DIG (on USA!) thoughts: ep 10 (ten, rhymes with end...sorta)

Imagine me and you, I do;
I think about you day and night, it's only right...
So happy together!

Oh, Internet. It's 11 PM on Saturday night as I start typing this, and I don't know how to really express the depth of sadness I feel about what I am doing. What am I doing, you ask? I am writing The last DIG (on USA!) review. My last thoughts and reactions. There are no more episodes to watch now. Thursday evening, May 14, will be cold and lifeless. No Jason Isaacs tweets. Ori Pfeffer will not retweet me or give me too much information I expressly said not to. Nothing to scream at my TV about. No WTF is going ON?! moments. 

It has concluded. The mystery solved, the last twitching body laid to rest. 

It's okay. I'll be okay! Don't cry for me, Argentina! Or Israel. Or Croatia or Norway! I will be okay. (Because USA Network, until they say Yay or Nay definitively, will be receiving occasional, overly familiar, harassing tweets from me about green lighting a 2nd Season for DIG...and they can just go ahead and ask Jason Isaacs all about what it's like to get my occasional, overly familiar, harassing tweets. He knows all about these, because he gets them from me about every 3rd-4th time he tweets.)

Alright, diggers/digglers/diggees, let's just rip the band aid off. Let's talk about the last episode. 

Here's the mystery, solved (and if you haven't watched it yet, or even seen the series at all: (A) Why are you here? We are NOT friends...and (B) look away!! Look away now!!! I'm about to tell you THE WHOLE THING.):

In real life, Emma/Rebecca is a beautiful songwriter/singer/actress
named Alison, whose songs my daughter & I both love

*Emma was The Villain. The primary Antagonist. It was her, or rather, Rebbeca Donaldson aka Emma Wilson. THE WHOLE TIME. Someone mysteriously put the lost Donaldson murder/suicide investigation file Golan was trying to get from the grizzly old detective in the Negev Desert on Peter's desk and THAT'S how he figured out who Rebecca was (and thank you! whoever put that file there, because I spent about 3 hours last Thursday wondering: WHO THE HELL IS REBECCA???)

And she fell in love with Peter in the process of orchestrating the biggest antiquities/revenge heist of all time. She was in cahoots with greedy Margrove but not really--she just wanted to use him to avenge her father's death which Margrove caused by betraying his colleague, who just so happened to be Emma/Rebecca's dad. She lost her whole family because of Margrove's greed. And so, like a spider, she wove a web and trapped him, mated with him, and then ate him. And Margrove, who I was certain was a goner after, like, episode 3, ended up being the last of the dead guys, making it (almost) to the end. 

*The Order of Moriah? That was Ruth Riddell and Tad Billingham, and they got theirs. (Tad choked to death on some nuts...as he WENT nuts at the same time. No, seriously--he was eating nuts while talking nutty. Dearest, amazing DIG writers: I. LOVED. THIS. SO. MUCH.)

*Josh was a twin, and Fay was their mother. That means Fay killed one of her own children back in episode 1. 'Cause that's what crazy people do, y'all! Kill their kids. Google it--it's in the news all the time. 

*Josh turned out to be the very psycho Tad B. (who I THINK maybe was his dad?!?) was. (Parenting rule #1: model the behavior you want to see in your children.) And Josh turned on Tad, because Josh was taught that he's God's right hand boy/high priest, and so you know: he thinks he really is. Turns out, raising kids to believe they are God's gift to the world gives them an Entitlement Complex. (This is also called Extreme Spoiling, and I actually watched it happen, live, at my local supermarket about 2 weeks ago.)

So basically, evil Rabbi Lev and the Order of Moriah wanted to blow up Dome of the Rock. Rabbi Lev so he could rebuild the Temple and welcome the Messiah; Tad so he could start the Rapture and bring four horsemen down to scourge the Earth and bring the Messiah (and then Tad and Lev would get into a big fist fight about whether that was the First or Second Messiah). 

To do that, they brought in thousands of pounds of explosives disguised as books written by Tad Billingham. Then they rigged them all up to a dam that, when exploded, would flood the underground tunnels beneath Jerusalem and when the water made its way to the Temple Mount, BAM! Good-bye, Dome of the Rock; hello a lot of angry religious guys starting World War 3.

*Ruth's goin' to federal prison! Where she'll teach women to scare the shit out of people just by looking pointedly at them. (I think she should have gotten blown up in the damn dam, or had her throat slit by Lynn with the sharp letter opener, but that's just me. Because Armageddon Protocol.)

But now for the happy endings:

Blood. Red blood. Blood moons. Sacrificial blood.
Blood. 

*Lynn's still in Israel! She's running the FBI's Jerusalem bureau. Hopefully the rest of her time there doesn't involve any more blood. I think Anne Heche spent about half the show covered in blood, someone else's or her own. And no more climbing chain link fences, Lynn! You'll break your 5th metatarsal. And only sleep with employees who aren't being used as pawns in a chess game of revenge! But I do bow to your toughness, Lynn. You are a strong woman, and the next time I fight crime, I want YOU to be my partner.

*Peter made it! And he SAVED THE WORLD! And he's letting go of his past--he finally took off his wedding ring, and (I didn't see this but I BET) he deleted his ex-wife's phone number finally and he's going to see a plastic surgeon about that scar. He took Vicky's picture out of the drawer, and Lynn's going to send him far, far away (can it be to Atlanta, Georgia, Lynn? We have lots and lots of religious crazies for Peter to fight here, too). 

