N is for NaNoWriMo and National Blog Posting Month

I celebrate every day.

It started on a lark, when, one day whilst teaching my class at the Deaf School, I noticed that it was National Dog Day. I used it as a prompt for the kids.  Getting students of low language to author ANYTHING beyond a sentence is like pulling teeth. Why should they write? They’ve learned sign their whole lives and they don’t know English, nor do they do it. I was constantly looking for that magic item that would open them up. We’d start each class with chatter, to get the language flowing, finding vocabulary and concepts that they may wish to put into their journal before class got underway.

On a sidenote, most of the students would write what we talked about, that language flowing bit. That’s how hard it was. No movement beyond that. No ability to verbally express a concept wholly of their own volition.

This day was a whole lot sadder.

“Okay, so? How many of you have a dog?”

The entire class would raise their hands.

I then picked a student. “What’s your dog’s name?”

“I dunno.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“What do your parents or brothers and sisters call the dog?”

“It doesn’t have a name.”

This was repeated. The parents and family didn’t use sign at home. Made sense. So, to the students, there was this magical animal that would love them but then would waltz away for some reason (someone called the dog). The family never would even take the time to tell their child the name of the dog. The student didn’t even know that the name was usually printed on the collar. I made it a homework assignment...to show them that language is everywhere.

The point of my story, however, is a bit misleading, I’m afraid. National Dog Day, the wonderment of canines, is one of my favorite holidays, obviously, but it brought into focus something totally unexpected.

The fact that we don’t pay attention.

Those kids? They didn’t know something right under their collective noses and never thought to look, sad as it was. No one does. We miss the fact that life? Life happens in those details we step past, without paying attention to. Time passed and I noticed that, on occasion, those old journaling habits floated over to social media. I started announcing the National...this day and the National….that day. And people jumped for joy. I learned that one friend has a corn chip aversion on National Doritos Day or that another friend still had a picture of themselves with a plunger on their head.

I guess they never knew when that would come into play, now, did they?

My point being, and this is very Zen, but we’re missing out. Every day is a gift, yes, just like the saying goes, hence it’s called, “the present.” We go to work, we whine, we come home. We see the cat had puked on the linoleum; not that the cat is still with us and purrs stronger than ever before.

I found that the posting of the holidays does more than just make for wonderful, terrific discussion and disclosure. It also reminds us of things we might have missed. Even myself.

This is a freegin’ long ass intro, but it’s working so I’m going to go with it.

November is National Novel Writing Month;  the NaNoWriMo of the title.  It’s a holiday which you would think more people would celebrate. People are continually astounded that I’m a writer. I think it’s because my grammar is for shit and I have the cursive ability of an experienced physician. This shock usually comes in two stages. First, they immediately ask what I have written. I find this is a bust, especially if it’s here in the south.

They don’t read to begin with. Asking what I’ve written and asking if they can read it usually leads to….

….they have story.

EVERYONE has a story.

And I’m not complaining, not one bit. In fact, it’s cute. We all have stories. We think, naturally, within the confines of a narrative. It’s glorious. Our recall is built like the greatest action flick. Sometimes that story is fiction, sometimes, mostly, it’s nonfiction. A jilted lover, a kick to an exe’s groin.

It’s fascinating.

Here’s the thing, and why I’m writing about this topic.

They should be writing. Seriously. Every single one of them. And these terrific little holidays, like NaNoWriMo and this month’s Blogging from A-to-Z? What a perfect way to get started. These are the same people that run out to the buffet because I reminded them it’s National Buffet Day, or watched a game show on National Game Show Day.

But these terrific tales? Left to the side.

A dear friend of mine is suffering from the long journey in and out of having cancer. Think of the people’s minds she could have eased with just the mere recounting of the horrors she survived, the pain that was lessened in hearing that they were not alone. I love my podcasts, a terrific motivator to walk the corgi-loos through the shadows of late evening. And one such podcast is StoryCorps, from NPR. Today was about baseball.

Fuck baseball, can’t say I know anything about it.

But the stories, THE STORIES! Their conviction, their loves and passions? I was there. They took the time to talk about it in a recording booth.

I cannot help thinking that I’m not doing enough to get these individuals’ stories. For every conversational tale, I feel a bit hurt that I cannot add it to my list to messages to send to the world about us.

I will continue to celebrate these random holidays, especially the writing ones. And, yes, the eating ones, I’m sure. We have a wonderful, terrific planet under our feet-with so much to see and do, the goals lofty and pure.

What will you celebrate? Will you tell us a story too?

Peace.

