I watched Poltergeist and Amityville Horror (the original) this weekend and literally had the bejesus scared out of me. In honor of that, and in light of the more serious issues surrounding us, I offer another top ten list.

Top Ten Life Lessons Taught By Horror Movies

10. The Exorcist—when the back of your jewelry reads “made in a third world country
where heathen, pagan religions are still or were once worshiped” go ahead and let it soak in holy water over night.

I figure what can it hurt? At worst I clean things up a little. At best I avoid satanic possession and genital mutilation via crucifix. Everybody’s a winner.

9. Jurassic Park—don’t genetically engineer predators.

I don’t know that it’s technically a horror movie, but it fits for our purposes. And this is an important lesson with modern science being what it is. Why create the Velociraptor? Or the T-Rex? Are the herbivore dinosaurs just not a big enough draw? Really?

8. Jaws—never swim after dark.

I’ve broken this rule and I’m not exactly proud of it. Granted I was in a lake. But then you have prehistoric crocodiles to worry about. Really the abstinence argument holds up here. Abstaining from swimming after dark is the only foolproof way to avoid being eaten.

7. Dracula—be wary of pale, hot strangers appearing in your fiancée’s absence.

If he’s a sexual magnet, avoids the sun, and fixates on your neck you might want to question his motives. I’m not saying true love ain’t worth dying for; I’m just saying you want to make sure you’re going to be wife #1 before you give up your virtue, and your life, on a park bench to a vampire in werewolf form.

6. The Strangers—when someone threatens your life, !^@%(*$ run them over.

This isn’t a hard concept: You break into my house. I get in my truck. You stand in front of my truck. I run you over. Taa-daa!

5. Amityville Horror—don’t let your kids play with invisible friends.

It could be their imagination. Or it could be evil incarnate. The only way to really protect against this situation is to just lock your kid in their room with no toys. It’s for their own good.

4. Poltergeist—don’t buy your kids toys.

That stupid friggin’ clown. Who buys their kid a toy like that? It’s disturbing before it’s possessed, let alone once it comes to life. The moral of the story is that between the clown, the dolls, and the board games children should live a life without toys.

3. The Grudge—when a house is haunted don’t go inside, just burn it down.

You don’t need to burn a house down from the inside. Especially when said house has a habit of killing all those that enter. It can be burnt to the ground from the outside. Trust me, arsonists do it all the time.

2. The Ring—don’t watch random blank tapes left in video stores.

It could be a snuff film. It could be kiddie porn. It could be a crazy, evil, little girl with bad hair waiting to suck the life out of you. All of these possibilities exist in the ether and none are desirable. Who picks up the blank tape from the shelf anyway?

1. Stephen King—bad things happen in small town Maine.

Don’t spend an excessive amount of time in small town Maine. Ever.

On Monday October 28, 1929 the roaring twenties were still roaring along. On Tuesday October 29, 1929 the stock market crashed and the economy fell apart. As I read about the market bail out I think of several things at once: Atlas Shrugged, the Great Depression, the American people electing a C student to run the country, and the possibility that Obama won't win.

I find I don't want to read the headlines. I don't want to know about the $700 Billion bail out plan passed by Congress. I didn't want to watch the debates. I didn't want to sit through John McCain offering answers that infuriated me knowing that there were people listening to Obama and imaging that what he was saying was no use because he refuses to tell them what they want to hear. I want to bury my head in the sand and pretend that the country will fix itself. I want to go to school and teach ethics veiled in an english class. I want to write a book and make money.

But it doesn't matter what I want. My school is going through tremendous budget cuts because Nevada doesn't have an income tax and refuses to tax the casinos. I pay excessive amounts for gas because my government believes in trickle down economics and for the past eight years I've lived in a place were the general populace has voted on religion instead of intelligence (the two are not mutually exclusive by the way). I face the possibility of never being employed because the stock market is crashing (again) and my capitalist society (which I wasn't sure I agreed with before) is steadily being controlled by its government (which I'm sure I don't agree with). I don't know what the answers are, aren't, or might be. Perhaps that is what scares me the most.

Atlas Shrugged is a book about a U.S. that destroys itself because people refuse to think for themselves. The country collapses upon itself because those that are willing to fight stupidity give up and decide to let stupidity destroy itself. I look around and I wonder how far-fetched an idea that is. We have people that would rather debate abortion, would rather vote a president into office because he promises to outlaw abortion and gay marriage than to consider the economy or the hypocrisy of America, Land of the Free, outlawing choice.

I acknowledge as I write this that I will never vote for a Republican who refuses to recognize the necessity of medical and lifestyle freedom. But the difference, as always, is that I'm in the business of expanding choices not limiting them. But that's not the point of this. Merely, I wanted to acknowledge that I vote for reasons having nothing to do with the economy and I am aware of that. But I think, in the end, my choices do have to do with the economy because I'm looking for a President that is intelligent enough to recognize that freedom doesn't happen through control. I want a President who, when the more fanatical lobbyists (on both sides) make ludicrous demands will recognize the greater complications of a democratic society and say no. And that willingness, the willingness to deal with the complicated nature of running a country, comes through in an honest refusal to make governmental decision based on religion. Take that as you will.

Regardless my desire to ignore the problems at hand still stands. But I wonder if I have the luxury. I don't think I do. I don't know that any of us do. But realistically I don't believe we live in an age where protesting does much anymore. Perhaps there is still a way, if enough people did it. But I think the only way to really affect change would be through actions and money. A refusal, on a massive scale, to buy certain products. It seems that money is the driving moral and ethical force in our country today.

Thinking about these things depresses me. Not thinking about them might ruin me. Does anyone have suggestions as to what is to be done?

I've been wondering the past few days when I would find something I to discuss. Some weeks my life is so boring I feel it would be unethical to bother anyone else with tales from it. But, my weekly poker game being the font of philosophical and ethical stimulus that it is I have arrived at a situation to ponder.

One of the fellows asked, as a few of us were sitting on the porch enjoying the night air, if we felt that high school really molded or forged who we are today. At least created the seeds of who we are today. I, with no deeper meaning or thought behind my answer, scoffed "Oh no, definitely not!" College and grad school have done more to "make me who I am" if one can countenance that phrase and while the seeds of my personality have always been with me from childhood, I feel that high school was most certainly a thing of the past. For me, personally, it wasn't a proving ground of any sort.

I didn't think this a particularly unique answer. Of the people I know intimately, we run the gambit of possibilities from experiences in high school having significant effect on who we are or what we've become to those that simply survived high school and started life after. After giving my answer the fellow who had first put forth this idea became...not upset, but, perhaps, put out. He told me that it seemed like I was too constructed in my answers to these types of questions--that I appear to be trying to hard to be different. He didn't feel I was being genuine; he believed that I believed my answer, or wanted to believe my answer, but that I was deluding myself to some degree.

Well, naturally, this sparked a whole new conversation of it's own. The irony being that he is an extremely constructed individual--more than simply guarded it appears at times as if those things he likes have been picked and chosen for how they appear to others more than how they make him feel--and I was surprised with the passion my supposedly disingenuous answer produced. He told me he liked it when I talked about the comic book stuff because he felt like I was being honest then; I obviously really enjoyed it. But when talking about who we are or what we think I just didn't fit what he thought I ought to be. I had too much staked in not being simplistic. I believe the best analogy was when he said, "you know, you've got the balls and each goes in the hole--you know those games where you throw the balls in the hole? Well I've got most of the balls in the hole, but there're still a few that I can't figure out where they go."

I share this, mostly, because it's so darned entertaining. I mean, of all the times in my life I consciously try to pick the unique answer (usually revolving around email surveys) this time I was only saying what I believed and thought, not even expecting that it would be that different of an answer from others. I still don't believe my answer was that different, and honestly, I can't figure out what he expected. But all of this got me thinking about how often we assume we know more about someone than that person knows about herself. I explained to him that so long as he felt he knew me better than myself, no explanation I gave for why I thought as I did would sound genuine.

How often have I discounted what a friend or acquaintance as told me because I was so sure I knew better than they? How often have I listened to their assessment of themself and silently judged? Certainly with some people in some situations as an outside listener you absolutely know more than the person involved--that's why we talk to friends (or I talk to friends) because they can look at us and say don't be crazy, here's how it is. But those situations have given me license, I think, to believe in my godliness of understanding at times I didn't deserve it. And how wrong is it of me, how arrogant, to think I know a friend better than that friend knows herself?

Perhaps there isn't anything wrong with it, but in that way I suppose that is a characteristic of mine that has carried over from high school. For all the multiplicity of bad decisions I made in my teen years I constantly thought I knew more than those around me. I also thought I knew why they were so wrong in what they perceived. In my attempts to not engage in that behavior anymore I have learned to listen better to what people say and to trust in the validity of their perspective. This has, in turn, allowed me to learn significantly more from those around me than I was ever able to before. Being able to "know" people based on what they say has also made me more arrogant so that I sometimes assume I know and understand them better than they know or understand themselves. It's a horrible paradox, but I suppose if any part of me was "forged" in high school I would say that is it. The duality of what I learned and what I am in constant motion with itself.

