It is absurdly early on a Monday morning. No, I am not up early to go to work. I have not been to bed yet. "Why, Toni, haven't you gone to bed on the eve of a Monday?" you ask. The simple answer to that is: Monday doesn't matter because I no longer have a job.
I'm not looking for sympathy. It was a rather downplayed affair for me really. It was eleven-ish in the morning last Thursday when one of the supervisors came and asked me to come talk to them for a moment. I stood, thinking this was no big deal, I'm always being pulled off to help for one thing or another. But then, as we're walking, and she takes me to an office, realization starts to sink in. When she opened the door and I see not only my absentee Boss, but my HR rep, my fears were confirmed; I was being let go.
I was not the only one to be let go, there were several. The official position was in the midst of restructure, my position was eliminated.
Before I go further, let me state that this the second time this company has "eliminated my position". I probably should have been smart and not come back to them in the first place. At least the first time, I had a couple of months notice that my job was going away and I had time to prepare. That was not the case last Thursday. I was, for all it felt, treated like a criminal. While the HR guy detailed out the separation package, another supervisor had brought my purse, keys, and the backpack I had bought to occasionally take my work laptop home to just outside the office. I was not allowed to go get the rest of my personal items from my desk. I turned in my corporate credit card, and I had to wait while they went back and retrieved my company cell phone from my desk. I was then shown out of the building.
I can't tell you how pissed I was that I couldn't hold it together until they couldn't see me anymore.
My Absentee Boss said he would like for me to call him so he can talk to me about his decision. My voice cracked as I told him it would be a few days before I would feel up to that. They also told me that I can arrange a time to come get the rest of my things outside of business hours. I understand the need to not cause an issue, but frankly, I have more class than that. You'd think after knowing me for nearly four years, they would have known that too. I plan to go this evening to go get my stuff.
In all honesty. I should have seen this coming. The atmosphere bred high school behavior, I wasn't popular in high school, and low and behold, I wasn't popular here. For the last few months, I've just been putting in my headphones and getting my job done and my hours in. Any hope I had of getting the supervisory or project manager positions the Absentee Boss had been promising me all these years had actually dwindled away about a year ago. I was miserable and angry that I was constantly asked to help others out, but was not allowed to ask for help myself. Despite what it may seem, I have limits, I know them, and I am unafraid to ask for help. I know the things I know because I asked someone to teach me. I wasn't born with all this stuff in my head.
But.. I didn't predict that I would be pushed out the door before some others. So, it kinda hit me hard. For about 12 hours. In that time, I drank tequila, did a bit of crying, then took a shower and a nap. Naps solve a lot for me, honestly. It's like a mood reset for me. After that first 12 hours, I decided it was a sign from the universe that I was wasting my time there.
Here are the things I would like to state for the record:
Nearly four years in one job was unheard of for me. I was ready to go the long haul with this company. So much so that I came back to them after being laid off once. I will never put my loyalty or trust in another boss or company (that isn't my own) ever again.
Working hard means nothing in corporate land. Neither does efficiency. Neither does knowing your shit. All that matters is that you know someone. Or that you can socialize with the best of them. Or you can have meltdowns of epic proportions so that they'll want to give you an easier time of it before you run screaming to HR.
Being dumb doesn't get you fired in corporate land. That just gets you shuffled around until you're doing something so easy there's no way you can screw it up. However, being smart doesn't get you anything but made fun of, ostracized, and then shown the door.
I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't go to work to make friends. I go to work to work. And I know all you corporate guys don't like to hear this, but I go to work to get a paycheck. I am NOT invested in the company. I do NOT view the company as one big happy family. I will NOT forsake my life for the company.
I have some time to find a job that will support us and not drive me insane. If I could, I would forsake working for anyone else ever again. But we are not quite financially ready for that. In the meantime, I'm going to write, make jewelry, sew, finish all the little projects in my house, read the STACK of books that have been piling up over the years. And once I have my belongings, I will not think on that job or those people ever again. They don't deserve my attention.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, March 4, 2012
Wait, What Was I Doing Again?
One of the reasons I don't write on here often is that I have too many ways to entertain myself away from the computer. I have a day job (while not entertaining most of the time, quite time consuming). I am working with several people to start a new business (very entertaining, but easily the second biggest time suck I have). I have a pile books I want to read. I have at least three solid story ideas I'm tinkering on from time to time. I have a DVR full of pretty good TV to catch up on. We recently bought the first three seasons of The Clone Wars on blu-ray. My cat(s) demanded my attention, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
The business, while I will not normally bring it up here because that is not what this blog is for, is getting going with a weird rhythm. I wouldn't call it speed, I wouldn't call it standing still. But we're chugging along. The ideas in my head are flying so fast I forget some of them before I can write them down. I've drawn three new outfit designs. I have a pile of jewelry projects lined up. I wish I had the money to hire minions, but we're not there yet. Ah, the adventures of starting a small business.
