For the past few years I've routinely been getting these panic attack things. I first started getting them in movie theaters. In my college life, I spent many a day in a theater and especially during the previews, when things were quiet but my mind wasn't completely enthralled yet, they would strike. The room would start to close in and my throat would feel like it was closing up. I'd adjust myself uncomfortably in my chair and reach for water, (for the sensation of liquid travelling down my not-closed throat). I never would tell whoever I was with, but sometimes I'd stop myself from grabbing their hand and pleading, "Call an ambulance. I'm dying."
"It's in my mind," I'd repeat to myself, sometimes laughing just to make a sound. Trying not to let anyone around me hear the gulps of air I was snatching up, probably getting myself so high on oxygen, working only to increase my levels of anxiety. I couldn't sit in a theater, completely still and silent, and not have an attack. And I never thought, or considered, why this was happening until I started riding the subway.
On the subway, usually when the train was traveling under water, but always when I was alone and silent and still, I'd have attacks. It was quiet and still and I needed to do something, but knew that I couldn't. Same as the theater. Knowing that if I freaked out right there, it would cause quite a scene. And I'm not sure when I started feeling this way, but I hate making scenes. I think my body hated the fact that I couldn't scream at the top of my lungs and revolted against me in the form of rapid heartbeat, not being able to catch my breath, tightness in the throat, shaky legs, sweat. Several times, I fought to stand upright, always grabbing the nearest pole and nearly hanging from it as my legs refused to hold me up. I've almost reenacted the scene from Friends where Joey motions at the old lady to get up out of her wheelchair so he can sit down, several times.
My attacks have come in other situations as well. The common thread always being the same things: Me not being able to speak. Me not being able to move around or yell or bounce off walls. And this is why I think my sanity is hanging on by a thread. Does my body want me to speak or yell or whatever so badly that when it feels like it can not, it decides to shut down? Me having to stand still, being forced to be quiet, is the kryptonite that kills my sanity. I wonder what would happen if I allowed myself to do whatever my body wanted in these situations? Do I have a case of turrets that I'm fighting so hard to conceal, my body freaks?
This is just one more reason why pretty soon these entries are going to start with: "So my therapist says...."
And speaking of sanity, tonight is my first night as one of those people who only comes out when the sun goes down. Yep, I started a night gig. So far, I likey. I mean, I'm writing a blog entry! Woo. Tonight is apparently a slow night, so I guess I won't judge quite yet. The person I'm working with, (awkward!), is the person I might be replacing. Yikes. And it's a secret, as in, he doesn't know that. And it kills me when he talks about how much he likes his job, his hopes and dreams, his contentedness with his life. I was telling someone about the situation, my dad I think, and he thought this would happen. That I would form an attachment(?) to the person and end up feeling guilty about this whole situation! I mean, I wish they wouldn't have told me! I wish it just would have been, boom! You're here, he's not. Oops. But no. I'm a knowing participant. And yikes does that suck.
What sucks even more? He's kind of creepy. He's not, being that he seems really nice and great and helpful, but he has the potential to be that type of person. You know. That type. The type that has a button when pressed he freaks out and burns stuff down. That scares me. Maybe I'm completely misjudging here, but just because this is what I do, I'm going to be paranoid about it for a couple of months if I do, in fact, end up replacing him. Like, someone walk me to my car please! (I'm taking applications, cute boy from floor above mine.)
Speaking of boys, I just want to say, for the record, I don't like being catty. In fact, I try to avoid it at all costs. But today, there was a goat comment that nearly slipped through my lips. (I held it in thank goodness. I'm a lady afterall.) But as a wise person once said, "Squatters make other squatters, squat." Enough said.
Hello room temperature coffee. I'm great, (thanks for asking). How are you??? Oh, delicious?! That's weird.
I'm slipping inside the eye of my mind, Oasis!!
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Sunday, May 27, 2007
I Love Dogs!
I feel like my day was ripped from the pages of a screwball comedy. I've had the pleasure and privilege to take care of three dogs today. Not by choice, mind you, by default. At least if I had known what I was getting into, I could have mentally prepared. Alas, I haven't been this mad at a dog(s) since Hopper ate my Liz Phair CD. I cried extraordinarily large, hot, white tears. 
Our three stars:
Hopper-You know her. She's my little lady.
Cillian-My roommates little lady.
Stanley-My roommate's friend's puppy in which she was taking care of this weekend.
The set-up:
Roommate unexpectedly had to go elsewhere for the evening last night and much of the day today. Leaving me with default doggy duty.
My day began as the sun rose and woke little Stanley up. It was about six am. He decided that it was time to chew my headband, a hole in my carpet, and then wake his friends. Hopper, being well-trained to not rise before me, held her position on my bed, but Cillian was up and ready to play. When I refused to open my door, and let loose the herd to run rampidly through the house, no doubt waking my downstairs neighbors and thoroughly pissing them off, they revolted against me. All jumping on my bed, BARKING, AT ME, to wake up.
Barking. Enter my new pet peeve. Newly discovered. Barking, incessantly that is, dogs. Dogs that bark at every noise they hear, and that won't stop with a simple "Shut up!" Multiple dogs doing this may be a cause of death for me in the future. I nearly climbed out my window right then and there. Luckily, for your entertainment pleasure, I decided against it.
Not so luckily, these dogs were up. Up and not going back to sleep with any traditional methods of persuasion. Tranquilizers weren't at my disposal. Stanley, being an un-housetrained puppy, had to immediately be taken out. He's nearly eight months so I'm not exactly sure why he's not completely housetrained. But he's not, and he doesn't seem to care when you rub his face in his mistakes.
So I rolled out of bed with probably a picturesque face and an attitude that even coffee wouldn't fix. The second I got off the bed, the dogs were running around in circles and bounding all over the place, surely waking the neighbors, despite my best efforts.
Walking three dogs is hard enough. When they all want to go in different directions and love twisting up in each other's leashes, it's far worse. Stanley thought it was a good idea to pee on Hopper while she was peeing and Cillian saw a squirrel. I silently pleaded for my roommates timely return. Some how I made it through the morning, which is actually pretty long when you wake up at six. I had to seperate the dogs quite a bit in the early hours, still trying to keep the pretense of quiet.
