Ideal Banking

Am I more satisfied with a bank when all runs smoothly online? You bet your penny-saving pants I am. Let's face it - I haven't seen the inside of a bank in eight months .... and I'm likin' it. I can deposit and withdraw through an ATM, transfer and check my balance online, all of which constitute most of my banking activity, and thank God for direct deposit. I don't like waiting behind the eighty-year-old who takes five decades just to fill out a deposit slip (What's up with the slow pace, old timer? You don't have all the time in the world. Get to steppin'); I'm tired of the banker asking me how I want my cash (Straight up. Whatever. I'm not selling crack); and I'm tired of that cheeky little teller calling me by name like we've been buds for the past three years.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just anti-social. But I have no illusions about my relationship with the bank. They're nice to your face, then they screw you out of money behind your back. And there's no avoiding it. I'm not about to hide my stash in the backyard. This is 2010, people.

I like where I stand with the bank right now. We have a mutual disregard for each other, and a mutual recognition that we need each other. The less I interact with them, the easier it is to forget how much money they're costing me. I know, I know, I should be spewing, "Screw the bank! It's my money!" But at the end of the day, I still have my dough in their safe, and it honestly doesn't bother me (Shhh!). What does bother me is that cheeky little teller thinking I want customer service. No! I just want my money. You are a piggy bank. Nothing else. I want you to be as invisible as a piggy-bank. House my money and I'll come dump it out of you when I please. I don't need your stupid Dum-dums. They might shut my kid up for five minutes, but I know it's all a conspiracy. Damn you and your candy, your popcorn, your annoying white smiles, and your manager who comes from behind his marble desk to ask if I need anything (another account, perhaps?) No! I just want my money! .... On second thought, can you find some solution to my dilemma? I want to be as unaware of your existence as possible. How do we accomplish that?

Pssst! .... online banking.

Critique: Water For Elephants by Sara Gruen

So, my bestie and I decided to form a book group. I know, cool, right? You can join, too, if you should so choose. Just hit me up and we'll get to crackin'. Anyhoo, the first official read was Money by Martin Amis, but I'll get to that in my next post. Delicious, by the way, but will require a little more critical thought on my part. Thus, I have decided to critique our second book, Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. I've had immediate reactions to this puppy.

So, Sara, dawg (Sorry, I've been watching too much Idol), it was okay for me. I've got a few small-ish pieces of advice for you -

Number One: DON'T USE PRESENT TENSE! It does not make you cool and hip and different. I know, I know, it seems like a good idea at first, but all you're doing is hindering your talent and creativity. This is the deal: a great story is told in retrospect. It's more believable. There are some creative back roads to present tense, but I did not see them. In reality, the present is hard to follow; everything is whimsical. Most authors use past tense, because that's how we tell stories to other people, and because in the present, we can't delete uninteresting details. For example, one minute, I find out my mother dies, then the next minute I have to pee. You can't put the latter piece of information into your book, so you're forced to splice up the interesting stuff into "flashes." Do you catch my "hindering your talent and creativity drift?" There's so much you can't do, because you're writing in present tense.

I know Jacob is an old man having "dreams" about his past - thus present tense is sort of necessary - but this is my solution:

Number Two: Don't have Old Jacob "dreaming" about his past. The flashback is cliche. It doesn't happen like that in real life, and it's just plain typical. I would prefer Old Jacob telling the nurse or the new-age circus guy about his heyday, a much less annoying cliche. If you want my honestly honest opinion, though, I would axe Old Jacob. I found myself bummed when I'd hit a nursing home chapter. I hate to say it, because I think Old Jacob is light years more interesting than Young Jacob, but Old Jacob doesn't strengthen the story, which brings me to....

Number Three: Your protagonist are B-O-R-I-N-G. Does this guy do anything naughty without feeling guilty? He is a geeber, for real. The worst part of the book: when Marlena and Jacob have sex. She's basically raping him. Marlena is supposed to be this sweet girl, and you have her doing everything. No way in hell am I leaving my paranoid schizophrenic (and much more experienced, might I add) husband to have sex with a virgin (pretty much). I think in reality, Jacob is a queen. No, but really, I think you being a woman and all, ain't helpin' your character's case. And so ....

