band name

If I formed a band I'd name us "32nd annual chili cook off." That way confused people would walk in with crock pots of chili when I played a show. They could get blue ribbons. My fans could smirk when the chili arrived. Then they would judge the confused people's chili. Then I would jam out.

Everyone wins!!

Let's fish!

There are two "fish theories" that come to mind with all of the stress in my life. Before this blog entry continues, I do realize that many people have lives that are extraordinarily worse in the stress department. I have had struggles. We all have. However, I have to give myself credit for learning coping strategies that are (somewhat) effective. Sometimes.

I have been practicing fish theory number two. It has resulted in more sleep, less stress, less running around, and less guilt. I like it.

The first fish theory: "done with fish."

This is based off of the orchid collector from the movie Adaptation.* John Laroche used to collect fish. In the film he says:

"Look, I'll tell you a story, all right? I once feel deeply, you know, profoundly in love with tropical fish. Had 60 god$#@% fish tanks in my house. I skin dived to find just the right ones. Anisotremus virginicus, Holdacanthus ciliaris, Chaetodon capistratus. You name it. Then one day I say, "%&*k fish". I renounce fish. I vow never to set foot in that ocean again. That's how much "%&$k fish."

When asked why he responds "done with fish." This way of thinking means you just move on entirely. You don't look back. You're done. I don't recommend this response to stress. I don't recommend this response for much, other than toxic people who make you habitually unhappy. And sharks. I'm done with sharks and I've never even met one.

The second fish theory: "cubism."

Cubism occurs when we can let go of all the unnecessary stresses from work, home, friends and family. This is the omission of obligations, unwarranted guilt, and insecurities. You don't hesitate to tell the truth. You live life the way you want to. Pretty perf, eh?

To those who love to follow tips written by people on blogger: observing cubism doesn't mean you get excessive and forget to pay bills, take showers, or follow traffic laws. It just means you concentrate on the important things that make you happy. You omit unnecessary stress. You smile.

*I did not come up with "done with fish.

maybe I'll give myself merit badges for these....

I have been feeling unsettled lately. I think this is because I am in a state where a lot of my future isn't (exactly) in my hands. It isn't very fun, to be honest. That said, I am able to control some other things. So let's concentrate on those before I permanently turn into a crab cake:

Working out: Looking at some older photos, it is clear that I am ultimately successful (see below).

That said, I have lost my desire to work out. I have had 3 dreams involving yoga in the past week. I think that is a sign. I say the phrase "I need to get back to my practice" as often as women say "I need to join a gym." So do it already, ber!

Cooking: I keep buying food from restaurants. I had a small stint where I was making my own salad dressings and everything. I need to get back to that. I am also going to spend less at restaurants so I can spend that $ to take a cooking class every once in a while.

Yoga: Let's give this a category. Let's make this happen.

Travel: I need to step this up. Even weekend trips.

I think I used to travel more. I used to make purchases like my kitchen-aid mixer without a second thought. I even took a pottery class at Pewabic pottery. I want to enjoy the categories above, but make sure that these are peppered in over time. I think moderation is a word that is over-used. But, as Joel McHale said on Community, sometimes truths are heard so much because things are just that simple. (I am paraphrasing, but you get the idea)

Champ has skills, but they all suck.

Since saving Champ from doom in the fall of 2008, he has become quite acclaimated to the AK lounge. He has learned a bunch of cool things to do, none of which benefit me.

He can play "the sixth sense." this is when you walk into the kitchen and all of the cupboards are open. Observe:

He can also open all of my hall closets. He sticks his paw under the door and pulls it toward him. Champ can tell where the weakest point is and open it almost effortlessly.

He can steal money out of my purse. Champ loves money. It is crinkly. He also has a father figure who loves money. I think that Champ wants to be like him a little bit. The main difference I can't seem to articulate to Champ is that my man earns his own money. Champ doesn't even do chores and he feels entitled to mine. He sticks his paws in my purse to look for dollars that are sticking out of my purse. Then he puts them in his mouth and runs down the hall to hide them. Ridiculous.

Champ hasn't figured out how to iron, do dishes, or swiffer. I feel like this "skill set" he's picking up makes things both amusing and annoying. Here are a few more "skills" he's picked up:

Lamp climbing:

Drawer filling:

Table smashing:

Award show recap

James Cameron is the worst. I will never see Ferngully 4.0 3D. The whole "I have to pee" speech made him reach a new level of ungrateful (who knew he could top "I'm the king of the world?"). He also looks like a bad guy from a syfi movie. Or a whig. He looked like a combo of the following people:

Drake Malfoy

Guy from Project Runway

Also, I am pretty sure he was speaking in a dialect he made up for the film. If that is the case, he's even more rediculous.

P.S- Brendan Frasier gave the Hangover's win a standing O. Really?

Funeral homes aren't fun.

Even Veda Sultenfuss couldn't make me like them.