On the funny side, we have purchased one male mannequin and two french dress forms for display purposes. We call the mannequin No Face Charlie, I hope my average reader is smart enough to figure that one out. And the dress forms are called the OohLaLa Girls. There is also my mother's adjustable dress form which has been dubbed Madame Antoinette (I believe it is because we have padded it to my measurements. No, my name is not Antoinette. It's just Toni. Please refer back to my very first post about names). I'm not sure why I felt the need to name them, but it is what it is and now I'm trying to think of ways to scare Husband the Great with them when he least expects it.
The stories are really exploding in my head. I've been plugging along on one that is sheer entertainment value because it takes place in someone else's well-established world. But it was there and I wanted to write it, so there it is. The other two, I'm constantly writing little notes to myself about things that need to happen or bits of a character's past that no one other than myself (and in the case of one story my collaborator Megan of Who's the Minion Here? ) will ever know.
The bonus of being this busy is that I'm so creatively happy that it does not matter what happens at my Day Job. Even that is going really well I think. However, I've never been good at reading the corporate temperature, so for all I know I could have no day job next week.
But while all this creativity is good, it also gives me the attention span of a peanut. Like just now, I was typing this journal entry, my cat meowed at me and I noticed an unfinished canvas in my studio closet that I started studying intensely for about five minutes while I decided what I needed to do to finish it and what I would do with it once it was done. And I could be in the middle of making a pair of earrings and I will just stop and pick up a string of beads that have no purpose yet and start planning a purpose for them. I have to get a bit more discipline if I'm going to get the amount of stuff done I want to get done.
However now is not the time. Husband the Great will be home soon, with food, and I will stop to eat that. I'm a big girl. Food wins. I'm not too proud to admit it. Oh wait, maybe if I had the same discipline for getting work done as I do for eating meals, I would rule the world. Yes. Eat more. Get discipline. Rule the World. Now I just need Han Solo in carbonite. Someone make that happen.
The business, while I will not normally bring it up here because that is not what this blog is for, is getting going with a weird rhythm. I wouldn't call it speed, I wouldn't call it standing still. But we're chugging along. The ideas in my head are flying so fast I forget some of them before I can write them down. I've drawn three new outfit designs. I have a pile of jewelry projects lined up. I wish I had the money to hire minions, but we're not there yet. Ah, the adventures of starting a small business.
On the funny side, we have purchased one male mannequin and two french dress forms for display purposes. We call the mannequin No Face Charlie, I hope my average reader is smart enough to figure that one out. And the dress forms are called the OohLaLa Girls. There is also my mother's adjustable dress form which has been dubbed Madame Antoinette (I believe it is because we have padded it to my measurements. No, my name is not Antoinette. It's just Toni. Please refer back to my very first post about names). I'm not sure why I felt the need to name them, but it is what it is and now I'm trying to think of ways to scare Husband the Great with them when he least expects it.
The stories are really exploding in my head. I've been plugging along on one that is sheer entertainment value because it takes place in someone else's well-established world. But it was there and I wanted to write it, so there it is. The other two, I'm constantly writing little notes to myself about things that need to happen or bits of a character's past that no one other than myself (and in the case of one story my collaborator Megan of Who's the Minion Here? ) will ever know.
The bonus of being this busy is that I'm so creatively happy that it does not matter what happens at my Day Job. Even that is going really well I think. However, I've never been good at reading the corporate temperature, so for all I know I could have no day job next week.
But while all this creativity is good, it also gives me the attention span of a peanut. Like just now, I was typing this journal entry, my cat meowed at me and I noticed an unfinished canvas in my studio closet that I started studying intensely for about five minutes while I decided what I needed to do to finish it and what I would do with it once it was done. And I could be in the middle of making a pair of earrings and I will just stop and pick up a string of beads that have no purpose yet and start planning a purpose for them. I have to get a bit more discipline if I'm going to get the amount of stuff done I want to get done.
However now is not the time. Husband the Great will be home soon, with food, and I will stop to eat that. I'm a big girl. Food wins. I'm not too proud to admit it. Oh wait, maybe if I had the same discipline for getting work done as I do for eating meals, I would rule the world. Yes. Eat more. Get discipline. Rule the World. Now I just need Han Solo in carbonite. Someone make that happen.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
The End of an Era
As a fickle story teller, it occurred to me that when I actually get around to posting something to this blog, it should probably be something worth reading. I assume there's no need to go over the warning I gave in my very first post.... again.
