Monday, September 21, 2009

observations. or, Stefani Bitches About Stuff.

Just once, I'd like someone to come into the store where I work, looking to buy a big, honking piece of furniture, and - after paying for it- pull up to the front in their nice big, wide open cargo van.  I am done trying to cram media stands and dining room tables into MiniCoopers and VW Bugs while the customer stands by and watches, commenting " oh, maybe if you turn it around... no? ... ok, maybe the front seat?"  Done.

Is everyone nicer to nuns and priests and rabbis and the such no matter what your particular religious flavor is?

There are some people out there who just shouldn't be allowed out without supervision.  Or anti-psychotic drugs.
Example A:  today in Whole Foods - a sixty-something (at least) woman wearing daisyduke denim shorts and a tank top (no bra), with eighties-tastic eye makeup on and crooked pigtails in her hair wandering around frantically (yes, it was a frantic wandering) occasionally bending down to pick things up (loose change? a fallen pen? dead bugs? her marbles?).

That's my only example today, but I might just start keeping track everywhere I go.  Maybe if I vent here about it, I'll feel less inclined to punch people.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

when it rains it pours

I know I shouldn't complain.  And, really, I'm not complaining per se - I'm just commenting on how in the life of a freelancer, there is no even ground.  At least based on my experience in the theatre business.  It seems as if EVERYONE and their mom needs help at the same time.  Sometimes their cousins, too.  But then, when I have some free time looming ahead, there's nothing to be had!  I should cherish being wanted.  And I should cherish the free time when I can get it.  But boy is it hard to turn down work, even if it means I won't sleep for a few days and the only time I'll have to eat will be in my car on 95, especially knowing that in a few weeks I'll be living lean again.

9 (no spoilers, I promise!)

Ok, maybe not review so much as visceral gut reaction. Jake and I went to see 9 over the weekend with our friend Ann. The two of them were practically giddy about getting to see this computer animated flick, but I had hardly heard anything about it. I knew it was wee burlap critters. Slightly creepy wee burlap critters. I had NO idea what I was getting myself into.

As the movie started, I was immediately taken into it, but in a way that I couldn't react to what was going on. I was speechless, slack-jawed, staring intently at the screen and listening with every part of me. And I can't explain why. There is no specific thing that I can point out or tell you about that hit me with such strength. I am not even sure if I liked the film.

I compared it, in it's impact on me, to Pan's Labyrinth, a film that I also saw in the theater; a film that also made me weep uncontrollably. Leaving the theater after Pan's Labyrinth, I was asked if I liked the movie, and my immediate response was tears. Angry, sad tears. For three hours. My reaction to 9 was more immediate and in the moment - the last few scenes of the film had me weeping, but for reasons I couldn't vocalize. I was able to compose myself while leaving the theater, but with a feeling of complete catharsis and calm.

We discussed the movie on our drive to Ikea (another blog post for another day) but I'm still not sure I entirely understood it, or even liked it. I'll have to give it another shot. It's definitely something I could recommend to others, if even for psychological curiosity I have to find out other people's reactions to it.