Blog fatigue

I've got it, and it's here to stay. Tonight, instead of blogging, I spent several hours watching every unaired episode of "The Jake Effect" on Bravo. I gotta say, that was a quality show. Too bad it never got picked up by a network. But then, it'd just get cancelled like everything else I love.

Nickorice wins for the week, but, for the life of me, I can't get her page to load right now, so you won't know exactly why she won, except that her Sunday post about weddings and mothers was fantastic, and you should check it out if her blog ever loads.

Rj, I might consider making you a co-winner. I would be willing to give you the honor. All you have to do is give me a number. I'm thinking between 1 and 31, because it's Vegas time, bay-bee!!!

NO WHAMMIES!!!

Stupid Cubs

M is last week's winner. How's that for a birthday present?

A move may indeed be in the future. Actually, screw "may" - it's happening. We've already got a date set. Now, we just have to figure out the particulars of moving trucks and what not. I'd better kick ass in Vegas. Anyway, if any of you knows of a job for me in D.C., I'd be very grateful. No jobs with the Feds, though.

Hassle at 20,000 Feet

So, here's what I wrote under pressure of homework deadline. I only post it because its sheer length might make up for missing yesterday. I finished it in my office and then frantically printed it off and then ran to class. I arrived ten minutes late. It felt just like college again, especially in how crappy it is. Oofah. Anyway, it's a review of both versions of an old "Twilight Zone" classic.


Someday, if you ever stay awake long enough on that redeye flight across country, you’re bound to hear somebody chuckle, “There’s something on the wing of this plane!” If you’re unfortunate enough to be seated next to the wit, you have two options: you can either feign comatose sleep, or you can foolishly check to see for yourself. Be warned, though: choosing the second route might just guarantee you the worst flight of your life. However, if spending a long, sleepless night discussing the nuances of every episode of “The Twilight Zone” with a self-proclaimed expert sounds like a treat, then go ahead. Look out the window.

Granted, it is a deliciously macabre thought, that somehow in the darkness; something evil is staring back, eager for a chance to do us harm. This visceral fantasy is so ingrained in American pop culture that many are surprised to learn it actually originated in a birthplace so natural it’s almost cliché. Yet, every child in America owes at least one shuddering nightmare to Ron Serling and his “dimension, not only of sight and sound…”

“Nightmare at 20,000 Feet” was first directed by Richard Donner in 1963 as an adaptation of Richard Matheson’s short story. Although purists swear by Donner’s black-and-white, many today recognize the tale from its second incarnation, a vignette in the 1983 film, “Twilight Zone: The Movie.”

Considering how different the two versions are, they have a lot in common. In both, a man who is terrified of flying boards an airplane which is unwittingly headed into a violent storm. During the rough flight, he spots a creature wreaking havoc on the wing of the plane. Everyone he warns dismisses him as delusional, and he is faced with the choice: give in to paranoia and try to save everyone, or shut his eyes and hope for the best. The two films’ most important shared aspect, however, is that their creatures look completely and utterly ridiculous. The original resembles Gene Simmons in a furry costume, while the second looks more like E.T.’s older, skinnier, dreadlocked cousin. It is in how each director handles this particular problem that their strengths shine through.

Donner chooses to focus not on the thing on the wing, but on Bob Wilson (played gleefully by a young, handsome William Shatner). It is a wise choice, considering the limitations of special effects in the sixties. While the creature still gets plenty of screen time, it is Wilson’s struggle to retain his sanity that provides most of the drama. Donner’s focus on character development is strong; Wilson is a complex, layered individual whose unraveling is fascinating to watch. Shatner’s over-the-top acting actually works, because it lends credibility to the idea that Wilson is dangerously unstable. By the end of the trip, it’s clear that the biggest threat was inside the plane.

George Miller’s take is much more tongue-in-cheek. His creature is ridiculous looking, which should be unforgivable considering the twenty years of advances in special effects, but he embraces the silliness with gusto. In fact, every aspect of the film is as satirical as the grinning monster outside the window.

