Putting Realities in the Back Seat

I'm working on a new story. I'm two chapters in and it's in that tender chrysalis stage, where it could blossom into something beautiful, or it could erupt into a cloud of fairy glitter. That's what chrysalises do, right? Something like that.

I've found that the best way to sidestep glitter eruptions is to write from a place of possibilities - which generally means having to get Little Kid Kelly involved in the process. This isn't to say that I don't still believe in all sorts of possibilities, but the whole being an adult process can sometimes get me a bit distracted by realities.

This doesn't work for me when I'm writing. Keeping track of word counts and making goals for the same is helpful, but if I'm writing to that goal rather than to the story, I never get as much done. Basically, I need to get my grown up mind to take the back seat - letting the little kid mind run rampant through this new world discovering whatever she can.

Sometimes, this requires a push. And for this, I generally turn to childhood favorites - books, TV, or movies. Those fictional worlds that first made my developing brain explode in wonder. It doesn't matter if these things are no longer my favorite in their category, what's important is the reminder of feeling like absolutely anything is possible.

Here are some of my go-tos when I need reentry into the world of Possibilities:

This series was a staple of my childhood - the books that I was most likely to smuggle under my coat so I could sneak off and get some reading in at roller skating parties. And the books that left me with a never-to-be-fully-extinguished (but-thankfully-so-far-resisted) urge to wander through deserted construction sites in the hopes of meeting a kindly alien looking to gift me with powers.

Nothing gets my brain working like a dance party, and no song gets me back in my younger mind set like this one. This may or may not be because my sister, friends and I learned the dance to this...I can neither confirm nor deny. One thing I can say without reservation - I wish I could rock a turtle neck like these ladies.

There are very few rough scenes that can't be figured out over a pile of Legos. Something about working with your hands while your mind wanders...it gets the job done. Particularly, if what your hands are working on is building a Lego Hogwarts.

Chewandswallow remains one of my ideal vacation spots.

via GIPHY

My childhood was a revolving door of the original movies and extended universe books. I don't know that there will ever be another fictional world that so opens my mind to the beauty of never-ending possibilities.


So, what inspires you when you need to get creative?

True Love Never Dies...Or Something About The Force Being With Me

When I was a kid, my ideal day would have been pitching a blanket fort in front of the TV, watching a nonstop movie marathon and dumping my giant bin of Legos on the floor and building to my heart's content.

To be honest, that would still be a pretty ideal day for Adult-Kelly. The only difference is, I'd probably do all of this in jeans and t-shirt. Back in the day, I was a little bit fancier - or at least had more time to do movie-binge-preparations. So, rather than going with a run of the mill outfit, I would dress up in the manner of the characters I was watching.

It didn't matter what genre of movie. I dressed up like Zorro. I dressed up like a Mighty Duck. I dressed up like Eliza Doolittle.

There's a reason I work at a theater and spend my free time creating fictional words and people.

But while all of my beloved childhood films still hold a special place in my heart, there has never been any that has rivaled my affection for the original Star Wars trilogy. My parents took me to see the re-release in 1997. I was eleven years old and within minutes of the credits I had given my heart over completely.

I went home, searched through dozens of VHS tapes until I found ones on which my family had recorded the movies when they'd been on TV. I couldn't wait for Empire and Jedi on the big screen - though I would of course see them there - I had to watch them immediately. Even if it meant spending hours fast forwarding tapes until I could find them.

I read every Extended Universe novel I could get my hands on. My parents started assuming that any time I said their name it was going to end in a request to be taken to the closest book store or Blockbuster. I skipped school when Episode I came out a couple years later.

Over time there were things in books and/or films that took the story in directions that I wasn't a huge fan of, but not even that could shake my love for these stories.

Today the trailer for the newest installment has been released and I can already feel myself getting lost in the wonderful quicksand of repeat viewings.

Now, I can't say from this teaser what this movie will bring. If it will be everything that I want it to be. But I do know that when I watch it, I feel like that little girl who watched Empire on loop for a full sunny August day, despite her father's requests that she at least take a fifteen minute break for some fresh air. Whose mother came home after work to find her standing in the living dressed in her best Leia on Hoth costume, because that was the natural choice when watching Empire. Who thought it was necessary to memorize the serial number on the Millennium Falcon's main engine block....you know, because. Who felt like everything was magic when she heard the first few chords of the well-known score. Who decided a notebook like this was necessary.

