The Hunt for Red October is possibly the most successful book-to-screen adaptation I’ve ever witnessed, and it is precisely because of the myriad changes from the page that make it work so well.
Anybody that knows me knows I’m a big fan of reading books that I know have or will have movie versions made. I delight in anticipating the changes that will have to take place to move the action along, predicting which characters will be condensed or eliminated, guessing which sections of dialogue will be lifted wholly from the source. Usually I like to read the book first. Not because of some high-brow “the book is always better” attitude but just because I like playing the mental script-writing game so well. Sometimes it’s hard for me to concentrate on the page if I know the movie version particularly well, like when I read Auntie Mame, after having watched the movie probably at least 50 times from the point where I discovered it in junior high.
I think the first time I really relished the difference between the book and film was with Howard’s End. I saw the Merchant Ivory adaptation first and then read the EM Forster book. I was enchanted with how the story came alive in front of me on the page. Over the years I’ve sought out many kinds of adaptations, successful and wretched, and enjoyed comparing them to the source. I think I’ve done a pretty good job of keeping an open mind when things are wildly changed for the screen. As disappointing as it was to not see the super soldier suits, Starship Troopers got the world right; the feel for the politics and the military was spot on. The only one in recent memory that was a complete and utter failure was League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.
Which brings me back to Sean Connery. I think Marko Ramius is one of his best roles. It seems like he’s playing it over the top and yet there are moments where the character is just so real it’s palpable. His shock when he receives the morse code message – he quickly closes the periscope and you can see his thoughts flying through his head as he processes what he just read and how he will react. It’s spectacular. I also think that Alec Baldwin’s is the best of the movie Jack Ryans. He nails the out of his depth manner while still proving competent and capable.
There are certain character short cuts that the movie took for the two leads. I liked that Ryan was made into a Ramius expert. It worked better to have him be confident about the defection specifically because of his knowledge of the man. I also liked how we got to see Ramius’ amazing captaining skills, instead of just being told about them second-hand. It was very exciting to be onboard Red October, in the sea trench, evading their own navy’s torpedo.
And yet the expanded story in the book works just as well. Clancy details how the intelligence is gathered and processed and analyzed and I got a real sense of the actual pace. We get to spend much more time in Ramius’ head and learn details about his past and his motivation for defecting that of necessity had to be put into shorthand for the movie. I loved the moving of all the chess pieces into place in the Atlantic – on both sides of the Cold War. It gave a very full picture of just how unusual the Soviet fleet deployment was, how the US and UK countered the movements, and how both sides used the interactions as a chance to mess with each other, coming up just this side of actually starting a firing war, while still showing off what they were capable of. There were so many small tales that all fit into the big picture. But you’d never be able to include that in a movie and it was smart to concatenate it. To eliminate the British carrier entirely. To eliminate the other US submarine entirely. To eliminate the other Soviet submarine entirely. And especially to change around Skip Tyler’s role so that it included the rescue sub.
The movie expanded on the story in as many wonderful ways as it streamlined it. I loved Sam Neill’s XO and his desire to live in Montana. That small bit of humanizing made his character so much more real than he had been in the book. The aforementioned time spent running the trench past Thor’s Twins. Giving Jonesy an ensign to teach and thereby download sonar exposition to the audience while still keeping things tense and exciting.
I find myself unable to pick which version I liked best, and I think that’s proof of a wonderful adaptation. The movie contained the essence of the story, with all the pacing necessary to an action movie, while the book was able to spend time on detail and still be an intense political thriller. I’ve found myself enthralled with the Ryanverse and intend to read more of Clancy’s books. I doubt any of the subsequent film versions will be as successful as this first one. I certainly don’t remember any of them being something I needed to see more than just the once.
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label movies. Show all posts
Monday, October 18, 2010
Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Addendum 2a
We are collectively obsessed with these Lego video games. Memorial Day weekend we finished the Indiana Jones one. And by “finished” I don’t just mean 100% completion. No. Apparently the game stops calculating your points at the four billion mark. Good to know. So while we’re waiting for the Crystal Skull game to come down in price, we bought the discounted complete Star Wars. All six movies, together at last. And it’s awesome. Favorite level so far: Mos Espa Pod Race. Kicked Sebulba’s ass.
Kirk is starting to think of other things in terms of video games. It’s not just typical little kid playing outside stuff. Like when we’re on a walk and he’s pretending to be Indy and he jumps across a sidewalk crack and talks about the level that he’s playing. No. He’s been telling me about other video games that he’s going to play. Like the Annie video game where you get to play Sandy the dog to stop the naughty kids or the boss battle where Punjab fights Rooster. Or like the Great Mouse Detective video game where you get to pick up the gun that the bad guys drop and then you can carry it until you run out of bullets.
It’s fascinating watching both kids become so used to video games so quickly. I guess it’s like how easily we all played Atari games (or Commodore 64 or Texas Instruments or Apple II) and transitioned into Nintendo (or Sega or…) without batting an eye. Mr. b cut the cord off a useless old PS1 controller and now Bundle can “play”. She totally holds it facing the TV and tries to push buttons and make it do stuff. But she did that with remote controls, too, and I can remember Kirk doing the same thing with remotes. We have a baby LeapFrog that Kirk never played with that I want to hook up and see if Ronnie likes. She’s got more experience with this type of thing so I think it will make sense to her in a way her brother just never grasped at that age.
Kirk is starting to think of other things in terms of video games. It’s not just typical little kid playing outside stuff. Like when we’re on a walk and he’s pretending to be Indy and he jumps across a sidewalk crack and talks about the level that he’s playing. No. He’s been telling me about other video games that he’s going to play. Like the Annie video game where you get to play Sandy the dog to stop the naughty kids or the boss battle where Punjab fights Rooster. Or like the Great Mouse Detective video game where you get to pick up the gun that the bad guys drop and then you can carry it until you run out of bullets.
It’s fascinating watching both kids become so used to video games so quickly. I guess it’s like how easily we all played Atari games (or Commodore 64 or Texas Instruments or Apple II) and transitioned into Nintendo (or Sega or…) without batting an eye. Mr. b cut the cord off a useless old PS1 controller and now Bundle can “play”. She totally holds it facing the TV and tries to push buttons and make it do stuff. But she did that with remote controls, too, and I can remember Kirk doing the same thing with remotes. We have a baby LeapFrog that Kirk never played with that I want to hook up and see if Ronnie likes. She’s got more experience with this type of thing so I think it will make sense to her in a way her brother just never grasped at that age.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Fun for the Whole Family
Kirk is thoroughly obsessed with Indiana Jones. He’s seen all four movies. He has a couple of Lego sets and has fished out pieces and people from unrelated sets to fill gaps in his play time requirements. He has a cheap cowboy set that came with a cloth whip that he hauls around. He’s been freaking out about it being too hot to wear long sleeves and long pants because Indy does not wear short pants and short sleeves. His father came home from his trip to LA this weekend bearing a brown felt fedora for Young Indy to wear, even if he has to acquiesce to t-shirts and shorts. And we downloaded both of the Lego Indiana Jones free game demos on our new PS3.
Mr. b found a copy of the first Lego Indy video game on sale so he picked that up a couple of weeks ago. Has it really only been a couple of weeks? I feel like we’ve had it forever. That game is awesome. Seriously. Kirk never really got into the LeapFrog and other educational baby game systems. He would enjoy watching his father occasionally play Galaga or Destroy All Humans but that’s about it. We’re not really a gaming family. The new PS3 is for media first and foremost. So getting this game was something really just for Kirk’s enjoyment. He’s learned how to use the controller and really does a pretty good job navigating the screens and can do quite a bit before asking for help. He also remembers the pathways through the levels incredibly clearly.
