New Identity

I'm a new woman! Or at least the same woman with a new name! For whatever blatant or sub-conscious reason, it's taken me ten months since my divorce was finalized to go get a new driver's license to reflect my name change. I like to think it was out of sheer laziness and the anticipation of huge lines and long waits at the MVD that I put this off for so long. But nevermind that now, I did it, it's official, I'm back to my maiden name, and pretty happy about it too!

With a new identity I cross off #134: change my name on my driver's license.

Illusions

Okay, I know it's technically cheating, but I don't care. I started a draft of this post the middle of last week, along with several other posts, and I'm going to post them with their original dates. I've been lazy with my writing this past week, but I'm going to attempt to catch up in one evening. Let's see how I do...

For the past week or so I've been reading a book by Richard Bach called Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah. Judging from the copy I checked out from the library, it's passed through many hands in the years since it was published in the mid-70's. It's a short and easy read; I actually paced myself and just read it while I sat at my table eating. I'd heard people say this book changed their lives or their thinking in some profound way. Maybe I'm too cynical or maybe the message is getting to me thirty years late, but I have to admit this didn't happen to me. I did enjoy the book though.

A brief synopsis: Richard is a barnstormer, a man with a small private plane who flies from town to town in the Midwest landing in fields and giving rides in his plane to locals for $3 a pop. He happens across another barnstormer, Donald Shimoda, who also happens to be a retired Messiah. The two spend enough time together for Richard to learn the tricks of Messiah-hood from Donald and from his 'Messiah's Handbook'. The book is peppered with quotes from the Handbook which can be thought-provoking, my favorite being 'Your friends will know you better in the first minute you meet than your acquaintances will know you in a thousand years'.

Overall, this is an enjoyable and easy read dealing with questions and possible explanations of spirituality. It offers you some opportunities to think, or you can skip the thinking and enjoy the story, as you wish. And so with life and mind unchanged, I cross of #319: read Illusions.

Pesto

I'm no expert, but I consider myself to be pretty competent in the kitchen. Most dishes I try turn out successfully. I can follow a recipe with ease, and know how to make educated decisions when it comes to measurements and substitutions. Having said this, one dish I've never felt comfortable tackling was pesto. It looked difficult! I was aware it had only a few simple ingredients, but it seemed that there must be magic involved to turn them into something so rich and delicious. I couldn't have been more wrong. I'm now embarrassed to tell those of you that have made pesto that I used to buy the jarred stuff. The jarred variety barely resembles the real thing, which is far more peppery and flavorful. It's so simple to prepare, and nearly impossible to make a mistake. If you add a bit too much of one ingredient or not enough of another, it's likely no one will ever notice. The uses and possible variations are endless. I'm begging you, if you've never made fresh pesto give this recipe a try. You won't believe how simple and delicious it is.

Pesto

3 cloves garlic
2 cups fresh basil
3 tbsp pine nuts
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1/2 cup parmesan cheese
salt & pepper

In a food processor (I used a mini one), blend the ingredients in the order above, adding one by one. If the pesto is too thick you can add a little pasta water (if you are making pasta to go with the pesto) or just plain water. Serve as a sauce for pasta or pizza, or as a dip with bread or crackers.

Thanks to a dear friend who opened my eyes to the ease of pesto, I can see this being the year of pesto for me. If you invite me to your house, I'm bring pesto. If I invite you to my house, I'm serving pesto. I can't imagine myself ever tiring of the flavor or the aroma. I'm already thinking of making it again. And thus I cross off #229: learn how to make pesto.

*I'm no expert on wine pairings either, but we drank an excellent Sauvignon Blanc with the pesto from Blackstone Winery (2004 vintage) which I would highly recommend.

