The cute little designer cake shop at the corner of my street is no more. Last night, a raging fire swept through the upstairs apartment and the entire roof caved in and the whole building was basically totaled. After stepping off the bus today I walked over to check out the scene. Police had barricaded the entrance which was wide open. The old door to the apartment upstairs was sideways on the ground in front of the building. Front windows were blown out and all you could see was black inside. There were still a few darling little cakes on display, though they were a bit warped and dark with soot.
It has been almost exactly 10 years since the fire in my first apartment in San Francisco. I was a wide-eyed 19 year old sophomore who never thought something like that could happen to me. But it did and it was devastating. If it had not happened, I would probably still be in SF now. It is weird to think about that. One of the main things that drew me to Chicago was how similar to SF it was. I felt the city vibe I was craving without having to go back there to the memories of living out of bags in motels and climbing the stairs in our soot-filled home to salvage whatever was not tossed out the front bay window by the firefighters.
Now, it is easy to think back and realize that I would not be where I am now if not for that fateful day I drove up behind the fire engines to watch the flames engulf my world. I am pretty sure that is a good thing. I love my life in Chicago and would never have met the awesome people in my life now if not for that fire. And I would have never known my fiance. We had to meet in the middle of the country since we are both from opposite ends of it. I am glad for all the changes in my life that fire spawned, as difficult and emotionally taxing as that time in my life was.
The weird thing is, no matter how much time has passed since that day, I can still go right back there. To the very moment. When I peered into the cake shop's windows, when I sniffed the ashy air on my block (that smell never goes away, trust me), when I read the article about the sisters who own it and saw the photo of their faces uncontrollably contorting in anguish, I was transported right back there. Right to the moment I saw the engines cruising up my street. It never seems to go away--that feeling of loss and violation that comes with having a traumatizing event like that.
It makes me want to hug those sisters. It makes me want to trudge into their poor little shop and help them salvage what they can. To give them advice about Simple Green and how it's the only thing that seemed to help get the campfire smell off of furniture and belongings. To tell them it's going to be okay eventually.
Recently, I was told that an old college friend of mine committed suicide. He was a fixture of that old apartment before it burned and also a strong presence in my life at that time. He was a creative and wacky guy with whom I had shared many an adventure. Since he was over at our place quite a bit, one of the possible causes of the fire was even pinned on him--a roommate claimed he had farted so terribly that a candle was lit to save all in the vicinity. And it is possible that the candle was never blown out when everyone left the house that day. They could not remember if it was or not. We will never truly know if that was what happened. But I always liked that theory best.
I could not go to the funeral for my friend, and I was sorry to miss it. I suppose, for me, he represented a lot of the craziness of life at that time in San Francisco. The manic energy, sleeping wherever we could find a place to lay our heads, staying up all night on the street to get concert tickets, going to wild parties and all the experimentation that goes along with attending college in an extremely urban environment. He was always up for anything and he could convince me that this might be the last time I ever get to do something so I better go all in. I am just realizing that all my truly great adventures at SFSU involved him in some way. I really hope he continued to live his life like that until the end.
I guess it was just really weird to hear about my friend's passing and see the damage this horrible fire caused all in the same week. It completely transported my mind back to a time I rarely think about these days. Yet that time in my life, that short two years I spent in SF, could possibly be the most formative years of my life to date. I cherish them dearly and even though I went through a lot, they made me the kooky and adventurous yet very responsible woman I am today. And the people with whom I shared that time--well lets just say I will never forget them as long as I live. Each one of them had a hand in making my time there magical before the fire and trauma dragged me back home and off to another world in Southern California.
With that in mind, RIP Carson. And thank you.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Dress Mess
There was a time when I thought perhaps this story would go a very different way. However, in retrospect, how could I have ever really thought it would work? Some things are just too good to be true. A lesson I was taught a few times this week in other ways besides the one I am about to explain. I am once again reminded that if things appear to good to be true then they probably are. Mothers and advisors and wise people all over the world use this neat little saying all the time so it must be spot on. And in this case, it certainly was.
I occasionally peruse this online site called ideeli.com. It is basically a free membership based online designer warehouse. You can find lots of pretty terrific deals on nice clothes. You might see a $1000 coat on sale for $300. Or you might find a cute top that was $100 now priced at $25.
