I have a few very good friends, and then I have a lot of them that I intentionally keep at an arm's length.
In fact, it can take people years to penetrate that fortress that is walling off my heart.
I like to blame it on my heritage. Being Norwegian, I am from a "tribe" of people that is fairly cold and unfriendly and very difficult to get to know. This IS true. My husband especially noticed it when we visited Norway a couple of times, that most Norwegians keep their distance and are difficult to get to know... unless they've had a couple of drinks. I guess that's why pubs are such a popular past time activity in Norway. It's how we work up the courage to socialize!
BUT.... I can't put all the blame on my Norwegian heritage. I really can't. I have to own up to some of this myself. Although identifying that Norwegians are in general like that is a nice step for me, because it means I'm aware of it and if I choose to do so, I can probably work on this and make it less of a factor.
"If I choose to do so" is the key sentence here.
When I was 12, my parents uprooted my entire family and we moved from the West Coast of Norway to the eastern part of Norway. I know most of you Americans think that could only be a 30 minute drive, but no, it's a lot longer than that. More like a couple of days' drive (unless you don't plan on sleeping the entire time.... then you can probably make it in 12 hours or so...).
So there I was, twelve years old, leaving all my friends and everything I'd ever known, heading into a new school, a new place.... not knowing a soul. The thing about Norway is.... very few people move. Most people stay in one spot for generations.... so kids grow up with family, they grow up with friends of their families.... in short, they don't really need anybody new to come in. It's really difficult to break in to any type of a friends group. Sure, I made friends but they always had somebody that were closer, somebody that they'd hung out with from the time they were babies, so I always felt like the outsider and the 3rd wheel. After a few years, I did make a couple of good friends that I hung out with and that I consider my best friends.
Then.... college time. In Norway there are only 4 universities, so if a person wants to go to college, you pretty much have to move. Again. Now.... I was HAPPY to get out of the city we moved to when I was 12. I had never really thrived there, I just went through the motions to get done with school and at first chance, I was out of there. (I should mention that at 17 I went to the US for 1 year....and LOVED it. I made a lot of good friends there.... and although I did my very very best to stay in touch with them, those ties eventually wore down because I've discovered that most people aren't as eager or as good as keeping in touch as I am. Or as I used to be.... I think I eventually gave up on trying to staying in touch with people.... What's the point, if nobody ever writes back in return?)
Anyway, I went to college. 8 hours away by train. So obviously I moved out and away. At this point, I had already given up on making good friends. My theory was that they'll all go away again at some point, so why bother opening up to people in the first place. So I was social. And I did make a lot of friends. But only on the outside. I did have a couple of boyfriends, both ended with breakups, one actually cheated on me so if that doesn't totally blow the concept of being close with somebody straight out of the water, I don't know what does.
Then I met my husband. Online. For some reason, I eventually let him into my heart. Maybe it was because I thought since he was so far away (in California), nothing would ever happen and we'd never be friends in real life.... so I didn't see any danger in opening up to him, I didn't see it as making a true friend.... And guess what, I ended up marrying the guy and 13 years later, we're having a wonderful marriage, and he knows everything about me.
Moving to California though.... once again I broke ties... not only with friends this time, but with family too. It was by choice. My last moves had been by choice. But at this point, my friends theory had pretty much been confirmed in my mind..... all friends separate eventually .... so what's the point of making any?
For every friend I make that ends up moving away.... it reconfirms my theory. So for each friend that moves away, I become less likely to make any new ones.
There have been plenty of opportunities for me to make friends here, but I've been standoffish and I know it. People WANT to make friends with me, but I'm not letting them be my friends.
On the flip side, I'm a really good friend to others. They let ME in, and I never violate this privilege. I'm generous, I always remember birthdays and special days. I'm always there if they need to talk about things, and I never EVER pass any confessions or private information along, not even to my husband, with whom I pretty much share everything. I'm genuinely a good friend to other people. But I don't let anybody be a good friend to me.
So...what the hell? I don't deserve good friends? I think I do?
With the self analysis I've made here, and posted, I think I can maybe fix this. I need to somehow change my thinking regarding separating from friends. It can't possibly be healthy going through life not making friends because I "know" they will eventually disappear. Is there any way I can focus on the value of their friendship while they are HERE? So that if they do end up moving away.... I'll have the good memories, but not focus so much on the disappearance of the friend.
I need to work on this. I really do. And to friends who read this .... feel free to help me along the way. Especially now that i'm open to it.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Depression - The Invisible Disease
I'm having some conflicts with work. I'm about to return from my leave. My depression is still here, but it's being dealt with. I'm not going into specifics regarding the conflict, but all in all, I feel that I'm not being taken seriously. Is there anybody out there with depression who feels that way too?
I mean, I don't have a big fancy scar to show off.... I don't have any broken bones or a body cast.
(I think a body cast would be most appropriate for depression... it pretty much affects your whole body from top to toe....). It's all on the inside. I feel like because it's not visible, it leaves people in a state of disbelief, they don't quite grasp the concept that I'm actually sick. It's frustrating. What do I have to do, start injuring myself to prove a point? Is this where people start cutting themselves? So that their problems can be show on the outside and maybe THEN someone will believe that there is a problem? (Don't worry, I won't go that far....)
At first, I had problems grasping it myself, that this actually is a disease. I felt like a phoney in the beginning too, because I didn't feel sick in a way that I'm used to... i.e no fever, no stomach pains (well, nerves but nothing else), no sore throat.... The usual "sick" symptoms were missing.
It finally sunk in when my doctor sat down, looked me in the eyes and said: "Depression is a serious disease. There is nothing you can do. It's hormonal, it will pass but you're not crazy."
I even broke out in tears in his office at this statement, I guess I realized it myself that I may have suspected that I was a little nutty... or maybe I released some of that guilt I've been feeling for being sick. Or rather for NOT feeling physically sick.... getting the confirmation that "Yes, you are sick" from the doctor was a relief of sorts.
