UP and down. A movie contemplation!

Last night, I saw the new Pixar movie, UP! and I have to say that it was an interesting movie.  I don't know that it makes my Pixar top 5 (which are, in no order, Finding Nemo, Ratatouille, Toy Story, Wall-E, and Monsters Inc.) but it was a solidly interesting film.  In it, the main character, the grumpy old man Carl is mourning his deceased wife, who always wanted to live a life of adventure.  Yet, Carl feels that she died prematurely, before she was able to realize her dream of going to "Paradise Falls" in South America.  He feels that he needs to find Paradise Falls so that he can realize their shared dream, and complete her work.  Carl's quite unsavory for the first half of the movie, and snaps at Russell (the token pseudo boy scout) who miraculously ends up on his porch once he's lifted off with his balloons.  Aside from all the adventuring and 3-d graphics, there are some bigger issues that underpinned this film.

1) Carl is so caught up mourning Ellie (his wife) that he can't live in the moment, and he can't really communicate with other people effectively.  He is unable to accept her absence, and almost blames everyone else in the world for her death.  That's pretty heavy stuff for a children's film, and I honestly think it's very relevant.

2) Carl has regrets for Ellie's life, and constantly feels that they didn't live their life together to the fullest potential.  At a point in the film, he opens her childhood journal, where she had outlined the adventure to Paradise Falls, and "the stuff I'm going to do there."  He assumes that she never got to fill in the "stuff" part, since she never went there, but then discovers that she filled it with pictures of their life together.  She led her life with no regrets, and that her biggest adventure was really with Carl.  It didn't really matter that they didn't go to Paradise Falls- it was more that she had loads of smaller adventures with Carl.  When he realizes this, he's able to move on, and stop mourning her as much.  She writes in the book "Thanks for the adventure...Now go and find a new one!" 

3) When Carl and Russell finally get to Paradise Falls, they come upon a rare bird (that looks like a dinosaur) that an old explorer on the island is trying to capture.  Even though Carl idolized this explorer as a child, he realizes that this man will do anything to capture this bird, and isn't able to realize the importance of the bird's life or family.  Much like Wall-e, Pixar is able to subtly suggest an environmentalist agenda, i.e. being kind and helpful to all animals.  While Carl initially regrets that idea, Russell (the boy) is on a mission to help all animals, which reminds us to be caring and respectful to the wilderness and the animals there and here, in our own backyards.  

Overall, the film still has some odd plot holes.  (Like how come the dogs can talk?  How did Carl get all those balloons?  Why didn't he bring more on the journey?  How did they get to South America?  How come the adventurer guy is like 25 years older than Carl, and then they look the same age when they meet?)  But the messages of the film are still quite nice, as they usually are with Pixar films.

Currently listening to: the new Andrew Bird album.  Finally.

Selfish Exposure of Joy

I had a wonderful day today.  I was able to practice for (count 'em) 3 whole hours!  Boo-yah!  No pain!  Since my return to the ROC, I've been having some discomfort in my paw, probably because I took those 4 days off, and apparently illness invited itself back in.  But all is well today!

I went on a delightful walk with Futaba, ate at Orange Glory, bought some dried lavender (for lavender shortbread with lemon glaze and lavender tea), went to the South Wedge Farmer's Market (where I flirted with the chap selling me leafy greens.  He said I should really reconsider my hatred of cucumbers.  Suggestive mayhaps?), then got some delicious quiche at the farmer's market, and taught, and then got some sweet CD's at the gates library, where i saw some LIVE deer (which is a rarity here).  Oh, and I discovered the joy of NPR: All Songs Considered.  I listened to Thom Yorke's DJ bit, and I almost cried because I love Thom Yorke with an irrational inexplicable passion.  And my heart clapped listening to an old recording of Colin Meloy Live from 3 years ago.  So yes, I am a dork.  But I will am grateful for the time that is now and the magic that has unfolded in my dusty, cobwebby life.

listening to: NPR! and I'll eventually get around to the new Andrew Bird album, which I got from the lib's.

The Clouds Press Down On Me So

Every morning, I look out my window with trepidation.  For months after the last snow, I have continued looking for those cool white pellets to fall from the sky, to ruin me.  The darkness never fades here- it is still overcast and grey even now, in the early days of June.  I can feel it all weigh down on me so, suffocating my desires.  In my car, I am constantly shocked that I can roll down the windows and rest my arm on the roof of my car.  I keep expecting the gloaming to come- the days of eternal cold, frosty breezes, and raw skin.  The darkness suggests that cold, but it doesn't come, not now.  But I wait.  I am careful.  

I still wear pants outside, and it has only been above 70 a few days so far.  