*Shem made it out alive! He's still out there somewhere, loving on Nature and saying prayers at strange moments while wearing white. He's counseling lost, fucked up people with gentle words of ancient wisdom. He's eating vegetables for dinner and dancing naked under the moon, and he's taking long, candlelit mikvehs. (I love the thought of a Shem out there in the world doing this, being a guardian of the Light for our spot in the Milky Way.)

*And Avram. Dear, sweet Avram. Thank God he made it off the DIG writers' pages alive; he's out there still. And so is Red (I'm going to talk about them in a few more paragraphs, because if I do it now, this will make me cry like I did when I rewatched it this afternoon and I need to get through the rest of what I want to say in my write up).

Basically, what I'm saying is: this show was, in the end, about water and a cow. 

....Did you know? Water has a very mystical meaning: it's used in purification rituals, to cleanse us. We are 50-65% water; without it we will die. And our planet will as well. Every bit of water we have on Earth today has been here since our planet was born; the water you bathe and shower in? Here since the dinosaurs. The water you wash your car with? Here before life began. All life began on Earth in water. Take care of it; it is precious. (Don't use it for nefarious purposes, either.)

I think it's really interesting that the DIG writers used water as a catalyst to either destroy or save in the end. (The dam's water was all diverted into an old archaeological bit of Jerusalem history: Warren's Shaft. Archaeologists who've studied it think it was first developed by the Canaanites; it is an ancient tunnel most likely used by ancient Jerusalemites as a water supply system. And it saved (in DIG) the world by diverting the exploded dam water away from the Temple Mount. Good job, ancient Canaanites!) In the beginning, I wrote about how I thought numbers mattered, that God was in the numbers. At the end, it turns out God was actually in the water.

And also I felt DIG was about darkness and light. Sons of Darkness, Sons of Light. An eternal, internal War of Soul. Maybe that's what Armageddon/Gog and Magog/the End of Days will boil down to: we'll all be fighting ourselves, inwardly...and only one of us will win. Let's all hope our Sons of Light come out on top. (Peter's did...he was tempted, at the end, by the Whore of Babylon, to come away with her and enjoy her spoils. Except Rebecca/Emma didn't realize she was dealing with a Son of Light. And so, in that way, Peter really was a Messiah. Of sorts.)

But mostly? DIG was about a cow. Not the cow herself so much, but Avram's devotion to her well-being--because DIG was about honor and loyalty and faith and loss and most important? Taking care of one another--Red saved Avram and Avram saved Red. Take care of each other, good people of Earth. Treat each other with kindness and care. Our animal friends, too.

And I think DIG was a good example of how to tell a good Hero's Journey story. Do you know about this? Joseph Campbell, an American mythologist, developed the concept--every story in every culture in every language in every corner of the planet even the farthest removed tells mythologies, and they all center around a Hero who must embark upon a Journey. One day, he wakes up and realizes: I have to go on a journey. Sometimes the journey is to rescue a maiden, or slay a dragon, or defeat a giant; it varies depending on the story and the culture. And so the Hero sets out--he leaves everything he knows behind and takes a journey. Along the way, he meets friends who are enemies, enemies who are friends, he has to overcome obstacles, pass tests, he fights battles and is wounded...until finally he reaches a Dark Night of the Soul, in which he must make the decision to either give up and die, or go on. But choosing to go on means the Hero must change, and change will involve doing the hardest thing(s) he can ever possibly imagine doing. But if the Hero does it, in the end he wins and goes back to his village to accolades and adoration. But if the Hero does it, he is changed forever, and Life as he knows it will never be the same again. (Not necessarily a bad thing.)

I think Campbell's The Hero's Journey could be applied to Lynn, Peter, and Avram. They all were woken up one day, realized they had to go on a journey to fight something terrible, and met enemies who were friends and friends who were enemies and suffered through Dark Nights of the Soul along the way. 

Particularly Avram: in the end, he is forever changed; I'm not sure if he lost his faith or just his faith in the people of his faith. But he has left the Orthodox community for the world because of Rabbi Lev's evil, and he will be forever changed now. 

Red is free. Home on the range. The last moments we see of her are a sweet, happy calf surrounded by her "people," running off to enjoy the world...no sacrificial knives or weird kids in breastplates anywhere. And the real Red is also free, along with all the other baby cows who worked the show with her. They are all free, running around in the world right now, and will never ever be a source of food for anyone reading this. They are safe, safe at last.

Since Golan got killed (sob!!) Shem and Peter could save
the world in DIG 2. (Shem will use prayer to catch bad guys, and
Peter will make sarcastic asides.)

Three Stars and a Wish

A wish:

That the final episode had been longer. I realize Jason, Ori, Anne, Alison, etc. would have had to stay in Croatia like 1-2 more weeks eating pizza while missing their loved ones and USA would've had to cough up more cash, but I felt like there needed to be about 30 more minutes, maybe 40; this show felt slightly rushed to wrap it up. A big show to start the story; one big one to finish it. And I wish the Armageddon Protocol stuff had been a bit bigger in scope and nature. More water, more explosions. I mean, Tad and friends were trying to start The End.

3 Stars:

1. Clearly, I am in love with the writers (still! we are STILL on our perpetual honeymoon, DIG writers! Til death do us part). So I thought the writing was superb and stunning, stunningly superb. Throughout. There were a lot of moments I watched and re-watched and went: holy crap, those are amazing storytellers. How does one learn to do that? I would like to just sit and pretend to darn their socks while they work on their stories. So I can learn from them.

2. The final episode had some amazingly awesome writing in it, and words that sat with me most from this episode were from Peter:

"Maybe it should all end. Let everybody wipe each other out in the name of God." (JUST last Friday, I thought the SAME thing, Peter Connelly!)

and what an awesome exit line: when Emma/Rebecca tells Peter she'll see him in Hell, he says, "Not if I see you first." (Oh my god. I am SO using this in the next argument I'm in that person tells me to go to Hell.)