So... is it unrealistic of me to expect others to take it seriously, when it took me this long? I think yes.... especially in a professional environment where they have my doctor's notes to verify that yes, I'm not well.
Again.... it comes back to no physical injuries. I feel it's unfair. But hey. That's life.
I'm dealing with it.
I mean, I don't have a big fancy scar to show off.... I don't have any broken bones or a body cast.
(I think a body cast would be most appropriate for depression... it pretty much affects your whole body from top to toe....). It's all on the inside. I feel like because it's not visible, it leaves people in a state of disbelief, they don't quite grasp the concept that I'm actually sick. It's frustrating. What do I have to do, start injuring myself to prove a point? Is this where people start cutting themselves? So that their problems can be show on the outside and maybe THEN someone will believe that there is a problem? (Don't worry, I won't go that far....)
At first, I had problems grasping it myself, that this actually is a disease. I felt like a phoney in the beginning too, because I didn't feel sick in a way that I'm used to... i.e no fever, no stomach pains (well, nerves but nothing else), no sore throat.... The usual "sick" symptoms were missing.
It finally sunk in when my doctor sat down, looked me in the eyes and said: "Depression is a serious disease. There is nothing you can do. It's hormonal, it will pass but you're not crazy."
I even broke out in tears in his office at this statement, I guess I realized it myself that I may have suspected that I was a little nutty... or maybe I released some of that guilt I've been feeling for being sick. Or rather for NOT feeling physically sick.... getting the confirmation that "Yes, you are sick" from the doctor was a relief of sorts.
So... is it unrealistic of me to expect others to take it seriously, when it took me this long? I think yes.... especially in a professional environment where they have my doctor's notes to verify that yes, I'm not well.
Again.... it comes back to no physical injuries. I feel it's unfair. But hey. That's life.
I'm dealing with it.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Negative Thoughts - "I'm Boring"
Ok, so due to my PPD, I have been seeing a therapist and it's not as bad as anticipated. I mean, most people will rather die than call a therapist for help. God forbid word should get out that you're a lunatic.... Well, I hate to disappoint you, I'm not a lunatic, I'm a normal person who need some tools so I can *stay* normal and refrain from becoming a lunatic..... :-)
I received some assignments that were pretty eye opening. Analyzing my negative self thoughts and figure out how they affect my life, then trying to negate the negative thought with a positive one. I did the assignment, but I felt a lot of these negative thoughts needed more attention than simply being negated. They have been whirling around in my head ever since I put them down on paper, so why don't I start flushing them out here in my blog and see where I end up.
There were TWO assignments related to putting down negative thoughts, and there is ONE negative thought that is on top of both lists. Is that a coincidence? Probably not.
The negative thought that seems to be #1 is this one: I am boring / I am not interesting.
Ok, so this is completely false. I have a very unique life, I have a very interesting backstory, both culturally since I am from another country and actually moved to the USA as a grownup, and I also have an interesting story as to how I met my husband. In addition to that, there are plenty of things that are unique about me... I play the tuba. How many girls can say that? Only a handful, I know. I love big rigs, in fact, I have an active blog about big rigs. How many girls are interested in big rigs? Not many. I work in the IT field. Not many women work in the IT field, and although I personally don't find this very exciting, I know that a lot of IT guys do. Go figure. I love playing video games, RPGs, Xbox... you name it. Interesting to some people, boring to some... (hey, you can't please everybody).
I guess the key is.... nobody will know this about me unless I tell them. And why don't I tell them this to prove to them that I'm not boring? Because I don't like talking about myself a lot. Why don't I like talking about myself? Because in the past, I've strived very hard at remaining invisible...and blending in with the general crowd.
As a kid, I was bullied a lot. There was one point during my childhood where I was eager to raise my hand in class and talk about my weekend, but at some point this all stopped and I quit speaking out alltogether.
There was a point in my life where I decided that it would be better to remain invisible, rather than risking drawing attention to myself which would give someone a reason to bully me or tease me in any way.
And when I set out to do something, I do a thorough job. I'm not sure how well it worked for what it was intended for. Somehow the bullies seemed to find me after all. At the time I felt like a target, but as you grow up you come to realize that you're not their only target. They pick on everybody. Still, there are traces of that behavior that is affecting me today, and being invisible is still something I'm very good at doing.
I want to change. I really don't want to be invisible anymore. I want people know what an exciting person I am. I have to get over that hump and ignore those voices in my head that tell me I'm not interesting. I suppose I just have to yell loud enough to drown them out? Don't know.
It's hard to change on a dime. I'm not going to all of a sudden be a new person today. But I can start the alteration process. I guess with this blog, that is a step in the right direction, trying to realize why I behave the way I do.
I was considering making this journal private, but what the heck. If my thought process can help someone else, that would be cool. Others may see themselves and recognize themselves here... and heck, I need practice talking about myself anyway, so here it is! It's all about me!
I received some assignments that were pretty eye opening. Analyzing my negative self thoughts and figure out how they affect my life, then trying to negate the negative thought with a positive one. I did the assignment, but I felt a lot of these negative thoughts needed more attention than simply being negated. They have been whirling around in my head ever since I put them down on paper, so why don't I start flushing them out here in my blog and see where I end up.
There were TWO assignments related to putting down negative thoughts, and there is ONE negative thought that is on top of both lists. Is that a coincidence? Probably not.
The negative thought that seems to be #1 is this one: I am boring / I am not interesting.
Ok, so this is completely false. I have a very unique life, I have a very interesting backstory, both culturally since I am from another country and actually moved to the USA as a grownup, and I also have an interesting story as to how I met my husband. In addition to that, there are plenty of things that are unique about me... I play the tuba. How many girls can say that? Only a handful, I know. I love big rigs, in fact, I have an active blog about big rigs. How many girls are interested in big rigs? Not many. I work in the IT field. Not many women work in the IT field, and although I personally don't find this very exciting, I know that a lot of IT guys do. Go figure. I love playing video games, RPGs, Xbox... you name it. Interesting to some people, boring to some... (hey, you can't please everybody).