Number Four: Female writers, do not take on male protagonists ... in first person. Even if you had chopped your name down to initials (ahem, JK Rowling), I would still be perplexed by Jacob. He has all the traits of a woman, except for morning wood. I like how you added that, by the way, just in case I forgot he was a he, proving my point even further. Hardly any male author would insert that into their novel. It's intriguing, yes, to speak for a boy, but it doesn't work. It is impossible for a woman to write like a man. Period. I don't wanna catch you doing that again, sister.

Number Five: Your Depression-era language is a little pushed, slightly off. (The adjectives are killin' me, smalls.) I'll leave it at that. And, I actually think your language dilemma has mostly to do with the whole male-female crux.


Strongpoints: You paint a pretty picture. You think about details. I can visualize everything. I love the environment you threw your characters into. I'm excited about the movie?

Nonetheless, I give you two stars for cognizant yet boring writing.

Signing off

Brideshead Revisited Review (Spoilers)

I was unable to enjoy this novel. Whether reading The Fountainhead previously had anything to do with my apathy, I can't say. I have an inkling that I wouldn't have liked it regardless. (If you're wondering, I gave up on The Blind Assassin long ago. Maybe I'll pick it back up one of these days.)

Brideshead Revisited is sort of your typical aristocratic - circa 1930's-social drama: The characters are just plain disenchanting. Charles Ryder, the protagonist, narrates his 20 year-attachment to the Flyte family, who inhabit Brideshead, beginning with Sebastian, his Oxford schoolmate.

Sebastian, a weeny-ish rich boy, introduces Charles to his family after much unwillingness. The boys' relationship is hard to define: it's verging on romantic, but supposedly they have a platonic friendship. Even a prostitute accuses them of being "fairies." They're both a little too friends-for-no-good-reason, if you ask me, but I suppose there are plenty of rich kids who have zero meaningful relationships. So, alas! When Sebastian spirals into alcoholic turmoil, who is Charles there for? Nope. Not his self-proclaimed best friend. (Granted, alcoholics are a pain in the ass to deal with). Instead of helping his friend, Charles just gets chummy with his family, who don't do anything to stop the self-destruction. They opt for the easy way out: sending him booze money every month and hoping he snaps out of it. By the second half of the book, Sebastian is basically an apparition.

After Sebastian disappears, Charles parts with the family for a brief time but picks back up with Julia, Sebastian's sister. Go figure. Apparently he hadn't found her attractive before but suddenly does ten years later. They are both conveniently on the same trans-atlantic cruise and, because nobody else more intriguing is on-board, they decide they love each other. Supposedly their relationship is really meaningful like Charles and Sebastian's WAS (is that possible?), so accordingly they cheat on their respective spouses for each other and end their relationship as easily and randomly as it began. Dang those religious differences. I mean, they've only known each other twenty years by the end of the book. You'd think they would have figured out each other's beliefs by then.

Basically, Charles is spewing about how strongly he feels about the Flyte family, while he fails to give us a legitimate reason why. The whole meat of the book is unsubstantial, making it impossible for me, and others most likely, to appreciate.

Ambitions

Every now and then I'm reminded of how little I've actually read. I consider myself better-read than the next person, but I'm not privy to a wide variety of books. I read the assigned classics in school and have branched out a little from there. I'm lucky to have had professors and teachers who have required me to delve into unique and provocative novels and books of poetry. But overall, I find my repertoire lacking.

I came across TIME's All-Time 100 Novels from 1923 to the Present, and I was humbled by how many of these I haven't even heard of. Thus I am undertaking the entire list, or most of it. I'm excited for the possibilities of finding another author to obsess over. Because that's how it happens. You, by chance, become engrossed with a writer's work (usually because somebody suggested one of their books), blow through their whole collection, then move onto the writers they like, and it sort of snowballs, until eventually the snowball melts. My snowball has melted. And even though I've tacked on quite a few books to my "have-read" list, they're all fairly similar. Because writers mimic (for the most part) writers they admire and so on and so forth. But this list will give me guidance, focus, and variety in the books I read.

So first up on my list: Under the Net by Iris Murdoch, The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood, Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh, and The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand (which isn't actually on the list).

I challenge all of you lovely (well-read) people to read even more. You can never read too much, I think. Plus, it keeps you from doing stuff that you really should do but just don't wanna. All for the sake of expanding the mind, right? Er, okay, maybe I should get back to work.

