Poetically Moving Forward

There are days, weeks, months when nothing goes wrong. Every day unfolds like the one before it and tomorrows awaken as they always have. Nothing miraculous, nothing disastrous.

We all have luck-- I believe in it-- but luck comes in waves that are both good and bad-- yin and yang, positive and negative. The good luck and the bad luck interact with each other to bless me with experiences that make me as I am.

This has been a hectic and emotional roller-coaster of a week. I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed by work and the prospects of finding another job in this "blast-off-bottle rocket"economy. I've been moving forward with our show, "It's Always Smoggy In L.A." working in post on a couple of episodes, developing marketing/publicity ideas and beginning pre-production on another episode slated to shoot next month.

Then, an external hard drive failed. "Grrreeattt....," I thought-- "less than a year old" with video files, raw footage, the works. We were able to recover some files and put the data onto another hard drive that awesomely failed two days later for no reason whatsoever. It just no longer "mounted" onto my desktop and seemed corrupted in some way. I left it alone. I just didn't want to deal with it. Whatever. Pissy mood.

Then, Saturday, July 18-- as I wished one friend a happy birthday I learned I'd lost another friend: Christine Niemi. Just 32, she'd been diagnosed with colon cancer only a handful of years ago. She'd been feisty against it, doing all she could to fight her illness while spreading the word about cancer prevention and cancer research through her blog and her activism with C3: Colorectal Cancer Coalition

Suddenly, stupid little annoyances didn't seem like much anymore. Christine in life [and in death] taught me a lot: Seize the moment. Reach toward your goals-- what have you got to lose? Keep a positive attitude. Find yourself and be yourself. Don't compromise. Never take your health or body for granted. Laugh whenever you can. Cry when you need to. And above all, be kind to yourself and to others.

Sure, the external hard drive crashes still piss me off and I'm still figuring that out. Disk Warrior?? I don't know. I have a job--though it may not be the most ideal one for now. I've got other challenging projects on the horizon that are sometimes stressful, yet always rewarding and helping me to develop as a person. Life will go on. Things will fall into place.

That day [Saturday], thoughts started circulating, words started formulating. I put other things aside and allowed myself to think. I wrote a poem called No Longer Of This World (and though I'm a writer, I don't normally write poetry. I stopped at the library and got a book called Meditation For Beginners and another one on how to write a living will. Because there will always be things in life that are difficult, but necessary. And though I don't look forward to those things, when faced with them, I want to be prepared and calm and know that I did the best I could.

No Longer Of This World
Christine Niemi's Blog: Colon Cancer Sucks Ass

Copyright 2009 by KLiedle
Flower photo credit: Ban Mae Raem

Thespian Jesus-- "Sure I enjoy the craft and lunching with Tom Hanks..."

Here is one of our latest episodes of "It's Always Smoggy In L.A."

Check out all other episodes and vote for your favorites on Funny or Die.

It's Always Smoggy In L.A. - "Thespian Jesus" - watch more funny videos

It's Always Smoggy In L.A.

Copyright 2009 by KLiedle
Creative Commons Licensing

Neverland Best Left To Imagination

A week ago, I was sitting as I am today when the news broke that Michael Jackson had been rushed to UCLA Medical Center and then pronounced dead.

News spread like a California wildfire. In the next several hours, I heard dozens of helicopters overhead-- enough that I had to close my windows to block out the noise. Media outlets and fans from all over Los Angeles and the world descended on the scene. They came by land and by air and even by foot.

I remembered my 1984 Michael Jackson AM/FM radio-- still sitting on a shelf at my parents' house. With two AA batteries, it still catches some stations, but mostly it's static. And that's how things are right now: static-- as the Jackson family tries to figure out how to honorably and respectfully memorialize Michael. Michael's family and friends are mourning privately. Yet, fans have a connection to Michael and a collective need to express themselves and commemorate him in a public way. In that, lies the complication.

Two or three days ago, the plan had been to have a 30-car motorcade escort the body to Neverland Ranch in Santa Barbara County, CA for a public memorial this coming Friday.

"Authorities in Santa Barbara County had been preparing for tens of thousands of fans to descend on the 2,500-acre ranch after media reports that a public viewing would take place later this week." (AP)

Today those plans have been dismissed and I'm relieved-- totally and completely. Helicopters overhead is one thing, but a media circus following a motorcade to a sleepy little town called Los Olivos is quite another. The area is not prepared for a public event of this magnitude. And in a word, it would be hellish.

