I Don't Think it Had to Go That Way

You know when you plan a girls trip with your best firend to get away from it all and you stop for a drink a few miles outside of town to kick it off in style and then 3 days later you're driving off a cliff to your death with said best friend? Yeah, neither do I, and It's why I find myself at the keyboard today. 

Last night I watched Themla and Louise for the first time in at least 10 years, and definitely for the first time with a head full of adult thoughts and 2022 societal norms. The thought that these women were so belittled by their partners and so relegated to insignificance in their daily lives, that the events of this film unfolded the way they did was really shocking to me on this rewatch. 

Thelma was being violently (is there any other type) sexually assaulted on the way to rape when her friend Louise jumps in and does just about the only thing that would have got this man to stop - she shoots him dead. Figuring they didn't have a shot in hell of being believed about the situation, they head out on the run, discovering themselves in the process.

I had a really tough time watching this 1991 story with my 2022 sensibilities. I know it wasn't a documentary but have things really changed so much in 30 years that in 1991 these women felt this was the best path forward? Were they so belittled and relegated in their lives that this path made sense? Was society so unwilling to open their ears to two panicked and scared women that running away made sense? 

I don't have answers to these questions but it has caused me to ponder the feminine struggle through the decades as they lead to my 30-something life in the 2020s. Inching forward, creeping back. There's a lot that's better today and a lot that has completely eroded away again in the last few years. If you're reading this, yay!, but also, sorry there's not a focus point or realization beyond the persisting twisty, uphill road that is equal rights and confidence for women.

The "Death" of the Romantic Comedy

Ahhh, the 1990's, the golden ages of rom-coms. Sleepless in Seattle, Pretty Woman, Four Weddings and a Funeral, It Could Happen to You, Notting Hill, and on and on and on. There were so many romantic comedies made that sub-genres were invented. You've got your raunchy rom-coms like Something About Mary, your dramatic rom-coms like Sliding Doors, and teen rom-coms like Clueless and Can't Hardly Wait. They. Were. Everywhere. And we ate them up.

At the helm of these money-making juggernauts was...the movie star. We couldn't get enough of Julia Roberts, Sandra Bullock, Hugh Grant and Tom Hanks. But we had one little problem, and the industry had one giant advantage: access. We couldn't just see these stars any old time we pleased; our access to celebrities was very limited and controlled. 

Back in the 1990s, opportunities to lay eyes on your favorite star were few and far between. You could stay up late to catch them on Letterman, tune in early to an awards show and catch them flashing their pearly whites on the red carpet, or pick up a People magazine to catch a multi-page story "tell-all".  But even all of the above happened within a quick window: movie release date announced, talk show rounds, People magazine article, movie in theaters, nothing, nothing, nothing, awards show appearance if you're (they're) lucky, and poof! gone again until their next movie. We were clamoring to see our favorite stars and after commercial buildup, the release of the movie was our big payoff.

Julia Roberts on David Letterman, 1997.
There's only like, 300 pixels in this whole image!

Reason #2 we went to the theater to see rom-coms: screen size. Back in the 1990s, outside of the one rich friend we all had, the standard television size in a US home was about 25 inches and most homes only had the one. This was a standard definition, tube TV with no pause or rewind features - what you caught was what you caught. If your favorite girl-next-door movie star was appearing on The Tonight Show on Monday and the football game ran long, too bad for you, you've missed her. Hope you can catch her next appearance somewhere.  And let's say you were lucky enough to catch your favorite star schmoozing with Letterman, regaling us with witty anecdotes from their glamorous life, it just wasn't big, wasn't the larger than life experience afforded to us with a theater viewing. There was motive to get out and go see them on...the big screen!

Now let's return to present day, a time where access to celebrity and technology are literally 2 of our smallest, non-existent worries. I can open my phone and watch Jennifer Garner drop her kids off at school then teach us how to make a Halloween costume. I can see Tom Hanks post behind the scenes photos and videos of his latest movie, I can literally send Julia Roberts a message telling her I have the same coffee mug as her, and she can write back or 'like' my message. I have a direct line to pretty much any celebrity I'm curious about. Don't even get me started on podcasts...

