Cinema Therapy, volume 7

This week is a twofer because I'm in love with Matthew Macfadyen. Okay, not really, but he does have that quality that can lead a girl to sigh. It might be the voice.

So, they may have made several dozen versions of the book, but I have to say that this is one of my particular favorite movie renditions of Pride and Prejudice. It's not perfect. It's not strict to the novel, just like so many others aren't, though it does get close enough for my liking. And the actors do a brilliant job of bringing the written characterizations to life. Keira Knightley is brilliant, as always, and deserved the Oscar nod she received from this performance. (Yes, I'm a fan.)

Besides, who doesn't love the story of boy meets girl, boy and girl don't get along, boy and girl start to get along, boy and girl have some conflicts, boy and girl realize that they love each other, boy and girl risk losing each other due to social convention, boy and girl get together and live happily ever after? No one, because it's classic. And I'm willing to risk using a run-on sentence to say it.

The other is Little Dorrit. I caught this on PBS this spring and LOVED it! Yes, a Dickens' classic al a miniseries, but worth watching to the end. It's one of those lovely tales that weaves the lives of its characters skillfully, with a quaint community feel mixed with intrigue and a happy ending or two.

Watch out for "Golam" aka Andy Serkis as the all-too-creepy and manipulative Rigaud. Eddie Marsan has an endearing quality as Pancks and "Gavin and Stacey" co-creator and alum Ruth Jones as the silly Flora is delightful.

In case you haven't noticed yet, I'm a fan of the historical drama (and an Anglophile). Please forgive me if they pop up from time to time. A little Austen here, Dickens there - it can't hurt.

Matthew Macfadyen is Darcy in the first and Arthur Clennam in the second and probably one of the best parts of both films. He's kept mainly to mainstream British films and television, but if you don't know who he is, you may recognize his face from Frost/Nixon. He has a nice range and that's definitely part of his appeal. Check out more of his work. I suggest the spy series "Spooks" (also known by American audiences as "MI-5") and Death at a Funeral, a hilarious comedy (which is being re-made for American audiences - why can't they leave well-enough alone?).

In memory of Julia...

It was four years ago this week.

So strange that time moves on after someone has moved beyond the restrictions of the clock, into the ether, or whatever lies beyond, and leaves the rest of us behind to continue to seek answers that they have already acquired.

My friend Julia died four years ago. It was in the height of a two year period that I went to eight funerals. Two were highly significant to me. The first was my grandfather's in November of 2004. The other was Julia's.

She was only twenty years old. In that time, she'd experienced both wonderful and horrific things that shaped the person that she was. She was sweet, and kind, and generous. She loved her nephew and was on her way to finding a peace after a bout of contentiousness between herself and her parents. But a series of events pushed her over the edge, and a depression that few knew the depths of ate at her until she finally decided to take her life.

And the ones who loved her that she left behind wondered in astonishment what each could have done to change what she did, to stop her, change her mind, or take away her inner pain.

I think anyone who has experienced the loss of a loved one probably gains some measure of morbidity. After the loss of both my father and grandfather, Lord knows I certainly did. But when Julia died, it took the wind right out of me. There were no morbid thoughts. Merely regrets. What didn't I see? How could I not realize?

With most funerals you fill your mind with thoughts of how sad you are, but that that person is in a better place. With the funeral of someone who has committed suicide, your mind is shocked and absorbed with the impossible to answer to the question, "Why?"

I really miss her. I'd known her from a distance her whole life. But in the last couple years, we'd gotten to know each other. She was one of those people you could have a conversation about almost anything with. She had a depth to her that few people at her age have without the accompanying condescension and pretension. Julia was real. It was evident that she wanted to make the world a better place. If only she'd given herself a chance to really do that. She was so thoughtful and everyone that knew her was profoundly touched by her. So, maybe she did.

Julia, wherever you are, you are truly missed.

Pushing the car uphill - not really.

You will not believe what this bonehead (me) did the other night.

I went home on my lunch break (like I always do) and come time to go back to work, the car ran out of gas. Now, I knew it was a touch below "empty", but I thought it would be enough to get through the night and get some in the morning. No such luck. And I was having such a good night too. I heard on a radio commercial many, many years ago that the "E" stands for "Eh, still got quarter of a tank." They lie.

It hadn't been on "E" long. I thought for sure I would be fine because I don't live that far from the store. Live and learn.

Anyhow, I had to call a manager and they sent someone for me. I got $4 worth of gas to last me until morning, and the sweetheart who came to get me pumped the gas and put it into the car for me. I was forty-five minutes late, but I was ahead of schedule anyway so I wasn't worried.

Still, it was wholly embarrassing. I'll be fine one moment, and the next it will pop into my head, and I'll wince a little. I know I'm not the only one who's ever done this (and won't be the last), but I know better. And I did it anyway.

Just like cupcakes. I know I shouldn't eat them. I know better. But I'll eat them anyway.

On a completely different note, I am super pissed that Quinn is lying to Finn on Glee about her pregnancy. What the hell?! This won't bode well for the Rachel-Finn love connection.

See for yourself:

Cinema Therapy, volume 6

After my asking for thoughts on a feel-good movie for the week, my sister made two recommendations: Elmocize and The Princess Bride. I've opted for the second of the two.

I cannot tell you how much I love this movie. It has everything a person could want in a feel-good film - comedy, drama, action, and a man with an accent bent on revenge. "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die."

And the sweetness of Andre the Giant wins me over every time I curl up on the couch to watch it. Plus, I get caught up in the passionate romance between Buttercup and Westley. (Yes, I'm sighing.)

