Somebody I’ve never met gave me the benefit of the doubt this weekend. She ordered something from me back in March and she never received it. It was an honest mistake on my part—having to do with a link I forgot to change on my website. But how many of us are willing to give the benefit of the doubt anymore?
She looked at the situation, realized what might have happened, and then sent me a polite email to follow up. How willing do you think I was to send her more than she ordered?
I don’t think I realized it until last night, but I’m a huge John Cusack fan. I love how so many of his characters narrate for the audience and how natural and unobtrusive he makes it seem. It feels like a natural extension of who his characters are—people who might talk to any passing stranger about his current angst. Martian Child is one of those movies. Although, the scene from the movie I really want to talk about has nothing to do with Cusack’s narration. I just thought I’d throw that out there because it was a bit of a revelation for me and I always like to document revelations.
Anyway, have you seen Martian Child?
Here’s the plot from the IMDB: “A science-fiction writer, recently widowed, considers whether to adopt a hyper-imaginative 6-year-old abandoned and socially rejected boy who says he's really from Mars.”
Cusack plays the science-fiction writer. His name is David Gordon. And from the moment he sees 6-year-old Dennis hiding in a box at the orphanage he is drawn to him. He’s even more intrigued by the fact that little Dennis believes he comes from Mars. Gordon sees himself in David because he grew up as a bit of an oddball himself—which he eventually turned into a lucrative career writing about the things that used to get him picked on for believing.
At first David allows Dennis to be who he wants to be—a Martian child. But Dennis’ doctor is paying close attention and begins to think that Dennis is too much for David to handle. So, David convinces Dennis to be a Martian while at home, but a human everywhere else—especially when being questioned by his doctor. As the tension mounts, David begins to wish that Dennis was more like everybody else.
Fast forward to a scene in which David is meeting with his editor to give her the first draft of a book her company commissioned him to write. He gives her a book about something else instead (a book based on his experience with Dennis) and she is furious. In her fury shy asks David, “Why can’t you just be who we want you to be?”
That’s when it hits home for David.
None of us can really be who other people want us to be. And even if we try, we are miserable.
“Health nuts are going to feel stupid someday, lying in hospitals dying of nothing.” --Redd Foxx
About once a year, I get knocked off my feet with a nasty cold or a sinus infection. I can always feel it coming on a day before—it’s both a blessing and curse.
On Saturday I went to visit my uncle in the hospital. I sneezed a couple of times while I was there. By the time I got home my nose was running. And by that night, my throat was scratchy. I knew Sunday was going to be ugly. I skipped church, slept in, and woke up with an awful cold. I stayed home all day, skipped a normal family engagement, and just made do. Yesterday wasn’t much better, but by the end of the day, I felt a little better. We’ll see what today brings.
I always dread sickness, but I will say this about it—it causes me to rest, whether I like it or not. And that’s not a bad thing.
I have one of the worst track records ever regarding long term success for television shows I enjoy. As soon as I proclaim my affinity toward them, they are canceled. I’m pretty sure that says something about me. October Road only made it two seasons. Love Monkey was canceled after three episodes.
Surely, it couldn’t get any worse than that, could it?
Of course it could.
Over the weekend I found a show called Quarterlife. It’s about seven artistic-types in their mid-twenties who are trying to find their way. They’re close to one another, and they’re vulnerable, and maybe best of all, they all seem to be trying to improve—even though their chosen course of action is often the long way around.
Oh and they struggle with the age-old question about compromise: How does an artist of any bent find a balance between doing what he or she is commissioned to do versus what he or she wants to do? Just seeing them work their way through that dilemma makes the show worth watching.
One episode opens with Dylan—a 27-year-old associate editor for a woman’s magazine who wants to be a writer of substance but she feels feels trapped into writing about things that things that don’t matter to her—speaking into the camera for her video blog as she wrestles with the subject of compromise:
“So what if I didn’t compromise? What if I just did exactly what I wanted to do? I mean it’s weird because in some ways I think I would be immediately fired, and abandoned and have everybody hate me, but in some ways, I think that would be the perfect way to succeed—what ever succeed means.”
I identify with these characters. I’m sure others would too if they’d seen the show, but NBC took it off the air after one episode because it drew the “worst in-season performance in the 10 p.m. hour by an NBC show in the last 17 years.”
To be fair, the show was intended to be a webcast to be shown in small clips. In fact, every “part” can still be seen online in seven to ten minute clips on the Quarterlife website. It did quite well online before NBC picked it up. Now, best I can tell, the series died after season one and that bums me out because I’m working my way through the series knowing that I won’t get to see a season two.
I’m just hoping I’m not left hanging with incomplete story lines at the end of season one like I was with October Road at the end of season two. Although, I just heard that the producers of October Road shot a 15-minute ending for that series and it’ll be included on the season two DVD release tomorrow. I’m so buying it.
Last month, 29 of you responded to this poll question I asked: How many books to you read in an average year.
Here are the results of the poll:
| 1-10 books | 11 votes | 37% |
| 50+ books | 8 votes | 27% |
| 21-30 books | 4 votes | 13% |
| 11-20 books | 2 votes | 6% |
| I don’t read books | 2 votes | 6% |
| 31-40 books | 1 vote | 3% |
| 41-50 books | 1 votes | 3% |
So, half of those who participated read between one and thirty books each year, which doesn’t surprise me. But 27% of those who participated read fifty or more books a year and that really surprises me. It inspires me too. I guess if you break it down, it averages out to about a book per week, and that seems doable.
I usually read about half that amount. I’d love to read more, but I just don’t make the time. I have so many other interests that divide my attention. Thanks for your participation.