So tell me, and be honest, am I trying to hard to be different?

I would like to share with you some thoughts I had after reading Huck Finn. It's a response paper for class, but I think it translates pretty well here.

I've never read Huck Finn before and despite knowing what everyone said the controversy surrounding it was about, I found myself completely unprepared for the experience of actually reading a book. It is a singular experience to finally read a book as an adult that you've listened to people debate since adolescence. After finishing it I put the book down and thought to myself, "I don't know that I would let an adolescent read this book." I was not prepared to have that reaction.
I would, of course, support anyone reading any book, but the idea of someone reading this book at thirteen or fourteen being completely unprepared for the themes or issues examined and having no one to discuss said issues with bothers me. All that being said, though, racism isn't what I want to write my response paper on. At least not entirely. I feel that everyone already agrees racism is a bad thing and that this book deals with it (and fails to deal with it) in any number of ways. What consistently troubled me as I listened to Jim talk about himself and other characters talk about Jim, was how similar all the rhetoric was to how we still talk about women.
Jim says at the end of chapter 8, "I owns mysef, en I's wuth eight hund'd dollars. I wisht I had de money, I wouldn' want no mo'." As a reader I balked at those lines because they are painful--a body isn't a commodity and one of the horrors of slavery (or any -ism) is that it objectifies the group being marginalized and dehumanizes them. They are worth an amount of money because they are a pet, an animal, an item. Now compare this to a girl who is auctioning off her virginity for college tuition:

Natalie said she’s been forced to sell her cherry, because her stepfather took out a student loan in her name, so she’s unable to finance her education. She said, “I don’t have a moral dilemma with it. Why shouldn’t I be allowed to capitalize on my virginity? I understand some people may condemn me. But I think this is empowering. I’m using what I have to better myself (http://www.dlisted.com/node/28167).

What are the differences here? The obvious one is, of course, that this young girl is not a slave--she is making a conscious (theoretically) educated decision to do with her body as she pleases, and she will keep the money. But Jim, thinking he is a freed man does the same. He "owns" himself and wishes he had the money to do with as he pleased. No longer a slave he yearns to have the capitol his body is worth to carve a life for himself.
This isn't an anti-prostitution paper, but a look at the way the same rhetoric is recycled and goes unexamined in society. When this news story was brought to my attention I was horrified that any girl would think to make use of her virginity as a commodity because doing so dehumanizes and objectifies a person. The other women with me were uncomfortable, but couldn't think of a response to argue against such an action. It wasn't until I read Huck Finn that I saw the words for such a relationship with one's body on paper and realized the incredible irony of how we sexualize ourselves (men and women) in modern society. Specifically, how we think of our bodies as something to be sold to another human being.
Much like Shakespeare's Taming of the Screw the power dynamic becomes very obvious if it's racial. Everyone sees that Jim, free or not, is surprisingly lacking in power. It's only good luck that gets him through to the end of the story and Tom Sawyer's need for adventure, cute though it may be, nearly gets everyone killed. But when it happens between a man and a woman, Katharina and Petruchio, or a woman with a bachelor's in women's studies and the man who pays for her virginity, no one can figure out exactly why it's so wrong. Or what it is, precisely, that makes us uncomfortable. And isn't that reaction, that inability to reconcile what we know with what we feel, incredibly similar to Huck deciding to go to hell and save Jim?

I just finished Star Trek III. This is not the first time I've watched this movie--I've seen it so many times I could probably storyboard it. But I was struck by something I've never noticed before. Perhaps it was the papers I was grading while I watched it, perhaps it was recent conversations, but I noticed a really interesting theme on logic and emotion this time.

When Jim Kirk asks for permission to head back to Genesis for Spock's body the Commander tells him no and explains that as a rational, logical human being Kirk should understand why he can't be allowed to break rules. Kirk is then reprimanded for acting so emotionally and warned not to let his emotions ruin his career.

I found this interesting for a number of reasons. The first is that the Star Trek series is seriously loved by my family. We don't do conventions, but don't let that fool you into thinking we're normal where Star Trek is concerned. More importantly, however, is the fact that showing emotion is a capital crime in my family. There's no crying in our household. Some even pride themselves on their logic and ability to control their emotions. Now here's the great irony in all of this--first no one, not even Vulcans, can remove emotions wholly and completely from their being and second my family that doesn't successfully remove emotion (even though we try) idolizes Captain James T. Kirk who is an exceptionally emotional character. He's brilliant, he's strategic, and a great captain, and he usually makes well-informed choices, but he is emotional.

Finally, my point in all of this, is that this movie captures beautifully, in a way I've never noticed before, the illogicality of morality. It is illogical for the Kirk and his crew to go get Spock--this is summed up at the end when Kirk says to Spock "the needs of the one outweigh the needs of the many." It's emotional and dangerous for the crew to steal the Enterprise, but it's the right thing to do. Spock's body must be retrieved and as his friends they do so at whatever cost to themselves. They do so because Spock's religion demands it and there is no one else to do the job.

My earlier comment now, about the illogicality of morality could certainly be challenged. Perhaps morals are always logical--there was no one else to retrieve Spock's body, or no one else willing, and so it is only logical that Kirk et. al. do so. But here the morality of friendship buts up against the logic of utilitarianism. Does friendship matter more than the mathematics of lives? Can people's worth be judged based on numbers? What causes the logic to leave the realm of utilitarianism and enter the realm of personal relationship?

I'm leaning towards believing the answer lies in emotion. Why shouldn't we kill one child to make the world a perfect place? Because that's wrong? Because it isn't okay to gain perfection through the murder or torture of another? How do we know that? Because we aren't operating on a wholly mathematical system. We're operating on emotions. I find it interesting and worthwhile to think about this, because too often I think we forget the role of emotions in our major decision making. For too long we've lived under the shadow of Aristotelian beliefs: intelligence/logic=good, emotions/passion=bad. This idea has been absorbed whole into our society and infiltrates our thinking to such a way that no one questions it. Things that make us feel are automatically placed below things that make us think--even if the things we feel about make us think as well. Chick flicks are a fantastic example of this as they are usually written off based on the genre, regardless of the quality of writing or maturity of theme explored.

All of this from Star Trek III. Is it possible to imagine a morality not based on utilitarianism that doesn't rely on emotion at some level? Are there absolute truths and if so are we able to access them in any way not dependent, to some degree, on emotion? Why is it wrong to murder if not because of empathy? Why is it wrong to torture? Rape? Why allow for equality or freedom if not because some part of us feels that it is what all people are entitled to?

There is all sorts of language to answer these questions. Many brilliant people have offered many brilliant treatises and essays on the subjects and I could certainly do some research and write a paper that neglected to mention emotion even once, but I ask you: does our defining these answers in academic terms devoid of emotion negate the fact that emotion is what drives us to look for an answer and justification for what we feel?

It's hard when considering Sarah Palin to move past her views on abortion. Abortion has always been, and will always be, a sticking point with me. Her conviction that abortion should be illegal except when the doctor decides a continued pregnancy will kill the mother is one that I cannot vote for. I have never and never will believe that such a decision should be legislated.

But I'm not talking about abortion right now, I'm talking about Sarah Palin.

Forgetting the abortion debate for a second I consider Sarah Palin as a legislator and a possible vice president. With John McCain's health it is increasingly possible that Palin would become president before the four years were up and so I must consider her as a serious law-maker as well. In all of those considerations Sarah Palin scares the ever-living crap out of me.

She's a woman who claims to be fighting the "old-boys network" in Washington. She's lauds her experience as mayor and governor as proof of her ability to run the country. She's a government official who claims she has worked to put the government by the wayside and put the power back into the hands of the people. I'm not misquoting out of context here, by the way, I'm taking all of these things off a speech I just watched.

First of all, everything she campaigns on is from the old-boys network. Anti-abortion, her ability to be a mother and a politician, her religion. She may have a vagina, but Sarah Palin sounds, and acts, like every other Republican candidate I've ever seen. She wants to lower taxes, but she offers no ideas as to help the ailing economy. So you cut taxes--where are the new jobs? She controlled the budget in Alaska; that sounds fantastic. Unfortunately, that's all she talks about. She doesn't mention what she did, or how she would apply her techniques to the much bigger task of running the country--instead she makes quips about ebay and her ability to slash the budget because of her innate "mommy skills." She could take a pay cut because her husband didn't care. She could fire the personal chef because her kids didn't care. What this says is, yes--she's a strong, Republican, female who still cooks for and mothers her children appropriately and relies mainly on her husband's income.

And that is possibly the most frustrating thing about Sarah Palin. She's not a bitch. She's not scary. She's Sarah Barracuda, but that name seems to carry more fondness than any name for Hillary ever did. People assume Hillary voters will vote for her because she's a woman. But the reason she is not a bitch and not scary, is the same reason Hillary voters (if they have any sense at all, which, admittedly, many of them don't) will not vote for her. Sarah Barracuda doesn't challenge gender roles at all. She doesn't shake things up. She isn't paving the way for women. She isn't changing jack shit.

