To boldly go....

Last night, I got a fun opportunity to go and see Star Trek: Into Darkness at an advance screening. As everyone likely knows by now, the film started its' nationwide run last night at midnight, but I decided on a review anyhow!

By no means do I call myself a Trekkie - I have family and friends who are, but I'm not, really. I have seen some here and there in the course of my life, but never been incredibly interested. When the first reboot film came out in 2009, I decided to go see it, and I absolutely loved it! As someone who wasn't that invested in Star Trek or the original stories, these films work for me. And that is what they were meant as - a reboot of a franchise many decades old.

Going into Into Darkness blind was likely the best thing I ever could have done. Throughout the course of the entire film, I was entertained. From the trip to Nibiru that began the film to the characters' hilarious rapport (for the most part), it was perfect to me. All of the actors complement not only their characters, but each other so very well, and I cannot imagine other actors in those roles. I was a little bit disappointed that Bones was typecast as a background character in this film, instead of a character on par with Spock or Kirk.

I tried not to be spoiler-tastic, but let me leave you with this: if you're thinking of seeing Star Trek: Into Darkness, do it! I saw it in 3D, and would actually like to see it again in 2D - only because the 3D left me a little bit more distracted than I usually am watching a movie. And it's opening weekend - what better chance than now?

I ate alligator, and other stories from Florida.

Last week, I got to go to Florida for a work trip. Though I didn't get to do much fun stuff, I did get to see the sights - and the sights included palm trees and weird chameleons in the bushes at the hotel. And I tried alligator at a restaurant for the first time in my life, so I would say it was a success!

The hotel was really nice, and unfortunately most of what I got to take photos of was the hotel and stuff around it. 

Like these chameleons! They were everywhere around the hotel. Since I'm from Wisconsin, I don't get to see stuff like this very often. It was pretty cool. A lot of people told me I should have brought one home, but I'm pretty sure TSA wouldn't have liked that.

The last night I was there, we went to eat at Charley's Steakhouse in Orlando. Let me tell you, I haven't eaten that well in a long time! It was also fun to see the Ripley's Believe It Or Not that I visited when I was about eight. But back to the dinner. The steaks were amazing, as was basically everything else. I drank out of a martini glass for the first time ever in my life, and I tried alligator! It was a choice for one of the appetizers, and it was breaded chunks of alligator that had the best sauce ever. At least I can say that I've tried alligator - and before you ask, it tasted kind of like weird chicken.

For a two day trip, I'd say I did pretty well - I do find that I like places that are less humid, though. After two and a half days, it was farewell Florida! At least there were palm trees - palm trees are just nice to look at, especially when you never see them.

Book Club Monday #21: Firehouse by David Halberstam

As someone who watched the events of 9/11 happen from states away, I felt the same as everyone else did - there was nothing to say. All of these years later, with a new tower going up in place of the World Trade Center, I learned that it is still easy to open those wounds and bring back that fear. On a recent trip to Half Price Books, I happened upon a copy of Firehouse, by David Halberstam, a popular and talented journalist.

Since beginning a job within the fire service a few years ago, the events of 9/11 mean something different to me. It no longer feels only like a violation - I can feel the pain of everyone who was there that day. The New York Fire Department lost 343 men that day. That is, basically, the size of our entire department. Every year, I go to the Fallen Firefighters Memorial, and to make a long story short - it means something completely different to me now than it did that day.

Firehouse is a book about the men who made up the quarters of Engine 40, Ladder 35 in Manhattan. Thirteen men responded to the tragedy on September 11, 2001, and only one came back alive. That, to me, is an absolutely awful thought, but it is something that needs to be thought about, so the memories of all of these brave men are never forgotten.

If you think this novel will wind up being a book all about that day, you will be disappointed. Instead, it gives examples of what it's like to be a firefighter - why someone would want to make small amounts of money compared to what they put on the line. It tells stories about each and every member of the engine house, funny things they did and how they treated each other like an extended family. Talks about their families, and gradually into the elements that made up 9/11/01.

This book will absolutely and completely tear your soul and your heart apart. It will make you think about how awful you felt that day, and realize that, if you were old enough to know what was going on, those wounds are still as fresh as they were that day. Even without a happy ending, this is, however, a beautiful memoir of a great group of brave, selfless men on the worst day in United States history.

I spent my entire weekend binge watching Hemlock Grove, and I'm not sorry.

After watching House of Cards back in February, I was excited when I heard about Netflix's next foray into original series', Hemlock Grove. This past Friday, the 19th, the entire series became available on Netflix streaming, and suffice to say, I went a little ham, in that I watched the entire series in 24 hours, with a short break to, you know, sleep. 

I am not usually one for Eli Roth's films (I saw the first Hostel and was kind of over it), but I loved this. The story centers on the small Pennsylvania town of Hemlock Grove, with a main cast of characters including gypsies, werewolves, angels, and of course, regular people. I'm not exactly sure of what drew me in, though - I tried to like Twilight and that never happened, and fantasy stuff like werewolves I think should have been left with the Universal Monsters.

