It started out as a birthday present, and as a desire, in 2005. I had heard about Netflix, and was frustrated by my local library not readily having DVDs of The Bourne Supremacy and Before Sunset, both of which I wanted to see badly. And suddenly, March 21, there was my opportunity. Three DVDs at a time. And I could watch those right away.
Now it's the final week I'll have Netflix, and I can't count how many DVDs I've gone through with the service, how many Mom, Dad and Meridith have watched as well, but I do remember that in the last year, we switched from three DVDs to one. Cheaper, and streaming was still included. And I'm cancelling my subscription just like others have. DVDs and streaming in the same plan aren't permitted anymore. They charge separately. And I liked having the convenience of a DVD being sent, because most of what I watched wasn't available through streaming, and I also liked reminiscing about my childhood with such shows as Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and Beakman's World, both available through Netflix Streaming.
My final DVD came down to a decision as well. Two weeks ago, I deleted my entire queue, all 433 titles, as well as the 100 or so that were in my streaming queue. After, the site always implored me to have at least 6 titles in my DVD queue. I didn't need six. I wasn't going to watch that many by the end anyway. I've been Tivoing Boston Legal off of TV Land, and, having regained interest in the writing style of David E. Kelley, I became curious about The Practice, of which Boston Legal was its spinoff. I wanted to see it from the start, so I added the first disc of the first season to my queue. But when I went into my nearly empty queue, I saw that The Beaver, starring Mel Gibson and Jodie Foster, and directed by Foster, was at the top of my queue, and I was curious about that one. So what was it? Satisfy curiosity or delve more into the worldview of David E. Kelley? I still want to see The Beaver, and I will some day, most likely through whatever library in Las Vegas has a copy, but I like to go with what currently interests me, keeping up the momentum. So the first disc of the first season of The Practice will be my final DVD. And I probably won't watch all of it anyway. Tomorrow's the 30th, the DVD comes in the mail tomorrow, though I'll begin watching on the morning of the 31st (I don't spend any time in my room during the day, and that's where my DVD player, VCR, and 46-inch widescreen TV are), and have to get it back out by Friday, since the next billing date is on Sunday. Netflix isn't taking any more money from here.
Technology and the opportunities to watch what you like have changed in 6 years, with Amazon offering new services, Hulu existing, iTunes, and so many other opportunities. Plus, having rediscovered my passion for reading and realizing that that is what I love the most in life, I don't need Netflix as much as I used to. The Beaver is available for rental on Amazon. Maybe I'll do that.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Home is So Accessible
There's a company called Just Planes, which specializes in cockpit videos. They show pilots doing walk-arounds of the aircraft before flight, explaining what they're doing, the cameras are there during the preflight preparations, and during takeoff, and during the flight, and landing. Today they're doing a "Hurricane Irene Special Sale!" on certain DVDs: "For a limited time today as the storm is over our area!"
I had to take advantage of this, so I went to the website (First worldairroutes.com, which, when you click on the "Shopping Mall" link, leads to justplanes.net, and the discounts to be seen), scrolled through the "World Air Routes" offerings, and found "Carnival B727", a Boeing 727 flight from Ft. Lauderdale to Newark, which I wanted because in 1994, when my father's grandmother was in the hospital, we flew from Fort Lauderdale International to Newark International on a Delta Airlines Lockheed L-1011, and I wanted to see the route from the vantage point of a Boeing 727. It turns out that this particular program was the first one filmed by Just Planes 20 years ago in 1991 (3 years before my flight). I kept worldairroutes.com open in a separate browser to check the running time of the program to be sure I was getting a decent value, and though this one is a short 55 minutes, I didn't mind paying $10 because I want it for sentimental value.
Continuing my scrolling, I came upon Corsairfly B747 (Caribbean), a program with my favorite aircraft, the Boeing 747, in this case the -400 model. 2 hours for $15? Sold.
It turns out that not only is the company selling some of their cockpit DVDs at a discount, but also their airport DVDs, filming takeoffs and landings at various airports. Looking at that part of the justplanes.net site, the obvious DVDs are sold out, such as New York JFK, Los Angeles, and London Heathrow. But oh lord, what do I see here?! Las Vegas! Regular price is $19.95, sale price is $10. I clicked on the link, and I felt my heart race. A 3-hour program! A total of 340 takeoffs and landings! I don't care when it was filmed because McCarran International is a crucial part of Las Vegas history.
