Hell is talking to a customer service department over the telephone. I think there are souls burning in Hell, with telephone in hand, trying to get some company to correct their bill or to send someone out to fix their cable. That's what hell would be for me, anyways.
I mean, really, is there anything more frustrating than dealing with customer service over the telephone? It doesn't seem to matter if I'm calling my cable TV and Internet company, Comcast, or if I'm calling Apria, the company my C-PAP machine is through. I even get a headache trying to talk to a real person about a student loan I have through Citibank.
I think cable TV companies like Comcast and Surewest are the worst. I hate them with a burning passion. They hire the most incompetent people I've ever come across.
My husband and I once got Surewest TV and Internet. About 30 minutes after our cable was professionally installed, our cable TV went out. I'm pretty good at hooking up electronics. So being the intelligent, electronic savvy girl I am, the first thing I do is I check to make sure there are no loose cables. I reset the cable box. I even unplug everything and wait for it to reboot. Of course none of these remedies work, so then the dreaded phone call to customer service takes place.
Has anyone ever called tech support and not been put on hold? Surewest takes the cake for wait-time. My husband and I once waited an hour in a half to talk to someone. I wish that was an exaggeration.
What happens after you finally are able to talk to a real person? They are almost always useless. The first thing they ask is, "Are you sure the cable receiver is plugged in?"
Now, I know how customer service generally works. They have a flow chart of questions they have to ask the customer. And I'm sure there are idiots out there who would call customer service when their cable is not even plugged in. But I do not belong in this group of idiots, and it's insulting to be asked these basic questions, especially when it's the third time I've called about the same problem.
After all us non-idiots go through the flowchart of questions and our cable is not fixed, we're usually offered an appointment time that is a four to six hour time block at least a week away, right?
The best part comes after you've made time in your schedule to be home for the four or six hour block of time and the technician never shows. That happened twice with Surewest.
Now, you would think a company would want to rectify their mistakes and offer some sort of compensation for the trouble they've caused? Hahahaha. That's a good one!
I did not have working cable TV with Surewest for over a month. I did have working cable in the bedroom, but not in the living room. From the day we signed up, the cable was out for a month. In this time, we had two no show appointments and two appointments where the guy was able to fix the problem for about 10 minutes, and within 30 minutes of his departure, the cable was again out.
With Surewest, we had a contract, but per the contract, the first 30 days were a trial period, and we were supposed to be able to cancel. We tried to cancel from the start because it was just unacceptable that we did not have cable TV and that every time we called, we were put on hold for average of 45 minutes to one hour. It took battling with Surewest for about two months, including countless hours on the phone and four scheduled home appointments, that Surewest finally let us cancel our cable TV. They would not let us out of our Internet part of the contract, but we were free of their cable non-service.
Next comes the "credits," right? Obviously since we did not have cable TV for over a month, we were not going to pay the bill. We received a bill in the mail with some of the credits posted to our account, but not all that was promised.
I've found that talking to the billing department is just as worse, if not worse, than talking to technical support. I am a pretty even-tempered, reasonable woman. The incompetence of Surewest's billing department had me yelling and shaking on the phone. After arguing with billing support that my bill was still not correct, I literally had to walk the moronic billing support guy through the math, step-by-step, to prove my point that they had not credited my bill properly. He was not able to do the very basic subtraction on his own.
If that's not ridiculous, I don't know what is.
Comcast is just as evil. I've had Comcast many different times. I despise them, but in the past, they were not as bad as Surewest, and their promotional rates can't be beat.
Whenever I've had had Comcast, I've signed up for a package where the cable TV installation is free, and I avoid the Internet set up fee by setting up the Internet myself. Every single time, when the bill comes in the mail, Comcast has charged me the set up fee. I think they do this to everyone in hopes that the customer won't notice or won't fight it. So, this leads to a phone call with the billing department. I can handle that. I've come to expect it when I sign up for Comcast.
When my husband and I moved into our first house in June, we signed up with Comcast for TV and Internet. The Geek-Squad guy came, hooked up the TV and left the modem and self-install kit for me to set up. I set it up like I have many times before. After going through the self-install process, a message on the computer pops up saying there has been an error, and to call 1-800-Comcast. I call. The guy on the phone is actually very nice and knows exactly what the problem is, but he cannot fix it because his tools are down. I understand that. I have to call back the next day. I am able to get this problem fixed, but I still do not have Internet. The guy on the phone has me check everything that I already know to check. Nothing is fixed, so he gives me an appointment for the very next day. Wow! That's good service...except, no one ever shows. No one shows for the next appointment, either.
I could go on and on detailing this horrid saga, but I'll save you the details. Comcast had failed to activate the line for my Internet, and had they had given me a bad coaxial cable. I figured all of this out on my own, but it took over a month from someone to come to my house and fix it.
Then came the battle to receive compensation for our troubles. This part got really bad. We were promised a phone call from a manager, which never happened. My husband was hung up on, not once, but twice. It took my husband contacting Comcast in writing for our bill to be properly credited and to receive an apology for all they put us through, which included shutting off our service twice while we were in dispute over the bill.
The jaw-dropping kicker with Comcast (other than being hung up on) was that we were calling them day and night trying to get our bill fixed before my husband went in for surgery. After his surgery, he wouldn't be able to talk for quite awhile, so we wanted to get it dealt with beforehand. The night before his surgery, our bill still had not been credited. My husband had his surgery, and we didn't bother calling Comcast until he was healed up. You know what the Comcast jerk said to him, "It's been too long since your last complaint. I can't do anything for you." (And then he hung up.)
We will be canceling our service before the end of the month. We signed up with them in June and it took until January for our bill to be properly credited.
But it's not just cable companies that put me through this hell. It's a universal thing in the world of customer service. I just had to write a dispute to a collection's company because Apria sent me to collections 10 days after I made my payment! Oh, Apria, how I loathe thee. Let me count thy ways:
Number One: You sent my monthly bill, which I had no idea existed, to an address I have not lived at for almost five years. You did this for six months, even though I was diligent in making sure the incorrect address was crossed off on my contract and my current address was filled in. I have the copy of my rental agreement proving it.
Number Two: When I finally got a bill in the mail at my residence (after receiving a phone call asking why I hadn't paid my bill), the bill had no explanation of the charges, and it was a rather large sum. You never sent me the original bill; you sent me the bill for the sixth or seventh month, which makes no sense when it's the first bill I've ever seen. Genius.
Number Three: When I contacted the billing department, I was put on hold for so long, that it took me several days to get through to an actual person because I only had so much time after work to sit on the phone.
Number Four: The first three people I talked to had no idea what they were talking about and were totally inept.
Number Five: When I finally talked to someone who could explain some of the charges, and understood my point that I shouldn't be held accountable for the total, especially all at once, since I had no idea I was being charged every month for six months for a product I stopped using within a month, I was told all I needed to do was send in ONE payment to get my account in better standing and avoid being sent to collections. EXCEPT, 10 days after your company received my not one, but two payments, you sent my account to a collection's agency.
And as a bonus, Number Six: You call my phone at all hours, most often in the morning when I'm sleeping, and when I miss the call, you do not leave a message. The only reason I know it's your company calling is that I googled the number and found a message board of people complaining that you are also harassing them.
Oh customer service, how I loathe thee.
My customer service nightmares go on and on. I spend so much of my time sitting on the phone trying to straighten bills out.
Stanford Sleep Disorders Center is another one high on my sh*t list. I never want to go back there, simply for the hell they put me through over billing and their repeated errors.
In brief, when Stanford called me to set up an appointment, they verified my address and insurance information. They had everything correct. When I went in for my appointment, they made a copy of my insurance card.
Fast forward to when I receive my first bill, not at the address they verified they had on file, but at my mother's address. This bill states that the insurance they have on file: California Healthy Families, says I am no longer eligible for benefits. Well, duh, of course I no longer have Healthy Families. That insurance is for low-income families with children. I had that insurance when I was a minor. I was 23 at this time and had private health insurance. They must have lost all of my information, looked me up in "the system," found my old address and my health insurance I had many years ago (as a minor!), and stupidly billed that.
So what's the next step, everybody? Make that dreaded phone call to correct the error. I give my correct address and insurance information, again, and am told they will bill my insurance and I will receive a new bill.
What actually happens? I receive another bill, at my current address, stating I do not have health insurance, my bill is past due, and was in risk of being sent to collections.
I went through this process over and over. After about the fourth or fifth time of being sent a bill stating I did not have insurance and they were going to send me to collections, I sent a very angry letter detailing their incompetence and explaining I was now sending them my insurance information for the fifth time, and then finally they billed my insurance.
Ahhhh! Just reliving those memories makes me want to scream! Who are these people? Where do they come from? How can they be so brainless? How much of my life have I wasted sitting on the phone waiting to talk to these imbeciles?
I'll share one more very brief story.
I had to take out a number of student loans to pay for college. I had my own personal life savings for college, and my mom helped out, but I still had loans. One of my loans is through Citibank.
I set up an account online to repay my Citibank loan. For some reason, the account says my login information is not correct, and my security answers are incorrect, which is quite frankly, impossible, and every time I try to log in, my account is locked and I'm prompted to call a number for help.
Since I opted to pay my bill online, I do not get a paper statement in the mail, and the only way I am able to pay my bill is by paying the minimum balance through the automated phone system. I always pay more than the minimum balance on a bill, even if it's just $5 more, so paying by phone is only used as a last resort.
I call the Citibank student loan number and listen to the menu options, but there is no option to get help with online login information and no option to talk to a live person. I have tried pushing every menu option available in hopes of getting a human being on the other end. I make sure to call during their business hours. I wrote Citibank an email and explained my situation. I explained very clearly that I cannot get a live person on the phone and need to talk to a live person. Their response? They tell me they cannot give me login information through email (I figured that) and they provide me with the same phone number I've been using and instruct me to call that number during business hours.
AHHHHH! It's Hell on earth.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
R.I.P. Dear Jacket
This is an ode to my black jean jacket. I have finally accepted that it is gone and never coming back. I know I shouldn't care so much for an item of clothing, but I do.
I love clothes. My husband can't keep his clothes in our bedroom because my clothes take up the whole closet. And that's just shirts, dresses, skirts and pants. I have a five-drawer dresser full of bed shirts, shorts, more skirts, and my delicates. Then there's the hope chest full of pajama bottoms, sweats, and velour pants. Like I said, I love clothes.
I also love shopping. I relish in getting a great deal. I am the best when it comes to buying quality clothes at the most amazing price. I was recently at Gottschalks and picked out some clothes for my mom to buy me for my upcoming 25th birthday. I found the cutest blue and white polka dot sun dress for only $3. Yes, you read right, $3 at a nice department store. It's a true skill I have, this shopping I do.
I can still picture the day I met my jacket. For some time I had coveted a black Dickies jean jacket, but I wasn't willing to shell out $50 for a little jean jacket. I am thrifty to boot.
Then on a sunny May day in 2004, May 30th, to be exact, I went to the Sacramento Jazz Jubilee with my mother and brother. We've been going ever since I was in a stroller. We always enter the festivities through the Downtown Plaza mall. My mom and I often get distracted by the stores, driving my older brother insane. I stopped in at Copeland because I had $21 credit there. As soon as I walked in, I spotted a clearance rack. And there it was, just waiting for me to find: a Fox Racing brand black woman's jean jacket, size small! I tried it on. It was the perfect fit. In 2004, I was the tiniest little thing and this jacket was just made for my petite Audrey Hepburn like silhouette. Even better, it was marked down from $60 to just $30. With my $21 credit, I only had to shell out $9 for the perfect jacket. I was in love. I could care less that it wasn't Dickies brand.
