Heather's High School

Goddamn. Winona Ryder is fucking skinny.

I'm watching Heathers now and remembering high school. Not the nightmare it could have been but it was like a prison. I was never close to being popular with the people that went to that school. I though maybe that if I had had more friends I would have been happier. Then I wouldn't want to still hurt all those little fucks who pulled out my hair or spit at me. I wouldn't have the idea that friends are just there to kick me in the head and run off. Or for me to run off first. I wish I knew what I know now.
I'd have ignored all those people and focused on myself. Taken myself out to movies and worked more and read more and slept in and learned to paint and sing. I would have kept dancing. I would have written more. I definitely would have ditched more class to have a little fun. (Cause in the end, it really didn't matter if I was sitting silently, doodling in my notebook in English class or not.)

I wouldn't have dated the same boy all through high school. I would have met a tall boy with glasses who would swim and run and make me laugh. He would make breakfast for dinner and he would never stop asking questions and talking about silly things. We would dance in Times Square and travel...straight to the Taj Mahal, down to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and then up the Tokyo Tower. How...very.

Where do I come up with all this bull shit? Whatever. Time to get going or get left behind. Whatever, indeed.

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.

Parallel Life

The new year comes and in some mirrored universe, 70 years ago, I know I am feeling hopeless.

I've been following the 70th anniversary of the 2nd world since 2009, when the war started. I started the war Sept 1, 2009. The fall of Paris. The "Jewish Solution" begins. The battle of Stalingrad and the uncountable dead.  Battle of the Bulge.

And now it's all coming to an end. There seems to be a light at the end of this tunnel. The Germans have started to retreat. Weeks from now, they start to evacuate/liquidate the concentration camps and move back towards Berlin. In mere months, Hitler will paint the bunker with his brains and that will be the final threads of fight left in the Germans. Old men and boys will try to hold the city with abandoned tanks and guns. The Russians will hoist their flag over the Reichstag dome and America will turn it's weary eyes to the Pacific theater and Japan. Roosevelt will make a decision. By August, it will all be over. For some more than others.  

But no one knows these things yet. I just listen to radio and sing in the new year. Our men are still gone, people still die and Hitler lives.

I wonder how I feel on this fresh, clear morning. I imagine I look up at the frozen sky, trying to remember what I know now.

Hail to the Lost Boys

Hail to the Lost Boys

To the young men that have gone before

To the endless nights that blur into day

Pool halls and cigarettes

Sex drugs and best friends

low pay and first loves

Cars, girls, and credit cards

One night too long

One drive that never ended

Never to come home

And forever headed for the next adventure

Flying out there, hand in hand 

Second Star to the right and straight on til morning

My life in movies

I was a scared child.

I was shy and terrified of all things outside my own little world. People were mean, unpredictable and  had little interest in me. So I spent my days in books, make-believe and most of all, movies.

I found appreciation for classical music through Amadaus, Moonstuck and Shine. Sara Connor showed me I could be stronger than any man, physically or otherwise.

I was always a good kid who followed the rules so Ferris Bueller gave me everything I ever wanted in the day off that I never took. The possibility of the perfect day were there in Groundhogs Day (after 34 attempts that is...)

I could have grand adventures even though I often found myself too scared to leave my house. Frodo and Sam took me to the farthest reaches of Middle Earth. The Millennium Falcon took me even farther.

I've fallen in love so many times. John Cusak in Say Anything and again in Grosse Pointe Blank. Indiana Jones. Han Solo. Humphrey Bogart

Or when love proved impossible, I would watch Amelie and know that I could have the courage to make love possible.  It's a Wonderful Life proved to me that every life matters, no matter how small or desperate. City Lights makes me feel that someone might someday see beneath me and view me for who I really am.

I'm not so sure that's true in life anymore.

I grasp at this little wisps of celluloid but can't find a good hand hold. I'm losing a hope that I always used to have. Perhaps I'm just getting old and this is just the natural progression of things.

But I have this nagging fog hanging over me, whispering that love is dead.

And I can't seem to shake it.

Instant, Loud and So Many Things

We are living in an amazing time.

Every bit of information that ever existed can be found or bought with the touch of our fingertips from almost anywhere in the world. I've had flowers to be sent to my mother while standing in a praire in Kansas. I've bought my favorite gummies (only sold in parts of Greece and Turkey) from my living room. I've been at a temple in Kyoto and sent an urgent file to my boss on the other side of the world with my phone. My phone has a power like no other. I can contact anyone. I can ship anything to anywhere. It allows me to travel anywhere and still get work done. Hell, I'm over the Atlantic as I write this.

It's not a perfect object though. It allows us to forgot more easily. (Forgot who that guy in that one movie is? Don't use your brain! Just google it!) It distracts us. (Damn you, Plants Vs Zombies.)  And it interrupts. Like when you're on vacation, in a beautiful Japanese temple, quietly meditating on life when your boss calls in a panic, looking for that one file he needs.

So why am I blathering on about all this stuff that you already know? Because I'm on my second flight of the 36 hour long day and someone has deemed it necessary that I listen to Rihanna.

If your phone makes any noise (ANY NOISE) then you are interrupting someone. You are being rude. It's equivalent to you randomly singing at the top of your lungs. And when I'm just trying to order food or read on the subway or use a public bathroom, it's un-nerving. But honestly, if you pick it up, excuse yourself and leave the area, we will forgive you. It's a phone call. We all get them. It's fine. 

But why, IN THE NAME OF BATMAN, must you watch a YouTube video, listen to music, put your personal call on speaker? I don't like your music. I don't want to know about your mom's hysterectomy. And if you watch a funny cat video on full sound, I will come over and watch over your shoulder. I assumed that is what you wanted since you are sharing that kicky cat music with the rest of the people in this library while I was pretending not to peruse the bodice-ripping romance novels. 

We are all crammed in this together, whether it be the city, an office or in this shiny metal bird. Let's try to remember that we are all inherently selfish assholes then correct that behavior. 

At least until we land.