Little golden naked guys...

Oscar nominations were announced this morning. Speaking ignorantly because I haven't seen all of the nominated films...I will say I'm surprised here and there. Random musings:

Crash was nominated for Best Picture; I thought the film was thought-provoking and a really cool idea, but it missed a titch. Great acting, though.

Jen, the bad girl from the Creek was nominated for Best Supporting Actress (Michelle Williams). I thought a year ago Katie Holmes was on that path; now she's carrying the devil's spawn and hanging out with Victoria Beckham.

What is this Junebug movie?

Batman Begins for cinematography? I almost puked during the first fifteen minutes because the camera work made me so nauseous. Or was that Katie Holmes as an assistant DA? Probably both.

I hereby state that my day has been made perfect because "It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp" from Hustle & Flow was nominated for best song. That's my jam.

Reese Witherspoon as June Carter-Cash all the way for Best Actress. I love incorporating her movie quote "You can't walk no line" into my everyday speech. With a thick Southern drawl that fortunately or unfortunately comes pretty easily.

And you know I'm going PSH and Capote for Best Actor and Best Picture.

K, so I've got over a month to catch up on the flicks I've not yet seen...

More Oscar conversation. The following is a 7:45 AM debate between Matt and me when he picked me up at Josh's to take me to my apartment this morning. (Why, you ask? Oh, don't worry, I worked last night at the shoe-slangin' store and managed to lock my car keys and my apartment key inside the building after we closed. It wasn't annoying at all. I got a ride from a co-worker so I could bunk up with Josh, Darren, and Toral for the evening. More hitched rides and spare key borrowing ensues today so I can live life normally once again). Matt has a strong hatred for all things Hillary Swank, and that includes her estranged hubby, Chad Lowe (aka Becca's boyfriend on Life Goes On). He is still pissed almost 7 years later for her triumph over Annette Bening to win the Best Actress Oscar for Boys Don't Cry. You know the Academy Awards loves anything gender-bending, weight gaining, prosthetic nose wearing, or ahem...mentally challenged. I don't have a strong opinion of this, despite the fact that American Beauty is one of my favorite movies and obviously Annette "I will sell this house today" Bening was freaking awesome in it. But, I also saw Boys Don't Cry, and man, Hillary Swank was ugly in that movie.

What say you, the movie-going public? The female Karate Kid vs. the president's bi-otch?

School’s in session, suckers...

I am a grad student, preparing to become certified to teach high school English. This is a drastic change from my short-lived stint in Corporate America…or at least, it will be. I’ve heard many variations on the question “Are you a masochist?” because I am choosing to teach at the high school level. Selfishly, I think that I have the best chance to teach the things that excite me most at this level. Meaning, I want to discuss literature and inspire writing and talk about what’s going on in the world. I don’t want to focus solely on the difference between proper nouns and proper names. I’m sure this sounds very grandiose, and I realize that I will teach the difference between proper nouns and proper names. But maybe I can attempt to work some magic in between grammar lessons (which oddly, after a grad-level Modern Grammar class last semester kind of excite me, too).

In any event, I have been inspired most by my former English teachers, and I’ve always had a passion for literature. This passion has multiplied times ten since I’ve been back in school. How great is it that my homework, literally my homework, is to read (or reread) all the great classic poetry, plays, short stories, and novels that I want to read, anyway?

I just started my spring semester last week, after a considerably long winter break. It’s always hard to go back, to get back into the daily routine. But, staying home on a Saturday night, I forced myself to read the assigned Whitman poetry for my American Lit class. And I realized all over again one reason why I love what I am doing.

I am going to share a verse from one of the poems I read on Saturday night. And I’ll probably share a lot of passages, etc. on this bloggy blog because I love this stuff. If it ain’t your bag, I’m sure I’ll talk about Britney Spears’ post-pregnancy belly tomorrow. And PS - If you ever have any recommendations on reading material, please pass them along.

From “The Wound-Dresser” by Walt Whitman…
(describing his experiences as a nurse in the Civil War)

I onward go, I stop,
With hinged knees and steady hand to dress wounds,
I am firm with each, the pangs are sharp yet unavoidable,
One turns to me his appealing eyes – poor boy! I never knew you,
Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you.

She said, "I think I remember that film..."

Last night, I was privileged enough to do two of my favorite things: spend time with one of my favorite married couples, Britt and Rodney (or “Brod” as the Parkdale community often calls them) and see a fantastic movie. Around Christmastime, my interest in Truman Capote peaked again, when I reread one of my favorite short stories “A Christmas Memory.” Brod (see the pic), the thoughtful friends that they are, gave me In Cold Blood for my 26th birthday. And I’ve been pushing Breakfast at Tiffany’s on Matt for about a month now. So, my Capote fascination, coupled with Rodney’s man-crush on Philip Seymour Hoffman and Britt’s need to see a movie under two hours in length so her approximately 8-month pregnant body doesn’t understandably endure some sort of head-to-toe cramp, led us to see Capote at Frontenac Plaza.