M is for My Big Fat Wedding 2

A movie review. And it even worked with the alphabet thing I’m trying to do this week.

I did it. I went and saw this movie, finally. I had heard it was bad, even from those blogs that I trust greatly, but, like most movies, there was more than entertainment involved. So I'll start with a question: When two men wed, how, in heck, do you have a bachelor party?

There’s a point in this, so hang on.

Do you have two parties? Do you have one big one with two strippers?

Or, you do what my best man did. You take the Bardbear and the HusOtter to see my Big Fat Greek Wedding. He had seen it two days prior to our wedding at the local flicka and called me immediately. That was what he was treating us to. We had to see this movie, he insisted.

And, as I’ve mentioned here prior. This movie was not interpreted by me as a comedy. It was a horror movie.

That's a joke. 

I detest when I do stereotypically gay things. Moreso because of my lack of confidence than for any injustice on my part. But I’ve also fought for the justice of all minorities to be pictured as more than the stereotype provides. My family? Irish. Jewish. Ethnic.

Every bit the same as the cookie cutter characters smeared on the screen in My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

Hence, a horror movie.

Heck, I probably could have called it a documentary.

And I loved it. Because, at the same exact time the film was unfolding, I was experiencing the same exact thing. My family went BALLISTIC over the concept of my getting married. Like Frankenstein’s Monster, the electricity at hit the central nervous system and the beast was upright and walking completely on it’s own. At first, I resisted, my own need to be in control slowly eroding to a family that was truly enjoying the proceedings. Here’s something they don’t teach you. You can, yes, get married in a courthouse. But a wedding? That’s with and for your family.

Especially when a few thousand years of tradition are brought to bear. Early cultures fought to keep themselves alive and supported, that meant marrying and having kids. That stuck in their craw, that kept them alive and that became the mantra; in their churches, in their culture, in their humor, in their art.

For every person who complains about gay marriage, it goes so far beyond the law. My family had trained me and told me this was the way the family was supported, regardless of gender.

This is getting kinda weighty for a movie review.

I saw that first movie and saw that dear Toula falling in the same pattern I had. My mother loved my wedding, my family did too. I was happy to let them have it. It was glorious.

Of course I would go and watch a sequel.

Was there something necessary in it? Here’s the deal with sequels, you can see it played out in the Marvel universe. There’s an underlying tale that has to be moved forward. Tales that deserve to be continually be told. There’s a reason we flocked to see Empire Strikes Back or the Godfather Part II. Heck, even Toy Story 2 and 3. We loved the character and the universe that they held together for us. However, there’s a reason for the sequel. It should nod to the past but continue with enough novelty to want to keep moving forward.

I bring this up, because, even though I have so much emotional invest in the franchise of My Big Fat Greek Wedding’s stereotypical characters, did I really need a sequel?

Yes, actually, I did. What a great opportunity to show how, even though they are stereotypical, they, too, can keep the Old World in line while looking forward to a rapidly changing culture that stretches before them. It would make sense.

Instead? Nothing. Toula has become what she loathed so much in the first movie, a frump, which we thought she rose above when she accepted herself. It was odd. Worse? She did all the things that her mother did to her, to her own daughter. Okay, I’ll get that, but where’s the family pointing that out?

The central premise of the film, that the war broke out in Greece and they fled before her parents were ACTUALLY married carries the weight of the film. At the same time, we have Toula exiting her frumpiness, again; her own stressors that she gives her daughter about going to college; and a cute little vignette about coming out to your Old World family. Yes, I’m a bit attached to this segment, but it’s given short shrift when it could have been a terrific center to the film.

But we’ve been here. And we’ve done this. And there was no new ground taken.

However, here’s the tic-I liked this sequel. I’m willing to forgive these faults due to the fact that I have so much in line with what was happening on the screen. Going away to college with four hundred people watching? Yeap. Guilt for breathing? In spades. Their gay character’s coming out was too short and quick to be real. But I will say, here, that there’s a reason why most countries in Europe are kinda cool with marriage equality. Because they value family. And because they dealt with homosexuality before the New World. They know gay people exist. They know it’s not that big of a deal.

Even in my family.

Is it a good movie? Not by the beats that I would find a film good. It's unnecessary, not particularly laugh-out-loud funny (more a jovial titter, maybe?), and all the strengths are absent that made the first movie so worthwhile. The stereotypes are thriving, but the protagonist, so learned in the first movie, becomes her mother and does the same things her own mother does...and she doesn't notice the how or why. Timelines jump (a wedding on prom night was too easy...make them on separate nights). I would have loved to have seen Toula holding her new self against the family, but still found that many of the conflicts are true. This is what happened in my own life. I struck out on my own, and was supported, but, surely, Ma was there with the same old comments, "why are leaving? Was it something I said?"

