I was recently inspired to read a novel. It was praised as "one of the best books I've read in a LONG time." Gone Girl: A Novel by Gillian Flynn. I can agree to a point: Stephanie's choice of the verb "devoured" is absolutely fitting to the way in which I read that book. It's a page turner (or, since I got it on kindle, a button pusher). I read it in about three days, which is pretty typical for me. The last day I read over half of it. I could not put it down. So yes, I agree on that. It's a book to be devoured.
My opinion diverges after that. Yes, it was well written. It was gripping. It kept you guessing. It was a bona fide "thriller." But no, it was not one of the best books I've read in a LONG time. Not even without the capital letters. Here's why.
First (and this is arguably a non-point), there are about ten f-words per page. Seriously. Used literally and as a cuss word. The other oft-appearing word rhymes with "witch." I'm worried I'm going to randomly say something really naughty. How embarrassing.
Second, the ending is disappointing. (spoilers here) The bad guy wins. In order to not give away everything, I have to not give away anything more than that. (yes, the plot is that complex). But that just about sums it up. The bad guy wins.
Ugh.
Excuse me while I go bang my head against the wall.
...
Ok, I'm back. This bothers me. It does. Really. The bad guy ought not to win. (weird sentence there...) This raises another question: does the end ruin the whole thing? No. The book is riveting throughout. All the way to the last sentence of the last page. You wait and wait and wait and then... there's no happy ending. There's a kind of heroic sacrifice involved... I think. These characters are so complex.
It's a book that leaves you wishing things were different. Wishing for a different ending. Wanting the sociopath, psychotic, messed up people to go away. To be punished. And it doesn't happen, darn it. Instead of being led to things true, good, and beautiful, you are left running from things false, bad, and ugly. Which, I suppose, could be argued to have a value. You end up in the same place... maybe. You run, not because you love the beautiful, but because you're so freaking scared of the ugly. Sketchy, at best.
My solution? I picked up Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery this morning. A happy book. Happy endings. Good people. Not crazy loonies getting twisted "happy endings" that make you want to puke.
11 July 2012
09 July 2012
Warning! Semi-Political Statements to Follow!
The political realm is something that I generally try to stay out of, but not because I don't have opinions. Any TAC educated, Italian, and female human being has opinions... and stubbornly holds on to some of them.
Recently, my entire Facebook newsfeed was filled to the gills with political memes, statuses, and articles coming from both sides (I have a great deal of diversity in my Facebook friend pool). I agreed with some of them. Ones like this
even made me giggle a little evil giggle. I'm a big enough person to admit that. I was in for a shock though, when something like this popped up.
(To be fair, it wasn't exactly this one. I looked for it for the purposes of this post and could not find it... and who knows what sort of targeted ads will start popping up after some of the google searches I did)
The point is, I've found that I have a double standard. While I found the first one funny, I found the second one immature, sophistical, and downright... mean. Honestly examining the dichotomy of my feelings, I realized that from "the other side", the first one is equally distasteful to others as the second is to me.
To be clear (and to stay out of trouble), this isn't a real political statement. I'm NOT saying that truth is relative. I'm NOT saying that both sides are right (because something cannot be true and false at the same time in the same respect. First axiom of all philosophy and human thought).
I AM saying that some of us have missed the boat. Y'know, the one with "Charity" emblazoned on the side.
Distasteful or offensive humor is nothing new. We all experienced it to some extent in school or in other social settings. One clique of people band together against some other group of people and they all peck at each other in a mean spirited manner. They obviously don't understand where the others are coming from and, what is more hurtful, they obviously haven't tried to understand, or care to understand. Instead, they resort to saying "funny" things to each other about the others... and what is funny to them is a jab in the eye to the others.
This is not how to win the world for Christ. How can it be? Imagine a person of a more liberal political bent, scrolling through his newsfeed. When he sees that first image, what will his reaction be? In all likelihood, one of two things: he will dismiss it as "those crazy conservatives" mouthing off again or take offense and be angry. In any case, I can guarantee that the message will not cause him to change his mind. He will not change his political views, but he will think less of those who think differently than him. It reinforces the wall between us. Positive influence? I think not.
So, in conclusion to this long and unusually serious post, I'd like to ask you all to think twice before you post those funny pictures. Think about who will see them. Think about what it will do. It will not bring anyone closer to truth and it may just make them hold it off at arm's length or kick it over the fence completely.
Reading Between the Lines
Mum asked me awhile ago to write a "philosophical" post about the television show "Southland" on TNT. She watched the entirety of it while I was at school, but was so enthralled by it that she asked me to watch all of the episodes again with her. She was right: it is enthralling. It's about LAPD officers, working some of the toughest cases in the worst parts of that city. But it certainly isn't the gritty violence that brings me back to watch yet another episode. It's the morality written in to almost every character's story arc.