What I didn’t expect is that the rest of us would become so enamored with the game as well! It started out simply enough. Mr. b needed help finding his way through a new level. I found a fabulous guide online and walked him through it. Then Kirk wanted to play the same level but his father wasn’t home so I took over the main driving duties whenever he needed help. Ronnie gets so excited when she hears the start-up music and squeals in delight when she sees the disc case. She stands in front of the tv and chatters at the little Lego dudes as they smash stuff. So gradually we’ve fallen into a routine where Kirk picks the level and starts it out. Depending on which parent is at home or available, we’ll help him and eventually he’ll get bored or it will be too complicated and we’ll finish it off. And now that we have the guide to follow we’re being totally completist about collecting all the various items to unlock characters and bonus levels. And last night I found myself playing it when both the kids were in bed and Mr. b was at band practice.
Mr. b found a copy of the first Lego Indy video game on sale so he picked that up a couple of weeks ago. Has it really only been a couple of weeks? I feel like we’ve had it forever. That game is awesome. Seriously. Kirk never really got into the LeapFrog and other educational baby game systems. He would enjoy watching his father occasionally play Galaga or Destroy All Humans but that’s about it. We’re not really a gaming family. The new PS3 is for media first and foremost. So getting this game was something really just for Kirk’s enjoyment. He’s learned how to use the controller and really does a pretty good job navigating the screens and can do quite a bit before asking for help. He also remembers the pathways through the levels incredibly clearly.
What I didn’t expect is that the rest of us would become so enamored with the game as well! It started out simply enough. Mr. b needed help finding his way through a new level. I found a fabulous guide online and walked him through it. Then Kirk wanted to play the same level but his father wasn’t home so I took over the main driving duties whenever he needed help. Ronnie gets so excited when she hears the start-up music and squeals in delight when she sees the disc case. She stands in front of the tv and chatters at the little Lego dudes as they smash stuff. So gradually we’ve fallen into a routine where Kirk picks the level and starts it out. Depending on which parent is at home or available, we’ll help him and eventually he’ll get bored or it will be too complicated and we’ll finish it off. And now that we have the guide to follow we’re being totally completist about collecting all the various items to unlock characters and bonus levels. And last night I found myself playing it when both the kids were in bed and Mr. b was at band practice.
Friday, January 08, 2010
H2G2
I love the Hitchhiker’s Guide. The books, the newest movie, the BBC mini-series, everything. I love the way that each version is different from the other and it doesn’t matter. Douglas Adams himself didn’t worry about contradicting anything he wrote previously so why should I? I love that it’s all canon.
This December lis and I decided to do a complete reread of the entire series. I started out strong. Obviously Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is the one I know best, since that’s the one that was more or less adapted for screen. I found myself visualizing Mos Def as Ford Prefect but still had the BBC actor in my head for Arthur. I had a hard time remembering what happened next as I got into Restaurant at the End of the Universe. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the mini and I just didn’t remember all the stuff that happened after they actually left Milliways. Life, the Universe, and Everything was even more of a blank for me. I would remember things as I got to them but I wouldn’t have been able to come up with any of the plot on my own. The sad thing is, as I was posting my earliest book list for posterity, I realized I had reread them only as far back as 2005!
It wasn’t just that I couldn’t remember enough to distinguish one book’s plot from the other. I also didn’t find them to be that funny. Which is odd because they are known as some of the funniest writing there is. I’m honestly not sure what’s the blame for the lack of humor. Maybe I’ve read them too many times? Maybe they seem funnier in retrospect than when you actually revisit them? Maybe you need to hear them and I should get audio books? I really don’t know. So by the time I got to So Long, And Thanks for All the Fish I was considerably less impressed. It didn’t help that I found that book to be rather extraneous. I was happy with Arthur living on Krikkit and flying. I didn’t need any more. OK great, he finally got some action with Fenchurch and he finally found his way back to Earth but it all seemed just superfluous. And the space travel scenes with Ford struck me as intentionally obtuse. I feel like the only point of the whole thing was to kill off Marvin.
Now, the volume that we own doesn’t have the fifth book of the “trilogy” so I had to check Mostly Harmless out of the library. I was completely certain I had never read it until I kept being plagued by déjà vu while reading. Mr. b convinced me I read it once, back in the late summer of 1993. And this book felt even more egregiously unnecessary. Fenchurch was unceremoniously removed so that Arthur was back to being lost and alone. Ford was on a futile quest to save the Guide. And suddenly Trillian came back, only rather out of character and there was also another version even more out of character than the original. What was the point? To erase them all from history? I didn’t need that ending. It made me wonder if the publishers had demanded yet another sequel and Adams had been contractually obliged but didn’t want to have to do it ever again. I don’t actually know any backstory gossip but it really didn’t feel like his heart was in it.
Still, I put myself on the library waitlist for book six, just published and written by Eoin Colfer. I’ve never read anything of his (hers?) so I don’t know what to expect. I have no idea if Adams had left notes for another book or had even started one before his sudden death. And even though I’m somewhat soured on the stories at the moment, I still love them and am curious to find out just what could possibly happen next.
This December lis and I decided to do a complete reread of the entire series. I started out strong. Obviously Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy is the one I know best, since that’s the one that was more or less adapted for screen. I found myself visualizing Mos Def as Ford Prefect but still had the BBC actor in my head for Arthur. I had a hard time remembering what happened next as I got into Restaurant at the End of the Universe. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen the mini and I just didn’t remember all the stuff that happened after they actually left Milliways. Life, the Universe, and Everything was even more of a blank for me. I would remember things as I got to them but I wouldn’t have been able to come up with any of the plot on my own. The sad thing is, as I was posting my earliest book list for posterity, I realized I had reread them only as far back as 2005!
It wasn’t just that I couldn’t remember enough to distinguish one book’s plot from the other. I also didn’t find them to be that funny. Which is odd because they are known as some of the funniest writing there is. I’m honestly not sure what’s the blame for the lack of humor. Maybe I’ve read them too many times? Maybe they seem funnier in retrospect than when you actually revisit them? Maybe you need to hear them and I should get audio books? I really don’t know. So by the time I got to So Long, And Thanks for All the Fish I was considerably less impressed. It didn’t help that I found that book to be rather extraneous. I was happy with Arthur living on Krikkit and flying. I didn’t need any more. OK great, he finally got some action with Fenchurch and he finally found his way back to Earth but it all seemed just superfluous. And the space travel scenes with Ford struck me as intentionally obtuse. I feel like the only point of the whole thing was to kill off Marvin.
Now, the volume that we own doesn’t have the fifth book of the “trilogy” so I had to check Mostly Harmless out of the library. I was completely certain I had never read it until I kept being plagued by déjà vu while reading. Mr. b convinced me I read it once, back in the late summer of 1993. And this book felt even more egregiously unnecessary. Fenchurch was unceremoniously removed so that Arthur was back to being lost and alone. Ford was on a futile quest to save the Guide. And suddenly Trillian came back, only rather out of character and there was also another version even more out of character than the original. What was the point? To erase them all from history? I didn’t need that ending. It made me wonder if the publishers had demanded yet another sequel and Adams had been contractually obliged but didn’t want to have to do it ever again. I don’t actually know any backstory gossip but it really didn’t feel like his heart was in it.
Still, I put myself on the library waitlist for book six, just published and written by Eoin Colfer. I’ve never read anything of his (hers?) so I don’t know what to expect. I have no idea if Adams had left notes for another book or had even started one before his sudden death. And even though I’m somewhat soured on the stories at the moment, I still love them and am curious to find out just what could possibly happen next.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Man of Steel
Kirk is all about Superman right now. Mr. b got the idea into his head that he’d enjoy the original 1978 Superman. Which he most definitely did. So we’ve been slowly Netflixing them all, and some Justice Leagues thrown in for good measure, just watching Superman III this weekend. Kirk is dead set on being Superman for Halloween and has already scoped out the costumes at Target. But I won’t even consider buying one until it’s at least October. Which means that everyday Kirk has asked, “Is it still September? Is next day October? Then I’m gonna get my Superman costume!” (Complete with fist pump into the air.) Yeah, like I’m running down there on the First to buy it for him.
