Finally saw the tediously heavy-handed Black Swan

Contrary to what I've seen discussed elsewhere, I don't think it was actually about the pursuit of perfection. Nina was nowhere near perfect, and that was clear from the beginning. Her dancing was forced and unnatural (and honestly, if Aronofsky had wanted a good ballet performance, he would have cast an actual dancer). Her personality is meek and child-like. She has a history of scratching and cutting, and she's bulimic. Neurotic does not equal perfectionist. In fact, the only evidence that she seeks perfection is that she says it -- squeaks it -- when she visits Thomas. The way she lives and behaves does not indicate any understanding of perfection, nor of what it takes to achieve it. Please, she doesn't even have the bruised, callused toes of someone who's spent any time in toe shoes. I can't believe Aronofsky neglected that detail by accident.

This movie is about manipulation, and it casts women in a harsh light to prove that point. Thomas manipulates his dancers to get a certain quality in their performances. This is legitimate, from what I've both seen and heard of directors, but his methods are unseemly. Also, I would think they'd be ineffective, as the aggressive, confrontational sexuality he tries to use on Nina seems only suited to get her defenses up even higher.

Regarding how this movie is unkind to women, it's the female characters who are, with only one exception, toxically manipulative and damaged. The mother has an unhealthy, smothering obsession; Nina is dysfunctionally neurotic; Beth is petty, jealous and self-destructive; that other dancer is just a catty bitch. Only Lily is presented as happy and functional, but she's also cast as the bad influence and the dangerous presence. Hers is the only character that I didn't find utterly annoying, cliche, terrible and overwrought; yet Mila Kunis's is the performance that everyone seems to be trashing.

We've had more than enough movies that show competitive, ambitious women in a negative light; aren't we bored with them yet? This movie is just a more artfully shot Showgirls, as far as I can tell. And not to beat a dead horse, but if you do a comparison of how ambitious women are portrayed in film versus ambitious men, you'll see there is a hugely unfair disparity.

As for the sexuality aspect, I thought that was utter bullshit, practically a red herring. Thomas equates a liberated and passionate dance performance with being sexually wild, as if there were no other ways to be free and open. As for ...Nina's masturbation scenes, I may be naive, or in some bizarre secret way frigid myself, but I can't imagine anyone so uptight and sexually repressed getting all gaspy and moany after like two seconds of touching herself. Seems to me that it would take her a bit longer to loosen up and get into it. Again, manipulative.

One question -- how the hell was Portman even *able* to get pregnant? At least she had some muscle, but still she definitely looked too thin to ovulate. Nasty.

Some things you just can't Twitter about

...even if what you want to say is perfectly expressed in under 140 characters:

"At bedtime, the still-rumpled sheets were a sweet reminder of the afternoon's indiscretion."

Oh, Captain, my Captain!

So first off, I've begun to think descriptively, to capture moments, in Twitter bites. This is sad, and really bad for my writing muscles. For example, the post above is a pale shadow of what I thought of last night, but refrained from Tweeting (thank God I still have a little bit of decorum left, and have not gone full-on We Live In Public quite yet). I can't remember the good structure that floated through my head last night, and my writing is just too rusty to come up with something equivalent or better.

Next oddness, when I decided to blog this instead of Tweet it, I autopilot logged on to Twitter anyway. Twitter has infiltrated my brain way more insidiously than I'd realized.

Thirdly, in the time I've been away, Blogger has gotten really hard to log onto! Annoying (though they do have a new "Monetize" tab that I might want to check out...)

You know what else is annoying? A clearly dominant personality who claims he wants to be dominated, but could never let go. And there's something else I'm rusty at, as well; I've totally lost the skills and was unable to keep him in line. Sigh, I've got a lot of work to do to get back on track.

PS: that link above talks about way more than just the "We Live In Public" project, so I don't want to give it short shrift. The end of empathy is something I've felt, ironically but most noticeably, since 9/11. Almost as if true feeling and connection has been replaced by the Cliff Notes version. Maybe this is another aspect of my Twitter-ready mind right now, and something else I'd like to work on more. But I think that will deserve a post all on its own. For now, let me just say that I agree with pretty much everything Jason said up there...

The psychology of the booty call

Wow. It was just pointed out to me that I haven't blogged in months, and that I should, because I used to be funny once upon a time.

Then, like a sign from above, someone sends me a very bloggable and appropriate link:
The psychology of the booty call.

Safe dialing, everyone!

A jury of your peeps

Happy Easter, everyone!

Even better than a movie deal

Spoiler Alert: If you watch House and you haven't seen last night's episode yet, please skip down to the last paragraph of this post.
< end spoiler alert >

Last night, after the tears had dried, once the anger had set in at losing my favorite character, I thought, "There had better be a really excellent movie in the works to make up for this!"

The reality is so much better.

