Found this trailer on YouTube for the new Joss Whedon series that's will be coming to Fox I believe next year. I was a little surprised to learn that he was doing another series snce he was pretty annoyed with TV after the cancellation of "Firefly" and then "Angel" the next year. But I'm excited to see him back and bringing Buffy/Angel alum Eliza Duschu and Amy Acker (who was also appeared on the LOCI episode "Smile" as Leslie).
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Two museums and a funeral
So, I spent the last few days in Arlington and in D.C. with my dad's family for my grandfather's burial at Arlington National Cemetery. You can read my comments on his memorial service in July here.
I had never been to a formal Military service before with the drums, rifles, and the folding of the flag. First we followed in our cars to meet the horse drawn carriage with the casket, which wasn't an actual casket. One end pulled out like a drawer and one of the uniforms presented the urn with his ashes and placed it in the drawer so we could follow the casket to the burial site.
It was all pretty neat to watch, but it was still hard to sit through because so many things seemed wrong. I've never been one for pomp and circumstance, for one, and it just felt like another round of self-indulgent bullshit for Wivi, my grandfather's wife -- who he married within a year of my grandmother's death -- needless to say, we had some issues with that.
After the ceremony, my older cousin, Gina, noticed that the open plot beside his, which was getting ready to be filled, had a little plaque with the name "Gertrude" on it. Gertrude was my grandmother's name. So that was really neat because it felt like a nod from Nanie (what we called our grandmother) to say she's still watching and she's still here. Because all of us felt like it was Nanie who should have been given that flag and not Wivi. Nanie was the one who spent fifty years of her life with him and he was not an easy man to be around.
Afterwards, Wivi and her friends came back to our hotel for drinks -- causing those of us who can't survive on alcohol and nicotine alone to not have lunch until dinner time. It's inevitable that whenever I am with my dad's family I am going to miss at least one meal because these people don't eat.
And Wivi bragged about how she was donating her money to the MOWW, an organization my grandfather was involved in. She didn't help any of us pay for the trip or our hotel rooms of the drinks that she and her friends consumed, but she had to proclaim her donation.
Luckily, my aunt Donna paid for everything. She moved to TX before I was even born and I can easily count all the times I've seen her in person. She is also probably the most well adjusted of my dad's siblings and sadly it is mostly due to the fact that she got away. I wish I had more time to actually sit and talk to her one on one, but it's hard when you only have a couple days to spend with your whole family.
She's the only person I know who can actually force my dad to actually participate in family functions/outings...she even forced him to stay seated and have a conversation for a couple hours with all of us. Anxious is an extreme understatement when describing my dad -- I'm not sure if there is a term to explain how anxiety ridden he is.
I like having Donna around because she actually gets everyone to talk about things and she blatantly tells my dad that he doesn't know me and should talk to me. So it was nice for all of us to sit around in talk.
Friday we spent in D.C. and took the Metro to what it called "The Mall." It's actually the two mile stretch of museums that make up the Smithsonian. We went to the Natural History Museum and the American Indian Museum. The Indian museum was awesome and I spent alot of time salivating in there gift shop over all of their silver/turquoise jewelry -- my favorite.
The exhibits were wonderfully set up. You can learn more about it at The National Museum of the American Indian website.
I really love Native American culture, so it was great to see all the art and the mini-histories on all the different tribes. It has exhibits about their past and evolution, but also focuses alot on the culture today and who they are as a people today. This actually ties into a conversation I had with Musicwench about hunting and respect for life, because I think Native Americans are the only hunters that truly respect the animals they hunt. They may kill an animal for food and clothing, but they also respect that animal and honor it. I highly respect that ideology.
It was stressful trying to plan things with seven people, but all and all it was a good time and I'm glad I went. I was really, really tense about going, but it turned up working out well. I'm definitely tired and was glad to come home yesterday, but it was good.
I had never been to a formal Military service before with the drums, rifles, and the folding of the flag. First we followed in our cars to meet the horse drawn carriage with the casket, which wasn't an actual casket. One end pulled out like a drawer and one of the uniforms presented the urn with his ashes and placed it in the drawer so we could follow the casket to the burial site.
It was all pretty neat to watch, but it was still hard to sit through because so many things seemed wrong. I've never been one for pomp and circumstance, for one, and it just felt like another round of self-indulgent bullshit for Wivi, my grandfather's wife -- who he married within a year of my grandmother's death -- needless to say, we had some issues with that.
After the ceremony, my older cousin, Gina, noticed that the open plot beside his, which was getting ready to be filled, had a little plaque with the name "Gertrude" on it. Gertrude was my grandmother's name. So that was really neat because it felt like a nod from Nanie (what we called our grandmother) to say she's still watching and she's still here. Because all of us felt like it was Nanie who should have been given that flag and not Wivi. Nanie was the one who spent fifty years of her life with him and he was not an easy man to be around.
Afterwards, Wivi and her friends came back to our hotel for drinks -- causing those of us who can't survive on alcohol and nicotine alone to not have lunch until dinner time. It's inevitable that whenever I am with my dad's family I am going to miss at least one meal because these people don't eat.
And Wivi bragged about how she was donating her money to the MOWW, an organization my grandfather was involved in. She didn't help any of us pay for the trip or our hotel rooms of the drinks that she and her friends consumed, but she had to proclaim her donation.
Luckily, my aunt Donna paid for everything. She moved to TX before I was even born and I can easily count all the times I've seen her in person. She is also probably the most well adjusted of my dad's siblings and sadly it is mostly due to the fact that she got away. I wish I had more time to actually sit and talk to her one on one, but it's hard when you only have a couple days to spend with your whole family.
She's the only person I know who can actually force my dad to actually participate in family functions/outings...she even forced him to stay seated and have a conversation for a couple hours with all of us. Anxious is an extreme understatement when describing my dad -- I'm not sure if there is a term to explain how anxiety ridden he is.
I like having Donna around because she actually gets everyone to talk about things and she blatantly tells my dad that he doesn't know me and should talk to me. So it was nice for all of us to sit around in talk.
Friday we spent in D.C. and took the Metro to what it called "The Mall." It's actually the two mile stretch of museums that make up the Smithsonian. We went to the Natural History Museum and the American Indian Museum. The Indian museum was awesome and I spent alot of time salivating in there gift shop over all of their silver/turquoise jewelry -- my favorite.
The exhibits were wonderfully set up. You can learn more about it at The National Museum of the American Indian website.
