It Didn't Suck. At All.

A few weeks ago my mother called to ask if I would want to go and see 'Dirty Dancing' with her and some colleagues from work. I hesitated, because I hated the movie, but agreed to go. I thought it would be a great way to spend a bit of time with her outside of family things (meaning without my step-father around). Last night was the big night and I have to admit, it didn't suck.

It wasn't the best thing I'd ever seen onstage, but it was entertaining. The girl playing the lead role was fantastic, which was unfortunate for everyone else in the cast as she really stood out and the rest were just filler. I thought that she was perfectly suited to the role and played it really well. What was astonishing was the amount of older ladies in the audience, hooting and hollering each time the lead male came on stage. It was almost as if they thought they were in a male strip club, with the loud requests for the men to take off their clothes ringing through the theatre every five minutes.

The main thing I want in a movie or a play or a musical is that I don't want to perceive the passage of time. If I have no idea how long I've been sitting there watching something, then I deem it good. If I look at my watch, or find my thoughts drifting away, then I'm not being entertained and I feel like I've wasted my money. Last night fell in the 'good' category because I really enjoyed watching the characters play their parts. I have no idea how it's different from the movie or which parts have been changed or edited out and I really don't care. I remember hating the movie and this was a pleasant surprise. I wouldn't go see it again, but it was good to see once with my very opinionated mother who needed to tell me which songs in the musical she still had on vinyl.

The whole thing from start to finish was really good, although I really enjoyed the scene where Baby's father rips up the cheque he was going to give to the 'nice' guy going to med school who had knocked up the main dancing girl which caused the huge kerfuffle between Baby and her father. That guy was a douche. My mom said so.

Very Good Readin'

I have been on a bit of a reading tear lately, having finished four books in a week. Some might argue that comics aren't books, but when you have to read words and decipher pictures to get the entirety of what the writer and artist are trying to make you see/feel, I would strongly disagree and even go so far as to offer that comics are perhaps more difficult to read than regular books. In regular books, the writer tells you what to see/hear/feel without letting you take what you want from the story. Comics are the complete opposite; the written story is directly influenced by the choice of artist who chooses panel placement/size to better reflect the emotions that they are trying to evoke in the reader. Working together, pictures and words tell a more complete story in that the reader is given the choice of what they will take away from it.

Two stories stand out the most in what I've read: 'The Graveyard Book' by Neil Gaiman and 'Joker' written by Brian Azzarello and drawn by a slew of talented artists. I am so impressed with the calibre of story-telling in both of these books that I've loaned them out with strict instructions to read them. Sometimes people accept books and don't read them and that bothers me. If I've gone to the trouble of bringing you a book that I think you would enjoy why wouldn't you either read it or tell me to take it back? That's clearly another post though.

Gaiman's book centres on a baby boy whose family is brutally slaughtered. The baby, having escaped death by wandering into a cemetary, is taken in by the inhabitants of the cemetary and raised as their son. He learns things from each citizen of the graveyard and eventually the full story of who he is and why he must be killed is revealed. A great read that you wish would never end, but sadly it does and I cried. For real.

Azzarello's take on Joker was absolutely devastating. We all know that Joker is crazy but this story explores just how crazy crazy can get. He drags everyone else along with him for the ride and it's terrifying and exhilarating and hysterically funny and sad all at the same time. Plus, Harley is clad in red and black PVC right from her first appearance and that's always a pleasure to see.

I love books, and have too many of them to prove it. I enjoy finding new things to read and I love passing them along. When I find stories that move me, I am inspired to try and create that feeling in my own writing. A good story is worth all the pain and suffering that it sometimes takes in order to write it. Reading these two stories and understanding how long it has taken to get them out of the writer's head and into my hands is also very comforting. Sometimes it's easy to lose track of the amount of time and energy it actually takes to write a good story, and it reminds me that I am on track with my own work. The old adage is true: you can't rush perfection.