Or you might see something that looks like the perfect casual beach wedding dress marked down to $39. And you just might have a credit at the site which would make this dress $14. And you might just freak out and buy it on impulse.
So there I was, finding myself staring at what appeared to be a lovely simple cotton dress on the site. Upon closer inspection, everything still looked great. Well, as great as an online picture of a dress could look. I deliberated only for a moment and went for the dress in white. For $14, who the hell cares if it sucks? I can just use it as something else. A cool beach cover up. A light dress for summer. Whatever works.
To my dismay, the white one had sold out in my hesitation moment. No matter, though. There was one in "cream" that seemed almost identical. I clicked the "buy" icon.
Now I must confess that I have bought one other dress on this site and it was slightly less lovely than I anticipated. Not awful, but just...not what it looked like in the picture. When I put it on, it also fit a little weird. And this is precisely why I don't go around buying stuff off online shopping sites. Shopping and making clothes look right on my body is such an ordeal in real life. I don't know why my brain was insisting that in "online world", everything would just look right on me. But my brain managed to override the truth I knew in my heart. And I bought the dress.
And now I had bought another. Knowing what I already knew. But this time it was possibly my future wedding dress. The thought that this $14 piece of magic just might work thrilled me to the core. I was giddy with excitement. My coworkers I told were floored. They viewed the dress and thought I had a shot at getting lucky and having it be awesome. I secretly did too--more than I realized at the time. I emailed pictures to a few close friends and family. I told the story of the cheapest wedding dress in history and how if it worked I would be elated but that I knew it was a total crap shoot and who cares because it was $14!
Everyone was so supportive happy for me and I was lost in the fun anticipation of seeing if it really was possible to spend the equivalent of 3 beers at my local pub for a wedding dress and still have it be beautiful.
Well, the answer is no. No it is not possible.
The dress arrived today. This after I had already had a stressful and disappointing day. I think my fiance thought it would cheer me up to finally get to see this dress I had been anxiously awaiting all week. So he was sweet and went out of his way to stop by his other work building (where I had it delivered) on the way home and grab it for me.
When I saw the tiny box in his hand, I was confused. This should have been my first clue.
"Why is it so small?" I asked.
"Yeah I thought that was kind of weird too," he said.
The box was the size of a hardback novel sent from Amazon.com. Not exactly the type of packaging you would expect for a dress.
I ran to the guest room to hide from Adam and tear the package open. Inside I found a small lump wrapped in tissue. Unraveling that revealed a thin, dingy yellowish piece of clothing made of the T-shirt material corporations use for their company shirts when they buy them in bulk. You know the kind--cheap cotton that is sort of stiff and mildly irritating to the skin. I shook it out and held it up to me.
It looked like a beach cover up.
Just as I had suspected all along.
Only I hadn't really suspected. Oh sure, I talked a big game about how if it ended up not being what I thought, I could use this thing for something else. Beach cover up was definitely one of the things mentioned. But that tiny little hopeful spark in my heart was secretly saying "It will be great! It will knock your socks off! Get ready!" all the while. I tried so hard not to get too excited about it, and ended up convinced that it would be perfect for me.
I think I do this a lot in life. Or at least it seems like that right now. A few personal things have gone down lately that have left me hugely let down and I have only myself and my uncontrollable closet optimism to blame. I just keep finding myself believing so strongly in something, only to be let down by the reality of the situation.
Perhaps it is years of Catholic School where we were taught to believe in such amazing stories, no questions asked. Just believing--strongly, wholly, and honestly. Waiting for the second coming or something along those lines to happen. That blind, unwaivering faith somehow translated itself to me convincing myself that while something might just be a flop, it could also be the most amazing thing ever. And between the two options, the amazing always wins out in my heart.
I wonder if that is why I could not handle all the rejection of auditioning day in and day out when I was more active in the Theatre world--my little heart could not take it. Getting passionate and excited about a role and convinced this was the one, only to be super bummed when it did not work out. You are supposed to be strong and tough but somehow I was always a mess after being rejected. I could not help it. As my mother says, I am just "sensitive" and always have been.
