Snow: that is so, like, two weeks ago

Views from my window, Sunday, Feb. 25

Note to Winter:

OK, I know we had a thing there for a while, and it was all hot and heavy and I really thought I was in love for a second. But, you know, that was a few weeks ago, and now it's just like you're here all the time, and you're just getting way too intense for me. I need my space. So basically what I'm saying is that I think we need to start seeing other seasons. I'm just not that into you anymore.

So, like, bye, m-kay?

P.S. And you can stop with the snow. That is so not impressing anyone.

My week in a nutshell: Sudafed and unemployment

You know what is excellent? Only having to work 3 days in one week, especially if you only had to work 4 days the week before. Last week of course was the snowy icy week, and this week I had a cold, so I took a day off, even though I felt immensely guilty about it and yet joyous at the same time. What finally persuaded me to stay home was the fact that I rarely have the opportunity to take a sick day when I'm actually not feeling well, either because I'm trying to save my sick leave for something else (like a vacation--shhhh!), or because with our vast staff of four, there's usually not enough desk coverage for another person to be gone. So I decided that since I actually had the leave to spare and enough people were around that day for me not to be missed, I may as well go ahead and live it up at home.

And what did I do with all my free yet sinus-congested time? Well, I made a semi-weekly trip to CVS, I browsed somewhat foggily through a bookstore (it's hard to focus when the right side of your head feels as though it may pop like a tick at any moment), and I made my famous cold-curing (not really) chocolate-oatmeal cookies.

Yes, I've had an exciting week!

So I finished reading Bait and Switch by Barbara Ehrenreich. Reading it made me feel both vindicated in my own anger and depression in the face of my one-year plus job search which, while currently in hibernation, has never really ceased, and also it made me feel like going on a shooting spree. What Ehrenreich really struck to the heart of was this mantra in the white-collar work force that every individual is responsible for their own bad luck and misfortune. They are told constantly by everyone in power that if they aren't finding jobs it's not because the economy is bad or that companies are consistently outsourcing their jobs; it's because there's something wrong with them. Something about them makes them inferior human beings. And you know what? I totally bought into that mindset. I thought, and still a little bit do think, that some intangible thing about me makes me unemployable, even though I have a decent education, a decent employment history, and good recommendations.

Ehrenreich also dismissed as ludicrous pretty much everything my library management professor held dear, and which I secretly mocked even as I was held in thrall by his tyranny: Myers-Briggs personality tests, "elevator" speeches, faceless and humorless managers who have no soul. I wish I could be her friend.

In summary--good book, but not especially uplifting. About the only thing you can take from it is that if you have the misfortune to be unemployed in this economy, you're fucked.

Also, I see from the lack of response to last week's challenge that either no one read the blog, which is entirely possible, or you all hate me. Fine. Whatever.

Reverse psychology never works

At some point in my online ramblings yesterday I ran across this Valentine's Day list challenge on the Washington Post's Celebritology blog. Basically it asks readers to list their perfect Valentine's Day dates, but the dates have to be fictional characters. Somehow this inspired me to think of a list of whom I would consider a perfect Valentine if I were a member of the opposite sex or the opposite sexual orientation. I think maybe what got me on this line of thinking was the fact that almost everyone who submitted a list to the blog was a straight female.

*I should just add that I am once again at work on a Saturday morning. I really need to find another job.*

List of (Real) People I Think I Would Find Attractive if I Were a Straight Male or Gay Female, All Other Things Being Equal

1. Tina Fey. She's cute, funny, and acerbic, plus she always wears those naughty so- geeky-they're-cool glasses, which I hear men find really hot.

2. Cate Blanchett. Effortlessly beautiful, but with talent and personality. She's the Colin Firth of women - hot but completely unattainable. [Aside: Have you heard about the Ralph Fiennes scandal? So tragic. I liked him so much. Too bad he turned out to be scum.]

3. Kate Winslet. So British and pretty and charming but normal-seeming. My own BF does not see her appeal, which I simply do not understand.

4. Salma Hayek. I threw her in there just because pretty much all men seem to want her in a purely sexual way.

5. Audrey Tautou. A) She's French. B) She's cute, petite, perky, quirky in a Winona-Ryder kinda way, and C) She's French.

I defy you all to make a similar list and post it in the comments. Post at your own peril! BWAHAHAHAHA!