My childhood was filled with going to my parents many activities. This included, but was not limited to bowling, golfing, family cook outs, poker games and Dad's bar band gigs (yes, in a bar, it was a different time then and frankly, it gave me a healthy appreciation for drinking in moderation). Most of the time, these activities were with my dad's five siblings; Ronnie, Doug, Clovie (CJ), Tovie and Patsy. There was a time in my life that I just assumed I was related to every new person I met. All my friends were also my cousins. I think the only ones that weren't were Twyla and the Batiato girls. Every adult I knew had "Aunt" or "Uncle" before their name. The Grow boys were infamous on the south side of Indianapolis. Over the years they've owned a few different bars, all of them were Free Masons, it was odd to be cool in the 70's and 80's in Indy (setting aside the handicaps of it being the 70's, 80's and in Indy) and NOT know the Grow family. My sister and I used to tell our school friends that they were the Indy Mafia. They knew people, they had connections.
I see movies like Casino and mash it up with the bowling alley scenes of Pleasantville and somehow that's how I've always viewed the Grow side of family. (Though I should note that if my Dad and Uncles were 'whacking' people, I never heard about it nor saw any evidence.) But I do have this great picture of the lot of them with Frank Sinatra (save Patsy), signed by the man himself.
There were all kind of ladies' men as well. For one, my Dad was married five times, I am the youngest of seven siblings, only two of which are whole siblings, not half (My oldest half-brother, Richard, is two years younger than my mother). Patsy I think is the only one who wasn't married multiple times.
Ronnie was the first of the bunch to pass away. He was also the smallest. I would show you a picture, but I don't need to, go google Notre Dame's mascot. He looked exactly like that. He's been gone since I was 11 or so, unfortunately, I remember very little of him at this point other than he liked to shove his bottom dentures out of his mouth to scare the crap out of us kids. And his last wife, Betty, I was not a big fan of and last I checked, she never put a tombstone on Ronnie's grave.
The next, and of course the most shocking for me, was my dad, Harvey. It was sudden and hit my sister and I like a ton of bricks. My dad was like the PR guy of the Grow Boys. Everybody loved him (even if they wouldn't stay married to him). He was the one who organized the annual family reunion. After he was gone, I know it went on for at least one more year (because I actually attended), but who knows after that.
Here is where I lose contact with that side of the family. By the time of my high school graduation (two years later), not a one of them attended and only two even sent a card. Sad to say, I'm the type of person who holds a grudge, and have fairly well done so over the years.
Dougie was next, and arguably, my favorite of my dad's siblings. I went to his viewing and took my then boyfriend (now Husband the Great) with me. This was the first time Joe had met this side of my family and all he could say was "These guys are humongous." (Speaking of CJ and Tovie, which they were, they were huge. This is especially funny when you realize that the only family of mine that Joe has met is my mom's family and we're all fairly short save my sister, my cousin David, my Aunt Diane and cousin Danielle). Dougie was simply hilarious, very quick witted, tall and lanky, my sister and I were very close with Jessica and Brandy, his girls. (they might have been step-daughters, but I never really wondered nor cared, they'd been there for as long as I could remember and so it didn't matter).
Tovie went next, and I'd heard nothing of it. Tovie was just cool. He'd spent some years as a body guard at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas, was body guard for Sinatra (that's how they ended up with the picture) and when he was in town, he was always nice to my and my sister. I'm not even sure how he died.
Then Patsy, which was only three or four months ago. She was the glue that held the boys together. She was a matriarch and her house was always one of my favorite places to visit. She had excellent taste and had this really cool rec room complete with a Ms. Pac Man arcade console. I'm sorry I missed her funeral, but I only found out about her death perhaps a month ago.
Then finally, CJ. CJ was the smooth-talker. He was the wheeler and dealer. Growing up, I was always sure he was working some sort of angle. But that didn't stop him from being awesome. As I said, I'd pretty much lost touch with my dad's side of the family after he died. But since my mom was still friends with some of the people they were all friends with, we kept running into CJ over the last few years. And I was simply shocked at the change in him. It was good change. It was the same kind of change my dad went through when he finally realized that my sister and I weren't going to just ignore him after he divorced my mom. I was glad to see it. I was glad his current and final wife Joyce was able to inspire that change in him.
