Missed Opportunity: George Clooney

Hey, remember when I was in a movie?  I just like to refer to it now and then.  I found an article the other day about the film student who directed the short I was in (Brantley Ping, in the hat in this photo), and there is a photo referring to me as "actor Serenity Bohon."  You know I bookmarked that baby.  After all, according to my 9-year-old (a couple posts earlier), it is one of the things for which I might eventually be famous. (You can see the article HERE, because I know you care.)

All of this brings me to today's small regret.  I could have been in a film with George Clooney, but I turned it down.  (Keep reading for the realistic version of that statement that was SO FUN to write).

Mom has this awesome knack for passing along information for opportunities that probably sound like torture to her but which she knows one or the other of us would love.  Enter a little ad she saw for extras in a George Clooney flick which would be filming at the St. Louis airport less than 4 hours from me.  

I read all about it - you get paid, I don't remember, eleven dollars a day or something.  And the days are hours and hours and hours beyond a normal work day (Okay, like 11 or 12).  But you're in a film with George Clooney.  (You see?  That logic alone would have gotten me in this film.  I AM their target audience.)  And, listen, I had a whole other reason that was pretty good too.  Research.

I'm writing a novel, and let's just say knowing what it actually feels like on the set of a major film, or at least what it feels like to be within several yards of an actor you've previously only seen up close in your movie cabinet at home, would be priceless firsthand information.  Unfortunately, I could have driven all the way to the audition only to find out I didn't get to take part.  OR, I could have driven all the way to the audition only to have to come back a second day.  This is hotel and gas money I didn't really have, what with the economy crashing around our heads, on the off-chance that I would actually be chosen.  I was practical, People.  And nobody ever got into a George Clooney movie BY BEING PRACTICAL.

So, I don't know if regret is the right word.  Those were some precious hours with my actual life that I don't really wish I'd given up.  Still, in a couple of years, George Clooney should appear in a film called Up in the Air (with Jason Bateman too - I've loved you in everything you've done, Mr. Bateman) in which he is a "corporate downsizer obsessed with collecting frequent flyer miles at the expense of having a life".  I'm thinking comedy more than dark drama.  But I'm pretty sure, I'll be the girl in the second to last row, crying.

Here Comes the Sun

Do you know that song?  Here Comes the Sun?  In googling it, I just discovered it's a Beatles song, which reminds me of all those times as a kid when we would hear a song on the radio and say, "Hey that's from the McDonalds commercial!" - an aren't-they-cute-and-young moment that we share with our own kids now, only the songs are usually from Shrek.  It reminds me of that, because until just now I would have said "Here Comes the Sun" was from Parent Trap.  The remake.   

I heard it today and thought of Natasha Richardson in that movie when she and Lindsey Lohan share a mother-daughter moment in London.  It's very sunshiny, very happy, very alive.  And suddenly I was crying.  I felt so sad for Natasha's family.  When the announcement was made of her death, it came with that typical publicist-worded phrase about respecting the family's privacy.  I figure that mostly means photographers, but I still felt rude blogging about it or tweeting it on twitter when I am anything but family and that would hardly be privacy.  Today I can't help it though.  

I've recently reread a lovely book called Stepping Heavenward.  It's very old, but it has one of the more relatable Christian characters I've ever read.  Relatable to me at least.  Her name is Katy.  The book takes her from adolescence to motherhood and shows her Christian growth - as she herself would say.  She's desperate for Christian growth throughout the book.  She is always trying to know God better, or rather, to reflect Him more.  She has fits of almost unreal faith because of this - little euphoric moments of grace where she feels basically perfected.  I hate to admit those moments of hers are as relatable to me as her fits of unrest, of gloom, and of the conviction that she will never understand God's ways nor how to be a proper Christian. 

Katy has several seasoned Christians in her life, so the book is full of their helpful (if pious) monologues about the Christian walk.  I like them both - I like the religious statements because there are nuggets of true and attainable poetry in them, and I like the temper tantrums and the sorrow and the imperfection, because it's true.  I find life somewhere in the middle most of the time.  There is an odd celebration for suffering in the book that I don't quite understand.  I know it's straight bible to "rejoice that we are counted worthy" to suffer as Jesus did.  Still, when the seasoned woman said as much - how blessed she was by the death of every person she'd ever held dear because it drew her closer to God and shouldn't the younger woman in the same way cheerfully accept the sudden death of her fiance, I kind of wanted to crawl through the book and shush her.

That's not a kind of faith that I actually understand.  For one thing, if we suffer because we are counted worthy it seems to follow that those who glide on peacefully must not be held in high esteem by Him.  And don't think I'm reading too greatly into this - I can't think of any character in the book who doesn't suffer but is considered a seasoned Christian.  The rich and healthy people in the book are generally grumpy and ingenuous and shallow while the ones who pursue Him are continually losing health and family members!  The faith I have managed thus far is somewhere in between.  I don't think I could ever actually thank God if he took something from me so precious as a fiance or a child.  I don't really think I believe that God does such a thing.  I think death takes our loved ones from us, and God - thankfully - receives them on the other side.  

However, I've been through some things.  And I've watched wonderful people go through some things.  And I do believe that you can embrace the pain without losing your faith.  And if you do that, eventually, the sun comes back.  It eventually always does.  There will be better, happier times, and you will actually feel the happy.  That's the sun to me.  It's so hard to believe when it's cloudy, like it was at our house today when the song came on that made me think of Natasha Richardson's family.  I know they feel so dark today.  And I have a hard time believing that taking a mother from two teenage sons and a husband is just the best thing for all involved.  I think it's awful, and if it were me I'd have a little talk with God when I joined Him - it's great here and all, but WHY?  Still, even for the Richardson family, and although it might be a while - here comes the sun.  I've seen it happen, so I know it can.