Nowadays I bounce back from my disappointments relatively quickly. Maybe a day or two of feeling mopey and then I am back in the saddle. So I am confident that all will be merry again once I let go of the expectations I managed to create this week about how things would turn out.
With this dress fiasco, it might take a few extra sighs of discontent. But that is nothing compared to the discontent my wedding budget will feel.
On the bright side, I bet my sweet cover up dress will be the envy of all the people on that beach Mexico.
I occasionally peruse this online site called ideeli.com. It is basically a free membership based online designer warehouse. You can find lots of pretty terrific deals on nice clothes. You might see a $1000 coat on sale for $300. Or you might find a cute top that was $100 now priced at $25.
Or you might see something that looks like the perfect casual beach wedding dress marked down to $39. And you just might have a credit at the site which would make this dress $14. And you might just freak out and buy it on impulse.
So there I was, finding myself staring at what appeared to be a lovely simple cotton dress on the site. Upon closer inspection, everything still looked great. Well, as great as an online picture of a dress could look. I deliberated only for a moment and went for the dress in white. For $14, who the hell cares if it sucks? I can just use it as something else. A cool beach cover up. A light dress for summer. Whatever works.
To my dismay, the white one had sold out in my hesitation moment. No matter, though. There was one in "cream" that seemed almost identical. I clicked the "buy" icon.
Now I must confess that I have bought one other dress on this site and it was slightly less lovely than I anticipated. Not awful, but just...not what it looked like in the picture. When I put it on, it also fit a little weird. And this is precisely why I don't go around buying stuff off online shopping sites. Shopping and making clothes look right on my body is such an ordeal in real life. I don't know why my brain was insisting that in "online world", everything would just look right on me. But my brain managed to override the truth I knew in my heart. And I bought the dress.
And now I had bought another. Knowing what I already knew. But this time it was possibly my future wedding dress. The thought that this $14 piece of magic just might work thrilled me to the core. I was giddy with excitement. My coworkers I told were floored. They viewed the dress and thought I had a shot at getting lucky and having it be awesome. I secretly did too--more than I realized at the time. I emailed pictures to a few close friends and family. I told the story of the cheapest wedding dress in history and how if it worked I would be elated but that I knew it was a total crap shoot and who cares because it was $14!
Everyone was so supportive happy for me and I was lost in the fun anticipation of seeing if it really was possible to spend the equivalent of 3 beers at my local pub for a wedding dress and still have it be beautiful.
Well, the answer is no. No it is not possible.
The dress arrived today. This after I had already had a stressful and disappointing day. I think my fiance thought it would cheer me up to finally get to see this dress I had been anxiously awaiting all week. So he was sweet and went out of his way to stop by his other work building (where I had it delivered) on the way home and grab it for me.
When I saw the tiny box in his hand, I was confused. This should have been my first clue.
"Why is it so small?" I asked.
"Yeah I thought that was kind of weird too," he said.
The box was the size of a hardback novel sent from Amazon.com. Not exactly the type of packaging you would expect for a dress.
I ran to the guest room to hide from Adam and tear the package open. Inside I found a small lump wrapped in tissue. Unraveling that revealed a thin, dingy yellowish piece of clothing made of the T-shirt material corporations use for their company shirts when they buy them in bulk. You know the kind--cheap cotton that is sort of stiff and mildly irritating to the skin. I shook it out and held it up to me.
It looked like a beach cover up.
Just as I had suspected all along.
Only I hadn't really suspected. Oh sure, I talked a big game about how if it ended up not being what I thought, I could use this thing for something else. Beach cover up was definitely one of the things mentioned. But that tiny little hopeful spark in my heart was secretly saying "It will be great! It will knock your socks off! Get ready!" all the while. I tried so hard not to get too excited about it, and ended up convinced that it would be perfect for me.
I think I do this a lot in life. Or at least it seems like that right now. A few personal things have gone down lately that have left me hugely let down and I have only myself and my uncontrollable closet optimism to blame. I just keep finding myself believing so strongly in something, only to be let down by the reality of the situation.
Perhaps it is years of Catholic School where we were taught to believe in such amazing stories, no questions asked. Just believing--strongly, wholly, and honestly. Waiting for the second coming or something along those lines to happen. That blind, unwaivering faith somehow translated itself to me convincing myself that while something might just be a flop, it could also be the most amazing thing ever. And between the two options, the amazing always wins out in my heart.
