FLASHBACK FRIDAY: The Films of 2010, and How I Got There

It occurred to me a few weeks ago, upon finally realizing the end of 2010 and the beginning of a new year, that I have watched a lot of films within 12 months.

As a former film student and production-seeking career girl (I can't really say I'm in film until my paycheck says so - advertising, I'm afraid, does not count), this should not be surprising. Nevertheless, it is.

My taste (and experience) in the art of watching films has transformed exponentially over the last few years of my life. Obviously, my NYU film courses were the first major transition from watching movies purely for entertainment to analysis of the film craft. I had always admired filmmaking from afar, thanks to my mother's long-standing awe of classic films and Simpsons parodies. And there were always the TV movies, childhood movies, and summer blockbusters that one fixates on amidst boring suburban life. These were always, for the most part, from one of the following categories:

• Classics Films before 1970 
• Oscar nominees 
• Movie Premieres on network television 
• Disney 
• Excuses to go to a movie theater 
• Action Flicks 
• Childhood Favorites

I had never seen an art house film (nor were they part of my regular vocabulary), and indie flicks had not yet assumed the norm. My parents and friends didn't know of any, so neither did I. And besides - I was content with my list, entertaining no other possibility for film other than the usual plot-driven, dramatic/comedy/action/thriller I had grown to love and aspired to make. Under no circumstances did this include horror films - why, it took me years just to sit down to watch Jurassic Park without peeing my pants.

Cue the harsh slap-in-the-face that is film school. Some fellow classmates didn't think I had the knowledge for it. Maybe I didn't - but wasn't that the point of learning?

It was humbling to see that the art of film was not so black and white, as it had seemed; there were some films that never made it to the Oscars, but were admirable nonetheless. There were short films that only showed at festivals, B films and C films, films done for art-sake and films done for the hell of it. Some "stories" focused on character development only, while others seemed to be about nothing at all. I finally got to watch some of the breakout and cult films of the first 14 years of my life that I was never privy to, simply because I wasn't considered mature enough to watch them at the time: films like Pulp Fiction, Goodfellas, and Clerks, which was shot less than 10 minutes from my house.

At this point, one can revel in the discovery of so many new realizations, or curse themselves for being the idiot who hadn't come about this knowledge earlier. I fell for the latter, mainly because I was 17, on my own, and full of fun emotional drama.

It's taken since that first year of college to really get the courage to dip my toes into the pool of films I dared not touch before. I have to thank my professors first, and my friends after, for introducing me to them, as I trembled, unworthy. A few of them worked at the old TLA Video on 8th Street before it closed down, and each had their own specialty of favorites within the film world. If I attempted to describe each of their tastes in three words, they would be:

MARK: Brooding, Foreign, Cannes

JAMES: Character, Epic, Journeys

JOSH: Cult, Offbeat, Horror

Though there were many instances of shock and awe throughout my education, one that stands out the most as something that stuck with me quite indefinitely was The Holy Mountain by Alejandro Jodorowsky.

 This is not the type of film I would have gone to on my own - I had never heard of either the director or the title, but apparently it was big enough to be shown at IFC at midnight frequently. They insisted I go, and it being my college years, why the hell not? However, I was not ready for the symbolic imagery barrage with each chanting, triangle-trilled, vibrational-pulsed moment. Quite frankly, it was the strangest film I had ever seen, but I could not look away. And I could not stop thinking about it afterward. I've seen it three times since then, and have even written an entire thesis paper on its subject of religious symbolism. That's more intellectual fodder than Forrest Gump could ever provide.

Watching "Daisies" in Prague had a similar effect; I knew it must be laden with meaning; but even aside from that it was a rhythmic poem that replayed in my mind. And so since then, many fascinating films have crossed my eyes and riddled my eardrums - even, I must admit, horror films. Ryan has done a good job of forcing me to sit through them, and I can't say that I'm not grateful (though I could do without the occasional shocking scare that streaks my hair grey and inflicts possible stomach ulcers.)

The point in all of this, of course, being that traveling, meeting others and experiencing life as a more mature (but let's not get carried away), open-minded individual has given me the chance to really appreciate a film on a deeper level.

That said, I'd still take Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles any day. You can't become too pretentious, you know.

OH, THE FILMS I HAVE WATCHED: 2010

• Labyrinth, Jim Henson (1986) 
• Made in the USA, Jean-Luc Godard (1966) 
• The Short Films of Al Jarnow, Al Jarnow (2010)
• Shutter Island, Martin Scorcese (2010) 
• Suburban Commando, Burt Kennedy (1991)
• District 9, Neil Blomkamp (2009)
• Kamikaze GirlsTetsuya Nakashima (2004) 
• Dolls, Stuart Gordon (1987)
• Day of the Dead, Steve Miner (2008)
• Mr. Booogedy, Oz Scott (1986)
• Hot Tub Time Machine, Steve Pink (2010)
• Iron Man 2, Jon Favreau (2010) 
• Metropolis, Fritz Lang (1927)
• Best Worst Movie: Troll 2, Michael Stephenson (2009)
• Possessed ["Bool-sin-ji-ok"], Lee Yong-ju (2009)
• Tetsuo: The Bullet Man, Shinya Tsukamoto (2009) 
• Brazil, Terry Gilliam (1985)
• The Tenant, Roman Polanksi (1976)
• Diva, Jean-Jacques Beineix (1981)
• Performance, Donald Cammell & Nicolas Roeg (1970)
• Daisies, Vera Chytilová (1966) 
• The Mist, Frank Darabont (2007) 
• Matthew Hopkins: Witchfinder General, Michael Reeves (1968) 
• A Town Called Panic, Stéphane Aubier & Vincent Patar (2009) 
• The Naked Kiss, Samuel Fuller (1964) 
• The Fearless Vampire Killers, Roman Polanski (1967)
• Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, Edgar Wright (2010) 
• It Is Fine! Everything Is Fine!, David Brothers & Crispin Glover (2007)
• I Sell the Dead, Glenn McQuaid (2008)
• Simon: King of the Witches, Bruce Kessler (1971)
• The Skull, Freddie Francis (1975) 
• Enter the Void, Gaspar Noé (2009) 
• The Social Network, David Fincher (2010)
• The Gate, Tibor Takács (1987)
• [REC], Jaume Balagueró & Paco Plaza (2007)
• The Red Shoes, Michael Powell & Emeric Pressburger (1948)
• Polyester, John Waters (1981)
• Solaris, Andrey Tarkovskiy (1972) 
• Nosferatu the Vampyre, Werner Herzog (1979)
• Apocalypse Now, Francis Ford Coppola (1979)
• Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, David Lynch (1992)
• The Kingdom ["Riget"], Lars von Trier (TV Series - 1994)
• The Road, John Hillcoat (2009)
• Paris, Texas, Wim Wenders (1984)
• Days of Heaven, Terrence Malick (1978)
• The Exploding Girl, Bradley Rust Grey (2009)
• Four Flies On Grey Velvet, Dario Argento (1971)
• Krull, Peter Yates (1983)
• Summer Wars, Mamoru Hosoda (2009)
• Black Swan, Darren Aronofsky (2010)
• Fritz the Cat, Ralph Bakshi (1972)
• Tentacles, Ovidio G. Assonitis (1977)
• Heavy Metal, Gerald Potterton (1981)
• Innerspace, Joe Dante (1987)

