Blog Archives

Thoughts After Midnight

3/28/2014

I have a new TV girlfriend. It is such a nice feeling to admire someone again. People who know me well know that I have these fantasy boyfriends and/or girlfriends who are usually television and film actors and sometimes authors who I fall in love with to a certain extent. With the women, it's not that I'm thinking about kissing them or anything like that -- I just admire them and enjoy looking at them. With the men, it is also rarely a sexual fantasy that plays out in my head (with a few notable exceptions). I tend to admire people and put them on a pedestal, because I think some people actually are worthy of admiration.

Here is a list of some of my celebrity boyfriends starting with Randolph Mantooth at age seven (my first): Russell Johnson (the professor from Gilligan's Island) (at the age of eight or so I had this running fantasy about the professor finally realizing that Marianne was perfect for him), Robert Wagner, Paul Simon, Andy Garcia, Phil Hartman, Kevin Spacey, Gary Sinise, John Steinbeck (authors don't usually count, but in Steinbeck's case, I really felt like I knew and loved him), Joe Lando and a few others that I am now embarrassed to mention. Currently, I have no celebrity boyfriend, but I am kind of digging author Frank Bruni who wrote Born Round: The Secret History of a Full-time Eater because it is nice to know that there is at least one other intelligent person out there who had a completely bonkers relationship to food... like... I... did.......do.

My celebrity girlfriends include: Judy Garland, Carrie Fisher, Isabella Rossellini, Sherilyn Wolter, Finola Hughes, Jane Seymour, and my newest addition, Vera Farmiga. I started with Judy Garland -- really with Dorothy Gale -- at the age of five or six. It was during that time that any stranger who asked my name got the sincere answer, "Dorothy." Then the Star Wars geek in me took on Carrie Fisher -- I admired her for adolescent reasons; now I admire her strength and wit. Isabella Rossellini was someone who I identified with. Why, I'm not sure. I just felt that we were similar people on some astral plane somewhere. Then came my soapy period. Then Jane (which has quite a lot to do with her beauty). And finally, Vera Farmiga who I think is absolutely brilliant in her role as Norman's mother in Bates Motel. She is lovable and hate-able and believable all at once. When I was in acting school, I longed for a part like Margaret Hoolihan in MASH. If I were still acting, Norma Bates would be the coveted role.

Though I very much love my flesh and blood family, I do enjoy my TV boyfriends and girlfriends. And I'm on the lookout for a new TV boyfriend so if you have any recommendations, feel free. Maybe I should go with a younger guy this time instead of the "dad" type?

0 Comments

The Killing (the TV show )

3/21/2014

0 Comments

WARNING: Spoilers for Broadchurch and The Killing are contained in this article. Unlike many in the world of writers, I don't spend more time reading than watching TV. I do read and become deeply involved with the lives of literary characters, but when I'm tired in the evening, TV IS FOR ME! I'm not looking for elements to criticize, either. (I can't stand watching TV with a critic; as much as possible, my goal is to overlook inconsistencies and lose myself in a story). I'm always hoping for a narrative to take me safely to another world, and for me to love it, it has to have a dark element. So many critics have said that The Killing is pretentious, but I think they are just striving to be the best. It's slow paced and I like that too. If I care about the characters, I want it to stretch out and provide me with quiet, slow moments. Okay, I do admit to sleeping through some of it, but sometimes it's nice to sleep through something and know I haven't missed too much. (I'm digging myself, deeper and deeper here, aren't I)?

My husband asked me why I'm so attracted to dark themes (with the subtext, I think, "What's wrong with you?). I did give it some thought, and I don't think I'm as disturbed as my Netflix cue might indicate. I would refer the reader back to my essay about Breaking Bad and Dexter and why I like Dexter so much more. Within the dark themes of my favorite shows there must always be a hero or heroes who are fighting for good (even if they are deeply flawed). My heart is with Jesse in Breaking Bad. My heart is with Holder and Linden in The Killing. My heart is with with Dexter (especially when he struggles so much with his identity and perception of himself as a "monster"). That can't be all bad, can it? It's not like I'm reading Harry Potter and voting for Voldemort.