Mr. b, being the genius/sucker that he is, figured we could buy some time if we got Kirk some Superman pajamas. Obviously Kirk was totally down with that idea. And honestly, he needs new jammies anyways. While we were picking them out last night we also checked the DVD aisle. Because Daddy remembered seeing a special DVD set of all 4 movies for a mere $9.99 and sure enough, we went ahead and bought that, too. Supergirl is coming next from Netflix.
Clearly some Superman had to be watched before bed, while wearing brand new pjs. Kirk wanted to see “baby Superman, his hair is so funny” so the first movie it was. During which time he announced to us that “Jor-El is a really great name for a daddy. When I’m a daddy I’m gonna name my son Jor-El.” I don’t really have a problem with that. I mean, my son is named Kirk.
Mr. b, being the genius/sucker that he is, figured we could buy some time if we got Kirk some Superman pajamas. Obviously Kirk was totally down with that idea. And honestly, he needs new jammies anyways. While we were picking them out last night we also checked the DVD aisle. Because Daddy remembered seeing a special DVD set of all 4 movies for a mere $9.99 and sure enough, we went ahead and bought that, too. Supergirl is coming next from Netflix.
Clearly some Superman had to be watched before bed, while wearing brand new pjs. Kirk wanted to see “baby Superman, his hair is so funny” so the first movie it was. During which time he announced to us that “Jor-El is a really great name for a daddy. When I’m a daddy I’m gonna name my son Jor-El.” I don’t really have a problem with that. I mean, my son is named Kirk.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Geekery
Recently we finally got a dishwasher and we naturally gave the box to Kirk to play in. It comes equipped with two doors and two windows.
Kirk has been referring to it as his spaceship. Mr. b has been calling it a TARDIS. Either way, it’s been fun to watch him play in it. Of course now it’s relegated to the basement but still. Kirk would announce, "Bye! I’m going to space. See you later!" and then disappear into the box. I love his imagination and his fascination with space.
I don’t feel like having us as his parents has in any way forced science fiction upon him. If anything, it’s simply made it more available to him but the tendency has always been there on its own. Kirk quickly focused his attention on Buzz Lightyear, rather than Woody, when first watching Toy Story. We have had nothing to do with his preference for The Incredibles over Ratatouille. Sure, when he was in his Star Wars phase last year we had a selection of lightsabers already on hand for him to play with. But even when he was a baby he was captivated by the planets and robots in the Baby Galileo video. That’s not something you can predict.
I do remember having the same natural predilection when I was little. I loved the Maurice Sendak "Little Bear" stories but my favorite one was where Little Bear went to the moon. I would tape the Wonderful World of Disney Sunday Night TV movies and only keep the ones like Earth Star Voyager. My first hazy memory is of seeing Star Wars at the drive-in with my parents. I didn’t know it was a specific genre that I was drawn to. I never even made the connection until decades later.
There’s the concept of the Stealth Geek that I enjoy. (Though lord knows in our hipster music circles everyone is pretty open about their Doctor Who and Battlestar Galactica and Lord of the Rings obsessions.) I think that Kirk is already showing awareness of a receptive audience. When a friend of the family was over recently and she mentioned Star Trek he started chatting excitedly about the show. He’s got his favorite couple of episodes and showed off how he put action figures in his Little Einsteins rocket to use as the Enterprise. But when he was around his cousins over Thanksgiving he didn’t mention anything of the sort. They talked about Cars and whatever attack-Mr.-b’s-cousin game they were playing. I’m impressed that he’s already that cognizant of the cultural divide. And that he finds common ground with people to discuss something they find interesting, instead of just going off on his own topics. I’ve realized I do that, too. I unconsciously keep a mental catalogue of common interests with rarely seen friends and acquaintances so that I always have an easy conversation starter when I do see them.
It’s intriguing to hear people’s reactions to Kirk’s interests though. Some just shrug it off as inevitable. Others think it’s cool that we don’t have to put up with the usual Barney and whatever garbage. But it’s not like he doesn’t watch any of the standard PBS/Disney Channel/Nickelodeon kid’s shows. He just mixes it up with stuff that we genuinely enjoy as well. And frankly, I don’t see anything wrong with that.
Friday, October 03, 2008
What to Watch
We are a TV family. Oh sure, you can feel superior about not even owning a television set. I don’t care. I think that makes you a freak. I like having the TV on as background noise. I’ve always been that way. I can remember my dad getting on my case when I was a kid, incredulous that I could actually be focusing on my homework while sitting in front on the TV. But frankly, it blocked out the noise and helped me concentrate!
Since I don’t want to have anything on that will be upsetting for Kirk, I’ve settled on “safety channels” that are somewhat different than my previous ones. Sure, he’s got his own shows on PBS or Disney or Nickelodeon but there are only so many of those that I can handle. The Food Network ends up on a lot. I can guarantee there won’t be anything scary or harsh on there. The same can’t be said of other seemingly family friendly cable networks. History? You’ll end up with some massacre or Holocaust show. TLC? Inevitably it’ll be a disgusting surgery show. Discovery? Weapons and warfare. You just can’t win!
It’s not like Kirk actually actively watches TV for hours and hours at a time. Like I said, background noise. Even if he’s picked out something of his own to have on – currently the winner is the Buzz Lightyear of Star Command movie – he often just wanders away. He’ll play toys on the ottoman or jump around on the furniture without actually paying attention to what’s on the screen. Or he’ll be over at the fridge, arranging his magnets. Or he’ll just leave the room entirely and play toys in his bedroom. At which point I’ll attempt to switch over to something I’d rather listen to, like whatever showbiz gossip show is on while I’m making dinner.
When it comes to appointment television there are very few of my shows that I’m fine with Kirk seeing. Sarah Connor Chronicles, Heroes, Lost, 24, they’re all just plain way too violent. And I need to pay full attention to what’s going on! But we’ve come to the conclusion that Doctor Who is usually fine. It’s not gory, the bad guys are obvious, and the Doctor always saves the day. It’s billed as kid’s programming in the UK anyway. Actually, I think most science fiction is fine for him. OK, not Battlestar Galactica. Obviously. But Stargate? Star Trek? Star Wars? No problem. And one of his favorites these days is Futurama.
But I’m also not blind to the fact that just because something is made in the medium of animation means that it’s safe for children to view. That’s a facile American simplification that ignores that the art form has grown beyond its initial use in serials and Saturday morning cartoons. The Simpsons he can watch. Family Guy and South Park? No fucking way. And he knows it. If we don’t turn the channel fast enough he’ll point and announce that, “It’s the naughty show!”
Kirk is very understanding about the fact that there is just some stuff that he can’t watch. We’ll flip the channel whenever a horror movie ad comes on (because the politicians so concerned about having ratings on television programs apparently don’t care what sort of scarring commercials are shown during those family friendly hours) and just tell him that it’s too scary. He’ll find the cases to something we were watching, like Mr. b had Cheech and Chong out the other day, and tell us all about how that movie is too naughty for him to watch but he can see it when he gets bigger. He even asked me a couple of weeks ago if he was big enough for naughty movies. I explained he has to put all of his poops and pees in the potty. I’ll have to come up with a different excuse as soon as he’s got that mastered.
Since I don’t want to have anything on that will be upsetting for Kirk, I’ve settled on “safety channels” that are somewhat different than my previous ones. Sure, he’s got his own shows on PBS or Disney or Nickelodeon but there are only so many of those that I can handle. The Food Network ends up on a lot. I can guarantee there won’t be anything scary or harsh on there. The same can’t be said of other seemingly family friendly cable networks. History? You’ll end up with some massacre or Holocaust show. TLC? Inevitably it’ll be a disgusting surgery show. Discovery? Weapons and warfare. You just can’t win!