I wonder if that is why I could not handle all the rejection of auditioning day in and day out when I was more active in the Theatre world--my little heart could not take it. Getting passionate and excited about a role and convinced this was the one, only to be super bummed when it did not work out. You are supposed to be strong and tough but somehow I was always a mess after being rejected. I could not help it. As my mother says, I am just "sensitive" and always have been.
Nowadays I bounce back from my disappointments relatively quickly. Maybe a day or two of feeling mopey and then I am back in the saddle. So I am confident that all will be merry again once I let go of the expectations I managed to create this week about how things would turn out.
With this dress fiasco, it might take a few extra sighs of discontent. But that is nothing compared to the discontent my wedding budget will feel.
On the bright side, I bet my sweet cover up dress will be the envy of all the people on that beach Mexico.
Monday, March 22, 2010
To infinity and beyond!
Spring is finally here, I can feel it! (In my mind and not so much when I am still huddled up in my down jacket)
No but seriously folks. It came officially on Sunday!
And with it has come fresh flowers, sunshine, a little bit of SNOW, and a feeling of change and excitement in the air.
Last week, I had lots of fun adventures after a good 3 months of hibernating with only my new zip up blanket, The Wire, and my fiance to keep me warm. While this was great for sharpening my TV watching attention span, it has been killer on my personal drive and ability to branch out, so to speak.
But in the last few weeks, I have gotten out more than I probably did all winter long. The man and I decided to make an effort to be more supportive of our creative cohorts and we saw THREE different shows in the span of like 10 days! We were quite proud of ourselves and feel that we lived up to the urban hipness we strive to achieve by living in Chicago and being...well...urban and hip (we think). So that was great and inspiring and fun too. I highly recommend Chicago people stuck in the 80s like myself go see The Breakfast Club, the Musical. Worth it. I bet it will be on Broadway (or at least Off-Broadway) in no time. It has been selling out constantly so get tickets in advance! The other shows are all closed by now so that is the only one I will praise so as not to disappoint anyone.
I also had some fun new developments in my personal life:
I originally wrote about one of the exciting new developments pretty candidly, then realized that this is, after all, the internets. A "series of tubes" to tranfer information to the masses. And while I am guessing my tiny universe of readers is small, who knows who might be reading, ya know? And so, seeing as how that whole thing is still pending an official outcome, lets just leave it at this--I had a nice phone call. More on that later!
In other news, I finally have an update on my BFD! All my nervousness about it was unnecessary! How appropriate an acronym for my Blind Friend Date, because it truly wasn't a BFD (ie big f***ing deal). It was actually just fine. Our time was fun, easy and interesting. Nothing like a job interview, or even like a real blind date, where there might be awkward lulls or uncomfortable staring contests across the table. I was sad she does not watch LOST but happy that she was up to snuff with celebrity gossip. I could not share her affinity for Survivor (still!) but we both got excited talking about all things wedding-related (I am engaged, she got married not too long ago.) She shared her story of being from NY and I shared mine about the trek fromCalifornia
Anyway so our time together was short (it was a school night) but sweet and I look forward to hanging out again soon. I promised myself I would not let our connection go the way of the Dodo bird like I have with so many other acquaintances in the past. I will make an effort. Because as this little experiment has proved, it is good and beneficial and even fulfilling to step outside the comfort zone and put yourself out there.
No but seriously folks. It came officially on Sunday!
And with it has come fresh flowers, sunshine, a little bit of SNOW, and a feeling of change and excitement in the air.
Last week, I had lots of fun adventures after a good 3 months of hibernating with only my new zip up blanket, The Wire, and my fiance to keep me warm. While this was great for sharpening my TV watching attention span, it has been killer on my personal drive and ability to branch out, so to speak.
But in the last few weeks, I have gotten out more than I probably did all winter long. The man and I decided to make an effort to be more supportive of our creative cohorts and we saw THREE different shows in the span of like 10 days! We were quite proud of ourselves and feel that we lived up to the urban hipness we strive to achieve by living in Chicago and being...well...urban and hip (we think). So that was great and inspiring and fun too. I highly recommend Chicago people stuck in the 80s like myself go see The Breakfast Club, the Musical. Worth it. I bet it will be on Broadway (or at least Off-Broadway) in no time. It has been selling out constantly so get tickets in advance! The other shows are all closed by now so that is the only one I will praise so as not to disappoint anyone.