Exercise

Exercise and I have never been best friends. Actually I'd say we're barely acquaintances. Maybe because we were never properly introduced in our early years. While my brother and sister were busy on the t-ball and basketball and soccer and swim teams, I was busy becoming a future nerd with my glasses and my stack of Nancy Drew books. Having a slim athletic frame probably didn't help me either- why should I exercise, I could eat whatever I wanted and was still a beanpole. This isn't to say that I wasn't an active kid. I ran and played and rode bikes like everyone else, but when it came to sports I was happier to officiate or keep score. I did a little stint of club soccer in high school with a bunch of my friends, but I'm honestly not sure that I contributed much to the games, if at all. But then life starts to catch up to your slim athletic frame and you are suddenly not quite as slim nor athletic (not that I ever was!).

With a few extra pounds following me around I decided to formally acquaint myself with my foe, exercise. It's funny how motivation can be found in the strangest places. A friend of mine talks about exercise in the most admirable and inspiring way. The laps he swims, the miles he runs. I could feel myself turning more and more into a slug with every word until I finally couldn't take it anymore. It seems like this exercise buzz is all around me. Everyone is going to the gym, everyone is working out. Never one to mindlessly follow trends, I know this is one I need to get on board with. Intellectually it reasons it out perfectly, it's just getting the motivation to get off my ass.

Thanks to my friend, I've found that motivation two days in a row. I've heard it takes three weeks to make something a habit, so with 19 days to go I cross off #14: introduce myself to exercise and commit to being his friend. I'll keep you posted on our friendship...

Ray LaMontagne

Tonight I saw Ray LaMontagne at the Marquee Theatre in Tempe, Arizona. It was one of the strangest shows I can recall going to in quite a while, both for the performance and for the crowd. First, a bit of history. I first saw Ray last October 14th as the opener for Badly Drawn Boy at the same venue. I'd never even heard of him before that night, but was instantly impressed with him. His band was a three-piece: him on acoustic guitar, an upright bassist, and Ethan Johns on drums (!!!!). He played a great upbeat folky acoustic set. He chatted with the crowd, seemed pleased that people knew who he was and took lots of song requests from the crowd. I was convinced and got his cd Trouble soon after, and have been loving it ever since. When I heard he was coming to the Marquee again so soon, and as the opener this time, I was looking forward to checking it out.

Rachael Yamagata opened. I'm familiar with her name, but not her music. It was pretty decent. She has a great voice, but the music was just average and not too polished. Not that folk-ish music needs to be polished, but there was something lacking. She was a decent opener though, and the crowd was really into her.

Ray came out around 9 to a pretty big audience. There were definitely more people in attendance than were at Badly Drawn Boy, which was a big surprise to me. But, the crowd totally had me confused. Being folk music I was expecting a low-key emo crowd, but instead it was packed with loud obnoxious people. People that talked through the first five songs when he was playing with no drummer and really required a quiet audience. People that sang words loudly in my ear, made out with each other practically on top of me, talked to me incessantly about how they were going to put me on their shoulders, bought me bottled water, and danced to the beat of some music that wasn't coming from the stage. In summation, they were annoying as hell. But nevermind, it was the music I was there to see, not the crowd.

Having seen Ray already, I was expecting (read: hoping for) a longer version of the show I'd seen him put on a mere nine months prior. However, this isn't the show I got. In this show he seemed like he was on the brink of insanity or suicide. He was quiet, withdrawn, hardly spoke to the crowd at all and when he did he muttered so that we could hardly hear him. He played an odd collection of songs with tons of new songs mixed in. Even the most upbeat song on Trouble, How Come, was super mellow and stripped down. There were two highlights of the night. One was a new song which he played the electric guitar on and totally rocked. It was the opposite of his folk stuff, but his voice could easily command the rockiness of the song. The second highlight was when he appeared to totally be losing his mind during the encore. I've never seen anything like it. He came out for the encore and mumbled to the crowd about how he felt weird. And how he'd had a weird day. He said weird about 10 times. Then he played a song. Then the band left and he started mumbling again. He said something about forgetting words and forgetting chords. More incoherent mumbling. Then he thanked Rachael. Someone in the crowd yelled out for her to come out, and so he motioned her out. They conferred on the stage for a while and I swear he looked like he was going to cry. Then he gave her his guitar and left the stage. She fumbled around with it for a few minutes and tried talking to the crowd a bit and then the audience started yelling for Ray. He came back and strapped on the guitar he'd given her. A few more minutes of conferring and they decided to 'try an experiment'. He played a new song that was super soft and rather depressing and she sang a bit of back-up vocals with her back to the audience facing him and sharing a mic. When the song was over he looked relieved to be getting the hell off the stage.