Now technology. I have 3 television sets in my home now, one of which is an 80 inch monstrosity that cost just a few hundred dollars more than my family's big 32 inch TV did when purchased in 1998. Because of this, I'm ok to wait for the video release of the latest romantic comedy; I don't need to "experience it on the big screen" because the big screen is in my basement. I don't need to go and have a shared communal theater experience with friends because I can send my group chat a screenshot of Julia Roberts liking my coffee mug comment and we can go nuts over that. 

So stop blaming consumers for this supposed death. You guys are the ones that issued celebs blue check marks and gave us access, you guys are the ones that kept making TVs bigger and bigger, you guys are the ones that increased ticket prices to an insane number. I still like romantic comedies and I still want to watch them, but the conditions surrounding the experience have changed significantly and you need to recognize that.

Why I'm Not a Morning Person

Yesterday morning I decided to do my workout before work so I would have a free evening. I woke up super early, jammed on my sweat-wicking clothes in the dark and headed downstairs. I'm a mere six minutes removed from my peaceful nights' slumber at this point and my muscles are not yet on the same page as my brain for what's about to happen. 

I decide to be kind to myself and do a 10 minute yoga/stretch to warm up so I don't hurt myself. However, I have to select the warm-up class from the hundreds offered - instructor, music, focus areas, etc. 4 minutes added to the process. With warm-up and ride in the books, I realize I'm a bit shaky from exerting so much energy so suddenly, so I must select a cool down stretch to center myself before the crazy day gets underway. This selection process is easy as they give you a few to choose from automatically when you finish a ride so minimal selection time added here. 44 minutes.

Ok, I'm feeling accomplished and it's still early. Time to head up to the kitchen for some coffee. Should I be drinking coffee right after a workout? Let me do a quick Google search...7 minutes of scrolling tells me it's probably just fine, but as usual for the internet, 8% of people swear you'll drop dead immediately. Phone's in my hand so autopilot-style I open Instagram. Scroll, scroll, 2 minutes, 3..STOP! You have to be somewhere. Make your coffee! I make coffee in what we now refer to as 'chaos method' - I fill the carafe with however much tap water I have patience to wait for, then I pour the coffee grins directly into the basket without measuring; I know roughly how high it needs to be filled to equal 1 tablespoon per cup. I shave off a clean 60 seconds here. 11 minutes.

While the room slowly fills with the heavenly aroma of roasted coffee, I take this time to go wash my face. I recently learned one shouldn't wash their face in the shower because it's too hot and will dry out the skin. So now I wash in the sink, but must add 2 minutes to the cleaning time to sop up all the water that now flows over my countertops like a river in monsoon season. 6 minutes. 

Coffee's ready. Heaven forbid I sit and drink in silence on the couch, that's wasting time. I take my cup up to my bedroom and together, Mr. Coffee and I decide what we'll wear for the day. I know what you're thinking: pick out your clothes the night before and buy back that precious couch-coffee time. You're absolutely right, and most days I do exactly this, but on this particular occasion my morning vibe does not match the previous evening's vibe. Last night I thought it would be a jumpsuit and mules kind of day, and this morning I'm very much feeling Stan Smiths, stretchy denim and a well fitted but cozy sweater. 7 minutes. 

Time for Mr. Coffee to take his break while I hop in the shower. Wash hair, wash body, shave: which one is getting cut for time on account of the unplanned 10 minute warm up stretch? I decide to compromise - I'll wash my hair, wash my body and shave, but I won't style my har after the shower, I'll just pull it back into a wet ponytail for the day. I think that suits the cozy-but-fitted sweater vibe anyway. 12 minutes.

Shower's complete but now i'm sweating and not quite ready to put on my clothes. I throw on a robe and go downstairs to pack my lunch, making sure to bring along my good friend Mr. Coffee. Apple (I'll wash it at the office before eating; 1 minute saved), leftover Pad Thai (just take the whole container, there's not time to find a Tupperware and portion out my share and his share. Sorry babe). Stand in front of the cool open refrigerator door and take a few deep breaths. 3 minutes 30 seconds. 

