Thursday, February 14, 2013

My Kind of Valentine

Behold, the fruits of my morning's labors:

To you, dear blog world, with all the sincere love I can muster.

Monday, February 11, 2013

Butterfly Wings

According to chaos theory, even the slightest diversion off a course can spiral, leading to completely unforeseen results.  I'm no mathematician--far from it, with my love of words and fear of numbers--but the theory makes sense.  I've had too many math problems go awry depending on where I put a negative, or whether I inverted such and such fraction.  After that, it becomes a matter of carefully hunting, tracking down the one moment that set it all off.

Too confusing?  Try history.  One of Ben Franklin's maxims states that, "little strokes fell great oaks."  What seems like a small start can blossom into something magnificent.  While it may feel inconsequential at the time, sooner or later that tree will be felled.  The mighty task will be finished.  Those results?  Bigger than thought possible.

Two years ago today, I unknowingly tested those theories.  Like the proverbial butterfly in Brazil, I fluttered my wings.  Thirteen months and six days later, a tornado happened.  In a small white room in Bountiful, that tornado picked me up and transported me to the Oz-like wonderland I now inhabit.

I didn't know that this is where my life would lead.  If I had known, I probably wouldn't have made that phone call, watched that movie, or let my heart move on.  How was I to know that the vastness of the world was so comfortable?  How was I to know that I would be safe and warm, as long as he was there?

But now.  Now I know.

Saturday, February 2, 2013

I Don't Date Often...

...but when I do, it's a smashing success.

Nothing like wool pea coats, the perfect drink from Starbucks (raspberry white hot chocolate with soy), Queen Anne, and Groundhog's Day at the Uptown with guest Stephen Tobolowsky to make a girl feel special.  Oh, and the perfect date, of course.  Taylor is pretty rad.


"That's what film is--a visual poem."  -Stephen Tobolowsky

Shut it Down!

30 Rock is not the show it once was.  In fact, it hasn't even been a ghost of the show it was.  Season six was downright cringe-worthy, and while season seven has been slightly better, it's still only provided a few weak smiles instead of the belly laughs of old.

But I have to admit.  That finale.  It blew me out of the water, sucking me into the Rock hilarity of olden days.  

For the first time in a while, it didn't feel forced.  The show didn't feel like they were trying to betray characters, or build up to something, or change focus.  It felt honest.  They touched on all the greats--the crazy catch phrases, the dynamic in the writer's room (something I have sorely missed over the past couple of seasons), Jenna's insecurity and Tracy's insanity, the sudden reappearance of Pete (PETE!  How I've missed thee), and a return to NBC power dynamics, this time with Kenneth in a new role.  30 Rock was always at it's finest when it was grounded in reality, and somehow, inconceivably, it regained that dynamic in this last episode.  Whether it was dealing with the difficulties in negotiating with networks or the struggles in producing a workable show, Fey was at her best when the madcap moments had a logical jumping off point.  But that same madcappery took over the show as of late, making it almost a chore to watch.

And I felt that way through most of this last, fateful season.  I could not have cared less about Jenna's unwindulaxing, or if Jack was going to tank NBC.  There was no reality in it, so there was no investment.  And of all the insane plot devices, nothing was more irksome than Liz's relationship with Criss.  As played by James Marsden, Criss came off as a completely false character.  It was difficult to believe that his relationship with Liz even happened, and not only because Tina Fey and Marsden had absolutely no chemistry.

And then they got married.  And for the first 75% of the episode, I was a seething ball of rage.  This made no sense!  What a lazy way to get a point across!  What betrayal, to take the depth that was once Liz Lemon and make her into this harp-tastic poster model for the worst kind of feminist, the kind who kicked against all typical gender roles in an attempt to make the playing field more even.  And as I rolled my own eyes at her sweatshirt wedding, with it's overly-conscientious rebuttal against tradition, something unexpected happened. 

Liz softened, bending to the fairy tale, but wishing to make it uniquely hers.  She realized that she wanted something that spoke to her, that didn't celebrate her as a bride, but her as a wonderful beautiful person that was making a significant change in her life.  She looked at Criss with questioning in her eyes, until he said, “Liz, it’s okay to be a human woman!”  I cheered.  I might have teared up a little bit.  I definitely was won back over to the 30 Rock side of life.  Finally, after too long in the world of the bizarre, it was back with some truth.  Some plain, unforced truth that made me fall in love with Tina Fey all over again.

After that, it was easier to say goodbye.  There was no longer bitterness about the show that had once been, but only fond memories of what it was and how it ended.  Perfectly, drifting on a boat to find itself, but back again in those last few moments.  Wrapped up neatly, but with loving nods to what came before.  Just like Fey herself, the finale carved out it's own niche while retaining a respect for the medium, but all while acknowledging the things that made it great--both in the greater TV sphere (snow globe, anyone?) and in it's own unique mythology (Rural Juror!).  Well done, 30 Rock.  I'll slow clap that ending out.