Archive for June, 2010

Mirror Mirror…

Posted: June 24, 2010 in Rambles

My new favorite quote is something I read in The Word for You Today:

“…Some say success can ruin a man. I say [it] reveals who he was all along. Success doesn’t destroy character, it EXPOSES it.”

Don’t you just love those moments when you pass by the mirror and you see a perfect ten – guys, don’t act like you don’t check yourselves out.

You catch a glimpse of yourself and you pause, wanting to live in that one moment for as long as it will last.

You know…you tilt your head, suck in your cheeks, adjust your hair, flex your muscles, squint, taking in all that is you. And if you are like me, you hold that position for as long as you can. You try your best to remember the exact angle, degree and even breath so that you can recreate that exact image throughout the day.

And when your neck starts hurting and your face becomes numb, due to a frozen expression, you can’t help but relax and laugh at how absurd you must look trying to resemble a portrait.

I feel my best after working out.

There is just something about taking a long run, or pumping my muscles up, the sweat licking my body as it travels south, that makes me feel my absolute best. I stare at my drenched face in the mirror as I try to blow the pouring sweat back into place. It’s as if every salty, watery droplet is concealing everything flawed about me, as my chest pats me on the back with the irregular heaves.

Ignoring the soreness molesting my muscles, I can’t help but smile or even laugh at how extremely invincible I feel after working out. Things that weren’t there before have suddenly appeared and everything that I have aimed to correct is suddenly in place. And I actually enjoy the dirt and the funk.

Then my face dries up and the fantasy is lost.

Then there are those moments when I first wake up.

With drool creeping out of my mouth, my eyelids growing closer to shield the intrusive light, and pillow creases pressed into my face, I feel indestructible, alive. It is as if I have conquered a day and look towards another wondering what challenges or adventures await me.

Peering at myself through crusted over eyes, I can’t help but delight in my presence. I look a disheveled mess, but somehow, someway, I am glowing from head to toe – my breathe assaulting my nostrils. That is usually when I say, “Mirror, Mirror on the wall, will this day be the best of them all?”

So, I guess I feel the most successful when I am dirty, funky and lost in my own little world.

What does your mirror say?

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If I have said it once, I have said it more than once… “Instead of doing (fill in the blank), I would rather have a pap smear.” Valentine’s Day was no exception.

Valentine's Day...

Staring everyone and their little sister’s, baby daddy’s, cousin’s, uncle’s, nephew’s friend, Valentine’s Day follows a bunch of random celebrities, who are somehow intertwined within that whole six-degrees of separation deal.

Watching Jennifer Garner traipse through mistakes that all of us see in a friend but just can’t tell them, is gut wrenching. However, watching Patrick Dempsey get caught was pure genius. It’s the kind of revenge you only hope to come by – cutting up clothes is soo 20th century. He needs to be nut-checked.

Ashton Kutcher is the type of friend everyone one wants to have and every girl pretends she is looking for – we all know who they end up with. Don’t I know the story all too well.

George Lopez is the typical funny guy, Queen Latifah the stereotypical high-class tack sitter, Julia Roberts is an endearing soldier and the two machoest men in movies today just happen to be gay. Blah, blah blah, boring details. However, it’s the young and the old that get me.

When love is betrayed, I can’t help but only HOPE I can be as forgiving as Hector Elizondo to Shirley MacLaine. When Topher Grace discovers Anne Hathaway’s secret, I can only DREAM that someone can eventually overlook my idiosyncrasies like he did. When Carter Jenkins and Emma Roberts face a desperate point in their relationship, I can only WONDER if the person I end up with will wait for an eternity for all I have to offer before marriage. And when the annoying as all get out character that Taylor Swift plays – heck yeah, I got to say my own last name – collapses to the floor after receiving a goodbye kiss from Taylor Lautner, I can only WISH that a girl will feel the same for me, my image and touch lingering on hours afterwards.

And when the day is done, I can only IMAGINE what it will feel like to get that final text of confirmation.

So I wonder what will come first for me, Love or a Pap Smear.

