Journals: Do you believe in aliens?

Humph.

I've always been iffy about this topic. I can believe in ghosts, heck I investigate them, write and read about them and sometimes think I see them.

But UFOs?

I guess there is a difference between the two topics, and I need to recognize that. I was addicted to X-Files, too, but that doesn't mean I think they are real.

I'll tell you what I believe. Other then God, peace and enlightenment.

There are aliens.

But I don't believe that they fly a gazillion miles to flit about in machines and stare at us like some kind scientific experiment. If they have the smarts to make such a machine that can bring them here, they can have the common decency to stop by and say hello. Or do something other then probing our heinies. I just think that something that smart can be so dumb.

But then again, Republicans still exist in this society, so I probably should rethink that. A smart society and those yahoos still exist.

I know, for show there has to be life somewhere out there. Can't not be. To think that we are alone is pure avarice.

But I wonder about their visiting us at all. I just can't work that part out for some reason. Area 51 is a great idea, really, for scifi stories and whatnot, but I doubt it's anything other then really cool spy planes. The inventions of overactive minds.

That's my story for now.

Here's the good part. I'm pretty opinionated, that's for sure. But I am more then willing to change on this one. I can adapt. If someone's got evidence, I'm sure to flip to the other side.

In other words, I want to believe.

Journal: Three Musicians

If I could meet and talk to any three musicians, I have to say my main concern would be not who they were or what we would talk about, but more along the lines of what to serve them. My mother has taught me the art of entertaining, and yes, there is some personal reward watching people be full on food I serve and whatnot. Screw Martha Stewart, I have my own style. But the request today is who would I invite and what would be the three questions. I'm guessing this can be very telling, psychoanalytically.

First, I'd go with historical. I listen to classical music nearly constantly on a radio I just leave on in the living room. It adds a certain peace to the atmosphere. It also helps where I teach. And since there as been a movie and whatnot based on him, I believe we already have a powerful interest in W.A. Mozart. His music, I've noticed, I've been able to identify by ear and that says something. My three questions for him would be more along the lines of self-application. I don't play an instrument, but I do have much vocal training from when I was kid. But I think I'd ask, "tell me of the times in which you lived." Secondly, I'd query," from where is your inspiration borne?" and lastly, I'd ask, " to what did you hope from your legacy?" I think all of these items would make for delicious conversations.

Music has always had a profound impact on my life. Like a soundtrack to our existence, when I hear a certain tune, I'm transported. I'm thinking of the 80's weekends a local radio station sometimes plays. I remember this lyric and that. When I first saw a given video. So it's very important, if not in the forefront already.

Besides, I was born a Pieces. And they are known for their love of the arts--especially music. Their open ways make them adept at creativity. So music, I like to think, is hardwired into my systems.

The second musicians I would invite would probably, again, be of historical signifcance. I'd invite the whole pool of the Beatles. My old babysitter would like that I said that. In fact, if it weren't for her, I would probably never have discovered this group. When I was a mere child, she would play their songs over and over, over and over and over again.I never noticed their impact until, one night, at the gym, their music played over the speaker system and started singing along. I knew all of the words but couldn't tell you the name of the song. And the questions I would pose for these guys would be the same as Mozart's.

The last musicians I'm kinda hung up on. I want to say John Williams, the Gershwins or Cole Porter. Their music was destined to go with another art form. They created music for theatre and/or the movies and that meant the tunes took another role. The questions would be the same as the Beatles and Mozart, but instead of asking about the time period, I would replace the question about their life styles. Especially Mr. Williams and Mr. Porter. I would ask it because I believe it had a profound impact on their ability to present their creations and would like to know to what extent. I think, since this is my journal, I'm going to just leave that last little bit up in the air. You tell me what you think.

Journal: A person who doesn't like me

I didn't like today's topic, so I rolled back the calender and picked another.

It should be easy. The request is to write about myself from the perspective of someone who doesn't like me. Who likes themselves? Surely, the guy with the white beater at the gym last night likes himself. But underneath, I'm sure he's got the issues. Probably hates to cook and stares at porno all day and feels dirty about it.

I'll switch to third person.

