Categories
personal

Meditations

Excellence. That we be thus, to ourselves, to each other.

Echos of dry leaves underfoot, shuffling through the Autumn.

Love’s not just a game we play. It’s a gift we give, and as a gift something we should never demand. Love must be freely given.

Adjust expectations. Apply patience. Be happy in yourself.

Love because you want to, because you feel the person deserves it and you want to support them. For your part, be happy with what you are giving, and with yourself in general.

A healthy amount of realism, to avoid being trod upon.

Whispers that never left the pillow, in the morning gone like the moonlight.

I believe in everything.

Categories
cinema

Blog Fu Hustle

I went and applied for the Ultimate Blogger “Internet Cage-Match”. Why would I do such a thing? I don’t know, but it sounded fun at the time. And who knows. I have a latent ocean of super-blogging power lying just beneath the surface, maybe it’ll bubble up and I’ll shoot out energy from my chest all Dragonball Z style. Only time, and the substantial bribe I send the judges, will tell.

Watched a couple movies the last few days. Kung Fu Hustle was absolutely, freaking hilarious. It’s rare I watch a movie that I have no idea where it is going to go, or what’s going to happen. The movie’s disregard for reality, and willingness to go right to the edge or reason, is a refreshing change from most of what Hollywood dishes up.

House of Flying Daggers just came out on DVD, and since I never got to see it in the theater, I was in for a pleasant treat. Much like Hero, and Crouching Tiger, the film is visually sumptuous. Though the movie has plenty of action, it is, in the end, a love story, and of course a sad one. But that’s okay. How could it not be okay?

If you haven’t seen them, I recommend them both.

Categories
humor tech

Suck my Cingular sprockets, Sprint

I know I mentioned it when I got a cell phone, via Sprint. I’m not sure if I ever mentioned that I ditched Sprint within my trial period, and switched to Cingular. Cingular is better. So I sent the two phones I got from Sprint back to them, via their return kits, and went on with my life waiting for them to bill me all of $8 or so for the days I used their service.

A few days ago I get the bill from them, for a merry $165! Evidently, they claim to have never recieved one of the phones I sent them. So I finally had a chance to call them last night. The first lady I talked to needed the tracking # for the phones I sent back, which I couldn’t find immediately, so she asked me to call back. Once I had the tracking #s I called back, only to get transferred to the billing department. The billing department, after verifying my identity (for about the 8th time that night), immediately told me I owed them $165 and asked me how I would like to pay that amount. Once I explained my problem, they transferred me back to the customer service department (or rather to a main menu), from which I pushed the wrong button and couldn’t go back, so I had to call again. Around the fifth time I called last night I talked to a lady who noted my account, placed a priority status on it, and yet still told me I’d have to call back in the morning so they could check the warehouse (which was closed by that point) and verify the phone had been returned. They didn’t seem to care that I could go to UPS.com, put in the tracking number, and see that Sprint had signed for the phone at their warehouse on April 9th at 8 am. Evidently, that didn’t mean much to them.

So I called back this morning, talked to customer service, who stumbled around for a # to the warehouse, and after five minutes said, “All I can find is the orders support number.” Rather than transferring me, she gave me their number, and I hung up and called them. The lady in orders was pretty helpful, really. She checked the notes on my account, checked the tracking # through the warehouse, and finally admitted to me that yes, I had in fact returned that phone. She put a note, asked me to hold as she transferred me to someone who could remove the charges for me. I was still naively optimistic at this point (somehow), thanked her, and waited patiently. Ten minutes later, as I started to get antsy, I realized I was no longer on hold. Instead, my call had been dropped. This seems to happen a lot when you call Sprint.

