When actors near 40, even the ones who seem forever-young-looking, start to wrinkle and aging catches up. For the guys, like Patrick Dempsey, George Clooney, Bill Moyer — it looks good, like aging relaxes their face, but for actresses? I feel like their faces are about to shatter. Like see the pics of Jon Hamm (lead of Mad Men) and Jennifer Westfeldlt, whom I love. She’s not as famous as her boyfriend right now, but she’s no schlub (wrote, produced, and starred in Kissing Jessica Stein; about to guest on 24 in what’s sure to be a heart-palpitating, barf-inducing role), so what is going on with her face? There’s not one wrinkle and it looks so tight. Is this the result of surgery or botox? Her boyfriend looks so happy and relaxed with his deep lines and she looks pursed. This makes me sad.
I don’t know why I’m so hung up on this idea. I’m old enough to know that some folks just live their lives with a job and hobbies they really dig, which is cool, but I find myself hungering for a mission. Had it when I loved acting for many years. I told Husband, who still loves and pursues acting professionally, the other day that I envied him — I wish I still loved acting so that I could be depressed about not getting any parts rather than being depressed that I didn’t know what I wanted to be when I grow up.
There are those kids who you grow up with who seem to know they want to be a lawyer and doctor from age 6, and they really do it — they grow up, go to the appropriate schools, and practice forever. I used to envy them for their sense of destiny and centeredness…but they’re also like kind of boring, no offense. I mean, really? You have no major interest in life except law from childhood to past your 40s? Seriously? That’s kind of creepy.
So although it’s a windy, schmucky path, I do find myself more drawn to stories of people who switch paths mid-career, try a variety of different things in their professional life instead of settling for a stable rhythm. On some level, the wandering makes more sense to me…and yet, I still want a calling. It would make me so much more efficient.
I had to go see Webster Hall for work the other day, for event venue scouting purposes, and had serious flashbacks. I haven’t been in Webster Hall since I was in my early 20s, dancing with drag queens. Ahh, those were the days. Many of the places we used to go dancing are not really around any more — The Roxy, Danceteria, Limelight (pretty sure that’s gone), but have lots of good memories of getting home to NJ at 3 a.m., totally spent and wired in a good way.
Taylor Swift is a young singer/songwriter. I have no idea if she’s good, but isn’t she totally adorable? I love that she’s young at the same time of not snorting drugs and walking around looking like a stripper. Good job, parents of Taylor Swift!
Once again, I loved a picture the NY Times did not. They called it “interminable.” I was not expecting to enjoy this flick, leery of its reputation of grisly violence, but the script is extremely well-written, the actors are great, the story is compelling, and the plot surprises, great visuals are plentiful, and the red of the red dress the character Shoshana wears is amazing — every time you think you know what will happen, it takes a turn, so what is the problem NY Times? How was this boring? Brad Pitt is only a part of the whole, thankfully, so don’t be repelled by the commercials. Maybe they’re just too old. I highly recommend it. As for the violence, there are scenes that I definitely looked away from, but the scalping, for some reason, I didn’t think was that bad. So there.
I was reading Harvard Business Review on how the Lego company rebuilt their business from bankruptcy, when I noticed for the first time that all Lego people are Asian. Except for like Chewbacca and some mocha-colored individuals in the Village People, all Asian. All these years and I never noticed before. Huh.
I don’t know if you watched Silver Spoons, but there was this one episode far into its life as a series where Ricky Schroeder’s character is so bored he shows his dad that his socks match his neon green sweater and he tells his dad he’s bored. When his dad tells him why doesn’t he do his homework, he says “I already did my homework. That’s how bored I am.”
At the time, I saw it as a sign of a fatigue on the part of the writers (that, b/c I think there was like no plot except Ricky doing the Moon walk) but that moment totally describes my day yesterday. If this is too obscure, sorry.
I have never heard of Maira Kalman before, but she’s a pretty well-known author and illustrator. Like if you google her titles, chances are you’ve seen her books. Anyway, she’s doing this, I don’t know, “I love America” series for the NY Times, but I love it. It’s a combination of travel diary, photos, and these gorgeous paintings. Check it out.
When Mom took me shopping as a kid, I was bored out of mind. I was way too restless to be in a mall. To amuse myself, I ended up hiding behind racks of clothes while she shopped. In the circle racks, there was always a cross bar inside in the middle, the perfect size for a five-year-oldâ€™s perch, where I could observe my mother through the round glass top. When she finally stopped looking through the sales items and started calling my name, I didnâ€™t always immediately answer. Instead, I would watch her in her growing panic, until Iâ€™d knock on the glass top so sheâ€™s know where to look, or Iâ€™d pop out of the clothes and scare her.
I have an inch-long scar on my right knee from a nail that jutted out from the wall behind one rack of clothing. That happened when I was 2. I have no memory of this, but apparently, have been tucking myself behind clothes for a long time.
The other thing I did to entertain myself when Mom shopped was climb into empty mannequin stages and pose with my arms in mid-wave or mid-strike, however I was feeling, for as long as I could. I stopped doing that when one day two women passed me and started laughing. I stopped hiding behind clothing racks once the mall staff started getting nervous that I was shoplifting. Guess I was getting to be too old for this.
Ahh, the end of innocence.
Sometimes, the NY Times does a fantastic job of writing incisive, inspiring film reviews (Hurt Locker — amazing flick), and other times, they just seem to be on crack (Funny People — extremely well-written screenplay).
Hurt Locker is amazing (bland praise, sorry). It’s so stressful and in the center is a dude who actually loves his job — detonating bombs. Funny People, I dug as well. None of the jokes were funny, but the story and relationship were interesting. There’s all this chatter about Judd Apatow depicting sexist female characters, which I don’t see (and the Times does). I just really admire his writing. But I think the Times loses their judgment whenever there are a lot of penis jokes, like they think it’s a movie like Van Wilder and there’s no craft involved.
They missed some essential character points, for example, the movie star’s happiness. They commented how Judd Apatow is too smug and self-satisfied now, b/c the movie star was enjoying the perks of his success too much, whereas I saw a dude who was loaded but leading an utterly meaningless, empty life due to the fact that he had no relationships. HE HAD NO FRIENDS! He has to hire someone to help him through an illness. How is that self-satisfied and like an endorsement of the fabulous life? Uh doy.
Anyway, I’ll settle down now. This is like when I pick on someone’s grammar, no one wants to observe that. I will say it was an interesting picture, but its serious parts are the most compelling. The penis jokes are dead boring. Thank you.
P.S. What is the Hurt Locker anyway?