"as strange as a clockwork orange"

The movie, A Clockwork Orange, slapped me right in me gulliver. It did when I was 17-years-old, watching it in my friend's basement with my high school boyfriend and a bunch of other droogs (nadsat for friends). It did when I watched it in college, when I was oh, so very much more mature. It really messed with me when I read the book and it did last night at the midnight showing here in Brooklyn. That movie has a lot to say and I saw things differently this time around.

For one, I never noticed how incredibly sexy Alex is. Not when he was wearing his mask and about to perform a little in-out with that poor woman in her own home with her helpless husband watching; God, no! But, in general, I was always so overtaken with his nihilistic, id-like state of being. Alex DeLarge was very much a despicable character, no? Well, no. This time around, I noticed that for as fucked up as a person he is, he is quite likeable; quite refined, actually. And quite charming when he isn't cutting people with his walking stick/ knife... Actually, most sociopaths are capable of extreme charm- but for personal gain. They're likeble, fun, and charismatic. Weird, eh?

Alex is actually a man of refined taste. He loves Beethoven's ninth and has extremely fine taste in clothing. When he's out with his droogs for a night of the ultra-violent, he wears a crisp white collared shirt with eyeball cuff links, suspenders, white pants, black combat boots, and a bowler hat. He wears cute white tighties with blue trim underneath it all. When he skipped school, he put on this floor length purple jacket with a crazy collar and carried a walking stick. When he was sentenced to jail time, he went in wearing a lovely navy suit and those amazing leather ankle boots that looked so hot on guys in the 60s...


As I walked home with my friend, I searched for words to put my thoughts to. I tried to say, for as fucked up as those violent scenes were to watch, in a way, they weren't. I couldn't explain it. Today, I read a little bit about it and found that they used the word "detached" to describe the rape scenes and the other ultra-violence in the movie. And, yes, detached is the right word, I would say. Set to sunny music, we see things through Alex's eyes, and thus, we see it in a way that makes it seem ok. Because for him, it is ok. Chilling. Genius, really.

I also never noticed, as a teenager, the amount of filth that abounded in their world. The world where the misfits were really keeping in line with what the government wanted: people off the streets; no place to commune or get together or to start rebellions or revolutions. The kids made that possible by scaring everyone off the streets, from the drunken homeless man they ruthlessly beat in the movie version to the man carrying books from a library that they beat and tore at in the book version. This story was supposed to have taken place in the early 2000s (I swear I saw 2001 written somewhere when he went to that extremely cool, psychadelic-looking record shop/ mall while he skipped the school) and the book was written in the 60s, when the USSR and the US were positioning themselves as the superpowers of the world. Therefore, A Clockwork Orange is this strange mix of consumerism/ pop-culture and totalitarianism; garbage and Municipal Flatblock 18A comingling. There are murals on the walls with grafitti: dicks and the words, Suck it and See coming out of a guy's mouth. And his home is a hallucinogenic wonderland with the brightly-colored, highly stylized wallpaper, furniture, and decor. His room is very neat, highly ordered, Ludwig Van Beethoven peering at him from his shade as he curls up with his pet snake for a bit of shut-eye.


It is so very hard to make a despicable character one that we become endeared to. In A Clockwork Orange, that happens, as a government experiment goes awry and the media turns Alex's story into headlines. The government, hurriedly, undoes what they've done and become allies with Alex. We, the watchers, almost feel relieved that he has been "fixed." Wait a minute. Fixed means he's super evil again. What? I'm happy about this? Why? Well, because this whole movie is about free will verses totalitarian control. And violence, as fucked up as it is, is an aspect of free will. Without violence, Alex can't even function in this ficticious world.

The acting, the soundtrack, the cinematography, the finely-detailed costumes, the storyline, and the set design all come together and remind me why Stanley Kubrik is such a genius. And that scene where Alex is scratching his ass, walking down the hall in his blue-trimmed tighties brought to light how incredibly hot the then 28 year old Malcolm McDowell was... holy smokes. I might go buy one of those movie posters.

wildly uncomfortable movie moments

Sometimes, when I'm watching a movie, that thing will happen where I notice that I am literally squirming, taking peeks around the room just to get away from the movie, and exhaling rather... uncomfortably. This is what the writer and the director wanted. This is what I call a wildly uncomfortable movie moment.

