i haven't been to church in a long time. a friend talked me into going saturday. the readings spoke to me. the songs did. i bought some tamales afterward. two batches.
i boiled them both. the first batch came out just fine. i scarfed those babies down. they were divine.
the second one? i cooked them last night. i accidentally punctured the bag. they were a soggy mess. i ate them anyway.
today i got fired. from a job i loved. from a place i had loved working. that's the first time in my life i've been able to say that. that i loved working somewhere.
i'm drinking dos equis. by myself. and there's a storm brewing. please god, let the days get better soon.
things can only get better
August 16, 2018
August 14, 2018
hey now, take your change.
that's one of the first lines in u2's stay.
the first memory that comes to mind when i hear this song is the drive from montrose to grand junction to visit my mother's family after my brother died. i plug in pretty much the moment we pull out of the driveway until we dump our bags wherever we're staying -- it's how i deal with being in a box, whether it's my father's explorer or the shuttle from the parking lot to the airport or cramped in the window or middle seat on a flight (though to be honest, i've been pretty fortunate with the aisle seat lottery lately). i plug in to keep from having an anxiety attack. my mom's complained about this on more than one occasion. she would prefer that i be communicative and attentive. i'd prefer to keep my sanity. i win. anyway... i remember hearing this song on that trek, and it suited my mood then. i was twenty-nine. the first chords put me back in that car, riding behind my father, looking out at a gloomy colorado.
then there's that line. take your change. and i'm not in colorado anymore. i'm in san marcos. seven years younger. stupid, crazy in love with a boy we'll call elliot. not a good man. not by any means. but he'd impressed me with his talent and confidence and wit and eyes -- he has black eyes, like my grandmother's. the first time my grandfather saw her, all he could see of her was her eyes, and he fell hard. the first time i saw elliot, i couldn't help myself. i'm a sucker for pretty eyes and mad skills. the boy could play guitar better than anyone i knew. yeah. musician. i'm an idiot. i know. everybody else did, too. it was laughable in my circle of friends-who-weren't-friends that i liked him. so san marcos. hasting's entertainment -- a video and music store. i'd gone to visit one of those friends-not-friends -- we'll call him ben -- and his girlfriend. they'd insisted on watching caddyshack because i'd never seen it. so we took my car. i left my cigarettes at his apartment because he didn't like me smoking. we were standing in line to pay for the rental. val kilmer was on the cover of premier magazine for batman forever. i'd said something about that. something about him being hot.
ben laughed and said i thought elliot was the love of your life.
i could've shrugged it off, except ben and i had gone to school together from fifth to eighth grade, and in junior high, when i'd asked him to sign my yearbook, he'd written to the love doctor... he and the rest of my peers were relentless then, always making fun of how ugly i was. the moment he said that, i was reminded of decades before. i started laughing to keep from crying.
the cashier was holding out the change she'd made. i couldn't move. ben said get your change, jenn.
i said i realize you've never seen me upset so you don't know how i get when i'm that way, so i'll tell you: i start laughing hysterically, and i get incredibly sarcastic, and in case you haven't figured it out yet, i'm pissed. and i stormed out. i would've left them there. i would've gotten back in my car and made the three hour trek back to my solitary apartment in houston. but i let him drive my car, and he had the keys. i couldn't smoke a cigarette. had to wait until we got back to his apartment. i sat in the rear, behind the passenger seat, as far away from him as i could, pressed into the side. i could hear his girlfriend whisper, why'd you say that? i could see him shake his head and mutter i don't know. when we got back to his apartment, i snatched my cigarettes and went walking around the complex until the tears got the best of me, and i collapsed on some sidewalk. he found me. he apologized. we watched caddyshack. i remember chomping on tums like they were candy. i remember him watching me, worried.
so i'm reminded when i hear this song of how awful i am at loving. how careless. how thoughtless. and selfish.
the other day my father and i took a drive after dinner through some of the neighborhoods. it's easier for me to ride in a car when i'm in the front. i can see out more easily. i don't feel quite so claustrophobic. we had a nice chat. i enjoyed the time with him. but this one comment he'd made stuck with me. he said that i seemed less angry lately, more able to go with the flow, that i haven't been fighting as much. he didn't know if it was because of the medicine i'm taking or what, but he liked that i seemed happier.
i'm not fighting at all now. i wake up. i go about my day, and when it's over, i crawl into bed. rinse. repeat.
stay with the demons you drown...
i have given up. people said you've to let go of things, to give up the plans you have for yourself so that the plans god has in store for you can come to be. i'm not writing. i go to work. i come home. i play on the computer. i eat. i get ready for bed. i pop my pills. i sleep. rinse. repeat.
and it's not just my demons i drown now, but my dreams, too.
that's one of the first lines in u2's stay.
the first memory that comes to mind when i hear this song is the drive from montrose to grand junction to visit my mother's family after my brother died. i plug in pretty much the moment we pull out of the driveway until we dump our bags wherever we're staying -- it's how i deal with being in a box, whether it's my father's explorer or the shuttle from the parking lot to the airport or cramped in the window or middle seat on a flight (though to be honest, i've been pretty fortunate with the aisle seat lottery lately). i plug in to keep from having an anxiety attack. my mom's complained about this on more than one occasion. she would prefer that i be communicative and attentive. i'd prefer to keep my sanity. i win. anyway... i remember hearing this song on that trek, and it suited my mood then. i was twenty-nine. the first chords put me back in that car, riding behind my father, looking out at a gloomy colorado.
then there's that line. take your change. and i'm not in colorado anymore. i'm in san marcos. seven years younger. stupid, crazy in love with a boy we'll call elliot. not a good man. not by any means. but he'd impressed me with his talent and confidence and wit and eyes -- he has black eyes, like my grandmother's. the first time my grandfather saw her, all he could see of her was her eyes, and he fell hard. the first time i saw elliot, i couldn't help myself. i'm a sucker for pretty eyes and mad skills. the boy could play guitar better than anyone i knew. yeah. musician. i'm an idiot. i know. everybody else did, too. it was laughable in my circle of friends-who-weren't-friends that i liked him. so san marcos. hasting's entertainment -- a video and music store. i'd gone to visit one of those friends-not-friends -- we'll call him ben -- and his girlfriend. they'd insisted on watching caddyshack because i'd never seen it. so we took my car. i left my cigarettes at his apartment because he didn't like me smoking. we were standing in line to pay for the rental. val kilmer was on the cover of premier magazine for batman forever. i'd said something about that. something about him being hot.
ben laughed and said i thought elliot was the love of your life.