The little girl who dreamt of being a princess who kicked ass.

And that just gives me one more reason to be excited about next Christmas.

My mother was surprised to come home
to this, but not so surprised she didn't
grab a camera. 

And maybe to practice my hair braiding....just in case.

Snowed In

Greetings Snow Lads and Lassies!

I don't know if you're snowed in right now, but I can safely say there's enough snow outside to inspire me to hunker down next to the fireplace and do a little drafting. Not to mention I'm wearing fleeced lined leggings (which is basically like being hugged by angels) and have enough Dr. Pepper in the house to float a boat. Why in the world would I give any of that up to venture out into the tundra?

You know, unless someone wanted to have a snowball fight. Then I'm there. And armed. I mean, I have terrible aim, so I'm probably not going to hit you. But I'm extremely enthusiastic in my throwing of misshapen wads of snow in every direction, which is confusing enough that you're probably not going to hit me.

Any takers?

No?

Fire, fleece and Dr. Pepper it is. Along with some writing and frequent checking of today's PitchWars updates. (If you have some free moments, you should definitely check that out as well. Some really amazing stuff going on there. And in the alternate showcases. I'm over here!)

Also, at some point in between all this and my constant humming of the Frozen soundtrack there will be a movie break. After all, every day should have one of those, but snow days must.

In that vein, I offer my five of my top movies for snowy days:


Anastasia

I'm a sucker for cartoon musicals. And who doesn't like to pretend to be trekking through the Russian winter to see if you might be royalty? Or maybe just to hang out with Bartok?


The Shop Around the Corner

A precursor to You've Got Mail. Jimmy Stewart, Margaret Sullavan and a Budapest winter. Apparently the snow sends my mind on international wanderings. (And yes, that is the Wonderful Wizard of Oz.)


The Mighty Ducks

Been watching this one on snowy days for over two decades now. Can't watch this first meeting without feeling a bit nostalgic for blanket tents and buckets of Legos.


Empire Strikes Back

Because I pretty much always want to watch this. Plus, if I'm inside watching this, it means I'm not freezing outside and in need of slicing open a tauntaun. Watching this movies saves (tauntaun) lives.


The Long Hot Summer

Because sometimes I like a nice contrast.


How about you? Snowed in and watching anything good? And if you say last night's Mindy Project for the second (or maybe third) time, I'll totally understand. We have to wait until April? What the what??

Movie Madness

Happy Day After Giving Thanks! Hope you all had a phenomenal holiday and are now safely ensconced somewhere far away from crowded stores. Unless that’s something that you look forward, then I wish you all the greatest deals.

In case you are in any way the same type of crazy as me and have been counting the days until you can appropriately watch holiday themed movies without venturing into that scary “Christmas in July” territory, I’d like to present you with this year’s super nerdy – and borderline frightening – December movie schedule.

Hope you enjoy! But, really, mostly hope that you’ll forgive this display of mild insanity. After all, I did dedicate an evening just to movies staring members of the Saved By the Bell cast. That’s got to count for something, right?

For The Benefit of Future Generations

So, I've been going through some things from my childhood. Cleaning out the old homestead. Because, there comes a time in every lady's life where she has to decide if she really needs to hold on to those root beer bottle caps from '96. Not that I'm not sure the beverages in question were delicious.  I mean, seriously, it's root beer. What could go wrong? But is it necessary for me to commemorate my drinking it? That's the question.

And the answer is, probably not....but maybe....hold strong, Johnson, hold strong....No. The answer is no. I don't need that. 

Of course, there have been a few gems that will be truly hard to part with. For instance, this notebook from the late '90s:

I know what you're thinking, Of course, you can't throw out such a bitchin' ice cream cone notebook! And you're not wrong, but this little pad is so much more than that. It is a detailed, if poorly spelled, record of information vital to the survival of human culture.

 

Simple and to the point. Perfect for passing

information along to future generations. 

 Hopefully those future generations won't be so 

dependent on spell-check that this mistake

makes the record indecipherable.

"Scruffy looking nerf herder" would have also

been acceptable. 

 

 I believe the descriptor here was meant to be 

"Crafty." Unless "Crafy" is Bespin slang.