I wore my jacket on so many cool summer nights. I believe I wore it on my first date with my husband that June. I decorated it with my collection of buttons of my favorite bands, movies, and cute quotes like, "Kiss me, I'm straight edge." Sometimes I safety-pinned patches of my favorite bands on the back, like The Clash and Anti-Flag. My little jean jacket was perfect for shows in the winter. I hate having to hold a heavy jacket when I'm trying to enjoy live music, so my lightweight jacket was ideal for the situation. I was wearing my jacket on June 19, 2005, when my husband proposed on the one year anniversary of our first date. A lot of memories are wrapped up in that jacket.
Whenever it came time to wash my jacket, I'd carefully remove all my buttons before tossing the jacket into the washing machine. After the jacket was again clean, I'd sit on the floor, with all my buttons spread out, making sure to put every button back on in its exact place. I am very particular about these things.
Then, I lost track of the jacket. The last I remember of it, I had set it aside to wash. This was at least a year ago. I remember searching for the jacket in the laundry and on top of the dryer in the garage of my duplex where I sometimes set aside clothes I had sorted. I didn't come across it then, but I figured it would show up soon enough. Then I remember starting the search over again this summer. I looked everywhere and it was still nowhere to be found. We moved in June, so I thought for sure it would show up then. It didn't, but I was too busy setting up a new house and working a relatively new job that I didn't have time to spend too much time worrying about this jacket I love. Last night I went in search, once more, of my little black jean jacket, and also my Adeline Records zip up hoodie. I found my sweatshirt, in a place I'd looked at least twice before. But still, no beloved jacket. I went through my husband's clothes, even searching his dirty laundry. I found my blue socks and red socks, but no black jacket.
It's forever lost. Hope is gone. I'm grieving for a jacket. It doesn't matter that I'm more than 20 pounds heavier than when I first bought the jacket and that it probably would no longer fit. I would have kept that jacket forever, for the memories. The pants or the shirts I wore on my first date or the night my husband proposed? Those aren't special. It was all about the jacket: The jacket I wore when the hot Sacramento days turned into the cool nights I spent at the park with my soul mate enjoying the simple thrill of being pushed on a swing while discussing our love for The Ramones.
Luckily I still have my buttons. I've lost many of them throughout the years, but I don't think there were any buttons on jacket when it disappeared from my life. But tonight I'm mourning for a jacket. At a time when I should be blogging about how inspired I was to see Barack Obama become the 44th president and what I hope to see accomplished in an Obama administration, I'm thinking about a jacket I found in a sports store on the way to the jazz festival.
Wherever you are little jacket, thanks for the memories. We had some good times together. I'll never forget you.
I love clothes. My husband can't keep his clothes in our bedroom because my clothes take up the whole closet. And that's just shirts, dresses, skirts and pants. I have a five-drawer dresser full of bed shirts, shorts, more skirts, and my delicates. Then there's the hope chest full of pajama bottoms, sweats, and velour pants. Like I said, I love clothes.
I also love shopping. I relish in getting a great deal. I am the best when it comes to buying quality clothes at the most amazing price. I was recently at Gottschalks and picked out some clothes for my mom to buy me for my upcoming 25th birthday. I found the cutest blue and white polka dot sun dress for only $3. Yes, you read right, $3 at a nice department store. It's a true skill I have, this shopping I do.
I can still picture the day I met my jacket. For some time I had coveted a black Dickies jean jacket, but I wasn't willing to shell out $50 for a little jean jacket. I am thrifty to boot.
Then on a sunny May day in 2004, May 30th, to be exact, I went to the Sacramento Jazz Jubilee with my mother and brother. We've been going ever since I was in a stroller. We always enter the festivities through the Downtown Plaza mall. My mom and I often get distracted by the stores, driving my older brother insane. I stopped in at Copeland because I had $21 credit there. As soon as I walked in, I spotted a clearance rack. And there it was, just waiting for me to find: a Fox Racing brand black woman's jean jacket, size small! I tried it on. It was the perfect fit. In 2004, I was the tiniest little thing and this jacket was just made for my petite Audrey Hepburn like silhouette. Even better, it was marked down from $60 to just $30. With my $21 credit, I only had to shell out $9 for the perfect jacket. I was in love. I could care less that it wasn't Dickies brand.
I wore my jacket on so many cool summer nights. I believe I wore it on my first date with my husband that June. I decorated it with my collection of buttons of my favorite bands, movies, and cute quotes like, "Kiss me, I'm straight edge." Sometimes I safety-pinned patches of my favorite bands on the back, like The Clash and Anti-Flag. My little jean jacket was perfect for shows in the winter. I hate having to hold a heavy jacket when I'm trying to enjoy live music, so my lightweight jacket was ideal for the situation. I was wearing my jacket on June 19, 2005, when my husband proposed on the one year anniversary of our first date. A lot of memories are wrapped up in that jacket.
Whenever it came time to wash my jacket, I'd carefully remove all my buttons before tossing the jacket into the washing machine. After the jacket was again clean, I'd sit on the floor, with all my buttons spread out, making sure to put every button back on in its exact place. I am very particular about these things.
Then, I lost track of the jacket. The last I remember of it, I had set it aside to wash. This was at least a year ago. I remember searching for the jacket in the laundry and on top of the dryer in the garage of my duplex where I sometimes set aside clothes I had sorted. I didn't come across it then, but I figured it would show up soon enough. Then I remember starting the search over again this summer. I looked everywhere and it was still nowhere to be found. We moved in June, so I thought for sure it would show up then. It didn't, but I was too busy setting up a new house and working a relatively new job that I didn't have time to spend too much time worrying about this jacket I love. Last night I went in search, once more, of my little black jean jacket, and also my Adeline Records zip up hoodie. I found my sweatshirt, in a place I'd looked at least twice before. But still, no beloved jacket. I went through my husband's clothes, even searching his dirty laundry. I found my blue socks and red socks, but no black jacket.
It's forever lost. Hope is gone. I'm grieving for a jacket. It doesn't matter that I'm more than 20 pounds heavier than when I first bought the jacket and that it probably would no longer fit. I would have kept that jacket forever, for the memories. The pants or the shirts I wore on my first date or the night my husband proposed? Those aren't special. It was all about the jacket: The jacket I wore when the hot Sacramento days turned into the cool nights I spent at the park with my soul mate enjoying the simple thrill of being pushed on a swing while discussing our love for The Ramones.
I smiled so brightly wearing that jacket once I stopped hyperventilating and said, "Yes" to Aaron's marriage proposal.
The jacket was just right for window shopping at the mall with my best friends.
In college, I'd slip on the jacket to walk my dog outside my apartment complex before heading to bed for the night.
I wore that jacket to so many great shows. I specifically remember taking these pictures after Danny Secretion's birthday show in 2006.
The jacket was just right for window shopping at the mall with my best friends.
In college, I'd slip on the jacket to walk my dog outside my apartment complex before heading to bed for the night.
I wore that jacket to so many great shows. I specifically remember taking these pictures after Danny Secretion's birthday show in 2006.
Luckily I still have my buttons. I've lost many of them throughout the years, but I don't think there were any buttons on jacket when it disappeared from my life. But tonight I'm mourning for a jacket. At a time when I should be blogging about how inspired I was to see Barack Obama become the 44th president and what I hope to see accomplished in an Obama administration, I'm thinking about a jacket I found in a sports store on the way to the jazz festival.
Wherever you are little jacket, thanks for the memories. We had some good times together. I'll never forget you.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Movie Review: Milk
(The following contains spoilers if you are not familiar with Milk's story.)
Milk is the powerful, moving and real-life story of Harvey Milk's journey to become the first openly gay elected official in politics. Sean Penn plays Harvey Milk, and no surprise here, he immerses himself completely into the role. Penn becomes Milk in physical appearance, voice, mannerisms, and most importantly, in emotion: in the love Milk had for the opera, the pain he felt from losing lovers, the fear from death threats and in the passion Milk had for the gay rights cause.
The film follows Milk's life beginning at age 40 and ending with his brutal assassination eight years later. Harvey Milk tells his story as he sits alone in his kitchen, talking to a tape recorder. He wants his struggles and accomplishments recorded, in the event of his assassination.
Like the film, Milk's life really began at age 40. Before 40, Milk explains to his much younger partner, Scott Smith (James Franco), that he has done nothing of importance with his life.
Once Milk experiences discrimination, sees the negligence and brutality of the police, and tries to run a business in the Castro district of San Francisco, Milk becomes more politically aware. Milk starts his own gay business association, and soon he is a leader in the local gay community. Milk is a friendly, charismatic character with a flare for the dramatic. He can command an audience and make the young, hopelessly lost males fall in love with him. He loves to rescue people, and he loves being in a place of power.
Milk decides gays need one of their own in office, and that he is the person for the job. Milk runs three times for Board of Supervisors before he is finally elected, after a change in district lines. Along the way, Milk transforms from a pot smoking, long-haired hippie to a clean-cut, suit-wearing politician. Milk's boyfriend Scott supports "the movement," but takes issue with "the machine" of politics Milk is so wrapped up in. Milk campaigns and works day and night. The long hours take a toll on Scott, and later the new, and very needy boyfriend, Jack Lira (Diego Luna). The love interests of Milk's life play a key role in his story. He loses too many of them to suicide.
Milk couldn't have gotten elected without the help of a strong campaign team, led by the young, smartalec Cleve Jones, played by Emile Hersh. Hersh, Luna and Franco are all fantastic in their supporting roles.
Once in office, Milk works tirelessly to push through gay rights legislation and to oppose the efforts of the "Save our Children" campaign, which sought to remove all gay teachers and "gay supporters" from schools. Milk wins these battles, but makes an enemy in Board of Supervisors member Dan White played by Josh Brolin. White represents a Catholic, conservative neighborhood, not far from the Castro. White seeks Milk's support on the Board, and when Milk votes against him, White decides Milk is the enemy.
White's character and relationship with Milk are complex. White doesn't understand the homosexual lifestyle, but he doesn't really seem to be against gay rights, either. He would almost be Milk's friend if Milk hadn't voted against him early on. White seems to only vote against Milk for revenge, not on principle. Milk is friendly to White and even seems to have sympathy for the guy. White takes his job very seriously, but he can't make ends meat on it, and he never has the votes of his fellow board members.
White eventually resigns, but then after a suspicious meeting with police, has a change of heart. White is wound up tight and when Mayor Moscone will not give him the job back, he snaps. He sneaks into City Hall through a basement window to bypass the metal detectors. First he kills the mayor, and then sends five bullets into Milk.
The scene of Milk's assassination is heart-wrenching. It doesn't matter that you know it's coming. It hits you hard in the gut because you've spent the last hour in a half getting to know and care about this real-life character.
After Milk and Mayor Moscone are killed, a group of about 30,000 march in the streets. It's an awesome sight to see the streets of San Francisco filled with 30,000 candles in support of a man who stood for hope and civil rights. Words flash on the screen that explain how White claimed he was mentally incapacitated from eating too much junk food, "the Twinkie defense." He is sentenced to five to seven years for brutally killing two elected officials. He is out in five. It was an outrage then and it's an outrage now.
Milk left me both incredibly sad over Milk's death and also incredibly bewildered and enraged over White's fate. Although this film takes place 30 years ago, it is just as relevant today. The film shows how far the gay rights movement has come, but recent elections all over the United States remind us how far it still has to go.