i could've shrugged it off, except ben and i had gone to school together from fifth to eighth grade, and in junior high, when i'd asked him to sign my yearbook, he'd written to the love doctor... he and the rest of my peers were relentless then, always making fun of how ugly i was. the moment he said that, i was reminded of decades before. i started laughing to keep from crying.
the cashier was holding out the change she'd made. i couldn't move. ben said get your change, jenn.
i said i realize you've never seen me upset so you don't know how i get when i'm that way, so i'll tell you: i start laughing hysterically, and i get incredibly sarcastic, and in case you haven't figured it out yet, i'm pissed. and i stormed out. i would've left them there. i would've gotten back in my car and made the three hour trek back to my solitary apartment in houston. but i let him drive my car, and he had the keys. i couldn't smoke a cigarette. had to wait until we got back to his apartment. i sat in the rear, behind the passenger seat, as far away from him as i could, pressed into the side. i could hear his girlfriend whisper, why'd you say that? i could see him shake his head and mutter i don't know. when we got back to his apartment, i snatched my cigarettes and went walking around the complex until the tears got the best of me, and i collapsed on some sidewalk. he found me. he apologized. we watched caddyshack. i remember chomping on tums like they were candy. i remember him watching me, worried.
so i'm reminded when i hear this song of how awful i am at loving. how careless. how thoughtless. and selfish.
the other day my father and i took a drive after dinner through some of the neighborhoods. it's easier for me to ride in a car when i'm in the front. i can see out more easily. i don't feel quite so claustrophobic. we had a nice chat. i enjoyed the time with him. but this one comment he'd made stuck with me. he said that i seemed less angry lately, more able to go with the flow, that i haven't been fighting as much. he didn't know if it was because of the medicine i'm taking or what, but he liked that i seemed happier.
i'm not fighting at all now. i wake up. i go about my day, and when it's over, i crawl into bed. rinse. repeat.
stay with the demons you drown...
i have given up. people said you've to let go of things, to give up the plans you have for yourself so that the plans god has in store for you can come to be. i'm not writing. i go to work. i come home. i play on the computer. i eat. i get ready for bed. i pop my pills. i sleep. rinse. repeat.
and it's not just my demons i drown now, but my dreams, too.
July 31, 2018
begins one minute past twelve a.m. september first / concludes midnight november thirtieth. you may NOT use a movie you have already seen, even in part (excluding trailers), for this challenge. all films MUST be new to you. all selections MUST have a page on the internet movie database and MUST have (had) a theatrical release. titles released outside of the united states are acceptable.
in previous challenges, membership to the fall film challenge facebook group was a requirement for prize eligibility. that is NOT the case this year. if you choose not to join the group, please find ways to communicate your progress with me so that i can keep accurate lists and ensure prizes are awarded correctly. for those who do join the group, there are nine photo albums, arranged by decade, on the group's page. once an individual has seen a film, he or she leaves a comment on the corresponding image saying when it was viewed and for what category so i can track progress. if you are not a member of the group and are in communication with me, i will make the necessary notes to stills representing your selections.
each film is valued at ten points. changes after the challenge has begun ARE acceptable.
the first five people to complete the challenge prior to november thirtieth will each receive a redbox gift card valued at ten dollars. if you complete the original list, you will be eligible to compete in the bonus round, the details of which will be revealed october fifteenth. the person to accumulate the most points at the event's conclusion will receive an amazon gift card valued at fifty dollars.
once you've joined the group and selected your films for the categories, post your choices to the group's page or email it to criticalcrass at me dot com so i may add your selections to the master list and, if necessary, upload the correlating stills to the galleries.
for previous challenges, individuals chose films that suited twenty-five categories. this year, i have forgone those for a game of six degrees of kevin bacon. choose twenty-five films that you can connect to other motion pictures in which he has starred in SIX FILMS OR LESS, counting his work and your choice. for example, the cast of black panther includes lupita nyong'o... who starred with michael fassbender in twelve years a slave... who starred with bacon in x-men: days of future past. DO NOT show the connections in your list. some of the fun this year is in seeing how others connect the films you've selected with kevin bacon. a sample:
one. black panther.
two. avengers: infinity war.
three. incredibles two.
four. jurassic world: fallen kingdom.
five. deadpool two.
in the past i've given yall helpful links. you're on your own this time. get to it.
June 22, 2018
i used to imagine were i to get married what my wedding would be like. most of the time i envisioned it at a catholic church in the woodlands, not far from where i live, and because my father is who is and is so well-loved by so many, i doubt very much the guest list would've been fewer than two hundred people. it would've been big... not so much because i wanted big but because i would've felt a need to invite so many. more presents, right?
but what i really wanted was small and simple. i wanted to get married at my great uncle's monastery so he could be there. and because my faith was rooted in that place. and because i wanted to celebrate on the lawn at sunset with my family. i would've wanted my spouse's family to know the tranquility of that place, and i would've preferred that chapter of my life to begin in someplace quiet and content.
of course, the older i got the more difficult it was for me to picture this future. my twenties came and went. my thirties. i'm halfway through my forties. the older i got the more ridiculous the picture seemed to be.
and then the monastery closed last summer.
and my munkle died this week.
i broke down at work today because the thing i most wanted to give him -- the knowledge that i would find that kind of love and have that kind of a life... that all his hopes and prayers for me had become reality. i couldn't give that to him.
an image of what that day could've been like came to mind so fully that i was taken aback. i gripped the counter for balance and then fell to my knees and wept.
thank god no one was in the store. no one came in while i was crumpled on the ground.
brett young's mercy was playing. if you're gonna break my heart just break it.
i don't know how many more times mine can break.