Successfully cooled down and back upstairs I throw on my clothes, pull my hair back, slip on my jewelry, run a mascara wand over my eyelashes, and swipe some chapstick across my lips. 2 minutes.

I head back downstairs. (Note to self: maybe you can shorten your workout because you run up and down the stairs so much getting ready?) I swing my backpack over my shoulder, place Mr. Coffee gently in the sink, and trot downstairs to the garage. I start my car, and give it a sec to warmup, using that time to select my audiobook and program Waze. I back out of the driveway, hit the main road, honk at some cars for not advancing efficiently enough on the green arrow, and take a deep breath. I turn the corner to merge onto the freeway and am met with blazing lights and sirens - there's been an accident and the freeway is down to half a lane. I put her in park and reflect on all the ill-fated time-saving efforts I made this morning, only to find myself trapped and unavoidably late. I should have had my couch coffee. Next time.

 

Standing the Test of Time (Pt. 3)

It's been a minute, apologies mum. Way back in 2018, Part 2 of this series was a real stinker - a movie that aged like the hardboiled egg you took out of the fridge to bring with you to the airport for a snack but forgot it on the counter in your sun-drenched house in July while you went on that long-awaited 2 week trip to Fiji. 

Part 3 is a lovely little palet cleanser, I think. Sure, there's elements that would be written differently today, but the overall character archetypes and storylines feel fairly modern and inclusive. The movie this week is 1996's The First Wives Club. 

I remember loving this movie as a young tween, but I don't remember why. Was it because I was watching it with my 2 best friends on a weekend sleepover with no parents around? Was it because the characters had money and cute clothes? Was it because two of the witches from Hocus Pocus were in it? I couldn't put my finger on it so I decided to rewatch it and see if I could recall the reasons. 

Summary: Three close friends from college meet up at the funeral of their fourth friend after she kills herself. The group had drifted apart over the years, and conversation is a little slow to flow. That is, until they realize that each of them has been, or is about to be, dumped by their long-time husband in favor of a younger woman. Stoking each others flames of anger, they band together and hatch a plan to get back and get even, and in the course of doing so, discover bits of themselves lost to time. 

Goldie Hawn's character is a self-made actress with success stemming from both her looks and her talent. She taught her husband everything he now uses to run his business. Bette Midler's character was married young(ish) to a man she loved, and worked along-side him for years as they grew their family and his business from small startup to successful lovable local appliance outlet. And Diane Keaton's character, the most meek of the group, was dealing with empty-nest syndrome and working hard to save her long-time marriage without realizing it was an emotionally abusive relationship.

What starts out as a standard fluff plot of stealing all their soon-to-be ex-husbands money soon evolves into something much deeper - 3 women rekindling lost friendships, supporting one another, re-discovering their strengths and talents, and putting their newfound enlightenment to work in a cause bigger than themselves. 

Goldie Hawn's character makes peace with her unavoidable aging in an unforgiving industry. Diane Keaton's character finds her voice, stands up for herself, and confronts her abusive husband. And Bette Middler's character reconciles her stagnant decades-old marriage after taking stock of what's important to her, to her husband, and to their teenage son. Cumulatively, after realizing what helped them the most during this process, they use the money of their ex-husbands to open a crisis center for women with the hopes of reaching women who need someone to open up to about their lives, before it's too late. 

Would their hijinks only work in a Hollywood movie? Yes. Was there some problematic language around weight and gay relationships? Yes. But at the end of the day it was about 3 women with strong personalities, working together to achieve something that became bigger than themselves. They had a problem, they came up with a solution, and they solved the problem themselves. They weren't perfect and they stumbled along the way but their friendships kept them on track. I guess even as a little teenager I could see that was pretty cool. And two of the 3 witches from Hocus Pocus were in it.

Fuck.

Fuck this abortion legislation.
Fuck systemic racism.
Fuck opinions over research.
Fuck corporations putting blame on citizens for climate change.
Fuck avoiding health issues for fear of financial ruin. 
Fuck rules for thee and not for me.
Fuck the irresponsible media, hungry for click-based revenue. 
Fuck how goddamn hard it is to keep your head above the financial waters. 
Fuck how fucking exhausting it is to just fucking exist in society right now. 
Fuck.  

