Help Me Learn a New Trick

Goal: Watch TV. No, I mean it this time. 

Around the time I graduated from high school I more or less stopped watching TV. I can't put my finger on exactly when or why; I was just not interested. I think that I have a problem with empathy, like I can't turn it off. When I see slapstick in sitcoms I can't help feeling terribly uncomfortable when Person A is about to do something incredibly embarrassing. This might be why I stopped watching, or it could be an effect of not watching TV for so many years.

So, I'm writing a book. I actually finished writing a novelette and now I'm working on another Work in Progress. I'm about 19 thousand words in, and I just laid out a simple plan to get me through the rest of it. I find it much easier to write this way – with an outline. It allows me to work in production mode better. It's kind of like cooking: I like having a recipe at hand, gathering all of the ingredients around me and then getting started. That way, when I'm cooking, I'm just cooking. If I have an outline, then when I'm writing I'm just writing.

That paragraph did nothing to further the purpose of this blog entry and I should take it out. But, I probably won't.

My point, and I do have one, is that I have connected with some people who are successfully writing in this new digital age and one thing that they talk about is... connecting with people on social media. This way you can build a brand and an audience base, so that if and when you are ready to publish, you already have a following. Brilliant idea. And, one of the ways that they encourage people to connect with others is through the strategic use of hashtags, particularly on Twitter. And, one of the recommendations they have for hashtags on twitter is the name of TV shows that you like, because nothing connects a group of people like talking about a TV show that they are watching, especially at the beginning of  the work day in the office before the manager arrives.

This puts me at a bit of a disadvantage. Saying, "I don't watch TV" will only connect you to a handful of people, and of those people probably only one is worth talking to on a regular basis. I'm kind of missing out on a really good way to connect with people, because probably 99% of the population watches TV and enjoys it. I work hard to find other ways to connect, but maybe I should work smarter and not harder. 

I have had some failed attempts recently to watch shows. There were a couple that legitimately sounded interesting – that were, in fact, interesting. I wasn't uncomfortable watching them and I enjoyed them. But, after so many years of not sitting in front of a television set, I just didn't really have the habit of doing so. It kind of takes some planning or discipline.

One of the shows I wanted to watch was on PBS – Wolf Hall.  I love the intrigue – people vying for positions, calculating their options and either winning or losing in a heated political climate. I watched two episodes and then I never seemed to find myself at home at the right time to finish. I don't have a way to record shows because I don't subscribe to any cable services. That would be unreasonably expensive for somebody who hoped one day to sit down and watch A show and probably wouldn't get around even to that. There's always the option of streaming it after the fact, but I never got around to that, either. (I hear people talking about how many shows they have recorded and when are they going to get around to watching them. All of you; ALL of you do this. I'm not alone in this aspect.) And, that was that.

The other show I wanted to watch was based on a novel that I love called American Gods. It was an amazing novel and when I heard they were making  a series of it, I couldn't wait. I connected with a few people about this. Then, the day came and it was airing. Except, that it wasn't on any station or website. I couldn't even stream it through Amazon. The only way I could watch it was to subscribe to Starz streaming service. I thought about it, and decided that it would be worth it. I saw the first episode and I don't want to admit how many months I paid Starz without ever even launching the app again. But, that first episode was everything I wanted it to be. They did a wonderful job of translating the novel into video. The characters were real, the acting was spot on, the cinematography was captivating... they did a spectacular job. But, clearly sitting in front of a computer scrolling Facebook and reading books is more my style than watching a show on TV that I absolutely love.

I keep saying that I'm going to get my life together. It hasn't quite happened yet.

So now, I try again. I could always go watch Wolf Hall or American Gods, but that's not going to connect me with people. And, I'm not going to be insincere. If I don't like a show, I'm not going to continue watching just to be able to talk to people about it. No, I have to learn to watch television, to stick with it, to discipline myself to see it through from beginning to end. 