He's weird. Plain and simple. He has this strange facination with Disney. But it's broader than that. He's like a big kid. And with that he carries a huge imagination with him. Because of that, he's a daydreamer. He keeps imagining worlds and places that aren't fit for the situation at hand.

He also tends to do the masculine thing and turn all conversations into something about himself. When a coworker complains about a student, he'll immediately list what he's done and not, regardless of the discussion. It's not about him!

He's so damn out! Not everyone wants to know about him being gay. I suppose it's the only way he sees the world, but there are other things going on. It's pitiful.

Crybaby too. Feel too damn much.

Obsessive? Does that work? Like the Disney thing. Or his husband. He's only got, like, five topics and the world revolves around it. He apppears pretty openminded to new things, but you have to wonder. With only five topics to work with, how can he be?

Creepily involved in spirituality and mortality. Always reading religious texts and wondering about the great beyond. And when he does read and talk about it, it's always depressive or scary. Not a single moment of in-between.

Tends to dote on his partner, which is also one of his five topics. The weirdness here is he doesn't like to be touched or be physically close to anyone. So what kind of relationship do they have?

He's fat, plain and simple. But he works out constantly. He doesn't see that it isn't working--the exercise regiment. He goes anyway. What kind of person doesn't just look down and see they are losing the battle?


There, a perspective of not liking me. The weird thing is, I thought that would be easy, and it wasn't. Perhaps, after a few years, I've learned to love what I've got and not hope beyond it? Maybe so. Good thing, too.

Journal: The Sun

I have a love/hate relationship with the sun, I really do. I still can't freegin make up my mind about it. I love to sunbathe, I really do. I know it's risking cancer. I believe it's part of my own poor body image. I joking like to say that 'tan fat is better than white fat,' as if this some how justifies risking skin cancer, but I believe it's more potent then that. I've noticed over the years a huge jump in body modifications. Piercings and tattoos galore. And forgive me for this gross generalization, but I can't help thinking that the world at large hates their bodies and that's why we see so many tatts out there. It's not a question of if a body is too fat or too thin. It's people hate their physical forms of themselves and tatts, piercing and tans are ways of controlling the uncontrolable. Outside of genetics, we are all suffering.

And I like to tan, I really do. Maybe this is the reason? Yes I have tattoos and piercings as well. And yes, I've seen them on the beautiful people too, totally blowing my theory out of the water. But doesn't even the most beautiful male, blessed with a six pack abs wish that they were an 8-pack?

It's a vicious cycle.

But that is not the purpose of this writing. I'm supposed to be writing about the sun.

My partner and I haven't been feeling well at all this week. The weather has been crappy for some time now--and he blamed the weather last night.

I think he might be right.

For as much as I sunbathe, I hide from the great outdoors. I'm not outdoorsy, never really have been. I do like camping in tents. See what I mean about love/hate? But it goes to show you the profound impact this nearest star has on our lives. If it's gone, you notice. I do love the beach, but hate the heat. I love to travel to Florida and the like, but can only handle it so much.

I'm torn in my love for the sun. Kinda like eating healthy, right? You have to like it and respect it, but it never really tastes as good as an eclair.

There's no denying the sun gives us life.

But I live for the night life. I'm a night person. Recently, as I try to diagnose some sleeping problems--my therapist recommended my staying up later then usual so I sleep more through the night.

Not a problem. I can stay up all night.

So the sun plays with us some more. For me? It defines my personality. Like a vampire, I guess.

A vampire with decent color.

Movie Review: Star Wars, Episode Whatever, Revenge of the Sith

I really wanted to like this movie, I really did. I felt my heart leap when I was standing on line on the cold Memorial Day morning--it felt so much like lining up for Disneyland before the sun rose. I found myself talking fast and watching the teen behind the counter at the ticket booth's every move. 'Did she fill her drawer?' and 'Is she opening the window?' Zipped in and out of my head. Such attention is unbefitting someone who meditates daily. I was ready for some light sabre action!

I tell you this, fair reader, so you know that you won't post hate notes here on my blog.

But I gotta say something.

As fear racks my body, I have to say I didn't really like this movie.