By ten, when I hear the downstairs people mulling around, I let them be the wild animals they had wanted to be. What do they do? Sleep! Of course! By this time I had three cups of coffee pumping through my veins so no sleep for me.
Stanley then proceeds to poop in the den and pee in my room. Lovely. This is right after me taking them out again, mind you. And on this trip, instead of actually going to the bathroom, (obviously), Stanley thought it was a good idea to chase at a frou-frou dog of a not-so-friendly neighbor. When we get back in, he goes for my sunglasses, actually in the process of chomping down on them, and I yell at him louder than I've yelled at any other living thing ever. He smiled at me a wagged his tail. Infuriating.
At lunch, I take the dogs in the car to get some well-deserved lunch, (for me). Here, they were surprisingly well-behaved. Looking back, perhaps I should have just driven around all day.
Home again, Cillian, in the hopes that every car passing by was her mother returning home, found it important to bark as loudly as possible in case roommate was to miss the turn. She also found her release of energy in taunting Hopper all day, trying to get her to fight. Which with Stanley's presence, these two fighting is not an anomaly.
By nightfall, with roommate still not back, I knew I had to take the dogs out again. Courageously, I leashed them up and went where few have gone before. (I'm an exaggerator by nature.) The highlight of this walk was, beside the comically twisted leashes throughout and the three near trips of yours truly, was when Stanley's leash got stuck, somehow, inside of Hopper's collar. While I was trying to keep the dogs still long enough to untangle, Cillian decides now is a perfect time to finally get a snap in on Hopper. While my head is right by Hopper's face, she starts trying to bait Hopper into a fight. When I yank her leash, Hopper yelps and I realize I have yanked the wrong leash. At this point, what can you do but tredge on and go home and drink at beer at 7 o'clock on a Sunday evening? Nothing. So with choas around me, I sat here, where I am still, trying to ignore the loud barks and bounding dogs throughout the house.
I'm officially taking myself off doggy duty. Come hell or low water.
Our three stars:
Hopper-You know her. She's my little lady.
Cillian-My roommates little lady.
Stanley-My roommate's friend's puppy in which she was taking care of this weekend.
The set-up:
Roommate unexpectedly had to go elsewhere for the evening last night and much of the day today. Leaving me with default doggy duty.
My day began as the sun rose and woke little Stanley up. It was about six am. He decided that it was time to chew my headband, a hole in my carpet, and then wake his friends. Hopper, being well-trained to not rise before me, held her position on my bed, but Cillian was up and ready to play. When I refused to open my door, and let loose the herd to run rampidly through the house, no doubt waking my downstairs neighbors and thoroughly pissing them off, they revolted against me. All jumping on my bed, BARKING, AT ME, to wake up.
Barking. Enter my new pet peeve. Newly discovered. Barking, incessantly that is, dogs. Dogs that bark at every noise they hear, and that won't stop with a simple "Shut up!" Multiple dogs doing this may be a cause of death for me in the future. I nearly climbed out my window right then and there. Luckily, for your entertainment pleasure, I decided against it.
Not so luckily, these dogs were up. Up and not going back to sleep with any traditional methods of persuasion. Tranquilizers weren't at my disposal. Stanley, being an un-housetrained puppy, had to immediately be taken out. He's nearly eight months so I'm not exactly sure why he's not completely housetrained. But he's not, and he doesn't seem to care when you rub his face in his mistakes.
So I rolled out of bed with probably a picturesque face and an attitude that even coffee wouldn't fix. The second I got off the bed, the dogs were running around in circles and bounding all over the place, surely waking the neighbors, despite my best efforts.
Walking three dogs is hard enough. When they all want to go in different directions and love twisting up in each other's leashes, it's far worse. Stanley thought it was a good idea to pee on Hopper while she was peeing and Cillian saw a squirrel. I silently pleaded for my roommates timely return. Some how I made it through the morning, which is actually pretty long when you wake up at six. I had to seperate the dogs quite a bit in the early hours, still trying to keep the pretense of quiet.
By ten, when I hear the downstairs people mulling around, I let them be the wild animals they had wanted to be. What do they do? Sleep! Of course! By this time I had three cups of coffee pumping through my veins so no sleep for me.
Stanley then proceeds to poop in the den and pee in my room. Lovely. This is right after me taking them out again, mind you. And on this trip, instead of actually going to the bathroom, (obviously), Stanley thought it was a good idea to chase at a frou-frou dog of a not-so-friendly neighbor. When we get back in, he goes for my sunglasses, actually in the process of chomping down on them, and I yell at him louder than I've yelled at any other living thing ever. He smiled at me a wagged his tail. Infuriating.
At lunch, I take the dogs in the car to get some well-deserved lunch, (for me). Here, they were surprisingly well-behaved. Looking back, perhaps I should have just driven around all day.
Home again, Cillian, in the hopes that every car passing by was her mother returning home, found it important to bark as loudly as possible in case roommate was to miss the turn. She also found her release of energy in taunting Hopper all day, trying to get her to fight. Which with Stanley's presence, these two fighting is not an anomaly.
By nightfall, with roommate still not back, I knew I had to take the dogs out again. Courageously, I leashed them up and went where few have gone before. (I'm an exaggerator by nature.) The highlight of this walk was, beside the comically twisted leashes throughout and the three near trips of yours truly, was when Stanley's leash got stuck, somehow, inside of Hopper's collar. While I was trying to keep the dogs still long enough to untangle, Cillian decides now is a perfect time to finally get a snap in on Hopper. While my head is right by Hopper's face, she starts trying to bait Hopper into a fight. When I yank her leash, Hopper yelps and I realize I have yanked the wrong leash. At this point, what can you do but tredge on and go home and drink at beer at 7 o'clock on a Sunday evening? Nothing. So with choas around me, I sat here, where I am still, trying to ignore the loud barks and bounding dogs throughout the house.
I'm officially taking myself off doggy duty. Come hell or low water.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
My Mom, The Teacher, Guiding Kids Toward Greatness
While I sit here on my porch, desperately trying to hydrate my body, (and hoping that this hydration can come from coffee), I call my mother for her birthday. She's a kindergarten teacher and turned 55 today. I know she's with her class, but she still manages to pick up her phone when I call. In fact, one conversation we had once went like this:
"Hello?"