I guess the key is.... nobody will know this about me unless I tell them. And why don't I tell them this to prove to them that I'm not boring? Because I don't like talking about myself a lot. Why don't I like talking about myself? Because in the past, I've strived very hard at remaining invisible...and blending in with the general crowd.
As a kid, I was bullied a lot. There was one point during my childhood where I was eager to raise my hand in class and talk about my weekend, but at some point this all stopped and I quit speaking out alltogether.
There was a point in my life where I decided that it would be better to remain invisible, rather than risking drawing attention to myself which would give someone a reason to bully me or tease me in any way.
And when I set out to do something, I do a thorough job. I'm not sure how well it worked for what it was intended for. Somehow the bullies seemed to find me after all. At the time I felt like a target, but as you grow up you come to realize that you're not their only target. They pick on everybody. Still, there are traces of that behavior that is affecting me today, and being invisible is still something I'm very good at doing.
I want to change. I really don't want to be invisible anymore. I want people know what an exciting person I am. I have to get over that hump and ignore those voices in my head that tell me I'm not interesting. I suppose I just have to yell loud enough to drown them out? Don't know.
It's hard to change on a dime. I'm not going to all of a sudden be a new person today. But I can start the alteration process. I guess with this blog, that is a step in the right direction, trying to realize why I behave the way I do.
I was considering making this journal private, but what the heck. If my thought process can help someone else, that would be cool. Others may see themselves and recognize themselves here... and heck, I need practice talking about myself anyway, so here it is! It's all about me!
Thursday, March 31, 2011
"Through the Fog" - A tale of Post Partum Depression
It's the "ssssssssssssh" disease. It's the disease Tom Cruise was making fun of..... but he certainly is no comedian. It's an invisible disease, unfortunately it doesn't cause any limbs to rot and fall off or anything so most people won't even know you are suffering from it. And to top it all of, it makes you into such a wonderful actress, putting on smiles and good humor for your surroundings, despite the fact that in your soul, there is no joy at all.
I had read about port partum depression (ppd) before, but of course, nobody ever expects it to happen to them. However, when after 2-3 months after having my daughter, I still didn't feel right, I started to analyze my symptoms more closely. Although I wasn't feeling suicidal, which is the extreme case of ppd, and I did love my daughter, there were other symptoms there that were clearly ppd related. However, I kept doubting myself, thinking "nah, this is normal" or "nah, I'm probably just imagining things".
To paint a picture, it felt like I was swimming underwater and I was unable to ever reach the surface to come up for air. It's like being in a fog of sorts. Crying for no reason. Having a very VERY short fuse. Having no energy to do much at all, and when it comes time to get up and do something, it takes almost an entire day to charge up the "battery" and it drains very fast. Looking into the future and seeing nothing positive. Basically all I'm seeing is a big brick wall of nothingness. And.... I am not feeling suicidal, HOWEVER ....... I can tell you that the thought of dieing, at my lowest point, was not as scary and devastating to me as it should have been. Humor - sure, it was there. On the outside. In reality, my emotions were just logical responses to what I was seeing or hearing. The logical side of me would tell me it was time to laugh because someone told a funny joke, and sure, I laugh.... on the outside. On the inside, not so much. Dead. I'm a walking zombie of myself.
I didn't even know where to start as far as treatment. Being "sick in the head" is not something you announce from the mountain tops. Except, it really should be. I finally worked up my nerve and called my ob/gyn. BEST call I EVER made. He put me on some medication, and then referred me to my family doctor for further treatment. My doctor added another medicine to my stash, and I was starting to feel better.
One big clue that I was starting to feel better was that I was actually getting hungry! Much like the laughter described above, eating food had also been a charade that I performed.... my body needed nutrition. So I ate. But I hadn't really felt hunger. So when I started feeling hungry again, I knew things were looking up.
Then.... it was return to work time. Guess what. PPD came slamming back, with force. Knocked me back almost all the way to the beginning. At first, I figured it was just a natural mother-baby separation anxiety, and I expected it to go away, but it didn't budge. Again with the self doubts.... "Am I really feeling this way or am I imagining it?" Again I had to talk myself into calling the doctor. You would've thought that after the relief I felt last time after having called them, I would jump at the chance to call again, but no. After all, I wanted to be better. But I wasn't. I was slipping backwards and the fog came back. It felt as if every time I was close to emerging from this fog, stress and work would knock me back down before I even had a chance to take a deep, clean breath of air. Again I was split into two people, without being schizophrenic, it was "logical me" who was kind of a puppetmaster for the "physical me" .... pulling my strings so that I could go through the day, do my job.... and I'm not sure how I did my job in my condition. I just did.
The scary part is the commute. I have a 45 minutes (or longer) commute and I would zone out somewhere and not "wake up" again until I was almost home. I shudder to think of the state of auto pilot I have been driving on, not only at work but IN TRAFFIC with other cars... on the freeway. Obviously I'm fine, I didn't get into any accidents. (That tells you a little something about how strong your psyche is, doesn't it?).
But this is freaky.
I went back to the doctor and he put me on sick leave. He also changed my medication and suggested counseling, something that I am considering now. I realize I may need some tools to deal with this, I can't figure it out on my own. And I don't want to get worse, I hate it here in the fog. I wanna see the blue skies again.
I said earlier that this is a disease that you don't go shouting from the mountain tops about, yet here I am, blogging away for the world to see.... both unknown people, as well as friends and family. Well ... first of all ... I'm hoping this post could reach women who may need this push, or this post, in order to figure out what they are suffering from (or that they ARE suffering in the first place...).... Also, I have to get over the stigma of having emotional problems. (In fact, this is a chemical/hormonal imbalance, not just psychological). I guess there is no better way to get over that stigma than to do exactly what I said I wouldn't do.... SHOUT from the mountain tops!