I know, how can I say that you ask. Do we not have a woman nominee for vice president, on a Republican ticket no less? But here's the thing about power--power doesn't ever shift hands if the status quo remains the same. Imagine the goth kid buying his clothes at the mall; by purchasing his clothes at the mall he is doing the exact opposite of what it would appear he's attempting to do. Instead of rebelling against consumerism and capitalism he's supporting it. Sarah Palin is doing a very similar thing with the feminist movement. It appears she's paving the way. It appears she is change--this word that has become central to presidential elections this year. But instead of changing things she is simply solidifying them. By allowing claims of "sexism" when she's criticized over anything to float around she hides behind her gender--a wilting violet if you will that doesn't seem apt to someone nicknamed Barracuda. By campaigning on her ability to govern and mother she doesn't break free of the idea that women must find a way to do both, that she isn't a real woman if she isn't a good mother, that her existence as a politician is separate from her life as a mother, but holds up her life as a woman operating under a patriarchal definition of femininity who has succeeded by working with the patriarchy instead of working to break it as if that is earth shattering.

And by supporting anti-abortion legislature and being on record concerning the war in Iraq as a "task that is from God" she, like every other Republican, is mixing religion and politics. An unethical and unAmerican behavior. In a country that lauds freedom of belief and separation of church and state as two staples of its government we must govern free from religious agendas even though that religion may play a central role in personal morality. You can live your life according to the strictures of your church but you cannot pass laws, or go to war based on those strictures.

What bothers me most about Sarah Palin isn't her beliefs, though granted, her beliefs bother me plenty. Her politics are the same as everyone else in her party, better than some, worse than others. What bothers me is that because she happens to be a woman people are claiming she's radical. Because she happens to be a woman and a mother who works outside the home people are claiming she's a feminist.

Being a feminist has nothing to do with whether you work outside the home or stay at home. Is has nothing to do with whether you choose to have your baby or abort it. Being a feminist absolutely has nothing to do with your gender. Being a feminist has to do with giving every woman the option to make choices herself. And Sarah Palin isn't about giving people options. Sarah Palin isn't about changing the way we view women as objects and archetypes; she's about succeeding by being an object and an archetype. Her gender doesn't, by default, make her a feminist. But her goal to limit the choices of women absolutely marks her as not one.

I just saw Babylon A.D. I had heard tell that this was a bad movie, and was, in fact, prepared for it to be a bad movie. But then there was Vin Diesel; there was good music. There were several excellent fight scenes--and it all came wrapped in a little sci-fi bow, which is always close to my heart. As I sat in the theatre I thought to myself everyone said this was such a bad movie. Could they be wrong? This really isn't that bad. I trust their opinions, but as long as the ending isn't completely screwed up this is really kind of okay.

But the ending was screwed up. The ending was so screwed up, in fact, that I sat through the last ten minutes of the movie, mouth agape, asking myself over and over again, "seriously?"

Desperately I looked around the theatre at the other three people watching this movie with me. No one else seemed particularly perplexed. I didn't understand. The ending was obviously bad--we're talking Loom of Fate quality bad--but no one seemed to care. Perhaps they fell under the lure of Vin Diesel (something I absolutely understand) but even Vin Diesel acting the part of the lone wolf mercenary--it's quite the stretch for his acting chops it's true--couldn't save the ending of this movie.

Here's the problem: chickadee turns out to be an engineered woman whose basically a living computer, so far so good. Now Computra (as she will hence forth be known) is a virgin and miraculously conceives twins...except it isn't miraculous because it was all engineered through science and the high priestess of this crazy religion that seems to be trying to take over the war-torn world, but no one ever explains what the religion is, why this high priestess is so crazy (is she evil cause she's power hungry and we working on an extended Christianity metaphor or is she evil cause she's a woman in religion?) and how the heck Computra ends up pregnant with super powered twins.

Even with all of that I was willing to go along, assuming it would be made clear by the end. But crazy high priestess makes one last ditch to retrieve Computra, her manufactured miracle, and after Mr. Diesel does what he does and blows crap up crazy high priestess mysteriously gives up. She's not so much the leader of a crazy fanatic religion then as she is ADD. Finally we cut to Computra, ready to give birth, making Mr. Diesel promise to take care of her super powered babies and then dying. Why does she die? Nobody knows. Perhaps when carrying the wonder twins her body couldn't take it. But I would like to point out that female bodies don't just roll over and die pre-labor and then magically open up so you can lift said babies out and move on about your business.

And why the heck are these kids super powered? Is it because they're engineered? Because it's a virgin birth? Does being born of a virgin make one a superhero? I'm pretty sure the only other time it's happened the superpowers came from the dad. Perhaps because she's Computra, engineered woman extraordinaire, her twins (somehow created to activate in her womb on her 20th birthday?) are mysteriously powerful. I'm thinking they must also have time travel--they'll go back in time when they're all grown up, create the Fraternity, and teach some weavers how to read the Loom of Fate. Now there's an ending for ya.

All hail Computra and her Virgitron Wonder Babies.

I hate it when movies blow the ending.

A little trashy romance rant. Poor white girl is having a discussion with rich white boy. Poor white girl scoffs at rich white boy's hard life because, well, he's rich, white, and a boy. Oh, and his parents love him too. And he was never molested. Or beaten. Or ignored. So, when poor white girl points out how easy rich white boy has had it he argues back. But does he argue with his own experiences of "having it tough" or "working hard?" Oh no. He argues with his grandfather's experience--the man that created the family fortune--and his dad's experience--a poor Native American. Because his patriarchal line has worked hard that somehow entitles him to understand her pain and beat her in an argument of whose had a hard life because his family "doesn't forget their roots."

Really? I mean, I'm Irish, but I'm fairly certain I don't know what it's like to be without my potatoes--or any other food for that matter. Does "not forgetting my roots" mean I can sit down and really empathize with people who are starving? I'm gonna have to vote for no on this one. I really feel like Nora Roberts dropped the ball in this particular instance. She's been growing on me, but if you want your rich white hero to be a badass then you're going to have to do it without him claiming his elders' badassness as his own. Isn't that, like, the definition of a poser? Honestly, it's no wonder I can't find true love when I keep reading these books.

Oh! It's a top ten list!

Top Ten Things Trashy Romance Has Taught Me To Look For In A Man:

10. Love At First Sight

It all starts with Love at First Sight. Perhaps you're in a crowded room. Perhaps you're standing by yourself in a corner. Perhaps you've just spilled ink all down your regency style bodice. It doesn't matter. He sees you across time and space and finds you charming, fresh, and, most importantly, sexy. Your not like any other girl he's known. He wants to get to know you immediately, in fact he can barely control himself. You on the other hand are drawn to his...

9. Animal Sexuality

It radiates off of him. This is no mouse; this is a man! Everything about him is masculine even his sinfully long eyelashes. His face would be beautiful, but his strong jaw saves it from beauty marking him as handsome instead. You feel things you've never felt before. Dream of doing things you've never done before. And his animal sexuality, his predatoriness, his feline walk all enhance his innate male strength showing you he's a...

8. Warrior

Maybe he boxes with the other Lords. Maybe he's a cowboy, or a savage. Whatever his life he rides better, shoots better, and fights better than any other man around. You're always safe with him and you can always count on him to rescue you. In fact, the only person you ever have to worry about hurting you when you're with him is...well, him. But none of that matters because you're both...

7. Crazy With Lust

It can't be controlled or understood. He can't stop thinking about you. Can't figure out why he's so attracted to you and it drives him mad. You melt every time he's near. Your pulse beats so erratically that he can tell across the room. He smells you when you walk by, has a constant erection when you're near that he's not ashamed of. In fact, he's proud of it, pointing out how you affect him every time the two of you are alone. He does this because he's...

6. Smarter Than You

You're smart. You're savvy. You can outwit every other woman at the ball and all the other men. But you can't outwit him. It's not your fault; he's been manipulated by women before and is never to outsmarted by one again. And besides, he knows your body better than you do. That's why he's a...

5. Casanova

When he kisses you it's hot. When he kisses your neck its hot. When he kisses your hand its hot. Basically everything he does no matter how fast, slow, hard, easy, or seemingly silly is hot. That's because he knows exactly how to work your body like a conductor in front of the Boston Pops. But that's not a bad thing. How were you to know what love and sex were all about with him to teach you? How were you to discover what love was until he showed you? But there's a down side. He's not ready to love yet because he's...

4. Brooding and Broken

His hearts been broken and he now he's gun shy. He never smiled until he met you, and often he will sit sullenly in his study for hours with his brandy trying desperately not to think about you. In fact the idea of being in love is so frightening, so completely untenable that it makes him...

