Here's the thing: I love my job. Really. I do. I love the people I work with, even if I don't always necessarily like the people I work for. Those people being, of course, the 'public.' Generally, I like most of them. I mean, really, how many places do people bring you homemade lemon bars, fudge pie, and brownies for the holidays? Then there are days like today.....I could have reeeeaaaaallllly used a fudge pie today. The whole thing. By myself. See, here's the other thing. I like kids. Really. I do. The day began innocently enough......We had story hour, of which, if you've ever watched National Geographic and witnessed the panicked stampede of the wildebeests in the face of predators, you've got a fairly accurate image. An hour later, I looked up to notice one lone survivor standing in the midst of the no man's land between the desk and the decimated shelves. Staring right at me. "Did you need something?" Nothing....No response. "Were you looking for something?" Still nothing. Then....."Do you know where my mom is?" Oh. Crap. "No. You wouldn't happen to, either, would you?" Shrug. Am I the only one who seems concerned about this? Apparently so, because, according to this kid, if you've reached the 60" height requirement, you've got all the answers. "I'm looking for my mom." "Yeah, I know. Me too, kid." "You can't find your mom either?" "No....what I meant was...never mind. Just.....hang on....." Thankfully "mom" was just looking for books. Still, that brief instant of mistakenly being considered capable rattled my nerves a bit.

Then, on the way back to the desk after leaving a serene junior with an equally irritatingly serene mother hen, I was snapped at. Not figuratively. Literally. *Snap* *Snap* "I need an over-ride!" We have system wide filters on many sites, including "My Space," which, I have to say, is the bane of a librarian's existence. So, we have to manually over-ride the filter for anyone over 17. Sound time-consuming? It is. Trust me. So, I drag over. "How old are you?" "13" "Sorry..." "It's not for My Space." "Then I couldn't over-ride it anyway. I'm only allowed to over-ride for My Space." It is said that nature abhors a vacuum. It also apparently abhors repetition. Plagues and pestilence have already been used on ancient Egypt. Something original was needed. Which is why 13-year-olds were invented. Said 13-year-old accomplished a freakishly good impersonation of a bee stung Angelina Jolie, she stuck her lips out so far. "If you can't over-ride anything, there's not a whole lot I can do on the computer, then." What?! It's the world-freakin'-wide-web! Find something (wholesomely) educational! You're in a library! Find a book! I wanted to say something really sarcastic, but, instead, I smiled as nicely as I could manage. "National Geographic isn't blocked."

For the past....oh....couple of years (it feels like, anyway), I've been spending quite a bit of time concerning myself very closely with wedding/engagement photos. Now, I'm not sure if anyone really quite fathoms the cruel irony of this situation. Have you ever noticed how, in a moderately sized group of people, cats always seem to find the one individual who is allergic and/or hates them, and attach themselves very closely to that individual for the remainder of the visit? Well, I've heard it said that it is because cats know which humans dislike them because that human avoids eye contact. Well, it is about the same, apparently, for weddings and me. It is as if there is some maleficent force in the universe which finds fodder for its sick sense of humor in throwing me into the metaphorical snake pit which is the exchanging of nuptials. Let me be quite honest: I "strongly-dislike" weddings. I generally only go to receptions for the food. The pervasiveness of high-running, blatantly expressed emotion makes me squirm like a six-year old waiting for the nurse to get back with the needle for the Hepatitis B shot. (Isn't that the one that would sting so badly? Anyway...) I'm a bit like that character in that movie with Sarah Jessica Parker, when she says, "I know I'm a girl and all, so I should be better at this emotional stuff, but......" Don't get me wrong, I love girly books like Jane Austen, the Brontes, etc. just as well as the next person. I love movies like "Casablanca" and "Roman Holiday." Seriously. But.....in real life.....? Nah, I'm okay, thanks. Personally, I've never really felt a need to 'get in touch with my inner-most feelings.' They're fine just where they are, being rudely ignored by my immediate consciousness, thank you very much.