Depression is very, very serious. It's a medical condition, and there is nothing wrong with you. (or me). It's no fun at all. It's taking away good times that you can spend with your family in those early baby months.
So if you do recognize yourself here...... and you haven't dealt with it yet .... pick up the phone & contact your OB or your family doctor. They'll take it from there.
Happy Trails everybody.
I had read about port partum depression (ppd) before, but of course, nobody ever expects it to happen to them. However, when after 2-3 months after having my daughter, I still didn't feel right, I started to analyze my symptoms more closely. Although I wasn't feeling suicidal, which is the extreme case of ppd, and I did love my daughter, there were other symptoms there that were clearly ppd related. However, I kept doubting myself, thinking "nah, this is normal" or "nah, I'm probably just imagining things".
To paint a picture, it felt like I was swimming underwater and I was unable to ever reach the surface to come up for air. It's like being in a fog of sorts. Crying for no reason. Having a very VERY short fuse. Having no energy to do much at all, and when it comes time to get up and do something, it takes almost an entire day to charge up the "battery" and it drains very fast. Looking into the future and seeing nothing positive. Basically all I'm seeing is a big brick wall of nothingness. And.... I am not feeling suicidal, HOWEVER ....... I can tell you that the thought of dieing, at my lowest point, was not as scary and devastating to me as it should have been. Humor - sure, it was there. On the outside. In reality, my emotions were just logical responses to what I was seeing or hearing. The logical side of me would tell me it was time to laugh because someone told a funny joke, and sure, I laugh.... on the outside. On the inside, not so much. Dead. I'm a walking zombie of myself.
I didn't even know where to start as far as treatment. Being "sick in the head" is not something you announce from the mountain tops. Except, it really should be. I finally worked up my nerve and called my ob/gyn. BEST call I EVER made. He put me on some medication, and then referred me to my family doctor for further treatment. My doctor added another medicine to my stash, and I was starting to feel better.
One big clue that I was starting to feel better was that I was actually getting hungry! Much like the laughter described above, eating food had also been a charade that I performed.... my body needed nutrition. So I ate. But I hadn't really felt hunger. So when I started feeling hungry again, I knew things were looking up.
Then.... it was return to work time. Guess what. PPD came slamming back, with force. Knocked me back almost all the way to the beginning. At first, I figured it was just a natural mother-baby separation anxiety, and I expected it to go away, but it didn't budge. Again with the self doubts.... "Am I really feeling this way or am I imagining it?" Again I had to talk myself into calling the doctor. You would've thought that after the relief I felt last time after having called them, I would jump at the chance to call again, but no. After all, I wanted to be better. But I wasn't. I was slipping backwards and the fog came back. It felt as if every time I was close to emerging from this fog, stress and work would knock me back down before I even had a chance to take a deep, clean breath of air. Again I was split into two people, without being schizophrenic, it was "logical me" who was kind of a puppetmaster for the "physical me" .... pulling my strings so that I could go through the day, do my job.... and I'm not sure how I did my job in my condition. I just did.
The scary part is the commute. I have a 45 minutes (or longer) commute and I would zone out somewhere and not "wake up" again until I was almost home. I shudder to think of the state of auto pilot I have been driving on, not only at work but IN TRAFFIC with other cars... on the freeway. Obviously I'm fine, I didn't get into any accidents. (That tells you a little something about how strong your psyche is, doesn't it?).
But this is freaky.
I went back to the doctor and he put me on sick leave. He also changed my medication and suggested counseling, something that I am considering now. I realize I may need some tools to deal with this, I can't figure it out on my own. And I don't want to get worse, I hate it here in the fog. I wanna see the blue skies again.
I said earlier that this is a disease that you don't go shouting from the mountain tops about, yet here I am, blogging away for the world to see.... both unknown people, as well as friends and family. Well ... first of all ... I'm hoping this post could reach women who may need this push, or this post, in order to figure out what they are suffering from (or that they ARE suffering in the first place...).... Also, I have to get over the stigma of having emotional problems. (In fact, this is a chemical/hormonal imbalance, not just psychological). I guess there is no better way to get over that stigma than to do exactly what I said I wouldn't do.... SHOUT from the mountain tops!
Depression is very, very serious. It's a medical condition, and there is nothing wrong with you. (or me). It's no fun at all. It's taking away good times that you can spend with your family in those early baby months.
So if you do recognize yourself here...... and you haven't dealt with it yet .... pick up the phone & contact your OB or your family doctor. They'll take it from there.
Happy Trails everybody.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Being on the Atkins diet.... without suffering ;-)
Ok, so we've been counting calories and granted we have been dropping some pounds, it seemed to become somewhat stagnant after awhile. So ... we turned to the old reliable.... Atkins!! Low carb (not NO carb) diet, which was responsible for an 80 lbs loss back in its heyday (and although some of it crept back on throughout the years, I never did regain all of those 80 lbs, so it's not true that you always gain back what you lost & more....)
So, we restocked our pantries and now had to start remembering what we used to eat and where we used to go when we wanted to eat out. Atkins also inspires a lot of creations in the kitchen, because if you don't want to get sick of protein, you want to get creative!
Luckily, the low carb selection at the stores now is vastly expanded and a lot greater than it used to be. Thanks to Walden Farms, who have a LOT of really great products such as 0 carb chocolate spread, 0 carb strawberry jam, 0 carb apple butter...... etc.
Anyway.... below are some photos of my lunch. Does it look like I'm suffering?
So, we restocked our pantries and now had to start remembering what we used to eat and where we used to go when we wanted to eat out. Atkins also inspires a lot of creations in the kitchen, because if you don't want to get sick of protein, you want to get creative!
Luckily, the low carb selection at the stores now is vastly expanded and a lot greater than it used to be. Thanks to Walden Farms, who have a LOT of really great products such as 0 carb chocolate spread, 0 carb strawberry jam, 0 carb apple butter...... etc.
Anyway.... below are some photos of my lunch. Does it look like I'm suffering?