3. S.E.A.--Slightly Emotionally Abusive

It's not his fault. He's just so out of control because he loves you so much. He wouldn't be this way if you weren't so wonderful. If he could admit that he loved you. But you make him so mad. And just when he thinks there's a chance at happiness there you are smiling at a man on the street and all his worst fears are confirmed. He can't be expected to control his irrational jealousy. He can't be expected to wait for you to accept him. You need to enter into this relationship on his terms. As he says. And what's wrong with that? After all...

2. You Know You Want It

That's right. A man with strength. A man with passion. A man who can make you orgasm even when you've said no to sex. That's true love right there. And if you love him through all of this, if you persist in gentling his beast by gifting his forceful taking of your body with an orgasm his guilt will set him free. He'll realize he's only been fighting himself and he'll be so sorry for how he treated you. In fact, he'll never treat you that way again. Because...

1. All He Needs Is Love

That's right. Your refusal to stop loving him. Your refusal to give up on him after all the harsh words (like calling you a whore outright or implying it) all the physical fights (his nearly date raping you or, in some cases, actually raping you when you wouldn't give in to the physical desire) and mistreatments (his walking out on you for months at a time while he figures his feelings out leaving you broken and bereft and, if you're lucky, pregnant) has finally won him over. He just needed a good woman who could heal him with her vagina and it was you. Only you could have done it because he has only ever really loved you. He loved you from that first moment he saw you and now he can finally allow himself to admit it.

Congratulations on your happy marriage. He will always be the perfect husband and give you many, many children. And he'll never act like such a horrible person again. It's just that you make him so crazy...

Ah trashy romance. It's a great industry isn't it?

10,000 B.C. was the movie of the night and what a movie it was. Never have I been taken by a plot so well thought out, action so intense, or a love story so moving.

Did you know, for example, that if you hunt woolly mammoths with spears and your tribe you also gain the abilities of sword fighting and kung fu? Did you also know that the many peoples roaming the earth in 10,000 B.C. are of indiscriminate ethnic origin and speak in many accents? Finally, did you know that when traveling the continents from the great steppes of Asia to the savannahs of Africa one can cross from the jungles of Mesopotamia into Africa with only one day's hard walk? Mesopotamia existed in modern day Iraq by the way, and you don't just find your way to Egypt in one day, but all the way into the depths of Africa. These are all things I didn't know and am now thankful the movie provided such incredible enlightenment.

The best part, perhaps my favorite part, is where the evil advanced civilization fueled by the blood of slaves and a corrupt dictator known as "The Almighty" is brought down. We realize there that advanced knowledge such as science, math, engineering, and agriculture are only gained at the expense of slave labor and coveted only by the weak, the mean, and the power hungry. We also learn that this civilization, set up as a precursor to the Egyptians and the Mesopotamians with their strange Pyramid/Ziggurat hybrids is run by a man of completely different ethnicity than all the other peoples of the movie. Thus far our heroes have been African or Asian (in all the possibilities those continents entail). But here, enslaving the peoples and lording over everyone is "The Almighty." And what is The Almighty you ask? Surprisingly, an old white man. I know, I was shocked too. I wonder what metaphor the writers are possibly trying to depict with such an image?

Oh, and I forgot another great message of this movie. If you find yourself in a pit with a saber-toothed tiger and rain is pouring in threatening to drown you both, you can free the tiger and it won't eat you. Grateful for your help it simply gives you a sniff and bounds away. Cause animals that are scared, wounded, and hungry never attack so long as you are obviously trying to help them.

But despite all of this I kind of liked this movie. It's really fun to watch and try to figure out where in the world they are, or how they got from the jungles of Asia to the savannahs of Africa in a day. It's also fun to argue with friends over which civilizations formed first and when. Then you get to pick out all the different hints of old civilizations and try to place what clothes, attitudes, or technology alludes to which one. It's kind of like a geek's wet dream. This movie could be an example of what happens when you base your facts off Wikipedia...

But for all it's flaws it gave us reasonably hot guys (in one case one really hot guy) running around in relatively little clothing saving people and fighting for freedom and all that. That makes up for a lot in my opinion.

And spending their lives as hunters taught them kung fu. Who doesn't love kung fu?

I just watched The Notebook. I don't know why I do these things to myself. I'm an emotional cutter. When feeling overwhelmed with emotion I can't process it like a normal person, oh no, I have to go watch something horrible and sappy so that I can process all my emotions vicariously through the storyline.

In honor of this I think it's time for another top ten list. I give you:

Top Ten Movies For The Emotional Cutter:

10. Buffy Season 2

Buffy and Angel fall in love. Angel has to go save the world and so their love can never be. Angel comes back to Buffy for a glorious reunion and they make sweet, sweet love. Angel turns into Angelus and tries to kill Buffy and destroy the world. Buffy must fight Angelus over and over again only to have to kill him to save the world. Right after he becomes Angel again. This isn't technically a movie, but the episodes are like a 24 hour movie. Imagine the sort of emotional purge that comes out of that.

9. Phantom of the Opera

You spend the whole storyline falling in love with a psychopathic killer that ends up lonely and alone because, well, he's a psychopathic killer. What's healthy about that?

8. Ghost

The male lead dies ten minutes into the movie and you spend the rest of the movie watching them be in love. Except he's DEAD. Who watches this for fun?

7. Moulin Rouge

They tell you at the very beginning of the movie that this story is about love and loss. There's no misdirection here, nobody lies to you. And yet still, at the end, following the triumphant last song and their ecstatic proclamations of love you manage to forget that loss doesn't come with a happy ending. So she dies. This movie is evil. Pure, unadulterated, evil. And yet I watch it again and again and again...

6. The Notebook

Come on, only Nicholas Sparks could make this story sad. The couple falls in love and live a full happy lifetime together. Oh yeah, but then she can't remember him so he finishes out his years in the emotional equivalent of the Rack and just when you get your miracle, your this-is-what-it's-all-about moment you see how absolutely heart-rending it is when the one person you love more than anything can't remember who you are. Gee, that's a happy story.

5. P.S. I Love You

Girl falls in love with hot Irish guy. Guy dies of brain cancer ten years later. Girl is left widowed and mourning. Girl might find love again, but does that really ease the pain of losing the love of your life to brain cancer? I think not.

4. Gone With The Wind

We all know how I feel about this movie. Rhett loves Scarlett. Scarlett loves Ashley. Ashley loves his cousin. No, I don't think it's right either.

3. Finding Neverland

Nobody warned me before I watched this movie. I thought, "oh, Peter Pan. There's nothing sad in Peter Pan." Yeah, nothing sad at all until you watch children forced to grow up too soon and ball your eyes out. I still maintain it was an allergy attack.

2. Casablanca

I love you. I love you too. Oh goody we can be together. Actually no, you need to go off with the man you don't actually love, and I'll be the man you always wanted me to be while your gone. Huh.

1. Life As A House

If you haven't seen this movie you won't understand why I placed it above the last two. If you have seen this movie I hope you understand. This is the five bladed razor of emotional cutting. It hurts, there's lots of blood, you feel renewed. It's very medieval in a leeches sort of way.

In my defense I rarely watch most of these movies, but still many of them pull me back time after time. Except Ghost--that one's just sick. I would also have you know I totally shut most of them off before the end so I get the happy climax with none of the tears and sadness at the end.

Is it wrong to pretend that tragedy doesn't exist? To quote an apropos line from t.v. "I reject your reality and substitute my own." Indeed. If only life responded to a remote control.

I began reading Slate and stumbled across an article by William Saletan. Mr. Saletan and I have gone round and round before over any number of topics, but recently he addressed a draft legislation that would outlaw any behaviors that were considered abortifaciant before or after implantation. This led me to read a bit of his book on google text titled Bearing Right: How Conservatives Won The Abortion War. I was torn as I read this--abortion is a dead topic, beat into the ground. I do what I can to keep watch on President Bush and the rest of the conservatives who would outlaw it, but I rarely debate it any more--what's the point?

As I began reading this I questioned that impulse, however. Had I stopped debating it because there was no point, or because I was no longer interested in thinking about it? If it was the second, that's a serious problem. More interesting, though, was a very interesting point Saletan brought up as he discussed conservatives vs. liberals. Specifically, conservatives don't want the government's interference at all and liberals want the government to protect the citizens. This manifested itself in Little Rock in 1957 when Eisenhower enforced the integration of schools. The white parents didn't care if blacks went to public schools with whites, they just wanted the right to deny blacks attendance to their school.

And this got me thinking--first of all, as a liberal, I absolutely do not want government interference in anything I do. More importantly, however, I don't want government restriction. Secondly, where does the government draw the lines of mediation? People want the right to segregate their schools. People want the right to deny abortions. People want the right to keep homosexuals from marrying. People want all sorts of rights, so how does the government decide which ones are worth granting, which ones are worth denying, and which ones are inalienable? And how do we, the people, decide to police the government?

The government does all sorts of things that are for our own good and I've never questioned them. I've yelled, and taught, and written about the Patriot Act and my fears of having laws passed for my own good, but I've never questioned the decision to integrate schools for our own good, to legalize abortion for our own good, to force equality amongst men and women or heterosexuals and homosexuals for our own good. And in the end a lot of these laws were passed while people were still deeply divided about them. But I don't have a problem with any of them because it doesn't seem like people should be allowed to discriminate.

