Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang. Snow Snow?

So, on Saturday I went to see Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang. I was a little skeptical when I first starting hearing about this film. Was I really that interested in a movie written and directed by Shane Black (the writer of the Lethal Weapon movies, The Last Action Hero, The Last Boy Scout, The Long Kiss Goodnight). Now don't get me wrong, with the exception of The Last Boy Scout, I enjoyed all these movies to some degree or another, but did I really care about this guy's directorial debut.

But then a weird thing happened. I started reading reviews for KK, BB, and they were all pretty unanimously good. Better than good in some cases. So, with nothing going on Saturday afternoon, I hustled myslef down to Harvard Square to check it out.

And it was probably the most fun I've spent in a theater in quite a while.

There are those types of movies that are popular to like. Those critically acclaimed films, award-worthy. Cult classics. Offerings from hip directors, or in the odd Charlie Kaufman case, hip writers. This is not one of those films. This is a movie that revels so completely in what it is, and takes so much fun in it, that you can't help leaving the theater with a smile.

What it is is a highly self-aware, psuedo-noir, detective film. And when I say "self-aware", I mean to the point that Robert Downey, Jr. (as both Harry and "the narrator") stops the film at one point to tell the audience: "That was such a stupid scene. Why was it even in the movie. Do you think that it'll be important later in the film? Maybe?" Is it a coincidence that two of the characters in the film share a love for old pulpy detective novels? Of course not. Obviously, so does the director, Black, who throws in every cliche of the genre, as well as some cliches of the over the top 80's action genre he helped pioneer. Seedy private eye played by Val Kilmer? Check. (of course he's also gay, which is a unique twist.) Failed Hollywood actress damsel in distress? Check. Hot, hot Michelle Monaghan. Ridiculously convoluted mystery plot? Check. Rube? Check (Downey, Jr.) L.A.? Check. (I haven't read a lot of noir/detective fiction, but even in the little I have, it's apparent how important the backdrop of L.A. is to the genre.) Totally unrealistic shootout at the end? Check.

All these elements, however, are handled with such aplomb and joy that the viewer can't help but enjoy themselves. Could I tell you the plot? Sure, but why. It doesn't really matter. One thing I've noticed in my admittedly minor foray into the genre is that the plot doesn't matter so much as the substance. The destination not as important as the ride. And this ride isn't one of those "Vacation with the family, listening to dad's music are we there yet?, are we there yet?, are we there yet?"type rides. It's a windows down, music blasting, 100 MPH full bore down the highway ride that leaves a grin on your face for hours afterwards...
...
...or it would, except for this. I leave the theater after that enjoyabe two hours and walk out into....

SNOW!!!

And not just a flurry. An actual storm. Big, fat, wet flakes. Falling from the sky.

It's not even Halloween yet!

God damnit!

In the snap of a finger, I went from feeling great, all like, "Wow, I'm going to have to buy that DVD, I've got such a happiness boner!" to "Ahh....huh?...what the crap is this? Are you fucking kidding me? Bartender, three fingers of Drano!"

What a killjoy that was. Winter is coming, and I'm not ready. Nor willing.

A 30 year old's perspective on "40"

Being that Lost is on repeats until sweeps, I felt like it would actually be able to leave the house on a Wednesday night. So, I went down to the Somerville Theater to go seeThe 40 Year Old Virign.

Quick note on the Somerville Theater: It's actually a music venue. But they show movies in the basement. They have four small theaters down there. And they're second run films, so they're cheaper than a regular theater. Pretty cool set-up. Anyway, when I got there, I had to wade throught the throng of Joan Baez fans outside. Nothing funnier than seeing a bunch of middle aged plus people trying to buy scalped tickets to a sold-out show.

Anyway, The 40 Year Old Virign. Seemed like an appropriate choice seeing how as, at 30, while I wasn't paying attention, I appeared to have found my viriginity again. I was originally going to wait for the DVD to see this, but after hearing from my mom that she liked it, I really had to see it. In fact, my train of thought was pretty much exactly like this: "My mom liked a raunchy sex comedy? This I have to see!"

The film was decent, had it's share of laughs, but...

Always a but.

It felt very much like....I don't know...a pale imitiation of a comedy. I haven't been able to figure exactly why I got this vibe, but here's my thought on it. It had to do with the tone. I know the co-writer/director, Judd Apatow, from two things: the producer of Anchorman (which is hilarious), and the creator of Freaks and Geeks, which was just a great, if short lived TV show. He also created Undeclared, whis is also supposed to be excellent, and is currently sitting in my Netflix queue.

(Side note: I never thought I'd use the word queue, ever. With Netflix that has changed.)