Milk is the powerful, moving and real-life story of Harvey Milk's journey to become the first openly gay elected official in politics. Sean Penn plays Harvey Milk, and no surprise here, he immerses himself completely into the role. Penn becomes Milk in physical appearance, voice, mannerisms, and most importantly, in emotion: in the love Milk had for the opera, the pain he felt from losing lovers, the fear from death threats and in the passion Milk had for the gay rights cause.
The film follows Milk's life beginning at age 40 and ending with his brutal assassination eight years later. Harvey Milk tells his story as he sits alone in his kitchen, talking to a tape recorder. He wants his struggles and accomplishments recorded, in the event of his assassination.
Like the film, Milk's life really began at age 40. Before 40, Milk explains to his much younger partner, Scott Smith (James Franco), that he has done nothing of importance with his life.
Once Milk experiences discrimination, sees the negligence and brutality of the police, and tries to run a business in the Castro district of San Francisco, Milk becomes more politically aware. Milk starts his own gay business association, and soon he is a leader in the local gay community. Milk is a friendly, charismatic character with a flare for the dramatic. He can command an audience and make the young, hopelessly lost males fall in love with him. He loves to rescue people, and he loves being in a place of power.
Milk decides gays need one of their own in office, and that he is the person for the job. Milk runs three times for Board of Supervisors before he is finally elected, after a change in district lines. Along the way, Milk transforms from a pot smoking, long-haired hippie to a clean-cut, suit-wearing politician. Milk's boyfriend Scott supports "the movement," but takes issue with "the machine" of politics Milk is so wrapped up in. Milk campaigns and works day and night. The long hours take a toll on Scott, and later the new, and very needy boyfriend, Jack Lira (Diego Luna). The love interests of Milk's life play a key role in his story. He loses too many of them to suicide.
Milk couldn't have gotten elected without the help of a strong campaign team, led by the young, smartalec Cleve Jones, played by Emile Hersh. Hersh, Luna and Franco are all fantastic in their supporting roles.
Once in office, Milk works tirelessly to push through gay rights legislation and to oppose the efforts of the "Save our Children" campaign, which sought to remove all gay teachers and "gay supporters" from schools. Milk wins these battles, but makes an enemy in Board of Supervisors member Dan White played by Josh Brolin. White represents a Catholic, conservative neighborhood, not far from the Castro. White seeks Milk's support on the Board, and when Milk votes against him, White decides Milk is the enemy.
White's character and relationship with Milk are complex. White doesn't understand the homosexual lifestyle, but he doesn't really seem to be against gay rights, either. He would almost be Milk's friend if Milk hadn't voted against him early on. White seems to only vote against Milk for revenge, not on principle. Milk is friendly to White and even seems to have sympathy for the guy. White takes his job very seriously, but he can't make ends meat on it, and he never has the votes of his fellow board members.
White eventually resigns, but then after a suspicious meeting with police, has a change of heart. White is wound up tight and when Mayor Moscone will not give him the job back, he snaps. He sneaks into City Hall through a basement window to bypass the metal detectors. First he kills the mayor, and then sends five bullets into Milk.
The scene of Milk's assassination is heart-wrenching. It doesn't matter that you know it's coming. It hits you hard in the gut because you've spent the last hour in a half getting to know and care about this real-life character.
After Milk and Mayor Moscone are killed, a group of about 30,000 march in the streets. It's an awesome sight to see the streets of San Francisco filled with 30,000 candles in support of a man who stood for hope and civil rights. Words flash on the screen that explain how White claimed he was mentally incapacitated from eating too much junk food, "the Twinkie defense." He is sentenced to five to seven years for brutally killing two elected officials. He is out in five. It was an outrage then and it's an outrage now.
Milk left me both incredibly sad over Milk's death and also incredibly bewildered and enraged over White's fate. Although this film takes place 30 years ago, it is just as relevant today. The film shows how far the gay rights movement has come, but recent elections all over the United States remind us how far it still has to go.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Movie Reviews
The Devil Wears Prada was on TV the other day, so I watched it. I didn't have any expectations for it, and that was best. Ann Hathaway plays Andy, a recent college journalism grad whose looking for her first job. She lands the gig hundreds of girls would kill for, working as the second assistant to the famous Miranda Priestly (Meryl Streep), the editor-in-chief of Runway Magazine. Of course Andy is a serious journalist who could care less about fashion and has never even heard of Miranda. Andy gets off to a rough start and sticks out in the sea of Gucci, Prada and Versace like the polyester discount-store sweater on her back. Andy is mostly a fetch-dog for Miranda. All the real responsibilities fall to Emily, the first assistant.
Andy hates her job and especially her boss. She decides to stick with it because if she can survive one year under Miranda's manicured thumb, she can get a writing gig at any magazine. Through all this, Andy has a terrifically supportive, gorgeous boyfriend and a couple friends from college who envy her job. One day Andy realizes she hasn't been giving her all to the job and manages to fit her (gasp!) size six body into some of the zero to four-sized clothing in the Runway closet. Miranda notices the change and Andy receives more responsibility, all because she's traded in the clogs for some heels and a slight hairdo change.
Soon Andy is excelling at her job and becomes Miranda's number one go-to-gal. Back at home, Andy is missing dinners with her friends, and more importantly, neglecting that wonderful boyfriend of hers. Predictably, Andy gets sucked into the fashion world and becomes "one of them." Will Andy stay a Miranda clone or return to her true journalism roots? You'll have to watch to find out, or you could probably just guess and get it right. The story is tied up with a neat little bow, the most fashion-forward bow, of course.
Meryl Streep is her usual excellence in the film. She knows how to play a cold-hearted witch like no other. Ann Hathaway is just OK in my opinion. She makes Andy more clueless and whiny than I thought the part called for. My favorite character was the first assistant played by Emily Blunt. She's been killing herself for Miranda for years in hopes of moving up in the fashion world. She prides herself on starving her already stick-thin figure for Paris Fashion Week, and tries to act like she's cut off from all emotion, but she really puts her whole heart into her job, if only she ever got any credit. She was the only really interesting and funny character as far as I was concerned.
I wouldn't recommend this movie for most. Maybe if you're into high fashion, it's worth a whirl, but the movie just fell flat for me. It was OK for an evening on the couch when nothing else was on, but I definitely wouldn't have made time in my schedule for this film.
I know The Forgotten was a forgettable film for most, but I liked it well-enough for a lazy Saturday afternoon movie in bed. Tilly (Julianne Moore) remembers her son who died in a school bus accident, but as time passes, fewer and fewer people remember his existence. All evidence that he existed seems to have disappeared. Is Tilly crazy or is there something more sinister at play? That's the basic premise. Tilly teams up with the one other parent who remembers his daughter and Tilly's son, and they spend the film looking for their children while trying to escape the grasp of the agents who are following them.
The twist of the film really changes what genre the film belongs in, but I would ruin the film if I revealed this true genre. I was OK with the twist and the stretch of the imagination that comes with it, but I think a lot of viewers would feel cheated by the direction the film abruptly takes. I think the film was supposed to be suspenseful and eerie, but it's pretty light on both accounts. There's nothing extraordinary about the acting or the special effects or the direction of this film. It relies on the mystery of the children to carry it through. I believed from the beginning that Tilly was not crazy and there was a conspiracy involving the bus crash, so I had to watch to discover the truth. If that mystery alone does not intrigue you, this movie is probably not for you.
What She Knew is a Lifetime original movie. My husband and I actually have watched quite a few of these specific made-for-TV movies. The movies usually star pretty well-known, critically acclaimed actors, so they're generally fairly decent, even if the aim of every movie is to make you cry. I don't easily cry at movies, unless they involve animals, so I can watch these Lifetime movies without getting blubbery. I think most women watch them with a box of tissues at hand.
What She Knew stars Amber Tamblin as Stephanie, a 16-year-old who gives birth in a bathroom on a ski trip, leaves the baby in the bathroom stall, goes back on the slopes where she passes out and her secret is revealed. Stephanie claims she didn't know she was pregnant and that the baby was still-born. The air in the baby's lungs tells a different story. Tilda Swinton plays a forensic psychologist, also pregnant, investigating the case for the district attorney through interviews with Stephanie. The interviews are flashbacks beginning with the previous summer when Stephanie conceived and concluding with the birth in the bathroom stall. Timothy Hutton plays the psychologist's husband. These two have problems of their own and the movie follows their story as well.
I think Tamblin is very convincing in her part as a shy, confused teenage girl who may or may not have known she was pregnant. The movie could have become an after school special with a weaker plot and less talented actors, but with this cast and script, it manages to stay out of that cheesy moralistic territory. Piece by piece, the puzzle of the pregnancy and birth are revealed. What did she really know?
I liked the movie up until the very last five minutes. The ending was horribly unsatisfactory for both my husband and myself. I'm not disappointed with what Stephanie knew, just how the film dealt with this knowledge. It felt like the writer didn't know how to end the movie, so the story just ended where the writer blanked on a real conclusion. I hate when movies end so poorly because the ending is what sticks with you. The movie was fine otherwise, but I'll always be hung up on the ending when I think about this film.
I finally saw Milk in the theater, so look for its review in the coming days.
Andy hates her job and especially her boss. She decides to stick with it because if she can survive one year under Miranda's manicured thumb, she can get a writing gig at any magazine. Through all this, Andy has a terrifically supportive, gorgeous boyfriend and a couple friends from college who envy her job. One day Andy realizes she hasn't been giving her all to the job and manages to fit her (gasp!) size six body into some of the zero to four-sized clothing in the Runway closet. Miranda notices the change and Andy receives more responsibility, all because she's traded in the clogs for some heels and a slight hairdo change.
Soon Andy is excelling at her job and becomes Miranda's number one go-to-gal. Back at home, Andy is missing dinners with her friends, and more importantly, neglecting that wonderful boyfriend of hers. Predictably, Andy gets sucked into the fashion world and becomes "one of them." Will Andy stay a Miranda clone or return to her true journalism roots? You'll have to watch to find out, or you could probably just guess and get it right. The story is tied up with a neat little bow, the most fashion-forward bow, of course.
Meryl Streep is her usual excellence in the film. She knows how to play a cold-hearted witch like no other. Ann Hathaway is just OK in my opinion. She makes Andy more clueless and whiny than I thought the part called for. My favorite character was the first assistant played by Emily Blunt. She's been killing herself for Miranda for years in hopes of moving up in the fashion world. She prides herself on starving her already stick-thin figure for Paris Fashion Week, and tries to act like she's cut off from all emotion, but she really puts her whole heart into her job, if only she ever got any credit. She was the only really interesting and funny character as far as I was concerned.
I wouldn't recommend this movie for most. Maybe if you're into high fashion, it's worth a whirl, but the movie just fell flat for me. It was OK for an evening on the couch when nothing else was on, but I definitely wouldn't have made time in my schedule for this film.
I know The Forgotten was a forgettable film for most, but I liked it well-enough for a lazy Saturday afternoon movie in bed. Tilly (Julianne Moore) remembers her son who died in a school bus accident, but as time passes, fewer and fewer people remember his existence. All evidence that he existed seems to have disappeared. Is Tilly crazy or is there something more sinister at play? That's the basic premise. Tilly teams up with the one other parent who remembers his daughter and Tilly's son, and they spend the film looking for their children while trying to escape the grasp of the agents who are following them.