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Love & Hammers

How do I count the Ways days? It's odd that football should be the thing to mark this momentus occasion, but it has been 3 years.....

3 years since the last super bowl I blogged about...
3 years since my wisdom teeth were pulled...
3 years since I got the hell outta Queens...
3 years since Ryan and I have been together.

Oh, where to begin? I can hardly believe that I am capable of remembering all those times as if they had been vague fogs of yesterday, but it's true that I do. Yes, I have my writing, my blog, to thank for most of this. However, there is one thing I couldn't forget if I tried (not like I have, but you get the idea)
.....my first date with Ryan.

This is a subject of constant dissension with us, and the reason why we still have yet to mark an official "anniversary." I honestly consider it hogwash - I don't need a day to remember someone who steals the sheets every night and to whom I relay every banal daily activity to with the utmost excitement. But it's nice to have one, I suppose, so that you can prove to each other how long you've had to put up with them.

I don't mean to rude - I'm trying to skirt around the whole lovey-dovey-ness that people whom have the fortunate of having someone to be with often make the mistake of falling into, to the disdain of those around them. I too was once alone, and I don't like the possibility of my being one of those people that unintentionally rubs it in someone's face. I've been hurt too many times to act so impudent - however, it being the time of the year when our economy urges us to spend money in lieu of love (who can complain really, when no matter whether you're single or not, you still get candy and star wars valentines?), I shall momentarily forget this rule and be forthcoming in my telling of my first date with Ryan, some three years ago.

The moral of this story is that good things come when you least expect them. I say this in the beginning in hopes that even the most curmudgeonly of romantic souls will not completely curse me off at the end of this post without taking a bit of hope along with them.
The other moral is that no one means as much to you as yourself, and that takes the longest to figure out - so you might as well start now.

After finishing college, I returned to Triple Threat Television in February of 2008 as producer on the Winona Ryder Biography. I had just moved into my apartment in Elmhurst, Queens and was relieved that there was a job to pay for it. Things hadn't changed much since my last stint there in November, except for the faces: they had recruited all new interns to their Harlem office, and when I walked in they all stared at me with the gaze of startled gazelle.

One of the gazelles had a soul patch - this was Ryan. He didn't look very friendly, but then again, my first impressions of people are usually not very accurate. We were seated squished across from each other at small table with our gigantor powerbooks, forced to exchange occasional awkward glances as we worked. I don't remember much of our interaction other than he liked to show odd video clips (that usually ended with my shaking my head in pity and confusion), and that we grew to bickering almost immediately. That really should have been a tell-tale sign that we were meant to be together.

My legs, being incredibly long, needed lots of room underneath the table. Even in his tight pants, Ryan was somehow able to encroach upon my half of the floor. I berated him constantly for it - most of the time in good spirits, but also because it was really freaking annoying.

We talked a lot - he had come from Ohio and was starting anew here in New York for a career in film. I thought this very admirable for someone who had never been on his own in a strange place. One day, he told me about a bakery that was offering free hot cocoa. FREE and HOT COCOA are the secret words to my Pee-Wee brain, so I immediately wrote down the info on a sticky note and promised to check it out.

Here's something you should know about me if you don't already: I am hopelessly oblivious to attraction. I never once thought why he had asked, assuming it was simply a nice gesture. I went as far as inviting my friend Matt to join in on the free-givings; however, after 30 minutes of trying to find the place, we discovered the bakery was closed. I was mostly upset about missing free hot chocolate.

The next day he apologized profusely, insisting he didn't realize that they had closed so early. I shrugged it off. And it wasn't long before he invited me, along with my other coworkers, to a concert - the one-man-band (or, one-man-with-strange-piano-flute, as I later found out), White Williams, was from Ryan's hometown of Akron. He seemed very insistent on me going; and since I wouldn't be alone, I decided it would be better than spending my night unpacking hoards of boxes.

And it was. First, I chipped my tooth on a bottle of beer. (I figure I had this coming to me, after weeks of sipping teeth-first.) Consider it lucky, I suppose: a metaphor for either the wisdom teeth I would later lose, or the piece of my heart I would soon be sharing.

Second, I got drunk. We had pre-gamed before, so it wasn't surprising. Ryan didn't seem to object, as evidence by this photo taken shortly after.

Third, I danced.
I don't do this unless I am drunk enough to not give a crap what people think. But people don't dance at concerts, especially hipsters (these were 2008 hipsters, so they were even more hardcore.) But apparently - when the DJ is on before the next set, there's smoke machines going, and the spectators clear a giant space for you in the crowd so that they can witness the ridiculous spectacle (or to not get hit by crazy flailing drunken arms, either one) -
I do.

Perhaps at this moment, Ryan was watching my frenzied steps, high heeled sneaker-boots slamming the ground like a toreador on steroids, and thinking "This is the girl for me."

Perhaps not.