Listing a Wookie's age seems more likely to

make him angry than the whole beating

him at chess thing.

Cibor, huh? It's just....so....close.

 He's a simpler fellow than that C-3PO guy.

 Wow, Past Kelly, a "Spoiler Alert" would have

been nice. 

Both objectivity and spelling took a bit of 

a hit here. 

 It just seems like there may be more dashes

here than absolutely necessary.

Just for clarification purposes, Yoda's species 

has always been listed as "unknown." 

Don't know what this "Green Dwarf"

business is about.

Apparently the rage over these "jerks" manifests

in the devolution of spelling.

Nope, sorry. Scratch that last observation. Friend

or foe, spelling is clearly not a priority.

With the wisdom that comes with age, I can now

admit that perhaps Mr. Fett's story was a bit

less black and white than I originally thought.

As such, "jerk" might be a little bit strong. 

That this descriptor was thought to be necessary

seems a bit speciesist. Just saying. 

 If you're wondering when Wedge got this mispelled

promotion (which you're not), Past Kelly was

just giving you a little taste of what the

extended universe has to offer.

Hence the inclusion of this one character who 

appears only in the books.

 The final proof that these insane ramblings were

not ultimately meant for me, but rather for some 

studier of maniacal tendencies. Unless I thought

there was a chance I might forget I was indeed

female. Because the whole Star Wars thing

was clearly going to stick. 

It just seemed wrong not to share these with you all. Where exactly would the justice be if you were not all informed of the kind of person you're cyber-hanging out with?

Also, if the anthropologist for whom I wrote this is out there and has been wondering why it's taken so long for these observations to see the light of day, I apologize deeply for the delay. Please let me know if you need further clarification on the aforementioned observations. 

I will await your response. 

Spider Vs. Slasher

So, I mentioned yesterday that there was a spider who horned in on my alone time.

Now, I don't want to say that I'm scared of spiders. Not that it's not true. I just feel like an idiot saying it. So, let's just go with, they make me uncomfortable. In a slightly maniacal fashion.

This guy was big. Like maybe half dollar sized. Weirdly enough, this made him a bit more tolerable because the big ones tend to be, in my experience, more lethargic, not possessing the creepy ass speed of their smaller brethren. So, I thought, maybe we could coexist peacefully. I proposed a deal to the arachnid: He didn't move and I would pretend like the fact that I was a million times bigger meant I wouldn't scream like a tiny baby child if he touched me.

To keep him from thinking I was too soft, I employed a Dread Pirate Roberts attitude as I scurried past the beast on my way to the bedroom.

"Good night, spider. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

But the spider kept to his web and slowly I relaxed. And by relaxed, I mean that I only looked over to make sure that the spider was staying put every ten minutes rather than seconds. See? Easy breezy.

In those moments of calm, it occurred to me that my definitively embarrassing behavior as a result of the aforementioned arachnid was not far removed from that of characters in horror movies. I would run up the stairs quickly (I know, I know, NEVER go up!) and in the back of my mind I kept picturing the spider grabbing my ankles through the open staircase. I would hear the house settle and jump, thinking maybe it was from the weight of spider movement.

I imagined myself as that babysitter who calls the police about getting a bunch of weird calls and is told "The calls are coming from inside the house." The serial killer is coming up the stairs toward me.

And here's how the scene played out in my head - me, still on the phone with the dispatcher, having the following conversation:

Okay. Okay. I can hear him coming up the stairs. Please send the police quickly. I'm going to hide under the bed. Oh....Oh hell no. 

**bloodcurdling scream** 

What? No. No he's not up here. You think that was for him? Are you kidding me? There's a spider under my bed. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. You know what, sir? I'm going to take my chances with the slasher. Don't tell me to calm down! A SPIDER is under MY BED. A SPIDER. What are you not understanding here?? 

**Slasher busts through door** 

Fantastic. Just what I need right now. Yeah. It's him. He's in the room. You know what, man? It's all yours. Oh, and the sickle. Really subtle. And you look like an idiot in that clown mask. You wanna scare people? Dress like a spider. Yeah. Yes, sir, I'm still on the phone. Don't you swing that sickle at me. No, sir. Why in the world would I be saying that to you? Yeah, I get it. Police on their way. Great. Will you stop worrying about this clown? If you swing that sickle at me one more time, I am going to shove it so far up where the sun don't shine I can't even tell you. Do I look like I'm kidding? You wanna kill something? Great. How about starting with the monster scurrying under the bed? You know, make yourself useful for once. Sir, stop yelling about the police! You really want to help?? Just send over a good exterminator!