Anyway, I believe I've veered a bit from my original intention.....which was.... let me think.....oh, yes, weddings. One reason I think I may dread them is for a reason hordes of others dread them. Someone else getting married brings into irritatingly close focus the fact that you are not. There are three questions I never fail to receive innumerable times in the course of two hours: "So, when are you getting married?" "Why aren't you married yet?" "Why aren't you married yet?" I think the first sense to deteriorate as you get older is your sense of humor. Apparently some individuals in my family think I'm joining a convent. Hmmmmm, yes, as the saying goes, "There's nothing more discouraging than unappreciated sarcasm." (Not that there's anything wrong with joining a convent, mind you.) Yet, I've not seen fit to correct this mistake. If all are satisfied, and I get some peace, the means are completely irrelevant. Alas, the arrival of warmer weather seems to be the signal for all of the underground movements of wedding planners and cake decorators to show themselves in full. I think had they been around a couple of hundred years earlier, living as university students in Paris, they would have orchestrated their own "barricade revolt."

Has anyone ever noticed how the lining up of single women to catch the bouquet occasionally appears disturbingly similar to those screaming maniacs on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange? I began wondering, how did the tossing of the bouquet originate? Personally, it makes me want to toss something, but quite emphatically not anything as sweet smelling as roses, peonies, or sweet pea. As far as the 'catching' goes, I think I'd rather catch the swine flu. So, I found it quite amusing, when looking online for the origin of 'throwing bouquet,' the suggested search topics came up.....including 'throwing knives.' The sad thing is, I could see a connection, and not just through the word 'throwing.' However, I felt much better, when scanning through the results for 'throwing the bouquet' on youtube, looking for some wild, 'no-holds-barred' bouquet catch, I came across one which gave me hope. These are my kind of people.

Maybe I will join that convent, after all.......Nah, then again, maybe not.......You can't wear red heels and a nun's habit. (As far as I know.)

I'm not sure how this post is going to proceed, but I felt an obligation to post something today. As I'm sure everyone is well aware, today is the 65th anniversary of D-Day. Discussing the veterans of World War II is something very close to my heart, something that I always tend to get a little emotional over. My grandfather was a paratrooper in the 8nd Airborne, I have made some very dear friends among the older men who come into the library who served during the War, and I have had the opportunity to converse with others who served during those brutal four years which shaped the world I came into. I make it a point never to discuss politics on my blog; to begin with, I don't follow them closely enough to assume enough knowledge to converse intelligently about politics, so I feel my best policy is to simply keep my mouth shut. Better to be thought a fool than to open one's mouth and remove all doubt. However, this post is not political, it is not even historical in content. (Shocking? Well, maybe I will slip up and include some history, I can't help it.) This, my friends, is purely emotional. Despite your political views on anything, I feel that respect is owed to those who were willing to set aside any dreams they harbored, their youth, their security, their lives, the hopes of their loved ones and imperil themselves for the amelioration of a world burning down because of the greed of a few. I tend to fall into a romanticized view of this time period. Young men in uniform, wonderful clothing styles, white picket fences, Bennie Goodman, Glenn Miller, etc. However, I have to catch myself and realize there was nothing romantic about it. I read a statistic the other day which was a reality check. The average age of a G.I was about 21-22. I turned 24 in April. These were children, really, who became the immolation for the preservation of humanity and what it means to be human. Whatever political reasons there were, my feelings remain that, although we were pulled into the War because of the events on December 7, 1941 (although I don't think we feasibly could have avoided involvement), the deepest reason for the need to sacrifice 'the American Dream' of an entire generation was the demand for a generation of champions of humanity. While so many were devolving into an animalistic state of hate and annihilation, there had to be those who were willing to halt the deterioration of the fabric of humanity into feral, bestial chaos. If I am dragging things a bit heavily, and seem to be a bit too serious about all of this, I am truly sorry, but, as I said, this is a discussion which lies very close to my heart. That generation and what they accomplished is one reason I gave 4 years of my life to study history. It is imperative that their accomplishments are remembered; not the accomplishments of the generals and politicians, but the accomplishments of the average father, son, brother, cousin, friend. Because I also love photography, especially black and white, and most especially black and white from the forties, I've included a few of the photographs included in the National Archives and Records Administration. I hope they aren't too much.
I'm continually astounded to see how young they really were.
A copy of a German photograph. The Warsaw Ghetto being destroyed. Stop and consider where these people were being moved.
I love this photograph. I think it's beautiful. I know that sounds crazy, but not 'beautiful' in a 'pretty' way, but it leaves an impression. The contrast of the surroundings and the circumstances is impossible not to be affected by, I think.
This is also an affecting photograph, to me. Those who were intent on preserving life in situations in which death was the goal is a very sobering thought to me.

