I Don't Care What You Say ... Bono is Hot!

Walk away, walk away, walk away to the nearest IMAX and see U2 3D - and I - WILL - - - FOLLOW!!!
Yesterday, I saw U2 3D at the Museum of Natural History's IMAX theatre. It was, without a doubt, the most amazing production I have seen in a long, long time. From moment one, I was taken on an incredible journey with my lifetime heroes. I was literally moved to tears throughout the show and took myself on a little trip down Memory Lane. Since I first saw U2 on the infant MTV singing at Red Rocks Amphitheatre, I have been a die hard fan. (Later I walked into Red Rocks to see The Cure and it was like my own pilgrimage to Mecca.)
U2 influenced many of my fashions and hairdos over the years, particularly the October era! Their images have decorated my walls in every home I have lived in since I was 18 years old.
From dancing to I Will Follow at The Director in Rapid City SD to blasting New Year's Day from Dawg's dormroom windows on a very crisp 1986 New Year's Day in Torrejon Spain... From dancing in the aisles with S'Lisa in the little Cheyenne movie theatre when we begged them to show Rattle and Hum even though we were the only 2 to show up to driving in the rolling hills with Jerry on our way to a wedding listening to Bono singing with Johnny Cash.... U2 has always been playing on the soundtrack of my life.
The Joshua Tree came out when I lived in Spain and we went nuts waiting at the record store to buy our copies. I still have that album on top of my stack of wax in the attic! The U2 poster in my dorm room was eventually replaced with a framed poster of Boy. When I left Cheyenne in 1989, the moving man noticed it and said, "U2, huh? They're gonna be big."
Ya think?
During the film, Larry Mullens strolled down the catwalk to the single drum at the end, and my breath was taken away. Watching U2 on the giant screen was like seeing your husband one day and it just hits you: I have loved you for more than 25 years! I have never stopped. You have influenced every aspect of my life and I honestly adore you.
It sounds strange, I know, but that's how I felt. I was crying, I was smiling, I wanted to get up and dance. I wanted to raise my hands in the air and peel off my sweater and throw it at the 30ft screen. However, when I peeked out the bottom of my 3D glasses that I pretended were Bono's cool specs and noticed that no one else in the theatre was so much as tapping a foot, I decided against the dancing and sweater-peeling.
For whatever it's worth, I was seriously moved by the experience. I love how smitten the almost painfully cool Bono is with the quiet genius, Edge. I love how these four friends have remained relevant for all these years. I love how I feel right now thinking about the film and I highly, highly recommend seeing U2 3D! You will not be disappointed!!!

Half Broken Things by Morag Joss

Sometimes an author will take a mildly engaging idea for a story and just drag it out to the point of sheer agony. This is what happened to poor Morag Joss when she wrote Half Broken Things. While the book claims to have won the CWA Silver Dagger Award, whatever that is, I actually think the book should have included a silver dagger the reader could use to drive into his or her skull to relieve the pressure brought on by the mind-numbing monotony of reading the cursed thing.
I mean, I "get" it.... Ms. Joss was trying to lead us to believe that the whole thing was simply matter-of-fact, routine. That any of us in the same set of circumstances would have done the exact same things. Wrong! We would have fallen asleep long before anything remotely hair-raising would have happened.
In a 303 page book, the first sign of anything vaguely scandalous appeared on page 242! And don't believe for one second that the first 241 pages were building some sort of climax or intrigue, oh no! I found the whole thing completely predictable.
Perhaps it would make a good Tuesday afternoon movie on Lifetime ... no, I am just grasping now! I suppose I would have enjoyed reading this story if it would have been condensed down to about 90 pages and I was in seventh grade.
Perhaps.
Wait, I think something made me laugh on page ... oh, I can't even look it up because I threw the damn book at some chick who was smacking her gum on the Metro. "Take that!", I said to her. "That is your punishment for annoying me for the last twenty minutes! You have to read Half Broken Things!"
Ha!

It's My Life

A while ago, I went to Internet Radio on my laptop and told Pandora that Talk Talk was my favorite group or artist today. She has been picking out songs all afternoon that she thinks I would like based on that information. So, while I have been slathering the walls in my guest room with what - up until about three hours ago - I thought was the most beautiful color I had ever seen, I got a bit lost in the nostalgia of the music on my computer.
I started thinking of the Me who listened to this stuff when it was new. I wasn't missing that Becca, per se .... rather, I began thinking of what she would think of the Me she became.
She would probably hate my hairdo, that's for sure. And I know she would be appalled by the, we'll call it 20, pounds I have added to her slender frame! She would be happy that I still listen to the same music and still love to dance, albeit with a fraction of the intensity and passion she had. She would be very moved by the fact that we still have some of the same friends and I think she would like the new ones I've added to her collection.
She would probably be irritated with the lazy approach I took to curing her angst. I can't really blame her for that one! She had a boldness and confidence that I somehow lost along the way, and she would be sad about that, too, I think. Although, I believe she would be happy with the direction I am taking now.
She would adore my dogs as much as I miss hers and I think she would like my husband, as well ... she helped pick him out, after all!
One thing I know for sure: she would LOVE the fact that I just spent the afternoon painting my guest room flaming orange while singing along with Depeche Mode and The Pet Shop Boys!