June 9, 2018
my aunt killed herself on wednesday.
i have always viewed my brother's death as a suicide -- but his method was painstaking and debilitating. he drank and drank and drank until his body said enough, and it took about a decade for that end to come. i lost my brother a long time ago, but was fortunate, just before he left us, to catch a glimpse of the man i knew him to be.
this woman, she'd been gone for years. i was too young when she married into my family to appreciate her personality to the fullest, and as i aged, her character got dimmer and dimmer and dimmer... i did not know her.
it's easier for me to cope with her absence because i didn't know who she was. i knew of her struggles, and i know how depression can intensify them so that light, faith, hope and love are altered or altogether lost. there's a part of me that knows relief for her now. it's done. she's no longer crushed under the weight of burdens too impossible for her to bear.
that weight, though... it, like the darkness, has shifted.
it's easy to hate when this kind of death occurs. it's easy to be angry. all that darkness, despair, fear and hatred migrate from the body of the deceased to the hearts of the living.
it's easy to attach blame. someone somewhere must've said or done something that caused so-and-so to break.
it's easy to say that person was weak and selfish and stupid.
then we immortalize the dead -- assuming we loved them, of course. kurt cobain and robin williams are some of the best examples of this. it's such a tragedy. such an easy topic for conversation. how sad! can you believe? why didn't that person reach out for help? did you know? her instagram is always so fun and upbeat; she couldn't possibly have been depressed. and then there are the pleas from the public to get help, to reach out. to stay. hell, i've made them myself.
i have been depressed since i was eight years old. when i was in college, i gave a presentation in an education class on child suicide, and when i was done, one of my classmates -- a middle-aged black man -- asked, so you wanted to kill yourself because you weren't a good daughter, sister, student and friend?
i wanted to slap him. i managed to maintain my composure and responded: when you're an eight year girl, your only responsibilities are to be a good daughter, sister, student and friend, and i was failing at all of them. i reminded him that during the school year as future teachers we would see these children more than their parents would. i insisted that it wasn't a teacher's job to judge the burdens a child carries but to help that child carry them, and if that's not possible then find someone who can.
it's easy to belittle someone's struggles. it's EASY to belittle someone's pain.
by the time i was ten, i had a plan.
i've had one for thirty-five years. several, in fact. i know all the ways it can be done. i know there's never been a day where i've not thought i want to be dead. i know i wouldn't leave a note. those who know me best know damned well why i would want to leave this place.
i also know i would never do that to my parents and brother, to my niece and nephew. i don't want one of those children to ever have to say my aunt killed herself today.
my facebook and twitter feeds are raging with suicidal thoughts. i need this to stop. i need, so much, to see light and faith and hope and love in social media, now more than ever.
please god, let there be light.
June 4, 2018
okay. i watched jumanji: welcome to the jungle. i did not love any lines of dialogue from the film. not a damned one of them was remarkable enough to recommend it here.
two. adam yauch of the beastie boys died six years ago on may fourth at age forty-seven. what's your favorite song of theirs? give me four reasons why it's better than the rest.
the four reasons are in the lyrics:
a. they be staring at their radios
staying up all night
so like a pimp, i'm pimpin
i got a boat i eat shrimp in
got arrested at the mardi gras for jumping on a float
my man mca's got a beard like a billy goat
b. making other records cause the people they want more of this
suckers they be saying they could take out adam horovitz
c. but i rock well...
the patty duke show...
and then i bust the tango
got more rhymes than jamaicans got mangoes
that's my peg leg, that's the end of my stump
shake your rump
d. never been jumped
cause i'm the most mackinest
never been jumped
cause i'm the most packinest...
running from the law the press and the parents
is your name michael diamond?
no, mine's clarence
empire strikes back
return of the jedi
a new hope
the force awakens
solo: a star wars story
rogue one
revenge of the sith
phantom menace
attack of the clones
the last jedi
because i loved seeing the history of his character; i liked how none of the characters, save chewbacca, are reliable; i love alden's portrayal of han solo; i liked how the story tied in with the rest of the series; and i enjoyed it more than all the ones listed afterward.
four. emily dickinson died on may fifteenth, eighteen eighty-six. read this poetry foundation article. what are five things you learned about her from it?a. after her death, family members found her hand-sewn books, containing nearly eighteen hundred poems.
b. the first volume of her poetry was published in eighteen ninety, four years after her death -- eleven editions were published in less than two years.
c. a complete volume of her poetry did not appear until nineteen fifty-five, but the poems were edited.
d. the first edition that reflected her order, unusual punctuation and spelling choices was not published until nineteen ninety-eight.
May 6, 2018
one. dwayne "the rock" johnson was born on may second of nineteen seventy-two. watch one of his movies. share a couple of his lines you loved.
two. adam yauch of the beastie boys died six years ago on may fourth at age forty-seven. what's your favorite song of theirs? give me four reasons why it's better than the rest.
three. george lucas will turn seventy-three on may fourteenth. solo, the latest film in his star wars franchise, will be released on may twenty-fifth. rank all the films best to worst. where does this one fall on the list and why?
four. emily dickinson died on may fifteenth, eighteen eighty-six. read this poetry foundation article. what are five things you learned about her from it?
two. adam yauch of the beastie boys died six years ago on may fourth at age forty-seven. what's your favorite song of theirs? give me four reasons why it's better than the rest.
four. emily dickinson died on may fifteenth, eighteen eighty-six. read this poetry foundation article. what are five things you learned about her from it?
May 2, 2018
the first word on the nineteenth line of the seventy-fourth page is in.
i read (some of) this book about fifteen years ago in a creative writing nonfiction course at the university of texas at san antonio. i hadn't been writing much. one of my friends says that one of the things she loves most about me is my willingness to be open and vulnerable and how easy it seems for me to be that way. it's not easy. i spent a lot of my youth visiting with counselors who tried to get me to talk, and i wasn't interested. for that class, though, we had to write responses to the assigned texts. i wrote this one, and that essay gave way to this poem, one of the few i'd crafted that i actually like.
i like the way the author writes; she's clearly intelligent, and i like that she doesn't dumb her language down or bungle it with big words, so the reader can appreciate the story, and her narrative is almost conversational.
i love the way she describes her friends: the one to the far right in the second photograph is our poet, manna, in a white t-shirt and jeans. she made poetry out of things most people cast aside. the photograph does not reflect the peculiar opacity of manna's dark eyes, a testament to her withdrawn and private nature (page 4).
i would say that i love the author's fearlessness, have always considered her so... but i'm conflicted on this now... if your country is a war zone, and all the bright ones who could make that world a more beautiful place leave it, then how can it ever get better... on the other hand, that brutal territory could kill the brilliance, so... anyway, while she was in tehran, i do like that she welcomed these women into her home to read stories that were prohibited.
number two. maya angelou is born on april 4, 1928. share four lines of your favorite one of her poems.
from prayer
for those who have no voice, we ask you to speak
for those who feel unworthy, we ask you to pour your love out in waterfalls of tenderness
for those who live in pain, we ask you to bathe them in the river of your healing
for those who are lonely, we ask you to keep them company
number three. edgar allan poe's murders in rogue morgue, the first detective story, is published april 14, 1841. read it. what's the fourth word on the eighteenth line of the fourteenth page? share your favorite line of text.
the fourth word on the eighteenth line of the fourteenth page is take.favorite line: i was surprised, too, at how much and how widely he had read; more important, the force of his busy mine was like a bright like in my soul (page 1).