And this makes me love Las Vegas even more. Among aviation enthusiasts who have bought DVDs from this company, the obvious airport DVDs are sold out. But there is my home, so accessible to me. It's always welcoming, no matter in what capacity.
I had to take advantage of this, so I went to the website (First worldairroutes.com, which, when you click on the "Shopping Mall" link, leads to justplanes.net, and the discounts to be seen), scrolled through the "World Air Routes" offerings, and found "Carnival B727", a Boeing 727 flight from Ft. Lauderdale to Newark, which I wanted because in 1994, when my father's grandmother was in the hospital, we flew from Fort Lauderdale International to Newark International on a Delta Airlines Lockheed L-1011, and I wanted to see the route from the vantage point of a Boeing 727. It turns out that this particular program was the first one filmed by Just Planes 20 years ago in 1991 (3 years before my flight). I kept worldairroutes.com open in a separate browser to check the running time of the program to be sure I was getting a decent value, and though this one is a short 55 minutes, I didn't mind paying $10 because I want it for sentimental value.
Continuing my scrolling, I came upon Corsairfly B747 (Caribbean), a program with my favorite aircraft, the Boeing 747, in this case the -400 model. 2 hours for $15? Sold.
It turns out that not only is the company selling some of their cockpit DVDs at a discount, but also their airport DVDs, filming takeoffs and landings at various airports. Looking at that part of the justplanes.net site, the obvious DVDs are sold out, such as New York JFK, Los Angeles, and London Heathrow. But oh lord, what do I see here?! Las Vegas! Regular price is $19.95, sale price is $10. I clicked on the link, and I felt my heart race. A 3-hour program! A total of 340 takeoffs and landings! I don't care when it was filmed because McCarran International is a crucial part of Las Vegas history.
And this makes me love Las Vegas even more. Among aviation enthusiasts who have bought DVDs from this company, the obvious airport DVDs are sold out. But there is my home, so accessible to me. It's always welcoming, no matter in what capacity.
Friday, August 26, 2011
A Perfect Day
I hear about how love can be found when you least expect it, and it's time for me to believe that. I want someone, but at the same time, I'm waiting until my family and I move to Henderson to begin again. But at the same time, I'm also realizing what I truly want, and enjoying how I've found it.
I want someone who feels such happiness when they read a book that they want to jump up, stay there, and fly through wherever they are. For me, yesterday, it was at the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive, part of a long, but utterly satisfying day that included a proper haircut by a tiny, fascinating woman named Kim at her 36-year-long store next to Caruso's II, the second Italian restaurant of the same name in this valley (Mom and Meridith got their hair cut too, and it happened yet again like it did all the other times, that the good things only come along when we're preparing to move. That has to stop, and thank god for Henderson for that, because the good things are always all around).
At one point there, walking with Mom and Meridith through the air freshener aisle on the food side of that massive elephant of a store, I was so deep into reading How to Bake a Perfect Life by Barbara O'Neal, and I got to the part where Ramona and Jonah are spending an evening at his house, rediscovering each other, and it felt like tears were going to come to my eyes. My heart was swelling so fast, I thought I was going to be pulled up into the air, high above those air fresheners and looking across at the soy milk, wondering briefly if we needed any more of the Silk Very Vanilla milk or the dark chocolate almond milk we get from the same brand.
I loved that feeling. I have it again today as I finish this wonderful, lovely gem of a novel, and look ahead to starting Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson. I want this for all time. I want someone who knows that feeling in books, who lets it overtake them completely.
I want someone who feels such happiness when they read a book that they want to jump up, stay there, and fly through wherever they are. For me, yesterday, it was at the Walmart Supercenter on Carl Boyer Drive, part of a long, but utterly satisfying day that included a proper haircut by a tiny, fascinating woman named Kim at her 36-year-long store next to Caruso's II, the second Italian restaurant of the same name in this valley (Mom and Meridith got their hair cut too, and it happened yet again like it did all the other times, that the good things only come along when we're preparing to move. That has to stop, and thank god for Henderson for that, because the good things are always all around).
