My testimony movie

In one of my classes this week, I'm supposed to share my "spiritual autobiography" (formally called "testimony" but changed because the word testimony just seems too trite now I suppose) to my small group formed from this class and I'm getting nervous and anxious and excited and terrified about it. It would be so much easier I think and mean so much more and I think, really represent my own journey way more accurately, if I could only put together a movie of my testimony, complete with a soundtrack, some pictures here and there (not necessarily of myself, or people I know and love but other pictures as well) and streaming video highlights from my childhood and selected scenes from various films I've grown to love. This would be the perfect thing I think.

Rather than me reading from an outline or a "script," my testimony movie would serve as this and so much more. Instead of trying to visualize what I had to say, people could see endless metaphors and beautiful symbols to serve as their window into me and I think (for most people my age) this would prove to be much more interesting and beneficial.

Even though I won't be putting together a testimony movie for this class this week, it's one of those 'maybe-'i'll-do-it-in-the-future' ideas as long as I don't get too lazy or too apathetic about my life or the power of the moving image, in general. Think of how great it would be to have people come to your church and say, "I'd like to share with you my own spiritual autobiography...here it is," and then (cue!) a video would be rolling. What a fresh bit of air that would be for any and every congregation, in all the churches of the world.

I Heart Hypocrites

I was listening to one of the many not-so-great-songs but still, good-song-with-great-lyrics from Lauyrn Hill's "The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill" album yesterday and this part of the second verse from her song "Lost Ones," hit me like a ton of bricks. Obviously, I'm only presenting part of my problem...but still, I think the line "always want to make it seem like good intent" was the saddest yet truest thing about this entire song. I've never seen myself as a pride-filled hypocritical person/Christian, but after hearing this, I think it will be hard to see anything but now.

"Hypocrites always want to play innocent
Always want to take it to the full out extent
Always want to make it seem like good intent
Never want to face it when it's time for punishment
I know that you don't wanna hear my opinion
But there come many paths and you must choose one
And if you don't change then the rain soon come
See you might win some but you just lost one."

The Birth of a Liar

I'm doing this family-tree-ish project for one of my classes in hopes of showing how my past, my family's past, and the dynamics of these interrelationships affect me and how they might affect my future. All in all, it's a great assignment and when I found out that my great-uncle was the one of the 12 kids who had "troubling with being honest," I immediately thought of my own kindergarten afternoon experience. Maybe now I can blame someone other than myself?

Hannah Engross sat beside me and seeing how we were both "staff kids" at Southside Christian School, we knew each other before I entered Mrs. Feuisse's K-5 class. She was one of the custodian's kids, and I was one of the assistant pastors kids and don't you know I used that against her. I know I know. It's terrible, but what can I say: sometimes 5-years-olds are the cutest people in the world and other times they're absolute monsters who tend to resemble Hitler in their ability to manipulate people and things. But anyway, so I have this "disdain" towards Hannah right? And likewise, I have this other obsession with wanting my teacher to like me and be a favorite student (hence, I would do just about everything and anything to be liked by my teacher....something i think still goes on more today than I think).

So there we are--Hannah and I--sitting side by side, laying our heads down on our desk for our daily 15 minute nap/rest time. And for no reason at all, coming totally out of the blue, all I could think about was how I could get my teacher to dislike Hannah (as I did) and like me more (as I wanted to like myself). So my head lay resting on my elbow and i began biting as hard as I could, my other arm. Right on the forearm, I knaw to make teethmarks...that may not really hurt but they at least look bad and evil and oh-so-very malicious. I do this quietly for a few minutes, as all other heads are resting on their desks (including Hannah--who doesn't see me do this) and then, I get up, walk up to Mrs. Feuisse's desk and show her my arm and began to wimper.

"Oh my goodness Neville! What happened?" She asked.

"Hannah bit me (sniff-sniff)," I responded.

"She BIT you?" She was shocked. "Hannah Engross, please come to my desk immediately."

Hannah walked up, four-eyes and all, brown, stringy, greasy hair with a big ponytail complimenting her overall-skirt-jean-jumper. She looked confused.

"Did you bite Neville's arm?" She asked. I stand there, holding it, looking at her, starting to cry, and wonder whether she'll say yes or have the guts to say no."

"WHAT? No!!!" Hannah seemed shocked she was even accused and glared at me through her 2-inch-thick specs.

"Neville, are you lying about all this?" Mrs. Feuisse asked.

And then, as if it was a game--or a hilarious comedy routine from a burlesque show--I stopped fake crying, smiled, chuckled and fessed up saying, "...yeah" with an Opy from Andy Griffith "Aww-shucks Pa" tone.

She told us to both take our seats, looking at me and shaking her head smiling. Once we sat down, all I remember is Hannah staring at me and looking at me with disgust. As I looked at her back, I only smiled back--confident that even through my lying heart I had made my teacher like me more. And I never gave it a second thought. No guilty conscience. No asking for forgiveness. Just me, my little lying heart, and about 5 more minutes left of Monday nap time.

Oh the wonders of Christian elementary education! And to think, that was only in my first year!

Before Sunrise, Before Sunset.

I got the movie "Before Sunset" for Christmas and in the past couple days, I decided to watch it for the first time since I saw it in theaters late last summer.

For those of you who are looking for a double feature this weekend (that you can split between nights and watch one Friday night and one Saturday night) then here it is.