Even if I must obey the cruel weather's demands, I don't have to accept it.  Or like it.  I know that I will escape here soon, and that the sun will return to me, enlivening my dreams, my heart, my smile.  And you, Rochester, will have lost.  And you, Eastman, will have lost me.  You will no longer be able to force me down, below the deepest tunnels of lost hope.  I am here, here in my 7th story apartment, and I will go no lower.  I will not descend to your methods of oppression, your cruel words, your icy hug.  So I wait.  Wait for my revenge.

Dear Christian Bale,

I have always loved you.  I'm not one of those females who suddenly fell in love with you when you started doing crappy actions movies and speaking in a monotone husky voice.  No!  I liked you way back, when you were rocking "Newsies," quite possibly one of the most delightful Disney musicals ever.  (At least compared to the current musicals they do.  Hannah Montana the movie? I think not).  But Newsies?  That was great.  Granted, I was 6 when that movie came out, but I loved it at the time.  Now I realize there's a bit of an age difference between us, but I'll just keep loving your movies from 10 years ago, and prefer the past to the present, and then it's not so bad is it?  Let's look at your cinematic past:

Empire of the Sun: You stole my heart with your adorable British accent.  You were how old? 13?  My hear is still clapping.

Newsies:  I need not repeat myself.  You were dreamy at 18, and you sang and danced.

Little women: As usual, Winona Ryder gets ALL of the hearthrobs.  Johnny Depp, the dude from Mermaids, Christian Slater.   And she didn't choose to marry you in this movie.  Her loss.  It was probably your long hair.  It wasn't really flattering.  Fortunately, this 1994 magazine cover shows your hunkiness to its fullest.

 Velvet Goldmine: Yum.  Not only did I get to watch you get corrupted, but I also got to watch Ewan McGregor and John Rhys-Meyers.  You still have a preference for real movies during this time, movies in which your brains and your beauty are showcased-not your rippling muscles.

Midsummer Night's Dream: You showcased your attempts at a thespian future with Shakespeare, and did ok.  Your character was obnoxious, but that wasn't entirely your fault.

American Psycho: Your claim to fame.  You got to show your ephemeral beauty at its finest- the guise of a madman.  Your penchant for accents finally won you a non-British part of substance, and it was awesome.  Combining a hot man with an instrument of murder is surprisingly sexy-just don't invite me to your place anytime soon, Mr. Bateman.  And you actually did a great job acting, not just looking foxy.

Shaft: This was the first of many action films to come, a harbinger of your ill-fated future of apocalyptic universes, the supernatural, and jumping off of buildings.  I should've known better.

Now, I've never seen Laurel Canyon or Reign of Fire, but anything involving you and dragons makes me want to stay away.

Equilibrium: Another sci-fi action movie.  I'm sensing a pattern here, pal.

The Machinist: While I don't remember much about this movie, I do remember that you were good in it, and you lost tons of weight to look awful, and everyone loves when actors mess with their bodies for the sake of "art."  I'll have to check it out again.  At least it's not an action movie.

Batman Begins: This is the role you've been waiting for.  The opportunity to canoodle with Katie Holmes.  The chance to speak in monotone.  The chance to get ripped and hang out with Michael Caine.  Just remember, Batman is never the star.  Just look at all the other actors: Val Kilmer, George Clooney...Batman never has good writing or good lines.  Watch as you get typecast for all action movies...starting NOW!

I haven't seen Rescue Dawn or Harsh Times, so I can't really talk about those.

The Prestige: Great movie.  David Bowie? Yes.  Hugh Jackman?  Please.  And you?  Sounds like a winner, a reminder that you can act without violence and explosions involved.

3:10 to Yuma: a western action movie.  Need I say more?

The Dark Knight: I know, I know.  Heath Ledger stole the show.  But really, couldn't you have at least tried to act?  It's like the more people you rescue and the more muscles you chisel, the less brains and nuance you have.  Really disappointing, especially when you spend most of the movie in costume, and I can't blame your bad acting on your looks.  Aaron Eckhart did a much better job than you did.  Are you losing your touch?

Terminator: Salvation: Another f*cking action movie?  Whatever happened to real movies?  Dramas?  movies where you didn't kill people or save them from killers?   Do you remember those movies?  

So, you can see, Mr Bale, I've really lost faith in your abilities.  You've slowly lost your ability to be in movies where you don't beat the crap out of people or save them from the forthcoming apocalypse.  If you reconsider your cinematic choices, maybe I can love you again.  But until then, I'm giving me affections to someone else, someone who can return my affections with a better acting job.  (John Cusack?  Anton Yelchin? the guy from Twilight? Oh wait, I was talking about acting skills.  Harry Potter?)  So you can see, you've got to step up your game.  Bring it on-I'll be waiting.

love,

kayleigh 

"Oh-and now you have time to find a boyfriend?"