I have no idea what was going on tonight. It was still a good show, but such a stark contrast to the show I'd seen less than a year ago. It can also be really tough to get into a show when there is so much material you are unfamiliar with. But, with that much new stuff in the set I imagine there is a new album around the corner.

Geeking out with the set list:
1. Burn
2. New song
3. New song
4. Narrow Escape (sung with Jennifer Stills)
5. Jolene
6. Hold You in my Arms
7. Shelter
8. New song- You Got What I Want
9. Hannah
10. New song- So Empty
11. New song- You Should Belong to Me
12. Trouble
13. How Come
-encore-
14. New song
15. New song- Can I Stay

With an all around entertaining night, I cross off #174: see Ray LaMontagne again, in a totally different way.

Movie Reviews

As you may or may not have noticed, I've been quite a slacker this week in keeping up with my blog. But where I've lacked in blogging I've more than made up for in movie watching. In the past week I've seen six movies. Instead of writing separate reviews for each I'll just get it all over with in one post. Get ready for (mostly) a list of movies not to see...

My movie watching jag started last Sunday with War of the Worlds, probably the most disappointing of all the films. Apart from the hype the entertainment magazines have been doling out on this movie, I had it on pretty good authority from two of my most reliable film obsessed friends that this was a great movie. So I went against my better judgment and Tom Cruise loathing and saw it. That was my first mistake. It was terrible. Awful. It goes without saying that the special effects were incredible, but special effects couldn't save poor writing and poor storytelling. It would have taken so little to tighten the story up a bit, but alas, it was sloppy and lazy. This one gets two and a half out of five stars.

Next up, on Wednesday, An American in Paris. Having had an off-again on-again love affair with Paris for a few years, and knowing that it was one of AFI's top 100 movies, I felt it was my duty to see An American in Paris eventually. I'm happy I did, but I think I clocked it at 14 minutes into the movie that I first wanted to turn it off. And the feeling never really left me until the final credits rolled. But, this film had a strike against it to begin with, in that it's a musical. Not my favorite genre. As one of my friends recently said to me, as soon as they start singing I stop paying attention. I second that. This film gets two and a half stars.

Thursday was the Fantastic Four. By now you might be wondering what the hell I'm doing picking movies that seem destined to fail in my eyes. With this film I can honestly say I had no choice. It was part of a day of teambuilding with work colleagues. The teambuilding involved painting pottery, so I rallied a small resistance group against painting pottery and we ended up seeing a movie (Yes, I am aware of the irony in that it was a teambuilding activity. What can I say, I'm not a team player.). The only movie playing at the time we arrived was Fantastic Four, still, we were happy to be out of painting pottery. The movie was actually better than expected, and dare I say the story was even more cohesive than War of the Worlds. Yes, I am serious. The movie was chock full of ridiculous movie cliches, but it actually started to crack me up (a dalmation in a fire truck, the giant half-rock half-man creature, Thing, stopping in a Big & Tall Men's store for clothes, etc). Pretty cheesy but better than teambuilding whilst painting pottery, this one gets three stars.