3.There were some loose ends. But this is actually a positive for me, and here's why: I have read things on the Internet from people complaining about these loose ends. There are questions about why certain things happened or didn't happen, or what was the point of that character. Just some things I've seen around town: what was Ridell's motivation? What was Billingham's? How'd the file get put on Peter's desk/who put it there? How'd the Essene know where to go? How'd the bombs get there? How'd Emma/Rebecca even know about Peter? How'd she find out so much about his daughter? 

These questions are why I think the finale needed to be longer...and yet, I'm okay with not having ALL the loose questions answered. You out there reading this may not be, and the questions have been really chapping your buns (my suggestion: stop reading imdb.com's message boards; lunacy lies within). But I am okay with loose ends. And I'm okay with the unanswered questions because I think that's just how Life works--sometimes there's an ending and you can't figure out why somebody did that thing, or didn't do that other thing they were supposed to do. Sometimes you don't get to say good-bye; sometimes there isn't any closure; sometimes you just aren't supposed to know.

I'm also okay with lingering questions about some of the characters because I know about building characters--when I write stories, every single character I put in it has a background and a motivation; I know what these are. Every detail, every motivation doesn't always make it into the story; but I don't build them into my characters for that reason. I build them into my characters to give a story movement and life. Sometimes it's to make a character more real, or to make another character more real. I am totally fine if that's what the DIG writers were doing with this. 

But this freaks some people out--I once took a writing class with a lady who got really annoyed with me because I wouldn't write a complete ending to any of my stories. And I hated reading her stories because they were always ended on such pretty, wrapped up, here-you-go presentations. C'est la vie; to each his own. 

All in all, I hearted DIG tremendously. Its creators, Gideon Raff and Tim Kring, wrote it on spec and I'm not sure necessarily wrote it with the intention it would go on and on. From what I understand, they simply wanted to tell a whole story, for us to watch on our TVs (or iPads or wherever you watch your TV shows now). But the writing was so tremendous, and the acting was so stellar, and it is just human nature to want stellar, tremendous things we are enjoying to continue. Orgasms SHOULD last days and weeks, it is not fair they only last a few seconds. So I think there should be a Season 2, so we can all meet back online and orgasm together, with a new adventure. But if there is NOT a Season 2, then I am happy this story is out there in the ethos now. When my child is old enough, I will share it with her. And she can share it with her child(ren) and so on and so forth, as is the connective nature of storytelling.

It was a wild, roller coaster ride every Thursday night, thank you, DIG writers and cast and crew! But man. I will confess: I have an extremely addictive personality, and so I'm going to have to go to DIG rehab now. But first, you know what I'm going to do this Thursday night? Start over with Episode 1. I have them all in my DVR, and I'm going to start over with Episode 1 this Thursday, and recreate the whole thing!

Also, I'm going to harass Jason Isaacs on Twitter to see if he'll wake up at 3 AM on Thursday (aka Friday for him) in London for the next 10 weeks to re-live tweet them again, for me, personally. 

What is Peter looking at???

(scroll down to solve the mystery)

It's Debbie! Come to avenge Golan!!

And it's Golan! It's his ghost! (Shem brought them both back via prayer)

(Yes, yes. I KNOW THEY'RE DEAD FOREVER.
But I'm a magical thinker. Stop judging me.)

books and movies and tv, oh my!

Today is World Book Day (did you know?) (you DO still read BOOKS, don't you?...I mean, e-readers are cool and all, but I bet they're very similar to going from smoking real cigarettes to smoking e-cigarettes--gives you the same kind of high, but something's just OFF) (Maybe cigarettes was a poor choice of example...next time I'll use gluten).

At any rate. World Book Day. So I have a list (with some side thoughts) of my Top Ten All-Time Favorite Books I Absolutely Cannot Make It Through This Life Without and You Should Read These Too If You Haven't Already and If You Haven't Already Read Them What The Holy Hell Is WRONG With You?! World Book Day list. Here it is:

1. THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ by L. Frank Baum. 
Seriously, if you haven't read this book and you've only watched the movie? You aren't really getting it. This is like a book-movie companion kind of thing. Symbiotic. Binary. You are NOT a real Wizard of Oz fan if you haven't also read (and made notes in the margins) Baum's book. The ORIGINAL book; not any kind of abridged crap (stop being lazy). The WIZARD OF OZ is a Life guide; it will teach you about what's important, what's not, and what to do when you're really in a quandry. (Which is: sing a song, and believe in yourself.)

2. THE MIRACULOUS JOURNEY OF EDWARD TULANE by Kate DiCamillo.
Kate also writes the Mercy Watson series, which are really wonderful. But this book. THIS book!!  O.M.G. Seriously, your whole life will be changed. Your heart will never be the same. You will never, ever know at what True Love is until you read this book. And when you're done, go read Margery Williams' THE VELVETEEN RABBIT, because (like the WIZARD OF OZ book-movie companionship), these two books should be the two books on which you base your entire philosophy on Love and Life.

3. PETER PAN by J.M. Barrie
Peter Pan isn't just about a boy who won't grow up. It's about the power of imagination and possibility. It's about courage and fear, and being Who You Are. It's about acceptance and love, letting go, and how to handle fairies and pirates. (Which I think are symbols of good angels and evil angels, but that's just me pontificating.) When I was growing up, I wanted to BE Wendy...and I wanted to marry Peter Pan. And I wanted to be a pirate and a Tiger Lily and a Tinker Bell, too. This is a ageless tale threaded with fibers of magic and, just like WIZARD OF OZ, if you're just watching the movie versions and/or movie interpretations of it, you seriously aren't getting the core meaning of it and you're doing it wrong. 


