Thoughts

I have now watched Fever Pitch on FX two times in two days. I first watched this movie on an airplane and liked it well enough then, but apparently I like it more each time I see it. If it's on tomorrow, by God, I'll probably watch it again.

Now as I wait for Pushing Daisies, I'm watching Designing Women, which markedly declined with the arrival of these two women in place of Charlene and Suzanne. Whoever they are. Anthony is giving a tearful speech to Julia, accompanied by slow piano music, about hard it is when women clutch their purses when he walks down the street. I much more enjoyed fiery moments like when Julia yelled at that horrible woman who came to show her home on the historic homes tour. And of course when she yelled at that beauty queen about the night that the lights went out in Georgia.

I don't even know what to say. I finished The Pigman for the fiftieth time, and mostly it just made me sad.

You know how they have "unexplained" versions of illnesses? Like my sister knows a girl who suddently went deaf in one ear one day. Boom. Unexplained deafness. Do you think there is such a thing as unexplained sadness? Maybe I am sad because I feel heavy and bulbous. Maybe I am sad because I got a C on a midterm in a class I've worked really hard in. Maybe I am sad because Daisy (spoiler-coded for the squeamish) somehow tore her dewclaw off and all that's left is a tiny bloody stump and I don't know what to do about it. Maybe I am sad because I don't know why I am working so hard in these classes when getting an actual degree will take years upon years and I don't even know why I want to get it. Maybe I am sad because all my boyfriend and I ever do in our "spare" time anymore is study. Well, I occasionally spend entire nights on the couch eating homemade stir fry with vegetables and brown rice and watching TV, just like always, but otherwise: studying. I don't know why I am sad. It is unexplained sadness. But it's sadness all the same.

How cute and wonderful is Pushing Daisies? It's like its makers knew just the TV show I needed this fall. And Barbara Barrie's name just appeared in the opening credits! Which is always a good thing. I loved her on Double Trouble, I loved her as Rick Sammler's mom on Once and Again, and I'm sure I'll love her on this.

What else is there to say about TV? I am most delighted that about the turn that Mark's storyline is taking on Ugly Betty, and any upcoming episode of it that features an outing to a Broadway show is just fine by me.

Movies I want to see: August Rush, Gone Baby Gone, The Darjeeling Limited, and Dan in Real Life, which I just found out has Norbert Leo Butz in it, for God's sake. And I love Juliette Binoche always. And I just found the clip of her talking about The English Patient on Inside the Actors Studio -- LOVE HER. (I dare tears not to prickle into your eyes almost two minutes into that clip.)

I am so proud of my friend Elizabeth as the opening night of her play approaches. She is a brave and talented woman.

There's a trickle of sweat

I am feeling very tubby lately.

Last October, I was finishing up the one-hour running program and getting ready to start the half-marathon training. I can't believe it's been only a year and I have descended this far into slothitude. Pants I bought last October no longer fit me. I can barely button my formerly loosest pants. It's a sad state of affairs. It's no big mystery - I haven't exercised regularly in months and have been eating my way through autumn. I loved my crazy exercise class for a while and went semi-faithfully, but it's all fallen by the wayside.

It's strange; I miss what it felt like to dedicate myself to the running programs and to have the routine and even the running, at least the outside running because I loved the damn scenery, but I feel like I ran solely to accomplish the goals of the 5K, one hour running program, and half-marathon, and once I'd done that, it felt like something I didn't want to do anymore. But I have to do something. Seriously. It's just unseemly and unhealthy, what my body has turned into this fall. I am actually beginning to gross myself out with the ballooning state of my stomach, and that is a terrible feeling. I'm not trying to hate on myself, but pants do not lie, and there's no reason for me to be descending into this spiral of blubbery. Mainly, I want to focus on how much saner and more productive I felt in all areas of my life when it was framed by an exercise-related structure. Healthy body=healthy mind and all that jazz.

Today I sat in class and was so uncomfortable as layers of tubbiness rolled over the top of my khaki cords that I loved and wore so much last year. I could see the rolls bulging out from inside my very cute new pink argyle sweater from Target, and I shifted and shifted, trying to feel better in my skin. I don't like feeling this way. For the first time in I can't even remember how long, I am feeling intensely sad about my body.