John Lithgow plays the neurotic antihero, John Valentine. Instead of gradually losing his nerve like the stoic Wilson, Valentine is a sniveling coward from the onset. Lithgow is more convincing an actor than Shatner is, but that’s not important to the success of the movie. Rather than identifying with Valentine and sharing his terror, you feel as though you’re seated on the plane next to him. Your other flight mates are the vaguely malevolent flight attendants, the ever-intrusive elderly couple, and an annoying, precocious little girl. It isn’t a gripping thrill ride, but it is, by far, the worst plane trip imaginable. In Miller’s hands, the greatest danger isn’t the monster, and it isn’t the frightened man inside the plane. It is the plane itself.

Clearly, Miller has been on the plane, seated next to the eager fan, and he knows how truly terrifying that can be.

Here it is 11:00, and I've got nothing. I should be going to bed, or doing my homework, or applying for jobs. Instead, I have to stare at this stupid computer screen and hope for something to talk about. Nothing. But then that's never stopped me before.

Whatever. I'll just say that anyone planning to visit sunny S.D. and mooch off of us had better get it in soon.

Rachel Weisz was pretty hot though

Chain Reaction was on television this weekend. I'd never seen it even though it's set at the old alma mater. I tuned in too late to recognize any of the settings but was too lazy to change the channel from that piece of crap. About five minutes into watching it, I recognized the directorial style as the one behind The Fugitive. Indeed, both were directed by Andrew Davis, and both had a lot of the same editors. I've always liked The Fugitive a lot. It's a wonder that I didn't like Chain Reaction more considering how similar the two movies are.

Ways in which Chain Reaction is just like The Fugitive:
1) Both are set in Chicago
2) Both have those sweeping helicopter shots of Chicago's skyline as seen from above.
3) Both have the same theme of the wrongly accused man running from the law.
4) The rugged government agent tracking the main character comes to believe his quarry is innocent.
5) In The Fugitive, Harrison Ford makes an impossible escape from a traffic tunnel surrounded by police. Keanu makes his from a drawbridge.
6) The two Chicago cops heading the hunt for Ford once again play two Chicago cops now hunting Reeves.
7) The janitor from Scrubs is in both movies. In both, he plays an unlucky police officer who apprehends the hero, only to be immediately shot by bad guys. His death is then unjustly pinned on the hero.
8) Other returning actors/actresses from The Fugitive include: the fellow fugitive who helps Ford at the beginning of the movie, the cop who gets stabbed just before the train wreck, and the female technician working late in the prosthetics lab.

Mind you, these are all things I noticed from halfway through the movie. I wouldn't be surprised if, at the beginning of the movie, Reeves' wife is murdered by a one-armed man.

Ways in which Chain Reaction should have been more like The Fugitive:
1) Music shouldn't have had so much wailing electric guitar.
2) Harrison Ford improved his appearance with a shave and a haircut. Keanu kept his stupid, ugly mop the entire time.
3) Reeves totally should have jumped off the bridge.
4) Shouldn't have sucked so much.

You can compare The Fugitive and Chain Reaction yourself if you feel like it. I very well may have missed more similarities.

Class of the Beast

I had a double latte before class so I would stay awake for it. We watched two episodes of the Twilight Zone at the end of class. We have to review them for our homework assignment. I couldn't concentrate on the movies, because the coffee acted up and I was too busy trying not to soil myself.

I had another cup today at lunch.

No problems. I even went for a run.

The human body is a mystery.




Happy Birthday, Scott.

Winner

Frank has been a posting monster this week, what with his helpful projects, funny family anecdotes, and frightening stream of consciousness. I'd been wanting to award him "Winner of the Week" ever since Monday, but I felt it'd be best to wait and see if anyone topped him. M came close with the He-Man post, but I gotta give it to the lawman. Although he gets points off for including pictures of feces, Goddammit. Shit's never pleasant, regardless how cute the maker is.

Now We Are (Twenty-) Six

I thank everyone for all the birthday shout outs. They served to brighten what was certain to be a craptastic day. Of course, I've been casually mentioning my birthday for the past week in a blatant call for attention, so everyone who remembered me kindly today is a sucker. Everyone who didn't just sucks.