Because I am always contradicting myself (in my defense, who doesn't?) this paragraph is going to include a criticism of Season 3 of The Killing. Many perceived flaws in the writing have been pointed out by other writers, but there is only one problem that really irks me: I feel like we barely knew this guy, Skinner. He was there, of course, and established as Linden's former lover. The relationship, I think, makes sense even though she is adorable and he was rather old and bald. Women who are missing a father figure in their lives often seek the "dad" type. The problem boils down to the same element that often makes or breaks a story. We don't care about him. Linden did, but the audience didn't know him well enough to be really shocked and appalled when he was revealed as the killer. The depth of betrayal would have been felt by the audience if we believed that we knew and cared about him.

For those of you who viewed Broadchurch, the same criticism could be made, but it didn't matter as much because the effect of the killer's identity was all about the people who revolved around him. We saw deep agony and unthinkable position of the killer's wife. The Killing ended abruptly, and the depth of the relationship between Skinner and Linden was not well established.

Whatever its weaknesses, I am so pleased that the show was picked up for another season, and I can't wait to see Holder and Linden move on from this point.

0 Comments

Howl

3/2/2014

0 Comments

I just watched Howl with James Franco as Allen Ginsberg. It made me think about myself as a writer, of course. It particularly made me think about this blog. I don't imagine I would ever have started a blog if it were not on that list of "supposed-tos" for the self published writer. I do admit, though, that the blog has taken on its own energy. I like writing down my thoughts, feelings, ideas, and experiences. And I like pressing the orange "publish" button in spite of the fact that it makes me feel small and insignificant. Who the hell needs to hear my contradictory ramblings? Yet sometimes I like to imagine that there is someone out there who might benefit the way I have so often benefited from the works of others.

I love to live vicariously through other people's art -- film, books, television, and even (rarely) paintings or sculpture. Certain worlds created by other people are so real to me that I think they must actually exist in an astral plane created by the consciousness of all those others who put mental energy into them.

Allen Ginsberg just cracked himself right open and wrote his own truth. He was afraid of what his dad would think, but he still wrote. I have written about this before when discussing Pat Conroy. It also reminds me of actors I have seen whose performances move beyond direction, training, and skill to a place where they are uniquely charismatic and profoundly loved by the audience because they have no walls. I trained as an actor full time for four and a half years. I had some skills, but my walls are firmly up.

I envy writers who are brave enough to write their truth. The fact that I have family and friends who would be affected by all of my truth gets in the way. And I do fight a desire to write my truth. Share my truth. Something in my mind is often pushing at me. Some little monster in there just doesn't care about the consequences to the lives of others. Would it be as shocking as Allen Ginsberg in his time? Quite unlikely! My hidden thoughts are perhaps less stylish and certainly less sexually charged.

There is another way to write my truth, and I know many writers do it. I could write it through the guise of a fictional character. My impulse, though, is to write the straight truth straight from me with my name firmly attached. Could I be so inspired and write it through poetry? Not exactly poetry, but I imagine a certain lyrical quality would come naturally. Maybe I'll write it all and put in in a drafts folder. Then someday when I know I'm ready to crack myself open for all to see, it's all there and ready to release.

Why was I saddled with this constant urge to analyze, consider, go within, and move energy out in the form of words? In the scope of everything going on in this world, what is the point? Why aren't I putting my energy to better use? I could be focusing on serious issues outside of myself like poverty, human rights, or animal cruelty? Maybe in my next life I'll be a powerful force for good in this world -- Mother Theresa or Rupert Prince Hentley -- I'll save the world.

On the other hand, why couldn't I be some shallow girl with a great tan and a white bikini? Maybe in the next life I won't be such a nerd.

0 Comments

Thoughts After Midnight

The Killing (the TV show )

Howl

About the Author:
needs sunlight
portrait below

Categories

Archives

Thoughts After Midnight

The Killing (the TV show )

Howl

About the Author:needs sunlightportrait below

Categories

Archives

About the Author:
needs sunlight
portrait below