I learned to dance from a cowboy

Last night's Dancing with the Stars theme was for me, "What a trouper."  (Is it trouper or trooper?)  Because with almost every contestant, I would make this little nurturing sound and say that phrase.  With some it was just because this was their first time, and you could see their nerves begging them to stay in that stupid low-ceilinged room rather than subject themselves to that pressure.  But they went out on that stage anyway, knowing the judges would criticize everything from their wayward bums to their gymnastic arms to their toe leads AND knowing that there was no possible way the majority of the American viewing audience could have any idea just how difficult it is to master the steps, the form, the choreography, and the emotion of the dance and manage to capture all of it at once.  Seriously, we have no idea.

But besides simply the first time jitters, there were two contestants who had exactly two days to learn the dance, because they were replacements for those who were injured.  ONE of these last minute replacements was dumped by her fiance on The Bachelor on national television only one week ago.  I was just as impressed with her pretty dancing and subsequent comeback to life as ABC's marketing department intended for me to be.  (Even though the poor thing tried to tell us she is fine.)  And then there was the cowboy.  

The cowboy is Jewel's husband, and the plan was that they would be the first married couple competing against each other.  Then Jewel got hurt, and this poor shy cowboy is left all by himself on this national television program known foremost for its fake tans and sequined costumes.  I really felt for this guy.  He was so gentlemanly and unassuming, taking the criticism so bravely and stating without any sense of self-preservation, "I was very nervous out there.  And I'll try to do better next time."  Michael groaned when I suggested that we watch the show at all, but by the time the cowboy had danced Michael was watching with at least one eyeball and demanded someone get that poor man a horse so he could feel more comfortable.

So, obviously, they've sucked me in again with their colorful costumes and pretty music, and as always - though more noticeable this season - their bravery.  Maybe it's not the kind of bravery you care to have in life.  I definitely get that.  Learning to move your hips is probably a long way from your bucket list.  But I still say there's something to learn from all that dancing.  And for me, last night, it was all about being brave.

(photo by Corey Ann on Flickr)

I hope Dad comments, so I'll know where he's at in the room

If I were in charge, I'd get Hugh Jackman to sign a contract right now for the next few years.  The Oscars are better I think for a little familiarity, and I miss the days of the tried-and-true host who's both a funny man, a classy man, and a music man - and Hugh won on all counts I think.  On the other hand, here's to changing things up - like the prettiest set design ever, the return of the big musical numbers, and the five previous winners honoring personally each nominee in the acting categories.  One of my favorite parts of the Oscars:  Watching them react to each other, and those categories were stuffed full of moving.

Here are some nominees for my favorite moments:  First up, the musical numbers.  I told you I think even life should "periodically burst into song, and dance about the stage," so I was all for the very cool opening number, the heart-stopping "Musical is Back" routine, and the performances of the three nominated songs.  (What happened to five?  For a year in which the musical is back, there was a shocking lack of big movie songs apparently).  I even liked it when Hugh cracked up during the unique song about not yet having seen The Reader.  And, while I'm signing contracts, I think Beyonce should be considered the official Oscar singer.  Remember the year she sang three of the five songs, and they were all in such a unique style?  She's just really, really good.  Plain and simple.

Next I wrote down, "Heath's family."  It was a very gracious acceptance speech from the people who surely knew Heath Ledger the best.  But what moved me most were the tears in the audience.  I wondered which of them had been his dear friends, which of them cried simply because of a young life lost too soon, and which of them - perhaps - were parents too and empathized with the painfully beautiful thought of accepting such a high honor for a child who shouldn't have, but did, go before you.

I like it when people seem to notice us out there on our couches with popcorn soaking in every minute.  I like it when they say, "I used to give this speech with a shampoo bottle," (a la Kate Winslet last night), or when they remind us that, "Anything's possible".  Last night my favorite moment like that was when the director for Slumdog Millionaire complimented the beautiful set design, saying, "I don't know what it looks like at home, but here it's bloody wonderful."  I believe you, Mr. Boyle, yes I do.  And it's so nice of you to tell me that like you're the friend of a friend who lucked out enough to know somebody who knows somebody who got you into the show and then took a picture of it on your blackberry and texted it my way.  I now feel even more like I was there.

I mentioned the musical numbers, right? (Here's a You Tube video of The Musical is Back).

But then, after all this, came my favorite part of all.  I know for sure it was my favorite, because I found the clip HERE, and I've watched it over and over today.  It was Kate Winslet's father whistling to her across that huge room of somebodys.  Her reaction was like end-of-the-movie, thank-God-they-found-each-other, dreams-come-true sublime.  

Of course, the soundtrack to this year's Oscars was apparently Jai Ho from Slumdog Millionaire (some of the cast pictured here by KaushiK on Flickr) - a movie I am SO GLAD I saw before Oscar night.  And what a great movie to win so many Oscars.  It's about rising above, finding your destiny, fighting for love - all the good stuff.  Where I watched the show, we wore bright yellow scarves in honor of the movie and that happy theme.  Jai Ho means, "May the victory be yours."  I am loving that.

most exciting thing that ever exited a furniture truck outside my door

Important update to to the category of what I'm looking forward to most:  He's going to SING AND DANCE.  Hugh Jackman, I mean.  (pictured here by edison0618 on Flickr).  I heard it from his own mouth.  (Although not technically in person of course).  I stand firmly in the camp that believes almost any program - or, you know, moment in LIFE - is improved by a song and dance number.  I'd rather watch a really cheesy Nick-and-Jessica type variety show than song-less, monotonous reality t.v. any day.  So I have officially put this as number one - okay, maybe second to the montages - on my list. The Oscars are going to rock this year; I can feel it.

In other what-I-watched-while-recuperating-from-a-cold news, I saw The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants sequel the other day.  There was a great moment where America Ferrera's character talked about the delicious language used in the play she was rehearsing for.  She complained at how lazy we are now - how much prettier phrases were then and how much richer it felt to speak that way.  "Why don't people talk like that anymore?" she wailed.  I loved that part.  I love the idea that if we would just stop and savor the little things in life a little more, our lives would be so much richer.  We tend to live through life rather than in it sometimes. And I love it when a book or a movie suggests that we stop and take it in a bit. The  National Treasure movies have some great lines like that too, which brings me to my little Hollywood gem for the day.