"Hi Mom."
"Hey, what are you doing?"
"Oh nothing. Just driving to the grocery store to finally get some groceries so I can stop eating all the junk in my house and passing it off as good food."
"Good! You should go to the grocery store more often so you don't have to do that!"
"Mom, Hopper did the cutest thing thing morning-- Wait. What are you doing right now?"
"I'm standing in front of the chalkboard and teaching the kids their ABCs."
"Mom!"
"What?"
"You answered your phone in the middle of a lesson!?"
"Yeah so?"
"You aren't supposed to do that!"
"It's funny, all the kids are staring at me and cocking their heads-"
"Because you're their teacher on you're on the phone! Why don't you see the issue here?"
"It's fine. They aren't getting any better anyway."
"Mom! They can hear you!"
"They don't know I'm talking about them."
"Just call me back okay?"
"Wait, what did Hopper do that was cute?"
"I'm not having this conversation with all the kids staring at you."
"I'm used to it."
"Mom! Just call me back sheesh."
"Okay, love you."
"You too."
So I call her this morning and immediately ask if she's with her class and she explains most of them are on the playground but she's with a few finishing their work. I feel like this is a green flag for conversation so I begiin to wish her happy birthday, etc. It is then I hear her talking to one of her students and she says to me, "Pretend to be his mom and tell him that he has to finish his work."
"What?!? Mom no-"
A little voice comes on the phone, "Mom?"
I'm silent for a second and then in my best mom voice I say, "Finish your work."
He begins to mumble on and on about something but I'm not fluent in toddler yet so I just sit there in silence waiting for my mom to get back on the phone. He asks some sort of question, I can tell from his tone, and I say "Um hmmmm." My mom's voice comes back on the line and she starts rattling off more lies for me to tell this kid. I stop her, "Mom!"
"What?" she asks innocently.
"I'm not going to lie to this kid!"
"What did you say to him?"
"I recited all the curse words I know."
"You're a mess."
"You're a mess! Happy birthday. Teach your class and I'll call you back later."
"Okay, love you."
"You too."
Click.
Come on coffee! Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!
"Hello?"
"Hi Mom."
"Hey, what are you doing?"
"Oh nothing. Just driving to the grocery store to finally get some groceries so I can stop eating all the junk in my house and passing it off as good food."
"Good! You should go to the grocery store more often so you don't have to do that!"
"Mom, Hopper did the cutest thing thing morning-- Wait. What are you doing right now?"
"I'm standing in front of the chalkboard and teaching the kids their ABCs."
"Mom!"
"What?"
"You answered your phone in the middle of a lesson!?"
"Yeah so?"
"You aren't supposed to do that!"
"It's funny, all the kids are staring at me and cocking their heads-"
"Because you're their teacher on you're on the phone! Why don't you see the issue here?"
"It's fine. They aren't getting any better anyway."
"Mom! They can hear you!"
"They don't know I'm talking about them."
"Just call me back okay?"
"Wait, what did Hopper do that was cute?"
"I'm not having this conversation with all the kids staring at you."
"I'm used to it."
"Mom! Just call me back sheesh."
"Okay, love you."
"You too."
So I call her this morning and immediately ask if she's with her class and she explains most of them are on the playground but she's with a few finishing their work. I feel like this is a green flag for conversation so I begiin to wish her happy birthday, etc. It is then I hear her talking to one of her students and she says to me, "Pretend to be his mom and tell him that he has to finish his work."
"What?!? Mom no-"
A little voice comes on the phone, "Mom?"
I'm silent for a second and then in my best mom voice I say, "Finish your work."
He begins to mumble on and on about something but I'm not fluent in toddler yet so I just sit there in silence waiting for my mom to get back on the phone. He asks some sort of question, I can tell from his tone, and I say "Um hmmmm." My mom's voice comes back on the line and she starts rattling off more lies for me to tell this kid. I stop her, "Mom!"
"What?" she asks innocently.
"I'm not going to lie to this kid!"
"What did you say to him?"
"I recited all the curse words I know."
"You're a mess."
"You're a mess! Happy birthday. Teach your class and I'll call you back later."
"Okay, love you."
"You too."
Click.
Come on coffee! Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate!
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
A Few Quick Musings
-I was reheating a Subway sandwich the other day when something struck me: Why doesn't Subway bread get hard in the microwave? Seriously! It seems to get softer! What is their special ingredient? Why has this oddity never been publicly speculated about like the secret ingredient in PinkBerry debacle? This info should become public knowledge soon! (Is it cynical for me to wonder if their rolls are in fact just a bread-like substance?)
-Apparently there might be a Gilmore girls movie in a couple of years. This excites me, yes. But in order for it to be successful, I believe it needs to happen relatively soon! Strike while the iron is hot. (Or not cold, rather.) Unfortuntely, after a certain amount of time, the only people that will be interested in this are the hardcore fans. So brains and muscle behind this idea, get to work! "Gilmore girls: The Movie" Summer 2008.
-Good luck Christie! And get back to packing! At least if you're going to procrastinate, call me!
-I like the lyrics, "Laughing at the sunrise, like it's been up all night."
-Unrelated to the lyrics above, I'm totally falling head over heels for The Beatles for the first time in my life. Right now.
-When my pup whimpers in her sleep, I gently rub her back and it settles her. How freaking cute!
-I haven't been able to watch the Veronica Mars SERIES finale just yet. Why do all the shows I love get cancelled? (Studio 60 on top of everything else!) And I know it's typical, but I need to reference an old Friends episode because this reminds me of something that reminds me of Friends. (Follow?) People say that I have Phoebe-esque qualities sometimes. I just remembered that when I was little, everytime I went to my grandparents house it seemed someone died. I remember being paranoid that it was me. [Paranoia.] I told myself that it was a coincidence. [Schizophrenic.] Oh! Reference? When Phoebe is convinced someone dies each time she goes to the Dentist. This storyline inspired one of my favorite Friends lines ever!
When you're alive, you answer your phone!
-A bird flew into my house today! Which only serves to remind me of the lovely weather I've been enjoying lately. (Open windows, you see.)