Here we have 2 (or however many you can pile on, as these are 0 carbs) Oscar Mayer Cheesy dogs, wrapped up in a Mission low carb tortilla, topped with low carb ketchup, 0 carb thousand island and 0 carb jalapeno peppers.... nom, nom! Overall carb count: 5 (4 from tortilla, and about 1 from ketchup)
And I can have dessert! As much as I want if I do it right ;-)
What you see here is my personal concoction: a couple of spoonfuls of Walden Farm's Apple Butter, topped with whipped cream, a couple of chopped macadamia nuts AND ... last but NOT least (the most important player in this concoction).... the CINNAMON! (Takes the edge off the "sugar free" taste that sometimes comes through in these 0 carb fruit spreads)
Another shot of my yummalicious dessert. mmm .... I want some more.
Carbs? Around 2. If that.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The average moviegoer's review: Battle: LA(ME)
Note: If you are planning on seeing this movie, be warned there may be some spoiler alerts.... although these are mainly my opinions on what I saw ....
Battle: LA
Ok, so here is how I imagine the idea for this movie was born:
Place: Local bar somewhere in Burbank
Time of day: 5 o'clock ... wait, make that 8pm .... I'm assuming this level of creativity requires a minimum of 3 (very) Happy Hours.
Main characters: some producers (P) and his loyal and hungry-for-success companions (C1, C2 etc)
P: Dude, it took me like 3 hours to drive down the 405 this morn.
C1: Yeah duuude! Cheers!
P: Man I hate LA sometimes.
C2: Yeah duuude! Cheers!
P: Sometimes I wish I could just blow LA to pieces so I'd have the entire freeway to myself.
C1 & C2: yeah dooooooh!! Cheers!!!
P: Oh wait! Movie idea! LA! On fire! Everywhere! Bombs going off! Freeways... oh man
*P grabs a beer stained napkin and starts scribbling*
C1: And you could have....like....some cool Marine dudes runnin' around, saving peeps!
C2: Yeah! And make sure they have cool guns!
P: "Marines....guns...." .... Lots of explosions! LOTS OF EXPLOSIONS!! We'll BLOW UP LA!! God I'm gonna be so famous!!!
C1: Hell yeah!!! Hey, maybe they could fight some local gang bangers....
P: No no no..... no .... nobody would pay millions....it's gotta be big, it's gotta be awesome.,.... it's gotta be ... *scribbles frenetically* ..... aliens *drool coming out the side of his mouth* ...
C2: Dude, don't forget some emotional crap.
P: Oh yeah, good thought... *scribbles* ... "Remember emotional crap" ... Chicks dig that stuff.
C1: And dead bodies dude! Lots of'em ....
P: Dead bodies... good one. Hey, can I have another beer here? *snaps fingers* We're on a roll .....
Ahh..... my head hurts, I don't wanna spy in on these goofballs anymore. (Damnit, END SCENE already!)
So ... let's just point out a couple of things I had issues with during this movie....
*Sloooooow for an action movie. I mean.... come on. It's an ACTION movie. Stop following these guys around with a wobbly movie camera and get to the fun stuff!
*Emotional crap .... was exactly that . Crap. I get it... they threw in some scenes so we'd have an emotional connection with these marines but they failed miserably .... I could care less when people blew up in this movie. Orphans, widows .... dead comrades. Sorry. I'm not a cold hearted bitch, these things would normally move me in a movie.... if done right. Here.... they just seemed like fillers.
So.... it literally felt like the "emotional crap" was thrown in there as an afterthought.
(Not to mention these emotional plots were painstakingly obvious.... I could pretty much point out who was gonna die the very moment I saw them....)
*Big cool advanced alien dudes have the crappiest aim ever. Ok so.... without giving away much... there's this "chase scene" (big exaggeration) where all these people are on a bus, chased by one of these mechs...... This mech seems to be hitting every single car on the street.... EXCEPT for the BIG BRIGHT ORANGE BUS that's sitting SMACK DAB in the middle of the street. Ok .... so maybe these advanced cool critters are color blind or something.... maybe something is wrong with their vision so they can't see buses.
*Big cool advanced dudes can be taken down with a 9mm. I mean.... the fact that they could take them down with those machine guns in the first place was a little out there, but ok, I could live with it... but...uhm.... what's up with the pistol.... "Bang, bang..... you're dead...."
*Main Character.... Aaron Eckhart.... normally a good actor that I like very much... in this movie, he was very very wrong. I couldn't find any sympathy in my heart for this character at all. I get it, he's a "rough around the edges but soft heart" kinda dude.... They really needed someone with a slightly rougher edge to play this role.... Like Mickey Rourke. I think he would've been awesome.
*Funny coincidence.... one of the VERY FEW survivors happens to be a vet ... (veterinarian, not veteran) .... and that HAPPENS to come in very handy .... man.... The gods were smiling down on these guys when they found this veterinarian.... they would still be sitting there, shooting at the wrong alien body parts!
*Where were all the cool movie graphic scenes????? Based on the previews, I expected more.
*Why would anybody run up to an alien (that they know nothing about) ... when said alien is spewing fluids from hoses and limbs, their surroundings are completely engulfed in flames.... uh .... dude.... what if those fluids were gasoline or other explosive chemicals? Not a smart move.
I'm starting to wonder how this guy managed to stay alive this long in his career.
*Also .... I didn't like the way they portrayed the Marines. I have the deepest, most profound for Marines and any armed forces of the USA. But in this movie, they seemed like machines more than human beings, and were portrayed as if it was their duty to go out there and die. I guess this was partially to blame on the lack of emotional attachment to any of them .... the "emotional crap" failure... but it seemed more like "machines vs machines" rather than "humans vs aliens" (or mechs or whatever you want to call them).
*Where did those missiles in the end come from? Did MacGyver create those from scratch during the couple of hours that went by between 19:30, when the bombs were supposed to be dropped, and the end of the movie? And if it was NOT MacGyver who stepped in with his rubber bands and needle & thread capabilities..... and they infact already had those missiles.... why didn't they fire those at 19:30 hours?