Do you ever find yourself vaguely remembering a movie line?  You know it moved you, but you can't quite remember what it was.  Let me introduce you to (as if you didn't already know) a little thing called IMDB - the Internet Movie Database.  You know you can find out who was in what film there, but you can also find a wealth of great movie quotes.  The page is called "Memorable Quotes" for each movie, so I usually get there by typing that phrase and the movie title into a search engine.  You'll be spouting poetic in no time.  

In honor of living life richly, allow me to cyber-celebrate a little gift I received yesterday from The Man himself:  This dark wooden rectangle of wonderful, our new table.

We have never in our married life bought ourselves a table.  Hand-me-downs work just as well for eating on.  Only I so don't believe that now.  This glorious piece of furniture has officially become the centerpiece for my lucky life.  I touch it every time I walk by.  We christened it last night with company and everything - company I would have the previous night seated in the living room with a t.v. tray rather than sit at our chipped wooden table with the hard, flat decades-old benches.

I'm working on the song and dance routine as we speak.

Life is richer when you organize it into categories for Academy Awards

I still have Oscar fever around here.  Along with the actual fever, as in, "Leave the bread by the wagon, Pa, I've got the fever and we're quarantined."  But it's just that nasty cold sort of plague that doesn't keep me from pretty much carrying on as normal.  Instead, it just makes me feel zero guilt when I choose the couch and a movie over yoga, or pouring over enjoyable books on my lunch hour and evening stretches instead of more productive things like laundry and novel writing.  I look forward to feeling better, but in the meantime I'm sucking the marrow out of the sniffly, achy, wheezing permission to take more in from life this week than I'm giving out.  

Besides the sickness, there is another reason I'm either reading a book or watching a movie in all my spare time.  It's hard to do anything else when I literally have myself tied down with sheets lest I bug my agent this week with a daily "What's happening now?".  There was a little movement with the manuscript last week, though nothing concrete.  The last I talked to my agent she sounded very positive and hopeful and was off to see what she could make out of the positivity.  So I'm sitting tight.  Michael, as you may remember from previous posts, has a horror of being uncool and has told me to refrain from anxious phone calls or silly emails in which I say things like, "Hey Hol, how's the weather on Fifth Avenue?" when what I really mean is, "What's happening already?!"  And for God's sake, don't actually write anything like the latter.  Just BE cool.  And I'm thoroughly obeying him, meanwhile devouring distracting entertainment like a tonic.

So here's some of the tonic I've been devouring, organized into completely subjective and ridiculously pretend Oscar categories.

Most inspiring DVD for pursuing the writing dream 'til I die:  Miss Potter.  Ooh, this is a good one.  Rene Zellweger plays the slightly eccentric, very proper-yet-independent author who convinces me that I will not rest until I'm able to buy a farm in the English country with my book earnings - or some dream equally true to my own life - and it was the first time I wanted two characters to rebel against 19th century propriety and just say I love you already!  Also, I've never seen animation add such a subtle charm to a film.  No girl should marry a man who isn't willing to talk to her imaginary rabbit.  That scene was too sweet.

Favorite song downloaded to my iTunes so I can remember how it made me feel in the movie:  Currently Love You Til the End from P.S. I Love You.  What do you think comes first:  A great song?  Or the movie that makes the song great?  I'm sure it's a combo, but there is just something about those songs that evoke the emotions you felt in a great film.  Also recently added to my iTunes:  Thinking Over from Raising Helen and When You Say Nothing At All from Notting Hill.  Songs from movies are almost always my favorites.

What I'm looking forward to the most:  The nominees are:  Hugh Jackman. I think he's a classy choice for host.  I'm not expecting humor a la Billy Crystal or even Jon Stewart, but I'd so much rather look at him all night than Whoopie.  The speeches.  I like to see who can avoid all cliches - no comment on how heavy Oscar actually is, and no "I should have prepared a speech".  Because, yes, you should have.  I want poetry, tears and/or laughter, and the appropriate balance between humility and celebration. (Good luck with that).  The people.  That's really the best part I suppose - so many of our favorite entertainers in one place, all dressed up prettily.  I like to watch them react to each other.  I love it when they can make each other laugh and cry and cheer.  But the winner is:  The music montages.  I want to hear dramatic soundtracks with clip after clip after clip of the movies I've loved.  I really like that part.  (But not without the rest).

photo by cliff1066 on Flickr

books on film

It's Oscar week.  Meaning, that on Sunday night you should be able to find me on a couch somewhere with popcorn, Reeses Pieces, and a Diet Coke literally glued to a television screen while Hollywood celebrates itself and produces the most glamorous commercial ever for pretentious movies we might not otherwise have seen - as well as a few nods to those we all saw.  

In honor of that, my favorite night in television, I'm talking movies this week.  That may mean this is the only post you get, because it's not like I have it all planned out.

You may notice this is not a picture of a movie but of the book that birthed a movie.  I just read it as I loved the movie, and friends told me the book was so much better.  I assumed I would agree with them but also felt a little trepidation having seen the movie first and loved it so much.  Sure enough, in this case, I prefer the movie.  Now, I'm pretty sure there's a club I'm being kicked out of right now.  It's literary and writer-supportive and thoroughly convinced that the book is always better.  And I just totally shamed them.

I love books.  Love, love, love them.  I write them for goodness' sake.  And I read them, and I adore them.  This one is truly lovely.  The premise is absolutely beautiful, the characters are loveable, it's realistic and uplifting.  It's just very good.  Almost the only major plot difference is that the movie is set in America about an American who fell in love with an Irishman.  In the book, they are all, of course, Irish.  I really enjoyed that aspect of the movie - probably because I saw it that way first.  The relationship between Holly and her husband in the book is kind of plain in comparison.  In the movie, it is rich and poetic and unique.  Also, his letters to her in the movie just have more umph.  He is not just giving her a list of things to get done but a journey for finding herself again.  I think this was the point of the book as well, but it wasn't as poignant.  I missed the soundtrack, the gorgeous clothes, and the tighter humor that comes with the collaborative effort and condensed time frame of film.