The twist of the film really changes what genre the film belongs in, but I would ruin the film if I revealed this true genre. I was OK with the twist and the stretch of the imagination that comes with it, but I think a lot of viewers would feel cheated by the direction the film abruptly takes. I think the film was supposed to be suspenseful and eerie, but it's pretty light on both accounts. There's nothing extraordinary about the acting or the special effects or the direction of this film. It relies on the mystery of the children to carry it through. I believed from the beginning that Tilly was not crazy and there was a conspiracy involving the bus crash, so I had to watch to discover the truth. If that mystery alone does not intrigue you, this movie is probably not for you.
What She Knew is a Lifetime original movie. My husband and I actually have watched quite a few of these specific made-for-TV movies. The movies usually star pretty well-known, critically acclaimed actors, so they're generally fairly decent, even if the aim of every movie is to make you cry. I don't easily cry at movies, unless they involve animals, so I can watch these Lifetime movies without getting blubbery. I think most women watch them with a box of tissues at hand.
What She Knew stars Amber Tamblin as Stephanie, a 16-year-old who gives birth in a bathroom on a ski trip, leaves the baby in the bathroom stall, goes back on the slopes where she passes out and her secret is revealed. Stephanie claims she didn't know she was pregnant and that the baby was still-born. The air in the baby's lungs tells a different story. Tilda Swinton plays a forensic psychologist, also pregnant, investigating the case for the district attorney through interviews with Stephanie. The interviews are flashbacks beginning with the previous summer when Stephanie conceived and concluding with the birth in the bathroom stall. Timothy Hutton plays the psychologist's husband. These two have problems of their own and the movie follows their story as well.
I think Tamblin is very convincing in her part as a shy, confused teenage girl who may or may not have known she was pregnant. The movie could have become an after school special with a weaker plot and less talented actors, but with this cast and script, it manages to stay out of that cheesy moralistic territory. Piece by piece, the puzzle of the pregnancy and birth are revealed. What did she really know?
I liked the movie up until the very last five minutes. The ending was horribly unsatisfactory for both my husband and myself. I'm not disappointed with what Stephanie knew, just how the film dealt with this knowledge. It felt like the writer didn't know how to end the movie, so the story just ended where the writer blanked on a real conclusion. I hate when movies end so poorly because the ending is what sticks with you. The movie was fine otherwise, but I'll always be hung up on the ending when I think about this film.
I finally saw Milk in the theater, so look for its review in the coming days.
Monday, January 12, 2009
My Battle with the Enemy: Sleep
If you want to stay on my good side, don't ever, and I mean ever, give me advice on how to get a better night's sleep. Well, if you're an actual sleep doctor, then I might listen to you. Otherwise, keep your trap shut.
It has been so many years since I've had a normal night's sleep that I'd have to stop, think really hard, and count on my fingers to figure out just how long it's really been. It's easily been over seven years, and that's with sleeping pills.
I have Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome (DSPS), and I have Sleep Apnea. Most people know what Sleep Apnea is: you stop breathing or take shallow breaths in your sleep. This interrupts your sleep, stops brain activity, causes headaches, and can make you feel sluggish the whole day. A lot of people with Sleep Apnea sleep with a CPAP machine to help them breathe. You wear a mask that blows air into your face so your airway stays open. It's incredibly cumbersome and I was never able to adjust to it. I can't get to sleep as it is, so it was kind of a joke from the beginning that I would ever be able to sleep through the night with a mask on my face.
My Sleep Apnea problem is quite minor compared to my Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. It almost sounds like something made up, right? Oh, if only it were so.
I don't remember ever sleeping normally. As a child it took me hours to fall asleep. I'd get so scared in the meantime that I'd usually end up running into my mom's room and sleeping with her. Granted, I also suffered from some serious traumas as a child that added to the bumps in the night, but even without having a drive by on my street or a shooting on my school playground (both while I was outside playing), I still would have not have been able to sleep at night.
The mornings have never been my friend. I remember in the first grade my mom would wake me up for school and I'd beg for 30 more minutes. "Mom, I'm finally sleeping! Pleeease!" I'd cry.
My sleep troubles continued throughout elementary school, junior high and high school, but I managed very well. I usually had loads of energy, was involved in after school activities, volunteer work, and an active social life, all while achieving straight As, or darn near close.
My junior year in high school I got Mononucleosis, again. I had already suffered through it in 8th grade. I eventually got over the Mono, but I never really recovered. I was tired all the time. I'd come home from school and take a nap. Then it got to be too much and I couldn't get up for class. I just wanted to sleep all day, but I still couldn't get to bed early at night. It wasn't depression or anything psychological; there was something very wrong with my body.
In addition to not being able to sleep at night, when I did fall asleep, I'd literally wake up on the wrong side of the bed, with the sheets torn off my bed. My mom knew there was something off with my sleep. She bought me deep pocket sheets and we clipped the sheets down to the bottom of the mattress.
Still, no one had believed me when I tried to explain how I watched the clock tick by hour after hour and I couldn't sleep. No one believed me when I said I didn't dream or that I constantly woke up all night. My mom and step father had laughed at me when I told them I only dreamed in the afternoon. "It only seems like that, Laura," they'd tell me.
Then I had the sleep study that changed my life. Or at least, it gave a name to condition I'd been suffering from for so long.
After being hooked up to all sorts of electrodes and being monitored for a night, I was diagnosed with Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. My circadian rhythm was off, making my body the most alert and awake at night. My sleep study revealed that it took me hours to fall asleep, then I woke up every 30 minutes, until the last couple hours before they woke me in the morning when I was finally able to get some real sleep. When I did finally fall asleep, I flailed around so much that some of the wires came off my head and I had to be woken up to have them reattached. I didn't go into R.E.M. sleep, either. I finally had proof for all I'd been saying.
After I was woken up in the morning from my sleep study, I stayed at the sleep clinic for a nap study where you watch TV or read a book for awhile and then are put back in the exam room to see if you'll fall asleep, and how quickly. I fell asleep every time. My body was exhausted from getting such poor sleep during the night. The nap study is a test for Narcolepsy, which is really nothing like you see on TV or in movies. I wasn't diagnosed with Narcolepsy because it was decided I was probably falling asleep from the lack of sleep the night before, but it was a close call.
The treatment for DSPS was sleeping pills, light therapy and a change of lifestyle referred to as better "sleep hygiene." In the mornings my mom would open my blinds, turn on bright lights and this, in addition to taking Melatonin, was supposed to alter my circadian rhythm and trigger my body to want to wake up in the mornings. I slept right through the blinding light. I wasn't supposed to watch TV, use the computer in my room or do anything in bed but sleep. If I wanted to read at night, I had to go out of my room and sit on the couch. The idea is that the bedroom is only for sleeping. This was a pain in the butt, and it did not work.
The sleeping pills, however, did help. For the first time in my life, I was sleeping through the night. I wasn't really getting to bed any earlier. I still wasn't tired at night. I was still wide-awake at midnight, but I wasn't tossing and turning all night long. It felt like a miracle. I still couldn't get up in the morning. I went to college and had to take all afternoon classes. I could not do mornings. I was still tired, but less than I had been before the pills. The pills were everything to me.
This was before the television was flooded with ads for Lunesta, Ambien and all the other pills. This was before these pills were on the market. I was put on Restoril. I took the highest legal dose. My body became dependent upon these pills. I don't like being dependent upon a pill. I don't even like taking pills. I've tried the Lunestas and Ambiens and so many different pills that I can't keep track. Often sleeping pills have a reverse affect on me. I stay up all night on them and don't fall asleep until after 8 in the morning. Lunesta worked for a while. Then my tolerance to it was too high. I tried switching off between Lunesta and Restoril, but I just stopped sleeping whenever I was on Lunesta. The Restoril started to lose its power over me, but it never stopped helping.
I started Restoril around seven years ago. It doesn't make me tired at night. I can take it at 10 p.m. and not fall asleep until 5 a.m. It does still help me sleep through the night. This is never more apparent than when I am without it.
I think not being able to sleep at night is one of the worst feelings in the world. To spend hours tossing and turning only to drift off for 15 minutes and then to be awoken by the quietest sound is torture. I recently switched from private health coverage to Kaiser. I don't have my first appointment with my new doctor for a couple more days. I am down to one Restoril and I'm saving it for the night before my appointment so I can be coherent enough to tell the doctor of my problems.
Last night I took two Tylenol PMs and a dose of Robitussin PM. (I've had a cough for years now.) I slept for an hour or two before the medicine wore off. Then the struggle to fall back asleep and stay asleep began. I turned from side to side in a relentless effort to get comfortable. I tried breathing techniques. Counting sheep has never helped. I prayed. I begged for sleep. It's not that I wasn't tired. I just couldn't sleep. I almost cried. Five or six hours later, I finally started sleeping. I awoke in the afternoon gasping for breath (the Sleep Apnea) and was just as tired as when I lay down for the night. I dragged myself to the bathroom to relieve my bladder and then had to lie back in bed for another 30 minutes to try and wake up enough so I could pour a bowl of cereal without spilling the milk everywhere.
I have tried every doctor-recommended remedy for sleep. I have even been sent to the Stanford Sleep Clinic, the foremost authority on sleep. No one has been able to cure what ails me. They've just made it more manageable. I don't take morning appointments. I can't take a job that begins before noon; even noon is really pushing it. (My brain doesn't really wake up until around 2 p.m.) I've actually been chosen for a great job, only for the offer to be rescinded when it came time to decide on hours and I couldn't be there at 11 a.m. It took me longer to finish college because I had to be so selective about my schedule. I can't attend church regularly like I would like because someone long ago decided church should begin in the morning.
Anytime someone suggests I take a hot bath before I sleep, have a small snack, do meditation or read a book before I sleep, I smile and say, "I do that almost every night." In my head I scream, "If only that would work! Don't you think I've tried that! Ahhhhh!" Anytime my mom suggests something like forcing myself to get up early one morning so that I'll be tired for the night, I have to bite my tongue, hard, and restrain myself so I don't punch her in the face for suggesting something that I've tried time and time again and which has never worked.
I can get up at 6 in the morning, be tired all day, and then around 10 p.m., my body will wake up and my mind will be the clearest it's been all day. If I've managed to fall asleep early, I will inevitably wake up after a couple hours sleep and not be able to get back to sleep for another six hours.
So don't ever, ever, suggest anything to help my sleep, unless it's the name of a really good Kaiser sleep doctor. I won't yell at you if you do, but you can be sure I will be picturing my fist in your face.
It has been so many years since I've had a normal night's sleep that I'd have to stop, think really hard, and count on my fingers to figure out just how long it's really been. It's easily been over seven years, and that's with sleeping pills.
I have Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome (DSPS), and I have Sleep Apnea. Most people know what Sleep Apnea is: you stop breathing or take shallow breaths in your sleep. This interrupts your sleep, stops brain activity, causes headaches, and can make you feel sluggish the whole day. A lot of people with Sleep Apnea sleep with a CPAP machine to help them breathe. You wear a mask that blows air into your face so your airway stays open. It's incredibly cumbersome and I was never able to adjust to it. I can't get to sleep as it is, so it was kind of a joke from the beginning that I would ever be able to sleep through the night with a mask on my face.
My Sleep Apnea problem is quite minor compared to my Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. It almost sounds like something made up, right? Oh, if only it were so.
I don't remember ever sleeping normally. As a child it took me hours to fall asleep. I'd get so scared in the meantime that I'd usually end up running into my mom's room and sleeping with her. Granted, I also suffered from some serious traumas as a child that added to the bumps in the night, but even without having a drive by on my street or a shooting on my school playground (both while I was outside playing), I still would have not have been able to sleep at night.