I like them and I don't like them. Sometimes, I acknowledge its existence as a necessary part of the plot or character development. Other times, usually if it is happening too often or goes on way too long, I will get up and walk out of the movie. Where do I draw the line? Well, if I deem the movie good, I will want to grin and bear it. If not, I'm out.

As most of you know, I love lists. They give my life, my likes and dislikes, my things to do- today, tomorrow, before I die, a sense of order. Don't we all enjoy categorizing; Making sense out of chaos? So, here is a list of wildly uncomfortable movie moments, in no particular order:

Enter the Void (2009)
Directed by Gaspar Noé

I went to see Enter the Void this past summer with a friend of mine at the IFC. I wanted to see it because I heard it was quite a cinematic experience. I'm all for cinematic experiences... but not in this way. Watching this movie felt like the emotional and visual equivalent of being force fed tablespoons of fish oil while someone is punching you repeatedly in the stomach and yet somebody else is showing you their open flesh wound. Gross, right? While the whole movie made me wildly uncomfortable, the scene that really pissed me off was the scene where the newly reunited brother and sister are sitting in their tiny Tokyo apartment at dawn after staying up all night partying. Needless to say, they are fucked up beyond belief. They are hanging out talking and Alice's boob is just hanging out of her shirt. There's this sexual tension between the two throughout the movie and it just grosses me out beyond belief. Usually, in any movie, it's weird sexual tension between family members that makes me want to throw up in my mouth. Stupid prostitute sister and drug addict brother. Go on the righteous path, will you? If this movie set out to make me angry, it succeeded.



Shame (2011)
Directed by Steve McQueen

I saw Shame last week in the theater. The protagonist, who is completely unlikeable, lives a life of sexually hedonistic solitude. He really enjoys getting his rocks off. More than most people. Come to think of it, he's not even enjoying it as much as indulging in something that is a habit... it's like watching a chain smoker have her cigarette; it's more out of habit and necessity than it is enjoyment. In Brandon's isolated world, the only people to enter his apartment are prostitutes, online playmates calling out of his computer screen, and the girls he brings home from bars. But, one day, he comes home and walks into his bathroom to find his sister (played by cutie-pie, Carey Mulligan) in the shower. They have a surprised, 'what are you doing here!? You scared the shit out of me!' exchange and then... the uncomfortable brother-lingering-while-sister's-naked-in-the-shower. I don't know if my family was extra prudish, but we just didn't do that! And so, another inappropriate, incestuous moment, compliments of Shame. All in all, I didn't want to walk out of this movie the way I did with Enter the Void. Most of the movie wasn't quite so painful to watch. And, like my friend said, the movie did a good job of conveying the bleakness of the characters through their surroundings. I mean, NYC gets way more sun than we saw in this movie...



Damnation (1988)
Directed by Bela Tarr

Yesterday, I saw that a movie called the The Turin Horse was playing in the city and I read some reviews. The writer said this movie will have half the audience bored to tears and walking out of the theater and the other half mesmerized. I went on to look at what other movies this director has made and fixated on it all day. I needed to see Bela Tarr's movies. I rented Damnation and watched it a few hours ago. I really liked it. It was bleak but beautiful. It was mesmerizing how long a take was and, for me, it made me ask questions. I imagined the boredom these people must feel as the rain poured down each and every day in this boring, nothing town. There was one scene toward the very end, where the protagonist (again, not very likeable; more pitiful) was walking along some small lake, in the heavy rain, getting soaked and dirty. This detail alone was enough to make me uncomfortable, but then, he comes across some stray dogs. There are stray dogs all over this town. Mangy, tough dogs that just troll around looking for food. Well, this dog clearly didn't want this guy around and starts barking ferociously at him. What does the guy do? He barks back. At first it was funny, but then, in Bela Tarr style, it continued for a long period of time. With each set of barks, he got louder, and crazier, getting on all fours and circling around the dog, showing his teeth and barking wildly. I thought, for sure the dog was going to bite his face off... then I remembered the conversation he had earlier with his lover; he felt like he was going to soon go mad. The dog backed off, probably sensing his madness...


