My Love for You is Like a Truck Berserker

As I was looking for movie times today, I came across this article. This is something I've personally never encountered. Someone doesn't like Kevin Smith? Say what? I'm going to answer that obviously biased article with one that is equally biased. I love Kevin Smith. I think his movies are funny and smart and they make me think.

Ok, I think the best way to tackle this is to do it point by point.

Movie Critic: Kevin Smith is threatening that he won't let critics see his films early and for free. Boo hoo.

It must be tough to get paid to watch and review movies. Those poor critics! People read what they write and make decisions based on their articles! Oh how difficult it must be to have influence. They most definitely deserve to get movies for free and before everyone else. The stress of it all.

MC: Smith hasn't delivered us his superhero movie.

Look, I'm not going to be making excuses for Smith. He's a big boy. I enjoy his movies and if he hasn't put out a superhero movie yet, then I'll wait until he does. If this fabled movie never comes out my life will go on.

MC: His movies are rarely as good as their reputations indicate. Some are OK, but most aren't even that.

This is his opinion, and he has a right to one. I think that each of his movies touch on a different subject and he brings a light to them that I personally hadn't considered. Take Dogma for example. I've been a practicing Catholic my entire life and his movie made light of many facets of my religion. I found his take on Catholicism very interesting and hilarious. Oh! Our movie critic also mentions that he thought Clerks 2 wasn't very good and I'd like to argue that it was even better than Clerks. With Clerks, Kevin Smith introduced himself and it was great, but Clerks 2 was a more free and relaxed kind of funny. To be honest, I wouldn't take my mother to see a Kevin Smith movie. I don't want to have the mutual experience of a donkey show with her. His brand of humor isn't for everyone. Which brings me to my next point.

MC: Smith's movies don't gross more than 50 million dollars domestically.

Like I said, his movies aren't for everyone. I think that many people have at least a small part of the person that Kevin Smith's movies are meant for in them, but most people can't, won't or don't access that part of their personality. Who knows why?

MC: Kevin Smith tells people not to read reviews and just go see movies. Movies are so expensive, so people should use the advice of "trusted critics" before making such an investment in their entertainment.

I've worked at a movie theater. I see movies all time, and I only make minimum wage. They way studios are making trailers for their movies basically illustrates the entire plot and cast of the advertised film. Even if you don't trust the flashy trailers, you know what kinds of movies you like and those that you don't. You know the good actors from the bad. You don't need to read a critic's opinion to make a choice. If it really is the money that is stopping you then there are many ways to get around paying for a full price ticket. Senior discounts. Student discounts. Matinees. Those are just the legitimate routes.

MC: Smith's internet rants are discrediting him as a filmmaker. He needs to focus on improving his craft instead of his perceived injustices. I'm just a man who needs to write about movies to pay my rent.

Oh, ok. So you can write a rant against a man who dislikes the preferential treatment you get when it comes to seeing movies, but he can't complain about how airlines treat their customers poorly? You get paid to watch free movies and talk about them. Guess what? People pay for movies and write their opinions on the internet EVERYDAY. Just because you can't laugh at a guy puking after losing a debate about the sexual orientation of hobbits doesn't make you the last word on movies. Or people, for that matter.

Cause I Saved a Few and I Keep Them in a Jar

I always thought that when I fell in love it would be with one person forever. Yeah, for today's standards, that seems pretty naive. I am, however, the kind of person that makes a decision and sticks with it. So, when I fell in love the first time I was sure that he would be my first, and only, love.

I didn't happen that way.

I could go on for days about what happened and how I feel about it, but today is just like every other day and I don't feel like thinking about it. As of right now, I have a boyfriend. I love him very much. He's another subject I could go on and on about, but I'll spare the internet the details.

He and I have a lot in common. Sense of humor. Brains. Movies. Goals. He makes me happier than I thought I would ever be. We don't have everything in common, though. I think if we did we would get bored of each other pretty quickly. I think one pretty shocking thing is that I love to read and he would rather not.

That's the only part of my old relationship I really miss. Few of my friends can appreciate the smell of a new book, or finding something truly intriguing at the bookstore. Every time I find a new book that I love, I never know who to share it with. That's the whole point of books in general. Sharing.