This is actually from Korea, but I had to include it. This, I think, shows the price paid. It rips my heart out every time, but it is one of my favorites. It tramples on my heart and leaves my nerves raw and throbbing, but it is one of the most profound images I have come across.

So, I know this is a bit heavy, but there it is. It makes me think of a few lines from a letter a soldier during the Civil War who wrote home to his wife, "I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the government and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing-perfectly willing- to lay down all my joys in this life to help maintain this government and to pay that debt...." I, for one, am indescribably grateful to men like my grandfather.

I know these are just boring pictures of wheat/birch trees, but I had to post them.....mainly for the benefit of my sister, who has my undying respect, and, of the two of us, received the domestic goddess genes...... I am becoming increasingly concerned that my little paper identity bracelet fell off at the hospital, resulting in an embarrassing and unfortunate mix-up which the staff agreed to keep silent about, deciding that, at least my mother and father looked like nice people-I should have a good home, even if I wasn't necessarily their biological offspring. Her children grow healthy and robust on homemade wheat bread and other impressive feats of the culinary while my hypothetical children will be snorting powdered cheese from the Kraft box like Al Pacino in "Scarface." (Just so everyone knows-no, I have not seen that movie, but you don't necessarily have to have seen the movie to make allusions to it, right? Hopefully? Well, I do, even if it is against the movie buff rules.....) Anyway, here's the bounty of eastern N.C. The light this evening was just wonderful, you have to love that rich, full, late summer light....

I know, I know, it's washed out and has 'sun-spots,' but look for the 'effect.' Okay, okay, so maybe that is stretching it a bit, but hey, I laid down in an insect-infested wheat field to get this one.......Actually it was a bit fun, I was clomping around in knee-high wellingtons with a camera.....It felt all "National Geographic".....without the volcanoes......or the sparsely dressed natives......or, you know, the threat of foreign pestilence or anything.
The sun was setting, so the colors were becoming very nice.
Again, 'effect' not 'result'........
This is not wheat, obviously....a birch tree a bit further down. So, there's my Tuesday afternoon's adventure. I was singing "Fields of Gold" in my head the rest of the evening, but that's alright, that will always be a great song (#61 on the playlist).

So, I was really excited about going to the beach this weekend, right.....Wait, what? Hang on.....Okay, let me re-read that; yes, I did type that correctly. I just had to check. You have to understand, I am the epitome of anti-'la plage'. Not that I dislike the beach itself. Just in principle. During the summer....with the heat....and the hot sand....and no shade to speak of.....and the crush of adrenaline pumped perspiring humanity....and skinny tanned blondes in adorable bikinis....and then there's me...with Irish skin and real-life thighs. Has my point been sufficiently made? Good. Well, now that you're in my corner, let me 'splain. See, I actually was excited to go to the beach this weekend. I checked the weather.....reasonable temps. I checked the projected traffic recordings for the beach....fairly reasonable. (Okay, so I actually didn't, because there is no such thing that I know of, but it sounded impressively organized didn't it? I thought so anyway....) But the real reason I detected a slight stirring of excitement somewhere in the cobwebbed corner of my brain reserved for "summer" was this:

A remake of a 1930's-40's style suit designed by synchronized swimmer/actress Esther Williams. I was in heaven. Seriously. Even I, of all people, would don the torture device of the euphemistic appellation "swim-suit" if it looked like this. Generally speaking, the idea of folding myself into six square inches of body-hugging textile leaves a bad taste in my mouth. Makes me think less of swimming and more of drowning myself. However, I was actually, as I've said, somewhat excited.

