Okay, so tell me if life is not fair.......this is one of my cousins from my mother's side.  Incidentally this is why I stick to books.  His older sisters are a jewelry designer and an architect respectively and his older brother is an insanely talented carpenter.  Yep, against this, I got nothin'........I'm hoping maybe I'll derive some benefits by association with talented people.  The saying is "those who can't do, teach."  In my case it is more of "those who can't do simply hang around those who can........."

Has anyone ever seen on a National Geographic episode or on the Travel Channel or the Discovery Channel a scene of Tibetan monks, sitting cross-legged with hands palm to palm, eyes closed, rocking slightly back and forth as they serenely chant their prayers?  Well, I have to say, sometimes I think they've got the right idea.  Of course, when I end up sitting cross-legged on the floor, muttering to myself with my eyes closed it is anything but a serenity exercise.  You know how on Seinfeld, George's dad would scream "Serenity NOW!" whenever he started getting irritated or stressed out?  Hmmm, yes, well.......I don't scream "Serenity NOW!"; instead I come home and watch some one or other of my favorite movies over and over. And over and over.  Basically I just leave it in the DVD player, grab something which includes a derivative of the cacao plant as a main ingredient and prepare to participate in a "cognitive disassociation" exercise.....Just ignore it all......However, I don't always watch one movie; sometimes I grab a stack of my favorite movies and skip to my favorite scenes.  The thing is, when I have a really bad day, I don't want some fluffy, "Malibu Barbie" style movie.  Don't give me something insubstantial and "cute."  I want something so intense, whether through the plot or through the philosophical issues it raises, that my mind is occupied by that rather than what I'm having to deal with.  So, I went on youtube and found a few of my favorite scenes. 

This is one of my favorites because it is everything I imagined as I read this scene in the book when I read it so many times as a child.  Sometimes I think I lived more in the world Lewis created than my own.


Before everyone freaks to no end, I own the EDITED version of this, okay?  Anyway, truth be told, I didn't like this movie at first.  Now.....?  It's in the DVD player right now.  I just like this scene because it is about living with the decisions we make, and our reasons for making those decisions.  How the decisions we made at one time we wouldn't have made now, or, even, if the same decision were still the only one to be made, our reasons would be different. (Plus the music is just great.)


As you can see, I really love this movie.  The cinematography is so artistic, to me; the music is great-very subtle, but it affects the scene so much.  So, although there is no 'profound' message in this scene, it makes my list simply because it is interesting. 


One of my favorite lines in the movie is in this scene. "Are you with me?" "To the death." Don't ask, I don't know.  I just like the way it is delivered.  Plus, I love the final sword fight between Peter and the White Witch.  Tilda Swinton makes an awesome White Witch; even as an adult her portrayal freaked the heck out of me, because it so adeptly ressurected all of the fear the character generated as I read the books as a child.


Again, edited, don't worry.  If I have to explain why this is a great scene, it'll never be understood.  "I am Maximus Decimus Meridius....Father to a murdered son, husband to a murdered wife, and I will have my vengeance.  In this life or the next....."  Plus, one of my favorite lines comes immediately before this scene.  "We are but shadows and dust, Maximus. Shadows and dust!" I don't know that's just a great line to me.  (And I can tell now that I've watched this movie entirely too many times.)



I won't say anything about this next movie except three things: My family LOOOVVVEEESSS  this movie. Yes we do.  If you've never seen it (what?!)-please, watch it.  More than once.  If you have seen it, go watch it again.  And again.


This is also one of my favorite movies.  This is the point in the movie at which I begin to tear up, just a tad; according to whatever your definition of 'a tad' is, of course.  It is also a favorite book of mine (well, novella, as it is technically called.)  My copy has notes all over the margins, with lines and paragraphs underlined, and a plethora of stars indicating favorite passages.  I was actually talking to a professor once and something came up about this book; he said, and I quote, "I just don't really see why I should read a book about fishing."  Apparently the look on my face was nothing short of murderous, as he quickly amended his statement by saying, "Of course, I know it's not really about fishing."


So, there it is, my cure all for whatever life's got to bludgeon you with.  (And yes, I realize that is a grammatically incorrect sentence.)

I finally have internet again!!!!!! Woo-HOO!!! I feel as though I have regained the land of the living. I have reentered the human race after a period of involuntary seclusion. First things first: Don't worry, mother, the motel wasn't that bad. Or maybe it was, but hey, I'm a librarian, I don't scare easy. (Too easy, anyway.) Annelise, maybe for our next adventure we should run away and join the circus? We could probably adapt pretty easily now. No, I didn't meet Jack Nicholson. If I had, I would have asked him if he knew Johnny Depp, and if so, could I get a meet and greet. Thanks, Mr. O'Keefe, I have a Nikon D80. Don't listen to anyone who says Canon is superior to Nikon. Yeah, I've never been brave enough to even read any Stephen King, so I'll have to take your word on the "book is better than the movie," although that is the way of things 98% of the time. (By the way, I read 'Love Walked In'-GREAT!!! I was reading through going, "Oh, I LOVE that movie!!! Oh, I know exactly which part she's talking about!!!" Thanks for the suggestion!)