I tried to drag him into the empty dance circle that was only me, but understandably, he declined. And what continued was what could only be described as the furious, dream-like stupor of uninhibited expression that is only possible when caring about nothing at all. It was me, in all my odd, slightly spastic glory. And it's possible that this is what brought me closer to finding true love than ever before.

Later, I lay slumped at a column, falling asleep. Ryan came over to introduce me to White Williams, who I groggily shook hands with. He was not amused - but then again, hipsters never are. He spent the rest of the night trying to keep my eyes open - but I was content with feeling the beats through my butt, foggy lights passing over my eyelids. On the train home, we talked about one another - mostly about our families. I expected nothing of that night, but it seemed as if things finally felt right. The next time we saw eachother at work he asked if I wanted to hang out that weekend.....

"Oh, well, I have a lot things to pick up for my new place, but I guess you could come over and help me put up my bookshelf."

"Okay."

It's not a normal occurrence for someone you hardly know to agree to building a piece of furniture for you. Way out in the middle of Queens. On a Sunday.,,,,without there being a motive. Either they want to murder you or go out with you. Or they're gay and have a thing for interior design. I didn't think to wonder what it could be, and a date was the furthest from my mind. After all, who puts up a bookshelf on a first date?

....Apparently, we do.

I met Ryan in the electronics department of Kmart at Astor. I deemed this an acceptable meeting place. He carried my National Liquidators trash can to the subway for the trip back to Queens, making it talk to me in muppet voice as he lifted the lid up and down. This folks, is when the magic started.

He did put my bookshelf up - and we made a good team. I'm sure there's something to be said about getting to know a guy as he's using a hammer - I'll let you be the judge. I never thought I'd end up falling for a guy that day, in that circumstance, but when he asked if I was going to kiss him, I did. And I haven't stopped kissing him since.

..........well, unless I'm eating and breathing, but you get what I mean.

‽

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Moving Forward into Adulthood..for real this time

 Oh, I forgot. I turned 25 this December.

I have officially been on this earth for a quarter of a decade. The day was pretty uneventful as far as quarter-century checkpoints go, but I spent the night with people who cared, so I don't regret it.

The inconvenience of my birth date is somewhat reminiscent of my family's inherent untimeliness. I suppose you could say that after all the car breakdowns and odd injuries that besot my parents before I came into existence, my birth - which occurred 2 weeks early the night before New Years Eve, and 5 days after Christmas - was preordained to hassle.

It was because of me that dad couldn't work the New Year's bar shift; but I made up for it by being tax deductible.

I've always prided myself in desperately clinging on to my childhood: who says cereal isn't dinner? someone else will eventually wash the dishes! cartoons are forever! I shall showcase my stuffed animals and useless trinkets without shame!

I mean, I still sleep with a stuffed octopus for godsakes.

Somehow, even through my childish thinking, I've made it up until this point without seriously damaging myself or others around me (though that first point could be greatly debated.) I suppose that's pretty good.

However, now that I'm 25, it's as if I am forced to accept the fact that I am an adult now. I've passed the threshold. When I first started working at my job, I was the youngest at 23, merely a tadpole in a pond of...frogs.
25 seemed ages away.

Well, it's not anymore, baby. It's right here.
Dammit.

I can no longer hide behind the cloak of naivety. I don't need to change myself, but the way I think needs to change. This is mostly to help myself function in this crazy world of reality, and to re-assert the power I've always had, but have never believed I did.

Here are 15 ways I pledge to be a better adult:

1.) Don't leave dishes in the sink. It stinks; literally.
2.) If you can't take care of yourself, don't mope around when you get sick and wonder how the hell this could have happened.
3.) Take responsibility for the things you do wrong. There are no siblings around now to blame.
4.) Cheeseburgers are NOT a good weekly source of vitamins and minerals. Neither are fruit snacks.
5.) When something angers/upsets you, understand that you are not a pussy and can deal with it.
6.) "Because I don't wanna" is no longer an excuse.
7.) Tantrums are for 5 years olds; not 25 year olds. That's why we created misdemeanors and restraining orders.
8.) Learn to throw.useless.shit.away. You will never use it; and you haven't used it for SIX YEARS.
9.) Realize that humans are only human.
10.) Realize that if you leave clothes on the floor...they will most likely stay there.
11.) Finally, remember to love yourself, not expect others to do so, using the four mantras:

12.) Compassion
13.) Understanding
14.) Forgiveness
15.) Willingness to Learn

And conversely, these are the 10 naive things that I will continue to do, regardless, in order to keep the spirit of childhood innocence alive (and because adults are inherently boring.)

1.) I reserve the right to buy and keep toys; for no other reason than they are cute and/or awesome.
2.) They may not be for every day, but I ain't cutting cheeseburgers completely out of my diet anytime soon.
3.) If my body decides to sleep till 1pm on weekends, I shall continue to let it do so.
4.) I will tell stories with completely anti-climactic endings, whether you like it or not.
5.) My heart may be jaded, but fluffy animals with big, sad eyes will still make me melt.
6.) I will keep Gossamer, Sailor Jupiter, Donatello the Ninja Turtle, a winking banana and the smiley egg on my key chain.
7.) The pajamas stay.
8.) All dogs are puppies.
9.) I'm still allowed to use my imagination.
10.) I can still call my mommy.

All adding up to 25 pieces of good advice for the new year.

‽

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: High School Blogging

I'm pretty sure I'm going to regret this in the morning, so let's do this fast before I regain my "what the hell are you doing‽" response system.

Oh yes; it's time for-

∆ FLASHBACK FRIDAY ∆

Once upon a time in high school, I kept a LiveJournal. For the sake of my reputation (as if it could be any worse than the one I have now), I will not be disclosing the name of it so that all you snoopers can just laugh in the face of my fragile seventeen year old self. That's my job!

Back in 2004 (a staggering SEVEN years ago; this is why flashbacks are so saddening. Not because of the memories of then. But of remembering you are old), computers were all the rage. I don't know if some of you tots were old enough to remember, but things called Facebook, MySpace, smart phones and yes, even iPods didn't yet exist in popular culture. You know what did?