Let me do my comparison in terms of Freaks and Geeks, because I think it's actually fitting. It was a great, great show. Funny, yet poignant. But it's humor came with a lot of heart, and was very much in the: "Oh, my god, that's so embarassing, but that so happened to me when I was that age, I just have to laugh," variety. It was grounded in real life, and in experiences most everyone could relate to.

And I get the feeling that in the original script of The 40 Year Old Virigin, this was also the case. I see hints and glimmers of it, and it's very much an underlying current int he film. OK, not so much the "I'm 40 years old and a virign" aspect, but more the concern and worry and pressure and build-up that surrounds sex, especially your first time. There is a heart to this film, and that is it.

However, and this is just speculation, it seems like it got Hollywood-ized. I can picture a faceless studio exec reading the script and saying, "OK, this is great! We love it! Don't change a thing! Except....could you maybe throw in a vulgar old Indian man. he'll basically just swear and be vulgar! People love wacky, pointless characters! And a transvestie hooker! We need a scene with a transvestite hooker! And this character, he seems too sensitive. Can you make him bitter as well? Sensitive and bitter. Oh, and the black guy, he doesn't seem "black" enough. Can he be more blacker?"

Well, you get the picture. There was a problem with tone. It just felt too wildly inconsistent throughout. It's not so much to jar you out of enjoying the film, but, at least to me, it was noticeable. The strange Age of Aquarius musical number at the end? I think that was more a product of Apatow and Steve Carell.

The acting was decent, but at the same time, I don't know if it was because of the tone or if perhaps none of the main characters felt like true "comic" actors, no one (excpet for one, which I'll get to briefly) really stood out. Carell, by all accounts is great in the american version of the Office, but I ahven't seen it. And I don't know if he could ever top Brick Tamland, which is gold, Jerry! Gold! But if you could put any actor up there and make me believe he's actually 40 and a virgin, it's him. So I guess that's something. Paul Rudd was all over the place, but that again could be because of the writing; his character was all over the place. Seth Rogen, an Apatow alum fro Freaks and Geeks, basically played an updated version of the same characater he played on the show. Not a lot of range there. Romany Malco, who I don't know from anything, didn't seem like he was given much to work with, except to "be more blacker." The standout for me was Catherine Keener. I loved her in Being John Malkovich and I loved her in this. She brought a real joy and spark to the role, making a character who realistically had to be at least 40 (inferred by the fact that she had a 1 year old granddaughter; she couldn't really have been much younger in the film) seem 15-20 years younger. And she was awesomely hot, and isn't that what's important.

Behind all the humor and gags, The 40 Year Old Virgin does have a lot to say about sex, the pressures therof, and society's pre-occupation with it And at it's core, the 40 year Old Virgin is a film where the geek gets the girl, where even the losers get lucky sometime. And that's a kind of heart and hope that it's good to leave the theater with.

I need help

I have a pretty expensive habit.

That's right, I like the nose candy.

Just kidding, I haven't had a nasal decongestant in years.

But really, I like vacationing. Going places. I mean, who doesn't, I'm sure. But I spend way too much time thinking about stuff like that, and how I can make it happen.

For example, just this morning I've considered going to NYC, Austin, L.A., or Montreal at some point in the near future. To the point that I've looked up flights (where applicable), hotel prices, rental car prices (where applicable) for different weekends and time periods this morning. I then realized that I really shouldn't be going anywhere, or plan going anywhere, until I pay off my credit card bills (which aren't huge, but still will probably take me two months to get back to zero.) So then I started looking on Craigslist for cover band gigs and in that weird "Etc." job category where people that need one-off help, like moving, or raking leaves, or painting a room on a Saturday post. I figure, "Yeah, get that extra cash, and then I'm good to go!" I also think, "Hmm, my birthday and Christmas are coming up soon, and both my mom and my sister have asked me for ideas. Maybe they'd chip in and split a plane ticket (where applicable) or a hotel room."

And all this is on top of the fact that I definitely plan to go to somewhere in Europe next year. Don't know where yet, but Italy (Rome, Naples, Venice, Florence), London, Amsterdamn, Greece, Spain (Barcelona or Madrid), Prague, and Paris all sound good. Is there any way I could do all that at once. How much time would I need and how much would it cost? Oh yeah, way too much and way too much. I'll have to narrow the scope of that down, I think. Of course, realistically I wasn't planning on doing it all at once, but that just a symptom of how my mind works when it comes to this kind of stuff, that I started trying to figure out if there could be a way...just maybe.

But that's a glimpse into a typical day for me. Initial frenzy? Check. Research? Check. Mellow out period? Check. Repeat in a few days? Will do.

Corporate Culture

I had wanted to write this earlier when I was at work, but considering what it's about, I decided against it.