Sidenote: I always feel the need (but never respond to that need) to dress for success at Frontenac since it’s the home of the Saks, Neiman’s, Louis Vuitton, etc. stores in St. Louis. I feel like I get the evil eye from the ladies who lunch when I show up makeup-less and in tennis shoes to browse the only J. Crew in the Lou. But, really the small town girl in me wants to look like hell just to piss them off. Britt and Rodney supported my usual venture, without discussing it first with me, by wearing comfy pants because all of their regular pants were being laundered. However, Rodney looked richly casual in an outfit that screamed Juicy Couture. Are you shopping at Saks behind my back?

Anyhoo, I don’t want to give the movie away; I just want to highly recommend it. Philip Seymour Hoffmann is amazing, along with Clifton Collins, Jr. who plays one of the killers whom Capote based his novel In Cold Blood. The juxtaposition (yeah, I said it) of Hoffmann’s flamboyant Truman Capote and the rural Kansas cornfields where he researches the crime is fantastic. This man was a character! In Cold Blood was the first, or one of the first, non-fiction novels. According to the movie, it forever changed the way authors wrote. In my humble opinion, it probably also unfortunately contributed to the phenomena of glorifying criminals (see: Natural Born Killers) and the race to publish the first book or produce the first made-for-TV movie for any given headlining criminal act in the US: Tonya Harding, Lorena Bobbitt, Scott Peterson…

I can’t discuss it further without giving it away, so just promise me you’ll see the damn movie. If nothing else, it’s fun to have someone to root for on Oscar night. Nominations are announced on Tuesday morning. PSH all the way, baby.

Unrelated, Minnesota killed Indiana today for their first conference win. And I just think that’s funny.

Example number one...

So, I posted my thoughts on last night's diner escapades around 4:30 PM today. Since then, I showered, ate some dinner, and went to a movie. Now, I am home again, and some strange anal-retentive bone in my body forced me to sit back down at the computer to edit the title of the "November Rain" post. It's been nagging at me for the past 6 hours.

Originally, the title was "Nothing lasts forever, even cold November rain..." But, you see, it ran into two lines, and I didn't like the way that looked on the screen once published. I've been sitting here for 15 minutes, figuring out how to make it only one line.

Meanwhile, I have homework due yesterday, and my apartment looks like it threw up. But by God, the format will remain the same for all posts and future posts. One line titles. Only one line titles.

This is my first relevant example of "I'm a Walking Contradiction." Supremely anal, yet haphazardly messy.

Nothing lasts forever...

Last night at 3 AM, I was in an all-night diner, watching my three drunk friends (Matt, Josh, and Pat) chow on some ungodly diner fare. They dug into a various assortment of food objects, heaped with vats of chili, as if they hadn't eaten in days. All the while, Guns 'N Roses' "November Rain" boomed on the jukebox one foot behind the counter where we perched on stools. We did our best Axl impersonations, intoxicated to the degree where the world became our stage and nobody's judgments hindered our attempt to become the next American Idol(s). Slippery Matt snuck out the front door. When I went to fetch him, he insisted we slowdance on the sidewalks of Manchester Road to "Patience," blasting out of the diner's jukebox. Pat laughed a lot, and Josh flirted with some late-night diner hotties. All in all, it was perfect in every way.

Sidenote: "November Rain" reminds me of my 6th grade boyfriend, Jeffie. We never really acknowledged the existence of our relationship unless "November Rain" was on at a school dance. Otherwise, we didn't talk at school, and our phone conversations consisted of listening to each other breathe or casually giggle at The Wonder Years blaring on TV in the background. I was also literally a foot taller than him. I've provided a picture as proof. Especially for those who know him, you can thank me later.

And PS - Did we ever figure out how Axl's bride died in the video?

I drink better than I dance...

I realize that the recent death of Chris Penn is old news by now. But by God, I just started this blog, and he deserves to be mentioned. The only other person I know as shocked and bothered by his passing is my best friend Krat. See, we both adore the movie Footloose, and you can’t get any better than Willard’s learning-to-dance montage to “Let’s Hear It For The Boy.” (Except I will say that my personal favorite part of Footloose is when Kevin Bacon’s character, angry and pissed at the world, flees to an empty warehouse to dance away his frustrations. He throws his half-smoked cig on the ground and hurls his empty beer bottle at the wall. Then he starts the chicken dance.)

Let’s talk other top-notch movie dancing scenes in memory of Chris Penn.

The Full Monty – The guys are all in line at the job center place, and “Hot Stuff” by Donna Summer comes over the speakers. They start bobbing their heads. Gradually, they break out their choreographed routine. I can relate to this. Whenever I hear “Lucky Star” by Madonna, I bust out moves from a dance routine I did in 2nd grade.