I also had some fun new developments in my personal life:
I originally wrote about one of the exciting new developments pretty candidly, then realized that this is, after all, the internets. A "series of tubes" to tranfer information to the masses. And while I am guessing my tiny universe of readers is small, who knows who might be reading, ya know? And so, seeing as how that whole thing is still pending an official outcome, lets just leave it at this--I had a nice phone call. More on that later!
In other news, I finally have an update on my BFD! All my nervousness about it was unnecessary! How appropriate an acronym for my Blind Friend Date, because it truly wasn't a BFD (ie big f***ing deal). It was actually just fine. Our time was fun, easy and interesting. Nothing like a job interview, or even like a real blind date, where there might be awkward lulls or uncomfortable staring contests across the table. I was sad she does not watch LOST but happy that she was up to snuff with celebrity gossip. I could not share her affinity for Survivor (still!) but we both got excited talking about all things wedding-related (I am engaged, she got married not too long ago.) She shared her story of being from NY and I shared mine about the trek from
Anyway so our time together was short (it was a school night) but sweet and I look forward to hanging out again soon. I promised myself I would not let our connection go the way of the Dodo bird like I have with so many other acquaintances in the past. I will make an effort. Because as this little experiment has proved, it is good and beneficial and even fulfilling to step outside the comfort zone and put yourself out there.
All in all, this whole Spring thing is really giving me a boost to my engines and a desire to strive for what is new and adventurous and even scary. All this in the hopes that opportunities will come my way as a result of my fearlessness and up-for-anything attitude. Here's hoping.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Case of Nerves
I haven't really written much about this but I am going on a Blind Friend Date tonight. That's right. A blind date with a twist--she is a woman with whom I hope to strike up a friendship. Long story short, I read an article she wrote about making friends as you get older and finding that special someone that is local. We all have good friends in the towns we have moved out of or from grade school or college or whatever, but how many of us find that person locally you can call any time to gab or share news or go out on the town for a drink? I identified with her take on this issue and realized she was in Chicago. A few clicks on the ole web led me to her website bio and I simply took a chance and emailed her an invitation to go on a friend date and see if we gel. She accepted and tonight is the night we meet up.
I have been talking about my lack of "go-to" women in my life for a while now. Chicago has graced me with many diverse types of people with which to hang out. And some are better than close acquaintances for sure. However I have not felt particularly connected with anyone the way I did/do with my old best friends from my past. I don't have that feeling that I could call at any time and not feel like I was imposing, or if I needed to have a quick drink, she would know I did not mean an all night affair and she would take time out of her busy schedule to have one with me and lend me her ear for an hour, no questions asked. I know it takes time for that to develop. But without making time, how do we cultivate these types of relationships?
There is also the element of just being at the same place mentally/emotionally that I seem to lack with most people. I am 30, about to be married, and still soul searching for some more meaning in life and my career. I like to philosophize but also like talking about stupid celeb gossip. I am not very girlie and not good at small talk. Seems simple for someone like me to connect with people that are like-minded. But it has proven harder than I thought.
Currently, I have been indulging in a new fun plan with one of my dearest (and farthest away) friends--to have a phone date complete with webcams and beers to help chase away the feeling that we are too far away to be close anymore. It has been a great addition to my life and I cherish the time spent gabbing and laughing like we used to. It has numbed the sometimes devastating feeling that I won't ever have that sort of friendship again.
But tonight...
Tonight I make the attempt to meet a complete stranger and see if we hit it off in that way you do when it's "right" between two people. And I am pretty nervous. Like "job interview" nervous. Which is totally silly. Because who cares if we hit it off? There are millions of people in Chicago who could potentially "get" me the way best friends do.
I just don't get the chance to try for that connection too often. And my blind date friend seems like a very nice person I would like to know. And I have no idea what I will say or what we will talk about. So it is a little nerve-wracking, you know? What if she decides we don't have a spark? And what if I think we do? That would be awkward. All I can do is be myself and know there is a mutual camaraderie in the fact that we are even brave enough to do this. And maybe that will be enough to spark hours (if not months, years, lifetimes) of conversation and goodwill between us.