Saturday night found a friend and I looking for an interesting movie. Distant looked promising. A Turkish film set in Istanbul chronicling the days of two depressed men. Wow, not what we were expecting at all. This movie was down right numbing. Probably the most striking thing about this film was the lack of dialogue. Minutes would pass with not a word uttered from the screen. It was heavy on sound, but not dialogue. The discomfort of the characters was practically leaping into the living room through the television. We had to laugh when we realized the two men were watching TV in silence, and that the program they were watching on TV also had no dialogue. Ah, kill me now! At the time I really didn't enjoy the film, but I've had some time to reflect and realize that though it was difficult to watch, it made it's point about loneliness, despair and the distance between people in these conditions brilliantly. Three stars for this film, but know what you are in for.

After a movie like Distant you are so shaken and depressed you need a pick-me-up. An injection of life and entertainment. And so we watched The Count of Monte Cristo. I didn't know much about the film, and was thus pleasantly surprised. It's a visually appealing and engaging drama with a well told story (based on the book of the same name by Alexandre Dumas) and good acting. There's also a nice revenge twist. It accomplished what it set out to do: entertain without being mindless and boring, three stars.

To cap off my week of movies, tonight I watched Maria Full of Grace. It's a Colombian film recommended by a Colombian friend, which instantly gave it some well-deserved clout. It's by far the best movie of the week. An excellent story of despair and hope and rising above the constraints of your up-bringing. The film is tense and difficult to watch at times, but is such a well-acted and well-told story. Four stars for this film, and a hearty recommendation that you see it as well.

Although there were some disappoints and many mediocre moments of film-watching this week, I'm happy to say I saw all these movies. Loving movies as much as I do, I appreciate the bad as much as I appreciate the good because I feel like a more informed viewer, and more easily able to spot a really excellent film. And so I cross off #289: watch a mixture of good & bad films, and be able to tell the difference.

Who I Am

I discovered something pretty funny about myself the other day. Most days I put on a great game face and BS with the best of 'em. I can be sweet and polite and well-mannered. I can be thoughtful and soft-spoken, and sometimes I can even use big words. I can clean up my act in front of family and colleagues and others who I perceive may not approve, but in the end, I am just a girl with a terrible potty mouth.

I woke up a few nights ago in agony. I had a charley horse in my calf. I hadn't had one in ages, and forget how paralyzing they can be. Since I was alone in bed with no one to massage it out and allay my pain, I knew I had two choices: writhe in pain forever or get my ass up and stretch it out. You're probably thinking, what's the big deal? We've all had charley horses, am I that big of a baby? Well yes, I am that big of a baby, but here's the funny part. I awoke from a deep sleep to this unbearable pain and began yelling *(warning to sensitive readers)* Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Motherfucker, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, and on and on- you get the point. The inner dialogue I detailed above took place after I began yelling the obscenities, for they were the FIRST thing to come to my mind, and to my lips. As I was out of bed stretching my leg and still flailing Fuck around, I wondered if any neighbors might have heard me. And then I had to laugh. There's nothing like a crisis situation in the midst of deep sleep to bring out your true colors. And apparently my true colors are peppered with my favorite F word. Sorry mom. I am who I am.

Though I endured some serious, albeit temporary, pain, I am happy to cross off #268 in the process: find out my favorite curse word.

Screw Early Risers

I was 4 or 5 paragraphs into a post I had titled 'Early Risers'. It was all about my foray into waking up early for a change of pace from my typical 8:45 am wake up on a weekday, and my 11:30 am wake up on a weekend. I was cheerful, I was enthused, I was witty--I was doing some great writing! And what happened, you ask? My damn internet browser froze up and then unexpectedly shut down. Had I saved the writing as a draft? Hell no. Do I feel like re-creating all that cheerfulness again for the sake of a good post? Absolutely not. Now I am pissed.

I'm pretty sure I'm a night owl by birth, and I don't think you're supposed to mess with your internal time clock. At least that sounds like good justification to me. Yeah, the sunlight streaming into my room and waking me up felt better than the jolt of an alarm clock beep. Yeah the cool air at 6:00 am felt great. Sure, the 45 minute walk with my ecstatic dog through the quiet neighborhood streets was invigorating. And okay, a bit of the cheerfulness of the fellow early risers I encountered on my walk rubbed off on me and I was feeling rather happy about being up so early. But obviously, my laptop knows best. It wasn't used to being woken up at such an un-godly hour, and it wasn't happy. It humored me for a bit, but in the end it said screw you, I'm going back to sleep. And so I must concur. Screw the early risers, I'll take being a night owl any day of the week.