I've worked at the 'B for a long time. It's been my one "real" job for pretty much ever. Sure, I've held down some other jobs, but all pretty much short term, considering. But I've been full time at the 'B for 8 years. And before that, I've been part time (summer help, while at college) for maybe another 7.

So I've seen a progression of a corporate culture there. Basically the difference came down to a difference in idealogies between our last two CEOs.

The evolution I've noticed is that of what I call the 'B becoming a "real" company. The change is one of becoming more business-like and less....casual? I don't know if that the right word. The vibe at the 'B used to be almost one of a family run business. Which makes sense since it was nepotism central for the longest time. (Not that I'm complaining, becuse it got me a job.) More like, "Eh, we show up, do our work, status quo is fine for us, no need to pursue anything new."

It was relaxed, but admittedly stagnant.

Then the new guy came in. With new ideas. Progress. Evolution. Pushing forward. And of course that's not bad. Coming up with new ways to service our customers. New products and services can translate to new sources of income. More profits. Sounds great.

But that progress also demanded a new culture. Becoming more like a standardly run business. And agin, not bad. So by now you're probably starting to wonder why I didn't want to write this at work.

Because while all this is good on paper, it has been a lot less so in reality.

Firstly, these new products propelling us to new profits? Hasn't really happened. There's some sort of nebulous 5 (or so) year plan where expanded profits should be appearing, but this plan seems to have been in effect for twice that long. And while we're showing marginal gains, it's apparently not enough for the board of directors. So some ways that we've increased revenue?Raise freeze one year (which also had to do with some fault in our retiremnet plan, I guess), decreasing workforce, and selling the building and moving in two years.

Also, becoming a real boy workplace means coming into line with other businesses in terms of what we offer in terms of benefits. Sounds great, huh? Not quite. That means cutting education budgets, amount of personal/sick days, amount of vacation time that can be carried over, and a reduction in medical benefits.

Well, at least we're getting paid relative to what comparable positions in "real" businesses get paid, right? Uhhh.... This I can speak to intimately. A few months back, I took a look around online at what the average salary for my position was in the location where I work. And I found that the average, based on a basic job description, (which by the way was less than what I actually do), was $8,000 more than I made last year. I'm at the minimum for my pay grade in a job I've been in for 3-4 years now. As my boss said, "If you hadn't progressed past the point where you'd be making the minmum after that amount of time, then you should be fired." And, with all humility, I feel I'm an above average employee. Maybe not by much, but still above average. So, at any rate, I am now part of a small team rewriting our job description in hopes of getting closer to where we belong, pay-wise. (I say "closer", because I'm a realist and know we won't get to what we probably deserve.)

But here's the kicker, the thing that kicked off this rant of sorts. We have a forum by which employees can ask questions of the CEO anonymously, that then get answered on our Intranet in a Q & A article form. Increasingly, the questions have been increasingly questioning, increasingly concerned, even sometimes hostile in tone. But even when the tone is more placid, if they question a company policy or decision, somewhere within the reply is a statement somewhere along the lines of: "If you're unhappy here, perhaps you should consider leaving."

Not in such strong terms, but that's definitely the message. And that's what seems incredibly insulting to me. These are people that have dedicated many years to this company. That have, in my opinion, earned the right to at least question policy without having their jobs essentially threatened. That seems a piss-poor way to repay the loyalty of people that have given years of loyalty to you.

This may not seem like much to those who have worked at "real" companies already, but it's a pretty sharp decline to me from the company I started working for. I'll be curious to see how this job description rewrite project works out. If it's to little or no avail, after all the work I've put into it, I'll be curious to see how (or if) it affects my desire to stay there. I like the job well enough, I like most of the people I work with, but eventually there will come the straw that breaks the camel's back and that pile's only getting larger.

Reviews of things.

Back when I was in college, I was introduced by my buddy Steve to this new computer game he'd gotten (from his brother, I think.) He was acting like this game was the second coming or something, and after playing it for a few minutes, I decided he was pretty much right. That game was Doom.

Thin on plot, but big on violence and mayhem, Doom was the game that propelled the first person shooter into the mainstream. I think Wolfenstien came out before Doom, but apparently shooting demons from Hell was more fun than shooting Nazis, and Doom (at least as far as I remember) was what really popularized the genre.

Fast forward about 10 years. That video game market is filled with the FPS, some good, most not. But Doom returns with a vengance. Doom 3 is one of the best looking games I've played in a while, and the reason I bought a X-Box. And pretty damn scary, too.

And, of course, video game movies are all the rage nowadays, so a Doom movie wasn't far behind.

I went on Saturday, expecting little, and getting more than that.