(Sidebar: Something that made me intensely happy was seeing Urinetown. I knew I would love it based solely on my deep and abiding love for "Run, Freedom, Run!" but that was the only song I knew going into it, so the rest was just a pleasant surprise. What a fun, funny, great show. I laughed and laughed, and I loved the music, and the cast was fantastic, and their voices were terrific, and it was a very satisfying night of musical theater. And it was exciting that it was happening locally. Just ... enjoyable. A good night of musical theater is amazing therapy.)

This afternoon, I did what I have not done in so long. I put on my exercise clothes and strapped on my sneakers and got my iPod, recently loaded with the Urinetown soundtrack, and I headed out for a walk. Not a run, but a nice, brisk walk for thirty solid minutes. We have less than a week left that I'll be able to do that after work, and I made myself go. I listened to that great soundtrack in addition to some other fine showtunes such as "Oh, What a Beautiful Morning" even though it was dusk, and I watched the sun falling and all of the exercising maniacs all around me, and I said to myself, "Remember? Remember when you did this for months and months, only you weren't walking, you were running? What happened to you?" I tried not to feel ashamed but rather lucky to have the time to be outside on such a beautiful afternoon and to feel my legs getting sore and myself breaking a little sweat for the first time in God knows how long. Tonight, for dinner, I had a nice plate of roast and brown rice and peas and corn from my mom and I didn't go back for seconds. I passed on the moo-llennium crunch. I don't want to become obsessive, and I don't want to beat myself up too much. I just want to take better care of myself and start being a little kinder to my body, even if it's just a little bit at a time.

And the Oscar goes to Hal Holbrook

Life has been going on.

I re-read Tiger Eyes (again). I read The Palace Thief, which had four really good and also really depressing stories in it. I was supposed to be studying at the library last night, but instead I wandered to a room full of children’s and young adult literature and scanned the shelves of my favorite writers. I came to Jean Little and let out a little squawk when I saw the spine of a book named Kate. Kate? KATE? Kate has her own book? I could not believe it. It is a sequel to my beloved Look Through My Window. I promptly e-mailed Lisa to inform her of this discovery. So instead of studying last night, I read the first half of the book. And it is so wonderful to be with Kate and Emily and Jean, James, John, and Anne again, only from Kate’s perspective this time instead of Emily’s. And I just finished The Road Home, which I liked very much. I’m not sure how I called myself an Ellen Emerson White fan for twenty years or so without ever reading this book. I thought a little about the character of Max in Across the Universe when I was reading it. And about China Beach. I guess I am lucky that all I know of war is what I see on TV or movies or read in books.

I saw not all but most of The War on PBS.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the latest Andy Samberg video. It’s one thing to make fun of GWB. But this very scary guy is basically our enemy at this point and we might end up going to war with him. Maybe it’s because I can’t stop thinking about The War, but it just seemed like a very modern and patriotic thing to do – to be able to be so crass and rude to this dictator and we have the freedoms that allow us to do that. I think I have dictators on the brain.

The War was harrowing and heartbreaking and sometimes very gross. But I think it was pretty great. I didn’t catch every night of it, but what I did see was good. Tom Hanks narrated newspaper articles written by a Minnesota reporter named Al McIntosh. I don’t know if it’s that the writings were really good or Tom Hanks just did a great job reading them, but every time he started talking, I immediately started boo-hooing. It reminded me of that part of Field of Dreams when Terrence Mann goes to hear about Doc Graham and the old newspaper lady reads his obituary and it turns out that she wrote it … Tom Hanks read that kind of writing by this Al McIntosh guy and it was just too much for me. It was kind of an overall weepfest, especially when old grandpas’ voices started quivering when they were talking about their experiences. A little American girl & her family were held among American and British “POWs” (they weren’t actually POWs, they were just normal people who were living in the Philippines when it got taken over by the Japanese) for several years in a shanty-town sort of POW camp there, and parts of her diary were read by a little girl narrator … I never knew about that … it just shows how widespread and truly world-wrecking the war was. It’s all very upsetting. It’s hard to explain. It blows my mind how many hundreds of thousands/millions of civilians got bombed to smithereens by the Allies both in Europe & the Pacific (not even counting Hiroshima & Nagasaki) and we were supposed to be “the good guys.” It’s a little much to take. I started thinking about The Book Thief. It was kind of a masterpiece, though, I think, and a staggering achievement. But I’m glad it’s over, because my eyes were starting to get bloodshot. I also think I need to start watching more sitcoms.