At one point there, walking with Mom and Meridith through the air freshener aisle on the food side of that massive elephant of a store, I was so deep into reading How to Bake a Perfect Life by Barbara O'Neal, and I got to the part where Ramona and Jonah are spending an evening at his house, rediscovering each other, and it felt like tears were going to come to my eyes. My heart was swelling so fast, I thought I was going to be pulled up into the air, high above those air fresheners and looking across at the soy milk, wondering briefly if we needed any more of the Silk Very Vanilla milk or the dark chocolate almond milk we get from the same brand.
I loved that feeling. I have it again today as I finish this wonderful, lovely gem of a novel, and look ahead to starting Major Pettigrew's Last Stand by Helen Simonson. I want this for all time. I want someone who knows that feeling in books, who lets it overtake them completely.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
What is Satisfaction? It is This.
I spent the late morning and the entire afternoon reading the rest of The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman, and I felt such deep satisfaction, such calm happiness from having become so absorbed in this story about a failing newspaper in Rome and all its inhabitants, editors, writers, reader and publisher alike. Rachman's quiet genius is in each chapter telling the story of each character, while sprinkling the others in as cameos, bringing it all together with what feels like a proper epilogue. And I loved it. I loved the book, I loved that feeling I got from having read something so good that afterward, I went to my priority reading stack and pulled out How to Bake a Perfect Life by Barbara O'Neal. So far, it's good, direct in its approach in this story about a woman taking in her daughter's stepdaughter while she goes to Germany to attend to her severely burned soldier husband in Afghanistan. There's lots of breadmaking involved, and though anything food-related always holds my attention, and I feel so involved again, I want this more often than I had it before. More reading. Lots more. Now if this same, lasting feeling can be found in a relationship, I'm all set.
The Ghosts Have Disappeared
I had a dream during the night that released Lisa completely from my heart and soul. She had vacated my heart early yesterday evening, but I still had brief thoughts of hope that she would eventually find whoever it would be that would make her happy.
In this dream, I was involved in a production of Sweeney Todd that starred Angela Lansbury, and one part of the dream, though not crucial to what happened, was that I wanted to ask Lansbury what she thought about Tim Burton's film of the musical.
The backstage area was this huge, opulent mansion, with deep tile hallways, gold trim on the ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows with cloudy sunshine pouring in, partitioned beds, and very nice buffet spreads. In one part of the mansion, I was running through a tile hallway for some unknown reason, and I spotted three women far ahead of me, two my height, one slightly smaller. They leaped into the air and disappeared.
Who were they? Did they represent what I had liked about Lisa, that she was a voracious reader, a writer, a lover of old movies? Did one of them represent her voice, which had made me melt the first time I heard it on the phone and lasted all the way through to the end? Was one of them representative of how attractive I thought she was? I don't know, and I'll never know, and it doesn't haunt me, because the ghosts have disappeared. That's what they were. I think they did represent her in some way, and that's it. Today, I'm myself again. I'm happy. I've been reading The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman and I had forgotten in those two-and-a-half months how much I enjoy just sitting for hours and reading, especially when the story is as absorbing as this one. I have missed this so much. I'm loving recovering all these parts of myself that I will never abandon again.
I knew I was back to myself when I woke up at about 10:10 this morning and heard "Singin' in the Rain" streaming in from my sister's room across the hall, and wondered if she had Turner Classic Movies on. So I went to her room, found she was still sleeping, but earlier, she had put on a Paddington Bear DVD for our dog Tigger, and Paddington was dancing around in the rain in a raincoat and black galoshes. I have returned.
In this dream, I was involved in a production of Sweeney Todd that starred Angela Lansbury, and one part of the dream, though not crucial to what happened, was that I wanted to ask Lansbury what she thought about Tim Burton's film of the musical.
The backstage area was this huge, opulent mansion, with deep tile hallways, gold trim on the ceilings, floor-to-ceiling windows with cloudy sunshine pouring in, partitioned beds, and very nice buffet spreads. In one part of the mansion, I was running through a tile hallway for some unknown reason, and I spotted three women far ahead of me, two my height, one slightly smaller. They leaped into the air and disappeared.
Who were they? Did they represent what I had liked about Lisa, that she was a voracious reader, a writer, a lover of old movies? Did one of them represent her voice, which had made me melt the first time I heard it on the phone and lasted all the way through to the end? Was one of them representative of how attractive I thought she was? I don't know, and I'll never know, and it doesn't haunt me, because the ghosts have disappeared. That's what they were. I think they did represent her in some way, and that's it. Today, I'm myself again. I'm happy. I've been reading The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman and I had forgotten in those two-and-a-half months how much I enjoy just sitting for hours and reading, especially when the story is as absorbing as this one. I have missed this so much. I'm loving recovering all these parts of myself that I will never abandon again.