Napster.
Palm Pilots.
AOL Instant Messenger.
 ...and LiveJournal. Everyone was doing it. My friends convinced me to get one, and it seemed a perfect fit as I was a writer and liked to whine. What could be better than doing it publicly?

I always scoff at bloggers nowadays who write as if they are giddy little teenagers (most of whom ARE still teenagers), abusing emoticons and cheesy internet slang that sounds straight out of a sitcom. However, today I re-read my old entries and realized I did the exact. same. thing.

I suppose we all feel that way about our teenage days, but we'll just have to live with it until we get old enough for our brains to deteriorate and pruning away at our memories in order to salvage what's left of our normal autonomous functioning.

With that, I give you the one entry I was not ashamed least afraid to share:

Will it snow? Or won't it? Feb. 5th, 2004 at 9:12 PM
I dont really know-the meteorologists change their minds very frequently. it confuses me. so ill just let mother nature do its little thang and see what happens..

so it turns out this mentorship thing is really cool. i get to go to jerseywood productions studio in highlands and learn about the film industry etc. maybe kevin smith will stop by one day. im hoping ^.^

PLUS i get to miss a half a day of school, which is always rather delicious. :P and this weekend i get to take driving lessons that i dont need since im 18, but my mom is making me pay for anyway. which isnt so delicious. but hey, you know what, this week wasnt all THAT bad.

now watch, i bet i just jynxed myself. -_-

i've actually been very void of sleep lately, and ive been conking out at any possible free time during the day. this often includes bus rides, viewings of Hitchcock's WEIRD ass movie "vertigo," (compliments of film appreciation/electronic field production class-and yes i know, the two class titles really have NOTHING to do with one another...-_-) and 1st period, advd. bio.

you know i was looking through the book the other night in a sleepy stupor, when i came across ACTUAL photos of a human cadaver, cut up like it was some kind of a lab frog. it was seriously freaky. ive never seen a person CUT OPEN before, and i certainly had no desire to. needless to say, i was a little weirded out by the images....though the guy closely resembled a squid i dissected in 7th grade. i guess what they say is true; it doesnt matter how different earth's creatures appear...in the inside we're just all the same ...... =)

wellllll enough about dead bodies.... ^.^ (what dead bodies :P)tomorrow is FRIDAY thank god. i get to work and maybe sleep if im lucky. im hoping that this month goes quickly....really quickly.....like super quickly..because im not partial to winter. and ive got senioritis. bad.

so adieu all. (or, however many ppl have actually decided to waste their time reading this....)and post ppl. because you might as well after getting this far. and i love getting mail!!!! ^_^

    •    Mood:  sleepy
    •    Music: The Film~ " Girl With a Pearl Earring" and Dido-White Flag

If this were a room, I would leave it to avoid the embarrassment that would most surely come from looking you in the face after reading this. A sensible person who eventually wants to to be taken seriously in the adult world would probably have chosen to purge their old blog accounts before they came back to bite. But I have sealed my fate by publishing this; and since you are in fact continuing to read my rant on the internet right now, it seems I still haven't learned my lesson.

One more flashback for you before I forget this ever happened. Even more embarrassing perhaps than my ramblings above - I give you, my bedroom (aka crime scene) circa 2004:

There's not really much to explain about his photo; I feel it already says everything about my adolescence that needs to be said: Pure Chaos.
I've created a key below for the items of most interest. Signs of the times, and of my scattered brain.

A. These boxes are from Avon. I thought they would work as a makeshift table. Silly Tara. Did you know I was an Avon lady? Probably not, as I bought more than I sold.

B. Awesome bubble lamp that changed colors, and broke soon after I got it. It was in my room until just this passed Thanksgiving, growing algae.

C. Ah, my iRiver mp3 player - only held 7 songs, but had a microphone!

D. My Staples laminated Final Fantasy VII collage of Yuffie and Vincent. I didn't even like FF. Yet, I still insisted on being a fucking nerd.

E. Among the items on my bureau: Izone camera film, a lip gloss set, my Kickboxing arm rope (TOUGH) and a tube of M&Ms that was most likely not filled with M&Ms, but that I kept regardless.

And somehow I still wonder why my teenage years were so damn stressful, after apparently having to climb a mountain of clothing just to get to bed.

‽

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: It's Christmas[Music]. All Over. Again.

I'm not gonna lie. I like Christmas songs. They remind me of Christmases long, long ago; the way I used to feel all snuggled up indoors, with the smell of pine needles and the heat coming up in the morning...

I LOVE Christmas music.

So shut the hell up, go roast some.chestnuts, dress yourself in some fucking flannel, and listen to my

Top 13 FLASHBACK FRIDAY Holiday Tunes

The ones you all know and love, but perhaps are afraid to admit.  It's okay - that's why I'm here. 

To take on your shame.

1. Paul McCartney - Wonderful Christmastime 
2. Wham! - Last Christmas 
3. Band Aid - Do They Know It's Christmas
4. The Waitresses - Christmas Wrapping 
5. Beach Boys - Little Saint Nick
6. Nat King Cole - The Christmas Song
7. Trans Siberian Orchestra - Christmas Eve/Sarajevo 12/24"
8. Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer - The Crystals
9. A Holly Jolly Christmas - Burl Ives
10. Frank Sinatra - Santa Claus Is Comin' to Town
11. Jose Feliciano - Feliz Navidad
12. Bobby Helms - Jingle Bell Rock
13. Vine Guaraldi Trio - Christmas Time Is Here (from Peanuts)

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Animalympics

There are certain childhood memories that, when I look back on, seem so amazingly joyful that it's almost too much to handle in that moment. Hardened stress-driven New Yorker that I am, being able to experience perhaps a small millisecond of childlike joy just shoots a laser beam right through my jaded soul.

Bittersweet is perhaps the best word to describe the feeling of nostalgia, as it is both heart warming and heart wrenching to think that at one point in your past, things seemed truly magical.

Sometimes those instances still occur, but because most adults are so preoccupied with worldly things, it's not so easy to hold onto. Hence, the flashback, and its appeal to me; because for once, I can revel in the glory that was childhood, and try to keep it alive....at least for a little awhile.

