my partner in crime

He's cute, smart, funny, witty, and Greek. . . and now he even has his own blog, aptly titled, "Blog is a silly word."

Check out Alex's brand spankin' new blog -

http://alexanderkblog.blogspot.com

Read! Comment!

Enjoy =)

e-mails and my health

The act of writing is an act of optimism. You would not take the trouble to do it if you felt it didn't matter.
- Edward Albee

Contrary to what some people might think, I don’t write e-mails for my own enjoyment, I don’t write them because I am bored, and I most certainly do not write them because they make me feel better.

Rather, I write e-mails because there is something that I am trying to convey to another person, and in that respect, I expect to get e-mails in response.

Does it happen? Sometimes – but considering the simplicity of sending e-mails, that’s not often enough.

The worst is when you send someone an e-mail for work-related matters, for instance, and you don’t get a response. So maybe you’ll give it a few days, factor in that they’re probably busy with other pressing matters, but by the third day, you need to call to find out what happened.

Sure enough, not only did the person read the e-mail, but they also knew the answer to your question, answered it, and took the e-mail off their to-do list… only problem is they never told you!!

Or let’s see you e-mail a friend, and two – three weeks go by without a response. Maybe something happened, maybe they don’t want to talk, maybe your e-mail insulted their mother.

All these things go through your head, and then one day, you see them, and you mention The E-mail.

What does said person say? “Oh yeah, I read it… that’s sounds like a good idea.”

Oh my god!!

E-mails aren’t phone calls, people. I admit, my phone etiquette is not winning any awards, but I've never, ever enjoyed talking on the phone. When I was in middle school, I remember my best friend calling me one day after school "to talk" - a concept that baffled me considering I had seen him only a few hours earlier and would see him the next day. Unless friends were calling me with specific questions, plans, agendas, answers, I didn't see the point.

Many years later, I've learn to adapt somewhat socially, and now I can talk on the phone with relatively feigned ease. I've been known to return phone calls now and then. Imagine that.

Just about the only people I call back on a consistent basis are Alex, my sisters, and my parents.

Those also happen to be the same people that I don’t usually send pressing e-mails, too. So therefore, I have to speak with them on the phone. They're also the only people who would probably erupt in a panic if they didn't hear from me for more than a day. So necessity dictates, for everyone's well-being, that I have to call them back. Plus, I like them, so that helps.

Conclusion – if you don’t e-mail me back within an acceptable timeframe (one week is generous, but I’ll give you two weeks at most), you’re going on my list.

pirates of the caribbean – at world’s end. . . if only we could forget

* spoiler alert - kind of *

Of all the people that would have tried the hardest to really like Pirates III, I would have been top on the list.

When people tried to step on Pirates II, I stood up for it, explaining that much of what we didn’t get would be explained in Pirates III.

I, of all people, who scoff at critics and shun film-going pessimists, was fully expecting to have a ridiculously, inexplicably, undeniably good time at Pirates III.

That, my friends, even such a simple expectation, was a stretch.

Besides the fact that my allergies decided to wage full-scale war on my sinuses from the moment I sat down in the theater, I thought I would be okay. If my health had to suffer through a great movie, so be it – the pain would be worth it.

Or so I thought.

Thirty minutes into the movie, I was confused. One hour into the movie, I was bewildered. And when the only steady female in the movie was named a captain because of no logical reason whatsoever, I threw my hands up in desperation.

Not to mention that she was named captain by the pirate captain played by Chow Yun-Fat. You know, the guy on the movie poster. The newcomer. The added star power. Yeah – he didn’t even survive to see any major battles. His death scene wasn’t even memorable. In a movie where everybody escapes near-death moments about twenty times before getting even nicked, it was downright ridiculous.

So yeah, then there were the plot lines that everyone laughed at in Pirates II. Remember all those unexplained explanations and semi-completed trains-of-thought that we were so sure would be neatly wrapped up in Pirates III?

They kind of explained 1/3 of them, further complicated the rest of them, and added on about 50 more!! Just to prove to you how much of a letdown it was – remember the whole Davy Jones love affair that was hinted at with the voodoo jungle lady? That never, ever reached any sort of closure, except for the fact that now we know that the voodoo jungle lady – who, despite the fact that I couldn’t catch half of her lines, I thought was a nice touch – was actually the goddess Calypso. That’s it!!

Then there was Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow. The man whose image I have immortalized on one wall of my room. The guy who reawakened the love for pirates that I had when I was a child and used to watch Gilbert and Sullivan’s Pirates of Penzance over and over and over again. I used to listen to the soundtrack a lot, too. (Yes, I was a dork, but at least I was a dork well-versed in operettas.)

No doubt about it, Captain Jack Sparrow was in the movie. And so was Jack Sparrow. And Jack Sparrow. And Jack Sparrow again. And again.

At several points in the movie there were 15 Jack Sparrows onscreen at once. And when it first happened, I went along with it – but when Jack Sparrow popped out of Jack Sparrow’s dreadlocks, that’s when my amusement started to wane.

It was kind of like the following (quoting Alex): You just saw a really great boxing match. You go back for another one, promised that it will be just as great. What do you find? A boxing match – with more boxers, fighting with bigger boxing gloves.

It doesn’t work.

One also couldn’t help but notice that a lot of characters were a lot of things. If you were a British soldier in the first one, you were a soldier-turned-pirate now. If you were a pirate then, you could be one of the barnacle pirates from Davey Jones’ ship now. If you were a bad guy then, you were a good guy now. If you were a damsel in distress then, you were suddenly this amazingly skilled pirate warrior – with no real explanation as to how that happened.

Did I mention Keira Knightley was made a pirate captain?

The worst part about it all was that it could have been great. It could have been excellent. The opening scene, for example, was awesome. I’ll watch that again. There were many scenes that were just brilliant – everything we loved about the first film and then some. Exciting. Creepy. Funny. Dark. Strange. Visually stunning. Everything you look for in a good pirate movie.

The rest of the movie did not live up to the opening scene. It wasn’t, silly as it sounds, believable. Even if I didn’t understand it, they could have at least made me care about it. Were there funny scenes? Yes. Were some scenes very enjoyable? Yes. Did the special effects work? Yes. Will Jack Sparrow remain on my wall? Yes.

Regardless, you can’t build a movie on good scenes. It really felt like 25 writers wrote the movie, then threw all their scripts into a big, fat Hollywood, creativity-sucking blender, and out poured Pirates III.

Will I pretend that Pirates III was worth it? No.

So for that reason I am petitioning that we forget II and III ever happened. As far as I’m concerned, Captain Barbossa is dead, Elizabeth and Will Turner are off getting married and retaining all the respect I had for them as pirates-in-training, and Captain Jack is sailing off into movie history.

Remember when it was all so simple – the search for cursed gold, undead pirate crews, epic battle scenes, and one adventurous, entertaining, and memorable Jack Sparrow?

Yeah, I remember. . .