The mornings have never been my friend. I remember in the first grade my mom would wake me up for school and I'd beg for 30 more minutes. "Mom, I'm finally sleeping! Pleeease!" I'd cry.
My sleep troubles continued throughout elementary school, junior high and high school, but I managed very well. I usually had loads of energy, was involved in after school activities, volunteer work, and an active social life, all while achieving straight As, or darn near close.
My junior year in high school I got Mononucleosis, again. I had already suffered through it in 8th grade. I eventually got over the Mono, but I never really recovered. I was tired all the time. I'd come home from school and take a nap. Then it got to be too much and I couldn't get up for class. I just wanted to sleep all day, but I still couldn't get to bed early at night. It wasn't depression or anything psychological; there was something very wrong with my body.
In addition to not being able to sleep at night, when I did fall asleep, I'd literally wake up on the wrong side of the bed, with the sheets torn off my bed. My mom knew there was something off with my sleep. She bought me deep pocket sheets and we clipped the sheets down to the bottom of the mattress.
Still, no one had believed me when I tried to explain how I watched the clock tick by hour after hour and I couldn't sleep. No one believed me when I said I didn't dream or that I constantly woke up all night. My mom and step father had laughed at me when I told them I only dreamed in the afternoon. "It only seems like that, Laura," they'd tell me.
Then I had the sleep study that changed my life. Or at least, it gave a name to condition I'd been suffering from for so long.
After being hooked up to all sorts of electrodes and being monitored for a night, I was diagnosed with Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome. My circadian rhythm was off, making my body the most alert and awake at night. My sleep study revealed that it took me hours to fall asleep, then I woke up every 30 minutes, until the last couple hours before they woke me in the morning when I was finally able to get some real sleep. When I did finally fall asleep, I flailed around so much that some of the wires came off my head and I had to be woken up to have them reattached. I didn't go into R.E.M. sleep, either. I finally had proof for all I'd been saying.
After I was woken up in the morning from my sleep study, I stayed at the sleep clinic for a nap study where you watch TV or read a book for awhile and then are put back in the exam room to see if you'll fall asleep, and how quickly. I fell asleep every time. My body was exhausted from getting such poor sleep during the night. The nap study is a test for Narcolepsy, which is really nothing like you see on TV or in movies. I wasn't diagnosed with Narcolepsy because it was decided I was probably falling asleep from the lack of sleep the night before, but it was a close call.
The treatment for DSPS was sleeping pills, light therapy and a change of lifestyle referred to as better "sleep hygiene." In the mornings my mom would open my blinds, turn on bright lights and this, in addition to taking Melatonin, was supposed to alter my circadian rhythm and trigger my body to want to wake up in the mornings. I slept right through the blinding light. I wasn't supposed to watch TV, use the computer in my room or do anything in bed but sleep. If I wanted to read at night, I had to go out of my room and sit on the couch. The idea is that the bedroom is only for sleeping. This was a pain in the butt, and it did not work.
The sleeping pills, however, did help. For the first time in my life, I was sleeping through the night. I wasn't really getting to bed any earlier. I still wasn't tired at night. I was still wide-awake at midnight, but I wasn't tossing and turning all night long. It felt like a miracle. I still couldn't get up in the morning. I went to college and had to take all afternoon classes. I could not do mornings. I was still tired, but less than I had been before the pills. The pills were everything to me.
This was before the television was flooded with ads for Lunesta, Ambien and all the other pills. This was before these pills were on the market. I was put on Restoril. I took the highest legal dose. My body became dependent upon these pills. I don't like being dependent upon a pill. I don't even like taking pills. I've tried the Lunestas and Ambiens and so many different pills that I can't keep track. Often sleeping pills have a reverse affect on me. I stay up all night on them and don't fall asleep until after 8 in the morning. Lunesta worked for a while. Then my tolerance to it was too high. I tried switching off between Lunesta and Restoril, but I just stopped sleeping whenever I was on Lunesta. The Restoril started to lose its power over me, but it never stopped helping.
I started Restoril around seven years ago. It doesn't make me tired at night. I can take it at 10 p.m. and not fall asleep until 5 a.m. It does still help me sleep through the night. This is never more apparent than when I am without it.
I think not being able to sleep at night is one of the worst feelings in the world. To spend hours tossing and turning only to drift off for 15 minutes and then to be awoken by the quietest sound is torture. I recently switched from private health coverage to Kaiser. I don't have my first appointment with my new doctor for a couple more days. I am down to one Restoril and I'm saving it for the night before my appointment so I can be coherent enough to tell the doctor of my problems.
Last night I took two Tylenol PMs and a dose of Robitussin PM. (I've had a cough for years now.) I slept for an hour or two before the medicine wore off. Then the struggle to fall back asleep and stay asleep began. I turned from side to side in a relentless effort to get comfortable. I tried breathing techniques. Counting sheep has never helped. I prayed. I begged for sleep. It's not that I wasn't tired. I just couldn't sleep. I almost cried. Five or six hours later, I finally started sleeping. I awoke in the afternoon gasping for breath (the Sleep Apnea) and was just as tired as when I lay down for the night. I dragged myself to the bathroom to relieve my bladder and then had to lie back in bed for another 30 minutes to try and wake up enough so I could pour a bowl of cereal without spilling the milk everywhere.
I have tried every doctor-recommended remedy for sleep. I have even been sent to the Stanford Sleep Clinic, the foremost authority on sleep. No one has been able to cure what ails me. They've just made it more manageable. I don't take morning appointments. I can't take a job that begins before noon; even noon is really pushing it. (My brain doesn't really wake up until around 2 p.m.) I've actually been chosen for a great job, only for the offer to be rescinded when it came time to decide on hours and I couldn't be there at 11 a.m. It took me longer to finish college because I had to be so selective about my schedule. I can't attend church regularly like I would like because someone long ago decided church should begin in the morning.
Anytime someone suggests I take a hot bath before I sleep, have a small snack, do meditation or read a book before I sleep, I smile and say, "I do that almost every night." In my head I scream, "If only that would work! Don't you think I've tried that! Ahhhhh!" Anytime my mom suggests something like forcing myself to get up early one morning so that I'll be tired for the night, I have to bite my tongue, hard, and restrain myself so I don't punch her in the face for suggesting something that I've tried time and time again and which has never worked.
I can get up at 6 in the morning, be tired all day, and then around 10 p.m., my body will wake up and my mind will be the clearest it's been all day. If I've managed to fall asleep early, I will inevitably wake up after a couple hours sleep and not be able to get back to sleep for another six hours.
So don't ever, ever, suggest anything to help my sleep, unless it's the name of a really good Kaiser sleep doctor. I won't yell at you if you do, but you can be sure I will be picturing my fist in your face.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
TV, Movies and Books
TV, movies and books. These three things help me pass the time. I've decided to keep a list (on the right side of my blog) of the books I read this year, as well as the movies I see for the first time. In my livejournal, I often comment on the things I've been watching or the books I've been reading, but I decided to add a weekly or bi-weekly review of these things here at Resolution Road.
I generally watch my movies at home via Netflix or on TV. My husband and I also enjoy date nights at the drive-ins, but it's not often we go out to an actual theater. This Christmas we got a handful of movie passes, so I'll get to see more movies on the big screen this year.
Bedtime Stories (on the big screen)
When I first saw a preview for Bedtime Stories while watching The Secret Life of Bees in the theater, I knew I would love this movie. I'm a huge Adam Sandler fan and the combination of one of my favorite actors in a movie where bedtime stories come to life and it rains gumballs, all done with Disney special effects, just seemed like a home run to me. Then, like I often do, I started reading the critic's reviews for the film. They weren't very good. I lowered my expectations for the film, but still knew I wanted to see it on the big screen. I was disappointed with Don't Mess with the Zohan and I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, so I was preparing myself, just in case.
The critics got it wrong with Bedtime Stories. Sure, the plot is tracing-paper thin, but who goes into an Adam Sandler flick expecting a great saga? I don't. Bedtime Stories is laugh-out-loud funny, and the kind of film kids and adults alike can enjoy. The basic premise is that Skeeter, played by Sandler, has been raised in the hotel business and knows everything there is to know about hotels. His problem is that he's a lowly maintenance man and his boss fails to see his potential until one day Skeeter gives the boss some helpful advice, and then Skeeter has a chance to manage a new hotel, but he must compete against the stuck-up, preppy boy who's dating the boss's daughter, a Paris Hilton type.
While Skeeter tries to come up with a great idea for a new hotel, he is stuck watching his niece and nephew while their mom, played by Courtney Cox, tries to find a new job because the school she works at is being shut down. To get the munchkids to bed early, Skeeter tells them bedtime stories, which start coming true. Skeeter tries to manipulate the stories to control the future, but of course, there's always a twist in the real-life version. Keri Russel plays a forgettable role as the kid's "aunt" and eventually, the predictable love interest of Sandler. Russell Brand plays Skeeter's best friend and he's as kooky and funny in this film as he is in Forgetting Sarah Marshall (just on a smaller scale). It's a Disney movie, so you can probably predict the happy ending.
What I liked about this film was that it's funny. It had the whole theater laughing and the special effects are Disney-great. The kids have been raised on wheatgrass and make "Save our School" signs for fun. Uncle Skeeter introduces them into all things junk food and TV with the help of Brand's character. It's very amusing. The two kids are pretty cute, too. The bug-eyed guinea pig aptly named "Bugsy" also adds laughs. There's a giant, gross booger monster and Skeeter loses the ability to talk coherent English. It's silly and childish, but it made me laugh and that's all I wanted from this film. With Bedtime Stories, Sandler proves he can make us laugh without being crass, even in a PG Disney Film.
Rendition (via Netflix at home)
Rendition is the story of an Egyptian-born chemist, Anwar El-Ibrahimi (Omar Metwally), who's on his way home to America, where he's lived since he was 17, but finds himself being flown to some anonymous country to be "interrogated" because he's suspected of being a terrorist who has aided in the making of more sophisticated suicide bombs. This is the practice known as rendition. The United States reserves the right to fly any suspected terrorist anywhere outside the U.S. to keep him or her for interrogation, sidestepping the American judicial process. No Miranda Rights, no lawyer, no phone call, but lots of torture.
Anwar is linked to the terrorist attacks because his cell phone received calls that may or may not have come from a known terrorist. Reese Witherspoon plays the man's wife and mother of his children who is desperately seeking answers as to what's happened to her husband. Jake Gyllenhaal is the straight-laced CIA guy overseeing the interrogation. It's his first torture because the man who was supposed to oversee it was killed by the suicide bomb that Anwar is suspected of helping make. Meryll Streep plays the head of U.S. Intelligence. She's safe in the United States, far away from the actual torture. All she cares about is American safety. She has no sympathy for Anwar or his desperate, and also very pregnant, wife.
This is a movie with a story within a story. The target of the bomb was the powerful Abisi, the man who's in charge of Anwar's torture. Abisi's daughter can't stand living with her family, so she runs away to live with her boyfriend, a militant Islamic, but the daughter doesn't know her boyfriend's militant side or what he plans to do...
The movie follows both stories simultaneously, and also very slowly. The movie can lose you if you're not dedicated to seeing it through to the end. The movie is a bit of a mess at first, but it starts to come together in the middle, and I felt the twist at the end and the conclusion made it worth my time. Rendition will leave you haunted, and it will give you something to talk about.