But once you start deciding what people can and can't do how do you walk that line? Obviously in things like murder, rape, or burglary we pass laws to protect the victims, but what do we do to protect people from emotional pain, not just physical pain? Is abortion murder or is the debate about controlling women's bodies? Is homosexual marriage immoral or would legalization be forcing people to condone lifestyles they despise? When do we decide a belief needs to be checked and when do we let it fly free and dictate the lives of others? Prayer in school, marriage, abortion, teaching evolution vs. intelligent design--the list goes on and on.

Each side accuses the other of brainwashing. Both sides think they are absolutely right. I've discussed and argued that laws need to be passed based on ethicality not morality, but as I read this excerpt it occurred to me how little I had really thought about what that means. How do we decide what is ethical vs. unethical? When is it okay to stifle a behavior and when is it not? And even as I ask that I know there are behaviors I will fight to the death to stifle--discrimination, prejudice, control over another's body, inequality. People are able to believe these things even as they are able to believe anything; you cannot stop a person from believing something. But you can punish them for acting out a belief. And for me that is the great difference between conservatives and liberals. Conservatives don't care what you believe, they just don't want you to act it out and will pass laws to see that you don't. Liberals do care what you believe, but mostly they want the right to act as they will and fight for laws enabling them to act it out. If a law is passed that legalizes abortion, gay marriage, or integration, the conservatives see this as a threat to their autonomy. But no one speaks nearly enough about the autonomy of those that suffer to protect the status quo. If a law is passed that prevents a behavior that discriminates, forced prayer in school, In God We Trust, the teaching of evolution over intelligent design liberals are accused of brainwashing kids and forcing belief on them. Preventing the beliefs of others.

But you can't stop belief. The prevalence of racism shows that, all you can do is punish the acting out of it. And by stifling actions that promote one belief are we discriminating against that belief, or working towards an environment where all beliefs may be sustained in peace? I suppose that is the great question. And this all comes back to abortion because these are all behaviors--laws, pressures, attempts--to regulate actions for our own good. And so perhaps the answer lies somewhere in the middle as it does with everything, something that has to be decided with each individual law or choice.

And that's why I don't want laws telling me what I can or can't do, even as I want laws that prevent myself and others from dictating the choices and lifestyles of those around us. That's a bit of a slippery slope isn't it?

I'm at my parents house which means there are any number of things I could be talking about. It also means they are all painfully boring and not worth mentioning. I should share a few discoveries this visit, however:

1) After looking through all the schoolwork and report cards my mother thoughtfully left for me in my bedroom I've discovered I wasn't nearly as smart as I thought or remembered myself to be and, in fact, prior to 6th grade was barely average. Go me.
2) The most exciting happenings in my life lately are riding with my parents in their mini-van singing along to Disney tunes. I. Am. A. Rockstar.
3) No matter how old, wise, and in control of my life I am I still want to punch my mother in the face when I'm menstruating. This urge is not entirely her fault and I acknowledge that.

These have all been important life discoveries and I'm really happy I could share them with you.

Now, on to the more important topic of the day--did you know in The Little Mermaid that Ariel is only 16? 16! She's running off to marry her prince, lying to her father, making deals with witches, and trying to get it on with the love of her life in three days at 16. I never noticed this when I was a kid, and normally I'm not a Disney basher, but this is really something. I've always loved this movie; I used to swim around in our little plastic pool in the backyard singing the songs with my neighbor. I was very pro little Mermaid as a kid. But 16?!

A friend of a friend hates this movie because Ariel disobeys her father and gets in obscene amounts of trouble before having to be saved and then, in turn, having to save others. That's another theme of the movie I missed. I think that says more about your personality, though; some of us never questioned a child's right to thwart an overbearing parent. And by overbearing I mean a father that doesn't want you to runaway to another country and throw yourself at a boy when you're only 16. Huh, who knew? Her father seemed so harsh when I was little...

Finally, I would like to invite you all to a book burning. I know, me, burn books? But this book deserves it, really. Let me 'splain. No, that take too long, let me sum up.

27 year old man adopts 14 year old girl and has her live with his sister. Girl follows man around like a puppy dog, taking care of him when he's drunk. When she's 18 and he's 31 he kisses her and forces her onto a couch. Girl freezes. Man becomes angry at girl and says she's not a "real" woman. Girl goes to college. At 22 girl comes home from college and man makes fun of her, uses her body against her, and again accuses her of being "naive," "innocent," and "underdeveloped." Girl loses memory. Man assumes responsibility for girl's care and seduces her. Man is thrilled girl responds to his caresses and decides they can now be together because she "accepts" him as a "woman should." Girl gets memory back, runs away from man. Man follows girl, proposes marriage and explains that the only reason he ignored her, emotionally abused her, and almost raped her was because she was innocent and childlike and unable to respond to him in that way a woman responds to a man. Now that she likes it when he touches her he can love her back. 35 year old man marries 22 year old girl. The End.

Maybe, if I'm really, really lucky some day an older man will attempt to force himself on me, emotionally abuse me, and then propose marriage. That's true love baby. It's a shame I'm not still 16 or I could run off and do it all to a Disney soundtrack. Do you see now why this book needs to be burned? Some girl, some where is reading this book not being appalled by the behavior of the so-called hero thinking that when the cute boy makes fun of her it's okay because she just needs to debase herself completely and then he'll love her. I mean, isn't that how all the best relationships get started?

I'm going to burn this book and cook s'mores over its flames. Then I'm going to spit on its ashes. Why is it so hard to find a decent wounded cowboy these days who broods without being all emo and whiny? I might punch the next guy who complains that he's hurt and can't trust women again because he dated a girl who was obviously crazy and obviously unstable and then (surprise surprise) she acted crazy and unstable when they dated.

As a good friend of mine pointed out all us girls always seem to be in the position of the crazy girlfriend, or the girlfriend after the crazy girlfriend trying to heal their poor, broken souls. We're always on the defensive ladies and as we all know the best defense is a good offense. So next time your guys starts in about his crazy ex (who was probably crazy cause he drove her that way) punch him in the face. This could be the start of a revolution.

Viva le revolucion!

I just finished my latest trashy romance, the third in a trilogy and it was so good it left me yearning for true love. Irritated, I paced around the apartment and grumbled about how much I hate everything. Then, as luck would have it, I stumbled across a book that I have with me purely by accident; a book I loaned to a friend two years ago and he happened to remember to give it back to me, Stephen Hawking's The Theory of Everything. Here, I thought, was the perfect solution to stupid trashy romances and their manipulating you into wanting true love.

As I was reading just the very beginning of it I began to remember how much I love Stephen Hawking and, furthermore, how much fun it is to contemplate the mysteries of the universe. More than that, though, I thought back on my childhood and how much easier it was to accept certain ideas, like infinity. When I was a wee little girl someone, probably my dad, told me that the universe was everything. It was simple and it made sense. I thought to myself, okay--I can accept that. Then, probably around high school, maybe earlier, it was brought up that the universe was expanding. This here was a problem. If the universe was everything it couldn't expand, seeing how it was, well, everything. And so my tumultuous relationship with infinity, space, and time began.

I tried to read A Brief History of Time in high school and that didn't work out so well, but a while after graduating college I got through it and, more than that, enjoyed it. I'm a bit of an armchair theoretical physicist--I hate the math and refuse to learn how to do it myself, but I love the theories and thinking about them. This is what happens when English majors read Hawking and Greene. I started to read about black holes and found them incredibly exciting when suddenly I realized I had hit upon a snag; I have an irrational fear of falling into a black hole. As irrational fears go I think that's a pretty good one.

So now, my contemplations of the universe are hampered by a couple of things: 1) irrational fear of falling into a black hole 2) inability to fully comprehend the size of the universe since it isn't infinity 3) annoyance with the relationship between space, time, and gravity.

I bring all this up as a background to remark on the humor of my young mind's willingness to accept and even, to some degree, understand infinity. When the universe was everything I never thought twice about it--it was everything. But when the universe stopped being everything and just became really, really big well, that was another matter entirely. And I think that's something. I suppose there are many examples of a child's mind willing to accept concepts adults have trouble with from religion to physics, but reading this particular book right now sparked my particular memory and made me want to muse about it.

There is certainly the point that children see things more simply and so conceive of a concept in terms small enough to understand; adults try to grasp all the ins and outs as it were. But thinking on human nature and our self-centeredness, I wonder if part of it isn't also an adult's need to feel like s/he matters. Descartes said, "I think, therefore, I am" and whole philosophies have worked to deal with that. What's more, when you start to conceive the universe as really, really big and, more importantly, finite, you begin to realize how little you matter in the grand scheme of things. I matter to me, obviously, and we all matter to each other (people that know each other I mean) but long after we're dead the universe keeps on kicking until one day it stops regardless of our continued existence or not. That's a pretty crazy concept to contemplate.

