It ain't easy being green

I was watching Shrek 2 on cable over the weekend, and I was reminded of why I thought the movie was just okay when I saw the end – which I found cheesy and unrealistic. I realize that it’s the cynic in me peering out, but just to refresh your memory, Shrek and Fiona have taken a potion that would allow them to remain human instead of reverting back to ogre status. And, they chose not to do it.

While I understand the moviemaker’s intent with the moral of the story and to be happy with whom you are naturally, let’s be honest in that it just doesn’t work that way in real life, otherwise shows like Extreme Makeover wouldn’t exist. I think most people would take the chance to take a harmless potion and become better looking, or if anything, at least the ability to stay at his/her ideal weight forever – especially if there are no changes to personality or intelligence.

I know some might counter that we need to stop this propagation of the media’s version of what is attractive, but I say this from my own experiences. My sister and I are the perfect example of complete opposites. While we are very close in height, she’s much thinner, long blonde hair, big royal blue eyes and a dimply smile. I fully admit that she’s far more attractive than I am, and she’s got a nice personality to boot. Whenever we’re together in public, there’s no question that people respond to her more quickly and agreeably, as if they are temporarily mesmerized, and I have to blow off a flare gun to remind people that I’m there, too. It sucks, but it is what it is.

I do realize that there are definitely some things that are within my control to change, but that’s not really the point of this post. I just found it hard to believe that if any of us could take a magic potion that would fix those imperfections that we so long to change and not affect anything else, then most of us would do it.

And, if you say that you wouldn’t and that you are happy with yourself exactly the way you are, then more power to you, but I wonder if you'd feel the same way, if you looked like an ogre.

It's so hard to say goodbye

This picture was taken the night before I left to return to TCU the summer of 1994 with my buds Cameron (left) and Brandon (right). I was flipping through my old albums the other day and this one stuck out, as it always does whenever I see it. Brandon was my “first,” but not in the way you’re thinking of.

That particular summer was my last as a carefree kid, as it was the one before my junior year of college and the last one for which I came home. I worked at the nearby movie theatres and that was my primary group of friends. The five of us, which also included Denise and Juan, were fairly inseparable that entire summer with some stragglers coming in and out, depending on the event. To recap the fun that we had that summer would be an entirely different post.

One thing I liked about Brandon is that he and I could have the most frank discussions about anything -- only the kind that are possible between a male and female when there’s zero “interest” in anything other than a platonic level (he was sooooooooo into Denise).

In looking at this pic, I wonder if I would have appreciated his company even more, if I knew it would be the last time I’d ever see him. Would I have still asked him to unplug the toilet I’d just clogged? For you see, the following summer, Brandon was in Arizona and was riding on a motorcycle going 100 mph on the freeway and had an accident. His helmet didn’t matter as his head hit the pavement and he died almost instantly from severe head trauma.

He was my first death of someone “close” that I’d experienced. What made it worse is that I was all the way over in Fort Worth, TX, and I found out through a letter Denise sent that didn’t even arrive until after the funeral. While my TCU friends tried to comfort me, it was hard because none of them knew Brandon like I did. They couldn’t relate to the stories. They didn’t understand why I was so creeped out that he told me he thought he would die before he was 21 the previous summer -- and he actually did.

I had a hard time dealing with this – numerous nights of insomnia, as I wrestled with why this was meant to happen and what in the world was the “safest person I knew” doing on a motorcycle going that fast and weaving through traffic? One night, Brandon came to me in a dream and said he knew that I was worried about him and having a hard time sleeping, but that he wanted me to know that he was okay. After that night, I felt this huge wave of relief sweep through me, and I was finally able to sleep. And yes, he came back to visit me several times for the years after that, but it’s been a while since the last one.

As I was looking at the picture the other day, it finally occurred to me that I also had such a difficulty with his death because it was, indeed, the end of my innocence. I realized at that point how vulnerable we are, and that I could no longer linger safely in childhood. I think we all have that rite of passage, whether it be through a personal loss or something public like JFK’s assassination, 9/11, etc. This is just my particular story.

The thing is that based on who I see around town nowadays, 10 years later, I probably wouldn’t even see Brandon if he were still alive, but it would be comforting just to know I could.

Driving in Hawaii

One of the things that people generally like about the Hawaii culture is the ultra-laid-back feeling that's so prevalent. Unfortunately, that also affects the way they drive, so I’ve decided that another way to weed out where I want to move is to find out if people drive this way where you live – and then avoid it.