Pretty in Pink – It’s Jon Cryer at his best. His character, Ducky, is in the record store where Molly Ringwald’s character works. He lip syncs and dances like a crazed maniac to “Try a Little Tenderness” by Otis Redding to show her that he cares. I want a guy to do that for me. Right now.

The Big Chill – I know a guy whose dream was fulfilled when a large group of people circled him on the dance floor while he grooved solo to “Billie Jean.” It is perhaps my dream to make a family meal with a bunch of friends while dancing around the kitchen to “Ain’t Too Proud To Beg” by The Temptations a la The Big Chill. Definitely in my top five favorite oldies list.

Napoleon Dynamite – I mean, if you want to pee your pants, watch this. If you want canned heat in your heels, listen to Jamiroquai.

The Breakfast Club – They all get high, and then they dance. And somehow, even their dance moves are representative of their unavoidable high school labels: the jock, the criminal, the princess, the brain, and the basketcase.

What are some of your favorites? Tell me, dear friends, in honor of Mr. Penn. Let’s hear it for the boy. Let’s give the boy a hand.

I won't give up on you (that easily)...

I'm a Capricorn, and one of the personality characteristics every girly and/or tabloidy magazine tells me I have is a strong sense of loyalty. I'm also supposed to be very practical, money-hungry, and determined. And I look best in earth tones.

I agree that I have a strong devotion to whomever or whatever it is I hold near and dear to my heart. I'm a long-term relationshipper, I don't make new friends that easily, and I once wore a Charlotte Hornets sweatshirt everyday for a year my sophomore year of college. And, up until about a year and a half ago, I proudly stated to everyone in the land that the Counting Crows were indeed my favorite band.

I lasted as long as I could, folks. I lasted way longer than most. I mean, I have a history with that freaking band. My junior high friend Angela's dad introduced me to August and Everything After and the two of us (Angela and I, not her dad and I) would listen to it in her basement. Teen angst at its best, let me tell you. I listened to Recovering the Satellites 45 times after our football team lost in the 2nd round of the playoffs my senior year. It was the perfect soundtrack to be played against scenes of crying 18 year old boys. And then I started seeing the band in concert. In fact, I saw them five times in two or three years. You were not gonna tell me that Hard Candy was a piece of crap. And once my interest possibly started waning just a titch, I met the lead singer Adam Duritz in NYC in the fall of 2004. We talked college football. My devotion had reached an all-time high. (Yes, he's quite portly...and no, his hair doesn't smell like manure).

And then Shrek. That damn green ogre. You all can guess what ultimately ruined it for me, can't you? I held on for as long as I could. And, I guess what triggered this whole posting is the fact that tonight, while dozing on the couch and waiting for The Office to come on, I saw the opening credits for some lame Seth Green sitcom, 4 Kings. And wouldn't you know..."Hangin' Around" is the themesong. The book just closed another 1/4 of an inch.

But in this day and age, we're all going to be faced with the dillema of when to give up on a favorite band more frequently than ever. Matt will still fight to the death for U2, and more power to him for it. (I say that now, and I mean it...but I've still given him a lot of shit. Catorce!) Kings of Leon, Oasis, and Razorlight...just to name a few...have had good songs in commercials in the past year. Are we all just gonna drop these guys and incessantly scour the depths of indie magazines and websites for bands that no one has ever heard of, particularly not Hollywood and/or Corporate America? That's just not me, mane.

I'm facing a similar issue with my (relatively) new number one: Ryan Adams and the Cardinals (formerly Ryan Adams solo, formerly Ryan Adams of Whiskeytown). I know what they say about him. Yes, the man writes 7,305,372 songs per day and comes out with 10 CDs per year. To you, I make a “W” with my two hands and place it on my forehead. So, it was Adam Duritz and the Counting Crows...now, it's Ryan Adams and proud of it, bi-otches. You can say all you want that it's quality not quantity, yada yada. I like what I like.

To honor my current favorite musical devotion, here is a Ryan Adams Top 5...or two...

Top 5 Favorite Slow Ryan Adams Songs (in no order):

1. How Do You Keep Love Alive?
2. Oh My Sweet Carolina
3. The Bar is a Beautiful Place
4. Dear Chicago
5. Come Pick Me Up

Top 5 Fast(er) Ryan Adams Songs (in no order):

1. Cheer Up, Chin Down
2. To Be Young
3. Answering Bell
4. Let it Ride
5. Touch, Feel, Lose

This is the first day of my life...

So, I started a blog today. My life has begun, right?

This venture was put into motion after literally months of consideration. And, I even felt compelled to ask "permission" of two important people in my life before I could start. One replied, "As long as you don't talk about me, you should [start a blog]." The other person gave me a firm "no."

The second person is my long-time friend, Josh, who is anti-blog in general. To quote him, he "ain't into bloggin'."

But, I chose today to defy the public opinion and go for it. I have a blog. Hurrah for plum pudding!