Interviews

I hate interviews. I wish they would give you a grade as you left relative to how you did, a comparison to the person before you, and if there was a chance they might be calling you. I leave interviews thinking (sometimes) that they went fine, but I never know if the person before me was great and they just did extra fine. I hate taking time off to go to an interview only to hear absolutely nothing, not even a "thanks for applying, but compared to the other candidates you pretty much sucked. Good luck."

Plus, interviews go so against my nature. I am not a look at me and I will tell you all the great things I do and how great I am kind of girl. I like to have my work stand for itself. However, you need to do the wow-the-audience thing and totally sell yourself in order to get the chance to actually prove yourself. I know countless people who can sell themselves and then just can't do the job.

Mainly this is a tirade. I had an interview today, and I have another one tomorrow.

Roman Holiday

I watched Roman Holiday last night. Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn are amazing. Rome is the perfect setting with the Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain, and the Colisseum (for probably one of the best short stories read "Roman Fever" http://classiclit.about.com/library/bl-etexts/ewharton/bl-ewhar-roman.htm). I even love the ending, which says a lot since it is so atypical of movies today. I enjoyed the movie so much that I dragged Els to the mouth of truth (not so easy to find) when we were in Rome. So, if you are looking for a movie to watch this weekend, it may not have made the AFI's Top 100 (What were they thinking?). Otherwise, if you want to stick to the list, try Some Like it Hot.

It's purplely and makes me itch

I have been procrastinating on writing this post for a while because I know it just makes my family just seem so odd. But since, I included why my dad makes me laugh, I decided to talk about a fun family joke. We are truly a unique bunch that jokes about things that probably half of the world would deem as inappropriate. Nonetheless, every spring and summer the same joke reoccurs.

We have a trellis is the backyard and climbing up the trellis is a purple variety of clematis. I don't know how it started, if one of us misspoke or just made some snide comment or what, but somehow chlamydia got substituted for clematis. Our appropriate comments range widely including things like, "Did you see the chlamydia is blooming," and "Wow, the chlamydia is really spreading." We have gotten to the point, or at least I have, that whenever we talk about the plant, we act like it is really called chlamydia.

Here is where my concern comes in, I fear that one of us is going to make a similar comment - but in public. A visitor comes to our house, and we point out the chlamydia and how beautiful it is. I mean I have gotten to the point where the word clematis hasn't left my mouth in years, and we talk about it multiple times a year. So, if anyone ever slips in my family about how beautiful chlamydia is, please understand what we are saying.

My daddy makes me laugh

The memorable and laughable comment of the day comes from him telling someone over the phone the company's e-mail address. Only he would describe @ as "an a with a swirl" :)

Oh, to be a writer

I am reading E.M Forester's A Passage to India. I am early in the book, but if he keeps on wowing me with quotes similar to the following, I will be more than pleased.

"But she did not take the disappointment as seriously ... [she] had learnt that life never gives us what we want at the moment that we consider appropriate. Adventures do occur, but not punctually" (25).

Austen Week

I just finished what will now be known as Austen Week. You may ask yourself, what is Austen Week? Austen Week, though it may never happen again (I don’t know if my cynical and romantic heart could bear it), entailed reading Pride and Prejudice followed by watching the BBC version of the movie with Colin Firth and then reading Sense and Sensibility followed by watching the Emma Thompson/Kate Winslet/Hugh Grant version of the movie.

First of all, although I think Pride and Prejudice is the better book (in theme, character development, great quotes, and plot line), parts of me feel that Sense and Sensibility makes the better movie or maybe the screenplay was better written. It is the only movie that I was fine with Kate Winslet being an actress, and the movie for which I forgive many of Hugh Grant’s indiscretions. Maybe I love P & P too much for it to be made into a movie that does not perfectly do it justice; I don’t believe my sister has yet forgiven me for my diatribes during the Keira Knightly version.

Secondly, I love Elizabeth Bennet. If there were any character I could be in real life, I think it would be her (although, Franny Glass is a close number two). Elizabeth gives me hope that someone who is so moronic at times can be really reflective and end up happy. Plus, I love how much her ideas change and she changes while remaining who she is.

Thirdly, P & P raises the most questions. Sometimes I still wonder if the book is going to end up like I remember it. Every time, to a certain extent, I doubt the ending and read only to be reassured and cast aside my doubt. I struggle and ask myself if I only read it because I know the ending (for I couldn’t bear the story any other way).

In closing if you haven’t read P & P, do it. I have purposely been vague in the plot line as not to spoil it (curses on books that tell major plot points on the back cover like how Dimmesdale is the father and take away the shocking discovery for students). This book is now on my list of pre-requisites for the perfect man. It is also a book that if I have my own daughter, I will read to her and look forward to seeing it through her eyes with the freshness and angst of not knowing the ending.

Happy cows live in Wisconsin

I just had the sharpest cheese ever. It was fine, Wisconsin quality that still is stimulating my taste buds. As a true Wisconsin girl, I love cheese. The commercials citing that "Great cheese comes from happy cows" and implies that cows can only be happy in California, really get me mad. One problem I have with the commercials is that they tend to be really funny, and I swing violently from hysterical laughter to bitterness and frustration (for example at http://www.realcaliforniacheese.com/; then choose Happy Cow TV and Alarm Clock). Thankfully, I may laugh all I want while I continue to buy Wisconsin cheese. Besides, since I have for almost the entirety of my life lived by a farm, I know that the cows never look sad to me and always cause me to smile.

Movies and Memories

I recently purchased what Tom said was the greatest movie of all time; yet, it remains on my living room floor still in the cellophane. It isn't that I don't love the movie, but I can't bring myself to watch it.

Movies for me are so closely related to memories. And that movie, RocketMan, means summer and the Boundary Waters. Just like the Star Wars movies bring to mind making homemade pizzas, Peter's basement, going to the re-releases my senior year, and watching one of the new ones in Sweden with all the Norweigans. Monsters Inc. reminds me of England and Spontan. The Usual Suspects is Matty's attic. Jerry Maquire is first date (not the best choice due to the opening scene). Rattle and Hum means philosophy papers on Saturday night. Monty Python evokes countless memories, foremost being Jill and Gery Niess. Spaceballs means taking notes just so the boys would think we were cool. Anything with Sandler or Farley reminds me of Dave and Kristy. Moulin Rouge is Steve telling us it's the greatest movie that we had to watch. The Godfather is Isler family Christmas bonding. Shrek is dining room two on Brad's computer after playing cards, unable to understand Eddie Murphy's accent. The Lord of the Rings is returning home for Christmas break to go with old friends. Sense and Sensibility is Jen.

There are other memories that I associate with movies, though I long forget what movie Els and I saw together on our double date in Muncie. Or the movies we watched at the drive-in every year as celebration upon returning to Taylor. Then there were the trips to the drive-in in Jefferson where tip-it and cards were precursors to the movies I no longer remember or movies I couldn't hear because people were sucking face so loudly.

Sometimes movies can transport me back to an earlier time . . . that is why I still love some, others cause bittersweet reflection, and some I just avoid.