"Before Sunrise" is the first, "Before Sunset" is the second. If you're a Taylorite, I believe Andy Long owns them both (sorry Andy if you don't for referring people to you). But anyways, it is one of those beautiful movies that--aside from a few faults--captures that mysterious and hard-to-articulate feeling you experience when you meet someone for the first time and you simply 'click.' And now, after yesterday morning when the Academy Awards were announced, "Before Sunset" has been nominated for best screenplay and as lame as it sounds, that kind of made my morning. I know it's not like my kid or anything, but I feel I have the semi-right to be proud b/c it's one of those movies that 99% of people in the country won't see and so, because of people nearly abandoning it, I take it in, pat it on its head and compliment it beyond encouragement.

The Top Ten Films of 2004

Okay, I'm finally done...even though no top ten list is really ever complete (you're always seeing new ones from a certain year that seem to end up making there way onto it sooner or later), here my list is, complete with ramblings and explainations galore. It was a "B" movie year in my opinion, and with that, it allowed for so many "movies that could make my number ten spot" that this proved to be the most difficult part of compiling a list this year (and choosing the my number one pick). So I'll start off with a list of ones (in a specific, carefully chosen order) that were in the running for that number 10 spot but got cut and then proceed to "the list."

The “#10” Runner-Ups (in order of how they would’ve gone on my list): Saved!, Dogville, Shaun of the Dead, The Incredibles, Before Sunset, The Aviator, Closer, Ray, Maria Full of Grace, In Good Company, Collateral, Friday Night Lights, Super Size Me, The Bourne Supremacy, and Sideways.

Neville's Top Ten List of 2004:

10. "Hotel Rwanda"--Don Cheadle is fantastic. The story is almost fail-safe and the movie couldn’t come at a more perfect time. I’m guessing “Hotel Rwanda” will make it into the Best Picture Oscar race and I’m betting it has great chances to win in a year so split on what was good and what is essentially ‘the best.’ This intense, and harrowing dramatic reinterpretation of the 1994 events in Rwanda is no picnic and writer/director Terry George likes to keep it this way. Although he could’ve gone overboard, using God-awful images to grab its audience and pull them deeper into the story, that would’ve been almost a cop-out. The real feat here is telling a story about a country on the brink of committing genocide, and watching as the world looks on and switches the channel. And George does this very well. While “Hotel Rwanda” is like “Schindler’s List” in that it is about one man who goes to many lengths to save a small number of people amidst a massive epidemic of homicides being committed, it is unlike it in how Cheadle plays his character moment-to-moment, scene-to-scene, as if he’s right there in 1994, making the decision in the heat of bodies being slashed open with machetes in the street. A stirring, unsettling and movie just about every American should have to see.

9. "The Passion of the Christ"--Speaking of God-awful images....:)?!? No but seriously...obviously, it may seem like a cop-out to include “The Passion of the Christ” as one of the year’s 10 best because I’m a Christian but after carefully looking through the pile, this one makes it for a number of reasons. First, this is a piece of religious art that will be long remembered for its visceral look and feel. It stylizes the Crucifixion, sure, but it also gets under you skin by way of bloodshed and torture, which is not pleasant but daring, uncomfortable and almost irritating. In a way, the film is a myriad of bold, unnerving and semi-queasy canvas paintings of Christ’s road to Calvary. And like every good Catholic filmmaker should, Mel Gibson has mastered the “show don’t tell” principle in making movies. Second, there’s something to be said for the film’s attempt in ‘neo-realism’ movie making. From hearing the words as they might have originally sounded to portraying Roman ceremonial crucifixions probably more accurately than many of us would like to think, it’s certainly fascinating the way the movie unfolds like a giant metaphor: we, the audience, are begging for those moments when we don’t have to see or experience or vicariously live through Jesus’ pain. And finally, Jim Caviezel as the unrecognizable and transformed Christ, Maia Morgenstern in her painful and heartbreaking under-the-skin-and-into-the-heart performance as Mary mother of Jesus, and Caleb Deschaniel’s breathtaking cinematography all give me more reasons to call this one of the year’s 10 best. It’s a great film even though it’s not always a pleasant one (see “Requiem for a Dream” for another example of great filmmaking executed in a disturbing yet powerful way). But hey, can you expect any less from Gibson doing a movie about the death of Christ? I don’t think so.

8. "Garden State" and "Napoleon Dynamite"--I can’t separate the two, I’m sorry. It’s just practically impossible and so I bracket these two movies as my number eight pick because for me they were the best and most surprisingly great films to come out of the 2004 summer (okay so this is kind of cheating b/c it's actually a 'top 11 list' but hey, it's my blog so who the heck cares). Sure big studio hits like “Collateral” and “The Bourne Supremacy” were exceptional movies but I doubt that I’ll remember the summer of 2004 years later as the return of Jason Bourne or my first encounter with Tom Cruise as a gray-haired villain. No, I’ll remember it as that ‘Garden State Dynamite summer’, where I was reminded of two things so true and universal to the human experience: finding yourself and being yourself. “Napoleon Dynamite” was an obvious homage to my generation with its caboodles crowding the porch, Glamour Shots scattered throughout, trapper keepers in every classroom and fashionable styles ranging from mid-80s to late 90s, but it was also the hero that my generation desires: someone not too cool, not too self-righteous and someone who thrives in his/her own originality. Older folks may see Tobey in “Spider-Man 2” as the hero of the summer but for me (and so many other college and high school-aged kids) the real hero is Napoleon. After all, here’s a guy consumed with how others view himself (aren't we all) and self-worth (i.e.,“here’s my girlfriend—she’s a model,” or “I was hunting wolverines in Alaska for the summer, what did you do?”) yet paradoxically, his character is redeemed by the end through a selfless dance act (one of the most glorious and exhilarating scenes of the year) for his newfound friend Pedro. Sure he cares about whether or not people think he’s cool, or has great skills, and constantly talks with his eyes closed (don’t we all sometimes—even if we aren’t physically doing it we’re wishing we could?) but like every one of us, his own true self reaches its full potential the moment he becomes a living, selfless human testament to the world (or rather, every one in the auditorium at the time). And then there is Zach Braff’s character who also ends up finding himself thanks to the help of his newfound friend Sam (this time, the wonderful and crazy and undeniably likable Natalie Portman--who should get Oscar recognition for her work here). In both “Garden State” and “Napoleon Dynamite,” the idea was about uncovering something hidden, great, and very much alive in the two main characters. I wish all movies could make us scream and dance with such humble affirmation.

