friday started out well enough. work then pappadeaux's to kill time -- ericka had written a post about the eight songs to which she wanted to see skaters perform in the olympics, and i was going through my itunes library, writing down the songs i'd include in a post: boom boom by big head todd and the monsters; the devil went down to georgia by the charlie daniels band; you haven't seen the last of me by cher; arms by christina perri; a common disaster by cowboy junkies; too late for love by def leppard. i'd intended to tackle this post at some point, and maybe i will some day because it's just my kind of thing, but... i stopped at three because a friend was allowing me to tag along to the mercyme concert at smart financial center in sugar land that night, and i needed to go get ready. her oldest daughter wasn't able to go; my friend's husband suggested she give the ticket to me. wasn't that nice?

so christian music isn't something to which i normally listen. i have a few albums: hillsong united; audrey assad; ellie holcomb; michael w. smith. that's about it.

i'd heard the song i can only imagine before. i hadn't known of the sources of inspiration for that song until i'd seen the trailer a few months ago. it's a film i'm eager to see, actually. but it still didn't dawn on me that the song and the band were connected. that's how in tune i am to christian music.

it was a good show. i'd recommend catching their act if you can. what i loved most about the event was when the lead singer would talk about the things that had inspired him to write songs that were more important to him, like i can only imagine. like even if.

my left leg's been bothering me quite a bit lately. and i know i'm to blame for some of the cause: i've bitched about what it's like to have cerebral palsy and major depressive disorder enough on here before, so i won't regale you with the biological and lifestyle factors again. it hurts to walk right now. a lot.

by the end of the night i was limping. horribly. my friends had left because they were eager to get to their hotel (they were leaving early the next morning to drive to san antonio, and their younger daughters are in elementary school). it was near midnight. i was eager to get off my feet. to get home. to down some advil and rub some ben-gay all over my knee (that shit reeks, yall; i hate using it... but i didn't give a damn about the stench just then). they were selling cds in the lobby for five bucks. i stood in line. waiting my turn to grab a few -- i'd gotten lifer free for sponsoring a child through world vision (one could argue that i'll be paying forty dollars a month for the thing because of that sponsorship, so it's not really free, but... whatever). i fished twenty dollars out of my wallet to pay for two cds: the hurt and the healer and a best of compilation called i can only imagine.

but the song i most wanted to hear was on the lifer album: even if.

his oldest son has type one diabetes. the singer had written it after a particularly bad day.

god, when you choose to leave mountains unmovable

give me the strength to be able to sing it is well with my soul

i know you're able, and i know you can

save through the fire with you mighty hand

but even if you don't...

during the performance of this song that night, i wept. i wept because i thought of how difficult their son's days might be, how difficult their days might be. i wept because i thought of all the battles my parents have fought for me. all the times they've had to push to get what i needed when i wasn't strong enough or willing to push myself. of how there must certainly have been more of those times than not.

when i bought those two cds, i was so eager to hear them, so eager to get out of that crowded arena -- even so close to midnight -- to hobble across the parking lot to my car that i didn't want to wait for my change. i told the man who took it to apply to the next person's cd purchase, turned and pushed my way past the others, pushed the doors open and walked out into the night. alone, like i so often am.

thankfully, a woman saw me struggling to cross the pavement, asked if i were okay and offered to give me a ride to my car. she was driving a white van full of adolescent girls. she was eager to get the door for me, to help me inside, to help me out... it was more help than i needed, and i was grateful for it. she wondered why i didn't have a handicapped plate.

i don't want one yet, i said. there are too many days where i don't look like i have a disability, and i don't want to deal with the reactions from others who might be offended to see me park in such a place. and really, i don't want one. i'm doing the best i can to live as normal a life as possible. that plate would only serve to encourage me to take advantage of things i don't need or want.

i drove home with that song on repeat. i cried the whole way.

i had it on repeat saturday, too. went to pappadeaux's to work on a bible study (one of the things the speaker had mentioned last week was that god doesn't owe you happiness; that may not be his plan for you. i've been trying to come to terms with this.) i read up on an individual who's made quite a name for himself in the publishing world because one of the professors at the local college here wants me to interview this man. it's been quite some time since i've grilled people. i was good at it. this professor and a colleague of his relayed this input to my father: we both think she is the best interview journalist we have ever worked with.

it pleases me immensely that these men think so highly of my work that they would say such a thing, would ask me to conduct this interview. i feel so fortunate that i've been given the opportunity. but also, i'm supremely intimidated. so... sitting at deaux's, reading up on this man, occupying two bar stools (my left leg's elevated on one because the pain was worse saturday than it'd been the day before).

i'd sat at three different locations at the bar saturday. first in my usual spot. i'd gotten up to use the restroom, and when i returned, a gentleman had sat on the stool i'd been using to prop up my leg, so i gathered my things and relocated. i like to sit by the taps, and all those seats were occupied, so i moved again when another seat by one of them came available. i sat in that third spot for the rest of the evening.

i've got my leg propped on a stool in front of the tap, where people don't normally like to sit. a woman sits to the left of that stool, then proceeds to set her gigantic and heavy bag on my leg, looks at me and asks if it's okay that she put her purse there. i glare at her and tell her that there are hooks beneath the bar top, that i need the stool because my leg is hurt. she bitches to her spouse about me while she hunts for the hook. throughout the course of her meal and for the remainder of my time there, she throws glances at me that make me uncomfortable. i do my best to ignore them.

it gets busy. the dinner time rush starts abnormally early -- before five. i wasn't expecting it. a couple notices that the barstool to my right is empty and asks if i could scoot over one so they could sit there. i tell them that i need this barstool because of my leg. he mutters something about how they were just asking.