Figuring my account had been noted by the appropriate people in the orders department, I called the main customer service line again, pushed a few buttons, and they transferred me to billing. People who work for Sprint who can speak clearly, with a minimal accent, and sound nice, get put in customer service and orders. They’re the salespeople, and it makes good sense that they sound friendly and approachable. Sprint’s billing staff, on the other hand, is the meanest, fastest-talking, and heaviest-accented group you’ve ever seem outside of an LA taxi company. The point being, I assume, that they would like to confuse you into accidently paying them the money that you were calling to dispute in the first place. Example:

Billing: “Thankyouforverifyingyourinformation. Youowe$165, wouldyouliketograymen hitherberjakoil mongooselimabeanfoxmonkey alphabitsjubjub hydroliccancanjuice?”

Customer: “Huh? What, ummm …okay?”

Billing: “Thankyou, yourcreditcardhasbeencharged$3000 foralifelong subscriptionto Sprint. Haveaniceday. (click)”

Customer: “Noooooo!!!”

So, I’m talking to this lady in billing, who verifys my information (I feel like my identity has been abused it’s been verified so much at this point), and then tells me I owe Sprint $165 and asks me, “Wouldyouliketopaythatusingcreditdebitorcheck?” I sighed, and explained that there were surely 20 notes on my account at this point, one of which would explain to her that I’d spoken to someone in the warehouse, who had verified that I had in fact returned the phone for which Sprint was trying to charge me, and that I would like the fee removed. I didn’t mention my suspicion that one of the notes on my account read, “Help this man and Satan himself will reach up out of hell and swallow your soul.” She took a moment to read the note, asked me to wait while she accessed my account, and put me on hold. Just as I was feeling like the end was in sight, she got back on the line to tell me that she couldn’t access my bill “at this time”. She waited, as if I would reply, “Oh, that’s fine, I was just calling for the fun of it, not because I expected any resolution or level of competence. Tata!” Instead, I grunted something like, “Umm, you can’t access my bill?” and thought something like What the hell is the point of a billing department if they can’t access your bill? She repeated, “Yes, I can’t access your bill right now.” She paused again. I outwaited her. “If you could call back in thirty minutes, we should be able to access your bill then.”

I was baffled. Was there a time-lock on my bill? Was it time for this lady’s lunch and she just didn’t want to be bothered by me anymore? Had she, in trying to help me, inadvertently been possessed by Satan, who wanted to mock and torment my misery? I doubted the last one, if only because I think she was never that interested in helping me. I thanked her (I’m infernally polite), though a bit curtly, and hung up. Of course, I couldn’t call back in thirty minutes because I had to be at work, which is where I am now, wondering why the devil has it in for me.

Moral: Sprint sucks.

Have a nice day.

Categories
music personal

Weary Meme-ory

I thought this was a neat idea, via Lohans:

Pick A Band, Any Band

Pick a band name or artist, and using only titles of their songs, answer the following questions:

Band: Iron & Wine

Are you male or female: Jesus the Mexican Boy

How do you feel today?: Faded from the Winter

What are you?: An angry blade

Describe yourself: Free until they cut me down

How do some people feel about you?: Weary memory

How do you feel about yourself?: Promising Light

Describe your love interest: Woman King

Where would you rather be?: Upward over the mountain

Describe what you want to be: Naked as we came

Describe how you live: Bird stealing bread

Describe how you love: On your wings

Share a few words of wisdom: Promise what you will

Categories
cinema

The Neverland Lost & Found

Well, I didn’t get the IT job. At least I found out quickly.
On to more pressing issues:

Finding Neverland is a moving tale of love, loss and imagination. The acting is nothing short of phenomenal, notably Johnny Depp as J.M. Barry, Kate Winslett and Freddie Highmore, who plays the young Peter Davies.

I would write an entire review here, but I’m feeling a bit lazy today. If you haven’t seen it, go watch it, and bring some tissues. It’s the first movie I’ve cried at in some time.

Of small note, Kelly MacDonald plays the onstage Peter Pan in the movie. You may recognize her as Diane from Trainspotting. What has she done between then and now? Nothing much, unfortunately, because I think she fills the screen wonderfully. Hopefully we’ll see more out of her in the future.