There have been a few solid attempts at a book swap, but everyone gets so busy that it's hard to make time for appreciating a book as it should be appreciated. The books just sit there. I'll admit that I still have a few piled up from Christmas, but I have been slowly but surely making my way through them.

I guess this has just been on my mind. I need someone to share books with.

The Days Go On, The Lights Go Off and On

This year is flying by. March is almost over. So much has already happened. I only write in simple sentences, apparently. What have I done so far?

• Got my nose pierced, but you knew that.
  
• OH! Got arrested, you knew that too.
  
• Had late night discussions about health, politics, school, traveling and religion.
  
• Reestablished my love of Ben Folds.
• Swore off and rekindled my addiction to drinking Diet Coke.
• Got stupidly drunk. More on that to follow.
  
• Started painting.
• Dropped my Spanish class because it was getting harder and harder to make it there.
• Became obsessed with cleaning my room. Ok, maybe obsessed is a strong word, but my room is generally cleaner than it used to be.

So I said there would be more about the drunk thing and here it is. On my last birthday, my birthday wish was to see my boyfriend drunk because he had already seen me drunk and it was only fair. Then, in some sick retaliation, he makes his birthday wish for his friends to see me drunk. After some oddly strong vodka cranberries, they realized I am a complete lightweight. Also, I say some pretty stupid crap. For example, "I can't feel my teeth." Or, "Associtutes," whatever that means.

The Church of Hot Addiction

It's finally happened. I told you I would do it again.This time, I got my nose pierced. Tuesday. And.....I love it. This was the only time I've ever cried during a piercing, but it wasn't because it hurt. Your eyes inevitably tear up because it feels something like getting one of your nose hairs pulled out. The person that is doing the piercing puts a cork up the nostril you are getting pierced and pushes the needle through your skin, into the cork. Then he pulls the cork and the needle out with it. On the other end of the needle he affixes your nose ring so when the needle comes out, the ring goes in.

I really liked the nose ring he chose, but because of my job I had to put a retainer in. It's not as cool since it's invisible (and I'm worried it'll fall out in my sleep), but in a few months I'll be able to change it in and out. I'll admit, it might be an addiction, but I could be doing worse. My mom wasn't pleased and I don't think my dad knows yet. For now, though, I'm happy.

We Were the Victims of Ourselves

I have an update on the arrest situation. First, I'll let you in on what I've done so far:

• We went to our local DMV, the man at the counter deferred me to a hearing officer who was a royal jackass. He sent me to a DMV a little further away who were supposedly able to reinstate my license.
• They couldn't. They suggested I see the hearing officer. I let them know that I had and that I had no intention of going back to him. So they sent me to another county's courthouse to get new papers to prove my license should be reinstated.
  
• My mom and I drove there where we got new papers. I was told to take them into the city because that was the only office that would accept them.
  
• They told us that my license WASN'T suspended and refused my fee money. They told us that I just need SR22 insurance.
• We got the insurance and they kicked it back, stating I didn't need it.
  
• So...
  

After driving all over God's green earth trying to figure out how to fix the problem, my mother and I got in touch with a family friend who is a manager at the DMV to see what he could find out for us. Apparently, when you get your learner's permit they intentionally enter some information wrong so that when you get your license the system prompts the DMV employee to ask for your SS#.

When I got my last ticket, whoever entered my information at the courthouse entered it wrong, into my learner's permit file. This created 2 separate files for me. This is what caused the confusion. This is why every agency (and sometimes different people in the same agency) told me something different.

Thank God our friend got my files combined and the insurance submitted. However, when I gave him my reinstatement papers, he noticed that the woman who gave them to me wrote that my ticket was vacated on 6-23-10. That's all well and good except I wasn't driving a Delorean. She had also put the wrong driver's license # on it. He told me I had to go back to the courthouse for new papers.

Which is what I did today. Just as we were leaving, I noticed that I only got papers for one of two tickets. SO, after getting all the papers I needed and triple checking that they were correct, we went to the nearest DMV to pay the reinstatement fee. The woman there told me that they didn't take vacated reinstatements so I have to take them downtown.