-I'm tired.
-Apparently there might be a Gilmore girls movie in a couple of years. This excites me, yes. But in order for it to be successful, I believe it needs to happen relatively soon! Strike while the iron is hot. (Or not cold, rather.) Unfortuntely, after a certain amount of time, the only people that will be interested in this are the hardcore fans. So brains and muscle behind this idea, get to work! "Gilmore girls: The Movie" Summer 2008.
-Good luck Christie! And get back to packing! At least if you're going to procrastinate, call me!
-I like the lyrics, "Laughing at the sunrise, like it's been up all night."
-Unrelated to the lyrics above, I'm totally falling head over heels for The Beatles for the first time in my life. Right now.
-When my pup whimpers in her sleep, I gently rub her back and it settles her. How freaking cute!
-I haven't been able to watch the Veronica Mars SERIES finale just yet. Why do all the shows I love get cancelled? (Studio 60 on top of everything else!) And I know it's typical, but I need to reference an old Friends episode because this reminds me of something that reminds me of Friends. (Follow?) People say that I have Phoebe-esque qualities sometimes. I just remembered that when I was little, everytime I went to my grandparents house it seemed someone died. I remember being paranoid that it was me. [Paranoia.] I told myself that it was a coincidence. [Schizophrenic.] Oh! Reference? When Phoebe is convinced someone dies each time she goes to the Dentist. This storyline inspired one of my favorite Friends lines ever!
When you're alive, you answer your phone!
-A bird flew into my house today! Which only serves to remind me of the lovely weather I've been enjoying lately. (Open windows, you see.)
-I'm tired.
Monday, May 21, 2007
I've Never Felt So LA...
...And I don't think that's a good thing.
I had the privilege of going to a Hollywood Hills house tonight for a cookout. With a real chef as host! And while that was all good and fine and fun and everything, I couldn't help noticing that those tales you hear about LA were actually true!
Okay let me back up. We drove for what seemed to be fifty miles on the curviest, skinniest, and bumpiest roads known to man. I think we got to the top of the hill and actually started going down the other side. Well, we passed huge mansions and gated driveways at every confusing corner. After finally finding the place, I settled my modest Toyota between a Mercedes and a BMW. I was sure to set my emergency brake.
After finding our way through a jungle, (or a stair path leading to the house through tons and tons of nature), we got to the backyard where my breath was stolen by the view. It was a perfect view into the city, or the valley I think, but beautiful nonetheless. There were only a few other people there, so my nervousness level hiked up a few notches, as I was a plus one.
We were warmly welcomed and immediately given wine, so who was I to complain? Everyone was pretty, but in that good hair, expensive clothes, personal trainer kind of way. All the guys had their button-up shirts, buttoned down about one-quarter of the way to expose some nice, tan chest, complete with the LA man's perfectly trimmed chest hair peaking out.
Over dinner, there were so many jokes about how much everyone was eating, even though barely anyone got seconds. There were quite a few anorexia jokes made and even one or two bulimia ones. (I actually held my bladder for a good thrity minutes after eating as to not raise suspicions.)
There was one guy talking about how he hadn't shaved himself in ten years. The whole group spoke about all the "hotspots" they go to, and how they just reserve a table at clubs when they know it's going to be crowded. (Loosely translated: Every weekend, spending $5000 so you can have a seat at a club where you are going to spend another $5000 just buying drinks.) At one point the conversation shifted to speaking of levels of "AmEx" and if the black card was worth the membership fee. I've never felt poorer in my entire life.
When asked where we lived, my roommate said "Beverly Hills", and I chimed in with "adjacent". Whoops. I totally blew her cover.
The highlight of the evening was when one of the more boisterous LAers dispproved of someones outfit. "No, no! You can't wear that to _____! What if TMZ sees you? Get some leather, some leather! He needs some leather!"
But everyone was really nice, I just couldn't believe just how many stereotypes I had seen tonight. I left deciding that the Hollywood Hills area was not my scene. (Lots of little phrases tonight like, "You can't do that in the Hills!" "You're in the Hills, you better act like it.") Take me to Los Feliz!!
I had the privilege of going to a Hollywood Hills house tonight for a cookout. With a real chef as host! And while that was all good and fine and fun and everything, I couldn't help noticing that those tales you hear about LA were actually true!
Okay let me back up. We drove for what seemed to be fifty miles on the curviest, skinniest, and bumpiest roads known to man. I think we got to the top of the hill and actually started going down the other side. Well, we passed huge mansions and gated driveways at every confusing corner. After finally finding the place, I settled my modest Toyota between a Mercedes and a BMW. I was sure to set my emergency brake.
After finding our way through a jungle, (or a stair path leading to the house through tons and tons of nature), we got to the backyard where my breath was stolen by the view. It was a perfect view into the city, or the valley I think, but beautiful nonetheless. There were only a few other people there, so my nervousness level hiked up a few notches, as I was a plus one.
We were warmly welcomed and immediately given wine, so who was I to complain? Everyone was pretty, but in that good hair, expensive clothes, personal trainer kind of way. All the guys had their button-up shirts, buttoned down about one-quarter of the way to expose some nice, tan chest, complete with the LA man's perfectly trimmed chest hair peaking out.
Over dinner, there were so many jokes about how much everyone was eating, even though barely anyone got seconds. There were quite a few anorexia jokes made and even one or two bulimia ones. (I actually held my bladder for a good thrity minutes after eating as to not raise suspicions.)
There was one guy talking about how he hadn't shaved himself in ten years. The whole group spoke about all the "hotspots" they go to, and how they just reserve a table at clubs when they know it's going to be crowded. (Loosely translated: Every weekend, spending $5000 so you can have a seat at a club where you are going to spend another $5000 just buying drinks.) At one point the conversation shifted to speaking of levels of "AmEx" and if the black card was worth the membership fee. I've never felt poorer in my entire life.
When asked where we lived, my roommate said "Beverly Hills", and I chimed in with "adjacent". Whoops. I totally blew her cover.
The highlight of the evening was when one of the more boisterous LAers dispproved of someones outfit. "No, no! You can't wear that to _____! What if TMZ sees you? Get some leather, some leather! He needs some leather!"
