The point of it all
I'm standing on campus today, listening to a little Ryan Adams (Cold Roses, disc 2), and I look around and smile. God, I missed this. I missed constant interaction and participation. I missed being IN my city. I missed meeting new people and putting in effort towards something. Seriously, that's what's been missing: Purpose.
The majority of the summer has been spent reaffirmming standards. Standards for my personal life, standards for my professional life, and standards for my life's direction. Absent from many of my relationships for a very long time has been a sense of confidence about what I was doing. I mean, why would this would this girl want to go out with me? I had no idea why anyone would. Obviously, not the best way to go through a partnership.
So this is me and I'm putting it up here. It's been a long six months of soul-searching. Of reverting back into the well that is my brain. Facing my two ultimate fears: Failing and becoming a bitter, lonely bastard who resents everyone who does better than me. It's actually a double fear. That's why it goes on in a run-on sentence.
The thing is, (and this kind of peaked the other day when I was reminiscing with an old friend about something) it does me no good to be REMINDED about the past. I obsess about it enough for everyone. Every mistake, every regret, every wrong turn. They've all been run around and around the mulberry bush until the monkey took an aluminum bat to the weasel. Pop.
There's an affirmation that I use for myself now. It's not a mantra or a Stuart Smally-esque "morning-in-the-mirror," thing. I just close my eyes, put on a good song (whatever one has gotten me to warm up recently) and think about my friends and family. The Titanic Trio, the Toasters, the Old Guard, the Group, the Inmates, M&E, The Lifers, D&GEO, F.I.T.'s, and the Comic Shoppers. Lame names, (and none of them're actually called that) but this is the tapestry of people in my life that are always there for me and who I'm always there for. They believe in me and for that I wash away all the bitterness and spite. I focus, play it out, and remember why I'm doing what I'm doing now: Finishing what I started.
This is the guy I was five years ago. This is who I've always been, but forgot how to do it. Not to say I'm moving backwards, but imagine forgeting how to speak a language or ride a bike. I'm slowly sliding back into the world without a cloud of fear and frustration. I've got to say that I've missed it.
Here's to a grad party in June. Here's to spending even more time with my family on both coasts. Here's me wishing more good luck on the people that wish it on me. Here's to one great summer that was made possible by the best people I could ever know. In Sinatra's own words, "I did it my way."
*Slips on headphones, fires up iPod, starts writing about television and comic books and movies*
Wi-Fi-tastic
As I write this, I'm lounging in one of Portland's premiere "scene" gathering places: Coffee Time. I hate it here.
So, you could ask, why are you there?
The answer? To be around the people. The people who play chess at midnight on a Monday, the people who smoke under hot lamps on the sidewalk while regaling each other with exaggerated stories of past deeds of fancy, and, above all, the people who actually ask the barista, "Do you have any organic milk?" I swear to god, I can't stand these people. The thing is, I don't really get annoyed by them as much as I'm fascinated by them. How do they survive daily perils of modern living such as careers or marriage woes or over-bearing parents?
Apparently, the majority of them are self-sufficient artsy fartsy types who think that everything that was indie yesterday is too mainstream today. Therein lies the one glaring flaw with Coffee Time and all of its brethren: They're part of a culture that has no idea what it is, wants, or aspires to be. This is nothing new when discussing whatever the hell Generation-with-a-letter-after-it we're in now, but having it thrust in front of you appears to only make it more glaring.
It might just be the Portland scene, but the arrogance masked as self-confidence and the outright fear masked as ambition seem to actually inspire me to show them one for. Not all that surprising, is that this seems to be a first date Mecca for a majority of twenty something's. The entire clientele who aren't regulars are all on some sort of "Blind Date" episode on pot. It's actually kind of cute.
I guess this rant has no point. I'm just writing about what I'm seeing and jotting down every immediate emotion that comes to mind as I observe the happenings. Nothing to be taken too seriously.
Salut!
Those sentimental blog postings can always be a blight on an otherwise cliche-free work of the written word. The thing is that sometimes it's important to give that shout-out to some people that can truly make you remember that every night you have the chance, you should be living up what remaining time you have left to be irresponsible and fun-loving. This is such a toast.