I spent some time living in the area not too far from Neverland Ranch. It was a world away from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles and that's what I appreciated most about it. Locals in Los Olivos, Santa Ynez, and surrounding areas enjoy simplicity, rolling hills, vineyards, and the overall serenity they garner from the sun and the air and the beauty around them. I suspect that Michael relished many of the same things about the area.

As a private residence, Neverland Ranch is tucked away on a rather isolated country road. Of course, it has its mystique and sometimes people whisper about its existence. A few years back, a friend of mine was commissioned to do some mural artwork there. She never saw Michael yet she spoke of the experience of being there and the high level of security-- a necessity for an estate associated with someone like Michael Jackson.

I'd driven past the wrought-iron gates before. Along the road to Neverland, there are narrow, winding views of fields and pastures and an occasional horse or two. It's glowing and peaceful and private there. It's not for tourists or prepared for mass processions of people.

In 2005, when child molestation allegations rose once again, half a dozen satellite news vans and a mini-Michael Jackson circus of fans camped outside the gates. There they waited persistently for a news break or a Michael sighting. I don't have the patience for such things. And I found them annoying because I, too, was a local myself at that time. I just wanted the attention to pass so life could get back to normal.

I believe a place like Neverland should remain mystical. Michael wouldn't want Neverland to be stampeded by fans on the occasion of his death or thereafter if it were to become a museum like Graceland. To locals, a public memorial or worse, a Neverland Ranch Museum, would change their serene lifestyle and the landscape of the area dramatically. Cars would be piled up for miles along the little road... or lands of great beauty would be cleared for acres of parking and concrete. The area would become commercialized as Michael Jackson County and that's the least that would happen.

If Neverland is sold, so be it. When an era is over, we mourn and move on. We have our memories and our own ideas of what Neverland, Michael Jackson, and the Land of Oz means to us personally. We hold on to what we can and let go of the rest.

Thankfully, the Neverland memorial plans have been dropped. However, if a public memorial is still sought, and the idea has not been completely scrapped, plan it at a venue that can withstand such an event.

Copyright 2009 by KLiedle
Photo credits: susanneleasure/flickr and svanes/flickr

Green Peace

Back in the not-so-distant past, I had an apartment. It was a junior one bedroom, meaning it didn't really have a bedroom at all. It was just an open landscape of space with a big, red floppy IKEA sofa-bed in the middle.

The apartment complex was huge... and like shadows, my neighbors and I passed each other on our way to and from work. I never knew any of them. I rarely saw anyone else and even when I did, they avoided eye contact and scurried down the long corridors until they disappeared behind a closed door.

To keep me company, I had my cats-- kittens at the time--and a couple of potted plants. I kept the green plants on the gray concrete just outside my door. There, they happily soaked up the golden L.A. sun amid the colorless expanse of SoCal apartment living.

Not a week had gone by when I got a knock on my door. It was my apartment manager.

"The plants have to go inside," he said. "Each unit has to appear uniform from the outside."

I spoke up-- fought for my plants' sake-- but ultimately, I trudged inside with my green plants, afraid maintenance would steal them in the dead of night. I placed them in the windowsill, in front of the blinds so they could still see the sun. Life went on. Then, days later, another knock. It was you-know-who:

"Tenants cannot place decals, flags, or personal items in the windowsills."

"These aren't flags. I'm not protesting war or advocating abortion-- they're just a couple of freakin' plants!" But I lost the battle. The plants came down. In the days that followed, they only saw glimmers of sunlight in the shadows of despair. Their leaves were partially eaten by my cats. They wilted with sadness.

I moved...

... this time into a townhouse with more than one room. There was a little sliver of green space just outside the door. We had a shrub and a little tree and just enough room for my plants to rejuvenate. And there was even a patio for my cats to frolic and bathe in the sun. We planted grass and aloe vera and laid decorative brick. We had a little garden oasis in the midst of this urban jungle called L.A. Things were peachy for a good, long while.