So, at his viewing yesterday, I got to meet a cousin I never knew I had, as she was born after the last time we'd spent any real time at all with him. The viewing was bittersweet, to say the least. I saw people I haven't seen in fifteen years. And all we could talk about was how an era had ended now that all six siblings were gone. I assume the five boys have the best bowling team of the afterlife now and Patsy will be there to keep them from getting kicked out.
My childhood was filled with going to my parents many activities. This included, but was not limited to bowling, golfing, family cook outs, poker games and Dad's bar band gigs (yes, in a bar, it was a different time then and frankly, it gave me a healthy appreciation for drinking in moderation). Most of the time, these activities were with my dad's five siblings; Ronnie, Doug, Clovie (CJ), Tovie and Patsy. There was a time in my life that I just assumed I was related to every new person I met. All my friends were also my cousins. I think the only ones that weren't were Twyla and the Batiato girls. Every adult I knew had "Aunt" or "Uncle" before their name. The Grow boys were infamous on the south side of Indianapolis. Over the years they've owned a few different bars, all of them were Free Masons, it was odd to be cool in the 70's and 80's in Indy (setting aside the handicaps of it being the 70's, 80's and in Indy) and NOT know the Grow family. My sister and I used to tell our school friends that they were the Indy Mafia. They knew people, they had connections.
I see movies like Casino and mash it up with the bowling alley scenes of Pleasantville and somehow that's how I've always viewed the Grow side of family. (Though I should note that if my Dad and Uncles were 'whacking' people, I never heard about it nor saw any evidence.) But I do have this great picture of the lot of them with Frank Sinatra (save Patsy), signed by the man himself.
There were all kind of ladies' men as well. For one, my Dad was married five times, I am the youngest of seven siblings, only two of which are whole siblings, not half (My oldest half-brother, Richard, is two years younger than my mother). Patsy I think is the only one who wasn't married multiple times.
Ronnie was the first of the bunch to pass away. He was also the smallest. I would show you a picture, but I don't need to, go google Notre Dame's mascot. He looked exactly like that. He's been gone since I was 11 or so, unfortunately, I remember very little of him at this point other than he liked to shove his bottom dentures out of his mouth to scare the crap out of us kids. And his last wife, Betty, I was not a big fan of and last I checked, she never put a tombstone on Ronnie's grave.
The next, and of course the most shocking for me, was my dad, Harvey. It was sudden and hit my sister and I like a ton of bricks. My dad was like the PR guy of the Grow Boys. Everybody loved him (even if they wouldn't stay married to him). He was the one who organized the annual family reunion. After he was gone, I know it went on for at least one more year (because I actually attended), but who knows after that.
Here is where I lose contact with that side of the family. By the time of my high school graduation (two years later), not a one of them attended and only two even sent a card. Sad to say, I'm the type of person who holds a grudge, and have fairly well done so over the years.
Dougie was next, and arguably, my favorite of my dad's siblings. I went to his viewing and took my then boyfriend (now Husband the Great) with me. This was the first time Joe had met this side of my family and all he could say was "These guys are humongous." (Speaking of CJ and Tovie, which they were, they were huge. This is especially funny when you realize that the only family of mine that Joe has met is my mom's family and we're all fairly short save my sister, my cousin David, my Aunt Diane and cousin Danielle). Dougie was simply hilarious, very quick witted, tall and lanky, my sister and I were very close with Jessica and Brandy, his girls. (they might have been step-daughters, but I never really wondered nor cared, they'd been there for as long as I could remember and so it didn't matter).
Tovie went next, and I'd heard nothing of it. Tovie was just cool. He'd spent some years as a body guard at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas, was body guard for Sinatra (that's how they ended up with the picture) and when he was in town, he was always nice to my and my sister. I'm not even sure how he died.
Then Patsy, which was only three or four months ago. She was the glue that held the boys together. She was a matriarch and her house was always one of my favorite places to visit. She had excellent taste and had this really cool rec room complete with a Ms. Pac Man arcade console. I'm sorry I missed her funeral, but I only found out about her death perhaps a month ago.
Then finally, CJ. CJ was the smooth-talker. He was the wheeler and dealer. Growing up, I was always sure he was working some sort of angle. But that didn't stop him from being awesome. As I said, I'd pretty much lost touch with my dad's side of the family after he died. But since my mom was still friends with some of the people they were all friends with, we kept running into CJ over the last few years. And I was simply shocked at the change in him. It was good change. It was the same kind of change my dad went through when he finally realized that my sister and I weren't going to just ignore him after he divorced my mom. I was glad to see it. I was glad his current and final wife Joyce was able to inspire that change in him.