Also, I missed the creative aspect.  That was the most relatable part of the film for me - the way she used to want to create things.  In the book, she simply finds a job.  In the movie, she finds a beautiful creative outlet you can't help but think she was destined for.  

I think the reason the book is usually better is because it is more.  It develops the characters more thoroughly.  It tells the story at a slower, richer pace.  It requires more imagination and therefore gets inside you in a way movies sometimes can't.  In this case, I felt the film gave me more.  It's possible that I was just swept up by the dreamy Irish guys, the moving music, and the pretty shoes.  Which are all things the film medium loves to give us.  There's another club that celebrates that.  I'm a member of it too, but you just can't always please them both at once.

cupcakes in manhattan

If you're one of those people who can't understand why people care when celebrities leave their homes and what they wear and which beaches they frequent, then you probably won't understand this.  But I have a tiny obsession with Katie Holmes and Suri Cruise.  It started because Katie was pregnant with Suri the same time I was pregnant with Jake.  And I kept hearing about the expensive layettes Katie bought and the two thousand dollar bassinet she purchased twice for different parts of the house, etc., etc.  Then not long after our babies were born, Tom and Katie got married, and I read of the designer gowns made just for little Suri and saw pictures of the castle they were married in.  Around that time I was holding Jake in my arms and looking out our big, sunshiny window onto the pretty street outside, and I asked him, "Would you be happier if your home were more like Suri's?"

He was way too young to answer me in words.  But I've never been more sure of anything than I was of his response.  

Now I still enjoy the pictures of Katie and Suri taking on Manhattan with Suri's adorable little dresses and Katie's cute mom-crop.  I loved the one recently where they were sharing cupcakes, because I'd read of Katie's love for them long before Suri was born.  I try not to think of their lives as better than mine - but just kind of parallel, with a lot more cameras around.  It's been over a year since the last paparazzi shot of Jake and I - this one above while watching the homecoming parade in our small town.  And I don't think it really counts as paparazzi when the guy gets you to sign a release afterwards.  It's not exactly cupcakes in Manhattan, but it was our life, and we were totally starring in it.

Have you seen The Holiday?  Because this is the perfect time for yet another life-altering movie quote:

Arthur:  Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend.  You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend.

Iris:  You're so right.  You're supposed to be the leading lady of your own life, for God's sake!

I'm thinking all those great movie lines we quoted last week - if we apply them - can help us play the leading roles in our own lives.  It's taken a while, but at this point I don't watch the celebrities because I wish I were them.  I don't watch them for their clothes or their bags or their shoes or their shoe closets.  I watch them because bits and pieces of their lives are just exactly like ours, and it's fun to see that celebrated and photographed and put in a shiny magazine.  Did you see Brad and Angelina navigating the airport with six kids?  The next time you walk out the mundane - imagine a photographer cares.  It could totally elevate the experience for you - and remind you who's playing the lead. 

graded on participation

Mom sent me an email today that gave me a great idea for today's blog post.  It's a comment-getter, this one.  Because, you know, it actually asks for comments.  You know how I love movies and how I love to be moved by them.  I'm so happy when a movie somehow elevates our own sense of purpose, our right to exist.  You know those movie lines that sink in like "152 insights into my soul," and you wonder to yourself, "How did they know that?  How did that big Hollywood somebody see me and write my feelings that way?  It's surely happened at least once.  Remember my post (I doubt you do) way back when about how movie makers are like the people in a Quaker church standing up because they just know they have something to say?  Well, with all that intent, surely they've gotten to you at least once.  

If you've seen my MySpace page, you know the quote that is probably the most defining for my own life - ironically from the very movie that joked about the insights into my soul.  Meg Ryan's character wrote it in an email in You've Got Mail.  Thus, I have Nora Ephron to thank for one of the most defining movie quotes of my life:

I lead a small life - well, valuable, but small.  And sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I want to?  Or because I haven't been brave?

From this quote on, I looked at life differently.  I have a whole theory about how important the "small life" is - because it is important.  But before this quote I lived life much more passively.  After it, I realized that living the life you're supposed to requires more than just patience.  Sometimes it takes bravery.

Recently P.S. I Love You spoke to me.  The defining moment in it is probably the scene where her husband writes in a letter that he is not trying to help her remember him but to remember herself the way she used to be when she knew what she wanted and didn't worry so much how perfectly she found her way to it.  "Just create."  That's what she knew she wanted to do then and what he wanted to remind her of now.  That movie speaks to me because of that belief in the importance of creativity and also for probably the most perfect love any human ever gave another.  The guy in this movie was so content just to love her, and he did it so well.  I definitely want creating things to come second to that part of my life.

Okay.  Now it's your turn.  A movie, a movie scene, a movie line - Pick one.  It doesn't have to have changed your life - it just has to have moved you.

more things I love about movies

Question: How sad is it that most Americans are NOT smarter than a fifth grader? We have the board game at home, and I just failed half way through fourth grade. The question was something I really, really should have known. I'm embarassed to even tell you how much I should have known it. It had to do with the Alamo, and - well, I guess I just haven't seen enough movies on that one. The way Drew and I play, though, is that you get lots of chances to keep moving forward. And I totally nailed my million dollar Q. You want to know why? The question was, "In what year did the Great Depression start." So I replayed in my head something I'd read on my agent's blog recently - that their Christmas party theme at the end of the year was "Party like it's 1929." I also know the year of the Newsies strike (from the movie) and a few important tid bits on World War I (from the eighth book in the Anne of Green Gables series). And, YET, don't even think I could ace the pop culture section on Who Wants to be a Millionaire, because I only pay attention here and there even in that field that I love so much.