But everyone was really nice, I just couldn't believe just how many stereotypes I had seen tonight. I left deciding that the Hollywood Hills area was not my scene. (Lots of little phrases tonight like, "You can't do that in the Hills!" "You're in the Hills, you better act like it.") Take me to Los Feliz!!
Friday, May 18, 2007
Farewell To A Friend
I started watching Gilmore girls almost two years ago now. I was unemployed after quitting the worst job I've ever had, and my roommate at the time had Seasons 1-3 on DVD. She had always told me that I would enjoy it, but I never really had any inclination to get involved in another TV show.
I am a master at procrastination, especially when it comes to cleaning my room. I told myself day after day during my unemployment that today would be the day I would clean my room. Eventually I realized that that method was not working. I was utterly bored and exhausted from sending out resume after resume, and ultimately decided that I'd give Gilmore a go. As I grabbed the DVDs, I stopped short. I told myself I could only watch the show if I finally cleaned my room. A reward system if you will. Little did I know.
I piled all the clothes from my floor, overflowing from my drawers, wedged behind my bed, fallen in my closet, on the bed in a big heaping pile. I stuck the DVD in my computer and started my journey. From the first scene, I was hooked. About halfway through the episode, I had began keeping up the image of cleaning my room, but slowed considerably. By the second episode, my heaping pile of clothes became a pillow in which I rested my head. Before I knew it, I was putting in disc two, and already was hooked.
By the end of the day, I was almost done with the season. When my roommate got home from work, she couldn't believe the progress I had made. Not so much on my room, mind you. Long story short, I started watching on a Tuesday, (I remember because there was a new episode on that very night), and by Friday night, I was making a late night run to a 24-hour DVD shop to buy season FOUR.
I guess this demonstrates my flaw number two: I'm not so good with the savoring thing. And now, I'll recant something that was once quoted by Andy Warhol. (Give me a break, I went to film school! I don't pray to him or anything, I just think he has interesting things to say.)
I couldn't find the exact quote but it's something along the lines of...'When I get a bag a jelly beans, I eat them all immediately so I don't have to think about them any longer.'...
And that's what I did with Gilmore girls. It was exactly a week before I was completely caught up to season six.
To say that I loved the show would be accurate. To say that I was addicted, would be even more accurate. I had found my new "Friends". For those of you who don't know, I was obsessed with "Friends" to an insane level for much of my teen years. (All?) I have every episode on VHS, complete with the early to late ninties commercials that I treasure almost as much as the actual episodes. I also own all of the DVDs.
Long story, (once again), short, I hadn't had a TV show obsession since "Friends" went off the air. And now, GIlmore was filling that void in my life.
The show is about family relationships, or more than that, people in general. The character in which I was mainly invested in, was Lorelai Gilmore. Single mother, estranged from her parents, living in a small, quirky town she calls home. She left her parents high-class world to start a new life for her and her daughter. The show was funny and touching and filled with a fair-share of drama. We followed these characters through everything. Lorelai through finding her independence, opening her own business, trying to reconnect with her parents, finding love. And Rory, through high school and college, her first kiss, first felony, losing her virginity, her first major relationship.
These people became fixtures in my life, be in the town-loon Kirk, or the hunky diner owner Luke. Every character has a place inside my heart.
The one relationship on the show that I treasured the most, (and that initially caught my attention), was that of Luke and Lorelai. They went from friends to lovers during the span of the show. We watched for four seasons, close call after close call, until finally, finally, they kissed. Fans rejoiced around the world as these two finally got it together.
Now those are the facts, now let me tell you my feelings for the show.
I knew from the start that Luke and Lorelai were eventually going to get together. I think that's what made me want to keep going through the DVDs initially. I mean, it was a great show, but the anticipation of them finally figuring out was killing me. I was waiting and waiting for their big moment. And when they finally got together, the wait was totally worth it. They have so much chemistry, their banter and quick wits were a perfect match. I was invested in this couple. They were my new Chandler and Monica.
This show has my heart, and the couple of Luke and Lorelai will forever be held close to my memory. Even if my wait wasn't as long as real-time viewers was, the build-up was great. All the close calls, and then ultimately, them finally finding each other, or finally opening their eyes.
For two years I've watching, and unfortunately, suffered through their most recent break-up. At the end of season six, the show's creator left, with a mess in her wake. This can be argued, but I believe that Amy Sherman-Palladino purposefully threw her show in a tailspin once her contract was not renewed. I think that she created the biggest mess possible, and then left the sinking ship.
Season six ended with Lorelai in Christopher's, (Rory's absentee father's), bed. Disastrous. ASP tossed the grenade on her way out of the door. But I went into the seventh season optimistic. That's the worst it will get right? Right?!?
Wrong. Not that David Rosenthal, the replacement for ASP, did a horrible job, because I do think he did an alright job, it's just he went a little too far in his attempts to releastically solve the problems put in place by Amy. Sure, right off the bat his writing wasn't up to par-but it was a valiant effort. And it was acceptable given the circumstances. Yes, Gilmore wasn't the same, but for the fans who wanted to see these characters carry-on, it was what we had to deal with. I, personally, was okay with that.
I was okay with Lorelai wanting to give it a go with Christopher. I understood that in order to make the bed jumping the slightest bit realistic, we had to see that there was still possibly something there. We had to see that underneath her fascade of happiness, she was lonely and sad and utterly lost. And Lorelai leaned on Christopher.
It was the ill-fated marriage that I completely despised. It was the sugarly-sweet, laid on too thick, "romantic" weekend in Paris that disturbed me to the core. It was the way that Christopher and Lorelai exchanged the "I love you"s like they were tic tacs, and the PDAs, like it was in Lorelai's nature to do so. Although disastrous and disgusting, at the very least I thought we'd finally get a chance for Lorelai, and more importantly Rory, to finally get closure with this man. The Christopher and Rory scenes were sparse and utterly meaningless. Lorelai didn't as much as give Christopher one harsh word in even the most heated of arguements about his unreliability with their daughter. Or her disappointment of the way the past had gone down.