To the "Toasters" and everything that they represent.
Jeremiah: Pure, unadulterated property damage and vodka-fueled mayhem.
Dennis: It's all about leaving an impression. However bad or good.
Kellan: If you don't introduce yourself, then how are they going do know how cool you are?
Abel: Dude, it's time to fuck this place up. Seriously.
Will: Calm the fuck down. We've not yet begun to drink.
A toast... to getting toasted. Because sometimes, partying in excess is nothing more than remembering how young we are rather than how old we are. Thanks for one crazy summer and many more insane times to come.
That old black garbage bag...
I don't know about you, but it is impossible for me to give old clothing away. Scratch that: It is impossible for me to give old t-shirts away.
For awhile now, it's been brought to my attention that I have an unhealthy attachment to my past and everything related to it. Whether it is obsessing about a year where things were going perfectly (Sophomore year of college, 2000-2001) or of great moments in my dating history (The Cake concert t-shirt I bought for Amber that convinced her to go out with me), I am incapable of pitching it to the Goodwill curb. Why? I'm a revisionist and anything that seems to reinforce an altered view of my personal history is an ally that I can't seem to discard.
In theory, I should be cleaning out my wardrobe every five years, pitching whatever I haven't been wearing frequently or with love. The flip is that I would hate to lose something of such sentimental value as a t-shirt that seems to immediately resonate a period of happiness. So I simply set the shirt aside in a box and slide that box into the back of the closet to be opened again the next time I attempt to slim down my ample t-shirt collection. Maybe after a few years of this, I'll be mature enough to start discarding the jaded mess of nostalgia that I have chosen to hang in my memory.
Or I'll finally meet that "one superhero icon shirt for every day of the month" goal I set back when I was in college. Whichever.
"Wha' Happen'?"
It came to my attention that I needed to split my blog up. Writing about my thoughts on pop culture and writing about myself were starting to become a little to... Inseparable. Now, there is "Powered by Pop Culture" and that will be where all of my posts concerning my interests and my reviews will be posted. If you'd rather listen to my pontificate and bemoan, you always know where to go. If not, "poweredbypopculture.blogspot.com" is where you should bookmark. Enjoy.
Happy Endings
"So much for happy endings. Beginings are always more fun. True connoisseurs, however, are known to favor the stretch in between, since it's the hardest to do anything with. That's about all that can be said for plots, which anyway are just one thing after another, a What and a What and a What. Now try How and Why."
-Margaret Atwood
Happy Endings 1938
Is life about happy endings or just memories that could add up to a happy "so far"?
Dreams are something we strive for, but the greatest dream for anyone is a happy ending to their story. What always gets me in the end is that people don't really realize that
life goes on. One needs to understand that life is a series of happy endings leading up to the happiest ending of all. Whatever happens, happens and then that's all she wrote.
How I learned to stop worrying and love the O.C.
I can vividly recall the exact circumstances that led me to tune into the primetime soap experience titled, the "O.C." It was almost a year ago and I was reading a blog by Heidi McDonald, a comic book editor and commentator. Since apparently the show contained constant and slightly positive references to comic books, McDonald had started to run weekly columns reviewing the show.
The prospect of mainstream exposure for something that had always been a closet passion of mine slightly intrigued me. Also, subsequent information that one of the primary "O.C." writers was going to be involved in some upcoming comic titles that I was interested in reading continued to pique my interest. Thus, I decided to give the show a look. If for no other reason than just to know what the current pop culture impression of a "fanboy" was. Fortunately for me, my good friend, Kelly [see previous posts] was something of an "O.C." fanatic. Kelly knew the first season inside and out and had been following the second season religiously (right down to "Fight Club"-style rules of watching the show in her presence). Having someone who was up to date on subplots and characters was going to be a bonus. This, I thought, would allow me to study the show for my curiosity and not get lost in the myriad of melodramatic plot developments.