number four. geoffrey chaucer's canterbury tales characters begin their pilgrimage to canterbury april 17, 1387, according to scholars. which of the tales do you like best; share four reasons why it's better than the others.
the monk's tale because villainy makes for the best stories.
i like that's it's broken up into sections so it's easier to read.
i was imagining someone like my great uncle doing the telling -- that someone so good would be interested in the stories of those so bad is intriguing to me.
and also, i imagined someone like the bishop in robin hood: prince of thieves doing the telling -- that someone so false would fail to see his own fall intrigues me, as well.
i don't really get jacked; i just manage the cap.
if i do my job and we haven't spent more than $125 million on players by the time the season starts, i get excited.
how is it that the ultimate prize in the most macho sport ever invented is a piece of jewelry?
they said the same thing (he's a winner) about ryan leaf when he was the number two pick in '98. no one said that about tom brady when he went 199th. there's no such thing as a sure thing. at the end of the day all that matters is what you think.
sometimes the correct path is the tortured one.
i tried, yall. those things are hard. i usually cheat at these things, and stopped before i got carried away with that.
(this is what the film says was so; i realize movies like to twist shit up...)
bp supervisors robert kaluza and donald vidrine, played by brad leland and john malkovich, were indicted for manslaughter, but those charges were dropped by 2015.
the deepwater horizon was a semi-submersible offshore drilling rig with a crew of 126, located 41 miles southeast off the louisiana coast and free-floating 5,200 feet over the gulf floor. it was 43 days and about $50 million over budget.
transocean chief electronics technician mike williams, played by mark wahlberg, told kaluza and vidrine that the rig has 390 machines -- almost ten percent -- in need of repair, including the bop (blowout preventer) pods, telephone systems, wireless internet and smoke alarms. in testimony given to congress, of which clips are heard at the beginning, williams said he was on the phone with his wife at the time of the explosion and alarms did not sound.
bp refuses to test the 500 feet of cement that separates the rig and the men to make sure it holds. offshore installation manager jimmy harrell, played by kurt russell, said the test would've cost about $125 grand and insinuates a company worth $180 billion (vidrine corrected him -- 186 billion) is cheap, but bp has already let schlumberger leave, so harrell calls for a negative pressure test, which evaluates the well's integrity. that test shows 1395 psi -- enough pressure to split a car in half -- but if there was an issue, there would be mud, and there isn't any. vidrine assumes it's a faulty reading due to a sensor issue and asks for a second test to be run, but on the kill line rather than the drill pipe line and that test comes back normal. so they start cleaning out the mud... and hell breaks lose.
screw bp. i thought it at the time of the incident, and again when i watched this in theaters, and now and forever. also this film made me hate john malkovich. and i was struck by the thought that ten percent of the rig's machines were broken, and ten percent of the crew died.
twenty from macbeth: hurlyburly; swarm; minion; valiant; smack; thane; flout; lavish; swine; ronyon; thither; dwindle; doth; aught; fantastical; bubbles; sovereign; prithee; quell.
number nine. prince rogers nelson died april 21, 2016. what's your favorite prince song? share four lines from it that you love.
how can you just leave me standing
alone in a world that's so cold
maybe i'm just too demanding
maybe i'm just like my father, too bold
i donated three packages of varying sizes to the spring/woodlands location of pregnancy assistance center north, a facility staffed by some of the most caring women i've had the fortune to know. that place is a godsend.
April 15, 2018
what i liked: it's been 747 days and still i have not learned how to talk about any of this. i mean, i can talk about how i bought the toilet paper, how we were broken, how i was broken. but i still haven't found the words to talk about my mom. the real her. to remember who she was in a way that doesn't make me keel over.
i don't know how to do that yet.
sometimes it feels like i've forgotten how to talk altogether... if i was going to be held captive by a wicked stepmother, surely there are worse places i could have ended up than living in the pages of architectural digest... the problem was that mom wasn't here. that she would never be anywhere again. when i thought about that for too long, which i didn't, when i could help it, i realized it didn't matter much where i slept (page 38).
rut seemed too small a word for grief... sometimes when scarlett says i'm strong, i think she really means i'm numb (page 40).
i bet i would have liked him better then, when he read marvel comics instead of sartre, when he didn't wrangle with all the hard questions and come out the other end sad or angry or tired or whatever it is he is (page 58).
what sucked: pretty much everything else. boy decides he's too afraid to speak to the new girl, but really wants to so he (somehow) gets her email address so he can counsel her on who to know and how to cope. i knew who the dude was before i'd read a fifth of the story. so much for secretive. but then, maybe i was supposed to figure it out. still... i would've preferred the surprise. i do love surprises. it's about about a gal coping with the loss of her mother and being uprooted from chicago to california after her father comes home from what she thinks is a business trip to announce he's married someone else. there's GOBS and GOBS of shell shock here. EXCELLENT material for conflict, but it's SO watered down, the storytelling so pitifully executed that it feels more like middle grade fiction than a young adult novel.
having said that: the author, who lost her mother at a young age so she knows that of which she writes (and should have done a MUCH better job because of this), addresses the reader in a letter between the concluding page and the acknowledgements: i decided to combine the loneliness of first loss with something much more magical and universal: the beauty of first love. she should've tried harder, for there's neither magic nor beauty to be found here. it's mediocre at best with regard to the writing and the story, horribly cliched and predictable as hell.
April 11, 2018
the other day a friend asked me to help her tweak an essay she'd been asked to write for her work. it was about repainting some metal planters, about how the task had enabled her to see that sometimes we are like those planters, weathered and rusted by life, and how when we let him, god can give us fresh coats of paint, restore our spirits.
i've mentioned that bible study in which i'm taking part before. in romans four, paul talks about circumcision. when i'd first read it, i thought that doesn't apply to me. but then in the lecture, our group leader talked about how our hearts need to be circumcised, that the scar tissue makes it difficult to live like god had intended us. in romans three, paul says their throats are open graves... their mouths are full of cursing and bitterness... ruin and misery mark their ways.
these words have haunted me ever since. my voice will be the cause of my death. somehow. morbid, right?
today a woman came to ship something to a friend. she had shoulder-length, glossy, straight black hair, wore black-rimmed glasses, a black blouse with yellow details (i wish i could tell you what they were... flowers, maybe? but that doesn't sound right) forming vertical stripes about an inch apart, bell sleeves, black slacks. she was blessed with beautiful features: good skin; symmetry; wide, dark eyes. her face was flawless. she was talking with my boss about how she'd just come from an interview, that it had gone well -- the man with whom she'd spoken had said that he liked her and wanted to hire her, but he had to conduct some other interviews and would be in touch. and then, maybe five minutes later, she said he was probably going to hire her because she was pretty... and how she couldn't help that.