So, at his viewing yesterday, I got to meet a cousin I never knew I had, as she was born after the last time we'd spent any real time at all with him. The viewing was bittersweet, to say the least. I saw people I haven't seen in fifteen years. And all we could talk about was how an era had ended now that all six siblings were gone. I assume the five boys have the best bowling team of the afterlife now and Patsy will be there to keep them from getting kicked out.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
The Upswing
I would say that creativity comes to me in waves. It is always there, bubbling under the surface, but it certainly boils over in inconsistent intervals. As is evident of being absent from posting here in nearly a month. I told you I was no good at frequency; you were warned.
This time of year, there are plenty of reasons to be disconnected from the interweb-world. Holidays, end of the business fiscal year, but really, no offense to anyone I solely speak with via internet, but I just didn't want to be here. I've been reading, doing a little bit of writing (with a pen, in a notebook), baking, catching up on TV I ignored all of Thanksgiving week and and end of month week at work (which was last week), shopping (it is shopping season after all) and generally being busy around the house.
Let us see. Adventures in real life. I had a pack of small children in my house for the first time two Saturdays ago. I think it went well. I had paper and crayons. And cats. Cats are nearly always a win with little kids. Fortunately, I have brilliant friends, and their children were raised right, so I was not at all worried about what sort of hi jinks they might get themselves into. As a matter a fact, I think my house ended up cleaner after they left than when they arrived. Well, mostly, I did find a few cheez-its squirreled away in a corner of the living room and a single french fry on the top of my wing-backed chair. But over all, these children were better house guests than the group of grown men that used to frequent my house every weekend all weekend. So, there is hope for the future.
I've been organizing. My spare room had to be made functional for the Pack, so we had to get creative with storing things. Mostly due to the bazillion or so Magic: The Gathering cards in boxes. We love to play (we even taught my 59 year old mother to play and she whups us almost every time. I've learned to show no mercy.), but I honestly don't know what we were thinking when we continued to buy all these cards. We'll never play enough games to use them all (I certainly don't have the patience to make enough decks out of them to play them all), and most of the cards are too old for official tournament use. So, I'm not sure what to do with them all, other than find some cool art thing to do with them. This just goes to show that even Husband the Great can fall victim to impulse shopping.
I've gotten a bit rambly, haven't I? I was talking about creative waves. I'm back in the upswing I think. I have a few jewelry things to do, I want try some neat photography tricks, and there is more baking to do before the end of the year. So, again, it could be a while before you hear from me.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Privilege and Good Graces
Today, I am not feeling nice. I was woken up exceptionally early by unfamiliar sounds and could not get back to sleep. This set the tone for my entire day. I am not in any way a morning person, unless you count those days where I just have not been to sleep yet. I am a night owl and despite being stuffed into a corporate job that requires mornings, I have never adjusted. But this post isn't about my inability to greet the early morning without wanting to kill it, this is just explaining why I am Cranky McCrankyPants today.
What I really want to talk about is people with privilege and how ridiculous they sound when the world just doesn't fall into place for them or give them exactly what they want when they want it. I feel I have every right to talk about this and point fingers because I will absolutely be pointing three right back to myself. When I was growing up, for the most part, if I wanted it and it wasn't just absurd (buy me that $300 toy that will break in a month), I got it. My mother loves to buy presents. She loves to see a person's face light up when she gives them just the thing they were looking for. But, as parents are known to say, she was not the bank of Mom when I became an adult. Plain and simple, she could not afford to keep bailing me out when I was the one spending all my money. Now, she has saved me in DIRE times of need. Like my brakes have failed and have to be replaced, or co-signing on a loan to pay off credit card debit. But it wasn't just a handout, I always had to pay her back. Always.
I have some friends who their parents always help them out. Stove's broken? No problem, we'll get you a new one and call it a birthday present (they still got birthday presents when their birthday rolled around). About to miss a car payment cause you didn't balance your checkbook? Here you go, just don't do it again. (they did it again, multiple times). In one case, they got a free house. A whole house. (Not the best house or the best neighborhood, but the square footage is good and there's a lot of potential. And I should mention that they cared for their ailing Grandmother who owned it until she passed, so it wasn't entirely unwarranted.)
In all honesty, I'm not opposed to my friends having the privilege of parents who will take care of all the lifestyle cramping expenses. If their parents want to do that for them and never make them face the reality that one day their parents will be gone and they will have to handle their grown up lives all on their own, more power to them. What I am opposed to is these friends not having the good graces not to constantly talk about it. Yes, it makes me feel absolutely wonderful when you tell me (about five times in less than an hour) that your parents are going to drop $300 on a new iPhone 4s 32gig for you for Christmas. No, it doesn't bother me in the least (for those of you who are terrible at working out the inflection of one's writing versus one's speaking, this is sarcasm). Of course, I would love to listen to you bitch and moan and sigh about how there are no iPhone 4s' to be found and how you won't have it right this second. And no, I don't feel at all guilty when your apparently extremely fragile feelings are hurt when I tell you that your over-privileged whining is doing nothing to improve my horrid mood (this part is sarcasm free).