Then about a month ago, the HOA decided to utilize money from a recent legal settlement to redo the landscaping on the grounds. Loads of perfectly good trees and thriving plants were hacked and unceremoniously thrown into dumpsters and replaced. Three-lane highways of sod were unravelled. Things looked streamlined and manicured, but the old plants were just as good.

A week ago, we got a notice from the current HOA board. It said that any extraneous plants, home decor, decorative bricks, etc. on the little sliver of green space just outside the door would have to be removed by 8 a.m. Thursday-- two days later!

This little sliver of green space, that pathetically represents more "yard" than many Southern Californians get, was apparently not ours after all. To HOA, it is considered a "common area" and therefore, each homeowners' green space would have to look identical. The old landscaping was being torn up and replaced by new landscaping-- chosen by the HOA board.

We grumbled as we tore up the dirt and dug up our plants-- picking out each slab of brick that I felt like throwing at them. A few doors down, one of our neighbors was in mourning. She had an entire rose garden outside her door. Each day, bright red and peach-colored roses greeted her. Even on bad days, she'd marvel at their beauty. In two days, it was gone-- vanished. Not a rose petal in sight.

Power. Stupidity. All the land on the Earth is a "common area."Can't we all just enjoy some green space? Why does an HOA have to spend time putting ridiculous restrictions on it?

Today, as I peered through the blinds, I saw them. Four people from the HOA board standing outside our door, clutching their little clipboards.

"They're making the rounds again," I thought, as I watched.

One woman counted the plants and made note of their types. The four of them scribbled on their legal pads. They shook their heads and talked amongst themselves. They stood in front of our place for an eternity. I know they saw the decorative bricks. It had been four days since the 8 a.m. deadline and we'd failed to tear all of them up. Even the lady with the roses had sadly done her duty.

California is bankrupt. It hasn't rained for months. We have mandatory water restrictions. Unemployment is among the highest in the nation. And with corporations destroying humans and humans destroying the Earth, why should anyone give a flying f**k whether we all have identical plants outside our door?

Send the roses to the landfill-- the thorns will come for you later.

Copyright 2009 by KLiedle

In Excess

In some ways, I wouldn't mind being younger. It's not that I'm even old, but I feel so far removed from the youngest generations of today that it makes me feel so much older than I actually am. I enjoyed growing up in the '80s-- it all seems so simplistic now. It was just a hiccup in time just before technology really started to take over.

I remember when my dad brought home our first home computer. It was a hand-me-down from the school where he worked as a guidance counselor. It looked like a black-and-white TV with a keyboard attached and that's pretty much what it was.

It had the amazing capabilities to do just about nothing, but I thought it was one of the greatest things in the world. I could sit there and type, type, type as the letters appeared like magic on the screen. God only knows what I wrote [or if I wrote anything intelligible at all.] I couldn't send my messages anywhere. Hell, I couldn't even print them out. But I'd sit there and type, type, type for hours at a time. It was so fun to hear the clippity-clop of my fingerprints and see those letters on the screen.

Around the same time, after begging and pleading, my mom finally let us get a Nintendo Entertainment System. Like the computer, it was a hand-me-down. Our babysitter was selling it so they could get the upgrade. [They also had the Disney Channel which my mom wouldn't let us get because it cost more than cable. Grr. But that's another story.] Anyway, the used Nintendo came with the now-classic controllers and one video game: Super Mario Bros. I loved Super
Mario Bros. and over time, I got pretty good. I even got to Level 8 to slay the dragon, as shown on the left. That was a great day--- for my kid self anyway.

In fact, I don't recall owning any other game... maybe we did, maybe we didn't, but what I do remember is the thrill my brother and I had when we'd earned our right to rent a new video game at Blockbuster. My mom created this point system based on our list of chores. A certain number of chores gave us points that eventually earned us a video game. Of course we hated the system at the time [ i.e. "I cleaned the bathrooms every weekend for a month so I could get Donkey Kong Jr."] but now that I look back-- there was something about earning it that made me appreciate it all the more.