So, yea, I'm feeling kind of - well, not concerned - but interested - in the state of our intelligence. Because I know I'm not alone. I also know that at least I'm smarter than Kelly Pickler, who didn't know if France was a country or not, and the teen Miss America contestant who stumbled over basic geography in a question about why American kids don't know enough about geography and, seriously, most of the people interviewed by Jay Leno on the street outside of Universal Studios. I mean, that segment is just really, really sad.

Michael and I were talking about the economy today and various executive orders signed last week and the Climate Change formerly known as global warming. And of course, I eventually ran out of things I knew for sure and things of which I even had an educated opinion. That doesn't take long for me when it comes to current events. I've paid more attention to the current presidency in two days than I ever paid attention before. I think it was the fingers-in-the-ears philosophy. If I don't know it, it can't scare me, la la la. I think I got that from a movie too. And I quote:

There's always an Arquillian Battle Cruiser or a Corillian Death Ray or an intergalactic plague that is about to wipe out all life on this miserable little planet, and the only way these people can get on with their happy lives is that they. . . Do . . . Not. . . . Know about it.

Isn't that the truth.

looks like I need to hit the cinema before Oscar night

Somehow I don't really get the Jonas Brothers.  But this was the best picture I could find on Flickr from the Red Carpet Sunday night, and plus, I was thinking - three brothers in a band.  How fitting.  (photo by SassyPanda on Flickr)

I took notes during the Golden Globes.  First up, the red carpet special.  I don't like this part.  I mean, I don't want them to stop doing it.  But it's always disappointing.  ALWAYS.  I remember as a little girl when Mom used to let us stay up late to see who won the Miss USA pageant, and Felic and I would sit glued to the television eating Twinkies, hoping our favorites would win.  But by junior high, I realized I was never satisfied.  I wanted there to be a stand-out, some perfectly beautiful, pure-hearted angel who would literally make the audience gasp with her sweet, pure, inside-and-out beautifulness.  I wanted to be inspired.  But no.  It was pretty much just girls in bathing suits and high heels barely bumbling out an intelligible answer to philosophical questions.  And then the winner was always someone I hadn't really even noticed until the top 5.  That's how the red carpet event always makes me feel.  Where's the inspiration?  It's the same tired questions and the same tired answers every time.  Also, in case you didn't catch that, Nancy O'Dell, they said they CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER ALL THE FANS SCREAMING THEIR NAME.

Let's move on to the show.  I liked the lack of elevator music.  If no one was talking in the microphone, you could hear the clinking of glass and the chatter of the stars as if you were really there.  That was kind of cool and realistic.  I especially liked when a winner was anounced and then the running to the stage like they were navigating an obstacle course.  It was really long and annoying - that part.  Which made it very real.  And at commercial breaks I pretended I was chatting with Brad about my memoir and my future novel featuring a little nod to him.

The next thing I wrote down is, "Ricky Gervais is funny."  There hadn't been a lot of that before him.  Which makes now a good time to say that I really love Kate Winslet, and TWO, wow!, that's very impressive.  But her speeches were so boring!  I didn't mind - she'd earned that right.  But I don't think her speeches will make the montages next year, that's all I'm saying.

Next up:  Johnny Depp is alive!  Then he spoke, and I was like - sort of.  Dude, crack a smile.  A joke even.  (You'll have to read a couple posts down to get the Johnny Depp joke, and then you may have to click a link.  It's really too much work.  You don't have to get it).

Shortly after this, Heath Ledger won.  And I cried.  

My notes trickled off after that.  Nothing too interesting.  I haven't seen even one of the nominated dramas.  Not one.  But I saw Kung Fu Panda a LOT and feel that it was robbed in the animation category simply because Wall-E was all liberal and green and stuff.  I fell asleep for about ten minutes near the end (it was a long day!), and had to look up just now that Slum Dog Millionaire won best motion picture drama, because I couldn't remember.  I call myself a lover of Hollywood, but when awards season rolls around and I haven't even heard of many of the nominated films, I realize I'm just a girl who appreciates a good movie, a pretty dress, and a really moving speech.

What do you think?  Golden Globes 2019?

but it will not be this day . . . and other great motivational speeches by men in medieval armor

If you stick with me through the Hollywood talk, you know how I love a good movie montage.  We're about to lose television - February 19th I think? - just as we head into awards season.  And Michael may not realize it, but I will disregard all his beautiful frugality in a heartbeat to make sure I have the necessary channels for all those wonderful movie montages.  The People's Choice Awards, Golden Globes, Oscars - they're all coming.  And even though I know that some big shot at the cable company got together with some big shot in government and decided television shouldn't be free anymore (I'm paraphrasing Father of the Bride there and directly quoting Michael last night when I suggested we purchase cable), I'm still going to let the big shots win.

Remember last year when they didn't even have a Golden Globes, and it felt like Johnny Depp had died?  See my letter to Hollywood last year for the details.  Well, this year awards season is back in all its glory.  And you can bet that's what they'll be saying, "Well, the dresses seem so subdued this year considering it's the Globes first year after they were cancelled because of the writer's strike."  And, "This is the kind of old Hollywood glamour we love and sorely missed during last year's Entertainment Tonight Golden Globes fiasco."  Trust me, we're going to hear stuff like that.  The whole will-they-go-big-to-celebrate-or-just-pretend-nothing-was-ever-amiss debate.  I'm sure you won't read the magazines that ask this question, but I'll fill you in.  You can count on me.

I followed one of my commenter's yesterday to her blog and found this very fun video.  I'm afraid You Tube will put a cease fire on it soon, because it surely breaks all kinds of copyright laws.  But as long as it's working, I just had to post it here too.  Thank you, Shelli, for leading me to it.  This is my kind of entertainment.  I would probably pay actual money to watch just these in a movie theater - just the montages.