These are the same friends that don't understand making a choice between bills or food. Don't get me wrong, neither did I. But then I graduated high school and put on my big girl panties. Now, don't read too much into that, I have never been in danger of starving (I'm a pudgy little thing). My mother would always feed me if I needed it. And she would house me if I needed it. Simply put: I'm an adult and DON'T WANT HER TO.
So, those of you who still get whatever you want by pointing at it and saying "Mom, Dad, buy me that", I'm not saying you have to change your ways, I'm saying you don't have to tell me about it.
What I really want to talk about is people with privilege and how ridiculous they sound when the world just doesn't fall into place for them or give them exactly what they want when they want it. I feel I have every right to talk about this and point fingers because I will absolutely be pointing three right back to myself. When I was growing up, for the most part, if I wanted it and it wasn't just absurd (buy me that $300 toy that will break in a month), I got it. My mother loves to buy presents. She loves to see a person's face light up when she gives them just the thing they were looking for. But, as parents are known to say, she was not the bank of Mom when I became an adult. Plain and simple, she could not afford to keep bailing me out when I was the one spending all my money. Now, she has saved me in DIRE times of need. Like my brakes have failed and have to be replaced, or co-signing on a loan to pay off credit card debit. But it wasn't just a handout, I always had to pay her back. Always.
I have some friends who their parents always help them out. Stove's broken? No problem, we'll get you a new one and call it a birthday present (they still got birthday presents when their birthday rolled around). About to miss a car payment cause you didn't balance your checkbook? Here you go, just don't do it again. (they did it again, multiple times). In one case, they got a free house. A whole house. (Not the best house or the best neighborhood, but the square footage is good and there's a lot of potential. And I should mention that they cared for their ailing Grandmother who owned it until she passed, so it wasn't entirely unwarranted.)
In all honesty, I'm not opposed to my friends having the privilege of parents who will take care of all the lifestyle cramping expenses. If their parents want to do that for them and never make them face the reality that one day their parents will be gone and they will have to handle their grown up lives all on their own, more power to them. What I am opposed to is these friends not having the good graces not to constantly talk about it. Yes, it makes me feel absolutely wonderful when you tell me (about five times in less than an hour) that your parents are going to drop $300 on a new iPhone 4s 32gig for you for Christmas. No, it doesn't bother me in the least (for those of you who are terrible at working out the inflection of one's writing versus one's speaking, this is sarcasm). Of course, I would love to listen to you bitch and moan and sigh about how there are no iPhone 4s' to be found and how you won't have it right this second. And no, I don't feel at all guilty when your apparently extremely fragile feelings are hurt when I tell you that your over-privileged whining is doing nothing to improve my horrid mood (this part is sarcasm free).
These are the same friends that don't understand making a choice between bills or food. Don't get me wrong, neither did I. But then I graduated high school and put on my big girl panties. Now, don't read too much into that, I have never been in danger of starving (I'm a pudgy little thing). My mother would always feed me if I needed it. And she would house me if I needed it. Simply put: I'm an adult and DON'T WANT HER TO.
So, those of you who still get whatever you want by pointing at it and saying "Mom, Dad, buy me that", I'm not saying you have to change your ways, I'm saying you don't have to tell me about it.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Why mess with a good thing?
Today I would like to talk about some movie adaptations that strayed so far from the book it's interesting how they justified it keeping the same title (well, really only one, the other two are still pretty close). Like I said before, I can enjoy a movie exactly for it's entertainment value, no more, no less. But there are some books I have read and loved so dearly that I was fairly disappointed at Hollywood's interpretation. However, there are ways Hollywood did some a bit of justice. I'm going to give you a few examples and you can decide if you think Hollywood did right or wrong.
JUST AS A WARNING THERE WILL BE SPOILERS AFOOT!
We'll start with Thomas Harris' "Hannibal". I have been fascinated by Hannibal Lecter since seeing "Silence of the Lambs" when I was a kid. I know, not a kid movie, but my parents were pretty liberal about what I watched since they knew I could handle it. So, I was pleased as punch when I found out they were making a movie that focused on everyone's favorite cannibal. And I saw the movie, I enjoyed it greatly. And while no, it no longer had the wonderful Jodi Foster, I felt Julianne Moore was an excellent replacement.