It’s not like Kirk actually actively watches TV for hours and hours at a time. Like I said, background noise. Even if he’s picked out something of his own to have on – currently the winner is the Buzz Lightyear of Star Command movie – he often just wanders away. He’ll play toys on the ottoman or jump around on the furniture without actually paying attention to what’s on the screen. Or he’ll be over at the fridge, arranging his magnets. Or he’ll just leave the room entirely and play toys in his bedroom. At which point I’ll attempt to switch over to something I’d rather listen to, like whatever showbiz gossip show is on while I’m making dinner.
When it comes to appointment television there are very few of my shows that I’m fine with Kirk seeing. Sarah Connor Chronicles, Heroes, Lost, 24, they’re all just plain way too violent. And I need to pay full attention to what’s going on! But we’ve come to the conclusion that Doctor Who is usually fine. It’s not gory, the bad guys are obvious, and the Doctor always saves the day. It’s billed as kid’s programming in the UK anyway. Actually, I think most science fiction is fine for him. OK, not Battlestar Galactica. Obviously. But Stargate? Star Trek? Star Wars? No problem. And one of his favorites these days is Futurama.
But I’m also not blind to the fact that just because something is made in the medium of animation means that it’s safe for children to view. That’s a facile American simplification that ignores that the art form has grown beyond its initial use in serials and Saturday morning cartoons. The Simpsons he can watch. Family Guy and South Park? No fucking way. And he knows it. If we don’t turn the channel fast enough he’ll point and announce that, “It’s the naughty show!”
Kirk is very understanding about the fact that there is just some stuff that he can’t watch. We’ll flip the channel whenever a horror movie ad comes on (because the politicians so concerned about having ratings on television programs apparently don’t care what sort of scarring commercials are shown during those family friendly hours) and just tell him that it’s too scary. He’ll find the cases to something we were watching, like Mr. b had Cheech and Chong out the other day, and tell us all about how that movie is too naughty for him to watch but he can see it when he gets bigger. He even asked me a couple of weeks ago if he was big enough for naughty movies. I explained he has to put all of his poops and pees in the potty. I’ll have to come up with a different excuse as soon as he’s got that mastered.
Friday, September 19, 2008
What's in a name?
Kirk has declared it: he is to be called Buzz. As in Buzz Lightyear. From the Toy Story movies. He’s been referring to himself as Buzz and his daddy as Woody for quite some time now but I’ve finally been added to the mix. I am Jessie. We suspected that his daycare buddy was Woody in his father’s absence but K says that the other day he instead declared himself Mermaid Man, the weird Adam West type superhero from Spongebob. Apparently Buzz and Mermaid Man got in a fight over a rocket and Buzz came home with some nice scratches on his cheek.
Kirk is ridiculously excited about his choice of Halloween costume this year: Buzz Lightyear. We haven’t actually purchased it yet because c’mon, it’s still September. But apparently he asked yesterday if he could go to the Red Grocery store just to look at it! I think we’ll have to cave and buy it this weekend. I have no problems with him getting some use out of it before trick-or-treating.
In other news, tomorrow is our 11th anniversary. To celebrate, we are completely overscheduled and will not be able to spend any alone time together. Yay?
Kirk is ridiculously excited about his choice of Halloween costume this year: Buzz Lightyear. We haven’t actually purchased it yet because c’mon, it’s still September. But apparently he asked yesterday if he could go to the Red Grocery store just to look at it! I think we’ll have to cave and buy it this weekend. I have no problems with him getting some use out of it before trick-or-treating.
In other news, tomorrow is our 11th anniversary. To celebrate, we are completely overscheduled and will not be able to spend any alone time together. Yay?
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Army of Darkness
My semi-annual vampire literature fixation kicked off with The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen and Monstrous Regiment, so I decided to just go for it and read another one of Anne Rice’s books: The Vampire Armand. I find myself incredibly torn when it comes to her writing; I like the world she’s created and the way she’s modified existing vampire mythology. But I hate Lestat. Hate him. I find, looking at my last review, that I dislike him more and more every book I read. Armand is a fascinating character, however, and I love Marius so I was excited to get some backstory there. It’s interesting just how much she focuses on Christianity in her writing though. My first thought upon reading this article that superbadfriend sent me is, huh? How can people think that she’s doing something new and different with her Christ books? She’s been completely wrapped up in Biblical interpretation for several books now and Armand was no certainly change to that pattern.
I haven’t seen any of the film adaptations but jill loaned me her copy of I am Legend and I was very excited to read it. It was incredible. And frankly, I don’t know if I can handle seeing the newest movie now! Either they’ll change the ending and I’ll be pissed or else they’ll leave it alone and I’ll bawl. It was so intense and utterly unlike any other vampire tale I’ve ever read before. It felt more like a post-apocalyptic zombie story, or something like The Day of the Triffids. Several of Richard Matheson’s short stories were included in the volume after the Legend novella ended and it was nice getting to see more of his writing style. He’s very dark, almost horror, but not gory. There’s certainly a focus on things and people not being what they seem. He did a bit of experimentation with voices but on the whole they felt very much like self-contained Twilight Zone episodes. Which is a good thing.
I haven’t seen any of the film adaptations but jill loaned me her copy of I am Legend and I was very excited to read it. It was incredible. And frankly, I don’t know if I can handle seeing the newest movie now! Either they’ll change the ending and I’ll be pissed or else they’ll leave it alone and I’ll bawl. It was so intense and utterly unlike any other vampire tale I’ve ever read before. It felt more like a post-apocalyptic zombie story, or something like The Day of the Triffids. Several of Richard Matheson’s short stories were included in the volume after the Legend novella ended and it was nice getting to see more of his writing style. He’s very dark, almost horror, but not gory. There’s certainly a focus on things and people not being what they seem. He did a bit of experimentation with voices but on the whole they felt very much like self-contained Twilight Zone episodes. Which is a good thing.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Too Much Information
Some things you may want to know and one thing you may not want to know.
Kirk has invented a new word. It is "dinty". It means anything that he finds gross, icky, in his way, or otherwise enjoying his experience of whatever it is he's doing. Typically, it refers to food. "Got dinties on it." "It's all dinty." Mr. b ate all the dinties [toppings] off his pizza and then Kirk was fine with the saucy crust. We are starting to use dinty in our normal conversation.
Kirk got to go in a tower in Missouri. I refused to go to Stupid Ass Holiday Amusement Park Whatever with my MIL and my aunt-in-law and the kids so he did. Such a good hunny. I got to hang out with the boys as an honorary member of the patriarchy. It was a very good time and I won money off them when they thought I'd be an easy mark. Heh. Also, my sweet potato cheesecake was awesome.
We are continually amazed by what Kirk knows about that we didn't teach him. He's had a semi-obsession about beanstalks (as in "Jack and the") for a couple of months. Where did that come from? Near as Mr. b can tell it's a common story on the various Disney and PBS shows like Little Einsteins and whatever. The most recent one is whales. Specifically humpback whales. Did they watch something at daycare? No idea. We tried watching Star Trek 4: Spock Likes Whales last night but he didn't really pay any attention. He was more into playing cars.
Kirk has been "teaching" the cat. He explains things that he does to her and shows her toys and gives her a running commentary on what he's doing. Perhaps this is a sign that he needs a sibling. It seems all the cool internet parents are working on seconds. Still not ready for that myself though.
And finally, Mr. b declared that he's no longer "going to let that little fucker get in the way of [his] sex life." This was after we snuck into the bedroom for a quickie while Kirk was watching Depeche Mode videos on YouTube. That was definitely a first. Unfortunately, I couldn't concentrate. Mr. b promised we'll practice whenever I'm wearing a skirt.