7. "The Motorcycle Diaries"--Like a beautiful photograph of early 1950s Argentina, with its mountain landscape draping up, over and into the sky, director Walter Salles' film "The Motorcycle Diaries" plays out like a dream with its ode to natural beauty and creation serving as its compass. It is the story of Che Guavara (a leader of the Cuban revolution) and his pre-revolutionary days and a story of two friends on the road with a rusty motorcycle and it's about people changing you and you changing the world. Obviously, the movie has a lot on its plate. Rather than watching an ordinary cross-country road movie, the audience gets to take a journey that changes directions, goes where you least expect and ends up in the most unlikely place. Gael Garcia Bernal (from "Y Tu Mama Tambien" and "Bad Education") plays Ernesto (Che) and does so with conviction and much grace. The movie is about confronting social injustice, and about the poorest of poor that so many of us never encounter, but it is also about so much more. Near the end of the film, so many passages of Scripture came to mind I felt as though my heart was overwhelmed, my mind heavy and yes, my conscience was feeling very guilty. So perhaps the movie's tag line does hold some truth in it (as cliché and trite as it may sound): let the world change you and you can change the world. Pretty good starting point for any kind of social injustice movie, don't you think?

6. "Bad Education"--Sure, director Pedro Almodovar is one of this generation’s most daring and provocative and shockingly versatile directors. And although his past films “All About My Mother” (which I liked until halfway through) and “Talk to Her” (which I loved) have also dealt with similar themes, they’ve never been this audaciously entertaining, which is why “Bad Education” is such a sleazy, gorgeous, and guilty pleasure. On one level, the movie is a homage to film noir films like “Double Indemnity” and “Dead Ringer,” carefully assembling characters who are related by dirty deeds and connected through dirty money. On another level, the movie is about Almodovar himself and his own grey area experiences and encounters with the Catholic church. And on another level (the levels are limitless), the movie is an exercise in telling a story within a story of a story within a story that’s about a movie being made about this story. It gets a little loopy but it’s never tired, and always intriguing. With its opening credits so intensified and spine-tinglingly-stringy, “Bad Education” makes you feel as if you’re watching “Psycho” again for the very first time, thanks to the fantastic Alberto Iglesias, who wrote the film’s trippy and creepy score. Of course, many will hate “Bad Education” and despise it for its opaque and pervasive look at homosexuals, drag queens, and Catholic priests, but for those of us who are obsessive, dorky film buffs, it will be a thin slice of movie heaven baked together with a sexually charged cast, a provocatively controversial story texture and a visually mesmerizing feast for the eyes and ears in its bold and colorful frosting. Beautiful, entertaining, and like always, pure Almodovar—from beginning to end. (Warning: I know because of the NC-17 rating I'll get a lot of flack for putting this one on my list but I couldn't pass it up--it was too good)

5. "Million Dollar Baby"--Okay, everyone in the world is talking about how great this movie is so no matter what, if you choose to see it you’ll probably be disappointed (like I thought I would be). After all, “Million Dollar Baby” is a boxing movie that’s not really about boxing but about the pains and joys of relationships whatever form they may take. Hilary Swank is wonderful again (she won the Oscar in 1999 for “Boys Don’t Cry”) as a small town hick girl who’s always dreamed of making it big in the boxing world. And she constantly wants to give, give, give, while so many people in her life are only about taking, taking, and taking. Clint Eastwood is solid as her hesitant and reserved coach but the real male gem here is Morgan Freeman who arguably gives the best performance of his career (yes, possibly even topping his work in “The Shawshank Redemption”). The three are an odd combination but the movie works great and it’s amazing how each of them slowly slip into your heads and then inevitably, into your hearts. Even when you can predict where “Million Dollar Baby” is going it’s still compelling and intriguing and touching, to say the least. At one point, I was so involved that my heart literally was beating way faster than it should’ve been, yet ten minutes later it seemed to be breaking and falling apart altogether (a very different feeling to experience within the same two hours of the same movie). While the boxing action cuts right through to the cheekbone, the quieter moments in between are the ones that stand out as truly unforgettable and personally thought provoking. It’s no wonder over 200 critics have hailed it one of the year’s best, and for once this year I happen to gladly agree.