((UNLIKE the switcheroo they did with Rachel Weisz and Maria Bello for the last Mummy installment. I love Maria Bello, but she ain't no Evey. However, I digress))
So, I saw the movie and liked it, but the character still fascinated me, so I went and got myself the book. I tore through it, finding I greatly enjoy Thomas Harris' writing style. Only, I got to the end and found out that Clarice Starling ends up running away with Hannibal and becomes a cannibal as well. What an excellent ending! It was such an amazing testament to the level of head game Hannibal Lecter could play that I was very sad that they did not use this in the movie. He basically had managed to convince Clarice that her career was over and that no one understood her or loved her like he did. It was glorious. With all the shock value of the story, it seems a shame that Hollywood was too chicken to have Clarice fall to the dark side.
Then, there's "Blood and Chocolate" by Annette Curtis Klause. In the movie, the main character, who is a version of werewolf that literally turns into a wolf at will finds herself falling in love with a normal human man, but she is being pursued by their pack leader to be his next mate. As you can surmise, all hell breaks loose when said human kills the pack leader's son (who know about the romance and was trying to scare off the stupid human). When the human finds out what she is, he at first freaks out, but then decides he can work around it and still love her. Well, in the end, the heroine kills the pack leader and runs off with her shiny new human to live happily ever after.
I'd read the book long before the movie had come out and I was heavily anticipating the movie. I was very disappointed with the movie version. In the book, the main character still finds herself falling in love with a human and she is still being pursued, and when she does the big reveal to her human, he still freaks out, only in the book, he stays freaked out. And I can't remember if it's him or other humans that were hunting them, but someone shoots or stabs her with silver and she gets stuck in the half-human-half-wolf form and it is the unconditional love of the wolf that pursued her that helps her regain her two separate forms and she realizes that she was a fool to try and deny her nature all along. It was much more satisfying to me.
The last I'll leave you with is "The Other Boleyn Girl" by Philippa Gregory. The movie, well, if you've read the book, and you know your Tudor history, it's a bit of a train wreck. Yes, Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johanneson are breath-taking and were good casting. But really, if I wanted to watch "Anne of the Thousand Days" that's precisely what I would do. "The Other Boleyn Girl" is about Mary, it follows Mary, you get insight into the disaster of Anne's treachery to become queen from Mary's point of view. You get to see that Henry was a good man driven to madness by horrid advice and the need to provide a male heir. You get to see Mary carve her own path even if it is one that no one likes. I liked reading Mary's version of events. You get none of that from the movie. So disappointing was this movie that I rank it below Showtime's "The Tudors" (which I ended up watching all the way through even as I wanted to throw things at the screen at times).
I could go on and on and try to figure out why Hollywood does the things that it does. But I did just mention in my last post that some people take movies too seriously, so I'm trying to just note the differences. And I should mention that I own the movies of "Hannibal" and "Blood and Chocolate" and I enjoy them thoroughly every time I watch them because despite the glaring differences, by themselves, they are good movies.
So, how about you Random Reader? Do you have any examples to share?
JUST AS A WARNING THERE WILL BE SPOILERS AFOOT!
We'll start with Thomas Harris' "Hannibal". I have been fascinated by Hannibal Lecter since seeing "Silence of the Lambs" when I was a kid. I know, not a kid movie, but my parents were pretty liberal about what I watched since they knew I could handle it. So, I was pleased as punch when I found out they were making a movie that focused on everyone's favorite cannibal. And I saw the movie, I enjoyed it greatly. And while no, it no longer had the wonderful Jodi Foster, I felt Julianne Moore was an excellent replacement.
((UNLIKE the switcheroo they did with Rachel Weisz and Maria Bello for the last Mummy installment. I love Maria Bello, but she ain't no Evey. However, I digress))
So, I saw the movie and liked it, but the character still fascinated me, so I went and got myself the book. I tore through it, finding I greatly enjoy Thomas Harris' writing style. Only, I got to the end and found out that Clarice Starling ends up running away with Hannibal and becomes a cannibal as well. What an excellent ending! It was such an amazing testament to the level of head game Hannibal Lecter could play that I was very sad that they did not use this in the movie. He basically had managed to convince Clarice that her career was over and that no one understood her or loved her like he did. It was glorious. With all the shock value of the story, it seems a shame that Hollywood was too chicken to have Clarice fall to the dark side.