Kirk has invented a new word. It is "dinty". It means anything that he finds gross, icky, in his way, or otherwise enjoying his experience of whatever it is he's doing. Typically, it refers to food. "Got dinties on it." "It's all dinty." Mr. b ate all the dinties [toppings] off his pizza and then Kirk was fine with the saucy crust. We are starting to use dinty in our normal conversation.
Kirk got to go in a tower in Missouri. I refused to go to Stupid Ass Holiday Amusement Park Whatever with my MIL and my aunt-in-law and the kids so he did. Such a good hunny. I got to hang out with the boys as an honorary member of the patriarchy. It was a very good time and I won money off them when they thought I'd be an easy mark. Heh. Also, my sweet potato cheesecake was awesome.
We are continually amazed by what Kirk knows about that we didn't teach him. He's had a semi-obsession about beanstalks (as in "Jack and the") for a couple of months. Where did that come from? Near as Mr. b can tell it's a common story on the various Disney and PBS shows like Little Einsteins and whatever. The most recent one is whales. Specifically humpback whales. Did they watch something at daycare? No idea. We tried watching Star Trek 4: Spock Likes Whales last night but he didn't really pay any attention. He was more into playing cars.
Kirk has been "teaching" the cat. He explains things that he does to her and shows her toys and gives her a running commentary on what he's doing. Perhaps this is a sign that he needs a sibling. It seems all the cool internet parents are working on seconds. Still not ready for that myself though.
And finally, Mr. b declared that he's no longer "going to let that little fucker get in the way of [his] sex life." This was after we snuck into the bedroom for a quickie while Kirk was watching Depeche Mode videos on YouTube. That was definitely a first. Unfortunately, I couldn't concentrate. Mr. b promised we'll practice whenever I'm wearing a skirt.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Using the Force
Darth Vader got all burned. Need helmet on, mask on, suit on. Got all burned.
Kirk’s increasing obsession with Star Wars eased the transition to babysitter for us last night. Mr. b’s boss took us out to fancy dinner last night and we shared a babysitter. His kids are older than Kirk (Girl is 11 and probably could have handled them herself – next time) but they got along swimmingly. Boy just pulled out all his Star Wars action figures and plushies and by the time he unearthed the light sabers, Kirk was completely done being shy and hiding in my lap. We didn’t know if we would have to sneak out but he totally didn’t care when we left.
We’ve also been using Star Wars as a morality tale to try to get Kirk to knock off the hitting and naughtiness. Anakin was naughty and didn’t have any more friends when he turned into Darth Vader. Luke shouldn’t hit his Daddy Vader, even if he’s mad at him. I don’t know if it’s helping but it’s a lot of fun. You’ll get all burned and end up in a suit if you don’t hold hands while in the parking lot, if you throw food on the floor, if you hit the kitty, if you push your friends on the playground…
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Love is a Battlefield
Mr. b and I continue to pick our battles. My sister sometimes claims that we're spoiling Kirk but I just don't see it. Why should I care if the boy wants to wear his jammie shirt as his shirt for the day? It's not like it's particularly obvious that it's pajamas. Why should I care if he wants to walk to the car barefoot? It's not cold out. Sometimes it's just easier to buy him the one dollar Spiderman ball rather than fight with him in the store. I'm not getting him a pony or anything! And we do have rules for him; I could never abide having a no-really-I'm-my kid's-best-friend parenting style. I'm sure things'll change as he gets older. For now? I'm sticking with the lazier method.
Random bits: today Kirk asked for milk on his cereal. That was new. He actually ate about two-thirds of the bowl, too!
He counts thusly: 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 12. Every. Single. Time.
Play-Doh is endlessly entertaining. Meaning Kirk demands that we use certain colors in certain molds and then changes his mind in the middle.
Help! is now as popular as Yellow Submarine. "Darth Vader Movie" requests are bumping up in frequency as well.
Actual quote: "No, Dada. Don't ever touch Kirkie's green candy." Swearing can't be far off. Heh.
Random bits: today Kirk asked for milk on his cereal. That was new. He actually ate about two-thirds of the bowl, too!
He counts thusly: 1, 2, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 12. Every. Single. Time.
Play-Doh is endlessly entertaining. Meaning Kirk demands that we use certain colors in certain molds and then changes his mind in the middle.
Help! is now as popular as Yellow Submarine. "Darth Vader Movie" requests are bumping up in frequency as well.
Actual quote: "No, Dada. Don't ever touch Kirkie's green candy." Swearing can't be far off. Heh.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Two Transitions
We took Kirk to see The Simpsons Movie on Sunday. It's the first time he'd been to a movie theater since he was a carseat baby. He really did pretty well but I ended up spending the final 15 or 20 minutes watching from the entrace hall while holding him. If we had come a bit later and avoided the millions of previews and other bullshit at the beginning, maybe it would have timed out better. We did go to a 10:45am showing but that meant it was pretty much naptime when the movie ended. Nevertheless, it was a great experiment. Kirk had fun and now we know that it's possible to see movies as a family, as long as we schedule it right. I think typically people don't take kids to movies until they're a bit older but he knows about the Simpsons and likes them so we figured it would work out.
We seem to be behind the curve on Kirk's sleeping arrangements however. He's still in his crib and we're not making any move to switch him into a toddler bed any time soon. I think all of the other two-year-olds we know have been transitioned already. But Kirk still hasn't ever climbed out! And so many parents have warned us that we need to treasure the crib time while it lasts because after that the random mid-night appearances begin. Though I think that Kirk needs new bed clothes. When I get him up in the morning he has often covered himself with one or more of the random baby blankets that are piled in and amongst the stuffed animals. Does he need proper blankets? He also doesn't have a real pillow; he's been using my old Boppy for probably a year now. I intended to at least get him a normal pillow for his birthday but that got away from me unfulfilled.
The switch to 2% milk Mr. b was on top of right away though. He took Kirk off whole milk several weeks before his birthday. Apparently the kids at daycare make a note of who drinks red milk (whole) and who drinks blue milk (2%)!
We seem to be behind the curve on Kirk's sleeping arrangements however. He's still in his crib and we're not making any move to switch him into a toddler bed any time soon. I think all of the other two-year-olds we know have been transitioned already. But Kirk still hasn't ever climbed out! And so many parents have warned us that we need to treasure the crib time while it lasts because after that the random mid-night appearances begin. Though I think that Kirk needs new bed clothes. When I get him up in the morning he has often covered himself with one or more of the random baby blankets that are piled in and amongst the stuffed animals. Does he need proper blankets? He also doesn't have a real pillow; he's been using my old Boppy for probably a year now. I intended to at least get him a normal pillow for his birthday but that got away from me unfulfilled.
The switch to 2% milk Mr. b was on top of right away though. He took Kirk off whole milk several weeks before his birthday. Apparently the kids at daycare make a note of who drinks red milk (whole) and who drinks blue milk (2%)!
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Sing, Sing a Song
Kirk has always been a very aural baby, really into music and sounds. Lately he's begun singing actual lyrics to the songs he knows. But he doesn't get in all the words, he'll only hit the high points. The cute thing about that is that he pauses, exactly long enough for the missing words to be sung, before he moves on to the next one.
T'inkle ... ... star
... wonder ... are
Up a' ... ...high
... di'mon' ... sky
It's frickin' adorable. His other favorite songs are Sing, Baa Baa Black Sheep, On Top of Spaghetti, and the Alphabet song.
And Yellow Submarine. He's obsessed with Yellow Submarine. He got a Beatles t-shirt from Angelmamma & Fam for his birthday so, since I was home with him the rest of the week, I decided to show him the movie Yellow Submarine. I hadn't actually watched it in years. Wow. Crazy madness. Such a drug trip. Which was the point, of course, but holy cow. I didn't think he'd really pay that much attention since it's so bloody long with lots of bizarre filler between actual plot elements and songs. But he loved it. Loved. He asks to watch it all the time. He knows the names of all the Beatles now (Ringo is his favorite) and has noticed the Beatles poster we have hanging in the garage porch and the "Hard Day's Night" record cover jigsaw puzzle we have framed and hanging in the stairway. It's awesome. We're both so proud.
