Sunday, May 29, 2011

Summer Cinema 2011

When I was growing up I found movie theaters to be the most counter-intuitive, ill-advised, and freak-fest sanctioning arenas frequented by normal, everyday people.  As a half-white anglo saxon protestant, I experienced a significant amount of distress at willingly walking into and setting up camp in a  dark room with strangers. I am pretty sure my grandmother explicity warned me about being fooled into these types of scenarios, but even my own family on the occasional thrill-seeking endeavor, threw caution to the wind and plopped down in front of that grotesque amount of screen.

What was most disturbing to me though, were the exit doors to the right and left of mega-screen. In the theater where I grew up, the doors exited immediately to the outside world and being either unaware of or confused by the concept of one-way-locks, I beleived  that people could easily sneak in through those haunting frames and thus watched each film in the knowledge that it would likely be interrupted by real-life mass-murder. Plus you can't talk in movie theaters.

As I got older, trips to the cinema became more frequent and I learned to numb-out of the experience somewhat (newer, less-horrifying theaters and boyfriends seemed to help). And I am either happy or ashamed to report that at this point in my existence a complete metamorphisis has occurred. I will watch almost anything at the movies with the right guest. As an adult I always buy concessions as a way of retroactively giving the finger to my perceived childhood poverty and the chance to shut up and just have a shared experience with someone in a higly air-conditioned room is like a gift dropped directly into my lap by one of God's most insignificant brand of angels.

And guess what, it is summer babies!!!!

I am sorry that for some of you this means nothing, but for me it means FREEDOM. And how better to use that freedom than to grab some nachos, some friends and a room of (almost certainly) non-felons to watch a movie. Below is a list of my plans for summer cinema. I have crossed off those that I have already completed and you can look forward to some reviews in the near future.

Kerri's Summer Flick Super Plans
  • Something Borrowed
  • Bridesmaids
  • Everything Must Go
  • The Hangover Part II (Seeing it Today)
  • Conan O'Brien Can't Stop
  • Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II
  • Friends With Benefits (Don't worry, I am ashamed)
  • Crazy Stupid Love

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Year of Angst

There is something worse than a nightmare you know. It is called a dream-- specifically a dream that can never be realized. A nightmare is terrible of course, but ultimately you wake up relieved. A dream, on the other hand,  is lovely, but you wake up disenchanted, dejected and depressed. Because, as it turns out, your couch is not made of a never-ending supply of avocados, your boyfriend did not change his mind about the break up and that loved one is still gone. In short, dreams remind you that real life can be a real sucksville.
I don't bring this up for nothing. I bring it up mostly to get your sympathy and then later to make a point. You see, a couple of days ago, just before daybreak, I myself, dreamed a little dream. It wasn't a kooky dream where nothing makes sense. In fact, I would say that everything in it was perfectly :

legitimate --
possiby even  too legit too quit --
But you be the judge:

1. Ryan Gosling was my boyfriend.
2. He worked as a teacher for hyperactive & blind children.
3. I had rejected his love and left him heartbroken.  
4. When I walked in his classroom to ask for his forgiveness, my presence made him nervous (in a good way) And Finally,
5. I calmed his nerves by going over to kiss him

THEN, just at that very moment,  the sun crested and my stupid (but impeccable) body-clock woke me up seconds BEFORE my Gosling Smoochfest. And I know this is pathetic but the discrepancy between that dream and the world I was waking up to had me slumped over on my couchbed and crafting a poem reminiscent of Jewel circa 1996.

I had been sucker-punched by my own subconscious and it got me thinking about other sorts of dreams...

Some of the waking dreams (as in aspirations) that we have in life are quite ethereal and ever outside of our grasp so we rely mostly on divine intervention (that goes above and beyond just daily graces) to realize these desires. On the other hand, there are some dreams that we can run ahead and take hold of without a tremendous amount of "perfect timing", "connections"  "Hell freezing over" etc.  I like doing that---
running after,
grasping for,
hurtling toward.

I've decided to keep doing those things in this life of profound single-lady freedom. It was one year ago yesterday that I went to a Conan O'Brien show, ran into old friends and found the voice for August Angst. In a very short time, I realized that I loved these little essays more than mostly everything else that I did. I only hated that I could  give it but a fraction of my time and thus ended up wtih work that quantitatively and qualitatively reflect that amount of energy.

So I want more. It has been my experience that all that running, grasping hurtling stuff can be off-putting in the romantic realm as men seem to frighten easily. But everywhere else in life it has served me quite well. So, as most of you Angsters know. This August, I am moving to the country, taking a breath from the over-commitment that is my way and taking hold of some lifetime dreams to include a few major writing projects.

I am not 100% sure what that will ultimately mean for lil Baby Angst here, but for now just keep reading this summer!  Regardless of the future, I do want to thank you for reading and thus being a part of one of the most clarifying years of my life. Now go have a piece of birthday cake in celebration of this momentous occasion. I recommend something with salted caramel.

Con Mucho Amor,

Sunday, May 8, 2011

These are our Mothers

A soft place to fall,
a bed to crawl into
on thunderous Thursday mornings when lightning collides with the earth—

A curvaceous glass pitcher
of iced mint tea
refreshing souls on sultry Sundays in June.

A well worn ladle
delivering steaming soup to hungry little bellies around the room,
chicken noodle, minestrone, creamy potato—

The unsolicited advice
that we can’t help but follow,
the women we unwittingly become.