The problem with funeral homes is that I selfishly end up thinking of me. I think of my dad. I now think of Grandma Dolly. But mostly I think of my dad. The hurt, loss, and confusion of dad's death make me empathize with the living I go to console.

Flowers are nice, but they don't matter. The people who care about you and send kind words, hugs, or laughs are the real medicine. I have such an amazing network of friends and family. They have made the loss of my father, and recent loss of my Grandma, much easier.

Even so- my dad and grandma are gone, as is every person who ends up lying in a box in the front of a room of strangers, family, and friends. While my dad and grandma have lived on in stories, these stories are told with a different voice and a different point of view. I would love to listen to my grandma talk about the crazy people she lived near. Better yet, I'd like to listen to her brag about the deals she landed at Penny's. I'd like to her my dad's advice. I'd like to hear his voice. I've done so many things I'm proud of since he passed. People's assuring phrase "your father would be proud" doesn't quite cut it.

But they're right. He would be. Or is, depending on your views of what happen when people die. My dad was mad when I called off work to go to the hospital. He made me go take a midterm when he received his stem cell transplant. He wouldn't want me to get sad when people eat eggs sunny side up or when I blow out my birthday candles.

It is reasons like this rant that make going to funeral homes a no-brainer People need friends and family to lean on, tell jokes, and say their loved ones would be proud of them. It doesn't make things right. It does, however, make them easier.

I can't pronounce Synecdoche, nor can I stomach it.

I haven't written a blog entry since MJ died. I wasn't compelled to say much, I suppose. That changed last weekend:

I woke up filled with disappointment last Friday. There was a good chance of a “snow day,” which I was really stoked about. Sadly, I was awoken by the sound of my alarm, as opposed to a “no school” phone call. Thanks, salt truck guys. My bad mood became increasingly more intense when I read my email. My friend Ryan sent me a link to Roger Ebert’s favorite films of the decade. Ebert picked a film I didn’t like at all to top the list: Synecdoche, New York.

I immediately began writing this blog in my head. I’ve disagreed with his reviews on several films recently. I suppose we all have. Even so, some reviews seemed completely off to me. Two that immediately came to mind were 2012 (3 1/2 stars) and The Hangover (3 1/2 stars). I started to research more odd reviews for my blog when I saw his most recent journal entry, Nil by Mouth. In it, he discussed how his succession of surgeries have left him unable to speak, eat or drink. When a reader asked if he missed eating or drinking, he claimed that he didn’t really miss it anymore. He went on to talk about how certain places and foods evoked memories from his past. It was a really touching entry. The moment that changed the intent of my blog entry was in response to a possible fourth surgery. Ebert claimed “A fourth surgery has been proposed, but I flatly reject the idea. To paraphrase a line from "Adaptation's" orchid collector: "Done with surgery.” That was when the fog cleared. Like all my friends, Roger has different opinions on films. He likes some movies that I don’t like at all. But other films, like Adaptation, resonate with us both. That said, I have written a more respectful retort to Ebert’s favorite film of the decade:

The combination of Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Charlie Kaufman, and Catherine Keener should have knocked it out of the park. I felt completely foolish when I discovered this dream team had made Synecdoche, New York together, and it was already on video. This film seemed completely in my wheelhouse. When my first viewing was over, I couldn’t really believe it. I found Phil to be annoying. I wanted to punch him in the face within the first twenty minutes. To be honest, I didn’t really like any of the characters. And as much as I love Dianne Weist, my response to her role quickly became an audible “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” I was completely exhausted by how long it took the story to unfold. I didn’t feel satisfied by the end (see Diane Weist reaction above). Unlike Kaufman’s other stories, this one wasn’t fun to watch or touching in any way.

Ebert claimed “those who felt the film was disorganized or incoherent might benefit from seeing it again.” I tried Roger, I swear. I watched it three times in two days!!! I didn’t WANT to not like it. I was almost forcing myself to find something likable about the film. I even forced my friend Ryan to watch it on viewing # 3 to see if he saw something in the film I didn’t. No dice. In Ebert’s journal entry titled “O Synecdoche, my Synecdoche!” he offered a suggestion to answer the question “why is the house on fire?” I’d rather he answered my simple question: “why can’t I see what you do?” As much research as I did, Ebert can’t seem to answer that.

Synecdoche doesn’t have any moments that make it a “best” film. There’s no choir of senior citizens singing to a prison after they just lost a friend like the scene in Young at Heart. There’s no final conversation between a father and son like in Big Fish. Phil’s character has nothing on the tight rope walker from the film Man on Wire. This film lacked a key scene or moment that makes films stick with me. But it stuck with Ebert.

I have friends who like the Hangover. I have friends who don’t like Adaptation. I have friends who, for whatever reason, only watched Ghostbusters when I forced them to. It is clear that the world is made up of zillions of people with varied taste. I appreciate this, as it gets me my Simon Pegg films from Netflix even faster. I don’t think Ebert should dislike Synecdoche, New York. I just think there are countless films that should’ve surpassed it for the top spot.

Verdict: agree to disagree