As with most cop shows, there are about fifty main characters. Fine, I exaggerate, but not by much. Each person has his or her own personal story arc. The most notable and interesting to me are Sammy, who has a boat load of personal life problems, struggling to cope with the death of his previous partner on the job, trying desperately to save his new partner Ben from doing stupid things, and Ben, who seems to be desperately and actively trying to ruin his own life by ignoring Sammy and doing those stupid things.
Now, I'm hesitant to make assertions here, in part because I'm sure there are many diverse opinions on what screenwriters in Hollywood are really doing with their stories. Some believe that they are actively promoting sex, alcohol, and drugs to corrupt the world's youth into a relativistic, loose, indulgent society. Watching Southland, though, that doesn't seem to ring true.
Take Ben. We first see him at the beginning of Season One, fresh out of the academy, first day in the patrol car. He's young, he's eager, and he seems pretty... nice. His story arc promises to be the typical "growth" story arc. Y'know, young guy, grows up under the watchful care of his senior partner, does good for the city of Los Angeles. Maybe has some hard knocks, loses a few battles, makes mistakes, but overall, he succeeds in becoming a stellar police officer.
Not so much.
His story arc doesn't really do the growth thing. It does the growth, but in a kinda lopsided way. He gets more confident, he wants to do good... but things get dark. Ben gets angry. There's an interesting parallel developed in the seasons, though, and this is where I'm reading between the lines (whether accurately or not is for you to decide). The more angry Ben gets, the more of a "skirt chaser" he becomes. At the beginning of Season Four, you see Ben in bed with not one, but two women. Wooooaaaah there, fella'. Ben McKenzie, the actor who plays Ben Sherman, said of his character in an interview, "He turns into a bit of a slut."
No kidding.
Now, if Officer Ben Sherman seemed happier the more "conquests" he racked up, I'd be more willing to hop on the wagon of people saying that the writers are promoting this lifestyle. But that isn't what happens. He gets angry. He gets stubborn. He almost gets his partner (Sammy) killed. Sammy sees Ben's increasing anger and tries to calm him down. Tries to get him back on the... less angry side of life.
Why is Ben angry, you ask? In Ben is the struggle of compassion and nobility vs. anger at the injustice he sees. He became a cop to right wrongs and bring the bad guys to justice. What he sees is a situation that he can only hope to contain, but never eradicate. He sees people in pain who don't want to help themselves. His compassion leads him to try and try and try to help people on a personal level. To do this, he has to get personally involved. When he gets personally involved, he cannot help but feel angry at the situation.
What can a man do with all of these emotions? Ben's solution is to party hard and sleep around on his days off. But it's obviously not a real solution. Sammy knows this. Ben probably does too. Sammy tries to reach out and help. Ben ignores him and shuts the (figurative) door in his partner's face.
Who knows what Season Five will do to Officer Ben Sherman. Will he continue on his downward bend of his growth arc, or will he finally start climbing up? To be oh-so-geeky and cliche, will he conquer the forces of evil or succumb to the dark side?
Too bad we won't find out until February...
As with most cop shows, there are about fifty main characters. Fine, I exaggerate, but not by much. Each person has his or her own personal story arc. The most notable and interesting to me are Sammy, who has a boat load of personal life problems, struggling to cope with the death of his previous partner on the job, trying desperately to save his new partner Ben from doing stupid things, and Ben, who seems to be desperately and actively trying to ruin his own life by ignoring Sammy and doing those stupid things.
Now, I'm hesitant to make assertions here, in part because I'm sure there are many diverse opinions on what screenwriters in Hollywood are really doing with their stories. Some believe that they are actively promoting sex, alcohol, and drugs to corrupt the world's youth into a relativistic, loose, indulgent society. Watching Southland, though, that doesn't seem to ring true.
Take Ben. We first see him at the beginning of Season One, fresh out of the academy, first day in the patrol car. He's young, he's eager, and he seems pretty... nice. His story arc promises to be the typical "growth" story arc. Y'know, young guy, grows up under the watchful care of his senior partner, does good for the city of Los Angeles. Maybe has some hard knocks, loses a few battles, makes mistakes, but overall, he succeeds in becoming a stellar police officer.
Not so much.
His story arc doesn't really do the growth thing. It does the growth, but in a kinda lopsided way. He gets more confident, he wants to do good... but things get dark. Ben gets angry. There's an interesting parallel developed in the seasons, though, and this is where I'm reading between the lines (whether accurately or not is for you to decide). The more angry Ben gets, the more of a "skirt chaser" he becomes. At the beginning of Season Four, you see Ben in bed with not one, but two women. Wooooaaaah there, fella'. Ben McKenzie, the actor who plays Ben Sherman, said of his character in an interview, "He turns into a bit of a slut."