i was jealous. i was also angry. i know i shouldn't be.
it took me the better part of a year to convince my boss he should hire me. this woman has an interview that probably lasted no more than fifteen minutes, and she will most likely get the job because she's pretty. when she's in conversations with men she won't reveal that she has a boyfriend. she takes advantage of her beauty. she uses it. i think that's what makes me the angriest. it's a tool to her. she wields it like a weapon.
how many of you do that? how many of you brag to others in front of women who aren't as blessed with physical beauty? i had to leave the room because i couldn't stomach the conversation any longer.
i'm writing this in my room, surrounded by the things i've collected and received over the course of my life: the chicano visions book sent to me by cheech marin's public relations team for his latin art exhibit, the prints and paintings i got from my grandmothers, the woodwork fashioned for me by my great uncle, the stories in which i have immersed myself... tales that have taken me out of my often bleak internal landscape -- as unsettling to me as my reflection is -- the hope i've found in them, however shortlived it may be.
but the things to which my eyes are most frequently drawn are the red patent leather shoes my mother thought i might like to have in my room. shoes worn in my toddler years. shoes worn when i could barely walk. shoes worn, most likely, with ugly metal braces that she was quick to throw out once i no longer needed them. i am reminded how lucky i am that i can walk... because so many with medical histories like mine can't. those shoes... and that ivory ceramic mug bearing the crest of my alma mater and the year of my graduation from high school. i am reminded of the teachers and the principals who thought i would fail to do so. most of the time, i look at those two things and remember my strength. most of the time it works, and i regain my balance, my perspective.
those fights, though... struggling to walk and learn the state-mandated curriculum... those were easy. those were good.
April 1, 2018
number two. maya angelou is born on april 4, 1928. share four lines of your favorite one of her poems.
number three. edgar allan poe's murders in rogue morgue, the first detective story, is published april 14, 1841. read it. what's the fourth word on the eighteenth line of the fourteenth page? share your favorite line of text.
number four. geoffrey chaucer's canterbury tales characters begin their pilgrimage to canterbury april 17, 1387, according to scholars. which of the tales do you like best; share four reasons why it's better than the others.
number six. first crossword puzzle book is published april 18, 1924 by simon and schuster. find an s&s puzzle book and do one of the crosswords.
number seven. deepwater horizon drilling rig explodes on april 20, 2010, killing eleven and causing the rig to sink, causing a massive oil discharge into the gulf of mexico and an environmental disaster. watch deepwater horizon. share four things you learned about the disaster from that film.
number eight. shakespeare's macbeth is first performed takes place april 20, 1611 at the globe theater in london. the first performance of his merry wives of windsor takes place april 23, 1597, with queen elizabeth the first of england in attendance. his death occurred on april 23, 1616. read one of the plays; share twenty words from the text you liked.number nine. prince rogers nelson died april 21, 2016. what's your favorite prince song? share four lines from it that you love.
number ten. rc duncan patents pampers first disposable diaper on april 27, 1965. donate a package of diapers to an assistance center.
six things (sort of) celebrated in march
number one. ludwig van beethoven had his first debut performance as a pianist on march 29, 1795 in vienna. first performances: fourth symphony in b -- march 5, 1807; missa solemnis -- march 26, 1824; string quartet no. 13 in b flat major (op 130) -- march 21, 1826. he died march 26, 1827; three days later, 20,000 attended his burial in vienna.
the task: pick ONE of the pieces mentioned here, play it three times -- first with your eyes open, then with your eyes closed, and on the third, write down the things you imagine as you listen -- maybe your high school teachers did this sort of thing during english class. my junior teacher was really fond of this kind of writing assignment. share what you wrote with the rest of the class -- and DON'T worry about writing style and grammatical correctness. just write. let your mind wander. where does the music take you?
i did listen to a few minutes of each of the beethoven selections, picked the one i liked (fourth symphony in b) and listened to it all the way through.
number two. tennessee williams and edward albee were born on march 26, 1911 and march 12, 1928, respectively. elizabeth taylor won a golden globe march 10, 1960 for her performance as catherine holly in the film version of williams' suddenly last summer. she divorced eddie fisher on march 6, 1964 and married richard burton nine days later. taylor and burton starred in the film version of albee's who's afraid of virginia woolf? she starred with paul newman, who, by the way, won best actor march 30, 1987 in the 59th academy awards for his role in the color of money, in williams' cat on a hot tin roof.
the task: watch ONE of the three: suddenly last summer; who's afraid of virginia woolf; cat on a hit tin roof. what are the two best lines of dialogue in the film; what two things make the film noteworthy?
i borrowed suddenly last summer and cat on a hot tin roof (have already seen who's afraid of virginia woolf -- DEPRESSING AS HELL. DON'T WATCH IT) from the library. they're sitting on my desk.
number three: vincent van gogh caused a sensation with 71 of his paintings at a show in paris on march 17, 1901 -- eleven years after his death. his sunflowers sold for a record 22.5 million pounds ($39.7 million) on march 30, 1987.
the task: find and view the van gogh armchair travel exhibition on screen: van gogh - a new way of seeing. what three things did you learn about the artist from that production? what's your favorite of his paintings? share three things you love about that work.
one. he and gauguin only lived together for two months. i'd thought it was longer than that.
two. he did eighty paintings in seventy days; the last of which was tree roots, not wheatfield with crows.
three. his brother had arranged for a funeral service to be held at a local church, but the officiant canceled the service because van gogh had committed suicide and was protestant; his funeral was held in the auberge dining room, with his coffin on a table and as many of his paintings as they could fit.
favorite is almond blossom.
one. he created it, despite being in the throes of madness, as a gift for theo and his wife and their baby.
two. i'm constantly amazed at how fragile it looks.
three. i like the peace of it.
number four. kerouac, campbell, sedaris... jack kerouac, aaron eckhart and dave eggers were born on march 12th of 1922, 1968 and 1970, respectively. earl campbell, perry farrell, amy sedaris and billy bean were born on the 29th of march in 195, 1959, 1961 and 1962. pick three of these celebrities and learn four new things about each of them. read a book or watch a movie that is about them. if you live in texas, for example, campbell was born in tyler; make a trek to that town and find a statue or mural or something the town loves to show off about him. interpret this task in a way that suits your abilities and interests. but you must share four things (lines of dialogue from a film or text from a book or lyric... four facts new to you... something of your choosing for each of the three.