Then, there's "Blood and Chocolate" by Annette Curtis Klause. In the movie, the main character, who is a version of werewolf that literally turns into a wolf at will finds herself falling in love with a normal human man, but she is being pursued by their pack leader to be his next mate. As you can surmise, all hell breaks loose when said human kills the pack leader's son (who know about the romance and was trying to scare off the stupid human). When the human finds out what she is, he at first freaks out, but then decides he can work around it and still love her. Well, in the end, the heroine kills the pack leader and runs off with her shiny new human to live happily ever after.
I'd read the book long before the movie had come out and I was heavily anticipating the movie. I was very disappointed with the movie version. In the book, the main character still finds herself falling in love with a human and she is still being pursued, and when she does the big reveal to her human, he still freaks out, only in the book, he stays freaked out. And I can't remember if it's him or other humans that were hunting them, but someone shoots or stabs her with silver and she gets stuck in the half-human-half-wolf form and it is the unconditional love of the wolf that pursued her that helps her regain her two separate forms and she realizes that she was a fool to try and deny her nature all along. It was much more satisfying to me.
The last I'll leave you with is "The Other Boleyn Girl" by Philippa Gregory. The movie, well, if you've read the book, and you know your Tudor history, it's a bit of a train wreck. Yes, Natalie Portman and Scarlett Johanneson are breath-taking and were good casting. But really, if I wanted to watch "Anne of the Thousand Days" that's precisely what I would do. "The Other Boleyn Girl" is about Mary, it follows Mary, you get insight into the disaster of Anne's treachery to become queen from Mary's point of view. You get to see that Henry was a good man driven to madness by horrid advice and the need to provide a male heir. You get to see Mary carve her own path even if it is one that no one likes. I liked reading Mary's version of events. You get none of that from the movie. So disappointing was this movie that I rank it below Showtime's "The Tudors" (which I ended up watching all the way through even as I wanted to throw things at the screen at times).
I could go on and on and try to figure out why Hollywood does the things that it does. But I did just mention in my last post that some people take movies too seriously, so I'm trying to just note the differences. And I should mention that I own the movies of "Hannibal" and "Blood and Chocolate" and I enjoy them thoroughly every time I watch them because despite the glaring differences, by themselves, they are good movies.
So, how about you Random Reader? Do you have any examples to share?
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Movie Magic
Let me begin by saying I am a champion of all movies. I love movies. They are near and dear to me as any childhood prized possession like my first stuffed bear (Townsend Vermont). Growing up, we went to the movies all the time. It was a staple on the weekends, to the point that when my dad passed away, one of my good friends burst into tears at the thought of not going to the movies with him any more.
My love of movies as lived on and as many who know me will tell you, my husband and I have an insane movie collection. I started it, and Husband the Great has only added to the wall of movies. My friends will no longer play Scene It with me because it is no longer fun for them, my favorite kind of music is Movie Scores. I LOVE MOVIES.
But, I find these days that the market is over-saturated. There are so many movies coming out that I just can't keep up. And I'm finding that with many of them, I just don't want to. There was a time when going to the movies was an outing. Now it's just expected. I remember just one or two major summer blockbusters a year while growing up. Now it's an entire season of non-stop "blockbusters".
And I think people are taking movies too seriously in certain aspects. To me, you should walk into every movie expecting nothing except to be entertained. Over the Top? Who cares? Blatantly Inaccurate? Were we going to History Class or a Movie? Didn't follow the book word for word? Could you imagine how long that movie would be? C'mon people, they're meant to be entertaining.
If you want something deep and meaningful on the level a major intellectual satisfaction, read the book the movie was based on. (Which I love to do too, but that's a post for another day)
My love of movies as lived on and as many who know me will tell you, my husband and I have an insane movie collection. I started it, and Husband the Great has only added to the wall of movies. My friends will no longer play Scene It with me because it is no longer fun for them, my favorite kind of music is Movie Scores. I LOVE MOVIES.
But, I find these days that the market is over-saturated. There are so many movies coming out that I just can't keep up. And I'm finding that with many of them, I just don't want to. There was a time when going to the movies was an outing. Now it's just expected. I remember just one or two major summer blockbusters a year while growing up. Now it's an entire season of non-stop "blockbusters".
And I think people are taking movies too seriously in certain aspects. To me, you should walk into every movie expecting nothing except to be entertained. Over the Top? Who cares? Blatantly Inaccurate? Were we going to History Class or a Movie? Didn't follow the book word for word? Could you imagine how long that movie would be? C'mon people, they're meant to be entertaining.
If you want something deep and meaningful on the level a major intellectual satisfaction, read the book the movie was based on. (Which I love to do too, but that's a post for another day)
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