Serenity Rocks

I'm going to a free screening of the movie Serenity. It got great reviews on Rottentomatoes.com.

Here's the synopsis:

Joss Whedon, the Oscar - and Emmy - nominated writer/director responsible
for the worldwide television phenomena of BUFFY THE VAMPIRE, ANGEL and
FIREFLY, now applies his trademark compassion and wit to a small band of
galactic outcasts 500 years in the future in his feature film directorial
debut, Serenity. The film centers around Captain Malcolm Reynolds, a
hardened veteran (on the losing side) of a galactic civil war, who now ekes
out a living pulling off small crimes and transport-for-hire aboard his
ship, Serenity. He leads a small, eclectic crew who are the closest thing he
has left to family -squabbling, insubordinate and undyingly loyal.

Leaving On A Cruiser

I just found out my brother is going to Iraq. What do you say?

Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the days when I won't have to say
Oh Kiss Me and Smile for Me
Tell Me you won't have to wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go
Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again

I never wanted to be one of those melodramatic sisters with a military brother, but I can't help it. When I hear these reports from Iraq, it all feels so far away. But how far away can it be - when your brother is there?

world wide webb

This is a pic of my friend Kristy who is moving here.

Look closely - this face may be on a TV near you one day.

I don't think she'll like this photo- but she'll get over it.

IMG_0072.JPG

Tell Us About Yourself

I'm applying for writing colonies and dealing with writing endless amounts of essays about myself, my work and what I will accomplish at the colony, blah, blah... and I realize that I hate that statement: Tell Us About Yourself.

How do you answer that? Well, I have freckles. I'm about 5'8" depending on which doctor's office. I live alone. I want to buy a dog, but I don't think I'm responsible enough (wait- that's bad? right. I should say I'm VERY responsible). I've been writing since I was eight. My first full length novel was twelve pages and called, Daddy and Me Play Golf. I illustrated it myself. When my dad left my mother for a 28 year old - the only copy was destroyed by yours truly. I write every morning for about two to seven hours depending on the day and the level of my hangover or non-existence of a hangover. I'm somewhat neurotic. But hey? Who isn't? I grew up in a small town drenched in secrets and scandals - none of which I'm allowed to write about until my parents are dead or so they threaten. Though I wonder if they would give up their social status for a New York Times Best-Selling author/daughter. I read a lot. In fact, I read so much that if you ask me that horrible question, "Do you remember what you were reading when..." questions - I'd probably look at you like you had a third head that was blue and had two flaming red eyes. I don't read. I devour.

You think they'd like that?

The Good, The Bad, The Not-so-Ugly Phantom

Okay, my amazing friend Kristy was in town and we had too much fun together. I'm psyched because she found a place in New York and will be moving here in February. I met Kristy at camp when I was like 8, but we weren't good camp friends until we were like 13. She was always much cooler than me. When we were 10, she was the goose in the big camp production of Charlotte's Web and I was a non-speaking local photographer. (Play production at my camp was cut throat and competitive and many a girl had to be led away in tears from the dining hall when they announced the cast.)
She took me to see Born into Brothels at the Film Forum. It was an amazing documentary about these Indian children that are born into the brothels (hence the title...) in Calcutta's red light district. But unlike every other documentary of this sort that leaves you reeling in tears and promises to join the Peace Corps - this is uplifting. The woman who made the documentary taught the children to use cameras and from their photographs made their plight known and helped get them into boarding schools. See it.
On the other hand, we went to see Phantom of the Opera. Maybe it was a repressed adoration of Andrew Lloyd-Webber. Maybe it was because we hoped we would be the only people in the theater and therefore be able to sing along with the movie at the top of our lungs... Whatever our reasons, they were dashed to pieces when we watched the Phantom take Christine down into the underworld of the Opera and wondered if we were watching some bad B movie. I swear I've been on that ride in Disney world. The one with the fake moss and plastic caverns. The boat is dragged along a track. Then just when we thought it couldn't get worse - the soundtrack started skipping. They fixed it about 20 minutes later. But somehow I just kept remembering my cousins mantra about Joel Schumacher, "That's the man who gave Batman nipples!"
This blog probably only makes sense to me. I'm so sick I think I'm delusional.

i'm back

When my mother woke me up at 7 AM yesterday to catch my flight back to New York, I felt like I'd just crawled, wet and tired, out of a bottle of chardonnay. My holidays were liquor soaked and sleep deprived and full of activity. My days were regiments of lunch dates, shopping trips, holiday parties, dinner parties, after-dinner parties - my mother's unfailing effort to make every moment of Christmas vacation action-packed and funfilled. My favorite moment though was completely unscripted. When the young owner of the new posh country club in town (who is friends with my parents) took a select few of us back to the club on X-mas night- opened up the bar and let us drink our spoiled selves silly on the back porch. The club house was empty and dark, and I felt like we were all orphans breaking into a mansion.
Today I'm off again to Vermont. Where I will attempt to snowboard again- though I'm still not sure which way I used to stand on the board (right foot forward or left foot forward?). I'll probably come back in a full body cast. Pray for me.

Shout Out for My Sista

My sister and I were talking the other night. Though we talk all the time, so I can't say exactly what night, but she said to me:

"I was talking to this woman at the conference. The woman had just had her third kid. She said that she was fine with only having two kids, but her husband really wanted three. So she said, 'Fine. We'll have three.' And proceeded to get preggies and give birth."

"Cool," I said.

"But Polly," my sister said. "I kept thinking what if mom had stopped at two? I can't imagine what my life would be like."

If our mother had stopped at two kids - I would have been non-existent.

"I can't imagine either," I said.

Anyway - it was sweet and I got all teary-eyed and we told each other for the 1,234,562,342,951th time that we love each other. Then I reminded her to send me the Bumble and Bumble hair stuff she wasn't using anymore. Oh- and to also send the sweaters.