The look of the movie is very much the look of Doom 3. People that have played the game will recognize immeadiately the world they're thrown into. The plot, however, is not the plot of the game. The plot, in fact, is rather thin. (As it is in the game.) But this is Doom, you're not there for plot, you're there for demon-killing good times and a BFG. And there was a BFG< although it was really under used.

Essentially: A group of marines is sent into the UAC facitlity on Mars after receiving a distress call. Mayhem ensues. That's pretty much all you need to know. Where do the demons come from? Transporter to Hell is gone (bummer) and replaced with the usual scapegoat of genetic testing. But does it really matter? A little. The idea of an actual Hell spewing out these creatures is somewhat more scary than the whole "folly of man" thing. But whatever. You have to realize going into a movie adapted from a video game what you're getting yourself into. Academy award winning scripts and direction? No. Fun Saturday afternoon popcorn flick? Hopefully. And that's pretty much what it was. Would I see it again? No. Rent it? Maybe.

The other selling point of the film was the FPS view. If you saw the commercials, this was the big selling point. You'd think that most of the movie was presented in the first person view. However, it's really only about 10 minutes, if even. And for a gimmick, it's brought in a pretty smart way (in relation to the plot) and at the right time in the film.

The Rock does a good job playing a tougher character than I've seen from him in other roles. Word was when he started his acting career that he was supposed to be the next big action thing. I haven't really seen it in the roles I've seen him in, and while this role wasn't a real stretch, it di give him a little extra something that I hadn't seen from him in other roles. There's no real groundbreaking work in any of the other marine characters either, but at least a little effort was expended in giving them some unique personality traits. Again, for this type of film, was it necessary? Probably not, but it was nice. And as for the eye candy (because Hollywood's probably not going to put out a movie that's all guys), Rosamund Pike is definitely sweet enough to give you a toothache. Although I found her to be a bit cold looking in that terrible Bond movie she was in, the name of which escapes me, in Doom she was definitely all kinds of hot. I'm reminded of Ron Burgundy when he said: "I want to be on you."
...
Last night I did something strange. i left the house. Yeah, yeah, I know, it was Sunday. Football day. And I left. But, you see, it was Nikka night. Nikka Costa was playing over at Axis, and I wasn't missing that. So scant minutes after Dallas blew the game against Seattle, I threw on my jacket and out the door I went.

Nikka, how to describe her? Funky, rocking, hot and sexy. That sounds about right. And it describes both her and her music.

As planned, I got to the club just in time to miss the opening band. And shortly therafter the F,R,H,&S began. This is the third time I've seen her; twice "headlining" and once opening for Lenny Kravitz. I'm not sure if it was my favorite time---her Paradise show a few years back was awesome---but this was pretty badass. Most notably for the fact that the set list seemed pretty much tailor made for me. Sure there were a few songs of hers that I really like that she didn't play, but there wasn't anything she played that I didn't like. "Till I Get To U," "Like a Feather," "So Have I For You," "Fooled Ya," "Everybody's Got Their Somethin,'" "Happy In The Morning," "Push And Pull," "Funkier Than a Mosquito's Tweeter," as well as a few others all made an appearance. The band, featuring a Charles Manson looking drummer, a keyboard player that looked like the lost Doobie Brother, and a bass player that looked like he was moonlighting from his union carpenter job, was right on. And aside from a really strange keyboard solo, and a broken string from one of the guitar players, there were no apparent mis-steps.

Pretty much just a night of good ass-shaking music. Not that I'd do that, because...well, no one wants to see that.
...
Oh, I also saw Dog Soldiers over the weekend. Low budget werewolf flick. Really quite good. Quickie synopsis: Soldiers have training exercise. Soldiers encoutner werewolves. Werewolves shred soldiers. Couple of twists, only one real important one. Good vibe. And for all that they were low budget, the werewolves were actually kind of creepy.

Shave and a haircut, 2 bits?

I wish.

I like getting my haircut. It's true. I know, I know. You're saying, "You, long-hair? You? If you'd only stop showering you could become a full-on hippie." But it's true. All that head attention...it's soothing. But I've had my share of bad haircuts over the years. So, when I find someone I trust to do it, I tend to stick with them until they move, die, change professions, or disappear under mysterious circumsatnces. Currently that's Megan. Ultra skinny lesbian dog owner that speaks mostly in superlatives. Of course, problem is, she was pretty cheap at first, but prices have gone up and now it feels like I'm paying an amount that the guys from Queer Eye would probably be proud of.