No kidding.
Now, if Officer Ben Sherman seemed happier the more "conquests" he racked up, I'd be more willing to hop on the wagon of people saying that the writers are promoting this lifestyle. But that isn't what happens. He gets angry. He gets stubborn. He almost gets his partner (Sammy) killed. Sammy sees Ben's increasing anger and tries to calm him down. Tries to get him back on the... less angry side of life.
What can a man do with all of these emotions? Ben's solution is to party hard and sleep around on his days off. But it's obviously not a real solution. Sammy knows this. Ben probably does too. Sammy tries to reach out and help. Ben ignores him and shuts the (figurative) door in his partner's face.
Who knows what Season Five will do to Officer Ben Sherman. Will he continue on his downward bend of his growth arc, or will he finally start climbing up? To be oh-so-geeky and cliche, will he conquer the forces of evil or succumb to the dark side?
06 July 2012
Duck Feet
Y'know that scene in "The Sound of Music" where the Mother Superior sings that warbly song about climbing every mountain and fording every stream? Well, I feel like singing that whenever I'm about to embark on a trip to the mall for a particular item. If I go to any store without a particular purpose, I almost always find something that I would love to own. Shoes, dress, earrings, etc. If, however, I go to the mall with a specific quarry in mind, it takes Herculean efforts to find it.
High-heeled dress shoes are a particularly elusive prize. The shoes themselves have strikes against them going in: they're egregiously priced and often inanely high heeled. Then I have strikes against me being the owner of said shoes: I'm accident prone, klutzy, and have poor balance (are those all the same thing?). I also have what the doctor calls "duck feet." My heels are a size 6 and the front of my foot is a size 9 or 10. Talk about difficult to fit. Heeled shoes tend to be narrow in the toes anyway, even for normal people.
But I'm not normal. *sigh*
Store after store, shoe after shoe, I frustrate shoe sales people. Different styles, different sizes and they all have different problems. Toes don't even get in the shoe. Toes have to be curled to fit in shoe. Heel falls completely out of the shoe if my toes do get in the shoe. If, by some miracle, my foot fits in the shoe, the heel is so high that I fall over as soon as I stand up. Hours go by. Finally, I find shoes. Expensive, yes. High heeled, yes. But I don't fall over, my feet stay in them, and they're the right color and style for the upcoming occasion.
Mission accomplished. Mountain climbed. Stream forded.
Shoes bought.
High-heeled dress shoes are a particularly elusive prize. The shoes themselves have strikes against them going in: they're egregiously priced and often inanely high heeled. Then I have strikes against me being the owner of said shoes: I'm accident prone, klutzy, and have poor balance (are those all the same thing?). I also have what the doctor calls "duck feet." My heels are a size 6 and the front of my foot is a size 9 or 10. Talk about difficult to fit. Heeled shoes tend to be narrow in the toes anyway, even for normal people.
But I'm not normal. *sigh*
Store after store, shoe after shoe, I frustrate shoe sales people. Different styles, different sizes and they all have different problems. Toes don't even get in the shoe. Toes have to be curled to fit in shoe. Heel falls completely out of the shoe if my toes do get in the shoe. If, by some miracle, my foot fits in the shoe, the heel is so high that I fall over as soon as I stand up. Hours go by. Finally, I find shoes. Expensive, yes. High heeled, yes. But I don't fall over, my feet stay in them, and they're the right color and style for the upcoming occasion.
Mission accomplished. Mountain climbed. Stream forded.
30 June 2012
Sustained Beauty
I looked in the mirror. My face was a weird shade of purple, my hair was sticking out at all angles around my head, and all of my visible skin was shiny and red.
My Italian Mama stood next to me. Her face was slightly tinged with pink, she wasn't shiny. She didn't look rumpled. She looked pretty.
Believe it or not, we just finished the same workout. We did the Zumba "Sculpt and Tone" followed by the "Flat Abs" routine. Looking at the two of us, one could assume one of two things: 1) I worked out wayyyyy harder than she did or 2) she's in unbelievably better shape than I am. While the second may be true (though she denies it), the first is simply not true. She wiggles and bounces right along with me.
Then why do I need to cool down, shower, change, and rearrange my face, while all she has to do is put on different clothes? And the only reason that she even has to do that is because neither of us is in in the habit of wearing work-out clothes around the house or the town.
My face turns red when I merely think of working out. It proceeds quickly through the shades of red to a blotchy purple within minutes of beginning to exercise.
She has what I recently dubbed "sustained beauty." She can Zumba her heart out and appear no different for it. She believes that this is a disadvantage because people assume that she isn't working out as hard. I am jealous. While I collapse on the floor, panting and dripping, she sits on the couch and calmly and coolly checks her twitter. So much more ladylike.