Of course once his Papa finds out, he'll have to start brainwashing him over to the Rolling Stones. Heh. My dad's always been a Stones guy over the Fab Four. I suppose we can always show Kirk The Rock and Roll Circus DVD we gave him next time we're up at Nana & Papa's house. Lord knows that's plenty psychadelic, too.
T'inkle ... ... star
... wonder ... are
Up a' ... ...high
... di'mon' ... sky
It's frickin' adorable. His other favorite songs are Sing, Baa Baa Black Sheep, On Top of Spaghetti, and the Alphabet song.
And Yellow Submarine. He's obsessed with Yellow Submarine. He got a Beatles t-shirt from Angelmamma & Fam for his birthday so, since I was home with him the rest of the week, I decided to show him the movie Yellow Submarine. I hadn't actually watched it in years. Wow. Crazy madness. Such a drug trip. Which was the point, of course, but holy cow. I didn't think he'd really pay that much attention since it's so bloody long with lots of bizarre filler between actual plot elements and songs. But he loved it. Loved. He asks to watch it all the time. He knows the names of all the Beatles now (Ringo is his favorite) and has noticed the Beatles poster we have hanging in the garage porch and the "Hard Day's Night" record cover jigsaw puzzle we have framed and hanging in the stairway. It's awesome. We're both so proud.
Of course once his Papa finds out, he'll have to start brainwashing him over to the Rolling Stones. Heh. My dad's always been a Stones guy over the Fab Four. I suppose we can always show Kirk The Rock and Roll Circus DVD we gave him next time we're up at Nana & Papa's house. Lord knows that's plenty psychadelic, too.
Friday, May 25, 2007
You Could be a Beau Brummell, Baby
Last week I found myself dressed rather like my college self. Mod plaid hat, head band, Farscape sweatshirt (OK, that would have been an anachronism), punk rawk belt, plaid pants, red sneakers. Me of 10+ years ago would have loved to have that outfit! But it's mildly out of character for the me of today. Now I tend to wear things like wide-legged, cuffed, grey linen trousers/black, satin, capped-sleeve, ruffle-front shirt/grey silk headband or black tulip shirt/three-quarters sleeve light blue button-down shirt/pearl necklace. But since I was at a programming class, I dressed down instead of how I normally look at work. Not that I couldn't wear that to work. Hell, most of the people there dress extremely casually. However, I've been consciously wearing more career appropriate (What Would Jan Wear) and age appropriate clothing since I came back from maternity leave.
But that phrase "age appropriate" sure is loaded! I don't know when it became an insult. Hipsters love to snark on the old guy in the club but they still all wear the current uniform of skinny jeans, wrinkled T, and artfully touseled hair. Khakis are for The Man, man! Don't interfere with my creativity! But just how creative is it to find a funny t-shirt online, buy it, and add it to your collection?
I think my problem is that I am just finally getting to the age I wanted to dress as all along. Even as a kid wearing hand-me-downs from my older cousins I wanted to be sophisticated. I can remember specific purchases from The Limited and Express that I bought in junior high and wore despite their being completely wrong for me. I wanted to wear luxe fabrics with intricate detailing - basically the ideal presented in my brain from too many viewings of The Gay Divorcee. Once I realized that was quite simply unattainable (and yes, my innate laziness was/is most definitely a factor), I kind of over corrected and, as Mr. b so lovingly put it, started dressing like a clown. I wore the most garish colors and prints I could find. I layered anything together with anything else. Pucci prints and Lady Miss Kier catsuits and 60s mod mini-dresses and enormous flower earrings and plastic children's barrettes and tiered peasant skirts and patchwork hats and garlands of plastic beads. I was every fad from every time period, chewed up and puked out. My love of fashion and history combined to overtake my common sense. Sudden weight gain after college did nothing to break me of years of bad dressing habits. I could no longer pull off the 20s Flapper drop-waisted dresses, 90s Raver tiny tops and big pants, or the 60s minis that my old curveless body fit so well. So instead I just hid under piles of boy clothes. Styles and trends don't matter when you're doing fieldwork anyway. I had always sewn for myself (probably another reason for my chaotic satorial choices) but I suddenly stopped because I was no longer my own perfectly sized model.
Since joining the ranks of corporate American, I've come to remember my inital, tailored desires. Part of me wonders if it's because I now have the curves required to fill out the skirt suits of the 30s and 40s. I love the look of what Katherine Gerdes termed the "Target Girls" and totally hope to attain that level of chicness myself. The catch is that if I begin wearing slacks and jackets, the assumption is that I am giving up my "creativity", either due to corporate zombie-ism or because I'm a mom and moms always stop dressing cool. Or else they shop in the Junior's department with their daughter and that's just sad.
But I don't think that being a mom has anything to do with my love of being on trend. I don't think that following the adage of "dressing for the job that you want" proves you can't think for yourself. And I don't think that being stylish means giving up your individuality. I think dressing my age is empowering. As much as Stacy and Clinton have hammered into the heads of legions of women that you need to dress for your size, regardless of what that size is, I find their secondary message of mature style much more gratifying. I was browsing through a thrift shop a few weeks ago and realized that I'm just not interested in those over-the-top vintage items anymore. Give me classic clean lines anyday. Betsey Johnson is fun in theory but I'd rather wear Chanel.
The problem with voicing this opinion is that you come off as bitter. Bitter that you're old and used up. That you're tied down domestically and can't run amok. Bitter that you can't fit into slutty hootchie clothes. And I think that's extremely unfair. I remember an episode of Sex in the City where some woman at a bar was saying that she doesn't need to go out and canoodle with any random guys that cross her path and that she's happy to be settled down into a predictable pattern. The words were nice but her bitchface and her harsh voice implied that it was all a lie.
I had a lovely conversation with a friend several months ago, reminiscing about all the fun times, fun shows, fun parties. We agreed that while it was nice to remember, it's so much better to be in the now.
So the trick is to not get distracted by naysayers and doubters and try to put all this sartorial philosophy into action. Shopping is hard. Off the rack never really fits well and while I hate doing my own tailoring, I'm also too lazy to bring pieces to a proper tailor shop. And I'm cheap. And I've got the cliche mom mindset that I should spend money on everything and everyone but myself. So the first step is to purge my wardrobe of those plaid pants. The legs are too short, the waist is too wide, they're totally 90s (check out early season Rachel on Friends, no butt pockets look good on no one), and completely unflattering.
But that phrase "age appropriate" sure is loaded! I don't know when it became an insult. Hipsters love to snark on the old guy in the club but they still all wear the current uniform of skinny jeans, wrinkled T, and artfully touseled hair. Khakis are for The Man, man! Don't interfere with my creativity! But just how creative is it to find a funny t-shirt online, buy it, and add it to your collection?
I think my problem is that I am just finally getting to the age I wanted to dress as all along. Even as a kid wearing hand-me-downs from my older cousins I wanted to be sophisticated. I can remember specific purchases from The Limited and Express that I bought in junior high and wore despite their being completely wrong for me. I wanted to wear luxe fabrics with intricate detailing - basically the ideal presented in my brain from too many viewings of The Gay Divorcee. Once I realized that was quite simply unattainable (and yes, my innate laziness was/is most definitely a factor), I kind of over corrected and, as Mr. b so lovingly put it, started dressing like a clown. I wore the most garish colors and prints I could find. I layered anything together with anything else. Pucci prints and Lady Miss Kier catsuits and 60s mod mini-dresses and enormous flower earrings and plastic children's barrettes and tiered peasant skirts and patchwork hats and garlands of plastic beads. I was every fad from every time period, chewed up and puked out. My love of fashion and history combined to overtake my common sense. Sudden weight gain after college did nothing to break me of years of bad dressing habits. I could no longer pull off the 20s Flapper drop-waisted dresses, 90s Raver tiny tops and big pants, or the 60s minis that my old curveless body fit so well. So instead I just hid under piles of boy clothes. Styles and trends don't matter when you're doing fieldwork anyway. I had always sewn for myself (probably another reason for my chaotic satorial choices) but I suddenly stopped because I was no longer my own perfectly sized model.