I've looked through PBS's Masterpiece offerings. I could do better watching mainstream shows, but I probably wouldn't like them. Poldark looks interesting, and it's in the second season. I would probably have enjoyed Downton Abbey, and that might still be an option. People are still talking about it. (From what I understand the series has ended. This understanding comes from me having done absolutely no research and is solely based on intuition – listening to the world discuss shows. There is a different tone once a series has ended.) Sherlock seems to still be playing. Death Comes to Pemberley and Endeavor are also promising. Of course, these might all be reruns for all I know. I'm not even sure how to tell the difference.

I've often looked back and regretted not watching a show while it was going. X-Files was amazing, from the outsider's point of view. People got together, made hats and tee-shirts that said things like, "Trust No One" and "What Would the Cigarette Smoking Man Do?" And, I didn't discover how fascinating the show Lost was until its final season. All I could think was, 'Man, I really missed out'. A coworker offered to lend me her collection – she owned all of the seasons in DVD. (By the way, don't ever do this. I suck at returning movies.) But, I missed more than just the show. I missed the phenomenon that was being a part of a society that was watching this story unfold. (And, this was before I even wanted to connect with people for professional reasons.) I can't get that back. I can try with another show, but I missed out on that one.

So, here is my plea. You, my faithful readers, do you have any suggestions? I'm flailing in a sea of content and I have no idea where to turn. Do you have any ideas of shows that I might enjoy – PBS or otherwise? I promise to stick to it this time, to see it through. But, I need help. What are some shows that I might like, that also other people might like and that might help me be a part of a group? What are you watching, and how do you feel about it? Do you discuss it with coworkers or friends?

Thank you in advance for your recommendations.

Here We Go Again

I'm not much of a movie critic. For about the past 5 to 10 years I've seen one move per year on average. This year is different, though. We've seen several movies in the past few weeks, and our plan is to see them frequently. For two weeks in a row we've seen a movie on Sunday – the same movie as a matter of fact.

Mamma Mia, Here We Go Again

I kind of rolled my eyes when I saw that they had done a sequel. Sequels tend to be money grabs and cheapen the original work of art. I liked Mamma Mia the movie, and it bothered me that they might be selling out.

I no longer feel this way. This movie is everything it needed to be, and more. No spoilers intended, but it's a rather melancholy work. We find out in the opening that Donna, Meryl Streep's character, has died. Her presence is felt throughout the entire show, and so is her loss. But, like the first movie there is a lot of singing and dancing and good times, food and drink and happiness all over the place.

It begins with Sophie reopening the new and improved hotel in Donna's honor. The movie flips back and forth in time, showing us the younger characters, and then back to the present, which is a few years later than the closing of the first movie. Young Donna, Tanya and Rosie are just graduating college (research indicates that this would be 1979, but I don't know how they know that unless they are peeking into the screenplay) and we meet Young Harry, Bill and Sam as the movie progresses.

Barry and I first saw Mamma Mia, HWGA with a group of friends in a fancy theater that has a bar and serves food while you watch the movie. (Having a drink before Mamma Mia is very appropriate. They are drinking almost as much as in Book Club.) It was during the number, "One of Us" that I first got misty-eyed. This sort of behavior continued and increased in frequency and intensity as the movie progressed.

Let me back up a little, though. The young Donna is beautiful and I can't keep from thinking about her. The actress is Lily James and she is amazing. One of my friends mentioned that she was impressed that not all of the actors and actresses were thin, perfectly-shaped models. I suppose that's true, but in my humble opinion the Young Donna is about as close to a perfect shape as it can get. She's not thin, but she's not fat, either. She's like a gymnast when she dances and the image of it is imprinted on my mind. 

The numbers were more like those that I remember from the stage performance. Professional dancers filled the screen, all happy and bouncing around and it just makes you feel good. The first dance scene is when we first see Young Donna; she's graduating from college and she surprises the attendees by breaking into a song and dance routine with Tanya and Rosie. All of the students join in as background dancers – not entirely unlike the Greek chorus that we saw in the original Mamma Mia, the Movie. And, when Donna first meets Harry and he breaks into Waterloo in a Parisian restaurant, backed up by all of the staff. We see a lot of cinematographic playfulness. (The New Yorker's review of the movie puts all of this quite nicely and intelligently.) Two young people in a restaurant in Paris, a dance scene with all of the waiters and waitresses dancing back-up and support, encouraging them in their romantic endeavors... how could a person not be happy while watching that?