Although it would be nice to re-live certain times in my life [while skipping others entirely], I don't envy the kids growing up in today's world. They've grown up to believe that they have the best things in life... that nothing is too good for them... What they don't know is how much they're missing. In Western culture, they've learned that money and fame along with the newest and most upgraded cell phone/ipod/game system is what counts. Most of them are bored (or unaware) of the act of living. They never look up from texting long enough to see the streaks of color in the sky after the sun sets. Nothing gets their full attention because they are so adept at multi-tasking that they have no ability to uni-task. At the movies, the newest and best CGI technology in the world doesn't faze them. It's just like everything else they've ever seen{ yawn }

They're trapped in the middle of an infinite black hole that eventually will collapse. Bigger and better is no longer the name of the game. The time of excess is coming to a close. Pull the plug and the youngest of us would struggle the most. Globally, the internet would blackout. Texts would go unsent. IMs would go missing. Cell phones would go dead. Facebook statuses would be frozen in time. We might have to actually venture outside or resort to the the type, type, type of words in books to entertain us. And horror of horrors, when the darkness comes, we'll only have live human beings to comfort us.

Yet, those of us who can still remember how to engage our minds with our own thoughts, our imaginations, and the nature of the great world around us will do just fine.

Plus, I'm pretty sure that old Nintendo Game System still works.

** For more about relics of computers past, check out: oldcomputers
** To play old school video games like Super Mario Bros, Pac Man, and Donkey Kong for FREE, check out Game Ninja



Copyright 2009 by KLiedle

Up, UP, and AWAY!

Early Friday, I threaded Pixar's new movie, UP, for a midnight screening. As the film spun, twisted, and turned, I thought:

"A midnight screening of a kid's movie? Are they crazy?"

Well, don't listen to me. It sold out... and we added another midnight show. And show after show after show, things got crazier... and messier. But for every popcorn kernel, smushed milk dud, and trail of M&Ms, there was a smile, a laugh, and a whisper of adventure and imagination in the hearts and minds of kids, adults, and even the most hard-nosed critic.

Multi-colored balloons are happy things. If a kid is crying at glass-breaking decibels in a restaurant, what do they give them? Why, a brightly colored balloon. Balloons are like a brand new box of 64 crayons or a bag of colorful M&Ms, but they float and as they go Up, Up, And Away... they encounter a whole new world and curious adventures that humans rarely see. And in that, lies potential for a cinematic journey.

In 1956, French filmmaker, Albert Lamorisse, made a classic 34-minute short called Le Ballon Rouge (The Red Balloon,) a simple little story about a balloon and a little boy. It won many awards, including an Oscar for best original screenplay and the Palm d'Or [for short film] at Cannes. Years later, another ballloon idea saw its beginnings. A few years ago, Director Pete Docter and co-director/writer Bob Peterson were talking and started hashing out a kernel of an idea: What if you tied a bunch of balloons together and were whisked far, far away? You'd instantly be on a deserted island in the sky and a guest on an adventure of your own making.

Needless to say, that kernel of an idea expanded with helium and blew up-- but unlike many blockbusters, this blow-up didn't come from a series of CGI explosions. It came from imagination, lots of balloons, well-drawn characters, and a good, solid adventure.

The weekend was an UPward fury of kids and parents and adults all stampeding to see the latest from Disney/Pixar. You'd think it was Christmas--which it was for movie theaters across the country. Over the weekend, UP raked in $68, 108, 790 blasting Night At The Museum and even the Terminator.

Can you imagine the initial pitch?

I want to make a movie about a craggy old guy who ties a zillion balloons to his house until it floats away to South America. Then, I'll give him a roly-poly Boy Scout as an uninvited companion.

Somewhere along the line, that pitch was made and luckily, it fell to Pixar to bring it to fruition. As simple as the storyline is, preparation and research took time...lots and lots of time. Just how many balloons would it take to lift a house? According to production notes, technical directors for the film calculated that Carl Fredricksen would have to tie twenty to thirty million balloons to even have hopes of lifting off. Now, THAT's a lot of hot air-- or helium, I guess I should say.

Steve May, the film's supervising technical director noted:

"We ended up using 10, 297 for most of the floating scenes, and 20,622 when it actually lifts off. The number varies from shot to shot depending on the angle, distance, and fine-tuning the size so that it feels interesting, believable and visually simple. " [UP official website]

When I was younger, I used to daydream about flight: flapping my arms, lifting off and flying around the world like a bird. I know it's not a dream unique to me, as much as I'd like it to be. But take that dream, throw in interesting characters, an adventurous setting right out of Indiana Jones, and lots of lots of colorful balloons and people will come.

