This story perfectly illustrates the public relations problem Christians frequently have. Uhm, because we act like total asses. As I’ve always said, “Just because you have the Holy Spirit doesn’t mean you’re not an ass.”
Although, it IS meant to be a mitigating factor. If you’re gonna be jerks in public, please leave Jesus out of it, ‘mkay?
Go read the story. I’m too flabbergasted to even begin to describe it.
In the car on the way home from school a few weeks ago, Piper sat next to my sister detailing the school’s dress code. There are no uniforms, but there is a dress code.
“Soo, we can’t wear open-toed shoes annd …. what else? Oh, yeah. We can’t wear tops with noodle straps.”
What? No fusilli straps? That’s a rip-off, man.
We’ve done “Rank ‘Em” here before — I think with American Idol winners. I could link to it, but, frankly, I’m too busy ogling the Liam Neeson poster below. The guidelines are simple: “Rank ‘Em” is your personal preference. My #1 may be totally different from your #1 and that is okay.
So I thought I’d do “Rank ‘Em:The Chronicles of Narnia” since I just watched Prince Caspian on my laptop last night whilst MB was at a production meeting. You know, I have this to say in general about the Narnia movies so far: Please get a better director. Please find a better editor. And, well, the actors playing Peter, Susan, and Edmund are …. boring. Also, please give Aslan a bigger better mane — he looks like he just came from the lion groomer’s and it totally bugs me. Everyone raved that the second movie was so much better than the first and I’ll give it this — it had a bigger budget — but that’s all I’m giving it. And this isn’t the post to talk about all the ways they changed the story, ahem. Still, Narnia deserves better.
But seeing the movie got me thinking about these books again and how much I loved them, how I’ve read several of them over and over, and next think I knew, I had scribbled out my rankings — my personal list of my favorite to least favorite of The Chronicles of Narnia.
Again, this list is my personal order of preference, so there’s no need, I would hope, for anyone to take issue. It’s preference. No accounting for taste, as the phrase goes. Last time, with Rank ‘Em: AI, I ranked winner Taylor Hicks very low on my preference list and I could NOT believe all the Hickheads who came out of the woodwork blasting me: “How could you rank Taylor Hicks last?? How can you say that?? Fantasia Barino — or whoever — should be last!” Then their Taylor Hicks website linked to my list so that even more people could CHOOSE to get all offended over nothing. It was insane! So, seriously, if any random As-heads or Lionheads or Narn-heads, whatever they may call themselves, want to get all obstreperous about it, I will delete the comments. It’s for fun, not arguing. Personal preference, remember?
Feel free to do yours. Of course, if you haven’t read the books, well, I imagine it will be harder for you.
1) The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe — The first one I read so it had the impact of being first, but I love everything about this story. I fell in love with Narnia and Aslan from this book.
2) The Silver Chair — Puddleglum! Harfang! The Lady of the Green Kirtle! “It was a dull autumn day and Jill Pole was crying behind the gym.”
3) The Magician’s Nephew — Chronologically, the first book. I am MAD for Polly and Digory and weird Uncle Andrew and the whole creation scene.
4) The Voyage of the Dawn Treader — “There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb and he almost deserved it.” Yes, I’m a nerd. I have these opening sentences memorized. Feel free to check their accuracy. I adored Eustace, Reepicheep, the Dufflepuds, the magician’s book, the “dragon” ….. ooooh.
5) Prince Caspian — Actually, this book has one of my favorite scenes in all of the Narnia books — where Lucy wakes up and hears Aslan calling her and reunites him in the pool of moonlight. (They completely botched this scene in the movie. It was a turn-off, man.) I love Doctor Cornelius and Trufflehunter.
6) The Last Battle — I have only read this one once and it was years ago now. It was disturbing to my little mind at the time — the whole “antichrist” angle — but I remember how my heart just soared over the descriptions of New Narnia at the end.
7) The Horse and His Boy — Another one I’ve read just once. I don’t know. It didn’t resonate for me at the time. It was foreign — it was foreign, wasn’t it? Less Narnia? I remember next to nothing about it so I think I will reread it this year and see if my ranking here changes.
Feel free to rank ’em for yourself.
So MB and I were at the movies the other day. Saw this poster below for Liam Neeson’s new movie “Taken.” And then …. I swooned. Aunt Pittypatted all over the place. Had palpitations. Broke into a cold sweat. Broke into a hot flush. After that, I went all When Harry Met Sally on everyone present including precious innocent chirren.
First Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger and now this Liam Neeson poster? Has the whole world gone sexy??? Admittedly, I am highly susceptible — hi-hi-HIGHLY susceptible — to the charms of Liam Neeson, but I’m afraid I have entered a whole new realm with this one. And I haven’t even seen the movie yet. I’m not sure MB will let me now.