I really love Native American culture, so it was great to see all the art and the mini-histories on all the different tribes. It has exhibits about their past and evolution, but also focuses alot on the culture today and who they are as a people today. This actually ties into a conversation I had with Musicwench about hunting and respect for life, because I think Native Americans are the only hunters that truly respect the animals they hunt. They may kill an animal for food and clothing, but they also respect that animal and honor it. I highly respect that ideology.
It was stressful trying to plan things with seven people, but all and all it was a good time and I'm glad I went. I was really, really tense about going, but it turned up working out well. I'm definitely tired and was glad to come home yesterday, but it was good.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
"Please note: we are no longer accepting letters of recommendation..."
A conversation I heard the other day between two of my co-workers (well one co-worker, one boss -- well rather boss/wife of one of the owners) about how she (the boss) were starting to look for pre-schools to send her three and a half year old to. Naturally my pop-cultured littered mind immediately began to think about an episode of LOCI -- "Please Note: We are No Longer Accepting Letters of Recommendation from Henry Kissenger," which is about this parent who goes on a killing spree to get her two year old son into this prestigious school.
Now, I'm not saying my bosses would kill to get their child into a prestigious school, but they obviously are putting a lot of stock into where they end up sending her. They, especially the wife, seem to be much more about appearance than anything else and her children just seem to add to what she wants her image to be: wife, mother, business woman, but the fact is she doesn't really seem to do any whole heatedly. They have a nanny that spends most of the time with the kids and their daughter, the 3 year old, is quite the little hellion. They're just like, "oh she beats to her own drummer" as the child is running and yelling up and down the hallway. There's a fine line between letting your child be who they are and raising them to be disrespectful to others.
Personally, I think private school will only add to this because it puts you in this neat little box where the majority of people around you are just like you: white in an upper-middle class to upper class family. I'm sorry, but I don't care how good the academics are because this does not prepare you for the real world, where there are --gasp-- people that are not like you and who will completely disagree with you and call you out if you do something that they don't like.
I grew up in public school and in public schools that were not in the best areas of Newport News, which is a long strip that gets progressively higher in economic status as you move closer to Williamsburg, but I also went to schools with tough teachers and ones who actually prepared you for college.
I was astounded when I got to college at how many people did not know how to write a formal essay -- I had to learn that in middle school -- granted I also went to a public college that accepts way more students than it should.
I realize I was lucky because I was able to take the "pre-IB" classes, which were I guess like accelerated classes, but the more people who move away from public schools and into private schools, the more good teachers are going to move too. And that's why a typical high school class graduates without knowing how to write a simple essay, because they can't keep the really talented teachers.
Private schools only add to the considerable divide between the rich and the poor and in subliminal ways teaches one set that they are the future leaders and another that they really just don't matter that much.
How can we expect change in our society if we're, even if subconsciously, instilling this us v. them mentality? How do you expect your kids to be truly compassionate and open minded if they never see how other people live?
Plus it just irks me -- this idea of putting you're toddler into a competitive academic arena, because a part of me is just like let them be a kid for a couple more years before they have worry about grades and homework. Is it really necessary for success in the world? Plus it just seems likes it's more for the parents than the children -- as if it's just another symbol of their their lifestyle.
Maybe, I'm being too harsh, but I just think we should put more value in our public schools, because the majority of us can not afford to send our kids to private school, but that shouldn't mean that those kids don't deserve just as solid an education as those who can.
Now, I'm not saying my bosses would kill to get their child into a prestigious school, but they obviously are putting a lot of stock into where they end up sending her. They, especially the wife, seem to be much more about appearance than anything else and her children just seem to add to what she wants her image to be: wife, mother, business woman, but the fact is she doesn't really seem to do any whole heatedly. They have a nanny that spends most of the time with the kids and their daughter, the 3 year old, is quite the little hellion. They're just like, "oh she beats to her own drummer" as the child is running and yelling up and down the hallway. There's a fine line between letting your child be who they are and raising them to be disrespectful to others.
Personally, I think private school will only add to this because it puts you in this neat little box where the majority of people around you are just like you: white in an upper-middle class to upper class family. I'm sorry, but I don't care how good the academics are because this does not prepare you for the real world, where there are --gasp-- people that are not like you and who will completely disagree with you and call you out if you do something that they don't like.
I grew up in public school and in public schools that were not in the best areas of Newport News, which is a long strip that gets progressively higher in economic status as you move closer to Williamsburg, but I also went to schools with tough teachers and ones who actually prepared you for college.
I was astounded when I got to college at how many people did not know how to write a formal essay -- I had to learn that in middle school -- granted I also went to a public college that accepts way more students than it should.
I realize I was lucky because I was able to take the "pre-IB" classes, which were I guess like accelerated classes, but the more people who move away from public schools and into private schools, the more good teachers are going to move too. And that's why a typical high school class graduates without knowing how to write a simple essay, because they can't keep the really talented teachers.
Private schools only add to the considerable divide between the rich and the poor and in subliminal ways teaches one set that they are the future leaders and another that they really just don't matter that much.
How can we expect change in our society if we're, even if subconsciously, instilling this us v. them mentality? How do you expect your kids to be truly compassionate and open minded if they never see how other people live?
Plus it just irks me -- this idea of putting you're toddler into a competitive academic arena, because a part of me is just like let them be a kid for a couple more years before they have worry about grades and homework. Is it really necessary for success in the world? Plus it just seems likes it's more for the parents than the children -- as if it's just another symbol of their their lifestyle.
Maybe, I'm being too harsh, but I just think we should put more value in our public schools, because the majority of us can not afford to send our kids to private school, but that shouldn't mean that those kids don't deserve just as solid an education as those who can.
Monday, September 22, 2008
How I love the smell of chlorine in the morning
I'm really fascinated by smells and how they connect so heavily with people's memories. Like every now and then I'll come across the mixture of cigerettes and mints, which always reminds me of my dad's mom because that's what her purse always smelled like. I still remember the first time I encountered this smell after she died.
I was working at a CD store and I was ringing up this older woman. And there was that smell and I was taken aback by it because of what it made me think about. Now it's not nesicarily a nice smell or one I want around, but there's still a connection to it that is hard to explain.
My mom is that way with the smells of a barn: the leather, dirt, dust, hay, and horses. She loves that smell because she was a horse person and had a horse from the time she was thirteen until I was about eight or nine. We would go to Bush Gardens in Williamsburg once every summer and if I had let her, my mom would have been content spending the how time in the little stable they have.