Grumpy and going on only four hours of sleep, I cross off #139: try waking up at 5:45 am (and fail miserably).

Comfort Music

As I was sitting here listening to my favorite playlist in itunes and thinking about what to write, I started thinking about the playlist itself. It started out a few months ago as an attempt to capture in a playlist the songs that had most moved me over the years. The songs that not only had been my favorites, but the songs I had been OBSESSED with. Every now and then a song will come into my life that begs me to play it over and over and over again. The scenery has changed over the years, but the habit hasn't. As a teenager it was lying on my bed in my parent's house blasting Going to California on my record player or Good Feeling on my tape deck. In college it was lying on my single bolster bed in my dorm room blasting Live Forever or In Your Eyes on my CD jambox. There have been countless crappy apartments and many upgrades to the music format and equipment since then, but the formula stayed the same: play the same song repeatedly at the highest volume possible and preferably lying down with eyes closed.

So what's with this bizarre habit of mine? It suddenly struck me that this is my comfort music. This is the music that makes me feel good. With my eyes closed and the music blaring in my ears, it envelopes me like a cocoon, occupying all of my headspace and leaving room for nothing but comfort. And so it makes sense when I'm down or stressed or worn out that I turn to these songs to relax and revive me. And I never tire of them. Ever. Loving them as much 15 years later as I did when I was a teenager speaks volumes to their personal meaning.

My soul bared, here is my beloved playlist:

Bittersweet Symphony- The Verve
Laid- James
Good Dancers- The Sleepy Jackson
Get Miles- Gomez
Lonelily- Damien Rice
Sandusky- Uncle Tupelo
Going to California- Led Zeppelin
Golden Brown- The Stranglers
This Year's Love- David Gray
Intervention- The Arcade Fire
Anthems for a Seventeen Year Old Girl- Broken Social Scene
The Scientist- Coldplay
Good Feeling- Violent Femmes
Classic Girl- Jane's Addiction
Live Forever- Oasis
In Your Eyes- Peter Gabriel

Readers, if you have songs with similar significance, I'd love to hear what they are!

With headphones on and headspace filled I cross off my list #57: Find a name for my favorite playlist (comfort music!).

Little Pink Pills

There are few things worse than being sick when it's summertime. While everyone else is outside having fun, you're stuck inside feeling miserable. Okay, who am I kidding? It's Arizona, everyone is inside feeling miserable. But at least they don't have a dull headache on the left side of their face from their temple down to their jaw and across their cheekbone to their nose. A headache that magnifies when you chew on the left side or press your tongue against the roof of your mouth, but only on the left side. A headache that started Saturday night and has been with me ever since, even when I wake up in the morning. It's not phased by 600 mg of ibuprofen every few hours or massive quantities of hot green tea or that dumb headache remedy you do by pressing your thumb and forefinger into the webbed part of your left hand.

I'd had enough of the headache, and the accompanying watery, bulging eyes from the pressure inside my head, so I paid my doctor a visit. The diagnosis: a bad sinus infection. The remedy: little pink pills (antibiotics), lots of liquids, and hot moist compresses twice a day. So far things aren't any better (okay, it's only been 5 hours, 1 pink pill and 1 compress), but I have to report the compresses feel amazing. Even if you don't have a sinus infection you should try it: stack two folded washcloths on top one another, get wet, ring out, microwave for 20 seconds, and press on your face. Ah, sweet (temporary) relief...

With only 29 more little pink pills to go, I'm on my way to crossing off #132: cure mid-summer sinus infection.