Holy Moses on the mountain! I don’t think I can get anything done for the rest of my life, because I am now dedicating it to looking at this poster.
I’d forgotten I’d drawn and scanned this a few months ago. I think I was mostly interested in creating the dress and then it sprouted a head and then it sprouted an olive branch and before I knew it, I had some poor big-headed girl basically apologizing for her very existence.
I feel ya, big head.
(Also: I don’t know where that dress came from, but it suits you somehow.)
Uhm, okay. I think this is probably unseemly of me to mention, but may I say that Capt. Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger, pilot of Flight 1549, is kind of sexy? I looked forward all day to his “60 Minutes” interview (with Katie Couric) tonight and halfway through the segment, I looked over and announced at MB, “Yes. Okay. I have a crush on Sully Sullenberger now.” “Okay.” Hahaha. He is, as ever, unfazed. Dammit. Be jealous. Look, man: “I HAVE A CRUSH ON CHESLEY ‘SULLY’ SULLENBERGER, OKAY???”
“Okay. Frankly, so do I.”
Well, he’s mine, Peaches; back OFF.
Anyhoo. I’m sure many of you saw this interview, so I can’t be alone here in my response. Or if I am, then make something up so I don’t feel alone. Part of the sexiness comes from the fact that he did something amazing and heroic. That’s a given. Heroes are just dead sexy. But the other part of his sexiness, the unexpected part for me, was his demeanor during the interview. Here’s this thin white-haired man, pushing 60, porn mustache, not really empirically attractive, and there’s just something about him. I could not look away from his face. Something about his gaze, how unwavering and direct it was, but not in a confrontational way, no, not at all. He seemed warm but reserved and steady. Just so steady. As he told his story, he showed absolutely no sign of ego, no sign that any of the accolades had gone to his head. He seemed almost too … complete for all of that. Too much of a grown up. Okay. I’ll say it: Too much of a man.
And I’m sorry, but he made me a little tingly. He’s a little bit yowza. When he was looking that look at America’s Chipmunk, Katie Couric, I felt this wave of resentment and wanted him to be looking that look at me. “Look at me, Chesley ‘Sully’ Sullenberger! Look at me!”
But no. That Couric person got all his looks and, you know what? You could tell: Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger was getting to The Chipmunk too.
Yowza McGowza.
You’ve all heard about this, right? Christian Bale going off on the DP on the set of the new Terminator movie? I heard about this a couple of days ago and, frankly, thought it could not be real. But here’s a link to the audio.
(Major profanity alert. Like, uh, David Mamet wrote this thing or something. You’ve been warned.)
Here’s an article in the LA Times which gives a little more context and closure to the whole episode. Apparently, this happened last July, but all these months later this gets released to the public?? Of course, Bale’s behavior is inexcusable — he says so himself in the LA Times article — but I also think it’s inexcusable to put this out in the public ear so long after the fact. From what I’ve read, Bale had already apologized months ago, privately, for his horrible tirade and now he’s been forced to apologize publicly for this, a private incident. I get that everyone’s up in arms over what he said, fine; it was terrible, yes. But Christian Bale is not beholden to me. He does not owe ME an explanation or an apology. Apologize to any and all affected parties, as he apparently already did, and then be done with it.
But nope. Someone had to put this out there. Nearly seven months later.
At this point, I actually find myself more disturbed about that, the disclosure after the fact, the low blow, than the actual abusive tantrum — for which he already apologized.
We all are weak. Every one of us. We are alcoholics and drug addicts, kleptos and ragers, liars and sex addicts. Weaknesses and weak moments come in all shapes and sizes and sounds. Maybe this was an isolated incident for Mr. Bale or maybe he has an issue with anger. (There was some kind of incident with his mom and sister, also several months ago.) Either way, it’s a weakness — whether in moment or character — and it is his as ours are ours. Perhaps the only good thing to come of this being made public is that Christian Bale may really commit to making whatever those “adjustments” are that the article talks about. Most of us, I might add, are blessed to be able to do our adjustments privately, however.