4. "Mean Girls"--Finally, a teen comedy to rival its dark, wicked, would-never-be-able-to-be-made-today predecessor “Heathers.” Although “Mean Girls” isn’t as black comedy-ish, it’s definitely just as scathingly funny and even more so enjoyable and witty and oh-so very smart and chic. Adapted from the book “Queen Bees and Wannabes,” Tina Fey brings us a film that is not only a great teen comedy (no that’s not an oxymoron) but it’s a great movie. Aside from “Saved!” it’s the one teen comedy of recent years that seemed to be smarter than its premise may lead you to think. And it was hilarious, as a second viewing of it I’m sure will bring you just as many guilty chuckles as an initial first viewing does so spontaneously. But what I found most surprising about “Mean Girls” was its moral conscience. Never in all my years of watching crappy teen movies have I seen one that contains a moral message that could possibly be livable and gasp!, actually helpful advice. But is this movie really worthy of the title “one of the year’s 10 best?” Absolutely. I would’ve never guessed that back in June I’d be putting this movie on my list but I can’t help it. This is one movie I was not looking forward to see, was never planning on seeing and so, it only fits perfectly that when I was dragged to it (okay not dragged but coerced) that when the movie ended, I shook my head smiling and knew that I had just viewed one of my new favorite films of the year. After all, what more can you ask for when teenagers are compared to wild African animals of the jungle? Gather at the watering hole everyone, Regina’s on the prowl.

3. "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind"--In 2002, “Punch-Drunk Love” gave the love story film genre a run for its money. Instead of being formulaic and celebrity-dazed in its appraisal of love, “Punch-Drunk Love” gave audiences a new perspective on love: it’s not always perfect, it includes bad times as well as good, and it’s centered around honesty and forgiveness. “Eternal Sunshine” does the same but the way it stands a part from its older brother “Punch-Drunk” is the way it begins its story with the ending of a romantic relationship. And by the way it shows how pain is necessary in our lives. And the way it shows how much people affect us and change us. And also, the way it encourages ripping up the ideal image or ideal expectation you wish your lover to fulfill, and accept them as they are: broken, human, and far from perfect. I wish every love story was this mature before it attempted to capture and lure its audience in. You just can't trust some romantic movies nowadays, can you?

2. "Kill Bill: Volume 2"--What more could you ask for than this poetic, lyrical and visually entertaining and tour-de-force-ode-to-Western-flicks Quentin film? As a sequel, of course Volume 2 is better than the original but that’s not really the point. It’s a movie that affirms a person’s basic love in the power of cinema: movies often transport us away from reality, and at times they depict reality more honestly than we would ever choose to see it. This Uma epic manages to do both: it dazzles us with realism and lets us escape to a trailer in the desert where Black Mamba snakes lurk, girls with eye patches kill, and that bittersweet side dish called revenge is served up as cold and as cool as ever. Plus, who could ever forget the mythological dialogue on Superman between Bill and The Bride, Billy Budd sitting in his trailer listening to Johnny Cash’s wonderful “A Satisfied Mind” (how ironic), and that good ole’ hyperactive storytelling motif that Quentin has just about mastered? This movie proved that with a really good story, great film entertainment can be both exciting and enlightening.

1. "Finding Neverland"--Maybe I'm a sucker for movies that carry-on the theme of the wonder and beauty of child-like belief and faith and hope (see my last year obsession with "In America") or maybe there's something that touches on the eternal when films capture so subtly what people spend their whole lives trying to understand. Whatever the reason, "Finding Neverland" does just this. The movie deals with that pivotal moment in every person's life where their childhood is no more and they are, in reality, an adult. Call it growing up, growing older, or merely 'the loss of innocence,' but however way you put it, everyone eventually experiences it. Director Marc Forster (director of the brutal yet brilliant "Monster's Ball") does something truly groundbreaking here: he makes adults care about hope and wonder and belief, in a world where adults are taught to care about everything and anything else BUT these things. It might take an hour or so for the movie to hook you but once it does, you'll be in a bittersweet daze of wonder and awe. And even though it’s weird to call it my favorite or the best film of 2004 (because I’m still not convinced it totally is), it makes sense considering the feeling it left me with: cognitively and emotionally moved.

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Hope nothing here made you too upset. I welcome any criticism and comments you feel just screaming to get out. Happy weekend.

The Art of Awkwardness

Lately, I've been seeing how much I can turn conversations, group get togethers and in general, basically any kind of communication between people into extremely awkward moments. Since I tend to be the type of person to break the silence when I sense an awkward moment approaching, it's very hard for me to be the instigator in creating awkwardness because I usually do everything in my power to avoid it. And so it goes.

Saturday night, a rendez-vous at a theater in Pasadena with some friends and some friends of their friends provided me with one of the funniest moments of recent weeks. We all met, introduced one another to the others who may not know one another and then proceeded to go into the theater lobby. Then, one girl wanted to buy popcorn so the rest of us stood in a circle behind the lines coming from the mile-long concession counter and proceeded to make conversation. I took the initiative and asked them a question I knew would eventually end in a dead awkward lull.

"Have you guys seen the movie 'Million Dollar Baby?'" I asked. They all shook their head 'no.' I paused and then said, "it's a really good movie." And stop. Nothing more to add. No explaination or elaboration as to why I think this, and certainly, no retort back from them asking "why was it a really good movie?" (because people just don't ask questions like that). I half-smiled and looked at them as if to say 'i'm done talking now, you're turn' and stood there in stillness.