Television Viewing
I am ashamed to admit I was excited for the return of the horribly cheesy The Secret Life of the American Teenager. I know I should hate this show. It's by the same lady who did 7th Heaven, and it's very much in the same vein. It came on during the summer when nothing else was on, and since it was advertised non-stop, I watched the first episode. And then the next...and the next... Some of the acting is way over the top and very bad, but the main character, the pregnant Amy played by Shailene Woodley, is well-acted. Amy gets pregnant her "first time," by the school's playboy, while at band-camp, no less. She hides her pregnancy from everyone and then finally admits it to her friends, but is too scared to tell her parents, including her mother played by 80s brat-pack teen-queen, Molly Ringwald.
Finally the news comes out, and spreads quickly. It's one of those small towns. But Amy has a boyfriend (not the child's father) who loves her and wants to marry her, never mind that they're like 15. Her friends are the school gossips. There's the goody-two shoes Christian girl Grace who is very naive, but has a good heart. Of course there's the "bad girl" Adrian who sleeps around, but is very smart, just has some self-esteem issues, probably because she never had a daddy to love her and her mom acts more like a best friend than a mother. Oh, gosh, it's predictable and ridiculous, and I'm hooked. It returned Monday night with all the main teenage characters getting fake I.D.'s so they could attend Amy's secret wedding to her boyfriend Ben. It was stupid and so far from reality, and I can't wait until next week! Monday nights before Heroes, you know what I'll be watching.
Another one of my guilty pleasure shows has been Rock of Love Charm School where the Bret Michaels rejects get lessons on becoming proper ladies from no other than Sharon Osbourne. The show had it's much buzzed about reunion on Sunday and it was every bit as delicious as I'd hoped. BitchyMcB***B*** Megan is noticeably drunk, says some not-so-nice words about Ozzy to Sharon and all heck breaks loose. Sharon pours a red liquid all over the scantily bikini-clad bimbo, and according to police reports and a hospital photo, also tore out part of the reality-whore's weave and scratched her up. Megan is hauled off stage by security and the Charm School girls gather round Sharon to thank her and applaud her. It was trashy reality show drama at it's best.
Scrubs came back on the air last night on its new network, ABC. It almost seemed like it was trying too hard, but it was still funny. Glad to see it back. Law & Order SVU returned from its brief break with a complex, twisting case of a kidnapped sex slave. Sweet.
Books
I also just finished reading 1984 by George Orwell. I think most people have already read this book, and since this blog is review-heavy already, so I'll just say I enjoyed it, and I could not put the book down once the capture took place.
I generally watch my movies at home via Netflix or on TV. My husband and I also enjoy date nights at the drive-ins, but it's not often we go out to an actual theater. This Christmas we got a handful of movie passes, so I'll get to see more movies on the big screen this year.
Bedtime Stories (on the big screen)
When I first saw a preview for Bedtime Stories while watching The Secret Life of Bees in the theater, I knew I would love this movie. I'm a huge Adam Sandler fan and the combination of one of my favorite actors in a movie where bedtime stories come to life and it rains gumballs, all done with Disney special effects, just seemed like a home run to me. Then, like I often do, I started reading the critic's reviews for the film. They weren't very good. I lowered my expectations for the film, but still knew I wanted to see it on the big screen. I was disappointed with Don't Mess with the Zohan and I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, so I was preparing myself, just in case.
The critics got it wrong with Bedtime Stories. Sure, the plot is tracing-paper thin, but who goes into an Adam Sandler flick expecting a great saga? I don't. Bedtime Stories is laugh-out-loud funny, and the kind of film kids and adults alike can enjoy. The basic premise is that Skeeter, played by Sandler, has been raised in the hotel business and knows everything there is to know about hotels. His problem is that he's a lowly maintenance man and his boss fails to see his potential until one day Skeeter gives the boss some helpful advice, and then Skeeter has a chance to manage a new hotel, but he must compete against the stuck-up, preppy boy who's dating the boss's daughter, a Paris Hilton type.
While Skeeter tries to come up with a great idea for a new hotel, he is stuck watching his niece and nephew while their mom, played by Courtney Cox, tries to find a new job because the school she works at is being shut down. To get the munchkids to bed early, Skeeter tells them bedtime stories, which start coming true. Skeeter tries to manipulate the stories to control the future, but of course, there's always a twist in the real-life version. Keri Russel plays a forgettable role as the kid's "aunt" and eventually, the predictable love interest of Sandler. Russell Brand plays Skeeter's best friend and he's as kooky and funny in this film as he is in Forgetting Sarah Marshall (just on a smaller scale). It's a Disney movie, so you can probably predict the happy ending.
What I liked about this film was that it's funny. It had the whole theater laughing and the special effects are Disney-great. The kids have been raised on wheatgrass and make "Save our School" signs for fun. Uncle Skeeter introduces them into all things junk food and TV with the help of Brand's character. It's very amusing. The two kids are pretty cute, too. The bug-eyed guinea pig aptly named "Bugsy" also adds laughs. There's a giant, gross booger monster and Skeeter loses the ability to talk coherent English. It's silly and childish, but it made me laugh and that's all I wanted from this film. With Bedtime Stories, Sandler proves he can make us laugh without being crass, even in a PG Disney Film.
Rendition (via Netflix at home)
Rendition is the story of an Egyptian-born chemist, Anwar El-Ibrahimi (Omar Metwally), who's on his way home to America, where he's lived since he was 17, but finds himself being flown to some anonymous country to be "interrogated" because he's suspected of being a terrorist who has aided in the making of more sophisticated suicide bombs. This is the practice known as rendition. The United States reserves the right to fly any suspected terrorist anywhere outside the U.S. to keep him or her for interrogation, sidestepping the American judicial process. No Miranda Rights, no lawyer, no phone call, but lots of torture.
Anwar is linked to the terrorist attacks because his cell phone received calls that may or may not have come from a known terrorist. Reese Witherspoon plays the man's wife and mother of his children who is desperately seeking answers as to what's happened to her husband. Jake Gyllenhaal is the straight-laced CIA guy overseeing the interrogation. It's his first torture because the man who was supposed to oversee it was killed by the suicide bomb that Anwar is suspected of helping make. Meryll Streep plays the head of U.S. Intelligence. She's safe in the United States, far away from the actual torture. All she cares about is American safety. She has no sympathy for Anwar or his desperate, and also very pregnant, wife.
This is a movie with a story within a story. The target of the bomb was the powerful Abisi, the man who's in charge of Anwar's torture. Abisi's daughter can't stand living with her family, so she runs away to live with her boyfriend, a militant Islamic, but the daughter doesn't know her boyfriend's militant side or what he plans to do...
The movie follows both stories simultaneously, and also very slowly. The movie can lose you if you're not dedicated to seeing it through to the end. The movie is a bit of a mess at first, but it starts to come together in the middle, and I felt the twist at the end and the conclusion made it worth my time. Rendition will leave you haunted, and it will give you something to talk about.
Television Viewing
I am ashamed to admit I was excited for the return of the horribly cheesy The Secret Life of the American Teenager. I know I should hate this show. It's by the same lady who did 7th Heaven, and it's very much in the same vein. It came on during the summer when nothing else was on, and since it was advertised non-stop, I watched the first episode. And then the next...and the next... Some of the acting is way over the top and very bad, but the main character, the pregnant Amy played by Shailene Woodley, is well-acted. Amy gets pregnant her "first time," by the school's playboy, while at band-camp, no less. She hides her pregnancy from everyone and then finally admits it to her friends, but is too scared to tell her parents, including her mother played by 80s brat-pack teen-queen, Molly Ringwald.
Finally the news comes out, and spreads quickly. It's one of those small towns. But Amy has a boyfriend (not the child's father) who loves her and wants to marry her, never mind that they're like 15. Her friends are the school gossips. There's the goody-two shoes Christian girl Grace who is very naive, but has a good heart. Of course there's the "bad girl" Adrian who sleeps around, but is very smart, just has some self-esteem issues, probably because she never had a daddy to love her and her mom acts more like a best friend than a mother. Oh, gosh, it's predictable and ridiculous, and I'm hooked. It returned Monday night with all the main teenage characters getting fake I.D.'s so they could attend Amy's secret wedding to her boyfriend Ben. It was stupid and so far from reality, and I can't wait until next week! Monday nights before Heroes, you know what I'll be watching.
Another one of my guilty pleasure shows has been Rock of Love Charm School where the Bret Michaels rejects get lessons on becoming proper ladies from no other than Sharon Osbourne. The show had it's much buzzed about reunion on Sunday and it was every bit as delicious as I'd hoped. BitchyMcB***B*** Megan is noticeably drunk, says some not-so-nice words about Ozzy to Sharon and all heck breaks loose. Sharon pours a red liquid all over the scantily bikini-clad bimbo, and according to police reports and a hospital photo, also tore out part of the reality-whore's weave and scratched her up. Megan is hauled off stage by security and the Charm School girls gather round Sharon to thank her and applaud her. It was trashy reality show drama at it's best.
Scrubs came back on the air last night on its new network, ABC. It almost seemed like it was trying too hard, but it was still funny. Glad to see it back. Law & Order SVU returned from its brief break with a complex, twisting case of a kidnapped sex slave. Sweet.
Books
I also just finished reading 1984 by George Orwell. I think most people have already read this book, and since this blog is review-heavy already, so I'll just say I enjoyed it, and I could not put the book down once the capture took place.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Marriage, Church and State
"Today in 1893 U.S. President Benjamin Harrison declared full amnesty for Mormon polygamists. Is it the government's place to define which marriages are valid and which are not?" ~ Livejournal.com Writer's Block Prompt
"The right to marry whoever one wishes is an elementary human right compared to which "the right to attend an integrated school, the right to sit where one pleases on a bus, the right to go into any hotel or recreation area or place of amusement, regardless of one's skin or color or race" are minor indeed. Even political rights, like the right to vote, and nearly all other rights enumerated in the Constitution, are secondary to the inalienable human rights to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" proclaimed in the Declaration of Independence; and to this category the right to home and marriage unquestionably belongs."
~Hannah Arendt [Dissent, Winter 1959]
For legal reasons, it is the government's place to define which marriages are valid and which are not. A marriage is a legal contract between two consenting adults. The legal contract affords rights that are specific to married couples. But for most, the meaning of marriage is far more than a piece of paper signed by the couple, their witnesses and the officiant. Marriage is about love, commitment, and for many people, religious faith.
I only care that the government recognize my marriage for the legal benefits. My husband and I file joint taxes. As his spouse, I am added to my husband's medical insurance. As his wife, I am the beneficiary of his life insurance. If we have a child, we begin with the same equal rights to that child. Just because I gave birth to the child, I do not have any more legal rights to the child than my husband does. He doesn't have to prove he's the father or separately adopt the child. The child is automatically "ours." If my husband is in the hospital, which he has been once since we've been married, all I have to do is say, "I'm his wife" and I can visit him. I'm not asked for proof that I'm his wife. The words, "I'm his wife" come with power. The words, "I'm his girlfriend" or "I'm his life partner" or "I'm his domestic partner" do not have the same authority. The legal contract of a marriage gives me power. It gives our relationship validity and special rights under the law.
As important as the legal rights a marriage affords to me are, that is not why I got married. I married my husband because not only do I love him and feel he has the qualities I seek in a partner, but because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him as his wife. I wanted to live by the teachings of our Christian faith that explain what a marriage should be.
I wanted to put God first in our marriage, always.