One thing that is not different between the two of us is the result of this Zumba-ing. We both sweat (although I appear to do so to a greater degree) and we've both gained (yeah, that's right) three pounds over the past three weeks. What the heck?! Shouldn't a70 minutes of cardio and light weight training every day help you lose weight? Or at least maintain your current weight? What's with the upward tending of the scale's needle???
Now I've come to grips with the fact that my Italian heritage will not allow me to have slender hips, and small bum, and little thighs. What I got ain't goin' nowhere. I will never be skinny or slender or elegant. The most I can accomplish is a curvy cute due to the combination of short stature and genetics. All I'm asking is that I don't gain weight when I work out.
My Italian Mama stood next to me. Her face was slightly tinged with pink, she wasn't shiny. She didn't look rumpled. She looked pretty.
Believe it or not, we just finished the same workout. We did the Zumba "Sculpt and Tone" followed by the "Flat Abs" routine. Looking at the two of us, one could assume one of two things: 1) I worked out wayyyyy harder than she did or 2) she's in unbelievably better shape than I am. While the second may be true (though she denies it), the first is simply not true. She wiggles and bounces right along with me.
Then why do I need to cool down, shower, change, and rearrange my face, while all she has to do is put on different clothes? And the only reason that she even has to do that is because neither of us is in in the habit of wearing work-out clothes around the house or the town.
My face turns red when I merely think of working out. It proceeds quickly through the shades of red to a blotchy purple within minutes of beginning to exercise.
She has what I recently dubbed "sustained beauty." She can Zumba her heart out and appear no different for it. She believes that this is a disadvantage because people assume that she isn't working out as hard. I am jealous. While I collapse on the floor, panting and dripping, she sits on the couch and calmly and coolly checks her twitter. So much more ladylike.
One thing that is not different between the two of us is the result of this Zumba-ing. We both sweat (although I appear to do so to a greater degree) and we've both gained (yeah, that's right) three pounds over the past three weeks. What the heck?! Shouldn't a70 minutes of cardio and light weight training every day help you lose weight? Or at least maintain your current weight? What's with the upward tending of the scale's needle???
Now I've come to grips with the fact that my Italian heritage will not allow me to have slender hips, and small bum, and little thighs. What I got ain't goin' nowhere. I will never be skinny or slender or elegant. The most I can accomplish is a curvy cute due to the combination of short stature and genetics. All I'm asking is that I don't gain weight when I work out.
25 June 2012
23 June 2012
There and Back Again
I've been gone a while, but I have a good excuse. We had a house guest for a week, then I left for a week. That didn't leave much time or opportunity to blog about the random happenings of my life.
The trip was amazing. I headed up to a dear friend's wedding. There were a whole bunch of girls in the bride's family's home. We arranged flowers, prepared food, decorated the hall, and attempted to throw a bachelorette party for the bride. I say attempted because the bride wasn't really there for any of it. While we all painted our nails and watched "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," she was upstairs, working on place cards.
The day of the wedding was beautiful. We got up early and moved efficiently, thanks to our shower schedule. The bride and bridesmaids all looked beautiful. We took pictures before the ceremony in a park that was down the street from the church. Mass was beautiful, the reception was fun, the food was fabulous, and the bride and groom looked as happy as can be.
On Sunday, I headed up toward school to spend a day with a dear friend. One day turned into five, which was a great decision. I had a marvelous time. She's getting married in December and asked me to be a bridesmaid, so we spent some time doing bridal things. We picked up her dress, went shoe shopping, and generally had a grand time.
I'm happy to be home, though. I would be happier without the cold, but such is life. :)
The trip was amazing. I headed up to a dear friend's wedding. There were a whole bunch of girls in the bride's family's home. We arranged flowers, prepared food, decorated the hall, and attempted to throw a bachelorette party for the bride. I say attempted because the bride wasn't really there for any of it. While we all painted our nails and watched "My Big Fat Greek Wedding," she was upstairs, working on place cards.
The day of the wedding was beautiful. We got up early and moved efficiently, thanks to our shower schedule. The bride and bridesmaids all looked beautiful. We took pictures before the ceremony in a park that was down the street from the church. Mass was beautiful, the reception was fun, the food was fabulous, and the bride and groom looked as happy as can be.
On Sunday, I headed up toward school to spend a day with a dear friend. One day turned into five, which was a great decision. I had a marvelous time. She's getting married in December and asked me to be a bridesmaid, so we spent some time doing bridal things. We picked up her dress, went shoe shopping, and generally had a grand time.
I'm happy to be home, though. I would be happier without the cold, but such is life. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)