I could say a lot more but I can't bare reliving anymore of this movie in my head right now.
Go back to the bar you came from, and for god's sake P... next time, throw away that napkin!
Battle: LA
Ok, so here is how I imagine the idea for this movie was born:
Place: Local bar somewhere in Burbank
Time of day: 5 o'clock ... wait, make that 8pm .... I'm assuming this level of creativity requires a minimum of 3 (very) Happy Hours.
Main characters: some producers (P) and his loyal and hungry-for-success companions (C1, C2 etc)
P: Dude, it took me like 3 hours to drive down the 405 this morn.
C1: Yeah duuude! Cheers!
P: Man I hate LA sometimes.
C2: Yeah duuude! Cheers!
P: Sometimes I wish I could just blow LA to pieces so I'd have the entire freeway to myself.
C1 & C2: yeah dooooooh!! Cheers!!!
P: Oh wait! Movie idea! LA! On fire! Everywhere! Bombs going off! Freeways... oh man
*P grabs a beer stained napkin and starts scribbling*
C1: And you could have....like....some cool Marine dudes runnin' around, saving peeps!
C2: Yeah! And make sure they have cool guns!
P: "Marines....guns...." .... Lots of explosions! LOTS OF EXPLOSIONS!! We'll BLOW UP LA!! God I'm gonna be so famous!!!
C1: Hell yeah!!! Hey, maybe they could fight some local gang bangers....
P: No no no..... no .... nobody would pay millions....it's gotta be big, it's gotta be awesome.,.... it's gotta be ... *scribbles frenetically* ..... aliens *drool coming out the side of his mouth* ...
C2: Dude, don't forget some emotional crap.
P: Oh yeah, good thought... *scribbles* ... "Remember emotional crap" ... Chicks dig that stuff.
C1: And dead bodies dude! Lots of'em ....
P: Dead bodies... good one. Hey, can I have another beer here? *snaps fingers* We're on a roll .....
Ahh..... my head hurts, I don't wanna spy in on these goofballs anymore. (Damnit, END SCENE already!)
So ... let's just point out a couple of things I had issues with during this movie....
*Sloooooow for an action movie. I mean.... come on. It's an ACTION movie. Stop following these guys around with a wobbly movie camera and get to the fun stuff!
*Emotional crap .... was exactly that . Crap. I get it... they threw in some scenes so we'd have an emotional connection with these marines but they failed miserably .... I could care less when people blew up in this movie. Orphans, widows .... dead comrades. Sorry. I'm not a cold hearted bitch, these things would normally move me in a movie.... if done right. Here.... they just seemed like fillers.
So.... it literally felt like the "emotional crap" was thrown in there as an afterthought.
(Not to mention these emotional plots were painstakingly obvious.... I could pretty much point out who was gonna die the very moment I saw them....)
*Big cool advanced alien dudes have the crappiest aim ever. Ok so.... without giving away much... there's this "chase scene" (big exaggeration) where all these people are on a bus, chased by one of these mechs...... This mech seems to be hitting every single car on the street.... EXCEPT for the BIG BRIGHT ORANGE BUS that's sitting SMACK DAB in the middle of the street. Ok .... so maybe these advanced cool critters are color blind or something.... maybe something is wrong with their vision so they can't see buses.
*Big cool advanced dudes can be taken down with a 9mm. I mean.... the fact that they could take them down with those machine guns in the first place was a little out there, but ok, I could live with it... but...uhm.... what's up with the pistol.... "Bang, bang..... you're dead...."
*Main Character.... Aaron Eckhart.... normally a good actor that I like very much... in this movie, he was very very wrong. I couldn't find any sympathy in my heart for this character at all. I get it, he's a "rough around the edges but soft heart" kinda dude.... They really needed someone with a slightly rougher edge to play this role.... Like Mickey Rourke. I think he would've been awesome.
*Funny coincidence.... one of the VERY FEW survivors happens to be a vet ... (veterinarian, not veteran) .... and that HAPPENS to come in very handy .... man.... The gods were smiling down on these guys when they found this veterinarian.... they would still be sitting there, shooting at the wrong alien body parts!
*Where were all the cool movie graphic scenes????? Based on the previews, I expected more.
*Why would anybody run up to an alien (that they know nothing about) ... when said alien is spewing fluids from hoses and limbs, their surroundings are completely engulfed in flames.... uh .... dude.... what if those fluids were gasoline or other explosive chemicals? Not a smart move.
I'm starting to wonder how this guy managed to stay alive this long in his career.
*Also .... I didn't like the way they portrayed the Marines. I have the deepest, most profound for Marines and any armed forces of the USA. But in this movie, they seemed like machines more than human beings, and were portrayed as if it was their duty to go out there and die. I guess this was partially to blame on the lack of emotional attachment to any of them .... the "emotional crap" failure... but it seemed more like "machines vs machines" rather than "humans vs aliens" (or mechs or whatever you want to call them).
*Where did those missiles in the end come from? Did MacGyver create those from scratch during the couple of hours that went by between 19:30, when the bombs were supposed to be dropped, and the end of the movie? And if it was NOT MacGyver who stepped in with his rubber bands and needle & thread capabilities..... and they infact already had those missiles.... why didn't they fire those at 19:30 hours?
I could say a lot more but I can't bare reliving anymore of this movie in my head right now.
Go back to the bar you came from, and for god's sake P... next time, throw away that napkin!
Friday, March 11, 2011
Live bait, cheese puffs & mosquito bites.
I was rummaging through my collection of short stories to find one I'd like to post here in my blog. I've got quite a few to choose from, but when I stumbled across this one.... I knew it was the one!
This is a story based on true facts! I wrote it for a contest way back when... I think it was "Chicken soup for the fisherman" or something like that.... Didn't win anything. That doesn't matter though, because I've got a vivid memory on paper, and although I'll always remember these times, it's nice to read it once in awhile for a chuckle.