And while there are steps up-including the gay stuff and a cute part where the Greek stereotype meets a Chinese gentleman, an Iranian Man, and Jewish bloke (sounds like the beginning of a joke), and they slowly realize that ethnicity is pretty much the same, regardless of country. High expectations, food, tradition, belief, and family.

All things I love about my ethnic upbringing. Be who you are. But know there's good food to be had and wonderful traditions to be held. 

Peace. 

L is for London and Leaving

I want to travel.

And I want to go to every Disney Park. I know, I know. What kind of travel is that? But, well, hear me out. Every time I went to a Disney park, I’d always see the envorns. Imagine my surprise, when walking to Jack in the Box from the hotel at Disneyland, we had to take a detour.

And there where houses. Normal, suburban houses. And they could probably complain about the fireworks. But the door was open. So I wanted to see the bars the Cast Members went to. Then I found the Gypsy Den coffeehouse, too. I flited up to Hollywood. And, yes, I saw what was safe and open and unique of the area.

I got my Disney fix too.

I also want to visit Disney overseas for the same reason I want to MacDonald’s overseas. If there’s a baseline, I have a point of comparison. When I finally visited Hawai’i, I went into a MickeyD’s there and found that they had several Japanese items-a culture reference and it was a huge eyeopener for me about the population of the state.

I wish to do the same thing with Disney oversea. Now, I speak French, so I know I want to leave and probably start there on my Disney Quest, as it were.

However, believe it or not, there’s a place I want to beforehand. Not because they speak English.

But because it’s England.

Before there was Disney, there were books. Sherlock and Bond; Paddington and Jack the Ripper. Ghost stories from the moors, royalty drag before I knew what drag really was. I fell in love with the entire country.

One word:  Shakespeare. All my concepts of drama and storytelling, character motivation, and plot placement came from that Grand Bard.

London is on my list. Of course, I want to see the countryside, to see the people, and those things that make England, well, England.

A Bloody Tower. Death. Ghost (see previous posts). Horror. We’re talking kings and successions, the stuff that High Drama are made out of.  I’ve been really interested since they found the dead boys, killed by their dear Uncle Richard the Third, the horrid hunchback king, later discovered smashed to pieces under a church parking lot.

Westminister Abbey. Good old Shakespeare’s memorial. Where the Queens and Kings were honored and crowned.

As this post goes up, I've been informed this place has closed...still...in loving memory!

The Texas Embassy. Yes, I want to see how Tex Mex is brought overseas, since I’ve heard of this unique restaurant.

A Jack the Ripper walking tour. Sure, a ghost walking tour is nice enough, but what about Mr. StabbyStabby! I love that I know so much about him, so that when the Churchies bring up how media is corrupting people and causing school shootings, I can happily point out-there was a time, long before media existed.  To walk those deliciously dark avenues.

The British Museum. Okay, let’s be real, here. Britain invaded EVERYWHERE. They killed, maimed, and, well, stole everything, the world over. Then they put it all in here. And refuse to give it back. One stop shopping for world history.

If possible, I’d love to head out to the hills and see some of the lesser known circles, but Stonehenge is always worthy, if a bit touristy. There’s something about these circles that fascinates me. Maybe I was a druid in a past life, but I’ve always wanted to see these circles in the smaller hamlets that no one really knows about, so I can walk out and actually touch and visit with them, without having to look at tawdry t-shirts.

Stratford-Upon-Avon and/or the Rose theater. SHAKESPEARE!!!

The chunnel!

221 B Baker Street, with or without Benedict Cumberbatch. I read ALL of these texts. I’ve loved Sherlock long before I saw the Basil Rathbone takes and fell for Robert Downey Jr.s’s version all over again.

Then? I leave. I hope to ride the choo-choo and do the same damage to Paris. That’s my husOtter’s calling, because….art, art, art. So much freegin art. It’ll be glorious. And to make up for the food I couldn’t eat in the UK.

I am okay with the tea, however. But I like me some French press coffee.

Ummmm. French press coffee.

And, yes, Disneyland Paris. I’m sure it’ll be different and I’m totally kosher with this aspect of the trip. In fact, it’s vital to be different. That’s where the memories will be stored.

K is for Kindle

Since moving to Florida, I’ve gone through three Nooks. The first? The Nook Tablet? I got it because I have a serious blog habit.