4. EAT PRAY LOVE by Elizabeth Gilbert
Elizabeth Gilbert is my writer hero. She is my female aspiration, both in writing and spirituality. Liz has gone to the rockiest depths, clawed her way out, and eaten some excellent pizza in Sicily while doing so. Whatever Liz says about life, love, and spirituality I pretty much agree with. And she usually favorites everything I @gilbertliz tag her with on Twitter. She's my hero, and her memoir of her own personal Hero's Journey is something I've written in over and over, dog-eared, slept with, eaten with, cried over, and whispered a million thank yous into. It's a Bible of sorts, and I think the Holy Spirit gets me on that even if you don't.

5. STORIES OF ANTON CHEKHOV by Anton Chekhov (and some editors)
Oh, Anton Chekhov. Anton, Anton, Anton! What a yummy writerly dish you were, back in the turn of the century. And with every single short story, he'll show (NOT tell) you how to write right. If you are a short story writer, and you have not ever read a short story by Chekhov? You're doing it wrong. Get thee to a bookstore (NOT an e-reader store--a real, physical BOOK store) and pick you up a copy of Anton's short stories. Go home, get comfy, and start to learn, grasshopper. 

Master. Storyteller.

6. EAST OF EDEN by John Steinbeck
Steinbeck was a master storyteller and a master (a MASTER) of the descriptive paragraph. When you start this book, your brain is woven a tapestry of what California looked like, in Steinbeck's--and his characters'--eyes. And then you're given an ancient tale of Cain and Abel, good and evil, right and wrong, and the temptations and horrific choices we all have to make. It's a subtle Bible for how to live, and who not to be. With tapestries of How To Write Descriptive Narrative woven throughout.

7. THE BLUEST EYE by Toni Morrison
This is the book that made me understand what it's like to not be in the Majority. It's about quietly fighting a system that is set up to invalidate and demoralize and keep you from soaring to your highest heights. Love yourself, as is...even when They tell you that you as is is simply never going to be enough. On the surface, it's about what Jim Crow and slavery and The Good Ol' Boys network has done to our country, our black women, our society, and our world. But underneath all of that, is something that--no matter your gender, nationality, or race--we can all connect with: the need to belong. It's just amazing. Please read it if you haven't.

8. WUTHERING HEIGHTS by Emily Bronte
I read this book over and over and over and over when I was in high school. I wanted to be Cathy...but I wanted to be Cathy before she went nutters. And I desperately, seriously, deeply longed for Heathcliff. I still do, quite frankly. Also, there are ghosts. And ghosts, in my book? Are always good. 

9. ROOM WITH A VIEW by E.M. Forrester
This is about keeping a chick down; clipping her wings and--like THE BLUEST EYE--fighting a system set up to invalidate/demoralize/keep you back from living your dreams. It's also about not succumbing to someone else's opinions, being really real, and that British class system? Gots to GO. (Sadly, I don't think it has and here in America we're making it worse.) But I love it because it's about being loved for Who You Are, as is. I cannot stress how important that is. 

10. BIRD BY BIRD by Anne Lamott
Annie is funny and sincere, irreverent and serious, all at once. She knows your pain because she's been there, sister (or brother). She's been down and out, up and over, and she's got the scars to prove it. And she will tell you about them, how she got them, AND give you a lot of good tips on how to Do Writing Right. One little step at a time. Baby steps. Tip toes. Bird by bird. It works for writing, but it's also just a smart way to live a life, the end.

And, just because I like them, I'm going to extend World Book Day further by listing movies based on books I personally love a lot and think are excellent filmatic takes on the written word, even if famous film critics disagree with me. Here it is:

1. WIZARD OF OZ
This is L. Frank Baum's book...with some artistic license...in technicolor (and black & white for Kansas, which I think was a really brilliant creative decision for MGM in 1939--ahead of their time). I used to LIVE for the airings of this movie, and I wanted to BE Judy Garland/Dorothy. I can't even calculate how many hours I spent, in my room, as a child re-enacting this ENTIRE movie. 

One time, my mom didn't feel like braiding my hair so I could put on my Oz play in my room, and she suggested I pretend to be Glinda the Good Witch instead. Drama actress ego meltdown ensued. I was Dorothy! Only I knew how to interpret the role of Dorothy! and HOW DARE SHE.

2. PETER PAN (2003)
The Disney version is cool and all, but PJ Hogan's 2003 adaptation is just magically superb. And I promise I'm not saying that because Jason Isaacs plays Captain Hook and Mr. Darling AND responded to a dry erase easel board note my class wrote together and sent him on Twitter. You should see this movie because, like MGM's 1939 WIZARD OF OZ adaptation, this IS J. M. Barrie's book...with some artistic license...in CGI magic technicolor. 

I used to spend hours re-creating the story of PETER PAN in my bedroom too, as a child, but I wasn't as attached to the role of Wendy like I was to Dorothy.

3. LIVING OUT LOUD
Simply, this is my all-time favorite movie made for grown-ups. This is an independent film made in 1999 by Richard Lagravenese. It's based on two short stories by Anton Chekhov, and it's about being true to yourself, finding out who you are, being accepted and loved as is, and forgiving yourself. Like Elizabeth Gilbert's EAT PRAY LOVE, whenever I'm in a what-the-hell?? kind of moment, I re-watch this movie. Every woman in the WORLD should be exposed to it. 