fifteen minutes or so go by. they've still not found a place to sit. one of the bartenders comes up behind me and asks if i could scoot down.

here's the thing... all those experiences in my life where others have pushed me around, like the time my peers had said that i should go kill myself because the world would be better off without me in it or that i should go kill myself because i was taking up valuable air and space and there were more important people who needed it...

as much as i would love to brush this shit off, to bury it, i can't. one reason i can't is because of instances like these.

in my adolescence, i'd clung to the notion that life would be better for me once i became an adult. the reason i had this idea is because the adults in my parents' circles were respectable, respectful people. it never occurred to me that not all adults were this way. i was convinced ugliness was a thing one outgrew. i was convinced i would outgrow it because my father'd been telling me the story of the ugly duckling and how one day i'd be a swan since i was eight. i was convinced others would outgrow it because of who my mother and father knew.

but also... for so much of my life i've felt like one of those electrons floating out there that never attaches to anything. useless. when people give me such wonderful feedback, such great opportunity as those two men have, as others have, it's difficult for me to understand why so many more can't see the good in me. when they treat me as though i'm taking up valuable air and space needed by more important people.

i'm alone. saturday, i didn't mind this. saturday i was comfortable enough in my aloneness. that's a really hard thing for me to be, by the way. and it's so easy for that ease to evaporate.

the couple went to one of the bartenders and asked her to ask me to move. they are lurking nearby, waiting for me to vacate the premises.

i turn off my laptop, pack up my shit. as i'm doing so, i'm hearing that bartender talk to her coworkers about the couple who needs a place to sit. i call out that i'm leaving, they can have my spot.

moving is difficult. standing is worse. walking is excruciating. i move the barstools, stand, heft my backpack and haul it over a shoulder. the woman is standing behind me. her husband is a few feet away, leaning against a post. i glare at the woman and say sit in the meanest, coldest way i can. i hobble out. i relay these events to my mother, who says, again, that i need to put my past down.

she cleans out her garden tub, shows me the epsom salts and the lotions and says to get a glass of wine (beer, i say) and take a hot bath, to stay in there as long as i need and keep adding hot water as needed.

i cry. for a long time. i sing the words from that song over and over and over again.

i went to bed with those lyrics in mind. with the thought that as empathetic a woman as i can be, i should imagine scenarios in which people are struggling the next time i've to relinquish my ground: they've just come from the hospital and want sixty minutes of not being there, of not being in a room where his mother is hooked up to machines and not responding and they've just been told they may have to pull the plug... or they've just flown back from three days in north carolina after having to pack up a dead relative's house... or they just lost their son a few weeks ago, and the husband was taking his wife out even though she didn't want to go because he doesn't want her to have to cook and clean up the mess... i can fashion some pretty damned tragic scenarios, yall. i'm good at it. i need to get in the habit of doing it without putting pen to paper.

(it dawned on me just now that i've probably hopped back and forth from past to present tense several times in this post. fuck it.)

i awoke with miley cyrus' the climb in my head:

there's always gonna be another mountain

i'm always gonna wanna make it move

always gonna be an uphill battle

sometimes i'm gonna have to lose

i slathered ben gay on my leg again. ate my breakfast at the bar with my leg propped on a bar stool, moving a bag of frozen blackeyed peas from one spot to another to another.

i wasn't going to go to deaux's today. i was going to spend the day doing laundry and digging in the dozens of boxes stashed in my closet for my w-2, but i found it in the first box i tried.

so i dressed, packed up my shit and headed out. somewhere between my front door and deaux's, it dawned on me that maybe the least of my brethren doesn't mean the ones who live under freeways or in shelters or battle mental illnesses or physical disabilities much more significant than mine. the least of my brethren could be those people i've encountered in my life who aren't capable of showing others kindness or compassion. the least of my brethren could have been those peers who told me i should kill myself, that i was nothing. the ones who stand too close to me in public spaces. the ones who want to sit where i am. the ones whom i feel see me as though i am less than. those who gawk at me, who whisper to their friends or family about me as i hobble from one side of a room to the other.

i found a spot at the bar, opened up my bible to read. and caught myself staring at the number 3:12. three. twelve. the third month, the twelfth day. the day my older brother died. it's by itself, this 3:12. so i look to the line above and see that it's a passage from proverbs.

i'd come to deaux's on valentine's day, ash wednesday, to read my bible, to dig into the word. as i read those pages, i thought of all the times i'd failed in relationships with men. i flipped and flipped and flipped. the last one i'd come to was a bit from proverbs 4:23:

guard your heart above all else,
for it determines the course of your life.

my bible's one of those that has passages you can color. that day, i'd colored the words guard your heart. i cried as i did so because i've done a really shitty job of guarding my heart, and this is the course my life has taken. this one of anger and resentment and fear, of negligence and hopelessness and hatefulness.

and today when i flipped through it to find what i feel like my older brother, what god wanted me to see, and i saw those words again, i was sad.

and then i read proverbs 3:12:

for the lord corrects those he loves,

just as a father corrects a child in whom he delights.

motion picture monday

one. steel magnolias.

released: 1989.

starring: sally field, julia roberts, tom skerritt.

what makes it awesome: i've seen this thing i don't know how many times, and still, after almost two decades and even with the sound off, field can make me BAWL. and skerritt makes me giggle a LOT. it's damned near perfect.

two. dead poets society.

released: 1989.

starring: robin williams, ethan hawke, robert sean leonard.

what makes it awesome: williams and leonard.

three. turner and hooch.

released: 1989.

starring: tom hanks, mare winningham, craig t. nelson.

what makes it awesome: hooch.

four. parenthood.

released: 1989.

starring: dianne wiest, steve martin, jason robards.

what makes it awesome: the story. and wiest.

five. gross anatomy.

released: 1989.

starring: matthew modine, zakes mokae, christine lahti.

what makes it awesome: modine and lahti.

six. when harry met sally.

released: 1989.

starring: meg ryan, carrie fisher, billy crystal.

what makes it awesome: ryan and crystal.

seven. major league.

released: 1989.

starring: tom berenger, dennis haysbert, charlie sheen.

what makes it awesome: the story.

politweets

It’s like that old saying, everything a man does a woman has to do backwards, wearing heels, while a foreign superpower systematically tries to take her down via network of operatives using false identities.