My brother and I often discuss our fishing trips that we used to go on now and then..... our discussions ususally end up with both of us crying with laughter because our fishing trips were quite the spectacle. No wonder we never caught any fish.
Anyway .... The following short story is based on real events.... and it's not embellished one bit ;-)
(I'm fairly sure my brother will attest to that)
So let's go fishing....
Live bait, cheese puffs & mosquito bites.
The sun threatened to disappear, and the full moon was ready to start its nightshift. I heard rocks pop underneath our tires as we drove down the gravel road. I could see the lake. My brother and I were excited about the prospects of catching our first fish.
“I’ll get the biggest fish,” he said and I just laughed and shrugged. I knew I would catch more fish than he would, and they would probably all be bigger than his catch.
As the car stopped, we unbuckled our seatbelts, flew out of the car, pulled out our brand new fishing rods and the bag of cheese puffs and a thermos of hot chocolate that we were looking forward to share while waiting for our first fish.
We approached the lake, found a nice spot to settle down at, and dad started teaching us how to assemble our fishing rods. He reached into his fishing bag and pulled out a box.
“It’s time for you to bait your hook,” he grinned as he popped the lid off, revealing a pile of squirming earthworms. I watched in horror as my brother bravely stuck his hand into the box and pulled out one of the critters. It was so slimy; he dropped it several times, before he finally was able to nail it with the hook.
He sent me a triumphant look that said: “I bet you’re too girly to touch these worm.”
Hah! I would show him!
Determined to do this, I shoved my hand into the container. I tried not to notice the cold, wet worm that was now squirming around in the palm of my hand. I grabbed the hook and quickly impaled the beast. I concentrated really hard to hold back my emotional outbursts as worm feces were squirting out of both its ends and all over my hand. However, I had proven my point!
It was time to go fishing!
Dad showed us how to throw.
“Looks easy,” I said and picked up my fishing rod.
Confidently I pulled the pole back and yanked my arms forward, listening for that “plop” in the water as my bobber hit the surface.
There was no plop.
I was brought back to reality and I realized that my hook and my line had not yet hit the water.
How far had I thrown this thing?
I heard my brother giggle as he pointed to my fishing line, which strangely enough had defeated gravity and stood straight up into the air.
“You realize that the fish is in the water, and not up in that tree,” my father calmly informed me while trying to unhook my fishing pole from the branches of the big tree that miraculously had appeared behind me.
I could have sworn I didn’t see a tree there before!
After 10 minutes of detangling my line and re-baiting the hook, I proudly threw my hook into the water. It didn’t fly as far as my dad’s did, but I was proud of the distance I managed to throw it. My brother had already had his hook in the water for 10 minutes, luckily though, he still hadn’t gotten a bite.
We watched our bobbers with excitement. If either of them moved just a little, we’d spring to our feet, hold our breath and be deathly quiet, then sit back down a few moments later, realizing it was the waves that were moving the bobber up and down.
My mind wandered to the cheese puffs and the hot chocolate, wondering when we would get to dig into the snacks. My brother and I exchanged looks, silently debating over which one of us should bring it up, when my dad saved us both the trouble as he grabbed our bag and started delegating snacks.
I was consuming my third cheese puff, when all of a sudden my bobber went under water.
I held my breath, waiting for it to appear again, but it didn’t.
“Dad!” I whispered.
He finished pouring his coffee and it felt like years passed by before he finally screwed the top back on to his thermos and came over.
“Look, my bobber is gone!”
It was really hard to whisper. I was so excited.
“So it is,” he calmly said and I grabbed my pole ready to reel in my big catch.
“Not yet." So he said.
What do you mean not yet???? I felt like screaming, I was hopping from one foot to another, deathly afraid that the fish would escape, not knowing at the time that this was exactly why we were waiting a few extra minutes.
“Looks like it’s on really tight, I don’t see the bobber at all,” my dad said. “I guess you can start reeling him in.”
I started working the reel. It got extremely heavy and I handed it over to my dad.
“Must be a big one,” I said, ignorantly unaware of the grin on dad’s face as he violently jerked the fishing rod around.
“What are you doing, we’re gonna lose the fish!” I said and tried to grab the pole back.
“Wait and see,” my dad said as the pole finally seemed to get lighter, and my dad reeled in the rest of the line.
“Congratulations, you just pulled out half the bottom of this pond.”
I gave my brother the evil eye, which didn’t stop him from rolling around on the ground, laughing hysterically at the big muddy lump of weeds that was attached to my fishhook.
I grumbled as I went back to the bucket of worms, dug a couple of them up, baited my hook like a pro and threw it back in.
As I waited for that fish to bite, I started noticing my surroundings. It was quiet tonight. I heard an occasional splash out on the lake. Bugs were buzzing by, making me slightly nervous, as I couldn’t see what it was. A mild breeze gently swept across my face, playing with my hair, and it was at that moment I realized that fishing wasn’t about how many fish I caught or who got the biggest fish. Fishing was about this whole experience, about sitting there, waiting in excitement for something to maybe bite on to my hook, being out here in the wilderness, enjoying scenery around me that people are too busy to even notice.
It was about spending quality time with my family, quality time that made such an impression that today, 20 years later, I’m writing a story about it.
Going home, my brother and I sat in the backseat, making up stories about the fish that got away, so we’d at least have something to tell people about our first fishing trip. My dad glanced at us in his rearview mirror and shook his head, and I stopped in the middle of our tale, looked at my brother and said:
“I think we’ll just say we didn’t get any fish.”
We exchanged looks and I knew he had come to the same conclusion as me.
We stared out the window as we drove home, already dreaming about our next fishing trip.
“But next time… I’ll get the biggest fish,” he said.
“I’ll get more fish than you,” I replied and grinned.
Our first fishing trip.
We grew up a little that night.