They looked at me, nodded their head and then confusion came into their cheeks like little parasites re-grouping for their next big conglomeration attack. For at least a good minute, nothing was said and everyone just tried to look around each other's eyes at something other than the group to give focus to. Looking around at the people coming in and going out of the theater, as if it really looked like something fascinating to watch. Or looking at the combo #1 choice sign, and debating whether or not it really was the "BEST VALUE" movie concession deal.

It was hysterical. I stood there in silence too, curling my lips inward and thinking how lame of a person I really am and yet, giggling simultaneously on the inside.

The girl finally came back with her popcorn, broke the silent non-eye-to-eye stares and proceeded to lead us into the theater with small sighs of relief coming from the whole group and delightful bits of awkwad air lingering above our heads.

I bet the people I had just met that night think I'm the weirdest person in the world.

Oh well. Happy MLK day.

The Globes

What a really weird night for the Golden Globes. So many weird turns and so many surprises, or rather...unexpected wins (aside from Jamie Foxx's win for "Ray"---was there even a question he would win?).

Well, I think I'm just about ready to compile up and finalize my top ten list for 2004 but I'm still having a tiff coming up with my favorite/best film of the year pick. It's hard b/c normally, I choose that one (the number one) and go from there. And usually, it's easy and it stands out high and tall above the rest (i.e., 2003="In America," 2002= "Punch-Drunk Love," 2001= "Moulin Rouge," etc.) but this year is not the case. I still haven't decided what I should pick so don't be surprised if it's a wild card.

Yay Hilary Swank too for winning...although, I wish Morgan Freeman would've won instead of Clive Owen. Owen was great, but Morgan...come on, he's (as always) breathtaking. Kiss-kiss Uma...I hope you at least get nominated for "Kill Bill" at the Oscars. If not, you have a special place in my heart. A small place, but a special one at that.

Plato as a third grader

Probably the most moving question I've heard to date about the whole Tsunami tragedy comes from the lips of a little third grade girl. What do you do when a student asks: "Why would God tell all the animals about the tsunami so they'd have time to go to a safe place and not tell the people? Doesn't God care about people just as much as animals?

Implying that the animals sensed the Tsunami was going to hit before it hit (which is true), this little girl had made a profound observation. Why weren't human beings created with this inner sense that could forecast when something like this was going to happen? Surely God cares about people just as he cares about animals, but it seems that by creating animals this way God has given them an edge which makes processing this whole tragedy even more difficult.

I don't know why, but I had two dreams last night where two tidal waves came through and ripped up the places where I was currently at and woke up frightened and afraid. Like a third grader wondering why the animals were saved and so many people weren't, I thought again about dreams and nightmares and how God tends to use them to accomplish His work still and that made me even more afraid and confused and bewildered. I think my picture of what happened "over there" is never going to be the same after my last night's sleep because dreams can do what sometimes reality cannot: take you to a deeper place, a truer place...where clarity is sharpened and where reailty is made as real as it can be made and where your life (just when it seems to not make any sense) makes sense indeed--almost perfectly.

The Bank of America

I want to say a special thank you to Yoori, the nice and pleasant and helpful Bank of America employee that helped me out this afternoon with my checking account crisis. It's always nice to go to a bank (who likes going to a bank when you're 1) not cashing a check, or 2) not getting money from it?) and come away leaving with a smile on your face. I wish all bank visits were this pleasant.

There is snow on top of some of the mountains near where I live and the sight on a clear day such as today is literally breathtaking. When there's palm trees silhouetting mountains and other mountains behind them are covered in snow, you know you're in a special place.

I keep seeing signs advertising the L.A. baseball team that say: "LOS ANGELES: CITY OF ANGELS" and I think, "who came up with this?" Don't get me wrong, I like the idea. I like the idea of a city such as this being dubbed the 'city of angels.' I think it's fitting partially because it is the antithesis of what so many other smaller states out east think of when they speak of Los Angeles. To most people out there, it's a place they've never visited, a place they despise, a place they can't stand how fake and money-hungry everyone seems to be, yet, most of these people are the same people part of the millions of viewers every day to tune in and gorge themselves in TV show after TV show after realtity TV show after another spin-off of the 'The Bachelor' or 'My Wife's Boss is Fat and Ugly' and many many more which are from L.A., produced by L.A. people, and written, acted in by these flousy L.A. folk. I just find it ironic, that's all. And perhaps maybe a tad bit hypocritical. Because when everything is stripped away, the L.A. folks really aren't considerably more different than the people living behind the Muncie Mall or the Richland Harding's Friendly Market.

I think everyone just needs someone or some group of people or some place to point to and hiss at. And I'm serious about that. Wherever you go, people are creating this "enemy" or "target" and it's really quite amusing and scary at the same time. Out here, it's the "intolerant Republicans" or the "sheltered and ignorant uneducated southerner,"...and back east it's the "rowdy gay lobbyists" or the "liberal democrats." Call it whatever you want, just remember what you're doing when you're doing this.

After all, it's much easier to do this when you've never met such people isn't it? Or when you don't have any friends that fit into this 'category?' Then we don't care what we say, and we feel content in talking about how Mariah Carey is really very skanky and how Brad and Jennifer's recent split-up is really the most tragic thing going on in our lives. Or rather, the one we keep wanting someone else to talk about.

Oh brother.

Enough preaching for the day...I'm starting to convict myself which means, it's time to stop.