We all met that morning, packed our vehicles and made the pilgrimage to the alter of the sun-gods. We swam, we strolled, we terrorized small children into leaving the wading pools, we ate seafood....and some of us fried like a stranded frog on asphalt. (I know, that's a disturbing/disgusting analogy, but it is the best I can come up with at 11 p.m., alright?) I applied sunscreen, I wore a beach cover-up and sun hat (all inspired by the 1940's look, naturally...) yet I still fried like Southern food. Walgreen's loves me. Aloe-vera distributors love me. Somewhere, in some tropical, third-world country, on some aloe plantation (if there is such a thing), there is some rich, fat, part-time drug trafficking, cruel, iron-fisted, plantation tyrant who loves me.....(At least I can make someone in this world happy, I suppose.) Yet, every year, I fervently pray that some miracle has occurred over the past winter months which will allow me to tan like a 6-foot, 100 lb. Brazilian model. In fact, I don't just pray to tan like one, I pray to look like one. Which is why I hate that whiny country song (sorry to the country lovers) about being thankful for 'unanswered prayers'....No, my darlings this is one prayer I want answered.

Anyway, this post was going to be me whining about my lack of melanin through a pictorial 'compare and contrast' between beautiful, exotic looking olive-skinned women and bland, pasty western Europeans......That is, until while looking for postable pictures of suitably plain Irish women, I ran across the homepage for the Miss Ireland Pageant......After the initial disappointment and irritation at the fact that it is possible to be tall and beautiful while simultaneously being pale white (curse them all, now I feel even worse....), my sarcasm appetite smelled dinner. A feast fit for kings.....Browsing through the finalists, my snarkiness rose to the occasion, replacing my downcast attitude of inferiority with one of acerbic and sarcastic triumph. I read 'biographies,' I snickered, I read more, I salved my wounded self-esteem with biting retorts...I realized I need to get a life....But hey, it was still fun.

Each 'biography' gave a name, age, 'occupation' (at least the legal one anyway), ambition, and motto. Motto?! They have their own personal mottos?! I have a motto: never have a motto. They're inconvenient, there will inevitably be an occasion in which it is useless and/or contradictory to your goals, and they smack of "all I want is world peace."

Just to defend myself against wrongful accusations of being caustic and/or intellectually supercilious in my attitude, just hear me out.

First up,

Miss Cavan

Name: Denise Matthews.

Age: 22.

Occupation: Beauty Therapist.

Ambition: To win Miss Ireland and represent my country in the Miss World competition. I would also love to be a make-up artist for the stars.

Motto: Live and let live.

I'm sorry, 'beauty therapist'?! What, looking at pictures of beautiful superficiality is going to cure the effects of a traumatic childhood now? Freud would have a field day with this one. As for 'live and let live,' I have a feeling she'd be the first one 'voted off' so to speak. Natural selection has its positive side.

Next up,

Miss Carlow

Name: Aoife Judge.

Age: 22.Occupation: Administrator/Part-time Student.

Ambition: I would like a career in the media, as a television presenter or news anchor.

Motto: You must be the change you wish to see in the world.

The only thing I have to say is this: Heaven preserve us, beauty pageant contestants are now quoting Ghandi. I comfort myself with the thought that she probably read it on a gum wrapper....which, then again, she probably doesn't chew gum; has too many calories and might ruin her perfect "Tour-guide Barbie" smile.......

Miss Kerry

Name: Helena Hanbidge

Age: 21.

Occupation: Student Nurse/Part-time Model.

Ambition: To be healthy, happy and successful in everything I do.

Motto: The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.

My question for this contestant would have to be: "So, Miss Kerry, does the future only belong to those with attractive dreams? What if some kid wants to grow up and be a garbage man? Or a plumber?" I mean, somebody's gotta be the one to hold the 'stop/slow' sign on road construction, right?

Miss Laois

Name: Sara Stokes

Age: 19.

Occupation: Student.

Ambition: To be involved in music/music management. To do charity work in Africa and follow the footsteps of Bono and Ali Hewson with their clothing label ‘Edun’.

Motto: Live life to the full and always be yourself.

I'd like to see 'Mis Laois' in some remote African village with no running water, no electricity for the flat-iron, the constant threat of malaria, cholera, malnutrition, jaundice, and typhoid.

Miss Wexford

Name: Danielle Masterson

Age: 20.