How much longer do we have to put up with a mentally ill sociopath? When the fucked up psyche of the leader of the free world comes before the horrific deaths of innocent children, it’s time for GOP patriots to stand up and end this sickness.

People keep telling me that Trump will never meet with me because he is afraid of powerful women. I think that’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.

It’s so sad that at literally any moment you can tweet “What a vile petty little man” and everyone will know you’re talking about the President of the United States.

They can actually do more than one thing at a time.. all you can do is divide and spew hate

You can think Melania Trump is a bad person and also feel bad about a society that made it seem like a good idea for her to marry a clearly uncaring monster like Donald Trump.

Think you meant to say my thoughts go out the families affected by this event and I Will do everything in my power to ensure that this never happens to our children in the future??????

It’s 11:30pm, and the President is holed up alone at his Florida resort, his wife angry that he cheated on her with porn stars and Playboy models, while he yells at Fox News and tweets batshit conspiracies at the rest of us.

Very sad that the PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES doesn't know that there's a difference between the FBI's counterintelligence and criminal divisions. JFC he's such an embarrassment.

This is your president exploiting the murder of children to discredit an investigation that already has multiple indictments, 2 guilty pleas & at least 3 cooperating witnesses; and to make his followers believe that investigation is only about collusion.

one. one side is screaming about how hateful the president is. that side is COMPLETELY oblivious to the hate it spews. hypocrisy knows no bounds.

two. words are meaningless and forgettable. that line from the depeche mode song rings in my ears so much more frequently than it used to. i scroll past this shit so often, looking for something good. SOMETHING JUST LIKE THIS.

three. many of these tweets were written by men and women who have money to affect change in the world. but it's so much easier and cheaper to bitch on twitter.

twelve things celebrated in january

one. january fourth. willy wonka's trademark was registered in nineteen seventy-two. find a theater showing the film and watch it on the big screen. also find a golden ticket and give that and your favorite willy wonka candy to the box office cashier.

so the river oaks theater in houston had two midnight showings of this film. i'd forgotten about the first. i'd hoped i could stay up late enough to watch the second, but my days of staying up late have long since passed. i DID go to the theater and deliver the ticket and the candy to a cashier and bought a ticket for her to pass on to someone interested in watching the film.

two. january fifth. home of the whopper was trademark registered in nineteen sixty-five. find the oldest burger king restaurant in your neck of the woods and treat yourself to a whopper meal without modifying the order (like i always do... unless you have food allergies, of course).

three. january ninth. campbell's soup's trademark was registered in nineteen six. find your local food bank and deliver nineteen dollars worth of campbell's soups to them.

four. january thirteenth. mickey mouse cartoon first appeared in newspapers throughout the united states in nineteen thirty. visit your local library and find a copy of that cartoon.

i visited a library and sought the assistance of a reference librarian who was unable to find the thing, and i, not being THAT interested in finding it, opted to cancel the search.

five. january sixteenth. jim henson's copyright claim on kermit the muppet was renewed in nineteen eighty-four. find and view the muppets take manhattan, released that year.

THIS MOVIE WAS GODAWFUL BAD. WHY, WHY, WHY WAS THIS EVER MADE?

six. january eighteenth. lerner and lowe's musical motion picture my fair lady was registered in nineteen fifty-seven. find and view that film.

i watched this one a few years ago. if i could've found it in itunes, i would've made myself watch it again, but i couldn't so i didn't.

seven. january twentieth. the first outdoor feature-length talking motion picture, in old arizona, was made in nineteen twenty-nine. find and view that film, too.

ironically, itunes DID have this one available. i was kind of dreading watching this one because i thought it was going to be shit, but i liked the dude who played cisco kid and the ending.

eight. january twenty-first. john fitch, inventor of the steamboat, was born in seventeen forty-three. if it's at all feasible for you to do so, take a ride on a steamboat. if you can't, find some kind of a riverboat and take a ride on that. nine.

i was thinking of roadtripping it to louisiana or something, but then we had a fucking ice storm, complete with snow that managed to stick for a significant period of time. then i was thinking i'd go to san antonio or kemah or something... but i'm lazy. of the month's tasks, i was most interested in this one, but i was also interested in cleaning out the chaos that is my room. the chaos won.

january twenty-third. casablanca the film was copyrighted in nineteen forty-three. find and view that film, too.

i've seen this one before, too. several years ago, one of the theaters in town was showing it, and i figured i should watch it. i LOVE humphrey bogart and like ingrid bergman, and with all the fanfare for this film, i expected to like it. i did not.

a friend suggested i watch it and find three things i do like. so... i enjoy it up until the flashback to paris. it has moments of awesome throughout. the dialogue is really good in places. i actually think victor laszlo's the most admirable character, and i like that rick blaine does the right thing in the end.

but dude. that here's lookin at you, kid. i hate that line. and he says it WAY TOO MUCH.

ten. january twenty-ninth. lawrence hargrave, inventor of the box kite, was born in eighteen fifty. find a box kite. go fly it.

those things are a BITCH to fly, yall. don't bother.

eleven. january thirtieth. bell chimes were invented in fourteen thirty-seven. find a cool set of chimes and send them to someone, preferably a stranger because in my opinion giving to people you don't know makes the giving so much better.

twelve. january thirty-first. coca-cola registered its trademark for "nutrient or tonic beverages" was registered in eighteen ninety-three. find a bottle of coke with your name on it. enjoy!