Here's Why

Whenever I hear that yet another comic book that I love is being made into a movie, I cringe. Some comics just cannot survive the transition from print to screen and it's very upsetting when producers and Hollywood writers try to force it. Like Daredevil. Like the first Hulk. Other comics translate perfectly simply because of the nature of the book: Batman, Spider-man, X-Men, and so on. One of the best comic-to-movie adaptations I've ever seen is Hellboy because in my humble opinion, they got everything right. From the lead character played flawlessly by Ron Perlman to the perfect rendition of Abe's costume, as far as I'm concerned that movie hit the comic dead on. Knowing how hit-or-miss the whole comic movie phenomenon is and how fickle the fans are, I wasn't expecting much from Watchmen. Not much at all. So why then did I find myself in a movie theatre at midnight watching it when I should have been home in bed? Because I am a nerd and I had to see it for myself.

Mere hours later and I'm thinking of how I'm going to fit another couple of viewings into my already jam-packed weekend. That's how incredible I thought is was. Despite the absence of the giant squid (read the comic and you'll totally understand), the whole epic was great. The boy went with me and said it was the first time he'd seen a movie where he knew exactly what was going to happen and who was going to speak and what they were going to say for the duration of the almost 3 hour long movie. Not once during the film did I catch myself wondering what time it was, or thinking that something could have been done better. Not once was I upset that I was going to be ruined for work the next day because of this movie. My red-rimmed eyes and unkempt hair are badges of honor for having gone to midnight show on a school night.

On a completely different note, I may have to change my favourite hero. It's always been a toss-up between Batman and Hawkman with a bit of Namor thrown in for Marvel/DC diversity, but now I think it may be Rorschach/Walter Kovacs. There's so much that I could say to back-up my sudden shift in hero-worship, but I won't ruin the movie . Yet.

So, I'm exhausted and satisfied with the movie. Now I just have to get through the next eight hours so I can go home and nap.

Let the Games Begin

Yesterday was fantastic. A bunch of us gathered over at the Gaymesmaster's house to play an extended version of the game we played on my birthday. In this version, there is a map of an entire land with paths and towns and dungeons that we, as the adventuring heroes, have to explore and loot as needed.

Last night we didn't get very far. In this version, the dungeons have three sections to it (connected by a sparkly portal...oooh), and after seven hours we only managed to get through the first two parts of the first dungeon. We're thinking that we'll probably get through the rest of the dungeon during our next session. Or maybe not...

I like playing boardgames. Sitting around a table with my friends, plotting to destroy the evil Overlord; that's good times. Even better on a lazy Sunday when the alternative might have been to clean the apartment. The trick is to get started early, and by starting at 2pm, we managed to still have part of the day to run around and do whatever needed to be done before going to the game. Plus, next time we play we will know what we're doing so hopefully we can finally buy the damn boat.

There are three types of roads in the game: normal, river and secret. Normal you take whenever; you don't need anything special to travel on it. River paths require a boat which requires money which requires killing monsters in dungeons and on paths. Ditto for secret paths, except we need a map which I think is twice as much as the boat. What's interesting about this is that when you buy the boat somehow it magically comes with you. Not sure how that works but I'm sure wizards are involved. After finishing the dungeon, we'll go back to town and buy the boat and then continue on. Unless someone has a better idea?

Just Go and Send me Thanks

http://alienlovespredator.com/2009/01/27/that-thing-is-my-mother/

I don't need to explain this. Two of my favourite things in a comic strip: aliens and predators.

Coming Out Okay

It's amazing what happens when you decide to stop shutting people out. I decided to talk to the boy, to really honestly talk to him and to cry and to let him comfort me and although things are not absolutely perfect, I have faith that they will be.

I was sitting at home alone watching reruns of cartoons and I was very unhappy. He was out with some friends and I had chosen to stay home. By myself. Miserable. As I sat there, I realized that I was unhappy not only because of the heart-wrenching ordeal I have just been through but also because I had decided that I would do this alone. Again. I sat there, miserable, and made another decision; a different one this time, one that I should have made a long time ago but was always too scared to go through with. I decided to apologise.

Even though we were both at fault for various things that have happened, I needed to tell him that I am sorry. I needed to let him know that even though I have this ridiculous image of myself running through my head that I strive to maintain at all costs, I need him in my life because he is my partner. One could argue that he is possibly the only person who can actually handle me. Point is, I made a mistake and I had to apologise for it.