Occupation: Student – Theatre and Performing Arts.

Ambition: To be successful as an actress and do what I love. I would also like to set up a stage school.

Motto: The stars are not my limit because there are no footprints on the moon.

I won't even address this motto; it would be tantamount to singling out the weakest for the slaughter.....

So, what began as an exercise in self-pity actually ended in a rather entertaining sarcasm exercise. And hey, sarcasm acts like a tonic for some of us......

Forgot a couple....The famous arch in all its glory...

On a bad day I'd have to find a lamp-post on campus. Lamp-posts make me happy for some reason. They make me think C.S. Lewis, and the thought of C.S. Lewis makes me happy.....Long story, just nod and say, "Y'okay, whatever...."

P.S.-did anyone notice? I also have up a new book-review AND a new quote!!!! Does this mean I get to join the over-achieving ranks?

Yes, well, this wasn't supposed to post when it did.......I'm "tweeking" it as requested. Here's the thing....see I was trying to multi-task....I had someone on the phone, I was reading (a very interesting biography on an Irish aristocrat named Edward Fitzgerald), I was blogging (clearly not very successfully), I was checking my e-mail (just junk mail wondering if I wanted to become a criminal investigator. Nope, I might find somebody I know.....), and I was attempting to find something to add to my playlist. I suppose that now that I have the time, I'm trying to do everything I never had the time to do during the semesters......Of course, I don't know why I didn't have more time.....seeing all those little over-achievers with their cords and other appurtenances of an apparent profound need for the accolades of the academic world, I realize that I wasn't busy at all....I only thought I was. One individual who received her master's also received quite a lengthy introduction. She accomplished such an academic feat all while being heavily involved in Pollyanna/Tiny-Tim style do-gooder activities and committees (of which she was more likely than not the head), various other community building recreational activities, and, I quote "all while being married!" Well, hip-hip-hooray for you....I recently flushed two dead gold-fish because it was more responsiblity than I was obviously capable of handling. (I'm still upset that I lost 52 cents plus tax on something that lasted less than a week......) My great accomplishment in college was....well, college. I don't think Darwin was really concerned with the style in which the fit survived, just that they survived. They say there is nothing to Paley's theory of inheritance of characteristics (the passing down of certain physical characteristics from one generation to another; characteristics which lend themselves to the preservation and continuation of a certain line), but I think my family's sarcasm gene is primarily what has facilitated our survival. Really, I do. Anyway, all went well with the graduation; meaning, I graduated. With my prevailing sense of optimism, I was fully prepared, and , indeed, expecting some cataclysmic event to occur which prevented my chance to wear the dearly bought, cheaply made nylon muumuu that made me look like one of the missing California Raisins (for those of us who are old enough to remember "The" California Raisins...). Yet, I have to admit, it is a good feeling to finally have graduated. Good in a lost, "now what?" kind of way. "You've graduated!? Good, now, go forth into the world, find something to do. Learn to live on ramen noodles and bologna for years until an actual salary allows you to buy non-pre-packaged groceries. Contribute to this global society. Ameliorate the ills created by said society. Or, if you can't find something productive, at least just go away and leave us in peace." Easy enough for the over-achievers like Pollyanna, not so easy for the rest of us. Oh, well, I suppose at some point I'll find something to contribute......anyone need a sarcasm consultant? No? Darn. Well, for the time being I'll just take my camera and leave the world to itself.....The top one is of the inside of the arch-thing (don't you love my technical architectural terminology?) in the middle of campus.
This is the 'famous' fountain recently re-installed in the middle of campus. It actually is rather pretty.....
On the front steps of the theatre. There is something artistic about arches, I think.

I just thought this was interesting. It is the shadow of a tree on the side of the theatre. I just thought it was interesting the way the outline is so defined. I makes it look as if it is painted onto the brick.

Anyway, there it is...doesn't do starving people in a third-world country any good, but I'm afraid it's all I've got.

I have recently (as of 4 a.m. today) come to the realization that the most valuable part of writing term papers during the college experience (indeed, of the college experience itself) is developing the talent of the art of accomplishing supporting a thesis and making your point while being vaguely specific.