I must also add a disclaimer in that some of these items were brought up during a conversation, so I cannot claim all the creativity here.

You don’t speed. Ever. Unless you’ve lived on the Mainland at some point.

The only time to switch lanes is when someone’s in your blind spot and you can’t see them, nor do you take the time to actually turn your head, or turn on your blinker.

When in a hurry, it is inevitable to meet a line of traffic in all three lanes, all going between 50 – 55 mph side-by-side.

In order to pass someone who is only going 50 mph, the best time to do it is when someone going 70 mph is barreling down the lane and then be sure to only go 52 mph in the new lane, causing the normal driver to have to slam on her brakes.

If you cut someone off because you’re a dumbass and you indicate that you’re also on the phone, you're then excused.

The yield sign actually means come to a complete stop, regardless of whether there’s any oncoming traffic within 50 yards.

Even at 10 p.m. with hardly any cars on the road, people will come to a complete stop – AT A GREEN LIGHT.

When you’re on a two-lane road, and the speed limit’s 45 and you’re stuck behind someone going 35, they do not move over for you into the shoulder.

It’s okay for two cars going in opposite directions to stop and the drivers talk to each other for long periods of time, holding up traffic behind both cars and blocking any thoroughfare.

Being able to actually see over your steering wheel and dashboard is a non-issue.

It is impossible to make a right-hand turn without coming to a complete stop beforehand

Do not worry about the future for it is not yet come.*

I’m about as anal of a planner as you can get. When I’m driving down the road, I’ve already calculated which lane I need to be in for that congested turn coming up. Or, if I’m jammed at a particular point on the road, I have back-up plans on how to get out of that mess.

Oddly, the bigger things that have happened in my life are a result of moments that just happen, despite all the planning I’ve tried to do. I wanted a Durango because I wanted a bigger car and just happened to see the ad for it in that day’s paper, so I just went down and got one – in a single day.

Perhaps it’s my sixth sense, but I seem to be more comfortable with “going with the flow” when it comes to more important things until I see that sign that’s supposed to tell me what to do. Even with deciding whether to move, it was one particular conversation that solidified for me. I just knew at that moment what the right choice was for me.

Perhaps another word for it is fate, but people tend to associate that only with love or romance, when it can really apply to anything. It almost seems like when something is planned too much, then it somehow doesn’t seem that great. Kind of anti-climactic – is that it?

We build up our anticipation and over-think, so that it becomes a disappointment because our twisted sense of reality won’t allow us to savor it. There always seems to be this urge to rock the boat, second-guess or bitch -- perhaps because it seems more "normal" or it's easier than just being happy and accepting?

I can’t count how many times someone says they found someone as soon as they stopped looking, and usually from a most unlikely source like a friend, a new chair or from literally colliding into each other. Or, an unsolicited job offer suddenly lands in your e-mail box from a former colleague. Or, the couple that stops “trying” to have kids will suddenly become pregnant. It almost seems like the sure-fire way to kill your dream is to plan for it. What an odd sense of karma that seems to apply to anyone anywhere.

Planning helps when it’s fitting to be practical, but never for what have turned into my best memories and experiences. Life is more like a series of unexpected moments that catch you off-guard, and the worst thing you can do is ignore it or be afraid of it. Sometimes you just to say “Carpe Diem,” cross your fingers, hope your Guardian Angel is watching.

*Unknown

To Err Is Human; To Forgive, Infrequent*

In watching the movie, Kingdom of Heaven, there was a lot of talk about the idea of forgiveness (review posted below). Though the context for the film was in terms of God’s forgiveness, it made me think about my own life and whether or not everything or everyone has the right to be forgiven for their actions? I know that we’re taught that’s the “right thing to do,” but do you get to a point where something might be so cruel and malicious that it doesn’t deserve forgiveness?

I know that some may say that I’m only hurting myself to not let go, but I don’t buy that. What made me think of this is that there have been people that have done some not-so-nice things – as well have ALL experienced – and they are still in my life, though perhaps on a much smaller scale than they were beforehand. I’m able to move on and not dwell upon it, until a line in a movie reminds me of it, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven.

And, then I think of one of my favorite lines from When A Man Loves A Woman, where she says, “I don’t know if I’ll get a second chance. But I deserve it. We all do.” That is the conundrum in that I question whether I’m being unreasonable and unfair. Where I truly struggle is that I at least require an acknowledgement and sincere remorse for their actions, but even then, I’m not sure I could quite get “there.”