At any rate, can I just say it's not quite as relaxing, at least for most guys (I would assume), when you go to get your haircut, and start off by getting a shampoo from another guy with a mohawk wearing what looks like to be a homemade skirt. Oh, those chic hair salons.
...
There's nothing I want to see less while I'm eating lunch then a post op transsexual woman wearing fuck me boots sitting at the table next to me.
...
Have you ever been sitting on a crowded subway train when someone unleashes the silent violence, and ferverntly hoping it wasn't the ass closest to your face that was the culprit? I have.
...
That's all for now. You stay classy, San Diego. I'm Ron Burgundy?

It could be worse....

I could live in Minot, ND.

During my daily work routine, I was doing some reasearch into one of the companies we work with. And I was reading up on a call we placed to them almost two weeks ago. Quick background: As part of our job here at the Help Desk at the 'B we montior transmissions of information to our member companies. So when we get in in the morning, there's usually a list of companies that we were unable to transmit to overnight, for any number of reasons. Many of them get themselves righted without any help from us, but some of them we have to call to ask them to turn their machine on, reboot, or something along those lines. You know, the work I should be doing right now, instead of writing blogs. Anyway, why this is relevant: One company was "down" today, and I was looking at their profile to see who it was I should call there. They're one of the companies that usually right themselves when there's a problem, so I don't know the contact off the top of my head. And if a few hours go by and they haven't fixed themselves then we should call them. Anyawy, I find call from 10/06/2005. And in it someone here at the 'B talked to someone there in Minot, ND. They had to reboot their machine because of a power outage....

CAUSED BY A SNOWSTORM!!!!

A snowstorm. In the first week of October. Dear god strike me down if in any warped state of mind I ever move there. To put it in perspective, A couple of years ago, when my sister and brother-in-law lived in FL, I went down to visit on Colombus Day weekend (first weekend in October.) There's an annual regatta that weekend which is all the rage. What it is is a boat race (which we didn't attend), followed by what is essentially a huge boat party on the water off one of the Florida keys, next to Miami. We're talking huge. Thousands of boats. So on this one weekend, a few years ago but the same first week of October, I found myself swimming in an Atlantic ocean that must have been 70-80 degrees. You ask me to choose between that and a snowstorm big enough to knock out power? It's no choice at all. Even the resulting sunburn that turned me lobster red for a week would be more preferable.

As you can probably tell from this, and other, posts, I am not a fan of winter. Or cold. Some years are better than other for me (utterly independent of how the wanter actually is.) Some years I deal better, most years not. Snow hold no particular appeal after 30 years of it. It's not like I get days off from school or anything, and never days off from work. I'm not a skier or snowboarder or ice sculptor. I don't find my self in unexpected snowball fights (except once last winter with my nephew, which of course was my own fault because I kept making him the snowballs he threw at me.) I'm sure I'd still enjoy a good bout of sledding, but without my thundertube what's the point. Conventional sleds just don't compare. So I have no use for snow. It's pretty for about 5 minutes, then it turns gray and black from exhaust and is pushed into ugly, jagged mounds by plows and into slushy ruts by car tires, good only for wetting the cuffs of pants and soaking feet through any level of footwear protection.

And cold? I already feel it. We're only halfway through October and already I'm wearing foru layers (t-shirt, long sleeve shirt, hoodie, jacket) when I leave the house in the morning. And even then, I still have that tensed shoulder, hunched over walk because it still doesn't seem like enough. Something tells me this is going be one of those years where I deal worse with the cold.
Already once this year, my roomate has come home to me zipped up in a sweatshirt, with a blanket wrapped around me. She was then kind enough to show me where to turn on the heat. (New apartment, you know.) The heat, which, thankfully we don't pay for. And while I feel bad for my landlord, I'm also feeling pretty glad that all my extra cash won't be going towards ridiculously high heating bills. Because let's face it, the windows in this apartment? Old school. At least they hold in the cats better then I feel they're going to hold in the heat.

At least one thing is as good, if not better, in the winter: beer. Especially a nice darker, "heavier" beer. Like a Sam Adams. Something tells me that Sam and I will be the best of friends this winter.

That's all for now.

It's official.

The parents have sold their house.

And not just their house, but the family house. The house where they raised three children, of which I was the most recent to move out of, again, for a second time. Sight of many Christmases, Thanksgivings, cookouts, spontaeously combusting jackets, games with darts that didn't include the dart board, 10 cars that I can remember (5 of which were mine...yikes!), ugly rug patterns, the first house on the street that had a basketball net, the only house on the street I know of with a wet bar, numerous broken fence pickets (too many to count), and many childhood games and fights and those that fell in the in between where you couldn't quite tell the difference.

The hosue had been on the market for probably a little over a month. Doing all the usual things. Open houses, ad in the papers, etc. And finally it sold on Thursday night.