GAH. there was a gas station that had GOBS of the named cokes. and when i went back to get one, THEY WERE GONE. and none of the others i checked had them either. people are selling them on amazon for like twenty bucks. no, thank you.

things i wish would die

so i used to work at pottery barn kids, and the chevron print was all over everything: chevron curtains; chevron fitted crib sheets; chevron rugs; chevron blankets; chevron canvas storage; chevron diaper bags. it got to be that i loathed those stripes, that word. it got to be that i don't even like to buy gas at chevron stations. it was so prevalent in our store that associates and even customers would utter i wish the chevron trend would die.

i wish partisan politics would die. i wish people who run for office, who seek to serve this country would SERVE this country, the people they represent. NOT their party, their lobbyists, their campaign contributors. THEIR PEOPLE. 

this afternoon senators and representatives gathered to present the congressional gold medal to senator robert dole. i listened as they lauded his service and sacrifices. i watched chuck schumer gab with nancy pelosi about god knows what during those speeches. i watched as paul ryan sat there looking bored out of his mind, as mitch mcconell sat there looking a hell of a lot like a shell. i listened as schumer spent half his speech talking about how dole had once joked about the space between chuck and the camera, as pelosi insisted people applaud during parts of her speech. all paul ryan did was introduce dole... as if he couldn't put a half dozen sentences of praise together. these people, they're commending this senator for his ability to cross party lines and get shit done. i couldn't help but think they're all a bunch of hypocritical asshats. we're facing yet another government shutdown because they'll be damned if they budge an inch.

i wish to god our congress would have that same ability. i wish they'd hold more regard for their constituents than their campaign hopes and promises. it's bullshit. all of it. there's not one good seed in the bunch right now. not. one.

i wish people would stop, please god STOP comparing the president of the united states of america to fucking HITLER. the two are NOTHING alike, jackasses. NOTHING. it's incendiary and revolting, and goddamn, there are still survivors of the holocaust on this earth and those we have lost have loved ones. it's an insult to what they've endured. it's disgusting and deplorable and childish and just. FUCKING. STOP. NOW. please. you don't have to like trump. i didn't like president obama, but i would NEVER dare to call him anything so vile as that, not anything that comes anywhere close to that. EVER. he's the PRESIDENT, for christ's sake. he was elected to that office. maybe not by you, but by somebody. and don't you dare come at me with those who voted for him are FASCISTS. they're human beings. they're AMERICAN CITIZENS. they've reasons for their choices, and by god they don't have to defend them to you. 

i wish people would stop insisting their way's best and everyone else's is wrong. that they would stop being such insensitive fucking assholes, stop losing their shit over petty things, stop being bitches to each other.

i've seen this pinned on people's twitter feeds with comments on how it's the best thing ever. 

no. NO, it's not. i can name about a million things that are better than this trash.

spouting opinions about how vile our president is MAKES YOU LOOK JUST AS VILE. the ones who appreciate that gif? they're hulk in that scenario. of all the avengers, he's my least favorite. why? because his anger gets the better of him ALL THE TIME. that's not brute strength. that's rage. that's how bruce banner becomes the hulk. he gets SO pissed off that he can't control himself, and then he breaks shit. smashes it to bits. is that the kind of person you want to be?

i know how powerful rage is. i struggle to contain it on a daily basis. most days i can. other days are like this. and i'm embarrassed by my behavior on those days.

barack obama was granted eight years to serve as president of these united states. he believed he could offer something of value. he said and did what he could to provide the american people what he thought was best.

for better or worse, donald trump has been given the opportunity to serve. maybe you didn't vote for him. maybe you did. either way, it's okay. if hillary clinton had been given the opportunity, i'd feel the same. these were our choices in the end. these were the candidates for president. this is how our democratic republic works. one winner, one loser.

i'd written those words days after the election. i felt like saying them again. i wish all this hatred and animosity would die.

twelve things to celebrate in january

one. january fourth. willy wonka's trademark was registered in nineteen seventy-two. find a theater showing the film and watch it on the big screen. also find a golden ticket and give that and your favorite willy wonka candy to the box office cashier.

two. january fifth. home of the whopper was trademark registered in nineteen sixty-five. find the oldest burger king restaurant in your neck of the woods and treat yourself to a whopper meal without modifying the order (like i always do... unless you have food allergies, of course).

three. january ninth. campbell's soup's trademark was registered in nineteen six. find your local food bank and deliver nineteen dollars worth of campbell's soups to them.

four. january thirteenth. mickey mouse cartoon first appeared in newspapers throughout the united states in nineteen thirty. visit your local library and find a copy of that cartoon.

five. january sixteenth. jim henson's copyright claim on kermit the muppet was renewed in nineteen eighty-four. find and view the muppets take manhattan, released that year.

six. january eighteenth. lerner and lowe's musical motion picture my fair lady was registered in nineteen fifty-seven. find and view that film.

seven. january twentieth. the first outdoor feature-length talking motion picture, in old arizona, was made in nineteen twenty-nine. find and view that film, too.

eight. january twenty-first. john fitch, inventor of the steamboat, was born in seventeen forty-three. if it's at all feasible for you to do so, take a ride on a steamboat. if you can't, find some kind of a riverboat and take a ride on that.