I don't believe a couple need get married in a church or by a religious leader for their marriage to have God at the center or to have a religious marriage. God would be just as important in my marriage if I had gotten married in the woods, by a former teacher, just as my best friend and her husband did. Still, I chose to get married in a church.
My husband and I had both always dreamed of getting married in a beautiful church, so we payed through the nose to get married in Pioneer Congregation Church, the very first Christian church built in Sacramento. I had a very religious ceremony. There were prayers, scripture readings and even a blessing.
I was able to get married in a church because I was having a traditional heterosexual wedding. Before we could marry at Pioneer, we had to complete pre-marital counseling, which we were happy to do. The pastor, Reverend Jim Truesdale, warned us from the beginning that if he did not feel we should be getting married, he would refund our money and we would not be married in his church. We were fine with that. We understood that to get married in a church, especially one that we did not attend, we had to follow the church's rules and protocol for a wedding ceremony.
If we were a homosexual couple, I believe the church would have had every right to deny us a wedding in their church. Knowing the "open and affirming" beliefs of the church, I don't think a homosexual couple would be turned away from this more liberal church, but all the same, I believe the church would have the right to do so. A church should have the right to turn away any couple, whether heterosexual or homosexual, if the church feels the couple is in conflict with church's beliefs.
That's why I think there should be two forms of marriage. I believe everyone who wants to be married should have to go through the legal process of signing a contract recognized by the government. I do not believe the government has any right to discriminate based upon sexual orientation. Two consenting homosexual adults should have the same rights under the law as two heterosexual adults.
I believe the religious ceremony and marriage should be separate from the legal marriage. Churches should be able to discriminate freely based upon the beliefs of their faith. The marriage document issued by the church should be separate from the legal document issues by the government. If a couple has a religious wedding ceremony, whether it's Christian, Jewish, or Muslim, isn't their God then the final authority over that couple's union? How can the government recognize that which belongs to religious faith?
Happy marriages
begin when we marry the ones we love,
and they blossom when we love the ones we marry.
~ Tom Mullen
"The right to marry whoever one wishes is an elementary human right compared to which "the right to attend an integrated school, the right to sit where one pleases on a bus, the right to go into any hotel or recreation area or place of amusement, regardless of one's skin or color or race" are minor indeed. Even political rights, like the right to vote, and nearly all other rights enumerated in the Constitution, are secondary to the inalienable human rights to "life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness" proclaimed in the Declaration of Independence; and to this category the right to home and marriage unquestionably belongs." ~Hannah Arendt [Dissent, Winter 1959]
For legal reasons, it is the government's place to define which marriages are valid and which are not. A marriage is a legal contract between two consenting adults. The legal contract affords rights that are specific to married couples. But for most, the meaning of marriage is far more than a piece of paper signed by the couple, their witnesses and the officiant. Marriage is about love, commitment, and for many people, religious faith.
I only care that the government recognize my marriage for the legal benefits. My husband and I file joint taxes. As his spouse, I am added to my husband's medical insurance. As his wife, I am the beneficiary of his life insurance. If we have a child, we begin with the same equal rights to that child. Just because I gave birth to the child, I do not have any more legal rights to the child than my husband does. He doesn't have to prove he's the father or separately adopt the child. The child is automatically "ours." If my husband is in the hospital, which he has been once since we've been married, all I have to do is say, "I'm his wife" and I can visit him. I'm not asked for proof that I'm his wife. The words, "I'm his wife" come with power. The words, "I'm his girlfriend" or "I'm his life partner" or "I'm his domestic partner" do not have the same authority. The legal contract of a marriage gives me power. It gives our relationship validity and special rights under the law.
As important as the legal rights a marriage affords to me are, that is not why I got married. I married my husband because not only do I love him and feel he has the qualities I seek in a partner, but because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him as his wife. I wanted to live by the teachings of our Christian faith that explain what a marriage should be.I wanted to put God first in our marriage, always.
I don't believe a couple need get married in a church or by a religious leader for their marriage to have God at the center or to have a religious marriage. God would be just as important in my marriage if I had gotten married in the woods, by a former teacher, just as my best friend and her husband did. Still, I chose to get married in a church.
My husband and I had both always dreamed of getting married in a beautiful church, so we payed through the nose to get married in Pioneer Congregation Church, the very first Christian church built in Sacramento. I had a very religious ceremony. There were prayers, scripture readings and even a blessing.
I was able to get married in a church because I was having a traditional heterosexual wedding. Before we could marry at Pioneer, we had to complete pre-marital counseling, which we were happy to do. The pastor, Reverend Jim Truesdale, warned us from the beginning that if he did not feel we should be getting married, he would refund our money and we would not be married in his church. We were fine with that. We understood that to get married in a church, especially one that we did not attend, we had to follow the church's rules and protocol for a wedding ceremony.If we were a homosexual couple, I believe the church would have had every right to deny us a wedding in their church. Knowing the "open and affirming" beliefs of the church, I don't think a homosexual couple would be turned away from this more liberal church, but all the same, I believe the church would have the right to do so. A church should have the right to turn away any couple, whether heterosexual or homosexual, if the church feels the couple is in conflict with church's beliefs.
That's why I think there should be two forms of marriage. I believe everyone who wants to be married should have to go through the legal process of signing a contract recognized by the government. I do not believe the government has any right to discriminate based upon sexual orientation. Two consenting homosexual adults should have the same rights under the law as two heterosexual adults.
I believe the religious ceremony and marriage should be separate from the legal marriage. Churches should be able to discriminate freely based upon the beliefs of their faith. The marriage document issued by the church should be separate from the legal document issues by the government. If a couple has a religious wedding ceremony, whether it's Christian, Jewish, or Muslim, isn't their God then the final authority over that couple's union? How can the government recognize that which belongs to religious faith?
Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.
~U.S. Constitution - Amendment 1
~U.S. Constitution - Amendment 1
Happy marriages
begin when we marry the ones we love,
and they blossom when we love the ones we marry.
~ Tom Mullen
For two people in a marriage to live together day after day is unquestionably the one miracle the Vatican has overlooked.
~Bill Cosby
*Photography by Avessa Studios
~Bill Cosby
Friday, January 2, 2009
Old Ironsides Rocks in the New Year
2008 sucked. When I think back on this long horrid year, I have almost nothing but bad memories. Personally, for yours truly, it was retched. Sure, I teared up with joy when Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert announced that Barack Obama had won the presidency, but still, I'd like to take 2008 out back and shoot it. Not a slow and painful death, but quick and easy. So long, goodbye, good riddance: I did not have the time of my life.
I was ready to ring in the new year of 2009 right: with a rock n' roll show to save my soul.
I really had no choice but to go to the The Knockoffs show at Old Ironsides. The Knockoffs are legendary here in Sacramento. They have playing together so long that they can't even break-up properly. After over a decade together, they "broke-up," only to "get-back-together" to play a reunion show, which turned into another reunion show and another one, so that it's pretty much a yearly thing now. I had to be present for the latest installment.
Originally, The Brodys were also headlining the show. The Brodys are a retro, pop-punk band that I have seen well over 30 times and they've rocked my socks off at each show. The Brodys cancelled, my heart sank, but I knew the show would still be the best way to ring in the new year.
The show was advertised to start at 9 p.m. In Old Ironsides-speak, that means 10 p.m. Bar shows have a way of starting about an hour after advertised. On the rare chance that the first band would begin before 10 p.m., my husband and I arrived around 9:45 p.m. When we saw the virutally empty parking lot, we knew we'd be waiting awhile before any music hit the stage.
Upon entering the venue, we were greated by Bobby Jordan and Tom H. of The Knockoffs and received Knockoffs buttons made by Sykotic Buttons.
We found a seat and waited, and waited, and waited. I began counting the number of girls that went into the two stall bathroom. Somewhere there's a rule that states females must go to the bathroom in pairs, if not in groups, at all times, whenever possible.
Finally the first band, Pets, took the stage. The band was actually a duo, Derek Fieth on guitar and vocals and Allison Jones also on guitar and vocals. I was skeptical of a band without a drummer so I stayed in my seat, not expecting much. Pets began with a no-holds-bar attitude singing, "Get butt naked and f***." It was kind of funny, and a little catchy, but I still wasn't sure about the duo. Then the petite Allison with the giant guitar began the opening lines to Joan Jett's "Cherry Bomb," and I couldn't help but sing along. (I've only been listening to Joan Jett and The Blackhearts greatest hits CD nonstop since I got it for Christmas).
Before I realized what I was doing, I was standing, bobbing my head along and really enjoying myself. Despite the fact that the band was using a drum machine, something which I normally loathe, Pets were rocking. Derek and Allison took turns on vocals and made the band seem much larger than just two people on stage with fuzzy guitars and a keyboard. A real-life drummer filled in for the last several songs, giving the band an even fuller sound. Pets play indie rock in the style of Le Tigre and Yeah Yeah Yeas that will make you want to dance, dance, dance.
The Knockoffs were slated for the middle spot, guarenteeing to ring in 2009 with some good old fashioned punk rock. The Knockoffs are unique in that Tom H. (guitar), Bobby Jordan (bass), and Danny Secretion (guitar) take turns on lead vocals, while Big Tom pounds the drums in back. The crowd had noticeably thickened by this time with long-time Knockoffs fans surrounding the stage, ready to sing along to every song. As always, the hard-hitting instrumental "Burner Barrel" opened the show, leading into "Rumble in the Housing Project." The band was in fine form and ready to say goodbye to 2008 with a kick in the balls.
A large drunk fellow with the most lovely tattoos on his face tried to act tough spouting nonsense about punk rock, GG Allin and gays (because that's so punk rock). The band just laughed at him and continued to play their blend of punk that is usually loud and fast when Tom H. is on the mic., can be poppy and melodic as with Bobby's "Never Fall in Love," and is sometimes just humorously sexual, like on Danny's "Baby, You Make Me Sit Funny."
Just before midnight the band added some estrogen to their testosterone-ridden rock with the addition of Jessi, the smokin' hot lead singer of the No-Goodniks, joining vocals for the Ramones' "Bonzo Goes to Bitburg." Then it was time to put 2009 to bed. With drinks and party poppers in hand, the crowd at 10th & S Streets counted down the new year together.
After the standard "Auld Lang Syne," The Knockoffs treated the crowd to two more favorites, "Wham Bam" and the wonderfully bitter "No Time:"
So when I said I loved you/Well that was just a lie/I've got no time for you/So if you believed me, then I apologize/I've got no time for you.
It was offically 2009 and I had officially sweated out all the bad vibes from 2008. Outside the club, fireworks could be heard ringing in the new year.
One might think the show would end there; it certainly should have, but Th' Losin Streaks had yet to take the stage.
Dressed in matching lounge-player suits, complete with bow ties, the four guys in Th' Losin Streaks were ready to conquer and destroy. They play garage rock that relies heavily on instrumentals, never takes a breath, and never misses a beat. It's the kind of music that will completely exhaust every fiber in your being, as if The Knockoffs hadn't already done that. It was overkill, for me.
After The Knockoffs, I was ready to go home or at least listen to something more melodic and poppy. I stayed because I paid for three bands, not two, but I was spent. The crowd thinned out during Th' Losin Streaks and by the end, most of the people left dancing were filled to the brim with alcohol, but that's a consequence of the band's position in the lineup, and not a reflection of the band itself. Th' Losin Streaks rock hard. Tim and Mike (vocals and guitars) interact with the crowd and play into the feedback of their amps while Stan (bass) dances all over the stage, and Mike (drums) is so intense he can barely be contained behind his set. The magic of Th' Losin Streaks is in their live performance; unfortantely, a bill with The Knockoffs and Th' Losin Streaks back-to-back is just too much unless you're the energizer bunny hopped up on speed.