4. A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT
There are fish (I'm a Pisces), there is water (I'm a Pisces), and there is Brad Pitt AND Craig Sheffer in it (I'm a heterosexual woman). This is about family, ultimately. And addiction. And struggling. And knowing that you can really, really love someone a lot but not like them very much. It's about how people who need the most help are often the ones who least want it; and so then it's about growing through and in spite of that pain. A RIVER RUNS THROUGH IT is about letting go, and it's about trusting in something a lot bigger than your limited self. It's about the ancient art of growing up, breathing in spite of the pain, and acceptance of the unknowable. It's about how the "river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of those rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are the words, and some of the words are theirs. I am haunted by waters."

5. APOCALYPSE NOW
In 12th grade AP English, we had to read Joseph Conrad's THE HEART OF DARKNESS. What a freaky book. What a freaky movie based on that freaky book. On the surface, it's about some dudes traveling up river through war torn Vietnam and all the freaky crap they saw and endured while doing that. But underneath, like Conrad's book, it's about Us vs. Them kind of thinking, which leads to all kinds of stupid shit...like, oh I don't know, The Vietnam War. And people killing each other for dumb reasons. As humans are wont to do.

It's a disturbing movie, but then THE HEART OF DARKNESS is a disturbing book. Sometimes disturbing is bad, sometimes it's good. This is one of those times it's good.

6. THE COLOR PURPLE
Whoop Goldberg--I fell in love with her. She played a pure, gentle soul who went on an inner odyssey of figuring out who she was in and in the process discovering her own amazing strength. Sort of like Dorothy in WIZARD OF OZ, but black and living in Jim Crow times. This book/movie is also about family, growing up, and being loved as is. 

Best line of a movie EVER: "Everything you done to me, already been done to you.I'm poor, black, I may even be ugly, but dear God, I'm HERE..."

7. THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS
I'm not going to lie: Daniel Day-Lewis, in this movie, is someone who spends a lot of time in my night time fantasies (sometimes day time ones as well). Family, trust, respect, Man vs. Man, Man vs. Nature, staying true to your roots. It's all in there, set to gorgeous scenery and a sweeping soundtrack that makes your soul soar and spirit weep. 

8. DR. ZHIVAGO
I had to find a book that complemented FATHERS AND SONS by Ivan Turgenev for my senior year thesis, and this was it. So happy I picked it, because this was about a tough, kick ass woman. Oh, she LOOKED sweet and weak and naive on the surface, but ultimately men were broken by her and because of her. 

This movie is about love and grief and loss and it's all wrapped up in one amazing journey with a lot of snow in a country that is full of pain and horror and stark, unadulterated beauty. (I really wish Putin would stop mucking it up.)

9. THE GODFATHER
This is, literally, the ONLY mafia movie I can and will watch. I think Marlon Brando and a young Al Pacino might have something to do with it; I'll be honest. I read Mario Puzo's book, and then I saw the movie. Like WIZARD OF OZ and Hogan's PETER PAN, this is Mario's book but in visual format. 

I would like its theme song to play whenever I exit a room.

10. TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD
Gregory Peck. Social justice. Gregory Peck. Truth vs. Lies. Gregory Peck. A bildungsroman through a young girl's wide eyes. The way Law OUGHT to be. Gregory Peck. And also: Gregory Peck. 

I hope Harper Lee's new book will do just as well as this one did in both written and cinematic format. I mean, hello...she's had 50+ years to hone it. 


And last (but not least) I do have one favorite book that's been made into an excellent television show series: OUTLANDER by Diana Gabaldon.

It's got time travel, Scots in kilts, Scots speaking in Scottish brogue, and a lot (I mean a LOT) of sex. With some historical background. Or maybe a lot (I mean a LOT) of historical background. With some sex. 

Either way, Sam Heughan. And so watch it. It's On Demand. 

last week: summarized.

I am late with this. Normally I try to post by Saturday morning. But this Saturday morning, Miss M & I ate pancakes at iHop. (Is that how you spell it? Or is it IHOP all caps? Everything is so Apple-y now, so if it starts with the letter "i" I leave that letter "i" lowercase.) And then there was a playground visit. And laundry folding. And one movie called THE TRUTH ABOUT CHARLIE airing on HBO and starring one of my favorite thespians, beautiful Thandie Newton, so I had to watch the whole thing once it started. (My take away: Thandie Newton was too good for Marky Mark.) And then grocery shopping. And now I'm making spaghetti. And I'm drinking some wine while making that spaghetti. And later, I'm going to have some more wine. And coffee with Bailey's Irish cream because I'm a grown up now and I can do that.

Here is last week, summarized: 

Monday-Wednesday, I treaded water, as I normally do. Mondays are always supremely hard. On Monday mornings, my friend Cindy texts me things like: Amy, it's 7:45 AM. Time to go to work. Get out of your car and come inside, Amy. Now. And then I sigh and say quietly in my car, "I know. I know." And then I go in. (Teaching poor kids is rewarding in that the kids are my everything...everything else is spiraling me into Dark Nights of the Soul.)

On Thursday, I got home to a package waiting for me. I thought it was a left over order I'd put in for Christmas that had just come WAY late. No! It was a beautiful, silver ring inscribed with my all-time favorite Rumi quote: That which you seek is seeking you. It was from Tanya, a Midwest friend I haven't met in person, but we did a group blog together many years ago--we all challenged ourselves to complete a project that scared the beejezus out of us and wrote about the process together on the blog--and she and I are still in touch today, years later. 