I will keep you posted on how it all pans out, good or bad.
I have been talking about my lack of "go-to" women in my life for a while now. Chicago has graced me with many diverse types of people with which to hang out. And some are better than close acquaintances for sure. However I have not felt particularly connected with anyone the way I did/do with my old best friends from my past. I don't have that feeling that I could call at any time and not feel like I was imposing, or if I needed to have a quick drink, she would know I did not mean an all night affair and she would take time out of her busy schedule to have one with me and lend me her ear for an hour, no questions asked. I know it takes time for that to develop. But without making time, how do we cultivate these types of relationships?
There is also the element of just being at the same place mentally/emotionally that I seem to lack with most people. I am 30, about to be married, and still soul searching for some more meaning in life and my career. I like to philosophize but also like talking about stupid celeb gossip. I am not very girlie and not good at small talk. Seems simple for someone like me to connect with people that are like-minded. But it has proven harder than I thought.
Currently, I have been indulging in a new fun plan with one of my dearest (and farthest away) friends--to have a phone date complete with webcams and beers to help chase away the feeling that we are too far away to be close anymore. It has been a great addition to my life and I cherish the time spent gabbing and laughing like we used to. It has numbed the sometimes devastating feeling that I won't ever have that sort of friendship again.
But tonight...
Tonight I make the attempt to meet a complete stranger and see if we hit it off in that way you do when it's "right" between two people. And I am pretty nervous. Like "job interview" nervous. Which is totally silly. Because who cares if we hit it off? There are millions of people in Chicago who could potentially "get" me the way best friends do.
I just don't get the chance to try for that connection too often. And my blind date friend seems like a very nice person I would like to know. And I have no idea what I will say or what we will talk about. So it is a little nerve-wracking, you know? What if she decides we don't have a spark? And what if I think we do? That would be awkward. All I can do is be myself and know there is a mutual camaraderie in the fact that we are even brave enough to do this. And maybe that will be enough to spark hours (if not months, years, lifetimes) of conversation and goodwill between us.
I will keep you posted on how it all pans out, good or bad.
Monday, March 15, 2010
SHREDDED
Folks, I am in the process of shredding. But what does it mean to shred? To be shredded? The act of shredding itself is a puzzling thing. Sometimes one shreds...but feels as though he or she is not fully reaching his or her shredding capacity. And sometimes all one truly needs to feel complete is a good shred.
The above image is my living nightmare. Yet also my salvation from myself.
Jillian and I have been spending time together for the last week. Specifically, twenty long minutes a day that seem like hours. She yells at me to do this and do that. She tells me not to quit and that when it starts to hurt I should hold on even longer and push myself.
I hate her.
I hate her and her perfect abs and arms. I hate her man-voice and her controlling orders barked at me from inside my television. I even hate her perfect hair that never gets wet with sweat while she works out along with me.
And yet, much like the angst-y teen who hates her mother with a passion, I am secretly so eternally grateful for her presence in my life.
Jillian pushes me through her insanely difficult DVD with the unrelenting urgency of a Drill Sargent, while still managing to make me feel loved and supported through the whole awful ordeal. Why the hell else would I keep coming back for more each day despite my wobbly arms hanging lifeless and weak at my sides from the day before? She tells me if I do this every day for 20 minutes, I will be beautiful. And something about her approach makes me believe her. Something earnest in her voice convinces me she is right and she knows my inner darkness and wants to take me to the light. If that happens to entail kicking my ass with pretend-jump roping and reverse sit-ups, so be it.
I don't think I have lost any weight yet. And I still can't do any of the exercises without wanting to die (even though she claims I should feel stronger and have more stamina at this point in my "shred"). But there is a peace and calm determination growing in me and I can honestly say I owe it all to Jillian. I don't push myself like this at the gym. And I don't stick with DVDs of people way more buff than me telling me how to exercise. But for some reason, Jillian has me all turned around and feeling optimistic.
It is only day five. Perhaps we should chat again at say...day 25. I will make it that far. I know I will. Jillian believes in me. I can't let her down.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Oh those young whippersnappers, I tell you what...