I chose to try again with him because I realized the futility of continuing on the way I have been. I don't want to start over again and again when all I really need to do is tend to what I already have. I refuse to be that woman who is angry at the world and terribly bitter because she can't let anyone in for fear of being hurt. I have spent too much of my life being angry and it has netted me nothing. Time to let go of it.

I realize that I will probably lose more friends because of this. No one likes to see someone else happy when they aren't, so I'm fully expecting people to drop me. It amazes me though that people who bitch and moan about how terrible their lives are don't do anything to right it. They would rather see themselves proven correct than actually try and change things. I did that for years and it made me miserable. I don't want to be miserable anymore.

I am still having a hard time dealing with our loss, but now it's our loss and not just mine. That makes it easier to bear, knowing that he's there and understands how I feel. We will probably try again sometime down the road but for now I'm okay with just having him and Oscar.

What Attempts to Destroy You...

I have always fallen prey to thinking I can change things, both for myself and others. When I attempt to do so, all hell breaks loose and although I know that this will happen each time, I still do it. Why then did I think that this time would be any different? Because I am also somewhat of an optimist, and I like to think, as deluded as it may sound, that at some point what I am trying to do might actually succeed.

In this case, something has happened that not only was I not prepared for in the beginning, I also was completely not in the loop as to the wheres and whys of it ceasing. It's something that women don't normally talk about, yet as soon as one finds out that it's happened to someone they know, the flood gates open and a huge outpouring of emotional stories from people start to fill your email inbox.

My boy and I had talked about having children. We figured we were ready for it and to be honest, I didn't think I would get pregnant simply because I know how difficult it is under normal circumstances and my situation is anything but normal! Imagine then, six months later, when I'm staring down at a home pregnancy indicator that I've just peed on and it's telling me that I'm pregnant. For real. I have pictures of it because I thought I was seeing things. After going to the doctor and getting it confirmed, we sat down silently in awe of what we'd done.

The doctors tell you not to say anything until after the three month/12 week period has passed but really, who doesn't tell people? So we did. We told a few people including our close friends and family and sat back to wait for the time to pass so we could tell everybody. Sadly though, this was one of those times where things just wouldn't happen the way we'd like them to.

I lost the baby. Whether it was due to stress or the fact that I was very ill and lost too much weight, it doesn't matter. I am no longer carrying life in me and that is not easy to deal with, especially since most women don't even tell people when it happens and there really isn't too much in the way of support. Without my mom, I'm not sure if I would have been able to go back to work and carry on. She has been my rock, and I cannot thank her enough for everything that she has done during this time for me. My mom doesn't dwell on the fact on that I lost it; she prefers instead to tell me that clearly this wasn't the right time for this event to happen and that it doesn't mean that I cannot try again later, which is followed up with a cheerful reminder that at least I know it all works down there. And she's right. It does work, and I am happy for that.

What I'm not happy about is the state of my relationship, which has spiraled down into non-existence. Not only have I lost a chance at being a mother, I have potentially lost my partner as well. So why am I still trying so hard to see the silver lining? Because I realize that people, just like time, ebb and flow and that sometimes what isn't right at this precise moment could be right at some other time.

I know that the common denominator in all my failed relationships is me. I also know that my decisions regarding partners have not been made with my best interests at heart. I could launch into a psychological lecture regarding this but really, let's not. I don't look at my past relationships as failures, I see them as attempts to figure out what I want in my life. For me there's no such thing as failure per se, there's only a delay while I find another way to achieve what I desire.

This is all well and good but when it really comes down to it, why do I keep messing things up? The boy said something to me the other night while we were discussing the break-up and it has resonated with me ever since. He told me that I have an image of myself that I go out of my way to ensure I adhere to no matter what even when it may cost me something I want very much. Because of that, I make sure that things don't work out and that people don't get close to me and those that manage to get close end up getting very hurt.

Wow. This past week has been full of tears, pain and soul-searching and at the end of the day I till have nothing concrete. Maybe he's right. Maybe I do that to protect myself and in doing so I make sure no one can take care of me that way that I secretly want them to. Almost as if I set myself up to fail; and that completely contradicts everything I just wrote earlier in this post. I'm dealing with the loss of my child, the loss of my partner and I am very, very lost. This might be too much for me to handle by myself and this might be the time where I find myself swallowing back that image and reaching out for someone. The only question is...who is left?