so i did this a couple of sundays ago... there's earl campbell parkway in tyler, texas. it's a nice street. if memory serves, the district's administration building and technology center are on this street. i like that.
number five. delerue and silvestri. georges delerue and alan silvestri were born on march 12, 1925 and march 23, 1950, respectively. the task: watch films [FIVE for each if you can (HAH! aren't i funny?)] whose scores were composed by either gentleman. whose music do you prefer? give me five reasons why one's better than the other.
i borrowed what i could find from the library. i googled some of delerue's music the night before last and listened to a few minutes from a handful of soundtracks.
number six. jack nicholson won best actor twice: in the 48th academy awards on march 29, 1976 for one flew over the cuckoo's nest; in the 70th academy awards on march 23, 1998 for as good as it gets.
i borrowed one flew over the cuckoo's nest from the library.
the task: pick ONE of the pieces mentioned here, play it three times -- first with your eyes open, then with your eyes closed, and on the third, write down the things you imagine as you listen -- maybe your high school teachers did this sort of thing during english class. my junior teacher was really fond of this kind of writing assignment. share what you wrote with the rest of the class -- and DON'T worry about writing style and grammatical correctness. just write. let your mind wander. where does the music take you?
i did listen to a few minutes of each of the beethoven selections, picked the one i liked (fourth symphony in b) and listened to it all the way through.
number two. tennessee williams and edward albee were born on march 26, 1911 and march 12, 1928, respectively. elizabeth taylor won a golden globe march 10, 1960 for her performance as catherine holly in the film version of williams' suddenly last summer. she divorced eddie fisher on march 6, 1964 and married richard burton nine days later. taylor and burton starred in the film version of albee's who's afraid of virginia woolf? she starred with paul newman, who, by the way, won best actor march 30, 1987 in the 59th academy awards for his role in the color of money, in williams' cat on a hot tin roof.
the task: watch ONE of the three: suddenly last summer; who's afraid of virginia woolf; cat on a hit tin roof. what are the two best lines of dialogue in the film; what two things make the film noteworthy?
i borrowed suddenly last summer and cat on a hot tin roof (have already seen who's afraid of virginia woolf -- DEPRESSING AS HELL. DON'T WATCH IT) from the library. they're sitting on my desk.
number three: vincent van gogh caused a sensation with 71 of his paintings at a show in paris on march 17, 1901 -- eleven years after his death. his sunflowers sold for a record 22.5 million pounds ($39.7 million) on march 30, 1987.
the task: find and view the van gogh armchair travel exhibition on screen: van gogh - a new way of seeing. what three things did you learn about the artist from that production? what's your favorite of his paintings? share three things you love about that work.
one. he and gauguin only lived together for two months. i'd thought it was longer than that.
two. he did eighty paintings in seventy days; the last of which was tree roots, not wheatfield with crows.
three. his brother had arranged for a funeral service to be held at a local church, but the officiant canceled the service because van gogh had committed suicide and was protestant; his funeral was held in the auberge dining room, with his coffin on a table and as many of his paintings as they could fit.
favorite is almond blossom.
one. he created it, despite being in the throes of madness, as a gift for theo and his wife and their baby.
two. i'm constantly amazed at how fragile it looks.
three. i like the peace of it.
number four. kerouac, campbell, sedaris... jack kerouac, aaron eckhart and dave eggers were born on march 12th of 1922, 1968 and 1970, respectively. earl campbell, perry farrell, amy sedaris and billy bean were born on the 29th of march in 195, 1959, 1961 and 1962. pick three of these celebrities and learn four new things about each of them. read a book or watch a movie that is about them. if you live in texas, for example, campbell was born in tyler; make a trek to that town and find a statue or mural or something the town loves to show off about him. interpret this task in a way that suits your abilities and interests. but you must share four things (lines of dialogue from a film or text from a book or lyric... four facts new to you... something of your choosing for each of the three.
so i did this a couple of sundays ago... there's earl campbell parkway in tyler, texas. it's a nice street. if memory serves, the district's administration building and technology center are on this street. i like that.
number five. delerue and silvestri. georges delerue and alan silvestri were born on march 12, 1925 and march 23, 1950, respectively. the task: watch films [FIVE for each if you can (HAH! aren't i funny?)] whose scores were composed by either gentleman. whose music do you prefer? give me five reasons why one's better than the other.
i borrowed what i could find from the library. i googled some of delerue's music the night before last and listened to a few minutes from a handful of soundtracks.
number six. jack nicholson won best actor twice: in the 48th academy awards on march 29, 1976 for one flew over the cuckoo's nest; in the 70th academy awards on march 23, 1998 for as good as it gets.
i borrowed one flew over the cuckoo's nest from the library.
March 20, 2018
i'm pretty sure i'm not the woman god wants me to be. i'm convinced of this on a daily basis. at a quarter past six almost every tuesday night i drive nineteen miles from conroe to montgomery to go to bible study that meets for ninety minutes beginning at seven p.m. why does it take forty-five minutes to drive nineteen miles on a divided highway that's got three lanes for traffic in each direction? why does it take the better part of an hour to drive less than twenty miles? because people are selfish bastards. they don't want to be behind anyone else. they don't want anyone cutting in front of them. they don't want to go any faster than the posted speed limit of fifty-five miles per hour on that well-constructed highway that's wider than a river because they don't want to get a ticket. but they'll be damned if they move over for you. they won't slow down to let you go by. they won't speed up and risk getting that ticket. they're perfectly content to pace the fucker next to them and block traffic so everyone else gets caught at all the lights with them. they follow just closely enough so that it's impossible to wedge your vehicle between theirs and someone else's.
i am not a patient woman. and the stupid vision issues with which i have been blessed make driving in a pack of metal at fifty-five miles per hour with little to no way out should an accident occur create in me a sensation of anxiety i do not desire to know. i am not a kind woman, and my lack of patience and kindness is never more evident than when i am making that nineteen-mile trek to montgomery.
when i googled the distance i was shocked to know it was only nineteen miles. it feels a HELL of a lot longer.
interestingly enough, the journey to the church this evening was definitely one of the more peaceable ones. this could be because i ran a couple of yellows to avoid getting stuck again when, thanks to the grace of god, i'd managed to extract myself from the pack and put some good distance between us. and maybe i was going sixty. maybe.