Pirate Radio review

I went to go see another movie with Miss Bailey this weekend, and I am proud to report that it surpassed 2012 by a long shot, not that this is a challenge. I'm surprised how many so-so reviews Pirate Radio got, because I thought it was fantastic. I haven't seen everything that's come out this year, but, for me, this is the most enjoyable movie of the year (and Lymelife). No, it had next to no character development. Yes, it was a little misogynistic. So what? Does every movie have to be a serious examination of characters? Does every movie have to be politically correct? God, I hope not. The acting was fabulous, the humor was perfectly gauged, and it was well-made.

Pirate Radio chronicles raunchy times aboard a hard-rocking boat. The mission: Defy stodgy Parliament values and bring rock-n-roll to Britain's suppressed youth. If your taste is refined, you won't find what you're looking for in Pirate Radio. It's a foul movie with no apologies, as it should be.

There are indeed a few too many characters on board. We could have done without - oh, about four, at least. But the interaction between some of the best comedic actors out there (who don't get enough credit in America, by the way) really makes the movie. You'll be laughing about 95% of the time - I'm talking knee-slapping good times.

Pirate Radio is definitely for people who don't take themselves too seriously and who enjoy stories that don't either. It's not an Oscar winner, and it makes no attempts to be. But, by golly, I wish it were. The world would be a much happier place. In an age of movies that try too hard (to give a message, to be funny, to be scary, etc.), Pirate Radio is a breath of fresh air - a movie that doesn't try to be anything but nine bucks well-spent. (I would have paid at least ten.)

2012 - Best. Movie. Ever. (SPOILERS)

NOT.

Oh my God. Worst movie ever? Without a doubt. It was so bad, I actually enjoyed watching it, so much so that I didn't even mind paying ten bucks for some popcorn and a Mr. Pibb. (The movie was paid for, thank God).

So, I went with one of my best friends. She was given pre-screening tickets by her employers, so we went to check it out. Why not? I mean, we didn't have any high expectations, but, hey, free movie. So we get to the theater, and we have to pass through the movie Nazis who take their job way too seriously. No cell phones allowed, of course. My purse was searched, which I expected, but it still irked me. They performed the "spread you arms and legs" schtick, which I thought was completely unnecessary and uncomfortable. And made an all-too-threatening announcement beforehand that went something along the lines of "If we see any lights from electronics, you will surely die." Like I would want to record this movie. Please.

Anyway, this pre-screening was actually for a charity, and they showed a five-minute video before it started - which, I must say, was the cheesiest, most poorly-made endorsement I've ever seen. It looked like my senile grandmother made it. But alas, a company was actually paid for this footage. Anyway, I'm not here to critique a charity's promotional video. Let's get to 2012.

The best idea I could give you of this movie is this: Imagine you're watching a movie, and the characters are watching a movie, too. The movie that they're watching .... that's this movie. It's the cheesiest, worst acting I've ever seen in my entire life. Except millions of dollars were wasted in an attempt to - I have a sneaking suspicion - make a great parody of an action movie.

The movie begins in shambles, and it ends in more shambles. We're introduced to characters who are seemingly unrelated. We find out of course that *gasp* they are related. Some Indian guy figures out that the core is melting ... yadayadayada ... he knows this other guy who works for the U.S. President and who tries to convince everybody that the world is going to end. Nobody believes him until the crust is splitting in California, etc. This guy has a dad - completely inconsequential to the story - who is on a cruise ship with his old buddy and they play jazz ... bladiblah ... his friend has a family he doesn't talk to .... and enter John Cusack. Hm, I wonder what role John Cusack is going to fulfill. Let me guess. He's some fledgling writer who ends up surviving armageddon? Ding, ding ding!

So John Cusack meets Woody Harrelson's character - fantastic, by the way - and discovers that the world is ending and there are, like, plans for rich people and government leaders to board these arks made by the Chinese (of course). And that's about as much screen time as Woody gets. Totally random. Anyhoo, Cusack takes his kids, ex-wife, and her boyfriend and hauls ass to the airport in a limo, dodging buildings, bridges, semis, and everything else in between. They get to the airport, but -Oh no! - the pilot is dead, and ex-wife's boyfriend has taken two flying lessons. But he manages to get them off the ground, narrowly escaping the crumbling of the earth's crust. I mean, the earth is actually crumbling an inch behind the plane as it speeds down the runway. He manages to land them safely in Las Vegas where the world hasn't started ending yet. I know. Bear with me here.

