My orginal thoughts about this blog came from an idea that Jon and I had. We went to go see a lot of weird movies in empty movies theatres--basically the stuff that only pretentious art-movie dorks were really interested in. And we'd fight about them. A lot. Knock-down, drag-out arguments that served neither of us. So, we figured, if we started a blog in which we had to reason out our opinions on these films without the face-to-face contentious interactions, well, we'd be much happier in our friendship. And so, I started this blog so that I could spew forth my fair share of the dialogue about the movies that I loved, hated, attempted to engage with, laughed at, cried through... whatever.
And then I got this corporate job.
Today, I left my house shortly before 8 A.M. I worked my ass off, skipping lunch, until 8 P.M. This is the third day of a 4-day week in which I've done that. I had a deadline today that I missed and so, I have to go in to work tomorrow-- a Saturday. I have a deadline every day next week, so, if I decide to not complete my current task-at-hand before Monday, my deadlines are going to pile up behind me in such a way that I may never come up for air again. I feel like the domino at the very front of the line... and everyone else's full body weight is just poised to land on my sad little caved-in ass.
And so, my dear readers (all 4 of you): I want very much to continue writing about movies... hell, even SEEING a movie now and again is proving challenging, given my schedule... but I'm just not sure I can put forth the engagement that the films deserve. I miss this writing, though. I miss the outlet. At some point when I was in grad school, writing poetry became distinctly un-fun. But the urge to write, the desire to put order to thoughts and language to order, didn't go away... and so, I wanted this to be the informal outlet that all that other poetic posturing could never have been. But now, there are just so few hours in the day... and so few days in the week. And I am One Tired Chica.
OK, OK, venting over.
Here are three movies that I wish I could talk more about:
The King
I think this went straight to video and that's a shame. It's got William Hurt and Gael Garcia Bernal, the kid from Y Tu Mama, Tambien and it's a really smart little piece. I think this is a movie about how even the most fervent of religious conversions can never absolve people of their sins--at least not in this karmic go-round! And I didn't know that that was what was going on in this movie until the very last line was uttered. It's sexy and hopeless--not an uninteresting combination of descriptors, eh?
Searching for the Wrong-Eyed Jesue
This movie is too short to truly flesh out its subject matter. Which is really its only flaw. It's a little documentary about what's beautiful about the ugliest parts of being a Southerner. Though I'm one citified little twerp these days, the majority of my childhood was spent in the Tennessee backwoods... and, though I was born in Chicago and my parents are sure-as-hell Yankees, and I'll never be a REAL Southerner, the soul of my childhood is in this murky, grisly, delicate little documentary. When I was in Tucson for Christmas, somehow a conversation arose about how people identify with whatever they consider to be their hometowns-- and I mentioned how, whenever I leave the South, I always feel like I've gotta answer for being a white girl from Tennessee. And a friend of my brother's said, "Well, you weren't born there? Why do you think you should apologize for it?" And I said something about how it's bigger part of me than Chicago could ever be... and what I meant was, if I didn't feel like I had to answer for being a Southerner, if I didn't feel like that place had infiltrated my soul--bored its black, blistered, vine-y way into me--well, what would be left of me? What would I have to rasp against? And Jim White, our guide through this little squint-eyed, side-winding film, is a transplant himself. But he shows us the dirt and grime, the brimstone, and the gristle of the landscape that hits home in ways I can't quite put words to. And, noteably, it's shot in the winter--- the nastiest time of year for that part of the country-- 40 degrees, rainy, trees all barren and metallic-looking... and the mud... and yet every damn shot of the landscape is gorgeous. White says he could never see the beauty of the South until he left it and truly, this movie shows all the ugly at its prettiest.
An Inconvenient Truth
Oh, how I resisted this movie. I refused to see it in the theatre, due to the fact that I wasn't so keen on making a public spectacle of myself. And I would have. I did, in fact, make a private spectacle of myself. But, oh, man, this is another required-viewing sort of film-- to accompany Who Killed the Electric Car and Sorry, Haters and Paradise Now. No conscientious American should miss it and that's no exaggeration. However, it's going to be in the low 70s here in DC tomorrow. Tomorrow is January 6th. God knows I love warm weather--I've mourned for the Tucson desert ever since I left it 2 1/2 years ago. But a day in the 70s? In Washington, DC? In January? It's not right... and, because of this movie, the daily weather reports fill me with a new sort of anxiety. Today, after my hellish day of work, the only positive thing I can say about my job is that, hopefully, soon, I may be able to afford to trade it my peice-of-shit, sub-par emissions-standards-bearing, American-made Ford for a Japanese hybrid. It's really the very very least I can do.
4 comments:
More good news . . . Bush has lifted ban on drilling for oil and gas in Alaska . . . this was one of the last things the do-nothing congress did before they got their worthless asses kicked out of power
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070109/ap_on_go_pr_wh/alaska_oil
great. I read this right before lunch. I think I just lost my appetite.
Thank you, as always for your support, confidence and encouragement, Polonius! And to date, no one's managed to beat the moxie out of me yet! And it ain't happening here.
Hey M.
I read the blog and know where you are coming from. I think that sacrificing what you believe is the right thing to do for any job (or anyone for that matter) is not the right thing to do. All we have in life is the abilty to decide between what is right and what is worng where people are concerned. But the bottom line is that you always have to be true to yourself. We are often confronted by people who believe that the right thing to do is to support their agenda or what their perception of right and wrong is. However, if we do that we only reinforce their belief and therefore might as well be them.
And I have to tell you, most people I have seen in the corporate environment are not worth emulating. No matter what they think of themselves.
I too was in a situation where someone else believed that I should have said something when in fact one of the things that they valued most was their personal privacy. It seems ironic that people cannot treat each other the way they want to be treated in both their personal and professional lives. The hypocracy of the situation tells me that the person you are referring to will never uderstand people and is only concerned about what is beneficial to them. You are a tool to help them succeed, nothing more. Therefore, do not change, give in or sacrifice your belief and know that I will always be there to support you.
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