Neither of the two of them questioned their ill-timed romp in the sack after Lorelai abruptly ended her engagement. Surprisingly, it was never mentioned again. Chris didn't as much as question his own actions, that were at-best, ungentlemanly. Lots of these little moments that could have made it all worth it, were tossed to the side. Instead of letting this relationship develop the characters and bring these family relationships to some sort of closure, the audience instead got a meaningless attempt at a relationship that had proven in the past to be futile. There was no substance and all these thought-provoking idiosyncrasies that could have been addressed, were left untouched.
After fourteen exhausting episodes, holding my breath waiting for the reason behind all of the madness to be revealed, the relationship was over. Fourteen episodes out of twenty-two, what we now know as the last twenty-two episodes, were wasted, err, spent on this relationship building up to a mind-bending nowhere, and then, as expected, falling apart.
And where were we then? Back where we began. What a waste of time and energy and if closure is what they were seeking, then they failed immensely. I'm no closer now to feeling like Lorelai is done with him for good, as I was at the end of season six.
For all the horribleness that was that relationship, when it was over, we started getting back to a good place. It took a couple episodes just for the residue alone to wear off and for me actually to remember that I love these characters, but around episode seventeen, I felt like we were back. Gilmore girls was back. The writing had improved by this time, but I had been so busy covering my ears for all the "I love you"s and holding back the wretches at every hint of physical contact between the two of them, which I may add, was far, far too much, (especially considering the amount we got in the two years of Luke and Lorelai's relationship), to even notice.
But finally, it was tolerable again. And that's the worst part unfortunately. Because as fate would have it, it was during this time that we found out that there would be no season eight.
To a friend who shared my sadness upon this development, I compared it with omelets. You're starving. You sit down and get the delicious looking omelet. You take a bite, and it's great. It's then swept away and replaced with a disgusting omelet that smells fishy. You suffer through a few bites and then, your original omelet is replaced. By this time, you're so excited, it just tastes THAT much better. Then, the resturant closes, and after two bites, they sweep your plate away, informing you that you're done. You had just gotten your appetite back!
It's sad folks. Sad indeed. There was a lot of hope going on in my heart until this was announced. I thought that a season eight would be okay. I thought that it would bring Gilmore to the conclusion it deserved. The last few episodes were fantastic and felt like old-Gilmore. The new writers had finally got the hang of it, and Christopher was gone to-boot!
Well, it's been a disappointing journey these last two years. For fans, it's been hit after hit. But overall, we wanted to see these characters continue. They still had a lot of life left in them. The Luke and Lorelai story, that we had been assured would happen from the beginning, was far from over.
The finale was better than expected. I will say that. Most of the stories left me feeling satisfied. The one I had a problem with though, was perhaps the most important to me, and the closest to my heart. Luke and Lorelai kissed in the finale, yes, and maybe the promise of them together forever wasn't possible given the time restrictions, but it left me a little cold. The line, "Take all the time you need" didn't make sense to me, and given the characters histories, I feel like it would have been more poignant coming from Lorelai. Their moment in the diner, fell falt for me and I didn't feel like, "This is it" for them. Although some fans claim they saw it, I didn't even see a meaningful look between them. Not one that would reassure me that they were back. They barely exchanged two words, and given all that they had been through the last year and a half, I felt like it wasn't sufficient. I also felt the Luke and Lorelai fans were cheated on this ending. Mainly for the reasons above, but also for the mere fact that their reunion kiss was cut short with a tilt up over the town square. Just a look between them after the kiss would have been nice.
My disappointment with the Luke and Lorelai conclusion does taint the ending of this show for me, but in my imagination, it will, and has to, live on.
But now, exhausting all my words, I say goodbye to a show that brought me so much. It shaped my life for two years and every Tuesday, placed me in front of my television in hopeful anticipation.
I will forever love the Gilmore girls, but now, it's time to say goodbye. Farewell my friend! I will miss you!
I am a master at procrastination, especially when it comes to cleaning my room. I told myself day after day during my unemployment that today would be the day I would clean my room. Eventually I realized that that method was not working. I was utterly bored and exhausted from sending out resume after resume, and ultimately decided that I'd give Gilmore a go. As I grabbed the DVDs, I stopped short. I told myself I could only watch the show if I finally cleaned my room. A reward system if you will. Little did I know.
I piled all the clothes from my floor, overflowing from my drawers, wedged behind my bed, fallen in my closet, on the bed in a big heaping pile. I stuck the DVD in my computer and started my journey. From the first scene, I was hooked. About halfway through the episode, I had began keeping up the image of cleaning my room, but slowed considerably. By the second episode, my heaping pile of clothes became a pillow in which I rested my head. Before I knew it, I was putting in disc two, and already was hooked.
By the end of the day, I was almost done with the season. When my roommate got home from work, she couldn't believe the progress I had made. Not so much on my room, mind you. Long story short, I started watching on a Tuesday, (I remember because there was a new episode on that very night), and by Friday night, I was making a late night run to a 24-hour DVD shop to buy season FOUR.
I guess this demonstrates my flaw number two: I'm not so good with the savoring thing. And now, I'll recant something that was once quoted by Andy Warhol. (Give me a break, I went to film school! I don't pray to him or anything, I just think he has interesting things to say.)
I couldn't find the exact quote but it's something along the lines of...'When I get a bag a jelly beans, I eat them all immediately so I don't have to think about them any longer.'...
And that's what I did with Gilmore girls. It was exactly a week before I was completely caught up to season six.
To say that I loved the show would be accurate. To say that I was addicted, would be even more accurate. I had found my new "Friends". For those of you who don't know, I was obsessed with "Friends" to an insane level for much of my teen years. (All?) I have every episode on VHS, complete with the early to late ninties commercials that I treasure almost as much as the actual episodes. I also own all of the DVDs.
Long story, (once again), short, I hadn't had a TV show obsession since "Friends" went off the air. And now, GIlmore was filling that void in my life.
The show is about family relationships, or more than that, people in general. The character in which I was mainly invested in, was Lorelai Gilmore. Single mother, estranged from her parents, living in a small, quirky town she calls home. She left her parents high-class world to start a new life for her and her daughter. The show was funny and touching and filled with a fair-share of drama. We followed these characters through everything. Lorelai through finding her independence, opening her own business, trying to reconnect with her parents, finding love. And Rory, through high school and college, her first kiss, first felony, losing her virginity, her first major relationship.
