Happy Endings

I’ve been a proponent of watching movies by myself for the past year. Not many of my friends are into foreign films or art house films. Thats ok. I go to the theater alone.

Last night, however, my roomate David showed me something so obvious, so basic, about watching and experiencing art that I must question my theater-going.

One of the big reasons that I loved Aronofsky’s The Wrestler was its ending. It was nothing new or groundbreaking, but then again, nothing about the film was. Instead, it followed many other recent masterpieces by rolling the credits before a full resolution or denouement. We get the climax, feel good (or bad) and leave the theater.

And I loved The Wrestler because of its happy ending. Randy “The Ram” ends the movie (and his life?) doing what he loves. Flying. Wrestling. Bringing smiles to the faces of the people he cares the most about, his fans.

I truly believe that we are entering, slowly, a decade of beautiful and hopeful art. I thought, after watching Rourke’s brilliance fly over the camera in the last scene, that this depressing story’s happy ending was heralding this shift in art. I still think it was.

But David didn’.

He was saddened by the ending. He called it depressing. He sat on the couch and stared at the screen the way you would after watching this movie.

He wasn’t inspired.

David and I discussed (something you cant do after doing theater-solo) about the happiness and sadness of the ending. I enjoyed it, and saw it as hopeful because Randy chooses what he loves, fans and performance, over the other things in his life, even if they are better (family and love). David disagreed– though he chose what he loved, they were fake things: a fake performance anchored on a fake persona.

Where I loved the movie for showing a man doing what he loved, David was disappointed that the man lived and loved a lie.

If we are happy, does it matter that we believe in a lie? The Wrestler probes this question. It’s about truth. And love. And the ability for both of these things to exist out side of the other.

I suck at arguing. A self-righteous blog.

Last week my friend Chris pointed out something funny. I knew it, but I loved that someone else had noticed.

While our mutual friend Robby and I were in the middle of our usual quasiconservative-quasiliberal banter, Chris noted that every time Robby stated a fact I told a joke.  Chris didn’t just recognize my inability to form a sensible argument.  He noticed my inability to tell funny jokes and inappropriate times.

Great.

I know that I’m not a good arguer. I’m one of the worst I know. I could probably lose an argument to this guy.

Is my joke-telling rhetoric based on a lack of doing research? Having no opinions? Ignorance?  No. In fact, the topic that Robby and I were “discussing,” the economy, is one subject about which I am very knowledgeable.

Instead, and if I can toot my own horn for just a second, I think that I tend to value other people’s opinions far more than I should. I remember times that I have let friend’s [wrong and harmful] opinions about me shape my self-identity. I remember a time in which a friend’s [ignorant] political agenda misinformed me in a major way. Believing people and following their opinions, based solely on friendship and mutual respect, can be a dangerous thing. I don’t cling very strongly to any of the opinions that I do have. I hate admitting that someone I love, someone I respect, could ever be wrong. I just don’t want to admit it. If two friends, both ones that I respect, tell me opposing viewpoints, my natural reaction is to find truth in both of their opinions. That’s the way I roll.

Basically, I tend to believe anything said by the people that I respect. Instead, I need to respect myself for having opinions and belief. Once this is accomplished I can respect my friends for believing and following truth.

The Greatest Car of All Time

Fact: My 2001 Ford Mustang is on its 3rd front bumper and second rear one.

Fact: My 2001 Ford Mustang has a duct-taped side view mirror.

Fact: I lit my car on fire.

Last weekend was the greatest in my life. For the first time I learned that life can be as fun as video games. Gran Turismo can suck it.

I did this drive: View Larger Map

While on this drive, one that features 70 miles of non-stop sea cliff driving. I went fast. I took corners at 60 mph that should have been taken at 6. I hit 90 miles per hour and drove corners with my tach at 5k RPM’s. My mustang roared. I realized that I own the greatest car ever made. Why?

200 horses. 225 ft-lbs torque. Rear wheel drive. All of this is good. Nice, even. But when driven flat out, on the greatest (arguably) driving road in the country, I netted 26 miles-per-gallon.