I am sorry to say that, in the end, the cottage spider could not keep to his side of the deal. Not only did he make his move, but he made it in the direction of my bedroom. And that is behavior for which a lady can just not stand.

X Marks the Spot

Around this time two years ago, the Roomie and I were down in Florida for the express purposes of going to the Harry Potter theme park. It was awesome….but that’s not really what this post was about. Nay.

You see, our hotel was about a mile from the park, so we decided to walk there rather than waiting for a shuttle. And thus had more time to fill up with conversation. I think it’s fairly normal to find that after living with someone for a prolonged period of time, your discussions begin to stray toward the bizarre. I mean, I already knew her favorite color and how she almost blinded herself with a golf club once. There aren’t really that many more questions to ask.

So we got creative.

By the time we reached the park gates, we had decided that come the following summer we were setting off on a high seas adventure to find the city of Atlantis. We considered the pros and cons each of our friends would bring to such a journey. Some made the crew, some did not. Perhaps we were harsh, but treasure hunting is serious stuff.

Now, I am sad to say that our timeframe was pushed back. Fear not! Plans are still a go. They’re just a going a little later. I’m in deep preparation though.

I’ve been looking into a number of books on the subject. As luck would have it, many of these individuals filmed documentaries during their quests. I’ve included clips below that have taught be particularly valuable lessons.

Adams, Morgan. By the Skin of My Father’s Scalp: Pursuing Cutthroat Island. (1985)

 Beware quicksand….and double crossing.

Brown, Casey. Love and Larceny: The Secret of Candleshoe. (1977)

 It doesn’t hurt to be a master of disguise.

Easton, Beth, Jody Salerno. Worth More than Gold: The Hunt for Molly Morgan’s Treasure. (1995)

 Be patient. Occasionally, you can go through the whole quest 

and still have to wait a couple days for your bags of gold.

Walsh, Michael, Brandon Walsh et. al. Never Say Die; The Search For The Gold of “One-Eyed” Willy. (1985)

 Have an inspiring speech in the ol’ back pocket. 

Just in case morale gets a little low.

Wilder, Joan. He Stole My Corazon: Emeralds and Emotions in Columbia. (1984)

Be careful who you trust. Oh, and it’s probably not a bad idea 

to wear something more practical than a pencil skirt.

Any other experts that you would suggest I look into?

Parenting Skills

Recently, during my packing escapades, I came across my Parent Trap DVDs, both the original with Hayley Mills and the remake with Lindsay Lohan. Both very fun movies that my sister and I used to watch on loop.

Who doesn’t love a story of two tweens who meet at camp only to realize that they’re twins? Of course the only thing to do after such a realization is to hatch a zany plot designed to get their estranged parents back together. And we all laugh at their antics and root for them to succeed. Who wouldn’t want these girls to have the family of their dreams? And don’t those parents deserve a happy ending as well? Clearly they’re good parents, how else would they have raised two such loving daughters?

It was years after I first saw these films that it dawned on me that these were perhaps the worst parents ever. They’re shown to be these wonderful people who care about their daughter more than anything else in the world. That’s right, daughter. Singular. They are clearly not as enamored with the other one or maybe they would have wanted to see her once over the past decade plus.

The whole each taking a kid situation is not joint custody, it’s the makings for a Greek tragedy. Just make one of the twins a boy instead, have the two kids falling in love at camp and before you know it, people are blinding themselves with dress pins.

This is a tale of shoddy parenting by a couple of people who are selfish and immature enough to give George and Lucille Bluth a run for their frozen assets.*

And yet somehow, every time I put these movies on, all I can do is cheer on the happy endings.

It's a conundrum.



* At least those two never hid the existence of any of their children. Sure, they may have hid some adoption papers and engaged in some light treason....but that's totally different. 