Non-Spoiler Info: Dude, seriously? Once a tv show has broadcast, all bets are off, and it's really not my fault if you haven't gotten around to seeing it yet. Sure, you can ask that we not talk about it in front of you, and we will surely comply. But to overhear a private conversation, and then yell and scream that we ruined it for you, when you never even told us that you haven't seen it yet? It's not my responsibility to keep tabs on your personal viewing habits, just like it's not my responsibility to remember your favorite ice cream flavor, or that you don't like chocolate or something weird like that. I'll respect your requests, but you have to *make* those requests first. I'm not a mind-reader, and you're not the center of the universe.

Geez.

Is terrance Brennan my new celebrity chef boyfriend?

This sounds deelish. Maybe I had the wrong celebrity bf all along?

Copy-editor humor

Really, who couldn't use a good cocktail about now?

More humor dear to my former-English-teaching heart:
The Fall of the Iron(y) Curtain

Radio Free Maggie

These song lyrics used to make me weep every time I heard them:

Cath, she stands with a well intentioned-man
But she can’t relax with his hand on the small of her back
And as the flashbulbs burst she holds a smile
Like someone would hold a crying child

And soon everybody will ask what became of you
When your heart was dying fast and you didn’t know what to do

Cath, it seems that you live in someone else’s dream
In a hand-me-down wedding dress with the things that could've been all repressed
But you said your vows and you closed the door
On so many men who would’ve loved you more

And soon everybody will ask what became of you
When your heart was dying fast and you didn’t know what to do
The whispers that it won’t last roll up and down the pews
But if their hearts were dying that fast they’d have done the same as you
And I’ve done the same as you

But I heard it recently on the radio, and not a single tear. I was actually able to enjoy the song!

It made me realize just how miserable I was when I was dating B. I was so terrified that the above would be my fate -- to marry someone I didn't love enough, just because it was expected and I thought I didn't have any better options. And now I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest.

Can PTSD be a good thing? I'm definitely having weird feelings and reactions as I sort out what had been happening, but I don't think they are bad reactions or feelings. It's sort of like being Rolfed, or untying a big tangled knot.

So for any of you beloved folks who have wanted to hate him on my behalf, please don't. He did me a huge favor, and got me out of a bad situation that I refused to leave on my own. (Though I love you dearly for having my back, of course!)

The Moldy Peaches, Atlantis Resort, Juno, and the greatest show of our time

What do these things have in common? Adam Green is the best he can be! More specifically:
"...they made it even better than we did. I just knew on Gossip Girl I could probably be even better than I am in real life, you know?"
Strangely, this version is less annoying than Ellen Page's rendition....

swoon

I needed that today. First day back in the office after enforced bedrest...

Patience, little grasshopper

Scorpio (10/23-11/21)

Things are going well for you now, but they might not be moving forward fast enough. Your impatience is starting to get you feeling antsy, and even a little bit worried. The temptation is there to push things along a little bit faster -- but that's not the right thing to do right now. Just keep doing what you're doing. Trust that things will take care of themselves. Everything is moving at the right speed, and you are right where you need to be. Believe it, and relax.

Going to an art opening tonight with George. Deep breaths, stay the course, believe.

Lively cleavage just for Avitable

And I'm not even starting on how awesome CHUCK BASS is.

Shades of Bridget Jones

On Saturday, I felt a bit like dear Bridget when the neighborhood women and I gathered to ooh and ahh over the newest baby on the street. Cameron's mom got married in her late 30s after a marathon of internet dating, and then needed fertility intervention to have her two kids. The other women, moms all, got married very young and had less than no trouble getting pregnant (more like trouble preventing their pregnancies).

The Young Moms swooned over the baby. Then they started joking about how their ovaries hurt, and speculating on the baby boom that Cameron's arrival would trigger in the neighborhood. Because, you see, everyone can have babies, right? Why, certainly, no one in that very room has had trouble getting pregnant, right? Definitely not half the women in the room at that very moment, RIGHT?!?!

On the verge of tears, I got up to leave. Cameron's mom saw the look on my face and quickly tried to change the subject to something more encouraging and less... insensitive.

"Maggie, I meant to tell you! Remember my friend Camille, the one who had her son by insemination? She's engaged!"

Apparently this friend of hers, who had a child on her own three years ago when she was 39, has been swept up in a whirlwind romance with a 35-year-old she met through work. He loves her, he loves her son, the son is already calling him "Dad," and they're getting married in May.

At which point the traditionally more cluelessly insulting (truly, I don't think she means to be hurtful, I think she's just an idiot) Young Mom chimed in:
"Ooh, it's like some urban myth from Sex and the City; you always hear about women who get married in their 30s but you know they don't really exist. But now you actually know one, so maybe there is hope after all!"

I left. Cam's mom left with me, and let me have a good cry on the sidewalk before I went home. Seriously, it's like a scene from Bridget Jones, where the Smug Marrieds treat us like a different species or something.

