Category: Life

Lessons I’ve learned through the school of hard knocks. This is my catch-all, miscellaneous category if you will, where I address topics that don’t quite fit into the other categories.

Vicky Cristina Barcelona


España

I have been watching Woody Allen movies for a long time. Once, in the 1970s, we–Vito, Jim, and I–saw four Woody Allen movies for a dollar (Only on the north side!) I remember his earlier, funnier movies, to quote Stardust Memories.

Later, when we lost track of each other, Jim would call us up so we could go out to see his latest Woody Allen movie. Of course, no movie after Annie Hall was as funny for me as his earlier efforts. So, today, I saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona. And it was okay. Certainly not as funny as Annie Hall. I did enjoy the shots of Spain in Barcelona and Oviedo. The movie reminded me of my trip to Spain. I haven’t actually been to Spain, but when I do go, I plan on visiting Barcelona where I know a couple of people. I really will go to Spain someday!

But back to the movie. The plot was easily identifiable as a Woody Allen product of obsessive attention to the minutiae of life. In his typical fashion, he exaggerates details that most normal and sane human beings would overlook. In one scene, Scarlett Johansson apologizes profusely, and I couldn’t help but picture Woody Allen directing her into acting as she did–that is, a Woody Allenesque neurotic tirade complete with the exaggerated hand gestures.

Of course, if Woody looked anything like Scarlett, he would have had a completely different career. The one thing that really bothered me about the movie was the narrator. If you’ve ever taken a writing class, you know that one thing that is drilled into head constantly: Show, don’t tell! Well, the narrator constantly explains the actions that we see on the screen, rather than letting us think about them and contemplate what the characters are thinking about their dilemma.

Okay, the actors were great in this movie, but I guess I was mainly focusing on Woody Allen as the writer and director. For some reason I’m always attracted to his movies even though I don’t think they’re very good. But I will immediately go see the next one that comes out.

DDR

I’m back


Coyoacán, México D.F.

Hello again. I’m finally back. Some of you may not have even noticed that I was gone for a while, but I was missed somewhat by some of my other readers–actually, only two. Two readers actually emailed me and asked me what had happened to my blog.

Well, I went to Mexico for a few weeks, and when I returned and wrote my first blog entry, my website stopped loading because of spammers. My ISP took a while to solve the problem. In reality, I think I solved the problem myself. But I’m not sure. My blog suddenly started working yesterday after I tinkered with it.

So now I’m ready to write again! I feel well rested after my road trip to Mexico and my prolonged rest from blog writing. I will write a blog entry first thing tomorrow morning!

DDR

Amy


Private DD Rodríguez

When I joined the Marines, I had to spend the night at a hotel on Michigan Avenue near Roosevelt Road the night before we went to AFEES (Armed Forces Entrance and Examination Station) on Michigan and Balbo. I was so nervous about joining the Marines that I didn’t sleep much the night before.

The next day, we had to take intelligence tests and physical exams all day long. From there, we went to O’Hare Airport where we flew to San Diego for boot camp.

An interesting thing happened to me while boarding the plane. As I waited in line to get on the plane, I joked about being afraid to fly with a female whom I thought was part of the flight crew. She laughed and we talked a little. When I sat down, I noticed that she had followed me to my seat and had sat down next to me. She was very pretty in a plain sort of way. She had long, light-brown hair and hazel eyes. And she had such perfect teeth. Very white, but not unnaturally white, and all perfectly aligned. We were probably about the same age. “You don’t mind if I sit with you, do you?” she asked, even though she was already sitting next to me. She caught me off guard, so I took a moment to respond. “N-Not at all.” She held my hand and said, “This is to comfort you since you’re afraid of flying.” I couldn’t believe this was happening to me! Oh, yes, and she had this–I couldn’t quite place it–sexy, non-Chicago accent. I loved listening to her speak!