Apparently this is no longer the "Daily Five," yet I still hesitate to call it the "Intermittent Multiple of Five." That just doesn't have quite the same ring, does it? (Incidentally, I looked it up, and, wouldn't you know, there actually is no official medical term with the suffix "-phobia" for fear of commitment. Seriously, I checked. Rather odd, I thought; as there is a 'phobia' for everything in the known universe, most likely not excluding the universe itself, I was highly surprised to find there is no 'commitment phobia.' However, as I was searching the internet, I did stumble across a checklist of 'symptoms' to determine whether you have a fear of commitment. So, curiosity trumping sensibility every time, I glanced down the checklist and, well......crap.) Anyway, having at least enough common sense to realize that attempting to ameliorate the lack of quality by quantity, I'll not post the combined total for the days I've missed, as I'm sure most have lost interest by this point in the sad proceedings, I'll not deepen the humiliation by assuming the pretension that anyone has missed the fact that I've failed to post the past few days. So, here goes, today's prime number:

1. The Prestige- A period piece about the machinations of the magic industry in turn of the century London, this is one of those films that never really seems to get old, at least for me. The nuances of the details are constantly reasserting themselves in varying ways every time you watch it. You catch something different, in the way a line is delivered, in the chronology of events, etc. that, after realizing the end (and personally going, "How the HECK did I not think of that?!!), you begin to see. The costuming is impressive, how the subdued colors play into the tone of the film and draw attention to the characters faces and expressions, imposing a sombre tone on the film without the conscious being aware of it, a lot like the plot itself. Love it. (Love Christian Bale and Hugh Jackman, which doesn't hurt things too much, either.)

2. Molly Maguires- Just recently watched this one again after a prolonged viewing absence. I had forgotten how much I really like it. Starring Sean Connery and Richard Harris, it is the story of a group of Irish miners in the mid-late nineteenth century who band together to form a clandestine organization which resorted to anarchic retaliatory methods to loosen the murderously iron grip of mining industrialists on those whom they employed. The film presents various questions as to which motives are noble and which are ignoble, or is it less the motives that the means used to reach the realization of those motives; or is it merely which side of the issue you happen to be aligned with, is there any completely right or completely wrong in any action which involves human emotion and decision? Very interesting.

3. The Natural-Robert Redford. Hmmmmmm. Robert Redford in 30's costume. Hmmmmmm. Robert Redford playing a 1930's baseball player. Is there any more to be asked of life. I think not. Actually, as a young man, Redford had gotten a baseball scholarship but unfortunately lost it because of drunkenness charges. This is just a great 1930's movie. One of the greatest lines of all time being, "I want people to say: 'There goes Roy Hobbes. The best that ever was and the best that ever will be.'" Essentially, this is what the movie is partly about. He says this as a young man, and the lessons about this attitude that he learns through what life can sometimes deal out. The soundtrack is one of my most favorite ever, unfortunately unavailable on cd. Plus, it has Richard Farnsworth, who played Matthew on Anne of Green Gables.

4. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas- To spare everyone, just read the book review on the sidebar. Great rendition of the book, true to the form and content, casting was good, the boy casted to play Bruno was insanely talented, the details were good, not a happy movie, but one well worth watching; not as overblown as some other Holocaust films, which makes it more powerful, as it is more personal. (Please ignore that horrendous run-on.)

5. It's A Wonderful Life- Just because everyone needs to see this movie at least once.

"To whom it may concern: I am most regretful for the failure yesterday in the performance of my blogging obligations. I was unfortunately detained by the necessity of pulling from somewhere hitherto unknown, a History of British Lit. essay on Wordsworth and Tennyson. Should my apologies be accepted, it is promised that such a lack of professionalism will not be tolerated in future posts."
(Probably because I'll never mention anything like sticking to even a tentative timeline ever again.....hey, you have to play to your strengths, eh?) In all honesty, though, I admit was remiss in not taking the ten minutes I spent blankly staring at my screen while trying to formulate a thesis on Wordsworth and his concept of redemption as represented in his poetry to post the day's five. Yet, I must admit, if I had to write on Wordsworth, I was mortally glad it was on his "Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood." It is one of my favorites; and this being national poetry month, it seemed all the more fitting. Even if you don't particularly like poetry, there is something to be appreciated, I believe; just the sheer beauty of the emotions invoked has to count for something.