usually the ride home is pleasant. that was not the case today. i changed lanes like i was driving in a nascar race. i rode people's asses. in those moments when i saw an opportunity to get by someone, another car would fill that hole, and i'd be stuck again. and none of these drivers were going over fifty. all of them were going the same damned speed.
i want to be the kind of woman god wants me to be. i want to be gracious and patient and kind and good. i know i'm capable of these things. but so often, the lesser demons prevail. i want to be the kind of woman who isn't practically foaming at the mouth and ranting at others with whom i'm sharing the road. i want to be the one who's not screaming GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY even though the only ones to hear me are me and god.
i want the goodness i get from those ninety minutes to last longer than ninety seconds once i've walked out into the night and headed for home. for my heart and mind, my eyes and ears to be open to the lord's will and word.
one of the things mentioned tonight was we are encouraged to hate evil. not the person doing the evil, but the evil itself.
hate's not the answer, and i don't believe god wants us to hate, anyway. i think he wants us to love. i'm not good at loving. i'm good at being hateful. maybe that's why it's difficult for me to believe he would want me to hate anything. it always feels wrong when i do it. i never like myself when i am being hateful. ever. and yet... put me on the highway, and i can't be anything but hateful.
that is not the woman i want to be. that isn't anything close to resembling the woman i want to be.
i want to be fearless.
i want to be able to employ those tactics for safe driving that i learned in high school -- the safe distance, the constant vigilance... the yielding of the right of way. to demonstrate love in my life. i want to have joy in hope and patience in affliction and faithfulness in prayer.
sunday i drove to tyler to find something in that town with earl campbell's name on it. the distance from tyler to hawkins, where i lived from the time was i was three to eight, is about nineteen miles. i'd only been to hawkins once since we moved away, and it's been so long ago that my only memory of that visit is the auditorium at the high school. so i made that twenty-minute trek (which is how long it should take to travel about twenty miles), went to my old school and my old house and had dinner at some restaurant there. i let the waitress surprise me with my order. i told her to order what she felt was the best item on the menu. she served me fajitas, which is not a thing i order, but they were good. i liked them.
in bible study tonight, one of the girls said that she had a friend who would pray, god surprise me.
i want to be surprised. i want this life of mine to feel more purposeful. i want to feel like i'm contributing, like i'm doing the work he wants me to do. like i'm using my voice for good. like i'm not wasting it to curse the folks in the cars next to me.
i want my car out of the shop. i'm driving a rental (which i almost wrecked on the way home this evening, by the way) because some dude hauling a flatbed of pallets stacked to high clipped the right fender of my car at a gas station (i was standing at the pump, getting ready to fill the tank and watched, dumbfounded, as that trailer tore the bumper off). when i'm renting a car (on the day of my older's death, by the way) and tell the clerk that it's the anniversary of my brother's death and i need this process to go smoothly, i want him not to be confrontational and condescending.
one of the songs playing at that restaurant sunday night was brad paisley's i thought i loved you then. when i hear a song like that, when i hear a story like the one told in that song, when a man can communicate the love he feels for another in such a way as to be sweet and good and loving, when it inspires in me a sense of wonder, i want to be happy that a man could feel that way for a woman and not be afraid to admit it. i want to be happy for the woman receiving such admiration. i want my initial reaction not to be sadness and jealousy and to mutter things like even happy country songs are depressing. and when a friend questions whether a happy country song exists, i want to refrain from replying: it's sweet and good and sentimental... and just the sort of thing that could make a single gal want to clobber a couple, and the damned steel guitar makes me want to snatch that thing out of some dude's hands, yank the strings off and wrap them around his throat.
when a handsome man walks into my place of work, i want to be able to speak to him without being anxious or seeming flirtatious. i want to be able to talk to him like he's any other customer. i want to be able to appreciate those physical attributes that are worthy of attention without cataloging all those i lack.
i want to be able to talk with men and not be accused by their girlfriends of being in love with those men. or be accused by other men of flirting with those men.
on the rare occasion a man asks to meet me for dinner or drinks, i want that man to be interesting and attractive to me. i want the words i speak to be the right ones. i want to feel as though i am enough.
a couple of weeks ago i was hired to write an article about a man who manages a cycle shop in the area because so much of that shop's business comes from recommendation... word of mouth... the encouragement of others.
when i'm tasked with an assignment like this, i want the wheels to be greased so well they spin effortlessly. i was chosen to write this story. i'm happy -- excited and honored -- to do it. i want to be able to do it in such a manner as to prove to those who have given me the opportunity that they weren't wrong to do so. but i am being met with reluctance and am frustrated because of it. that reluctance and frustration just feeds the ire i so often feel. i want the fire in my being not to be an inferno but a source of warmth and light.
i want less hate and more love in the world. i know that starts with me, but oh, how quickly i forget. i want to remember.
i am not a patient woman. and the stupid vision issues with which i have been blessed make driving in a pack of metal at fifty-five miles per hour with little to no way out should an accident occur create in me a sensation of anxiety i do not desire to know. i am not a kind woman, and my lack of patience and kindness is never more evident than when i am making that nineteen-mile trek to montgomery.
when i googled the distance i was shocked to know it was only nineteen miles. it feels a HELL of a lot longer.
interestingly enough, the journey to the church this evening was definitely one of the more peaceable ones. this could be because i ran a couple of yellows to avoid getting stuck again when, thanks to the grace of god, i'd managed to extract myself from the pack and put some good distance between us. and maybe i was going sixty. maybe.
usually the ride home is pleasant. that was not the case today. i changed lanes like i was driving in a nascar race. i rode people's asses. in those moments when i saw an opportunity to get by someone, another car would fill that hole, and i'd be stuck again. and none of these drivers were going over fifty. all of them were going the same damned speed.
i want to be the kind of woman god wants me to be. i want to be gracious and patient and kind and good. i know i'm capable of these things. but so often, the lesser demons prevail. i want to be the kind of woman who isn't practically foaming at the mouth and ranting at others with whom i'm sharing the road. i want to be the one who's not screaming GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY even though the only ones to hear me are me and god.
i want the goodness i get from those ninety minutes to last longer than ninety seconds once i've walked out into the night and headed for home. for my heart and mind, my eyes and ears to be open to the lord's will and word.
one of the things mentioned tonight was we are encouraged to hate evil. not the person doing the evil, but the evil itself.
hate's not the answer, and i don't believe god wants us to hate, anyway. i think he wants us to love. i'm not good at loving. i'm good at being hateful. maybe that's why it's difficult for me to believe he would want me to hate anything. it always feels wrong when i do it. i never like myself when i am being hateful. ever. and yet... put me on the highway, and i can't be anything but hateful.