Young Adult (2011)
Directed by Jason Reitman

I saw Young Adult in the theater with some friends semi-recently and I very much liked it. I didn't, for one second, not believe Charlize Theron's character. I thought she was amazing in it, as was Patton Oswald. They made a fabulous team. She was quite a delusional alcoholic, clinging tightly to her faded glory, determined to get her high school boyfriend back, despite the fact that he is happily married. There were many scenes that had me thinking, 'No! Mavis, what are you doing?!' The one that had me cringing though, was when she finally had her delusions dashed for real and she lost her shit on her ex-boyfriend's wife. His wife, by the way, is the type of girl we all either want to be or want to hang out with... she's a drummer for a band that she plays in with her mommy friends, wears vintage rock t-shirts, and is so incredibly nice to the cold and crazy Mavis. The things Mavis said to her in front of the entire party made it pretty obvious she's got some issues. This made for a wildly uncomfortable movie moment.


Happiness (1998)
Directed by Todd Solondz

In 1995, Todd Solondz changed my entire world. He made it better. He did this by allowing Welcome to the Dollhouse to play in movie theaters across America and then created dvds of this amazing movie. Three years later, he directed another one titled Happiness. This one lacked the charm that Welcome to the Dollhouse had in abundance, but it had one thing for sure: a wildly uncomfortable movie moment. Come to think of it, I'd venture to say this entire movie is just one long wildly uncomfortable movie moment; And yet another moment of incestuous discomfort. But this time, the characters involved are father and son. The father, it is early on revealed, is a gay pedafile. His son is a total nerd. One day, the two of them have a "heart-to-heart" that happens sometime after the father drugs and molests his son's friend during an innocent sleepover. In this heart-to-heart, the son asks the dad what does cum mean? So, the dad goes on to explain what it is and asks Billy if he's tried playing with himself, complete with asking him if he wants him to show him how... It is done in the most fucked up of ways. It's like, if you put the TV on mute and just watched, it would seem like a heart-warming father-son talk... and then you remember the back-story and you listen to the words that are coming out of the son's mouth and you just think... EW... WHAT THE FUCK!?!?


I'm happy this post is ending on Happiness (no pun intended). That movie, with all the inappropriate penis talks involved, really should win the most uncomfortable movie moments award... and this movie has a lot of these awful moments.

all's silent

sounds of silence...
all's quiet here at home.
there's the pitter patter of finnegan walking up and down the hall, coming to the couch, stretching his neck to prop his head on the couch to make sure everything is still status quo. then he pitter-patters back to his bed.
there's the sound of Aimee playing words with friends on her ipad on the other side of the couch.
outside, there is a dog barking.
a motorcycle just zoomed by.
a car alarm is going off. now it stopped.
the keys click rapidly beneath my fingers making those satisfying little clicking noises that I love so much... the faster the better.
someone needs to get their brakes checked... either that or it's a volvo.
the refigerator is deciding to hum at this moment. it moans and churns in two-beat succession... cha-la...da na. cha-la... da na. cha-la... da na.
aimee takes a breath as she begins to click in her word.
a skateboard is skidding past my building.
latin music comes and goes quickly in a car.
a truck with a diesel engine squeaks to a stop, puts it in gear, and goes again.
my phone tweets like a bird to alert me that someone is texting.
someone is laughing as, yet another skateboard rolls by.
aimee's words with friends makes another pleasing sound; a sort of chime and then bubbles popping.
engine revving up hard.
phone-bird tweets again, it clicks when i unlock it.
a loud conversation passing and, another skateboard.
my shirt makes a scrunching sound as i rub my shoulder.
my downstairs neighbor is drilling... just for a moment though.
slow squeak outside, maybe a bicycle?
a cackle.
a car.
music.
a gaggle of loud skateboards this time.

on this busy, lively street, it's amazing what i would consider to be quiet.

Daughter of A Teamster Man

Being the daughter of a Teamster has shaped me in a few ways.
1. I'm ridiculously pro-union. When people petition in the streets to open up more charter schools in my neighborhood, I fire back at them that, "fuck no, I won't sign your petition. I work for the Board of Education and am in a UNION. Will you be protected by a Union? No? So sad..."
2. It solidified my decision when I moved to NYC and had a few choices of where to work. Two of those choices were a charter school in Harlem (what the fuck was I even thinking going to that interview?) and one was an interview in Mamaroneck that I got because a childhood friend of mine slipped my resume on her principal's desk. I would have made a shit ton of money, but I would not have a Union behind me.
3. Every time I see a Teamster's jacket or hat on somebody, I immediately feel a connection with him (I've never met a Teamster woman thus far, though I'm sure they're out there somewhere) and sometimes will even say to the guy, "my dad is a Teamster!" and there's that kindred kind of... thing.