You know, I remember once during a rehearsal in college becoming completely frustrated with a scene I was working on. I just wasn’t getting it; I was mad at myself; ready to burst into tears, whatever. I became so unhinged at one point that I grabbed a plastic coffee mug from a set table and flung it wildly into the darkness of the theater. I couldn’t see much out there, but I was aware that my beloved director suddenly rose from his seat in the middle of the house, stared at me for a moment — I could make out his eyes and I will never forget their disappointed expression — then turned on his heel and walked out without a word. Everyone on stage just froze. Rehearsal was over and it was all my fault. My director was gone. It was beneath him to even comment. It was beneath me to do it. What he did — walking out in silence — said both of those things loudly without ever saying them. Later, full of shame and remorse, I apologized to everyone, but I’ve never gotten over the fact that I did that. In a weak moment, I DID do that. How much more horrible would the situation have been if someone had been there taping or filming my childish hissy fit for posterity and, oh, say, airing or publishing that moment to everyone on campus? I shudder to think: “Campus Actress and Horrible Person Throws Hissy, Cup.” It’s possible that many people on campus who didn’t even know me could have formed a very low opinion of me based on one weak moment. At least get to know me and then form a low opinion of me. That I understand. Now, sure, I didn’t verbally abuse anyone in this incident, but it was self-indulgent and disrespectful of every person in that theater. (And who knows how close that cup came to hitting my director? I couldn’t tell. I don’t know. I don’t want to know.) No one wants or deserves to be pronounced an irredeemable ass based on the weakness of one moment. And especially a past moment. Oh, and a private moment. Is that the measure of the man? Is that the measure of any one of us? I hope not. It’s ludicrous to me that Christian Bale is being reduced to doing public penance to people he didn’t directly offend.
I understand, of course, feeling shocked and, yes, even offended, by Mr. Bale’s language, his words. They’re awful. No one would want to be spoken to like that and you know what? None of us, save one, were. Again, the offense is not against any of us voyeurs personally and I’ve been bothered, as I’ve clicked around the Internet reading about this story, to see how many random Janes and Joes are taking this so personally. “Oh, I will never see another Christian Bale movie again!” Or “I used to like him, but now I think he’s just an ass.” I don’t understand this thinking. The extreme of it; it’s so scorched earth to me. Why be personally offended? What did he do to you? “Well, he let me down, man.” Okay. How? How did he personally let you down? “Well, I would expect more of him.” And there it is: Why? Why do you expect more of him? Because he’s famous? That’s nonsensical. These are reactions, to me, that tell me these people don’t have a realistic view of Christian Bale — or any celebrity — in the first place.
He is a human being.
People “expect more” of people they’ve unfairly put on a pedestal– or people to whom they’ve unfairly ascribed nothing but virtuous traits based on a movie role or raging personal hotness. It’s insane.
Sure, he’s famous. Whatevs. What of it? I happen to think he’s a great actor; I love his work, but I don’t look to Christian Bale or Sean Penn or Meryl Streep or Nicole Kidman for examples of, uhm, how to live my life. I separate my opinion of their work from who they are as people. This allows me the freedom to enjoy their work, or not, and allows them the freedom to be whatever kind of human beings they choose to be. Maybe I don’t agree with this one’s politics. So what? Maybe I think that one has a potty mouth. So what? Maybe I think this one is a total hoooor. So WHAT? Again, they are not my role models. I do not look to any celebrity and model my behavior, my character, after him or her. The only way an actor or actress has ever been a role model for me is in the area of their work — how they work, how they create a character, how they prepare, etc. Look to these creative souls for how to be a creative soul yourself, not necessarily how to live your life. I take my role-modeling in pieces, frankly, whoever the person is, celebrity or, uh, civilian: “I like this one’s work ethic” or “I like that one’s honesty” or “I like how she handled this one situation.” Why look to one flawed human being to be your everything role model?
The “everything” role model will let you down eventually and, in my opinion, when he or she does, it will be your fault for unfairly elevating, deifying, this one human being. There are people who will now completely write off Christian Bale. Personally blacklist his movies. And, you know, I think it’s their loss, in terms of his work. These are people so out of touch with their own basic humanity, in all its glory and all its shame, that they are intolerant when someone else’s is on such … vivid display.
He’s human. He’s famous. He screwed up. Deal with it.
I’m human. I screw up all the time. Thank God, I don’t have the burden of being famous to magnify all my human screw-ups.
And, personally, I can’t wait for the new Terminator movie.
I’ll be there, Christian Bale. Count on it.
“Hey! What’s up?”
“I’m on my way to get my hair cut and then I’m coming home and you can rub my head.”
Hahahahaha.
One book per answer.
Oh, I’m borrowing this from Sheila.
One book you’re currently reading: Winter’s Tales by Isak Dinesen.