Swimming With God

(I was cleaning in the attic yesterday and found this poem I wrote years ago...)



Swimming With God

I leap without thinking
into a renewing tonic that is
the exact hue between green and indigo
...that of a clear daytime sky

Imagining my sleekness
I dive the inner depths of liquid
smooth and lustrous as if polished til glossy
...much like a dolphin in flight

You look at me and I wonder what you see
Do you know me at all, do you care?
Where once I was just another pretty face
Now I am nothing at all

Reawakening in coolness
acutely aware you are watching
closely observant and yet so aloof
...indifferent, detached, yet warm

Regeneration through cleansing
I am young and slick; beautiful still
My inner intensity: a lovely green aura
your breath on my neck cannot pierce

You look at me and I wonder what you see
Do you know me at all, do you care?
Where once I was just another pretty face
Am I nothing at all to you now?

Where once I was just another pretty face...
Now I am nothing at all.

My Three Girls

Borderline, Wednesday and Allie!

Catch 22

Just before my alarm went off this morning, I was sitting in a booth on the same side as some nameless/faceless friend in an extremely crowded terminal of some sort, looking through the Catch 22 playing cards I didn't know I had, and thinking to myself, "So THAT'S what Yossarian looks like....". Just then a soldier walked by with his duffle bag and other luggage as Nameless Faceless was babbling on about guests and visitors and such. I looked up and chuckled to myself because the soldier looked exactly like the Yossarian on my playing cards, and while Nameless Faceless was laughing about something else entirely, the soldier said jocularly with a big ol' Hee Haw smile on his face, "When you two are finished playing Broccoli-and-Tumble, you can let me know where to drop my stuff!"
I laughed out loud and said to Nameless Faceless with my best Paul Lynde impression, "Huckabee Estates, who ya screwin'?" Nameless Faceless thought that to be absolutely hilarious and replied with an elbow to my ribcage, "Hey! Should I hit F12 and see what they say?!"
We were laughing uproariously when the alarm scared the bejeezus out of me!!!

Later I read the last seven or eight pages of Catch 22 by Joseph Heller. Admittedly, I am a slow reader, but it took me a particularly long time to finish this book (a full 2 weeks)! I can usually pound out a book or two in a week due to the sheer volume of time I dedicate to reading, so this really was challenging. This book was very cleverly written, and since I only read in public places (the Metro, the food court), and I am easily distracted, AND he uses a lot of really big words, I sometimes had to reread sentences, paragraphs and even entire pages two or three times!
With all of that being said, though, I really, really loved this book! Mr. Heller's character sketches are nothing shy of brilliant. I even laughed out loud one day when I actually SAW one of his characters shortly after reading the description of his hair coming to a weird point in front like a pomaded pup tent!
His descriptions are all so beautifully written that the reader has no trouble at all seeing exactly what he wants you to see: "She loved staring bleakly at the endless tame, quiet waves breaking like wet puppy dogs against the shore, scampering lightly up the sand a foot or two and then trotting away."
Catch 22 is funny like M*A*S*H is funny. It's the characters, the dialog and the perspective that make it enjoyable, not the setting. There is certainly nothing funny about war. However, I was secretly pleased each time a gentleman approached me to tell me they started the book a number of times and never finished it. I was actually proud of myself, not only for finishing it, but for actually "getting" it!!
While it was tough to follow sometimes, I felt like I was one of the boys in the book, each of us thinking we were surrounded by lunatics to the point of questioning our own sanity. It was a wild ride! Perhaps having served in the military allowed me some small insight to the craziness. I really laughed out loud at the insane situation where the guy couldn't convince anyone that he was alive because they have official documentation of his death! He went to the medical tent to complain about his subnormal body temperature and stuffed nose.
"You're dead, sir. That's probably the reason you always feel so cold." The subordinate explained the circumstances of his death to him and then said, "That's right, sir, you ought to be glad you've got any temperature at all."
In the end you wind up cheering for Yossarian in spite of his flaws and reading the final pages makes the whole bumpy ride seem like a great dream you can't wait to tell your friends about in the morning.

Super Bowl XLII

I have spent the entire day trying to think of something clever to write about the Super Bowl, but have mostly just been lying here cursing Colin the Bartender at Summers, Joe Sirl and others who convince me that shots are ever a good idea, and even the NFL itself!!
I wish I could simply scan the cocktail napkins on which I "took notes" last night. They are actually much funnier than anything I could write using them as a reference. Apparently I didn't find the commercials terribly funny during the game. Since I just spent the last half hour rewatching them on You Tube, I guess I was right (although Will Farrell was pretty funny and I always love the Clydesdales). Odd that there wasn't a commercial for Pamprin, since one of the notes to myself says (I think): Pamprin for Cramps. Or perhaps Pumpkin Hor Champs ... but that doesn't really make sense.
At one point I wrote: Waste of a good shot w/ breath-altering drugs....
Pretty sure I don't know what that means! And the last note says: Celiax Mothu Fird.
Perhaps I should rethink an earlier comment I made about myself having a "healthy" social life.
Yikes!