Unfortunately, in our messed up world, Unions are fast becoming a thing of the past. These stupid charter schools don't offer their teachers a Union and they phrase it in a way that makes it seem like a Union is a bad thing. It's a fucking great thing; are you kidding me?! I have a Union rep at my school that will go and talk to my boss for me about issues that scare the crap out of me. And sometimes, the news comes back good for us. They bargain for things that benefit us, the workers, and they stand up for us so no one can decide that we are working overtime and not being compensated for it. When people work in non-Union jobs, they usually end up getting pushed around and one person cannot make a difference. A bunch of people can. A handbook can.

I feel like, for as corrupt as he may have been, Hoffa or a Hoffa-esque person needs to revitalize Unions throughout this country. We have become a nation of pansies who would rather watch and vote for the next American Idol (I do not watch American Idol) than stand up for what will truly affect our future and the future of today's children. Hoffa, we need you to rally people because I don't have it in me! I'm not the natural-born leader that you were. And, hey, having those mob connections probably helped, big time. You got the job done because when push came to shove, nobody fucked with my dad and his Teamster buddies.

Movie and Television Moments That Make My Eyes Leak Each and Every Time

I've never really been much of a cheerleader for love. I'm a cynic, a realist, and a bit of an independent loner. Actually, let me explain this in a more honest way: I'm these ways when I'm around people. Behind closed doors, when no one's looking, I'm a hopeless romantic. I think about love at its best; that ridiculous love that consumes your entire being and makes zero sense. So, I got to thinking about movie moments that hit me right in that tender spot in my heart, the part that, I swear, in that moment, makes the rest of my heart want to leap right out of my chest. The lump in my throat starts to form. Tears spring along the corners of my eyes. This doesn't just happen once, but every time with certain movie moments. Unfortunately, you may judge my movie choices, but every time I have watched these movies, there is at least one scene that will have me sniffling and reaching for the tissues to wipe away my tears.

** SPOILER ALERTS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!**

Bonus TV moment

* The Office Christmas Special (2003)
Directed by Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant

For two seasons, I watched Tim hopelessly look at Dawn with a mix of starry-eyed love and pained yearning. Then, she surprised the hell out of me at the end of season 2 when she, nonchalantly, announced she's moving away with Lee, her long-time fiance. In that moment, I swear I could feel Tim's heart break into tiny, little pieces. Then the Christmas Special comes along and the whole time, I'm watching and wondering if something is going to happen at this Christmas party. Eventually, Lee, in his callous and chauvinistic way, announces that he's tired and Dawn can open her present in the car on their way home. He sits in the front of the car, a few feet and millions of light years away from his fiance, who sits in the backseat. She opens her gift and it is a picture she doodled of Tim while they sat and talked about nothing and everything in just that way that Tim and Dawn do. There was also a note saying something to the effect of Don't give up on your dreams. Next you see Tim talking to Gareth and David back at the office party. The camera blurs just a bit to focus on Dawn in the background. She walks up to Tim and looks into his eyes. She says no words. She just kisses him and takes his hand and they walk away. GETS ME EVERY TIME!


5. Before Sunrise (1995)
Directed by Richard Linklater

I saw this movie a very long time ago. I saw it before I had ever been to Europe. I saw it back in the days when I thought that Julie Delpy was the most beautiful woman on Earth... and Ethan Hawke wasn't so bad either. I saw it so long ago that I forget their characters' names! But I do remember this one scene. The two characters met on a train during a European vacation and decided to spend the day together, just walking around Vienna, making it even more quaint and lovely. They stroll across bridges, they pop into little shops, drink wine in the park. It's the kind of situation anyone in their right mind would want to be in... minus the little fact that they really like each other and only have until morning to hang out. But there's this one part that just makes me a mush. They are wandering around a small record shop, browsing through the music and they take a record into a small listening room. They are standing side by side listening to this beautiful song and trying hard not to get caught looking at each other. It's so charming and innocent. You can feel the tension building between them as they can't help but take in each others' cuteness.


4. The Artist (2011)
Directed by Michel Hazanavicius

I recently went to see The Artist out at the theater with a friend of mine. I really enjoyed it. At points, it was so sad. After George tries to set his house on fire with him in it, he's carted off to the hospital (thank god for that cute dog!) and Peppy, who has never stopped loving him since the first time they met, goes to the hospital make sure he is ok. The nurse says that when they found him, he was clutching only one thing: a reel of film. When she held the film up to the light, she saw it was the time that they were shooting the movie together, doing that hopelessly touching dance scene; the point at which he began falling for her.