This one is called 40 inspirational speeches in 2 minutes.  Now cue the powerful music, and join me in a tribute to that really cool moment in the movies when you know the underdogs are about to find their way.  

extremely random movie thoughts, and by the way - Happy New Year!

When I wrote about the Emmys a while back, I was sort of put out with Hollywood because I felt disdained by them - what with having voted conservative, um, ever. That post started quite the little discussion. But one friend didn't comment at all - although she wanted to write something to the effect of, "Ah, Serenity is growing up!" because I was able to see anything other than red carpets and rosiness in my beloved Hollywood. Well, it's been too long since I wrote about Hollywood now, and I don't want anyone to wonder if I've grown up any further - because I haven't - so I thought it was time. Consider this a huge catch-up version of "Movie Reviews From My Cabinet at Home." In this case: A glimpse at some of the movies, new and (80s) classic, I can't get enough of this Christmas vacation holiday. Now remember, we're kids. I mean, um, we have kids. So it's not like any of these were nominated for best picture. They just get us, okay?

First up, Kung Fu Panda. First, I love the Asian themes. Love them. When I watched The Last Samuri I suddenly wanted to clean my house. Just clean it, remove 90 percent of the stuff from it, and hang black-framed pictures of lone white lillies. Besides the Eastern inspiration that makes us want to cleanse our universe/cleanse our souls, Kung Fu Panda is freaking hilarious. We never laughed so hard in our lives - out loud in a movie theater - as we did watching Jack Black as an overweight Kung Fu trainee with a heart of gold. So. Funny. Plus, I now figure there are two kinds of people in this world: Those who believe there's a secret ingredient and those who don't.

Freaky Friday. The Oscars are so pretentious, aren't they? Because if they weren't, they never would have overlooked Jamie Lee Curtis's performance as a teenager trapped in her mother's body in this hilarious version of what was already a pretty great concept. Lindsay Lohan actually does beautifully as her mother as well, but Jamie Lee Curtis slays me. When the teenager-trapped-in-mom's-body tries to read something and has to trombone it, Curtis says "Whoa, she's blind!" in one of the funniest line deliveries ever, and that's just one of the many scenes in this movie that she completely nails. I actually believe there's a teenager in there. Believe it. And this realistic acting makes it all the more poignant when they whip out the schmaltz and actually make me cry. It's a great movie about understanding each other. Period.

The Three Musketeers. I credit this movie for some of my downfall into a total adoration for the art of movie-making. It has everything - romance, great clothes and hair, heroes, sacrifice, brotherhood, and humor. I love the gentle queen who loved the timid king to whom her marriage was arranged. I love how fiercly the musketeers believe in their duty to protect that king. And the line, "Come, Dartagnon, we're saving the king!" was as critical to our family's movie-quoting history as "Goodbye, Boys, have fun storming the castle." Major Nickerson nostalgia in this film, and I'm so glad we own it now.

Honey I Shrunk the Kids. I have no philosophical goodness to bring out from this movie. No one single thing. We own it because I got it for about 4 dollars, and I loved it as a kid. But seriously, when I subjected my children to it the other day, I still sat RIVETED by those four, poor, quarter-inch children trying to cross the massive jungle that used to be simply their back yard. I couldn't wait for the humungous oatmeal cream pie and the part where they sleep in a Lego. It's just good, clean fun.

Ratatouille. If you're sensing a Disney obsession here, that's because I'm in the DVD club. And incidentally, I adore the movie montage before Disney movies now where they play the fantastic score from Kevin Kostner's Robin Hood. It gets my Hollywood eyes all starry. And Ratatouille is just so cute and culinary. It doesn't exactly make me want to be a cook, but it makes me appreciate them very, very much. I'm so glad some people cared to turn our plain animal instict to eat things into an actual art. If there were only people like me in the world, ingredients would never have come together properly. Heck, we probably never would have peeled a banana.

Hancock. We don't own this one, and we've only seen it once - but it was fairly recently. Will Smith is in it, which is a clincher for this fam. And he plays a really arrogant super power whose publicist (Jason Bateman . . . I think I still have a poster of you around here somewhere) convinces him to just look people in the eye now and then and tell them, "Good job." Oh my goodness, do we like to deliver that line around here. Plus, I love the idea of a reluctant superhero and the way he is transformed basically by one man's belief that he can better himself, a little boy's unfettered admiration of him, and the choice to love selflessly.

Now, can anyone tell me which of these movies I should rush to see (or perhaps away from) currently in theaters? Because I think I want to see them all: Benjamin Button, Marley & Me (I already know - bring a box of Kleenex and try not to have ever actually loved any of your pets), Seven Pounds, Bedtime Stories, Valkyrie. Also, I got a couple months of free Netflix for Christmas, so prepare for another rash of brief, completely unhelpful movie reviews soon. Up first is Hairspray, and I hear Ghost Town is awesome.

photo credit:  basha04 on Flickr

dreams come true (but this isn't about the book)

If you read this post here, you will see that my love for Hollywood at some point went from maybe it's my calling - like Denzel Washington says, to it's probably not my calling, but it sure would be fun, to I don't see how that could ever fit into my already-established and very happy life, to "I just want to be in one movie - just once."  

Well.  Say hello to Once.  The head of our video department at work has a friend in film school in Chicago, and I got to play the female role in his short film.  You've heard of Off Off Broadway?  Think that.  Only for Hollywood.  

This is what I saw when I first drove onto what I officially and unabashadly call the set.

These gorgeous horses were the Extras in one of the scenes.  

Then I saw this.  The guy in the red shirt, Nick, is also in film school - for cinematography.  The director (blue coat and hat) called Nick the DP (director of photography).  Next to Nick is the assistant DP.  The head of the video department at work is in the gray coat and hat helping the DPs.  I was feeling a little giddy here.  My movie career was ON.

 

Then, as I went to park the car, I drove by this.  The dock that would be my seat for the entire film.  (I told you it's a short.)  