Body Swap

Who hasn’t enjoyed a few body swap stories? Whether it’s the parent/child Freaky Friday/Vice Versa plot line or the criminal/cop pairing of Face/Off or the teenage neighbors of It’s a Boy Girl Thing who just can’t understand each other until they temporarily switch identities. Seeing as I was ten years old when the Disney channel released the gem, Wish Upon a Star continues to be a favorite of mine. And I’ll admit to being a little nervous about the ramifications of Buffy and Faith flip flopping in season 4.

It’s a popular story line because we all wonder sometimes what it would be like to be someone else. When we whitewash someone else’s live into being something perfect, these body swap stories are there to remind us, You may not realize it now, but you’re totally the only person you really want to be.

Which is a sentiment I totally agree with.

But still…..

It would be kinda cool. For a little while. Especially if you knew that you were going to get your own body back eventually. Though, I’m less interested in doing this with real people and would be more into some temporary body swapping with literary characters myself.

First of all, you probably know a little bit more about these characters than you do about real people – their weird habits, what they do when no one else is around, how they really think about the people around them. This would give you a moderately better chance of pretending to be them without anyone else noticing. After all, it’s much harder for literary characters to keep secrets that it is for real people. Or is it? I’ve always wondered if characters keep secrets even from their authors. And this would be one way to find out.

Downside? The character doesn’t even know you exist, so they’re probably going to wreak havoc on your life during the swap.

Still, I think I’d risk it.

And at this very moment, I think the character I would most like to body swap with would be Abby Sinclair from Allison Pang's urban fantasy series.

I really want to spend some time in the Hallows and hang out with the whole gang. Mostly so I can get a chance to get more details on Mel's story. Plus that enchanted iPod would be pretty fun to play with. I would also love to be more conscious of my dreams. What is the heart of my dreaming? I have my suspicions, but I’d like to know for sure. And since Abby doesn't always know what's going on, I could probably get away with asking the occasional question.

On top of all this, since Abby's fairly used to being dropped into strange situations without all the details, I could totally trust her to roll with it and not cause too much chaos in my life whilst vacationing in my body.

Who would you switch with?

Waiting on Spring

Spring time is here and the living is easy!

Okay, yeah, I’m currently trying to climb into my office heater. And fine, there’s talk of more snow next Monday. Stop bothering me with trivial details!

How about it being lighter later, huh? That’s springy. It’s not called “springing” forward for nothing, am I right? Sure, the month after daylight savings is always a total mind twist where I think I have more hours in the day than I actually do and somehow it’s ten o’clock before I realize I need to stop frolicking in the frost laden fields and eat some mac and cheese or something. But that’s a price I’m willing to pay for warmer weather.

Or, more realistically, the growing hope that one day the weather will indeed be less frigid.

So, I’m going to celebrate spring. Not let all those naysayers who keep reminding me that it’s supposed to be in the 30s tomorrow. THE THIRTIES. JUST ABOVE FREEZING. WHAT?

No, no, I’m sorry. That’s not what this is about. This is about the celebration of spring. Ignore the cold. Ignore. The. Cold.

Okay, I’m having a little bit of a hard time with that. If you are too, here are my suggestions as to how to get your mind off the, I don’t even want to say it, wintry temperatures:

-          Watch a spring themed movie, such as classics From Justin to Kelly or Shag: The Movie. Seriously, turn away from you computer and go watch these movies. I give you my guarantee that afterward, you will not be thinking about how cold it is. In fact, you may be robbed of the ability to think entirely.

-          Belt out some tunes from The Secret Garden. It may be a bit to cold to start your gardening, but that doesn’t mean you can’t sing about it. Plus, if you like to dance whilst you sing, you’ll be feeling warmer in no time!

-          Do some spring cleaning. Or if you’re not feeling quite that ambitious yet, read The Berenstain Bears Clean House. Might give you some ideas for when you finally do feeling like organizing all your things.

-          Nothing chases away the cold like new love. For some seasonally appropriate tales of devotion, check out Come the Spring (Julie Garwood) or Scandal in Spring (Lisa Kleypas).

-          Solve a mystery! That’ll totally keep you from thinking about the fact that you’re wearing three sweaters. Maybe you have one in your own life that you want to look into, but if not, Rita Mae Brown’s got you covered with the spring time themed Catch as Cat Can.

-          Perhaps reading about warmer weather isn’t helping. In that case, I suggest Ice Hunt by James Rollins. It probably still won’t be springy out when you’ve finished, but at least you’re not in the Arctic. Or, you know, fighting prehistoric creatures. Unless you’re into that sort of thing. Who am I to judge?