3. Sex and the City: the Movie
Directed by Michael Patrick King

Full disclosure: I am a huge Sex and the City fan. I have watched every episode more times than I can even begin to count. I will admit that when the movie came out, I wasn't all that into the idea. I saw it and thought... eh. That said, every now and then, when I am in a particular kind of mood, I will pop it in. There is one scene that has me in tears each and every time I see it. It's the scene where Miranda and Steve decide that they will pick a meeting spot and if they both show up, they will both put his infidelity behind them and move forward. With Al Green singing, How Can You Mend a Broken Heart, Miranda walks along the gorgeous Brooklyn Bridge, looking and hoping that the love of her life loves her enough to show up. Then she sees him, through the crowd. I just love Steve and Miranda so much; it's hard not to cheer for their love. They hug and kiss and walk off together holding hands. Amazing movie moment.


2. Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)
Directed by Blake Edwards

Audrey Hepburn plays the perfect adorable, lovable, yet unreachable, can't-quite-get-her-in-your-grasp girl. When the handsome writer, Paul, moves in above her, she takes a liking to him, but only in the way that Holly Golightly can. She is capable of loving, she has a cat that she simply calls Cat. But again, it's the only love that Holly can give. Holly and Cat assume their independent roles in each other's lives as they coexist in the same apartment. Holly loves this cat because she is the cat. She is unable to really be seen or loved or, to settle down. But, in private, she yearns. There's that balcony scene. Paul is up in his apartment writing. He's writing about Holly. Then he hears guitar-playing and sweet singing. He walks over to the window, opens it up and quietly watches her as she gazes into nothingness and sings Moon River by Henri Mancini. If I listen to that song, I get tears in my eyes, it's really lovely.


1. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
Directed by Michel Gondry

I feel like people have very strong opinions about this movie. I am not afraid to say that I love this movie with mostly every fiber of my being. And there's one scene early on that is quite fetching. Joel and Clementine had 'just met' and he gave her a ride home. After spending the day with each other, they know that they like each other, but Joel is just so awkward. He gets up to leave. He walks out of the building and the snow is coming down around him as he starts up the street. Then you hear the window fly open. There is soft music playing that is most fitting for this movie moment that makes my eyes leak every time. Clem hangs out the window and calls after him that he should call her tomorrow because it is Valentine's Day... and that would be nice. I don't know if it's the simplicity of the request, the music, the snowy, dark February night, or the combination of all of these elements, but, in my opinion, I feel this is one of the perfect cinemagical moments. I swear, I can feel the snow fall on my nose and cheeks and hear Clem call through the softness of the snow. And, to me, that's what makes a moment perfect- when I can feel myself in that moment.


There it is. My list of movie and television moments that make my eyes leak each and every time. Fitting for this time of year, huh?

wanderlust

As I sat in my living room eating my freshly-popped popcorn, post-work/ pre-happy hour time, I had some thoughts. My thoughts were that I don't know how to think that much any more.

I don't mean that I can't rationalize or plan or learn. Obviously, I can. I would be in a lot of trouble if that were the case being that I am a Social Studies teacher. I mean that while I ate my popcorn, I wanted my mind to wander and it wouldn't. I didn't have anything to daydream about. I tried to force something, trying hard to conjure up images of me wandering around a busy market place in Morocco or hanging out with a hippo in Madagascar, but it wouldn't go further than me standing in one place. I couldn't make myself move around or interact or explore. I realized that I haven't been flexing my creative muscle very much.

When I was in high school, I got in trouble all the time for daydreaming. I lived in my mind so much so that I would blink and everyone would be working on something and I would have no idea what the fuck was going on. Usually, in middle school and high school, I would day dream about boys. As an adult, I've trained myself not to let my mind wander there. It's pointless; fruitless. It is a let-down to come back to reality after fantasizing about the boy you are madly in love with professing his love for you while Sweet Song by Blur plays in the background. Now, when my mind wanders, usually one of three things happens:

1. I begin to fret. I fret about work. I fret about family. I fret about my future. I fret about friends. Give me a few minutes and I will find something to fret about.
2. I daydream about upcoming trips. You can see how when I have no upcoming trips (like now), this poses a problem.
3. I plan my week. I jam on my planner. If there's nothing there, I will put in what classes I will take at the gym. I have to have a full calendar.