Well, I told her that I was on my way to Marine Corps boot camp in San Diego and she told me that her father was a colonel in the Marines. What a coincidence! And I was afraid that she would stop liking me if she discovered that I would soon be a jarhead. She actually took a liking to me and we talked and talked. We had quite a few things in common. This was a three-and-a-half hour flight and I was tired from not sleeping well the night before.

Well, I nodded off while I was looking out the window. I had forgotten all about Amy. When I later woke up. not only was Amy still holding my hand, but she had also fallen asleep with her head on my shoulder. I guess she was very comfortable with me not only as a person, but also as a pillow. I liked watching her sleep like that. She eventually even got more comfortable as she turned her body towards me and put her free arm around my waist. Later, she actually drooled on my shoulder a little. When she finally woke up, I felt as if I we had known each other for ages. She gave me her address in Quantico, Virginia, and told me to write to her. Her full name was Amy Trostle Barnes. She was so interesting and I had met her at exactly the right moment when I needed a shoulder to lean on. Well, I wrote to her while I was in boot camp and for about a year after that. But we never met in person again.

DDR

More coincidences


Seagulls of my reader’s imagination

Hello, Gentle Reader. I’ve noticed something interesting occurring on my blog lately. I tend to occasionally write about someone who comes to mind because I remember him or her well. I have no agenda or ulterior motives. I never announced to anyone that I would write a blog entry about him or her. I just relish recalling the good old days and I focus on all the positive things that I remember about this person. Occasionally, the subject of my blog entry discovers my blog and he or she e-mails me and/or comments about the blog entry. If I write it, they will come.

If you look at the comments in the right margin, you’ll see what I mean. This made me think. How can you, Gentle Reader, be sure that all these commentators are real people? You have no way of knowing if these people really exist. I mean, I could just be making them up. After all, I do have a disclaimer at the bottom of the page stating that I may be stretching the truth a little. If you wrote a comment, do you know for a fact that you yourself exist? Right?

But what about all the rest of the commentators? How can you be sure that I didn’t invent them, so it looks like I have many more readers than just you? Let’s go one further: What if you don’t exist? Yes, that’s right. You don’t exist outside of this blog! I made you up! You only exist because you read this blog and I let you write comments. Now that’s something to think about! Or perhaps I have already created some memorable stories in my past so that interesting people will come to life and brighten up my life. You know, like in an old episode of Twilight Zone.

If only life were that easy!

DDR

Rock, paper, scissors


Rock, Paper, Scissors

You may think that rock, paper, scissors is only a child’s game, but they actually have a world championship in which contestants from all over the world compete.

Well, that got me to thinking about the game. This is a game for all ages. The entire family can play. There’s no equipment to buy. The rules are simple and cheating is impossible. Chances are no one will get hurt while playing, unless college students play it as a drinking game.

The game is easy to play. Everyone forms a circle and makes a fist that is raised and lowered three times. On the third downward stroke, the hand must form one of three things: Rock (fist), Paper (hand held open with palm down), or Scissors (index and middle fingers mimicking a pair of scissors). Rock breaks Scissors. Paper covers Rock. Scissors cut Paper. The beauty of this game is that no one player has an unfair advantage. Size doesn’t matter. Neither does gender or speed. Not even skill or luck! Everyone has a shot at winning. Each item, is a potential winner or loser. Beauty, eh? It’s a great game for choosing who goes first for another game.

Well, we are like each of those items. We, too, possess this duality that coincides beautifully with the yin and yang symbol. We are a rock in that sometimes we must be strong and forceful, but that won’t always work for us because someone who becomes paper will defeat us. So we have to choose what we become carefully. Unlike a game in which chance plays a huge part because we don’t know what the other player(s) will show, in real life we can adapt to the situation and use the appropriate object. We must constantly change accordingly. Anyone who consistently uses one object will surely fail. We must constantly evaluate our surroundings and adapt. Rock, paper, scissors is the perfect metaphor for life.

DDR