These people became fixtures in my life, be in the town-loon Kirk, or the hunky diner owner Luke. Every character has a place inside my heart.
The one relationship on the show that I treasured the most, (and that initially caught my attention), was that of Luke and Lorelai. They went from friends to lovers during the span of the show. We watched for four seasons, close call after close call, until finally, finally, they kissed. Fans rejoiced around the world as these two finally got it together.
Now those are the facts, now let me tell you my feelings for the show.
I knew from the start that Luke and Lorelai were eventually going to get together. I think that's what made me want to keep going through the DVDs initially. I mean, it was a great show, but the anticipation of them finally figuring out was killing me. I was waiting and waiting for their big moment. And when they finally got together, the wait was totally worth it. They have so much chemistry, their banter and quick wits were a perfect match. I was invested in this couple. They were my new Chandler and Monica.
This show has my heart, and the couple of Luke and Lorelai will forever be held close to my memory. Even if my wait wasn't as long as real-time viewers was, the build-up was great. All the close calls, and then ultimately, them finally finding each other, or finally opening their eyes.
For two years I've watching, and unfortunately, suffered through their most recent break-up. At the end of season six, the show's creator left, with a mess in her wake. This can be argued, but I believe that Amy Sherman-Palladino purposefully threw her show in a tailspin once her contract was not renewed. I think that she created the biggest mess possible, and then left the sinking ship.
Season six ended with Lorelai in Christopher's, (Rory's absentee father's), bed. Disastrous. ASP tossed the grenade on her way out of the door. But I went into the seventh season optimistic. That's the worst it will get right? Right?!?
Wrong. Not that David Rosenthal, the replacement for ASP, did a horrible job, because I do think he did an alright job, it's just he went a little too far in his attempts to releastically solve the problems put in place by Amy. Sure, right off the bat his writing wasn't up to par-but it was a valiant effort. And it was acceptable given the circumstances. Yes, Gilmore wasn't the same, but for the fans who wanted to see these characters carry-on, it was what we had to deal with. I, personally, was okay with that.
I was okay with Lorelai wanting to give it a go with Christopher. I understood that in order to make the bed jumping the slightest bit realistic, we had to see that there was still possibly something there. We had to see that underneath her fascade of happiness, she was lonely and sad and utterly lost. And Lorelai leaned on Christopher.
It was the ill-fated marriage that I completely despised. It was the sugarly-sweet, laid on too thick, "romantic" weekend in Paris that disturbed me to the core. It was the way that Christopher and Lorelai exchanged the "I love you"s like they were tic tacs, and the PDAs, like it was in Lorelai's nature to do so. Although disastrous and disgusting, at the very least I thought we'd finally get a chance for Lorelai, and more importantly Rory, to finally get closure with this man. The Christopher and Rory scenes were sparse and utterly meaningless. Lorelai didn't as much as give Christopher one harsh word in even the most heated of arguements about his unreliability with their daughter. Or her disappointment of the way the past had gone down.
Neither of the two of them questioned their ill-timed romp in the sack after Lorelai abruptly ended her engagement. Surprisingly, it was never mentioned again. Chris didn't as much as question his own actions, that were at-best, ungentlemanly. Lots of these little moments that could have made it all worth it, were tossed to the side. Instead of letting this relationship develop the characters and bring these family relationships to some sort of closure, the audience instead got a meaningless attempt at a relationship that had proven in the past to be futile. There was no substance and all these thought-provoking idiosyncrasies that could have been addressed, were left untouched.
After fourteen exhausting episodes, holding my breath waiting for the reason behind all of the madness to be revealed, the relationship was over. Fourteen episodes out of twenty-two, what we now know as the last twenty-two episodes, were wasted, err, spent on this relationship building up to a mind-bending nowhere, and then, as expected, falling apart.
And where were we then? Back where we began. What a waste of time and energy and if closure is what they were seeking, then they failed immensely. I'm no closer now to feeling like Lorelai is done with him for good, as I was at the end of season six.
For all the horribleness that was that relationship, when it was over, we started getting back to a good place. It took a couple episodes just for the residue alone to wear off and for me actually to remember that I love these characters, but around episode seventeen, I felt like we were back. Gilmore girls was back. The writing had improved by this time, but I had been so busy covering my ears for all the "I love you"s and holding back the wretches at every hint of physical contact between the two of them, which I may add, was far, far too much, (especially considering the amount we got in the two years of Luke and Lorelai's relationship), to even notice.
But finally, it was tolerable again. And that's the worst part unfortunately. Because as fate would have it, it was during this time that we found out that there would be no season eight.
To a friend who shared my sadness upon this development, I compared it with omelets. You're starving. You sit down and get the delicious looking omelet. You take a bite, and it's great. It's then swept away and replaced with a disgusting omelet that smells fishy. You suffer through a few bites and then, your original omelet is replaced. By this time, you're so excited, it just tastes THAT much better. Then, the resturant closes, and after two bites, they sweep your plate away, informing you that you're done. You had just gotten your appetite back!
It's sad folks. Sad indeed. There was a lot of hope going on in my heart until this was announced. I thought that a season eight would be okay. I thought that it would bring Gilmore to the conclusion it deserved. The last few episodes were fantastic and felt like old-Gilmore. The new writers had finally got the hang of it, and Christopher was gone to-boot!
Well, it's been a disappointing journey these last two years. For fans, it's been hit after hit. But overall, we wanted to see these characters continue. They still had a lot of life left in them. The Luke and Lorelai story, that we had been assured would happen from the beginning, was far from over.
The finale was better than expected. I will say that. Most of the stories left me feeling satisfied. The one I had a problem with though, was perhaps the most important to me, and the closest to my heart. Luke and Lorelai kissed in the finale, yes, and maybe the promise of them together forever wasn't possible given the time restrictions, but it left me a little cold. The line, "Take all the time you need" didn't make sense to me, and given the characters histories, I feel like it would have been more poignant coming from Lorelai. Their moment in the diner, fell falt for me and I didn't feel like, "This is it" for them. Although some fans claim they saw it, I didn't even see a meaningful look between them. Not one that would reassure me that they were back. They barely exchanged two words, and given all that they had been through the last year and a half, I felt like it wasn't sufficient. I also felt the Luke and Lorelai fans were cheated on this ending. Mainly for the reasons above, but also for the mere fact that their reunion kiss was cut short with a tilt up over the town square. Just a look between them after the kiss would have been nice.