What I liked most about it was each storyline really fleshed itself out, and you didn't have many questions (of course, unless you count the question of just what the hell Roman's mother, Olivia is). The characters include Peter and Lynda Rumancek, a mother and son duo of gypsies that moves into the town right before strange things start to happen, Roman, Olivia, and Shelly Godfrey, one group of the large Godfrey family, who owns an institution/medical facility that is essentially the center of the town, and Norman and Letha Godfrey, a father and daughter duo, another part of the large Godfrey family - Norman being a psychiatrist at the town's mental institution. 

From the point that Peter and Lynda move into town, they are outsiders. Nobody cares for gypsies in the small town, and they are cast off by many just because of who they are. Peter and Roman strike up a friendship, however, and are often found together after the first girl from the high school is found murdered - no, disemboweled, in a park in the small town. It is found out that the girl was not killed by a human, but rather a creature, and the rumors going around town of Peter being a werewolf cause him to become the prime suspect. He is a werewolf, of course, but is not the culprit. In an early episode, he allows Roman to watch him change in the goriest, most interesting human to werewolf change I've ever seen. 

Without giving too much away, let me just say that Hemlock Grove is definitely a show worth your time if you're into any kind of supernatural television, crime drama, or even just campy horror. Reviews have either been extremely positive or extremely negative, but if you watch it in the right mindset, you will love it just as much as I did.

Writing on writing.

I can't pinpoint exactly when it happened - maybe when I lost my job and a little bit of my mind a few years ago, or maybe I just didn't think it was important, but I quit writing. I have spent the past three years ignoring the voice in my head that gives me ideas, that drives me to create. Thinking maybe, if I could just bury it in my heart and get it to shut up, it would stop. The countless agents I sent my first book to thought something was missing, so maybe something was and I never saw it.

one of my favorite live photos,
dan andriano of the alkaline trio.

Many people can't say they were a nationally published magazine journalist at 19 years of age. Truthfully, though, that was me. I went to countless live shows, took hundreds of photos, transcribed ten or twenty interviews, and wrote thousands of words. One day, though, it all just floated away. I had the opportunity to speak to people I never thought I would - members of my favorite bands calling me back three days after an initial interview to ask if they could add something because they forgot and wanted to help my piece. People I thought would be terrifying in real life were some of the sweetest I'd ever met. In a lot of ways, I never realized exactly how much that part of my life means to me, even if it isn't an active part now.

We learn from everything we do, whether consciously or not. Every now and again, I would just feel like shit about a project. The press agent was an idiot, the box office couldn't find my tickets, and I couldn't come up with what I thought were good questions at the right time to make a great piece. But every once in awhile, I would get an e-mail either directly or through an editor, telling me that I was a great writer and hoping to read more of my work. Even now, almost a decade later, I still get those types of e-mails every now and again. People tell me that I inspire them.

I never meant to inspire anybody in this life. Hell, most of the time I'm still trying to figure it out myself. But, in many ways, I try to convince people that I know what I'm doing and exactly what's going on all the time. I just about have myself convinced as well, but I don't. I don't see what other people see in me most of the time - maybe that's why I bask in the light of compliments when I get them.

Recently, that voice I was talking about earlier - the one I've been trying to shut up, my wolf at the table, has been coming back stronger than ever. I feel inspired to write, and don't really know why. I'm finally getting over my aversion to writing via a laptop instead of by hand. I'm letting the words flow out, not thinking about it and just letting it go. And for the first time in a long time, I'm not thinking about everyone else. I am doing it because it makes me feel good, and I need to.

If you've ever been driven to put pen to paper, you know exactly what I feel. the way it feels when my inner voice guides me to write something is not something I could ever describe in words. Growing up, I was totally the kind of kid that spent every free moment of her day jotting down thoughts, cataloguing the 'best years of my life' in a beat up collection of notebooks and journals that sit at the bottom of a cardboard box in my second bedroom as we speak. To this day, I still carry a journal in my purse, though mostly unused - just in case I get the pangs I used to. To be fair, I wish for the day when inspiration once again hits me like a ton of bricks and I can put that notebook to use.

The years since I for all intents and purposes quit writing have been filled with some good things, but some bad - and with the bad, I was left to digest the feelings somehow without ever getting them all the way out. Maybe it's why I feel like I have a wall built inside me. I have been my own self-sabateur in so many things - relationships, creativity and my own potential. Initially that sentence said, "am", but if this long-winded rant means anything, it's that I'm ready to once again make writing a priority, if for no other reason than I need it. I need to get the feelings and negativity out of me so it doesn't breed and erode more of me than it already has. My talent is precious, and I think the few years without writing have made me come back and look it straight in the face. Instead of fighting it, I want to re-learn how to embrace that portion of my personality, and I will, just like everything else.

You can do anything you put your mind to, right?