It's a smell that reminds her of a passion she no longer has the means to indulge in and that's how I was with chlorine.
My dad's mom, Nanie, taught me how to swim and the moment she got me over my fear of having my head underwater, she couldn't get me out of that pool. I spend as much time as she would let me in the pool whenever I was at her house. I spent so much time that my hair eventually got blonde streaks from the sun and chlorine and I would get this gorgeous deep tan.
After she died, the pool went with her and it became a rare treat to get in a pool maybe once a summer -- not nearly enough. And I missed it. I missed it so much -- in the same why my mom misses being around horses, but I have summoned up some courage and joined a public pool.
It's at a Jewish community center and I pass by it everyday on my way home from work, so there's no excuse for me not to go.
I went for the first time last Friday and was very proud of myself. I am generally pretty prudent, not to mention overweight, and am not at all comfortable with being in a bathing suit in public, but I did it -- of course it helps that I'm pretty much blind without my glasses and everyone just looks like a blurb of color anyway. So even if they are looking and scruntinizing, I am blissfully ignorant thanks to my ridiculously poor eyesight -- who knew that would ever be a plus.
But even the day that I just went on the tour of the facility, when I was assulted by the chlorine and water, I was ready to jump in right then and there.
Then afterwards, even after taking a shower, I could still faintly smell the chlorine and to me it was a wonderful smell. And it just felt so good to be in the water again -- it's probably been two years since I've been in a pool.
Obviously barn smells and chlorine aren't popular smells, but I think it's intersting how they become more than just a smell.
Well I have to get to work. It's going to both a short and a long week since I am taking Thursday and Friday off to go to my dad's father's second funeral -- his ashes are being buried in Arlington National -- and I have a tone of stuff to get done from now through Wednesday at work, but I can actually see my desk again which is nice. One of my co-workers and I came in Saturday and cleaned up some stuff.
I'm both excited to get out of town for a couple days, but on edge because my dad's family has a tendency to stress me out.
So needless to say I won't be online much this week.
I was working at a CD store and I was ringing up this older woman. And there was that smell and I was taken aback by it because of what it made me think about. Now it's not nesicarily a nice smell or one I want around, but there's still a connection to it that is hard to explain.
My mom is that way with the smells of a barn: the leather, dirt, dust, hay, and horses. She loves that smell because she was a horse person and had a horse from the time she was thirteen until I was about eight or nine. We would go to Bush Gardens in Williamsburg once every summer and if I had let her, my mom would have been content spending the how time in the little stable they have.
It's a smell that reminds her of a passion she no longer has the means to indulge in and that's how I was with chlorine.
My dad's mom, Nanie, taught me how to swim and the moment she got me over my fear of having my head underwater, she couldn't get me out of that pool. I spend as much time as she would let me in the pool whenever I was at her house. I spent so much time that my hair eventually got blonde streaks from the sun and chlorine and I would get this gorgeous deep tan.
After she died, the pool went with her and it became a rare treat to get in a pool maybe once a summer -- not nearly enough. And I missed it. I missed it so much -- in the same why my mom misses being around horses, but I have summoned up some courage and joined a public pool.
It's at a Jewish community center and I pass by it everyday on my way home from work, so there's no excuse for me not to go.
I went for the first time last Friday and was very proud of myself. I am generally pretty prudent, not to mention overweight, and am not at all comfortable with being in a bathing suit in public, but I did it -- of course it helps that I'm pretty much blind without my glasses and everyone just looks like a blurb of color anyway. So even if they are looking and scruntinizing, I am blissfully ignorant thanks to my ridiculously poor eyesight -- who knew that would ever be a plus.
But even the day that I just went on the tour of the facility, when I was assulted by the chlorine and water, I was ready to jump in right then and there.
Then afterwards, even after taking a shower, I could still faintly smell the chlorine and to me it was a wonderful smell. And it just felt so good to be in the water again -- it's probably been two years since I've been in a pool.
Obviously barn smells and chlorine aren't popular smells, but I think it's intersting how they become more than just a smell.
Well I have to get to work. It's going to both a short and a long week since I am taking Thursday and Friday off to go to my dad's father's second funeral -- his ashes are being buried in Arlington National -- and I have a tone of stuff to get done from now through Wednesday at work, but I can actually see my desk again which is nice. One of my co-workers and I came in Saturday and cleaned up some stuff.
I'm both excited to get out of town for a couple days, but on edge because my dad's family has a tendency to stress me out.
So needless to say I won't be online much this week.
I'm Kate Hepburn too!
Your result for The Classic Dames Test...
Katharine Hepburn
You are the fabulously quirky and independent woman of character. You go your own way, follow your own drummer, take your own lead. You stand head and shoulders next to your partner, but you are perfectly willing and able to stand alone. Others might be more classically beautiful or conventionally woman-like, but you possess a more fundamental common sense and off-kilter charm, making interesting men fall at your feet. You can pick them up or leave them there as you see fit. You share the screen with the likes of Spencer Tracy and Cary Grant, thinking men who like strong women.
Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the Classic Leading Man Test.
Take'>http://www.helloquizzy.com/tests/the-classic-dames-test">Take The Classic Dames Test at
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
The Idea of True Womanhood
After watching the SNL skit with Tina Fey (how I heart her) and Amy Poehler as Sarah Palin and Hilary Clinton, which really played on the hypocrisy of how Palin is being treated versus how Hilary was treated, I started thinking about the idea of womanhood versus the reality of it. If you have not seen the skit, check out this post by Musicwench: http://musicwench.blogspot.com/2008/09/for-posterity.html
The truth of the matter, whether we like it or not, is that Palin represents what people want to believe is ideal womanhood and that, to a big part of society at least, makes her a safer choice. She is change, but she's not radical change. The right-wing, white men of America, who have a big influence in this country, feel safe with her because she represents what most of us are told our whole lives that we're supposed to be: attractive, ambitious, but also traditional at the same time. We're supposed to stand beside the man, not in front of him. We're bakers, mothers, and the force that is supposed to hold together the "American Dream" of nuclear families and strong Christian values.
If you don't fit into that mold then you are a threat to what white conservative men see as the preservation of our society (i.e. Hilary Rodman Clinton). Personally, I think this whole ideology is bullshit, but that doesn't change the fact that most fundamentalist societies/sects adhere to this idea of womanhood.