Yes, I'm hesistant to give a full "I HATED THIS CRAP" for there are redeeming qualities. But I don't want to waste your time. There are those people who it wouldn't matter what the critics said, they are going to like this movie. This movie was made for them. Of course, they already knew what happened in this movie, probably been chatting it up since the invention of the blogosphere, but it doesn't matter.

But I'm hurt by what Lucas has done on the big screen. When he launched himself from college, he created movies like a true autuer. He made American Graffiti. He relished his independence. His heart for creativity was right up there on the screen--he didn't care if he made money on it or not. A true indie, as they were starting up, he made the movies he wanted to see, audiences be damned.

That was then.

But Lucas changed, like Mr. Hyde. The movies' sequels became more and more popular. He earned enough to buy a small nation. Forays didn't come easily to him. One, the Indiana Jones titles, did very well (and IMHO, were better throwbacks to old Hollywood), but he had Spielberg on his side. When he took the titles over himself--like the television series--it tanked.

Spielberg, a classmate of Lucas, grew up and matured in his filmmaking. He became more and more auteur. Sure, he too had the blockbusters, but you can see, especially after Schlinder's List, he created exceptional pieces not created for the masses. Look at Catch Me If You Can and the Terminal.

But what happened to Lucas? You can see it in this movie. Nothing. Why go back to the first three titles? To explore more fully the story line? For closure? I doubt it. It's becasue the fans were banging at his door and maybe he had some kids to put through college.

There was no heart in this movie. It's all technical.

The movie fails on several counts. The writing is not unlike politics, where there's interesting stuff going on, but nothing's actually being spoken. Each actor speaks in a monotone except for Anakin Skywalker--he's yelling in monotone. Humor is absent. The storyline was established in 1977 and hasn't changed. I learned that Tom Stoppard was called in to help with the writing. I don't think he was let in enough. I think I'd heard every single line prior in another Star Wars movie. Could become a drinking game, when the DVD comes out. Stoppard's presense can be felt having an effect on the plot. A small opening gambit is delightful and a strong opener. But as soon as the normal storyline takes effect, nothing more happens. Damn! I guess being an author myself, this hits me on a level few can relate to.

But again, it doesn't matter what I say, the fans will love it, regardless.

The writing, however has a profound impact on the title, unfortunately. It goes on and on, but never really goes any place new or exciting. For exampel, Padme (stuck the entire movie looking pretty and staring off into space...another fault of Lucas...he has yet to write stronger women other then to make them Senators or Princesses) goes to her love, Anakin, and they talk about the baby. And then she yells, "you've changed."

Huh?

My thought? No. He hasn't. He's been a prick for the last two movies. You just noticed? Was it your being preggers? The storyline didn't have him changed outside of his clothing! Oh wait, those were the same too!

And this is just a detail. The rest of the movie was like that.

I almost want to see it again, just to make sure I didn't like it. It just doesn't seem right.

There are some very good things happening too. I mentioned it earlier. LIke the visuals. My gosh. If ever there was a defintion of state-of-the-art, this is it. Frankly, maybe the reason I didn't get into the picture was because I was drawn beyond their faces to the images floating around them. I wanted to see the flying cars, the Wookie ships, not the talking heads. So maybe I missed some. Maybe if it were written better, it would have held my interest on the human level.

Another strong point is something the average critic wouldn't have noticed but is something I love. There are some cool ass martial arts going on here. Grant you, they are poorly filmed (remember the special effects? They took presidence over watching some serious fights); they zoom in and out so we can't see clearly what is going on. But what we do see, yo baby! I've seen a buttload of Hong Kong movies. It's obvious he grabbed someone from there to create these numbers. That I did like.

And I like the CG characters. Why couldn't Anakin become Grevious, instead of Darth? He was, by far, more interesting. And Yoda? He was magnetic, for he had some major decisions to come across. But I don't think this was the point of Lucas, was it? For me to admire the villians and green dude?

If I were to give this pile of ins-n-outs a grade, it would be a C. You have the good and the bad. If Lucas was a new filmmaker, it might be higher. But he should have known better. And now you do to.