I guess being an adult has made me two things, really:
1. a worrier (who am I kidding? I came out of the womb worrying, "what if the doctor doesn't cut my umbilical cord correctly? what if i'm a weird case where I don't grow larger and I'm this size forever?" you know, baby-frets.
and
2. pragmatic.

The second thing came as a huge surprise to me. I fought really hard to never be tied down, refusing to buy nice furniture until I was nearly 30 in case I wanted to up and leave. I would also do things for the sheer thrill of it so that I would have a story to tell. Now, I think through my actions. I plan a little bit more. I do things that make me a better person. But what about the creative part? What about the ability to let my mind wander to a far off place that makes me feel really happy?

In The Secret and The Law of Attraction (yes. I read both of them), it says that we must allow ourselves to daydream about those things we really want in order to will it in into our lives. It says that it's the feeling that brings the energy of that desired thing toward you. Therefore, you have to allow yourself to feel the happiness that comes along with fantasizing about something you really really want and feel that feeling that would, in reality, accompany getting that thing that you really really want, be it $10,000,000 or your dream house or a stranger walking down the street and accidentally tripping you and then helping you up, only to look into your eyes and fall madly in love with you in that very moment. I don't allow myself to think very much about these things. The money fantasy creeps in every now and then, but I don't give it much attention.

Maybe I should! Who says you have to stop fantasizing when you become pragmatic? So what if I don't have a trip planned? Why not fantasize about going to Norway? And just because it would be extremely difficult to get citizenship and make a living in Reykjavik, why can't I daydream about living there and taking after work swims and weekend drives to the lava fields?

Now that I think about it, I do daydream a lot more when I'm traveling. It awakens something in me. There's no TV or computer at my fingertips to distract me from letting my mind wander. I've got nothing to fret about or if it starts, I shut it down quickly reminding myself that this is called a vacation for a reason!

I guess, the truth is, when you have a life that is full and fun and busy, you don't need to retreat into fantasy quite so often. Maybe this is less of a deficit than I thought. I should take it as a clue that I live in quite a nice little world.

Hitler and V-Day

While I was at the gym tonight, I wore a hot pink tank top and then I noticed later that I was also wearing hot pink undies. Too much information? Too bad. This abundance of pink reminded me of the upcoming holiday. You know- the one looming not too far off in the distance. The one that most people have quite a strong opinion about. Yep. I'm talking about Valentine's Day.

When I was little, I loved Valentine's Day, but only because my parents used it as an excuse to buy copious amounts of chocolate. My mom would buy multiple big hearts filled with assorted chocolates and my dad would usually come home with flowers for my mom and chocolates for each of us kids. But my feelings changed once the fourth grade hit. There was this bee-yotch in my fourth grade class named Robin. Robin bought V-day cards for everyone and stuffed them in the mailboxes we made one morning. I bought cards for everyone too. But one day, before Valentine's Day approached, I had a strange inkling and crept over to my mailbox, unnoticed, and found no card from Robin. BITCH! And thus, the realization crept over me like a cold hard slap: Valentine's Day was just a popularity contest in elementary school and would continue to be throughout high school.

In college, I had a boyfriend named Jeff. We were together for two and a half years. We spent 2 Valentine's Days together and both were totally weird. But our very first Valentine's together takes the cake. We were in Delhi, New York. If you know anything about Delhi, you know that there aren't very many nice restaurants around... and those few there were in the 90s were in Oneonta which was a half hour away. We were too dopey to put together the facts that Valentine's Day+limited nice restaurants in the Delhi vicinity=reservations at least a decade in advance. So, when we showed up to have a "romantic dinner," the hostess looked at us like we were from Jupiter. So, we ended up going to Jupiter. The Jupiter Diner. Under the bright neon lights of the busy and anything but romantic diner that sat on a major thoroughfare, I decided since it was supposed to be a special dinner, I would order a real meal. So, I ordered chicken and vegetables with mashed potatoes. Jeff played it safe with a burger and fries. When our meals arrived, my chicken was pink and had a feather in it. That kind of killed my mood. Feathers in my food usually serve to be a huge buzz kill. I totally loved Jeff but that Valentine's Day made me depressed and not at all in the mood for love.