Okay, those are my tips. If you have any of your own, please share below. In the mean time, I think I need a forth sweater. And maybe some hot cocoa.

It's Always Summer Here

So, apparently it’s going to snow. Or so I keep hearing. It’s like a production of Chicken Little around here.

I’ll reserve my thoughts on snow until it actually appears, but I can say for a fact that it’s pretty frick-fracking cold out there. And in my office. So, despite my love of the wintery times, I’m looking forward to a seasonal shift.

Unfortunately, speeding such things up is outside my skill set (yet. I’m not giving up on late onset magical powers), so I’m going with the next best thing – summer movies.

Here are my top five I-Wish-It-Was-Summer Comfort Movies (not surprisingly, most come from my childhood. Ah, nostalgia):

• Now and Then

Spending a summer with your best friends, researching murder mysteries and trying to earn money for a bitchin’ tree house? Sign me up.

• The Babysitter’s Club

Lost count of the number of times I played Babysitter’s Club with my sister and our friends. I do know that when this movie came out I was the happiest nine year old on the planet.

• The Sandlot

I’d like to see some of these clowns play ball against Roberta. But Benny the Jet is totally still a legend.

• Heavyweights

My sister and I still regularly cancel the other one's lunch due to lack of hustle.

• Dirty Dancing

I mean….come on.

Now, go, spend tonight watching some fun tales of the warmer season. Turn the heat up high enough, you’ll almost feel like you’re there.

The Devolution of Character

I saw the new Die Hard movie this weekend. And it was fun. Lots of action, some one-liners. What you generally expect from a Die Hard movie.

But the entire time I watched it, all I kept thinking was: I miss John McClane.

Back when we first met him in 1988, he was a real, fleshed-out character. He had fears (air travel, his family’s safety, loss of his own life) and desires (reuniting with his estranged wife, seeing his kids, still being alive come Christmas morning). He said the wrong thing, a lot. And every time he did, he knew it. He wasn’t thoughtless, he was just stuck in a rut and finding it difficult not to run at the mouth.

He was certainly brave and tough and so forth, but he didn’t always just run into situations guns blazing. He didn’t stop Gruber & friends from killing Mr. Takagi and he couldn’t stop Ellis from talking himself into a corner he couldn’t get out of. In both these situations, McClane showed himself to be truly torn by his decisions and inability.

He talked a big game, loading the talk with expletives. But his rampant cursing wasn’t a way to prove his toughness or a glib approach to death, it was his way of dealing with the fact that he was freaking the frick-frack out. As was shown a number of times, he was scared. And it was the fact that he kept going in spite of this fear, more than any of the high octane stunts or number of bad guys vanquished, that made McClane a hero.

He got hurt, repeatedly, and acknowledged that. Sure, it was less acknowledgment than a real-life person might show, but as he pulled the glass out of his feet and limped for the rest of the movie, you knew he was feeling it.

Despite not being great at verbalizing it, he cared about his interpersonal relationships. Most especially in the case of his wife, but also a couple of others he met along the way. He and Argyle, the limo driver, quickly bonded. And though they don’t actually meet each other until the last five minutes of the movie, McClane and LAPD sergeant Al Powell manage to form a more touching friendship than is often portrayed in such films.

As the franchise has grown, so has the size of the groups that McClane has been asked to protect – from an office of hostages to, in essence, the world – taking his story from improbable to impossible. And though with all these misadventures I could understand an individual becoming desensitized over time, I just don’t think the John McClane ’88 would ever stop caring to the point that John McClane ’13 has.

Gone is his conflicted reaction to the loss of live by innocent bystanders. Now he drives over them in their cars. He wanted so badly to reconnect with his wife in the first movie that despite it not being a romance, it can be seen as a love story in some ways. The stated desire to patch things up with his son here, is just that, stated. It’s a plot point and an excuse to get him to Russia, but no real weight is given to that storyline, making what could have been touching moments just seem like an obligatory nod to there having to be something in his life past blowing things up.

Not that he’s at any risk from these actions.

There is no fear of his mortality here, for him or the audience. The stunts have gotten bigger, but the threat of death hasn’t. There’s no need for us to root for him anymore because there’s no chance of anything actually happening to him.