So everyone knows that today is Veteran's Day, the day we celebrate the signing of the Treaty of Versailles and pay tribute to all the courageous men and women who have made it possible for us to celebrate whatever we want, however we want. Don't turn blue around the gills yet, this is not going to be a post about the history leading up to the signing of the Treaty, promise. (Although it is interesting to note that, when Hitler's armies conquered some of the more prominent European signers he had the same railway car which had been used in 1918 to house the signing of Germany's surrender dragged into the same location which was now overgrown forest and forced the same countries to sign their own surrender to Germany in the same car in the same spot. Apparently he had a hard time letting things go.) Anyway, it being a bank holiday, the public library was also closed. Glory hallelujah, a day both we and public school are closed, rather than getting the run-off from teacher workdays. With hurricane Ida moving across the state, we're expected to get up to 8 inches of rain today and tomorrow. The wind has been blowing 15-20 miles an hour (literally, no exaggeration, I just looked it up). The high was 57 degrees. Cold. Wet. Windy. I was planning on spending the entire day in a blissfully hygiene deficient shower-less state if I felt like it. I would sit inside by the warm fireplace reading a biography on Nelson Mandela and cheerfully watch the dripping trees outside sway alarmingly in the 15-20 mph winds. Sound good? Yeah, it did to me, too. Instead, after an insomniac night, the phone rings verrrrry early. Rings persistently, in fact. I figured it was one of two groups, a random political call (of which have been calling at the crack of dawn from some unknown reason) or the American Red Cross, who calls me in an obsessive stalkerish way, as my blood type has an O at the beginning. (The only thing is, these little vampires don't have perfectly tousled hair and a 'Oscar-winner' style moody gaze. ) I let the other 'party' hang up, only to be awakened again half a second later by more persistent ringing. "I just gave blood!!!!" I screamed at the phone. I dragged myself across the floor and picked up the receiver "Whaaatt?!" I whined. No, really, I put on my Mrs. Ha-Wiggins voice and answered as professionally as possible in my near-comatose state. Good thing too, it was a summons for a substitute teaching job. Yes, you read me correctly. Me. Substituting. In Art. Just to prove the universe has a sense of humor.

I got dressed and reported for duty. The first class was third grade. "Ha," I naively though, "I can handle third-graders." No, my friends; there is a sixth sense among the little darlings. It sniffs out fear like a blood hound. As they meandered in, spotted a face they didn't recognize, put two and two together in the most mercenary of fashions, their faces lit up with a maniacal gleam. Sharks smelled blood and my life was at stake. Have you ever seen grey-hounds sprint out of the gate after one of those synthetic rabbits? That's how fast order spiraled into anarchy. I might as well have handed out the Elmer's glue and invited them to stick their noses in, just to add a little more hyperactivity to the scene. Suddenly, from the dark recesses of the Caves of Lascaux my ears detected amongst the din a horrible, soul-piercing wail of agony. "Lord, if I never get anything else I ask for, just grant me this: please let all body parts be in their correct state of attachment." Turns out it was Caesar the turtle in a mortal state of sideways-ness. He had gotten himself in a 'tight spot' in the mulch and his stumpy little appendages couldn't reach the bottom to right himself. I did a search and rescue for Caesar and got a standing ovation accompanied by tearful expressions of gratitude. (Okay, well, maybe not, but one little man did express his approval by "Dude, that was awesome!") Not wanting to potentially pick up the swine flu from Caesar, I promptly washed my hands. I turned to the paper towel dispense and searched vainly for a release lever. And searched. And searched. Searched until some tender hearted juvenile took pity on the poor out-dated substitute and surreptitiously waved a small hand over the motion sensor. I sheepishly took my paper towel and quickly dried my hands.

45 minutes later I traded 3rd graders for 4th graders. I nearly teared up as I watch them tromp out; it was like watching the men you survived the muddy trenches of France with be reassigned to a different regiment. 4th grade descended. The carousel of irony began to turn once again. The accompanying theme song of "Don't draw on yourself." "All on art on paper only, please." "Take that out of your nose!" "Don't touch the person next to you, please!" "No, you can't release Caesar into the wild; especially in weather like this. He's had enough excitement for today." etc., etc. 45 more minutes survived. Lunch, assembly, planning period, steel myself for the last leg of the day's journey. Incidentally, I was on my last leg of just about everything. The 5th graders trooped in. I realized today that I stopped growing in the fifth grade. "Are you the substitute or a new student?" Okay, so they didn't ask, but one child did eventually say, "Where is Mrs. ----?" "She's not coming today." "Are you the substitute?" "Incidentally, yes. Yes, I am." Their looks of incredulity defy description. Want to hear the funniest part of this whole story? I enjoyed it. It was an adventure. Like climbing Mt. Everest without oxygen.