     About a month ago, one of my neighbors moved out and he saw me in the elevator, and asked what I was doing for the summer.  I guess he specifically was more interested in who I might be dating this summer, because he claimed that someone in the building had a thing for me.  And I told him that I was busy and not exactly on the prowl for a guy.  His response, "You probably have more time now to find someone."  I was polite at the time, but a voice in my head was screaming, "No! No! You evil ass!  Women do not NEED significant others at all times."  It was certainly an awkward situation, only made more awkward because my neighbor has told me on more than one occasion that he would've asked me out if he was single.  (Minor detail: I'm NOT interested and never was.)  But fundamentally, there was a bigger issue at hand: women do not need men in order to be successful or happy.  Just because I'm single does not mean that I'm looking for love.  It's not that I'm opposed to romantic intricacies, it's just that I don't feel a compelling need to be on the prowl.   

     As someone has been single for most of her life, I absolutely detest when people still think that women can't be independent and successful, and if you are independent and successful, then you're a lesbian, a man-hater, selfish, or not interested in ever having a family.  But I'm none of those things, and most likely, neither are you!  It would be nice to have a significant other, but it's not a requirement.  Seriously.  

    In one of my children's books, "Sisters Grimm: The Everafter War," Snow White is talking to one of the Sisters Grimm.  (The Sisters Grimm are the long lost descendants of the Brothers Grimm and they live in a place called Ferryport Landing, where all fairy tale characters are real and living together.  Snow White is engaged to Prince Charming, but doesn't want to marry him.  She is the resident self-defense teacher, and here she explains why she can't marry Prince Charming.)

"I won't marry someone who has to take care of me.  I'm going to take care of myself.  I have to prove to myself that I can, again."

(Snow White was attacked by BlueBeard, and was petrified, and couldn't use her self-defense techniques, which made her furious with herself.)

So no, I'm not looking for a boyfriend, Mr. Neighbor.  If one fell out of the sky, I wouldn't refuse him, but I'm not, nor have I ever been, in need of a man to get me through the day.  I've done just fine for the last 22 years.

Listening to: the new Grizzly Bear album.

Fighting the Need for Speed

In driving 7+ hours today, as well as during my driving last week, I was observing the driving patterns of the species known as humans.  This group of non-celestial beings has decided that driving rationally will simply not do.  It doesn't matter the circumstance, but cars are striving to pass others constantly, seeking power and speed and superiority.  In a constant power struggle, how can we be ok with our powerlessness?  How can I accept that other cars simply drive faster than 75 mph on a rainy day on a freeway frequented by police?  Each time a car passes me, I feel threatened, as if I'm not good enough for the person passing me.  I'm not fast enough, I'm not a good enough driver, I'm just not enough.  And then I see them in front of me, and I realize they haven't accomplished much.  They're just in front of me, and not behind me.  But we end up in the same place, and we'll probably be there the same time, give or take 4 minutes.  Am I really that bad of a person because I don't drive above 80? Am I really a bad person because I'm not good enough for everyone else?   One must trust that 75 or 70 or 65 (never ever below the speed limit, of course) is the best speed for oneself, and hope that all will be well, no matter what everyone else thinks.

currently watching: angels in america.

As I walked the empty streets, I was filled with the company of my memories.

As I walked the damp streets of Boston back to the apartment where I've been staying this week, I was alone in my thoughts and surrounded with the memories of years. In Harvard Square, I walked by Au Bon Pain, where I saw my dad eating dinner with me four years ago, and I saw my mom in the children's bookstore on the corner where Curious George makes his home. I saw myself at Border Cafe with different groups of people, going to Toscanini's for ice cream after orchestra concerts, going out before BPO concerts. I walked on the Charles river on Saturday, and I remembered walking with my father from Cambridge to Boston, one ambitious fall day, and I saw the hotel my mother and I stayed in when I moved to Boston 5 years ago. Taking the green line home reminds me of last summer and my daily commutes to Newton, and walking on Park reminds me of all the people who I've visited on that street. Some of those people have come and gone from my life-despite what facebook tries to tell you, you can't stay in touch with everyone from your past. People disappear over time from your life, and your shared memories are your gifts to the future and present. Friends move, people change, and you must have the wisdom to know when to hold on, and when it's time to let go. Sometimes, distance and change can keep people together, but other times, it is the wind which blows the sand away. Rather than cling to something that has long past, we can only hope that we will build new memories, with new people, and that those too may fade. But to have experienced them at all, is what is most important and most valuable.
I'm not at home in Rochester because I have no stored memories there, and even now, I feel like a visitor in a place I don't want to build memories in. I have a few moments of company here and there, but most of my memories inhabit the winding paths and brick buildings of Boston. They wait like ghosts in the caverns of my mind, and when I invite them in, they make themselves at home, until they too, slowly fade away, like the last goose flying away for winter into the dusky sunset.

Currently listening to: the Dodo's.