With my legs crossed tight and my ratings giving this movie ONE THUMB UP MY (Touching) Your Nose, I hope I receive the former, without the screaming pain of what the latter (a pap smear) and a broken heart can leave.

When did it become so hard to make friends? Huh?

What happened to the days when you could be calling your peer a butthead one day, throw crayons at them, step on his coloring sheet; yet, the next day call him your best friend?

What happened to the days when the one who showed up to class with pink hair, a Mohawk or lime green jewelry was the talk of the town? Everyone in class circled them and asked a million questions and then went home and asked their parents if they could do the same. Nowadays that same person gets gawked at, talked about, made to feel bad about themselves simply because they don’t wear the latest name brands – yet then their trends are seen all over Hollywood short after.

And let’s not get started on that.

For instance, what happened to the days when you could step on someone’s shoe and simply say, “I’m sorry,” and the next thing you know you are both playing in a sandbox, shoes full of dirt? Nowadays the person throws a hissy fit, spouting off the name brand of the shoe – of which is not themselves – all while getting huffy and posing a fight under the assumption that you have “disrespected them.”

No, your simple behind disrespected yourself for buying a pair of $150+ shoes, which kiss the ground all day, with an expectation of them not getting dirty. Use that money and buy a vowel. Start with the letter “I”… you fill in the blank.

What happened to the days when having something in common with someone was an endless conversation? You could go on for hours and by the end of the day you have a friend for the rest of the school year. Now, it seems that people are so heavily into one-upping one another that simple commonality equals competition.

Sometimes I want to scream, “No, I wasn’t stating a bigger number because I was competing, I was only trying to show you how much I agree with you. Now I feel stupid because your mindset is stuck on competition. I am NOT competing. We are talking about eating M&M’s here (or something related which is equally absurd to be competing over)”

(But, then again, you have those people who do make simple stuff like that a competition. That is a whole other conversation entirely – i.e. number of friends on Facebook… 5,000LET’S BE HONEST! That’s called a FAN page)

Which brings me to wonder why is it that being nice to someone always means you are looking for something more or are expressing ULTERIOR interests/motives?

I have watched my nephew for the five years he has been teaching me. I have never met a kid so honest, polite, well-mannered and inquisitive as he. He tells stories of overlooking someone’s shortcoming simply because he would rather he be uncomfortable for a few minutes than have someone play alone. Furthermore, when he has to leave he designates another to fill his shoes.

It, even at this moment, brings a tear to my eye. (Yes, just one eye).

When I think of “No Child Left Behind” I think of him.

He doesn’t mind children bumping him and giving others ample turns is a simple concept to him. I grit my teeth and grimace as I restrain myself from tossing every other child aside so that he, my nephew, can enjoy himself the way I feel he should. And when he exits the playground, waiting to return home, he answers my questions by responding,

“Yeah, I had a good time.”

No double meaning implied.

And that is when guilt takes over.

When did I become so calloused? What happened to me?

As we grew up did those names start to stick to me, causing me to put up a wall? Did I become so subconscious about myself that I am constantly on the defense at the slightest visual abrasion someone inflicts on me? When did I forget how to harbor the forgiveness of a child and the comfort of knowing I have loving arms to always run to when I feel unsure of myself?

So is it sad that as I stare at this white page taking on black words that the only thing I can think of is, “When I grow up I want to be as forgiving and carefree as my five year old nephew and as fearless as my two year old nephew?”

I guess when I truly grow up I want have the maturity of a TRUE adult, but the heart of a child!

And I hope my nephews can retain theirs.

Don’t you just hate when you are geared up for a movie. You, going along with the theatre cliché, get your popcorn ready, crack open a soda and cozy up ready to take in some cinematic pleasure. Then, suddenly you find yourself playing with cournels and finding that even chewing on them is more exciting than the unbelievable characters on the screen.

Well, Fear No More! I am here to bring you a TYN (Touch Your Nose)  Approved Movie: Extraordinary Measures!