My disappointment with the Luke and Lorelai conclusion does taint the ending of this show for me, but in my imagination, it will, and has to, live on.
But now, exhausting all my words, I say goodbye to a show that brought me so much. It shaped my life for two years and every Tuesday, placed me in front of my television in hopeful anticipation.
I will forever love the Gilmore girls, but now, it's time to say goodbye. Farewell my friend! I will miss you!
Friday, May 11, 2007
A Great Big Fire
So what do we have here? I happened to be working a hop, skip, and a jump away from the latest LA fire that devoured Griffith Park and preempted Gilmore girls. We literally were across the freeway from these hills; getting coated with ashes and we all reeked of smoke. We watched as the flames climbed down the hill and slowly took over the entire side that faced us. Unfortunately, we didn't shoot any pictures of the small fire at the top that grew into, well, this.
If there's one thing you can find on set in a time like this, it's a still photographer. And this one happened to be the person in which I share my office with! Hence, all the beautiful photos below. Insanity. Being from the east coast, seeing this with my own eyes was, well, humbling. How quick mother nature can take away things that we take for granted. A natural process, so I'm told. And why do people choose to live in these hills again?
As the smoke moved over the sun, everything around us turned what I could only describe as an Armageddon-orange. Quick! Someone call Crayola!
The fire almost looks like lava here. This got me thinking, what if one day, one of these dormant volcanos that LA surely must have, seeing as it's not too far from the San Andreas fault line, erupts and everyone mistakes it for a wildfire. Yikes!
Okay, nevermind about the volcano thing.
If there's one thing you can find on set in a time like this, it's a still photographer. And this one happened to be the person in which I share my office with! Hence, all the beautiful photos below. Insanity. Being from the east coast, seeing this with my own eyes was, well, humbling. How quick mother nature can take away things that we take for granted. A natural process, so I'm told. And why do people choose to live in these hills again?
As the smoke moved over the sun, everything around us turned what I could only describe as an Armageddon-orange. Quick! Someone call Crayola!
The fire almost looks like lava here. This got me thinking, what if one day, one of these dormant volcanos that LA surely must have, seeing as it's not too far from the San Andreas fault line, erupts and everyone mistakes it for a wildfire. Yikes!
Okay, nevermind about the volcano thing.
Friday, May 04, 2007
Murder She Wrote...
The Chaka Demus & Pliers version of this song plays in my head daily.
Check out the trailer for "Murder", the show I'm currently working on. Woo!
Check out the trailer for "Murder", the show I'm currently working on. Woo!
Thursday, May 03, 2007
My Super Team
THE CHALLENGE:
Assemble a super team from your favorite films, TV shows, books etc. All your superteam members must be from DIFFERENT sources. (Mine are all from TV. Surprise, surprise!)
Your team must consist of the following:
Team Leader
Warrior
Smartypants
Hottie
Comic Relief
Here are my picks:
TEAM LEADER:
Sandy Cohen: A great leader, with a great head on his shoulders, and can straighten out the most misguided of youth. If he can lead the disfuntional Cohen's into prosperity, I'll feel pretty confident that he can lead my team to...whatever comes our way.
WARRIOR:
Jack Bauer: The man has more lives than a cat. When fighting the most dangerous of opponents, Jack will do whatever it takes to fight for his cause. Including, but not limited to, biting out the trachea of the opponent. If that's not devotion, I'm not sure what is.
SMARTY PANTS:
Veronica Mars: If I have to explain this one to you, you're watching the wrong television shows. But because I like to brag on this little lady, I'll expand. She can get out of the toughest of situations using nothing but some clever thinking and her quick mind. She's the sleuth of all sleuths and a smarty-pants to boot! (And she can handle a weapon!)
HOTTIE:
Dr. Doug Ross: The advantage of having a doctor on your team should be self-explanatory. But one that looks like this, well, the advantages expand exponentially.
COMIC RELIEF:
Chander Bing: I know, I know. His ability to always come up with the short-straw could potentially be a major downfall to my super team. But Chandler can make the most mundane situations a lot more fun. When the super team is sitting around waiting for someone to shoot our Bat signal into the sky, Chandler will keep us entertained and on our toes.
FROM JohnVidas.com
Assemble a super team from your favorite films, TV shows, books etc. All your superteam members must be from DIFFERENT sources. (Mine are all from TV. Surprise, surprise!)
Your team must consist of the following:
Team Leader
Warrior
Smartypants
Hottie
Comic Relief
Here are my picks:
TEAM LEADER:
Sandy Cohen: A great leader, with a great head on his shoulders, and can straighten out the most misguided of youth. If he can lead the disfuntional Cohen's into prosperity, I'll feel pretty confident that he can lead my team to...whatever comes our way.
WARRIOR:
Jack Bauer: The man has more lives than a cat. When fighting the most dangerous of opponents, Jack will do whatever it takes to fight for his cause. Including, but not limited to, biting out the trachea of the opponent. If that's not devotion, I'm not sure what is.
SMARTY PANTS:
Veronica Mars: If I have to explain this one to you, you're watching the wrong television shows. But because I like to brag on this little lady, I'll expand. She can get out of the toughest of situations using nothing but some clever thinking and her quick mind. She's the sleuth of all sleuths and a smarty-pants to boot! (And she can handle a weapon!)
HOTTIE:
Dr. Doug Ross: The advantage of having a doctor on your team should be self-explanatory. But one that looks like this, well, the advantages expand exponentially.
COMIC RELIEF:
Chander Bing: I know, I know. His ability to always come up with the short-straw could potentially be a major downfall to my super team. But Chandler can make the most mundane situations a lot more fun. When the super team is sitting around waiting for someone to shoot our Bat signal into the sky, Chandler will keep us entertained and on our toes.
FROM JohnVidas.com
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