I knew I was back to myself when I woke up at about 10:10 this morning and heard "Singin' in the Rain" streaming in from my sister's room across the hall, and wondered if she had Turner Classic Movies on. So I went to her room, found she was still sleeping, but earlier, she had put on a Paddington Bear DVD for our dog Tigger, and Paddington was dancing around in the rain in a raincoat and black galoshes. I have returned.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Final Boarding Call - "Welcome, Have a Seat and Read a Book"
Before 6, when I let the dogs out, a fly buzzed in, swooping about the kitchen, zooming to the ceiling, lingering near the blinds that cover the window behind the sink, and dashing in front of the oven. It was frantic, didn't know where it was, but clearly didn't want to be in here. And I didn't want to deal with trying to squash a fly throughout the house. The fly got close to the patio door, I opened it, and out it went, clearly more satisfied with being out there. And I realized that now I am that fly. I wasn't frantically buzzing when I first might have been unhappy with Lisa, and it took the end of that final blow-up to realize that I was unhappy, but I know now that I am happier, that I couldn't do with her what I wanted in a relationship. I spent so much time trying to change myself to fit in this relationship that I didn't think of myself, didn't stick to what I wanted, what I had been looking for. She met much of what I hoped for, but as I saw, not the important things.
I bring this up because in the late afternoon, while I read the rest of The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight, I felt her packing up and beginning to leave my heart. Any regrets I had had before, of something I thought I should have done, had faded. I wondered briefly if I could go back to her, see if maybe she was still open. It wasn't something I had considered the first time, but I wanted to test myself in thought, and definitely not. No reason. What you see is what you get. And I eventually didn't like what I had gotten, so there was no point.
Now I sit here, and she's briefly in my thoughts as I write this, but she's vacated my heart. There's plenty of room for whoever might be next, though I'll take my time, give little by little and see how it's received before I do more. I can't give so much again. I want to take chances in love, but that was just far too much.
Along with getting More Notes of a Dirty Old Man from City Lights Books via UPS, there were a few papers with the book, such as a small catalog of what else City Lights has published so far this year. And there was a City Lights bookmark, the front of which has a rocking chair with "poet's chair" painted in yellow at the top of the chair and a poster above it with "Welcome, Have a Seat and Read a Book" in blue. That's what I have come back to, that rocking chair (though it's a couch here), and that sentiment. I started reading The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman, I'm considering what writing projects I should pursue next, and I'm going to write a lot more in this blog than I have in the past two-and-a-half months. I feel comfortable here. My space (sponsored by Blogger). My thoughts. All here.
Now to whatever's next.
I bring this up because in the late afternoon, while I read the rest of The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight, I felt her packing up and beginning to leave my heart. Any regrets I had had before, of something I thought I should have done, had faded. I wondered briefly if I could go back to her, see if maybe she was still open. It wasn't something I had considered the first time, but I wanted to test myself in thought, and definitely not. No reason. What you see is what you get. And I eventually didn't like what I had gotten, so there was no point.
Now I sit here, and she's briefly in my thoughts as I write this, but she's vacated my heart. There's plenty of room for whoever might be next, though I'll take my time, give little by little and see how it's received before I do more. I can't give so much again. I want to take chances in love, but that was just far too much.
Along with getting More Notes of a Dirty Old Man from City Lights Books via UPS, there were a few papers with the book, such as a small catalog of what else City Lights has published so far this year. And there was a City Lights bookmark, the front of which has a rocking chair with "poet's chair" painted in yellow at the top of the chair and a poster above it with "Welcome, Have a Seat and Read a Book" in blue. That's what I have come back to, that rocking chair (though it's a couch here), and that sentiment. I started reading The Imperfectionists by Tom Rachman, I'm considering what writing projects I should pursue next, and I'm going to write a lot more in this blog than I have in the past two-and-a-half months. I feel comfortable here. My space (sponsored by Blogger). My thoughts. All here.
Now to whatever's next.