The best advice from a friend in a long time

I need work. I know this. But I'm always (still) surprised when someone says something to me that I may have already heard and it clicks. I'm sure I've written about this before. And I'm sure most of you know what I mean when I say this. Today, I got an email from a friend who was responding to some things I was unloading (and responding to that and what he was saying) and he wrote this...something I'm sure I'll want to keep and pin up and post up somewhere:

"If you are lying to people then you aren't really letting them love you."

Maybe this hit me hard because I feel like most of the past few years I've lived keeping things from people and so, justify this as not lying. But over Christmas break I was made aware, again and again, that this is still lying and that in a way, it's just as bad if not worse as any other kind of "straight forward" kind of lying. I hate hearing this. It's so much easier to hide things...especially from people I love. After all, am I that confident that they will love the whole me if I were to reveal this to them? I'm not sure. I know I know, the answer is supposed to be "of course they will," and I've heard all that before. But whatever the reason, I can't get this through my head and into my heart and so, it's taking me time and time and more time to sort through my past, present and what can now be called my future. So bear with me please. I'll never forget (and yes, I've mentioned it here before) what one friend of mine said to me in an e-mail last spring that nearly drove me to the floor in tears: "Neville, it's okay to be the weak one. It's okay not to be in control. You don't always have to have it all together."

Maybe I cried after reading that because I knew it was true. Maybe I cried after reading that becaue I knew how weak I really was and that maybe this is what I was trying to hide. I don't know why exactly this hit me but it did. I wish sometimes I didn't have this blog to communicate through. And I wish that I could sit down every one of my close friends and just go to town and unload on them. It's funny how our lives don't really function around these types of things (they function around jobs, schedules, etc.) but these are the things that give our lives meaning and so, I wonder how much more of an emphasis we should be placing on things of such nature.

Get back to me on that one. Good night.

Dancing with Justin Timberlake

Oh Justin! Former singer of N'Sync. Former white boy who used to dream about rapping and dancing and making it big when he was young (according to one of his songs). Drums!

Okay, so I'm writing this blog for the Willis family who still doesn't believe that last night, Kelli, Ashley and I (and many more friends) went out to celebrate Kelli's 22nd birthday by hitting up a couple of clubs in Hollywood on Sunset blvd. Well, they may believe that but they don't believe what's about to come. As we hit up two of L.A.'s most "premiere" clubs, we mangaged to see and dance by and groove with three celebrities of the incessant Hollywood subculture: Steve-O (most famously known from the MTV show "jackass"), Michael Vartan (from TV's "Alias," and the movie "Never Been Kissed") and of course, Mr. Justin Timberlake himself, decked out in a fabulously classy white beany hat, a plain white t-shirt (going for the philadelphia inner-city look I think), and white tennis shoes. And, just to prove he's no "boy" from any "boy band" still around today, he seemed to be growing a rather thinly shabby beard and mustache.

Okay, I know you're probably drooling at the picture-perfect mental image I've just painted, but you really shouldn't be. Grab a napkin or something and take my advice: he's way, so, totally---like---overrated (I resort to talking like a 11-year-old girl when I talk mushy about J.T.). Not only are his dance moves C- at best, but his "rap skills" appeared to be seriously struggling as well. As we watched him popping his head up and down as if he were a struggling street corner performer in Hollywood still trying his best to rap with two buddies, and watched him drink a swig of whiskey every ten minutes, and watched him recite every Snoop-Dogg song lyric playing loud and clear throughout the club's speakers, I couldn't help but think how normal he really was and how nobody would really give a crap about him had he never become famous (an act I'm personally blaming the entire American pop culture audience for making happen---and yes, I'm guilty too). As our group danced within just three arms reach of Justin Timberlake and his seriously hot and oh-so-trendy-but-simple white t-shirt glistening under the high strobe ceiling lights, I found myself getting angry. Angry that someone like him is such a huge, pop cultural icon for today. Angry that I'm not nor never will be as cool and as well known and as popular as he. Is this what pop culture enthusiasts and historians will remember about my generation? That Justin Timberlake ruled the wannabe-rap-hip-hop scene, while Jessica Simpson's sister was caught lip syncing on Saturday Night LIVE? Where is our generation's Marilyn Monroe? James Dean? John Lennon? Sammy Davis, Jr.?

I don't know, but I guess I'll always have my bragging rights to having danced nearby Mr. Timberlake, one of the most popular "artists" in music today. And if that sentence didn't make you cringe at who today we dub "artists" then that makes me even more sad.

Happy birthday Kelli. And to the Willis family, Justin sends you his love.

Cheers.

If I were a movie

Obviously, I love movies. And I've often thought of what movies I'd pick if I had to "exist inside of them" forever. This is a purely hypothetical question I know, as it's not really possible to live and breathe and act and exist inside a film, but what if it was? Where would you find yourself?

Obviously, movies like "Amelie" and "In America" and yes, even ones as depressing as "About Schmidt" come to mind, but another thought came to me while driving early this morning: what if you could be a movie, what movie would you be? Or perhaps more importantly, what movie would your spouse (if applicable) would he/she be? And your kids? What about them?

Maybe I've got too much thinking time going to waste, but I was contemplating what some answers to these questions would be and they really made me think. Of course, I can't just pick movies I love but rather, I have to pick movies that possibly could stand as an icon for a person, and if that movie were a person, what kind of movie/person would I like them to be? I gave this some thought and I've come up with me and my imaginary movie family.