nine. january twenty-third. casablanca the film was copyrighted in nineteen forty-three. find and view that film, too.

ten. january twenty-ninth. lawrence hargrave, inventor of the box kite, was born in eighteen fifty. find a box kite. go fly it.

eleven. january thirtieth. bell chimes were invented in fourteen thirty-seven. find a cool set of chimes and send them to someone, preferably a stranger because in my opinion giving to people you don't know makes the giving so much better.

twelve. january thirty-first. coca-cola registered its trademark for "nutrient or tonic beverages" was registered in eighteen ninety-three. find a bottle of coke with your name on it. enjoy! 

the fall film challenge bonus round: my list

one. above suspicion - shaun dingwall. the young victoria.

two. the big bang theory - carrie fisher. the blues brothers.

three. the crown - jared harris. the man from u.n.c.l.e.

four. downton abbey - douglas reith. the queen.

five. elementary - john heard. awakenings.

six. firefly - alan tudyk. forty-two.

seven. game of thrones - liam cunningham. war horse.

eight. how i met your mother - rachel bilson. life happens.

nine. it's always sunny in philadelphia - david hornsby. flags of our fathers.

ten. judging amy - tom welling. the choice.

eleven. knight rider - jason bateman. tropic thunder.

twelve. lethal weapon - hilarie burton. the secret life of bees.

thirteen. ally mcbeal - john michael higgins. g.i. jane.

fourteen. ncis - chris o'donnell. men don't leave.

fifteen. outlander - caitriona balfe. now you see me.

sixteen. parenthood - lauren graham. it's kind of a funny story.

seventeen. dr. quinn, medicine woman - jane seymour. austenland.

eighteen. rizzoli and isles - michael massee. last man club.

nineteen. sex and the city - justin theroux. the broken hearts club: a romantic comedy. 

twenty. true detective - taylor kitsch. american assassin.

twenty-one. the unusals - jeremy renner. captain america: civil war.

twenty-two. veep - allison janey. trust me.

twenty-three. the west wing - hal holbrook. the firm.

twenty-four. the x-files - gillian anderson. the mighty.

twenty-five. the young pope - guy boyd. while we're young.

the fall film challenge: bonus round

THE RULES: if you've seen the twenty-five films selected for your original list, you are eligible to compete in the bonus round. this one's a bit more complicated than normal. i've chosen twenty-five television series, past and present. for each program, choose a film which stars an actor or actress who has appeared on that show at least once. that individual does not have to be a member of the main cast. for example, a (short) sample bonus round list:

one. ally mcbeal - robert downey jr. spider-man: homecoming.
two. the young pope - jude law. king arthur: legend of the sword.
three. true detective - rachel mcadams. doctor strange.
four. above suspicion - kelly reilly. pride and prejudice.
five. the crown - jared harris. allied.

the catch (and this is what makes it a wee bit tricky): two actors on your list can't be in the same movie. if you choose a robert downey jr. movie for one series, he can't also star in another film selected for a different show, i.e. both he and rachel mcadams are in sherlock holmes, so you couldn't pick that film for true detective. you'd have to pick another mcadams flick, one in which he does not star, like doctor strange (and make sure you check the other actors listed alphabetically section on imdb's site... sometimes filmmakers will sneak in an uncredited cameo. what if instead of chris hemsworth as thor, the director of doctor strange had opted to include a scene with iron man? i wouldn't let you count that film, that's what, and you'd stand to lose some points. but rachel wasn't cast in spidey, and robert's not got a role in strange, so you're good. got it? god, i hope so.

there's no extra credit this time, like there was in the original round. every film's worth ten points. if you change a choice, you lose ten points, so choose wisely.

THE CATEGORIES

one. above suspicion.

two. the big bang theory.

three. the crown.

four. downton abbey.

five. elementary.

six. firefly.

seven. game of thrones.

eight. how i met your mother.

nine. it's always sunny in philadelphia.

ten. judging amy.

eleven. knight rider.

twelve. lethal weapon.

thirteen. ally mcbeal.

fourteen. ncis.

fifteen. outlander.

sixteen. parenthood.

seventeen. dr. quinn, medicine woman.

eighteen. rizzoli and isles.

nineteen. sex and the city.

twenty. true detective.

twenty-one. the unusuals.

twenty-two. veep.

twenty-three. the west wing.

twenty-four. the x-files.

twenty-five. the young pope.

if you're late to the party, you can still join us! details for the regular round are here.

emily and einstein

why i wanted to read it: because i liked the title and the look and feel of the cover (but, yall, i'm really weird about paper, so maybe don't put too much stock into that one, yeah?), and these two things:

(from the back cover): emily portman is an up-and-coming new york city editor whose life is everything she imagined it would be. she has a job she loves and a beautiful upper west side apartment with her husband, sandy. but everything changes in one night, when sandy dies in a tragic accident, and emily is stunned to discover that her marriage was made up of lies.

okay. not the name of the dude so much, and definitely not the inclusion of tragic in describing the accident that kills him (because redundant), but...

in my favorite english class, taught by the fantastic dr. william weitzel, whose instruction i do miss -- that man was a genius -- we spent weeks discussing tennyson's idylls of the king (a book i did not read, by the way... we'd just finished our mutual friend, and i was depressed because we couldn't spend the whole semester talking about how awesome it is). but i remember weitzel's fascination with how this one bad thing that starts out so small can become so huge and wreak such havoc, a germ inside of a beautiful bubble. sandy's the germ; i wanted to see just how bad he could be. and yall, he's a DICK who most definitely deserved to die.

then there's this bit his wife says about him: sandy portman drew me in, like the draft of a manuscript where perfectly constructed sentences hinted at but didn't yet reveal a deeper truth (page 11). 

she must be some kind of a sucker. or a saint. i was curious to know which it was. turns out, it's a little of both.

what i liked: that bit on page eleven, and...