Well, because as we see Donna search, explore Europe and her life and meet the men who we already know are the three possible fathers of her daughter, we are aware that back in the Present Sophie is struggling with the loss of her mother – the same Donna we see developing. The specter of her death is all over the movie. And, seeing her find the farmhouse on the (imaginary) Greek island of Kalokairi, we know how it ends for her.

Maybe it's just me. I lost my father last year and a Very Special Cat this year, so I'm a little delicate. All through the movie I wanted to sing along to the songs, but even during the ones that are happy, I felt a tightening pain in my throat when I tried to sing, and I had to stop. This only increased the second time I saw it. (That would be this morning.) I shall have to see it three or four more times and keep trying to sing along. It really is a feel-good movie.

I have a couple of valuable take-aways from this movie. First and foremost, live life to its fullest. Take chances and don't be afraid to be hurt. Relish being hurt because you'll probably never feel quite as alive as you do then. Learn where your natural talents and interests lie and go for them 100%. I felt the first inklings of this concept after the first time I visited New Orleans. I was going to pursue fine art and be famous. I was going to be out there – Earnie with an exclamation point. Then I remembered that I had adult responsibilities and a job and all of that faded and I went back to work and drowned. I resurfaced a few years later with the help of this blog.

The second take-away is sort of silly by comparison, but it bears mentioning. The second thing that I got out of this fabulous movie is to be reminded of how impressionable I am. When I had the flu (decades ago) I was on the sofa watching TV, and I craved pizza like nobody's business. I had been subjected to I-don't-know how many types of pizza commercials, over and over, and although I couldn't even eat a scrambled egg, I really, really wanted... needed a pizza. And, after watching this movie the first time I really, really need... rings. On my fingers. One or two fingers, not sure.

I felt this after the first time we saw it, and now after the second time, there is no doubt. The feeling did not fade, the need only grew stronger. Mind you, this is a need, not just a want. I cannot be the Rather Earnest Painter without pursuing my passions and right now having a ring on my hands is a blinding passion. Barry showed me his ring, which he was wearing, when we got out of the movie. I haven't seen him wear that thing in years. Clearly he felt the same thing. Fortunately, we have a lot of friends who are artists. Unfortunately, they probably wouldn't be thrilled with seeing me show up on their doorstep at 10PM asking to see their inventory. This is how much I need a ring in my life right now.

So, go see this movie. Let it inspire you. Let it make you happy and sad and let it make you feel alive. And dance.

A Cat Named Carmela

Today my heart, my muse, my friend left this world. Carmela, my first cat, came to me during the bemol Ardiente that inspired this blog in the first place. I was a lonely mess and she was a desolate, abandoned kitten. We kept each other company, and after all this time with her, I just finished the first draft of a novelette – one in which Carmela is the protagonist.

This morning before I went to work I stopped by Carmela's patch of grass. Barry has let it grow because Carmela, having lived outside for the past few months, had taken a liking to the soft grass bed. I'm not certain why she chose to live outside. Something called to her. I've always let my cats out in the mornings and evenings to sniff around and frolic, but a few months ago I couldn't keep her inside. And when she was indoors, she just sat by the door looking out, waiting for it to open so she could escape. She'd always loved to watch through windows, but this was different. I could feel that she needed to be out there, and she wasn't willingly going to spend another minute inside.

So, I began taking food to her on the back step, and Barry soon followed suit. We fell into this routine fairly easily. Every time she saw me or Barry, she'd come trotting up and we'd give her food. She had her choice of canned food and kibble; she would nibble on each in turn. She still liked me well enough; she just knew how she wanted to live. She even let me pet her more. (She was never really one for physical contact.) I didn't understand her need to change, but I understood that this was truly what she wanted, so we accommodated. I worried, but she didn't. She was happy.