Talk about hypocrisy. Women, thanks to fundamentalist ideas, are thought to not have or deserve the same rights as men, but yet are Representative of the purity and honor of a family or a society. In extremist Muslim societies they have "kitchen accidents" or what's more widely called "honor killings" of a wife or daughter who has tainted the family's honor by no longer being a virgin (whether the sex was consensual or not) or having an affair or if your husband thinks you've had an affair.
In Christian societies it all goes back to Eve, who (if you believe the creation story) was made from man for man (at least that's how old leaders of the church would like us to interpret it). And of course what really gave Eve a bad rap (and the rest of us by extension) was her eating the fruit from the tree of knowledge. Of course what people like to forget is that in the Bible it does actually say, speaking of Adam, "who was with her" (Genesis 3 verse 6). It is interesting how a story can change when one little tid-bit of information is included or excluded.
Personally, I had three important female figures in my life that in one why or another shaped my view of womanhood...even if in some instances through observation it urged me to be the opposite of what I saw. My mother grew up in the ideal nuclear family and she always thought that she would be like her mother and be a housewife. Of course then she married my dad and didn't exactly get what she bargained for. So, she spent my whole life working a dead in job to make ends meet with no college education.
My dad's mother was a housewife, but she did not hold to this Christian ideology -- in fact I think I get my fascination with other religions from her. At the same time however, she stayed in a marriage with a man she couldn't stand because she saw herself as not having any other options.
My mother's mother (my mom-mom) was a housewife, but also had a college education -- rare for a woman who grew up in the atmopshere and time that she grew up in. In fact she and my grandfather met while in Pharmacy school, but she gave it up to be a housewife. Looking back, I wish I had had the foresight to ask her about how she felt about that decision before she died: whether she still would have chosen being a wife and mother over having a career.
She was a very smart person...and I mean like "Jeopardy" smart. She was always really good at math, word puzzles (crosswords, scrabble...she almost solved every puzzle on "Wheel of Fortune" before the contestants), and just had a really good memory of general knowledge. I just really would love to know if she was really satisfied with the choices she made, because she so obviously could have done so many things with her life if she had wanted to. Now, don't think I'm thumbing my nose at being a housewife -- it's not for me, God knows, but that doesn't mean I can't believe that it's what some women genuinely want.
Feminism isn't about excluding choices -- it's about having them in the first place.
In many ways women's rights and a woman's ability to rise to the same success as a man has drastically changed, but there is still an attitude (maybe not quite as loud as it used to be) that holds women to this old view and standard of what womanhood is supposed to be. Unfortunatly the rest of us who can't or refuse to fit into this get the brunt of ridicule from the right-winged, moral majority -- whatever they are calling themselves these days -- and are blamed for what they precieve as the downfall of American society.
Palin will only help support this idea and, though it will be quite a historical event to be the first female vice president if McCain is elected, she will not change anything for women. Clinton held the possibility of truly changing the idea of womanhood in soceity and that's why she was so strongly ridiculed.
The truth of the matter, whether we like it or not, is that Palin represents what people want to believe is ideal womanhood and that, to a big part of society at least, makes her a safer choice. She is change, but she's not radical change. The right-wing, white men of America, who have a big influence in this country, feel safe with her because she represents what most of us are told our whole lives that we're supposed to be: attractive, ambitious, but also traditional at the same time. We're supposed to stand beside the man, not in front of him. We're bakers, mothers, and the force that is supposed to hold together the "American Dream" of nuclear families and strong Christian values.
If you don't fit into that mold then you are a threat to what white conservative men see as the preservation of our society (i.e. Hilary Rodman Clinton). Personally, I think this whole ideology is bullshit, but that doesn't change the fact that most fundamentalist societies/sects adhere to this idea of womanhood.
Talk about hypocrisy. Women, thanks to fundamentalist ideas, are thought to not have or deserve the same rights as men, but yet are Representative of the purity and honor of a family or a society. In extremist Muslim societies they have "kitchen accidents" or what's more widely called "honor killings" of a wife or daughter who has tainted the family's honor by no longer being a virgin (whether the sex was consensual or not) or having an affair or if your husband thinks you've had an affair.
In Christian societies it all goes back to Eve, who (if you believe the creation story) was made from man for man (at least that's how old leaders of the church would like us to interpret it). And of course what really gave Eve a bad rap (and the rest of us by extension) was her eating the fruit from the tree of knowledge. Of course what people like to forget is that in the Bible it does actually say, speaking of Adam, "who was with her" (Genesis 3 verse 6). It is interesting how a story can change when one little tid-bit of information is included or excluded.
Personally, I had three important female figures in my life that in one why or another shaped my view of womanhood...even if in some instances through observation it urged me to be the opposite of what I saw. My mother grew up in the ideal nuclear family and she always thought that she would be like her mother and be a housewife. Of course then she married my dad and didn't exactly get what she bargained for. So, she spent my whole life working a dead in job to make ends meet with no college education.
My dad's mother was a housewife, but she did not hold to this Christian ideology -- in fact I think I get my fascination with other religions from her. At the same time however, she stayed in a marriage with a man she couldn't stand because she saw herself as not having any other options.
My mother's mother (my mom-mom) was a housewife, but also had a college education -- rare for a woman who grew up in the atmopshere and time that she grew up in. In fact she and my grandfather met while in Pharmacy school, but she gave it up to be a housewife. Looking back, I wish I had had the foresight to ask her about how she felt about that decision before she died: whether she still would have chosen being a wife and mother over having a career.
She was a very smart person...and I mean like "Jeopardy" smart. She was always really good at math, word puzzles (crosswords, scrabble...she almost solved every puzzle on "Wheel of Fortune" before the contestants), and just had a really good memory of general knowledge. I just really would love to know if she was really satisfied with the choices she made, because she so obviously could have done so many things with her life if she had wanted to. Now, don't think I'm thumbing my nose at being a housewife -- it's not for me, God knows, but that doesn't mean I can't believe that it's what some women genuinely want.
Feminism isn't about excluding choices -- it's about having them in the first place.
In many ways women's rights and a woman's ability to rise to the same success as a man has drastically changed, but there is still an attitude (maybe not quite as loud as it used to be) that holds women to this old view and standard of what womanhood is supposed to be. Unfortunatly the rest of us who can't or refuse to fit into this get the brunt of ridicule from the right-winged, moral majority -- whatever they are calling themselves these days -- and are blamed for what they precieve as the downfall of American society.
Palin will only help support this idea and, though it will be quite a historical event to be the first female vice president if McCain is elected, she will not change anything for women. Clinton held the possibility of truly changing the idea of womanhood in soceity and that's why she was so strongly ridiculed.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Okay, you got me with a useless test...
