"B" Movies

So lately I've been digging through Netflix and other online sources, and finding horrible cheesy "B" Movies to watch. "B" Movies, in case you don't know, are the low-budget movies that usually involve boobs, and monsters, and HORRIBLE cheesy dialogue and a plot that usually makes no sense. I love them.

I think it goes back to watching Black Belt Theatre on local TV when I was growing up. They didn't usually make a whole lot of sense, involved a lot of action sequences, stupid dialogue, and lame sound effects. I remember one where the two combatants were doing the various Forms of the martial arts they were doing. Every time this guy would do Snake Form, they had dubbed snake hissing sounds when his hands move. And when that guy would do Tiger Form, his movements emitted tiger growls. SO AWESOME. And cheesy. That's what I love about these movies, they don't take themselves seriously, and you shouldn't go into them with high expectations.

What I find even more amusing is when what I would consider well-known stars turn up in these wretched train wrecks. All I can think is that I am sooo betting they wished that all copies of that movie would somehow mysteriously cease to exist, and I'm sure they don't put it on their resume. "Oh, yeah, I was in Galaxy of Terror. I got stripped naked by this huge alien slug thing and then slimed and killed." Yeaah no. (That one, incidentally, had Edward Albert, Erin Moran *and* Ray Walston in it. If you don't know who they are, IMDB them). Oh, and it was weird and awful. And by awful I mean so awful it was awesome.

If you haven't watched any lately, I highly recommend browsing through Netflix or whatever way you have access to movies. I recommend The Angry Red Planet, or perhaps Dinosaur Island (the latter, the dinosaurs oh my gosh are SO BADLY DONE they are mega-awesome. Lots of boobs in that one, though, I'll warn ya). It's really fun to watch them with other people that appreciate them as well, especially if you make snarky comments the entire time.

Change Is Scary

I wonder how much of our lives we go through, just dealing with the same old crap, or unhappy situation, or same routine that never ever varies, just because we're so afraid of Change? It's so much EASIER to take the same rut you've worn into that road. You know where it goes. You know where it's been. There's no risk, no danger that you'll get hurt, or embarrass yourself, or a million other things that could happen. Instead you just go about doing the same things you've always done, living the same life you've had, and it's Safe. It's insular, nothing can get to you. But by the same token, nothing ever happens. You don't get to experience new things. You don't get to meet new people, maybe make new friends. You can't grow, as a person, and stretch your boundaries to find out that which you are capable of doing. Making changes is SCARY. It's dark, murky waters, filled with pitfalls and alligators and you never know what may happen. You can't predict. All you can do is prepare, and learn to be flexible enough to adjust to new stuff.

Change can also be Wonderful. It allows you to expand your horizons. It lets you feel new things like hope and joy. It can sometimes add more responsibility, but there's a pride you get when you shoulder that and carry on. Change can affect who the people are in your life. That can be scary too, but sometimes that's what Change is about. It's about reaching deep into yourself and finding the strength and courage to step away from the familiar and embrace an uncertain future.

Sometimes, Change doesn't have to be anything major. Changing one daily routine, or adding one thing you normally wouldn't do. It's uncomfortable, and awkward, and it's just such a bother when it's so much easier just to do that which you've done before. But I find when I do this, when I decide to make one small change, it has a ripple effect on my life. Maybe it's something as simple as taking the stairs instead of the elevator. Perhaps it's volunteering somewhere. Maybe it's creating a new speech loop reaction so when someone says, "I can't do that" instead of saying, "You're not even trying!" you say, "What can you do instead?"

When my son was little, he'd do the things that all kids do; drop things, knock things over, get into things, and a myriad of other stuff when you turn your back for an instant. For awhile, I would always say, "What did you do??!" He would immediately get defensive and feel like he was in trouble and it made for unhappy times. I realized how I was coming across, and the message I was conveying, and I made a change. I started saying, "What happened?? Are you okay??"  His reactions changed. Instead of trying to hide what he'd done, he'd 'fess up and show me whatever boo-boo needed a band-aid and a kiss. Changing how we interact with people can sometimes really make a difference.

So whether it's changing what we do or how we think or what we say, we should never be so afraid that it keeps us from trying.

Sometimes, Some Things Are More Important Than Friendship

When I was in middle school, I got into a fight with this girl named Missy. I don't remember why but I'm sure at the time it seemed important enough to engage in fisticuffs, because I really wasn't a tough kid at the time. I ended up winning, and then we of course became best friends. I started going over to her house to hang out, she had a big back yard and guinea pigs, and 2 sisters and one brother. We used to play hide and seek in the back yard, and play card games in the house. Her dad kept a "well-hidden" stash of girlie magazines - Playboy and Penthouse, that we of course knew of and snuck them into her room to read. The pictures were interesting, and we would giggle together over the stupid bios and info blurbs for each girl.