I should also point out that I've been in houses with cable the last few days and so have watched The History Channel and The Discovery Channel; there was a very nice program on the evolution of the Earth yesterday.

Anyway, I know physicists are still fighting over the existence of a "theory of everything" but it occurs to me that the universe functions just fine in conjunction with itself. That says to me that there has to be a theory of everything, we just may not be able to comprehend it yet. I mean, how can there not be? But, on the flip side, there isn't necessarily a theory that can be applied to every human being because we're such capricious characters and then, if there isn't a theory of everything for the universe doesn't that raise an interesting question about the nature of its existence? Not necessarily talking sentience here, but perhaps a little chaos theory.

I have no greater point with all of this, but musing over my irrational fear of falling into a black hole and suffering a horrible, painful death stretched out over infinity served its purpose marvelously in no longer wishing I had true love. See? Science really does solve everything.

I'm sitting in the Chicago O'Hare airport, waiting for my delayed flight. A middle-aged man somewhere between his mid-forties and early fifties walks by wearing a hooded, zip up sweatshirt. On the back in large, bright, pink lettering is:

Love Me
Hate Me
Fuck Me

I'm in a bit of a quandary over this. On the one hand I don't believe in censorship--I would never want there to be a law or any fine imposed on people for their speech. However, I do believe (very strongly) in manners and taste. There are several adolescent girls hanging out in our concourse alone, not to mention all the children he walked by to get here. My question is this: Is this sweatshirt really necessary sir? Really? What is it you are saying that demands to be said across Chicago International Airport in such a way?

I want to take a break and let you all know I know how much I sound like my mother right now.

But here's the thing; I've always found shirts with curse words written on them tacky. I'm obviously not one who is afraid to curse, nor do I think it makes a moral or ethical difference to say freak instead of fuck if the meaning behind it is the same. Language carries the meaning you attach to it and all that. But, knowing all of these things, there is also the knowledge that language you put into the world--through speech, shirts, or what have you--gains half its meaning from what those listening or reading attach to it. So, what is it about this guys sweatshirt that demands it be said in public in this way?

At least if it were a political statement I could understand. If it were some sort of obvious personal statement that seemed fairly necessary to his existence in this world as a person I would also understand.. And, AND! What the hell is his sweatshirt saying anyway? I mean, it's bad enough that I find it rude and inappropriate in the airport context, but what is being said here? No matter how you feel about him sleep with him? Love me, hate me, but don't subject me to inane attempts at individuality.

Okay...I have to interrupt this rant to explain something very important I've discovered. This man is in Ted Nugent's band. In fact, Ted Nugent is flying on the puddle-jumper airplane with me out of Chicago. Wow. I mean, I don't particularly like Ted Nugent, but it's still really freaking cool (I think freaking works better in this context don't you?) that I'm sharing a plane with him and his band. Who knew?

Cut to later when we've landed and are finally at our destination. It was a thoroughly annoying flight complete with delays, gate changes, and waiting on the tarmac for take off for almost an hour . Then, because of all the delays instead of landing before the thunderstorm we flew through it. That means I almost died with Ted Nugent too. I'm not nearly as excited about that. Finally, I had to sit behind sweatshirt man while he chatted up the pretty, young girl next to him--this guy is an old rockstar with hair that's thinning still worn long and the aforementioned writing on the back of his clothing. It was entirely possible I was going to do a lot more than hate him before this flight was over.

Thankfully we landed, though, and as my friend and I walked out the airport I looked behind to make sure the coast was clear and said quite loudly, "I just flew with Ted Nugent! That's so cool!" I then turned around. Ted Nugent was on his cell phone ten feet ahead giving me the eye as he continued his conversation. Sometimes I'm so cool even I don't know how I resist me. On the plus side, he's crazy conservative so I don't have to feel that bad that I didn't wow him with my coolness.

I flew with Ted Nugent. That's so cool.

Allow me to share the story of the crazy old people in Rhode Island. Apparently, when one grows old in this state, one also becomes bitter, mean, and sometimes stupid. Let's begin with example A, codename: Grandma.

We were at Journey to the Center of the Earth: 3D (yeah, 3D--it was awesome) and Grandma and her grandson sit down a few seats away from us. As the movie begins and plays it becomes very apparent, very early on, that Grandma's a talker. You know the type; the type that talks at movies, loudly enough to annoy, but quietly enough that not everyone in the theatre hears it. Furthermore, she talks pretty much through the whole thing. Apparently, so I was told as I wasn't sitting next to her, Grandma did something more stupendous than not turn off her cell phone. She missed the phone call, checked her voice mail, and then called the person back to discuss the missed phone call. This is the sort of talker Grandma is. At one point I thought my friend was going to kick some Granny butt, but she restrained herself like a champ. Frankly, though, I would have helped her. Granny was in very serious danger of going down.

Next there was example B, codename: Grumpy.

There we sat in the theatre watching Mama Mia! (I watch a lot of movies on vacation) and old people start to pile in all around us. Now, when I say pile in I mean exactly that. The theatre filled up, but before that happened an old couple sat in front and to the left of us, while another old couple walked by making myself and another old lady move our purses since they simply had to sit in the two empty seats between us instead of anywhere else in the theatre--but that's another story. Grumpy gave me and my friend the eye as he sat down and eyed my feet, perched on the bar in front of me warily. I eyed back since I was there first, I didn't have my feet on the back of a seat and he was choosing to sit next to my obviously perched feet in a still very empty theatre. As far as I was concerned he could eat me.

My mother raised me with manners, however, so I was determined not to put my feet anywhere that might ruin his movie experience, but as the movie got going and the music picked up I sort of lost myself in the moment. My foot is now on my knee as my legs are crossed, far, far away from him, but he turns around and starts to say something to me. After a minute I realize he's talking to me and it sounds something like "you kicked me." I'm horribly embarrassed both because I had no memory or recollection of my foot connecting with his head and he's speaking loudly. I think perhaps he's worried I will kick him--a big difference I'm sure you'll agree. So I respond "Oh, I did kick you?" The whole encounter has me thrown for a loop. But then he did something that never works out well for me. He told me what to do.

"Put your foot down," he orders me. I really, really, really...really don't take well to being told what to do. It's a flaw. I need to work on it. I know this. But right now we're at a movie theatre, Grumpy just ordered me around before I even understood what was going on enough to apologize, and there was no more possibility of a peaceful resolution. I responded simply and firmly, "I won't kick you again." He told me to put my foot down again, I told him I wouldn't kick him again. He turned around in a huff and I seriously considered kicking his head very hard, very many times. Furthermore, the words he said at the beginning that I missed (which I think was due to fate) were "Hey lady! You kicked me." All I say to that is really? Hey lady? What are you twenty and is this 1954? If the answer to either of those questions is no OR you were raised with an iota of proper behavior I say perhaps you should never hey lady someone unless you want them to kick you in the head on purpose. The universe protected Grumpy from my dangerously flip-flop clad foot teaching him how to properly inform someone of their obvious mistake in a movie theatre. I know; I kicked him (allegedly). But he was assy. I reserve the right to want to kick him.

Meanwhile, the old lady and her husband who decided they absolutely had to have the two empty seats between me and the other group are singing along to the songs, off-key of course, the lady behind us can't figure out how to shut her phone off, the power goes out due to horrendous thunderstorms, and watersprout oddly enough, we lose sound at the romantic and emotional climax of the movie, and then same lady--whom my friend thought was mentally disabled--begins to clap sort of in time when the sound comes back on and the final song kicks in. All-in-all it was a good movie, but really exhausting to watch.

So after all of this I've come to two conclusions: 1) old people in Rhode Island are insane and 2) old, handicapped, or dying from a disease I reserve the right to kick you in the head--on purpose this time--if you talk during a movie.

This has been a public service announcement.

I was totally going to write about Jem and the Holograms because they are truly, truly, truly outrageous, but I feel it is more important, nay, imperative, that I inform the masses of an imminent world take over--by seagulls.

This is going to come as a surprise to some of you. After all, it wasn't too long ago that world take over seemed afoot due to the penguins and with the influx of pro-penguin propaganda in the last five years I felt the penguin world take over would happen any moment, but today I saw something that chilled me to the bone. Today I saw something so horrible, so frightening, that I'm not sure it can be captured in the written word. Today I saw the truth. Today I came face to face with the seagulls.

It was a day that started much like any other. I woke up; I drank my coffee. I watched cartoons (hence the forthcoming discussion about Jem) and eventually decided upon going to the beach. I'm visiting the east coast you see and it seemed a shame to waste a beautiful afternoon doing anything other than reading on the beach. So we packed up, we bought some fig newtons, some cheez its, some water, and headed to the beach.

The water was beautiful, the waves were crashing, and I blissfully trounced off into the ocean gasping only a little at the chill temperature. Despite the complaints of California that the Pacific is cold the northern Atlantic is much, much colder.

But I was not to be deterred! Soon my friend had joined me and we were happily bouncing about in the growing waves, cold but happy. And then, as is so often the case in these stories, tragedy struck. A moment of sweet innocence was ruined thoughtlessly, heartlessly, by the evil that roams this earth. The seagulls had struck.