Now I don't have a good post title

The original title of this post was going to be either "Bridge to Terabithia...NOT!" or "Bridge to TeraBITCHia," and was going to involve my vociferous objections to the movie adaptation of the beloved children's novel by Katherine Patterson. I was going to go into this rage-a-thon because from what I can tell from the trailers, it looks like the movie-makers completely ruined what is supposed to be a wrenching emotional story of friendship and loss, instead turning it into a CGI fantasy wonderland of kittens and elves, completely bypassing the nuance of Patterson's gentle yet sorrowful tale. I was going to say how this is such a moving piece of literature, how even when re-reading the book as an adult I cried like a baby at the tragic ending, and how objectionable it is that Hollywood would take such a work of art, turn it into bubblegum and lollipops, and throw it at children as rollicking family fun.

Anyway, that theme has been abandoned, since I just scanned an article on EW.com in which David Patterson, one of the writers and producers of the movie and also Katherine Patterson's son, upon whose experiences the book is based, talks about how closely the movie follows the book and how they ramped up the fantasy stuff because it was mostly left to the imagination in the novel, but that just won't really work with a movie. So I guess I don't need to go into a rant. However, I do object to Disney heavily promoting the movie as carefree fantasy romp. How are kids and parents who haven't read the book going to feel when suddenly bludgeoned with the tragic ending in a darkened theatre full of strangers? Shouldn't parents be forewarned this is a sad movie where, sorry for the spoiler, bad things happen to innocent people?

Oh well, I'm not a parent so whatever. I think this is one I'll skip, though.

Suh-weet!

The DC area has been covered in snow and ice for the past two days, which means that I have not had to work for two days in a row. Yes! Have I told you lately how much I love winter? This comes at a particularly good time for me, since I was scheduled to work six days this week, and only three of those days will be left when I return to work tomorrow (it looks doubtful the weather will hold, or not hold, as the case may be, until then). But I'm just grateful for the bounty I have thus far received. The only bad thing about all this snow and ice is that it is cold and I have no boots. I come from a land where snow and ice are minimal, and where everyone drives anyway so it's not an issue. Thus, I own no boots. I have many times contemplated buying boots during winter weather periods such as the one I'm currently experiencing, but the snow and ice make it difficult to go shopping, and by the time the snow and ice have cleared I no longer care about buying boots. But really, the boots must be purchased at some point. I realize this now.

Anyway, that's about the only thing going on in my life: snow, ice, and contemplation of boot-shopping.

Cat update: She seems fine. I guess I got all maudlin and drippy for no reason. She stills pees an awful lot and is a bit skinnier than I would prefer, but she's energetic and has a healthy appetite.

Leg update: My knees seem better for the most part, but my hip/pelvis thingy still aches, and curiously, I still have shin splints, which I had assumed would be the easiest pain to cure and the quickest to go away. Bah! Stupid elderly body. Oh, and I seemed to have inexplicably developed tennis elbow, which is odd, since I have never played tennis in my life. I don't even own a racket.

Well, since I can think of nothing else to say, Happy Valentine's Day!

Notes on a birthday

1. You know you're getting old when three drinks spaced evenly throughout the night and accompanied by copious amounts of food put you down for the count for the entire next day. The BF took me to a swanky restaurant in DC Thursday evening, where we rubbed elbows with a lot of old white men in business suits, some of whom may or may not have been congressmen. I'm pretty sure the couple at the table next to us were having an adulterous affair, as I kept hearing the woman refer to "your wife"--example:"Your wife doesn't pay attention to you." Not that it's any of my business, I'm just saying.

2. Apparently at swanky restaurants, an air of bewilderment can be mistinterpreted as an air of snooty disdain, for future reference. The BF and I went to have drinks in the bar while we waited for a table, and the BF felt it was incumbant upon him to order a whiskey so as to appear manly. When the bartender set the cocktail glass filled almost to the top on the bar, BF hesistated, eyeing the glass and thinking to himself, "Holy shit, that's a lotta whiskey." The bartender, however, interpreted this look to mean, "You call that a fucking whiskey, man!" and hastily filled the glass completely to the brim.

3. I only tripped over, and thus unplugged, one lamp during the course of the evening, thus appearing only minorly foolish.

4. I am now Queen of the Land of Hypocrisy. You know how a couple posts back I said I would never own an iPod? Yeah, well, I lied. The BF's parents generously bought me an iPod Nano for my birthday, in hot pink no less. I plan to fully enjoy the fruits of The Man, once I figure out how to put music on it.