Or, is the mere fact that I’ve been able to not allow it to affect me a subtle form of forgiveness? But, I think I only do it because it isn’t healthy for ME otherwise. I just refuse to consciously allow others’ actions to sabotage my current life, or else I feel like they’ve somehow beaten me.

And I've never been a big fan of second place.

*Franklin P. Adams

Movie Watchin' 101

I think it’s pretty obvious from the site that I’m a movie addict. I love movies and all kinds, as long as they don’t look stupid like House of Wax with Paris Hilton. I even worked at a theatre during high school and during my college breaks (as pictured above with my friend/co-worker, Steve). And yes, we thought we were pretty clever with this shot. I can even tell you it's 1993 because of when that movie came out.

In order to enjoy the movie experience, as it should be, there are some “requests” that need to be pointed out, in case I’m ever in the audience with you:

1. No matter what you say, how loud it is, or how clever you are, the actors onscreen cannot hear you. I swear it. The Purple Rose of Cairo was a movie that was FICTIONAL folks.

2. Sushi stinks to anyone but you eating it. Seriously, please don’t sneak it in. And, especially don’t eat Reese’s Peanut Butter cups with it.

3. If the theatre is empty, could you try not sitting in the seat RIGHT NEXT to me?

4. However, if the show is obviously sold out, wouldn’t it make more sense to then leave seats open in at least multiples of two, so that a couple could actually sit together?

5. It should be a given that you should’ve turned your freakin’ cell phone off or to vibrate, but please don’t open it during the movie, as the display screen is like a strobe light in that dark theatre.

6. It is tacky to sit in the handicapped seats if you’re not actually with someone who is. Trust me, you’ll feel like a mega ass when I come in with my friend in his wheelchair and have to ask you to move.

7. It is really not cool for employees to stand in groups talking behind the counter, when there’s only one line open with over 10 people in it. However, don’t be too much of an ass or else you’ll get yesterday’s leftover hot dog.

8. Is there really a point to ordering a Diet Coke when you just asked for three extra scoops of butter on your popcorn?

9. Please open all your bags of shit when you first sit down, instead of man-handling that wrapper when the movie has already started and people are actually trying to listen to…what else? The dialogue. Who’d have thunk it?

10. If the sign taped to the box office window says that movie is sold out at that time, I swear it will not have changed by the time you reach the cashier. She is not conning you out of the movie, nor is she saving extra tickets aside for people who ask such a dumb question.

11. If you’re a kid and want to sneak into a rated R movie, perhaps it’s not best to do so for a film where NO tickets were actually sold. It’s kind of obvious you shouldn’t be in there.

Any I forgot?

When good girls go obsessed

What I’m posting today may cause some of you to lose any respect that you had for me thus far. But, a song came on the radio the other day when I was driving home and it brought me down memory lane, to those years when I became a fanatic of one of the most famous boy groups of them all.

Yes, my friends, I was a Blockhead and the song I heard was "I'll Be Loving You." The few who read this who knew me in high school, esp. 9th and 10th grades are snickering, for my obsession was well-documented. Even a couple of months ago, my friend Dan R. sent me a random MP3 file titled “Becky’s Anthem” and as I opened it up, I heard “Oh, oh, oh, oh…”

One day before Christmas our freshman year in 1988, my friend Alex begged and pleaded with anyone to go to this concert of a group no one else knew of, called New Kids on the Block. The previous year, she saw them open for Tiffany (which was the year “I Think We’re Alone Now” came out) and liked them. She even offered to pay for the ticket, so I went.

At the concert, it was general admission in the ballroom of the Pacific Reef Hotel down in Waikiki. Being the brutes that we were compared to most of the Asian petite dolls around us, we pushed our way to the stage and basically rested our elbows on it. As soon as they came out, we two 15-year-olds were immediately smitten over these cute teenaged boys.

We liked the concert so much that when they didn’t actually rip our ticket stub, we thought we could sneak into the later show (it was sold out), but they changed the colors (duh). However, on our way up in the elevator, one of them (Jon) came in and looked at us, smiled and said “hi.” AND, no it doesn't stop there, when it was our turn to get off the elevator, he stepped out to let us through. We let the doors shut and then screamed down the hallway. Cool, yes we were.