UP presented many complications for the filmmakers, animators, and technical teams. But now that the hard parts are over, the celebration can begin. The film's not only in the can, it's on the screen [ many, many screens] and certifiably another slam dunk for Pixar-- its 10th film overall, AND it's 1st available in Digital 3-D [at select theaters.]

Copyright 2009 by KLiedle

UP Synopsis: From Disney•Pixar comes Up, a comedy adventure about 78-year-old balloon salesman Carl Fredricksen, who finally fulfills his lifelong dream of a great adventure when he ties thousands of balloons... From Disney•Pixar comes Up, a comedy adventure about 78-year-old balloon salesman Carl Fredricksen, who finally fulfills his lifelong dream of a great adventure when he ties thousands of balloons to his house and flies away to the wilds of South America. But he discovers all too late that his biggest nightmare has stowed away on the trip: an overly optimistic 8-year-old Wilderness Explorer named Russell. [ Disney/Pixar]

"May I Put My Hand In Your Pocket?..."

I must've been five years old the first time I saw Gone With The Wind. On TV. Even on the small screen I was swept off my feet by the epic story, the cinematography, and the spirited charms of both Scarlett O'Hara (Viven Leigh) and Rhett Butler (Clark Gable.)

Since then, I've seen the film countless times. I have an original paperback copy of the novel from 1939, sealed in a plastic bag. I've unconsciously memorized entire passages from the film--purely from seeing it so, so many times over the years.

But it was only three days ago, seventy years after its release, that I finally had the opportunity to see the film in its full glory-- in 35mm, on the big screen, with a sold-out audience. I saw the film Monday night in the William Goldwyn Theatre at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences in Beverly Hills, CA.

The evening began with newsreels from the year 1939 and a Buck Rogers serial. Following that, the audience was given a rare opportunity to hear anecdotes from several of the remaining cast members, including Cammie King (Bonnie Blue Butler), Ann Rutherford (Carreen O'Hara), and Mickey Kuhn (Beau Wilkes). Even a firefighter who had been on-set during the historic "burning of Atlanta" sequence was in the audience. Moments before the curtains parted, Olivia de Havilland (Melanie Hamilton) offered a greeting recorded earlier in the day from her home in Paris. Then, we were off... to the the land of Tara...

On the big screen, bookmarked by large Oscar statuettes, Scarlett's world was an altogether new place. It was as fresh as the first time I'd ever seen it, yet more true, more real, more vibrant. On the big screen, I noticed things I'd never seen before... like parrots. I in two different scenes that I never recall seeing before. At the Atlanta bazaar, I was able to read a sign in the background: "Buy a hanky. Beat a Yankee." In the jailhouse scene, I could see the callouses on Scarlett's hands at the same time Rhett notices them. So much of the GWTW experience and so many details had escaped me by seeing the film on TV and VHS-- the only way I'd been able to see it up until now. I relished sharing the film with fellow audience members and cast members in attendance who were watching along with us.

During intermission, I had the opportunity to meet Ann Rutherford (Carreen O'Hara,) seated two rows behind me. I never thought I'd ever be in the position to meet anyone directly involved in the film, yet here I was, in Beverly Hills CA (at the Academy, no less) meeting Ms. Rutherford herself-- seventy years after her appearance in one of my favorite films. Ms. Rutherford is delightful-- one of the most spirited women I've ever met. I looked into her face and saw the glow that she still has after all these years. As I grow older, I want to keep ahold of that spirit within myself. So many of us lose it, over time. Ms. Rutherford says Gone With The Wind was one of the best things that ever happened to her-- as it's made her "golden years... platinum."
It's also one of the best things that's happened to me and to many people around the world.

It's a testament to the film's power that so many of us in the U.S. and around the world can become connected by our mutual affinity for such a classic film. Although many of the original cast members are no longer with us, in Gone With The Wind they vibrantly live on. For those cast members left, their GWTW experience seventy years ago is now 'no more than a dream remembered...' but oh what a glorious dream it must've been!

**I'd like to thank the Academy for offering this superb event-- especially for younger generations like me, who have very little opportunity to see classics like this on the big screen-- as they were intended to be seen.**

1939-- GONE WITH THE WIND ~ CELEBRATING 70 YEARS.

Copyright 2009 by KLiedle