Categories
humor work

Build me like Adonis, cover me like Justice

I signed up for a free week at a local gym, for a kick-boxing aerobics class that lasts one hour and keeps you moving non-stop. Yesterday evening was the first time I gave it a shot, and it kicked my ass. It’s a nice, full-body and cardio workout, though, so I figure I’ll keep going until I’m built like a Greek god, Adonis, or at least get rid of my “spare tire”. Today I’m sore from head to toe, but it feels nice to have gotten out and done something physical, and I’m going to do my best to keep it up.

I applied for a job (yes, I know, again) as a Technology Support Specialist at Saint Martin’s College (which is where I already work at the library reference desk). It’s a full-time gig, and one that opened recently because the previous guy was fired under dubious circumstances. I don’t know how qualified I am for the position, but I’m going to emphasize “trainability” and see how well they buy it. If I get the job, I’ll be nervous as hell for awhile, because honestly when it comes to computers I always feel like I operate through guesswork, and than my supposed “knowledge” about computers is all a big sham. But then, that’s kind of why I would like the job, so that I can get over that and learn some actual computer skills that will help me a lot in the future, hopefully also as a professional librarian one day (which is still the goal).

Last but not least, I was sent this list yesterday, which I had already read but which was fun to revisit. If you’ve not read it, it’ll get your funny on.

Washington Post’s MENSA Invitational

The Washington Post’s MENSA Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. Here are this year’s winners. (None of them get through spellcheck.)

1. Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

2. Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

3. Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

4. Foreploy: Any misrepresentation about yourself for the purpose of getting laid.

5. Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.

6. Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

7. Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and thev person who doesn’t get it.

8. Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

9. Hipatitis: Terminal coolness.

10. Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

11. Karmageddon: It’s like, when everybody is sending off these bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it’s like, a serious bummer.

12. Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

13. Glibido: All talk and no action.

14. Dopeler effect: The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.

15. Arachnoleptic fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you’ve accidentally walked through a spider web.

16. Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

17. Caterpallor (n.): The color you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you’re eating.

And the pick of the literature:

18. Ignoranus: A person who’s both stupid and an asshole.

Of course, I had to make up a couple of my own, and I apologize if they are “groaners”.

Laciturn: (adj) used to describe dairy cows that refuse to moo.

Endolent: (adj) prone to falling asleep before the movie is over.

Platidude: (n) just your average, cliché stoner

Morifund: (n) what your greedy relatives would like to get when you die.

Tonight I’m going to watch “Finding Neverland” at the Capitol Theater. Then we may go swing dancing up in Tacoma. I wish you all equally splendiferous evenings.

Ciao!

Categories
game personal

It’s time to slay the dragon

I used to play Everquest a lot. Some of you may remember. Today while chatting with Emily she mentioned Neru and my first thought was “Who is Neru?”. It wasn’t a long thought, a split second at most, but still a bit shocking.

Neru was my dark elf enchantress, who liked to run around with Euclidus, Emily’s wood elf ranger, and start shit with bastard orcs, especially if they lived deep down in some cold ice caves in the middle of a frozen waste. Those were, without a doubt, good times. But I’m glad they’re over, and that we’ve both become more productive with our lives. I’m having much more fun now just being alive, and not sitting on my ass quite as much.

However, in memory of Neru, I would like to take a moment to pay homage to all things dork.

Categories
personal

Greetings from Outer Space

The planet looks quite lovely from up here ….

My birthday passed well, if quickly. I don’t think of my age much, but when I do, it’s still hard to think of myself as twenty-five. This isn’t because I feel old, mind, or that it’s some critical landmark in my life. Rather, because a lot happened while I was twenty-four, and it stretched out, and I got used to it. I’m happy to be twenty-five now, and so far the year has started out great.

A brief list of thanks:

Thanks to the wonderful girl in my life. You’re awesome!

Thanks to my friends and family. You all mean a lot to me.

Thanks to my readers. There aren’t many of you,
but I think you all kick ass.