Today when I got the buzz on my Blackberry alerting me to the fact that Corey Haim had passed on to that little child-star cloud in the sky, I was a little disappointed. Once I mentally ticked off all the movies he was in and suddenly realized that he had played the title character in the movie Lucas, I was almost brought to tears.
Lucas, people. Lucas. The possible birthplace of the SLOW CLAP. The epitome of underdog movies where the nerd comes out on top (albeit awkwardly in this case). The movie with that cute little red-haired what's-her-name in it. The film where Leukoplakia (cancer of the mouth) was first (and last) used as a high school insult!
This movie touched me pretty deeply as a kid. Maybe it was because I too was a bit of a loner at times, hanging out and looking at bugs like Lucas. Or maybe I wanted to be the red-haired girl. Which would definitely explain why I kept dying my hair red for most of my young adult life. Whatever the reason, this was one of those films I would always pause on when channel surfing on a Saturday afternoon and enjoy for at least a moment or two.
So back to Corey. Poor, poor addicted Corey. He died this morning of a drug overdose. And at work, us late-twenties, early-thirties people bonded over the tragedy of our old teen idol's passing. We reminisced about which posters we had, which of the Coreys we crushed on (Haim or Feldman), how License to Drive blew our young minds.
At last, the youngsters (under 25 set) in the cubes next to us could not stand it any longer.
"Who is Corey Haim?" they asked in genuine confusion.
We were shocked. And appalled. And apparently, very very old. We offered movie titles and explanations of the era of "The Coreys," but the youngsters' faces were still vacant. They had no idea who he was! Which I guess should not be that surprising. But it was nonetheless.
Finally, in an effort to seek out a way to convey to them just how much this affected our generation, I wracked my brain for a comparable situation.
"You know that kid that was on Tool Time--no, that's not it, I mean on Home Improvement? Jonathan-Taylor-something?"
"You mean JTT?"
"Yeah, yeah! JTT or whatever. Well, Corey Haim was sort of the JTT of our time, in all the teen mags and stuff. And it would be like finding out JTT died."
A huge explosion of recognition, finally. A light bulb moment, of sorts.
"Oooohh. I totally get it now. Wow. WOW. That is really sad!"
You're welcome, Corey Haim. Now we can both rest in peace.
Lucas, people. Lucas. The possible birthplace of the SLOW CLAP. The epitome of underdog movies where the nerd comes out on top (albeit awkwardly in this case). The movie with that cute little red-haired what's-her-name in it. The film where Leukoplakia (cancer of the mouth) was first (and last) used as a high school insult!
This movie touched me pretty deeply as a kid. Maybe it was because I too was a bit of a loner at times, hanging out and looking at bugs like Lucas. Or maybe I wanted to be the red-haired girl. Which would definitely explain why I kept dying my hair red for most of my young adult life. Whatever the reason, this was one of those films I would always pause on when channel surfing on a Saturday afternoon and enjoy for at least a moment or two.
So back to Corey. Poor, poor addicted Corey. He died this morning of a drug overdose. And at work, us late-twenties, early-thirties people bonded over the tragedy of our old teen idol's passing. We reminisced about which posters we had, which of the Coreys we crushed on (Haim or Feldman), how License to Drive blew our young minds.
At last, the youngsters (under 25 set) in the cubes next to us could not stand it any longer.
"Who is Corey Haim?" they asked in genuine confusion.
We were shocked. And appalled. And apparently, very very old. We offered movie titles and explanations of the era of "The Coreys," but the youngsters' faces were still vacant. They had no idea who he was! Which I guess should not be that surprising. But it was nonetheless.
Finally, in an effort to seek out a way to convey to them just how much this affected our generation, I wracked my brain for a comparable situation.
"You know that kid that was on Tool Time--no, that's not it, I mean on Home Improvement? Jonathan-Taylor-something?"
"You mean JTT?"
"Yeah, yeah! JTT or whatever. Well, Corey Haim was sort of the JTT of our time, in all the teen mags and stuff. And it would be like finding out JTT died."
A huge explosion of recognition, finally. A light bulb moment, of sorts.
"Oooohh. I totally get it now. Wow. WOW. That is really sad!"
You're welcome, Corey Haim. Now we can both rest in peace.
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