Fireworks

I adore fireworks. They never fail to stir up a mixture of excitement, anticipation and wonder in me, and put a grin on my face. My eyes stay transfixed to the sky awaiting the next explosion of lights. Even the noise doesn't bother me. It never has, even when I was a kid. In fact, I kind of liked it, it was part of the fireworks experience. My favorites are the ones that give you a little more than you expect- the initial bloom of color and light, and then the surprise sparkle or burst afterwards. I especially adore the white glittery fireworks, the ones that shimmer and sparkle in the black sky and then disappear into wisps of white smoke. My least favorite are the glaring red and green fireworks, but even least favorites are still pretty great as far as fireworks go. And the grand finale, well it's bittersweet. It's the part I anticipate most for the non-stop spectacle of beauty. The 'works overlapping and layering on each other with each successive firework trying to surpass the one before. All stops are pulled. You can't look away. But you know that soon it will be over. A distant memory in a now smoky night. And then you have to wait until next year to have this feeling again.

And so, I've crossed off a yearly #91 and am already anxiously awaiting next years spectacle: see fireworks.

Saving Face

Today I saw the movie Saving Face, by Alice Wu. Although I love foreign films, Chinese films usually aren't among my favorites. I think the harsh sound of the language is distracting and a bit too foreign for my ears. However, Saving Face looked interesting enough so I decided to give it a try.

Out of 5 stars, I'd give this film three and a half. It's a nice light romantic comedy, but also examines some of the cultural issues facing Chinese-Americans. The movie takes place in New York City and chronicles the struggles of two women, mother & daughter, to live up to the old Chinese cultural standards. The mother is a forty-eight year old widower living with her over-bearing parents after the death of her husband who suddenly finds herself pregnant. The daughter is a promising twenty-something doctor who endures the efforts of the community to marry her off though she is a lesbian. When the mother is kicked out of her parents house for becoming pregnant, she moves in with her daughter, which is where the long road to understanding begins. The two are able to find common ground and build a strong bond despite sometimes being ostracized by the tight-knit community they live in. And in the end love and understanding prevail. Despite some cliches, it's an enjoyable and entertaining movie.

Though I still have reservations about Chinese films, I'm happy to have crossed #217 off my list: see Saving Face.

Ennui

mus

In a recent lunch with a friend I was diagnosed with a malady. I had ignored all the warning signs. Had pish poshed all the symptoms. Didn't put two and two together. But, it's official. It's ennui.

This explains my recent lapse in blogging. It explains my disinterest in movies (Mr. & Mrs. Smith, anyone?). And it explains my major boredom with music lately. Even the new Oasis album has lost a little of it's luster. Coldplay = nap time. I've been longing for some good summer tunes, but was too lethargic to comb through my music catalog to put together a playlist. This was until I got my hands on the latest Josh Rouse album, Nashville. Ennui hasn't been fully cured, but it's getting some pretty heavy treatment.

I've never been a huge Josh Rouse fan. I have his album 1972, but found it to be average at best, it's greatest assest being the cool cd insert design. However, I'd heard a few songs off Nashville when it was first released, and enjoyed them, so it went on my infinite 'music to check out list'. I finally got the album this week and I'm impressed. It's short, just under 40 minutes, but in my present condition this is probably a good thing-any longer and my attention may wander! I'm not sure what genre he falls under. In itunes it comes up as Americana, though I have no clue what sort of music that might be. Despite the title and steel guitar in a few of the songs I don't think it's country enough to be alt-country. And it's a little too layered to be folk though most songs feature acoustic guitar. I hate to say it's pop, because this just makes me think of Britney Spears. Maybe I should stop trying to figure it out and just say it lies somewhere between all those genres and it's fantastic. The lyrics are beautiful, his voice is gorgeous and just floats along each song. The guitars, piano and various other instruments featured sound amazing, and I'm always a sucker for hand-claps in songs. Stand out tracks are It's the Nightime, Winter in the Hamptons and Middle School Frown.

Without realizing it I stumbed on the perfect summertime album. And I'm on my way to crossing off #78: cure ennui.