Maybe I need more "Sex and the City" after all, and less Bridget. Certainly New York Magazine thinks this is a fine time for Singletons in New York.

Hmm, and George wants to see a movie tonight, how interesting....

(Also, the Captain checked in on me last night, but that has nothing whatsoever to do with marriage and babies, in any order.)

How the city hurts your brain - Boston.com

Plant yourself a window box, or better yet, take a walk.

At least he's getting paid

I can't believe Eliot Spitzer is writing for Slate, and that's not big news, somehow.

Say it ain't so, Gio

I refuse to believe that this piece of gossip about my beloved husband Giorgio is even vaguely true -- even if it did come from my beloved BANG! Showbiz gossip feed:

Paris Hilton is reportedly dating George Clooney.
The socialite fueled speculation of a romance after recently enjoying an “intimate” evening with the ‘Burn After Reading’ star at the Whiskey Bar at the Sunset Marquis hotel in Hollywood, according to Life and Style Weekly magazine.
A source said: “Paris and George sat and talked together for ages. They didn’t seem to be aware of anyone else in the room.”
The following evening, Paris, 27, was seen sitting beside 47-year-old George at a dinner at a Hollywood restaurant, with other guests including director Ridley Scott and Brittany Flickinger, winner of ‘Paris Hilton’s My New BFF’ show.

Raptors on Hoverboards

Oh, yeah, that's my hometown, baybee. I don't get the reference, but it just seems to make sense anyway.

I know a lot of you have been worried about me because there's been radio silence on this here board for several weeks. And I won't lie to you, it's been a shitty time. My ex turned out to be a Jekyll and Hyde asshole, who had been lying to me for the better part of 2008. And G doesn't exactly want to marry me quite as much as I do him. Happy Holidays, indeed.

But in rough times, your true friends are there for you, being awesome. And I have to say, I've been blessed with some very very supportive folks who have taken excellent care of me -- lending an ear as I go on and on, taking me out to entertain and distract me, giving me a port in the storm to escape to, or just rocking out. Big hugs and love to Jay, Trilby, Lynn, Tussy, Andrew, Jane, Denise, Josh, Jess, Jonathan, Margaret, Michael, Jason, Kendra, Ellie, Rodger, Isabel, Amanda, Brian, Ian, Zanne, Ron, Carlos, Pierrette, David, Simona, and my folks. I don't know how I would have kept my head above water without you all. But I do know that would never even be something to worry about, because I'll always have you close to my heart.

I'm off to New Haven this week, to ring in a well-deserved new year with old friends, in fine fashion and with many bubbles. I wish you all the best, and I look forward to catching up more soon.

Finally, a reason to watch the Macy's parade

I've never been a big fan of parades, and the Macy's T-Day parade in general is just one big traffic snarl. But this might forever redeem it for me.



And Oh My God I love that guy! I wish more people and his sense of humor, and took themselves less seriously. Also, so cute! Aging so well!

My latest internet crush

I love Aberjona's blog, even if often I don't understand it (what is for this Tumblr?). A few of my fave posts of his recently:

On the benefits of siblings
On how I usually feel in relationships, including the last one, and possibly also the current one
On the awesomeness of Bjork, and also Spike Jonze
On the universal truth
On a hard lesson learned
On the new world order
On the hotness of Olivia Wilde
On how I know I should live my life, and wish I did, and try to do
On rendering me speechless in jaw-dropped awe
On my old pal Zeke
On disturbing poultry
On the Loonie Bin!

I'm trying to remember if I found him this incredibly charming and clever, and by extension hot, when we were in high school together.

quantum of silence

I kind of really want to fill you all in on what's happening, but I promised to keep it to myself until Thanksgiving. And since blogging publicly would be the antithesis of keeping my word, I'm trying to stay on the high road.

I can tell you this. Tuesday was a momentous, historic day. I'm still walking on air over how well the election went (aside from Prop 8 in Cali, of course). Tuesday was also my 38th birthday, and the morning was one solid outpouring of well-wishing and love. It was amazing, really.

In the evening, however, a few disappointments marred the memory. First, someone who I've always tried to treat with respect, fairness and consideration lashed out at me with complete disregard, selfishness, disdain and disrespect. Rationally, I know that he's just trying get a reaction from me. But I expected better, and I'm disappointed and sad at his behavior.

Much later, when the full force of what happened earlier struck me and I didn't really want to be alone, I called a couple of friends who I figured would still be awake, told them something bad had happened and asked if I could stop by. They both said no. On my birthday, when I was hurting. I don't like to have to beg for attention, but I think I need to be more clear about when I need help, instead of pridefully acting like everything is fine.

So now I'm telling you all. I will be fine, in general all is well and the future looks good. But right now, no, I am not fine. I'm let down, and sad for lost hope and faith, right in the middle of this beautiful rosy time when I should be exuberant. So please take it under advisement.

And I promise to fill you in with the details when I can, once it's acceptable to do so.