So, our fanatism got to the point where we annoyed our friends with our constant jabbering on anything having to do with Jon, Jordan, Joe, Donnie or Danny. We collected all those teen mags with their pictures, and I even wrote Donnie a letter, and because “The Right Stuff” hadn’t come out yet, he even wrote back answering my questions (yes, the signature matched anything I ever saw after that). And by the way, his favorite group at the time was Public Enemy.

If you think that I sound bad, Alex was the Queen Bee. She had this great idea that they probably had the same phone numbers from several years earlier, but were just now unlisted, so we went to the library and pulled up the old Boston phone book on microfiche. Because info such as their parents' names was published in these mags, we actually found the phone numbers to all four households (remember, Jon and Jordan were brothers). And, I shit you not, Jordan and Danny both answered their phones. Alex talked to them, while I listened on the other end, though I have to admit that I don't remember what was said, but I don't think it was very cool-sounding. I think Alex was as shocked as I was that they actually answered -- and admitted that it was them.

As we got a little older, you know, like in 11th grade, our “fever” started to wane. But, they were coming back for another concert and this time in the huge arena, so we wanted to see how the show had changed from the ballroom two years earlier. Again, we somehow still managed to sneak into the front section and pushed our way to the stage, and then the guys started pulling girls on stage. I made it up and then pulled Alex up. They started directing the gaggle off stage…only to be re-directed back into the audience. Since it included every other girl and we were obviously not dressed as sluts, we weren’t morbidly offended.

But, by the next year when they came back, we were really starting to fade, and we took Alex's sister to the show as our "excuse" just to see if we still really liked them. As with any first crush, even the celebrity kind, we realized that we were moving on and that "relationship" was meant to stay in that particular time in our lives.

However, I'm not sure which is worse -- admitting this or showing my 80s permed Slash-look-alike hair, but I know you all have the same type of pic and the guys had mullets back then. And yes, we were costumed out for a youth group video (I told you I used to go church). Plus, I had to show proof of how bad Alex was, so I somehow come out of it with a little bit of my dignity.

So, now it's your turn. Out yourself. After all, it's Friday.

You just really never know

I had an idea for my post ready to go tonight, but there’s another story I feel the need to share instead. Meet Maria and Adam. They met in L.A. a couple of years ago when Adam was getting his MBA from UCLA, and went out on several dates. Before it became very serious, Adam received an offer upon graduation to work for a Fortunte 500 company overseas -- Bangkok, Thailand to be exact.

Not sure where things would take them, they agreed to keep in touch and see what would happen. Over the course of two years, they e-mailed, chatted online and phoned each other regularly. Though it may seem improbable to some that any sort of real affection can develop through these means, it did for Maria and Adam. He was able to take a trip back home one Christmas with a couple of days to stopover in L.A. to spend time with her. That was the only time they’d spent face-to-face in two years.

Maria is originally from Mexico and passed her American citizenship exam last year, and was waiting for the paperwork to clear so she could travel on an American passport and visit Adam over in Thailand. Waiting over six months became too frustrating and once she found a ticket from L.A. to Bangkok for $300, she knew she just had to go. This was two weeks ago.

She arrived in Bangkok only to discover that anyone who is not traveling on an American passport must also have a visa to enter the country. She called Adam on his cell to tell him she arrived and that she was informed she had to go to Malaysia to obtain a visa before she could return to Bangkok. Maria also spoke with Adam’s Thai roommate, using her to interpret. She finally gets everything straightened out, though is wondering why Adam won’t answer his cell phone or hasn’t come to Malaysia.

She arrives in Bangkok to find out from his roommate, that Adam was killed in a car accident less than an hour after she originally landed and had phoned him about her entry problems. He was on his way to her at the airport. Strangely, the roommate didn’t tell Maria what happened over the phone as she felt Maria needed to get through the visa issues first and then return to Bangkok.

Maria also found out Adam was planning to propose during her visit. So, instead of a joyful reunion, Maria spent the next several days packing up Adam’s belongings to be shipped back to his parents in Indiana.

Maria and I share a mutual friend (though we’ve met a couple of times), which is how I heard the story today. Suddenly the things I’ve been blogging about the past couple of days seem so trivial in comparison to what Maria’s having to go through. I’m sure she would gladly have squawking tenants in exchange for Adam to still be alive.

Though I know there’s nothing anyone can really say to Maria to take away her grief, please keep her in your thoughts and prayers. I share this story in an effort to honor what they had and the risks that they were willing to take, which I find truly admirable. Maybe it will put things into perspective in your own life and appreciate what you do have, or it might give you the courage to pursue what you don’t.