This is my favorite photo from the shoot.  The director is giving me some instructions before my first take.  Could I look more "on set"? 

And this is my first shot of the film. Well, my second.  The first was the day before, from the same dock but with the camera across the pond.  In these shots, though, when they say "action", you can actually hear the film begin to roll.  Hear it.  I hope I never forget that sound.

Here's the director watching the take.  (How fun is this?)

Now, after auditioning and getting the part (I don't think there was too much competition but maybe some), I began to feel silly and concerned.  I would have to be away from my kids and family for almost three full days.  (We shot the film only minutes from my house, but it's not like I was available to them in that time).  It wasn't for my job.  I wasn't trying to advance my acting career (If I really wanted to get to Hollywood, this would be a place to start - but, let's face it, I'm not really trying to get there).  So, besides being fun, it felt pretty pointless.

Then Michael came through for me.  He said it wasn't pointless.  It was an experience that would add to my life, and that was enough.    

I really believe in film.  I think it's a beautiful story-telling medium, and I think that stories have purpose.  I'm just not too sure about my place in it.

But anyway - I got my Once.  And I loved it.   So, if you like DVD commentaries as much as I do, insert this behind my film if you ever happen to see it - say, at an Off Off Sundance Festival:  "We were freezing."  On the first day I sat on that dock in 37-degree weather while it was raining.  If viewers can't tell that when they watch this film - well - I'll take my Oscar now.

Through the Storm: By Lynne Spears

Where are the parents?

How many times have you heard (or said) that one while Britney was shaving her head, driving irresponsibly with her children, or beating paparazzi with an umbrella? I'll tell you where the mother was for that last one: Wishing it were her. Wishing there were less paparazzi out there and way more umbrellas.

And that's the beauty of this book. In all but maybe one chapter, it is not Britney's tell-all. It is the story of a mother. It's the story of a wife who had to navigate the troubling, not-so-easy-when-it's-you, waters of a spouse with alcoholism. It's the story of a very young bride who like many of us found complete and total fulfillment in her role as a mother.

Fulfillment, but not obsession. One thing I feel I learned about Lynne Spears is that her children matter more to her than anything else in the world, but they are not her identity. Her identity is completely her own, supported and encouraged by dear friends, and almost inseparable from her faith.

Lynne Spears's faith is one I can truly, deeply admire. It is vulnerable. It has answers, but not all of them for everything. It is un-shakeable but imperfect. And it grows but has always been.

All of these things are very clear in the book. The writing is simple and poignant. I was surprised to see it was actually a partnership, because Lynne Spears's strong, Southern voice comes through loud and clear in every paragraph.

I will probably still ask where the parents are with many of the troubled celebrities today. But not with her. I'll know exactly where she is, because she told me - and I believe her - that she is on her knees. She is praying, which is the only way to begin and the only thing with which you are left when the child grows up and gives you barely more than that as your role.

The most haunting paragraph in the book, for me, was when Britney was dating Justin Timberlake. They were having serious talks about life, and Britney came to her mother one day and said, "Mama, I just don't know if there really is a right and a wrong anymore. I mean, is there really a wrong?"

Lynne Spears says that she wrote this book for her children, and I believe that too. She gets a few digs in there, tells a few stories for our benefit so that we will know what she has to endure and what was really happening when we were making our own judgments about her - or believing the ones that were fed to us. But the strongest message in the book is definitely her love for her children, what she hopes and believes for them, how proud she is of their successes, and how hopeful she is that they will rise above their failures.

In the end, almost as if she has forgotten we are there, she prays for them that they will return to the faith she wishes she had practiced with them more. And I didn't wonder what her children will think of that or if they will feel attacked. I simply felt glad for them that they will at least know they are loved.

I appreciated this book, and I feel it accomplished its goal. Despite the unbelievable world Britney finds herself in, I think you'll believe Lynne Spears that at the level of the heart, we're basically all the same.

It Hurt My Feelings, but I'll Take You Back

Michael did wonders for my Sunday night blues, which had actually hit around noon that day, when he discovered it was Emmy night. I don't know why that one always sneaks up on me. The Oscars I obsess over starting about - well, now actually. (They don't happen until February or so.)

If you've read my blog before, you know I have a love-hate relationship with Hollywood. Except without the hate. I expect good things from them. Expect them to impress and thrill me. I'm very generous with the way they dress on the red carpet and usually very willing to approve all kinds of flamboyant colors, big fat bows by their necks, strange messy hair-do's, geometric patterns - all of it. Bring it on. I love their funny speeches, love it when they make fun of themselves, love it when they cry.

But this Emmy night I found myself being a little . . . flinchy. I think it's because I had seen this video with Matt Damon shortly before. Now, like I said, I love Hollywood. Matt Damon to me is the nerdy, adorable thief in the Ocean's movies who beat out Brad Pitt and George Clooney one year for People's Sexiest Man Alive and wrote the endearing note that "this dad from the suburbs" was extremely grateful for having been noticed in that way. I like him very much both for that and for being practically in junior high when he won his Oscar for Good Will Hunting, because I like seeing really big dreams come true. And, as I said, I love Hollywood in general. Along with the messy up-do's and gaudy bows, I also allow quite a bit of political bent in them. I think they have every right to spout a political opinion now and then. They're Americans. Just because I prefer it when they play pretend doesn't mean they're uneducated.

But Sunday, like I said, I was flinchy. It seemed that every one of them when they walked onto the stage was actually snarling. As a group they seemed so angry about the past eight years. So very angry. And they seemed to be angry with me - the little conservative girl in the midwest whose been a little too slow to acknowledge global warming and a little too narrow-minded in her social views. I mean, I pay these people's salaries. Not like an employer pays an employee but like tax payers pay the king, or perhaps like tribes-people sacrifice to the gods. I adore them. And I adore what they do. And I just wish they would keep influencing me through their art instead of their hatred. That's all I'm saying.