Journal: Wrapping Paper

*) Important safety tip. I journal everyday in a standard, spiral bound notebook. I've been doing it for years, even when I travel. But I think this summer, I'll try something different. I think I'm going to keep a majority of it here, online. I have a little book of ideas to journal about. I'm going to use it as a warmup to writing other items, some I'll publish here (like critiques) and some I'll keep to myself. You've been warned.

I have to admit, I can't wrap gifts. I can't. I've got two degrees, enough credits for a probable third and yet...I can't wrap gifts. And it's not for lack of trying. I've been taught by the best of them. Mrs. Material, aka MotherUnitPrime, buys gifts beyond the need to. She'll give gifts to people I didn't even know I was related too. Heck, I think she once boasted that she gave out 42 gifts one holiday. Of course, I only got one out of the deal--I'm only her second born. And like Prince Harry, I would have to create a ruckus if I wanted more.

But I digress.

I can't wrap gifts. You know those freegin girlie gift bags? The world felt my pain and invented those buggers for me. If I wrap it, it's duct tape city, baby. My partner? He can wrap a gift so well, you don't want to open it. YOu want to set it aside and invite people over to stare at it. YOu take photos. You call relatives and find a use for the camera on the cell phone. You forget why you were giving gifts.

In other words, the pressure is on. So I give better gifts. It lessens the pain. And I have my partner wrap the stuff.

It's not the only thing that causes undue stress in my life, but it's a quirk that I have to mention here on SquirrelVision. I also can't pack the bags at the end of the conveyer belt at the super market.

Seriously.

I would tip the kid if I got paid more, no matter how bad his acne is. But when I arrive at the lane on Thursday nights, I breathe a sigh of relief that I have my hubbie with me. He used to do it when he was younger. But in those days of singledom? I either had to walk through the mall to have the cheerleaders at their little booth wrap, like 20 items for Christmas; and if I shopped at Cub Foods, I would invent diseases of the fingers and palms (I got it caught in the car door) to have them bag for me.

Only once did I bag with aplomb. When "Ace" the star basketball player from high school was my cashier at a Cub Foods in Denver. I had such a crush on him. He had a free ride to any college of his choice and if he took off his shirt, any guy or girl. But seeing him as a cashier helped my bruised ego. I smirked, and watched him turn back to the next schmo in line. And I started packing my paper bag, letting my mind wander that I might have risen above my torrid high school years.

So there you have it folks. My torture, my pain, right out there where all can see.

I can't wrap or pack. Go figure.

Top Ten DISNEY movies

10. FREAKY FRIDAY (both titles) I can't understand my animosity towards comedies. We went to see "Meet the Fockers" yesterday and yes, I did laugh, but it was outshined by the amount of squirming I did at watching Barbra Streisand as a sex therapist. Same goes for many of the comedies I watch. Their humor is borne out of a protagonist that is put in absurd, difficult situations and we laugh due to our own misplacements.
Which brings me to this picture. But the message of understanding is so emphasized, I didn't cringe. I mean, the end of the movie is positive--but it comes about in a direct route, not some weird circumference designed to make you weep or have a positive American ending.

9. SPIRITED AWAY--And talk about your American ending. This is, like, the anti-Disney movie. The characters are far from cute, but the heart, the emotion underneath carries the tale in a new direction. It was new to me and I wanted to see more 'manga,' afterwards. It captured a culture that Americans have never known (and would gleefully love to supress) about life in the Shiinto realms. I was totally engaged.

8. SWORD AND THE STONE-I had an opportunity to meet Bill Peet, when his college buddy, Mrs. Prokop, my second grade teacher, invited him to speak. Little did I know the power of such a moment, until, when forced to take "Kiddie Lit" in my own college courses, I was required to visit his texts. They were amazing pieces of art and the written word, right up there with Silverstein and The Pokie Puppy. It was only a matter of time before Disney grabbed him by the throat. But before you could say, "the book was better," the artwork was maintained as Walt merged the items into a seamless whole. I remember treating myself to watching it on Sundays when I had to clean the entire video store. It’s memories will be tied to second grade and vacuuming.