When I watched the first movie, I knew he wasn’t going to die. He couldn’t. And I was fine with that, because I also knew it wasn’t going to be easy for him. Now, forget about broken glass in the feet, McClane throws himself through windows, falls down buildings, hangs off of helicopters and shrugs it off. The blood he is covered in seems more unrealistic that that which was shown in the first movie, because McClane shows absolutely no reaction to it past occasionally wincing as though his muscles were a little sore from a particularly strenuous day at the gym.

Now, I’m going to be completely honest here and say, if they make a sixth one of these, despite my frustrations here, I will go see it. Not simply because it’s a habit, but because I continue to hold out hope that at some point the indestructible John McClane will go into retirement and let the human McClane come out and play.

He was a character I could get behind.

Love & Writing on the Big Screen

I’m a sucker for a good love story. And also, of course, for books and writing. So, on this week of Valentine’s, I’ve decided to focus on love stories where books or writing play a significant role in some way.

Today, I present my top ten movies (in the order they were released):

1. It Happened One Night (1934)

They would have just been strangers on the night bus. But, reporter Peter Warne needs a great story to get him back in the game and runaway heiress Ellie Andrews is the perfect subject. I go back and forth between whether my favorite scene is the Wall of Jericho or the one where Ellie illustrates the most effective way to hitchhike. Mostly though, I just smile the whole time I’m watching.

2. The Desk Set (1957)

A reference librarian clashes with businessman looking to cut costs through automation. An early contender in the battle between paper and electronic formats. Plus Hepburn and Tracey! Always a solid bet.

3. The Music Man (1962)

Marion (the Librarian) gets wooed by traveling salesman (read: con artist) Harold Hill. Cue dancing in the stacks.

4. Romancing the Stone (1984)

A romance novelist finds herself in a little bit of trouble when she goes to rescue her kidnapped sister. She finds some help (not to mention inspiration for her next book) in a bird exporter/treasure hunter/aspiring sailor. Can’t watch this movie without thinking of my dad, who, without fail, starts laughing in anticipation about five seconds before Danny DeVito comes on screen.

5. Beauty and the Beast (1991)

He gave her a library. An enormous library. Now, I’m a big fan of flowers. But a library? Yeah, that kind of edges out the normal Valentine’s Day gifts.

6. Little Women (1994)

While the story pulls in all the March sisters, it is truly the tale of Joe, the writer. Her love life is not the overriding theme of this, but it certainly plays its part. And it is ultimately through her written work that she is truly able to open up about her life and connect with the person she wants to be with. Cut to me and my sister sitting on the couch with a couple boxes of tissues.

7. Just Write (1997)

Hollywood tour bus driver gets mistaken for screenplay writer by up-and-coming actress. In his smitten state, he fails to correct the mistake and ends up agreeing to rewrite a movie for her. Very sweet movie. And Sherilyn Fenn and Jeremy Piven are lovely.

8. Moulin Rouge (2001)

Christian came to Paris to write “about truth, beauty, freedom, and that which I believed about all things, love.” About two minutes into the movie, we know that his story doesn’t have a happy ending. But that didn’t stop me from spending the majority of the movie quite happily. Who can resist the struggling writer wooing the courtesan? Particularly when Ewan McGregor starts singing. Swoon.

9. The Jane Austen Book Club (2007)

Not only does this movie deal with its fair amount of couples, but it is all about coming together over the love of books. Nothing more romantic than that.

10. Definitely, Maybe (2008)

A man tells his daughter the story of the three loves of his life. Along the way, she helps him figure out who he should be with. One of the most important clues? A copy of Jane Eyre.

What love stories about writers and books do you like watching?

History or Future?

Probably at this point we’ve all seen some version of the magical age change story. Whether it’s the child’s mind in a suddenly adult body, a la Big or 13 Going On 30. Or the 17 Again route, with the adult suddenly finding himself in a younger version of himself.

The hero or heroine makes a wish. A wish to be at a different place in their lives. To fast forward or rewind. To get to that ideal age where all problems disappear. To be young again and without responsibility. To be older, independent and in control of their own lives.

Or if not to reach an exact ideal age, then maybe speed things up a bit. Josh Baskin just wanted to be bigger.