I don't have much to say about this birthday. Because I was so happy with this post's title, I was going to try to write a poem in the style of A.A. Milne, but I'm not talented enough to write poetry, even if it is for kids. Instead, I'll just mention that on my way home, the radio played 4 Non Blondes' What's Up. Now I'm too old for that song to hold extra special meaning for me, seeing's how I'm no longer 25. I still sang along anyway. Loudly and badly - that's my style, baby.

This post blows. Make a wish.

Can I get a witness?!!

Today, I got up early, as I do every Wednesday, to get into the radio station by 6:30 am. Afterwards, a tired and shaky wreck, I drove myself to work, where I mistook my misery at my weariness for misery due to hunger. After stumbling from eatery to eatery, where nothing on the menu looked appetizing, I realized my error and took off in search of caffeine.

Coffee successfully in hand, I sat down in the packed dining area outside the student union. To my great delight, a hip, young man stood atop a makeshift stage, preaching the Good Word, or some version thereof. It'd been awhile since I'd heard a sermon, so I sat near the front, where I could get the best view. However, before I'd even finished my drink, he had already finished and was calling for the masses to come forward and receive Jesus. What he said didn't really move me in any direction - I still remained an atheist in my head and undecided in my gut. So, I slipped out while the praise band played their catchy tunes.

But then, as soon as I left the range of the acoustic guitars, a new tune filled the air. It was coming from one of the sorority's fund-raising booths. The lyrics were such:

(Ahem)

My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
My hump, my hump, my hump, my hump,
my hump, my hump.
My lovely lady lumps

Repeat 3x's

I know the lyrics practically by heart, difficult though they be, because it is the second day in a row that I've heard it.

I say to you now, Preacher-man, with all the certainty that exists in this cold, cold world, "There is no God."

I Serve A New Master

200 pounds! For the first time since probably 1987, theJEDMAN tipped the scales at 200lbs on Saturday, naked in the gym locker room. It is quite a feat for theJEDMAN, since he was over 230 the whole decade of the 90s.

Although the above statement is true, I didn't actually write it. I came across it while Googling myself again, one of my favorite little hobbies. (Here's a link to the entire post) From the moment I saw it, I knew I was lost. I am now a subscriber to the Jedman Nation. In the past, I've occasionally referred to myself as "the Jedman." No longer. NO LONGER. This guy deserves that right way more than I do.

Lately, he's been signing his posts, "The life of theJEDMAN is always intense." How true.

Work is for suckers

I worked all day at my new part-time job. It's shitty, but it pays. I spent all day putting contact info into a database that will eventually be used to sell stuff to people and it's boring and I'm not going to talk about it anymore.

Except that at one point I actually started slipping down my chair as crushing despair started to overwhelm me until my eyes were barely above the table and my arm was jacked way above my head so I could still use my mouse. After that got too uncomfortable, I stopped trying to click through the pages and just sat sighing loudly for a couple of minutes. The guy in the cubicle next to me didn't say anything, but I could tell he was watching me and wondering when I was gonna pull out my gun. I think they're already regretting hiring me.

Hell, maybe I will sell my blog. I wonder if the price will go up since I've finally added a graphic to my profile. Thanks to Giraffe for that strikingly accurate portrait of me. I've sometimes wondered what I'd look like as a comic book hero. No spandex for me.

Hallmark's got nuthin' on 'em

Last week, my birthday package arrived from my parents. Enclosed was a number of items, not the least of which was a Post-It note which said:

Happy Birthday to You Jedijah!!!
We love Yououououououou..

Mom & Dad

Thanks Mom and Dad.

That's the One and OOOOHHHHH!!!

Megan on Michael Barrett's head-first slide at the end of his triple: "I think he popped his ball."

Class Five! I'm Alive!

Yesterday's class was actually helpful. The teacher passed back our puppetry homework with a grade. I got a "B", the lowest grade he gave. Oh well. I deserved it. I can't complain much as I didn't even think much of it. I'm glad he's an honest grader. Maybe I'll be able to use him as an adviser in the future.

Speaking of advice, I asked him for tips on how to overcome writer's block. For the past two assignments, I've had a lot of trouble starting to write. Actually, this happens every time I try writing something. I just stare at the blank page and panic. Everything that comes to my mind is crap. So I asked for help, and everyone pitched in with their preferred tactics. I list them here:

1) Write Whatever
- To do this, you have to accept that whatever you put down at first is going to be unusable. Just put anything down to jumpstart the creative process. Mmmm, I don't like it. This is merely an attempt to overcome the horrors of a completely blank page. I've tried it, but all that happens is I write something incredibly stupid, and then I have to sit and stare at it for an hour while nothing else comes to mind.