I'll hopefully be doing that tomorrow and all this hell will be behind me.

If I Wake Up in Your Mind

I have been having a series of very odd dreams. Usually I don't dream or I don't remember them. On the rare occasion I would dream, they would be extremely graphic nightmares. However, recently, my dreams have been suspenseful, action packed, and filled with subconscious danger. The danger part isn't new.

My dreams are usually centered around me (and sometimes others) in immediate peril. It's my job to run or find some solution. My dreams never actually end. I never save the day. I just wake up as terrified and confused as I was in my dream.

Lately, my dreams have gotten exciting. I was involved in an intergalactic coup last week. I still didn't save the day, but the details in the dream were amazing. The plots are intricate and mostly make sense. I wish I could remember more of them, but the longer I'm awake, the more I forget.

It May Seem Like a Stretch

Sooo.....

I was arrested eight days ago. (I wonder if it was in the blotter) Now, if you asked any of my family, friends, acquaintances, coworkers, people I've walked past on the street they would all tell you how unlikely I was to be arrested. I'm not the kind of person who lives life on the edge and plays by their own rules. As a matter of fact, I play by all the rules. Sometimes I even make up extra rules.

It all stems from the innumerable problems with bureaucracy and my need for speed. I was driving home from work late on Friday and all I wanted to do was go home and watch a movie with my boyfriend. He was almost there already, but I must have caught every light. In my eagerness to get home, I may have accelerated a bit prematurely where the speed limit goes from 40 to 55 at a place that is frequented by the police. I should have known that he'd be waiting right there for someone to do something stupid like I did.

So I flew past this policeman and half a mile later he pulled up right behind me with his lights shining through the night. He was young and actually pretty handsome, but he was all business when he asked my for my license and insurance. Then he lets me know that I was going too fast and that my car is too loud, but he'll let the noise slide - this time. Then he went back to his car to look up my record and write me a ticket.

I sit and I wait. And wait. And wait. Then another squad car pulls up behind him and they both walk up to my car. So Officer Friendly asked my to get out of the car and follow him behind it. Then he seriously said to me, "I'm going to ask you a question and you need to be completely honest with me. Did you know your license is suspended?" I knew my license wasn't. I had taken care of it more than 6 months ago. He apologized to me and told me that he had double checked my record and that my license was, in fact, suspended.

So he made me lean against the rear of my car, and he cuffed me. Then he walked me over to his squad car and frisked me. FRISKED me. Like I walk around with a gun or something. Seriously, I border nerdiness and I was frisked. So he tucks me into the backseat of the squad car while he and his police buddy look through my car. Then, the other guy points out something in my passenger seat that they both find amusing. Satisfied that I don't run a drug cartel out of my Fiero. Officer Friendly returns to his squad car and his comrade leaves in his. Then we wait some more for the tow truck.

As we are waiting, I see my boyfriend's car drive by. A few minutes later, my mom and step dad pull up right in front of the tow truck with my car on it's flatbed. My mother runs from her car towards the officer, demanding to know where the person who was in that car was. He tells her that he has arrested me. My boyfriend then pulled up behind me. From the moment the officer told me he had to arrest me I had been fighting the urge to laugh or asked if I was being punk'd, but all this was too much.

After the tow truck drove away, the officer returned to his squad car and asked me what it was like to drive a Fiero and he told me about my mom. On the drive to the station, he was speeding and instant messaging with another officer who in no uncertain terms told him he was weak for stopping me. I was driving a Fiero, that's just too cool, I guess. I'm pretty sure that's double illegal, but he's cop.

So we arrived at the station and he led me, still cuffed, to a processing area. Finally I got the cuffs off and he tells me to sit down in the corner. He starts entering all my information into an ancient computer asking me questions here and there like my SS# or my previous crimes. He took my fingerprints and some mug shots. Awesome! He called someone to have something printed and they told him I had quite the party waiting for me upstairs. We had witty banter, which is nice I suppose. I think my favorite part of the whole ordeal was when he was asking me questions towards the end like, "Do you know any drug dealers?" or "Do you know anyone is possession of an illegal weapon?" or "Do you know anyone who has committed a crime in Lake County?" I told him my dead grandfather was involved in organized crime, but other than that, no. He told me I didn't seem the type. After I signed myself out of jail, recognizance bond, he walked me through the station. He carried my purse the whole way, I was very impressed.