Feeling Better
I feel like today will be my final day of recovery before I return to myself. After I woke up late this morning (It seems like I've been sleeping longer and later, after 11 a.m. instead of 10 or 10:30 over the past two days, as if my body is recovering from all of this too), I continued reading The Statistical Probability of Falling in Love by Jennifer E. Smith, which is coming out in February 2012, and which I managed to snag an advance copy of off of abebooks.com, half-motivated by having been in love at the time, and also because it takes place over 24 hours, and I have a notion of writing a novel like that one day, but am not sure yet in what way. I like it so far, and even through the pains I have felt in heart and head (A headache brought on by the stress of trying to tell Lisa that what I felt should have mattered more than comparison to general other people, "most people," as she put it, lasted through yesterday and last night and finally dulled after I took an aspirin and now it's gone. Much like her), I have not given up on finding love. I will just go about it more slowly, more cautiously, and remember never to abandon myself, to find someone that appreciates me for me, everything that I am. I bear no ill will toward Lisa. I learned from this experience and I will carry it with me when I look to date again, which will be after my family and I move to Henderson. But I will not let it color my view of other women. I want to give them as big of a chance as I gave Lisa, and see what fits, what truly fits.
Also, UPS dropped off a package containing More Notes of a Dirty Old Man: The Uncollected Columns by Charles Bukowski, which City Lights Books just published. My Bukowski collection grows, also because the other day, I ordered off of abebooks.com War All the Time: Poems - 1981-1984, as it contains my favorite writings ever about Bukowski's experience at a racetrack, in a section called "Horsemeat." I like having this new book in front of me, the new insights never known as widely about Bukowski until now, and one of the very few things I'm grateful to Southern California for having introduced to me, because I don't think I would have even thought about Bukowski had I still lived in Florida, though I may have been happier. Even so, Henderson will make me happier, I know that, because of all the opportunity to come, including the JCC there, and it'll be nice to have a kind of community again, especially in the apartment complex that we'll be living in. Pool table in the main office, swimming pool, jacuzzi, sauna, basketball court (I'll be shooting hoops there often), tennis court (For Meridith), easy access to the Review-Journal (drop in a few coins, open that door, and you've got it), and a free weekly newspaper called Henderson Press, which I read two issues of that Mom and Dad had brought home with me along with a slew of other publications from their most recent trip to Las Vegas back in June, and I really felt like I was reading a paper that belonged to a place, that felt like it came from somewhere. The Signal here in the Santa Clarita Valley doesn't even have 1/10th that kind of connection.
I think by the end of today, my heart will be open again, but I will give little by little and see how it's received before I give more. And once in Henderson, I'll be ready again. I'll be ready to date, to have fun, to see who might be there who could be the one I want, the one who can give so much to me as I would to her. And maybe that headache receding was the sign that my body and soul are ready to move on. I think so. I feel it today. I feel better. I'll make it.
Also, UPS dropped off a package containing More Notes of a Dirty Old Man: The Uncollected Columns by Charles Bukowski, which City Lights Books just published. My Bukowski collection grows, also because the other day, I ordered off of abebooks.com War All the Time: Poems - 1981-1984, as it contains my favorite writings ever about Bukowski's experience at a racetrack, in a section called "Horsemeat." I like having this new book in front of me, the new insights never known as widely about Bukowski until now, and one of the very few things I'm grateful to Southern California for having introduced to me, because I don't think I would have even thought about Bukowski had I still lived in Florida, though I may have been happier. Even so, Henderson will make me happier, I know that, because of all the opportunity to come, including the JCC there, and it'll be nice to have a kind of community again, especially in the apartment complex that we'll be living in. Pool table in the main office, swimming pool, jacuzzi, sauna, basketball court (I'll be shooting hoops there often), tennis court (For Meridith), easy access to the Review-Journal (drop in a few coins, open that door, and you've got it), and a free weekly newspaper called Henderson Press, which I read two issues of that Mom and Dad had brought home with me along with a slew of other publications from their most recent trip to Las Vegas back in June, and I really felt like I was reading a paper that belonged to a place, that felt like it came from somewhere. The Signal here in the Santa Clarita Valley doesn't even have 1/10th that kind of connection.
I think by the end of today, my heart will be open again, but I will give little by little and see how it's received before I give more. And once in Henderson, I'll be ready again. I'll be ready to date, to have fun, to see who might be there who could be the one I want, the one who can give so much to me as I would to her. And maybe that headache receding was the sign that my body and soul are ready to move on. I think so. I feel it today. I feel better. I'll make it.
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