That night's particular episode was actually going to be about three of the characters trying to sell their own comic book idea to a major (and legitimate) comic book publisher. Elsewhere on the show, two other characters were breaking up while two female characters were hooking up.
This is where Kelly was a big help. I had no idea what the hell was going on. From just the observations of a first-time viewer, The "O.C." was a cardboard cut-out teen soap opera, spiced up with for a jaded audience of teenagers with attention deficit disorder. I was wrong.
What I discovered was something unexpected: It turned out that the creators of the "O.C." had pulled one over on the Fox network. They had created a dramedy filled with well-written roles and winning dialogue under the veil of cliched primetime recycled "90210" plots and predictable, over-used cliffhangers. The actors and the writers of the show had crafted wholly watchable and engaging characters. No matter what else happened on the show, whether it be break-ups, ragers, infidelity, or maguffins, the moments where the players just got a chance to talk and interact with wit and charm, however briefly, made the entire episode worth watching. These moments could then draw you
into the ham-fisted drama so you'd give enough of a care to "tune in" next week to find what "major" or "life-changing" moment of the season might occur. In short, the writing made you smitten with the characters and
that kept you around past the teaser.
So what's it about? We'll start with Peter Gallegher since he has garnered some of the most acclaim that it has been bestowed on the show. This is due to his excellent portrayal of Sandy, the beleaguered patriarch of the Cohen family. He not only has to deal with his adopted son Ryan (played with brooding intensity by Ben McKenzie), a former juvenile delinquent that Sandy took in to try to help him have a future; Seth (played with rapid-fire geek exuberance by Adam Brody), his wayward, anti-social offspring who hates the plastic world of southern California and yearns for acceptance for his nerdness. Sandy's marriage to Kirsten (Kelly Rowan) involves him in all of the upper class drama of the community due to her coming from the affluent Nichol family. Also, her old high school flame, Jimmy Cooper, and his wife, Julie, are a constant cause of conflict. Marissa Cooper, their daughter, is the love interest of Ryan, while her best friend Summer is Seth's dream woman. That, in a nutshell, is the "O.C."
In short, nothing that television hasn't seen before. Some of the highlights of the interactions between these characters come from the relationship Sandy has with the boys, Seth and Ryan's dialogues about relationships, Summer and Seth's relationship ups and downs, and the marriage of Kirsten and Sandy. Everything they go through is to hold the family together. These interactions bring out the best in the writing staff and their ability to craft a scene with banter and
sincere dialogue that may not sound realistic, but is always charming.
But the comic book references? They are aplenty. Ryan and Seth, are actually well-portrayed comic book fans. Seth is rabid "fanboy" who rarely gets respect for his interests while Ryan is a passive aficiado who understands all of the trivia that Seth drops, but would never admit to being as into it as he is. Summer, Seth's love interest, has not only dressed up as Wonder Woman to try to win his affections, but has also shared a fan-favorite homage to Spider-man with a recreation of the upside-down kiss in the rain scene from the feature film. A previous character on the show, Anna (played by Samaire Armstrong), gave many rants about graphic novels versus comic books and even went so far as to make Seth a comic for Chrismukkah (don't ask).
Now, I'm just as cultured as the next 20-something, and would never recommend the "O.C." to anyone seeking quality television. I will, however, say I know why it isn't the blight on primetime schedules a la "One Tree Hill" or "Smallville". In their own way, Josh Schwartz, Allen Heinberg, et al and Ryan, Seth, Marissa, Summer, Sandy, Kirsten, Julie, and Jimmy are your corner bar's drink special. They're not good for you, and it's not even something you'd pass along to a friend, but it does make you feel good. When you're down, it's an escape that makes you feel a little better. Winning characters have this ability because they're almost like that acquaintance that always cheers you up.
Personally, I could care less if Ryan and Marissa ever got together or if Seth ever manages to make things work with Summer. These paltry little plot devices disguised as drama are not what makes this a worthwhile hour of TV. The characters, the actors, the dialogue, the sheer charm of the writing; this is what can truly draw you into this show. I'll continue to watch because just listening to them
talk about these "events" is worth the black mark on my record of taste in entertainment.