Now that you've dried your tears of this sentimental interruption, let me focus your attention on the latest (emphasis on "late" - and completely justified. Since it's the day before Thanksgiving, this qualifies as a Friday...right? Right.)

FLASHBACK FRIDAY

Animalympics was one of the VHS movies we had that we weren't sure how we acquired. It's possible that Grandma saw it one day at the video store and decided that since it was a cartoon and featured animals participating in Olympic-themed sports, that it was instant gratification.

By george, was she right.

• First of all, it was a parody - and given that we were a snarky family, this was immediately a plus.
• Second of all, it has the voices of Gilda Radner (of SNL fame), Harry Shearer (of The Simpsons Fame) and Billy Crystal (you could tell he was a big deal since even I knew who he was.)
• Third of all, it was goofy. There's an alligator boxer, a Japanese penguin gymnast and an Italian octopus bobsled team called the "Calamari Brothers." Yeah. Awesome.
• And finally, it had a great soundtrack. By people that were not Disney.

I was trying to fall asleep the other night, but I simply could NOT get these moments out of my mind. I remember watching this video over and over again, and constantly being swept away.

But it's just a cartoon, you say!

Ahhh, but there's no such thing as just a cartoon......

This is how the movie opens - can I begin to try to explain how fucking amazing this looks? Possibly not, it's mostly because you're not 10 anymore. Shit sucks, don't it?

Little did I know, the animators who worked on this film had some pretty impressive resumes: Brad Bird (Pixar, The Iron Giant), Roger Allers (The Lion King), and Steven Lisberger (writer and director of Tron, and I you can definitely see the influence here.) I was a geek before I even knew what it meant!

 

California neon ocean hallucination trip. As a kid you were flabbergasted, mystified, perhaps a tad bit frightened, yet completely enthralled with the images that were being played across your TV screen. The only thing that's changed is the lack of a VCR.

 

For some reason unbeknownst to me, no one has posted this song with the visuals from the actual movie. For those of you that were not fortunate enough to see, just picture this - Million Dollar Man + Wild Boar = Ski Champ - while you're listening.

Let's face it; coming off the 70s, there had to be some disco in here. I have to admit, I was a BeeGees fan, so this delighted me beyond words. But even if you don't like disco, or dancing animals getting it on, it's still pretty damn catchy.

I leave you with a final gem; the song itself is a bittersweet trip into something that whispers like nostalgia, makes your stomach float as if on air, and your mind imagine that for a suspended moment in time, you really are away from it all.

This is the stuff that childhood dreams are made of.

‽

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Here Lies My Toy Will

Mom always used to say that she wished she would have held on to the toys of her youth. When she was a wee little Italian girl growing up on Beverly Road in Brooklyn, she fondly remembers her most favorite playthings: a wooden circus train with accompany circus animals, like the seal on wheels, balancing a ball; hundreds of hand-sewn Barbie doll clothes that my grandma fashioned herself.*

*(On the other hand, she also told us about the zebra ash tray that Uncle Artie had made, casting long scary shadows on the walls at night, which just about scared the shit out of her. Her brother, Jerry (my godfather) used to chase Aunt Diane around with the real stuffed alligator that an aunt had brought from Florida. This in turn became a torture device for n older Diane to use on my much littler mother. It served a purpose for all ages, I suppose.)

After hearing about all the wonderful toys my mother could remember growing up, I wished that she had managed to save them over the years to one day pass them onto me. When I found out she had given the Barbie clothes and the train set away, I was heartbroken. I'm sure in some ways, she was too.

I resolved to never let the same thing happen to my toys. Yes, I enjoy holding onto the past for dear life, but I'm not talking about storing some Barbies and Polly Pockets in my current apartment and taking them out for a summer fun pool party with my boyfriend anytime soon. And yes, I will forgo my childhood dream of creating an ultimate Star Wars figurine stop-motion film now that I'm on the cusp of being an adult (note how I have not admitted it fully yet).

Instead, I am suggesting that I keep my treasured toys (at least, those that I know are still around) safely hidden away in my parent's New Jersey attic, unknown to garage sales and other bratty children, until I can pass them on to my someone who I feel is worthy enough to experience their toy-glory.

So, without further ado, I hereby present my toy will, which lists the toys of which must be kept safe and intact for however long I am here (and oh, let's say, 20 years after), at which point become the sole property of my predecessor, canine or otherwise. A failure to uphold my wishes will result in a.) bludgeoning with a nearby object of choice, b.) a tantrum, which includes excessive bawling and feet stomping, or c.) eternal haunting by my restless apparition.

Also part of this will is a list of those toys which shall be forever held in memoriam, as they have sadly been lost to the ravages of time and mom's spring cleanings.

IN MEMORIAM

∆ Disney Magic Kingdom Playset, (Loss: Unknown)
I was quite young when I got this, so I'm not sure how it came about. All I know is that we kept it in a wooden box in the closet. It had a runaway train and monorail, and a Dumbo-esque ride.

∆ Miniature Dollhouses, (Loss: Unauthorized Chucking)

Not to be confused with the Polly Pockets of the same genre, this was a three house miniature set of pastel suburbia that was bought by my Aunt Diane as a Christmas/Birthday present. I don't think it had a brand name, since it was bought at a flea market or auction, but I fell in love with it. Each piece of furniture was delicate and detailed, and the houses came with a neighborhood mat with shrubbery and sparkling pools. There was a purple grand piano that really played music with the help of a watch battery.

One day I found out that mom had gotten rid of it because she thought I never played with it anymore. Now I go to therapy.

 

∆ Colorforms, (Loss: Most Likely Unauthorized Chucking)
Some of you might remember these sticker-like, rubbery things from the early 90s. I had Mickey Mouse themed colorforms and (the best) a giant Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle underground scene that was as big as me. I don't know what ever happened to them, but if I found them on Ebay I would definitely reclaim them.



∆ Inspector Gadget LIFE Cereal Box Back, (Loss: Recycling)
My brother and I always fought over who got the cereal box to read during breakfast, but none were more worth the battle more than the LIFE Cereal back which featured a map of Inspector Gadget's Metro city (very ala Where's Waldo.) With much pleading, we convinced our parents to hold onto this for months at a time; but sadly, it's only a matter of time before mom gets sick of keeping an empty cereal box around for "no reason."

