I saw a comedian one time say that the reason grown-ups are always asking kids what they want to be when they grow up is because they're looking for ideas. I thought it was funny then. I think it is profound now.
I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. I was a teacher for 10 years or so. That was fun, but didn't make enough money to warrant my soon-to-be three full-time day care and one after-school care bills. So I stay home and wonder what I want to be when I'm done changing diapers and generally performing the duties of a domestic drudge.
I can't really think of anything and that is perhaps the saddest thing I've thought in a long while. I wonder if I could ever make any money off of writing something. But then I realize you have to have people willing to pay for the privilege of reading your work for that to be a job. Or by teaching again. Or by finally learning how to be a contortionist and joining the circus. I've been trying to grow a beard for years, but that has been unsuccessful so Bearded Lady is out.
My 3-year-old son is quite insistent that he is a police officer and continues to "handcup" friends and relatives against their will. My daughter says she would like to be a doctor or a Mommy or a teacher or make cupcakes. But that really just covers the jobs she knows about through life and TLC shows.
Harry, my youngest at the moment, mostly seems to want to run away to the nether parts of the neighborhood where he can explore at will and play with his ball without interference from his siblings. I don't think that pays very well and I cannot think of an adult equivalent.
I'm too old to join the army. I'm too young to become a Wal-Mart greeter. I am too uncoordinated/chubby to work on pole dancing skills.
I'm not sure what is left. Even astronaut is apparently no longer a fall-back option. Which is disappointing, because I really wanted to ride the space shuttle. So please ask around. Maybe your kids have a good idea I could use.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Best Mom Tip #170: Watch all of the credits
I have mentioned before that Jay and I like movies. We REALLY like movies and usually average about 2 a month in the theater over the course of a year. This is made possible by our proximity to our parents and the fact that we ask for movie money for every birthday and Christmas.
Last night we saw The Grey starring Liam Neeson. It was rather more emotionally intense than I was expecting (it's about a plane crash in Alaska and these guys trying to survive it while being tracked by angry wolves) and there was a scene where Liam Neeson recovers his rifle and some shotgun shells from the plane wreckage. The rifle is broken and useless, but where was the shotgun? Or the rifle bullets? Anyway, unless the movie makers wanted us to believe he had a scope on a shotgun, his bag was short either some ammo or a weapon. But other than that I was involved and interested in the story. And we stayed until the very end of the credits.
Jay and I always stay until the end of the credits. I like to see who they thank and where it was filmed and what versions of the songs they used and who the gaffer was. I like knowing that the movie last night needed both "wolf wranglers" and "snow mobile operators." I like letting the emotion of the movie, good bad or ugly, work it's way out of me while I listen to the carefully chosen soundtrack of the credits. I like being able to give validation to the craft services personnel and every other little name that warranted a mention on the giant list. You had better believe that if my name ever made the credits of anything, I would want everyone I ever knew to watch it scroll by.
There are a lot of reasons I enjoy being wrapped up in someone else's story for two hours. I like to imagine and pretend and I do so in my head quite a lot. I love to read and get lost in great (and not-so-great) books, but I tend to be obsessive and sacrifice sleep to finish books so movies are a shorter time commitment for me. I have a wonderful and full life, but it is also one where I wonder about things like why people keep posting song lyrics on Facebook or why decorating magazines recommend "bringing the outside in" when most of my day is spent trying to keep the outside out and off of the floors. Guys in mortal combat with wolves is somehow more exhilarating.
Sometimes, I'm even rewarded for my credit-watching patience. Finding Nemo's credits have the animals interacting with the words as they scroll by. The Hangover reveals the pictures of what you didn't see happen in Vegas. Last night there was a split second at the very end of the credits that helped to tie up a slightly loose end from the movie itself.
Mostly, though, I just like to linger over the feel and flavor of the moment. To bring my heart back out of the woods, or off the sinking ship, or home from the war. Before I get back in my minivan and ride off into the sunset.
Last night we saw The Grey starring Liam Neeson. It was rather more emotionally intense than I was expecting (it's about a plane crash in Alaska and these guys trying to survive it while being tracked by angry wolves) and there was a scene where Liam Neeson recovers his rifle and some shotgun shells from the plane wreckage. The rifle is broken and useless, but where was the shotgun? Or the rifle bullets? Anyway, unless the movie makers wanted us to believe he had a scope on a shotgun, his bag was short either some ammo or a weapon. But other than that I was involved and interested in the story. And we stayed until the very end of the credits.
Jay and I always stay until the end of the credits. I like to see who they thank and where it was filmed and what versions of the songs they used and who the gaffer was. I like knowing that the movie last night needed both "wolf wranglers" and "snow mobile operators." I like letting the emotion of the movie, good bad or ugly, work it's way out of me while I listen to the carefully chosen soundtrack of the credits. I like being able to give validation to the craft services personnel and every other little name that warranted a mention on the giant list. You had better believe that if my name ever made the credits of anything, I would want everyone I ever knew to watch it scroll by.
There are a lot of reasons I enjoy being wrapped up in someone else's story for two hours. I like to imagine and pretend and I do so in my head quite a lot. I love to read and get lost in great (and not-so-great) books, but I tend to be obsessive and sacrifice sleep to finish books so movies are a shorter time commitment for me. I have a wonderful and full life, but it is also one where I wonder about things like why people keep posting song lyrics on Facebook or why decorating magazines recommend "bringing the outside in" when most of my day is spent trying to keep the outside out and off of the floors. Guys in mortal combat with wolves is somehow more exhilarating.
Sometimes, I'm even rewarded for my credit-watching patience. Finding Nemo's credits have the animals interacting with the words as they scroll by. The Hangover reveals the pictures of what you didn't see happen in Vegas. Last night there was a split second at the very end of the credits that helped to tie up a slightly loose end from the movie itself.
Mostly, though, I just like to linger over the feel and flavor of the moment. To bring my heart back out of the woods, or off the sinking ship, or home from the war. Before I get back in my minivan and ride off into the sunset.
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