So months ago, T threw up a Facebook post asking for people who'd like to participate in a Pay It Forward thing--7 (or more people) would say yes, and at some point in the year, she'd send each of those 7 (or more) people some kind of gift...and then each person was to put up the same Facebook status so that they could do the same for 7 (or more) people who responded to them. So. Cool. (And that T-dawg actually remembered! And it came at a time when I really needed something like that to fall into my life.) (This is when the Internet connects people and is actually a good networking tool, rather than just the hub for porn and psychos and angry people it usually is.)

I took Friday off for a couple of doctors' appointments, and when I was through, I went to the movies. By myself! And I didn't have to see a movie with animated characters, singing animals, or princesses! It was insanely amazing. I had too, too many choices and basically had to do eenie meenie miney moe. It ended up being between CAKE, THE IMITATION GAME, SELMA, or A MOST VIOLENT YEAR. I was interested in seeing CAKE because Jennifer Aniston was desperate for an Oscar and so she got fat (Jennifer, that's so cliche, but I still think you're lovely and a great actress, and overdue for an Oscar--stupid Hollywood, making its actresses get ugly or fat or play a crazy person before they give them an Oscar)...I wanted to see THE IMITATION GAME because I'd heard good things about it and, apparently, every straight female and gay man in America wants to sleep with Benedict Cumberbatch, and they like to call themselves "Cumberbitches," which the feminist in me just winces at...I wanted to see SELMA because it's a biopic about MLK (who's one of my heroes) and the husband of my sweet friend Angie worked crew on it (he got to drive Oprah around)(and also, I think they have scaffolding from some sets sitting in their driveway now)...and I wanted to see A MOST VIOLENT YEAR because Jessica Chastain is in it, and I will always see movies Jessica Chastain is in since I desperately wish she and I could have a coffee date and become BFFs. 

In the end, THE IMITATION GAME won because the timing worked out. My take away: It was so good! Please go see it, particularly if you're a WW 2 buff and/or technogeek. It's all for you. For me, I took away how important it is that we take care of each other; bullying does nothing to further our species. I cried in two places. Benedict has beautiful eyes and is a really, really good actor. Keira Knightley is gorgeous and talented--I wish people would stop being sarcastic about her (Oscars people, I mean YOU). Governments are full of sons of bitches. War is hell. Nazis, ultimately, were pretty stupid. Human beings can do awful things to one another. Alan Turing was robbed.

Now, for the rest of the weekend: 

I have a mountainous stack of papers to grade. I have other paperwork I need to fill out since Parent-Teacher winter conferences are looming. I need to plan for next week's lessons. We're going to a friend's house to celebrate men in helmets jumping on top of each other (I'm going for the Super Bowl commercials, beer and chips/dip--I simply don't understand sports) (though, for some reason, I think I could potentially kick ass at golf). I need to work on my resume some more. I hate grey, rainy days--yesterday was beautifully sunny and I had 95% more energy. Today it got cloudy and grey and my whole outlook depleted. I may need to invest in an anti-winter darkness light. It is not lost on me that I am winter-born and do not like anything about the winter, except for the occasional snow day here and there. And that's only because I'm a Southerner and it's a novelty; if I were up North, I'd have ten million complaints about snow.

I keep meaning to meditate and then keep forgetting to. I have way too much on my schedule and a needy, clingy 6 year old isn't helping things. On Friday, when I had some time to myself, I just sat in the peace and quiet...have you done that? You should do that. It's hard, especially if you have a brain like mine that refuses to shut up. But I found that if I just breathed deeply and really focused, for a good 10 minutes or so there were no worries; only peace. It was nice.

You know what else is nice? Jeff Bridges. Jeff Bridges just made a music album for insomniacs who want to help kids not be hungry. You can download his Sleeping Music, for whatever you'd like to donate--there is no real price on it--and every single bit of money goes to No Kid Hungry. Isn't that nice? Jeff Bridges is another favorite thespian of mine. But he's also such a lovely, artistic soul--he's a musician, and I think he's also a gifted photographer. (I find that most creative people are gifted in more than one craft or like to dabble in more than one. My friend P is a talented writer and musician...my friend Kat is a talented writer and photographer...most creatives are drawn to anything that creates. Which seems to make sense, in the grand scheme of things.)

Next time I write I will probably be doing some more promoting for several of my favorite thespians (including but not limited to Jason Isaacs...hello to him) because March 5 is coming, and March 5 is when DIG (on USA!) starts. I've been slacking off on my DIG free PR I promised to Jason Isaacs last summer on his Instagram account. This looks like an amazingly amazeballs show that will make you question EVERYTHING. If you don't live in the United States, you will be so sad. So sad! Since you won't get to see it until they put out the DVD for it (I hope they will put out a DVD for it, so other countries can see it). I don't necessarily feel bad about this, since I had to wait to see the BBC's Case Histories series 1 and 2. 

But it does underscore my belief that, because stories connect human beings, there should be no borders when good shows come on the air. We have satellites flying around in outer space right now--I'm sure technology exists that would let whoever, wherever, watch any country's television shows. If I can listen to BBC radio live every Friday, then I should be able to watch BBC television shows live whenever. Join the 21st century, television networks. 

Until that happens, we'll just have to share amongst ourselves, I guess. Be storytelling Resistance Fighters and all that. Channel our inner Alan Turings. Pay it forward. Let Jeff Bridges put us to sleep while we help hungry kids eat. Get plenty of UV Vitamin D rays, wherever we can, in the low winter sun moments. Be unimaginably wonderful and stupid, amazingly brilliant and crazy; find ways to channel our inner Resistance Fighters about pretty much everything. Resist everyone and everything that would like to contain us, keep us within safe borders and tell us who to be, where to go. Let's work on that, focus on it, all of February. Want to?

Here's a picture with something I'm pondering for the week and you can too, if you'd like:

wine & cupcakes: what the hell do i know.