First, I (the father) would be "In America," because it's the kind of movie I think represents fatherhood honestly: not without pain, not without pleasure, but full of a dizzying kind of confused love that grows through relationships. My wife (the mother) would be "Run Lola Run." Now, I know what some of you are thinking: 'why is he picking a movie where the main character does nothing but run?' Well, if you really understood "Run Lola Run," you'd know that it is way more of an egalitarian kick in the face than it is about just purely running (even though that act--alone--is part of it). It's about this feminist-savvy woman, sure...but she is a really really really "cool" feminist-savvy woman (not worldy "cool," but ultimately and unconsciously cool, which is a definate plus). And she loves Manni so much she's willing to do anything for him (die, steal, rob, etc.). And she has style. And seems to believe in friendship like few other female movie characters do (give me Lola over J-Lo in "The Wedding Planner" ANYDAY)! And lastly, she's confident and knows who she is and what she wants. There's a fiery passion (found in her hair perhaps) and her repeated fits of screaming with all her might that sets ablaze something great. This is why I would pick this movie for my wife (a sentence I never thought in a million years I would actually write---I can see the wedding ceremony playing out now with my dad, the pastor, asking, "Neville, do you take this movie...?").

And kids? Well, real quick (as some people reading this are scratching their heads and going 'neville is sooo weird!') I would have seven kids. Three boys, consisting of "Edward Scissorhands," "Dogma," and "Harold and Maude," and four girls, consisting of "Pieces of April," "Winged Migration," "Amelie," and of course, "The Good Girl."

Now, to anyone who's seen the majority of these movies, I know what you're thinking: we'd be one messed up family. We would be melancholy and foul-mouthed at times, and yet quiet and intuitively imaginative on other occasions. We'd probably--as a whole unit--be somewhat similar to "The Royal Tenenbaums" but I like to think we'd be way more optimistic then that movie is (even though I think it is an optimistic movie). Oh what Christmas would look like in this kind of family!

So there you have it: a family resembling Holden Caufield, beautiful birds who soar with grace, girls who can't cook, boys who are theologically agressive, and one big dysfunctional love-mess that spends nights singing Cat Stevens songs, skipping stones in Paris, and writing and writing and writing about how much they desire meaning in life (and crying whenever they find it). Would you like to live in our neighborhood?

Sure we'd be the most hated family on the block, but at least we'd be interesting.

If you have more than one child, pick the one you like the best.

California here I am.

I got back last night after a very long day of travel and of course, there's a bittersweet feeling that I'm sure will remain with me for a few weeks. No surprise there but still, it's weird being back here and knowing that I'll be staying here for good now.

So, regarding the blog title, I flew Southwest this time and as most of you who've flown Southwest know, they tend to be a little less "serious" when it comes to their employee's actions while on the clock for the company. It starts with their freedom given to employees to where casual clothes, tennis shoes and whatever (within reason) while working and this advertising decision has inevitably spread (probably with much encouragement from Southwest management) into the airplanes, where flight attendents appear to be both stand-up comedians, and/or struggling musicians on the side.

Well, yesterday--on both flights--there was one Southwest flight attendent lady who just couldn't keep from cracking jokes and inserting in sarcastic remarks over the microphone of the plane. Now, you all know what flight attendents sound like while they're reading that ridiculous safety sheet and while their two co-flight attendent friends are acting out how to buckle a safety belt and other seemingly foreign actions to middle class Americans (this whole routine annoys me--not becuase they do it, but how it's being done), BUT what I've never heard is a flight attendent deliberatly go along with this whole shpeal while interspersing his/her own witty commentary. Just like those Cedar Point roller coaster operators who give thumbs up to begin every single ride and tell you every record-breaking feature the coaster posesses (i.e., "we're gonna take you up 309 feet and then drop you 302 feet at an 83 degree angle where you'll reach speeds of 89 mph stretching over 6,300 feet of track for an incredible 2 minute and 40 second ride, which is why people call it the tallest, fastest, steepest and longest gigacoaster in the world!!!, etc.") these flight attendents recite this emergency script with a monotonous and mundane, yet, surprisingly rushed tone. Well, everything was serious until she reached the part about putting the little oxygen mask on yourself "before putting it on your children." Then, she broke away (but still continued with the same verbal tone):

"So if you're sitting next to a child or someone who acts like a child, put your mask on first and the proceed to put on the child's mask for them. If you're sitting by multiple children or again, adults who are acting like children, decide which one you like the best and put the oxygen mask on them first. Your seat can act as a floatation device, and...etc."

I was shocked and so was the rest of the plane and I thought, 'What a brilliant way to get people smiling and coming back for more (a.k.a., "an increase in Southwest sales")!' Of course, it's hard to reproduce how it actually sounded (the timing was perfect--like a graceful comedian) but you get the drift.

Oh and she also referred to the co-pilot as "wonder boy" periodically through the flight, which was funny until I saw who "wonder boy" really was as I was exiting the airplane: it was an 82-year-old man. Then I thought it was just hysterical.

Southwest, you can fly me anywhere and I'm proud to say your manipulative new marketing and advertising scheme as got me hooked.

Yay me...the consumer.

My first New Year's resolution, a success!

Because I'm not big into resolutions for the new year, I figured I could capitalize on one of my many "goals" and so I'm changing the template of my blog. Yes, I know what you're thinking: what a remarkable expectation to hold over oneself. I thought the same thing. But I look at it as a way to pat myself on the back which gives me that extra boost of 'you've completed your goal' energy that might just make me a highly effective person without the seven daily habits.

I'm gonna beat the formulaic system to personal self-worth and success. I really am.