"What though the radiance which was once so bright/ Be now for ever taken from my sight,/ Though nothing can bring back the hour/ Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;/ We will grieve not, rather find/ Strength in what remains behind;/ In the primal sympathy/ Which having been must ever be;/ In the soothing thoughts that spring/ Out of human suffering;/ In the faith that looks through death,/ In years that bring the philosophic mind./ Thanks to the human heart by which we live,/ Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,/ To me the meanest flower that blows can give/ Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears."

See what I mean? (Maybe? Hopefully? Or, maybe I just made a sentimental fool of myself......but it was worth it......possibly......Anyway, the list...)
Since I neglected yesterday, I'll post ten today, just to keep things moving, no pun intended....("moving?" "moving pictures?" Get it? I know, I know, how lame, but it's late.........)

1. The Legend of Bagger Vance-You either love it or hate it, there is no middle ground for this one, it seems. Me and mine love it. Adore it. Quote it. Y'all watch and let me know what you think. If you love it, tell me. If you hate it........HOW?

2. Hush, Hush, Sweet Charlotte-a black and white "thriller" starring Betty Davis and Olivia de Havilland (better known as Melanie in Gone With the Wind). Bruce Dern also makes a very quick appearance at the beginning. Let me just say that apparently Melanie was keeping a few things from Ashley (who was her husband, for those who haven't seen GWTW, which I shudder to think a possibility.....) Nice, sweet Melanie, who according to Scarlett could only say "yes, and no, and raise a passle of mealy mouthed brats just like her!" wasn't so diffident as she seemed.

3. The Secret Garden-directed by Francis Ford Coppola (of "The Godfather" directorial fame), this is a beautiful rendition of the wonderful novel. The original score by Zbigniew Preisner is still one of my favorite soundtracks, and the child actors are remarkably good. Mary's imperious little tantrums are very convincing. The production design and costuming are likewise impressive.

4. Pride and Prejudice-I adore Joe Wright's use of light, he uses it to tell the story in such an artistic, expressive way, that each frame could be a still beautiful enough to be framed and hung on a wall. Plus, I mean, seriously-Mr. Darcy? Hmmmm, yeeesssss, no explanation needed, I believe.

5. Dead Poet's Society- Why? I dunno. Really. I don't. This movie is so depressing, with really nothing to lighten it sufficiently, but I still have to watch it every once in a while, just because.

6. Bourne Ultimatum- Best in the trilogy. (I've had a crush on Matt Damon now for years, and felt thoroughly vindicated when the rest of the world finally caught on and voted him "Sexiest Man Alive" a few years ago. Yeesh, you try to tell people and they just won't listen.) The rooftop chase and the fight in the apartment are honestly action scenes I could watch over and over, because they are so entertaining. And I really don't like action movies, as a rule, so this is a huge admission to make.

7. Steel Magnolias- Shirley Maclaine as Ouiser. Lines such as, (discussing a fellow townswoman being hit by a fly ball at the opening game) "Well was she hurt?" "I doubt it. It hit her in the head." Sarcasm and biting wit all delivered in a Southern accent. Is there anymore to be asked?

8. Sabrina-Hepburn and Bogart, it's impossible to go wrong.

9. Gone With the Wind-because I am from the South, and to speak ill of this is treason. Plus there is Clark Gable, the likes of which this world will unfortunately never see again. Incidentally, the first scene to be filmed was the burning of Atlanta, because they needed to clear off the Hollywood backlot to build their own sets, so everyone figured they'd kill two birds at one blow. The tower you see crumbling in the background, as Rhett is trying to coax forward the terrified horse, is actually the scaled down Empire State building prop used in the filming of the original King Kong.