So. I'm having some blogger block issues, and starting to google things like "what to blog about" and "blog topics." And I'm seriously mulling over accepting ideas from mommy bloggers. There are a lot of them. Things like: The One Movie Out Right Now I Absolutely MUST See (what if there are 25 of them?) and My Favorite Thanksgiving Recipes (what if your favorite Thanksgiving recipes come from the deli section of the local supermarket?) and A Guide to Your Hometown (what if you'd like to move out of your hometown?) The Worst Birthday You Ever Had--but be funny! (but what if it still makes you weep?) (Seriously, mine was my 16th birthday and it still makes me weep...I don't remember exactly what happened. Just sitting on my bed, weeping, going: This is my saddest birthday. EVER. And promising myself to never forget that it was my saddest birthday ever, and I haven't forgotten. I've just forgotten WHY it was the saddest).

At any rate: Mommy blogging--I'm cringing here. I don't want to invoke the wrath of any mommy bloggers or anything, because they certainly have a niche and mad props/respect to that. Also god knows, I get some of my best recipe and DIY ideas on Pinterest from them.  And some of them are seriously stupendously amusing and funny--ought to be touring the country, doing stand up, not wiping boogers and butts. And yet. I don't want to be in their ranks. I just don't. I'm sorry, but I don't. 

If it helps any, please know I feel the same about trashy beach romance writing. I was in the public library yesterday checking out books for Miss M and me, and I considered checking out one or two trashy romances, just so I could read and analyze; I hear it can make one quite a lucrative living, if done right. But then I just couldn't. I couldn't! I checked out An Untamed State by Roxane Gay instead; it's more the kind of thing I'd want to write. And sure enough, I was uncomfortable and awed by page 3 and in tears by page 6.  My god, what a story (my god, what a writer).

So mommy blogging and trashy romance novels: I enjoy both from time to time, but it's not my schtick.

(The ironic hypocrisy here is that I started this blog under the guise of a writing blog. A writer writing about writing. And now I only write about writing once in awhile, and about everything else the rest of the time. ........I suspect this is because my blogging is mirroring my writer's life in that it is unfocused, unscheduled, haphazard, and full of distractions like having to attend to the demanding needs of a 6 year old and work a full-time, draining job that involves a lot of having to attend to the demanding needs of a lot of 7-8 year olds. But I digress.)

I do realize I write about my kid now and then, and I do so because she's a humongous part of who I am and my life...but do know: I'm really, really fighting it,  becoming a mommy blogger. My name is Amy. And I am a writer and a teacher and a mom and a woman. Who likes wine and books and cupcakes and naps and indie films and indie books and too much chocolate and traveling and beaches and long hikes and lakes and mermaids and words and telling stories and listening to other people's stories. Being someone's mother really is only 1/10 of who I am. And I'm okay with typing this out loud--partly because I've had 3 glasses of this fabulous Carmenere wine** I found and partly because I think it's really important for women not to become too tied up with other people's ideas of what their identity should be. We are told from an early age "how" little girls should be (and little boys are told "how" they should be...sugar and spice and everything nice etc and so forth) and when I became a mother to a little girl, it became poignantly important to me not to confine her, to set an example for her as to "how" girls should be. And that "how" literally has no definition, ladies. There should be no HOW. For us. You like sports? Go for it. You like pretty pretty princesses? That's all you. You want to wear a tiara while you get your Tai Kwan Do black belt? Go you, girlfriend!

(And by the way, are you asking yourself yet: Hey Amy, what's up with the weekday posts? I thought you only did these on the weekends? Yes, well. I'm on Thanksgiving Break is why, and so I have more energy for writing. Or just drinking a lot of wine. Whatever.)

I am drawn to women. I am drawn to their stories, and what makes women tick in this man-centric world. I am drawn to girls. I am drawn to their stories, and what makes them tick in this boy-centric society. I am drawn to children and animals and the elderly and the mentally ill and the poor, and issues of powerlessness surrounding those groups. I am drawn to social justice, and issues of Race in America. (Why in the world did an innocent young man get gunned down with twelve--TWELVE--bullets, with two policemen standing over his body in the street afterward, doing nothing? When he didn't even have a gun? How does that happen? Knowing all we know in the 21st century, looking back on all the history we have to look back on, how the hell does something like this happen? Every day? All over the place?) How and why do rapists go free? Why do people defend and justify them? Why do people defend and justify racism? Sexism? Why? Why? 

But then. i'm also drawn to cupcakes. And Pinot Noir and Carmenere and a good Riesling, so what the hell do I know? And I'm writing a story about a ghost pirate and a girl who falls in love with him. What the hell do I know. I am not a good person to question why. Most days, at least.

Roxane Gay seems far more knowledgeable about the Why's--you should read her stuff. And go find some mommy blogs! They have some recipes for holiday sangrias that look like they will rock your world. They certainly may rock mine, should I be able to gather myself together and make them.

Okay, done. The end. I think this was totally short and sweet and to the point. Which was that there really was no point. Remember? I'm struggling to write (every day! something...every day), googling things to blog about, so this is what you got. Go make some sangria and figure out how to fix racism in America. Or come up with a kick ass cupcake flavor. Or better yet, help me find a job. (Preferably telling stories. For at least $50K a year, which I don't find too ridiculous as an asking price at all.)