I have to admit. I can appreciate good cars. I’m a fan of the exotic. I can keep up with gear heads… sometimes. I never thought too much about my car until this weekend. I bought my car in 2001 for less than a Camry or Kia. Less than just about any new car. I wasn’t being economical. I wanted the mustang. I’m just sayin.

None of these cars, however green, trendy or convenient that they may be, could have handled the PCH the way I did… and get 26 MPG while doing it.

What blew me away was my car’s economic performance while I was turning it loose. I drove flat out for 70 miles and got over 310 miles in my tank. I was blown away

The PCH, between Cambria and Monterey, is a two lane highway dug on the side of a sea cliff. Thats it. I wanted to do the drive because I’ve never tested my car. Sure, classic Mustangs with the 289 were legit, but I’m driving the affordable one. The everyman’s ponycar, right? Guilty. But this didn’t keep me from taking a corner so fast that I had to, for the first time, keep my hands at ten-and-two. Thank you, Sears driving school.

And yes, there was one moment that I thought I was going to die. Illustrative anecdote:

One corner, in which I was ascending a hill and turning right, I invoked all 200 horses. They replied to my beckoning. Unfortunately, I turned a bit too quickly and started to skid to the outside. Just as another car turned the corner.

I’d like to say that I compensated and avoided him. Or that I was skilled enough to miss him. I didn’t and I wasn’t. I was lucky and missed him by about eight inches.

I then screamed like a seven-year-old girl. And I did so for the next 68 of the greatest miles of my life.

Instant gratification

I’m just going to assume that you watched nick at nite. Who didn’t? I love that the “adult programming” on a childrens network allowed the shows made for parents in their childhood to become influential again. Or something.

Anyway, about twice a year nick at nite had “instant gratification Sundays.” they would show a cliff-hanger episode and, following the doom-ridden phrase “to be continued,” would show the concluding episode next. Bam. Instant gratification.

If there’s something that I have to have, it’s instant gratification. I can’t stand pre-ordering movie or sport tickets. I’d rather wait in line nine hours. And I have.

I don’t really like committing to things to early, either. If I’m going to commit, it will be with about eight seconds notice.

I’m not sure what is so gratifying about living in and for the moment, but I think it’s a rock in our culture. We’d rather not save; we can get what we want with credit cards. We’d rather not invest in a community; instead we flip our houses after a year.

It’s interesting to note: at starbucks I just paid six dollars and walked away with nothing. My coffee was in the que and my sandwich in the oven.

A teacher once told me that the reason that kids have kids never want to go to bed stems from the adolescent inability to think abstractly. They struggle to grasp the concept of tomorrow’s impending birth. Instead, they have a feeling towards sleep that would be similar to an adult believing that they would die after they laid down to sleep.

Our (my) need for instant gratification might come from an innate fear of the instability of tomorrow. It’s true that we don’t really know what’s going to happen tomorrow. But if we are pretty sure that it’s coming, and that we will live to see it, wouldn’t it be wise to make the preparations that would make it a bright future? One that we have prepared for?

Even if it takes a little work, it might be worth it to do the hard, non-gratifying thing.. I’m not sure what that looks like. Maybe it means saving. Or reading. Or going back to school. Investing in others. Praying.

Whatever it is, I’m probably going to suck at it. Changing my natural, culture-created, response won’t be easy. But maybe someday, in the future, I might look back and be glad I did.

The Other Two

A few days ago I unveiled the list of my 8 favorite movies from last year. After creating that list I realized that I meant to add one that didn’t make it. I also watched another film from 2008 that deserves to be on the list. So I’m going to add two more to the list to make it a proper ten

In Bruges- Just like Clint Eastwood was marvelous playing himself in Gran Torino, Colin Farrell was superb playing the persona that we would all like to believe he really owns. Without spoiling too much, because EVERYONE needs to see this movie (at least everyone that can handle 120+ F-bombs and an equal amount of gore), In Bruges puts two failed hitmen in the lazy city of… Bruges: The most well preserved middle aged city in the world. Bruges becomes a metaphor for Dante’s purgatory and the movie becomes a twisted story of redemption and sacrifice.