Thanks to the bloggers I read, for making the world seem smaller and more accessible, and for reaffirming my faith that there are indeed good and interesting people out there.

I’m also thankful that I have work I enjoy,
that I have plans for the future that seem both fun and possible,
and that the world remains such an interesting place.

Categories
cinema

Basin City Blues

Sin City is a lurid, roiling mass of anger, revenge, violence, and monochromatic eye-candy. It’s tough as nails, it’s funny as hell, and somehow it’s disarmingly moving.

The story opens on the balcony of a high-rise apartment. A forlorn beauty stares out over the city, as lost as a red dress in a gray-scale world. A dapper young man approaches her, offers her a cigarette, and as he lights it her eyes flash from gray to green, then back to gray as the flame is extinguished. It’s not a new technique, splashing color against a gray palette. Abel Glance did it as far back as 1927 in “Napoleon”, Jacques Tati in 1949 with “Jour de Fête”. It’s effective, even so, and fits the feeling and motion of Sin City very well. The city looms, gray above all else, a sprawling monstrosity; but it’s the glimpses of color, in their sparsity, that give it life, that make the stories.

And so we are given, much like glimpses of color, glimpses of story; which is to say, vignettes. And while it’s not immediately clear how these disparate characters tie together, and it’s not an incredibly strong bond even by the end, they do so in such a way that the soul of the city seems clear. It’s dark and it’s murky, but in the end it’s the hero (or anti-hero) of the story more than any of its denizens. The players come upon us suddenly, and some leave just as quickly. Only the city is constant, and it’s its history, and its conflicts, and its rulers and its discretions, that interests us. In this regard, the vignettes serve us well, as we are allowed to see the city from different perspectives, each with its own unique feel and rhythm.

As our main players; Micky Rourke, Bruce Willis, and Clive Owen each do an outstanding job. Rourke plays an ogre named Marv, and of the three is the most likable to a comic book super-hero, if in a bleak and violent way. He’s no Superman, but could easily be likened to The Punisher, but bigger and with fewer guns. Marv is a street-tough goon who downs prescription pills by the bottle, and who sets himself on a grim mission of revenge when he wakes up next to the corpse of the only woman who ever treated him well, even if she was only the angel of a single evening. Of the three, this story packs the most comedic element, as well as the most traditional comic-book style violence. It almost contains the most nudity, though I assure you this was not a factor in my saying that it was probably my favorite segment. Rather, I enjoyed Marv’s tough-as-nails, take-no-shit demeanor and penchant for grim repartée, not to mention his sense of old-school honor and respect for the only beautiful thing he’d ever known.

Bruce plays an over-the-hill cop with a “bum ticker”, named Hartigan. This segment is the most akin to the film-noir detective story, and of the three is the most a love story, though it also contains, in my opinion, the most grotesque imagery the movie has to offer. Having rescued a young girl from an ignoble fate, Hartigan is laid up and shortly after, dishonestly thrown in the slammer. He rots there for eight years, and is released only to emerge back into the same nightmare of a story that he left. He achieves resolution, though it’s no happy ending, to be sure.

If you love Clive Owen like some people I know love Clive Owen, then you’ll certainly enjoy his story in this movie as yet another grim, tough-as-nails hero. And even if you don’t like Clive Owen, you’ll probably appreciate Benicio Del Toro’s roll as a dead-but-still-jeering head. This segment does the most to exhibit the city’s dark underbelly, and explains a bit of the wary tension between the lower and upper crusts. My favorite part of this segment was Miho, a full-on kick-ass ninja prostitute. Oooh, what she does with those swords …

I’ve tried not to spoil it. Though the allure of the movie lies in its grim visuals and unapologetic explosions of violence, in the end the story is the thing. As a whole, the movie gets a full four stars from yours truly, though I suggest that if you watch it, you do so in a big theater with a good sound system. A movie like this demands to be big and loud, much like the city it portrays.