"i can't do this."

i turned around and fled... but when i got to the building, the odd old man was already there shaking his head. "you really can't outrun me, alexander."

the sheer staggering force of it brought me to my knees, literally, my topcoat pooling around me in the frozen slush. "you can't do this. i have so much left to do."

"technically, that isn't true." yet again he looked apologetic.

my mind raced. "i have a wife. if i die it will kill her."

"i can't disagree with you there. that woman loves you. really loves you. too bad you didn't think of that sooner" (pages 20-21).

i knew i was feeling sorry for myself, and i tried to swallow it back, but i hated that i was losing so much. my home. my husband. my belief in our marriage. the belief that i was loved (page 97).

no matter where we lived, my mother loved giving parties... one night, a woman arrived that i hadn't seen in a while, a woman i had always loved. i took coats and made sure everyone had their drinks, and when i handed her a martini, she looked at me closely and then laughed.

"every time i see you, you're more grown up," she said, and looked around for my mother. "no wonder you don't need a husband, lillian. you've got emily to take care of all the things you don't like to do."

my mother looked at me across the room. i couldn't read her expression. the set of her mouth wasn't quite a frown, but it wasn't a smile either. "yes, she plays the perfect caretaker. but i wonder, is that what you really are, em? or are you hiding what you really want to be?" she paused. "please tell me a daughter of mine wants to be more than a housewife and a hostess" (pages 129-130).

a man who hadn't felt something intense for me would never have held me like he was afraid of what would happen if he let go (page 152).

lillian barlow thought i should learn about currents and tsunamis, but she hadn't thought to teach me how to swim (page 156).

emily had been my biggest victim, not because of horrible things i did, but because i had dared her to love me, and when she did i was unprepared for the enormity of that love, the responsibility -- something that deep down i had known i didn't know how to give back. but i had taken it anyway, handling it without care.

the fact was that i had married her because in her eyes i saw the man i could be. i ended up wanting a divorce because living with her every day was forcing me to see myself for who i really was, a man who didn't have the strength to work hard and persevere and do what it took to be something beyond ordinary (page 348).

what sucked: i'm not a huge fan of the author's writing style and wish she could've told the story in fewer pages. 

having said that: i had read a few pages yesterday, but i basically got the thing finished in a day, which is always a plus in my book. i liked the ending. it's kind of a weird and cheesy story, and i definitely preferred the pages told from emily's point of view. it's nothing stellar -- definitely NOT an utter triumph like j.r. ward said -- but it's cute.

ten things to celebrate in october

one. october first. national homemade cookies day. bake a batch of cookies (and NOT chocolate chip) from scratch.

two. october sixth. come and take it day. this is a damned fine day in texas. mexico wanted their cannon back. we dared them... and eventually we won. be especially daring on this day. what's a thing you've been too afraid to do? do it. if you can't think of something... get some suggestions from your friends.

three. october sixth. mad hatter's day. wear the weirdest hat you own for the entirety of your day.

four. october tenth. angel food cake day. bake an angel food cake, but don't eat it. it's not for you.

five. october eleventh. emergency nurses day. take that angel food cake you should bake for the tenth to the nearest hospital emergency room. those nurses are angels. let them know they're loved.

six. october eleventh. southern food heritage day. according to the folks at mental floss, if you're not eating chicken and waffles on this day, you're doing life wrong. where's the best place in your neck of the woods for such a meal? go there and grab some grub.

seven. october twelfth. jon kevin's day. that's my big brother's day. have a beer for him. he'd be one away from fifty.

eight. october sixteenth. dictionary day. find sixteen of the coolest words in the world. what are they?

nine. october twenty-first. count your buttons day. so apparently the bloggess is fond of buttons. visit your local fabric store and purchase twenty-one (or somewhere thereabouts) of the funkiest buttons you can find and send them to her (mailing address here).

ten. october twenty-eighth. frankenstein friday. share ten lines you love from mary shelley's masterpiece.

nine things celebrated in september

one. september third. skyscraper day. travel to the nearest metropolitan area (if it's within a reasonable distance) and take a picture of the skyline. if the distance is too great, dig through your travel photos for a favorite skyline shot.

downtown houston, as seen from some steps near lee and joe jamail skate park.

two.

two. september sixth. read a book day. if you're anything like me, you've got stacks of books you've been saying i'm going to read this... someday. someday's here. pick one that's been on your to read list for far too long. read some.

three.

six impossible things by fiona wood. i bought this ages ago. i want to like it. so far i've yet to be able to do so.

three. september eighth. pardon day. what unforgivable curses have been used on you and by whom? find the strength to forgive one person, and be brave enough to confess the forgiveness.

i wrote a letter, though i didn't get around to it until today, so technically, this was a bust. won't share the details here. hopefully it'll be received well. if not, so be it.

four.

four. september ninth. teddy bear day. donate a new teddy bear to a children's hospital. i had lunch with a friend from high school a couple of weeks ago, and afterward we went to toys r us and got these three. aren't they happy? more importantly, they are SO soft. while i wish i could give more, i'm pleased to give these three.

five. september twelfth. national video games day. what was one of your favorite video games to play in your childhood? find an arcade that has that game and play some.

i played a couple of games of ms. pacman at the movie theater before seeing spider-man: homecoming on the first, but i didn't take a photo... so i'll let yall decide if it counts or not.

six.

six. september thirteenth. fortune cookie day. snag six fortune cookies. give five to your friends or family, and keep one for yourself. what's it say?