2) Outline It
- Yeah, I probably should do this, but I don't. And I'm not gonna start now.

3) Get Ideas from the Internet and other Sources
- By Googling your topic, you might be able to find something quirky about it you can use to introduce the article. This is a horrible idea for me, because I'll just spend all day looking at the Onion or listening to This American Life episodes.

4) Pre-edit your interviews
- I like this idea. You go over the quotes you've got, and you let them dictate how the piece is going to run. This is a good tip for making a radio piece, because your story is all about the audio you've collected.

5) Reward Yourself
- This is brilliant. Sit down and work to a mini deadline. Then, once you've reached it, give yourself a treat. I'm thinking Playstation 2.

6) Find a Ritual
- Some writers do the exact same thing in preparation for a writing session. The mind-numbing inanity of it helps them somehow. Beats the hell out of me...

7) Make Your Ideal Environment
- Screw it. I can't concentrate without the television blaring.


At least I can use some of these ideas. Our homework this week is to distill our ideas for our final features into a :20 pitch. Also, we have to write a How-to feature. The article needs to be conversational in tone, and it helps if it's not completely serious. I'm going to write about making sure your kid gets the most out of his SAT prep class. I know it sounds boring, but shut up.

Tales of the disorderly stepdaughter

My mother wins this week for this post. If you can't understand it, don't worry -- I can't either. I'm pretty sure it's about my girlfriend. See? It's sooo simple!

Humbling moment of the day

Discovering your mother's blog. Then, discovering that it's way cooler than yours.

Because I'm actually thirteen years old...

I took this picture, because I'm worried that Amazon'll fix the price one day, and this magical moment will be lost forever. In case they take awhile, here's the link.



Yes, I wrote that review of them. Yes, I'm turning twenty-six next week. Yes, I'm proud of myself.

A simple change

"This week's winner" doesn't make sense, does it? Let me change things around here so the TRUTH MAY BE TOLD!!! or GRAMMATICALLY, THINGS ARE AS THEY SHOULD BE!!! That's giving 'em what for.

Anonymity is GOLDEN

Hooray for my old RA! Now, my blog no longer shows up when you Google my name. I don't actually know if this is due to the useful tidbit of html advice Frank gave me, but I'm attributing it to him anyway.

Maybe they should call it Slaver Joe's

M's been feeling a little under the weather lately, so I stopped by Trader Joe's on the way home to pick up some sick-time necessities. When I got there, I saw that the shelves were largely empty, so I asked the nearest stockboy what was up. He said, "We didn't get any trucks in last night, and none came in this morning, but everything should be back to normal tomorrow. Sorry." Now, what could have kept their deliveries from arriving? Could it just be coincidence that this happened the same day that immigrants across the country boycotted work? Perhaps, but that would be a pretty large coincidence.

Did anyone else visit their neighborhood TJ's? Was it as barren as Mother Teresa's womb? I suspect the reason behind Mr. Joe's extremely reasonable prices may not be his relentless pursuit of quality goods, as he would have us believe, but because of cheap labor by undocumented workers. Should I run an expose? Eh, I like things the way they are.

Cue furious comments...

The chowder was pretty good too

Well, we're back from vacationing in San Francisco. Let me tell you, the crazy excitement that we had is beyond description. The people, the lights, the money, the car chases, the intrigue...Ah, yes. We documented every life we saved, every celebrity party we shmoozed at with scads and scads of pictures. Unfortunately we don't have a digital camera, so you'll have to wait to see them. But, since it's kind of a pain to upload regular pictures, I probably won't get around to it. You're just going to have to imagine the wildlife jousting tournament I single-handedly shut down after winning against Gluth-tag, the mightiest of the gigantic elephant warriors. I dunno. I think maybe I took some pictures with my phone, but angelic beings need at least 7.1 megapixels, so they might just look like sleeping hobos. Whatever. We're back. It was fun.