So I chose this picture by watchwithkristin on Flickr becuase it has Josh Groban in it (and in the background, Claire from Lost) because he was probably the only part of that night that was sheer happy entertainment. It's hard to snarl when you're singing the theme song to Friends.

I want to be Taylor Swift

Okay, she's no Carrie Under-
wood as far as powerful voices go, but this girl just keeps growing on me. I don't know the first single very well, When You Think Tim McGraw, but I love those songs that play on how intricately our favorite entertainment tends to weave into our lives. When Our Song came out, I knew I loved her. And now she's done it again with Love Story.

This isn't the Love Story that I've only heard about that made one entire generation of women weep every time they heard the song on the radio. This is the happy kind, the stuff of Disney movies. And I love it. You can watch the video on CMT online. Although, I think it's probably one of those that will resonate with me differently than most normal people.

People like to say this kind of love doesn't really happen. That stories and songs like this give girls the wrong expectations for life and marriage. But there are people who stay married forever. So no matter what the statistics against it, no matter what trouble may come - I still believe. I no longer think that Ever After is simply something you decide on faith and that as long as you work for it perfectly, it will happen. Now I think it's partly luck as well. You are fortunate enough to keep fitting well together despite life's ups and downs. Technically, you can't possibly know if all those things will always work for you when you're first in love. But because they sometimes do, I still think there's a permanent place for songs like this. And I love Taylor for writing it.

My favorite thing about Taylor Swift, though, is the way she ended her awards speech when she won for best new artist. She was living a dream, and she knew it. And she was appropriately grateful. But her response made her so relatable to the rest of the world.

"This is definitely the highlight of my senior year."

(Photo by whittlz on Flickr)

just talking about my beautiful street again

I live across the street from a beautiful, historic bed & breakfast. Right across the street. Have I mentioned the view from my front windows? It's kind of breathtaking with its tree-covered street, the big, gray bed & breakfast, and Dave's blue-gray house with the perfectly trimmed yard and shrubberies.

We saw the bed and breakfast on the news this week though. Apparently her small business permit has been removed because she hasn't paved her parking lot. I can't even imagine why this is so important. It's really more of a driveway anyway. But now I keep picturing the Hollywood scenario where all her neighbors help to throw a big festival and earn the money for her to pave it.

The problem with that plan is that I don't have the Hollywood enthusiasm required for pulling off a task like that.

Besides, it didn't work in You've Got Mail.

I know that one reason I love the house is because it reminds me of the home I grew up in. Gray siding like that, huge wrap-around porch. The similarity makes me feel more certain that I belong here at least for now.

I wonder what else I could do? Some brilliant balance between Hollywood and reality. A door-to-door campaign? Actually, I think I've got it. . .

I think I'll go talk to her. I'll tell her I'm here and that I love her beautiful home and want to help in any way I can.

The balance between Hollywood and reality - I live for this.

some of my friends

Do you ever have those days where you get up deter-
mined to have a good day - you push past the stubbing of your toe on the end of the bed and the fact that no one from McDonalds is standing in your kitchen to whip up your favorite biscuits and gravy and even the tiny little sniffle you cheerfully chalk up to an unexpectedly high pollen count? But then the day just keeps piling those things on? And you think, are you just trying to wear me down?

I've had a couple of those in a row. Today, for instance, that tiny sniffle became the kind of allergy and sinus issue that made me wish someone sold Benadryl from a tap. And that was just the lovely foundation for all the other toe-stubbing kind of fun. Yesterday was similar. I try to just steal myself on those days, you know - center down, focus, pull up by the boot straps, pray. But sometimes I need a little material help.

Yesterday after work I put on my iTunes play list while I cooked supper. And it worked so well I made two new recipes without stressing out once. I have enough songs from iTunes finally that they sometimes take me by surprise. And, you know, they just fix me. They unclutter my soul. (Cleaning the kitchen kind of does that too, but I don't like to say that when Michael is sitting so near).

It makes me think of a Friends episode - Friends also makes me happy almost every time. In it Monica and Chandler are jealous of the couple in front of them at the airport (and the hotel) who keep getting cool upgrades because they are on their honeymoon. When Monica complains, the other couple goes on and on about how they don't care about the stuff - they're just happy to have each other, blah, blah, blah. Chandler and Monica pause. You kind of think they have learned their lesson. But then Chandler admits, "Yea, we need the stuff."

I think I'm a pretty good attitude adjuster these days. (Hush, Michael. Remember I was much worse eleven years ago). There is way more happiness in my life than not, and I just remember that. But it sure helps to turn on great music, or a sitcom that feels like going home, or maybe look at great pictures of my life since marriage and motherhood.

I'm trying to teach my kids about self control. Counting your blessings instead of your woes. It's working great. If you remember, John has even thrown that easier-said-than-done cliche right back in my face. But once they get that self control lesson down. Once they know the rule - how to comfort themselves like a baby learning to fall asleep without the pacifier - once they get it, I'm flippin' on the iTunes. I'm putting it on random play, turning it up, and letting them in on lesson number two: Sometimes you need the stuff.

And also, he named the boy Knox . . . that's my county!

When I was in the store Tuesday night, I realized a tremendous oversight. I had not yet bought the People magazine with the new Jolie-Pitt twins on the cover and the 16-page Jolie-Pitt album on the inside even though it had been in stores since the day before.

I remedied that immediately. Michael thinks I have a problem. I told him he won't think that when I make money someday on that novel about a girl obsessed with fame and that this is "just research."

But despite the fact that I don't think I have a problem, I do refuse to comment about how beautiful the babies are or on the fact that I was moved by how normal and tired the parents seemed and how normal and un-polished the other children's clothes were. It's one thing to buy the magazine; it's an entirely different thing to bring it up in discussion (or on a blog) as if the birth of two little babies really deserved all that attention.

Actually, you know what I really believe? They did deserve it. Every baby does. But there aren't nearly enough magazine issues for that.