mine said: you will be happily surprised by a long time friend.

seven.

seven. september seventeenth. national women's friendship day. of your girl friends, which have you known the longest? what's sustained that friendship? send a note letting her know how much you value her presence in your life.

i wrote a friend i'd made when i was three. i've not seen her since i was eight. but we found each other on facebook last year, and i'm so, SO happy we did so.

eight. september twenty-first. world gratitude day. this one's got two parts. ONE) on this day, make a concerted effort to say THANK YOU if someone pays you a compliment. women are so bad at shrugging off positive attention, like we don't deserve it. like the other day when a friend commented how sweet i was, i contradicted the compliment. if someone says THANK YOU, instead of saying NO PROBLEM say YOU'RE WELCOME. TWO) as you go through your day, make a list of everything you see for which you are thankful. there's a notes app on your phone. USE it. if you do it right, by the end of the day, it should be a rather long list. type it up. send it to me. i'll be grateful for the mail.

this one was a bust, too. i forgot about the first part and only worked on my list for about two minutes at the start of my day.

nine. september twenty-eighth. national good neighbor day. check in with one of the folks who lives nearby, if not next door. take fifteen minutes out of your day to visit.

i didn't do this one, either. she has a black and white cat that likes to hang out in our yard. i played with him a couple of times. does that count?

beach music

why i wanted to read it: i was supposed to read it earlier this year (or maybe late last year?) for a book club i'm in but didn't. i needed a book that began with b for erin's book challenge. i felt guilty for not having read it then, and my mom said she and dad had run out of gas listening to this story, they'd been so absorbed. i figured i should give it a shot.

what i liked: she had always prided herself in keeping her madness invisible and at bay; and when she could no longer fend off the voices that grew inside her, their evil set to a chaos in a minor key, her breakdown enfolded upon her, like a tarpaulin pulled across that part of her brain where once there had been light (page 3).

"i guess you think i should hire a marching band to welcome you back," my father, judge johnson hagood mccall, said to me. 

"it's great to see you too, dad." i said.

"don't look at me that way," my father ordered. "i refuse to accept your pity."

"jesus christ," tee whispered.

"say hi to jack, dad," dupree suggested. "it's a question of manners."

"hi, jack," my father said, mugging, his words soft around the edges. "great to have you back, jack. thanks for not calling, jack. for not keeping in touch."

"i tried to call you a couple of times, dad," i said. "but it's hard talking to a man after he's passed out."

"are you implying that i have a drinking problem?" the judge said, rising up to his full length, his head thrown back.

"an outrage," tee said happily.

dallas said, "like saying noah had a problem with the weather, pop."

"drink some coffee," dupree offered. "sober up before you go see mom."

my father looked at me, then sat down on a chair, falling the last several inches. 

"you heard that your mother deserted me for a much younger man, i suppose," he said to me.

dallas said, "the doc's a whole year younger than pop here."

"there's no need for your editorial comments, dallas," the judge said. "i am merely stating the facts. his money blinded her. your mother always had a weakness for material things and ill-gotten pelf."

"pelf?" tee said. "mom likes pelf? i don't even know what that is."

"that's why you're only a public school teacher in the state that ranks last educationally in this great nation," the judge said. "they allow you to teach other idiots, i am told."

"my kids are autistic, dad," said tee.

"aren't you glad dad's drinking again?" dupree asked me, trying to divert our attention away from tee. "i never feel closer to the old boy than when he's going through delirium tremens."

"i'm not drunk," the judge said. "i'm on medication."

"dr. jim beam," dallas said. "still practicing after all these years."

"i have an inner-ear infection," the judge insisted. "the medicine affects my sense of balance."

"that infection must be hell," tee said. "it's been around for thirty years or more."

"all of you were in league with your mother against me," said the judge, closing his eyes.

"got that right," tee said (pages 130-131).

"c'mon, mom," tee yelled by the window. "give 'em hell, girl."

"you're in a hospital," dallas said, "not a sports bar."

"thanks for that timely bulletin, bro," tee said. "and get ready for a full-contact scrimmage. john hardin's tying up his boat down at the dock.

"help us, jesus," dallas said.

"worse than it used to be?" i asked dupree.

"still a bit off," dupree said. "but he's become a little dangerous. he spooks easily."

"now, for the enjoyment of our live audience, ladies and gentlemen, we present madness," dallas said.

"first death," tee said, "then drunkenness."

"calm down, tee," dupree suggested. "don't let him see that you're nervous."

"i'm not nervous," tee said. "i'm scared shitless."

"he hasn't had his shot this month," dupree said. "he's fine after he's had his shot."

there was a tap on the window and john hardin made a motion for tee to unlock it. tee made a motion with his arm that john hardin go around to one of the doorways and john hardin answered him by selecting a brick that formed the border of a flower garden near a memorial fountain (page 133).

dupree said, "let's go together to get your shot,"

john hardin's eyes blazed as he spoke. "i hate you the most, dupree. you're number one on my list. then comes jack. precious jack, the firstborn son who thinks he was born in a manger. then comes dallas, who think he's some kind of genius when he actually doesn't know shit..."

"i'll go with you," tee said to john hardin. "you and i'll go with dupree to get that shot."

"the only cure that'd help me at all is for everyone in this room to get cancer and for my sweet mother to walk out of here with me."

dupree rose and approached his brother cautiously. "please, john hardin. we know how this ends. you'll get disoriented and do something stupid. you won't even mean to do it or know you're doing it. but it's in your hands. get a shot or the cops'll put out a bulletin to pick you up."