It never quite works out as planned, of course. Because there is no true ideal age where lives is entirely without problems. There’s no real short cut to things, which is the point of these movies.

That being said, it would be kind of fun. Wouldn’t it? I mean, if I knew it was temporary, I think I’d enjoy some age bending insanity.

So, forward or back? I think I’d choose back. Maybe to about ten or eleven. We went to Niagara Falls that year and I got some pretty sweet Star Wars jigsaw puzzles. So, good times.

Though this choice has less to do with wanting to see if I can beat my best puzzle time and more to do with not wanting to know the future. Say I was suddenly transported to my seventies. Maybe my life is great, maybe it’s not. Either way, I have work to do when I’m put back into my regular body. If it’s good, gotta make sure I make all the right choices to get me there. If it’s not, then I need to figure out all the missteps made along the way. Takes all the fun out of living.

I like thinking about the possibilities of the future, hence my enjoyment of futuristic science fiction. But I don’t want to know anything for a fact. Ruins the surprise. And probably why I got my degree in history and not futurism.

What about you? Forward or back? 

Medicinal Movies

I’ve been under the weather the last few days. And you know what? Sick days just aren’t as fun as they were when I was a kid.

I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that now I have to do everything for myself. Get my own soup. Make sure tissues are stocked up. Tuck myself into bed. Try to remember where in the name of all that is good and holy I put my coloring books.

There’s more work involved as a grown up. Can’t just flop on the couch and moan all day. There still has to be some level of productivity.

One thing, though, has stayed the same.* The sick day movies.

You know, those movies that you watched when you were a kid and still give you the warm and fuzzies now, so you put them on when your body is rebelling against you as a sort of brain medicine? In between the sniffling and hacking up a lung, they make you smile. And when you inevitably succumb to medicine halfway through and fall asleep, you’re more than happy to start them all over when consciousness returns.

Here are my top five:

• Star Wars

• The Princess Bride

• Romancing the Stone

• Newsies

• The Mighty Ducks

What are yours? Because if I don’t shake the ickiness soon, I’m going to need some recommendations.

*Okay, two things are the same. I also still get regular status checks from the parents. Only now they’re over the phone. 

Brain Overload

When was growing up, my father lived in fear of five words: “Can we go to Blockbuster?”

It’s not the he wasn’t a movie fan. He was, and is, one of the biggest I know. What he wasn’t a fan of was the time it took me to pick out a movie.

You see, it wasn’t enough for me to just rent a movie. I had to rent the PERFECT movie. You know...the one where after I chose it, confetti would rain down and everyone in the store would cease their own movie search to clap and cheer as I ran toward the counter, bestowing high-fives on them all.

That perfect movie.

And I had a process. First I had to choose the genre. Then I had to read the back covers of pretty much every movie in those aisles. Then I had to take into account my mood and the moods I perceived in anyone who might be watching it with me.

On a good night, I was out within an hour. On a less decisive one, I was out when my father threw me over his shoulder and marched out the door.

He would valiantly try to speed the process along. He’d offer suggestions of movies that he thought I would love. I’d listen very nicely, thank him for telling me about said film, and tell him I would certainly keep it in mind during my deliberations. I honestly can’t tell you how many times, after another forty-five minutes or so of waffling, I would end up choosing dad’s suggestions.

And I would, of course, love it.

But come the next foray into Blockbuster, poor dad would be left standing there in the aisle holding his suggestion whilst I scampered off to look into another fifteen movies.

I used to think that I wouldn’t get sucked into such a time vortex if I had all these movies at home. It was the whole having to leave the house to get them that made me so intent on picking the perfect one. Because I couldn’t just switch to another if I decided I didn’t like once I got home.

But the other night I decided I was going to watch something on Netflix. I was in the mood for a comedy, so I clicked the tab and they popped up. Forty minutes later I was still scrolling. Still trying to decide between the five or so that I had whittled down to.

WHICH WAS THE PERFECT ONE?

*Cut to me rocking back and forth in a corner muttering movie titles under my breath.*

Turns out it has nothing to do with travel time.

Nope. Apparently, my brain just stops functioning at its normal pace when presented with that many story options. Good to know.

Plus side, at least now my dad doesn’t have to stand in an aisle, beating his head against a wall, whilst I peruse.

So…you’re welcome, dad.