(I’m ok, just hit my final straw today. I’ve worked hard to curate a place of positivity online and this storm has penetrated my defenses and saturated my heart with gunk. Fuck.)

Time Flies

The 90's are to today, what the 60's were to the 90's. What a trip!

The 60's: a decade of war, violent protest, love, rebellion, technological advancement, community. I suppose in essence every decade carries those traits with them - some more expressed than others - but the 60's just don't feel all that dated to me.

Their rock stars are still performing (sort of, damn Covid). 
Their clothes are still on the shelves of every major retailer.
They're still making movies about the politics, scandals and music of the decade.

From time to time, when I listen to FM radio, I put on an old staple: KRTH 101.1. Growing up, this is where I went to hear "classic rock". Most recently when I've turned on that station, I hear Nirvana, Chili Peppers, and other 90s bands...... At first, this made me upset, "I want my golden oldies, where the hell is my "oldies" music?" I say out loud in my car to myself. It was only when I realized the fact that the 90s are to today, what the 60's were to the 90's, that I understand the change in their playlist. IT'S STILL THE OLDIES STATION, BUT THERE'S A NEW OLDIES IN TOWN!!

I remember years back, maybe 2006, my parents and I were moving my brother into his college apartment in a very college-centric town. While working together to pull a couch out of the bed of his pickup truck,  the familiar sound of Jim Morrison's deep voice and Manzarek's organ flooded out from an open window of another apartment in the complex. It tripped (there's that 60's word again) my dad out as he recalled playing Doors albums regularly at his very own college apartment in the late 60s! "How is it possible that the very songs I listened to as a college kid, my own kid is now listening to in college?!?" He propounded. 

Now here's another interesting comparison: The 1960s are to today, what the 1930's were to the 1990's. I may have only been a kid, but I don't remember a whole lot of 1930's culture playing a role in my childhood or even being referenced outside of a school lesson. I suppose they're The Lost Generation for a reason - a time filled with strife, struggle, desperation, and war; nothing too positive to sell to people as pop culture.

I'm Being $10/month'd to Death!

2016 Me: "Eh, I don't really watch regular television very frequently, maybe I'll cut cable and just go with Netflix for their cool new shows, and Hulu so I can still see the few network shows I do watch - I don't mind that I'll only get access a week after it airs. If I want to watch football, I'll just go to a friends house or a bar."

"Hmm, I don't download that much music from iTunes but this Spotify thing is pretty cool. Those ads are annoying as hell, though! I guess I'll sign up for premium; since I'll listen to way more music than normal, maybe I'll discover my new favorite band with their super smart algorithms!"

2019 Me: "Sorry I can't leave the house ever again. I have 45 monthly subscription services including my meals, razor blades, and clothing. I have to use every single one or else it's a waste of money. I'll be holed up watching all 200 Netflix, Hulu, Prime Video, CBS, HBO and Showtime originals, and listening to all the new artists that Spotify thinks I'd like while streaming sports on YouTube and catching up on the 346 podcasts that everybody on Twitter thinks I should be listening to."



I'm drowning in content and my bank account is paying the price. Big time. I literally don't have the time for even half of it, and less and less every day, I just don't have the energy for it. I have come to accept my fate: I am going to live on the outside of the proverbial loop. Like Jon Snow, I too will 'know nothing' (a reference future me would not understand). I will cancel my fringe subscriptions, go to the grocery store for my food and razors like a civilized human; only listen to the 5 or 6 podcasts that make me happy; and continue watching the handful of shows whose plots genuinely pull me in - shows I'm watching for my own enjoyment, not to be on the inside of a water-cooler joke.  Musically I will cancel my Spotify Premium account, go back to downloading the odd song or album on iTunes and be patient during the commercial breaks as I try to discover new artists. I will stay strong. I will rebuild my bank account. I will not give in to internet pressure.

Oh, by the way, have you watched Shrill on Hulu, yet? You totally should, it's really really great!