7. MONSTERS, INC.-- I knew that I wanted to have something from the wunderkinder Pixar on here, and I am still tempted to say "the Incredibles." I read a review of this movie and it said it best when it mentioned, 'how about a kid's movie that is so mature, you send your kids to get popcorn so you don't miss anything?' That described the beautful creations of Pixar. Incredibles was mature and still action packed--it was totally unexpected up until the end. But I just could not see myself reflected in it's eyes. I'm the scary movie lovin' dark comedy spewing kinda person. I'm seen in Monsters, Inc.

6. THE RESCUERS--My mom remembers me telling her how this was my favorite movie upon leaving the movie theatre. You have to give Disney credit. How many adults, way back when, were willing to see movies with their kids? I still am shocked when I saw Jurassic Park 2 with a row of school age youngsters watching it utterly alone…and not being scared. Yep, those halcyon days of family are surely gone. But not because of Disney, mind you. But that is another article. Here? My mother and I saw the movie together. I was mesmerized. She was as well. And that bonding was important. When we saw the book, I remember her asking if I wanted to read it. When Part two came out, we thought back. It was a very personable experience I’ll always remember.

5. PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN-I know, I know. I don’t ever rate this at my best ride when I go to Florida or California, but I do actually ride it, no? My favorite is the Haunted Mansion, but the movie for that pretty much sucked. With this movie, the loopholes are large enough for a galleon to sail through, but the details are so succinct, you could see the screenwriter riding the boats at Disneyland again and again just find how much to tie together. And it has. It was a summer movie through and through, with a performance by Johnny Depp that was worth the nomination it earned.

4. WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT?--Okay, here ya go. The legend. This is the only film that makes it to both of my top ten all time lists this year. I loved this movie from the start, when it debuted at the top of my list. I saw it the day it came out, bought tickets early, knowing the buzz was right up my alley. For me, it was perfect. It was a forties gumshoe (I love mysteries), film noir (ditto), had animation (hello? Why are we here?). I was so there. I still get taken away when I watch it.

3. HUNCHBACK of NOTRE DAME-This movie, like Mulan, hit me at a point in my life that it hard for me to review. Not hard, as in "I was having a swinging good time and don’t remember," but in the other direction…I remembered too much. I had just gone through leaving my assholic partner for several years and wasn’t sure where I wanted to go, I just knew I couldn’t stay where I was. I was single, more or less, for the first time in my life. I was single before I met my ex, but I was scared, fat and afraid, so I jumped on the first gravy train heading my way--him. But after him? When I realized I could do more, BE more, I left. I remembered how hard it was to get him to see a movie or get out away from his precious cannabis. And how he was begging me to come back and be with him. Yet he couldn’t see this movie unless he had four of his friends with him. So I went alone. In it, a hideous man learns he can be out in the world, alone, just as I was doing. It struck chord at the right time. The music was surely theatrical; the image was pitch perfect. And talking gargoyles? Oh how creepy, and very Joe. I was on the right course. I had found sanctuary in Disney.

2. TARZAN--I had always joked about the day some guy takes me to a Disney park and wants to be there with me is the guy I would surely marry. Well, one day that happened. Someone read my most subtlest of hints (Christmas gifts of Disney books, posters of maps on the walls, stuffed animals as surprises) and took me there without my prompting. And I married him. So it seemed only natural that the first Disney movie we saw together would become our theme song and set the tone for the relationship from there on out. A romance movie, Tarzan was also considered by many critics to be the best Disney movie ever made. It used all of the pieces of the repitoire at Disney’s disposal and didn’t go into gaga mode or cutest marketing for kids. What ended up was a family action movie that kept the soul of the book while going in its own creative direction.

1. MULAN--My husband is going to kill me for this, but I can’t help it. I like to think that we had Tarzan together, but in order to get to that place, that space in my life where I could accept someone else, well, there had to be this movie. A movie about being yourself and helping yourself. A movie with a dragon in it. It was quintessential modern Diz, with a musical action (you don’t see any successful live action pulling that stunt, do you?) overload, feminism abounding and gay subtext. This is what I go to see Disney for.