Don’t believe me? See the previous post.

I read a crap load of blogs and blogging. It made sense to have something that could read digital copy AND have access to the interwebs.

And I read, alot. It’s weird. And since we were massively downsizing, I had to get rid of some of the best paperbacks I’d ever read. Let’s be real, however. Also, you have to understand I still read, like, seven or eight books....at a time.

I’d not read them forever.

I was moving across America, for goodness’ sakes! I thought about the ease of just a Nook reader or a Kindle. But the Kindle, at the time, didn’t have the access I liked. And I noticed, through my research, that some books were available on Nook in their format; some were over on Amazon. Then? They had specific apps available, but I’m thinking the folks at Barnes and Nobles had a hard time upgrading them. Tech wasn’t their field. So? After so many failures of upgrades and falling behind on some of my blogs, I went ahead and upgraded, giving my brother the old toy. I had a Nook HD and it worked great! But the same problem arose. Barnes and Nobles just went ahead and spoke with the folks over at Samsung and asked to just make a dedicated tablet with Nook readily installed. That’s my toy now. I use it 3 or four times a day. I’m reading my latest book on it.

In fact, was lying in bed and reading it last night when seven different warnings flagged me down. Memory was out.

Da faq?

So? Hours later, I’d moved everything to the card. Still no upgrading of all the apps.

I have a digital paperweight. With terrific access to the interwebs.

I think my time with Nook is dead.

Time to look elsewhere. My problem? I’ve saved SO much to the Nook over the years. Whatever I do, I have to make sure I have a Nook app that allows me access to those texts, if at all. Luckily, I have Comixology, so I have available to me for my comic books; I still have saved most of the good Dungeons and Dragons texts, so there’s that too.

But my magazines! My MAGZ! I’m totally into my weekly magazines of Time and Entertainment Weekly. And there’s my Rolling Stone! All of which are on the Nook.

Decisions have to be made.

A Kindle Fire is basically cheap, in terms of price. And it’s still around, a leader for such things.

But you can’t add the Nook onto the Kindle Fire, it seems. Oh sure, there’s a freegin’ gazillion sites on how to hack it and “backdoor” the Nook app. I’m guessing it’s a competitor so they don’t want you to turn to them.

I shan’t forget the iPad. The glorious iPad. We bought our first one back in 2010, a gift for my husband. Of course, he refused to use it, it was too extravagant, so it gained dust for a quite some time. Eventually, he put some games on it and then they had wifi at this work, so he could watch Netflix. So he started to like it. So much so, he went out and replaced it immediately, with the smaller iPad mini. I’m there as well. And it’s truly tempting. I LIVE with my iPod. I get my news that way, via podcasts. And there’s some music there, but, moreso, I can use my radio apps, thank you Sirius XM, and listen to clear music.

Maybe it’s time to switch.

But that cheap Kindle is tempting. Reviews are strong, but they also own the website where the reviews are going up. I guess I didn’t see if the Sirius XM app is on that as well. Hmmm, that’s something to think about. Wait. The Nook.

And there.

Did you see that?

This is a glorious argument in my noggin. I’m actually debating the importance of HOW TO READ BETTER. This says volumes. This should illustrate the importance of reading and writing in my wee existence, right there.

And my beloved connection to technology.

J is for Jealousy and Judgmental

I live in blogger central, it seems like.

Seriously. Every time Disney does so much as a mouse-fart, I know, surely, about 20 folks racing to the parks, midday on a Wednesday, in the rain, going to report about it. They take pictures that are horrid. They write sentences that vaguely resemble English.

And Disney lets them in for free.

THey dance, they sing, they say praises.

One blog, I do actually write for. And the patrons on there repeat the same question, same issues. None of them reading the folks that have gone before and rejecting any wisdom that is spread before them if it doesn’t fit their mode or concept.

How hard is it to do a search? On facebook posts? On a given website?

And all those who are unemployed or are unhappy seem to answer.

So, yes, you’ve reached the topic of the day. Me being judgmental.

It’s just not fair. I’ve studied literature my whole entire existence. One of the first things I downloaded on my iPad was all the free Shakespeare stuff. To read, aloud, for fun.

So, no, I’m not smarter, I’m a complete dork for doing it, but I’m using it to paint that picture. I love writing. I read books about writing. I read books. I read stuff about reading. Even here? I reread and reread everything before posting it.

I love it.

When I first moved here, desperate to meet people of my ilk, I stumbled across the blogging community that floats around Disney, like some kind of bottom feeder, and, for a while there, I saw a connection. But the connection wasn’t with the writing. It was Disney. The entertainment. They were starting blogs to get the free stuff. They were quitting jobs, since they didn’t have to pay for tickets for things.