5. My dentist is one month older than me. This alarms me a little. I would like my dentist to have some years of experience and malpractice insurance under his belt, not say things to me like, "Don't worry, 30 is the new 20!" By the way, it turns out that I didn't really break my tooth off, it was just my crown that fell off. It only seemed as though my tooth had broken because there is only a tiny shell of a tooth left after the root canal. Still, I feel like I need more calcium in my diet.

Thanks to everyone for sending along birthday wishes - my friends rock!

Tomorrow I'm 30. hurray.

I'm feeling like a ginormous tard (turd?), for the above-stated reason, among others. For one, it appears that my hastily dashed-off and really quite stupid post on Mr. Rochester, which of course I didn't expect anyone to read because I wasn't aware anyone actually read my blog, has been linked to and read by people unbeknownst to myself. Yikes. Why must I always make a giant ass of myself in a public forum? On the other hand, at least people are finally leaving comments.

In other news, to celebrate my third decade of being I am going to: go to my cycling class, meet my co-workers for lunch, go to work, come home, and go out to dinner with the BF. The other option was to lie in bed all day eating chocolates, which is suddenly seeming like the better choice. Then again, nothing says I'M THIRTY like doing the same damn thing you do every day of your life. Ah, routine.

Me and my dental adventures (aka my dentures)

Well. Get this. You know that tooth in which I had that hideously painful root canal? I broke it last night eating a cookie. Not only did I just break it, I broke it clean off at the gumline, meaning there is now very little tooth left in its place. Naturally this happened Friday evening, so I won't know what this means regarding the large hole in my mouth until Monday morning at the very earliest, and I have to say that I'm a little perturbed. I broke another tooth back in September, so this is becoming an alarming pattern for me. I'm afraid that soon I will have no more teeth left, and at the grisly old age of 30 will have to go get fitted for dentures. Pass me the polygrip.

Now, I know you all hate memes and lists and wish I would die, but I'm depressed about my dental situation today (Aside: apparently the dentist and I are now on a first-name basis, because whenever he calls me, which he has done twice, he introduces himself by his first name, like I'm supposed to know who "Pasquale" is off the top of my head). And since I'm depressed, I thought I might do a teeny-weeny little meme to make myself feel better. Also, I'm at work today, a Saturday, and I have nothing better to do. Read or not, as you wish.

My All Time Favorite Things (from TheOhReally.com)

1. Song: The Queen of Night Aria from the Magic Flute. I'm not trying to be all uppity here, it's just the prettiest song I can think of, and whenever I hear it I want to start singing, too (but I don't since I cannot sing at all, even songs that are within my range, which is about two notes.)

2. TV Show: The Simpsons.

3. Donut flavor: Maple bars.

4. Poem: That one about the rose and the limousine that everyone has to read in high school. Obviously I wouldn't know a good poem if it hit me in the face.

5. Unsubstantiated rumor that is so totally made up: Apparently I suck at gossip, because I can think of nothing.

6. Day of the week: Friday. I wish I could be all indie and say something like Tuesday, but really, the obvious choice here is Friday. Friday is all about anticipation for the weekend; Saturday and Sunday are all about spending 75% of your time doing housework and going grocery shopping, and all those other things you didn't have time to do during the week, and not doing any of the things you looked forward to on Friday night.

7. Place to vomit: Inside the toilet, naturally. I've tried the sink and it didn't work out so well.

8. Movie: This is well-covered territory and I will probably contradict myself here, but: Pride and Prejudice, 1996 version with Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle.

9. Writing Instrument: A purple-colored Pilot fine-tip roller ball pen.

10. Beatles album: Having never heard an entire Beatles album, nor having any special affinity towards the Beatles, I will skip this one.

11. Lunch: Ledo's pizza. It works for dinner too. Ledo's is a chain out here that sells extremely greasy yet exquisite pizza with a divine marina sauce, and it is cut into little squares. (The pizza, not the sauce.)

12. Pastry: I enjoy creamcheese Danishes.

13. Smiths Album: I like Morrissey, he's an OK guy, but I don't know that I've ever listened to an entire Smiths Album. Pass.

14. Nonalcoholic beverages: OK, Coke is my go-to beverage. However, sometimes I just really appreciate a good Dr. Pepper. You know what I mean?

15. Alcoholic beverage: I know I've answered this one before, and my answer has probably changed. Right now it's White Russians. There's this Irish pub right by my apartment that makes them with what I assume is either cream or half-n-half. In other words, they are delicious.