"if i needed a fortune-teller, asshole, i'd go order a chinese meal," john hardin screamed... "i'm the nicest of the brothers," john hardin said. "mom said that, not me. i'm just reporting the facts. she said i was her favorite. the pick of the litter" (page 137).

"where's john hardin, dad?" i asked. 

"he's fine. i just told your mother. i saw him at the house this morning. he looked like a million bucks. all he wanted was to borrow a gun."

dupree lowered the binoculars and looked at our father with a baleful gaze... "jesus, i see john hardin. he's holding something. yeah. congratulations, dad. it's your gun."

"you lent a gun to a paranoid schizophrenic?" dallas said.

"no, i lent one to john hardin," the judge said. "the boy told me he wanted to do a little target shooting..."

"hey. waterford," john hardin was screaming. "fuck you. that's what i think of the town and everyone who lives in it. what a rotten little excuse for a town. everyone who grows up here, or is forced to live here even for a small amount of time, becomes a complete, worthless asshole. it's not your fault, waterford. you can't help it that you're rotten to the core. but it's time. you're just not worth a shit and it shows."

"makes you proud to be a mccall," dallas whispered...

"i know what you're saying, dupree," he shouted. "you're telling everyone i need my shot and then i'll settle down... i'm never letting another car cross this goddamn bridge. fuck you, waterford..."

dupree stepped forward, the one who loved john hardin the best and the one john hardin hated the most.

"close the bridge, john hardin," dupree demanded.

"eat a big hairy one, dupree," john hardin answered, using his middle finger to give his words fuller effect. "this town is so shitty it gave my poor mother leukemia... that's my brother dupree," john hardin screamed from his island of steel. "if they had a contest to find the biggest asshole in the world, i guarantee he'd be a finalist..."

"i never understood why you lived in europe," dallas said, "till this very moment."

"lots of rentals," i said. 

"what a loser," dupree screamed back at john hardin. "you've been a loser and a phony since the day you were born. mama just told me that. she's out of her coma."

"mama's out of her coma?" john hardin said. "you're lying. fuck you, dupree mccall." john hardin's voice was as poignant as a train whistle now. "i won't close this bridge until every one shouts 'fuck you, dupree mcall.'"

"organize the cheer, brothers," dupree said. "he means it. and if the swat team gets here, they'll kill our brother. they don't play."

we ran down a line of cars and enlisted volunteers from the crowd to pass the word from driver to driver... 

the town chanted, "fuck you, dupree mccall..."

"now close the bridge," dupree shouted. "before i come over there and whip your ass.

"you gonna pole-vault, asshole?" john hardin shouted.

"there are ladies present on the bridge," dallas said, changing tactics.

"i apologize to all the ladies i might've offended," john hardin said, and there was true contrition in his voice. "but my mother has leukemia and i'm really not myself today."

"mama's out of the coma," dupree shouted again. "she wants to talk to you. she won't see the rest of us until she talks to you. close the bridge."

"i will under one condition," john hardin said... "i want all of my brothers to get stark, buck naked and jump into the river..."

"we get naked," dupree said, "then you throw the gun in the water. we jump in the water. you close the bridge. deal?"

john hardin thought a moment, then said. "deal."

dupree stepped out of his underwear, followed by tee, then me, and finally a very reluctant and grumbling dallas.

john hardin grinned happily as he savoured the sight of us, his naked and humiliated brothers. "all of you've got little dicks" (pages 244-247).

i listened to this one on audio, too (because it's seven hundred sixty-eight pages, and you readers of picky should know how i loathe long books). there were SO, SO many pages of quotes i loved that i could share with yall. these were the snippets i wanted to go back and find.

what sucked: it's SEVEN HUNDRED SIXTY EIGHT pages. there were a couple of instances of backstory that i wished weren't so lengthy.

having said all that: i LOVED this one. the writing's beautiful. i love the family dynamic. i am in awe of conroy's ability to weave tragedy with comedy. it's REALLY good stuff. yall should read it.

wicked: the life and times of the wicked witch of the west

why i wanted to read it: because i figured, given the novel's and play's popularity, i should. because i needed something with a cardinal direction in the title for erin's book challenge.

what i liked: [fiyero] "why should i keep myself so safe?" he asked her, but he was almost asking himself. what is there in my life worth preserving? with a good wife back there in the mountains, serviceable as an old spoon, dry in the heart from having been scared of marriage since she was six? with three children so shy of their father, the prince of the arjikis, that they will hardly come near him? with a careworn clan moving here, moving there, going through the same disputes, herding the same herds, praying the same prayers, as they have done for five hundred years? and me, with a shallow and undirected mind, no artfulness in word or habit, no especial kindness toward the world? what is there that makes my life worth preserving?

"i love you," said elphaba. [aka, the wicked witch of the west]

"so that's that then, and that's it," he answered her, and himself. "and i love you. so i promise to be careful" (page 214).

there were probably a couple of other things, but i listened to this one on audio, and that was the only passage i felt like hunting through the text to find.

what sucked: my biggest complaint is that maguire spends so much time talking about trivial stuff and so little time digging into details that have some relevance to the plot. maybe if i'd read the four hundred six pages, i would've been able to skim the small shit and spend more time on the more meaningful things, but then, i wasn't that interested in this story, which is why i listened to it instead. also, it's long.

having said that: i love the idea for this story. i liked seeing that elphaba could love and be loved. but i can't reconcile the wickedness i saw in her character in film the wizard of oz with the so-called wickedness of her character in this story. she's mean, sure -- angry, resentful, bitter, hostile. but i can't call her wicked, so i kind of feel like maguire dropped the ball on this one -- that he didn't make her hateful enough. i have compassion for her, in the end. and i didn't want to.