I never really interacted with her mom and dad that much, they were just in the background, watching tv or fixing food. They didn't really impact us other than Missy trying to avoid her dad as much as possible, and especially trying to keep us under the radar from him when I was hanging out over there. I didn't really understand why until one night when she started talking to me about him. Apparently he liked to help the girls bathe, and he liked to do other things to them too. And had, for quite a while. She swore me to secrecy, but I knew what he was doing was wrong, and I told my parents what she had told me. My parents contacted the authorities, and it went to court, and all the kids got taken from their parents during the proceedings, and it was difficult and messy and I don't think she ever truly forgave me. We drifted apart, and barely stayed in touch through graduation. A few years later, I had just had my first son, he was maybe 9 months old, and I somehow found her contact info and arranged for her to come over and visit. It was awkward. We were older, she had joined the Airforce, and I was married and a mother. We had nothing in common anymore, and nothing really to talk about. The uncomfortable past lay between us and we never did resolve it. We said our polite nothings, made small talk, and both breathed a sigh of relief as we said our goodbyes. I haven't heard from her since. I don't regret what I did. I helped stop would could have been potentially years more abuse for all three girls. I lost a friend doing it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Take The Long Way Home

These days it seems like everyone is in such a hurry. We don't want to wait for the checkout clerk, just do self-checkout it's faster. We don't want to wait through the phone tree options, just Power Push ZERO ZERO ZERO over and over ignoring the prompts until you can get a live person, even though that person is inevitably in the WRONG department and will have to transfer you where you wait on hold anyway. We don't even want to wait for the microwave to finish heating our food, "ONE WHOLE MINUTE?! OH MY GOD MAKE IT GO FASTER!!"  Now this Instant-Gratification Generation just wants what they want yesterday, and cannot fathom why they can't have it then. Even when driving it's 'what's the shortest/fastest route'??  Yeah, I know gas prices are insane, but still.

When did we become like this? What happened to sitting quietly reading a book, or working on stitching, or just sitting on a porch watching the world go by? I know these things still happen, but it seems so few and far between. What happened to just taking the scenic route when driving, just to enjoy nature and the drive rather than zooming along the boring industrial highways at crazy speeds? I challenge people to slow down, take your time doing things; enjoy the act of cooking or baking rather than just nuking something in the microwave, unplug and read a good book, or even just take the long way home and decompress from a busy day dealing with the hustle and bustle of today's crazy society.

The Creative Itch

I have an artist's disposition. I like to create things with my hands -- origami, pysanky, cross-stitch, drawing, SOMETHING. I go through phases where I simply MUST create/be artistic or I'll go crazy. It starts as a little niggling in the back of my mind. I notice other things people are doing; a few of my coworkers knit, a friend's origami, artwork on the internet. And that creative itch starts bugging me. Sometimes I can stave it off by doing the jigsaw puzzle at work in the breakroom. Other times I can sit down with my daughter and play with LEGOs making bizarre buildings and contraptions. Even intricate coloring books satisfy. Ultimately I have to do something creative or I feel like I can't settle down and enjoy other things.

Recently we carved pumpkins for Halloween. Usually we do a couple each, but I was feeling unmotivated this year, so we just did one each and had a spare that ended up getting hollowed out for the seeds, but not carved. I had lots of ideas for that last pumpkin, including a really cool Doctor Who one, but with work, stress, lack of sleep it just was too much for me to take on. Sometimes the Creative Itch is buried deep slumbering and wants nothing to do with the tasks at hand. Perhaps it will come back in time for the Holidays, we'll see.

An Open Apology To Our Old Neighbors

Once upon a time, Del lived in a house in the country. It was a nice house, it had rooms, and stairs, and a big yard. It also had a wood-burning stove in the main room that we used all the time for heat. My details are fuzzy, I don't have the memory for stuff like my brother or dad do, so the best I can tell you is that I think wood shavings or some such ended up too close to said stove, and we awoke in the middle of the night to our house on fire. Our bedrooms were on the second floor, so I woke up to my dad rushing into my room, and hurrying us out to the window that was above the back porch, so we could climb out and then be lowered down to safety. I, of course, felt the need to run back into my room and get my Blankie to take with me, no way was I going to let that burn up, which made dad yell at me because when your house is on fire, running BACK into danger for something that isn't alive is just silly. Hey, I was young, cut me some slack. So said Blankie in hand, we got out of the window and down from the porch and retreated to a safe distance to watch the house burn.

The next morning we sifted through the wreckage. I remember my bed being a burnt wire frame that was upside down, and all my plastic horses had melted and fused into odd shapes. It was more devastating to me than losing the house. Until we could tear down the mess, and rebuild, our closest neighbors across the street bravely allowed us to stay with them. They were Bill and Toot Puckett. I don't know Toot's real name, or if that was, but that's what we called her. They were an elderly couple, they had a very nice house, a very nice barn, a pond, and none of their stuff was child-proof and oh-so-breakable. They had an old organ they let us play, it was magic. It must have been very trying for them to have us stay there, but they were always nice. The trauma of the fire must have really affected me, because I started wetting the temporary bed they had provided for me. No matter what, it seemed like it happened again and again. Those poor people, I think they qualified for Sainthood by the time our house was rebuilt and we were able to move back and out of their house.

The local townsfolk took up a collection for stuff for us, there was probably clothes and sundry, but all I remember is getting a big paper bag full of plastic horses. I don't know who donated them, but I was never so thankful of anything in all my life. I probably would have been thankful of Bill & Toot but they had too many things I couldn't touch, or that were breakable, and I was too young to realize how wonderful they were to open their home to us.

I still have Blankie.

Nothing To See Here

Today's blog non-post is brought to you by the letters S, and T.. as in Sick & Tired. I did manage to drag myself out of bed long enough to fix dinner, of which I am not partaking, and now I think I shall drag myself *back* to bed, and hopefully sleep off whatever Funk this is. I have lots of things I shall talk about in future posts, however today they are all slightly mauve-colored and as I try to draw near them they sullenly glare at me and give off the faint odor of a high school gym. I think they can wait until another day.