Your result for The Mythological Goddess Test...
Isis
This Egyptian supreme Goddess is certainly the most influential deity on subsequent cultures. She was the ideal figure of womanhood, usually compared with the Greek Goddess Demeter or her Roman version, Ceres.
Isis was one element of a Holy Trinity, the remaining two figures being her brother and husband Osiris and their heroic son Horus. She was the Goddess of Magic for her brilliance, as well as the Goddess of Love because of her tenacious devotion.
She is often shown with wings, curving to caress coffins and sarcophagi of many a king. In certain papyri she is shown with her falcon wing headdress, covering her ears. One of her sacred symbols is the sistrum, a musical instrument that was believed to ward off evil spirits. Isis' sistrum was carved bearing the image of a cat and was representative of the Moon.
Isis was the High Priestess and an omnipotent magician as well as the only being ever to discover the secret name of Ra. She invariably carries the ankh, the symbol for eternal life. Her name is, by the rules of numerology, adding up to the number “2” and she just so happens to be depicted on the tarot card “Key 2 – The High Priestess”.
The Fifteen Goddesses
These are the 15 categories of this test. If you score above average in …
…all or none of the four variables: Neit. …
Erudite: Minerva. …
Sensual: Aphrodite. …
Martial: Artemis. …
Saturnine: Persephone. …
Erudite & Sensual: Isis. …
Erudite & Martial: Sekhmet. …
Erudite & Saturnine: Nemesis. …
Sensual & Martial: Hera. …
Sensual & Saturnine: Bast. …
Martial & Saturnine: Ilamatecuhtli. …
Erudite, Sensual & Martial: Maeve. …
Erudite, Sensual & Saturnine: Freya. …
Erudite, Martial & Saturnine: Sedna. …
Sensual, Martial & Saturnine: Macha.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Everything is All Wonky
First off, I have to say -- "It's frickin' freezin' in here Mr. Bigelsworth!"
There is no such thing as a comfortable temperture in our office. It's either stuffy, but still chilly or so cold my fingernails are purplish and the joints in my fingers slightly ache. In the two years that I have been here, it would take all of my fingers and toes to count the number of times they've had technitians out here to work on it. In the middle of the humid, Virginia summers you'll find us here in hoodies and little heaters turned on near our feet. It is both hillarious and ridiculous -- and this coming form a person who likes being cool.
Besides that my whole equilbrium feels like it has been off all week. All day yesterday (Wednesday) I thought it was Tuesday, but today (Thursday) I feel like it's Friday.
For some reason my brain on occasion goes into these manic-like ADD episodes where I can not focus on anything. I can't write -- I've tried every night this week, but just end up staring at a blank page or only being able to do a few measely edits here and there. The really annoying thing though is that while I'm at work I am a plethora of ideas and scenes and conversations, and periodically find myself staring at my computer at work, realizing that I have no idea how long I've been lost in my own la-la land. Luckily the current story I'm updating is pretty much written anyway.
These states also seem to coincide with me doing more internet surfing and playing with new websites (i.e. sprucing up this very blog) and then doing something, that looking back, really made no sense. Like yesterday, I created another blog for my Fan Fiction, which seemed like a good idea, but really was a waste of time. Anyone who wants to read my stuff can find it on ff.net and I'm sure no one will find it and read it anyway, but yet it's there now. I guess I'll still transfer stuff over there since it's there and I mean with my luck with computers it won't hurt to have stuff there as a back up.
I feel both over and under stimulated right now. My job is pretty boring, but I have so much stuff to do that I don't know where to start. I'm slowly losing the battle over the territory that is my cubicle to mountains of phones and accesories that seem, well not seem -- they quite literaly do -- multiple every week. The problem is this is turning into a two man job and I am still only one, but hopefully by next month there will in fact be two of us -- if the bosses keep to their plans which they aren't always the greatest at.
I guess it's just mental pacing...I'm a physical pacer too, which I came by very naturally. Just about everyone it my dad's family paces, wags a foot, or something. I apparently pace and play with websites out of bordum.
So, I'm going to take in deep breaths and try to focus -- maybe having gotten this out will help.
There is no such thing as a comfortable temperture in our office. It's either stuffy, but still chilly or so cold my fingernails are purplish and the joints in my fingers slightly ache. In the two years that I have been here, it would take all of my fingers and toes to count the number of times they've had technitians out here to work on it. In the middle of the humid, Virginia summers you'll find us here in hoodies and little heaters turned on near our feet. It is both hillarious and ridiculous -- and this coming form a person who likes being cool.
Besides that my whole equilbrium feels like it has been off all week. All day yesterday (Wednesday) I thought it was Tuesday, but today (Thursday) I feel like it's Friday.
For some reason my brain on occasion goes into these manic-like ADD episodes where I can not focus on anything. I can't write -- I've tried every night this week, but just end up staring at a blank page or only being able to do a few measely edits here and there. The really annoying thing though is that while I'm at work I am a plethora of ideas and scenes and conversations, and periodically find myself staring at my computer at work, realizing that I have no idea how long I've been lost in my own la-la land. Luckily the current story I'm updating is pretty much written anyway.
These states also seem to coincide with me doing more internet surfing and playing with new websites (i.e. sprucing up this very blog) and then doing something, that looking back, really made no sense. Like yesterday, I created another blog for my Fan Fiction, which seemed like a good idea, but really was a waste of time. Anyone who wants to read my stuff can find it on ff.net and I'm sure no one will find it and read it anyway, but yet it's there now. I guess I'll still transfer stuff over there since it's there and I mean with my luck with computers it won't hurt to have stuff there as a back up.
I feel both over and under stimulated right now. My job is pretty boring, but I have so much stuff to do that I don't know where to start. I'm slowly losing the battle over the territory that is my cubicle to mountains of phones and accesories that seem, well not seem -- they quite literaly do -- multiple every week. The problem is this is turning into a two man job and I am still only one, but hopefully by next month there will in fact be two of us -- if the bosses keep to their plans which they aren't always the greatest at.
I guess it's just mental pacing...I'm a physical pacer too, which I came by very naturally. Just about everyone it my dad's family paces, wags a foot, or something. I apparently pace and play with websites out of bordum.
So, I'm going to take in deep breaths and try to focus -- maybe having gotten this out will help.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Praying to be Straight -- ???