A couple of months ago, after a rainy spell, the grass in the back yard began to grow and she found her heaven lying in its thick bed. Because she like it, Barry didn't cut that spot of grass (the prime spot in the shade) when he mowed the back yard and it got longer and thicker. Throughout the day she'd come to the steps to eat and then go lie back down in her bed. Periodically she would stand up and move a few inches to lie on fresh grass, leaving the place where she had lain exposed all the way to the roots, and allowing it to fill in again. She stayed under the house during the hottest part of the day. I was concerned, but seeing her so happy made me happy. She had enough sense to get out of the heat, she came to the back door when she wanted food and she'd lie around the yard the rest of the time, mostly in her grass. What more could an old lady cat ask for?

When she was much younger, though already a grown cat, I thought she was lonely so I adopted another kitten. I couldn't have been more wrong if I'd tried. Popular opinion is that people should let their pets choose them, rather than us trying to choose our pets. I can see how allowing providence to handle that part of our lives could be the better choice. Situations like what I went through would sort themselves out before we had a chance to mess them up. But, what was done was done, so Carmela and I lived with Anastasia from then on. At first they hated each other; eventually a truce of sorts settled among them. I don't know quite how to describe it, it was like having two separate cats... there was no interaction between them. They each pretended that the other didn't exist, and if they stumbled upon one another while wandering around the house, they were shocked and hissy. So, rather than having two cats, I had one cat and one cat. 

Last week I noticed that Carmela hadn't appeared at the back step so I took food to her at her grassy bed. I had to stand there with her while she ate and then take the bowl away, because if we left the bowl there it would be invaded by ants, and we didn't want ants all over Carmela. So I stood in attendance while she sniffed and lapped up the gravy from the canned food, and when she finished and began to turn in circles to lie back down I would collect the bowl, pet her on the head and neck and then walk away, leaving her to her soft place in the shade. Petting her hurt my heart a little because she was thin – very very thin. I could feel her back bones, and she kind of loved it when I rubbed them. But, she was content, more than I'd ever seen her in her life. The other cats that live in the back yard benefited greatly from this feeding arrangement because they got to eat the actual food from the can.

Carmela didn't always like canned food. For years she would only eat kibble. When she first came to live with me she was so young that her claws were still soft and wouldn't penetrate skin. She had the attitude and the instinct of self-preservation, though. If I even tried to add more food to her bowl she'd let out an adorable little growl and her tiny little paw with its itty bitty soft claws would slap my hand away, guarding her food. But, only the dry cat food. She might sniff the canned food, but then she'd walk away.

Carmela letting us know that she's ready to be fed any time we are

She learned to trust me with her food dish, but years would go by before she showed any interest in canned food. 

When I adopted Raku, the tension in the home calmed down a bit. Carmela still acted like she was the only cat in the house, but Anastasia had her hands full of kitten and didn't have time to passively-aggressively make another cat's life difficult. Carmela didn't even mind accidentally coming face-to-face with Anastasia as she walked around the side of the sofa. It was as if this were no longer her problem.

This afternoon when I arrived home from work, about the same time as Barry, we saw her next to the house. She was lying on her side and Barry confirmed that she had died. It was as if she had been coming out from under the house toward her bed of grass when she finally breathed her last. Seeing her like that broke my heart, but from everything I can see, she had been happy. I remember thinking that it should be illegal for a cat to be as happy as she was lying in her grass. Plus she got food at the back door any time she wanted to walk by. When she became too weak she even received room service from the two of us. Barry told me that at lunch she had not gotten up to eat. I knew that she was getting weaker and clearly skinnier. She resembled a fox the last few days. One is never happy finding a loved one has died, and a pang of guilt and sadness hit my stomach. She hadn't made it to her happy place in the grass. Maybe I should have taken her to the vet and had her pumped full of fluids, even though that would have made her miserable. These were things I thought of when I saw her lying pitifully on the ground.