Apparently, there are many who think that it IS worth it, nearly 20 years later!
(If you buy this before me, I will kill you.)

∆ Micro Machines, (Loss: Unknown)
I'll admit it - even though I was a girl who loved Barbie's and play make-up, I loved playing with tiny cars. (This could also have been due to my fetish with miniatures but......for all intensive purposes, let's just say.....I enjoyed playing with cars.) My brother had the Micro Machines Super Van City (which is epic, even in its name), and was perfect for making up car chase disasters.

There was also a drive-in restaurant made especially for Micro Machines, which was my personal fave, but that disappeared suspiciously long before the van city...

∆ Shrinky Dinks, (Loss: ....Probably Just Not Worth Saving)
These have been around for awhile, so I won't go into too much detail. But I had TMNT shrinky dinks, and I wish I still did. Mainly because I can color inside the lines now.

∆ Burger King Playdoh Set, (Loss: Hardened)
Due to my obsession with play food, the marriage of Playdoh and Burger King (while on the surface, sounds incredibly gross) was AMAZING to me. Even long after the Playdoh turned into solid rock, I was using the condiment place mat to serve all my food-crazed needs.

∆ Play Food, (Loss: Scattered about the house in disarray)
The rubber bacon. The plastic scrambled eggs. The Eggo waffle box with the fake pouring syrup. I freaking loved play food. I would still play with it now.

∆ Precious Places, (Loss: Who knows; I may still have it.)
I had almost completely forgotten about this (again) small playset. You controlled moving the little Victorian, rosy-cheeked people by using a magnetic key. The main building was a lovely little Gazebo. Half the time I just used the little people in other locations to suit my own imagination.

 

TOY WILL

∆ Barbies
Alright, might as well get this out of the way. I love Barbies as much as the next girl, and I had a pretty good assortment. The Heart Family, Skipper, Courtney, the older one my dog chewed, a bunch of mermaid outfits from various places. Then there were the Disney barbies who's heads were at least twice as big as those of regular Barbies (which made kissing Ken rather awkward.)

There was also my blonde Megan doll from My Little Pony. She had a different look than the Barbies; narrower eyes, a bit of a dirty face, and was smaller than Skipper, but I liked it that way. Made her unique. She became the charismatic adventurer/inventor, who would think up crazy ways of getting to the top of my bed, or into a cave.

And I had a LOT of accessories: red Mustang convertible, inflatable pool, kitchen, cafeteria, grocery store, the Barbie Fold 'n' Fun House (from a garage sale). But it doesn't matter how many I have, and that they were all massed produced. I CANNOT get rid of them. I refuse to grow old with regret.

∆ The Littlest Pet Shop
One of the best presents I ever got was the Littlest Pet Shop playset, which included the shop and a shitload of small animals. I played with it ALL THE TIME, but still managed to keep everything intact and together, including the magnetic newspapers for the dogs and the gerbil water bottles. Even the cash register items! Then my sister inherited it, and now who knows where it all is.

∆ Polly Pockets
I can't even count how many of these I have; I am praying that they are still somewhere in my attic waiting for me to re-discover. I didn't even need to play with the little Pollys; I just marveled at the intricacies of the minute worlds. I also had the mansion which had a sun-room and the water park, which you could fill with real water (much to the annoyance of my mother) and make jacuzzi bubbles.

I will be that old woman who has a bunch of Polly Pockets on display in her living room, rather than those crappy Christmas villages.

∆ Star Wars Figurines
I admit I was a Star Wars nerd. After the trilogy was re-released, our parents got us nothing but Star Wars paraphernalia for two Christmases in a row (especially Princess Leia stuff for me, since she was like, oh my god, my idol). We'd race to the stores and search through hundreds of figures to find the rare ones. I even spent a whopping $14 each for the special Princess Leia collection figurines with cloth wardrobe, and then opened them in spite of other snooty collectors. My brother, Nicky and I would stage wars between the Rebellion and the Empire on our coffee table.

>sigh< Those were the days....

∆ Assorted Little Peoples
Over the years, my whole family has amassed a collection of little people, or miscellaneous figurines from Christmases, birthdays, fast food meals and garage sales. Some of them might be worth a pretty penny, but I only want to keep them for the memories of many an imaginative days....

We have Disney characters, Looney Tunes characters, McDonald's Barbies from the Happy Meals, the transforming robot/McDonald's food, Smurfs....the list goes on.

Sadly, many of my Smurfs were lost in a supermarket when I was young. I left for a moment and then they were gone. I cried for them.

I'd have to say my favorite is the Anne Marie figure from All Dogs Go to Heaven that my cousin Janean let me keep. I'll definitely be keeping that one for awhile :)

∆ Legos
Where do I even start? Legos were the staple of our familial happiness. We made a dream house out of Legos every year (on our Lego table, no less); I would always use the clean black slate Lego for the dining table, top it with a square black vase of flowers. My room would have a telescope and a lava lamp.

My brother was obsessed with legos, and also refuses to sell them or lend them out to cousins. Attaboy.

∆ April O'Neil Figurine
As a TMNT fan, April O'Neil was a must have. My dad, who was manager at KB Toys for a long time, went everywhere trying to buy one for me. She came with a briefcase, a camcorder, gun and ninja store (all essentials for the working woman.) Eventually he did, and she is still lying somewhere with the rest of the toys I once loved. Hopefully I can find them all again soon.



One Christmas, all of us kids decided to get our mom two pieces of her long-lost wooden circus train off an Ebay auction.

It certainly was a surprise to her, nearly 30 years later. I'm hoping that by keeping what appears to be junk, around a little while longer, I'll have the very same moments a hundred times over.

What toys would you keep around?

FLASH_____ FRIDAY: Moving On, Perhaps?

It has been a week without a post, and in my punitive mind this is not acceptable.

But I'm going to tell the punitive part of my mind to shut the fuck up so I can focus on the things that are making me feel good instead. Take THAT punitivity! You've been punitively powned.