They hop on the world's hugest plane in Vegas (Mom's boyfriend has to co-pilot), and they make it to China without having to refill, because - get this - the countries have shifted however many thousand miles, and China is now in Hawaii. Wow. God must really want these people to live.

So, anyway, they make it to these arks. Elephants and giraffes are strapped to helicopters flying overhead. I mean, it is just ridiculous. But guess what? They survive the end of days! Amazing, right? I thought so, too.

Between the fabulous acting and the captivating plot, how could I possibly think this was a parody? Hello! How could a movie where the world conquers its own extinction not be a parody? Although this was, by far, the worst movie I have ever seen (I never saw Snakes on a Plane), it was still enjoyable. I give it props for being really funny, whether they meant it to be or not. (They had to.)

And a New Job Commences ...

Apologies for my absence. Unfortunately, I have horrible "bloggers block." I don't know what it is about blogging, but it just does not come easily to me. I have a hard time tracking my daily or weekly goings-on. It would be very boring. Trust me.

BUT ... since we last .... well, whatever WE did ... I started a new job. (Yes, yes, thank you.) I now work for a "retail and promotions" agency in Downtown Dallas. I'll leave the name unknown for security reasons. I am a highly-respectable (ahem) Administrative Assistant. Hey, it's a start. The company, though, is fabulous. Although I am a reasonably well-paid gofer, I really enjoy the work and the community. Everyone is super-cool.

I'm not going to bore you with the mundane details of my work, but a few obstacles have presented themselves these past few weeks. My main issue is the family-career balance. I'm pretty sure this is everybody's main problem, unless, of course, they don't have family obligations. But I do.

I had my son, Mason, while I was in college. Being a young parent is especially hard, because you haven't really achieved anything career-wise. No sense of accomplishment exists. Your main claim to fame at age 22 is getting promoted to Assistant Manager at Blockbuster, or something spiffy like that. So, a legitimate career post-college is really important for most of your 20's. The job market is so competitive straight out of college, especially in this economy, so having virtually no experience in whatever you want to segue into does not help. Neither does a college degree, apparently. (Okay, maybe a little.) But having a child PLUS all of the other insecurities that come with post-grad life make everything a bit harder on the nerves.

Anyhoo, at 22, I am still in ME mode. I still want to hang out with my friends, I want to work 50 hours a week and make lots of money. So, I kept on with college, not completely in false hope, but nonetheless ... Mason went to daycare while I was in school, pretty much 9-5. He did fine, aside from perpetual snot-nose. So, I graduate from college (woohoo!), move back in with the 'rents, and look for a job, which was no easy feat, mind you. (To apply online or hit the pavement? That is the question.) I must have been home with Mason everyday for three months ... at least. He LOVED it.

Well, I get this job, and guess what? Little man is going back to school. But I tried to even out family/friend time by putting him in daycare Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Tuesdays and Thursdays Mason hangs out with Grammy and Aunt Ka-Ka. I thought he would like daycare. He's a sociable guy, you know. I was wrong. Every time I pick him up from daycare or come home from work, he cries when he sees me. My mom says he looks at my stuff during the day and says, in the most pathetic way possible, "Mommy...," even to my saline solution. Sad, huh?

I mean, come on. What mother wouldn't feel horrible? I know he'll get over it, but in the meantime, I'm feeling kind of neglectful. I'm not. I realize this. The alternative is staying home and coddling him all day. No thanks. But there's not really an even balance between work and family. If somebody has it, please clue me in. You can't support your family financially AND stay home whenever you want. If so, you are a freak of nature, and I'm really jealous.

At this age, and for a little while longer, Mason won't understand the importance of me working and how it positively affects his life. By the time he's used to this, he won't even care that I'm gone. So I wonder ... Are kids trained by us not to care that we're gone for 8-12 hours of the day? You only see your parents a few hours a day, and that's just how it is. You're not supposed to see your family as much as your friends. That hardly seems conducive to a healthy lifestyle. And then the cycle continues with your children believing that they need to spend most of their day at work and not home. Don't get me wrong - I support ME time, career time, and all of the above. Except I can't help but notice that family is sacrificed because of our agendas.

But I know that it's my responsibility to instill a sense of family obligation in my son. Regardless of how much time we are able to spend together, that time should be cherished more than our time working or with friends or at the gym or cleaning the house. The end.