My friend asked me if the giant mass of seagulls were swarming around our blanket. They were. She then asked if they could get into our sealed, bagged food. They could. Squinting against the sun that only moments ago had brought me such joy I stepped towards the shore and saw what I thought looked like a fig newton bag being dragged across the beach, caught between the bills of three different seagulls.

I took off, fueled by rage and raced back to the shore; the waves pounded me from behind and the current pulled at my feet, but I wouldn't be slowed. Sloshing without any thought but saving my delicious fruit and cake I ran up on the beach seeing clearly now that it was my fig newton bag the seagulls were molesting and, what's more, they weren't scattering as I raced towards them. I also saw, positioned not twenty feet from our blanket two older gentlemen casually half-sleeping in their beach chairs watching the seagulls rape and pillage our blanket and food with nary a half-cocked eyebrow let alone a minor Shoo! to chase them off. You would think the peoples of the world could be united against this heinous yellow billed force, but no, our ranks are divided. How do we stand a chance when there are those among us who would stand by while innocent fig newtons are plundered not ten feet away?

Thankfully we saved half the bag. One row was gone, but my adrenaline fueled race back to the shore saved the other row. But now the seagulls had got a taste. And they liked it. We laid down on our blanket, books in hand ready to protect our food and blanket. The seagulls formed a perimeter around us, landing approximately ten feet away on all sides. Their leader, an old grizzled fellow with brown feathers amid his white stood in the middle. He had a habit of keeping his head down so that he seemed thicker, more menacing then the others. As I read my book he would inch closer, one step at a time, step, step towards the rescued newtons.

I looked up and we made eye contact--it was like looking into the eyes of death. He wasn't frightened of me. Not even after I explained things to him. I'm bigger, I told him, I'll eat you. He didn't care. Looking down I assessed the size of my trashy romance and decided it would make a pretty good club. Don't make me beat you with Nora Roberts, I threatened him again. This seemed to throw him a little bit. He took a step back. Not to be thwarted, however, he started to move forward again. I half sat up, ready to do battle; I'd take on the whole squadron if I had to!

But then fate intervened. A new mark, an easier mark had been sighted by the scouts. The rest of the squad took off, squawking and flapping their way down the beach. But the commander stayed. His beady black eyes bored into my brown ones. Nora Roberts I threatened again. He didn't say anything, but I knew if he had a mouth instead of his grotesque beak he would have said, I'm not scared. With one last look he let out a squawk and flew after his squad. And so our stand-off ended.

The seagulls have no respect for human life, nor any decent fear of what we're willing to do to them. It's because of this I feel they may supplant the penguins in the race for world domination. If you see a movie promoting cute seagulls don't believe it; don't believe it for a minute. They'll wait till your gone...and then they'll steal your fig newtons. Fight for you lives people. Fight for your freedom.

I just came home from a discussion about love. We were all very aware of the foolishness such a discussion contains by its very nature, but this is a topic that has been on my mind quite a bit lately. I know people often muse amongst themselves concerning the nature of "the one," how do I know who it is? How do I know if this particular person is really it, etc, but I found myself asking the question, how do I know if I'm in love?

This question in turn made me ask myself, how do I define love? Can it be defined? Is love purely emotion and as such, does it defy the naming process of being put into language? I acknowledge all the poetry, music, art, and teenage love notes that have already attempted this, but I don't think their existence answers my question. After all, even with all of these things, we all still question the concept of love on a porch at four o'clock in the morning.

The problem, a commonly accepted one amongst most self-aware, reasonably intelligent people is that there is no "happily ever after." The "I love yous," heartfelt as they may be, are always followed by the morning after--bad breath, unfortunate bed head, and maybe a grumpy demeanor. The days after that are followed by fights, food poisoning, the flu, and any number of other situations and ailments not conducive to tender emotions. And so people deal with this any number of ways; the one I hear most often is that everyone falls in and out of love constantly, hanging on until they fall back in love with the person they've committed to. I don't deny that this is the case for many people, but I question if that is real love or, more importantly, if that is what I want.

Imagine, for a minute, that full disclosure is possible. Imagine that you could be aware of those times your partner isn't in love with you. What would that be like? Knowing that fights, irritation, and disappointment are fairly inevitable, do I want to be with someone that, at times, doesn't actually love me? Is it possible to avoid? To some degree I'm hopelessly naive in this area as I haven't had a serious, long term relationship. Friendships, but not romantic involvements where you see someone on a daily basis. I acknowledge this even as I continue to write as if I know what I'm talking about anyway.

I think love for me is defined the same way I define the one. Specifically, that it isn't an end. What I mean by that is that there is no happily ever after. It doesn't ever stop. Being in love doesn't cease the roller-coaster of emotion anymore than finding the person I want to spend the rest of my life with means they were the only person of all the people in the world I could have felt that way about, and being with them guarantees happiness. If it's an ongoing process, something that has to be worked on every day, a constant evolution that never ceases to need my attention, even if it is easier some days than others, then not only does it become a whole lot less romantic, it also becomes a whole lot more scary. It means that happiness is not guaranteed and my happiness is not assured. It means that all the annoyances I have regarding my lack of a relationship don't go away, but are only replaced with new ones. That idea is absolutely opposite what society has formed and defined as "love."

More importantly, though, it means that entering into any sort of romantic relationship carries significantly more weight than it did before. It means I can't just meet someone, work it out, and then sit back and enjoy the ride. It means that being in love requires an active, conscious role from me every day. That's exhausting to ponder. The thrill of love is that it is supposed to be an end; once you love and someone loves you, you're supposed to be generally happy and content. The love is supposed to be the end.

But I don't think it is. And, I think it is knowledge of this, conscious or not, that oftentimes causes fear of marriage or the idea of "the old ball and chain" as it were. When we're not blissfully happy, all the time, we assume it isn't love or that there's something wrong with us, or whatever. We never question if this "love" we have isn't actually love, but only what we were taught to believe is love. This is also why I think so many single, divorced, and/or cynical people doubt other people's love. They see couples that are working on loving each other every day and see only that it is different than what love is supposed to be, not the possibility that that is actually what love is. The two seem irreconcilable.

But how many people have the maturity, self awareness, or mental fortitude to be conscious of their own evolution, needs, and feelings every day, let alone someone else's? That's exhausting--even just to think about. There's nothing sexy, or spontaneous, or fun about that. That's too much like real life, like an obligation.

But what if that isn't the case? Ignorance is definitely bliss, but what if the cost of knowledge, high though it may be is worth it? What if the added pain and inconvenience brings with it greater happiness and self fulfillment? I like my definition of love--I find it more real, inconvenient though it may be.

But it still doesn't answer the question how do I know if I'm in love or that someone is even worth the pain of true love? But that's something to ponder some other morning at four o'clock on the porch.

I think it’s time I shared my thoughts on George Lucas. I was reading an article on msn about the biggest winners and losers of the summer and (not unexpectedly) they labeled Indiana Jones a loser (the latest one). What I love about this article, and the people that wrote in to argue, is that critics predicted exactly as both Lucas and Spielberg said they would, but acted as if their reactions were a surprise. The majority of movie-goers accepted the change in tone and enjoyed the movie. Both the article and the people that replied represent these two extremes beautifully.

But this got me thinking, I’ve spent a lot of time defending Episode 3 and qualifying Episodes 1 & 2, but I’ve never done so here (I don’t think). I think it’s time.

First let’s get the obvious weakness out of the way so we can all be on the same page:

1. George Lucas, bless his heart, had a hard-on for special effects. They were overused in the first two movies and he forgot to keep it simple. It’s understandable when one considers that he’s spent his life making movies that weren’t quite capable of looking like he imagined, but still a poor choice artistically.

2. We could have forgiven the abuse of special effects if the writing had been better. The dialogue was just plain painful in places and while I personally think there were reasons for that at times, it doesn’t change the need for a little revision.

These were the major complaints made at the time of the release and, I think, what most people still complain about when discussing the movie.

This is why I think the movie was doomed to failure regardless of how good it was:

1. We all wanted Episodes 4-6 the way we had them when we were four. We wanted to believe, we wanted to be blown away, and, most of all, we wanted to escape into the fantasy. However, we’ve all grown more cynical and unforgiving in our old age and forgot that when we watch episodes 4-6 we laugh about how cheesy they are…but we forgive them because we love them. Unable to be a child, unwilling to acknowledge we are adults everyone sat in the theatre and complained.

2. We all had a preconceived notion about Darth Vader’s origin story. The books, the fanfiction, the graphic novels, the conversations with friends at three in the morning over coffee—no one wanted to accept a story that was different from what was imagined. No one wanted to reimagine a world that wasn’t technically theirs to begin with. The story, by dent of being mostly original, would never be accepted. I acknowledge that the plotting could and should have been done better, but I still maintain nothing would have been enough.