So I caught a blurb on AOL news about how Saran Palin's church promotes gay "conversion" and prayer and "therapy" (God only knows what constitutes as therapy for this) to help people fight their homosexual urges.
I am generally not one to harp in on political debates because I feel there are other people out there who have similar views and who can express the issues more intelligently than I can, but this whole idea of homosexuality being a choice just baffles me.
First off, who in their right mind, who is part of a society that is so fixated on being normal and popular, would choose to be gay?
I just don't buy this idea that you can train someone to be something that that are instinctively not. I don't think our sexuality is something we learn, but something that is biological and instinctual. That's not to say that our environment doesn't effect our reactions to sex and our own sexuality, but I don't think that it dictates it.
Several years ago I saw a really interesting documentary on MSNBC (there's actually an Law & Order: SVU episoded based on this case) where two twin boys were born, but one of them was very badly injured during his circumcision. The damage was so severe that he would never be a fully functional male. So, this extreme doctor suggested that the parents raise him as a girl.
And that's what they did. As a baby he had surgeries to make him look as if he was a girl and then when he hit puberty was given hormones to develop as a girl. The family treated him as a girl and encouraged him to act accordingly, but he had no interest in being a girl. He wasn't attracted boys, he had no interest in "girly" things, and a part of him always new that something was not right with him.
When he finally did discover what happened to him he began the process of turning back into a male, but there was already so much physical and psychological damage done.
It was a very sad story and I think he ended up killing himself when he got older.
But I think that just goes to show people that fighting your own nature is only going to be detrimental to your life. How many families do we see torn apart because one parent finally admits that they've been living lie, all for the sake of keeping up appearances?
As long as they aren't hurting themselves or others, just let people be who they are and quite frankly I don't particularly want to believe in an elitist God. If there is a god, he/she/it, should be above petty differences.
I am generally not one to harp in on political debates because I feel there are other people out there who have similar views and who can express the issues more intelligently than I can, but this whole idea of homosexuality being a choice just baffles me.
First off, who in their right mind, who is part of a society that is so fixated on being normal and popular, would choose to be gay?
I just don't buy this idea that you can train someone to be something that that are instinctively not. I don't think our sexuality is something we learn, but something that is biological and instinctual. That's not to say that our environment doesn't effect our reactions to sex and our own sexuality, but I don't think that it dictates it.
Several years ago I saw a really interesting documentary on MSNBC (there's actually an Law & Order: SVU episoded based on this case) where two twin boys were born, but one of them was very badly injured during his circumcision. The damage was so severe that he would never be a fully functional male. So, this extreme doctor suggested that the parents raise him as a girl.
And that's what they did. As a baby he had surgeries to make him look as if he was a girl and then when he hit puberty was given hormones to develop as a girl. The family treated him as a girl and encouraged him to act accordingly, but he had no interest in being a girl. He wasn't attracted boys, he had no interest in "girly" things, and a part of him always new that something was not right with him.
When he finally did discover what happened to him he began the process of turning back into a male, but there was already so much physical and psychological damage done.
It was a very sad story and I think he ended up killing himself when he got older.
But I think that just goes to show people that fighting your own nature is only going to be detrimental to your life. How many families do we see torn apart because one parent finally admits that they've been living lie, all for the sake of keeping up appearances?
As long as they aren't hurting themselves or others, just let people be who they are and quite frankly I don't particularly want to believe in an elitist God. If there is a god, he/she/it, should be above petty differences.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Poems
I was searching through my mom's computer (which I had when I was still in school) the other weekend and found these few poems that I wrote my last semester. I don't fancy myself much of a poet but these are a few that I liked and thought had potential. I should warn you: I am apparently incapable of writing happy poems, so they're pretty dark. Any contructive criticism is welcome.
The Bride
She sits in the grass,
Her horse standing beside
Her, leather reins curled
Around her fingers.
She is getting married
Tomorrow. Two families crowding
Her parents back yard. Two mothers
Watch their children hold hands
in front of the tree, whispering
Vows. She imagines
Herself as mother, baker, planner.
Getting the kids ready
And off to school, planning
Dinners and summer drives
To the lake, Dad at the wheel,
Hollering, quiet down.
She stares out at the sky,
Her head resting on the horse’s
Leg, hands on her knees.
She stares across the field.
In ten years it will be a highway
And her horse will be dead.
Last Impressions
All hospitals are sterile,
with long hallways putrid
from antiseptic spray and urine.
Inside I try not to look
at the string of beds
filled with strangers, parked
like rusted cars from a rotting
coaster. My eyes connect
with the speckled floor and Dad
leads me to her bed. My stomach,
already nauseous, slowly turns
like a roller-coaster inching up
the first hill. I look at her feet
first. Toes peek through the edge
of a white blanket. I have an
urge to paint over the coral
polish that has began to chip
and fade. She would have
wanted them to be finished. Presentable.
a tube rests, where fake teeth
should be, helping her to breathe.
Her doctor says, patients become addicted
to respirators. I watch the machine
pump up and down. Pictures
of her life drinking and smoking
linger in my head.
I feel hot. The coaster
has reached the curve and is ready
to dive. Things get dark,
my hearing is turned down,
I sink into the floor. It is quiet.
Dad carries me
to the waiting room, my eyes refocus.
Fluorescent lights bounce
off white walls. He leaves me
on a worn green chair and I am
not allowed back in.
A Daughter's Tale
Remember the night when you
nearly snapped my neck?
You stopped, pleading sorry and told me
when you were a boy
you peered through the crack
of the hall closet. You father held the tie,
strangling your mother and slapped
her cheek. You wrap your hands
around my neck, pinching
my skin between your fingers, teaching me
the weight of your hands.
God rules the man, but the man rules
me. A lesson I should have learned
by now. On our wedding night
you bloodied my lip for the first time, dripping
red spots on a white satin dress. Accusing me
with your finger, yelling,
each of you carries the burden
of Eve. An idea you learned
from your mother, who watches me
every Christmas, the only one
who knows the burden I carry
and the lesson I might pass
to my own son, who sits
on his grandpa’s lap, tearing
into his presents.
The Bride
She sits in the grass,
Her horse standing beside
Her, leather reins curled
Around her fingers.
She is getting married
Tomorrow. Two families crowding
Her parents back yard. Two mothers
Watch their children hold hands
in front of the tree, whispering
Vows. She imagines
Herself as mother, baker, planner.
Getting the kids ready
And off to school, planning
Dinners and summer drives
To the lake, Dad at the wheel,
Hollering, quiet down.