16. Magazine: Long-time subscriber of Entertainment Weekly. I've tried going without it, and I just can't. It's like crack to me.

17. Concert: I have not gone to very many concerts. I'm not a musical person. However, I do occasionally listen to and enjoy the odd ditty. So far my favorite concerts have been the Sarah McLachlan concert I went to in Vancouver, and the Decemberists one here in DC. Yes, I actually had occasion to enjoy myself in DC! Who knew.

18. Blog: Right now it would The Oh Really and Anything Said, probably because the banter is witty and the people who write them are women around my age in the same profession. Diversity and new points of view are dumb.

OK, I'm gonna stop here. This thing goes on forever.

Mr. Rochester: A Treatise

So I guess there are some disparaging remarks going around regarding the casting of Masterpiece Theatre's production of Jane Eyre (OK, one blog that I read contained some remarks). They generally stem from the fact that the actor who was cast in the role of Mr. Rochester happens to be both somewhat young and somewhat sexy. I happened to watch this production on PBS, and let me just say this: I LIKE SEXY. So you can all go soak your heads. And I say that with some amount of knowledge of other casting decisions regarding Mr. Rochester, having seen at least three different interpretations of Jane Eyre on film.

OK. Let me first lay out the problem for those of you who may not understand. The character of Mr. Rochester in Charlotte Bronte's novel Jane Eyre is dark, brooding, dangerous, kinda weird and wild-looking, and extremely passionate. I always got the impression that he was very masculine and muscular and rugged, in a time period when perhaps slightly more effeminate men were in fashion. At certain points, Bronte describes him as being ugly, and I guess some casting directors take this as an imperative to cast unattractive people in the role, but I have to disagree. The actor in that role has to make himself as attractive to the audience as he is to Jane. This is hard to do if you're not somewhat handsome. People can do it, don't get me wrong, it's just difficult. So let's compare the most recent Mr. Rochester to others before him, and see how he stacks up in the gosh-i'd-like-to-mack-on-him department.

I'll start off with Ciaran Hinds. Let me tell you, Ciaran Hinds, while making an intriguing Julius Caesar in Rome, is no Mr. Rochester. He's OLD. You cannot imagine yourself kissing him unless you are over fifty (for the men in the audience, if there are any: imagining yourself kissing Mr. Rochester is very important to the believability of the character). Mr. Rochester is supposed to be older than Jane by maybe 20 years or so, which means he should be around 40. Unless I'm gravely mistaken, Ciaran Hinds is somewhat older than that in his particular production of Jane Eyre, and it is palpably uncomfortable to watch him kiss a dewey 20-year-old. I think the feeling I'm looking for here is: YUCK.

Another option is William Hurt. Now, while he seems to be more in the age range for the character, I'm sorry, but he's William Hurt. He is not Mr. Rochester. For one thing, Mr. Rochester is supposed to be dark-haired, and William Hurt is not. Also, he's just not passionate enough. He's mopey and subdued. Away with you, William Hurt (but I still like you, because you were the perfect Macon Leary in The Accidental Tourist; in fact, maybe you were a little too perfect, because now I can't picture you as anyone else).

This brings us to our third Mr. Rochester--Orson Welles, pre-grotesque obesity. He is the only other acceptable Mr. Rochester, all dark and dangerous, and might I add, very very sexy. The only bad part of this film is Joan Fontaine, who is quite obviously too pretty and Hollywood to play plain Jane, but other than that major flaw, it's a good flick. I might say that Welles is a little too polished for the role of Mr. Rochester, but then it's been awhile since I've seen it. I do remember that every time they panned in on him he was swathed in mysterious shadow.

Toby Stephens, in the most recent production of which I now speak, is younger than all of the above actors and, with the possible exception of Orson Welles, is also hotter. I think this is fine. I don't see the problem here. Anything that makes me think, "Man, that Jane Eyre sure is lucky!" is perfectly acceptable to me, and in fact is to be striven for. I mean, yes, I agree that you don't want some Brad Pitt (who by the way is kind of a girly man, if you know what I'm saying) playing the role of Mr. Rochester. You want someone with a little grit to him, someone who could take another guy in a fight. I think Toby Stephens (pictured here) is bang-on for the role. He's somewhat wrinkled and world-weary; he's obviously seen his share of troubles, and really, he's not all that young. And yet you can also look at him, and say, "Damn! Give me some of THAT!"

Is all I'm saying.