Of course, you'd think the parents would be quick to let us all know, and who knows, amybe my sisters found out immediately. But me? Nope, no one tells me anything. I found out from my grandmother on Saturday. That's what I call "in the loop"! (Personally, I think my mom was just mad that I wasn't coming over to do laundry this weekend, so she didn't tell me.)

So, as of now, the papers pass on December 1st, which works out really well for the folks, since that's right about the time they wanted to elave to head down south for the winter. That gives them about a month and a half to figure out what to do with all their stuff. More importantly, that gives me a month and half to figure out to do with the rest of my stuff. Most importantly, that means there's only a few weeks left of free laundry for me.

I suppose I should be weirded out by this, and I'm sure eventually I will be. But for now, not so much. I mean it's not like I didn't know it was coming. I'm sure it'll get strange that first time in about a month and a half when I'm hanging out down that way one night and think, "I'll just crash on the sofa at the folks house....oh, wait...."

But I can't complain. Thirty years of one home? That's not bad. Most people don't get thirty straight years of stability like that in any facet of their lives. It's easy to overlook, but it really is remarkable when you think about it.

And it'll be plent funny when they return from SC next year and take up residence in their in-law apartment at my uncle's house. Who'd've thought.

Whadda you wanna do with your life?

I wanna rock! Duh-duh-duh-duh! Duh-duh-duh-duh!

This seems like a question that coming in late at 30. There's no set pattern to the way a life develops, but it always felt to me that you figure out the answer to that question in your 20's and are on your way to doing it by now. You have an idea of the career you want to pursue (lottery winner, notwithstanding) and you're working on it. Maybe you're happy, maybe not, but you have goals, you're working towards them, there's some sort of sense of accomplishment and progress.

Not me.

Here I am at 30, feeling pretty much adrift. I have a job, not a career. I live where I do out of familiarity, not necessarily desire. I have some ideas, but nothing to show for them.

I've recently found myself thinking that in a lot of aspeccts of my life, I'm about 10 years behind the curve. I feel like I'm doing and feelingat 30 which I should have at 20. Not so bad, in one respect. Young at heart, I think they call it. Also, immature. But that has it's perks and there's something to be said for it.

However, at the same time, I ahve many more worries at 30 than I did at 20. You feel time ticking away more. Body don't run as well as it used to. The occasionaly mysterious ache is cause for a lot more concern. Less hair where you want it, and more where you don't. And that nagging sense that I should be doing "something," and what I am, in reality, doing is not it.

Why do I stay at this job? It's decent. It pays well. The 'B is a good company to work for. It pays (I can't stress how important that is.) Do I enjoy it? Not particularly. But I worry. Would I even be able to find a new job, one I enjoyed more? I have little experience at that. Resumes, job interviews, monster.com. These are ideas that scare me. And even if I could find a job, jould I find a job that pays as well as this one currently does?

Why do I stay in Boston? It's a fun city. Plenty to do, not too overwhelming in size. But it's been 30 years. Been there, done that. It's certainly not the weather. Again, after 30 eyars, the concept of "seasons" is overated. I like it warm. Fall is nice, and summer of course rules, but non-existent springs, and miserable winters don't suit me. I don't ski or snowboard, so I'm not hanging around for that. Someone told me over the weekend they were surprised I was a summer person. They had me pegged as a winter person. After I punched her out, I wondered why that was. Can a region seep into a personality. Boston seems very much like a "winter" city, and it shows a bit in the people here. While not to say unfriendly, per se, they can be a bit cold.

But why is that question that concerns me. And it concerns me often. I spend a good portion of a work day, wondering "what if?" Could I just up and relocate? But I have bills? What bills, I ask myself? You spent 3 years living with your folks to pay down your debt and you did it. No outstanding loans. Credit card debt, negligible. Yeah, Netflix, phone bill, rent, utilities, sure. But you'll have those anywhere. Car payment? Move somewhere where you don't need a car. There goes that problem. As well as the insurance issues. It's doable. Go ahead. Move somewhere warmer, more to you liking. In the US...outside the country...what's stopping you?

But what about friends? Family? It'd be hard to up and move somewhere, leaving all that behind. But they'll still be friends and family, just not as readily available. So, you won't be spending so many nights at 6. And hell, you're family's scattered all around the country anyway, soon to be more so. But it'd be tough not knowing anyone someplace new. Yeah, but it'd help you break out of your shell, which you really need to do anyway.

These are the conversations I have with myself pretty much every day. Obviously I'm not satisfied with where I am, who I am, etc. But change is ahrd. Change comes with a good whopping dollop of fear. And while in a rearview mirror, those things you feared always seem much smaller and more insignificant, when those fears are still ahead of you, they loom large in the windshield. I think Buffy the Vampire Slayer said it best when it said, "Actual size." But the reality is that for all that awareness, it's still there. You still feel it. And that don't make it any less real. The monster in the closet, boogeyman under the bed.