One of my personal favorites, and of course, a cult classic, The Princess Bride is a highly entertaining way to spend a rainy afternoon or a wintry evening.

Chicken or the Egg?

What came first? The third shift or the crazy?

Before I quit at the store the last time I worked there, I came up with this question about those who brave the midnight hour and work until past dawn: "Are third-shifters strange because they're on third shift or are they on third shift because they are strange?"

It's a strange sort of reality, being awake when you should be asleep, asleep when you should be awake. And working when it should be a crime to work.

Why can't we live on one of those planets that has a forty-hour day, one in which the spin on the axis requires a little more time, more like a leisurely stroll than spinning wildly through the solar system (not really, but you know what I mean)? If that were the case, then there would be no need for a third shift. Everything would be done. Awww. How nice.

I occasionally have had bouts of insomnia and when I saw the dawn breaking, I would just be depressed for the time lost that I could've been sleeping. Now, I see the sun coming up and it fills me with relief. I made it through another night with the weirdos. Okay, they aren't really all that weird, but the strange sleeping pattern doesn't lend well to a sane disposition. Imagine zombies that have acquired horrible smoking habits and without the impulse to eat the living.

At least I don't stock shelves. My body would be rejecting me if I did. I admire those that can.

Unfortunately, I'm off tonight and the next two nights, and I won't be able to sleep at the normal times. Ho-hum. What are you gonna do? It's a job. Could be worse. I just keep telling myself, "It's just for now. It's just for now."

The point of walking...

I was on my way to work last night when I saw a sight that I find amusing at the expense of someone else's pride (they just don't know it).

There was a guy, probably in his twenties, making his way down the sidewalk. His gait was horribly awkward (and not in a possibly-physically-disabled-but-not-quite-sure way), and he was wearing the ever-popular (though I can't think why) "wife beater". Yeah, I know I shouldn't use that appalling term, but I have a point. I'm calling that particular walk the "beater step". It's midway between a cool swagger and a drunken stagger.

Walking, like driving, or riding a bike, or flying, is a mode of transportation. It gets you from Point A to Point B - as simple as that. But it seems that it must be dressed up with some pseudo-dance move to somehow make this guy special, make him stand out. I'm guessing that he has to do this in place of a piece-of-junk car with flashy rims.

This isn't the first guy I've noticed doing this. Every once in a while, one will pop up. Makes me think that maybe there's some kind of conspiracy going on to confuse me in my more paranoid moments. But that's just more of my inner-crazy peeking around the corner.

Speaking of inner-crazy, I had a minor bout of insecurity at the job. Seems I don't think or move as fast as I used to. I know, I know. Get over it, Sam. You'll be a pro again soon - God-willing.

But I have to say, I feel really exposed right now because I'm just now remembering some things that got lost since leaving the store, things that I naturally did or followed the process of. It's a strange sort of vulnerability that I didn't think I'd experience by returning to the same store and the same job. When you start a new job at a place you've never work before, doing something you've never done before, you expect that. But because people know me, I keep thinking they are probably expecting all of this to just come back as if I'd never left. So, I kind of shuffle my feet and make awkward expressions, coming up with excuses that I don't really need. Everyone there is pretty patient and saying, "Don't worry. You're doing fine." Am I? Am I really?

This constant need for reassurance is annoying even to me. I can't wait until I'm back to "good" and not just "okay".

I need sleep.

Sure, I see it now...

I just read an article online about toxic friendships. And my eyes are opened.

You see, dear readers, I always prided myself on my friendships. I chose people who I believed were worthy of my time and efforts. Looking at this article though, I have to admit that I've come across a few bad relationships with girlfriends. And I ask myself now why I didn't see that before.

Namely, I was the one putting forth all the effort in the friendship. That is by far my biggest pet peeve now, but at the time, as frustrating as it was, I was willing to do all the work for the sake of the friendship. Now, I let friendships run their course. If the friend isn't willing to meet me in the middle, forget it. I can settle for an acquaintance.

In recent years, I've come the farthest with letting go of the emotionally draining, I-think-she-stole-my-life-force-out-of-me friendships. To listen to problem after problem, depressing detail after depressing detail, without so much as acknowledging anything I might like to share, is like digging my own grave. Oh my God! Do these people really believe they are the only ones on the planet, that they're the only ones with issues? Or are they purposely trying to drive the people around them nuts? Good Lord! Go smell a flower or something. Eat a brownie. Anything but continue on and on and on about how your boyfriend/husband/ex-boyfriend/ex-husband/father/stepfather/mother/stepmother/boss/neighbor/mailman/dog-walker is screwing with your head and you need to move or change your phone number or pretend you don't speak English or whatever.

I could've used the book the article is about a long time ago. Where was it then? Even now, I catch myself with friendships that I question the motivation behind. It's always with my girlfriends too. Never the guys. Strange how that is. I guess they really are a whole other species (yeah, I'm learning that too). Even with my gay male friends, while the drama is ever-present (though in waves), I still feel I have an equal footing with them. I'm not afraid of the sucking vortex that some of the relationships I've had in the past have ushered into my life.

Wouldn't the world be an awesome place if all our friendships were fully heartfelt and they were as excited to be in our lives as we are to be in theirs? [Insert sigh here.]

You can read the article here.

By the way, the job kept me an hour late because I couldn't put two and two together. Not good when all I do is count all night. (I keep telling myself, "I'll get there. Don't worry." I have only been back at this for a week.)

Here, this makes me happy...