Since joining the ranks of corporate American, I've come to remember my inital, tailored desires. Part of me wonders if it's because I now have the curves required to fill out the skirt suits of the 30s and 40s. I love the look of what Katherine Gerdes termed the "Target Girls" and totally hope to attain that level of chicness myself. The catch is that if I begin wearing slacks and jackets, the assumption is that I am giving up my "creativity", either due to corporate zombie-ism or because I'm a mom and moms always stop dressing cool. Or else they shop in the Junior's department with their daughter and that's just sad.
But I don't think that being a mom has anything to do with my love of being on trend. I don't think that following the adage of "dressing for the job that you want" proves you can't think for yourself. And I don't think that being stylish means giving up your individuality. I think dressing my age is empowering. As much as Stacy and Clinton have hammered into the heads of legions of women that you need to dress for your size, regardless of what that size is, I find their secondary message of mature style much more gratifying. I was browsing through a thrift shop a few weeks ago and realized that I'm just not interested in those over-the-top vintage items anymore. Give me classic clean lines anyday. Betsey Johnson is fun in theory but I'd rather wear Chanel.
The problem with voicing this opinion is that you come off as bitter. Bitter that you're old and used up. That you're tied down domestically and can't run amok. Bitter that you can't fit into slutty hootchie clothes. And I think that's extremely unfair. I remember an episode of Sex in the City where some woman at a bar was saying that she doesn't need to go out and canoodle with any random guys that cross her path and that she's happy to be settled down into a predictable pattern. The words were nice but her bitchface and her harsh voice implied that it was all a lie.
I had a lovely conversation with a friend several months ago, reminiscing about all the fun times, fun shows, fun parties. We agreed that while it was nice to remember, it's so much better to be in the now.
So the trick is to not get distracted by naysayers and doubters and try to put all this sartorial philosophy into action. Shopping is hard. Off the rack never really fits well and while I hate doing my own tailoring, I'm also too lazy to bring pieces to a proper tailor shop. And I'm cheap. And I've got the cliche mom mindset that I should spend money on everything and everyone but myself. So the first step is to purge my wardrobe of those plaid pants. The legs are too short, the waist is too wide, they're totally 90s (check out early season Rachel on Friends, no butt pockets look good on no one), and completely unflattering.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Martian and Floridian True Love
The first John Carter of Mars book that I read was actually the 11th one in the series. Mr. b had bought me a used copy and I greatly enjoyed it. I could tell that despite the self-contained nature of the story, I was definitely missing background info. So I started looking for the rest of the series whenever I was in a used bookstore myself. Gods of Mars is the second book in the series. It totally ended on a major cliffhanger! I don't remember the first one, Princess of Mars, doing that. Carter saved his love, Dejah Thoris, by sacrificing himself. End. Did it come out before Tarzan? Maybe Edgar Rice Burroughs wasn't famous enough yet to leave a new series hanging like that? Regardless, it was perfectly in keeping with the feel of the book. Each chapter really was a Saturday afternoon serial installment. I can totally understand why this type of storytelling had such a following. Even the obvious things that are telegraphed to the reader only serve to ramp up the tension while you're waiting for John Carter to figure it out already! And there were plenty of taboos mentioned (overtly: cannibalism, covertly: sex, rape) though never, ever shown. But the action! It was plentiful and bloody. Hand-to-hand combat! Sword fighting! Aerial battles! Prison breaks! Slave revolts! Awesome. Very exciting and completely compelling. And it makes me want to find out where Harry Knowles' pet production of Princess has gotten. I hope that movie gets it right.
In contrast to that pulp fun was last month's book club book, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. It was slower and much more deliberate but no less amazing. I love well written dialect and she nailed it. The speech patterns really brought the characters and the time and the place and the economic condition alive for me. I had been slightly concerned by one of the blurbs on the back that declared the book the first honest tale of "Black Love." Huh? Isn't love color blind? Hasn't that been a major point in literature since at least Shakespeare? But after reading it I have to wonder if the reviewer simply meant that here, finally, was an honest portrayal of true love between two black protagonists. Whatever the intention, it didn't affect my enjoyment of the moving tale of Janie's life and love and loss. I was in tears by the end. Eve though I think she's too young for the part, I'm really curious to see the recent Halle Berry made-for-TV adaptation of this book. It truly was marvelous and I'm glad that it's getting the post-humous recognition that Hurston didn't receive in her own time.
In contrast to that pulp fun was last month's book club book, Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. It was slower and much more deliberate but no less amazing. I love well written dialect and she nailed it. The speech patterns really brought the characters and the time and the place and the economic condition alive for me. I had been slightly concerned by one of the blurbs on the back that declared the book the first honest tale of "Black Love." Huh? Isn't love color blind? Hasn't that been a major point in literature since at least Shakespeare? But after reading it I have to wonder if the reviewer simply meant that here, finally, was an honest portrayal of true love between two black protagonists. Whatever the intention, it didn't affect my enjoyment of the moving tale of Janie's life and love and loss. I was in tears by the end. Eve though I think she's too young for the part, I'm really curious to see the recent Halle Berry made-for-TV adaptation of this book. It truly was marvelous and I'm glad that it's getting the post-humous recognition that Hurston didn't receive in her own time.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
My Big Boy is Still Little
We're trucking along with the one-year-old changes. Mr. b flipped Kirk's carseat around right away. And we're now doing half whole milk/half formula for his bottles. Kirk's check-up is tomorrow and we'll ask about the dreaded peanuts. Right now his diet is pretty much ABP--Anything But Peanuts. I guess I haven't given him fresh strawberries yet but I'm not worried.
Kirk is starting to sleep in other positions than just flat on his back with his arms up. Which should be great for his flat head! He rolls onto his left side almost everytime now when I lay him in his crib. Last night he was so over-tired that he crawled around all loony with the top of his head on his mattress and finally collapsed in a heap with his face planted in a mound of stuffed animals at the foot of his bed. Adorable!
But there are definitely some things he's still too little for. Like movies. He's too old to just pass out in his car seat in the theater. But too little to pay attention for a whole movie. Besides my birthday, when we had a babysitter, the last movie I saw in the theater was Harry Potter. We've been threatening to go to the drive-in again for quite some time and actually did it on Monday. Double feature with Click (I loved it; I cried and prayed for the reset button and it came and I rejoiced and I really loved it) and Nacho Libre (not as good as I was expecting, considering how much I loved Napoleon Dynamite; I liked it well enough but, I don't know, maybe it'll grow on me). Kirk had fun watching all the kids playing before the show started, and climbing around in the car during the previews. But he couldn't fall asleep in my arms. Mr. b strapped him into his seat and he fell asleep pretty much immediately.
Kirk is starting to sleep in other positions than just flat on his back with his arms up. Which should be great for his flat head! He rolls onto his left side almost everytime now when I lay him in his crib. Last night he was so over-tired that he crawled around all loony with the top of his head on his mattress and finally collapsed in a heap with his face planted in a mound of stuffed animals at the foot of his bed. Adorable!