It hurt my heart.

A lot.

In a way, I was jealous. I send postcards with vigor. I look at my writing as something very important to me, and there they were, those bloggers, forgoing things like adjectives and humanitarian use of grammar.

Not all were bad. I found the ones that had lives beyond the berm tended to post less and about things that meant more to them.

And some? They asked me to write for them. I was looking up to them, the complement obvious, thinking, no, there was no pay, but there was the prestige, the honor…

...and yes, the occasional promotional items. Imagine my jealous as Disney would bring talent for their latest movie and these bloggers would score a press junket to ask a few questions.

I would be in my glory. Me? Asking Jason Bateman about his failed sitcom in the 90s, Kiss Me Quido. Or lobbying questions to Idris about how the attention paid to him is so different from the UK to the USA.

Nope. They asked if they liked Florida.

Did they even LOOK at the press junket?

You’d think I’d turn my head and look to the local papers to find the real scoop.

Who am I kidding? Everyone here likes Fox News. Talk about angry fluff.

Yes. I’m jealous. They’re taking something I’ve built my freetime around and treating it as a means to an end. I would KILL to be paid as a full time writer (let’s be real here, that’s like being a full time artist. And I like to eat!).

In fact, to prove my point, I just bumped over to one of the first blogs I wrote for. I waded through all his advertisers to see his latest reviews. No. I’m not going to name-names, but here’s a review of the horrific ‘Holy Land Experience. I saw sentences like, “My favorite part of the Holy Land Experience was the Church of All Nations. The Church of All Nations is one of the most beautiful theaters I have ever seen and is where TBN broadcasts from when they do their tv productions and concerts. In the theater are the live shows where you can witness the grace and mercy of God in biblical settings in front of your face!”  

No elaboration. Not one color was mentioned. No review of the political stance, and how the ‘attraction’ brings in money to use for private jets, some of the highest paid ministries in the world, and much of the ‘non-profit’ is utilized to pay lobbyists to make sure their wealth is maintained.

Heck, okay, too poltical? Then go a different route-as if you’re reporting for those who might be interested in going to see such a show. Like, WHY is the theater beautiful? Colors? How long was the show? How often is it shown? How did you feel? Was it crowded?

Instead, this paragraph.

I don’t know about you, I have no urge to go. And if I were the Holy Land, I’d probably be a bit insulted with being treated with all the reviewing prowess of a cold fish taco.

But he gets paid to be a utz. Me? Not so much...

So, yeah, I’m being back to being judgmental. Frankly, I feel I have that right. I know for a fact, that when I hang my art on the door of the refrigerator, I’m asking for someone to make a comment. Not a good comment, not a bad comment. And there is a good in what Disney and the theme parks are doing. They’re giving themselves free advertising AND giving their new shows a dry run with a full audience.  Also? For my complaints? I’m sure there’s a few gazillion good authors. I have a few friends who do Escape Rooms (like, seriously, like they need an intervention) and, if it weren’t for the quality of their comments on such a thing, I wouldn’t have tried it on out. Their joy and quality of authorship made me want to try this wonderful experience out. Just good writing that comes from….

….their hearts. And that is evident in the writing. My jealousy and attitude stems from that. LOVE what you do, but share that love. Like Cory Booker said, “Don’t tell me you’re a Christian, SHOW me in your deeds.” That’s so true. In everything. Like, sure, another blogger friend of mine is into nature photography.

I hate the great outdoors.

And it’s in Colorado.

I hate Colorado.

But her love shines through her blog. I smile larger knowing that it’s that wonderment in there.

I started my professional writing career as a critic for a magazine. One of the major complaints?

“WHY DO YOU HATE THE MOVIES?”

No. I don’t hate movies. I love movies. I lust after movies. I learn, live, and breath the movies. And because of that, because I watch one a night, I have the right to look at the art and say what I feel. If they didn’t want my input, they shouldn’t have put it in a theater for the world to see. But, now there’s the tic, I take my INPUT seriously. I could have smashed up some people’s egos if they actually read what I wrote. Just like here.

So, yes, I’m jealous. And it’s causing me to be judgmental. I just want these bloggers to know they’re abusing an art and it’s causing me harm. It should cause them harm. And it makes me mad.

I don't doubt the love these bloggers have the Disney brand. But, it doesn't shine when you don't take the time to spit and polish that love. If you don't show the care, you make it look like you're just in it for yourself.

Rant over. Coffee?