She stares out at the sky,
Her head resting on the horse’s
Leg, hands on her knees.
She stares across the field.
In ten years it will be a highway
And her horse will be dead.
Last Impressions
All hospitals are sterile,
with long hallways putrid
from antiseptic spray and urine.
Inside I try not to look
at the string of beds
filled with strangers, parked
like rusted cars from a rotting
coaster. My eyes connect
with the speckled floor and Dad
leads me to her bed. My stomach,
already nauseous, slowly turns
like a roller-coaster inching up
the first hill. I look at her feet
first. Toes peek through the edge
of a white blanket. I have an
urge to paint over the coral
polish that has began to chip
and fade. She would have
wanted them to be finished. Presentable.
a tube rests, where fake teeth
should be, helping her to breathe.
Her doctor says, patients become addicted
to respirators. I watch the machine
pump up and down. Pictures
of her life drinking and smoking
linger in my head.
I feel hot. The coaster
has reached the curve and is ready
to dive. Things get dark,
my hearing is turned down,
I sink into the floor. It is quiet.
Dad carries me
to the waiting room, my eyes refocus.
Fluorescent lights bounce
off white walls. He leaves me
on a worn green chair and I am
not allowed back in.
A Daughter's Tale
Remember the night when you
nearly snapped my neck?
You stopped, pleading sorry and told me
when you were a boy
you peered through the crack
of the hall closet. You father held the tie,
strangling your mother and slapped
her cheek. You wrap your hands
around my neck, pinching
my skin between your fingers, teaching me
the weight of your hands.
God rules the man, but the man rules
me. A lesson I should have learned
by now. On our wedding night
you bloodied my lip for the first time, dripping
red spots on a white satin dress. Accusing me
with your finger, yelling,
each of you carries the burden
of Eve. An idea you learned
from your mother, who watches me
every Christmas, the only one
who knows the burden I carry
and the lesson I might pass
to my own son, who sits
on his grandpa’s lap, tearing
into his presents.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Murdering my darlings
Over at the Major Case board there has been some speculation about the future of Nicole Wallace (Goren's Nemesis). An article posted there included a blurb from someone who said that the end of "Frame" seemed ambiguous for the Nicole character. Maybe it's just me, but I don't see how a heart in a box is ambiguous. It sounds pretty finite to me (and this coming from an "Angel" fan who totally bought into the pissed off, pregnant vampire storyline).
The whole thing has sparked quite a debate about whether or not Nicole is really dead. I for one think it's time to leave her dead and buried. I think Nicole is a really fascinating character, but I think it's better to let interesting characters go while they are still interesting instead of waiting until they've been completely dried up of interest.
I've enjoyed all the Nicole episodes, but if I look at it objectively and compare it to some of my other favorite characters who have been killed off my favorite shows, Nicole should have died at the end of "Great Barrier" the third episode she was in. There was an alternate ended where she did die -- Goren shot her, which I don't particular like the idea of him killing her -- it seems out of character, but I think Eames shooting first would have been perfect and fitting.
That really would have been the height of her interest as a developing character, because "Great Barrier" is the first time we see the tables turn -- where Goren is rattling her and she isn't rattling him. I mean in the interogation scene she looks like a tiger in a cage, where as in the first two she's completely calm and in control. We really learn how deep her psychosis goes in this episode and it would have been so much more poignant for her to die then rather than now.
All of this got me thinking about all of the other recurring characters in series that I adore that have died in their prime and who were still interesting and could very well produce more storylines, but as a professor I had in a fiction workshop once said, "sometimes you have to murder your darlings." Meaning, sometimes even the initial idea that sparked a whole story has to be let go because it doesn't fit any longer into the bigger picture that has developed.
Now, of course here is where I go off on a Joss Whedon tangent (you knew it was coming) because he is a master at letting go of wonderful characters (good and evil ones) while they were still fresh and fascinating and enjoyable -- which makes their loss all the more important.
The Jenny Calender death is the first death in the "Buffy" series of a major recurring character and it really sets the mood for the whole last story arch for the second season. It signified that no one is safe anymore -- things are going to get bad and then they are going to get worse.
Darla (the pissed off, pregnant vampire mentioned earlier) is still one of my favorite deaths of a character ever. There's just the right amount of soap and genuine emotion to make it just a wonderful moment. We see her struggling with these emotions that she doesn't know what to do with because of the child and then her killing herself because she knows once that baby leave her body she will once again be this hollow evil thing that won't think twice about killing that child.
And of course, Whedon's masterpiece on the reality of death, the episode of "Buffy" called "The Body." He did several experimental episode -- it's one of the advantages of doing a show like "Buffy" -- you can get away with a lot more and try things that are out of the usual format more easily and actually get away with it.
"Hush" is probably the most noted experimental episode because about 70-80% of it has no dialogue. And for a show that is really grounded in it's quick wit, is really impressive.
"The Body" though is even more quiet because, even though there is dialogue, there is no music. This is also an episode that is much more like a short film, than a "Buffy" episode. It's about something that we all eventually go through -- losing a parent. and unlike any other death on "Buffy" is a natural, unexplainable death. Joyce, Buffy's mom, was a beloved character, but it was time to let her go and time to push Buffy into adulthood -- that couldn't have been done as effectively as it was in the following seasons if Joyce was still around.
I'm not sure if i did this right, but hopefully below there is a youtube video that is part of a little documentary on the making of "The Body." Where Joss Whedon and his writers talk about the episode. It's unfortunately not the whole thing (it's a DVD extra on the season five set) but you get the gist.
The whole thing has sparked quite a debate about whether or not Nicole is really dead. I for one think it's time to leave her dead and buried. I think Nicole is a really fascinating character, but I think it's better to let interesting characters go while they are still interesting instead of waiting until they've been completely dried up of interest.
I've enjoyed all the Nicole episodes, but if I look at it objectively and compare it to some of my other favorite characters who have been killed off my favorite shows, Nicole should have died at the end of "Great Barrier" the third episode she was in. There was an alternate ended where she did die -- Goren shot her, which I don't particular like the idea of him killing her -- it seems out of character, but I think Eames shooting first would have been perfect and fitting.
That really would have been the height of her interest as a developing character, because "Great Barrier" is the first time we see the tables turn -- where Goren is rattling her and she isn't rattling him. I mean in the interogation scene she looks like a tiger in a cage, where as in the first two she's completely calm and in control. We really learn how deep her psychosis goes in this episode and it would have been so much more poignant for her to die then rather than now.