that is not the woman i want to be. that isn't anything close to resembling the woman i want to be.
i want to be fearless.
i want to be able to employ those tactics for safe driving that i learned in high school -- the safe distance, the constant vigilance... the yielding of the right of way. to demonstrate love in my life. i want to have joy in hope and patience in affliction and faithfulness in prayer.
sunday i drove to tyler to find something in that town with earl campbell's name on it. the distance from tyler to hawkins, where i lived from the time was i was three to eight, is about nineteen miles. i'd only been to hawkins once since we moved away, and it's been so long ago that my only memory of that visit is the auditorium at the high school. so i made that twenty-minute trek (which is how long it should take to travel about twenty miles), went to my old school and my old house and had dinner at some restaurant there. i let the waitress surprise me with my order. i told her to order what she felt was the best item on the menu. she served me fajitas, which is not a thing i order, but they were good. i liked them.
in bible study tonight, one of the girls said that she had a friend who would pray, god surprise me.
i want to be surprised. i want this life of mine to feel more purposeful. i want to feel like i'm contributing, like i'm doing the work he wants me to do. like i'm using my voice for good. like i'm not wasting it to curse the folks in the cars next to me.
i want my car out of the shop. i'm driving a rental (which i almost wrecked on the way home this evening, by the way) because some dude hauling a flatbed of pallets stacked to high clipped the right fender of my car at a gas station (i was standing at the pump, getting ready to fill the tank and watched, dumbfounded, as that trailer tore the bumper off). when i'm renting a car (on the day of my older's death, by the way) and tell the clerk that it's the anniversary of my brother's death and i need this process to go smoothly, i want him not to be confrontational and condescending.
one of the songs playing at that restaurant sunday night was brad paisley's i thought i loved you then. when i hear a song like that, when i hear a story like the one told in that song, when a man can communicate the love he feels for another in such a way as to be sweet and good and loving, when it inspires in me a sense of wonder, i want to be happy that a man could feel that way for a woman and not be afraid to admit it. i want to be happy for the woman receiving such admiration. i want my initial reaction not to be sadness and jealousy and to mutter things like even happy country songs are depressing. and when a friend questions whether a happy country song exists, i want to refrain from replying: it's sweet and good and sentimental... and just the sort of thing that could make a single gal want to clobber a couple, and the damned steel guitar makes me want to snatch that thing out of some dude's hands, yank the strings off and wrap them around his throat.
when a handsome man walks into my place of work, i want to be able to speak to him without being anxious or seeming flirtatious. i want to be able to talk to him like he's any other customer. i want to be able to appreciate those physical attributes that are worthy of attention without cataloging all those i lack.
i want to be able to talk with men and not be accused by their girlfriends of being in love with those men. or be accused by other men of flirting with those men.
on the rare occasion a man asks to meet me for dinner or drinks, i want that man to be interesting and attractive to me. i want the words i speak to be the right ones. i want to feel as though i am enough.
a couple of weeks ago i was hired to write an article about a man who manages a cycle shop in the area because so much of that shop's business comes from recommendation... word of mouth... the encouragement of others.
when i'm tasked with an assignment like this, i want the wheels to be greased so well they spin effortlessly. i was chosen to write this story. i'm happy -- excited and honored -- to do it. i want to be able to do it in such a manner as to prove to those who have given me the opportunity that they weren't wrong to do so. but i am being met with reluctance and am frustrated because of it. that reluctance and frustration just feeds the ire i so often feel. i want the fire in my being not to be an inferno but a source of warmth and light.
i want less hate and more love in the world. i know that starts with me, but oh, how quickly i forget. i want to remember.
March 3, 2018
i've changed things up a bit, and for the sake of my sanity (because i've made this one a bit more convoluted, i'm forgoing spelling out numbers with regards to the dates, even though it goes against my obsessive compulsive tendencies... whatever). there's a LOT of dates in this one. i hope i don't confuse the crap out of yall. all of the information i'm sharing in this post was acquired from on this day: history, film, music and sport.
the task: pick ONE of the pieces mentioned here, play it three times -- first with your eyes open, then with your eyes closed, and on the third, write down the things you imagine as you listen -- maybe your high school teachers did this sort of thing during english class. my junior teacher was really fond of this kind of writing assignment. share what you wrote with the rest of the class -- and DON'T worry about writing style and grammatical correctness. just write. let your mind wander. where does the music take you?
two. tennessee williams and edward albee were born on march 26, 1911 and march 12, 1928, respectively. elizabeth taylor won a golden globe march 10, 1960 for her performance as catherine holly in the film version of williams' suddenly last summer. she divorced eddie fisher on march 6, 1964 and married richard burton nine days later. taylor and burton starred in the film version of albee's who's afraid of virginia woolf? she starred with paul newman, who, by the way, won best actor in the 59th academy awards for his role in the color of money, in williams' cat on a hot tin roof.
the task: watch ONE of the three: suddenly last summer; who's afraid of virginia woolf; cat on a hit tin roof. what are the two best lines of dialogue in the film; what two things make the film noteworthy?
the task: find and view the van gogh armchair travel exhibition on screen: van gogh - a new way of seeing. what three things did you learn about the artist from that production? what's your favorite of his paintings? share three things you love about that work.
four. kerouac, campbell, sedaris... jack kerouac, aaron eckhart and dave eggers were born on march twelfth of 1922, 1968 and 1970, respectively. earl campbell, perry farrell, amy sedaris and billy beane were born on the twenty-ninth of march in 1955, 1959, 1961 and 1962.
the task: pick THREE of these celebrities and learn FOUR new things about each of them. read a book or watch a movie that is about them or stars them. if you live in texas, for example, campbell was born in tyler. make a trek to that town and find a statue or mural or SOMETHING the town loves to show off about him. i'm giving yall free rein to interpret this task in a way that suits your abilities and interests. but you must share FOUR things (lines of dialogue or text from a novel, lyric or script... four facts new to you... SOMETHING) of your choosing for EACH of the three.
five. delerue and silvestri. georges delerue and alan silvestri were born on march 12, 1925 and march 23, 1950, respectively.
the task: watch films (FIVE for each, if you can) whose scores were composed by either gentleman. whose music do you prefer? give me five reasons why one's better than the other.
six. jack nicholson won best actor twice: in the 48th academy awards on march 29, 1976 for one flew over the cuckoo's nest; in the 70th academy awards on march 23, 1998 for as good as it gets.
the task: watch BOTH films. share six lines you love from each. give six reasons why you prefer his performance in one film over the other.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)