This is a story based on true facts! I wrote it for a contest way back when... I think it was "Chicken soup for the fisherman" or something like that.... Didn't win anything. That doesn't matter though, because I've got a vivid memory on paper, and although I'll always remember these times, it's nice to read it once in awhile for a chuckle.
My brother and I often discuss our fishing trips that we used to go on now and then..... our discussions ususally end up with both of us crying with laughter because our fishing trips were quite the spectacle. No wonder we never caught any fish.
Anyway .... The following short story is based on real events.... and it's not embellished one bit ;-)
(I'm fairly sure my brother will attest to that)
So let's go fishing....
Live bait, cheese puffs & mosquito bites.
The sun threatened to disappear, and the full moon was ready to start its nightshift. I heard rocks pop underneath our tires as we drove down the gravel road. I could see the lake. My brother and I were excited about the prospects of catching our first fish.
“I’ll get the biggest fish,” he said and I just laughed and shrugged. I knew I would catch more fish than he would, and they would probably all be bigger than his catch.
As the car stopped, we unbuckled our seatbelts, flew out of the car, pulled out our brand new fishing rods and the bag of cheese puffs and a thermos of hot chocolate that we were looking forward to share while waiting for our first fish.
We approached the lake, found a nice spot to settle down at, and dad started teaching us how to assemble our fishing rods. He reached into his fishing bag and pulled out a box.
“It’s time for you to bait your hook,” he grinned as he popped the lid off, revealing a pile of squirming earthworms. I watched in horror as my brother bravely stuck his hand into the box and pulled out one of the critters. It was so slimy; he dropped it several times, before he finally was able to nail it with the hook.
He sent me a triumphant look that said: “I bet you’re too girly to touch these worm.”
Hah! I would show him!
Determined to do this, I shoved my hand into the container. I tried not to notice the cold, wet worm that was now squirming around in the palm of my hand. I grabbed the hook and quickly impaled the beast. I concentrated really hard to hold back my emotional outbursts as worm feces were squirting out of both its ends and all over my hand. However, I had proven my point!
It was time to go fishing!
Dad showed us how to throw.
“Looks easy,” I said and picked up my fishing rod.
Confidently I pulled the pole back and yanked my arms forward, listening for that “plop” in the water as my bobber hit the surface.
There was no plop.
I was brought back to reality and I realized that my hook and my line had not yet hit the water.
How far had I thrown this thing?
I heard my brother giggle as he pointed to my fishing line, which strangely enough had defeated gravity and stood straight up into the air.
“You realize that the fish is in the water, and not up in that tree,” my father calmly informed me while trying to unhook my fishing pole from the branches of the big tree that miraculously had appeared behind me.
I could have sworn I didn’t see a tree there before!
After 10 minutes of detangling my line and re-baiting the hook, I proudly threw my hook into the water. It didn’t fly as far as my dad’s did, but I was proud of the distance I managed to throw it. My brother had already had his hook in the water for 10 minutes, luckily though, he still hadn’t gotten a bite.
We watched our bobbers with excitement. If either of them moved just a little, we’d spring to our feet, hold our breath and be deathly quiet, then sit back down a few moments later, realizing it was the waves that were moving the bobber up and down.
My mind wandered to the cheese puffs and the hot chocolate, wondering when we would get to dig into the snacks. My brother and I exchanged looks, silently debating over which one of us should bring it up, when my dad saved us both the trouble as he grabbed our bag and started delegating snacks.
I was consuming my third cheese puff, when all of a sudden my bobber went under water.
I held my breath, waiting for it to appear again, but it didn’t.
“Dad!” I whispered.
He finished pouring his coffee and it felt like years passed by before he finally screwed the top back on to his thermos and came over.
“Look, my bobber is gone!”
It was really hard to whisper. I was so excited.
“So it is,” he calmly said and I grabbed my pole ready to reel in my big catch.
“Not yet." So he said.
What do you mean not yet???? I felt like screaming, I was hopping from one foot to another, deathly afraid that the fish would escape, not knowing at the time that this was exactly why we were waiting a few extra minutes.
“Looks like it’s on really tight, I don’t see the bobber at all,” my dad said. “I guess you can start reeling him in.”
I started working the reel. It got extremely heavy and I handed it over to my dad.
“Must be a big one,” I said, ignorantly unaware of the grin on dad’s face as he violently jerked the fishing rod around.
“What are you doing, we’re gonna lose the fish!” I said and tried to grab the pole back.
“Wait and see,” my dad said as the pole finally seemed to get lighter, and my dad reeled in the rest of the line.
“Congratulations, you just pulled out half the bottom of this pond.”
I gave my brother the evil eye, which didn’t stop him from rolling around on the ground, laughing hysterically at the big muddy lump of weeds that was attached to my fishhook.
I grumbled as I went back to the bucket of worms, dug a couple of them up, baited my hook like a pro and threw it back in.
As I waited for that fish to bite, I started noticing my surroundings. It was quiet tonight. I heard an occasional splash out on the lake. Bugs were buzzing by, making me slightly nervous, as I couldn’t see what it was. A mild breeze gently swept across my face, playing with my hair, and it was at that moment I realized that fishing wasn’t about how many fish I caught or who got the biggest fish. Fishing was about this whole experience, about sitting there, waiting in excitement for something to maybe bite on to my hook, being out here in the wilderness, enjoying scenery around me that people are too busy to even notice.
It was about spending quality time with my family, quality time that made such an impression that today, 20 years later, I’m writing a story about it.
Going home, my brother and I sat in the backseat, making up stories about the fish that got away, so we’d at least have something to tell people about our first fishing trip. My dad glanced at us in his rearview mirror and shook his head, and I stopped in the middle of our tale, looked at my brother and said:
“I think we’ll just say we didn’t get any fish.”
We exchanged looks and I knew he had come to the same conclusion as me.
We stared out the window as we drove home, already dreaming about our next fishing trip.
“But next time… I’ll get the biggest fish,” he said.
“I’ll get more fish than you,” I replied and grinned.
Our first fishing trip.
We grew up a little that night.
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