All of this got me thinking about all of the other recurring characters in series that I adore that have died in their prime and who were still interesting and could very well produce more storylines, but as a professor I had in a fiction workshop once said, "sometimes you have to murder your darlings." Meaning, sometimes even the initial idea that sparked a whole story has to be let go because it doesn't fit any longer into the bigger picture that has developed.
Now, of course here is where I go off on a Joss Whedon tangent (you knew it was coming) because he is a master at letting go of wonderful characters (good and evil ones) while they were still fresh and fascinating and enjoyable -- which makes their loss all the more important.
The Jenny Calender death is the first death in the "Buffy" series of a major recurring character and it really sets the mood for the whole last story arch for the second season. It signified that no one is safe anymore -- things are going to get bad and then they are going to get worse.
Darla (the pissed off, pregnant vampire mentioned earlier) is still one of my favorite deaths of a character ever. There's just the right amount of soap and genuine emotion to make it just a wonderful moment. We see her struggling with these emotions that she doesn't know what to do with because of the child and then her killing herself because she knows once that baby leave her body she will once again be this hollow evil thing that won't think twice about killing that child.
And of course, Whedon's masterpiece on the reality of death, the episode of "Buffy" called "The Body." He did several experimental episode -- it's one of the advantages of doing a show like "Buffy" -- you can get away with a lot more and try things that are out of the usual format more easily and actually get away with it.
"Hush" is probably the most noted experimental episode because about 70-80% of it has no dialogue. And for a show that is really grounded in it's quick wit, is really impressive.
"The Body" though is even more quiet because, even though there is dialogue, there is no music. This is also an episode that is much more like a short film, than a "Buffy" episode. It's about something that we all eventually go through -- losing a parent. and unlike any other death on "Buffy" is a natural, unexplainable death. Joyce, Buffy's mom, was a beloved character, but it was time to let her go and time to push Buffy into adulthood -- that couldn't have been done as effectively as it was in the following seasons if Joyce was still around.
I'm not sure if i did this right, but hopefully below there is a youtube video that is part of a little documentary on the making of "The Body." Where Joss Whedon and his writers talk about the episode. It's unfortunately not the whole thing (it's a DVD extra on the season five set) but you get the gist.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
"The Dark Knight"
So I finally saw "The Dark Knight" this weekend. It was really the only summer blockbuster film I had any interest in seeing. I loved what Christopher Nolan did with "Batman Begins" because it wasn't as cartoony (and ironically much closer to the actual modern graphic novels) as the other live action Batman's that have been done in the past and I have to say that "The Dark Knight" stayed true to this.
If you've read Frank Miller's "The Dark Knight" (I won't lie -- I've only read excerpts) you see similarities in theme and in the use of media to move exposition. There's a wonderful cameo in the film by Anthony Michael Hall as an anchorman that helps paint this idea of what people are shown through the media or the powers that be, as opposed to the actual truth.
This is not an hero story and that's what I love about it. It's the image of what people think of as a hero versus the actual hero. In reality a hero is generally not the person who looks good on billboards -- it's the person who has to make the tough choices and who isn't afraid to be looked at as a problem if that's what the masses need to believe in order to survive within the chaos of their world.
Now I have to put a disclaimer on my next comments: I am generally not the kind of person who buys into the hype revolving around an actor or artist after their deaths -- in fact I think Eddie Veder is much more talented than Kurt Cobain -- I know blasphemous, but just my opinion -- so that being said I was absolutely amazed by Heath Ledger. He completely transformed himself. It didn't sound like him, look like him, and the little mannerisms and facial ticks he threw in where just brilliant. He was terrifying and was probably the only live action joker who had the same feel as the one we see in the comics. If you've read the "Hush" series, the Joker looks like a guy who would slit your throat and not think twice about it and that's how Ledger looked in this.
The Joker in many ways is Batman's other half -- what Batman could be if he got too lost and that was played on wonderfully in this.
Ledger's performance really does deserve the hype it's getting, but it also makes me incredibly sad and angry. I'm really tired of seeing all of these talented people within in my age bracket just dropping like flys. I mean, these are the people representing my generation to the masses and it's either death at a young age or idiot party girls -- it's infuriating, especially when it's someone like Ledger, or Brad Renfro who were genuinely talented people.
But I thought this was a really good watch...it's long and some parts do drag a little, but over all it was very well done and blended several storylines together and a believable way. It had a very "Heart of Darkness" feel to it in that it is about one character coming to terms with who they are -- who they've made themselves into -- and an other's fall from grace. Very good stuff.
If you've read Frank Miller's "The Dark Knight" (I won't lie -- I've only read excerpts) you see similarities in theme and in the use of media to move exposition. There's a wonderful cameo in the film by Anthony Michael Hall as an anchorman that helps paint this idea of what people are shown through the media or the powers that be, as opposed to the actual truth.
This is not an hero story and that's what I love about it. It's the image of what people think of as a hero versus the actual hero. In reality a hero is generally not the person who looks good on billboards -- it's the person who has to make the tough choices and who isn't afraid to be looked at as a problem if that's what the masses need to believe in order to survive within the chaos of their world.
Now I have to put a disclaimer on my next comments: I am generally not the kind of person who buys into the hype revolving around an actor or artist after their deaths -- in fact I think Eddie Veder is much more talented than Kurt Cobain -- I know blasphemous, but just my opinion -- so that being said I was absolutely amazed by Heath Ledger. He completely transformed himself. It didn't sound like him, look like him, and the little mannerisms and facial ticks he threw in where just brilliant. He was terrifying and was probably the only live action joker who had the same feel as the one we see in the comics. If you've read the "Hush" series, the Joker looks like a guy who would slit your throat and not think twice about it and that's how Ledger looked in this.
The Joker in many ways is Batman's other half -- what Batman could be if he got too lost and that was played on wonderfully in this.
Ledger's performance really does deserve the hype it's getting, but it also makes me incredibly sad and angry. I'm really tired of seeing all of these talented people within in my age bracket just dropping like flys. I mean, these are the people representing my generation to the masses and it's either death at a young age or idiot party girls -- it's infuriating, especially when it's someone like Ledger, or Brad Renfro who were genuinely talented people.
But I thought this was a really good watch...it's long and some parts do drag a little, but over all it was very well done and blended several storylines together and a believable way. It had a very "Heart of Darkness" feel to it in that it is about one character coming to terms with who they are -- who they've made themselves into -- and an other's fall from grace. Very good stuff.
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