Extraordinary Measures

Based on a true story and the book The Cure by Geeta Anand, Brendan Fraser, Harrison Ford & Felicity – I may never stop calling her that, Felicity…Felicity… Felicity – also known as Keri Russell, star in a movie in which two of their (Keri and Brendan) children are born with a fatal disease known as Pompe nope, I have never heard of it either, Tay-Sachs yeah (a story for another time), but not Pompe. My knee reaction to the word had me thinking of Palm Trees.

Brendan Fraser (John Crowley) a top-notch executive can’t stand to watch both of his children die – as the disease progresses it enlarges the internal organs and will eventually lead to death. He charts a plane to another part of the U.S., completely spontaneous, and basically bribes a doctor (Harrison Ford) into furthering his theories on controlling the affects of Pompe on humans.

The big issues are that the doctor, Harrison Ford (Dr. Robert Stonehill), hasn’t actually put his theories into practical practices, the university he is at is slacking on the funding, and above all his personality straight sucks. I mean his people skills are as painful as trying to have a make-out session with a cactus. However, Brendan Fraser does not take no for an answer.

Through jeopardizing his career, medical coverage for his kids and ultimately his life, a little betrayal is added to the mix as well, Brendan Fraser does whatever he can to extend his time with his kids.

Here comes a spoiler.

I CRIED! Yes, the tears were coming down my face. Not alligator tears. Slow, driplets, the sentimental kind.

All I could think of was watching my kids, faces bright and shining, slowly marching towards death and feeling completely helpless. And then, when I realized what type of person I was, I dried my eyes knowing I would do everything and more to extend their lives by even one minute if I got the chance – yes, I’d kiss a cactus.

This picture gets a big TWO THUMBS UP (Touching) Your Nose!

Enjoy!

what do I fear…

Posted: June 4, 2010 in Rambles

Monsters! No not monsters. Your parents assure you when you are little that monsters do not exist. However, as you insist that you heard things go bump in the night, more than once – depending on whose room is next to yours – there are simple remedies to the monster ordeal.

–          Turning the light on

–          Spinning around in circles repeating “scat, bats, and take that.”

–          Sneaking into your parents room

–          Sleeping with a bat, poison, or what have you underneath your pillow

Nevertheless, your parents still forget to tell you that monsters do in fact exist; they just don’t seem to come around until you get a bank account and/or credit to your name. Then they take on acronym’s that sweep across the nations throwing people into panics forcing them to keep records of instances they wish to be long forgotten. The best ways to avoid these monsters are turn off all the lights, park your car in the garage and avoid your mailbox and phone like the plague – if at all possible.

What do I fear…

Jury Duty! No not jury duty. I await the summons that tells me that I have been chosen to spew forth my opinion on matters that neither concern me, nor am I an expert on. Sitting on a podium, pretending to be interested in individuals make claims to events that are over-exaggerated or completely taken out of context is better than reality television. Wait! It is reality television.

I long to be the juryman that is hated for creating the “hungness” in the room, simply because I am not convinced enough to go against my moral judgments. As far I am concerned they better enjoy the day off, take the $20 dollars a day they are paid and get happy on a Happy Meal.

What do I fear…

Being Left at the Altar! No not being left at the altar. Hey, it’s better to be left there, than twenty years later or so when you find your wife in bed with your best friend. As you stare in disbelief, you loathe hearing the words, “I knew I shouldn’t have married you in the first place.” This is all coupled by the excuses of:

–          You don’t always flush after you pee

–          I didn’t know N-Day did not stand for Necklace-Day

–          You grit your teeth

–          Throwing flour on the kitchen floor does not make it an ice skating ring

–          You have a gap

Granted, these are all things you did/had before you got married and suddenly they have become a problem. Besides, isn’t the wedding all about the reception? So grab your guest, head to the dance floor and gets your money’s worth.

What do I fear…

REJECTION! No not rejection. I reject your rejection!

What do I fear…

I fear mediocrity, normalcy, a lack of drive, dead inspiration, beige. Yes, I fear BEIGE!

I don’t want to be Beige!