Further down the road by a few years, I was living in Saratoga and dating a douche that I really liked at the time. His name was D.J. D.J. decided that we would go out and have a nice meal and spend a cozy evening together. I really liked him a lot and so for Valentine's Day, I made him a gift. I don't really know what it was, but I had glued a sheet of thick paper to a thin piece of wood and, on it, had written quotes from books that I found to be moving. I painted the wooden side navy blue and drew our astrological signs tied together with a heart. I tied it up in a bow using hemp and could not wait to give my boyfriend, who I was crazy about, this piece of art that took days to complete. Well, we broke up that very weekend. I envisioned taking that painting/quote board and smashing it over my knee as I stared him dead in the eye. But I didn't. Instead, I just drove myself home and drank until I no longer could feel the sadness.

A few years ago, I dated a Dane. We were super into each other for the first few months. But, at this point, I was older and wiser and had already grown to despise everything that Valentine's Day stood for. So, when he suggested that we go over-the-top romantic and gushy with it, I laughed and said that Valentine's Day was a lame Hallmark holiday and I didn't care one bit about it. Then I started to feel bad. After all, maybe they didn't have Valentine's Day in Denmark and this was his chance to celebrate. Who was I to deprive him of this experience? We were visiting Portland during Valentine's Day that year and I decided to try to come around to the idea. So, I bought him a little box of fancy handmade truffles tied with a beautiful red bow and planned a night at a wellness center (clothing-optional hot tub). Well, he never acknowledged the day. I didn't feel doted on or special and we weren't in love, so it was a sham, really, and taking a dip in that giant salt water hot tub under the stars only made me realize the lack of deep connection even more.

That's the thing. I think that if you're dating someone around February 14th that you're not in love with, this "love-y" holiday puts the pressure on. You kind of have to acknowledge it, so you go for it. But then it makes you realize your true feelings, whether they're there or not. And, usually, it'll push the newer relationships into break up zone because you don't really want to have to pretend you love somebody when you don't. Who needs that pressure?

I think there should be a holiday acknowledging things like breaking up with a slutty girl who cheats on you or divorcing a deadbeat dad. And, not to go too Carrie Bradshaw on all your asses, but what about those of us who won't settle? Those of us who go it alone, fearlessly, with hope in our hearts and too much pride to date people with whom there is no spark? Those of us who don't put up with the bullshit some guys try to give us and who call a spade a spade? Where is the fiercely independent woman's holiday?

Most people will say that the only people who don't like Valentine's Day are those who are single and that is just not true. I have tried really hard to make it nice with the boyfriends I had during that day; it's just that I feel I don't need a holiday to tell me to show someone I love them. I mean, showing someone affection is rad, but isn't it a bit robotic when you are forced into it by the calendar?

If you are in love and you love February 14th, by all means, enjoy yourselves and have a great day. But for those of you who feel like me (and I know you're out there by the thousands) maybe we should just pretend it's treat yourself well day and do something awesome for the best person in your life: you!

Here is a picture of me typing an angry letter to Hitler back in 2008. If I'm not mistaken, Hitler was the inventor of Valentine's Day...

televisioned out.

I'm bringing my cable box to Time Warner tomorrow. I am going to tell whoever takes it from me that I am quitting cable cold turkey and that she or he can take my cable box and shove it up the collective Time Warner ass. That's what I think of all of it: Time Warner, Verizon, Direct TV, and cable, in general. CRAM IT UP THERE!!!

The thing is, I feel like I get so much more out of my evenings at home if I read the Union newspaper or my book about healthy eating, write in my journal or on here, or even if I'm checking out my charts on Cafe Astrology; it's all better than stupid Kim and Kourtney taking New York with their spoiled and televised lives. It's just bad, rotten TV and I don't need it! The only shows that I think are worth my time are on channel 4 and I don't even get reception for those because I have a 1990s tube TV. Totally fine for me. I will be watching DVDs only on my 22 year old television. As for my rerun addiction: fuck you. Thank you but no thank you. I accept that I have a problem and now I am releasing you. I have a busy world right outside my window and two bookcases full of books, half of which I haven't finished. I've got things to do.

Is it crazy that I've been planning on doing this for about a month and I'm procrastination because I'm a little terrified? With any addiction, it is never a good time to quit... there are a million excuses to keep my cable: it's cold outside... hmmm... that's the only one I can think of. whenever people talk about quitting drinking, they always say it's not a good time because there are events coming up; their sister's wedding, the holiday season, their best friend's birthday or they are stressed due to a divorce, losing a job, stressed at home. Point is, there is never a good time to break an addiction.