I was planning on writing a long post about how this apartment search was making me go bonkers, but today I finally found a place that I will hopefully be able to call home.

I'm superstitious, so I'm not going to say anything more than that until I fork over the money and finalize the deed. Until my feet are planted firmly in Greenpoint and not in the hell-hole I call home right now.

Maybe I'm exaggerating. There was a time I was hopeful about my new apartment. Kensington was everything I thought I needed: space. nature. beautiful homes. closet space. the Q train.

But you know what Kensington is to me right now?

REGGAE.

The Boom Boomboomboom Boom vibrating through the chair, straight through my seated bum, making my heart pump spasmodically to the same beat. Blood pressure rising. Urge to thrust fist through floor and grab the nearest pothead I can find and scream so loud that my spit shoots down their throat. The woman with lopsided breasts, teeth missing, her face so shockingly busted that my eyes almost bulged out of my head the first time I saw her.

Don't lecture me. I'm allowed to be mean when I spend $1200 on a place that broods such aggression. Where you reach to grab your toothbrush and a cockroach says hello. Where hot water isn't hot. Even unexplained specters, fueled by the negative energy of our heated anger, have plagued us.

I will miss the antique Victorian homes....lazy afternoon brunches at Connie's....The walks in Prospect Park. Rocky's Pizza....The reliable Chinese place that gave us an extra soda for delivery....That store called "Tis Da Season Too."...The sign over the paternity test clinic that asks "Does he really have his father's eyes?"...The way the light comes through our windows during the day....the predominantly Jewish car wash....

Dear Kensington, you are not all to blame. In the beginning...it was good. But it's time for a change. Ive found a place with friendly neighbors and a landlord that might as well be my third grandmother. Where the neighborhood has hardly changed since 1920. The streets are vibrant and cozy, sharing the bustle of the city life and the charm of a main street suburb. Polish groceries on every corner. Friends that live only a subway ride away.

There's even a dishwasher.

So, I apologize for any disappointment in this Friday's post; it's not so much of a flashback, as much as it's a flashforward. Hopefully, into a better future.

And no more fucking reggae.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: "Unkosher", the Trailer

Well....2006 is not that far back of a "flashback", so I may be cheating here a little. But I certainly have grown over the past 4 years, so I deem it fair.

Here it is, a trailer based on the self-documentary, the catalyst from which this very blog was formed....

"UnKosher," 2006
Director, Writer & Editor
Documentary, NYU Undergraduate Film

*This has also just been updated on my website, along with all my other film works. So, you know, if you want to continue to hear me toot my own horn, be my guest.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: Matlock Corrupts My Youth

I knew that would get your attention. I'm will be talking about Matlock, and how as a sweet little girl I was charmed by his elderly wit into committing a devilish deed; but first:

I have a new professional website. Thoughts? Concerns? Airborne tomatoes? (Whatever, this site is a helluva lot better than redirecting people to my film blog constantly. I need to grow up sometime, people.)

Speaking of growing up, I shall now continue doing the opposite, and tell you all a little tale for...

FLASHBACK FRIDAY
(the colors make it super-fun!)

As most of you might have already figured out, I wasn't very popular in school, and so even elementary days were tough to get through. This may have been completely inside my head, given that I was extremely shy and thought everything was my fault, but I'll opt to play the childhood pity card today.

I remember sitting in my 2nd grade art class doing some sort of sculpture and generally talking about things that probably seemed really important at age 8, but most likely weren't.

The two "most popular" girls - each with the same letter in their first names (birds of a feather flock together, especially the bitches) - were sitting across from me. "Popular" meaning: one had a training bra, the other an acting trainer. (I could say I had the training pants, but not sure of the bed-wetting timeline here...)

At some point during the conversation, things got ugly. I don't remember what we started arguing about, but it didn't matter: they were right, and I was stupid, ugly, worthless and, of course, wrong. After the two had thoroughly beaten my self-confidence into a quivering mass of worthless scraps, the familiar saltiness of tears began to resurface in my throat, while almost simultaneously my head fumed like Mt. Vesuvius. But which emotion to act upon?

I was tired of being the shy one, the easygoing one, tired of being put on the spot and then laughed at because everyone knew I wouldn’t do a thing about it. It was time to fight back.

Most people might turn to Jesus at times like these, but at home we had our own religion: television. Every night at dinner, we would all gather round the table completely ignoring eachother while we watched the small B&W TV mindlessly, entrapped within the world of 90210. One of dad's other favorites was "Matlock;" that rapscallion of a lawyer with his smart wit and snow white hair! He must have been the perfect role model for an 8 year old - after all, we had so much in common: we both wet the bed and were generally grumpy about life!

In that moment, when I was up against my vicious classmates, unable to defend myself, I thought, "WWM[atlock]D"? Earlier that week, Matlock had lost a case to some stuck-up lawyer, and he had felt the same sense of shame and anger. And what had he done? He had called him a jack-ass.

So I turned my eyes away from the girls, so the fear in my face was hidden, and muttered: jack ass.

They stopped talking. "What did you say?" they gasped in disbelief. At first, I was overcome with triumph! They would have never though to use such a clever word!

But almost immediately afterward my stomach nearly dropped to the ground. No second grader uses that word, because it's BAD.

Jack ass fail.

They were already telling the art teacher by the time I realized my fatal mistake. Once my homeroom teacher came back, I performed the walk of shame as I faced them both, hot-faced and ruined: all my exemplary elementary years (about 2 of them) flashed before my eyes in a taunting whirl. They were stunned at my language...I had never caused any trouble before. By the time word got around to my mother, I was done with the incident. I never wanted to talk about it again. It was a mar on my record, and it was only the beginning of a youth full of embarrassments.

The worst was that I had tried to stand up for myself, and yet still failed. I was the bad guy somehow. It appeared to me that keeping quiet was the safest way to get through life.

It took me a long time to learn that keeping the anger inside was like trying to hold in your shit. One of these days, it's bound to hit the fan. Nowadays I curse people off all the fucking time...it's become part of my daily language. And it makes me feel better.....sort of.