A Display of Human Emotion

Have humans created anything more emotionally stirring than the Māori haka?! The competitive battle cry haka will make you feel ready to tear the head off your enemy and drink their blood. The welcoming haka, sometimes performed at weddings, makes an outsider feel as though they now belong to the worlds most tight-knit group. And the memorial haka, sometimes performed at funerals, lets the grieving display their fierce love for the lost, and their depth of support for the surviving.

Whether it's the All Blacks before they play the Springboks, school children honoring a retiring teacher, a family welcoming a new son into their tribe, or friends honoring the memory after losing one of their own, I've never made it through a haka video on YouTube with dry eyes.

Humans are such powerful creatures (for better or worse) so when they come together and act in unison it's always a spectacle. Add call-and-response, loud chants, grand gesticulations, a dash of unfamiliarity (it's performed in the native Māori tongue), demonstrative facial expressions, and the complete and utter commitment exhibited by every single participant, you can't help but feel in the presence of something greater.

I write this today after watching a group of schoolchildren in Christchurch perform a somewhat impromptu haka to honor those lost in the massacres at the 2 Mosques. What started as a small group of 10-15 kids, grew to well over 50 in the matter of minutes, each contributing with all their might, listening to the leader and responding as one. There were boys and girls of not just māori heritage, but other ethnicities as well. They heard their fellow students chant and felt compelled to join in. At the end of the video, one participant, overcome with emotion wipes a tear from her eye as a friend comforts her with a hug. These children may not know the deceased, but they know the effect the tragedy is having, and will continue to have, on their community, and for that they mourn. They are demonstrating that their city will be strong for one another and stronger together.

Because it's rarely socially acceptable to express your anger and your passion to such an extent, I can imagine participating in one is extremely cathartic. Hell, just watching one releases an emotional pressure valve in me - letting out emotions that I've been expected to hide. Watching a haka forces me to connect the dots from the primal human to the modern human and realize we haven't changed all that much. It's a simultaneous experience of the ancient and the modern human and it's beautiful.

Please enjoy these well known haka videos. 

Word to the wise: remove your makeup before you push play.

The wedding haka seen round the world. I love this one as it shows the tender moments of joining together after the dance.

The memorial haka whose love and sadness is so powerful you won't be able to see your screen through the ugly-cry tears.

The military haka which leaves no doubt in the viewers mind that these men are acting as one and will protect one another with all their power. (ends at 2:14)

The sports haka which leave us all blood thirsty and thinking we too are strong and powerful enough go out there with those players and fight for the victory. The French don't stand a chance after that display.

Trust Your Audience

"There are 2 types of people in this world: people who can extrapolate from incomplete data"

Stop explaining the joke to us; trust that we get it!
Stop giving away the plot in the trailer; trust us that we can follow along during the film!
Stop writing a character whose sole arc is to give exposition; trust us that we can pick it up otherwise!

I'm currently watching Broadchurch on Netflix and those damn producers write a joke into every dramatic scene and never feel the need to explain themselves. They barely give a single hint of what the hell you're about to watch in the trailers; and the give you 37 storylines to follow and don't pay a single one off until the final minutes of the final episode.

Come on American content makers, take a page from the old Motherland's book and figure it out! We can be smart, I promise!

Christmas is Changing

Everybody's saying it: "Christmas starts earlier every year." This year there were Christmas trees decorated in halloween candy and pumpkins - presumably to buy time in the 9 hour change-over between trick-or-treating and when shopping doors open wide to the masses at 9 the next morning. I know the corporate Christmas world has always been about making money, but it wasn't always so pervasive, ever-present, and flat out greedy!

"Some cell phone providers ask family members to share their data!" 

                                                                                          - T-Mobile

"Happy ThanksGetting!" 

                      - Verizon

The above are actual taglines from commercials. Retailers have literally lost sight of everything the holiday season is about. It's about sharing, loving, spending time with family and friends, eating yummy foods, and to some, a dash of religion thrown in. The "stuff" isn't going anywhere, and it will probably be on sale again pretty soon. How and why have we created this culture of buying and upgrading?! It's not healthy, it's exhausting, and it's clearly never-ending.

Bah Humbug, I'm old. Just give me my family and a few days off so we can make Welsh Cakes, watch a cozy movie, and hang out together. No more commercials yelling at me to come in before 10am for the best deals of the year!