My Name is Bruce- The main difference between Hollywood movies and independent films is the intended demographic. Hollywood makes movies for the masses. Indie films are made for the smaller, more artistic crowd. My Name is Bruce is made for about .000001% of the population. Yeah, it also played in about 19 theaters in the world. In short, this movie is about the “fake” Bruce Campbell, the one portrayed in his novel, as he realizes that he’s been hired to kill a “real” monster: Guan di, the Chinese patron saint of bean curd. It’s basically as if Campbell, who wrote and directed this film, decided that The Three Amigos would have been better as one large and bloody inside joke. It’s a masterpiece.

My Faves: movies of 2008

I have seen 48 movies that came out on 2008. That means that, with the exception of a couple of these that came out on DVD, I was in the movie theater at least once a week this year. During the first months that I spent in LA I flew solo to the indie theaters in Pasadena religiously every Friday night. Not having friends can at least have some perks—who else would have wanted to see “The Year My Parents Went on Vacation” on a hoppin weekend? Or “In Bruges?”

Though this year didn’t see the revolutionary films that 2007 brought, after compiling this list I have to admit that it’s been a fun year. I’m not going to babble about the year; except when I say that “The Love Guru” is one of the worst movies ever made.

Finally, when I originally wrote this list, it was five pages long. Instead, I have created eight word reviews for my eight favorite films of twothousandeight.

Slumdog Millionaire—Beautiful and nearly flawless; channeled City of God.
The Wrestler—Most enjoyable of the year. Rourke blows mind.
City of Men—Patrick = sucker for Brazilian movies based on Merielles.
Forgetting Sarah Marshall—Judd Apatow is making movies just for me.
Ghost Town—Ricky Gervais perfect in best romcom in years.
Gran Torino—Clint Eastwood nails his part playing Clint Eastwood.
The Dark Knight—More Godfather than Spiderman. More Goodfellas than Superman.
Blindness—Not the best but I’m a Merielles sucker.

So there you have it. These are not the best films of the year. But they did entertain and divert me more than any others during this face-melting-guitar-solo of a year

On changes

The idea first came up about two years ago.

“CJ, I should just quit my job, move to LA and work at Starbucks.”

Then a year and a half ago:

“Dude, I’m moving to LA, working at Starbucks and becoming a teacher.”

This ecapist joke turned dream turned into reality when I moved here. I used to drop this phrase when complaining to my best friend about my job at a church. How every problem in my life would be solved by getting a job at a cafe in SoCal. Idealistic? Sure, but nice to think about.

This is what makes today so surreal. I just finished my last day at Starbucks. I’m a partner no longer. No green apron or black hat. I have to pay full price for my Pumpkin Spice Latte.

It’s funny though– I’m not going to miss the drinks or money or benefits as much as I will miss the sense of accomplishment that I got from achieving one of my dreams. My hail-mary dream was never supposed to happen. I had a job. Responsibilities. A mortgage! It should have been impossible. But it happened.

When I started my job at Starbucks in Everett I almost quit two days later. After the toughest month of my life I decided that, even if I was the worst drink-maker in the store, I would be the most friendly. The next day I was partner of the month. After that, I landed at my Starbucks in the most incredible way. I almost got released by the company before the Assistant Manager told my manager that they should hire a “Token Seattlite.” That’s the only reason I got the job… or so I’m told. And now, these people are my family. They are some of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. And I’m going to miss them.

It’s always nice to look back when you are going forwards. If I was quitting this job for another retail position I might not be feeling the way I do. But a great and fantastic chapter of my life is closing today. It’s the chapter that followed the worst in my life. The one that introduced me to Tiffany, Ashley, Adam, MB and so many more people that have changed my life. It’s the chapter that led me to my amazing girlfriend, awesome band and world-changing community of faith, Mosaic. It’s sad , but not bad, to end this chapter.

Because my dream didn’t end at working at Starbucks. It begins with becoming a teacher. That’s where I’m going. Feb 5, here I come.