What else did I learn? That TV really does influence kids.
And don't trust lawyers; they're jackasses.

FLASHBACK FRIDAY: More Zorts, Of Course

Yes; it's time for more zorts.

If zorts (or as they are more formally called, zortians) are unfamiliar to you, then please refer to my past bloggentry (it's got a nice ring to it no?) concerning the origin and fascination behind these green little rapscallions.

I, unfortunately, cannot take all the credit for their whimsical creation (this entry is just so chock full of word goodies!). The talented Ed Emberley knew not what he created in these six-circled space creatures.

I promised I would dig up some of my old zortian doodles for your viewing pleasure. They were my escape during boring schooldays; I would use them for math sheets, word quizzes, note-taking reminders, and as characters in school projects.

Yes, I was a weirdo, but fuck you, zorts are awesome.

That said, welcome to...

THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF ZORTS

Fashion

Some early drawings of the zortian species. Like humans, they also enjoy being stylish. Apparently, wearing checkered clothing amongst sad Charlie Brown Xmas Trees is considered fashionable on Planet Zort.

Transportation

Wildlife

A woofler (sort of like a horse) dog..seen here sniffing zits. Yes, you read right.

The fwap...not as friendly as the woofler. Lets out a noise that sort of goes like this....

"FWWAAAAP!" Thus, its name.

Literature

When I was a bit older, I was moved to write stories about the creatures, utilizing my exceptional compositional skills.

At the beginning of the story, the Zorts meet a Rok, a most despicable creature that ironically becomes polite when you hit it with rocks. I wonder if this trick would work with New Yorkers.

The tall creepy birds are Gleeks. Like all gleeks you know, they like to sing awful musical theater and sulk around all the other cool aliens.

Further into the story, the zortians leave Planet Zort and encounter Planet Earth (of course) where they land on an island, enter a lighthouse and encounter a boy with a backwards cap. I've spared you the rest of the visuals. I'm sure you can imagine....

Commercialism

I was quite cheeky as a child. Not sure when I drew these, but   I thought myself pretty clever.

Note my interpretation of early 90's GenEx fashion trends, and my bold, new ideas for selling toilet paper. Charmin, eat your heart out.

Careers

In middle school I continued to incorporate zortians into my life. This time, they helped me cope with the harsh transition from childhood to maturity. I wasn't about to give up without a fight. Years later, I'm still fightin'.

When finished with vocab quizzes early I would doodle on the paper, hoping to give my teachers a bit of humor and a break from the shittiness of dealing with moody, hormonal teenagers. Zorts were able to take on a variety of roles....

Technology

My 8th grade self being transported to the Planet Zort....accidentally.

Perhaps that's where I truly belong.

An Unscheduled Flashback. Deal.

Sooooo, I haven't been writing very frequently these days. STFU, it happens.

It's been absolutely crazy at work, then there was Easter in Ohio, and when I DID finally get a moment to myself, it either didn't last very long, or my brain could not scramble together coherent words worth writing down; it would have sounded something like Bill Cosby talking whilst fully submerged in Jell-O.

That said, I've been unable to keep up with my Flashback Friday (I only lasted two weeks....this is not a surprise.) Each day I attempted to begin writing one to redeem myself, cleverly naming it with the use of the current day: Monday Memories.....Time Travel Tuesdays....

But alas, shit happens. So screw alliteration. It's a fucking Wednesday and I'm gonna talk about my childhood.

As you know, I love to reminisce, especially when I'm back in NJ, sifting through my treasure trove of junk, now piled carelessly in our attic after my room was taken over (thanks little sis!). This can also be described as my tendency to hoard massive amounts of childhood paraphernalia in an effort to cling to the past. Whichever romantic notion you prefer.

I do not shy away from sharing the great colored pencil masterpieces of my imaginative youth. They are the gentle reminders of a simpler life, where diner place-mats served as canvases, and people were drawn with no necks. Every idea seemed like a good idea. Like the time I wrote the label of every room in marker next to the light switches: cause everyone needs to be reminded of what room they're standing in!

Here a few gems I was able to dig up last weekend:

"Tara's Different Kinds of Cats," My First Book
 I must have been at most 5 when I crafted this masterpiece. At least I hope so. I don't even know why I made this book about cats....I wasn't a big cat person. My guess is that I only knew about 2 kinds of dogs, but at least 5 different types of cats. They were also easier to draw.

This was followed up by "The Parrot and a Computer on a Stick," inspired by some interesting pencil tops.

"An Un-Ordinary Family," My First Script
When I was about 7-9 (the years are blurred here), I came up with what I thought to be the most groundbreaking and fantastic idea for a play/movie ever imagined: a kooky family with an uncle named Popie and an aunt who hoards cat food, and their general crazy shenanigans (gee, wonder where I got that idea...) My cousins Beck and Missy were giddy with excitement at the prospect of acting this out. We often put together our own plays to perform in front of the family.

This particular performance debuted at Missy's house alongside our other hit "Sometime's You're Gonna Get Hurt" (a musical, complete with a namesake theme song.) But "Unordinary" was different; this was gonna be big...like Hollywood big.

I started the script and tried to put together a production in 3rd grade (see my above announcement that was taped to our classroom door). This plan eventually fell through, since attention spans at that age are slim. Apparently, I assumed that all scripts were just a continuous stream of consciousness that took up three columns to a page.

"Return to Chewandswallow," One of My 1st Rip-Off Books
I say one of my first rip offs because the first one I wrote was actually based on a Full House episode where D.J. befriends a horse. I was so proud of myself, I brought it to class to show off (man, I was such an egotistical little first grader). Then one girl, who probably meant no harm at all, pointed out that she had watched that Full House episode the previous night too. Bitch.

Anywho, after my devout love of "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs," I decided that there should be a sequel. (They literally came out with one a few years later....but whatever.) The big deal here was that my mom taught me to sew the binding myself. I must have been tired after doing all that, which probably explains why the rest of the book was done so crappily. I prefer the laziness factor over the risk of being perceived as retarded.

"Personality T-Shirt," Take This As You Will
We had to make a t-shirt design that displayed our personality traits. Don't judge; it was 1996 for god sakes.