Here's to new blog templates all around. Cheers.

Aunt Betty.

From Tuesday thru Friday of this past week, part of my family and I drove to Spencer, West Virginia to visit my pap-pa (grandpa) b/c lately, he hasn't been eating and isn't doing so well. So, my mam-ma thought this might be a good thing for us to do and so we came and we were there and although he hate no more than he had been eating, it was a trip i'm so thankful that I made.

While there, we visited my 90-year-old Aunt Betty, who lives alone and is one of those bubbly, optimistic, never overbearing older women who still has a sense of humor and a love that seems incredible and admirable to say the least. Coming in at just under 4 feet and 11 inches, my Aunt Betty is someone I've always looked up to but I guess I never really understood or could explain why. Now though, I think I can.

In the last night we were there, my family and I drove over to her house and sat and talked with her for awhile, listening to her talk and marveling at her grace and animated expressions 90 years in the making. 30 years ago Betty lost her husband Harold, who was the kind of husband that everyone remembers to be nearly flawless. Apparently, he loved my mother very much and although Betty and Harold never had any kids, they lived next door to my mother while she grew up and would be the kind of spoling aunt and uncle every person wants to be. But anyways, we're there on Thursday night...talking away and chatting and I just kept on thinking of how lonely my Aunt Betty is and I could see it in her eyes as she didn't want us to leave but said that we should leave if we were gonna get enough sleep for the drive home the next day. This is how Betty is: she's totally aware of how she is and so feels the need to always tell people how she doesn't want to be a burden (b/c she really doesn't) and how they really shouldn't try to go through special means to help her out or anything. To put it simply, she doesn't want to inconvenience anyone. She can't drive...so she has to wait for my grandparents to call her and see if she need groceries or if she has enough nerve, she call when she needs to get a haircut or something similar. It really is a sad thing and she knows it is too. She kept talking how she hated being in all the day and how though she knew it wasn't right of her to expect people to be taking her everywhere, yet, you could sense she just wasn't happy there...alone. The TV is on all the time, just so she has a little bit of noise and so she can hear some other human voices but she rarely watches it. Most of the time she reads, and looks at pictures, and remembers her family (she's the only surviving child of 6 children---they're all gone and all of her friends are gone too). And so, when we finally got up to leave that night, we all were hugging her and saying goodbye and thinking on the inside of how guilty we felt leaving her here alone for another 3 months, 5 months, etc. My sister Blakeley planted the last hug on my Aunt Betty and offered up the "Betty, you know we love you don't you?" and Betty looked up at her and responded back immediately, "Oh honey...I needed that."

Aunt Betty started crying, yet, it wasn't the kind of happy crying that you like to see people in the middle of. It was the fear-infested kind. The kind that gives off just how really scared you are at what lies around the corner and how you don't want to be alone anymore. As Betty's tears ran down her face, she pulled her tiny hands up to her mouth and held it as if she was holding her breath. Blakeley began to cry, my mom did and then within seconds, we all were standing on her porch...crying quietly not knowing really what to say--but really, feeling the same exact thing inside. I looked at my mom and she looked at me and we both felt a burden as heavy as heaven crash down on us. How could we leave her here like this? Humans weren't made to live in isolation? Why does Betty have to live out the rest of her life in this kind of place? Sure, it's wonderful b/c she has her own things and can get around fine and can manage her own little tiny home...but what about people? What about the human contact?

There's an image that I now know will be etched into my mind and heart forever because of this scene that night outside of Aunt Betty's. The image is Betty, standing behind her front glass door, holding her hands over her mouth, crying and waving at us goodbye and shaking her head and closing her eyes and repeating the process again and again. She is my icon for strength I think now...one that gives into vulnerability, embraces joy and pain, and yet still has the audacity and wisdom and courage to love and be loved in return. I'm going to miss her so much I know and one day when I am in a place where she is in or that stage of life I think I'll look back to this night and remember my little frail Aunt Betty, standing in the doorway...and expressing the kind of love I'm still trying to learn more about.

Books, Cocoa Puffs, 2005.

I'm on my tenth Madeleine L'Engle book right now and I think I can safetly say that she is pretty much my favorite author. Each book sheds new insight into her grace and love, and the kind of joy that I hope to one day have. Maybe I just get her or she gets me or she just gets life and I love that about her but whatever it is, I'm halfway through on this book and don't really want to finish it.

Oh, and last week I finished a book called "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" and it was excellent. A must read for any pop culture fanatic who swears there's got to be some good in watching things like The Real World, or listening to country music, or playing psycho-materialistic-individualistic self-serving ideological computer games like The Sims. If you're over the age of 33, you might want to hold off on this. Not because you won't like it but b/c you probably won't get a lot of it. Chuck Kloisterman (author) writes with a SPIN magazine flare (as he should...he's an editor for it) and whenever he's not making you laugh while reading I swear he makes you think hard about the low brow style and the substance of the this style in popular culture. Oh and one more thing; any book where in the last chapter an author comments on Left Behind and says the born-again Christian type of person would never even think to read this book (i.e., reading his book "sex, drugs and cocoa puffs"...as if born-againers are so far removed from pop culture they would've even have heard of chuck's work) is someone to pay attention to. I have to admit I smiled when I read this b/c I felt like I was in on some secret club or rock band or something: the secular pistols, maybe?

Oh, and happy 2005. Keep reading the good stuff and telling me about other good pieces you find yourself.