3. This one is most important: Well adjusted teenagers don’t turn into cosmic serial killers. Everybody loves Darth Vader because he’s the biggest badass on the market. Everybody wanted to see Darth Vader be a badass prelava. What we got was a whiny, overdramatic teenager that couldn’t accept reality or deal with the pressures of life. Could Episode 2 have been better written? Absolutely. Could Anakin Skywalker, realistically, been an ass-kicking James Bond like teenager? Of course not. Darth Vader is, was, always has been inherently weak. His emotions were his doom. That means when he was fifteen, in love, and his mom dies he whines and goes crazy. Nothing else works.

Very few people wanted to accept these things about the story Lucas was telling. Furthermore, because Episode 2 was pretty bad (even I cringe when Anakin compares Padme’s skin to sand) everyone writes off Episode 3. Episode 3 was a masterpiece of tragedy—honestly, I don’t know how you could argue against that, even if personally you don’t like it. The only real weakness I saw was that Anakin shifted from good to evil too quickly. There needed to be a little more attention paid to his fanaticism and how the Emperor played into that. But overall, his passion as his undoing, the slaughtering of the jedi, the Emperor and Yoda fighting, Obi-Won and Anakin fighting…it was all heartbreaking. Oh, there was the “NO!” at the end which was a bad choice—I know what Lucas was going for there, but a show of silent fury would have been a much better option I think.

Going back to Episode 2 for a minute, has anyone ever spent any time with a teenage boy? Have you ever heard a teenage boy try to hit on a girl? It’s painful people. There are bad comparisons, cheesy pick-up lines, and a whole lot of awkward longing looks that translate to “I really wanna touch your boob.” Real life doesn’t always translate to writing well and Lucas erred on the side of too realistic here, but the failure wasn’t because it wouldn’t really be like that. People cringed because how does an intergalactic badass tell a girl he likes her skin because it’s so smooth, not coarse like sand? People forget that even intergalactic badasses are 15 once with too many hormones and not enough game.

And that brings me to my final point—Vader wasn’t evil, not wholly, he was weak. He was too weak to resist the dark side, and he was too weak to embrace evil all the way. That’s why he chooses the Emperor in Episode 3 and is saved by Luke in 6. He loved his family more than anything and that allows for the Rebellion to win before it’s all said and done, but it also means that Darth Vader won’t ever be the biggest, the baddest, or the most evil. It also means that, like all other passionate, out of control teenagers, seeing him in his teen years makes you die a little inside.

And as for Episode 1, it tried to be too much like Jedi. It was fun, it was easy, it was everything it was supposed to be. I was really excited after I saw it in the theatre. But then everyone started hating on it because, frankly, it’s cooler to hate than to love. Us silly cretins just didn’t realize how bad it was. It wasn’t perfect, none of them were, but it was better than a crapload of other movies people say are great (think Titanic) and no worse then many more.

Most importantly, though, they were all Star Wars, and for better or worse that’s all they ever aspired to be. You can love ‘em or hate ‘em, but you can’t deny them their place in the world George Lucas created.

I saw Wanted last night, and there really, seriously, needs to be a discussion about the wisdom of taking your orders from a Loom of Fate. I mean our hero (don’t worry, no spoilers here really) waffles over the decision to do what’s he told for a second, but eventually he decides the Loom knows more than he.

This is simply further proof of why I wouldn’t make a good assassin of fate. You show me the Loom of Fate and I say, “Really? Where do you get the thread? How do you make sure it’s weaving the cloth of fate, or does the cloth not really matter? How do you know you’re interpreting it correctly? What if the first interpreters got it wrong? Is there a Rosetta Loom somewhere you want to tell me about? How do I know this is a good Loom of Fate and not a bad one? Can fate be evil and good?”

I feel like these are all perfectly valid questions and it isn’t too much to expect that one might ask them before following the Loom’s orders. Obviously, the movie progresses, things are more complicated than they seem, but I couldn’t help remarking as the proverbial feces hit the proverbial fan that this is what happens when you take orders from a loom.

And then we have the problems of fate—I like fate, we get along pretty well, but once you start preemptively killing people because fate deems it so we’re into some pretty murky area. For example, let’s say that the person I take orders from goes evil—now fate is going to think that I’m evil because so long as everything stays as it is I will be. But what if I figure it out? Can I not change my destiny? People can be tricked, can they not? So how do we know how savvy fate is? Is it my lack of awareness that has caused me to slip into evil and a danger to mankind, or is it my association with that specific person at that specific time? If it’s the second…well, that’s very malleable and I’ll thank fate not to judge me because of what I might do.

But if names of people only come up after they have committed their first atrocious act (or thirteenth) then I could accept that easier. I see you killed a baby, now I kill you. This is a very simply one-to-one relationship. But I kill you because you might kill the baby—the Loom and I disagree there. Though it does raise that excellent question of would you kill [insert evil dictator’s name here] as a child if you could? And if (very big if) said Loom of Fate really were a Loom of Fate and I could accept its Fateyness, I might be able to. But in order for that to happen we’re back to the earlier situation of proving the merits of taking orders from a Loom of Fate.

The Loom weaves in circles.

(ah! I’m funny)

I've held off for awhile, but it's time to roll back into the political arena. The news on Obama today revolves around James Dobson who has accused Obama of "distorting the Bible and offering a fruitcake interpretation of the constitution." Now, I'm really excited about this on a number of levels. First there's the idea of a "fruitcake interpretation" which is an incredibly bigoted comment. Why? Because fruitcake is a commonly known slang for homosexual and when you start using it as an insult we're back to the equivalent of "nigger-rigged" for fixing something on the fly. People might disagree with that, but just because you don't realize something is offensive, it doesn't mean it is. And, on a side note, we gripe because some (like myself, for example) read too much into things i.e. "fruitcake interpretation." After all, in this context it just means crazy, another vernacular meaning for the word so why am I being so sensitive? Because it is precisely the people who are sensitive that decide what is offensive. If you're goal is to not be offensive in a bigoted way then you don't get to pick and choose what someone finds bigoted. Just wanted to get that one out there.

Now on to the big stuff. Obama pointed out that Bible scriptures are, shall we say, a bit inconsistent. His point seemed to consist of two ideas 1) that there are multiple Christianities at work in our country so even if we are a "Christian" country that doesn't narrow down what moral/ethical code we should be running on and 2) literal interpretations of the Bible aren't helpful to the running of the government--think Leviticus. Now, I'm biased. There is no question about my bias and, furthermore, that I'm a crazy NON-Christian. In my perfect world our government would run on a set of ethics that owed nothing to religion. I want to clarify that I am completely aware of where I stand on this issue. That being said, I find this comments absolutely delightful--a politician that recognizes the logical fallacies undermining much of our political discussions today and says it out loud? How many times have these almost exact words been spoken between friends? And here is a man who is willing to say it out loud. I find that incredibly exciting. Furthermore, no where in these comments, this article, or anything else I've read has Obama even hinted at being anti-religion. He isn't going to stop people from going to church or their right to go to church, but is willing to stop people from forcing others to go to church. See the difference? As an avid non-churchgoer I'm thrilled by that. I'll fight to the death for your right to worship in whatever harmless way you desire, but I'll also fight to the death for my right not to.

Being a liberal isn't nearly so simple as those who curse us would have you believe.

I'm seeing more and more in Obama a man who might be too smart to be President. What I mean by that, is that he will say out loud things that are true. For example, you can't outlaw abortion because of the Bible. It's true. The government can't base laws on religion (or, rather, shouldn't). That means that the law itself must come from another ethical background. But for someone that does base ethics and morality on religion and cannot conceive of not using religion as a basis for those things that sounds like crazy talk. Plus, if you believe you are right--as anyone who actually believes in their faith does--then you don't want to have a law that allows for beliefs disagreeing with your own. It's a tricky, sticky situation and saying we can't base laws on your religion because other's don't believe it doesn't get through to these people. Their religion is fact and so it doesn't matter whether others believe it or not.

And that is, perhaps, the crux of the problem. We, as a society, have no interest in living our lives in a solitary fashion. We want to save those in need; we want to help each other. That means for the big issues, like abortion, we can't agree to let someone kill a baby (if indeed that's what we want to call it) we want to stop the atrocity. For the smaller stuff, like gay marriage, we don't want to stand by and silently condone an act that is repulsive. I speak of "we" here as society. And to some degree, there is no resolution to that situation. Those that believe abortion is murder will never allow it to continue unmolested and those that despise homosexuality will never support their equality. But quite frankly, I'm not interested in those people. Maybe I'll teach their kids some day and I'll deal with it then, but I'm not going to change any minds in that quarter, and neither is Obama. Those are the lost cause.

But, if every time they speak loudly against rationality (and yes, I am judging here) those who deny their monologic world view speak loudly in protest the damage might be controlled. Those that believe single-mindedly are powerful in their speech because they believe. The masses react to that. But if all of us who believe passionately for freedom of/from/to belief/believe then those that are not fanatical will have something else to consider. We will never all agree, but we might some day discuss. That's worth working towards.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25343812?GT1=43001