They say the best way to break an addiction is to replace it with something else that is healthier. If you smoke every time you leave your house, maybe you pop a piece of trident in your face hole instead, you get my point. So, I need a replacement for when I come home... I'll take up letter-writing. I'll write letters the old-fashioned way and sent them through the United States Postal Service. There. That's killing two birds with one stone- writing to far away loved ones and supporting the postal workers .

I could work on getting a job at movie theaters making popcorn since I am so fucking good at it. Right after school, I came home craving popcorn and I made the shit out of that popcorn today! No butter, loads of nutritional yeast, garlic, sea salt, and paprika. It was the best ever. Of course, I ingested 3 whole tablespoons of vegetable oil in the process of it all, but, summing it up in two words: WORTH. IT.

Maybe I can get an ice cream maker and work on making the World's Best ice cream. I'll call it Ice Creamski and I will make flavors to appeal to the Polish population in Greenpoint, such as Sweet Beet and chocolate covered kasza. We can make little packages of ice cream filled pierogis. I will be RICH-AROOSKI. Then I'll have a spin off brand called Helado Bueno and sell it on the South Side to the Latina population. Flavors will be Sweet Plantain and arroz con leche. Why am I not a millionaire?

My last plan is to organize the demise of Bloomberg because he is so incredibly evil and disturbing. And by demise, I mean his downfall, not his death. But that is for another time. For now, simply positive TV replacements.

In conclusion, I am a fool to have wasted time in front of the stupid television the way I did. Goodbye 500 Days of Summer that plays every day on E! Goodbye episodes of Friends that I put on just for background noise and that I've seen more times than I'd like to admit. And lastly, goodbye to you beautiful duds, the Kardashians, because life is short and you are boring. Beautiful but boring.

Here is a shrinky dink I made while I wasn't watching TV... it's one of the only things I can draw:

retrospect

I am constantly trying to figure out ways to know when. I have a hard time living day to day not knowing when things will change, get exciting, be beautiful, or make me want to explode with happiness. So many days are status quo, which is not, by any means, a bad thing. I mean, when I think about the day that I was broken up with by someone I loved, or a loved one dies, or when something awful happens to a close friend or family member, those are not considered status quo events, thank god! These events are rather heart-breaking. So, I'm not wishing for every day to be a jolt. I like quiet days of routine. I'm getting more and more ok with it every day I go further down thirty-something lane. That said, I haven't had a happy jolt in quite some time.

Every time I go to one of my psychics, he or she has told me about all these wonderful and amazing things that my life is going to dish out for me... in the next few years. It seems like every day, though, is so similar to the one that preceded it. I simply cannot fathom something magical happening tomorrow or in a few hours. It would seem so terribly out of place with the events of my day (let's see, I called in sick because I had food poisoning for 12 hours straight, I ate lunch, I graded some essays, and now I am writing this.) Again, I'm not complaining. I am lucky to have the life that I have. I think everyone wants fun and amazing and exciting things to happen more often than it does. Then again, if magical and amazing things did happen more often than they did in our lives, would we even recognize them as such?

Being that it's been a while for me since I've had a magical and wonderful thing happen to me, I feel it's my time. And soon! I want to feel that magic that I felt at fifteen when I was sitting on my stoop on a beautiful spring evening with the guy who I was just starting to date, his skateboard under his feet, while I blushed and flirted with would soon turn into love.

I want to feel the butterflies that danced around my stomach as I stood in my Portland apartment for the last time, surveying the walls that had watched my life for years before leaving for New York City. I love that ridiculous nervous energy that comes along before I take a trip, whether it is for a week in Los Angeles with my best friend, a solo trip to a brand new place, or a few month soujourn to Europe or Alaska. I felt like I was going to die of nerves before my tap performance, my improv graduation shows, or my very first day of teaching, but it did serve to set those days aside from all the others.

Sometimes, I might not realize that there may be a beautiful memory in the making. I remember this one gorgeous day, I think I would describe it as Indian Summer. I was hanging out with my friend, Andrew, doing the usual and not thinking it was anything special. We made a video together that afternoon. We often played around with making videos and we always strolled the streets and did a whole lot of nothing together. So, at the time, it seemed like nothing special, but, for some reason, in my memory, it is etched as lovely.

I guess, the truth is, every day, something happens that you may remember. And memories sometimes have a way of morphing into something else; something unexpected. A day might seem so routine, so run of the mill, but you may remember some aspect of it more fondly in hindsight, down the road. You just don't know.