One book that changed your life: Hm. I have honestly never met one other person who has ever read this book, it’s obscure, I guess, but The Rock and The Willow by Mildred Lee. I think it may even be out of print now. Much to my delight, in the middle of all our upheaval, I recently found my beaten-up paperback copy with my fat junior high writing sprawled on the inside cover, not once but twice, “Property of Tracey So-and-So.” It’s actually one of the first books I can remember owning for myself. It was mine. So that was part of it, I’m sure. This, this is mine. Beyond that, I related to Enie Singleton. She was shy and unpopular and good at school. Just like me. Okay. So her family was huge and she lived in Alabama and it was the middle of The Great Depression, so those particulars didn’t match mine, but I related to the imposed narrowness of her life. Enie longed for things that don’t seem possible or that she wasn’t supposed to long for. She wanted to travel, to write, to see and to be part of the larger world. Oh, and when one CD (Seedy) Culpepper showed up in town with his whiff of danger and mystery and became a hired hand on their farm and fell in love with his “little red-headed Enie”? Uhm, I was gone. I was 13 and Seedy Culpepper thrilled me and scared me and I wanted him SO BAD. I was breathless to find out how “little red-headed Enie” would handle her life. That entire book showed me, living in my narrow dictated life, that it was okay to long for things, that longings meant something, that I wasn’t alone in my yearning. Whenever I felt alone in my home with the kinds of thoughts I kept to myself, I would always remember Enie Singleton. She validated me.
One book you’d want on a deserted island: Oh dear. Oh dear. How about The Collected Works of C.S. Lewis? Uhm, one that includes Narnia? Which doesn’t exist to the best of my knowledge.
One book you’ve read more than once: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Yep. I’m a cliche.
One book you’ve never been able to finish: I have not yet finished One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. I was becoming shrunken and demoralized from all the characters with, hello, the same damn name. And last week, when the movers were moving our bed, I found my copy of the book on the floor smack dab under where my head would lie, with the back cover and the author’s photo facing up and I realized that Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s chocolate pastille eyes had been boring into my head for lo! these many months. Well now. No wonder I couldn’t sleep.
One book that made you laugh: Well, Vanity Fair by William Makepeace Thackeray made me laugh out loud at times. When I was reading the book a couple of years ago, I was carrying it everywhere, even to church. I was in “the band” and sang at both services so my day at church was very long. In the half-hour break between services, while other people were socializing and eating donuts, I was crouched on the stairs at the back of the stage, reading Vanity Fair. At one point, my girlfriend K found me back there, looked at me for a second, then put her hands on her hips and scolded, “Tracey! How can you be reading that book! And at church!” I just stared at her, totally bewildered, then said, “Uhm, well …. it’s a classic. A 19th century classic.” A pause. A huge pause, actually, and then she was full of remorse. “Oh, Tracey, I’m sorry. I went to San Diego State, you know.” Hahahahaha. The San Diego State Defense. And we both immediately knew what she meant. When I asked her what she thought the book was, she didn’t have an answer. Maybe the word vanity messed with her head? Like how could I be reading a book about vanity AT CHURCH?? Hahaha. I don’t know. What a naughty girl.
One book that made you cry: The Old Man and The Sea by Hemingway. Which I reread a couple of years ago. Something in that book, a particular moment that I won’t go into here, completely broke me down at 2 in the morning. I sobbed my eyes out because of this one distinct moment and how I related to it. To an old man and the sea. It seems absurd in a way, but that’s how it was. Amazing how you can go back to a book years later and see something totally different, isn’t it?
One book you keep rereading: Oh, anything by my Christian author boyfriend Disco Stu. Blahdie blahdie blah already.
One book you’ve been meaning to read: War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. Will I ever do it? I don’t know. Now it seems like my shame over never reading it outweighs my desire to read it. It has crippled me.
One book you believe everyone should read: Well, I’m with Sheila on this one: “Everyone”? Just how much of a tyrant do I want to be? To play along, though, how about Les Miserables by Victor Hugo? Don’t just go see the musical and say you know it. You don’t. (Wow. I really am a tyrant. Boooooo.) Okay. Slighly modulating my tyranny here: I think anyone would feel richer for having read this book.
Grab the nearest book. Open it to page 56. Find the fifth sentence…
“These are terrible words to the ear of a Legitimist,” she cried.
So I had to call the USPS because the online change of address I filled out did not “take.” ARGH.
A portion of my conversation with a US Postal Service employee named Tanisha.
(I’ve changed street names, addresses, etc., in this post)
USPS: Uh, so what is your new street address?
ME: 1234 Alaska Street.
USPS: Alaska?
ME: Uh-huh.
USPS: Spell that.
ME: Uh, okay. A-L-A-S-K-A.
USPS: -S-K-A?
ME: Uh, yes.
(Is this word unfamiliar to her??)
USPS: City, please?
ME: San Diego.
USPS: How do you spell that?
ME: (Good God) It’s —
USPS: Is it D-E-I-G-O?
ME: No. It’s D —— I —— E —— G —— O.
USPS: Oh, hahaha. I always get that wrong.
ME: Is there a third grader I can talk to, please?
(No. I didn’t say that. I’m a disappointment, I know.)
I am in NO mood, people. Good to know my information is safe in competent hands of the US Postal Service.