I left Old Ironsides with my ears ringing, my feet aching, my body freezing, and my face smiling. I was rejuvinated. Welcome, 2009.
I was ready to ring in the new year of 2009 right: with a rock n' roll show to save my soul.
I really had no choice but to go to the The Knockoffs show at Old Ironsides. The Knockoffs are legendary here in Sacramento. They have playing together so long that they can't even break-up properly. After over a decade together, they "broke-up," only to "get-back-together" to play a reunion show, which turned into another reunion show and another one, so that it's pretty much a yearly thing now. I had to be present for the latest installment.
Originally, The Brodys were also headlining the show. The Brodys are a retro, pop-punk band that I have seen well over 30 times and they've rocked my socks off at each show. The Brodys cancelled, my heart sank, but I knew the show would still be the best way to ring in the new year.
The show was advertised to start at 9 p.m. In Old Ironsides-speak, that means 10 p.m. Bar shows have a way of starting about an hour after advertised. On the rare chance that the first band would begin before 10 p.m., my husband and I arrived around 9:45 p.m. When we saw the virutally empty parking lot, we knew we'd be waiting awhile before any music hit the stage.
Upon entering the venue, we were greated by Bobby Jordan and Tom H. of The Knockoffs and received Knockoffs buttons made by Sykotic Buttons.
We found a seat and waited, and waited, and waited. I began counting the number of girls that went into the two stall bathroom. Somewhere there's a rule that states females must go to the bathroom in pairs, if not in groups, at all times, whenever possible.
Finally the first band, Pets, took the stage. The band was actually a duo, Derek Fieth on guitar and vocals and Allison Jones also on guitar and vocals. I was skeptical of a band without a drummer so I stayed in my seat, not expecting much. Pets began with a no-holds-bar attitude singing, "Get butt naked and f***." It was kind of funny, and a little catchy, but I still wasn't sure about the duo. Then the petite Allison with the giant guitar began the opening lines to Joan Jett's "Cherry Bomb," and I couldn't help but sing along. (I've only been listening to Joan Jett and The Blackhearts greatest hits CD nonstop since I got it for Christmas).
Before I realized what I was doing, I was standing, bobbing my head along and really enjoying myself. Despite the fact that the band was using a drum machine, something which I normally loathe, Pets were rocking. Derek and Allison took turns on vocals and made the band seem much larger than just two people on stage with fuzzy guitars and a keyboard. A real-life drummer filled in for the last several songs, giving the band an even fuller sound. Pets play indie rock in the style of Le Tigre and Yeah Yeah Yeas that will make you want to dance, dance, dance.
The Knockoffs were slated for the middle spot, guarenteeing to ring in 2009 with some good old fashioned punk rock. The Knockoffs are unique in that Tom H. (guitar), Bobby Jordan (bass), and Danny Secretion (guitar) take turns on lead vocals, while Big Tom pounds the drums in back. The crowd had noticeably thickened by this time with long-time Knockoffs fans surrounding the stage, ready to sing along to every song. As always, the hard-hitting instrumental "Burner Barrel" opened the show, leading into "Rumble in the Housing Project." The band was in fine form and ready to say goodbye to 2008 with a kick in the balls.
A large drunk fellow with the most lovely tattoos on his face tried to act tough spouting nonsense about punk rock, GG Allin and gays (because that's so punk rock). The band just laughed at him and continued to play their blend of punk that is usually loud and fast when Tom H. is on the mic., can be poppy and melodic as with Bobby's "Never Fall in Love," and is sometimes just humorously sexual, like on Danny's "Baby, You Make Me Sit Funny."Just before midnight the band added some estrogen to their testosterone-ridden rock with the addition of Jessi, the smokin' hot lead singer of the No-Goodniks, joining vocals for the Ramones' "Bonzo Goes to Bitburg." Then it was time to put 2009 to bed. With drinks and party poppers in hand, the crowd at 10th & S Streets counted down the new year together.
After the standard "Auld Lang Syne," The Knockoffs treated the crowd to two more favorites, "Wham Bam" and the wonderfully bitter "No Time:"So when I said I loved you/Well that was just a lie/I've got no time for you/So if you believed me, then I apologize/I've got no time for you.
It was offically 2009 and I had officially sweated out all the bad vibes from 2008. Outside the club, fireworks could be heard ringing in the new year.
One might think the show would end there; it certainly should have, but Th' Losin Streaks had yet to take the stage.
Dressed in matching lounge-player suits, complete with bow ties, the four guys in Th' Losin Streaks were ready to conquer and destroy. They play garage rock that relies heavily on instrumentals, never takes a breath, and never misses a beat. It's the kind of music that will completely exhaust every fiber in your being, as if The Knockoffs hadn't already done that. It was overkill, for me.
After The Knockoffs, I was ready to go home or at least listen to something more melodic and poppy. I stayed because I paid for three bands, not two, but I was spent. The crowd thinned out during Th' Losin Streaks and by the end, most of the people left dancing were filled to the brim with alcohol, but that's a consequence of the band's position in the lineup, and not a reflection of the band itself. Th' Losin Streaks rock hard. Tim and Mike (vocals and guitars) interact with the crowd and play into the feedback of their amps while Stan (bass) dances all over the stage, and Mike (drums) is so intense he can barely be contained behind his set. The magic of Th' Losin Streaks is in their live performance; unfortantely, a bill with The Knockoffs and Th' Losin Streaks back-to-back is just too much unless you're the energizer bunny hopped up on speed.
I left Old Ironsides with my ears ringing, my feet aching, my body freezing, and my face smiling. I was rejuvinated. Welcome, 2009.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Every Resolution Road has its Beginning.
It was New Year's Eve at my favorite local music club. The rock n' roll music was flowing, the alcoholic drinks were pouring, and my busy mind was buzzing: I should write about this. Yes, I resolve to write, to blog; I resolve to join the 21st century and become a blogger.
I've always been a writer. I had my first story "published" in the Woodridge Elementary School library when I was in advanced kindergarten. It was a story about a poor Native American girl who discovered gold, became a princess and saved her struggling village. As I continued writing for school, I mostly stuck to the telling of true events and shied away from fiction.
I wrote stories about the adventures my friends and I had in our neighborhood, stories about my pets, sometimes I even wrote about the things that hit close to home like seeing my dad for the first time after he got of jail or dealing with my grandma's death. I liked keeping a record of my life.
I did write another fiction story for a writing contest my sophomore year in high school. This time the story dealt with the more somber issue of a depressed high school girl considering suicide. The story was quite a gamble for me, but it paid off. I won the contest and won a sum of money, too. I liked getting paid for my writing; I liked it a lot, but I still hadn't decided to become a writer.
Around this same time, I began writing show reviews (that is local concert reviews) for an online zine called LoCal MuSac run by enthusaistic high school students. I became more and more involved with LoCal MuSac and eventually became the editor of the zine, which amassed around 300 email subscribers. I loved it. I wrote show reviews, CD reviews, interviewed bands and made impassioned pleas for local music fans to support their scene.
Like all good things run by high school students who grow up to be busy college students, the zine eventually came to an end. My passion for writing did not.
My experience writing for the zine led to many opportunities for me, as well as a career path. I got (my then) dream job as a scout for my favorite major record label: Warner Bros. I worked for the Reprise Records division, the very same division my favorite band Green Day was on. I continued writing show reviews for a new local print publication called Ricochet Magazine. It was so cool to go to Dimple Records and pick up a copy of the magazine and see my name and my show review in it. Oh, did I mention? I also decided to major in journalism at Sacramento State University. As I found a new passion in politics, I adjusted my major to Government-Journalism so that I could have a background in political science if I chose to write about it.
Although I came to love the government department more than the journalism department at Sac State, I did well in both and received such honors as graduating Cum Laude with membership in the Phi Kappa Phi and Golden Key honour societies. Before I left Sac State, I also was published in Prosper Magazine, a Sacramento business magazine. My story was not your typical business story.
I have continued to freelance for magazines and in 2008, at 24 years of age, landed my first writing gig for a national magazine. I have always kept an online journal at livejournal.com. I write in it daily, sometimes several times a day, but it is just a way of record keeping. I mostly ramble and rant in it and it's nothing I would want open for public viewing.
So now, today, January 1st, 2009, I begin a new writing adventure: blogging.
What will this blog be? The truth is, I don't exactly know. It will be a bit of everything, and if I get stuck, I'm likely to use to use a writer's block prompt. Even if no one reads this, as long as I commit to writing on a regular basis with the intention that an audience might read it, I will achieve my goal. This is my resolution road.
I've always been a writer. I had my first story "published" in the Woodridge Elementary School library when I was in advanced kindergarten. It was a story about a poor Native American girl who discovered gold, became a princess and saved her struggling village. As I continued writing for school, I mostly stuck to the telling of true events and shied away from fiction.
I wrote stories about the adventures my friends and I had in our neighborhood, stories about my pets, sometimes I even wrote about the things that hit close to home like seeing my dad for the first time after he got of jail or dealing with my grandma's death. I liked keeping a record of my life.
I did write another fiction story for a writing contest my sophomore year in high school. This time the story dealt with the more somber issue of a depressed high school girl considering suicide. The story was quite a gamble for me, but it paid off. I won the contest and won a sum of money, too. I liked getting paid for my writing; I liked it a lot, but I still hadn't decided to become a writer.
Around this same time, I began writing show reviews (that is local concert reviews) for an online zine called LoCal MuSac run by enthusaistic high school students. I became more and more involved with LoCal MuSac and eventually became the editor of the zine, which amassed around 300 email subscribers. I loved it. I wrote show reviews, CD reviews, interviewed bands and made impassioned pleas for local music fans to support their scene.
Like all good things run by high school students who grow up to be busy college students, the zine eventually came to an end. My passion for writing did not.
My experience writing for the zine led to many opportunities for me, as well as a career path. I got (my then) dream job as a scout for my favorite major record label: Warner Bros. I worked for the Reprise Records division, the very same division my favorite band Green Day was on. I continued writing show reviews for a new local print publication called Ricochet Magazine. It was so cool to go to Dimple Records and pick up a copy of the magazine and see my name and my show review in it. Oh, did I mention? I also decided to major in journalism at Sacramento State University. As I found a new passion in politics, I adjusted my major to Government-Journalism so that I could have a background in political science if I chose to write about it.
Although I came to love the government department more than the journalism department at Sac State, I did well in both and received such honors as graduating Cum Laude with membership in the Phi Kappa Phi and Golden Key honour societies. Before I left Sac State, I also was published in Prosper Magazine, a Sacramento business magazine. My story was not your typical business story.
I have continued to freelance for magazines and in 2008, at 24 years of age, landed my first writing gig for a national magazine. I have always kept an online journal at livejournal.com. I write in it daily, sometimes several times a day, but it is just a way of record keeping. I mostly ramble and rant in it and it's nothing I would want open for public viewing.
So now, today, January 1st, 2009, I begin a new writing adventure: blogging.
What will this blog be? The truth is, I don't exactly know. It will be a bit of everything, and if I get stuck, I'm likely to use to use a writer's block prompt. Even if no one reads this, as long as I commit to writing on a regular basis with the intention that an audience might read it, I will achieve my goal. This is my resolution road.
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