For all I realzie this, still making the change is hard. Thinking about it is easy, but making it hard. However, at 30 the issues seem much more pressing than at 20, and that immaturity only extends so far.

Maybe someday I'll do something about it, and maybe if I can find some courage not poured from a bottle, maybe that someday could be soon.

Rambo, what is non-essential?

We here at the Technical Solutions Center at the 'B are "non-essential" employees. Which is to say that if the whole bunch of us all called in sick to work on the same day, the company would continue to function with no problems. Or, if there were problems...well, there'd be no one here for people to call up and bitch to.

That's what I mean by non-essential. Not along the lines of "hey, fire everyone in TSC. Fuck 'em. We don't need 'em."

We are non-essential employees.

Except when we become essential.

When it's the middle of January and our umpteenth nor'easter for the year is currently dumping feet of snow over the area, and "all non-essential employees need not come to work today"....that doesn't include us. We are essential then. Get in your car and slide to work, essential TSC employees.

When, on October 6th, 2005 rolls around and at noon every other employee gets to go out for to our Employee Appreciation Day for the afternoon and enjoy the duck pond game and the milk bottle toss game and the baloon darts game and the full court press basketball shootout game and the golf challenge game and the dice game (not the NH version) and ping pong ball toss game and the washer toss game and the body tattoo booth, we're essential employees, needed to man the phones. And can I just say, body tatoo booth? What? When did this turn into a biker (or hipster) convention? This I gotta see.

Sure, we get to slip out and get the free eats (ribs and chicken this year, mmm), but then it's back to the desks and computers and ringing phones and incessant sounds of modems dialing.

Actually, let me amend that. Apparently I'm the only sucker working here right now, as the rest of TSC is nowhere to be found.

What the fuck?

In conclusion: I'm a sucker. Where's my raise?

P.S. It's about 15 minutes later. I just walked out to the parking lot to witness the MIB Company Carnival in person. Wow, that was the most pathetic example of a carnival ever.
They roped off a section of the parking lot and set up the tiniest, so sad I could cry midway. And while they're giving out prizes for the games, no "carnival" midway is complete without a booth giving away those mirrors with rock band logos bpainted on them, and there was none of that. We have a bocce court and room for a volleyball net that have been big in Appreciation days past, and this year....nothing.

Back when I was in grade school, for a couple of years, our biggest field trip would always be to the Topsfield Fair. But it was the gayes field trip ever because we weren't allowed to go on any of the rides. Basically, we would sit on a bus for an hour to get there, (which as you know, for a young child seems about 4 times that long), walk around, eat some fried dough, and feed the maybe dozen goats and handful of sheep with those ubiquitous and vague "pellets" that you'd get a handful of for a quarter. You know the ones I mean? The ones that are apparently nutrtious enough and good enough for every single animal on earth to eat, because that's all they ever had a petting zoo? That was our gay Topsfield Fair field trip. The 'B Carnival? Even gayer.

Gayer? Is that a word?

Serenity and Violence

Serenity.

If you've read any reviews for this film at all, then you already know it's a movie made from a failed TV show, Firefly. Joss Whedon. Western in space. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I'll skip it.

What you should know is that I'm Joss Whedon's bitch. And I loved Firefly, all 14 episodes that actually got made. So, I was already pre-disposed to like the film. And even before the film was released last Friday, I'd already seen it twice (albeit in unfinished versions) at two of the special pre-screenings Universal had done for the film over the summer as a way of spreading buzz. So, when I went and saw the opening last Friday, it was actually the third time.

So enough foreplay...

The film centers mostly around a girl (River) and her brother (Simon) on the run from the Alliance (big government) and hiding out on a ship (Serenity) captained by Malcolm (Han Solo) Reynolds. Throw in some hot Reaver (canabilistic crazy space folk) for a little extra added fun. The movie is, in a nutshell, what the show was. All the character depth, humor, action, drama, Western linguistics, Chinese cursing, and most importantly heart. It's a little darker than the show was, but there is a quality to the film that makes it feel less like a movie, and more like a two hour episode of TV.

Which can be both good and bad.

Good because, well, just ebcause I loved the show just the way it was. It had a ragtag feel to it that perfectly suited the cast of characters on their ragtag ship. Let's face it, if it were a car, Serenity would be more a Dodge Dart than a Ferrari. But for all that, the ship is very much home to the people that live on her, the aforementioned Mal, River, and Simon, as well as Wash (superstar pilot and semi-muscular man), Zoe (Mrs. Wash, old army buddy of Mal, and warrior woman that likes slinky dreeses), Jayne (big muslce, loveable oafish mercenary that never kisses them on the lips), Kaylee (hot, hot, super hot tom-boyish engine greasy mechanic chick that never made me wish more that I was a set of batteries), Book (preacher man with a dark past) and Inara (respectable and hot, hot, super hot Companion, or working woman, or mujere del noche).