(End Note/Heads Up: I'm considering moving this blog to Wordpress. The reason is going to sound so shallow, and I'm so sorry if you're attached to it now or anything but: holy emojis, I can't take the blinking holiday emojis anymore. Every time I log on here, there they are--the effing holiday emojis. From Halloween still! I mean, you'd think we'd at least get some turkeys or a Santa and elves or something.  But no. No! Still pumpkins and Frankensteins. Can. Not. Take. The blinking emojis anymore. I can X out of them, but it annoys me nonetheless.) (It may take me awhile to switch over though...I'm re-working/updating my resume/s while on break. Seriously, I'm not kidding: does anyone want to hire a shallow sommelier social justice angst-y wannabe? I just need about $50K a year plus healthcare benefits. And 6 weeks of vacation. Sick days not included. Oh, and it has to be in Atlanta. I'd love to be your angst-y social justice empowering sommelier in California wine country, but for personal reasons I can't leave Georgia.)

**I'm not tech savvy enough to know if there's a time stamp to each of my blog posts, but if there is then you're probably going: Amy! You posted this at 6:30 AM! Are you drinking already?! Well, no. Not that I couldn't drink wine at 6:30 AM...if you have to wait until a certain time to drink wine, I've heard that makes you a light weight. But I was not drinking wine at 6:30 AM when I posted this. I wrote this at 11:00 PM the night before, and then uploaded it the following morning. 

Because, okay fine. Fine! I actually am a light weight wine enthusiast.

storytelling truths.

True confession: I was worried when I hit the PUBLISH button on my last entry, the one about why dads matter. I worried I was opening up a whole can of worms; I didn't know if the essay would upset anyone, or if they would think bad things about my dad, or bad things about me for revealing some of his darker demons and the effect they had on me as a child and, later, a grown up.

But (I thought as I clicked PUBLISH), screw it. Honesty matters to me. I find it important to be open and willing to share what is or was true for me. (This is why storytellers tell stories, you know...because they can't NOT do it, but also because they're consummate observers of Life and Humanity. It's a deep, dark need to understand and know and puke out some type of catharsis...I think.)

My dad was a lovely, wonderful, really good guy. He also struggled with some inner turmoil. I know a lot of people are really lovely, wonderful, good guys who maybe have some inner turmoils; I know a lot of people out there maybe know some lovely, wonderful people who they're watching struggle with inner turmoils right now. It's nice to read something, or hear someone speak a truth, and have your soul recognize theirs, experience a common affinity, an understanding. (I call this: Finding Tribe.) (You can't steal that--I'm working on the trademark.)

Also, please know: I couldn't have written that blog entry were he still alive today; his story was and is a lesson for me, but also for people who didn't know him at all, and that's all very true because his story happens to have an ending, and it was the kind of ending we can all walk away from in agreement about (i.e., the themes of: Don't Wait, Don't Build Walls). Also know that I'm an incredibly different person today simply because he's not here; I don't have to worry about pleasing him or disappointing him, two things I spent my entire childhood and young adulthood really really focused on. (In fact, still struggle with people pleasing and extreme conflict avoidance. Hurrah, Dad, thanks!) Here's the whole point to this blog entry (I do have one): Truth-telling in stories and essays and blogs and other places is important and it's important because:

1-People were touched by what I wrote. Homies (who HAVE to tell you things like this, if they're really your homies) told me I need to send that shit somewhere besides blogger and facebook. One person (a relative) is currently setting aside money to buy my first novel (because seriously, where would we be without supportive family members? They're our first fan club presidents).

2-More important than all of number 1? I had at least 2 people contact me privately after that blog entry to say thank you for writing it, that it really moved them, and they wanted to reach out with some of their own struggles, and--you know--basically connect with me. Connections were made.

And therein lies the power of Story.

It's really important to be honest--with and to yourself, with and to other people, and cling to Truth as much as you can. When you tell a story, be it an essay of a personal nature (like my dad's), or a work of fiction, it's important to be honest. I actually think it's harder to be honest in fiction, because you'll need to weave the truth into the story threads. I'll give an example: I've been re-reading a really wonderful story by a novelist friend of mine called THE LIGHTNING CHARMER (highly recommend! Kathryn Magendie writes incredibly rich, well-developed characters--she's a master) (also there's a lot of hot (tastefully hot) sex in this book and, uh, it's summer and summer's a good time for that soooo....wait, what? is that an OCTOPUS behind you?? Watch out!)

What's that? Nothing was behind you? Huh, weird. Wow, sorry. My bad. Where was I? Right. Truth. Story. At so many points, I'm being gut punched by a casual observation, or a memory, made by a character in Kat's book. A thought voiced by a character will resonate so powerfully in me, I have to stop and get a pen, underline that thought, because it crystallized something for me, or I identified so strongly with it...it spoke to me.

Stories are essentially all about connections. They bind people. They soften our hearts, heal our wounds, make us think, push us to change, or encourage us to start (or not give up). That's where stories connect us all, as a species. Doesn't that make you deliriously happy to be a human being? To know that our people brains have been given the magical power to do that with, to, and for one another? It makes me so happy. Kangaroos certainly don't WHUPOW! each other. I mean, they do. Just not via stories. ('Cause, uh, they...use...their feet. To WHUPOW! each other. And you too, if you get too close. ...............Never mind. Kangaroos are probably not good metaphors.)

In other Official News of a Personal Nature:

Miss M is now officially a REAL Mermaid ("Mommy! I'm learning to be like Ariel! Aren't you so happy?") Of course, my love! Who the hell doesn't want to be Ariel's mommy?? Just stop singing those frickin' songs from FROZEN, and we'll be copacetic.

Seriously, it's like some wonderful, weird fairy godmother wand waved over her, and she can't NOT be underwater now. She's like Rush Limbaugh swimming naked in a sea of Viagra and loose women. (I'm sorry. I so apologize about that. You weren't eating, were you? Just go back to the mermaid theme.)