catch the last two films in the festival. Both were science fiction, both were comedies, and both were just my cup of tea! "Tomorrow I'll Wake Up And Scald Myself With Tea" hailed from Czechoslavakia, circa 1977, and was a cult classic. Time travel has a big part in this one, with many laughs, despite a scratchy disc. The protagonist figures out how to use the time matrix in his favor, along with the incredible blue cleaning agent that I would dearly love to have! I would see this again any time!
"Spider Baby, or The Maddest Story Ever Told" finished out the festival with an upbeat night. Starring Lon Chaney in a comedic turn as the caretaker of three odd orphans, the film is definitely quirky and was a great way to close out ten nights of such fare. Thanks, Jim!

letter to a friend

Dear Sam,
What a day this has been! As you may very well know, I had thought to contact the National Transplant Assistance Fund a couple of months back to alert them to your demise. After all, those monies weren't going to be of use to you any more, so I was hoping someone else could make use of them. I suppose YOU are the one responsible for that thought in my head? You know you are! Anyway, I had left a detailed message on the website, and I think I had also called. As I said, it's been a while and I'm the girl who seems to ALWAYS have something goin' on.
Jump to today. My cell goes off while I'm busy talking to Smitty about work stuff, so I just ignore it and let it go to voicemail. I could tell from the ringtone - What's This? What's This by Jack Skellington, himself - that it was someone I didn't know, just ringing me up. After Smitty left, I went ahead and listened to the message... and it was NTAF, calling to thank me for letting them know and to tell me that your fund would be used for grants for other patients. I took down the number and waited for a while, trying to decide whether or not to call back. I finally decided that I should, just in case they needed to speak to me in person.
The woman in Patient Services, Judy, was just as sweet as she could be and was genuinely thankful that I had let them know about your passing. I just lost it after that, trying to control my sobbing and the catch in my voice, not being very successful at the attempt. Kind of like now, as I write this. You know how I am. Anywho, she proceeded to explain the usual course of action with accounts such as yours. When someone is fundraising for a needed transplant, once they reach a certain goal, NTAF adds some grant money. Depending on the goal attained, the first grant is $500 and the second is $1000. Given the monies raised on your behalf, that will supply several grants, all of which will be memorial grants in your name. how great is that, kid? You really ARE Superman, helping several others get new lives from your generous spirit.
And I miss you so much.

punctuation panda

This is one of my favorite jokes, sent by email by my fsilm.

A panda walks into a restaurant. He sits down and orders a sandwich and quietly enjoys his meal. When the waiter gives him the check, the panda suddenly stands up, pulls out a gun, and shoots out all the windows!

As the panda is making his exit from the eatery, the manager shouts, “Hey! Where are you going? You have to pay for this damage and you didn’t pay for your sandwich!”

The panda yells back at the manager, “Hey man, I’m a PANDA! P-A-N-D-A! Look it up!”

The manager goes to his office and opens his dictionary, where he reads the following definition for panda: “A tree-dwelling marsupial of Asian origin, characterized by distinct black and white coloring.
Eats shoots and leaves.”

anticipation

Last Saturday, January 2nd, I did something I've been intending to do for some few years now. I always managed to find something else to occupy my time, but this year, well, this year I PROMISED myself I would attend. I am so glad I did!
The church I frequent has an annual Anticipation Celebration and Bowl Burning Ceremony. It's a very spiritual affair, meant to start oneself out on the right foot in the new year, by literally lighting a flame to habits and ideas one wishes to shed. Narrow strips of paper, a pen, a fire, and a safe repository for the ashes are all that one needs for the Bowl Burning - well, those are the only physical requirements. I was given one slip on which to write, one slip to be cast aside, one slip to contain those things from which I wished to be freed. Amazing how much that narrow slip could hold! And what a sense of satisfaction to watch as it burned, the flame devouring the inscriptions, melting them into thin air. Even more amazing was the feeling that a load had, indeed, been removed from my shoulders and my mind - a piece of baggage I no longer carried.
The second part of the ritual was much more involved. Again, the only physical items were paper, a pen, and ... a self-addressed, stamped envelope. For the Anticipation Ceremony, I was tasked with writing a letter to myself, a letter which would be put away safely until post-Thanksgiving when it would be arriving in my mailbox. In the letter, I was to congratulate myself for the changes I had made in my life in some respect. What? Sure, I write to/for myself all the time, but to do so as an "Atta Girl!" missive for things I had not yet, and might not ever, accomplish? How to even begin such a thing without being totally self-conscious? And why did I have so many sheets of paper before me?
The leader of this exercise, talking softly and almost in a hypnotic monotone, began giving us a list of ideas and suggestions on how we might flesh them out, what points to include... and a thought took hold and I began, not really listening anymore, much as I am when I am at my beach here, much as I am at this moment. Actually, the same phenomenon occurs when I read books or watch movies. I fall into the story, taking it in as quickly as it will allow. When I am writing, I fall into the words, my fingers scarce keeping pace with my thoughts, forcing me to slow down, to stay coherent. So it was as I wrote my anticipatory letter of congratulation. Before I knew it, I was well into the second page and the leader was saying we needed to wrap things up, bring our letters to a close... and I just happened to be at that very point. How did she know?? I closed, placed the script into the envelope and sealed it shut.
I wonder if the echoes of my words will ring in my ears as the year progresses or will those words fade? Will the new me remember what the old me wrote? Rest assuredly that the me which receives the letter will not quite be the me which wrote it, and cannot be. I have already planted the seeds of change in my life and now I will water them with time and nurture the growth of those new bits springing to life. A new habit takes thirty days to become fixed, just as an old habit takes thirty days to cease, regardless of whether the habit in question is life-affirming or life-destroying. Hopefully, I can stay with good habits for the needed passage of time... that fire in which I burn.