Barry gave me an old towel to wrap her in and asked me to lay her on the floor in the studio - out of the heat. Then he took me to the cemetery where all of his cats have been buried. (And my betta fish named Ella Minnow Pea.) He let me pick out a spot for Carmela and then asked me to pour a couple of buckets of water on the ground there so that we'd be able to dig later. After I did that, I went into the studio and sat with Carmela and shared a drink with her. I tried to clear my mind and ask her if she had been happy. I still felt a little guilty for not rushing her to the vet every week for fluids and medicine. But, the feeling I got in that moment was not guilt or regret. The image of her sleeping in her grass kept coming to my mind, and her eating when she wanted, what she wanted and where she wanted. Nobody got on her nerves in the back yard, nobody challenged her or tried to take her spot. 

Carmela in her terry cloth shroud

Finally, the evening cooled and Barry and I started working on her grave. The ground was still a little hard and it was still a little warm. Tall grass had grown over the cemetery and we had to cut it back where we wanted to dig. We even had to snip back some saplings. We took turns digging, trying to get deep enough and wide enough to fit a small animal. Finally it looked like we had gone deep enough. (That or we got tired of digging the ground that was rock-hard from the Central Texas summer heat. The water I put on the ground only soaked in so much.)

I went to the studio and gathered Carmela up in her terry cloth shroud and picked up her favorite toy - the one she's had her entire life. Holding her in my arms like a small child, I carried her to the field behind the house, behind the storage shed, to the place were animals here come to their final rest. I bent down and got on my knees, and the smell of earth greeted my face like a cool breeze. It was much darker now and I could only see shapes and silhouettes. The moon wasn't bright enough this time to illuminate our work. Gently, I laid her in the ground and tucked her toy in with her. She used to carry that funky mouse around all over the house, especially at night. Right before she moved outside she would take her toy to the door and meow loudly. Maybe she wanted to play with the cats outside; I don't know. But, I know she loved her little toy stuffed with cat nip, so I tucked it in with her and we covered her with earth. We stacked cinder blocks on top of her to keep anything from trying to dig her out. She was laid to rest in the family cemetery, next to Butterbean. 

Now, my life continues. My father passed away about a year ago and he had been adamant for years that he didn't want to be in the hospital. He died in my sister's home, in his own bed, surrounded by family. That's what I thought of when Carmela moved outside. It's what I continued to think of as she grew skinnier and more frail. Yes, I could have taken her to the doctor and she might have lived a few more months, or even years. Who knows? But, she wouldn't have been so very happy. She wouldn't have had the charmed existence that she so deserved after a long life of putting up with me and two other cats. She loved me in her way. It wasn't a touchy-feely kind of way, but she loved me and thanked me daily for her back yard, for her grass and her food. And, I loved her, and thanked her for showing me what true happiness looks like.

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Carmela in the Grass

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Carmela Eating

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Carmela and her Toy

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Family Grave

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Carmela's Patch of Grass

Money Clip Journeys

I have recently posted on social media my money clip in different settings. Money Clip, like my Pendant, has had coffee with me, has been to restaurants and other places. (Money Clip is always with me, but we just decided to leave a photographic history.) Both Money Clip and Pendant are creative works by Barry Perez. 

We were in Target the other day and Money Clip was inspired. It wanted more from life than to just hold cash and credit cards. Money Clip wanted to be pretty. I told it that it's always pretty, but it would not be assuaged. So I took a chain off of another one of my Barry pendants and fed it through Money Clips' opening and asked it which mannequin it wanted to be on. Money Clip chose this one. 

Sometimes you have to listen to your belongings. I had no idea Money Clip was so beautiful, but it really does stand out nicely here. What are your thoughts?

Close up of a happy Money Clip in drag

Poor Hungry Cat

How can this poor creature expect to survive if the owners of the house only put out kibble? And canned food? But, won't refill the canned food bowl when she has consumed all of the gravy and is left only with chunks of meat? Starvation is imminent.