But also slightly bad because this is a $40 million dollar major motion picture, and the TV feel of it, added to the generally hard to grasp nature of the material could be a turn off to a general audience.

I say hard to grasp, but don't take it to mean that I think that's a bad thing. But the film (like ths show) has so many intertwining elements that it's hard to categorize. Also, it's more about the people than a set story. Sure, there is a very definite plot, but it's the characters that make the engine of Serenity go.

But overall, the film is very much good. I only had a few small problems with it. It does a decent job of answering some questions for the die hard fans, as well as staying accessible for Joe Q. Public. The characters are distileld down to their most essential, which takes away a bit of their depth from the show and kind of resets at least one relationship (that of Mal and Simon/River) back to an earlier state, but it's understandable and somewhat necessary. The laughs are funny. The action mostly good, the drama dramatic. Even the big character deaths don't bother me. One was necessary to advance the story, and another necessary to rip away any feeling of safety and certainty that everything would be OK at the end. The danger these characters face is real, it tells us. There may very well be no happy ending.

And honestly, I'd be happier if there was no ending. As in: sequels please.

We'll jsut have to wait and see about that.
...
A History of Violence.

I find David Cronenberg to be hit or miss. I'm not a huge fan of the weird just to be weird school of storytelling, which I feel he does periodically. Anyone see Crash? What the fuck?

But A History of Violence looked apppealing.

Tom Stall (Viggo Mortenson) is a small town yokel type. Has a family, hot cheerleader outfit sex with his wife Edie (Maria Bello), owns a small diner. Normal life stuff. Until one night when his diner is held up. Tom kills the two men, and that's where his life, and the film changes. He is then approached by some unscrupulous mobster types from Philadelphia that accuse him of being not Tom Stall, but Joey Cusack. And these mobsters (led by Ed Harris) have a score to settle with Joey Cusack. They stalk Tom and his family, until in a showdown at Tom's house, Tom kills the three of them. Although claiming he doesn't know any Joey Cusack, you find out at this point that he is indeed, Joey Cusack. Former mobster, tough guy, trying to start over.

I had problems with this film.

The premise is good. But it was delivered with no nuance, no subtlety. I remember years ago, Sarah McLachlan, in an interview, spoke of how the problem with her album Solace was that a lot of the songs were just parts thrown together. That's what this movie felt like to me. Scenes thrown together, with no flow. Take away the violence and bitchin' sex scenes and this could have been a movie of the week on Lifetime. "My Life With Joey Cusack".

Also, let me also take this time to mention the rules of a movie world. The rules of a movie world, are those things that are understood between the film and it's viewers about the universe the filmaker wants you to inhabit while you're watching the movie. You watch Star Wars, and you understand that there will be space ships, laser guns, and mystical Force powers. It's not that way in real life, but it's perfectly fine and acceptable for the two hours your in a galaxy far away. But take a movie, a drama, grounded in reality, say American Beauty. It would be totally out of place if 2/3rds of the way through the movie the cast breaks into song with a full chorus, and dancers. It's not accepabtle to the mind because of the rules already set up. In reality, that doesn't happen.

In A History of Violence, the world is one very much set in reality. No space ships or musical numbers. This could be your neighbor we're watching. Your favorite uncle. You might see this on the daily news. It could happen. Except...

Except, when Tom is called upon to do violence. When he has to kill the two men in the coffee shop...the three men in his yard...the five men at the end of the film....he all of a sudden turns into an action hero. The first scene, taken by itself, isn't too bad. The second scene isn't terrible either, except for his disarming one guy who has a gun to his head with some seriously slick moves. But the scene at the end, I have real problems with. He's sitting in a chair, two guys behind him, one at a desk in front of him. One guy comes up behind him with a garotte to strangle him. He tips the chair back, pretty easily dispatches hoodlum #1. Runs over to hoodlum number #2, and bashes his face in, as hoodlum number three (behind the desk) removes a gun and starts shooting. Tom then DODGES BULLETS!?!?!? as a fourth man enters the room. He smoothly snaps this guys neck as he runs out of the room. DODGING BULLETS!?!?!?

This is real for John McClaine. It's real for Martin Riggs. It's not real for Tom Stall and his world. And a scene like that can totally take you out of that world and put you back into your seat where you realize that all there is is a dark theater. It makes you question any that came before in the film.

Overall, a very flawed film. Could have been much better.