He lets me out into the waiting area where my mom, step dad, boyfriend, and friend/coworker/neighbor were all waiting. My friend and my boyfriend were laughing and my parents had very concerned looks on their faces. I showed them the marks on my wrists from the cuffs. My mom was horrified.

To the Front of the Room

I have sometimes wondered how people can get excited about a career that isn't exciting to me. This technical writing class has opened my eyes. My class is made up of international students, career professionals going back to school, young students with no idea what they want to do, and young students who do know what they want to do and know that this class is for them.

Some of the students want to be engineers, pharmacists, doctors, translators...the list goes on. One girl wants to work with, and know everything about, materials. Just materials. Concrete and the like. Who wants to know about concrete when they grow up?

Basically this class teaches how to write manuals, memos, and other boring professional documents. I'm in it because the premed counseling brochure said I should. I'm doing well so far. I see how this will be an asset in my career. Maybe one day I'll want to submit something to a medical journal or simply just write a report about a particular case.

But I want to be a doctor. That's interesting. There is a certain amount of glamor and intrigue. Cement? Not so much. But these people are totally invested in their chosen paths. All I want to know is why they are so interested in these paths.

I Had Sworn to Myself That I'm Content

A lot of this blog is mopey, whiny, my-life-is-so-hard crap. I'm pretty okay with that. Everyone needs an outlet, and I suppose this is mine. What I am not okay with is that I haven't written anything smart or thoughtful in quite some time. I could blame this on my mundane classes (Advanced Technical Writing, anyone?) or my mundane job or any number of blah blah blah super whiny crap. I can only blame myself. I haven't gotten very worked up over any current events or ridiculous occurrences in my life that are in any way interesting.

Oh, no! I've gotten boring. I'm just like....everyone else!

I've degraded my life to soap operas, and work, and gossip. This is no way for me to act. I disapprove. If you look to the right, you'll see that so far I've only read 3 books this year. That is an all time low. I've been reading nonstop since I was 4 or 5. No more I say!

I'm definitely going to work on posting things of actual substance instead of some angsty teenager bull.

Fastidious and Precise

My little pumpkin patch is under the weather and I can't make her better. She is super adorable laying on the couch, though. It's kind of sweet when she looks up at me with my same eyes. I wish she was still little so I could scoop her up and rock her to sleep like I used to.

It breaks my heart when she says she isn't pretty. She has curly, red hair and the cutest smile. Once boys her age figure out girls don't have cooties, she'll be beating them away with a stick. If I let her out of the house. :)

Algo Que Decir

I have taken 5 years of Spanish, but it's been almost three years since that last class. I figured I should take some more because one third of my future clients will probably be Spanish speakers. Realizing how long it's been and how rusty my Spanish is, I took the proficiency exam so that I could skip the beginner classes, but not enroll in a class that was too hard for me. The test placed me in Spanish 222.

In the name of all that is good, that class is fucking hard. No english, ever. The textbook doesn't even have any english. I have to use the Spanish-English dictionary just to figure out what I'm supposed to be doing.

The awesome part is that I actually am really loving it. There is something about the language that is slightly more effective than English. The verbs are very exact. Your intention is so much more clear, but that does mean you have to choose your words wisely. If you said to a girl, "Eres bonita," she would be very flattered. If you told her, "Estas bonita" she might get a little ticked because you told her she was beautiful, but only in a temporary sense. The verbs both translate to the same thing in English, but have different intentions in Spanish. I just love it.

There is Comfort in the Sound

I have been cleaning and ordering and organizing a lot lately. My head gets very clear when I'm cleaning. No clothes on my floor, all my books alphabetized (by author), and my bed made. It helps me cope a little. I feel better. Sometimes I can just sit on my neat bed and I don't need to be doing anything to distract myself anymore. Just let the music play in the background and relax.