You can listen here to Tom Hanks as Al McIntosh. I still think about the people interviewed. Every time Sam Hynes would open his mouth, I would think, that is the most articulate man I have ever heard speak. I told B. that he talks like a writer. Well, duh. Turns out he’s not only a writer but professor of literature emeritus at Princeton. And because I am a total ignoramus and had no idea who he was, after watching him speak and share his experience night after night after night and being totally charmed by him, when the narrator said that Daniel Inouye got his Medal of Honor fifty years later as a sixth-term United States Senator, I burst into tears. I burst into tears throughout the entire thing.

Not to mention when Norah Jones sang as the credits rolled.

It’s been a while since I started this entry. I finished Kate, and I am with Lisa – it’s no Look Through My Window. Now I’m re-reading The Pigman, just because.

I went to see Into the Wild this weekend. I’ve never read the book, but my sister has, and I remember that she was very affected by it and she told me a lot about it. I don’t feel like I can really make a judgment about the guy; I didn’t know him and I don’t know why he did what he did or if he was just on a suicide mission or what. I don’t feel like it’s my place to decide whether the way he lived and died was right or wrong. All I can say is that it was a powerful and ultimately devastating film, and I’m glad I saw it. If Hal Holbrook does not win the Oscar for best supporting actor, I’ll think there is something very wrong in the world. A lot of things in this film moved me – the landscapes, the amazing nature photography, Emile Hirsch’s performance overall, Catherine Keener – but Hal Holbrook is who made me cry and cry and cry, and I was just blown away by him. HAL HOLBROOK, I LOVE YOU.

Update!

So life has been busy. I'm not even sure all that has happened since my last post. I read Celebrity Detox because I love Rosie. I've been doing lots of homework and studying and spending lots of hours in the library, which incidentally is a good way to confront germophobia because what is more germy than a library book? I don't know. I thought my only new show was going to be Dirty Sexy Money, but then I went and watched Pushing Daisies, and it won me over in all of about two seconds. Which leaves my old favorites: How I Met Your Mother, which has thus far this season not thrilled me one bit, Brothers and Sisters, which is still excellent though I wish Rob Lowe would cease being orange, and, of course, Friday Night Lights.

As I mentioned before, my brother and I worked ourselves into quite a froth about the direction the show seems to be taking, and I won't say any more about it because my sister is in South America and not watching it yet, but two episodes in, I have come to terms with it and have accepted it and am moving on because I am not going to let one plotline ruin the joy that this show has brought me since the first second it aired. B., who caught up with season one on DVD, thank God, pointed me to this article in The New Yorker, and it's all true. (Warning: Huge spoiler about the end of season one in that article.) Connie Britton was so good in this week's episode that I was laughing and crying at the same time and I am asking you, when watching a TV show that you love, what is better than that?

This week I have many things to accomplish: two midterms, a history presentation, a research assignment, and about six billion pages to read. But I am not thinking about that right now.

B. and I decided to take twenty-four hours to escape from school, the pets, the house, the everything. We headed to the big city, stayed at The Columns, and just spent some beautiful hours walking around the French Quarter and Jackson Square and the river while the sun went down on pretty much the most beautiful day we've had so far in 2007. We had sazeracs on the Columns patio, and we had sazeracs in the courtyard of Lafitte's. We stopped at the Clover Grill and split a grilled cheese sandwich and tater tots at the counter. We walked down to the river and watched a beautiful man playing the saxophone at sunset. We ate a feta cheese, roasted red pepper, red onion, and BACON pizza at Angeli. The next morning, we ate a Columns breakfast and went to Magazine Street to shop at Scriptura, and I lost my wallet somewhere, and that was the only bad thing that happened during the entire 24-hour period of bliss of no studying, no library, no barking, and no worries.

(Some photos from the getaway are in this set.)