10. Emperor's New Groove- Sarcasm. Loads of it. If Maghen is reading this, Josh can explain, am I right?

To dispel any idle curiosity concerning the photo, I'll admit it has nothing to do with the post; I just needed something bright and colorful to act as a catalyst for the dissipation of the lingering winter blues, in anticipation of the spring days shortly to come. (Notice I didn't say 'summer.' I have a very ambivalent attitude towards summer, leaning more towards the 'hate' side of ambivalence. I know there are some who will gasp in utter horror at the sacrilege of such a statement; but to them I say- try one summer encased within a skin that refuses to tan.....and thighs that refuse to diminish......and swimsuits that refuse to fit.......and friends who adore the beach and plan weekend trips while you vainly dig for yet another insipid excuse as to why you 'would love to go, but just can't make it....next time.....maybe.....or when Antarctica finally thaws out, maybe we can plan a beach trip there, I'll be ready by then.....with all of this global warming it shouldn't be too much longer.....' Makes me want to slap Coco Chanel for making my life hell for about two and a half months......Anyway......)
No, the reason for this post is actually.....Well, there is no reason. "The reason that isn't" being this: I have noticed that everyone (who is 'everyone'? It's.....well.....I don't know......It's the same 'everyone' that is in "They all say...." or "Everybody knows....." That 'everyone'.....now, no more grammatical questions, I have a very important non-reason for this post......) has a list of 'must-see' movies. Now, some specify that these movies are 'must-see-before-you-die.' For the individual responsible for this statement I have but one question: As opposed to what? Post-mortem viewing? That'd be a tough crowd to sell. To be quite honest, I'm not too sure about many of these lists. I know it is a struggle to come up with 100 great movies, but it is a struggle, not an impossible feat. I mean, honestly, are we scraping the bottom of the barrel so soon that we must include 'Titanic'? Really? I know it was a mega-blockbuster hit, but then again, someone had to think it was a good idea to stick a screwdriver in a light socket the first time, didn't they? (Apparently the same 'they' that belongs with the 'everyone'....) It's the millions of others who succeeded him in the genius line that made it a stupid idea. If you ask me, the same goes for movies like 'Titanic'- or the gut-wrenchingly terrible, mind-numblingly horrendous, convulsion-inducing adaptation of Shakespeare my generation had the gall to entitle "Romeo+Juliet." I've tried to disown them all for this cinematic faux-pas, but apparently that only works with blood relations. I decided, therefore, that the only logical solution was and is to construct my own "Greatest" list. All 100. I undertook this task thinking it would be a struggle to make '100.' However, I have learned something about myself while assuming this task. I either a) watch too many movies, or b) remember too many movies at the expense of forgetting other things I should be remembering instead....like where I put my car keys....or checking my voicemail every day....or whether or not I've brushed my teeth that morning.....(okay, not that last one, but you get the idea.....) So, for the next month or so, I'll post five titles a day. There is no specific order, they are not by preference or alphabetical, chronological or by director; they are simply in the order they crossed my brain. (Yes, I've got one of those....I just can't remember where it is most of the time....) So, first up is:

1. Ben-Hur- a must-see simply because Charlton Heston is one of the best-looking men ever to grace this planet, but you feel as if you're condemning yourself straight to the depths of hell if you think such while watching him portray Moses. There's got to be some rule against that somewhere. The cinematography is impressive for its day, the story is absorbing, and the final and ultimate reason for the movie is very moving. Plus, I mean, how many chariot races have you seen?

2. The Long Hot Summer- Paul Newman...Paul Newman in his 20's.....Paul Newman in his 20's in color.....Paul Newman, in his 20's, in color, with a set of eyes that could launch any sane woman into a catatonic stare.....'nough said.

3. Citizen Kane-I know, I know, but in my defense, I am not giving in to popular opinion. I didn't like this movie, per se; it is long.....and frankly somewhat boring....and honestly, bordering on disturbing for some reason. BUT, the makeup is astounding. The aging process Orson Wells undergoes is absolutely mind-blowing. The cinematography is interesting, and you have to hand it to him-it was both the making and the destruction of Wells' career. Anyone who has the backbone to take on William Randolph Hearst derserves some respect, however begrudging. So, it is one of those movies you have to sit through at least once, 'just 'cause.''

4. Casablanca-I'm sorry, but if I have to explain, we just can't be friends.......

5. 1968, Franco Zefferelli's Romeo and Juliet-because everyone should see what Shakespeare can and should be on celluloid.