But there are definitely some things he's still too little for. Like movies. He's too old to just pass out in his car seat in the theater. But too little to pay attention for a whole movie. Besides my birthday, when we had a babysitter, the last movie I saw in the theater was Harry Potter. We've been threatening to go to the drive-in again for quite some time and actually did it on Monday. Double feature with Click (I loved it; I cried and prayed for the reset button and it came and I rejoiced and I really loved it) and Nacho Libre (not as good as I was expecting, considering how much I loved Napoleon Dynamite; I liked it well enough but, I don't know, maybe it'll grow on me). Kirk had fun watching all the kids playing before the show started, and climbing around in the car during the previews. But he couldn't fall asleep in my arms. Mr. b strapped him into his seat and he fell asleep pretty much immediately.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Hipsters and Strippers
Watching the movie DiG! and reading the book Candy Girl both produced extreme feelings of familiarity. The specifics of each were different, of course, as were the causes. But I found it interesting to have intimate knowledge of the subject matter for entirely disparate reasons.
The music documentary DiG! parallels the fortunes of The Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Dandy Warhols during the mid-nineties. Though the movie was released in 2004, I only saw it for the first time a few months ago. It was hard to watch because I knew, felt really, that plot. I have not officially met any of the members of either band, though my husband has opened for them or other permutations involving former members. (And apparently we startled some BRMC guys in the basement of the Entry one night. Long story.) So, while both bands enjoyed more fame and success than local peers, the basic elements of the 90s music scene were the same. And, having lived that scene here in Minneapolis, seeing it before me was startling. I knew the Twin Cities versions of all those character archetypes. I’d counseled friends through Midwest versions of the same interpersonal dramas. I’d witnessed the infighting and backstabbing and adoration and jealousy and assistance and luck that had swirled around all the bands of my friends and acquaintances. Consequently, viewing the movie was just a bit…too close to home.
On the other hand, I do personally know the narrator of Candy Girl, and her husband and step-daughter. But the familiarity I felt in this situation was not due to the subject matter, though I did read the Pussy Ranch when it was still up. Rather, I knew what was happening at the edge of the action described in the pages of her memoir. The apartment building Diablo and Jonny lived in? We lived one floor below. The road trip they took Out West? We cat sat George (R.I.P.) and Larry. The Vegas wedding? We attended. The house they bought? I gave them the name of a loan officer. All the mundane details of everyday life when you live and work near your friends. As well as the feelings of concern I had for Jonny while reading the Ranch during The Year. I didn’t know Diablo well yet, though it was obvious she was a vast improvement on the previous wife. I did know very well what Jonny had gone through getting out of that last marriage—hell, he lived with us for a while afterwards!—and I didn’t want him getting hurt. Now I can see my worries were unfounded, but then I had no idea if she was going to start “making movies” or just how far it would all go. It was very interesting being reminded of those overprotective feelings towards Jonny’s well-being.
I am curious to know how I will react to someday seeing the possible film version of Candy Girl onscreen. Will it be the same ephemeral familiarity, of seeing myself just around the corner, at the edge of my peripheral vision, that I had while reading the book? Or will it be the visceral, gut level, absolute, life style, personal familiarity I had while watching DiG!? I sure hope I get to find out.
The music documentary DiG! parallels the fortunes of The Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Dandy Warhols during the mid-nineties. Though the movie was released in 2004, I only saw it for the first time a few months ago. It was hard to watch because I knew, felt really, that plot. I have not officially met any of the members of either band, though my husband has opened for them or other permutations involving former members. (And apparently we startled some BRMC guys in the basement of the Entry one night. Long story.) So, while both bands enjoyed more fame and success than local peers, the basic elements of the 90s music scene were the same. And, having lived that scene here in Minneapolis, seeing it before me was startling. I knew the Twin Cities versions of all those character archetypes. I’d counseled friends through Midwest versions of the same interpersonal dramas. I’d witnessed the infighting and backstabbing and adoration and jealousy and assistance and luck that had swirled around all the bands of my friends and acquaintances. Consequently, viewing the movie was just a bit…too close to home.
On the other hand, I do personally know the narrator of Candy Girl, and her husband and step-daughter. But the familiarity I felt in this situation was not due to the subject matter, though I did read the Pussy Ranch when it was still up. Rather, I knew what was happening at the edge of the action described in the pages of her memoir. The apartment building Diablo and Jonny lived in? We lived one floor below. The road trip they took Out West? We cat sat George (R.I.P.) and Larry. The Vegas wedding? We attended. The house they bought? I gave them the name of a loan officer. All the mundane details of everyday life when you live and work near your friends. As well as the feelings of concern I had for Jonny while reading the Ranch during The Year. I didn’t know Diablo well yet, though it was obvious she was a vast improvement on the previous wife. I did know very well what Jonny had gone through getting out of that last marriage—hell, he lived with us for a while afterwards!—and I didn’t want him getting hurt. Now I can see my worries were unfounded, but then I had no idea if she was going to start “making movies” or just how far it would all go. It was very interesting being reminded of those overprotective feelings towards Jonny’s well-being.
I am curious to know how I will react to someday seeing the possible film version of Candy Girl onscreen. Will it be the same ephemeral familiarity, of seeing myself just around the corner, at the edge of my peripheral vision, that I had while reading the book? Or will it be the visceral, gut level, absolute, life style, personal familiarity I had while watching DiG!? I sure hope I get to find out.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Working Mom
I attempted working from home yesterday. Since Kirk couldn't be around his cousin until she had been on drugs for 24 hours, I was going to be home with him anyway. I can't actually telecommute because of bogus access rules, but I brought 2 boxes of files home to go through. I didn't even get through one whole box. Granted Kirk was having a cranky day, but still, I don't know if I would have been more productive if he'd been in a better mood. He just requires so much hands on attention still. And besides keeping him entertained, there's pants changes and eating times and shorter naps than when he was an infant. So until he's older and I can put him in front of Hard Day's Night or something for a while, I don't think working from home one day a week will be a good option for me.
I'm going to test out non-standard hours next. I'm thinking four 10-hour days, taking Fridays off. But this might suck because I would have so much less time with Kirk during each day. I don't know if the 3 day weekends with him will be worth it. So another option might be four 9-hour days and a half-day on Friday. When I worked in the field, we did 10 days on, 4 days off. It was great but I think that would be too radical for an office job. Besides, the first and last of those 10 days was always a travel day to get to the dig site. I would probably go batty spending 10 days in a row in a cube farm.
I'm going to test out non-standard hours next. I'm thinking four 10-hour days, taking Fridays off. But this might suck because I would have so much less time with Kirk during each day. I don't know if the 3 day weekends with him will be worth it. So another option might be four 9-hour days and a half-day on Friday. When I worked in the field, we did 10 days on, 4 days off. It was great but I think that would be too radical for an office job. Besides, the first and last of those 10 days was always a travel day to get to the dig site. I would probably go batty spending 10 days in a row in a cube farm.
Friday, June 03, 2005
It just figures that as soon as I try to find a pattern in Child Person's movements he would change it all up. He's been most active in the afternoons and evenings. So naturally he started in on me at 6:00 this morning and has been pounding away off and on all day long. I have no idea how I'm going to get through two more months. (Mr. b always says that like Norm in Fargo.) He was hurting me so much this morning, and I was being vocal about it, that a co-worker actually inquired if I was alright. Diablo and I were discussing it earlier this week. The movement has moved way beyond charming. There is no trace of weirdness left. It is now fully annoying and often painful.
Mr. b says that I didn't have to go to Carousel on Tuesday since I'm pregnant. But apparently the cat is a Sandman in disguise so I still can't try to Run.
Then again, Mr. b also says that I'm now shaped like an ostrich. When he does his impression of me walking it's like one of R. Crumb's African women.
Mr. b says that I didn't have to go to Carousel on Tuesday since I'm pregnant. But apparently the cat is a Sandman in disguise so I still can't try to Run.
Then again, Mr. b also says that I'm now shaped like an ostrich. When he does his impression of me walking it's like one of R. Crumb's African women.
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